#and the thoughts have not been drowned out

[bueckets]

Competitive Stamina

Pairing: teammate!Paige x reader

Genre: fuck buddies with unresolved issues, unbearable sexual tension, dom!Paige, strap, degradation, slapping, edging, post-game aggression sex, possessive paige, rough sex that solves nothing, idk just porn w minimal plot (I KNOOOOOW)

WC: 6.3kish?

Bus rides after a loss were a special kind of hell.

The stale air of the charter, the overhead lights too dim to be useful but too bright to let you sink into oblivion, the stiff-backed seats that creaked with every shift—everything grated on your nerves. The taste of failure sat heavy on your tongue, thick and bitter, and no amount of Gatorade could wash it away.

You sat near the back, arms crossed, jaw tight, replaying every goddamn second of the game like a goddamn. masochist. Every blown rotation, every missed shot, every second too slow on defense. It was a fucking disaster.

The low hum of the engine did nothing to drown out the tension hanging in the air. Some of the team sat slumped in their seats, headphones jammed in, pretending like they weren’t reliving the same nightmare. Others were scrolling through their phones, avoiding the inevitable post-game analysis that would come the second you all got back.

And then there was Paige.

Slouched in the seat across the aisle, one long leg stretched out, the other knee bouncing restlessly. Her arms were crossed tight over her chest, the muscles in her jaw flexing every time she gritted her teeth. The blue glow of her phone screen flickered across her face, but you could tell she wasn’t actually looking at it. Just brooding.

You tried not to look at her. Tried to keep your glare aimed out the window, at the blur of highway lights cutting through the night.

But the energy rolling off her was impossible to ignore.

Fucking furious. The kind of anger that vibrated beneath the skin, white-hot, impossible to smother. She was pissed in a way that she wouldn’t let go of anytime soon, the kind of loss that would eat at her, keep her up all night, have her in the gym first thing in the morning with her hoodie up and music blasting like she could outwork the ghosts of the game.

Your fingers curled into your palms.

Because yeah, you were mad too. Mad at yourself. Mad at the team. Mad at how fucking avoidable it all had been. But mostly, you were mad at how much you felt it—how the weight of it sat heavy on your chest, suffocating. You knew you wouldn’t sleep tonight. Not because you didn’t want to, but because your brain wouldn’t let you. Wouldn’t stop dissecting every mistake, every misstep.

Paige exhaled sharply, a sound more bite than breath.

You glanced over, barely turning your head.

Her fingers drummed against her bicep, rapid, restless, a nervous tick she only ever had when she was barely keeping her frustration in check. Her knee bounced faster.

Then, she turned her head, and her eyes found yours.

Sharp. Burning.

And just like that, you were both back on the court. Back in the moment she’d called the switch and you hesitated a fraction too long. Back in the second where everything unraveled.

The muscle in her jaw flexed. You could practically hear what she wanted to say. The words sat heavy between you, unspoken but loud.

What the fuck was that?

You swallowed hard, refusing to be the one to break first. You weren’t about to sit here and get chewed out on a moving bus, in front of everyone.

But the fire in her eyes told you that this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

The door barely slammed shut before Paige was on you, shoving you back so hard your shoulder blades smacked the wall. The cheap dorm drywall rattled behind you, a picture frame nearly toppling off its hook.

Her breath was sharp, jagged, her whole body coiled so tight with frustration it looked like it might snap. She was still in her jersey, the fabric clinging to her sweat-slicked skin, strands of blonde hair stuck to her forehead like she hadn’t even thought about peeling them away. But it wasn’t exhaustion in her eyes. It was fury. Blazing. Undiluted.

“What the fuck was that?” she spat, stepping into your space like she wanted to press you through the goddamn wall.

Your own irritation flared, heat crawling up your spine, but she wasn’t done.

“I called it. I fucking called it. You hesitated." Her voice cut like a whip, her breath hot against your face. “You don’t hesitate.”

Your jaw clenched. “I heard you, Paige. It wasn’t just me. We all fucked up.”

“Oh, fuck off with that.” Her laugh was sharp, humorless, nothing but teeth. “I don’t give a shit about them. You were supposed to have my back. You were supposed to listen to me.”

You bristled, hands curling into fists at your sides. “Don’t act like you’re the only one who fucking cares. You think I wanted to lose? You think I don’t feel like shit right now?”

Paige’s glare burned straight through you. Her jaw clenched, her nostrils flaring, like she wanted to say something even sharper, even worse, but she just looked at you. Like she was daring you to take the blame. To admit it. To fold under her fire.

But you weren’t folding. Not tonight.

“You wanna fight me over this?” you snapped, stepping forward, barely an inch between you now. “Fine. Take a fucking swing, Paige.”

Her breathing hitched. For a half-second, something flickered in her eyes—something reckless, something raw. You thought maybe she would hit you, thought maybe you wanted her to.

Instead, she shoved you—hard. Your back hit the wall again, and this time she followed, grabbed your jersey with both hands, yanking you into her.

And then her mouth crashed onto yours, all teeth and heat and fucking rage.

You gasped against her lips, but she didn’t care—didn’t even give you the space to breathe. Her fingers dug into your jersey, nearly lifting you off the ground as she pressed you into the wall, her body flush against yours, hot and furious and unrelenting.

You bit down on her lower lip, hard, just to make her feel how pissed off you were too.

Paige growled, a low, dangerous sound, and then she was yanking you off the wall, turning, dragging you with her, stumbling toward the nearest surface.

Your hands found her hips, fingers slipping beneath the hem of her jersey. She was still in her shorts, her body taut with adrenaline, with the remnants of competition. You could feel her heart pounding beneath your palm as you pressed against her, pushing back just enough to let her know you weren’t going to just take it.

But Paige didn’t give a damn about pushback. She just grabbed the front of your shirt, dragging you with her as she stumbled backward, lips never leaving yours. She was all fire, all pent-up rage, and you were more than willing to be the thing she burned through.

“Fucking—” she muttered against your lips, frustration bleeding into something else as her fingers tangled in your hair, nails scraping against your scalp. “You drive me insane.”

“You’re the one losing your shit,” you bit back, but the words barely made it out before she was kissing you again, harder this time, as if she could shut you up with the force of her mouth alone.

The room spun as she shoved you back, barely making it to the couch before you tumbled onto it together. Her body was already on top of yours, pressing you down, thighs tight around your waist. Every inch of her was tense, electric, and you could feel it—the way she trembled, the way her breath came too fast, the way her fingers flexed against your skin like she didn’t know if she wanted to fight you or fuck you.

Maybe both.

Your hands roamed, slipping beneath her jersey, tracing the heat of her back. She sucked in a sharp breath as your fingers ghosted over her spine, but she didn’t stop you. If anything, she leaned in harder, her hips pressing down, mouth dragging along your jaw, your neck, teeth scraping just enough to make you shudder.

“I hate you,” she muttered, but her hands were already working at your jersey, pushing it up, fingers skimming the bare skin underneath.

You laughed, breathless. “Yeah? Feels like something else.”

She growled, actually fucking growled, and suddenly she was yanking your jersey over your head, tossing it somewhere behind her. The air was thick, charged, your bodies too close, too desperate, too much.

“Shut up,” she ordered, and then her lips were on your collarbone, her teeth nipping at sensitive skin, her hands gripping your waist like she was trying to anchor herself—like she was afraid if she let go, she’d lose herself completely.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to stop her or let her.

Your laugh died in your throat the second Paige’s fingers dug into your waist, her grip rough, possessive. Her body was hot against yours, muscles tight with lingering adrenaline, her breath ragged as she straddled you. Every inch of her was taut with frustration, with need, with something far more dangerous than simple post-game aggression.

You swallowed hard, pulse hammering, and then your hands were on her hips, squeezing, dragging her closer, feeling the way her thighs flexed beneath your grip.

“Oh, you wanna be a smartass?” Paige growled, her fingers already sliding beneath the waistband of your shorts, snapping the elastic hard against your skin. Her eyes were wild, blown wide with something dark, something hungry.

You grinned, challenging. “What are you gonna do about it?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

A sharp crack rang out as her palm met your thigh, the sting immediate, heat blooming across your skin in its wake. You gasped, your body jerking at the impact, but Paige just smirked, her fingers soothing over the mark she’d left behind.

“That’s what I thought,” she murmured, and then her hands were pushing at your shorts, yanking them down with the same force as her frustration. “You know what your problem is?”

You arched a brow, breath hitching as she ran her fingers down the inside of your thigh, deliberately avoiding where you needed her most. “Enlighten me.”

Paige hummed, slow, teasing, dragging her nails lightly across your skin before she leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. “You don’t listen.”

And then her teeth were on your neck, biting, claiming, distracting you just long enough for her fingers to slip lower, tracing over your already-soaked underwear.

Your hips jerked up, chasing her touch, but she pulled back, clicking her tongue.

“No,” she said, voice sharp, commanding. “You don’t get to be greedy. Not after that bullshit on the court.”

You groaned, frustration curling tight in your stomach. “Paige—”

Another sharp smack against your thigh. You gasped, your body trembling as the sting settled into a dull, aching heat.

“You’ll take what I give you,” she murmured, pressing a kiss over the mark she’d just made. “And you’ll be grateful for it.”

You barely had time to respond before she was moving again, shifting off you just long enough to grab something from her bag. Your breath caught when you saw it—the familiar black strap, the sleek vibrator she loved to tease you with.

Your pulse spiked.

“Color?” she asked, voice low, dangerous.

You exhaled shakily, your body already aching, already desperate. “Green.”

Paige smirked. “Good.”

And then she was on you again, pressing you down, pinning you beneath her as she reached for the harness, her hands sure, practiced.

“Now,” she murmured, buckling it into place, her blue eyes gleaming with something wicked. “Let’s see if you can pay attention this time.”

You barely had a second to breathe before Paige moved—gripping you with both hands, flipping you over like you weighed nothing, shoving you down onto the couch with a force that stole the air from your lungs.

The cushions barely softened the impact.

Your cheek pressed into the rough fabric, your pulse hammering against it, every nerve in your body already on edge, already buzzing with anticipation.

Then—her hands were on you again.

“On your knees,” she ordered, her voice low, firm—no room for negotiation.

A shiver ran through you at the sheer authority in her tone, and you scrambled to obey, pushing yourself up, ass in the air, legs spread just enough to keep your balance. Paige didn’t hesitate. Her hand came down hard against your ass, the sharp crack echoing through the apartment.

You gasped, your whole body jolting at the impact, the sting radiating outward in a hot, delicious burn.

Paige hummed behind you, pleased. “Fuck, I missed this,” she murmured, her fingers smoothing over the mark she’d just left. “You’re so fucking pretty when you take it.”

Another slap. Harder.

Your hands clenched into fists, your breath stuttering as the pain twisted into something dangerously close to pleasure.

“You like that?” Paige taunted, her palm resting on your already burning skin, her fingers digging in. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” you gasped, voice unsteady. “Fuck—yes.”

“Good,” she muttered, reaching for something behind you, the couch shifting with her movement. A small click—then the unmistakable slick pop of a cap flipping open. The scent hit first. Sharp, clean, something cool against the heat simmering beneath your skin.

She shifted behind you, knees pressing firm into the cushions, the heat of her body radiating against your back, against the backs of your thighs. Her breath ghosted over your skin—too close, not close enough.

Then—her fingers.

She didn’t give you time to prepare.

A rough fistful of your hair, yanking hard, forcing your spine into an arch so deep your ribs strained, your lips parting in a sharp, unbidden gasp.

The pull was brutal, just shy of painful, the roots of your hair screaming—but the way her grip anchored you, controlled you, owned you—

You swallowed, legs trembling beneath you.

“Stay fucking still,” she warned, pressing the head of the strap between your thighs, teasing, dragging it through your wetness, spreading it around. “I’m gonna ruin this fucking pussy.”

She thrust, pushing in hard, deep, no warning beyond the stretch, the sheer fullness stealing the breath from your lungs.

You whimpered, your arms shaking as you fought to stay upright, your body clenching around the intrusion, the burn sharp, perfect.

Paige groaned behind you, her grip tightening in your hair. “Jesus fuck, you take it so well,” she muttered, rolling her hips, dragging the length in and out, slow at first, teasing, letting you feel every inch.

Then—another crack against your ass. Your moan was shameless, your body jerking forward, only to be pulled back by her grip on your hair.

“Fuck, you sound so good,” Paige rasped, voice thick, wrecked. Her grip on your hip tightened, her fingers digging into your skin like she wanted to brand herself into you. Her thrusts were deep, relentless, knocking the air straight out of your lungs with every snap of her hips. “You like it when I use you like this?”

Like it?

Like it?

You could barely hold yourself up, fingers curling into the couch, your body betraying you in every possible way—hips arching back without thinking, legs shaking, thighs slick with everything she’d already wrung from you.

Your mind was a haze, a mess of static, the sharp sting of her fingers bruising into your hip mixing with the raw aching stretch between your legs. There was no room for thought, for pride, for anything except the unbearable, devastating need to keep her right fucking there.

She pulled back—almost all the way—leaving you empty, your walls clenching around nothing, a sharp, helpless noise slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

Then she slammed back in.

A cry tore from your throat, your body jerking forward with the force of it, pleasure spiking so sharp it hurt.

“Yeah?” she breathed, amusement curling at the edges of her voice, sharp and teasing, like she could feel how fucked out you were, like she loved it. “Fucking say it.”

Say it. Admit it. Let the words fall from your lips and cement exactly how pathetic you were for her.

You clenched your teeth, breath ragged, body trembling beneath her. The stubborn part of you—the part that fought—clawed at your ribs, held your tongue, refused to give her the satisfaction.

Her palm cracked across your ass—sharp, punishing, hot—and your whole body jerked. A strangled whimper escaped you, high and wrecked, and before you could so much as breathe, she yanked your head back by your hair, forcing your spine to arch, forcing your mouth open on a choked gasp.

“You wanna fucking test me?” she growled, voice low, dangerous, pressing in—so deep you felt it in your fucking stomach.

Your pulse slammed in your throat. You bit your lip hard enough to taste copper, every muscle locking tight, refusing to give her the satisfaction, refusing—

“I love it,” you gasped, your voice breaking as she spanked you again, making you clench around the strap, making your whole body shake. “Fuck—Paige, please—”

She growled, a low, feral sound, and suddenly her hand left your hip, reaching for the vibrator she’d left on the couch.

“You wanna beg?” she taunted, flicking it on, pressing the toy right against your swollen clit. “Then fucking beg for it.”

Paige yanked your head back by your hair, making your back arch, making your ass push up even higher, exposing everything to her. The stretch in your scalp sent shivers straight down your spine, the sharp pull mixing with the brutal way she was pounding into you. Deep. Hard. No mercy.

“Look at this greedy fucking pussy,” she growled, voice dripping with filth, eyes locked on where she was splitting you open. “You’re dripping all over my cock, fucking yourself on it like a desperate little slut.”

Your moan was ragged, broken, the force of each thrust knocking it right out of your lungs. Your arms trembled, struggling to keep you up, but Paige didn’t give a fuck. She loved seeing you like this—wrecked, used, hers.

She shifted behind you, digging her nails into your hip as she slammed into you harder, deeper, making the couch creak under both of you. Every thrust sent wet, obscene sounds echoing through the apartment, slick, filthy, undeniable.

“Listen to this messy fucking hole,” she hissed, smacking your ass again, fingers digging into the flesh right after. Your skin was burning, tingling, the heat radiating through your whole body. “You love it when I fuck you like this, don’t you? Like a dumb little slut, letting me wreck you.”

You gasped, nodding frantically, not trusting yourself to speak—not when every thrust hit something devastating inside you, making you whimper like you’d lost your mind.

“Use your fucking words,” Paige snapped, yanking your hair harder, forcing you to arch so much you thought you might break in half. “Tell me what you are.”

“Y-Your slut,” you choked out, the words barely making it past your lips before she spanked you again, harder than before, the sting rocketing through you, making your whole body twitch.

“Damn right you are,” she muttered, her breath hot against your ear as she leaned over you, still fucking into you, still ruining you. “So fucking wet. So fucking tight. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice high, needy, desperate.

Paige groaned, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, making you scream. Your arms collapsed, your face pressing into the couch, your body unable to hold itself up anymore—but she didn’t stop.

“Oh, fuck no,” Paige laughed, dark and wicked, reaching for your wrists and yanking them behind your back, pinning them there. “You don’t get to tap out now. I’m not done with you yet.”

You sobbed against the cushions, pleasure and overstimulation crashing over you in waves. The way she had you—spine arched, arms pinned, completely fucking helpless—made your head spin. And then—fuck—she reached for the vibrator again, pressing it right against your clit.

You howled, your whole body jerking at the sudden intensity, at the way she wouldn’t fucking let up.

“Oh, you’re squirting for me, huh?” Paige teased, her voice full of pure fucking ego as she felt the mess dripping down her thighs. “Can’t even handle my cock without making a mess, can you?”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out—just a sharp, shuddering breath, a wrecked sound that barely made it past your lips. Your throat felt raw, your body trembling, pushed beyond its limits but still, still chasing more.

Paige’s smirk deepened, her amusement curling at the edges of your desperation. She leaned in close, her breath rolling hot against the sweat-damp skin of your neck. The tip of her nose ghosted over your jaw, her lips brushing the shell of your ear—not a kiss, just enough to taunt, to tease.

“Pathetic little thing,” she murmured, her voice all velvet and cruelty, her words sinking deep into the mess she’d made of you.

Her hips rolled, the strap dragging slow, deliberate, pressing deeper just as the vibrator ground into your swollen, aching clit. The sensation sent a violent tremor through you, your fingers clenching into useless fists, every nerve frayed and screaming.

Paige hummed, pleased.

“What if I just kept you like this?” Her tone was almost thoughtful, but there was something darker beneath it, something that made your stomach flip, made the heat between your legs flare so violently it nearly hurt.

She rocked her hips again, slower this time, grinding the strap deep, her other hand pressing the vibrator harder, no mercy, no relief.

Your back arched, legs twitching, your body caught between pain and unbearable pleasure. Your mouth opened again, but the sound that tore from your throat was nothing human—a choked, broken whimper, your breath catching on the sheer force of it.

Paige’s grip tightened at your hip, steadying you, owning you.

“Kept you bent over,” she murmured, almost absentminded, like she was imagining it, like she was picturing every second of it. “Stuffed full, dripping all over me, shaking so fucking hard you can’t even hold yourself up.”

Your muscles seized, heat crashing through you like a live wire. Your nails scratched at the couch, desperate, useless, but Paige just laughed, feeling the way your body convulsed, the way you clenched down tight around the strap, your walls fluttering, trembling, breaking.

“Go ahead, baby,” she groaned, biting down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. “Cum on my cock. Fucking scream for me.”

Paige laughed as she felt your body convulse beneath her, as she felt your cunt squeeze down around the strap, milking it like it was real, like you couldn’t help yourself. The moment your orgasm tore through you, she didn’t stop—kept fucking into you through it, kept the vibrator locked tight against your clit, holding you down as you twitched and shook, your body betraying you.

You screamed, legs kicking, but Paige just grinned, watching you break.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” she muttered, dragging her lips over your spine, biting down hard enough to leave marks, hard enough to own you. “Look at this greedy little hole—still clenching, still soaking my cock.”

Your brain was fried, barely able to process the overstimulation, your whole body shaking, but Paige didn’t care.

She pulled out slowly, dragging the strap through your swollen, ruined folds, making you feel every inch as she left you empty, used, gaping. Your thighs were soaked, your pussy wrecked, your skin hot and buzzing from the spankings.

Then—another slap, this time right over your dripping folds, her palm catching the mess you’d made.

You jerked, gasping, pleasure and pain crackling through you at once.

Paige chuckled, sliding her fingers through your wetness, gathering it up before shoving them into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself.

“Suck,” she ordered, and you obeyed, wrapping your lips around her fingers, your tongue swirling over them, licking up every drop.

She groaned, watching you, eyes burning.

Paige dragged her fingers from your mouth, slow, deliberate, her touch lingering just long enough to make you chase it—your lips parting instinctively, tongue flicking out as if to pull her back in.

Wet pop.

The slick, obscene sound echoed in the space between you, and Paige exhaled, something dark, something satisfied curling at the edges of her breath.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” she murmured, her voice thick, heavy, sinking straight into your bones. Her fingers brushed over your cheek, smearing the mess she’d just pulled from your mouth, her thumb pressing against your lip, teasing, taunting.

Then—she moved.

Fast. Unyielding.

Hands at your hips, gripping tight, flipping you like you weighed nothing, like you were just another thing for her to use. The cushions barely had time to register your weight before she was spreading you open, her fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your inner thighs, pushing until there was nothing hidden from her.

You barely processed the shift before cool air hit your soaked, swollen skin, the contrast so sharp it sent a full-body tremor through you.

Your thighs were quivering, slick shining under the dim lights of the apartment, your pussy swollen, throbbing. Paige ran her fingers over it, barely touching, watching the way you twitched, still overstimulated.

“God, you look fucking ruined,” she smirked, gripping the base of the strap, tapping the tip against your still-sensitive clit, making you jump. “Think you can take more?”

Your breath was ragged, your body wrecked, but fuck—fuck, you needed it.

“Yes,” you whispered, voice shaking. “Please.”

Paige’s eyes darkened.

“Then spread those fucking legs wider,” she commanded.

And you did.

Paige smirked as you obeyed, spreading your legs wider, exposing yourself completely—flushed, dripping, needy despite how wrecked you already were. But she didn’t give you anything. Not yet. Instead, she pressed the tip of the strap just against your entrance, teasing, not pushing in, just barely letting you feel the pressure.

Her fingers traced lazy circles over your trembling thighs, pressing down on the spots she’d spanked raw, making you flinch, making you feel every mark she’d left on you.

“You really think you deserve more?” she taunted, dragging the tip of the strap through your soaked folds, never giving you enough. “After that fucking disaster on the court?”

You whimpered, your body twitching, desperate for more friction, but Paige just smirked, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“You cost us that game,” she murmured, her voice low, dangerous. “Didn’t you?”

You swallowed, cheeks burning.

“I—”

Slap.

Paige’s palm met your inner thigh, hard, making you jolt, making you yelp.

“Try again,” she said, her grip on your chin tightening, nails digging in. “Say it.”

You shuddered, your body betraying you, thrumming under her control, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“I—I lost us the game,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Paige hummed, pleased, dragging the strap down again, teasing, but still not giving you what you wanted. “Louder.”

You whimpered, your face burning hotter.

“I lost us the game,” you gasped, the words tasting like shame, like submission.

Paige grinned. “Yeah, you fucking did.”

And then she thrust in, hard, no warning, splitting you open in one smooth, devastating motion.

You screamed, your back arching, your whole body shaking at the sudden stretch, the sudden fullness.

Paige groaned, rolling her hips, making you feel every inch of it. “That’s what a fucking loser like you deserves, huh?” she muttered, one hand gripping your throat, the other pressing the vibrator right against your clit. “Getting fucked like a brainless little toy.”

You sobbed, your body already teetering on the edge, too much, too fast, but Paige just grinned, watching you struggle, watching you break.

Then—she stopped.

Everything.

No movement. No friction. The vibrator still humming against you, but not pushing enough to get you there.

You whined, your hips bucking, trying to chase it, but Paige held you down, her grip on your throat tightening.

“Oh, no,” she mocked, tilting her head. “You think you’re getting off that easy? After you fucked up my game?”

You gasped, your body shaking, the pleasure so close, so unbearable—

But Paige just smirked, lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “You’re not cumming until I say you can.”

Your breath hitched, your entire body screaming for release, your skin hot, your muscles tight, that unbearable edge turning into something sharp, almost painful. Paige was still inside you, thick and unyielding, the vibrator right there, your clit swollen, throbbing—but she wasn’t moving. Just watching. Waiting.

Fuck. Fuck.

You needed it, needed her to just move, just do something, but the moment your hips jerked forward, chasing friction, Paige’s hand tightened around your throat, pressing down just enough to steal the air from your lungs. Your back arched, your body helpless, caught between pain and pleasure, oxygen slipping from your grasp.

“You don’t listen,” Paige murmured, shaking her head, like she was disappointed in you. “I told you—you don’t get to cum yet.”

Her grip eased up just enough to let you breathe, let you speak.

Your jaw clenched. Your pride flared—some stubborn, defiant part of you that hated being told what to do, even if your body was betraying you, even if you were dripping around her, desperate for more.

