#at first i put no light in there at all but then i thought one dull little light would look nicer. and it did!!

[arina24]

Reprise

LE SSERAFIM Kazuha x M Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut

10k words

You’ve always loved the carnival. The yellow lights splash across the land like streaks of fire, growing ever more alluring the closer you get. The Ferris wheel is the first to appear—giant, unmistakable. Then the merry-go-round with the painted horses comes into view. Nearby, a huge tent hides the mirror maze underneath.

When you’re right up there, the stalls selling popcorn and potato snacks pop up, filling the evening air with salt and warmth. Maybe you’re a little too old for most of the rides now, but that doesn’t really matter. It’s about how it makes you feel, right?

You thought you’d noticed all the highlights on your way there. But something still feels just out of sight, like the memory is yet to fully take shape.

Then you see. You’d missed something—no, someone important. She might just be the most important attraction here for you.

You don’t remember your childhood best friend being this beautiful.

Your gaze locks onto Kazuha, wearing a sporty white crop top and a baseball cap. Fits the theme. Her jet-black hair dances in the wind, but never blocks her view as she aims a long air rifle at the board of balloons—a fierce look in her eyes.

And when dawn breaks, she’ll disappear, like the carnival itself. Again.

“Still awful at aiming, huh?” Your voice catches her off-guard as she’s reloading for a second try.

She turns sharply—bullets slip from her fingers and roll towards you. You promptly stop them with your feet. “Careful, butterfingers,” you add as you bend to pick them up.

Her eyes stare at you for a moment, flickering with something unreadable, before going back to the natural cockiness you’ve always seen her sport.

She snatches the bullets out of your palm with a scoff. “Not awful. I was compensating for the wind—it changed direction at the last second.”

“Right,” you reply, amused.

“And someone I haven’t seen in years randomly shows up? I think some shock is warranted.”

She takes another shot. This one almost hits the operator a few feet away from the target.

“You know you’re supposed to hit the balloons, right?” You gesture to the board. “Let me have a try before you end up hitting some poor kid around here.”

Kazuha grits her teeth at that comment. As competitive as ever.

“I’m going for the harder balloons at the back. They keep moving.” She puts all her focus on this shot—posture adjusted, wind analyzed and eyes narrowed.

The bullet flies, and this time, hits her target. The balloon pops with a loud crack, startling some kids nearby.

“Yes!” She punches the air. The operator hands over a big teddy bear to her. Kazuha flips you the finger with a smug smile, hugging the bear to her chest.

“You still have a couple bullets left,” someone reminds her. She reaches for the gun—but before her hand can get close, you quickly pick it up. You point it at the same area she was aiming at and fire off two quick shots in succession. Both hit your target, much to her visible displeasure.

Two plushies for you. You turn towards Kazuha and hold them up in mock triumph, taking in the spite written all over her face. It only makes you feel warmer inside.

“Being the gentleman I am.” You offer her both the bears. “I will let the lady have her prizes.”

She rolls her eyes at that and gives the bears to some kid roaming around. He snatches them from her hands and runs away, without so much as a thank you.

A woman nearby, likely his mother, stops and chides the kid. “Go on, thank the nice lady. You can’t be rude like that.”

“Yeah, thank the nice lady who couldn’t win a single thing till I showed up,” you whisper into Kazuha’s ear. She endures the lecture with a tight, polite smile.

”No, no, it’s completely alright. I know how kids can be sometimes.” She grabs your wrist as an excuse and pulls you away with her.

Soon enough, the pair annoying her disappear from view. ”I hate kids,” she mutters, not realizing she can let go of your wrist now.

“That’s funny.” You let her lead. “Because the last time I saw you, you were one.”

Evening slowly dips into night, and more and more lights are being switched on. Kazuha adjusts her cap, tying her hair back with a rubber band. Her perfectly fitting crop top slides up a little as she raises her arms, revealing more of her toned midriff. But the view is fleeting—her hands drop back down, searching for your wrist before she notices she doesn’t need to hold you anymore.

The smell of burnt sugar and frying oil thickens as more stalls open up. Laughter from kids on nearby rides echoes through the air. You’ve walked these places with Kazuha before. But the way her fingers brush her wrist now—you hope, maybe it was yours she was reaching for.

You get the lightest feeling you're seeing her differently this time.

“Gosh it’s been…” She tries to count the years, but gives up. “Forever. Didn't even know if you were alive. Or if you offed yourself for losing to me in too many games.”

“You could’ve known, you know, if you ever bothered to reach out after disappearing.”

She ignores that comment. You want to press again, but the night is just getting started. Maybe you'll get your answers later. Maybe. But for now, you'll let it slide.

“Speaking of games in which you lose to me—” She stops, revealing where she’s been leading you: a big toy hammer leaning against a massive target, and a tower of numbers climbing all the way up to 1000.

You know you’ve been had.

“Remember this?” she asks with a cheeky grin—planned all along.

“Clear as day.” You deadpan.

“Thought I'd give you one last chance to try and beat me.”

The sting of losing to her all those years ago suddenly feels fresh and piercing. There's no way you're still worse than her at this, right? You are a grown man now, and she’s just a girl.

“Loser has to buy the other marshmallows, same rules,” she continues, sweetly. You curse yourself under your breath. You’ve given her way too much money in this stupid game.

“Fine. Who goes first?” You pick up the hammer, feeling its weight.

”Since it’s already in your hand, I’ll let you go ahead, gentleman.” She hands over some change to the operator nearby.

You cannot let her beat you. Not again. Not this time.

You take two practice swings. Grip firm. Stance solid. Hammer lined up dead-center. This can’t go wrong. On the third swing, you go for it, hitting it hard with a satisfying thump which makes the marker shoot up. It races past the initial numbers, and your heart kicks up with it. Maybe this is it. Maybe this time you finally win.

To your dismay, the pace drops rapidly near the top. 800, 850, 900, and the marker comes to rest at 950. One square away from a 1000.

“Not bad.” She almost seems genuine—then the corners of her lips slowly curl up. “But clearly, there’s room for improvement.”

“Oh, cut it out, Zuha. No way you’re making 1000.”

She doesn’t respond right away, picking up the mallet and trying to block out the crowd noise. Her fingers curl around the handle, and that familiar smirk returns. No practice strikes for Kazuha—she’s going all in. But just as she’s about to bring the hammer down, her foot catches on a rock. The swing goes wide, and the hammer almost slips out of her hand.

You burst into laughter, but she’s unfazed. She takes another swing, making sure her feet are clear this time. The sound the button makes is enough to cut through your laughter and let you know she’s smacked it.

The marker shoots up again, and it’s hard to tell if it’s faster than yours. The pace drops like it did for you: 850, 900, 950—and then it ekes out a slow, grinding climb to a perfect 1000.

Not again.

”Streak still alive. Guess you just lost a strength game to a girl, again.” Not trying to be subtle today.

Her arms don’t look remotely like they pack that much power. They’re long, slender, and smooth—not the kind that throws down 1000s like it’s nothing.

What does she even do to be so strong? Although it’s weirdly attractive in a way you don’t quite know how to explain. You don’t know how to explain a lot of things about her tonight—her eyes sparkle with the reflections of the lights surrounding you, and if you stare into the golden streaks in them long enough, it’s almost enough for you to feel something.

Though that could just be the nostalgia talking, you argue.

You have no choice but to add to the already large amount Kazuha has looted from you in this game.

“The lady in the food stall is still the same.” She dips a marshmallow into the chocolate dip and nibbles on it.

“Maybe she loves—” A running kid bumps into Kazuha, pushing her off balance. Her chocolate spills all over your fingers.

“You little shit!” you shout, but he’s long gone already. You steady her with your clean hand. “You okay? Didn’t knock the wind out of you or anything?”

“No, I’m alright.” She brushes herself off. “Was the same kid from before. I suppose this is what I get for trying to give him some teddy bears.”

“Did earn him a lecture.” You hold up your fingers, showing them coated in her dip. “He made my hand a mess too.”

“Well, can’t let my hard-earned snacks go to waste now.” She pops a marshmallow into her mouth and lifts your fingers to her plush lips. She pauses for a second, then slides them into her mouth, sucking the chocolate off like it’s an everyday occurrence.

In her defense, it could have passed for one. A few years back. But right now, it does not feel so everyday to you. Kazuha’s warmth envelops your fingers, savoring the sweetness from you so casually. You hope she doesn’t catch the flush creeping on your face. She’s quick with it—you’re in public after all, but it’s enough to get your pulse racing. Her tongue slips out to lick the remaining off her lower lip.

“Mouth clean?” she asks.

You wish it weren’t (maybe you could have offered to clean it off).

But it is, and you report that truthfully.

You were staring at her face maybe a bit too long—her delicate lips, fierce dark eyes (soft underneath, you know), strands of hair framing her face like she’s a photograph—a moment to be captured, and it’s long enough for Kazuha to notice. She tilts her head, amusement slipping into her eyes.

”All okay? Did I suddenly turn too beautiful for you to take your eyes off me?”

(You have no idea.)

“What—no, no.” You stumble over your words, eyes darting around for an excuse to change the topic. The gigantic rotating structure right behind her catches your eye.

“I was admiring the Ferris wheel behind you. Brilliant architecture, right?” And if your memory serves you right, this might just prove to be the best excuse.

“It’s alright. What’s so brilliant about it?” You can feel her smug exterior crumbling ever so slightly.

“It’s the biggest attraction here and we should definitely go on it once.” (Second biggest.)

“Nuh uh.” She knows your intentions.

“Oh my, the strong and mighty Nakamura Kazuha still pisses her pants at heights.”

“That happened once,” she protests.

“Do you know what happened every time we went on the wheel? You holding—no, crushing my hands and not letting go no matter how much I cried.”

”That won’t happen again, because we aren’t going on it,” she says with an air of finality.

“Can’t believe you’re still afraid of heights.” You shake your head in disappointment.

“I’m not.”

“Then we’re going on it—right now. Even little Zuha wanted to go on the ride. Every single time. Have you really become more of a coward?”

A long sigh leaves her mouth. She’s conflicted, but you can sense the side you’re rooting for is winning the battle.

“Are you gonna hold my hand again when we get to the top?” you ask, waiting in line after getting the tickets.

“Not a chance,” she retorts.

The queue is short, and your turn comes quickly. Kazuha’s denim shorts ride up her thighs as she sits down, and you try not to stare too long. You take your seat next to her in the cramped cabin. The operator pulls the metal bar down with a clang, locking the two of you in place.

The wheel moves a little, then stops for the next passengers to get in.

“The worst part is the loading, really.” She leans forward a bit to look at how far the ground is from her.

After peeking down, she immediately snaps back in place. “Nope, shouldn’t have let you talk me into this.”

“Hey calm down. Let’s maybe try to talk about something else. What have you been up to? My guess is training to be a professional athlete.”

The wheel is set into motion, and Kazuha breathes again.

“Good guess.” She snorts. “But no. Regular adult life, mostly. Nothing as glamorous as that.”

The wheel stops for the next loading, about halfway up now. You are suspended several dozen feet in the air, feet dangling below. The cart rocks unevenly, making it worse, at times tilting almost perpendicular to the ground. Kazuha’s face is red. She looks like she’s about to throw up.

“Hey, think this is a good time to ask—” She turns to you nervously, voice shaking. ”Are you seeing someone?”

“Not currently, no.”

”So I won’t get jumped by some girl for holding your hand, right?” Her hand slips into yours, palm in palm. She grips you hard—the usual, but you were the one who got her on this time, so you’ll bear it.

“Only if I won’t have to deal with any jealous boyfriends or exes either.” Your other palm moves on top of hers, affirming her grip. She relaxes a little at the touch.

“Boyfriends, no; exes, I’ll trust you to defend yourself if it comes to that.” She rests her head on your shoulder. Her hair falls behind you, brushing softly against the back of your neck.

“Tell me something. If you’re so afraid of heights, why did you want to go on it every time we came here?”

The wheel is moving again, and you’re on the way to the top now.

“Look.” She motions towards what you’re already seeing. The small-town houses look like mere dots across the landscape, none of the buildings tall enough to display any of their features. Rolling green fields surround the town, broken only by the occasional winding road.

Below, the carnival stretches out, cheap decorations and all, but charming in its own right. The striking yellow lights tie it all together. A scene worth the ride.

“I love the view. The town looks absolutely stunning from here.”

“So why'd you just up and leave one day? Seems rather unfair to the town.” (To the town.)

“Because.” She shrugs. “How could anyone be content where they are?”

“Dunno. I could be pretty content staying right here.” You turn, looking into the eyes which effortlessly held your attention the entire evening.

The wheel comes to a slowing halt right at the very top.

“Talking about the view or me?” Her eyes look back at you, pupils dilating in the lush ambient glow around. You could stare into them forever.

“I mean the view—” Your throat tightens. Words stuck in your mouth.

"Is that all you were gonna say?"

“You, you look so beautiful.” You barely manage to get it out.

“Kiss me, then.”

What happens next is a blur. Purely instinctual.

She pulls you in, your lips connecting like opposite poles of a magnet, finally allowed to meet. Your hand wraps around her waist, and her fingers thread through your hair. Her lips are soft and warm—perfect.

There’s still a trace of chocolate from earlier, not that her mouth needs any help being sweet. Her nose brushes slightly against yours, and you keep her lips locked in place, almost like you’re afraid she might disappear again.

A soft whimper leaves your mouth, letting her know how much you’ve wanted this. She tilts your head towards her, finding the perfect angle for you to feel her lips full against yours, her body moving closer. The air between you carries her scent—fresh, floral, sharp.

You wish you could freeze this moment: Kazuha’s lips pressed to yours, the kiss full of everything neither of you could say aloud.

She pulls away for a second, her fingers still tangled in your hair, not willing to let you go. She looks into your eyes, searching for a reaction to what she did.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you like this,” you murmur.

”Feels right.” Her lips part in a soft smile.

You cup her cheeks and pull her back in, her lips crashing onto yours. You aren’t satisfied with one round. You couldn’t be satisfied with a million rounds.

The wheel is back in motion, the cart rocking gently. Neither of you care. In your world, the two of you are still, existing only for each other.

The night is warm; it’s still summer, but there’s a cool breeze flowing through you now. You’re unsure if it’s because of the ride or the released tension. No—it has to be the kiss. Normal breezes don’t feel this freeing.

The rest of the ride passes in a mix of fervent kisses and dodging onlookers whenever the cart dips too low for comfort. Kissing you seems to work better than any antidote for Kazuha’s acrophobia—you don’t hear another complaint from her. All her attention is on you.

Eventually, the ride slows to a stop. You lend her a hand getting off the cart (though she'll deny ever needing help with that). Palm in hers, barrier lifted.

“Next time, maybe I won't have to fight to get you on this thing?”

“Maybe you will.” She steps out of the cart, getting on the trimmed grass with you.

”I’d do a lot worse things to kiss you like that again.”

The lips you just kissed waver into a smile as she sweeps a few strands of hair out of her eyes.

“Didn’t know you had a flirt in you.”

“You weren’t around for my best years.” The thought reminds you. “You never told me why you left.”

She takes your wrist in her hand and starts walking, going who knows where again. Her eyes drift toward the fields far away, like she could find her answer there if she tried hard enough.

“Not my call, really. Mom wanted a fresh start, I think.” She kicks a stone. It skips past a nearby stall. “Said I'll get more opportunities in a big city. More exposure, yada yada. Probably just excuses.”

Her voice trails off for a second, like she’s holding back the rest. Excuses for what? But instead of continuing, she just keeps walking. You decide to give her space for now.

“So, did you? Got into any new stuff?”

“One or two.” Her gaze drops to her feet.

“Like what?”

“Ballet.”

You break into a smile. “Didn't peg you for a pirouette. All that inhuman strength—and you chose ballet?”

“Shut up. I’m good at it.”

“Yeah, I'm gonna need to see a performance to decide, live.”

She scoffs. “In your dreams.”

The walk keeps going. She pulls you past the stretched-out haunted house and the bumper cars. The carnival music fades, speakers switched off one by one as the night gets deeper.

“Do you have a place in mind, or are you just taking me in circles?”

”We are going somewhere. It’s been waiting since we got here, you’ll see.” She rounds the corner and stops in her tracks. Lifting your hand, she points to the huge tent in front of you. “We're here.”

Mirror maze.

“Why does it feel like you've been calling the shots the whole night and I'm just following you?”

“When have I ever taken a bad decision?”

You don’t even bother with a response, and just look away.

“Come on, you’re really gonna pretend we didn’t have fun here?” Kazuha continues, half-challenging. Truth is, there's a spark in her eyes you'd follow anywhere.

You shrug. “Don’t know. Don’t remember much of this.”

”So the onus is on me to make this memorable for you.” She nods like she’s been expecting this.

“What does that even mean?”

Ignored. You turn to the ticket stand—only to find it shut down.

“Zuha, it’s closed. Guess we’re too late.”

A playful smile creeps on her lips. “Just as planned. Follow me.” She heads to the back of the tent, where there’s no one around. Lifting a loose flap, she pulls you in and lets it fall shut behind you.

Shiny is the first word you’d use to describe the place. Disorienting the second. It feels like you’re in one of those high school physics puzzles: Given k mirrors at various angles, calculate how many images you’ll see. The answer to this one is millions. Millions of yourselves and Kazuhas surround you, some even intersecting at odd angles.

You take a step—only to hit yourself on the head. All the Kazuhas around you grin widely as you rub your forehead.

“Watch and learn,” she says and strides forward. Not an obstacle in her path. Eyes locked ahead, no hesitation, almost like the mirrors themselves part to make way for her.

“Caught that grace? Ballet.”

“If you brought me here just to show off again.” You roll your eyes at her. “I'd rather leave.”

She keeps walking, taking right and left turns at specific spots like she's memorized the entire map. You follow. The way she moves—self-assured, hips swaying ever so lightly—is captivating nonetheless.

Your thoughts spill out before you have a chance to catch them. “Though I’d be content just watching you like this.”

That’s not how you talk to your childhood friend.

A soft laugh slips from her. “I thought you wanted to leave a minute ago. Anyway, I didn’t bring you here to show off. I brought you here to show something, if it still exists…” She taps behind the panel of one of the mirrors. “We're in luck.”

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“Shh.” Her finger brushes your lips—light, deliberate. It lingers there a second longer than it needs to. Your heartbeat stumbles. You want to kiss her fingertips, suck them into your mouth like she did yours, but you don't.

“I know you said you can't recall much. But try jogging your memory, do you remember when we used to play hide-and-seek here?”

You take a look around, and in the reflections, the past becomes clearer. Environmental memory and all.

“Somewhat. Didn’t you always vanish for way too long?”

“Precisely. I'm about to reveal to you where I used to hide.” Kazuha motions with a flair suited for revealing a lifelong secret.

She pulls at a mirror. It gives way to a relatively small space—just enough for the two of you to fit, with a little room to spare. Brown walls, a break from the bright and shine everywhere, make it feel like a private spot made only for you both.

You step in first, Kazuha slips in after you. As she moves past, her chest brushes against your hands—slow, almost like she wants you to touch her. You can hear—no, feel her breathing. Steady. Yours isn’t.

A second later, she's in place. The mirror slides shut behind her, darkness swallowing you both.

“Give it a minute, your eyes will adjust,” she murmurs, her hand settling on your shoulder to steady you. “Unless you’d prefer to feel your way around instead.”

You’re facing each other, backs against opposite walls.

“Is this the first time you’re here with someone?”

She nods. Kazuha’s floral scent hits you stronger now that you’re this close to her. You’re almost scared to breathe her in twice.

Your eyes adjust, just enough to make out her face. You can’t help but admire how gorgeous she is, right there in front of you, even if you can barely see her in the dark.

Almost like she knows what you’re thinking, she stands on her toes to reach a panel behind you. She pushes it open, letting a few rays of light in. They illuminate her face a little, her features even more striking in the dim golden light. The light carves across her cheekbones, emphasizing their sharpness.

And yet, it’s the same Kazuha you’ve seen a million times.

“What if someone sees us?”

“Nobody will. It leads nowhere, I know this maze inside out. We have this place to ourselves.”