Fuck that.

Your hands snapped up, grabbing at her wrist, trying to pry her fingers away from your throat.

Paige’s lips curled into a slow, wicked grin.

“Oh, you wanna fight now?” she taunted, laughing at you, mocking you, like you weren’t even a threat, like you were nothing more than her plaything.

Rage flared in your chest, heat curling in your gut, fueled by humiliation, by desperation. Your nails dug into her wrist, and you bucked your hips hard, trying to throw her off, trying to gain some kind of control.

Bad fucking idea.

Paige growled, low and dangerous, and before you could blink, she had your wrists pinned above your head, her weight pressing you down, her breath hot against your ear.

“That was fucking stupid,” she muttered, her voice dark with something dangerous, something predatory. “Now I’m gonna make you beg for it.”

You struggled, tried to fight back, but she was stronger, her grip iron, her body unshakable.

“You love this,” she whispered, grinding her hips down, making the strap press deeper, making you whimper. “You love being under me. Love getting used. Love being my little fucking toy.”

You clenched your teeth, shaking your head, your breath ragged.

“N-No—”

Slap.

Paige’s hand cracked across your face, your head snapping to the side, heat blooming across your cheek.

Your gasp was sharp, shocked, but the second she grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at her, forcing your eyes to lock with hers, your stomach dropped.

Because she knew.

She saw it. Felt it.

The way your pussy clenched around the strap. The way your thighs trembled. The way your lips parted, breath hitching, body betraying you entirely.

Paige smirked.

“Oh, you liked that,” she mocked, pressing the vibrator harder against your clit, making you jolt, making you whimper. “Fucking filthy.”

You hated how right she was.

Hated that you were fucking soaked, your body burning, your pride cracking under the.

She leaned in, her lips brushing your ear, her voice slow, teasing, cruel.

“Say it,” she whispered, rolling her hips, dragging the strap out of you, just enough to make you ache, to make you chase it.

You clenched your teeth, fighting it, fighting her.

She laughed, mocking, pressing the strap just against your entrance, right there, but not inside, not giving you what you needed.

“Say it,” Paige murmured again, her voice slow, dragging over the syllables, rolling them over her tongue like she relished the sound. Like she knew she had you. Like she owned you. “Say you love it.”

Her tone was laced with something dark, something dangerous, but it was her eyes that truly wrecked you—those piercing blue irises locked onto yours, drinking in your desperation, your humiliation, your surrender.

You shook, your entire body trembling, every nerve burning with the unbearable edge she had you dangling over. Your pussy was clenching around nothing, aching, needing her to just move, to just fucking fuck you, but she wouldn’t. Wouldn’t give it to you until you admitted it. Until you broke completely.

Your fists clenched above your head where she still had them pinned, nails biting into your own skin as you tried to fight it, tried to hold on to the last shreds of your pride.

But it was slipping.

You could feel yourself unraveling, piece by piece, your body betraying you, betraying everything, and fuck—fuck, she knew. She could see it.

Her smirk deepened, her fingers tightening around your wrists, pressing them harder into the cushions, her body looming over you, suffocating in the best fucking way.

She waited.

She didn’t repeat herself. Didn’t need to.

Your breath hitched, caught in your throat, your thighs quivering where they were still spread wide open for her, still needy, still so fucking wrecked.

And then—

“… I love it.”

The words were barely a whisper, barely more than shame slipping from your lips, and the moment they left your mouth, Paige fucking grinned.

Her fingers released your wrists, only to slide down, wrapping around your throat again, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur, to make your breath stutter.

“Good fucking girl,” she purred, her voice thick with pride, with ownership, with pure fucking satisfaction.

And then she slammed back in.

Hard.

No warning. No buildup. Just a brutal, unrelenting thrust that forced a wrecked cry from your lips, your back arching, your body convulsing under her.

She didn’t ease you into it. Didn’t fucking care that you were still trembling, still shaking, still so fucking sensitive. She just used you, fucking into you with brutal, merciless strokes, making your breath punch out of you with every thrust.

Her hand tightened around your throat, her other hand grabbing your hip, holding you still, forcing you to take it, to accept it, to submit completely.

“Say it again,” she growled, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice dripping with sin, with dominance, with something feral.

You whimpered, your whole body wrecked, already tipping toward that unbearable edge again, already so fucking close.

Her hips snapped harder, her cock splitting you open, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you, ruining you.

“Say it again,” she snarled, her grip on your throat tightening, the vibrator pressing harder against your clit, sending a white-hot shock through you.

Your entire body twitched, fire spreading through your veins, through every nerve—

And then—

“I love it—fuck, I fucking love it.”

Paige moaned, deep and guttural, her hand sliding up, gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at her, forcing you to see how much she was enjoying this. How much she loved seeing you like this—ruined, helpless, hers.

“That’s fucking right,” she spat, pounding into you harder, her fingers digging into your cheeks, her nails biting into your skin. “You fucking love it. Love getting used. Love being my little fucking slut.”

You sobbed, pleasure crashing through you, your whole body convulsing as she fucked you through it, as she held you down and forced you to take every second of it.

And fuck—fuck—she wasn’t stopping.

She had you right where she wanted you—under her, wrecked, body trembling, clenching around the strap, soaking both of you. She was fucking you through another orgasm, grip tight on your jaw, vibrator still pressed to your swollen, abused clit, your body unable to do anything but take it.

Her breath hitched, a smirk curling at the corner of her lips as she watched you fall apart.

“God damn,” Paige grunted, her gaze locked on the way your thighs shook, the way your fingers clawed at her forearms, the couch cushions, fucking air—like there was anywhere to go, like she wasn’t going to hold you right there until you had nothing left.

“You’re so fucking pathetic like this.”

You sobbed, every nerve fried, pleasure tipping past unbearable, white-hot static frying your goddamn brain—

BANG BANG BANG.

Your whole body seized. Paige froze.

For a second, the only sound in the room was the both of you panting—loud, breathless, soaked—

Then—

“HEY!”

A voice from the other side of the door. KK. Your stomach dropped.

“Oh my fucking god,” you whispered, mortified, pure horror crawling up your spine.

Paige, though? She fucking laughed.

“Yeah, we’re serious,” she called out, still breathless, still inside you, still fucking smug. “What do you wan?”

A groan. Another thud of a fist against the door.

“It’s two in the fucking morning! Some of us don’t wanna listen to your freaky-ass sex life all fucking night!”

You covered your face with your hands. Paige grinned, completely unbothered, shifting her hips just enough to make your breath hitch, like this was funny, like this wasn’t the worst moment of your entire fucking life.

“Maybe you should get some fucking earplugs,” she shot back, smirking.

“Or maybe you should go fuck in a soundproof basement like a normal goddamn person!”

Paige snorted, her body shaking from how hard she was holding back laughter.

“Not my fault this bitch is loud as fuck.”

You kicked her.

Hard.

Paige cackled, her whole body shaking on top of you.

“Jesus Christ!” KK groaned, slamming the door one last time before stomping away, voice trailing off as she disappeared down the hall. “Fucking lesbians, man…”

Silence.

Then, Paige propped herself up on her elbows, grinning down at you, still breathless, still flushed, still inside you.

“Well,” she smirked.

She rocked her hips—slow, teasing, devastating.

“Where were we?”

A beat.

Then, from the depths of your absolute humiliation, you mustered the last bit of strength in your body—

“KK! YOU’RE GAY TOO, BITCH!”

Silence. 

A door slammed down the hall.

Paige lost her shit, laughing so hard she actually collapsed on top of you, her whole body shaking, still breathless, still inside you.

You groaned, throwing an arm over your face. “I hate you.”

Paige propped herself up, still grinning like an absolute psycho, eyes gleaming.

“No, you don’t.”

[moonstonejpg]

ours (k.bakugou x reader)

"your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong in"

sum. bakugou is having a bad week, thankfully his girl is always there to make the bad days a little better

cw: a little angst, fluff at the end!

i hate hate hate paparazzi!! loosely based off of this and the song ours by taylor swift

It had been a rough week for Katsuki.

First, the hero rankings were announced, and he found himself at #15—not even in the top ten. And he swore it didn't bother him, that the rankings were just a stupid popularity contest. But you saw the way his shoulders slightly slumped in disappointment and the way his fists clenched so hard that the half-moon imprints of his nails in his skin stayed for hours after you had smoothed his fingers out.

It broke your heart to see him like that—and then yesterday he got into a silly fight with Izuku, one that was filmed and taken way out of context by thousands of people on the internet. Which in turn prompted the resurgence of people saying he didn't even deserve to be on the list at all, let alone at #15.

bakugou is mentally unstable lol

i worry about his gf tbh, those anger issues are a huuuge red flag

right?! i hope that poor girl gets out of that

she seems so sweet, he’s probably threatening her or something

It was just one hit after another for him.

And now, as he stares out the window at the crowd of paparazzi with a clenched jaw, the only thought in your mind is how this is strike three. All he wanted to do was take you out for a nice dinner to thank you for being so supportive this week, but he couldn't even do that without a swarm of media leeches waiting outside.

"Kats, we don't have to go. We can just stay here." You say quietly, worried eyes set on his tense shoulders.

"No," he growls, "I'm not letting them ruin this too." He positions himself in front of you before taking a few hesitant steps out the front door of your shared apartment building.

His warm hand envelopes your own, fingers threading through before tugging you behind him, half shielding you with his large body. The flash of the cameras and the noise of the crowd makes your vision blur, but Katsuki is moving fast, fingers tightly gripping your own while his gaze is laser focused on the awaiting black car parked on the other side of the street.

Everything is moving so fast, the shouts of the various reporters melting together around you. But you can't hear a word they say, the sound drowning out any specific words, until—

“Why him?”

And you nearly miss the step below as you freeze. The question has you rearing back as if you'd been hit, your eyes dancing towards the sound of the question. You see him right away, a male reporter who is nearly frothing at the mouth for a reaction. The reporter leans forward, eyeing you hungrily as he waits for an answer. And usually, you wouldn't give them any time of day, the daily harassment towards you and every other pro-hero and their significant other almost daily a good enough reason toignore any of their probing questions. But how could you ignore this?

“Why him?” you parrot back, white-hot anger burning through your body at a rapid rate. You don’t think twice before you’re ripping your wrist out of the blonde's hand and taking angry strides towards the reporter. You're nearly toe-to-toe with the man, and while he is a full head taller than you, he shrinks a bit from the look on your face.

Katsuki comes up beside you, gently tugging at your wrist.

“It’s not worth it.” He says lowly, looking down at you with something like sadness tinged in his eyes. And your heart cracks, picking up on the one thing he isn’t saying but you know he’s thinking.

That he’s not worth it.

And you can’t have that, you can't have Katsuki thinking that he isn’t worth any of this, because he is. He is worth everything, and despite being in each other’s lives for years now, the fact that he still doesn’t see that is devastating.  

Your body begins shaking from a mix of anger and adrenaline as you look at the crowd around you. A slow hush falls over the crowd, as if they are waiting with bated breath to see what you have to say.

“Because he is the kindest human I have ever had the pleasure of knowing; kinder than any of you will ever be. And what has he ever done to you to make you so obsessed with twisting every move he makes, every word he utters into something that makes him look like the bad guy? And for a quick buck? You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” After shooting a glare around the crowd, you keep your chin high as you grab a stunned Katsuki’s hand and drag him towards the car.

You gently push him in, keeping a hand smoothed over the back of your dress as you crawl in after him, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

The car ride to the restaurant is eerily quiet, and as the adrenaline begins to leak out of your body, your brain catches up to what you did. And yeah—they did need to be told off, but you start to wonder if this is something that will get him into trouble.

You weren’t a hero and you didn’t have a lick of media training, why did you think causing a scene would be a good idea? The thoughts spiral in, and you want to bury your face in your hands as dread slithers its way into your stomach.

When you get inside the building, you are ushered towards the back of the restaurant by the host, presumably to where your table is located. But before you round the corner, Katsuki is tugging you into a dimly lit closet, fingers making quick work of the lock. Even after the door is bolted shut, he stands and faces it, as you just watch the outline of the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Kats?” You say quietly, a hand hovering over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just—”

He shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh pushing its way out of his mouth.  

“No, you—” He shakes his head again, then turns around to face you, his body crowding you up against the wall. His eyes are dark, twinkling with emotions you can’t place. Both of his hands come up to gently cradle your face, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

You blink up at him, confused.

“Not only was that the hottest thing I have ever seen, but—well, that was the first time anyone has stuck up for me before.”

“I would do it again—anything for you really. You’re worth it. And I know that’s hard for you to believe, but you are. They can say whatever they want, but I know in my heart that I do not deserve you, and that you ” You say quietly, eyes locked on his. He smiles, eyes shining, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” He whispers in the dark of the room, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“I love you Kats.”

“I love you too. Now, how about we ditch this place?” He asks, leaning back to tug at his tie, before bending forward to loop it around your neck. “I think that new ice cream parlor is open. So, sundaes on me?”

You nod, a giggle escaping when he bends down and tugs the ends of the tie, your body falling into him. He lets out a gentle laugh, the sound like a gentle breeze on a hot day. It has your smile stretching across your face, your heart singing in response.

He reaches down to unlock the door, but when he flicks the lock back, nothing happens. Katsuki tries again, but again, nothing happens. It doesn’t budge, not the second time he tries or the fifth, or even the tenth time he tries. On the eleventh try his hand slips from the lock, his eyes colliding with yours.

It’s silent for a few seconds, and then a laugh bursts out of him, followed by another and another. The sound has the grin staying locked in place on your face, relief flowing through you at the change in his mood.

“We—we’re stuck.” He gasps out, hands falling on his knees as he hunches over, deep laughs spilling out of him. It isn’t long before you are on the floor next to him, trying to catch your breath around your own laughter.

[wandasaura]

IVE GOT PLANS FOR YOU

summary — natasha has plans for you, and they involve a window, fake blood, and a earth-shattering orgasm before a valentine’s day party

warning(s) — established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, fingering, hair pulling, mentioning of spanking, strap-on use, strap-on receiving (r), clit stimulation, window sex, one instance of name calling, praise kink, brief/semi orgasm control, begging, dirty talk, mention of possessiveness, hickies, biting, natasha in a suit, costume party so obviously she’s ghostface, 18+ minors dni

The lights were low as you paced the lavish ballroom, sleek kitten heels that contributed to your rather scandalous outfit thumping against the tile flooring that was sticky from spilled mixers and cheap beer despite the party not even beginning yet. The guests that you and Natasha had invited weeks ago were set to be arriving within the next hour – a few of Natasha’s friends and their respective plus ones; all people whom you’d met on prior occasions and more-or-less liked – however a twinge of uncertainty gripped you viciously as the evening drew later and the haunting uncertainty of drunken mingling hung above your head tauntingly. Things were still new with Natasha; fragile. Even if you’d been friends for nearly a decade, even if you’d been welcomed into her group of chosen family years ago when she’d found out you spend the winter holidays alone and had insisted that you join her and Maria on an undisclosed farm in Iowa, this was the first time she’d be introducing you as her girlfriend, and the thought of her friends, namely Laura and Maria, not agreeing with her decision to lean into the love she held for you, rattled your typically reserved exterior fiercely. It had been a long drawn out love affair, but the end of your passionate avoidance had been sweet and more than earned if you were allowed to offer your biased opinion. You’d break into a million pieces if the friends that she cherished didn’t agree with your romantic endeavors. Natasha wouldn’t care if they spoke out of turn and criticized her decision to finally give genuine romantic love a chance, but you would. You’d promised yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t come between her and the happiness she more than deserved, but if her friends didn’t think that you met her standards, or if they simply didn’t approve of her dating somebody that undoubtedly would drown before they learned to match the pace of the current that life as a superhero created, you’d walk away without any hesitation. Natasha Romanoff has endured enough pain and injustice in her life, you wouldn’t further contribute to the harrowing pain that kept her up in the middle of the night, even if that meant sacrificing the one thing you’d ever been fully sure that you wanted.

“If you think any harder, you’re going to pop a vessel in that pretty little brain I love so much.” In the years that you’d known each other, Natasha had learned not to sneak up on you, but even as she assured that the heavy soles of her leather loafers made soft thudding noises as they padded against the tile flooring in the ballroom that was attentively decorated in sleek purple and orange decorations, you’d been entirely unaware of how she’d slipped in through the main entrance and set her eyes on you fondly. You’d nearly jumped out of your skin when her velvety voice interrupted the spiraling thoughts that had consumed you for the better half of an hour now, but as you settled with the realization that it was only your girlfriend coming up behind you, the comfort of her gravelly voice washed away some of the uncertainty that brought a clammy sheen to your palms. “Stop worrying so much about what they’re going to say, they already love you and you know that.” Natasha didn’t have to ask what had you so far gone in your head that you hadn’t even heard her come inside, she’d known from the first glimpse of your rigid frame across the room. Even if your romantic relationship was new, your platonic relationship had withstood fallen government agencies, aliens on Earth, and near death encounters that had both of you grasping for straws trying to keep any sliver of normalcy intact however you could. It had been Thanos that finally brought the two of you together, even if twinges of romantic possibility had existed for years before she impulsively swan-dove off a cliff on an alien planet with only the hope that Clint would find a way to get her back to you. She knows everything about you, but more than that, you know everything about her. You know that when she smiles with her teeth, it’s because she’s uncomfortable, as odd as that had initially been to wrap your head around. You know that when she seeks you out in the middle of the night in an oversized hoodie, she’d been woken up by paralyzing fear. You know that she likes cinnamon in her hot chocolate, and that when she looks at you the way she is now, with her chin tilted downward and her eyes set firmly on yours, she’s trying her hardest not to stare down at your chest where your nipples pebble beneath thin material.

“They love me as your friend, they could hate me as your girlfriend. I mean, I know nothing about how to survive in your world, Natasha. I’m a liability. What if another alien – like Loki! – comes to Earth and you have to get out, but you’re held back because I don’t know what’s important to bring to a safe-house. I mean, really, just caring about me at all could be the reason you don’t make it if something-” The second you’d started vocalizing the worries that plagued you, it had been practically impossible to cut yourself off, your eyes become glassy with that far away gleam Natasha hated. That had always been where you differed. Where Natasha was calculated, you were spontaneous. Where she had a plan for everything, even the miniscule things like grocery shopping in a crowded stripmall, you flew by the seat of your pants. You’d never needed to have a plan before you allowed her world to become intertwined with yours, but Natasha’s entire life had revolved around having multiple at a time. She’d come to know how to silence your anxieties in the years that had led up to this current moment, and without a moment of hesitation, her lips crashed into yours, and she allowed her blood splattered palms to frame your face as her teeth sank into your lower lip, nibbling on the pink-hued skin in a way that had your eyes fluttering closed and your fingers digging into the lapels of her blazer yearning for more. She’d wanted to be Ghostface for the Valentines Day costume party Pepper scammed her into hosting, but Natasha was nothing if not elaborate, and somehow, she’d constructed the costume from an old suit that had been abandoned in the back of her closet for years, the plastic mask that laid around somewhere displaced for the time being the only authentic element of her attire. You didn’t care for how she most definitely clashed with the existing image of the movie’s villain, thinking the fitted suit and the cuffed sleeves fit her exterior perfectly.

When she pulled away, only because you’d stopped breathing to instead attempt to match the weight conveyed in her kiss, her eyebrows furrowed in contemplation as she cradled your face sweetly. You frowned curiously, head tilting to the side as you tried to figure out where her thoughts had drifted to in such a short span of time. “What’s my name?” The words fell off her lips just as heavily as your anxious rambling had slipped into the air between the both of you, only Natasha’s eyes hadn’t glazed over like she was trapped in a memory and couldn’t decipher where she was. The enchanting green color that you’d spent so many nights gazing into were dark now, twisted with something wicked that was yet to be discovered by you. It never failed to amaze you how even after years of truly knowing each other, you could still be thrown off by her simplest of expressions.

You pulled away from her lips regretfully, your palm on her cheek framing the expression clouding her sparkling features. Shades of red and pink were thrown around the room, but nothing looked as sweet as her red hair falling over her shoulder in waves, catching rays of light that refracted off of skyscrapers in the distance. “Natasha.” You breathed dreamily, dazed by her gentle love that gripped you tight.

“No, what’s my name when it’s just us?” Natasha backed you up against the window forcefully, the air slipping from your lungs as your shoulder blades thumped against frigid glass before your spine met the same fate, her hands on your hips now keeping you still. A low moan slipped off of your lips, eyes that were once ablaze with anxiety now sparkling with lust as you understood what she was getting at.

When you didn’t answer, too drunk on the passion behind her glimmering jewel eyes, a hand left your hip to cradle your face, but in seconds that grip became steeled on your jaw and your eyes watered as you trembled beneath her touch. “Daddy.” The plea fell off of your tongue pathetically, your head lulling to the side when she loosened her grip.

“You gonna be a good girl for me? Let Daddy play with you before her friends get here?” She traced the side of your face, drawing her nail down your warm skin until goosebumps collected on your arms. You preened beneath her attention, trying to follow the path of her fingers but in a second that delicate brush against your cheek turned into a tight grip on your hair, spinning you around like a ragdoll until your chest was flush against the windows, your shaky breath fogging the glass as you gazed down beneath you. A gasp fell off of your lips when cold hands that were splattered in fake blood because Natasha Romanoff could never do anything casually despite trying to portray indifference at all times snuck up your thighs, creeping beneath the hem of your dress until they found damp fabric to taunt. “Gonna let me clear that pretty head? Make it all fuzzy and sweet the way I like? Oh, I’ve got plans for you, baby girl.” You could’ve rolled your eyes at the cocky reiteration of ghostface’s line, but you were otherwise focused on something else.

“Nat–” You breathed, a sweet groan falling off of your lips when she pulled at your hair again, the rest of her name falling off your tongue as you tried to dig your nails into slick glass.

“That’s not my name, Princess.” She teased, grinding her hips into yours. Your surprised gasp fogged the window up more, your view of the street below obstructed now. But you weren’t. Your body wasn’t. Natasha wasn’t. If anyone looked up, glanced toward the windows for even a second, they’d see your intoxicating frame flush against the glass. They’d see your knuckles bent, practically white, desperate for a grip on something. They’d notice the fog on the windows, but also the way your chin was lifted away from the surface, held taught by pale hands. They’d see the way your dress rises every time Natasha grounds her hips into your core. They’d see her pulling this reaction from your willing body. “Do you feel that, baby? Can you feel Daddy’s cock?”

“Mhm.” You hummed desperately, your eyes pinched shut tightly as your body became putty beneath her touch. Your knees threatened to buckle beneath the pleasure of Natasha’s touch when she pulled your sodden panties to the side, hiking your dress up beyond your hips until nothing kept your core from her touch or the eyes of strangers below you. A strangled cry slipped off of your lips when her fingers, two of them, plunged into your sopping core. Your walls strained to accept the squeeze, fluttering around her second knuckle as she worked them deeper into you. “P-Please. Just fuck me, Nat.”

“When are you going to learn, sweetheart? It’s Daddy to you.” A hand slapped against the globe of your ass before her fingers slipped out from your tempting heat. She smeared the stringy evidence of your arousal against the insides of your thighs, her nails leaving trails of red as she marks her claim on your body. If her friends look closely tonight, then they’ll all see the evidence of her on your body. It’s what she wants though. You’ve known it since the moment she tangled her fingers into your hair.

You don’t know when she unzipped her pants, but between the second clap to your ass and her teeth sinking into the side of your neck, the strap that was once hidden beneath the confines of her slacks pressed firmly to your weeping entrance. A tilt of her hips had you weak against the window, a loud whine tearing through your chest as she set a brutal pace without warning. “Daddy!” You called out to her, a pleasure-filled twinge to your breathy plea as one hand reached back to slap against her ribs, reaching for a hand to hold as every nerve in your body sparked to life.

Her hips slapped against yours every time she thrusted into you, the grooves along the strap creating friction against that sweet spot inside of you. You gasped when her fingers joined the mix between your legs, playing with your clit like she knew your every tell and she did. The relationship might be new, but the sex wasn’t, and she knew your every tell and twitch without even thinking about them anymore. “Oh, you’re getting close for me pretty girl? Squeezing me so tight.”

“Please! Please, Daddy!” You begged mindlessly, not a single thought in your head besides how good it felt to have her slamming into you without restraint. When she hit a particular spot, you saw stars, and your head lulled back onto her shoulder. Her hand came up to frame your throat, pulling you flush against her chest as she demanded you hold it. “I can’t! Daddy, I can’t.”

“You’re going to.” She seethed, snapping her hips up into you harder. Her pace was punishing, and the hand between your legs didn’t quit despite her warning. Right as you considered giving into the pleasure and breaking her rules, her thumb hooked onto your jaw, pulling your lips to meet hers in a needy embrace. “Cum for me, baby. Make a mess on my cock. Such a fucking slut. Getting fucked in front of a window, right before all of our friends come over. God, I love you.”

You moaned into her mouth as you came undone around her strap, bucking into her chest before you collapsed entirely, but Natasha wasn’t done with you yet. Her pace only quickened, her arms the only thing holding you upright as she chased her own high. It felt euphoric, every snap of her hips, every point of sharp pressure along your hips as her nails dug into you. To be used by her was to be loved so fully you didn’t even know how to process the sensation.

“Good girl. Good girl.” She choked out between raged moans, her grip on you softening as she finally wavered. She leaned up against your body, trapping you against the window as she laughed breathlessly, kissing you sweetly as she calmed down. “I love you.”

“I kinda figured as much when you asked me to be your valentine.” You teased, cheeks flush and eyes glassy as you gazed up at her dreamily. “I love you.”

[bunji-enthusiast]

I had this in thought alot! (It's gory if you don't mind!)

Poppy playtime player becoming so hungry at this point that their losing their sanity and thinking of eating the corpses For survival so the rest has to hold player down from eating the corpses!

(I know its gory and so sorry if it made you uncomfortable)

𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐖𝐞 𝐆𝐨

Sypnosis [The tempting smell of the corpses becomes more and more frequent, it eventually became too hard for you too ignore due to your increasing hunger. Luckily, you had some allies to help you resist it; even if forcibly.]

Characters [Kissy Missy, DogDay, Poppy, Doey The Doughman. (Seperate)]

Note || you didn’t make me uncomfortable at all! Don’t worry, but it’s a topic I tried to write with care. This shit is a very real thing that can happen, and should be treated with caution and respect.

Kissy Missy

You had never imagined it would come to this: an insatiable hunger gnawing at your gut, unrelenting as the hours passed. You, once a proud employee of Playtime Co., found yourself trapped in the eerie, decaying remnants of the factory, alongside strange, monstrous beings that had once been your colleagues. The stench of death lingered thick in the air, a heavy reminder of the atrocities committed during The Hour of Joy, but now it did more than just disgust you. Now, it tempted you.

At first, you fought against the gnawing cravings that threatened to overtake you. How could you—someone who had worked here—ever think of consuming the bodies of the very ones you had once known, even if they were twisted remnants of their former selves? And yet, each passing hour made it harder to resist, each sight of a fallen figure, each whiff of their decaying flesh, made your resolve falter. Hunger, once a mere inconvenience, became a ravenous beast clawing at your insides.

But you were not alone in this misery. Kissy Missy, who had once been just another experiment under Playtime Co.'s cruel reign, was there, always by your side. Tall and slender, her pink fur now marred by the scars of countless battles, she seemed almost... human in a way. Her blue bow and yellow hands stood out against her once pristine pink fur, now tattered from years of neglect and violence. She had been through her own trauma, the burns on her right side proof of that, yet she still managed to offer you a strange sense of comfort, a reminder that you weren't the only one left with so much lost.

You hated the hunger, but it was her presence that kept you from succumbing. Despite her own pain and injuries, she remained strong, acting as a barrier between you and the darkness threatening to overtake you.

Kissy's efforts were not subtle. She could see the desperation in your eyes as you edged closer to the corpses scattered around the facility, the lifeless remains of those who had been victims of the Prototype’s reign. She had already seen what the hunger could do to a person, and she would be damned if she allowed you to fall victim to it.

"Don’t," she would warn, her voice surprisingly gentle despite the fierceness that radiated from her. "Stay with me."

You hated that she had to intervene, to hold you back with both her force and concern. But you knew deep down that she was right. If she weren't there, you might have already given in, becoming something far worse than you already were. The hunger was more than just physical. It was a pull, a drive to consume the very thing that you had once been, the remnants of a life that had crumbled away into twisted, grotesque shapes.

Each time you got too close, her grip tightened around your arm, pulling you away from the gruesome temptation. There were moments, though, when you could feel your resistance weakening, when the hunger surged so strongly that it drowned out every other thought. At those times, she was not gentle. She would force you back, pushing you away from the remains, her sharp eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and fierce determination.

It was only then, in those moments, that you saw the lengths she was willing to go to keep you from crossing that line. The force she applied was not cruel but necessary. You were no longer yourself, a mere shell of who you once were. And she, though herself a victim of this cruel factory, refused to let you become something even worse.

"You’re not one of them," Kissy would say, her voice laced with a fierce protectiveness. "Don’t lose yourself."

There was something strange about the way she said it, as though she knew something deeper, something that had been lost to you. You were not just another victim of the Prototype’s horrific games—you were something else, something worth saving.

The hunger didn’t go away, not entirely. But you fought against it, clinging to the memory of who you used to be. And as each day passed, as each battle with your own cravings grew more intense, you realized that you weren’t alone in this anymore. Kissy Missy, despite her own pain, was there, holding you back from the abyss, keeping you tethered to whatever humanity you had left.

She would do anything to prevent you from falling, even if it meant pushing you to your breaking point. And in the end, you knew you owed her more than just your survival. She had become your anchor in a world that had long since drowned in darkness, guiding you through the factory’s nightmarish halls with a strength that you had long since lost.

But even then, there were moments when the hunger threatened to overtake you, and in those moments, you understood just how far Kissy Missy was willing to go to save you from yourself. She was more than just an ally; she was a reminder of the last shred of humanity that existed in this forsaken place.

Would you be able to resist the temptation forever? Could you both survive the horrors that awaited you in the depths of Playtime Co.? Only time would tell, but as long as Kissy Missy was there, you felt a sliver of hope that you might just find a way to escape the darkness together.

DogDay

You stagger through the cold, decaying corridors, your stomach gnawing at you with an unbearable hunger. It's been hours since you last found food, and your body is betraying you. The thought of cannibalism has been creeping into your mind, tempting you like a forbidden fruit. The idea repulses you, but with every passing hour, that same thought grows more and more alluring. Your lips are dry, your body weak, and every fiber of your being is screaming for sustenance. You grit your teeth, trying to push the urge down, but it rises again, a terrifying whisper in the back of your mind.

"Why not?" it asks, a cold voice that isn't your own. "What else is there? Food is food, isn't it?"

You stumble forward, your vision blurred from exhaustion. The floor beneath you seems to shift, as if the very foundation of this forsaken place is alive. You know you're being driven mad, but your hunger, that primal instinct, is overpowering. The walls seem to close in on you, their decay a reflection of your own deteriorating state of mind.

Just as you're about to give in to the temptation, a voice, soft yet commanding, cuts through the haze of your thoughts.

"Don't," DogDay says, his monotone voice a calm anchor in the storm that rages inside you. His words are a gentle plea, a reminder of the bond you share with him.

You turn to see him, his disfigured form standing in the shadowed corner of the hallway. His orange fur is a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding you, and despite his monstrous appearance, there's a sense of comfort in his presence. His body is a grotesque mockery of what it once was, bisected at the waist and held together with leather straps, yet his eyes, black and expressive, seem to convey nothing but concern for you.

"DogDay..." you mutter, your voice hoarse, as you struggle to stand. "I can't... I don't know how much longer I can hold on."

DogDay's head tilts slightly, as if he understands the torment you're going through. He knows. He's been there before, though perhaps in a different way. His stitched-together body speaks of an existence far more painful than yours could ever be. And yet, he chooses to help you, to guide you through this madness.

"I won't let you," DogDay says firmly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can't. This isn't the way."

You can feel the weight of his words sink into you, and for a moment, you close your eyes, trying to push the hunger down again. But it lingers, gnawing at your insides. It's tempting, so tempting to give in.

But DogDay is here. He always has been.

You turn to him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you take a step back. Not just from the hunger, but from the madness that has consumed you. You're not alone. DogDay is here, and though he can't move as freely as he once did, he is steadfast in his support.

The moment passes, but the hunger is still there, lurking beneath the surface. It's waiting for you to falter, to give in. But DogDay won't let that happen.

"Stay with me," he urges, his voice as steady as ever. "I know the darkness calls to you, but you're stronger than it. We just need to keep moving. Keep moving, and we'll find a way out."

You nod, wiping the sweat from your brow. The hunger doesn't go away, but for now, it's bearable. You can withstand it. With DogDay by your side, you will survive this.

As you walk together through the decaying corridors, the weight of the past still hanging heavily on your shoulders, you can't help but wonder just how far DogDay has come. He was once part of a group, the Smiling Critters, living in harmony with the experiments, but all of that changed during The Hour of Joy. The chaos, the bloodshed, it shattered everything. DogDay was left behind, a solitary figure in a world gone mad. Yet, through it all, he remained resilient, steadfast in his determination to help you.

"I was not always like this," DogDay says quietly, as if reading your thoughts. "I had a family once. A purpose. But that was taken from me, just like it was taken from everyone else."

His words hang in the air, heavy with grief and longing. You know the story, of course. The Smiling Critters' revolt against the Prototype, their deaths, and DogDay's subsequent imprisonment by CatNap. It was a tragic tale, one that left DogDay scarred in both body and mind. But despite it all, he chose to survive.

And now, he chooses to help you survive.

The thought is enough to steel your resolve. You can do this. You will not succumb to the darkness. Not while DogDay is here to keep you grounded.

The two of you move forward, one step at a time, the silence between you comfortable, yet filled with unspoken understanding. The hunger still claws at you, but for now, you resist. With DogDay by your side, you know you can make it through this.

Poppy

The atmosphere in the factory was suffocating. The low hum of machines, the distant clattering of metal, and the unsettling silence in between all gnawed at you. You'd been walking for hours now, your stomach growling like an angry beast inside of you, each hour dragging the hunger closer to the surface. There was a time when you’d had a deep hatred for the idea of cannibalism. But now? The thought didn’t seem so absurd. Every inch of your body ached with need. The edges of your vision blurred with hunger, but still, you resisted the impulse.

"You need to hold it together," you muttered to yourself, your voice hoarse and desperate. You couldn't let your mind go there, couldn’t let the gnawing hunger take you to such a dark place.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her—Poppy. A doll, yes, but one that seemed to hold some kind of strange power over you. She was small, porcelain skin cracked, but her eyes... her eyes were too real. Too alive. The crack running across her face only seemed to add to the unsettling, almost haunting nature of her presence. Yet she was there, watching over you, her concern evident even with her painted smile.

"Are you okay?" Poppy's voice, though childlike, held an unexpected firmness, as if she knew exactly what you were going through.

"Do I look okay?" you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm starving. I'm dying. And you're... just a doll. What could you possibly understand?"

Poppy didn't flinch. She merely tilted her head, her glassy blue eyes reflecting your pain in a way that only made the hunger worse. But there was something else behind those eyes. Understanding? Sympathy? It was hard to tell.

"I understand more than you think," she said quietly. "You don't want to go down that path. Trust me."

Her words held a strange weight. Despite her being a mere doll, she exuded a certain authority—like she was guiding you, almost protecting you from your own darkness. It was unnerving and, yet, comforting at the same time.

You stepped back, wiping your brow, but the hunger wouldn't let you go. It clawed at you, deep within, screaming to be fed. Your hand instinctively reached towards the nearest source of food—a small, half-eaten rat carcass lying in the shadows.

Before your fingers could wrap around it, Poppy's small, porcelain hand shot out. "No," she said sharply, her voice cutting through the fog in your mind. "I won't let you."

You froze, staring at her, confused. "What... what are you going to do about it? You're just a doll. What power do you have?"

Poppy's eyes narrowed. "I have more power than you think. And I will stop you."

Before you could process the words, Poppy was suddenly in front of you, her small hand placed firmly on your chest. You felt a strange warmth spread from the spot where her hand met your skin, and for a moment, the hunger seemed to ebb away, replaced by something else—something deeper. But just as quickly, the warmth was gone, replaced by a biting cold as Poppy stepped back.

"You don't understand," she said, her voice softer now. "I won't let you become like them. I won't let you become like... him."

You stared at her in confusion, your mind too clouded with hunger to process what she meant. You'd heard the whispers about the Prototype, the monster who twisted everything around him, but you couldn’t focus on that now. Not with the gnawing ache in your gut.

"I can't hold on much longer," you whispered. "I need food. Real food."

Poppy took a deep breath, her porcelain face still. She seemed to consider something before her eyes flickered to the side, as if she were contemplating an action. Then, with a sudden, sharp motion, she grabbed your wrist.

"You will not fall to this. Not while I’m here. Not while there’s a chance."

The intensity in her voice stunned you. You'd never expected a doll—a toy—to show such determination. But it was there. Her unwavering resolve was impossible to ignore.

"You don't understand," you said again, more urgently this time. "You can't stop me. You don't know what it’s like to be on the edge like this... to be so desperate."

Poppy's eyes softened, but her grip on your wrist tightened. "I do understand," she whispered. "I've seen the consequences of desperation. I've seen what it can turn you into. And I won't let you become that."

You looked into her eyes, seeing not a doll, but something much more complex. Something alive, struggling with the same darkness you were. She was just as broken as you, perhaps even more so, trapped in this hellish place for who knows how long.

"I will fight this," you rasped, voice trembling.

"You will fight this," Poppy repeated, as though reinforcing the promise to yourself. "I won't let you lose."

The hunger still gnawed at you, but there was something in Poppy's words—a lifeline. A chance. You weren’t sure if it was enough to save you, but you weren’t alone anymore. She had no power over your body, but in this twisted game of survival, she had become your tether. Your reminder of something you had long forgotten: humanity. You just had to hold on.

And for the first time in hours, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

Doey The Doughman

It had hours, maybe even more then a couple days—you couldn’t tell anymore. Time had become a blur, and the hunger gnawed at you with an intensity you could hardly describe. Your stomach was a hollow pit, and every hour that passed, the sensation grew worse. You hated it. You hated the very idea of what you were beginning to consider. But your options were running out.

The factory, once a place full of life and color, now stood desolate, a rotting carcass of what it had once been. Its walls, dim and cracked, seemed to close in on you with every passing moment. Your search for food had been fruitless, and what remained of the once-thriving operations was little more than discarded remnants of forgotten lives. Desperation had begun to seep into your thoughts, and with it, a temptation you never thought you would entertain.

Cannibalism. The idea lingered in the back of your mind like a whisper in the dark. You knew it was wrong, morally abhorrent, but the hunger—it was becoming unbearable. You couldn’t deny that the flesh of another being, even one of the toy creatures that had once roamed this place, might offer a solution. You didn’t want to think about it, but your body cried out for sustenance.

It was then that you heard the soft squish of footsteps approaching. You turned, blinking against the fading light, and saw him: Doey.

The dough-like creature was an oddity in this forsaken world. His body, made of multicolored, clay-like dough, seemed to shimmer in the dimness. His long arms—orange and yellow—hung at his sides, his short, stubby red legs moving with surprising speed. The blue bowler hat perched on his head was almost comical against his mismatched features, and his simple, expressive face, with a line for a mouth and two holes for eyes, always seemed to radiate an air of cheer, even in the darkest of times.

"Hey there," Doey’s voice was calm, but there was an undertone of concern that you couldn’t ignore. He could always tell when something was wrong, even if you hadn’t spoken a word.

You had never been one for speaking about your feelings, especially with a creature like Doey. You didn’t trust anyone—not after everything you’d been through. But there was something different about him. Something about his kindness, his willingness to help, even when it meant putting himself in danger.

"I know you're struggling," Doey said, his eyes narrowing as he read your expression. "But you have to resist it. You can’t let the hunger take control of you. Not like this."

You swallowed hard, feeling the knot in your throat tighten. "I don’t know if I can hold on much longer," you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.

Doey stepped closer, his large arms almost seeming to engulf you in their reach as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "I’m not going to let you fall into that darkness," he said firmly. "I promised you. I’ll help you resist, even if it means doing things you might not like."

You blinked, looking at the doughy figure in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

Without warning, Doey’s expression shifted from that of a friendly companion to something far more serious. The playful demeanor that usually characterized his every move was gone, replaced by a cold determination. "I’m going to stop you if I have to," he said, his voice stern, yet full of understanding. "I won’t let you give in to it."

Your breath hitched, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of fear. It wasn’t from Doey himself, but from the fact that you knew, deep down, he was right. If you gave in, it wouldn’t just be your body that suffered—it would be your soul, too. But the temptation was so strong. It was almost impossible to push it away.

"Don’t make me do this," Doey warned, as if sensing your internal struggle. "You don’t want to go down that path."

The hunger inside you raged, a beast that tore at your insides. Your thoughts were clouded by the vision of the soft, tender flesh that could satiate you. You tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to your mind like a shadow.

You took a step forward, your hands trembling as you gripped a nearby piece of metal, your mind flickering with the thought of using it, of ending the misery that had overtaken you.

"Don’t," Doey’s voice was sharp, his body blocking your path. "I will stop you, even if it means I have to restrain you."

He wasn’t threatening. He was determined. And in that moment, you knew he would do it.

You locked eyes with him, the weight of your internal battle becoming unbearable. The hunger had made you weak, both physically and mentally, but Doey was your anchor, a reminder of the better part of yourself. He wasn’t just a friend; he was a lifeline.

"Please," you whispered, the word escaping you before you could stop it. "I can’t—"

Doey didn’t give you a chance to finish. His long, orange arm shot out, grabbing you by the wrist with surprising force. "I won’t let you go there," he said softly, but with an unmistakable firmness. "You’re not alone in this. Not anymore."

For a moment, you struggled, but the strength in his grip was like nothing you had ever encountered. He wasn’t trying to hurt you—he was holding you, not with force, but with care.

"Just breathe," Doey said, guiding you to sit down on the cold concrete floor. "We’ll get through this. Together."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean into him. The hunger was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, but with Doey by your side, the battle didn’t seem so hopeless.

You weren’t alone.

And that, you realized, was more than you could have hoped for in a place like this.

[hellsslibrary]

hi so ive been binging ur works lol I love that u write for blue lock and specifically the male reader !!! Sosoo I'd love to request a shidou x mean top male reader ? Like shidou keeps acting out so reader puts him in his place?

I do three things on purpose. I make you cut onions so I don't cry, I cling to you during horror movies because you get too focused, and I bend over in front of you during training because you're a dirty dog (real quotes from my husband as titles day one).

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : You two humiliating a non-existent guy for the size of his dick........ Basic Tuesday for any gays, I guess.

!!Warnings: tom!dom!male!reader, sub!bottom! Shidou, overstimulation, time before the first selection, so you fuck in a room full of other people at night..... So, humiliation of a guy for a dick actually (not in his face tho), sex on a futon, Shidou without hair gel (I heard that someone didn't like Shidou without gel and cried hyperbolically), he calls you 'cupcake' one time.

One hundred and seven times.

You've thought about killing him so many times. Strangle him. Take his head off. Castrate him. Burn him. Drown him... Anything, really. Why is this idiot even more annoying than usual? Who knows. Well, obviously not you.

Your eyes watched him praise a player again. Of course, this is not surprising for him, he is very respectful to good players, but now? Fuck, this is out of bounds.

You can see perfectly well how his hands stay on this guy for too long. And the way his eyes look at you from time to time. It's been repeated too many times today.

Does he want you to crack? But no. He's going to do it today. And it won't just crack, it will come apart at the seams.

The sound of the futon moving can be heard in an almost empty room as your body bends over his, while his face is buried in the pillow, trying not to moan too loudly. Not that he cares about it, but you do very much.

"I'm s-sorry, cu-cupcake, please—!" he exhales raggedly, clutching at the thin fabric, trying with all his might to stabilize himself and his body from your obviously not gentle thrusts, which seemed to knock his soul out of him piece by piece.

A rhetorical question escapes your lips, and an almost animal grin appears on your lips, seeing his condition. "Now we're just barking, right? You forgot how to bite pretty quickly."

Shidou just whimpers, feeling his body twitching from your thrusts inside his sloppy hole. His curls are disheveled on the bed, and some are stuck to his cheeks or neck from sweat. He just couldn't look into your eyes as usual, knowing full well that he would break even more... He dug his own grave after all.

"That guy couldn't have brought you to this state, you know? He definitely has a dick smaller than my little finger," you reason, lowering one of your hands from his waist lower, feeling the muscles of his stomach tighten as you slide over them, reaching his v-shaped line, and then his crotch. "Don't you agree?"

"Fuck, yes! Def-definitely, yes... Probably th-the same size as an a-ant," Ryusei giggles, swallowing his saliva, arching his back harder, which makes you hiss, feeling like he's become a little tighter.

Although his giggles immediately fade away when you grab his overexcited, spent cock. You immediately slap the hand that's trying to stop you, grabbing his length, making him choke on his own sob.

Tears began to form in his eyes, lingering on his blond eyelashes, and then trickling down his cheeks. He couldn't take another round! He wanted to, but probably couldn't. You're huge, you tease him, you fuck him, you humiliate someone for the size of his dick... Did I mention that you're huge? Anyway, it's fucking Hell! He's a fucking puddle under you, even though he wanted to stay under you like that, because that's actually what he wanted.

Maybe you'd be more gentle if your count of murder methods stopped at about sixty.

"Still fucking want me like this, huh? How many times did you cum?" you ask rhetorically, realizing that he won't answer, just smiling, and then slapping his ass, which makes him squeak, and you enjoy his sounds, because you can't see almost anything.

"Don't worry, I'll do it over and over again until you don't even have the thought of leaving me anymore, do you understand?" Ryusei nodded, and his cock jerked in your grip, forcing you to enter him up to the hilt, and then pull your dick out of him, which immediately turns around to look at you. "Or maybe I need to make it so that you can't stand at all without help..."

Shido pales almost immediately, sensing the sincerity in your voice, and then moans too loudly when you thrust into him again. Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing his face back into the pillows so that he doesn't wake anyone up and so that he stops making silly excuses about how he wants you to pull out your dick.

He looked like a black hole right now, honestly. So he'd better not pretend to be a clogged pipe right now.

[gf2bellamy]

hiii!

i was wondering if you could write spencer x reader, where she’s having a really bad day but spencer is coming home from a case and is exhausted, mentally and physically so she feels guilty that she would bother him with her mood

So she just hides away and is on the verge of a panic attack and spencer finds her and is all “you save me, so pls let me save you” and just comforts her (and calls her angel because 🫠)

thankyouuu so much (you dont have to do it if you dont want! no pressure at all!) i love your writing, it’s so incredibly cute and endearing <3

exhaustion — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader crying a lot , reader feeling guilty / tired / exhausted, spencer calls reader angel a/n: hii thank you so much for your request !! i hope you like this <3

The apartment was quiet—too quiet. You sat on the couch, curled up in one corner, staring blankly at the empty space in front of you. The TV was off, the big overhead light was off, and the only light came from the small lamp on the side table.

You hadn’t moved in what felt like hours, your mind swirling with the events of the day. It had been one of those days—the kind where nothing went right, where every little thing seemed to pile up until you felt like you were drowning under the weight of it all. 

You missed Spencer. A lot. Especially right now.

He had a way of making everything feel better. You longed for his comforting hugs and the way he’d listen to you ramble about your day.

But he wasn’t here. He was at work, buried under mountains of paperwork and case files.

The sound of keys jingling in the lock snapped you out of your thoughts. You jumped up from the couch, your heart leaping in your chest as you hurried to the door.

Spencer stepped inside, looking disheveled and exhausted. His tie was loosened, his hair was a mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He dropped his bag by the door with a heavy thud, and before you could say a word, he pulled you into a tight hug. 

You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his neck as you buried your face in his shoulder. He smelled like coffee and faintly of paper. For a moment, you just stood there, holding each other.

“I missed you,” Spencer mumbled into your hair, his voice muffled but sincere. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t want to let go, but after a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands moving to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed gently over your cheeks.

“Today was horrible,” he said with a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he let go of you to shrug off his jacket. He ran a hand through his hair, looking more tired than you’d seen him in a long time. 

You bit your lip, hesitating. “What happened?” you asked softly, following him as he moved further into the apartment. 

He sighed again, sinking onto the couch and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Just… paperwork. So much paperwork. And then Garcia’s computer crashed, so we lost half the files we needed, and Hotch wanted everything reorganized by tomorrow morning…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It was just one thing after another.” 