Her thighs touch yours as she settles back into place. It’s incredible how sure of herself, confident, she can be even when she can’t see anything. Or maybe it’s because you’re here with her.

“Why are we here?” you ask softly.

“I’m not staying here long.”

Her words land like a stone in your chest. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, you had no idea why she was even here, but it was easy to get lost in the memories with her and pretend this was permanent.

It’s not though, and her words remind you—maybe both, that this night is fleeting. You need to make it count.

She brushes the back of your neck. The warmth of her body is comforting, even in the summer, heating you up. The silence hanging tells you exactly what you have to do.

You cup her cheek and pull her in, lips meeting yours. You slip a hand around her waist, impossibly slender against you. Maybe there was truth to her claims on grace after all.

Her fingers are tangled in your hair again, messier this time—like she wants to show you exactly how much she wants this. Wants you. She pauses for a second, her lips grazing your ear, breath hot on you.

“And when I said you can feel your way around,” Kazuha whispers. “I meant my body too.”

You don’t move at first.

Not because you don’t want to—God, you do—but because this version of her, the one offering herself to you in the dark, feels almost too surreal to touch. Like one wrong move and she’ll vanish. Disappear into thin air. Again.

“You okay?”

You nod. “I just... I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Her fingers find your chin. She tilts it toward her. “I’m here now. So touch me.”

Your hands trace the outline of her figure. You've touched her before—games, scrapes, fights—but never like this. Never with intentions like this. You slide down the curve of her back, her skin damp from the heat, before finally resting on her ass.

Your fingers hang there awkwardly—hesitant, unsure what to do. Kazuha notices. She places her free hand on yours, guiding, and presses your hand into the soft curve of her ass. It’s plump, yielding, and fits perfectly in your palm.

“Feels good?” she asks, voice low.

“Mhm,” you breathe.

Satisfied, her lips return to yours. You squeeze her ass cheeks again. A soft moan escapes her, caught by your mouth before it can go anywhere else.

The tip of your tongue grazes her lips, asking for entry. And her lips part willingly. Your tongue slides against Kazuha’s in her mouth—hungry, slick, and deep.

For once in her life, she’s happy to lose to you. Her tongue submits to yours, letting you savor her mouth at your own pace.

Her hand drifts down, fingers tracing the outline of your hardness, already heavy against your pants. She cups it with her palm, groping, gently stroking through the cloth. It only makes you harder. Throbbing. And a grunt slips out at how she's touching you.

She tugs at your pants, asking for more. You grab her wrist and lift it away.

“My turn.”

Her brow lifts slightly, but the corners of her mouth curl in approval. “Someone’s feeling bold tonight.”

You sink to your knees, planting kisses on the abs you've seen all night, but never really admired how fit they are. Tight, slim, built to be shown off, worshipped. And worship them you will, tasting her skin with your tongue, licking across her midriff. Her skin has a hint of salt, sweat glistening under the light, but she still manages to taste sweet.

“Can we at least take my shorts off?” she huffs.

You look up, meeting her eyes. “We've got all night.”

Still, you decide not to torture her further. You unzip her denim shorts and slide it down in one fluid motion. Her black panties greet you, fabric stretched over the shape of her lips, outline clear. You only need one touch to feel how drenched she is, and it’s immediately clear why she needed them off.

Her inner thighs are a creamy, milky white, tempting you to taste more of her. You start with kisses, then drag your tongue slowly over her soft skin. Her flavor is stronger on her thighs, more intense, addicting. You can't get enough.

Her muscles tense beneath your tongue, and Kazuha's fingers weave into your hair. Every flick of your tongue leaves her trembling, you're getting closer, but never close enough. She shifts her body, trying to press down on you, wanting something you won't quite give her.

It’s not like her to beg for anything. You’d probably laugh if someone told you she ever did. But now, for the first time, you hear her beg. Kazuha herself, whispering for release.

“Please.”

Your hands reach behind her and pull her panties down. Her pussy presents itself for you—bare, pink folds slick with a mix of sweat and arousal. Your tongue finishes its ascent, giving her core a long, slow lick. She whimpers, so satisfied. She’s warm, the heat on your tongue telling you just how much she’s been holding back.

Her grip tightens in your hair, urging you closer.

But you tease her instead, giving slow, deliberate licks—agonizingly gentle. You love how each moan slips out in rhythm with your touch, music only you get to hear.

“Someone might hear us,” you murmur, fully aware you’re the reason they might.

“Fuck,” she hisses. “Let them, then. Feels too—fuck, good.”

She gets wetter with every lick, your saliva mixing with her arousal, coating her pussy in a translucent mess. Some of her sweet nectar trickles into your mouth, and you savor every drop. Your hands wander to her ass, groping handfuls of her flesh, driving her further, closer, deeper into ecstasy.

“Clit too, please.”

You wrap your lips around her clit, one swirl of your tongue, and she’s squirming. Kazuha arches her back, trying to push herself further against your tongue, wanting all of you on her.

You pick up the rhythm, quick swipes of your tongue at her clit, and she melts into a moaning mess. Her hands clutch locks of your hair, not daring to let you go.

“Had no idea you were so fucking good at this.”

Her thighs lock on either side of your head, pushing you further and further into her heat. You can barely inhale anything but her pussy now—her sweat, slick, lust for you. You wouldn’t have it any other way. The more frantic her hands grow in your hair, the more you reward her with your mouth.

And it’s no surprise she’s already getting close. She grinds her pussy on your tongue, chasing her release. Her knees go weak, and her fingers dig deeper into your scalp, as if needing you just to stand upright. You press her further against the wall, steadying her.

Her wetness is all over herself, thighs, abs, pussy, coated in her own desire. Her moans take over the entire room—someone’s definitely hearing, and she couldn’t care less.

She’s screaming all sorts of things, your name included, and it’s the first time you’re hearing it in this flavor out of her mouth. You could get used to it.

As she finishes, a gush of juices flows into your mouth, and everywhere else. Your cheeks, lips, and neck are all a mess. Kazuha’s slick is all over you, and you could stay like this forever. (Not literally forever—good thing she always carries tissues)

“Maybe I did miss out on a few things,” she says between heavy breaths.

You look at her with an expression that says, I told you so.

You climb up and kiss her lips, offering her a sample of her own juices. Her tongue slips out to swipe at your mouth, tasting the mix of her slick and your spit, and she laps it up into her own. She lets you go once she’s satisfied.

“Not bad. Been a while since I’ve tasted myself.”

“You're kidding right? You taste incredible.” You wipe some off your mouth.

“Since when do you shower me with praise like this? Maybe I should disappear more often.”

She rests for a good few minutes, catching her breath. Once she's steady, her hand slides down to your pants once again, finding your cock pressing through it. “Can I have my turn now, Mr. Decision Taker?”

“Sure, but I don't see how anything can match up to the performance I just gave.”

“Ooh, shouldn't have gone there,” she purrs, dropping on her knees in front of you. Your pants are tugged down quickly, your hardness even more obvious on your underwear. “You have no idea what you started.”

“Or maybe I know exactly what I'm doing.” You grin, hand slipping through Kazuha's hair.

There’s no hesitation in her grip as she fondles your boner through the cloth, trying to familiarize herself with the shape before she even sees it.

“Brat…” She rolls her eyes as her fingers tighten on you.

“Just the way you like it.”

She slips her hands into your underwear and pulls your cock out. You’ve known those eyes your whole life—seen them light up over dumb jokes and game nights—but now, they’re locked on your cock like it’s the only thing that matters.

“Someone must have been feeling a little… constrained.” She runs her fingertips along your length, barely brushing. Every touch sends sparks dancing across your skin.

She glances up, catching the way you squirm. “Two can play at the teasing game.”

Your cock is throbbing, twitching for anything more than the ghost of her touch. Your thighs tense without permission, breath catching—shallow, uneven. You want to grab her hand, make her finish what she started. But you also want to stay still, because somehow the way she looks up at you, barely touching, is better than anything else could be.

Once she decides she’s done playing, she wraps her palm around you, slow strokes gliding up and down your length. You let go of a soft moan, ”Zuha…”

Her eyes meet yours and she strokes you firmer now, steadier. “I like hearing you say my name like that.”

“Keep going and you’ll be hearing it a lot more.”

She brings in her mouth close to your tip, tongue about to slip out—

—instead, a hot breath rolls over your skin. It hits you like lightning. Your cock pulses harder than before.

“Oops. That wasn’t intentional.” The smile tugging at her lips says otherwise. Her hand rubs gently over your tip, like nursing an injury. She holds your base firmer, leans in near your tip again—breath careful this time—and kisses it. Another, then another, and plants a line of kisses to your base.

Finally, her tongue slips out, and she licks you all the way back to the tip.

Kazuha gives you a few more licks, slow and deliberate, making sure not a single spot is untouched. Your cock is lathered with her spit, giving it a glossy finish.

“You taste good.” Her eyes glint up at you. “Could suck on this all night.”

You’re already getting weak for her. “Not sure I can last that long. But we’ll try.”

One of her hands drifts down to your balls, massaging you gently. Suddenly, she squeezes too hard.

“Ah—careful,” you wince, hips pulling back instinctively.

She lets go instantly. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Was that too hard?”

You nod.

“Should I stop with my hands?” A flush spreads over her cheeks, as if she’s second-guessing herself. Doesn’t happen often.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You stroke her hair, trying to soothe her. “I know you didn’t mean to. You can still do it if you like, just be a little gentle. They’re sensitive.”

“Okay, I'll be careful.” Her hands return to your balls, fondling with a calculated care.

“You look cute when you’re flustered.” You cup her face with one hand. “Don't think I've ever seen you like this.”

Her cheeks only flush a deeper red at that comment. She tries to ignore it and focuses her energy on your cock instead, trying to wipe that smile off your face.

Her hand spreads the slick mess all over your shaft. Your fingers dig deeper into her hair, urging her to take you in—and to your surprise, her lips immediately part open. Guilt always did make her more agreeable. Her hands rest on your thighs, steadying herself, breath hot against you.

Then she takes you into her mouth.

She’s soft. So warm. Incredibly wet. Her mouth wraps tight around you, tongue flat underneath, her spit making you slick as she slides deeper. Her cheeks hollow—sucking hard enough to pull a sharp gasp out of you. You twitch inside her mouth, and that is all the encouragement she needs to keep going.

Her tongue swirls around your cock, slurping loudly as she sucks, like she’s convinced it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

She keeps you there for a while, her eyes gripped on yours, watching them roll back deeper with every passing second. Drool slips from her tongue, soaking your cock until it runs down and lands on her own midriff.

“Your mouth feels unreal.” It takes effort to even pronounce words. “Zuha.“ More moans of her name, as promised. You see the glimmer in her eyes every time you say it.

She slides you deeper into her throat, her lips brushing against your waist. Her throat constricts around you—so fucking tight. Kazuha’s making the dirtiest noises you’ve ever heard.

And when she finally can't take it—she pulls back. Her face is a mess. Strands of her spit glide from her lips to your cock. It almost feels wrong to see Kazuha like this, but then why does it feel so fucking good?

She steadies herself with a breath, then plants kisses down your length, getting ready to take you back into her mouth. You brush a few strands of hair out of her face and lock them in your hand, still gripping her hair. Her lips envelop your length again, the sensation drawing a grunt out of you.

Her mouth bobs up and down on you, taking you deeper with every round. Your knees go weak, and you look around for something to hold onto—but nothing.

“Is it okay if I hold your hair tighter?”

She nods, unbothered, and barely reacts when you tighten your grip on her hair like your life depends on it—focused on worshipping your cock. If anything, she takes it as a sign to go harder. Her mouth moves faster on you, suction tighter than ever.

The wet, slick sounds of her lips on your shaft are somehow louder than your moans.

Her lips release you with a pop, and her hand takes over—lips kissing your tip as her grip tightens, almost possessive of you. She strokes you, steady and firm, and for once, your moans rise louder than the obscene sounds she makes. The sensation makes your back arch, every movement pushing you closer to release.

“It’s okay, you can cum on me.” Her hand keeps working you, milking you for all you’re worth, her face right below your tip.

And then you let go. Thick ropes shoot out of you, landing across Kazuha’s face—forehead, cheeks, chin, and some in her mouth as well.

A few drops drip down to her chest and midriff. She’s a total fucking mess for you—and somehow still manages to look like the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen.

“So, not matching up to your performance is out of the question.” She swipes a streak from her cheeks and licks it off her fingers.

You struggle to form a response. It takes a while before you can say, “Ouch. And here I thought you were doing all this because you were into me.”

“Of course I am, you dork.” She gestures to the sticky trails from her hair down to her body, like that alone should be proof. “And I pull off this look too, by the way.”

“Sure you do. Thank God you always carry tissues though.”

“Yeah, God,” she mutters, already digging through her bag—only to come up empty-handed. “Not this time.”

”What the fuck? We are not going out like this.”

”Yeah, I gathered.” She lets out a quiet breath while she takes one last look in her bag. “I can’t walk out covered in cum and spit. You’re gonna have to go grab napkins for me.”

”Your juices are all over me as well, ma’am.”

“All this is definitely worse. So you are going.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

You stand there, staring at her, she is right. There’s no way she's stepping outside like that. Which means it's on you to dodge a dozen eyes and sneak your way to a food stall for napkins.

She looks at you, eyes glinting, lips pursed like she’s trying to suppress a smile.

”Not funny, Zuha.”

She shrugs. “A little funny.”

The packet finally comes out from her bag, and right when you’re about to grab it—it slips from her hands.

“Jesus. At this rate I might have to actually go out like this.”

She picks it up and offers one to you. “If I were you, I’d be thankful someone actually brought tissues.”

You grab it and start wiping yourself off. “We should take this someplace a little more… intimate. No point taking risks like this again.”

“That, I agree. But where?” She's dabbing at her face too. These are the wet deep-cleanse ones. Should do the trick.

”Same as usual, my place? Nobody’s home—whole reason I came here.”

“Works.”

—

“So what did you use to do there before you, you know, had a guy to play around with?” You plop on the couch beside her, packet of cookies in hand. The air conditioner drones in the background, a welcome break from the heat outside.

“Play with myself,” she says casually, grabbing a cookie.

You turn to her, brows lifted. “Excuse me?”

“Not like that, dumbass,” she shoots back. “I meant doodle, sing songs, dance.”

You flip through TV channels, stopping on some old sitcom. “Prefer my company to that?”

“It’s close, but I’d say so.”

“Ever think about what life would’ve been like if you’d stuck around?”

“Sometimes.” She pulls at the strap of her top, then lets it snap back.

“Maybe we wouldn't have had to wait so many years for something between us.”

“Or maybe things would have never gone this way.” She leans back on the couch. “We were around each other all the time back then. And still—nothing.” Her eyes drill into the ceiling.

The TV screen flickers, static crackling from the speakers.

“Does that sometimes. Let me go check the connection.” You head behind the TV stand, feeling for the loose wire. You crouch down, out of her line of sight.

“Did you miss me?” Her voice is quiet, distant, like she’s not sure she wants the answer.

You don’t reply right away, spending a few seconds fiddling with wires that aren’t even loose.

“Sometimes. Like when I got sick, I half expected you to show up with juice and stupid movies again.”

Silence stretches between you.

“I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

You get up and walk back to the couch. “I never understood why you ghosted. Just had to make peace with it—no other option.”

“You really wanna get into all that?”

“Of course I do, Zuha. We were best friends for a decade. Whatever this is now, barely a night. I still care about you. That’s the issue, really.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She lets out a long sigh.

“Life got… weird when I moved. My new school was awful. I tried. But people either acted off or pretended I didn't exist, so I just stopped”

She shifts in her seat, adjusting her posture.

“And home wasn’t much better. Dad rarely visited, guess that was always the plan. Everything sucked. I wanted to text you—God, so many times. I’d open our chat and just sit there like an idiot.” Her fingers tug at a thread on the couch, eyes somewhere else.

“I couldn't. I was scared. Scared you'd moved on. Scared I'd look pathetic like that.

I wish I did though. Tonight… felt easy. Felt right.”

She meets your eyes now. “And more importantly, it was fucking unfair to you. I'm so sorry.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy.

“Hey… that sounds rough. Must have been hard to reach out with all of that going on. I had a sense things weren't great with your parents but not the full extent.” You pull her head to your chest. “I’m glad you told me though. Are things better now?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’m alright now. I still think about you from time to time, but it felt like the door had closed by then.”

She stretches her legs, resting her head higher up your chest. “Shit, we've been talking all about myself. What about you? How’s life been?” Her eyes glance up at yours.

“Nothing that dramatic.” You chuckle. “Stayed at the same school. Then college. Got an internship starting soon, offer came through just a few days back.”

“Wow. Someone’s been busy winning.” Her voice softens. “I’m proud of you. If we’d still been in touch… I probably would’ve been the first person you told.”

“Nah, you never were.”

“Shut up, I so was.” Her palm covers your mouth. “You came running to me to celebrate after placing second in a sack race.”

“Hey, it was a highly competitive—” You fight to lift her hand off. “—race. Millions would’ve killed to get on the stage and collect that medal.”

”Sure.” She laughs—the sound so sweet to you. Infectious. You can’t help but join in.

Both of you sit there for a second, smiling, catching your breath. It's easy like this. Familiar.

You nod toward your bedroom. “I suppose we should be making up for the missed movie nights.”

“You wanna watch something or just sleep with me?” She grabs your wrist, tugging you along.

“Wow, that reminds me. One of those sleepovers, you fell asleep first, as usual, on me and I had the most confused boner ever.” You pause. “Maybe I shouldn't have said that out loud.”

“Were always into me, huh?” She looks back over her shoulder at you.

Your memories tug at you, almost like they're trying to say something. “I'm not sure. Which is what made it weird.” Her step slows a little.

“What’d you do?”

”What could I do? I waited till it went away, then went to sleep.” You reach the bedroom and shut the door behind you. “Can't believe our parents never suspected anything, with how close we were. Not that we ever crossed the line back then, but still.”

Kazuha gets on the bed with you, pulling the blanket over you both. “My mom did. She had the same two lines every time I left the house—‘Tell your boyfriend I said hi,’ or, ‘Have fun on the date.’”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Your lips twitch into a smile. “How come I never heard about this?”

“Because I told her if she ever called you that in front of you, it'd be the last day she saw me.”

“Sounds about right. Didn’t she question your tragic outfit choices for a ‘date’ though?” You pull up Netflix, and hand her the remote. “Your pick for the night.”

She scrolls through the options. “You want me in some short little dress or what?” Her nose scrunches just at the idea.

“Obviously. Don’t you do ballet anyway?”

“Performing’s different. I’d probably cancel the date if I had to wear one outside.” She eyes your watch history. “What kind of trash do you watch?”

You sit up, facing her. “Let’s up the stakes of our next hammer game—marshmallows are boring. If I win, you’ll wear a dress on our date.”

“And if I win, the dress goes on you?”

You stare at her, deadpan.

“Kidding.” Her hand reaches for yours, intertwining fingers. “And you're never winning against me. So if you really wanna see me in a red dress, choose a different bet.“

“Why red specifically? Maybe I’d rather see you in green.”

”Wasn’t red your favorite color?” She finally settles on a cheesy romcom.

“Didn’t know favorite colors are still a thing after you grow up.” The movie begins—opens on a girl monologuing that she’ll never settle down. “Wow. You called my taste bad, and now we’re watching someone explain why love isn’t for them for the hundredth time?”

“Best I could salvage from your recommendations list. And hey, fits the mood at least.” She slides her fingers up your arm, and they settle on your shoulder.

“And what kind of mood would that be?”

Her grip tightens on your shoulder as she leans in. “It’ll take her the whole movie to realize that love is, in fact, for her.” Her hair hangs dangerously close to your face, brushing your cheek. “We can skip to the ending.”

You breathe her in. “Why does your hair smell so good? What's that scent?”

“Same shampoo I've always used.”

“No way. Didn't smell like this before.”

She laughs. “Maybe you had rocks for a nose back then.” She moves even closer, and you can feel her breath, hot against you. “You smell it better now?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, moving in to kiss her neck. Kazuha wraps her arm around your waist. A low moan slips from her lips as you leave a trail of soft pecks down her neck. She tilts her head back, letting you find the curve of her neck better. You keep kissing her—until a crop top interrupts your descent.