You sat down next to him, your heart aching as you watched him. He looked so drained, so unlike his usual self, and you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about burdening him with your own problems.

Today had been hard for you, but it sounded like it had been even harder for him. The last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. 

So instead of talking about your day, you reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “That sounds awful.” 

He gave you a small, tired smile, his fingers intertwining with yours. “It’s okay. It’s just… one of those days, you know?” 

You nodded, your throat tightening. You did know.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. Instead, you shifted closer, pulling him into another hug. He leaned into you, his head resting on your shoulder as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“How was your day?” Spencer mumbled, his voice soft and drowsy as he leaned back against the couch, pulling you with him.

You settled against his side, his head still resting on your shoulder as your fingers continued to gently card through his hair.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated for a moment, your hand stilling briefly before you forced yourself to keep moving. 

“It was… good,” you said, your voice carefully neutral. You tried to inject a note of cheerfulness into your tone, but it came out sounding hollow, even to your own ears. 

Spencer hummed against your shoulder, seemingly too tired to notice the slight falter in your voice. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his words muffled as he nuzzled closer to you. His warmth was comforting, but it did little to ease the tightness in your chest. 

After a moment, he shifted, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before slowly sitting up. “I’m going to get changed,” he said, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before standing and heading toward the bedroom, leaving you alone on the couch. 

As soon as he was out of sight, the lump in your throat returned, thicker and more suffocating than before. You bit your lip hard, trying to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill all evening.

But it was no use. The dam broke, and before you could stop yourself, you were on your feet, hurrying toward the bathroom. 

You shut the door behind you with a soft click, leaning against it as the first tear slipped down your cheek. Then another. And another.

Soon, you were crying , your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. You muttered curses under your breath, frustrated with yourself for not being able to hold it together. 

“Get it together,” you whispered harshly, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. But the tears wouldn’t stop.

The tears kept running, your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape.

You felt like a mess, your face hot and your chest tight. But just as you were about to try to pull yourself together, you heard footsteps outside the bathroom door, followed by a soft knock. 

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice came through the door, gentle and concerned. “Can I come in?” 

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You didn’t know what to do. Part of you wanted to tell him to go away, to spare him from seeing you like this, but another part of you desperately needed him.

You muttered a curse under your breath, wiping at your face with the back of your hand before slowly getting to your feet. 

You opened the door just enough to peek out, your eyes meeting Spencer’s. He was standing there, his expression soft but worried. His hair was still a mess, but his eyes were focused entirely on you. 

“Hey, hey,” he said immediately, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?” 

You sniffled, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “I—” you started, but your voice broke, and you shook your head, unable to continue.

How could you even begin to explain? Everything was wrong. The entire day had been wrong, and now you felt like you were falling apart. 

Spencer didn’t push. Instead, he reached out, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, wiping away a tear. His touch was so tender that it only made you cry harder.

“Come on,” he said softly, his hand slipping down to take yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling you with him, leading you out of the bathroom and down the hallway. 

You followed him numbly, your fingers intertwined with his as he guided you to the bedroom. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. 

“Talk to me, angel,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What’s going on?” 

The nickname made your heart ache, and you shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “You had such a bad day, and I didn’t want to make it worse.” 

Spencer’s expression softened, his hands moving to cradle your face. “You could never make my day worse,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And you’re never a bother. Not to me. Not ever.” 

You shook your head again, your hands gripping his wrists as you tried to steady yourself. “But you were so tired, and I didn’t want to—” 

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “You save me, I save you. That’s how this works, remember?” 

You nodded slowly, your breath hitching as more tears spilled over by just hearing those sweet words. Spencer leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms.

You went willingly, burying your face in his shoulder as he held you close. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back, and you felt some of the tension in your chest begin to ease. After a while he slowly let go, but his hands remaining on your arms.

“Tell me about your day,” he said after a while, his voice soft but insistent. “What happened?” 

You hesitated, but the way he was looking at you—so patient, so understanding—made it impossible to hold back. So you told him. You told him about everything that had gone wrong.

And he listened, his hands never leaving yours, his eyes never wavering from yours. 

When you were done, he pulled you into his arms again, holding you tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day. But I’m here now, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.” 

You nodded, your face buried in his shoulder as you clung to him. For the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe again. Like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. 

Spencer pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “Always, angel,” he said softly. “Always.” 

[frmisnow]

ㅤ▌ ͟PINK RIBBONS & PRETTY LITTLE LIES! ⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀ ♬᭢ 𝟏.𝟓𝐤 smut . nsfw

SUMMARY in which you wear the set of lingerie that jungkook got you last valentine.. back when everything was going well (aka. before you broke up) ─── and he's reminded of how it felt to be yours and vice versa

jungkook shouldn't be here.

he knows it the second he steps through the threshold, the air too sweet, too warm, too familiar. it clings to his skin like a your perfume used to, drowning him in déjà vu. he’s been inside this apartment before — slept in that bed, kissed against that kitchen counter, fucked on that couch.

but right now? he's just a visitor. hell, a guest. not even a welcomed one, at that.

“you said you needed something?” your voice is a bit lower then usual, cautious, the same way it always is when you don’t know what to do with him.

jungkook blinks, coming back to himself. “yeah,” he says, tugging at his sleeve. “uh. my charger.”

it’s a lie. a shitty one.

your brow lifts, unconvinced clearly a bit amused. “your charger?”

“yeah,” he repeats, stuffing his hands into his pockets doing his best as to not act like he’s not already regretting this. “i think i left it here last time.”

he doesn’t mention that last time was two months ago, right before everything went to shit.

you’re still watching him, lips pressed together like you want to say something, maybe call him out. but then you sigh, defeated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “i’ll check,” you reply simply, before turning towards your bedroom.

and that’s when he sees it.

just a glimpse, a flash of pink — delicate, silky, peeking out from beneath your shirt. a thin little strap sliding against your shoulder, trailing down your back, thin and precise.

valentine’s day. the last one — before everything went to shit.

he still remembers it in vivid, aching detail, the way the night bled into morning, how thd walls shook from how hard he fucked you, the imprint of your nails down his back when he m ade you come for the fourth time. how ruined you sounded, voice hoarse from moaning his name, from begging, from pleading — not that you ever needed to. jungkook would have given you anything.

he did.

i got you something, he’d said, fingers running along your spine as you sat on his lap, bare and so fucking soft. you gotta open it, though.

you had, with a lazy, knowing smile — already looking at him like you knew whatever was inside would be sinful. after all, you knew him so well.

the second you pulled out the pink lace, you’d laughed. "you’re such a perv."

yeah? his teeth had found your shoulder, licking over the fragile skin, before biting into it gently. put it on for me, then.

and fuck, you had. you did.

he’d known you’d look good in it, but nothing could have prepared him for how perfect it was — how the fabric hugged your tits, how the straps stretched over your hips, how the sheer paneling did little to nothing in hiding the way your cunt was already glistening for him.

then, fucked you slow at first, dragging it out, making you whimper, making y ou work for it. made you ride him just so he could watch you — so he could see how your tits bounced in that pretty little thing, so he could slip his hands under the fabric and yank until it nearly tore. he’d wanted to see you in it, wanted to make you come in it, wanted to make sure the next time you put it on, all you’d think about was him.

and now — now you’re wearing it again.

not for him.

something ugly twists in his chest.

“why?” his voice is quieter than he means for it to be. rougher.

you freeze, hand still reaching for the box on the top shelf. “what?”

“why are you wearing it?”

there’s a visable pause, just a second, showing you clearly gave more thought into this, then you pretended.

jungkook steps forward, fingers twitching. “did you wear it for him?”

he doesn’t say the name. doesn’t need to.

your shoulders go stiff, but you don’t turn around. “It’s just lingerie, jungkook.”

his jaw clenches. “it wasn’t just lingerie when I bought it for you.”

a deep inhale, measured. “things change.”

his presence is suffocating behind you. close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, the way his breaths are heavier now. fuck, when did he even manage to get so close? you swallow, slow. "it’s just lingerie," you repeat, but there’s no actual conviction behind it.

“take it off.”

jungkook exhales sharply through his nose, a scoff bordering on a laugh, like he's going fucking insane. which by the way this conversation was going, he probably will. then, he’s closing the distance in one step, inked hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against him so your spine meets his chest. he’s warm. solid.

there's something familar and comforting in feeling him.

“you wore this for him?” his palm drags under your shirt, right to tracing over the lace, which was just as silky as he remembered “him?” like it was an insult to him personally.

you swallow. “jungkook—”

“tell me he made you come in it.” his hand moving below your waistline, flattens against your core. you suck in a sharp breath, heat pooling between your thighs. “tell me he fucked you in my lingerie.” his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tighter against him. his cock is rock hard, pressing into the small of your back.

“did he make you feel good?” he tilts his head, pressing a kiss to your neck. “did he make you beg?” another kiss, softer. his fingers press harder. “did he make you cry for it?”

you gasp, hips bucking forward.

“i bet he didn’t,” jungkook murmurs, his fingers slip under the lace, gliding over your slit audibly groaning at how wet you were, “bet he didn’t fuck you like you deserved.”

“bet he didn’t even touch you like this.” he slides a finger inside you, slow, deep. you whimper, "baby, i know he can't."

your head falls back onto his shoulder, a soft string of noise slipping past of your lips while his thumb rubs gentle circles around your clit, “i can love you so much better than he can.”

you breathe his name out, barerly, rocking your hips against his hand. “fuck,” he hisses, sliding another finger inside you. his lips ghost over your neck, pressing a few more kisses onto the skin, his breathing uneven. “need you, baby.”

his fingers move before his mind does, turning your head to his direction as he presses his lips onto yours, effectively lifting you onto the dresser behind you.

jungkook doesn’t realize he’s barerly breathing until you turn to face him, arms folding over your chest, pushing your tits up against the delicate lace. he can’t even be mad anymore. not when you look like this.

“jungkook,” you start, voice quieter than before. maybe even a little guilty. maybe not.

“can love you so much better than he can,” he breathes against your mouth, lips brushing, voice smitten almost as if he was begging. “you know that, right? you know.”

the hesitation in your eyes almost kills him. but then — then you sigh, melting against him, pressing into his chest with a softness that makes something in his stomach twist. your arms loop around his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair, tugging.

“kook,” you whimper, voice barely above a whisper as if it were a secret, only between the both of you. “kiss me.”

while groaning, jungkook drags you up against him, hands gripping at the backs of your thighs, forcing your legs around his waist. kisses you until you’re gasping, until you’re tilting your head back, mouth agape, letting him trail his mouth down the curve of your jaw, your throat, biting down when he reaches your collarbone.

he stumbles toward the bed, nearly toppling both of you over when he lays you down, panting, hands running over your thighs, pushing them apart. his cock aches in his sweats, already damp at the tip, already too hard to be rational.

“you wore this for him?” he asks again, just to watch you squirm. just to see the way your cheeks flush, the way your brows pinch together, that guilty expression that was almost grazing slutty.

“it’s just lingerie,” you whisper, shaky. who were you even fooling? not jungkook, that's for sure.

he snickers, disapprovingly yet there was no real malice, not in his gaze, not in his tone. he licks over the lace first, just to make you whine, pressing the fabric against your soaked cunt with his tongue, groaning at the taste. then, he tugs the panties to the side again, diving in properly, flattening his tongue against you.

your thighs jolt, fingers curling into the sheets, a choked gasp escaping when jungkook drags his tongue up your slit, slow, deliberate, savoring.

“fuck,” he mutters against you, hot breath sending a shiver up your spine. he licks again, rougher this time, pressing in, teasing at your entrance before flicking back up to your clit.

your breath stutters, hips bucking, but his hands are already on you, gripping, holding you down with a bruising force.

“keep still,” he says, voice thick, taunting. you can only whimper, thighs trembling, while jungkook hums in approval, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking, slow and deep. your fingers find his hair, tugging, and he groans, pressing his tongue against you harder.

“so fuckin’ sweet,” he breathes, slipping a hand between your legs, thumb rubbing slow circles over your slick folds, spreading your wetness. “bet he’s never had you like this, huh?”

you don’t answer. can’t. not when jungkook slides a finger inside you, then another, stretching you, pressing deep until he finds that spot that has you gasping, back arching. oh sweet sweet past, guess some things really do stay the same.

[scoupsakakitty]

Beautiful | idol!Hoshi x idolxReader | angst, fluff

Tw: weight loss, not feeling enough

The rain poured relentlessly, blurring the neon lights of Seoul into streaks of color as Hoshi stood outside the apartment building. His fingers clenched around the umbrella handle, though he wasn’t sure why he had bothered bringing it. He was already soaked, and something about the cold seemed fitting.

He hesitated before pressing the buzzer.

Silence.

Then, a static-laced voice: "Who is it?"

Hearing her voice after all this time nearly broke him. "It’s me."

A long pause. Too long.

"Go home, Soonyoung."

He swallowed. "I just want to see you. Please."

"Don’t you have something better to do? Like catching a flight to Japan?" she said bitterly.

"I’ll take the next flight," he replied without hesitation. "You’re more important."

More silence, then a click. The door unlocked. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and stepped inside.

Y/N was thinner than he remembered. The weight loss was noticeable even under the oversized hoodie she wore, sleeves pulled over trembling fingers. Her once-bright eyes were dull, lips slightly chapped, the kind of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix settled deep in her features.

Seeing her like this made his chest tighten. This wasn’t the Y/N he knew.

"You shouldn’t be here," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Hoshi ignored the warning, stepping inside fully. "I had to see you. I had to know if you were okay."

She let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Do I look okay to you?"

No. She looked like she had been barely holding on, like she had been drowning in something she couldn’t escape from. And the worst part? He hadn’t been there to pull her out.

"I’ve been watching you… on stage, in interviews, award shows. You’re disappearing, Y/N. You’re hurting," he admitted, voice raw. "Your friend reached out to me. She’s worried. And she thought maybe… maybe I could help."

Her eyes flashed. "And what? You think you can just come back and fix me? That your presence will magically make things better?"

"No," he whispered. "But I can be here. I can hold you up if you let me."

She scoffed. "You left, Soonyoung. And now you want to be my savior?"

"I never stopped caring," he said, his voice shaking. "I never stopped loving you."

That was the breaking point. Her lips trembled, and before she could stop herself, she collapsed into his arms.

"It’s so hard, Soonyoung," she sobbed into his chest. "No matter what I do, there’s always something wrong with me. I’m never pretty enough, never talented enough. Always too much or too little. They find every flaw, every mistake. The pressure is… it’s crushing me."

He held her tightly, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Y/N, listen to me. You are the most beautiful person in the world. And not because of how you look. You are beautiful for the way you think, for the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about something you love, for your ability to make people smile without trying."

She clung to him, her breathing ragged.

"I am proud of you," he continued. "I am proud of you for trying, even when it hurts. I wish I could tell you when you’ll finally feel okay again, when your head will be above water, but healing isn’t something you can time. It isn’t something you can measure. But things will get lighter, little by little, as you break through the weight on your shoulders. Keep facing what you need to face. You are getting closer every single day, even if it doesn’t feel that way. And I hope you start to believe that you are worthy of everything you want in this life. You deserve to be adored and cared for in every way your mind, body, and heart long for. You are effortlessly beautiful. You are the embodiment of beauty. Don’t let anyone tell you differently."

She sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Why do you still love me? After everything?"

He smiled sadly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "The only feeling stronger than my love for you is the ache that comes with missing you. I love everything about you. Maybe too much. But how could I not love that smile, that laughter, those eyes, that passion?"

Her breath hitched, fresh tears pooling in her eyes.

"I hate you," she whispered, voice trembling.

"I know," he said softly, pressing his forehead against hers. "Hate me all you want. Just let me stay."

She let out a shuddering breath and, after what felt like an eternity, nodded against his chest.

Soonyoung held her, his arms tightening around her fragile frame, and for the first time in months, she let herself lean into the warmth she had been missing.

Outside, the rain kept falling, washing away the past, making room for something new.

[tsunaso]

“OH MY SWEET SUMMER CHILD”

pairing. Omega!Mikey x Omega!Sanzu x Alpha!male reader

synopsis. karma reduced Sanzu Haruchiyo to nothing and took another omega down with him. — 5.7k words part one.

warnings. mdni, nsfw, amab reader, dead dove, drugging, bitching, degradation, dubcon (due to altered state), dark omegaverse, humiliation, feminization, overstimulation, breeding, knotting, forced submission.

Sanzu didn’t know how much time had passed.

Minutes? Hours? It didn’t matter.

The heat was settling into his bones, wrapping around his spine like a slow, venomous snake. His body felt wrong—too hot, too needy, too fucking weak. He hated it. Hated the way his scent grew richer with every passing second, filling the room with a sickly sweetness that made his stomach turn.

It wasn’t his scent. Not the scent of an alpha.

The realization sent a fresh wave of rage crashing into his ribs, but it was a hollow kind of anger—desperate, useless.

The door creaked open, and Sanzu barely lifted his head before the thick, heavy presence of M/n’s scent filled the room. It should have been oppressive. It should have made Sanzu bristle with defiance.

Instead, it just made his stomach twist.

M/n strolled in leisurely, the smirk on his face downright amused as he took in the pathetic sight before him. “Well, well,” he mused, crouching beside Sanzu. “It’s setting in faster than I expected. You must have had a lot of suppressed omegan traits for it to be hitting this hard.”

Sanzu clenched his jaw, refusing to acknowledge him, but he knew—knew—M/n could hear the way his breathing had changed. Shallow. Unsteady. Desperate.

“Still in denial?” M/n hummed, his voice dropping into something lower, darker. “That’s cute.” He reached forward, barely ghosting his fingers over Sanzu’s jaw.

A violent shudder wracked Sanzu’s body. His own skin felt wrong, hypersensitive in ways he didn’t understand. He wanted to pull away, to snarl, to bite—but the moment M/n’s fingers brushed over his scent glands, his body froze.

Felt good.

No. No, no, no, no.

Sanzu jerked away with a choked noise, his breath coming out uneven. His entire body was trembling, his muscles twitching like he was going to rip himself apart. His scent thickened with frustration, humiliation, and something else—something darker.

M/n clicked his tongue. “Pathetic,” he muttered, standing up. “You should be grateful we’re keeping you. If I let you go now, you’d be torn apart by the first alpha that caught your scent. Maybe that’s what you deserve, though.”

Sanzu’s stomach twisted violently. His instincts recoiled at the thought—exposed, helpless, left to fend for himself in a world where he was nothing.

No pack. No status. No protection.

He needed—

Sanzu stopped breathing for a second.

He needed protection.

His body was crying for it, his instincts clawing at his mind, screaming at him to find someone stronger to keep him safe. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, but it didn’t matter—the panic was already setting in.

He needed—

The door opened again.

A sharp, unmistakable scent flooded the room, cutting through the haze in Sanzu’s mind like a blade.

Omega.

But not just any omega.

Him.

Sanzu’s body reacted before his mind even caught up. His scent spiked—needy, desperate, craving.

Fucking disgusting.

He felt bile rise in his throat, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the unbearable pull in his gut. The part of his mind still clinging to reason was screaming—raging against the betrayal of his own body, but it was already too late.

Because the omega had already noticed.

He stepped into the room without hesitation, his black eyes locking onto Sanzu with something close to boredom. His scent was sharp, unwavering, and infinitely stronger than what Sanzu remembered from that alleyway.

And Sanzu—

Sanzu leaned toward him.

It was so fucking small—just a shift in posture, the way his breath caught slightly in his throat—but it was enough.

The omega’s lips curled. “Are you serious?”

Sanzu swallowed thickly, his throat too dry, too tight. He wanted to say something, anything, but his body was moving on its own, drawn toward the closest source of comfort.

The omega took a step forward. Sanzu flinched.

Not from fear.

From restraint.

From the unbearable, crawling need under his skin.

A sharp scoff cut through the thick air. “That’s fucking disgusting,” the omega muttered, his voice filled with pure, unfiltered disgust.

Sanzu trembled violently. His breath stuttered, his scent betraying him even more, turning unbearably needy. He wanted to scream, wanted to rip off his own skin, wanted to run—but he couldn’t.

His body was begging.

And the omega could smell it.

M/n chuckled darkly from the doorway. “Ah… seems like he’s really starting to feel it now.”

The omega barely acknowledged him, his gaze still pinned on Sanzu like he was something rotten stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

Sanzu wanted to hate him. Wanted to spit in his face, snarl, demand that he wipe that fucking look off his—

But all he could do was stare, trembling, desperate, as his body betrayed him more and more with every second.

The omega sighed, voice thick with irritation. “What a waste,” he muttered. Then, after a moment, he tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing.

“…Does he even know my name?”

Sanzu stiffened.

A slow, cruel smirk spread across M/n’s lips. “Oh,” he exhaled, amusement flickering in his voice. “He really doesn’t, does he?”

Sanzu’s stomach dropped.

The omega—the omega he had tried to take—stepped closer, just enough that Sanzu could feel the ghost of his pheromones press against his skin. He crouched down, leveling Sanzu with a blank stare.

“You really don’t know?” he murmured.

Sanzu’s mouth went dry.

The omega’s expression barely shifted, but something in his gaze sharpened.

“Sano Manjiro,” he said flatly. “But you—” His lips twitched up in a cruel, humorless smirk.

“You can call me Mikey.”

Sanzu’s heart pounded in his chest.

Mikey.

That name—he knew that name.

The second in command of Bonten. The most dangerous omega in the city. The untouchable king of the underworld.

The one fucking omega he should have never, ever laid his hands on.

Mikey stood up, rolling his shoulders like this conversation had already bored him.

“Keep him,” he muttered to M/n, already turning away. “I don’t care.”

The door shut behind him, and just like that—his presence was gone.

Sanzu barely heard M/n’s chuckle, low and dark in the back of his throat.

“Well,” M/n hummed, stepping closer, reaching down to cup Sanzu’s trembling jaw.

“Now you know.”

　　　　　　　　· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Sanzu was losing.

His body was drenched in sweat, slick and trembling, heat curling through every inch of him like a wildfire he couldn’t put out. His breathing was ragged, uneven, little whimpering noises slipping from his throat no matter how hard he tried to choke them back.

Everything hurt—his stomach ached, his thighs shook, his hole clenched around nothing, desperate for relief that wouldn’t come.

It was so wrong—so fucking wrong—and yet, no matter how hard he fought it, his body was needy in ways he couldn’t ignore.

His pussy—no, not pussy, not that—his hole was aching, fluttering open and empty, making his hips twitch against the mattress.

And worse?

His dick—his useless, pitiful dick—was soft.

No knot. No hardness. Just a sad little thing, sticky with leaking slick, resting against his stomach, completely ignored by his own heat.

His body wasn’t asking to be fucked like an alpha. It wasn’t even acknowledging that part of him anymore.

It was begging to be bred.

Sanzu bit his lip so hard it split, blood mixing with the embarrassing, syrupy sweet scent pouring off him. His thighs pressed together, trying to rub some kind of friction against his swollen, puffy entrance, but it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

The door creaked open, and Sanzu’s entire body froze.

A thick, powerful scent flooded the room—alpha.

His body reacted immediately, thighs tensing, hole fluttering pathetically. His head snapped up, and through the feverish haze clouding his mind, he registered M/n standing in the doorway, watching him with pure amusement.

“Tch.”

M/n stepped forward slowly, hands tucked in his pockets, completely unbothered by the thick, humiliating scent in the room. His sharp gaze flicked lazily over Sanzu’s wrecked form—his sweat-drenched skin, the way his legs shook, the pathetic mess of slick and shame pooling beneath him.

His lips curled.

“Look at you.”

Sanzu trembled.

M/n crouched beside him, resting an elbow on his knee, tilting his head. “What happened to all that attitude, hm?” he murmured, voice low, mocking. “You were barking so loud before. Now look at you—”

His eyes flickered lower, to Sanzu’s shamefully soft dick.

A slow, wicked smirk spread across M/n’s face.

“…Well. That’s disappointing.”

Sanzu’s stomach twisted into knots.

M/n reached out, gripping his chin, forcing Sanzu’s dazed, glassy eyes to meet his own. “Not even hard?” he murmured. His thumb ghosted over Sanzu’s lower lip, pressing down slightly, smirking when Sanzu’s mouth parted automatically.

“So useless.”

Sanzu let out a shaky breath, his fingers digging into the sheets. His entire body was burning, every nerve screaming for relief, but the humiliation coiling in his stomach was just as unbearable.