“Want it off?”

You nod and help her lift it off. You continue your path, lips brushing on her collarbone. Your hand finds her chest, cupping her breast through her bra. Her breath hitches. Her soft sounds grow louder at how you’re touching her.

She lets her hands wander down your body, feeling your hardness poking through your pants. “Already hungry for more?” Her fingers grazing you like that don't help at all.

“Hungry for you, Zuha.” It feels so good to tell her that. Your lips find her cleavage, kissing at the tiny bits peeking out from her bra. The chatter of the movie—the female lead’s friends urging her to text someone—fades into the background, replaced by the sounds Kazuha makes just for you.

Your hands reach behind and unhook her bra, freeing her tits. Her breasts are soft and creamy, perfectly shaped for your hands and mouth. You taste them—tongue gliding over her sensitive skin.

Her nipples are already taut, and you take one into your mouth, savoring the texture of her arousal. Her hand tangles in your hair. She’s not willing to risk letting you go.

You feel her other breast with your hand, taking her in your palm and gently squeezing—more moans for you. She leans back, pushing more of her flesh into your mouth, urging you to have more of her.

You take your time with her. Quick swipes of your tongue, gentle sucks on her nipples, your hands massaging her tits, and with every motion, soft sighs slip from Kazuha’s mouth.

“Figured you’d be thorough with this too” She lets out a breathy laugh. You can feel her body getting hotter—and one slip of your hand beneath her shorts confirms what you were thinking—she’s soaked. You gently push her onto her back, climbing over her.

“These aren’t needed.” One swift motion—and her shorts are off and on the bed. Her juices are already soaking through her panties, leaving damp spots on the sheets.  You kiss your way downwards, moving to her abs—before she stops you, clutching your shirt.

“Can we please take this off too?” she asks.

“You’re so adorable being polite during sex, you know?”

She smacks your shoulder—

—”Ow, that hurt.”

“Yeah, kind of the point. Now shut up and get naked with me.”

“What's wrong with me finding you cute like that?” You shrug and let her help you take your shirt off.

She shifts her gaze. “I don't know. That's not… our thing.”

“Going down on each other wasn't our thing till tonight. Didn’t stop us.”

“Good point. But that doesn't mean everything will change overnight.” She drags a line down from your chest—coming to a stop at your waist. “Do your pants need a separate invitation?”

You take off your pants and underwear, and she’s wrapping her hand around you again. She grips you tight, stroking your length.

“I want you in me.” Her hand glides naturally on your cock this time, like she knows exactly how to please you best.

“Come here.” You help her get her panties off, her hand not letting go of you—almost like you’d disappear if she did. You stare at her beautiful bare folds, coated in her translucent arousal, aching for you.

Kazuha’s hair is spread across the pillow, framing her face, almost angelic. She breathes short, needy gasps; even having your cock close to her core is too much for her. You line up your tip against her lips, her heat brushing against you. Every graze sends sparks flying through both of you.

Her hands come up to your face and tilt it toward her. “Look at me, please,” she whispers.

You meet her gaze as you slide inside her. Your cock is immediately wrapped in her warmth, drowning in her wetness. “Fuck,” she hisses. Her walls clench down on you, gripping you tight, almost making you lose control.

“Zuha, you feel amazing.”

Her lips twitch into a smile. You can tell she needed that. You want to throw in another unnecessary quip but you decide against it—enough smacks for the night. Her walls stretch around you as you go deeper, adjusting for your thickness. Your hips meet finally, your cock fully enveloped by Kazuha’s warmth.

“Go ahead,” she sighs, arching her back slightly to give you a better angle. Her juices spill all over your cock. “Give it to me.”

You start slow, drawing your hips back leisurely. Her eyes flicker—caught between wanting to shut them and savor the feeling, and keeping eye contact with you.

“Ah!” She parts her lips when you thrust back into her wetness. Your fingers roam her body—the curves of her chest, the tightness of her abs, the softness of her thighs. A satisfied smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

Your hand comes to rest on her hip, gripping her to steady yourself. You find your rhythm, your cock disappearing into her with every slow, deliberate thrust.

Your fingers press deep into her as you build momentum, little by little. You take a quick look at her reaction to make sure it doesn’t hurt her—all clear. If anything, the lip bite says she likes how possessive you’re being with her.

Each time you push into her, she lets out a louder moan—soft, breathless gasps spilling into the space between you. Her cheeks flush, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she gives herself over completely. God, you could watch her face look like this forever.

It’s mesmerizing, really, how easily you can push her into the depths of ecstasy.

One of her hands grips your waist, grounding herself against you as she basks in the feeling of you fucking her.

“Fuck, just like that,” she squeals. “Just like that, sweetheart.” Sweetheart. The last word comes out somewhat awkwardly, but with how much of a moaning mess she is, it’s hard to tell. “Feels so good. Please, don’t stop,” she gasps, her perfect tits bouncing with every thrust.

“Not—” You grunt, hips rocking into her. “—planning to. You feel so—fuck—fucking good, Zuha.”

She fights to keep control of herself—loses. Her back arches, then sinks deeper into the bed, eyes closed shut as she melts into you. Her legs hook behind your back, thighs tightening around your waist, locking you in. Kazuha surrounds your entirety.

“I’m gonna cum.” Her mouth cups into an ‘o’, her body trembling as the pleasure crashes through her. You already know: It’s an image that’s not leaving your mind so easily.

One of the (several) things you’re getting to know about Kazuha tonight is that when she cums, she leaks like a waterfall.

Her juices gush all over your cock, somehow drenching it even more than before. Her body first tenses around you, then she quivers in pleasure, trembling. Her eyes flutter open to meet yours.

“Are you close too?” she asks. You nod in response. If you weren’t already—the sight you just saw was enough to nearly push you over.

“Keep going, feels so good.” She drapes an arm around your neck—the motion almost too much for her spent body. “Kiss me, please.” You lean in close to her, Kazuha exhales softly when your lips touch.

The kiss is lazy, lingering, a complete contrast to the rhythm of your thrusts down below. You pull back just enough to ask, “Zuha, where should I—uh, cum?”

Her brow furrows briefly. “Wherever you want… but I wanna feel all of you in me.”

“That’s what I want too.” You drive into her with a few final pumps—climax fast approaching.

“Cum in me, sweetheart,” she whispers against your ear. Your lips go back where they belong—pressed firmly to hers.  Thick streams pour into her. Her soft, drenched pussy pulls you in, clenching tight around you.

“Give it all to me,” she breathes. “Every single drop.” You keep pulsing inside her, each spasm dragging more of you out. She takes it so well, her body milking you dry like her words promised.

You slowly pull out of her, your cock slipping from her soaked core. Your release drips out of her, trailing down her thighs. You collapse beside her, every muscle sore. Kazuha clutches the sheets, still breathing hard next to you.

"That was nice," she sighs.

"Nice sounds like a participation award."

"Fine, it was fucking amazing."

“I hope you mean that." You drape an arm around her shoulder. "Wanna go sit on the fields later? Big cities just don’t have skies like these.”

“Yeah. Been so long since I’ve properly seen stars.” Her head rests on yours.

“Can’t say the same, seeing one right next to me.”

“Gosh, enough flirting for the night, Romeo.” The way her cheeks turn red disagrees with her words. “Starting to miss the days when you’d just call me names all day.”

“Who says I can’t do both, loser.”

“There we go. Much better.”

“Besides, you were the one who called me sweetheart earlier.”

“Never happened. Oh, and we don’t have to leave right away, right?”

“No.”

“Good. I wanna rest here for a while.” She snuggles up to you and shuts her eyes.

—

You lie down on the damp grass, the air cool this late at night. The blades are soft but cling to your skin, carrying a faint earthy scent.

Kazuha settles beside you. The sky above is wide and clear, scattered with stars. In the distance, the Ferris wheel still glows in yellow.

Balloons are being popped, stalls shuttered. Leftover food dumped into buckets. The painted horses are lifted from the merry-go-round, loaded piece by piece into trucks. Teddy bears crammed into plastic covers. The tents are gone—replaced by bare ground with nothing to offer.

“Sweet spot to light one.” She flicks a stray blade of grass at you.

“You smoke?”

Her shoulders rise in a shrug. “You heard my whole story. What do you think?”

“Thought that was just a TV trope. Guess not.”

The wheel lights glow brighter with every minute, while the rest of the carnival dims.

“Would be cool if the carnival lasted all year.” She exhales, like she knows it's wishful thinking.

“Don't know if it'd feel the same. But still, does feel weird watching it get packed up like this—like seeing a school after hours. Or an empty mall.” You wrap a strand of her hair around your finger.

“Liminal space,” she says.

“Hm?”

“Places of transition—or something like that. Exactly what you said. Felt the same to me when I saw it from the train window. The first time I was leaving town.”

The quiet stretches between you. A faint pop echoes, cutting through the silence—maybe another balloon meeting its end. The carnival getting taken apart suddenly feels like the only thing worth seeing.

“So…” You clear your throat. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

She tilts her head up, like she’s just noticed the stars. “I lied about something.”

“Wait—you're staying?”

“No. I’ve got a ticket.”

Something in your chest crumples, slow and painful. “What is it?”

“About why I always wanted to go on the ride with you, even when I was scared of it as a kid. The view was nice and all, but I never got the appeal.”

“Then why?”

“You liked it. I wanted to confess to you at the top.” She draws her knees up, curling into the thought. “Cheesy, I know. But I saw how your eyes lit up at the view. I wanted some part in that.”

She pauses, then adds, “And felt nice to have an excuse to hold your hand.”

It takes a few seconds to respond with a question that only sounds smaller out loud. “Why didn’t you—you never told me.”

“Chickened out every time. It hurt, not being able to tell you. Whenever you smiled at me there, it felt like I was drowning. And when I was leaving the last day…” She takes a long breath.

There’s a heavy thud of something getting thrown in a truck.

“But I could never risk what we had—could never risk hearing that you didn’t love me back.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” You say it with such conviction that it silences whatever doubts were still in her eyes.

“The second I saw you here today, knew I had to take my chance. Wasn’t getting yet another one.”

“Guess you took it.”

She shifts slightly, turning towards you. The grass rustles beneath her. “What I’m trying to say is, yes, I have a train to catch. But no, I’m not disappearing again. Not without you.”

Her words echo in your ears. They settle somewhere deep in your chest, humming.

All those nights you spent wondering why she stopped replying. Why she left without a word. Wondering if you were the reason she never looked back.

“So, what—I just drop everything and follow you?” The words come out uneven, rougher than you expected.

“No, but that doesn’t mean this has to end here either.” Her voice wavers, choking in her throat. “That doesn't mean I can't still have you in my life, right?”

Something in her tone sounds different this time. Like she’s scared to lose you too.

“True.” A soft gust of wind ruffles her hair across your cheek. “Suppose our date with you in a red dress will have to wait.” (But not forever, right?)

For the first time in all the years you’ve known her, you see her eyes pool. They shine—stars caught beneath the tears. One drop falls onto your shirt, sinks through the fabric, straight into your skin. Burning.

Her hand finds yours and squeezes, probably harder than she means to—as always. She whispers, “I’ll wait for it.”

The Ferris wheel flickers once, then goes dark.

—

[heartyluv]

Plz give the girls a full fwb!caleb fic ur little ficlet was so good like it had my cootamunk QUIVERING ‼️

Note: I just want you to know that cootamunk has had me in tears since yesterday. Literally couldn’t stop laughing and now I can’t stop saying it. You’re a hilarious genius and I luv you. This is for you, babe. Enjoy!

Creds to @/anitalenia and @/strangergraphics for the dividers!

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut, Caleb is a little controlling and rough.

Word Count: 2,251

Summary: Caleb finds out that you’re trying to go on a date and shuts that shit down.

Jealous&FriendsWithBenefits!Caleb/Reader

Hey. You up?

The notification that appears at the top of your phone screen stops your doom scrolling. You smile just a little to see that familiar message with the name accompanying it. You look at the time, not surprised that it’s almost two in the morning. You never go to bed at the time you intend to, unintentionally looking and reading through a whole bunch of things from your roulette of consistently used apps.

You open your messages, twiddling your thumbs before you get ready to answer. Tonight could go one of two ways: You’re either about to be put to bed with sex or you’re about be up for another hour or two watching something you’ve already seen before until you and Caleb pass out on the couch.

When Caleb proposed being your first after you shared your fears of giving yourself to someone who didn’t deserve it, you thought he was joking. But when he looked at you with those serious eyes you’ve grown to be able to identify so well, you knew that you were about to tread into some dangerous territory. But you let it happen, and you were convinced that if you ever had sex again, it wouldn’t be what Caleb showed you, what he did to you.

You’ll never forget his gentleness, his praise and respect. The way he put you and your needs above his own. Your thighs always press together just thinking about how you watched him slide on a condom and look into your eyes before he began to slip inside. You worried about pain, but Caleb had prepared you so well, gotten you so wet, that it was nothing but blissful pleasure.

“You’re doing so good for me. I got you, pretty.”

“It’s okay, hold onto me. I’ll make sure it feels good.”

“If you need me to stop, don’t hesitate to tell me. This is about you.”

You were addicted. And you were scared that your newfound desire for consistent sex was because it was Caleb who made you feel so good. You tried convincing yourself that you just wanted to feel that full and taken care of again, but you knew better.

No other man would do what he did���would feel like he did. So when you vented to Caleb about how much you enjoyed yourself, you played it off and said that it was going to be scary showing yourself like this again to a stranger. But, then he said what you would’ve never had the guts to.

“We can still have sex if you want. I mean, neither of us are dating or anything. Friends with benefits, you know? It doesn’t hurt to just feel good and we trust each other enough.”

You didn’t hesitate to accept and it’s been history ever since. He comes over all the time and you still operate like friends, but when he’s hard and you’re wet, you two fuck like a couple madly in love.

He always comes over at some point when he has a break or you go to his place. If he’s up for it—he always is—he’ll make the drive to your apartment when it’s past midnight because he tends to get off work late. Tonight is no different. Finally, you start to write your reply.

Hey. Yeah, everything okay?

Yeah. I’m outside. Open up?

Your eyebrows raise in shock. He’s outside already? That’s a first.

Your oversized shirts falls mid thigh when you stand and you walk to your front door, not needing any light to see since the moon is so bright that it casts a gentle light into your open floored space. When you open the door, Caleb looks at you with a tight smile.

“You sure you’re okay? You texted me like you weren’t here, yet you were standing outside this whole time,” you chuckle. But Caleb doesn’t laugh, he just holds that expression that you can’t read.

He steps inside when you move over and you shut the door behind him, locking it while looking at him take off his sweater.

“Caleb—” you start, but he’s cupping the side of your face and kissing you with so much intensity. You accept it, melting into his hold as your hands snake into his hair, pressing your body close to his as your tongue licks at his mouth.

It must be one of those nights where we talk after, you think. He’s done this before and so have you, where you’re so overwhelmed with something that you need to release physically before you can do it verbally.

He’s eager in his urge to pull your clothes off, tickling your skin with his fingertips as he grabs the hem of your shirt to lift it over your head. You’re just as grabby, pulling his shirt off and tugging at his pants to get them down. You kiss your way to the couch and he falls backwards when you gently push him.

You can see him, but just barely. You don’t feel like cutting a light on, so the moon illuminating through your windows will have to do. You slide your panties off and your pussy squeezes around nothing when you hear how ragged his breathing is and the wet noises that you know is him stroking his cock.

You crawl onto his lap, bracing your knees on both sides of him as you raise your hips. You put one hand on his shoulder and use the other to grip his length to put him where you both need.

“Caleb…Oh my god…” you whine as your body takes him inside, making you two become one.

You feel him twitch inside your walls as you start to move just a little bit, rubbing your breast against your palm as you hold onto him.

“I’m in love with you,” he finally speaks for the first time since his arrival and you nearly freeze, but he doesn’t let you. He keeps your hips moving, keeps thrusting into you from beneath as you choke on your breath from his words and actions.

“The thought of you letting anyone but me get the privilege to see you like this makes me fucking nauseous.” He kisses your shoulder as he moves snugly within your warm cunt, and all you can do is listen to him because he’s not giving you a second to speak.

“Could you deal with me killing a man for you? Because if you ever let him experience this, I wouldn’t hesitate. Tell me what you need from me and I’ll become that and more to fulfill your every desire.”

You whimper as he grabs your ass tightly, keeping you moving so that you take him ass deep as you can.

“Caleb, what are you—What happened?” you say breathlessly, confused and thrown off by his confession. Every time you try to stop moving, he won’t allow it.

Caleb doesn’t want you to stop because if you stop feeling how good he makes you feel, you’ll try and find a way to bullshit him.

“You think I’m going to let you leave me?” he groans when you squeeze him. “I know about your little date. Remember what you told me when we started this?”

You never told him anything, but you’re not surprised that he was able to find this out. Caleb always finds his ways and you’ve never understood how. The date was harmless, setup by a coworker of yours after she told you the guy liked you and he didn’t seem bad, so you figured—why not? Well now, you know you made a terrible mistake.

You do remember what you said, and it replays in your mind like a voice recording.

“If either of us start dating or anything, we have to cut this off. There won’t be anymore sex, but we could still be friends. But if someone can’t deal with that, it’s healthy for us to just cut ties entirely.”

“Yeah, you remember,” he licks your neck. “I never agreed, I just let you try and ignore your feelings because you said you weren’t ready for a relationship. But now?” he abruptly stands with him seated inside of you to the brim.

“It looks like I have to make the right decision for both of us.”

He walks through your dark apartment into your room with your small lamp on. You turned it on before you got up to answer the door and you’re glad you did, because you can see him so clearly now. And he looks hurt—hurt and angry.

“Caleb I didn’t mean—”

He roughly throws you down into the bed, still pulsing inside. You don’t even understand how he’s this fucking strong, but it’s turning you on so much that you know his cock is soaked with your slick.

“What?” he growls, cutting you off, grabbing your hands and placing them above your head as he starts to pound into you so hard that you can’t breathe. Your bed physically moves, you hear the frame grate against the floor.

“To hurt me, huh? To make me have to think that you were going to choose someone else over me? Over us?” He spreads your legs, spearing into you over and over while your breasts bounce in his face. He roughly takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking the peaked nub. He starts to suck on your breasts, leaving red marks that he intends to keep on you so you’ll always look in the mirror and know who owns you.

He angles himself, sitting on his knees and you don’t know how he’s able to make you so flexible right now, but you’ve never been so spread in your life. His hand comes to your throat, not putting pressure but it’s telling you what you two are without it needing to be said.

“Caleb…” you hiccup. “I can’t..I’m gonna—”

You’re going dizzy at how hard he’s fucking you, how he’s punishing your cervix with each brutally delicious thrust. His head falls to your neck while he keeps your throat in his palm, and when you hear him sniffle, you damn near cry yourself. You move your hands from above your head where he put them, tugging on his hair and tracing his back while his hips never lose their momentum.

“I’ll make you see. I’ll make you realize how much I belong to you. I want to live in your body, I want to stay a part of you forever. I’ll do everything in my power, baby. Please take me, please, please don’t make me have to know what it’s like without you.”

“I’ll never do that you,” you whine as he circles his hips to make you feel every thick inch. “I’m sorry…I’m here..”

“Show me how sorry,” you feel wetness of what you believe is a tear drop on your neck as he continues to hide his face in it. “I’m not pulling out. Let me put my cum inside you. I want you to feel it. You’ll let me, won’t you? Please tell me yes, baby… I’m so fucking close..”

“Yes,” you affirm, your own orgasm impending. “Give it to me, Caleb…”

And when he whimpers as he slams into you just a few more times, his heavy load floods your fertile pussy as his cock fucks it into you deep. Even when you cry out from how hard you finished, he’s still slowly rocking his hips, making you and him both feel that mix of pleasure and pain from overstimulation.

You feel the cum start to spill out, falling down and pooling beneath your ass. It sticks to your skin and stains your sheets but you don’t care. If you could stay like this forever, you would.

He finally pulls back to look at you and even if his eyes aren’t red, his face is flushed and you can see the wetness on his long eyelashes. Gently, you take your thumbs to his eyes to wipe his tears. You pull him down, kissing him so sloppily that you don’t care how messy it is. He follows your lead without hesitation, sticking his tongue down your throat and making you both pour the rest of yourselves into one another.

He bucks his hips, his cock slightly moving inside of you as a reminder that he’s still there—that he’ll always be. He’s not giving you a choice but to let him. And you can’t stop clenching, you can’t stop your hole from wanting to bring him deeper, to keep him there.

“Caleb,” you say softly when you two are forced to pull away to catch your breath.

He just stares down at you, his eyes dancing across your face as his breath becomes steady.

“I’m in love with you too.”

He smiles hard, holding you tight as you wrap your arms around him. He’s more than happy that the feeling was mutual, that you want him just as much. Because he wasn’t exaggerating about killing a man for even daring to think that he could have you. He wasn’t playing when he said that you’d never leave him.

But hopefully, you’ll never have to find out how far he’ll go. A man like Caleb in love is a man who has no shame or fear, other than losing you. And he’ll go great lengths to prove that.

“Forever,” he mumbles. “You’re never leaving me.”

“Never,” you kiss his neck. “I promise.”

And he intends to make sure you keep it.

[cosmicjoke]

I actually have a scene I wrote in my story “This Life, After” that’s similar to this fanart, haha. If anyone wants to read it, it’s below the cut:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37903426/chapters/94653316

Levi’s never seen anything like it.

A giant, man-made pool of clear, blue water. It stretches nearly the length of the entire room, from end to end, the color so bright, it seems unnatural to Levi.

“That’s the chlorine,” Onyankopon tells him.

Levi looks up at him, frowning.

He don’t know what that is.

“It’s a chemical they put in the water to sanitize it, basically,” Onyan explains, smiling. “It keeps bacteria from forming.”

“… Oh,” Levi says.

He’s happy to hear that.

There had been a pond back on Paradis that the Scouts had sometimes used for recreation. It had never seemed clean to Levi, the way they would wade into it and splash around, half the time naked. Hange always tried to get him to come in, but Levi had always refused, standing by the shore, scowling and frustrated. Some of the other soldiers used to harass him about it, saying he was a killjoy, saying he didn’t know how to have fun.

They didn’t seem to understand how water could carry diseases. Hange knew, but the others didn’t.

He knew. He knew from growing up Underground. Knew better than to ever drink from the stagnant pools of filthy water that you found in the streets. Even when he’d been dying of thirst, more often than he’d like to remember, he’d known better.

Anyway, he hadn’t known how to swim. Still doesn’t. That’s what they’re here for. Onyan and the kids wanted to teach him. It was good physical exercise that would be easy on his joints and injuries, according to the doctors, though he couldn’t do it by himself, on account of his seizures. The pills’d been helping. Hadn’t had nothin’ too severe of late, but… he knows he could drown, if it were to happen to him in the water. So he’s gotta’ have people with him. Gotta’ keep to the shallow part of the pool.

But Levi was desperate to move his body in any way, at this point. If learning to swim could help him, even if he’d always need help, he was willing.

Onyan had called ahead and rented out the pool for a few hours, so it was just gonna’ be the four of them.

“Let’s get changed,” Onyan says. “Gabi and Falco are already back getting dressed.”

Levi stiffens slightly at Onyan’s words, hesitation coming over him.

He hadn’t thought much about it when everyone had first suggested swimming to him, but he’d realized after agreeing to try it that he was gonna’ have to wear swim trunks.

The kids were gonna’ see his body.

He’d put on some weight, but… he knows what he looks like. Knows his body still looks sick.

Onyan was used to it, but the kids haven’t seen what he looks like since he’d started really dropping in weight.

Beyond that, he can’t get it outta’ his head that he looks fat. He knows he doesn’t, knows it ain’t really possible, with how light he is, but… but he’d started to gain weight in his midsection, and seemingly nowhere else, and every time he looked down at his stomach, all he saw was how fat it was, stickin’ out over the waistband of his pants.

The doctors said that was normal. That once he started gainin’ weight back, it’d all go to his belly first, before distributing more evenly.

Knowin’ that doesn’t really help him feel better though.

He thinks he must look disgusting.

And then there were all the scars.

He already had plenty from his life growing up Underground. Scars from knife fights, brawls in the streets and in pubs. Plenty of scars from Kenny, too. Scars from after, from his time in the SC.

But the scars that stood out most now were the ones from all the surgeries he’s had done. All the times his body had needed to be sliced open or stitched back together because he was bleeding to death, inside and out.

They were ugly, and Levi was plenty ugly enough on his own.

He doesn’t know how the kids will react to seeing him. He doesn’t want to frighten ‘em.

He doesn’t say any of this as Onyan takes him to the changing room, but Onyan seems to pick up on his reluctance anyway.

“You feeling okay?” he asks.

Levi nods, frowning.

“… I guess I just don’t want the kids to be freaked out by what I look like, now.”

Onyankopon’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Levi, they won’t be,” he promises, “but if you’re worried, I brought a tank top that you can wear.”

“Yeah… maybe,” Levi agrees. “Thanks.”

He can’t quite keep the reluctance out of his voice. He still isn’t sure.

But he doesn’t say anything more, letting Onyan help him dress, keeping his eyes fixed to the wall. He hates looking at himself now. He hates how pathetically frail his body has become.

Onyankopon handles removing the catheter tubing and bag, taping the Foley catheter against his skin.

Levi don’t like to look at it all. It’s disgusting, he thinks. His face heats with shame every time the bag needs to be emptied out. He guesses it was better than pissin’ all over himself, but still, any time he let himself notice it, all it did was remind him that he didn’t have enough control over his body these last months to keep from soilin’ himself like a damned baby.

He’s meant to get it removed on Monday.

The doctors wanna’ see if his incontinence has resolved itself, yet. They think it should’ve by now.

Levi think’s he’ll be happy to be rid of it, though he can’t help worryin’, neither. What if he can’t hold his piss, still? What if he ends up pissin’ all over himself, like before?

He don’t even wanna’ think about it.

He pushes the fears to the back of his mind, tryin’ to focus on the present.

He feels exposed in nothing but the tank top and shorts Onyan gets him into now, feet bare against the footrests of his chair. Onyan doesn’t seem to have any, similar insecurities, comfortable in only a pair of swim trunks.

Levi admires him, with his broad shoulders and chest. Levi keeps his own arms crossed over himself as they make their way back to the pool.

Gabi and Falco are already waiting.

Falco’s got one of those plastic beach balls in his hands, and he smiles when he sees them.

“I thought, once we get Mr. Levi more acquainted with the water, we could toss the ball around a bit,” he says.

“That sounds like fun,” Onyankopon says.

“What’re those?” Levi nods at the rubbery-lookin’ things in Gabi’s hands.

“Oh, these are floats for you, Mr. Levi,” she explains. “You fit ‘em over your arms and they help keep you floating, so you don’t sink like a stone,” she laughs, and Levi frowns.

“Well, there’s not much chance of that, anyway,” Onyankopon adds quickly, “since we’ll be keeping to the shallow end for now. But yes, Lee, we thought it would be best for you to wear these, just until you get the hang of swimming. We also have a tube you can put around your waist.”

Levi sees it, sittin’ there on one of the benches, lookin’ like some kinda’ rubber doughnut.

Gabi comes over, and she don’t ask before she starts fittin’ the float things over his arms.

Levi resists the urge to pull away, fearful she’ll feel the fat on his arms.

It’s ridiculous. When he looks down at ‘em, they look they should belong on a skeleton.

He thinks the tube round his waist will be a tight fit, but it slips around him easy and hangs loose and low on his hips.

“Ready?” Onyankopon asks, and Levi nods, tamping down the nervous flutter in his gut as Onyan picks him up and begins wading into the pool, holding him in his arms.

Levi expects it to be cold, but instead it’s lukewarm. He has his arm around Onyan’s neck, clinging to him, and Onyan keeps his arms secure around Levi’s torso. He doesn’t let go.

Gabi and Falco follow behind, splashing excitedly into the water and swimming easily out into the deep end.

Levi watches after them, happy to see their good time.

“I won’t let go until you ask me to,” Onyan says softly to him,

“Okay,” Levi answers, grateful.

//

Levi learns quickly.

Onyankopon can’t say he’s surprised.

Within half an hour, he’s got more than the basic movement down, the only thing holding him back from swimming out with the same power in his stroke as Gabi and Falco the persisting weakness in his legs. Onyankopon keeps an arm around him as Levi swims in place. He gets tired quickly, but he tells Onyankopon he can let him go.

Onyankopon isn’t so sure, but he does as Levi asks, staying close as Levi hovers in the water, kicking his legs and wading with his arms. He has trouble keeping his balance because of the weakness, but the floats help.

“How do you like it?” Onyankopon asks.

Levi blinks up at him, and nods.

“It’s nice,” he says, and Onyankopon smiles, reaching out and smoothing Levi’s hair back from his forehead.

“We can come whenever you like, after I get off from work, though I won’t be able to always rent the place out like this, I’m afraid.”

Levi shrugs, concentrating on his movement.

“Mm… maybe,” he says.

He seems content to just float there like that, practicing, until Gabi and Falco come swimming over.

“Wanna’ toss the ball around, Mr. Levi?” Gabi asks.

“… Okay, Levi answers.

Onyankopon holds Levi from behind, the four of them forming a circle, batting the ball from one to the other.

Levi has a little trouble, but nobody says anything.

It’s fun, and relaxing.

Onyankopon knows Levi had been worried about the kids seeing his body, but there’d been nothing to worry about. Gabi and Falco understood, and even if they didn’t, they had too much respect for Levi to say anything or be insensitive about it.

They take a break for a bit after that, Onyankopon holding Levi against himself as he sits on the steps along the pool’s perimeter, the two of them watching Gabi and Falco splash at each other, laughing and chasing each other around.

Levi shifts in his hold, squirming, and Onyankopon frowns, glancing down at him.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Just… my shirt…”

“Your shirt?” Onyankopon questions, unsure.

“… Don’t like the way it feels, clingin’ to my skin, ‘s’all.”

“Do you want to take it off?”

He feels Levi stiffen in his hold.

“… Nah… no,” he answers after a moment.

Onyankopon’s frown deepens.

“It’s okay if you do, Lee,” he says. “Honey… nobody’s going to judge you.”

Levi is silent for a long, few seconds.

“… I look disgustin’,” he whispers at last, and Onyankopon feels his heart sink.

“Lee… no you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do,” Levi insists, “Onyan, they’ll see me. They’ll see how fat my stomach is.”

“Levi,” Onyankopon starts, trying to keep the pain from his voice, “baby… you’re not fat. We’ve talked about this, haven’t we? It’s just the way it looks because it’s going to take your body some time to adjust to the weight gain. It all goes to your midsection initially, as a way of protecting your internal organs.”

Levi doesn’t say anything at first, and Onyankopon opens his mouth to prompt him, worry churning in his gut.

“… It just… looks fat,” he suddenly whispers.

Onyankopon bites the inside of his cheek.

He doesn’t know what to say.

He can’t tell Levi it isn’t true.

Levi did have what appeared to be a gut, but only because the rest of his body was still so thin. He didn’t have any fat anywhere else, so it looked like a lot on his midsection.

He’s tried explaining that to Levi before, and he thinks Levi had understood. It was just… he knows it does little to dampen the embarrassment Levi feels over his appearance.

“Baby… they won’t care,” he tries instead. “You know they won’t.”

He feels Levi shudder against him.

“… Okay,” he finally breathes.

“Okay?” Onyankopon asks, just to be certain, and Levi nods.

Onyankopon helps him out of his shirt, then, a swell of pride in his chest for Levi’s courage. He knows how hard this is for him.

Levi folds his arms over himself, plainly nervous, and Onyankopon smooths his hands over his shoulders, hoping it relaxes him.

It seems to work a little, Levi’s arms around his torso gradually loosening.

Falco comes swimming over, Gabi close behind.

“You two want to come back in the water?” the boy asks, smiling up at them.

He doesn’t show any reaction to Levi’s body, or say anything about him now being bare-chested, nor does Gabi, and Onyankopon feels relieved at that. He’d known there wasn’t anything to worry over in that regard.

“What do you think, Lee? You want to go in again?”

Levi nods, and Onyankopon smiles, pressing a kiss to the back of his head before wading back into the pool with him.

//

Around noon, they have lunch.

Somethin’ called pizza, which Levi ain’t never had.

Some kinda’ cheese pie over a breaded crust.

It tastes good.

Tastes so good, Levi has to keep himself from eating the whole damn thing.

Onyan and the kids smile at him when he polishes off his first slice in a few bites, and Levi realizes he’s taken up a second without even thinking of it.

He guesses that’s a good thing.

That’s what he’s meant to be doing. What everyone tells him he should be doing. Eating without guilt.

But the moment he’s thought it, the feelings come back. That he shouldn’t be doing this. That he needs to do something to get rid of the calories he’s just consumed.

He thinks, suddenly, he should toss the slice in his hand away and make himself puke back up what he’s just forced down his throat.

Only, he looks again at the smiling faces of Onyankopon, of Gabi and Falco… of his family, he thinks. His family. And he knows, if he were to do that, their smiles would fade. He knows it would hurt them, and that’s the last thing he wants.

So, he forces the thoughts away and continues eating the slice in his hand. Lets himself enjoy it. Enjoy the flavor of it over his tongue. Makes himself ignore the voice in his head, screaming at him to stop, the dread cresting in his throat.

He’s not going to ruin this. He’s not going to spoil what’s been a good morning for all of them, just ‘cause he can’t shut his own, stupid brain up.

So, he eats two slices, and half of another one, and he enjoys it.

It’s a good day, Levi thinks.

It’s a good day.

learning

[vicorices]

── .✦ hypnotized, e.williams

summary  — ellie gets too carried away when strapping you down: is it her fault? no fucking way. it's the damn playlist.

cw  # 18+ mdni, porn with no plot really i deserve this, music!nerd ellie at its best, strap-on sex [ aka the cock© ] mentions of blood and bruises, she can (wo)manhandle me anytime idk, blink and you’ll miss the slight aftercare at the end.

side note #  based upon lists of request from my pillar nonnie! i still mourn the soad concert after like 2 weeks so this here is personal, hope y’all get fucked listening to heavy metal someday,, wc: 1.6k // fic directory!

it’s suffocating when the fabric of your girlfriend’s tie wraps against your mouth. parted lips, a thin line of drool escapes from the corner of it dampening the cloth: she said it would help out in muffling the sounds you’re making, keep you in check.

"oh fuck- you're taking my cock so good" her voice sounds distant at the moment, like an echo brought by the wind. rough and raspy you become aware of yourself when her hands wrap around your waist, digits pushing against the flesh until ellie's nails are digging into that spot almost hidden there that forms when you're down on all fours "you're such a good girl, aren't you? the best girl in town."

your girlfriend has reached a new state of nirvana when the sound of the speakers too loud and it's so filthy you can't help but love it, the sweat, the combination of fluids and the clumsy movements; you're sure there's some spit there from before now staining the sheets, blood from when she bites your lip too hard — it's all an experience.

makes you regret it almost when you mocked her in the beginning: an-hour-and-forty-five minutes in a sex playlist where most songs were deftones and heavy metal in the end? perverted fuck. she's spending at least an hour explaining how each song means something, a lyric maybe, the rhythm, or how she’s shamelessly thinking about fucking when one of the tracks slips in her headphones and she's having dirty thoughts on her way back to work, in the middle of the damn supermarket, at the dispensary.

damn. you let her ramble. ellie’s cute when over-speaking, when explaining about how she curated it from hours, put so much effort on it: "we take our time in fucking, you know it. do you ever look at the time? i do."

so it starts slow. she has the decency to think about foreplay so there's this mellow sounds in the air when she's undressing you, almost an inviting dance on the privacy of her room, in the dim lights, the barely illuminated scene with a music that seemed to make the walls vibrate with the loud sound of the speakers connected to her phone. it escalates a song or two after, the dragging of the guitars, ellie know what she's fucking doing when the sound seems to surround you, drown you while it carry the sinking ship to the bottom of the ocean in a one-time-trip.

it takes time but by the first ten minutes you know she's right, too prideful to ever admit it, much less when she's roughly pulling your face against the pillows and she's asking almost breathless if that's okay with you cause she's desperate to just do it, push and fuck you against the mattress, her sheets: you two, indeed take your time.

"ellie," the words seem to get stucked on the tie gagging you silent, muffled and barely audible since the music's too loud — your girlfriend's enjoying every second of it though when the most noisy rock fills the room now after some while and she's matching the sharp sounds of the song, the screams, the heavy guitars with the desperate movement of her hips like she’s unaware she keeps fucking you, too invested in her own mind as her eyes remained closed, nose wrinkled when her fingers seem to apply the right amount of pressure against your skin to practice the damn chords of the song.

so your girlfriend's ignorant of the force she's using to rail you against the mattress, the annoying sound the bed's making as it slams against the wall. there’s a glass of coke she was drinking from yesterday there in the nightstand connected to her bed that falls to the floor, but ellie don't care about the shattered pieces, too engulfed by the sight of the dildo filling your oversensitive cunt, the way your folds open for her as she sinks down and you swear you can feel it in your guts, a kiss on the damn cervix only to withdraw almost entirely and slam back in again and again and again.

she’ll take care of the pieces later.

she’s enjoying the show. ass up, face down, a delicious fucking show. you're dripping all over the strap and it's simply so great to see, to witness as your arousal coats her cock and trails down in between your thighs. her hand's imprint marked in red only seems to spur your girlfriend on, the primal instinct that dictates the lust, the craving on her hands when they pull your hair backwards.

and thank god for fucking cardio, cause even when ellie’s muscles are sore she keeps pushing as the sweat gathers on her forehead and it becomes the perfect kind of pain, the ache on her body begging to take a break before the tie slips from your parted mouth and she can hear again the irregular sounds you’re making, the need in your voice when tears are gathering in your eyes since it’s already too much — you’ve already endured her fingers and her fucking tongue hungry as ever, killer combo and nothing to say, but that? that was overstimulating.

“ellie,” you whine, “baby- you’re going too far- s’too much i can’t-”

“m’sorry” the words slur together as she tries to shake off that feeling that got hold of her for a moment, keeping you full as her body follows the angle forward, falling against your figure. her weight crushes you down, movements shifting pace now, slowly moving as her hand presses against your stomach and you cant help but crumble on the bed, unable to hold any preasure on your body “was i too hard on you?”

“yeah-” to be fair, she shouldn’t be getting off by the image of the debased state you’re in, loosened cunt she’s been using for the entire length of her damn playlist “s’okay, i’m okay don’t worry.”

“want to stop?” she asks, kissing on the exposed flesh of your neck, pulling your hair to the side as she makes both of you roll into the bed, gentle, almost playful bites on the skin of your shoulders now, glued to her chest. “anything you want me to do, i’ll do it. just name it out for me.”

“no- no don’t stop i can take it” you reassure her, cause it never cease to amaze you that nice switches she have on her personality, the way of destroying you entirely so she can put you back together after that “just go slow, please.”

“m’ so sorry baby, i got too carried away” she speaks against your ear, now much closer. and it’s more intimate like this, pressed against your girlfriend’s chest, she keeps her word when slowing down, mere second passing by before she’s using her own tie around your neck to hold you in place “better now? you’re enjoying it?”

it’s a prize when you cannot answer, heavy breathing, her hips barely move now in contrast from the rough thrusts from before: you’re enjoying it and there’s nothing better than the distortion, that smell on the air ellie’s always quick to pick up from. your skin’s salty now as she kisses you, teeth pulling on the flesh when she finds a secluded spot to leave a hickey, a perfect one that will make you wear your hair down in order to cover it and fuck it — you look so good with your hair down she has no choice to keep going.

“mmf-nooo- no hickies” you try to say and she knows you’re close by the shivers your body involuntarily gives, the way you lose control of your limbs, pliant and ready for her to keep taking what she needs — “please- got work tomorrow.”