M/n hummed, tilting his head slightly. “I wonder…”

His free hand drifted lower, over the curve of Sanzu’s waist, his soft, pathetic belly, down to his thighs, which tensed beneath his touch.

Sanzu stiffened.

No. No, no—

But M/n ignored him, pushing his thighs apart effortlessly, exposing the soaked, puffy mess between his legs.

Sanzu whimpered.

“Awww,” M/n cooed, mocking, watching the way Sanzu’s slick dripped down onto the sheets. “All swollen and puffy. Poor thing. No wonder you’re suffering so much.”

His fingers ghosted over the sensitive, twitching entrance, making Sanzu’s entire body jerk violently. A choked, humiliating little gasp escaped him, before he could even stop it.

M/n’s smirk widened.

“Sensitive, aren’t we?”

Sanzu’s chest heaved, his thighs twitching, trying to press back together, but M/n’s grip on him was iron-strong.

The worst part?

His hole fluttered, clenching around nothing, desperately sucking in the air, trying to get something—anything inside.

M/n chuckled.

His fingers dragged lower, tracing the slick-drenched, swollen mess between Sanzu’s legs, his touch so light it made Sanzu’s breath hitch violently.

“Such a cute little pussy.”

Sanzu’s eyes went wide.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

“No,” he rasped, shaking his head, voice wrecked, barely there. “No, I—”

But M/n tapped a finger against his twitching, leaking hole, and whatever Sanzu was about to say vanished in a broken, needy little sob.

His body betrayed him.

M/n grinned.

“Ohhh,” he exhaled, mocking delight dripping from his voice. “You like that?” He pressed a little firmer, watching the way Sanzu’s entrance fluttered around the touch, how his body instinctively tried to take him in.

Sanzu’s breathing stuttered.

Tears burned at the corners of his eyes.

M/n leaned in, voice dropping to a low purr.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Say it.”

Sanzu shook his head, lips parted, breath coming in ragged little pants.

M/n’s smirk turned ruthless.

His thumb dragged down, slick gathering on his fingers, pressing just barely against Sanzu’s puffy, twitching pussy, pushing in just enough to make Sanzu’s entire body jerk violently.

A sharp, broken cry ripped from his throat.

M/n hummed, amused.

“There we go,” he murmured. “Just like a good little omega.”

Sanzu’s chest heaved, his entire body trembling as the heat twisted deeper, spreading through his veins like molten lava. His fingers dug into the sheets, his thighs quivering, still trying—weakly, uselessly—to press together, to hide himself from the hungry, amused gaze drinking him in.

But M/n wouldn’t let him.

“You’re still fighting?” M/n mused, tilting his head, his thumb dragging slow, lazy circles against the puffy, leaking mess between Sanzu’s legs.

Sanzu twitched violently, a humiliating, sharp gasp tearing from his throat.

It was too much.

The heat had already wrecked him, stripped him of everything, made his body hypersensitive—and now M/n was toying with him, pushing against the swollen, fluttering entrance just enough to make Sanzu’s instincts claw at his mind.

His body knew what it needed.

It was begging for it.

But M/n wasn’t giving it to him.

Not yet.

Sanzu bit down on his lip, his vision blurry, heat pooling low and deep in his gut. He wanted to scream, wanted to curse and fight, but the moment M/n pressed his fingers in a little deeper, a broken little sob escaped him instead.

M/n grinned.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice sickly sweet, mocking. “I knew you’d sound cute when you finally stopped pretending.”

Sanzu whimpered, hips jerking forward against his will, chasing more, desperate, needy—

M/n’s fingers vanished.

A sharp cry ripped from Sanzu’s throat, his body arching off the bed, his hole clenching around nothing, sucking in the empty air.

M/n laughed.

“Awww,” he cooed, reaching out to cup Sanzu’s jaw, tilting his flushed, tear-streaked face up toward him. “Poor little thing. Did you want something?”

Sanzu’s lips parted, breath hitching, his entire body burning. His scent spiked, thick with helpless, desperate need.

But he still wouldn’t say it.

M/n sighed, shaking his head, disappointed. “Still acting tough?”

Sanzu shuddered.

Then—

A sharp slap landed against his inner thigh, stinging, making him flinch and jerk.

M/n’s tone darkened.

“Say it.”

Sanzu’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his pulse pounding in his ears. His pride was dangling by a thread, fragile, barely holding on—

M/n’s fingers dragged lower again, teasing over the slick, messy folds, his thumb pressing against the sensitive, twitching entrance.

Sanzu gasped, thighs trembling, his body trying to sink down onto it.

But M/n still wouldn’t give it to him.

“Beg.”

Sanzu whimpered, fingers clenching into the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. His mouth opened, but no words came out, just ragged little breaths, humiliated, broken noises.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Another sharp slap to his inner thigh made him jolt violently, and M/n grabbed his chin again, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Be a good girl,” M/n murmured, his smirk widening, voice dripping with cruel amusement. “Tell me what you need.”

Sanzu’s vision blurred. His body ached, twitched, desperation clawing at his mind. His heat was devouring him, instincts screaming, pleading, demanding—

The words ripped from his throat before he could stop them.

“Please.”

M/n’s eyes gleamed.

Sanzu shuddered, tears spilling down his flushed cheeks, humiliation burning through him hotter than the heat itself.

M/n hummed, dragging his fingers lazily over Sanzu’s needy, dripping hole, making him whimper, squirm, gasp.

“Please what?”

Sanzu bit his lip, his throat tight, chest heaving. He couldn’t say it.

But his body was screaming it for him.

M/n sighed in mock sympathy. “Such a dumb little thing.”

Then—

His fingers pushed inside.

Sanzu gasped, his entire body arching off the mattress, a sharp, wrecked moan tearing from his throat.

It felt too good.

The stretch, the fullness, the way M/n’s fingers curled just right, pressing against something deep inside him, making his hole clench down, sucking his fingers deeper.

His useless, pathetic d*ck twitched against his stomach, leaking slick and precum, but still—still—not even half-hard.

His body had no use for it.

Only his soft, soaking-wet pussy mattered now.

M/n groaned, watching the way Sanzu’s swollen entrance clenched greedily around his fingers. “Ohhh, you were made for this.”

Sanzu let out a pitiful little whimper, his entire body trembling, his hips rolling down into the touch, chasing more, more, more—

M/n’s fingers slid out.

Sanzu sobbed.

“No,” he choked out, his hole clenching around nothing, slick dripping down his thighs, making a mess of the sheets beneath him. “No, no, please—”

M/n chuckled, his fingers coated in slick, watching the ruined, broken mess before him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, amused. “So desperate. So empty.”

Sanzu’s entire body shuddered.

M/n shifted, undoing his belt, pulling his pants down just enough to free his aching, heavy cock, already slick with precum, flushed, throbbing.

Sanzu’s breath hitched.

M/n’s fingers curled around his soft, dripping pussy, giving it a slow, teasing rub, making Sanzu cry out, his hips jerking forward.

“Want me to fill you up, sweetheart?” M/n murmured, mocking, taunting, rubbing his thick, leaking tip against the sensitive, twitching hole.

Sanzu nodded weakly, panting, lost, his body begging for it.

M/n’s smirk widened.

“Use your words.”

Sanzu’s breath came out in a ragged sob.

“Please, Alpha—”

M/n’s hands gripped his thighs, spreading him wider, holding him open and exposed.

Then—

He thrust in.

Sanzu’s back arched off the mattress, his entire body seizing, a sharp, broken scream ripping from his throat as his aching, swollen pussy was finally, finally filled.

It was too much.

It was perfect.

M/n groaned. “Oh, you were made for this.”

Then, he started moving.

Sanzu screamed.

It was too much—too deep, too good, the stretch burning hot and perfect as M/n’s cock forced him open, shoving inside with a single, brutal thrust.

His pussy clenched down immediately, desperate, needy, sucking M/n’s cock deeper, like his body knew exactly what it was made for.

Sanzu’s thighs trembled, his breath stuttering into a wrecked sob, and when M/n pulled back, only to slam in again, even harder, his body arched violently off the bed.

“Ohhh,” M/n groaned, hands gripping Sanzu’s hips hard enough to bruise, holding him still, pinned, completely at his mercy. “So fucking tight.”

Sanzu let out a broken whimper, his hands scrabbling at the sheets, his mind fogged and empty, drowned beneath the overwhelming, unbearable pleasure.

His useless little dick was still soft, twitching against his stomach, dripping helpless little beads of slick and precum—completely forgotten.

His body didn’t care about it anymore.

His body only wanted cock.

M/n’s hands slid up, gripping Sanzu’s waist, before he slammed him down onto his length, forcing him to take it all.

Sanzu screamed.

A sharp, wet slap echoed in the room as M/n’s hips smacked against Sanzu’s, stuffing him full, over and over, his pussy gushing slick, making a mess of both of them.

“Fuck,” M/n grunted, forcing Sanzu’s legs wider, watching his puffy, swollen little hole stretch around his thick length, sucking him deeper with every thrust.

“You like this, huh?” M/n mocked, snapping his hips forward, watching the way Sanzu cried out, his breath ragged, gasping, desperate. “This cute little pussy was made to be fucked, wasn’t it?”

Sanzu shook his head weakly, whimpering, but his body betrayed him completely.

His hips rolled back automatically, chasing each thrust, his insides clenching down, begging to be filled, bred, ruined.

M/n laughed.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice dripping with pure amusement, watching the way Sanzu’s hole clenched greedily, slick dripping between his thighs.

“You’re just a fcking pussy now, aren’t you?”

Sanzu let out a choked sob, humiliation burning through him, but he couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop taking it.

Couldn’t stop wanting it.

Couldn’t stop needing it.

M/n grinned, leaning down, his breath hot against Sanzu’s ear.

“Say it.”

Sanzu’s breath hitched violently, his body shuddering, overwhelmed, his vision blurred with tears.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

But then—

M/n’s fingers slid down, rubbing over his slick, swollen little dick, sending a white-hot spark of pleasure straight through him.

Sanzu screamed.

His entire body jerked violently, his pussy squeezing around M/n’s cock, soaking both of them in even more slick.

M/n chuckled, low and dark, his pace picking up, fucking into Sanzu even harder.

“Say it,” he growled, gripping his throat, his other hand still toying with Sanzu’s soaked little dick, stroking it in tight, warm palm.

Sanzu’s mind broke.

“I’m just a pussy!” he sobbed, screaming it, his body convulsing, drowning in mindless, unbearable pleasure.

“Good girl.”

M/n slammed into him one final time, shoving his cock as far as it could go with out catching on his knot, holding him there as his release spilled inside, filling Sanzu with hot, thick cum.

Sanzu let out a wrecked, broken moan, his back arching, his entire body shuddering violently as his own release ripped through him.

His pussy clamped down hard, milking M/n’s cock, desperate to be bred, his heat finally satisfied.

For now.

M/n pulled back slightly, watching as his cum dripped out, running down Sanzu’s thighs, pooling on the ruined sheets.

Sanzu was wrecked.

His breath came in ragged, choked sobs, his thighs twitching violently, his entire body overheated, soaked, ruined. His puffy, abused little hole was still fluttering, gaping, leaking M/n’s cum onto the sheets beneath him, his body still crying for more.

But his heat wasn’t over.

His instincts weren’t satisfied.

His pathetic little clit—his soft, useless excuse of a dick—twitched against his stomach, dripping slick, ignored, forgotten, completely useless to the heat wracking his body.

And then—

A new scent flooded the room.

Sharp. Cold. Omega.

Mikey.

Sanzu’s entire body tensed violently, his breath catching, his dazed, glassy eyes barely able to focus as he turned his head.

Mikey stood in the doorway, his dark, empty eyes dragging over Sanzu’s ruined form, his lips curling into a slow, disgusted smirk.

“Still in heat?”

Sanzu shuddered, a fresh wave of humiliation burning through him.

Because Mikey was right.

His body was still aching.

Still needy.

Still empty.

And Mikey could smell it.

M/n hummed, casual, lazy, watching as Mikey stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, his scent curling around Sanzu like a noose.

“I was wondering when you’d give in,” M/n murmured, tilting his head. “Figured you’d be too disgusted to touch him.”

Mikey’s smirk widened. “I am disgusted.”

His sharp gaze dropped to Sanzu’s trembling, slick-drenched thighs, his ruined little clit twitching uselessly, and a low, mocking chuckle slipped from his lips.

“But he’s already dripping for me, isn’t he?”

Sanzu let out a soft, broken noise, his shame and desperation mixing into something unbearable.

Mikey stepped closer, the mattress dipping as he crawled over Sanzu’s body. At some point Mikey must off taken off his clothes because Mikey was pressing down against him, his own useless dick rubbing against Sanzu’s stomach, leaking precum.

Sanzu’s entire body tensed violently at the skin-on-skin contact, his instincts screaming at him to submit.

Mikey’s lips brushed against his ear, his voice a cold whisper.

“Little bitch,” he murmured.

Then—

His teeth sank into Sanzu’s scent gland.

Sanzu screamed.

His whole body arched off the bed, his clit twitching violently, slick gushing out of him, his heat kicking up even stronger as Mikey’s dominant omega scent poured into him.

Mikey licked over the bite slowly, savoring Sanzu’s pathetic little sobs.

“You’re so fcking weak,” he whispered, his hand dragging down Sanzu’s trembling stomach, his fingers ghosting over his pathetic, useless little clit.

Sanzu flinched violently, letting out a wrecked little whimper, because Mikey was touching it like it was a real pussy.

Mikey grinned.

“Awww,” he cooed, mocking, rubbing his fingers over the soft, twitching flesh, watching Sanzu’s entire body jerk uncontrollably.

“Look at this cute little clit.”

Sanzu sobbed.

Mikey’s fingers pinched it, rolled it between his fingers, rubbing tight little circles, and Sanzu’s breath hitched violently, his legs trembling as his body reacted against his will.

“Doesn’t even get hard anymore, does it?” Mikey murmured, his voice pure condescension.

Sanzu whimpered, shaking his head weakly, his body fighting him, his hips rolling into Mikey’s touch despite himself.

“Poor thing,” Mikey purred. “Bet it feels even better when I play with this messy little pussy, huh?”

His fingers dragged lower, teasing Sanzu’s drenched fluttering little hole, and Sanzu sobbed, his thighs twitching open even wider.

“Such a cute little thing,” Mikey whispered, mocking, taunting, pressing a single finger inside, watching Sanzu’s wrecked expression twist in unbearable pleasure.

Then—

M/n grabbed Mikey’s chin, yanking him up.

The omega snarled, but M/n just smirked.

“You’re awfully worked up for someone who wasn’t interested,” M/n murmured, his fingers dragging over Mikey’s entrance, rubbing over his slick-drenched hole.

Mikey’s breath hitched.

A sharp, violent shudder ran down his spine, his thighs twitching, pressing together instinctively, but M/n’s hand was already there, keeping them spread wide.

“Fuck off,” Mikey snapped, voice low, biting—but it wasn’t as sharp as it should’ve been.

Because his scent was changing.

It was subtle at first—just the slightest shift, something thicker, sweeter, mixing with the overpowering heat-heavy scent already filling the room.

M/n inhaled deeply, his grin widening.

“Ohhh,” he exhaled, his thumb brushing over Mikey’s slick entrance, feeling the way it fluttered under his touch.

“You’re feeling it now, aren’t you?”

Mikey tensed violently.

Because he was.

It had started the moment he walked into the room. The moment Sanzu’s ruined, heat-heavy scent hit him, the moment M/n’s thick alpha pheromones wrapped around him like a noose.

His body had reacted instantly.

He’d felt the tug in his gut, the slow, creeping burn pooling low in his stomach, the way his own slick started leaking out of him before he could even process it.

Sympathy heat.

He wasn’t even in his own cycle—his body was just responding to the scent of another omega in distress, to the dominant alpha presence pressing down on him.

It was natural. Instinctive.

And completely fucking disgusting.

Mikey clenched his teeth, his thighs trembling, his body fighting itself—but it was too late.

M/n chuckled darkly.

“You walked in here thinking you were better than him,” he mused, pressing his fingers against Mikey’s twitching, slick hole, watching the way it clenched down, desperate for something to fill it.

Mikey let out a sharp breath, his back arching slightly, his useless little dick twitching against his stomach.

M/n leaned in, his lips brushing against Mikey’s flushed, overheated ear.

“But now you’re just as bad,” he whispered.

Then—

He pushed a finger inside.

Mikey gasped, violently, his entire body jerking, his hole clenching down tight around M/n’s finger, sucking it deeper.

Sanzu watched.

Watched the omega who had mocked him, who had called him pathetic, who had looked at him with nothing but disgust—

Now writhing, panting, falling apart just as fast.

The realization sent a fresh pulse of slick out of Sanzu’s swollen, puffy little pussy, his thighs shaking, his own heat spiking again.

Mikey bit his lip hard, his breath ragged, his fingers gripping the sheets beneath him.

“Still trying to act tough?” M/n mocked, crooking his finger, pressing against that deep, sensitive spot inside.

Mikey let out a sharp, wrecked noise, his hips jerking forward, chasing the touch against his will.

Sanzu shuddered.

Because he recognized it.

That exact moment.

The moment when your body stopped listening to you.

When instincts took over completely.

M/n grinned.

“There it is.”

Mikey let out a ragged breath, his thighs twitching, his hole clenching hard around M/n’s fingers.

M/n leaned in, voice low, teasing.

“Do you get it now?”

Mikey trembled.

M/n dragged his fingers out slowly, leaving Mikey’s wet, clenching hole twitching around nothing, before pressing his slick-coated fingers against Sanzu’s entrance instead.

Sanzu gasped, his entire body arching, his soft, dripping little clit twitching uselessly against his stomach.

Mikey watched.

Watched as Sanzu’s puffy little pussy clenched around M/n’s fingers, his pretty little hole sucking them in greedily, instinctively.

Watched as Sanzu sobbed, wrecked, broken, completely lost in heat.

Watched as his own body reacted.

Slick dripped down his thighs, his entrance fluttering, aching, needing.

M/n smirked, watching both of them now.

“Two desperate little omegas,” he murmured, dragging Sanzu closer, grinding his slick-drenched pussy against Mikey’s dripping dick.

The contact was electric.

Both omegas let out a sharp, broken moan, their bodies trembling, reacting, needing more.

“Aw, fuck,” M/n chuckled, watching them twitch and whimper, their little cocks rubbing together, leaking slick.

“You’re both fucking ruined, aren’t you?”

Mikey growled weakly, trying to pull away—but the moment he moved, his dick dragged against Sanzu’s swollen pussy again, sending a sharp, violent pulse of heat through both of them.

Sanzu sobbed.

Mikey gasped, eyes wide, breath ragged.

M/n groaned, gripping Mikey’s hips, his hands strong, bruising, keeping him still.

M/n lined himself up.

Pressed the thick, leaking tip of his cock against Mikey’s twitching little hole.

Mikey’s breath caught.

He tensed.

M/n leaned in, voice low, rough, cruel.

“Since you think you’re so much better than him…”

Then—

He thrust in.

Mikey screamed.

His back arched violently, his hole clenching down around M/n’s cock, trying to suck him deeper, his heat finally, fully taking over.

M/n let out a low, satisfied groan, burying himself to the hilt, feeling Mikey’s tight, desperate little hole twitch and squeeze around him.

Sanzu watched, shaking, helpless.

Watched the strongest omega he knew finally submit.

And M/n?

M/n just grinned, grabbing Sanzu by the waist, forcing him forward, pressing their bodies together.

“Now,” he murmured, dragging his thick, hard cck out of Mikey’s soaked hole, lining himself up with Sanzu’s ruined, twitching pssy instead.

“Let’s see which one of you can take me better.”

Then—

He f*cked them both.

And neither omega stood a chance.

Sanzu’s wrecked little pussy clenched down greedily as M/n’s thick cock slammed into him, shoving him forward onto Mikey, their sweaty, slick-drenched bodies grinding together, their soft, useless little dicks rubbing with every brutal thrust.

Mikey’s mouth fell open, a wrecked, choked moan spilling out, his entrance fluttering pathetically, still slick with M/n’s release from the first round.

And now—

Now, he had Sanzu’s heat-soaked body pinned against him, rubbing against his aching, twitching, desperate little hole.

“You two are so f*cking filthy,” M/n groaned, his grip bruising as he slammed into Sanzu harder, faster, forcing the other omega’s body to grind against Mikey’s.

Sanzu sobbed, whimpering, broken, his legs shaking violently, his hole so swollen and abused it could barely hold M/n’s thick length inside.

But his body refused to let go.

Every thrust forced slick out of him, drenching both omegas in his heat-drunk mess.

Mikey hissed, his own body reacting, his entrance clenching, his hips bucking forward to meet the friction.

M/n grinned.

“Awww,” he mocked, watching Mikey’s wrecked expression twist in unbearable pleasure. “I thought you hated him?”

Mikey’s breath hitched violently.

M/n dragged Sanzu off his cock, watching his swollen, puffy little pussy clench around nothing, his slick dripping onto the sheets.

Sanzu whined loudly, his entire body jerking forward, desperate, needy, lost.

And just as quickly—

M/n shoved into Mikey instead.

Mikey cried out, his back arching, his hole stretching wide, swallowing M/n’s cock so deep his entire body shook.

Sanzu watched helplessly, watched as M/n buried himself to the hilt, stuffing Mikey full in one sharp thrust, watched as Mikey let out the most wrecked little whimper, his slick gushing around the thick length inside him.

“Alpha—” Mikey choked, voice wrecked, humiliated, needy.

M/n’s grin widened.

“Ohhh, you’re calling me Alpha now?” he taunted, grabbing Mikey’s throat, forcing him to look up.

Mikey’s legs twitched violently, his face flushed, his breathing ragged.

M/n fucked into him harder, dragging another broken moan from the smaller omega’s throat.

Sanzu whimpered, his thighs clenching together, his own pussy throbbing, aching, his slick-covered clit twitching against his stomach.

“Look at you,” M/n murmured, watching as both omegas trembled beneath him, their bodies writhing, leaking, begging for more.

He reached down, gripping both of their chins, forcing them to look up at him.

“You’re both nothing but little cock-drunk whores now, huh?”

Sanzu sobbed, his body too far gone, his heat too overwhelming, his mind too ruined to do anything but nod.

Mikey squeezed his eyes shut, his lips trembling—but his body betrayed him too.

Because he nodded just the same.

M/n groaned, dragging himself out of Mikey, grabbing Sanzu, shoving back into his soaked little pussy instead, watching as the pink-haired omega collapsed backward, his entire body trembling, shaking, his pussy fluttering, welcoming every brutal thrust.

Mikey was panting heavily, his hole clenching around nothing, his body aching for more.

M/n smirked. “See, Mikey?”

He reached down, grabbing Mikey’s hips, lifting him slightly, positioning him over Sanzu’s heat-soaked body.

“Since you’re both so desperate, why don’t you fuck each other for me?”

Mikey’s breath stuttered.

Sanzu let out a wrecked, soft little sob, his body already moving on instinct, his hips rolling upward, rubbing against Mikey’s swollen, slick hole.

Both omegas gasped.

Mikey twitched violently, his fingers digging into Sanzu’s skin, his heat-soaked body grinding down automatically.

Slick poured out of them both, mixing together, making a disgusting, messy pool beneath them.

M/n groaned at the sight, gripping both of their waists, forcing them to grind harder.

“Fuck, look at you two,” he muttered, watching as they writhed together, slick-drunk and heat-crazed, rubbing their little pssies against each other, whimpering, gasping, too lost in need to care about anything else.

“You were supposed to hate each other,” he chuckled, his fingers digging in, keeping them moving, making them chase the pleasure.

“But now you’re nothing but my desperate little omega toys.”

Mikey let out a wrecked moan, his body shaking violently, his hole clenching down around nothing, his heat consuming him.

Sanzu was already gone, too deep in submissive omega bliss, his thighs trembling, his slick-covered clit twitching, completely, utterly broken.

M/n groaned.

“Since you both worked so hard—”

He grabbed Mikey, slamming him back down onto his cock.

Mikey screamed, his entire body arching, his hole sucking M/n’s length so deep his stomach bulged slightly.

Sanzu watched, panting, twitching, his own pussy clenching around nothing, jealous, needy, wrecked.

M/n fucked into Mikey harder, his pace brutal, merciless, making the omega collapse forward onto Sanzu’s chest.

Sanzu could feel the way Mikey trembled, the way his body shook, could feel the overwhelming heat radiating off of him.

And then—

M/n slammed in deep, biting down on Mikey’s scent gland, filling him, stuffing him full of thick, hot cum.

Mikey screamed, wrecked, mindless.

His hole clenched around M/n’s knot, locking him in place, milking him, his own release spilling out of him, mixing with the slick covering both omegas.

And then—

Sanzu whimpered.

Still empty.

Still aching.

Still needing.

M/n grinned, looking down at his ruined little omegas.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through Sanzu’s dripping slick.

“You’re next.”

And Sanzu?

Sanzu knew—

He would never escape this.

And worse?

He didn’t want to.

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 5

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures, memory loss, hospitals and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando woke up feeling like absolute shit.

His head was pounding, his mouth was drier than the desert, and judging by the fact that he’s still half-dressed and tangled in a celebratory McLaren flag, last night must have been good.

He groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. He remembered fragments of the night before - flashes of bright lights, loud music, and way too much drinking.

He had won.

Lando Norris was a Formula 1 Grand Prix Winner.

He had been nearly drowned in champagne by Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

He had won the 2024 Miami Grandprix.

Lando let out a sigh and gingerly pushed himself up into a sitting position, clutching his head as a sharp pain shot through his temples.

He fumbled for his phone, cringing at the notifications that had piled up overnight. Messages from friends, family, and the racing world congratulating him on his victory.

He blinked blearily at his phone.

Too early. Too bright. Too… too.

But there’s one thing he needs to do before he even considers getting up.

He scrolled through his notifications, heart sinking when he still doesn’t see Lizzie’s name.

But there’s nothing.

His fingers fumble as he types out another message.

Lando: Hey, just checking in. Are you okay? You didn’t answer last night. I was a bit… not in the best state, but I was really hoping to hear from you.

Lando: I’m just worried. Is everything alright? I know I was probably being a bit much last night, but you can always just let me know if you need space or whatever. I just want to make sure you’re good.

Nothing.

Lando stared at his phone, the pit in his stomach growing deeper with each passing second. He didn't understand why Lizzie hadn't responded, and the not knowing was driving him crazy.

He groaned, running a hand down his face.

He tried calling. Straight to voicemail.

His stomach twists.

Lando didn't want to jump to conclusions, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Lizzie was usually pretty good about replying to his messages.

He tried texting again.

Lando: Look, I get it if you need time. I don’t want to come off too strong. I just feel like I should've heard from you by now, and I’m starting to panic a bit. Just a quick text would help me breathe for a second, you know?

Lando stared at his phone, watching the time tick by with agonizing slowness. He'd been awake for nearly an hour now, and Lizzie hadn't responded to any of his messages.

He tried calling again, only to be met with the same response - straight to voicemail...again.

And then his phone pinged.

Lizzie: Hi, this is Lizzie’s father. She’s in the hospital. Multiple seizures. She’s woken up a few times, but she’s not very responsive. I don’t know who you are, but judging by the way she’s saved your contact as ‘Lando Not Dying Yet Norris,’ I assume you’re important enough to be told.

Lando blinks. Stares. His hangover vanishes instantly.

She’s at the Royal Sussex Hospital. Thought I’d tell you in case you want to show up to visit her.

Lando feels like all the air has been sucked from the room.

Hospital. Seizures. Not responsive.

He doesn’t even realize he’s shaking until he fumbles trying to type back.

Lando: I—fuck. Is she okay? What happened?

Three little dots appear, then vanish. Then appear again.

Lizzie: She’s stable. But it was bad.

Lando pushes back the covers, already moving, already grabbing for his McLaren hoodie like that will somehow help him fix this.

He needs to be there.

Now.

His hands are unsteady as he opens his flight app. The next available flight back to London is in four hours.

Not soon enough.

Lando: I’m coming back to the UK. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

There’s no reply, but Lando doesn’t care. His heart is hammering, his mind racing, and there’s only one thing he knows for sure—

He has to get to Lizzie.

He…

There was a knock at the door.

Lando jumped, his already frayed nerves on edge. "Who is it?" he called out, his voice cracking slightly.

“It’s Oscar.”

Lando sagged with relief as he recognized the Australian accent drifting through the door. “Come in.”

The door creaked open and Oscar Piastri poked his head into the room. His eyes widened when he saw Lando’s harried expression. “Mate, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lando shook his head, feeling the tension in his shoulders tighten even more. "No, not alright. Lizzie’s in the hospital. Multiple seizures."

Oscar’s expression immediately darkened. "What the hell? Multiple seizures? How is she doing now?”

“Not good, apparently. Her dad said she’s stable, but she’s not very responsive. I’m flying back to London to see her.” Lando ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his heart still racing with worry.

“God damn.” Oscar stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him. He studied Lando’s face for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a mess, mate. Have you eaten anything?”

Lando shook his head, the thought of food making his stomach churn. "No, I haven't even had a chance to think about food. I’m just freaking out, mate. I’ve never seen her have a seizure, let alone multiple seizures…She had one last week before we had dinner, but she seemed fine, just tired… I have no idea how bad it’s going to be. This is...this is so messed up."

Oscar nodded sympathetically, his expression still grave. "Go," he said simply. "I'll make your apologies to Zac and the team."

Lando nodded numbly, already moving to pack a bag. Oscar stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "And mate? Try to keep calm. You won’t do Lizzie any good if you’re a wreck yourself."

Lando huffed out a breath. "I’ll try."

"Can you tell Max..." Lando trailed off. He had no idea what to even…

Oscar's expression softened. “I’ll tell Max. And the others. You just focus on getting to the hospital, alright?”

Lando nods, his throat suddenly feeling thick. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Oscar."

[gnohomotho]

HEAR ME OUT

This request that i have is so cheesy but sounds so good in my mind, forgive me 😭😫

Junho and reader doing like a private first impression thing like u know where the bride and groom are standing back to back and then they turn around. And like Junho is mesmerised has tears is his eyes

Like i literally only have the most cheesy and romantic ideas in my mind i CANNOT help it

Btw love your works 😜😚😚😚❤️❤️

I did my best, Anon, your message truly made my day. ♥ :D I hope I didn't overdo it, then again, cheese is my livelihood. Sorry for any oddities or spelling mistakes, I'm a bit in the trenches today. :c

It's a bit longer with some wedding dress backstory and getting ready, but I think the good part is there. :3 I hope you enjoy! ♥♥♥

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The Moment I Saw You

Pairing: Jun-ho x almostwife!fem!reader Summary: And you thought the dress shopping would be hard. The first impression you wished to give your husband-to-be went differently than expected, and you are swimming in a sea of love and bliss. Warnings: Remember that one modded Skyrim playthrough where the player accidentally glitched the cheese-wheel summoning spell and drowned the whole town in cheese? Well, that's what's happening here, but worse. Fluff! Fluff! More fluff! Word count: 2.7k

Everything should have been perfect.

You were picking the dress, and it was taking long. You were standing in the bridal shop, unable to choose, tired, wanting to go home. The person looking back at you in the mirror didn’t look like a bride to you. Even though everything was in place, it felt…wrong. Fake, somehow. Ill-fitting. The shop assistant was very kind, you thought her patient – but even she could see you were not exactly the glowing bride-to-be she was used to. Nor anything like the shiny photographs littered across the front desk.  

Your close friend was there with you, trying her best, you could hear her rummaging through the dresses again, muttering – “puffy sleeves, prom dress, no, no, no, form fitting…” She had the fervour of a very hungry owl searching for that one mouse that got away. “Dumb…long…short…dear god do people actually wear this…oooh, shiny…no…hmmm…” She was already buckling under the weight of all the new ones she picked out for you.

“Hey, Y/N, are you sure you don’t like this one?” She held up a gorgeous gown, white as snow, silk, smooth, reflecting light with a soft plunge of a neckline, and a revealed back. The skirt fell in a mermaid style, you could look like a gorgeous datura flower at the bottom.

“No, no, I’m not sure…not…” You think of yourself in the dress and frown. Your husband to be…Your Jun-ho…should he see you like this? He should see the most beautiful version of you on such a day – and yet you felt more like he was going to run away the moment he laid eyes you.

“Please? How about this one?” Your friend holds up her second choice. The dress is half lace, intricately woven with flowers and soft curling patterns, with off-the-shoulder milky sleeves, a lovely bodice and a small ribbon on the back. The veil would hide more of you, you think. But still. You eye the skirt, its velvety material falling almost straight down. You know you’d be leaving nothing to the imagination and wonder, what if this is all a mistake? What if he made a gigantic mistake, from the very first moment he met you? The first date? The first touch? What if you’ve been unknowingly deceiving him, and now he’ll see you for what you are, what you look like, inside and out? You can’t hide in white.

Your friend walks up to you and gently takes your hand to help you off the platform. She guides you away from the mirrors. As she walks you to the changing room, she is slowly stroking your hand, noticing you are beginning to resemble a vibrating ball of nerves.

“Y/N, if you keep frowning like that, I’m pretty sure you’ll have to pay for extra retouching of all the new wrinkles.” She tried to joke but immediately noticed that it was neither the time nor place and changed her demeanour. You sit, feeling the small bench weigh down with you as she does too, and gently hold your stomach as you speak. You’re unsure which one of you will get the hint first, but you’re pushing it out into the back of your mind as far as you can.

“I just…” You try to speak but the words come out all wrong. “I don’t think he’ll…he’ll be so disappointed.” You sigh and trace both hands down your face to calm down and wipe the stress away, but it clings to every molecule of your skin. “Jun-ho isn’t the type to…” No, all wrong. “It’s not the dresses, it’s me.” Gosh darn it, the tears begin to form. “It’s just me.”

“Hey, hey…darling…” your friend begins stroking the back of your hand as she holds your palm. She is warm and reassuring, but you struggle to believe her.

“It’s ok. It’s ok to be nervous. But you’re beautiful, no matter the dress. To be honest,” she looks around with added drama, as if feigning trying not to be heard, “I don’t think any of the dresses could do you justice and you should just walk out there stark naked if you want them to see how gorgeous you are,” she laughs and squeezes your hand, you look up and let yourself rest with her reassuring, peaceful smile that reaches her lowered eyes now directly resting on you. Although you’re not hugging, you feel held.

Her eyes move to your hand resting on your stomach and you could swear you saw a glint sparkle in their corner and her lashes seem to fall far slower as she blinks, but says nothing. She is so very thoughtful, you think.

“Look, if I know anything about Jun-ho, which isn’t much” she continues, “that man is head over heels for you and the moment you said “yes” I don’t think he’s heard any other words of any language since.”

You let out a small chuckle through another tear. She continues, knowing she’s on a the right path, knuckle punching every guard on the proverbial way.

“I know you’ve walked past this shop year after year, before any of this, and I know you loved the dresses for their beauty, their, elegance, their promise. Y/N, you told me yourself, what was it…winter…”

“Winter dresses,” you chime in quietly. Barely a whisper. Breathing in, you try to remember those cold walks.

“I walked past, and I tried to look at the winter dresses when I knew the shop was closed. The ones with those gorgeous, long skirts, heavy velvety fabric where they met the skin, forming an A shape towards the waist.” You didn’t tell her that you liked both their protectiveness and the fact that if you decided to dramatically fall into a dark body of water, their puffiness and beauty would truly make the moment worth it. You continued after another less shaky but still reserved breath: “Hugged it and up there, the white enveloping the chest – perhaps with lace across the collarbones, but skin hidden, just a touch away…” you let yourself sink into the memory, far before you met Jun-ho, your husband to be. “With that veil that resembled a winter cape from a Russian fairytale.”

“There’s my little Vasilisa,” your friend laughed and stood up. “I’ll be right back, no eloping!”

You sat there, hand still resting on your belly, worried, excited, feeling as if you’re living someone else’s life. Thinking of what Jun-ho must be doing and feeling. Feeling worse and worse, as if you don’t deserve this life.

You quickly pull out your phone to check the time and melt. You have no idea how Jun-ho's timing is always so perfect, but only a minute or two ago, the words:

"Hey, sweet [diminutive version of Y/N], are you ok? Sorry, just wanted to check on you. I hope the dresses are treating you well! Tell [friend] to look after my wife!” light up your screen.

Another message lit up immediately after: “*wife-to-be, I just can’t stop saying it, sorry! I love you, Y/N.”

The smile that spreads from the corner of your mouth and butterflies that saunter from your stomach almost pushed all the anxiety off a cliff. But it still clung to the edge.

Your friend waltzed in and to your utter disbelief, she held up the perfect dress.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The click of your pearl-white heels was the only thing to be heard across the grass. You focused on their soft step and keeping your balance. Your heart was fluttering out of its chest, your stomach was doing its best to leave the building in excitement, in fear, in anticipation – the train of your dress followed you with a soft sliding murmur and the skirt gently touched each flower on the way. You were so glad he chose to do it this way, away from others. Flowers, a shield of wise oak trees. Bird chatter, a gentle breeze on your flushed cheeks, that’s all you truly needed. That, and him.

“I want to be the only one to see you, Y/N. The only one to witness the first sight of my wife.”

The sweetheart neckline clung to your collarbones, the off-the-shoulder fabric neatly stacked in on itself was cuddling your back and shoulders, light and nearly translucent. It rested on your skin as a light lover’s touch. The beautiful, laced veil, floating with you as well as behind you was hiding, yet still accentuating your shining hair with small white flowers nestled between locks. It fell periodically across your back and your shoulders, resting on your collarbones with each step. The heavy fabric of the dress which clung to your waist and fell once more felt cool and warm at the same time, giving you an air of ethereal slow motion. You looked like you belonged in a winter forest. A vision of indescribable, untouchable beauty. The wind gently played with your hair, as if longing to caress you as much as the man in front of you.

As you walked, the form of your husband-to-be materialised in front of you, facing the other way. Although there were many other features around, each quite beautiful, you had no eyes for them. Slowly, meticulously, as if not to scare him, you walked up the small hill towards him and lingered behind him. He hasn’t seen you, but he knows you’re there – his back is giving away the quickness of his breathing and his attempts to steady it down. Please breathe, my love…” Your thoughts leave their nerves at bay and soften into nothing but care and love for him. Finally, as lightly as a feather, you rest your back against his, feeling his breath quicken once more and his entire form tense and release, as if wishing to melt into you.

Jun-ho almost hesitates, but slowly, in what is trying to be a level manner, speaks.

“On the count of three, Y/N?”

You breathe out a tiny chuckle. Ever the pragmatic yet meticulous man.

“One…” you say almost in unison.

Your breath quickens, your heart is racing ten miles a minute, the dress seems to be tighter and tighter and the birds louder and louder yet so far away.

“Two…” he says alone and you whisper with him, mind turning to mushy cotton but enveloped in such a warm feeling of bliss.

Jun-ho takes in a last, heavy breath and as he lets it out…

“Three.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You turn around in unison and both stand frozen in the moment.

Your eyes meet.

Jun-ho stands utterly transfixed, trying to take you in, all of you, in your entirety at once. But his eyes cannot contain you, so he keeps glitching, his hands that he wished to extend to you the moment you turned, are shivering and tense.

His soft gaze tries to dart and look at you from a different side, angle, but he cannot. You’re…you’re a vision that he cannot and will not disentangle from.

As his eyes are trying to take in every inch of you and warming his heart with every molecule he manages to snatch from the photons reflecting your form, his heart is firmly on its way out of his chest.

You hear nothing but your breath now, you’re looking up into his eyes, inches away from his face, which is frozen and beginning to tear at itself. As if a mask was cracking in nothing but a barrage of indescribable beauty and feeling.

Jun-ho slowly lifts a shivering hand to his mouth and rests it across his face, fingers almost up to his eyes, as if shielding both you and him from the raw, sheer affection that has swept him off his feet – and you, you are both the waves he’s drowning in and the only lifeboat on the sea.

“Y/N…” he barely chokes out in a whisper.

“Y/N…you…you look...” his hand is joined by his other, slowly laying each palm and finger against themselves under his lips. Jun-ho doesn’t know why he cannot control his expression, a wide smile is fighting to be seen, his eyes and heart are tearing at him in springs of bliss and absolute adoration as he wishes to scoop you up to him and melt into you, squeeze you so tight you won’t know where you stop and he begins.

But you are…untouchable as this vision before him. As he steadies himself, he tries to breathe, getting a breath caught in his throat. He finally looks away and you worry, worry your worst fears came true. Worry that the girl sitting in the bridal shop holding her stomach was correct.

But on second look, he is…oh gosh…” The mixture of worry and unexpected relief, bundled up in nothing but affection and deep care threaten to drive you to both laugh and tear up.

“Jun-ho…!” A hushed whisper from your tender lips brings him back to you, turning his head slowly back. He meets your gaze with reserved fear, one eye – look away – second eye – look away – both – remain with you. You see now, with warmth growing in your chest and flutters dancing across your skin, why he was shielding his mouth, then face, then needing to look away entirely. You take both his hands into yours, caressing each finger lovingly as you lower them down to your waist. You envelop his hands, still caressing each knuckle with the ball of your thumb.

“Jun-ho, my love…” you say slowly, levelly, in a low whisper. “My sweet love…it’s alright.”

Jun-ho cannot help it, the sides of his eyes are fully sparkling now. Your eyes are fully transfixed on his own and guide his gaze into you, and he smiles that wide smile you have grown to love so dearly. Jun-ho’s eyes are now fully glistening like still lakes under a full moon.

“I cannot believe you’re here. I---I---cannot believe…it’s…you…with me…My…My…”

Jun-ho cannot speak further but you feel the hands in your tender embrace reciprocate a grip far more secure and loving than you could ever wish for. As protective as it was reassuring. Jun-ho always held you as if you could slip away at any moment, but so tenderly that should you do so, you’d be protected and enveloped in loving warmth to the very end.

“Your wife. My darling. My husband.” Your face softened as you let the words slide across your lips and into the chasm between you, creating the gentlest of bridges.

“My---wife…” Jun-ho lets out an untangled breath of relief, the full smile finally taking over his face. Sparkles turning to tears fall at the same moment, as if a weight both descended from and knocked the air out of him in a single moment.

“You’re…you’re so beautiful. My love. My everything. You are…you are everything.” He’s still smiling as the small specks run down his cheeks. “I love you, Y/N. I love you. I’m so glad. So glad. So happy. I don’t know how to---can I…can I touch you?”

As the lightly shivering voice in contrast to his imposing, beautiful form reached your ears, you lightly caressed his cheek, and he leaned into your palm immediately.

“Of course, Jun-ho.”

Without a second to spare, he lovingly, gently, as lightly as he could in his given disposition, cupped your face and gave you the longest, most tender of kisses. Slowly his hands trailed to your waist, brushing, as if making sure you weren’t going to disappear or turn into a beautiful dream.

Finally, Jun-ho everso carefully took you in fully. Without warning but still tenderly, Jun-ho lifted you up to him, as if you and your dress were as light as the breeze playing with your hair. In one movement he twirled around with you, letting your dress get caught in the moment and carried by motion, his gorgeous wife, his Y/N, nought but his – giggling in his arms, a vision of angelic beauty in his embrace – and he caught himself laughing with you, in nothing but pure bliss. As he let you down just as gently, his touch lingered – he didn’t want to let you go for one second.

Squeezing his hand, you nudged your face closer to his, beckoning without words; he covered the remaining distance.

You felt his lips brush against your own – top, then bottom, then both – before resting on yours fully. Tenderly. Reservedly. Lovingly. You placed a soft kiss where they lingered and Jun-ho finally let himself melt into you fully, kissing you as if you harboured the last bastion of oxygen in the depths of the ocean, as if you were the only thing on this Earth that he wanted, needed, yearned and lived for.    

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

[luvfae]

Maybe it sounds weird but I've been thinking about this for a while. Thanos definitely didn't get into drugs by himself. Someone influenced him. So, reader was the one that got him into it. Met her, blud feel inlove with her, man has problems with his dad, so, probably he found comfort on her, until.. she offers him drugs. and then it all goes downhil

JUNKIE

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol and drug use, violence, thanos slaps reader (but she likes it), drug addiction, angst

a/n: i hope i did your request justice!

The first time Thanos saw you, he thought you were untouchable.

The kind of girl that could burn him alive. The kind of girl he wanted anyway.

You had your legs kicked up on a dirty motel couch, cigarette between your fingers, eyes red-rimmed but sharp as a blade. Someone’s music played from a busted speaker, the bass rattling against the thin walls. The room reeked of sweat, liquor, and something heavier. Something dangerous.

Nam-Gyu had brought him here, saying, “Relax, bro. You work too hard. You need to fucking live a little.”

Thanos didn’t feel like living. Not really. His father had made sure of that.

And then you turned your head, looked at him like you already knew everything about him—like you knew he’d crumble for you if you asked him to. And fuck, you were right.

“Come here,” you had murmured.

And he did. He sat beside you, close enough to breathe in the smoke curling from your lips.

“You look stressed.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Something like that.”

You smiled. A lazy, knowing smile. You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small plastic bag. White powder.

“Wanna forget for a little while?”

He hesitated. Not because he was scared, but because he wanted to. Because he was already leaning in. Because his father’s voice was an echo in his head—You’ll never be anything. You’ll never be enough.

Fuck him. Fuck everything.

You dipped your pinky into the bag, held it up to his lips. “Just a taste.”

Thanos closed his eyes and parted his lips.

That was the first time.

The beginning of the end.

The first time was just a taste.

The second time, you kissed him after.

And after that, he stopped counting.

Thanos didn’t realize how deep he’d fallen until it was too late. He told himself it was just for fun. Just a way to take the edge off. Just a way to feel something other than his father’s disappointment pressing down on his chest.

But then he started needing it.

Needing you.

You were everywhere. His nights, his mornings. Wrapped around him, pulling him into that haze where nothing fucking mattered. His music was still selling, his career still rising, but behind every hit song, every stadium filled with screaming fans, there was you.

Dragging him into the bathroom at parties.

Slipping something under his tongue when the weight of the world got too heavy.

Straddling him in the backseat of his car, your mouth sweet with vodka and destruction, whispering, “I love it when you’re like this, baby. So fucking gone for me.”

And God help him—he loved it too.

Loved you.

That was the worst part.

It wasn’t the drugs that ruined him.

It was you.

Or maybe it was the way he thought you loved him when you never really did.

Because love wouldn’t have left him shaking in some shitty apartment, trying to claw his way out of his own body. Love wouldn’t have handed him a fresh bag when he was already drowning.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he rasped one night, his voice wrecked from hours of dry heaving. His whole body ached. His hands trembled.

You sat beside him on the bed, rolling a blunt between your fingers. “Then don’t.”

He turned to you, eyes hollow. “Come with me.”

You didn’t even look up. “Where?”

“Rehab. Getting clean.”

The silence between you was louder than anything.

Then, finally, you scoffed. “Come on, Thanos.”

His stomach lurched. Not from the withdrawal. From you.

“I love you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

You took a slow drag, exhaled smoke towards the ceiling.

And then you laughed.

Not cruelly. Not kindly. Just… indifferently.

Thanos clenched his jaw, pushing himself up even though his limbs felt like lead.

“I can’t fucking do this,” he said again, more to himself than to you.

You didn’t stop him when he left.

Didn’t call.

Didn’t check in.

He should have known you wouldn’t.

But one night, after another brutal dinner with his father—where he was called a disappointment, told his music was garbage, that he’d never amount to anything—Thanos showed up at your door.

He was wrecked. Eyes red, hands trembling, desperation bleeding from every inch of him.

“Please.” His voice was raw, broken. “Let me in.”

He didn’t have to say the rest. You already knew.

So, you opened the door, let him fall into your arms.

Because getting high with Thanos was better than getting high alone.

Thanos was a mess.

A beautiful, fucking disastrous mess.

And you loved it.

At first, he fought it. Said he didn’t want to turn out like his father, that he didn’t need it, that he just wanted you.

But you knew better.

Because the first time you pressed a pill to his lips and whispered, “Just try it, baby. For me,” he hesitated—just for a second—before giving in.

And once he started, he never stopped.

Thanos was violent when he was high.

Reckless.

Unhinged.

And fuck, it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

Somewhere along the way, the sweet, lovesick boy who wanted to save you had died. In his place was something raw, something vicious. He was angry all the time, eyes dark and mean, fists twitching like he was seconds away from snapping.

And you?

You only egged him on.

“You think you’re some big, scary thug now?” you taunted, fingers curling around the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer. Your breath was hot against his cheek. “You gonna hit me next, baby?”