“they’re hidden” she promises. the muscles in your back tensing now as ellie keeps her pace, makes her smile when you’re trying to find another argument, one that dies on your throat as she’s pinching on your nipples, rolling the stiff peaks between her fingers and pulling just enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your head — “got my girl too dumb to answer me back?”

you’re mumbling something incoherent she’s not able to understand, goosebumps on your skin ellie can physically see. the combination of it ends with you entirely — the bites on your shoulder, her filthy words on your ear, the playful game with your nipple. your girlfriend’s singing the damn fucking tunes on her playlist and it’s enough to make you dissolve into lust, one with desire as your body shakes violently and she knows it’s the rippling force of the orgasm that makes you go stiff, that tears you apart as a loud cry fill ellie’s dorm room, messy moans, incoherent words of praise. there it fucking is.

“ride it” ellie commands as you have no room to comply, moving your hips as a wet sound fill the air “good fucking lord listen to that- you’re chaotic, you know that?”

makes you chuckle when you’re coming down, your girlfriend’s already pulling out as you gasp at the sensation of being hollow: “hey-what are you…?”

“one more” she begs with pleading eyes “you must be so sensitive right now- please i just want to see you in between my legs, riding me.”

and it’s the face she's making. the pure need on her voice that makes you agree: how are you ever denying anything to her? when she has this power over you? shit.

“atta girl” ellie seems pleased as you straddle her lap, lazy movements, half lidded eyes struggling to find a focus “slow baby, let me feel how soaked this greedy cunt is, yeah? take your time there’s no rush.”

it’s the damn fucking playlist. the damn heavy metal.

[bishovapls]

Our Little One - It Was Just Fate.

Relationships: Natasha Romanoff & Wanda Maximoff & Reader

Summary: This prologue/prequel to 'You Make Such Pretty Sounds When You’re Sorry' and 'I Think You Both Need Daddy, Hm?' dives into the reader’s introduction to kink, guided by a close friend. Their first attempt at exploring the culture takes an unexpected turn, but it sets the stage for their connection with Wanda and Natasha. As they navigate the complexities of their budding relationship, they face challenges that test them all. And of course, we need a bit of smut, so we see their first time together. Expect emotional struggles, discovery, and the messy beginnings of the 'Our Little One' universe.

Warnings: 18+, Mommy Kink, Daddy Kink, Age Gap (Older WandaNat/Younger Reader), BDSM, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Cunnilingus, Safe Words & Check-ins, Kink Negotiation, Self-Esteem Issues, Innocent Reader, Light Angst (but with a happy ending), Allusion to previous abuse.

A/N: Posting this on my birthday, so if you hate it, just remember, no mean comments allowed. I don't make the rules, I just live by them. I know this is long, probably way more than you bargained for, but hey, I cut it down a lot, so really, it could be worse. Also, thank you to @chansawrelier for the request!

Word Count: 21,299

NSFW below the cut, you can also read on AO3.

You’d moved across the country for college, leaving behind a home that had never really felt like one. It hadn’t been an easy decision, but it was a necessary one, something between escape and survival. You arrived early, more than a week before classes began, eager to settle into the dorms and put some distance between yourself and everything you were trying to forget. 

By some stroke of luck, your roommate had moved in early, too. Apparently, her loft on the other side of the city had burned down in a freak accident, and she flat-out refused to move back in with her mother.

Kate Bishop was everything you hadn’t even dared to hope for in a roommate: funny, grounded, genuinely kind. She made you feel like maybe you weren’t entirely alone in this strange, unfamiliar place. She’d grown up in New York, had an entire life here already, complete with a close-knit group of friends and a girlfriend named Yelena.

You’d only met Yelena a few times, but she made an impression, slightly older, striking, with a dry wit and a thick accent that made everything she said sound twice as cool. She’d already finished college, and now ran a chain of martial arts studios across the city. 

But one thing that had truly shocked you was their dynamic when they were alone. Coming from a small town with no clue about college etiquette, you hadn’t thought twice about the sock on the door handle of your dorm. Headphones in, music blasting, you’d returned late one night from your favourite café and pushed the door open with a casual, “Hey, Kate—”

And froze.

Yelena was strapped to Kate’s narrow bed, wrists and ankles bound to the corners, her body completely exposed and vulnerable. Kate was straddling her in a panic, trying hopelessly to shield her girlfriend’s nakedness with her own body. You froze in the doorway, eyes wide, breath caught, the scene burning itself into your mind before instinct took over. You spun around and ran, heart pounding, feet flying. 

It took two full days of pretending nothing had happened before it finally cracked. You hadn’t meant to say anything, you were determined not to. You’d buried it deep, shoved it behind textbooks and playlists and pointless walks to nowhere, trying to suffocate it under a hundred different distractions. 

But the memory kept clawing its way back. Not of them, not really. Not Kate or Yelena as people. It wasn’t about attraction. It was the feeling of what they were doing. The heat that pooled in your stomach when you remembered the way Yelena had looked beneath Kate, the weightless calm in her limbs, the glow behind her eyes, even though you’d barged in on them in such an intimate moment. 

You couldn't stop thinking about it. 

But tonight, Kate insisted (more like begged) that you go to the big pre-semester party. So you’d gone. You’d drunk more than you meant to. And now, hours later, the dorm room was gently swaying around you, the overhead light was off, and everything was bathed in the soft, amber spill of the desk lamp.

Kate looked like she’d been sculpted into relaxation. Her legs were tangled in a blanket, her flannel half-buttoned and slipping from one shoulder, and her phone was held loosely in her hand. But every few seconds, her gaze darted up. You didn’t have to see it to feel it. 

The tension curled in the air between you like smoke. Eventually, she let out a long, theatrical sigh that broke the quiet. Tossed her phone onto the bed and sat up, cracking her neck like she was about to start a fight.

“Okay, you’ve officially out-brooded me,” she said, tone somewhere between amused and exasperated. “And I once spent a whole summer listening to nothing but Lana Del Rey. So. Spill. What’s going on in that tragic little head of yours?”

You gave a hollow sort of laugh, too tight, too dry. “Nothing’s wrong. I'm fine.”

Kate raised one eyebrow slowly, unimpressed. “Right. Because the whole ‘I’m fine’ routine goes so well with the thousand-yard stare. C’mon, what’s actually going on?”

Your heart kicked like a trapped animal. You hated this pressure, this feeling like your body was shrinking in on itself. Your arms curled tighter around the blanket, your hands clenched hard enough that your knuckles ached. 

“Is it something I did?” she asked, and her voice changed. It was gentler, even coaxing. “Or said?”

“No. No, it’s not that,” you said quickly, the words falling out too fast. Your head snapped up, eyes wide, terrified she’d misunderstood. You needed her to know it wasn’t her.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing with soft focus, studying you like you were a puzzle with one piece missing. “Then what is it?”

Your mouth opened. Nothing came. Your jaw clenched as your fingers dug deeper into the blanket. Her tone turned almost tender. “You’ve been weird since Tuesday.”

You flinched like the word itself slapped you. It landed with terrifying accuracy.

Kate’s eyes flickered, amusement already curling at her mouth before the full realisation even landed. “Ohhh,” she said, drawing the word out with a grin, her tone all too knowing. “This is about the sock on the door, isn’t it?”

Heat surged up your neck and into your cheeks, spreading fast. Your ears burned, your stomach turned. “Kate—”

She groaned, flopping back against her pillow with a theatrical sigh, even as her grin widened. “God, I told Yelena the sock was a shit idea! I literally said we needed a better system. I said we should’ve just gone back to hers.”

You buried your face in your hands, your voice muffled and miserable. “I didn’t mean to walk in. I didn’t know what it meant.”

“No, clearly not. You looked like you’d witnessed a murder. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone move so fast,” she said with a huff of laughter.

“I panicked,” you muttered, not lifting your head.

“You literally threw yourself into the corridor,” she corrected, another chuckle spilling out as she sat up again, trying to pull you into the warmth of the moment.

“I panicked,” you said again, but this time your voice cracked on the word. It came out too thin, too small. Your breath caught.

The laughter vanished from Kate’s face in an instant, her expression tightening with concern. “Hey. I’m messing with you, but if it really freaked you out…” Her voice came quieter now, steadier, threaded with something that sounded like guilt. “If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll talk to Yelena, and—”

“No.” The word shot out, too loud, too harsh. You winced immediately. “No, it’s not that. I just…”

You looked down. Your hands were trembling. Kate didn’t speak. She waited. You hadn’t known her long, but she already knew you, your silences, your defence mechanisms, the way you got brittle before you broke.

Finally, your voice emerged, hollow. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

She blinked. That wasn’t the answer she’d expected, clearly. You surged on before the fear could catch you.

“Not like that,” you said fast, too fast, your words tangling in each other. “I’m not…into you, or Yelena, or anything like that. I just…I keep seeing it. You and her. And it didn’t look scary, or weird. It looked…right. Like it made sense. Like that’s where you were supposed to be.”

Kate’s entire face shifted, something warm and open blooming across her features. She looked almost reverent, like the thought alone settled something deep inside her. “Yeah,” she said, slow and certain. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

You stared at her, overwhelmed. “That’s not normal, though, is it?” Your voice cracked at the edges, shame clinging to it like soot. 

“Who told you that?” she asked, voice flatter now, more guarded. 

You hesitated. “No one. I just feel like a freak. I can’t stop thinking about it. Something about it felt familiar. Like…like it scratched some itch I didn’t know I had.”

Kate’s smile was so gentle it barely reached her mouth. But her eyes were all compassion. “That doesn’t make you a freak. That makes you self-aware.”

You groaned and hid again behind your hands. “This is so embarrassing. I want to crawl into a hole and just die.”

“No dying allowed,” she said, easy and light. “Also, not embarrassing. I’ve had this kind of conversation, like, four times. One girl sobbed. One guy made a spreadsheet. You’re doing great.”

You huffed out a soft, stunned laugh. Still didn’t look at her. Your eyes locked on your knees. “How did you know? That you were into all of…that?”

Kate blinked once. Then she smiled, slow and steady. “All of what, exactly?” Her voice dipped teasingly. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, babe. I’m into a lot of stuff.”

You laughed nervously. “You know what I mean.” You swallowed. “I’ve never done anything like that. My past hookups were all really…vanilla. Very, very, missionary-with-the-lights-off vanilla.”

Kate wrinkled her nose in mock-disgust. “Yikes. That is bleak.”

“It was. But this…I don’t know. It’s been in my head since.” You faltered. The moment had gotten too big again. You shrank from it. “This is weird. Let’s just sleep?”

Kate studied you for a second longer, then spoke. It was quiet, but there was a sterness to it. “Hey. Look at me?”

Your head turned before you even thought about it. Eyes locking with hers like it was instinct. 

Kate didn’t say anything for a beat. But her face changed. Just a flicker. A quiet realisation before she eventually spoke. “Okay,” she said softly, mostly to herself.

Your heart leapt. “What?”

She shrugged, lips twitching, clearly holding back a grin. “Just answering my own question.”

You frowned. “What question?”

She grinned now, wicked and amused. “Which side you’re on.”

Your stomach plummeted, and your heart raced. “What does that even mean?”

She tilted her head, her voice low and playful. “I mean…me or Yelena. Domme or Sub. The one doing the tying or the one getting tied.” She paused, watching you closely. “You didn’t even think about it. You just looked at me. That’s kind of a giveaway.”

You groaned, mortified. “Don’t analyse me.”

She laughed, bright and delighted. “Too late. I already diagnosed you with chronic obedience.”

You covered your face again, but this time the trembling in your hands didn’t stop the laughter bubbling up.

Kate let the moment sit for a second. Then she leaned forward again, voice soft but sincere. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. You don’t even have to do anything with it. But if you ever want to talk about what it means, what it doesn’t, I’m here. No judgement.”

You looked up slowly. Cautious. But grateful. Kate met your gaze with a small nod. “I’ve got you.”

—

You and Kate had gone to bed not long after the conversation, nerves buzzing under your skin, alcohol humming through your blood, and a restless curiosity settling somewhere low in your stomach. 

By morning, the haze had lifted a little, but the curiosity remained. You barely had to ask before Kate was sitting cross-legged across from you, all easy confidence and unfiltered honesty, rattling off explanations like it was the most normal thing in the world. She walked you through the foundations of it all, kinks and limits, power dynamics, aftercare. 

She explained safe words, how communication was everything, and how trust wasn’t optional; it was the entire point. She even introduced you to the traffic light system, green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop. 

And then, she gave you the most terrifying suggestion of all: a lesbian kink club.

She brought it up so casually, like it was just another bullet point on her list. You’d balked, of course, wide-eyed and uncertain, but Kate just shrugged and smiled, patient as ever. 

She promised it wasn’t what you were imagining, no horror stories, no unchecked chaos, no pressure. “This place is serious,” she said, “It’s safe. Everything’s built around consent and control, and no one will touch you without a hell of a lot of permission. You don’t even have to speak if you don’t want to. Just watch. That’s what most new people do.”

Still, when you asked if she’d come with you, she hesitated. “I can’t,” she said eventually, with a wry smile. “Yelena would lose her mind. And no domme would even come near you if you were with me. They know me, and they know I don’t share.”

You blinked at her, confused. “But you’re not—”

She held up a hand. “I know. But that’s not how it works there. People respect boundaries, so if I walked in with a pretty new sub, they’d assume I’d claimed you, like I did Yelena, and steer clear.”

Your face burned red at the idea of being claimed, along with the subtle ‘pretty’ she had thrown in there. You knew it wasn't flirty and was more of a joke, but the thought of being seen as pretty made your breath stutter a bit. 

But before you could think too much about that, she laughed a little sheepishly then. “Plus, I have been known to growl like a rabid dog when someone flirts with Yelena. Even without the rules, I'm pretty sure they'd stay away out of fear of grievous bodily harm.”

You laughed then, the tension easing slightly, but still, the idea of going without Kate made your chest tighten. 

But Kate had been insistent. “You don’t have to do anything. Just go. Watch. No one will touch you unless you say yes. And if it gets too much, you leave. Simple.”

She'd made it sound manageable. Even safe. She talked about safe, sane, consensual like it was gospel, and maybe, for her, it was. And the way she spoke about it made it hard not to believe her.

—

From the very first time you’d wandered into Wanda’s cafe, drawn by the aroma of fresh pastries and coffee, you’d known this place was going to be your refuge. The mismatched mugs, the wild greenery curling down from hanging pots and over windowsills, the gently worn furniture that seemed to have stories soaked into the wood, it all felt like a place you were allowed to exhale in. 

You’d started coming to the café nearly every time Kate was out with her friends, and you’d refused to join her, which, given how often that was, meant you were there a lot. 

Wanda, whose name you had learned on your second visit, wasn’t always there, but when she was, you noticed, and for some reason, it would make your sanctuary even better. There was a soft warmth in the way she’d glance at you from behind the counter. 

And when you’d been there for hours, nursing your fourth cup of coffee for the day, Wanda would always notice. “You need to eat something, darling,” she’d say gently, setting a pastry and a glass of water down in front of you with a soft smile. “It’s lovely seeing you in here so often, but that much coffee with no food or water? Not on my watch.” Her tone was teasing, but there was a kindness beneath it that made you feel cared for in a way you weren’t used to.

And every time that happened, your face would burn, heat spreading all the way to your ears, and you’d have to lower your gaze to hide the way your mouth betrayed you, unable to form a proper thank you. 

And that was how, on a slow Saturday afternoon, you once again found yourself curled into your usual corner booth, tucked safely behind your laptop and a growing stack of notes. You’d told yourself you were going to be productive, that today would be about distraction. And judging by the five colour-coded drafts of your class timetable and the frankly absurd amount of early required reading you’d powered through, you’d managed, for a while.

But eventually, your focus had begun to slip. No matter how hard you tried to drown it in academic preparation, your thoughts kept drifting, again and again, to tonight. To the club. 

You did want to go. You were curious, drawn to it in a way you didn’t fully understand. But you weren’t exactly the most social person on the best of days, and this wasn’t some casual night out with your new bestie Kate. You didn’t know what to expect. You barely knew the rules. And for someone who’d only just begun to glimpse that part of themselves, who still hesitated to name the things they wanted, the whole thing felt impossibly big.

You were still debating if you could handle it when the soft chime of the café door snapped you out of your spiral. Your fingers stilled on your cup, and something in your chest jumped, an involuntary reaction you’d become embarrassingly familiar with.

It was her again.

You didn’t know her name. You didn’t want to know her name. You weren’t looking. Not really. You just…noticed her. Every time.

You kept your eyes on your screen, or tried to, though it was hard not to notice the way she slipped behind the counter like she belonged there. And maybe she did, because even the very first time you saw her, you’d noticed how Wanda leaned into her, soft and familiar, how the redhead’s hand settled at the small of her back like it was second nature. You’d caught the way Wanda tilted her face down ever so slightly, unthinking, offering a kiss that was less a greeting and more a ritual. 

And still, you told yourself you weren’t watching. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop either. You just couldn’t help overhearing.

“Are we still going to that place your sister suggested tonight?” Wanda’s voice was casual, but bright. There was a hopefulness in it that made you glance up again without meaning to.

The redhead didn’t answer immediately. Her body shifted, spine straightening. Her expression didn’t change, not really, but the vibe of her turned cooler, more guarded.

“You sure we need this?” she asked finally, voice low, cautious. “You know what happened last time.”

You shouldn’t have been listening. You told yourself you weren’t. But your hand was still on your coffee cup, unmoving, your laptop screen long since forgotten.

“It’s different this time,” Wanda replied. Her hand came up to rest on Natasha’s shoulder, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of her sleeve, a soft comfort you imagined. “You know that.”

Natasha didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull away either.

Then Wanda leaned closer, her voice dropping into something quieter, and even though you knew you shouldn’t, you tilted just slightly forward to hear. “We go,” she said, “we see what it’s like. And if it doesn’t work out…” she trailed off, then smiled, and there was something wicked and warm in it all at once. “I’ll let you ruin me as revenge. Deal?”

Natasha’s breath hitched. So did yours. You stared hard at the screen in front of you, suddenly too aware of your own skin, of the heat climbing up your neck and settling behind your ears. 

You took a long sip of coffee, letting the bitterness settle on your tongue, focusing on the heat of the cup cradled between your palms like it might tether you. It didn’t help, at least, not in the way you wanted. 

But thinking about them, about the quiet ease between them, the way Wanda’s eyes softened when the redhead leaned in close, or the way that touch lingered a little longer than necessary, was its own kind of distraction. 

A quiet ache bloomed, low in your chest. You’d never had anything like that, you might never, and you hated how easily that thought lodged itself inside you. Still, it was something to focus on. Better, at least, than the spiralling nerves about tonight.

—

You’d made it to the club, barely after spending hours spiralling over your outfit, changing again and again until you were out of time and excuses. But the moment you arrived, you couldn’t move. People flowed in around you like it was nothing. They moved as if they’d been born knowing how to exist in places like this.

Your heart pounded too fast, thudding against your ribs like it was trying to escape. Your fingers clenched tighter around the strap of your bag. Every part of you was begging to turn around, to run, before anyone noticed you didn’t belong.

“Hey. You,” you heard. You didn’t look up. It was New York, someone was always yelling, always calling out to someone who wasn’t you.

Except this time, it was. “Yeah, you,” the voice called again, laced with amusement. “Pretty skirt, face that screams ‘please get me the hell out of here’ , you planning to actually come inside, or just admire the door all night?”

Your head snapped up so fast it made your earrings shift.

The woman by the door was clearly amused, her arms folded as she leaned against the rope like she had all the time in the world. Her name tag read Rio, bold against the tight black security tee stretched across her chest. 

“C’mon,” she drawled, tilting her head toward the door, a dark curl falling across her brow as she looked you over. “You’ve been out here long enough to grow roots. What’s the hold up?”

You managed a breath that might’ve been a laugh, or a plea for help. Nothing coherent left your mouth, just a twitch of your lips that was closer to panic than a smile.

Rio grinned, like she’d seen it all before and still found it mildly entertaining. “Ah, first time?”

You nodded, small and tight, the motion barely there as your stomach flipped itself inside out.

She let that hang for a beat, then tipped her chin at you again, this time with a glint of something warmer behind the sharpness in her eyes. “Well, chill out. You look good. Real good. And no one’s gonna bite, unless you ask real nice.”

Her brow arched, deliberately suggestive, but the teasing was light, like a nudge rather than a push.