His jaw ticked, his nostrils flared, and you fucking smiled. You always smiled. Even when he was breaking. Especially when he was breaking.

He’d just gotten into a fight—some club scene bullshit that ended with blood on his knuckles and his nose still bleeding.

Thanos exhaled sharply, jaw clenched. His pupils were blown wide, hands shaking from adrenaline and whatever cocktail of drugs he’d taken.

You crawled onto his lap, straddling him, pressing your lips against his bruised ones.

His breath hitched. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh like he was holding himself back.

But you didn’t want him to.

You wanted the rage. The destruction.

Because when Thanos was fucked up, when he was spiraling, when he was so far gone he couldn’t even see straight—

That was when he needed you the most.

And there was no bigger high than that.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled.

You tilted your head, studying him, pressing your lips to his ear. “Make me.”

Thanos was too far gone to stop himself.

And he snapped.

His palm cracked across your face, sharp and brutal, the force of it knocking your head to the side. A sharp metallic taste flooded your mouth, copper and salt pooling on your tongue.

Silence.

For a moment, he just stared. Breathing hard. Eyes wild. Regret flickered in them—just for a second. Just a fucking second.

And then you turned back to him, blood smeared across your lip, smiling.

Grinning.

You grabbed his face with both hands, yanked him forward, and kissed him so hard it hurt. Teeth clashing, lips bleeding, tongues tangling in a way that was anything but soft.

When you pulled back, breathless, your thumb ran over his jaw, his pulse hammering beneath your touch.

“You’re just like me now,” you whispered, eyes gleaming. “Drug-fucked junkie. No one will ever care about you the way I do.”

His hands balled into fists at his sides.

“You don’t care about me, you bitch,” he spat, his voice raw. “You just wanna see me ruined.”

Your smirk widened.

“Maybe I do.”

And just like that, it was over.

Whatever was left of the boy he used to be—gone.

Thanos was ruined. Addicted to the drugs. Addicted to you.

And there was no coming back.

[bunji-enthusiast]

thought of another request !! (Obviously platonic, love being used in a more parental manner bc yk,, found family)

so, doey is one of the few toys you managed to save and bring back home. He unfortunately has a anxiety meltdown from being outside for the first time in years and reader having to comfort him, talking to him softly and holding him in their lap while he just sobs bc it's so much at once,,

They're like "shh, it's okay, i know, love, i know.."

Idk if that would make sense for a one shot 🙏

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫

Sypnosis [Being outside for the first time in years can take a special toll on a person, especially if that someone is Doey in particular.]

Character [Doey]

Note || I believe I understand what you mean, correct me if I don’t lol.

The day had been quiet, almost too quiet. The toys, having found their way to your home after months of struggling for survival, were finally beginning to settle in. The factory was far behind them now, the haunting memories of the place slowly fading into the recesses of their minds. The Safe Haven was a place where they could breathe again, feel safe. You, having escaped the nightmarish grip of the factory, had taken it upon yourself to provide for them, to help them heal. You had promised yourself that no matter the cost, you would make sure they were never subjected to the horrors of the factory again.

But even in the safety of this new home, some wounds never healed. You watched as Doey, the plump dough creature, sat at the corner of the living room, his normally playful demeanor replaced by something more distant, more uncertain. His eyes—holes in his head, just faint shadows in the dim light—seemed lost, unfocused. He was far from the carefree toy who had led the Safe Haven group with bravery and kindness. No, this was a side of Doey you had never seen before, and it was clear that something was wrong.

You walked over to him, kneeling down so that you could meet his gaze. He flinched slightly at your approach, and you noticed the subtle trembling in his yellow and orange arms. You had seen toys face the horrors of the factory, but nothing quite like this. Doey had always been strong, calm, a beacon of hope for the others.

But today, that strength had crumbled.

"Doey," you said gently, your voice low and calm, "hey, what’s going on? Talk to me."

Doey's mouth, that simple line of dough, quivered slightly as he took a deep, shuddering breath. He could barely hold it together, his usual bubbly nature drowned under the weight of something far more sinister.

“I... I’m not sure I can do it anymore,” Doey muttered, his voice thick with emotion. It wasn’t like him to sound so fragile, but you recognized the desperation in his tone. “I’ve tried. I’ve always tried... But it feels like no matter how hard I try, I’m just going to fall apart.”

You frowned, reaching out to place a hand gently on his arm. The warmth of your touch seemed to help, though Doey flinched at first. He wasn’t used to being touched like this, not in such a vulnerable state. You could see his struggle, the fear of being broken, of losing himself to the horrors of his past.

"Hey," you said, your voice steady despite the situation, "it's okay. You're safe now. We're all safe."

"But I don’t feel safe," Doey whispered, his eyes downcast, avoiding yours. "Every time I close my eyes, I see... I see them. The factory. The screams. The things I did... the things I couldn’t stop. And now I can’t stop feeling like I’m just one bad thing away from falling apart. What if I’m just a... a toy? A toy made to be broken? What if I’m not strong enough to lead them, to keep everyone safe?"

You could feel the weight of his words, the burden he was carrying. Doey wasn’t just a toy to you. He was a friend, a confidant. His strength was a shield, not just for himself, but for all the toys in the once Safe Haven. And now that shield was cracking.

You knew that the other toys were counting on him, but even they didn’t know the full depth of the struggle he was going through. Doey was made up of the memories and personalities of three children—Kevin, Jack, and Matthew. Each piece of him brought its own light, its own shadow. And while Matthew's kindness and gentle spirit were a dominant force within him, there was also the fiery temper of Kevin, and the deep yearning for something lost within Jack. It made Doey... complicated.

"Doey, listen to me," you said softly, but firmly. "You're not alone in this. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep going. And we’re all here to help you. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

Doey's right arm—yellow and thick—shuddered as he reached up, his hand going to his face, his body folding in on itself as though he could hide from the world. A soft sob escaped him, and your heart ached. You had seen him lead, seen him face danger with a brave face, but this... this was something entirely different. The weight of the factory’s horrors, the responsibility of being a leader, had taken its toll.

"Doey, it's okay to feel broken," you said, your voice trembling just slightly now. "We all have our broken pieces. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still be whole. You’re not just a toy. You’re not just the past. You’re Doey. You’re the one who stood up for all of us. You showed us what it means to keep fighting. And we’re not going to let you fall now.”

Doey looked up at you, his doughy face streaked with tears—tears made of the very clay he was formed from. You could see the conflict in his eyes. The fear of what might happen next. The anger bubbling up from deep within, the fiery Kevin side of him, just waiting to lash out.

But you didn’t let him retreat. Instead, you gently cupped his face in your hands, the warmth of your palms pressing against his cool, doughy skin. “Doey, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. We’re all here.”

A long moment passed, where Doey simply breathed, shuddering in your hold, trying to steady himself. Slowly, his trembling ceased, his body slowly relaxing into your touch. There was still an undercurrent of fear within him, but you could feel him starting to regain control.

“I... I don’t know if I can lead anymore,” Doey said quietly, his voice still uncertain. “But I... I don’t want to let anyone down.”

You smiled softly, your hand brushing his long orange arm. "You don’t have to lead alone, Doey. We’re all here for each other. Here—it’s not just you. It’s all of us, together."

His yellow and orange arms hung limply at his sides for a moment before he slowly, carefully, wrapped them around you, his stubby red legs shaking beneath him. His embrace wasn’t strong, but it was filled with a sense of quiet gratitude. He was fragile, yes, but he wasn’t alone.

And that was enough. For now, it was enough. You’d be there to help him, just like he had helped so many others before.

"Thank you," Doey whispered, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "I’ll try. I’ll try to be strong. For them. For you."

And as the two of you sat there in the quiet of the room, surrounded by the other toys, you knew that, despite everything, Doey would find his way. Because sometimes, strength wasn’t about never breaking—it was about finding the courage to put the pieces back together when everything felt like it was falling apart. And you’d be there to help him do just that.

[kyunniebuns]

Helloooo :3. I wanna know how Jin Woo deals with S/O who got bullied in high school because of her face and always feels insecure because of that. And also isolates and distances herself whenever people hurt her feelings. Requesting headcanons and one shot if u r free of course! :0

˗ˏˋ Entry : 061 - Sung Jinwoo x Bullied! Fem! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

[ BULLYING. Heavy depictions of depression, anxiety, body/face dysmorphia, avoidance of mirrors, idealization of self-harm/mutilation. I've been a victim of bullying so this is quite personal. Fluff Ending]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ When the flowers wilts first instead of blooming ] ¡! ❞

Pretty privilege.

Even if you're a child, you know it's a thing. Of course, you can't quite pinpoint why you're being treaed the way you are. But there is that weird inkling that something is going terribly wrong.

The boys in class often snicker at you, making fun of you for no reason in front of your oblivious face. You can tell there is some sort of mockery coming from them and that they treat other girls in class quite differently.

With the other girls, they are respectful and even trying to suck up with them? With you? They're actively snorting and getting off on making you miserably.

It's the little things they say that slowly degraded your poor mind over time.

"Your smile is weird"

"Your cheeks are too fat"

"Hey, can you quit laughing for a bit? You look ugly as hell hahah"

"It's the freak"

With the girls? Oh it gets worse.

They wont shut up about how your features are grotesque and even downright disgusting.

That's odd, you just wanted to be friends with everyone, yet here you are being the center of ridicule— Being pushed out of every single chance to make genuine connection just because they didn't like the way you look.

Well.. It isn't too bad.

There's a boy in class who befriended you. He listened to every story you have and he even laughs at the jokes you make even if you have picked them up from everybody else. If you mimic the popular kids, everyone will like you more right?...

Right?

However that same boy you thought was your friend had been secretly mocking you with his popular friends. He had been making fun of you no matter how kind and outgoing you were with him.

From then on? You started to slowly isolate yourself from everyone.

But somehow, the bullying only got worse.

It was to the point that everyone laughs at you during class and teasing you whenever you try to participate in class. They make wild noises whenever it's your turn to report.

Everyone, everyone just wont stop hurting you.

How about the adults? Surely they will help?

"... Just, try to ignore them, yeah?" — Was the reply the adults with give.

That's funny, shouldn't teachers be taking your side? You're the one who is being wronged here. You're the one who is getting the cruel end of these so called jokes.

Why is everyone making fun of you?

Even outside of the classroom and in the schoolbus— The kids younger and older than you are all a bunch of jerks who gaslight you everytime you try to be friendly with them.

One day, you decided to please everyone and sit on the floor because the pretty girls and the boys deserve it. The reward of your obedience?

Water gets poured on the top of your head and they all cackle in joy.

You went home soaking that day, sobbing miserably as your bag's contents are also drowning in water. Of course, your family confronted the school.

But the solution? Somehow eveything goes fucking downhill even more.

You're pushed out of all social circles. You're considered a goddamn freak.

And thus, the once bubbly and outgoing you had been stripped down to an anti-social and anxious loser that everyone despises. Anyone who comes across you would look at you with either pity or ridicule.

In the end? It doesn't matter anymore.

At some point, you completely gave up on trying to be friends with anyone and chose to keep to yourself. Maybe you had a few they all left overtime.

So you chose to just... Keep to yourself. What better is there to protect your already battered heart than to make sure nobody dares come close?

If being alone is what it takes to finally have the peace you've been longing for and can avoid all sense of harm— Then so be it.

Alone may you be, but at least you're happy.

꒰ .... ꒱

Meeting you is quite odd for Jinwoo so to speak. Of course, he is well aware of anti-social people who actively avoid any sort of interaction. Even small talk is considered a pure living nightmare to go through.

He tried being friendly with you and Jinwoo can tell no matter how polite and meek you are— You are actively trying to escape the conversation and find ways to shut it off.

Well, he could always leave you alone. But somehow he didn't want to. So even if you were uncomfortable, Jinwoo always attempted to be friends with you.

Slowly, he would notice the little things about you.

Such as your hair being grown in a way that obscures your little face, how you're dressed in thick clothes just to hide your body, how you're always choosing to stand alone in a corner where there is a least amount of students.

He knew of that fact that you're making yourself more and more invisible to everyone else by doing this. And he had an inkling something has gone terribly wrong for you to be this willing to isolate yourself.

Even when he managed to make you warm up to him, he knew you were desperate in making sure you don't offend him in any sort of way. He can see that way your demeanour would change if his tone shifts to a lazier and deeper sound out of nowhere.

You're studying his every movement.

Just like he is studying you.

꒰ .... ꒱

One day, he managed to convince you to come with him to go to the mall. Everything is currently boring and dull for him since there isn't much to do on the last week of the semester thanks to both of you handing everything on time. The only reason why school is still ongoing are for those students that are on the path of repeating the grade.

Everything was going well until you find yourself staring at your own reflection in a mirror.

How grotesque.

Those godforsaken awful cheeks you have, the shape of your eyes being so infuriating to look at, how pathetically built you are, how overall unappealing your appearance were.

If you could just run your cutters all of your fucking face maybe you'd be fixed.

This is why you hated mirrors so much.

They remind you of the disgustingly horrid image you have. Mirrors have a talent of showing the god awful being one is.

Because they don't lie.

These objects are made to reflect the person facing them. Despite being mouthless beings, you always had a feeling these fucking things are mocking you just for existing yourself.

Maybe you should scratch your cheek? That way you can shape them down even more—

"Don't look there." A soft, gentle deep voice calls out as a hand stretched out to block your line of sight towards the mirror.

When you look up, you are only met with a pair of kind grey orbs gazing at you as he says; "How about we go to the park instead?"

Jinwoo then moves his hand to grasp yours, squeezing it a little before guiding you out of the place.

꒰ .... ꒱

The walk in the empty park is silent and awkard, your footsteps being the only source of noise as you trail behind Jinwoo's tall and broad back.

"Sorry..." You say, lowering your head as you paused in your steps. "I ruined your shopping day."

"I was getting bored anyway, it's fine" He shrugs, waving his hand dismissively.

"Still," You purse your lips, feeling even more awful since you know Jinwoo is just being kind to you.

"You're always working hard to not make me mad, it wouldn't hurt to be a bit mean sometimes" Jinwoo reaches over to mess up your head.

"You... Are very aware of what I did before, yet you're still nice to me?"

Ah yes, that story, that story where you sent a kid limping in the hallways leaving a trail of blood from his bleeding nose. He finds it a little funny that you think you would scare him, the same bastard who put monarchs at their graves and sending god's army packing when they tried to pull another bullshit in his regression.

Still, it is awfully cute of you in his mind.

"I don't know what they did to you, or what they said that you're this anxious and afraid of ever offending me— But I only care about making you happy." He then becomes a bit flustered as he realized his own words. "W-well, I mean, hahah... That sounds so bad, I just,... Er... You're pretty cute when you smile so—"

Jinwoo stopped talking as he feels you suddenly throwing your arms around him.

"Hey..." He sighs, rubbing your back gently as he feels your tears soaking up his hoodie.

Being called cute by someone like him feels unreal, but somehow you can tell he isn't lying or just saying it to say something. Jinwoo for one has never lied to you, sure, he keeps things to himself most of the time. But he never lied.

So it's okay to trust him, right? it's okay to give him your heart even for just a little bit? With him, it feels like you;re healing a part of yourself that got broken overtime due to the bullying and isolation you had to put yourself through just so you can make sure no one can hurt you ever.

Jinwoo could only cradle you, sighing deeply as his rough fingers card through your strands affectionately. He should've reached out sooner.

Just from the raw, unfiltered and broken sobs that you are emitting— He can tell your cries are an amalgamation of sorrow, pain and loneliness that has long been brewing throughout the years of no solace.

"Joonwoo, Ae-yeong, Hajoon, Beom-shik, Eun-ae" He starts listing a bunch of names and ten other more.

Names familiar to you.

"Those are their names, right?" Jinwoo asks softly, receiving a soft nod from you.

He keeps your head firmly pressed against his shoulder as his face contorts that of pure malice. The undead soldiers hiding inside his shadows stir and whine a bit as they sense their master's temper coming to a close boiling point.

"I hope they enjoyed their sleep these past few days, a hellscape nightmares will be coming their way after all."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: I could've been more graphic but I chose to be merciful and choose this. There's more but ehnnn,,, I wanna play hollow knight immed rn<33. To everyone who is suffering from ptsd and body dysmorphia please know you are beautiful and perfect just the way you are. It'll take a long while to heal but you're not alone and never should be. Please surround yourself with happiness and cute things. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[03jyh23]

✋🏻⌇touch part two┆choi san

│part of goes to waste the series based on my favourite keshi songs

│listen here

│part one

non-idol!san x fem!reader

│synopsis: you and san had always been the best of friends, but a single kiss changed everything.

│genre: friends to lovers, smut with some plot, a tiny bit of angst

│trigger warnings: explicit sexual content (consensual and unprotected sex, thick san, oral sex (both receiving), mentions of cum, neck kissing, and biting), mentions of infidelity (not between san and the reader), adult themes, strong language

│words: 5.1 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there my lovely people! yeah, i'm well aware that it's been like 6 months since i posted the first part but i count on your forgiveness ✋🏻😔 nonetheless hope you guys will enjoy it🙂‍↔️

love, mon ♡

It was late Saturday night. San had just returned from his gym session, preparing some protein shakes when the doorbell rang catching him off guard. He paused the music playing loudly on the speakers and went to open the door.

He unlocked the door only to have you wrap yourself around him in a second. "Hi—" he wanted to greet you, but your lips were already on his, and like a fool, he gave in. You stumbled backward into his apartment, not breaking the kiss as San kicked the door shut behind you. His hands found your waist, steadying you as you both moved through the apartment. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering traces of the gym filled your senses. You pressed yourself closer to him, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hands roamed your back. The intensity of your need for him was overwhelming, drowning out any thoughts of what had led you here tonight. San pulled back slightly, his brown eyes searching yours with concern.

"Hey—" he tried to speak again, his voice gentle, but you silenced his words with another passionate kiss, your lips urgently seeking his as you pressed closer, desperately fighting for him to match your intensity and reciprocate the kiss. San's back hit the wall as you pushed him against it, desperate to keep him close to you.

He grasped your hips and pushed you back gently so he could finally speak. "Y/N, wait," he said firmly, his breath slightly ragged. "What's going on? Talk to me." He held you at arm's length, searching your face for answers. You tried to avoid his gaze as your trembling fingers worked to untie the drawstring of his grey sweatpants, your movements betraying your desperation. Before you could pull them down past his hips, San's strong hand caught your wrist. In one swift, fluid motion that left you breathless, he reversed your positions, pressing your back against the cold wall, the sudden chill sending shivers down your spine.

The abrupt change in position made you gasp audibly, your heart thundering against your ribcage as San skillfully pinned both your hands above your head, his grip unyielding yet careful not to hurt you. The warmth of his body contrasted sharply with the cool wall behind you, making you acutely aware of every point where your bodies touched.

"I said wait," he growled softly, his voice low and commanding, his face mere inches from yours. His warm breath ghosted across your lips as he spoke, "I need to know if you're okay?"

"San please no talking, just fuck me," you pleaded breathlessly, your voice carrying notes of both desperation and vulnerability.

San's expression softened slightly at your plea, but his grip remained firm. "Not like this," he murmured, "You're hurting, and I won't take advantage of that." His thumb traced small circles on your wrist as he held your gaze, silently asking you to trust him enough to open up.

Your breath hitched at his words, and you leaned forward, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "Then let me take advantage of you instead." Your hands strained against his grip as you pressed your body closer to his.

San's breath caught, his grip on your wrists tightening momentarily as he processed your words. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he fought to maintain his control. "Y/N," he warned, his voice rough with barely contained desire.

"Please, San," you murmured against his skin, your lips trailing down his neck. "I need this. I need you." Your words were punctuated by soft kisses along his jawline, each one a silent plea.

San remained still for a moment, his internal struggle evident in the way his body trembled against yours. Finally, with a resigned sigh that held both concern and desire, he released your wrists, his hands sliding down to cup your face. "We need to talk about this later," he said before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You melted into it, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as San's strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat between your bodies was intoxicating, spreading through your limbs like liquid fire. His broad shoulders beneath your fingertips made you feel delightfully small and protected, while the firm muscles of his back flexed under your touch. The overwhelming awareness of his physical strength, the way he could easily overpower you yet handled you with such careful restraint, sent waves of warmth coursing through your body, making your cheeks flush a deep crimson. Your lips traced a path down his jawline, each kiss more desperate than the last. San tilted his head back, giving you better access as your mouth explored the sensitive skin of his neck. His hands found their way to your breasts, cupping them through the fabric of your dress as a soft groan escaped his lips. His touch was both gentle and possessive, his fingers kneading softly as you nipped at the junction where his neck met his shoulder. The sensation of your teeth grazing his skin drew a deep, throaty moan from him, his fingers tightening their grip on your breasts. Without warning, he lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as his lips crashed against yours in a hungry kiss. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he carried you down the hallway toward his bedroom, his muscular arms holding you securely against his chest. The feeling of his lips moving against yours, combined with the gentle sway of his steps, made your head spin. As you reached his bedroom door, San pressed you against it, his body pinning you in place as one hand fumbled with the handle.

"You're so beautiful," San breathed against your lips, his voice husky. "But are you sure about this?"

You nodded frantically, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "Please, San. I need you. I need to forget everything else."

"Y/N," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. "I don't want to be just a distraction."

"You're not," you gasped as his lips found a sensitive spot.

San pulled back slightly, his intense gaze meeting yours. "Promise me you won't regret this in the morning."

Instead of answering, you captured his lips in another desperate kiss, pouring all your unspoken feelings into it. San finally managed to open the door, carrying you into his darkened bedroom. He gently laid you down on his bed. His hands traced the curves of your body with reverent care, his touch setting your skin ablaze. The weight of his body pressing against yours made you forget everything else, just as you'd wanted.

Your hips jolted upward as his fingers traced along your inner thigh, a soft gasp escaping your parted lips. San watched your reactions intently as your mouth fell open in a silent plea. Your fingers clutched at his shoulders as his fingers went dangerously high, drawing a breathy moan from your lips. His fingers ghosted over your underwear, the light touch making you arch into him with a desperate whimper. San's other hand traced up your side, pushing your dress higher as his lips found yours in another searing kiss. His fingers traced up and down your clothed core with a teasing pressure that made your breath catch. Each slow stroke sent shivers through your body as he deliberately avoided direct contact with your most sensitive spot. You could feel the heat building as his fingers moved with agonizing precision, rubbing circles near but never quite touching your clit. The fabric between his fingers and your skin only heightened the sensation as he continued his torturous exploration. A soft whimper escaped your lips as his fingers pressed just a little harder, the friction of your underwear creating delicious pressure that had your hips lifting to meet his touch.

With trembling fingers, you grasped the hem of your dress and slowly pulled it upward past your hips, the fabric bunching around your waist. "I need more," you gasped breathlessly, San's warm hands joined yours, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he helped guide the dress higher. Together, you worked the fabric up over your head. The dress fell forgotten to the floor beside the bed, leaving you exposed in just your panties, your skin flushed.

"God, you're perfect," San breathed, his eyes slowly trailing over every inch of your exposed skin. His fingers traced delicate patterns across your collarbone and down your shoulders, making you shiver. The gentleness of his touch contrasted beautifully with the intensity in his eyes.

"Please," you whimpered desperately, arching into his touch. "I need you so badly." San's breath hitched audibly as your trembling hands found the hem of his shirt, your fingers brushing against the warm skin beneath.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against your neck.

"I want to feel you," you gasped, tugging at his shirt. "All of you. No more teasing."

He pulled back just enough to strip off his shirt in one fluid motion. "Like this?" he asked, his eyes locked on yours as he pressed his bare chest against yours.

"More," you pleaded desperately, your fingers trailing slowly down the defined ridges of his abs until they reached the waistband of his sweatpants. Your touch was both tentative and demanding as you traced along the elastic. "Please, San. I need more."

San caught your wrist, stopping you. "Not so fast," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of scorching kisses, "Let me take care of you first," he whispered against your heated skin, his hands sliding down your sides with deliberate slowness. His fingers hooked under the delicate fabric of your panties, slowly dragging them down your thighs. The cool air against your heated skin made you shiver with anticipation. San's fingertips traced teasing circles over your inner thighs, gradually working their way higher. When he finally reached your center, his touch was feather-light, barely ghosting over your sensitive flesh. A soft whimper escaped your lips as his fingers began tracing slow, deliberate circles near your clit, never quite making direct contact. The teasing motion had your hips lifting desperately, seeking more pressure. San maintained his torturously slow pace, his fingers moving in languid strokes up and down your folds. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more teasing, his fingers finally brushed directly over your clit, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. The contact was brief before he returned to those maddening up-and-down motions. Your breath caught as you felt one finger slowly press inside you. He withdrew just as slowly, only to repeat the motion with the same deliberate patience that had you trembling beneath him.

"Please," you gasped, your fingers clutching at his shoulders, "I need more."

At your plea, San's mouth replaced his fingers, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh before his tongue traced a long, slow stroke up your folds. His lips pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses against you, each one sending shivers through your body. His tongue moved with deliberate gentleness, flat and soft as it explored you with broad, languid strokes. You moaned as his tongue flicked teasingly near your clit, never staying in one place too long. He alternated between those gentle, flat strokes and more focused attention, his tongue becoming firmer as he traced patterns against you. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he moved lower, his tongue pressing carefully inside you before returning to those maddeningly soft caresses. The wet heat of his mouth had you trembling, his lips creating delicious suction as his tongue continued its relentless exploration. He took his time, drawing soft moans from your lips as he varied between licks and gentle sucking, always mindful of your sensitivity. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as his mouth worked against you with increasing intensity.

"San," you whimpered, your back arching as he found a particularly sensitive spot. His response was a low hum against your flesh that sent vibrations through your core. Your thighs began to tremble uncontrollably around his head, your fingers tightening in his hair as the tension built. Every stroke of his tongue sent electric shocks through your body, making your muscles spasm and twitch beyond your control. Your back arched sharply off the bed, your body moving of its own accord as waves of pleasure coursed through you. A loud, desperate moan escaped your lips as your legs clamped down around his head, your whole body tensing as you reached your peak. Your grip on his hair turned harsh, yanking at the strands as your hips bucked against his mouth. The intensity of your orgasm had you writhing beneath him, gasping his name between broken moans. San groaned against you, the vibrations prolonging your pleasure as your body shuddered through the aftershocks. His hands held your trembling thighs firmly, keeping you steady as you slowly came down from your high. When he finally pulled away, his curved into a smirk lips were glistening. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his eyes locked with yours.

"You taste so sweet," he murmured as he crawled back up your body. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as his hands roamed possessively over your heated skin. You could feel his hard length pressing against your thigh through his sweatpants, his hips instinctively rocking against you, seeking friction as his kisses grew more desperate. Your hands moved to his waistband, tugging insistently at his sweatpants. San lifted his hips, helping you push them down along with his boxers. Your breath caught at the sight of him, hard and straining against his stomach.

With a sudden surge of confidence, you pressed your hands against San's chest, pushing him back. He went willingly, letting you guide him until he was lying flat against the mattress. You straddled his hips, your hands splayed across his chest as you leaned down to capture his lips in a heated kiss. San's hands immediately found your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as you rolled your hips against him. Without hesitation, you spat on your hand and wrapped your fingers around his length, drawing a sharp hiss from his lips. You stroked him slowly at first, your thumb circling the sensitive tip as pre-cum beaded at the slit. San's breath came in harsh pants as you lowered your head, your tongue darting out to taste him. His hands tangled in your hair as you took him into your mouth, starting shallow as you adjusted to his size.

"Fuck, Y/N," San moaned, his voice deep and gravelly with need. His chest heaved with ragged breaths as he watched you through half-lidded eyes, occasional groans and whimpers falling from his parted lips. Working in tandem with your hand, you gradually took him deeper, your tongue pressing flat against the underside of his shaft. Your cheeks hollowed as you sucked eagerly, drawing a deep groan from San's throat. His grip tightened in your hair as you bobbed your head, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn't reach.

"Fuck," San gasped as you swirled your tongue around his tip before taking him deeper again. "Your mouth feels so good." His hips twitched, fighting the urge to thrust up into your mouth. You hummed around him, the vibrations making his thighs tremble. As you tried to take him deeper, you felt your throat constrict slightly, causing you to pull back with a soft gag. San's concerned eyes met yours, but you simply caught your breath before taking him back into your mouth, more prepared this time. The sound of your slight choking seemed to affect him deeply, his cock twitching against your tongue. After a while, you could feel San's muscles tensing beneath you, his thighs trembling as you increase your pace. Your jaw began to ache from the repetitive motion, but the sounds San was making above you spurred you on.

"Mmm, fuck," San moaned breathlessly, his voice deep. "Your mouth is so perfect... so good for me." His words dissolved into a series of low groans and gasps, occasionally punctuated by your name falling from his lips like a prayer. You alternated between long strokes with your hand and eager sucks with your mouth, your tongue never staying still as it traced patterns along his length. His grip on your hair tightened almost painfully as his hips gave a sudden, sharp twitch. A strangled groan escaped his throat, his entire body going rigid as his cock pulsed against your tongue.

"Y/N, fuck," he breathed out heavily, his voice trembling with barely contained desire as he involuntarily bucked his hips upward, pushing himself deeper into the wet warmth of your mouth. "Please- you need to stop," he gasped desperately, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. "If you keep going like this, I'm not gonna last another second."

But you didn't want to stop.

You wrapped your lips around him once more, sucking him harder and deeper than before, your tongue tracing intricate patterns along his sensitive flesh. Your movements became more purposeful and intense as you hollowed your cheeks, creating a tight suction that had him writhing beneath you. His breathing grew increasingly ragged and uneven, his muscles tensing and relaxing rhythmically as waves of pleasure coursed through him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck" San's desperate moans echoed through the room, each one deeper and more primal than the last. You could feel him trembling beneath you, his thighs quivering with the effort to maintain control. When you finally released him, you did so with an excruciatingly slow, deliberately teasing pop that sent visible shivers through his entire body.

"You're fucking insane for this," San breathed, his chest still heaving as he pulled you up into a kiss. His hands gripped your waist possessively, fingers digging into your skin as he held you close. You rocked your hips against him, feeling his hardness pressed against you. The friction made you both gasp, your bodies moving together with increasing urgency. Your lips found his neck, trailing heated kisses along his jaw as his hands roamed over your nipples. San's hands moved with deliberate purpose, his fingers expertly teasing and rolling your sensitive peaks as his mouth found yours again. The kiss was deep and passionate, his tongue sliding against yours as you continued to grind against him. Your hands traced down his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath your fingertips.

"Need you," you breathed against his lips, reaching between your bodies to guide him to your entrance. "Please, San."

His hands tightened on your hips, helping to position you properly. "You sure?".

You nodded desperately, sinking down onto him slowly. Both of you moaned at the sensation, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you adjusted to his size. San's hands moved soothingly up and down your sides, his lips pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone. His cock stretched you more than you were used to, the stretch causing a slight burning sensation as your body adjusted to accommodate his impressive girth. The mixture of pleasure and discomfort had you gasping softly against his shoulder, your fingers gripping him tighter as you slowly took him deeper. San pressed gentle kisses along your shoulder, his lips trailing a soothing path across your skin as you adjusted to him.

"Can I move?" he asked as your face relaxed a bit, feeling your delicate movements against him.

You nodded against his neck, rolling your hips experimentally. The movement drew soft moans from both of you, "Yes," you breathed, "please move."

San's hands gripped your waist more firmly as he began to guide your movements, helping you establish a steady rhythm. His hips rose to meet yours with each downward motion, the angle allowing him to hit spots deep inside you that had your toes curling with pleasure. His mouth found your breast, tongue swirling around your nipple as you rode him with increasing intensity.

"Fuck," you gasped, your head falling back as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Your nails raked down his chest, leaving faint red lines in their wake.

San's lips returned to yours, swallowing your moans as one of his hands slipped between your bodies. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles that had you trembling above him.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice deep and gravelly. Your movements became more erratic as the pressure built, your thighs shaking with the effort. San's free hand tangled in your hair, pulling you down for another passionate kiss as his hips thrust up to meet yours. Your rhythm faltered as San slipped out, a frustrated whine leaving your lips. Your hand quickly moved between your bodies, wrapping around his length to guide him back to your entrance. San groaned at your touch, his hips jerking forward as you positioned him properly.

San gripped your hips and rolled you both over, pressing you into the mattress as he settled between your thighs. He slid back into you with a deep thrust that had you gasping, your back arching off the bed. Your hand snaked between your bodies, fingers finding your clit as San set a relentless pace.

"Fuck, you're so perfect," San growled, his hips snapping against yours with increasing intensity. "Touch yourself for me. Want to feel you come around me."

"I can't hold back anymore," you moaned, your voice trembling. "San, please..."

San's mouth attacked your neck, alternating between gentle licks and sharp bites that sent electricity coursing through your body. Your breathing became increasingly erratic as he worked his way down to your collarbone, leaving a trail of marks in his wake. Your entire body trembled uncontrollably beneath him, every muscle tensing and releasing in waves of pleasure. Your walls clenched rhythmically around his length, drawing deep groans from his throat as you felt him twitching and pulsing inside you. Overwhelmed by the intense sensations, you moaned loudly as his name fell from your lips in a breathless cry. The overwhelming pleasure made your vision blur at the edges, your body arching off the bed as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

"Come for me," San commanded, his voice deep and rough. "Let me feel you."

"San... San... I'm- Fuck" Your words dissolved into a loud moan as your orgasm crashed over you.

"That's it," he groaned, "You're so fucking perfect." Your body shuddered with aftershocks as San continued to move inside you, his fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise as his own release approached, his breathing harsh and uneven.

"S-San, fuck, oh god, it's too much, fuckfuckfuck!" you cried out breathlessly, your fingers digging desperately into his flesh, making him hiss sharply at the pleasurable pain of your nails marking his skin. With a final deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, a moan escaping his throat as he came undone.

San collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as you both tried to catch your breath. His lips found yours in a lazy, satisfied kiss, your bodies still trembling with residual pleasure. After a moment, he carefully pulled out and rolled to the side, immediately drawing you against his sweaty chest. You could feel his cum dripping down your thigh as he pulled you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Let me clean you up," he murmured softly, reaching for the tissues on the nightstand. After cleaning you both up thoroughly, San pulled you back into his arms, wrapping you in a warm embrace. You snuggled into his chest, feeling content and sleepy as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin. His steady heartbeat under your ear gradually lulled you into a peaceful doze.

You were startled awake by the sound of movement from the kitchen, the morning sun streaming through the windows and hitting your eyes. As consciousness slowly returned, you caught sight of the clock on the wall and felt your blood run cold. Fuck. You were supposed to be at Juyeon's in an hour. Panic seized you as you scrambled out of bed, frantically gathering your scattered clothes from the floor with trembling hands. You were halfway through pulling on your dress when San appeared in the doorway, holding a tray laden with fresh pancakes.

His expression shifted from cheerful to confused as he took in your frantic state. "What's wrong?" he called out softly, concern evident in his voice.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as you searched for your shirt. "I shouldn't have stayed," you muttered, your voice tight with anxiety.

San set the tray down on the desk, moving to intercept you as you continued gathering your belongings. "Y/N, please," he pleaded, "Just stay. Can we talk about... about what this means? What are we doing here?" The vulnerability in his voice made your heart clench painfully. Instead of answering, you surged forward and pressed your lips against his in a desperate kiss, effectively silencing his questions. When you pulled away, his eyes were filled with defeat. "Fuck," he whispered, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "You can't keep doing this to me. I'm not just some fuck-toy you can use and discard. I'm your fucking best friend—what are you running away from?"

You turned away, unable to bear the pain in his expression. Your hands shook as you grabbed your phone from the nightstand. His words made your chest tight with panic. Without looking back, you headed for the door, ignoring his quiet "Please don't run away this time."

"I can't do this," you muttered, more to yourself than to him. "I'm sorry, San. I just... I can't’’

"Wait," San called after you, "I love you. I've loved you for so long, and I can't keep pretending this doesn't mean anything."

The words hit you like a physical blow, making you stumble in your steps. Your heart pounded against your ribcage as his confession echoed in your ears. Everything you'd been running from, everything you'd been trying to avoid, crashed into you at once.

"Please," his voice was barely above a whisper now. "Don't leave. Not like this. Not again."

You stood there, frozen, as the weight of his words crashed over you. The confession hung heavy in the air between you. Your fingers trembled against the doorknob as memories of every shared moment, every lingering touch, and every meaningful glance flooded your mind. "Don't," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Please don't say that."

"Why not?" San's voice was quiet but firm. "Because it scares you? Because it makes this real?"

"Fuck you, San!" you snapped, whirling around to face him. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to make me the bad guy here!"

"Me? Making you the bad guy?" San's voice rose, anger finally breaking through his composure. "You're the one who keeps crawling into my bed and then running away like I'm your dirty little secret!"

"Because this is fucking messy and you know it!" Your hands were shaking as you gestured wildly between you. "We're best friends, for fuck's sake!"

"And that's exactly why this could be something amazing if you'd just stop being such a goddamn coward!"

The word 'coward' hit you like a slap.

"I'm with Juyeon," you said weakly, the excuse sounding hollow even to your own ears.

"Are you?" San challenged. "Or are you just hiding behind him because it's safer than admitting what's between us?"

Every instinct screamed at you to run, to escape before the walls you'd built came crashing down completely. "I..." The words caught in your throat as noticed the vulnerability in his eyes, the quiet hope mixed with resignation, made your chest ache.

"I can't keep doing this with you," San said, "Every time we're together, it feels right. You know it does."

"It's not that simple," you protested, wrapping your arms around yourself. "What if we try and it all falls apart? What if we lose everything we have?"

"What if we don't?" San took a step closer, his eyes intense. "What if we're missing out on something incredible because you're too scared to take the risk?"

"I'm not—" you started, but San cut you off.

"You are. You're terrified. And you know what? So am I. But I'd rather be scared with you than safe without you." The raw honesty in his voice made tears spring to your eyes. "Just tell me one thing," he said, closing the distance between you. "When you're with him, do you feel what you feel when you're with me? Does your heart race? Does your skin burn? Do you lose yourself completely like you do with me?"

Before you could think better of it, you crushed your lips against his, silencing his words with a bruising kiss. Then, just as quickly, you pulled away and practically ran for the door.

The cool morning air hit your face as you stumbled down the stairs of his apartment building, your heart hammering in your chest. San's words echoed in your mind, mixing with the ghost of his touch on your skin. You fumbled with your phone, hands trembling as you ordered a ride to Juyeon's place, knowing you were already late but unable to process anything beyond the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cool for the Summer 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After finishing your degree, you return home only to find things aren’t as you left them.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: merry monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You nearly plunge under the water as you tear away from Bucky’s grip. The thrum of the hot tub jets hum a low drown beneath the thumping of your heartbeat. Your thighs are hot and jittery. Your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you. 

“Baby girl?” He purrs and reaches for you again. “Where you going?” 

You flail and twist in the water. You splash to the edge and hook your leg over gracelessly. You barely keep from flopping out onto the ground. You get your feet set and scramble away, wiping the speckle of water from your cheeks as water slakes from your shorts down your legs. 

He chuckles and the water stirs with his movement. Is he following you? You don’t wait to see as you race for the back door. 

Your adrenaline distorts the sunlight and noise of birds. You stumble inside, clinging to the door handle as your feet slip on the tile. You whimper and rush across the kitchen. You’re dizzy with confusion and fear. 

What just happened? What did he do? What did you do?! You’re just as guilty. You got in that hot tub, you let him get close, and then you... you did exactly what he accused you of. 

You stagger upstairs, so frantic you use your hands in a half-crawl on the ascent. You pump your legs and arms and charge into your bedroom. You slam the door and lean against it, panting. You close your mouth as you tamp down your breath and listen to the house. 

You don’t hear anything. You close your eyes and turn your head straight. Your clothes are wet and sopping, cooling as they stick uncomfortably to your skin. Your hand shakes as you feel along the front of your shorts. 

You slip your fingers under the mattress and your insides clench. Just the way the seam brushes against your cunt makes you squirm. You feel swollen and a bit sore. 

Oh god. You really did that. You’re not ignorant. You might be inexperienced but you’re human, you’ve been curious, and lonely. But that... 

That was wrong. Your mother’s boyfriend just watched you cum. He as good as made you himself. Then he tried to kiss you-- 

How are you going to explain all this? 

“Baby girlllll,” Bucky calls out. His voice is distant, “why’d you run away, doll? We were just getting started.” His timbre gets closer, he must be by the stairs. “Look at this mess you made. There’s water all over.” 

You hear him coming up the stairs, slow like a predator. He takes a deep breath and lets in out in a snicker. His steps clap down the hallway. 

“What am I gonna do with a dirty girl like you? Didn’t you already shower?” He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Bad girl.” 

You whimper as he taps on the other side of your door. You cross your arms, holding yourself as a chill ripples over you. Goosebumps pinpoint over your skin painfully. 

“Hey, baby girl, we can go slow,” he jiggles the handle and you turn to grasp it, stilling his attempt to get in. “I just wanna have a look--” 

There’s a sudden honk. The little toot that comes from clicking the lock button on a key tag. You know it. It’s your mom’s car. You gulp and the tension loosens from the door handle. He sighs. 

“Shit...” the growl follows him to the opposite end of the hall. 

You hear rustling. You’re not sure what’s going on but you’re not coming out until your mom’s inside. The front door opens with the jingle of her keys and you ready yourself to run out and say everything. 

“Hey, honey,” Bucky’s voice keeps you pent up. “You’re home. Oh, be careful.” His weight creaks at the top of the stairs. “I was just about to get her to come clean that up. She wanted to try out the hot tub and think she forgot her towel.” 

What? No? He’s making it sound totally different. 

“Just been mowing the lawn,” he continues. 

“I saw that, honey,” your mom trills. “You are just the best, Bucky,” she comes up the stairs. “Oh, look at all this water.” 

You open the door, “mom! Mom, you’re home--” 

You hurry forward and she stops a few steps down to look at you. 

“Oh, sweetie, you tracked water all inside,” she tuts. 

“What? Mom--” you pause and look at Bucky. He’s dressed. A tee and jeans. His hairs a bit damp but it could just as easily be sweat... from mowing the lawn. You cringe. “Sorry, but--” 

“Oh, and why aren’t you wearing a proper swimsuit?” She reproaches. She comes up and sidles past Bucky with a whisper. He steps aside and turns to watch you over her shoulder. She gets to you and ushers you back to the room, “get changed and go find a mop.” 

“Mom--” 

“No, sweetie,” she glances back over her shoulder, “Oh, Bucky, do me a favour and put the kettle on for me.” 

“Sure, honey,” he agrees. 

She faces you again and he winks at you. Your mouth opens speechlessly. You shake your head. 

“Look, I don’t want to embarrass you,” she lowers her voice as Bucky descends. “But I can see right through that shirt.” 

You hug yourself and frown, “mom...” your lip trembles as you search her face. This looks bad but not for you. You don’t think she’ll believe you and you don’t think you would either. You’re soaking wet and a mess and he has the tan to prove his hard work. “I’ll clean it up.” 

“Alright, and if you’re gonna be in the hot tub. Take a towel.” She gives a half-smile then turns to head down to her own room. “I might just get in myself after today.” 

She disappears into her bedroom and you stare after her. Shell shocked. How did this happen? The morning is just a smear in your mind. 

You twitch as a high-pitched noise tweaks in your ear. Bucky whistles in the kitchen. He’s taunting you, mocking you. He played you like a toy, in more ways than one. 

💙

You clean up the floors and do your best to avoid Bucky. Thankfully, your mom is a buffer between you. When you dry up the puddles left from your flight, you hide in your room. You don’t think that will be too suspicious; it's what you typically do. 

What isn’t usual is how your stomach bubbles like an overheated pot. You can’t get comfortable, you can’t focus, and you can barely think of anything but that morning. You retrace every step, ever word, and try to find one moment where you can’t blame yourself. 

What were you doing? You touched him, you brought him coffee, you got in that hot tub with him. You didn’t even try to push him away when he got too close. 

There’s a knock at the door just as you feel like you could doze off. It’s not a good time. Nearly six. You sit up and stare at the wood. 

“Um, hello?” You call out. 

“Sweetie, it’s mum. Bucky ordered some pad thai for dinner. Why don’t you come have some?” She asks. 

“Oh, er... I’m not very hungry,” you reply. 

“Right, but, well, I haven’t gotten to see much of you since you got back and I gotta work again tomorrow,” she counters. “If you’re not hungry, why don’t you just come out and spend some time with me?” 

You feel that pang in your chest. Not just for having neglected her but for everything else. Bucky should be focused on her, not you. What did you do to spoil that in less than a day? 

“Alright,” you relent. 

You get up and pull on a loose sweatshirt over your tee. You wear loose linen pajamas on the bottom. You open the door and your mom looks you over. 

“Oh, honey, you’re not going to wear that, are you?” 

“Are we going somewhere?” You ask. 

“No, but... Bucky’s here.” 

“Uh, yeah, okay. I’ll... I’ll meet you down there, I guess.” 

“Nothing special,” she says. “Just real clothes.” 

You nod and shut the door. You frown. She never cared as much before. 

You switch out your lounge wear for some jeans and a seersucker shirt. There’s nothing provocative about you. Never has been. 

You go down to find your mom and Bucky in the kitchen. She has a plate of noodles and a smile. “Smells, delicious, huh, honey?” She says as she passes. 

“Sure,” you agree. 

“Come here, baby girl,” Bucky drawls, his back to you, “I’ll serve you.” 

You’re mom’s already in the dining room. You drag your feet forward. He twirls noodles with a pair of tongs and piles them on a scallop-edged plate. He turns to you. 

“Not the only thing that looks delicious,” he growls in a low tone. 

You clutch the plate and your eyes round, “thanks.” 

You quickly take it and spin away, nearly spilling it on the floor. You hurry out to the table and heave shakily as you sit. Your mom waits, nails tapping on the table. 

“Don’t start until everyone’s sat,” she warns. You’re in no hurry to eat, just to be gone. 

Bucky enters with a plate of his own, “forgot this.” 

He sets a pair of chopsticks next to you. You look at them then sense someone watching you. Your mom. You eke out a thank you. 

“Well, this is nice. How long’s it been since we had a proper family dinner, boo?” She chimes. 

“Uh, yeah,” you agree and split the chop sticks. Bucky does the same, deftly perching them between his fingers. 

“Family,” Bucky hums. “Yeah, it’s nice.” 

Your mom smiles and your heart shrivels. 

“Well, I think we need to be honest with each other,” she begins. Your temples beat and your cheeks draw. You glance at Bucky. He's unbothered. “I did have a reason for asking you to come down for dinner, hon.” She looks at you. “I have a surprise?” 

“Oh?” Bucky intones. “You do. Well, looks like we’ll both be surprised.” 

“Ha, Bucky,” she grins at him. “It’s nothing special, really.” 

“A job?” He wonders. 

“If only,” she twists the noodles around her chop sticks. “But, I know that you’re looking hard, sweetie. No, it’s something that might keep you busy.” 

“Interesting,” he remarks. 

You’re nervous. If it’s not a job, maybe more chores. She would think that’s an exciting conversation. 

“A date!” She proclaims then stuffs her mouth full of noodles. 

You blink and Bucky pinches at his noodles. He takes a smaller bite and chews. You refuse to look at him. 

“A date?” You murmur. 

“Sure,” she says through her mouthful then swallows. “You’re more than old enough and I know you were so focused in school. It’s about time. And he’s a very nice boy.” 

“A nice boy? You know a lot of those, Laur?” Bucky asks. 

“Oh, come on, I’m well above his age range. No, you’ll love him, sweetie. Oh, he’s adorable.” 

“You know him well?” Bucky challenges. 

“Are you so worried? She’s young. And I know his aunt. He has a good reference,” she trills back. 

“Shouldn’t she focus on the job hunt first?” 

“Relax, she has time for both.” 

“Well... what do you think?” He directs his attention to you. 

Your eyes dart between him and your mother. He doesn’t look as calm anymore. There’s a furrow between his brows and a dimple in his cheek. You suppose any excuse is good to get some space. 

“It’s really nice of you to think of me, mom. Sure, I... I wouldn’t want to disappoint anyone,” you shrug. 

“No, you wouldn’t,” Bucky drones. 

Your mom smiles, completely oblivious to his chagrin. “Well, it’s going to be so nice. Oh, why don’t we go and buy you a new dress? That’d would be perfect.” 

Bucky hums dully and pokes at his plate. You do the same. You're not the best with strangers, and obviously, not with men. But someone your age would be easier to let down. Besides, it will get you out of the house.