Then, without making a thing of it, she unhooked the velvet rope and stepped aside. Her posture stayed easy, but her voice shifted, just a little softer, just enough to catch you. “Go on, cutie. You’ve got this.”

And somehow, heart hammering and logic nowhere to be found, your feet started moving. You ducked past her, still not entirely sure how you’d managed it, but knowing her smirk was burning the back of your neck as you went.

—--

As soon as you stepped inside, the air shifted, cool, smooth, and immediately heavy with the scent of expensive perfume mixed with something faintly sweaty. The lighting was soft, muted golden hues casting shadows that seemed to wrap around the room like a whisper. 

Everything was plush, refined, velvet drapes, dark mahogany wood floors that gleamed in the dim light, and sleek, modern furniture that looked both inviting and intimidating.

There were no wild strobe lights or neon signs; instead, the atmosphere was intimate in a way that made you feel like you were being gently observed, as if everyone here was comfortable with who they were and what they wanted. 

They seemed to float through the space, dressed in a refined mix of leather, silk, lace, and tailored suits, each one exuding a quiet confidence that you had yet to find in yourself.

Then your eyes caught on the stage across the room, where a strikingly pale woman with strawberry blonde hair stood in sleek black leather. Beside her was another woman, dark hair tumbling in soft waves, green eyes gleaming under the lights, dressed in a delicate lace bodice that clung to her like it had been stitched directly onto her skin.

The sub seemed at ease, almost meditative, as the flogger began to make contact with her in a rhythmic pattern. It wasn’t crude, wasn’t sexual in the way you expected. It was educational, like they were teaching the crowd about trust, boundaries, and the delicate balance of pain and pleasure.

It was…oddly beautiful, and you found yourself watching for longer than you’d intended. But the longer you stood there, the more overwhelmed you felt, the more your mind raced to catch up. This wasn’t the world you knew, nor a world you’d ever really imagined. It was intimidating, but still also oddly inviting.

Your feet moved before you even realised, carrying you to the bar without thinking. The low hum of the room, the muffled sound of the flogger against skin from the demonstration, the soft laughter of women chatting in hushed tones, all seemed to blur as you found yourself gripping the cool marble counter. 

The bartender, a woman with sharp eyes and an air of authority, glanced up at you as you approached, studying you for a moment before offering a small, knowing smile. “I think you might need something strong, hon?” she asked, her voice understanding, and you nodded, trying to calm the frantic thudding of your heart.

You could still hear the demonstration in the distance, the faint swish of the flogger and the calm voice explaining the technique, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look back. Instead, you focused on the glass being placed in front of you, the cool condensation from the drink briefly grounding you. You took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol mingling with the nervous tremor in your hands, your mind still racing.

—

When you arrived, you had promised yourself that you’d stay for at least two hours, give it a proper try, sit with the discomfort, and push through it. You weren’t going to bolt the second it got hard. 

Over the last hour and a half, three different women had approached you, spaced out just far enough to make it feel like a fresh humiliation each time. They’d come over with smiles, kind, confident, curious, trying to draw you into conversation, asking your name, what brought you here. 

And you’d tried, you really had, forcing your lips into a shape resembling a smile, giving them answers that barely skimmed the surface of coherent, until the pauses got longer, the polite smiles more strained, and eventually, they moved on.

You already struggled to believe you were enough in your everyday life. Add way too many drinks you definitely didn’t need, and an hour and a half of mounting self-consciousness, and the weight of it all started to press down on you. Every rejection, every silence, every glance that passed right over you, all congealed into something thick and sharp and awful in your chest.

And suddenly you were running.

When did you start running?

You didn’t even realise until your body collided with something solid, no… someone. Your body jolted to a stop, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob. A warm, steady grip closed around your upper arm.

You blinked through the tears in your eyes, and that’s when you saw her. The redhead from the café. Just as striking in the low amber light, head half-tilted, a crease forming between her brows. And next to her, Wanda.

You wanted to say something, but your mouth refused. Your throat clenched tight around the words. So you did the only thing your body would allow, you ran.

Again.

You wrenched your arm free, heart lurching in your chest as you burst through the door and back into the cold, chasing air and distance like they might save you.

“Hey! Hey, you okay, newbie?” Rio’s voice followed you, half-laughing, half-sharp with worry. But you didn’t turn around. 

Your feet pounded the pavement, and your limbs shook as you ran. The wind tore at your hair, the cold sting of tears still fresh on your cheeks. Your mouth was dry, your lungs burning. You didn’t care where you were going, just that you needed to escape.

Down one street, then another. The world blurred around you, the hum of traffic, the lingering bass in your head, the tightness of your skirt, the sour taste of your drinks from earlier.

When your legs gave out, you stumbled into an alley, your back hitting the wall. The cold bricks bit through your tights, the wet chill sharpening every unbearable feeling. You slid to the ground, curling into yourself, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

Panic ripped through you, quiet and brutal, stealing your breath in shallow gasps as the world closed in.

You didn’t hear her coming. Not until her voice slipped through the haze, gentle, low, threaded with concern. “Hey, Sweetheart. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Wanda.

You knew it instantly, but you couldn’t lift your head. Even the soft warmth of her voice made your skin crawl with overstimulation. You stayed curled in on yourself, fingers digging into your sleeves, breath stuttering in shallow, uneven pulls.

“Look at me,” she urged, her voice firmer now. Her hands found your face, fingers gliding over your skin, coaxing your head up.

She saw the wet streaks down your face, the tremor in your lips, the glassy, unfocused eyes. Her expression shifted from shock to anger. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

A desperate shake of your head was all you could offer.

Beyond Wanda, the redhead stood in the alley’s mouth, arms crossed, watching in silence.

Wanda’s hands stayed on your face, grounding you. “Breathe with me,” she whispered. “In through the nose. Nice and slow.”

You wanted to say you knew what to do, that you’d been through this before. You knew all the things you were supposed to do: sit up straight, inhale for four, exhale for six, and ground yourself. But knowing didn’t mean doing. And right now, everything felt impossible.

Still, Wanda’s voice reached you. One breath. Then another. Your chest still trembled, but you followed. “That’s it,” she whispered, soothing. “You’re doing so well.”

She stayed until your hands stopped shaking, until your tears slowed. When your body finally gave in, she gently lifted your chin. Worry softened her gaze, her touch too kind.

“Talk to me,” she said. “You looked like you were running from something awful. Please tell me what it was.”

You tried. But all you managed was a broken exhale, your voice tangled up somewhere too deep to reach.

And Wanda didn’t wait. She just pulled you against her chest, one hand holding the back of your head, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles along your back. 

Eventually, Wanda’s voice broke the quiet, low and close to your ear. “You’re freezing, Honey.” Her arms tightened slightly, and you realised with a delayed shiver that the warmth you’d felt earlier wasn’t real, it had been panic, adrenaline, the flush of fear burning through your skin. Now that it had passed, all that was left was the cold.

“I’m okay,” you said, though the words came out hoarse and thin.

Her eyes didn’t move. “No,” she said quietly. “You’re not. And that’s okay. But let us walk you home?”

You shook your head slowly. “I’ll need to call an Uber, my dorm is on the other side of town. I’m fine. Really. Thank you, though…for everything.”

But the moment those words left your mouth, you saw something shift in her expression. Worry deepening into something more decisive, more stubborn. Like the idea of walking away from you now went against every instinct she had.

“No,” she said firmly. Then she paused, her eyes searching yours, her next words quieter, more careful. “Please, sweetheart. I don’t like the idea of you getting into a stranger’s car when you’re like this. It’s late. You’re not thinking clearly. You shouldn’t have to be. Let someone else take care of it. Of you. ”

“But I don’t want to ruin your night,” you whispered. “You were—” You didn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t need to.

Wanda blinked once, slowly. “You didn’t ruin anything,” she said. “We were going to leave anyway. That club wasn’t exactly our scene.”

You let out a short, breathless laugh. “It wasn't mine either.”

That earned you a smile, soft and crooked. “Figured that out when I saw you sprinting out of there like it was on fire.”

Your blush betrayed you before you could stop it, your face going hot in the cool night, the memory of the club still pressed against your skin. But it wasn’t just the awkwardness that flushed your cheeks. It was them. The realisation that if they weren't having fun tonight, Wanda had a promise to fulfil. 

Wanda tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You shook your head violently, and your eyes darted anywhere but her face. Please, God, don’t make me explain.  

Thankfully, she didn’t push. She just gave you a look full of curiosity and affection, and let it go. “Come back with us. We’ve got a spare room. You can shut the door and go straight to bed if you want. I just…I’d feel better knowing you were safe.”

You hesitated. Your eyes flicked toward the redhead, still by the alley’s mouth, still watching. She’d had no say in any of this, and you didn’t want to be the reason her night ended differently than planned. Especially not if it meant she wouldn’t get to ‘ ruin ’ Wanda, as Wanda had put it.

But Wanda caught the glance and laughed under her breath. “Don’t worry about her. She knows I’ve got a soft spot for you. She definitely expected this.”

You flushed, hard. But before you could figure out what to say, the other woman's voice came from the end of the alley, as if she could hear the conversation. “Wanda. It’s cold. If she’s not walking in the next two minutes, I’m carrying her.”

“She doesn’t seem very happy,” you whispered.

Wanda giggled, unabashed. “That’s just Nat. You get used to it. But she won’t be happy if we don’t get moving, come on.”

She stood, holding out her hand. You took it. Her arm stayed around your shoulders as she walked you to the alley’s edge, back into the chill of the open street. The redhead gave you a long look as you approached, her smile clipped but still there.

It didn’t take long to reach their place, maybe ten or fifteen minutes of quiet walking. You didn’t speak much, still raw, but Wanda stayed close, her arm a steady weight around your shoulders, while the redhead, Nat , you thought, that’s what Wanda had called her, walked by her side. 

Once inside, Wanda could tell you were exhausted. She guided you gently upstairs to a small but cosy guest room and handed you soft joggers and a loose T-shirt. The clothes were a little long in the leg and hung loose at the shoulders, but they were cosy, and they wrapped around you like safety. 

You curled into the blankets, Wanda’s shirt tucked close around your chin, and let yourself drift off. 

—

You felt it before you even opened your eyes. The heaviness behind them, dull and throbbing like something pressing in from the inside. A headache you recognised all too well, the post-panic kind, the one that settled in like bruises on your brain. 

Your limbs ached, like you’d run miles. And your stomach rolled with the nauseating mix of nerves and the ghost of alcohol, sitting thick and unwelcome in your gut.

And then came the worst part, remembering exactly where you were, and who you were with.

You were in their house. Wanda’s house. And hers, too, the redhead, Nat, whatever her full name was. Not your dorm. Not your tiny, safe, familiar space with its cluttered desk and cheap sheets. Theirs.

You groaned quietly, dragging the covers over your head, as if hiding from the world might somehow cancel the impending awkwardness. You’d have to go downstairs eventually, face them, thank them, apologise for…well, everything. Just the thought made your stomach churn harder. 

You’d barely managed to pull the covers tighter when a soft knock broke the quiet. You could ignore it. You could pretend you were still asleep. But instead, your voice came out small, almost reluctant. “Come in.”

The door eased open, and Wanda stepped inside, eyes scanning you with that same gentleness from the night before. You flushed with embarrassment. You must look like hell. Last night’s make-up was probably smudged to oblivion, your cheeks puffy, your hair a mess.

“I’m making breakfast,” she said, voice soft but careful, like she didn’t want to startle you. “Was wondering if you wanted to join us.”

You didn’t answer at first, brain still dragging behind, eyes squinting against the light slipping in through the doorway. And Wanda must’ve taken your silence as discomfort, because she rushed to fill it.

“I mean, you don’t have to. I can totally leave you alone if you’d rather sneak out, no pressure. Keep the clothes, obviously. I just…whatever makes you most comfortable.” 

She smiled, but her eyes said something different. They said she didn’t want you to go. 

You let out a dry, weak little laugh, more breath than sound, but Wanda’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Breakfast sounds good,” you murmured. “Thank you.”

Wanda brightened instantly, her relief written all over her face. “Okay, perfect. No rush, just come down when you’re ready, Sweetheart.”

She lingered in the doorway for a second, like she wanted to say more, then closed the door gently behind her as she left.

---

You stayed upstairs longer than you probably should have, sitting on the edge of the unfamiliar bed. But eventually, you hauled yourself up, made it to the bathroom, and stared down the mirror. Puffy eyes. Smeared mascara. Lips chapped and raw from worry and crying. You cringed and did the best with what you could. 

When you made it downstairs, you hovered in the doorway for a moment. Wanda stood at the stove, hair swept up, swaying a little as she stirred. ‘Nat’ was lounging at the kitchen island with a mug half-raised, looking at you over the rim.

Wanda gave you a bright, welcoming smile. “Come sit by Natasha,” she said gently, nodding toward the empty stool.

Natasha. Huh. That was the name, then. Not just Nat . You hadn’t been sure if it was short for Natalie, Natalia, Natasha, or something else entirely.

Natasha gave a soft laugh, low and rough with sleep. “I promise I’m not that scary,” she said, one eyebrow lifting. “You can sit.”

You nearly choked on your own breath, cheeks going hot, and you shifted your eyes downwards. That slight rasp went straight to your spine. Still, you moved, wordless, and slid onto the stool beside her. 

Wanda passed you a mug before you could even ask, and it was perfect. The right amount of milk, the exact strength you liked. Of course she remembered your order from the cafe. 

“How’d you sleep?” Wanda asked after a beat, back still turned as she cooked.

“Fine. I think I passed out before my head hit the pillow,” you said with a soft laugh, trying to keep it casual.

Their chuckles came almost in sync. You could’ve clung to that sound, it made the kitchen feel less like enemy territory.

“Bet your head’s a disaster, though?” Natasha asked, glancing sideways with a knowing smirk.

You gave her a dramatic look. “I feel like I was trampled by at least four cows and then dragged through a blender. So, yeah. Little bit.”

That made her laugh, a real one, and you couldn’t help but smile. Something in your chest unclenched. Maybe she wasn’t that terrifying.

“Well, you’ve cleaned up pretty well,” she said, casually. “Considering you cried your lashes off in a public alley.”

You winced, cheeks burning, but there was no real cruelty in her voice, just observation. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured after a pause, fingers curling around the coffee mug. “I didn’t mean to…make it your problem.”

Wanda finally turned to look at you, her expression open and earnest. “You don’t have to be sorry,” she said. “I’m just glad we were there, you clearly needed someone, hm?”

That little hum somehow echoed through you like a secret. Light and harmless on the surface, but it dropped straight through your chest and left slow-spreading ripples in its wake. 

You didn’t understand why it hit so low in your stomach, why it made your fingers twitch around the coffee mug, but it did. It settled there, warm and aching, and refused to move.

You didn’t trust your voice, so you said nothing, just took another sip, hoping the bitterness of the drink might ground you.

Luckily, the rest of breakfast had been fine. Wanda kept things light, her voice bright and full of easy cheer, weaving conversation like she’d done this a thousand times. She was the warmth in the room, balancing Natasha’s quiet, guarded presence with ease. 

And then Wanda went and ruined the fragile peace. “So,” she said, her tone casual, like she wasn’t about to drop a bomb, “what were you doing at the club?”

The blood drained from your face, replaced by a scorching heat that crept from your neck to your cheeks, blooming across your chest. You hadn’t expected that question, not now at least.

You tried to mask the panic with humour, the words spilling from your mouth like a reflex. “Clearly not the right thing.”

Both women chuckled, but Wanda’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She paused, sensing the shift. “Seriously,” she said, voice more serious now, the edge of concern threading through. “Did something happen? If someone made you uncomfortable, they need to be reported. That place has rules for a reason.”

You could feel the pressure building in your chest, but you waved your hands, desperate to ease the tension. “No, no. Nothing like that. I wasn’t hurt or anything.” You exhaled a long breath, staring at the countertop, trying to steady yourself. “I just…I got overwhelmed. That’s all.”

Wanda’s expression shifted in an instant, the tension in her brow easing, her eyes full of quiet understanding. “It’s a lot to walk into.”

You nodded, feeling sheepish. “Yeah, well. I shouldn’t have let my roommate talk me into it.”

Wanda tilted her head, her brows furrowing with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Wait, if your roommate suggested it, why wasn't she with you?”

You shrugged, trying to keep things casual. “She has a sub of her own. She’s a regular there, and she said if she stayed with me, no one would approach me. They’d think I was hers.”

Wanda blinked, her features shifting slightly as she processed your words. Something flickered across her face, but you couldn’t quite place it. “So,” she said slowly, voice light but edged with something, “you wanted someone to approach you?”

You hesitated, your throat going tight. You weren’t sure how to answer that. “I…I don’t know. I guess? I thought maybe I’d get a better idea of what I wanted.”

“And did you?” Natasha asked, cutting in smoothly, as she casually flipped a page of her newspaper, like the conversation was no more important than the weather. 

You let out a breath, the laugh that followed edged with bitterness, sharper than you meant it to be. “No. Not even close. Anyone who tried talking to me was gone in seconds. I don’t know if it was me or my inexperience, but it never went well.” You shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, though the words sat sour on your tongue.

Wanda didn’t answer right away. Just took a slow sip of her coffee, her voice soft when it came. “Or maybe they didn’t wait long enough to see the real you.”

The words hung between you, deceptively light but heavy in their weight, sinking deep before you could stop them.

Your chest tightened. Breath caught halfway. It was like the ground tilted slightly, subtle but disorienting. You couldn’t place why it hit so hard, only that it did.

Wanda watched you quietly, her gaze steady but unreadable. Then, gently, “So… are you still interested in all of this?” Her voice stayed soft, careful, like she was laying the question down instead of pressing it.

You opened your mouth, then paused. The answer was there, somewhere, but it was knotted too tightly to pull free. Your throat burned with the effort.

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Obviously, Nat and I were there too, right?” She smiled at you, warm and coaxing. “We’re also interested in that world.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her gaze, like she was waiting for something more from you. “I am. I think I’d like to try it. But I don’t think I could do a club again.” You swallowed hard, your heart thudding in your chest. “I’ll probably just drop it, at least for now.”

There was a long pause. You didn’t know if they were waiting for you to say more or if they were letting you have this moment to gather yourself. 

Natasha put her paper down then, her eyes never leaving you, and something unspoken passed between the three of you. 

Wanda inhaled deeply, her fingers twisting lightly around the coffee mug. “So, uhm, if this is weird, please tell me to shut up and I’ll never bring it up again,” she said, her voice quieter now, hesitant in a way that caught you completely off-guard. When you looked at her, really looked, her face was pale and uncertain. 

“But, Nat and I are looking for a sub,” she finished, the words tumbling out with a breath she clearly hadn’t meant to hold that long.

Your eyebrows flew up before you could stop them, practically launching off your face. “But…but I thought you were married?”

Wanda gave a small, sheepish laugh and pressed a hand to her forehead. “We are,” she said, then grimaced. “God, why is this so awkward?” She paused, visibly trying to steady herself again, and when she spoke, her voice was a little firmer, even if her cheeks were still flushed. 

“We’re married, yes. But we’re also both…dominant. I do enjoy submission sometimes, but what I really miss…what we both miss, is taking control. Together. Working with Nat to…” Her voice faltered, eyes flicking to yours, gauging your reaction. “To make someone fall apart.”

The image came unbidden, Wanda and Natasha, hands and mouths and eyes dark with hunger, breaking someone down with the precision of two people who knew exactly how to unravel a soul. It made your stomach swoop and your skin burn in places it had no business burning over breakfast.

“So you’ve had a sub before?” you asked quietly, your voice thinner than it had been a moment ago.

Wanda nodded slowly. Next to you, Natasha shifted, her entire posture went tense, her mouth a thin line. She wasn’t speaking, but her silence said a lot. And then it clicked.

You remembered what she’d said in the café. Something hadn’t gone well last time.

Wanda confirmed your thoughts. “We have. Once. But she wasn’t in it for the right reasons. We met her through an app. We were new to that kind of dynamic, still figuring things out, and she seemed genuine. We didn’t realise how wrong we were.”

Wanda’s eyes lowered to her mug. “In the end, she just used us for money,” Wanda finished, quiet now, “before letting her friends into our place while we were away to rob us blind. We never heard from her again.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, because it was the only thing you could think of. “For what it’s worth, that girl was incredibly stupid.”

That earned you a reaction. Wanda’s head lifted, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Natasha looked up at you again, her eyes cooler now, calculating, but not cold.

“Oh yeah?” Wanda asked, amusement creeping back into her voice. “Why’s that?”

You flushed again. You were starting to think it was just your natural state around them. “I…I just mean, you’re good people. You didn’t deserve that. She should’ve seen that.”

Wanda’s smirk didn’t falter, but her eyes lingered on you, watching you in a way that made it feel like she was looking past your words and into your very thoughts. Her head tilted just slightly, and you could feel the weight of her gaze.

When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, but it carried an edge of something almost vulnerable. “It is what it is, Sweetheart. That’s why we tried the club, but we couldn’t shake the feeling that starting over with someone we didn’t know, someone we didn’t trust, wouldn’t work for us. We’d always expect the worst.”

You nodded, the words settling heavily in the air between you. “I get that. Trust is everything, right? And without it, it’s just not gonna work.” You watched her closely, seeing the faintest nod, her eyes never leaving yours.

“You two are incredible from what I’ve seen,” you added, forcing a smile. “And I’m sure you’ll find someone worthy of you.”

Wanda turned to Natasha, then a brief glance was exchanged between them, their eyes locking in a silent conversation. Natasha gave the smallest nod, but you caught it.

Wanda’s gaze locked with yours, and she hesitated for a moment, her words slower, more deliberate this time. “Maybe I didn’t explain myself clearly earlier, with all my rambling,” she said, her lips curving into a shy, almost uncertain smile. There was an edge of vulnerability in her eyes, a shift in her usual confidence. “But, I was wondering, well, we were wondering if maybe…you’d be interested.”

Your heart stopped for a moment, and your mouth hung open, a hundred different thoughts rushing through your mind. You wanted this. God, you did. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t good enough. “I…I’m flattered, really. But you two deserve better. Like way better.”

Wanda’s gaze was steady and filled with warmth. “You really need to work on your confidence,” she said, her tone rich with quiet affection. “You’re more than enough. You’re beautiful, funny, and though we haven’t known each other long, I trust you.”

Your face flushed, the weight of her words sinking in. “Even if that were the case, I’m just…too inexperienced,” you murmured, your voice faltering under the weight of your insecurity.

Wanda’s smile turned sly, her voice dropping just a touch, making you lean in instinctively. “What if I told you that inexperience is something I actually like?” she said, her tone playful but also filled with something deeper, more magnetic.

You blinked, struggling to process what she was suggesting. “W…Why would you like that?” you stammered, a shiver running through you as her words registered.

Wanda’s smirk grew, more confident now, as she leaned in a little closer. “Because…” she purred, her voice dropping lower, almost teasing, “You’re a clean slate. No bad habits. No expectations. We can shape you, guide you...turn you into ours. ”

Her words hung in the air like a promise, thick with implication. And suddenly, it felt like the ground beneath you shifted, the world outside the kitchen fading until it was just the three of you at the island, suspended in something too delicate to name.

“I…” you started, but the words disintegrated as quickly as they’d come. You blinked, lips parted, your gaze flickering between them, lost.

“It’s okay,” Wanda said gently, her voice coaxing, steady. “Take your time.”

You swallowed. “How would it…How would it work?”

Wanda sat up a little straighter, her fingers curling around her coffee mug again, like it helped with her nerves, maybe. “Well, we’d help where we could. An allowance, support with school, but that’s not the core of it.”

She glanced briefly at Natasha before turning her full attention back to you. “Natasha and I talked last night when we got back, and we agreed that if this conversation happened, we wouldn’t just be asking you to be our sub. You wouldn’t be someone we played with and sent home. We were hoping, if things felt right, that you’d join us. As a girlfriend.”

“Sorry, what?” The words tumbled out of you in a breathless laugh, surprised and disbelieving.

Natasha let out a low, amused laugh beside you, shaking her head. “Yeah, that’s about the reaction I expected.”

Wanda didn’t react to Natasha, she only looked at you. “I know it sounds fast. And I’m not trying to push. But I want to be honest about what we’re hoping for.”

You opened your mouth, closed it again. Shaking your head slightly like that might help settle your thoughts.

“I just…” You frowned, confused and overwhelmed. “I didn’t expect this. I didn’t even consider something like this. And I’m not looking for your money. That wouldn’t feel right.”

“That’s okay,” Wanda said quietly. “It’s not payment. It’s support. It’s…part of caring for someone.”

“Right, but you’re married. Why would you want a girlfriend?” you asked, your voice quiet and uncertain. 

Natasha answered before Wanda could. “Because she wants someone she can bend over and ruin in every way imaginable, and unfortunately for her, I don’t bend”.

Your brain stalled. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, your chest. Your thighs pressed together instinctively beneath the island as your mouth opened, then closed again without a single usable thought behind it.

Wanda’s cheeks flushed, but she shot her wife a flat look. “Natasha!”

Natasha held her hands up, unapologetic. “Just answering the question.”

Wanda gave you a sheepish look before reaching for your hand, her touch barely there, like she was testing the waters. “Yes, I want someone to dominate, someone who craves that kind of care and control. But it’s not just about that.” Her gaze held yours, searching for understanding. “I want someone I can truly connect with. Someone to nurture.” She paused, the weight of her words sinking in. “Someone who feels like the missing piece of us.”

You blinked slowly, trying to process it. The heat still lingered from Natasha’s remark, but now it was layered with something deeper, something heavier.

“That’s a lot of ‘I want,’” you mumbled, not accusing, but cautious. “Not much ‘we want.’” You glanced toward Natasha, your brow furrowed. “You don’t seem entirely comfortable.”

Natasha was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was even, but not without tension. “If I weren’t okay with this, this conversation wouldn’t be happening. Period.” But it wasn’t dismissive. It felt more protective and defensive.

“She’s just like that,” Wanda added gently, brushing her fingers along Natasha’s arm. “Hard to read. Scary, even when you don’t know her. But once she lets you in, once she trusts you, she’s a softie. Aren’t you, my love?”

Wanda smirked, deliberately teasing, and Natasha rolled her eyes with a dark chuckle.

“Don’t start,” Natasha warned, her tone low and dangerous in the way that made you shiver. “I can still bend you over this counter and spank you black and blue.”

Your breath hitched, a full-body reaction rippling through you. Wanda stiffened next to you, visibly flustered, and the silence that followed was electric.

“So…very soft,” you muttered, trying to lighten the tension, cheeks blazing. “Clearly.”

They both laughed, unable to resist your silly joke and playful teasing. And you loved it, hearing them laugh was something you wanted to experience over and over again.

“I know I come off cold,” Natasha said after a beat, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. “And I definitely don’t look as thrilled as Wanda, but last time hurt. Deeply.”

Your chest ached with the weight behind her words. “If we did this, I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.”

She studied you carefully, “I know,” she said simply. “That’s why I agreed. I see something in you. I see why Wanda has been obsessed with you.”

“Wait, obsessed with me?” you asked, blinking. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Natasha laughed. “For the last week, it’s been nothing but the cute girl in the café. How she wanted to bring you home, feed you, wrap you up in soft things.”

Wanda groaned into her hands, face flushed.

“She didn’t know this would happen, of course,” Natasha continued, tone more serious now. “But even then, she wanted to take care of you. And after last night and today…I kind of get it.”

You looked between them, Wanda, cheeks glowing, eyes bright and so clearly excited she was practically vibrating; and Natasha, lounging in her seat with the same stillness she always carried, but her gaze was steady, direct, and for once not unreadable at all. She looked…open. Present. 

And for the first time, you let yourself imagine it. Not just the idea, but the reality, the weight of Wanda’s gaze on you every day, the brush of Natasha’s hand as she passed you your coffee, the sharp crackle of energy that sparked when they were both looking at you like this.

“So, say I was interested,” you said slowly, testing the words like they might burn. “What would happen now?”

Wanda lit up instantly, her smile spreading like sunlight. “Well,” she began, scooting an inch closer, “first things first, we’d have a long conversation. Kinks, limits, safe words, what you want, what you don’t, how you like to be spoken to, how you don’t.”

Your excitement faltered for just a second, replaced by the uncomfortable ache of uncertainty. “But I’m so new. I don’t know my limits, or much about my kinks.” You averted your eyes, suddenly self-conscious. 

Wanda’s grin turned wolfish, slow, and unmistakably pleased. “Oh, I can think of a few ways we could figure those out.” Then, catching herself, she tempered it with a gentler look, her voice dipping. “But seriously, it’s okay not to know. That’s why we talk. That’s why we go slow. You’ll learn what you like. What you need. But we do need to talk about hard limits. Safe words. Things that are never okay, even by accident. We take that seriously.”

You nodded, the fire in your stomach flaring again. You were out of your depth. Utterly. But you also didn’t want to run from it. The very idea of exploring that, with them, felt like a door you hadn’t realised you’d been waiting to open.

Natasha shifted beside you and stretched, her back arching until her shoulders cracked. “Alright,” she muttered, standing up. “If we are getting into negotiations, let’s move this to the sofa. My ass is going numb.”

Wanda chuckled, standing too. “Good idea, my love.” Then she turned to Natasha, her eyes holding a warmth in them that always seemed to take you by surprise. “Could you grab us some water?” she asked, her voice gentle, but there was an unmistakable tenderness in the way she looked at Natasha, as if the simple request held more than just practicality.

Natasha was already moving toward the fridge, but tossed a smirk over her shoulder. “Yeah, sure. Think she’s gonna need it.”

Your mouth dropped open at the implication, and Wanda laughed, swatting vaguely in Natasha’s direction.

“Don’t mind her,” she said with a wink. “She just likes watching people squirm.”

“Says you,” Natasha said with a cheeky grin, handing you a bottle of water with a wink as she walked past.

Wanda rolled her eyes and took your hand gently in hers. “Come on. Let’s get comfortable. No pressure, okay? Just…a conversation.”

—

You moved into the living area with quiet, hesitant steps, the plush carpet soft beneath your feet, almost muffling the way your breath hitched. You perched on the edge of the couch, turning sideways so your back could rest against the armrest, knees drawn protectively to your chest. 

The position felt safer, smaller. You wrapped your arms around your legs and fidgeted with the water bottle Natasha had handed you earlier, the condensation slipping over your fingers, grounding you just enough.

Wanda was beside you. Close enough that her warmth licked at your foot when she shifted. The contact was minimal, but it might as well have been a brand. 

Across from you, Natasha dropped into the single chair with deliberate ease, spreading her legs slightly as she settled in, one arm draped casually over the armrest. The posture looked relaxed, but everything about her screamed alertness. 

Wanda’s smile was the first thing to break the tension. It was gentle and warm, but there was something behind it, an intensity, an undercurrent of purpose. “There we go,” she murmured, glancing at Natasha briefly, something unspoken passing between them. “Much better.”

Natasha tilted her head, eyes still fixed on you, and offered a crooked smirk. “Time for the interrogation,” she said smoothly, voice teasing.

Wanda rolled her eyes, a quiet huff escaping her, but the fondness there was unmistakable. “Ignore her,” she said lightly, but her gaze sharpened as it returned to you. “Let’s start easy. Do you have a safe word?”

You blinked. The question landed like a stone in a still pond, sending ripples of nervous energy through you. Your eyes darted between them, unsure who to focus on. “I…I mean, no? I’ve never really needed one,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. Your grip tightened on the bottle. “But, uhm, my roommate, she told me about the traffic light system?”

Wanda’s entire face brightened with approval, her lips parting in a pleased little smile that somehow managed to be both reassuring and a little bit proud. “Perfect,” she said, her voice velvet-soft, a touch of something nurturing curling around the word. “We use that too. Simple, but effective.” She paused, head tilting thoughtfully. “Do you know how to communicate when you can’t speak? One tap or squeeze for green, two for yellow, three for red.” Her eyes didn’t leave yours. “It’s important that we can always understand you, no matter what.”

You nodded slowly, some of the fear easing from your shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah, we talked about this stuff,” you said quietly, your voice gaining strength. You looked down, a bit embarrassed. “Kind of a lot, actually.”

Across from you, Natasha let out a soft chuckle, a low, smoky sound that somehow made you feel both exposed and seen. “Well, that’s handy. Means we can get to the fun stuff much quicker.”

“Fun stuff?” you echoed, almost involuntarily. There was a nervous lilt in your voice, your eyes widening the moment the words slipped out.

Wanda’s lips curled, slow and deliberate, like she was tasting the tension in the room. “Fun stuff,” she echoed, her voice dipping into something darker, more intimate. “When we get to explore all those delicious, twisted things you want to explore.”

The room felt warmer, the air thick with unspoken tension. The words lingered, hanging in the space between you like a tangible weight, their promise settling low in your belly. Wanda let the silence stretch out, watching the way you shifted, just enough to make her smile to herself. Then, her tone shifted, gentle, like she was offering you a fragile reassurance. “But we’ll go slow. I promise.”

A flush crept up your neck, spreading like spilled ink. Your pulse thrummed in your ears. “I…I don’t really know what I like yet,” you murmured, the confession small, uncertain. “I mean, what I know, it’s mostly from my roommate. And, like…Tumblr. Who knew there were so many kinks?”

“Oh, yeah,” Natasha said, smirking again, “if it can be done, there’s a kink for it. All power to them, but there’s some stuff I don’t like, personally. Piss and shit, for example? That’s a hard limit for me.”

You grimaced instinctively, your whole body recoiling just a little. “Yeah…I don’t want that.” 

Wanda and Natasha exchanged a look, then turned identical smiles on you.“Good girl, setting limits already,” Wanda said, her voice dipped in approval.

Your breath hitched. The praise struck something raw and electric inside you, sending a sharp flutter through your chest. Heat pooled low in your belly once again, your fingers twitching and your body fidgeting.

Natasha saw. Wanda definitely saw.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” Wanda teased, her smile sharpening into something wicked. “I guess we should note potential praise kink down?”

Your face burned, but you nodded, voice barely a whisper. “I think so… but I, uhm—” You chewed your lip, hesitating, the words stuck in your throat. 

Wanda’s hand brushed yours, her touch gentle but reassuring, her eyes soft with encouragement. “You can tell us, sweetheart. You’re doing great,” she murmured, her voice low and patient.

You swallowed hard, heart racing. “I think... I like the idea of being degraded, too,” you admitted, barely audible. Wanda’s lips parted slightly, her gaze sharpening with interest, but she didn’t rush you. She just stayed close, nodding, silently urging you to continue.

You forced the words out, feeling exposed. “And I want to try things that hurt. I—” You trailed off, eyes closing in embarrassment. Wanda’s hand tightened around yours, steadying you, her gaze warm but intense. She didn’t press, just waited for you to finish.

“I had some uhm, reactions when I was reading about them,” you mumbled, too shy to look at her.

Natasha let out a low hum of approval, almost like a growl. She sat up a little straighter in her chair, eyes gleaming with interest. Wanda, on the other hand, was a mix between softness and looking like she wanted to eat you alive, like every word from your mouth made you more delicious, more precious.

“God, you’re perfect already,” Wanda whispered, breathless.

Before you could bask in the warmth of that too long, something sparked in your memory. “Oh! But face slapping,” you said quickly, like the words were chasing each other out of your mouth. “I saw that a lot. And that is a big no. I know that for sure.”

Wanda’s expression shifted, like she wanted to ask, but she didn’t press. “Understood. Noted,” she said, her voice honest and protective. “That’ll never happen then, Sweetheart.”

What followed was a long, very intense conversation about kinks and limits. Natasha would throw out possibilities with the same casualness as asking what someone would want for dinner, and every reaction you gave, every squirm, every soft gasp or wrinkle of your nose was noted with precision. 

Wanda was softer, coaxing things from you like secrets, watching how your body responded more than what you said. 

You were surprised by how long your “I want to try this” list became. The “absolutely fucking not” list was far shorter, and that thrilled you more than you expected.

Eventually, Wanda reached for your hand, her touch deliberate and comforting. “So,” she started, voice gentle but firm, “we also need to talk names. What you like to be called. And what we’d like to be called.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. “Names?”

She nodded, face open, gaze warm. “Mm-hmm. Titles. Terms of endearment. Pet names. Dynamic-specific ones, if they feel right. Not everything has to be sexual, sometimes, they’re just about grounding. About knowing your place with us, even when we’re not touching you.”

“Oh.” You blinked. “Okay. Like what?”

“Well, I like ‘Sweetheart,’ ‘Darling,’ ‘Honey,’ ‘Baby,’ obviously,” Wanda said, her tone light and teasing. “And then there’s ‘Malyshka,” she added, her voice softening, the playful warmth shifting into something deeper. She paused, letting the silence hang for a moment before locking eyes with you, a shadow passing through her gaze. “It can mean two things, baby girl, or...”

Your breath caught, pulse quickening as the tension between you thickened. “O…or?”

“Little One,” Wanda whispered, her words barely audible, but they hit you like a soft, lingering echo that stayed with you long after she'd spoken.

The words landed like a heavy blow to your chest, your breath catching in your throat. You couldn’t help the sudden heat flooding through you, the way your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Your gaze darted away, cheeks flushing hot, a mix of shock and something more flooding your system, a whimper falling from your lips.

Wanda noticed your reaction. Her voice was thick with something dangerous and darkly intimate. “That one hit, didn’t it?” she asked, her smile slow and predatory.

You couldn’t answer, your mouth too dry, but the frantic nod of your head told her everything she needed to know.

Natasha’s voice broke through, amused and approving. “Sweet,” she said, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “I like it too. It suits you.”

You peeked out from behind your hands, flushed, heart still hammering in your chest, but desperate to stay grounded. “So I  just pick one?” you asked, the words trembling as they left your lips.

Wanda’s smile curled at the edges, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Or all of them,” she replied, her voice teasing. “If you want them.”

"I…I like them," you whispered, the words barely more than a breath. "I don’t really mind any pet names. Use whatever feels right. And if I don’t like it, well, I’m sure you’ll be able to tell."

Wanda’s gaze sharpened, her fingers moving to your chin with a quiet firmness, her expression taking on a subtle sternness. "No," she said, her voice gentle but unwavering. “You’ll tell us, understood? Don’t expect us to just know. You need to speak up, okay?"

Something about the firmness in her gaze made your stomach twist. You weren’t used to being asked to speak up, to set boundaries. But there was something in her tone that made you want to try. You nodded, voice small but steady. "Okay. I will."

You barely had time to process Wanda's words before Natasha leaned forward slightly in her chair. Her gaze held a mischievous edge that contrasted with Wanda’s warmth. Her lips curled into a slight smile, the playful glint in her eyes a stark contrast to the serious conversation before.

“My suggestions aren’t quite as cute as Wanda’s,” Natasha said, her voice dipping lower, teasing. “Kotenok or Kitten is what hits me when I look at you. Skittish. Soft. Trouble.”

Another jolt surged through you. Your breath caught again. “Yeah…Yeah…Kitten is good.”

Natasha gave you a slow, approving smile, her eyes glinting with a darkness that made your heart skip a beat. “Perfect, Kotenok (Kitten), ” she murmured, her voice low and controlled. “And just so you know, I tend to lean toward Russian pet names, so you’ll probably hear lots of them, for example, ‘Detka,’ ‘Krasivaya Devushka,’ and maybe even ‘Printsessa.’” (Babe/baby, Pretty girl, Princess). She paused, a hint of mischief in her gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you what they all mean...over time.”

The sound of those words, so fluid, coming from Natasha’s lips, melted you. Her accent thickened as she spoke, each syllable rolling off her tongue with a slow, deliberate grace. Her voice lowered an octave, and the heat in her gaze made it feel like the room was getting warmer. You couldn’t understand a single word, but it didn’t matter. You’d take whatever she said, in any language. 

Wanda’s fingers tightened around yours, her grip grounding you as you spiraled from Natasha’s words, like she knew exactly how they’d rattled you. Her touch pulled you back, steadying you, while her voice held you in place. “And for us,” she said, her eyes locking with yours, “we do have our preferences.”

Your breath caught, heart pounding in your chest. Dread and excitement twisted in your belly, knotting together as you felt both women’s gaze on you, different yet equally intense.

Wanda’s smile shifted, becoming something darker, something more dangerous, as she leaned in closer, her breath warm on your ear. “I like being called Mommy.”

Natasha’s voice rang out with no hesitation, deep and commanding. “And I like Daddy.”

It wasn’t just the words, it was the way they said them. Wanda’s voice had a lulling, dangerous sweetness to it, pulling you closer, inviting surrender. Natasha’s tone was firm, commanding, like it could settle deep in your bones, leaving no room for doubt. The combination hit you like a lightning strike, every nerve in your body humming with heat.

“Shit,” you breathed, too overwhelmed to filter your response, the heat from both of them starting to burn through you.

Natasha’s lips quirked into a slow, wicked smile, her eyes glinting with something dark and hungry. “Good shit or bad shit?”

You squirmed under her gaze, trying to stay grounded, but the pull of both women was too much. “I think you know the answer.”

“Maybe I do,” Natasha purred, her voice low and thick with authority, making your pulse spike instantly. She didn’t budge from her chair, but somehow, it felt like she was moving closer to you with every word, the force of her presence suffocating, undeniable. “But maybe you should be using your words, like Mommy asked you to. Tell Daddy you like the idea, Kotenok (Kitten).”

You almost whimpered, but the sound barely escaped, a tremor running through your chest. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, shaken with the weight of everything swirling inside you. The words were raw, pulled from somewhere deep, but before they could consume you completely, Wanda’s voice cut through the haze.

“Natasha,” she said, the warning in her tone undercut with a hint of amusement. “Stop teasing her. You’re not helping.”

Natasha didn’t look the least bit sorry. Her grin only grew, a predatory gleam in her eyes. “I think she needs way more than teasing.”

Heat flooded your body, pooling low in your belly. Your thighs instinctively pressed together, betraying you in the most humiliating way. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, but every glance, every word from them twisted something inside you. 

You couldn’t keep it in anymore, and an embarrassingly desperate whine escaped, slipping through your clenched teeth. The sound was part shame, part desire, and it made everything tighten further.

Wanda and Natasha exchanged a glance, their eyes darkening in unison, their expressions sharpening, and just like that, they both knew. They saw everything.

“Don’t…don’t look at me like that,” you mumbled, voice small, barely audible as you dipped your head in an attempt to hide the blush burning your skin. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

Wanda laughed, soft and syrupy, the kind of sound that made your skin prickle. “What are you embarrassed about, baby?” she cooed, her voice laced with mock-innocence, almost cruel in its sweetness.

You shook your head quickly, too overwhelmed to speak. “It’s nothing,” you whispered, voice fraying at the edges.

She moved then, just a slight shift, barely more than a lean, and her fingers were under your chin again, before you could prepare for it. Cold rings pressed against your skin as she tilted your face up, slow and deliberate, until you were forced to meet her eyes.

“See, I don’t think it’s nothing,” Wanda murmured, her tone lower now, closer, more intimate. “I think you’re aching, and you don’t know what to do with it.”

You nodded before you even realised you had, your body moving before your mind caught up. It was as if instinct had taken over, bypassing any hesitation. Wanda’s smile grew, a wicked, tender thing, all at once.

“If it helps…” she whispered, her mouth brushing the shell of your ear, “you’re not the only one.” A pause, and then, “I’ve been wet since the first time you whimpered for me, Sweetheart.”

The words knocked the air from your lungs. Your breath faltered, eyes widening in disbelief. You stared at her, frozen, your mouth hanging open, utterly stunned. A tremor ran through you, the need swelling inside you until it became almost unbearable. You couldn’t form the words, couldn’t bring yourself to speak, but all that ran through your mind was touch me .

Your reaction must have sparked something in Wanda, because her hand shifted from your chin to rest softly against your cheek. Her teasing tone fell away. "Hey, baby, you with me?" she asked, her concern breaking through. "I’m sorry. Did I come on too strong?"

You shook your head almost violently, desperate to push the thought away. No, that wasn’t the problem. That wasn’t the issue at all. The problem was how badly you wanted it. How much you needed something you didn’t even know how to ask for.

“I want—” The words faltered, getting stuck in your throat. You pressed your lips together, heart hammering in your chest. It felt too soon, too much. Even with everything that had been said, could you really ask for this already? What if they turned you away? What if they saw you as desperate? What if you weren’t enough?

Wanda’s brows lifted, but her voice stayed gentle. “Want what, Malyshka (Little One)? ”

Your whole body had jerked at the sound, a shiver crawling up your spine. The way her accent deepened when she said that word? It hit you like a lightning bolt, confirming you had definitely found a new kink. Between her and Natasha, it was inevitable. 

You were squirming now, eyes clouded with need, chest heaving with every breath. Without even thinking, your hips shifted, searching for some kind of pressure, any relief, but there was none. It was mortifying, how easily your body betrayed you, how quickly you fell apart under her voice.

Wanda’s smile curved, a glint of something dangerous in her eyes as she watched the way your body moved, squirming under the weight of her words. "Do you want some...help?" she asked, her voice light but carrying an edge, her smile sharp and knowing.

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. Your throat tightened, as though it had forgotten how to form words. But in the end, it didn’t matter. You nodded, just once, barely a movement, but it felt like surrender, as though you were offering yourself up to whatever came next.

Wanda’s hand stayed gently resting against your cheek, her thumb stroking your skin in slow, rhythmic motions. She watched you unravel, and there was a deep sense of pride in her voice when she spoke. “There you go,” she whispered, the words dripping with satisfaction. “That’s our girl.”

You swallowed hard, fighting to hold onto any semblance of control. Your eyes flickered to Natasha before you could stop them, as if your body had remembered she was there even though your mind had momentarily shut her out. She still sat across the room, lounging in that chair, watching you intently, like a predator assessing its prey.

Wanda noticed the glance, and she leaned in close, her voice dropping low, a soft murmur that sent a shiver through your whole body. "Don’t worry about her," she whispered, her lips brushing your skin as her words sank in. "We agreed she would just watch for today...Our Little One isn't ready for Daddy just yet."

You couldn’t help the tremor that ran down your spine at her words. They hit you like a wave, crashing into you, making your knees fall open slightly without thinking. Your breath stuttered in your throat, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your belly. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Wanda cooed, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. Her hand slid down from your cheek to your throat, not squeezing, not threatening, just holding. Her eyes scanned your face for your reaction, and when it was positive, she continued. “You are wound so tight, aren’t you? That pretty little head of yours is spinning.”

You whimpered again, more desperate now. You didn’t know if you wanted her to stop or keep going. Everything inside you was tangled up in heat and shame and the most exquisite ache you’d ever felt.

Wanda kept her attention locked on you, fingertips grazing down your arm now, slow and deliberate, every inch she touched feeling like it burned. “I’ll take care of you,” she promised, her voice velvet-smooth. “But you’re going to ask me for it. Properly. When you’re ready.”

You blinked up at her, wide-eyed and flushed and completely overwhelmed. “I don’t…I don’t know how,” you admitted, your voice high and shaky, barely audible.

Wanda’s expression softened again. “That’s alright,” she murmured. “We’ll teach you. That’s part of it. You don’t need to know anything right now. Just that you’re safe. And that we’ll never take what you don’t give.”

She reached for your hand again, lacing her fingers with yours like before. “You’re doing so well already. I’m proud of you.”

Your eyes stung. Her praise hit harder than anything else had, like you’d been starving for it without realising. Your body ached, but your chest swelled, heat blooming there like sunlight.

Then Wanda kissed you, and it felt like something out of a dream. No urgency. No rush. Just her lips brushing against yours like a question, like she was waiting for you to answer with your body. 

Her lips were impossibly soft. She kissed you like you were made of paper, fragile and water-damaged, and she didn’t want to leave a single mark, yet.

Your breath caught the moment her tongue brushed the seam of your mouth, just a test, and you gasped softly, lips parting for her before you could stop yourself.

That was when the first noise slipped out of you. Not a whimper, not yet, just a soft, aching little sigh, like your lungs didn’t know how to hold the heat.

Wanda pulled back the tiniest bit, her mouth hovering so close you could still taste her breath. She smiled. “That’s it,” she murmured, voice low and sweet, like honey melting over hot skin. “Don’t think. Just feel me.”

Your fingers twitched at your sides. You didn’t know where to put them. You were too nervous to grab her, too overwhelmed to keep still. Every nerve felt raw. Every breath was tight and shallow.

And across the room, Natasha hadn’t moved. She was just watching, her gaze heavy on your flushed face. She hadn’t spoken for a while, but you could feel her approval like a pulse in the air.

Wanda’s kiss deepened slowly. She coaxed your mouth open, tongue slipping past your lips in a way that made your toes curl. Every sound you made just seemed to encourage her, every little whimper, every gasp against her mouth. You could feel yourself trembling and hated how obvious it was…but she didn’t mock you for it. She kissed you harder.

You didn’t realise how fast your chest was rising and falling until she pulled back to speak. “Is it too much?” she asked, voice quiet and close to your ear. Her hand stroked the side of your neck, grounding. “You can tell me, Honey.”

You shook your head, throat tight. “Not enough,” you whispered, and the shame hit immediately, face burning, eyes wide. You couldn’t believe you’d said it out loud.

Wanda made a sound low in her throat, a soft, breathy laugh, thick with delight as she tilted her head to better drink you in. “Oh,” she murmured, voice just shy of mocking. “You’re already there, aren’t you?”

Her lips pressed gently to your cheek, then lower, brushing your jaw, lingering at the corner of your mouth like she was savouring you already.

“Lie back for me,” she said, light and coaxing, but with a flicker of something reverent beneath the teasing. “I need room if I’m going to worship you properly.”

Your arms trembled as you moved, slowly unfolding yourself. You hadn’t even realised how tightly you’d curled inward, hugging your knees to your chest like that might somehow contain the ache building inside you. As if protecting yourself from just how much you needed this.

But Wanda didn’t push. She didn’t rush. She simply waited, her hands stroking slowly down the outside of your thighs in patient, grounding passes, keeping you tethered.

You eased back until you were open to her, lay back, knees bent, feet flat on the sofa cushions, and her mouth dropped open as she looked at you, legs parted just enough, flushed and breathing too hard.

Wanda’s fingers slid under the hem of the loose tee you had borrowed. Her touch was light, her voice even lighter. “Can we see you properly, Little One?” she asked, with none of the teasing from earlier, just soft patience.

You nodded.

But Wanda’s fingers stilled completely against your skin, her touch suddenly so still it burned. Her head tilted slowly, eyes flicking up to meet yours with dark, patient hunger. “Words, darling,” she murmured. “Tell Mommy you want them off.”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed hard, breath catching on the way out. “Yes,” you whispered, barely audible. “Please…Mommy. Take them off.”

Wanda let out a groan that melted into something almost desperate. The title lingered in the air like smoke, curling possessively around her. Her eyelids fluttered as she breathed through the heat. “God, you sound so good when you say that, baby,” she moaned, voice thick with want. “Such a good girl for me.”

Wanda’s fingers twitched back to life, the pause over. She dragged them down the soft line of your stomach, her touch reverent now, like she was unwrapping a gift. 

She pushed the hem of the shirt slowly, watching your face more than your skin, reading the way your breath hitched and your chest rose. Her hands were warm, steady as she eased it off you entirely, guiding your arms up and over without a word.

“You’re shaking,” she murmured, and you were. You hadn’t even realised it until she pressed her lips to your shoulder, slow and open-mouthed, breathing in the scent of you like it grounded her. “You’re being so brave for me.”

Your face burned as she then reached for the drawstring of your joggers, slipping it loose with deliberate care. She didn’t rush. She didn’t tease. It wasn’t about making you squirm; it was about seeing you, piece by piece, letting you feel every second of it.

She slid the fabric slowly over your hips, the backs of her knuckles grazing sensitive skin on the way down. “Lift your hips for Mommy, baby.”

You obeyed without hesitation, thighs quivering as you raised your hips, trusting her completely. In one fluid motion, Wanda drew your joggers and underwear down together, baring you to the cool air and to her gaze.

Then you were exposed, and Wanda just…stared. Like she couldn’t quite decide where to look first, like every part of you demanded her full attention.

Her hands settled instinctively on your thighs, her thumbs tracing slow, featherlight circles against your skin as her eyes darkened. “You’re beautiful,” she breathed, reverent and a little awed. Then, without looking away from you, she spoke to her wife, “Natasha, look how pretty she is.”

Heat flared instantly in your face. Your eyes flicked toward the chair across the room before you could stop them, and there she was. Natasha hadn’t moved an inch, still lounging like a queen at rest, but her mouth was curled into a sharp, pleased little smile. Her gaze caught yours and didn’t waver, all dark promise and deliberate patience.

A quiet, shameful sound escaped your throat, and Wanda lit up. “Oh,” she laughed, wicked and delighted. “I knew it. You like being watched.”

Mortified, you dropped your head back onto the cushion and slapped a hand over your face, trying to hide. But Wanda only laughed again, sugar-sweet and cruel in the way that made your stomach flip.

“No, Little One,” she scolded gently, tugging your hand away with ease. “None of that. You don’t get to hide, not when you’re this perfect.”

You whimpered again, thighs twitching as your hips shifted against the cushions. Your legs squeezed together, then fell open, helpless. You couldn’t stay still. Every part of you was burning.

Wanda tilted her head, her lashes low, eyes sparkling as she looked at you. “Such a sensitive little thing,” she whispered, the words sliding like velvet over your skin. “And we haven’t even started yet.”

Before you could speak, she leaned in and kissed you again, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that left you aching in the chest. Her hand slid up, not between your legs but along your waist, curling around your side to hold you close.

Her mouth moved across your face, over your jaw, and down your neck, where she latched onto your pulse, sucking deeply, deliberately. The sensation jolted through you, and before you could even think, your body arched into it, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

Wanda's lips lingered, the bite sinking deeper, her mark burning into your skin like a brand, sending heat spiraling out in waves across your chest. 

You whined, your body trembling beneath her, every nerve alive with the intensity of her touch. She hummed against your throat, her tongue sweeping over the mark, and her breath came slow, heavy, each exhale a silent promise of more.

“There,” she breathed, her voice thick with a dark, possessive pride, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she pulled back just enough to study the mark she’d left on you. "God, you look so fucking perfect with my mark on your throat."

Your hips bucked involuntarily, the possessiveness in her tone winding around something deep inside you. She chuckled low, pressing her palm flat to your stomach to keep you still. 

“Settle down,” she breathed, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, then another, then lower. Her hands moved as she did, slow and reverent. She wasn’t trying to rush to anything, she was worshipping you. Making sure you felt every graze of her teeth, every soft scrape of her nails down your sides, every lingering kiss as her mouth charted a path down your trembling body.

When she bit you again, just under your ribs this time, you jolted, another high noise bursting out before you could stop it. She soothed it immediately, nuzzling into your side like she couldn’t bear to be apart from you, even for a moment.

“I love those little sounds you make,” she murmured. “So pretty. So fucking perfect for me.”

You were already trembling, your body humming like a live wire, and she hadn’t even really touched you yet. But you could feel it. The slick heat between your legs, the desperate, aching want that coiled tighter with every second. 

When Wanda shifted, sliding lower down the sofa and settling between your thighs, your breath caught in your chest like a punch.

“Breathe for me, Little One,” she said softly, her voice gentling as both hands returned to your thighs. Her thumbs moved in slow, soothing circles, grounding you with each pass. “You’re doing so well, but you need to breathe.”

You nodded shakily, dragging in a broken gasp, lungs finally loosening under her attention. Wanda leaned in and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, right at the apex, so close it made you twitch. 

Her breath ghosted over slick, flushed skin, and then she kissed again. And again. Gentle. No bite this time. Just lips. Warm and reverent and unbearably soft.

You sobbed at the sensation, legs twitching, instinctively trying to close around her head, but her hands held you open.

“Are you ready for me, Sweetheart?” she murmured, looking up at you with eyes too focused, too careful, like nothing else in the world existed except your answer.

You nodded, then remembered. Words. She needed words. “Y...yes,” you managed, voice cracking. “I’m ready.”

Wanda smiled, proud and soft and utterly devastating. “Good girl,” she praised. Her hand slid slightly higher, teasing. “Now tell me what colour you are, hm?”

“G...green,” you blurted, the word high-pitched, nearly a whimper. Your body clenched with the surge of heat the check-in triggered, need sparking sharply under your skin. “I’m green.”

Her smile deepened, and she nodded. “That’s my good girl. And if you want to stop?”

You let out a desperate, wounded little whine. “Yellow or red,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush. “Please, Mommy, please! I’ll say it if I need to just—”

She let out a soft chuckle, a kiss pressed between your thighs. “I’ve got you. Keep your legs open for me,” she murmured. And you opened up for her, you knew you would do anything she asked of you, right now. 

As you obeyed, Wanda let out a breath, slow, shaky, like she needed the moment to collect herself. Her palms skimmed up the insides of your thighs, warm and firm, coaxing you open even further, keeping you bared beneath her gaze. She didn’t rush. Just held you there, eyes drinking you in like something sacred.

“You’re going to be so good for me,” she murmured, voice low and velvety, thick with heat and something deeper. Not a question, not quite a command, more like a vow. Her gaze flicked up, locking with yours. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nodded too fast, too eager, once again forgetting words. Your head fell back against the cushion, mouth open as you sucked in shallow breaths, dazed and trembling.

Wanda’s fingers pressed just a little harder into the soft flesh of your thigh, a subtle squeeze. A quiet correction, not born of anger but patience, like she was guiding you, gently coaxing obedience into instinct.

Her voice followed, low and coaxing, velvet over steel. “Ah-ah. Use your words for me, Sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you breathed, so desperate it came out as a sob. “Yes, I’ll be good, Mommy. I promise! Please—”

Wanda smiled. She didn’t respond with words. She lowered her mouth instead.

The first touch of her tongue was impossibly soft, barely more than a kiss, just a warm, wet brush that sent your whole body taut. You let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a moan and a cry, hips twitching, only for her palms to flatten against your inner thighs and hold you steady, immovable.

She pulled back immediately, her lips wet and shining, her eyes dark with something feral, in a way that made your stomach flip. “Stay still,” she murmured, voice low and commanding, and it hit you somewhere deep.

You froze, muscles trembling with the effort, breath catching in your throat. But the way she looked right now? Flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes fixed on you like she was starving for more? You didn’t even need her touch. That look alone was enough to ruin you.

Nonetheless, she leaned in again, slower this time, licking a flat stripe up your centre, and you nearly came from the sound alone. The soft, slick drag. Her low hum. The soft, wet suction as her lips closed around your clit for just a second before pulling away again.

A loud moan spilled from your throat as your back arched off the sofa. “Oh, Mommy!”

Wanda hummed, pleased and hungry, her voice dipping lower, raspier, heat threaded through every word. “Does that feel good, Little One?” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “You taste so sweet…”

And then, Wanda truly began. Her tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, tracing you with maddening precision, as if she had all the time in the world to explore every inch of your cunt. 

Each flick, each circle sent electric jolts through your body, teasing and torturing with perfect timing. Every pause felt like an eternity, just long enough for you to think she might be done, only for her to dive back in, harder, deeper. 

Wanda slid her arm beneath your thigh and lifted, settling your leg over her shoulder like you weighed nothing at all. You let her. You didn’t even think; your body just obeyed, limp and aching and wide open. 

The moment her tongue ran through your folds again, your hands found her hair, gripping it with a desperate urgency that made your knuckles throb. You clung to her like she was the only anchor in a storm, your body trembling with need. 

The words spilled from your lips without hesitation, desperate and raw. “Mmmm, Mommy! Yes, please…don’t stop…more!” you begged, voice shaky, almost frantic. You didn’t care anymore, didn’t care how desperate you sounded. All that mattered was the aching hunger inside you, the overwhelming need that Wanda was slowly, perfectly, fulfilling.

Her tongue pressed deeper, more purposeful, sliding through your slick folds with aching precision. Every stroke came with a little more pressure, a little more hunger, as if your taste had lit a fuse in her. 

She moaned softly against you, the sound sending a shock through your spine, and her hands gripped tighter, one anchoring your thigh, the other still holding you down as you writhed below her.

She found a rhythm that made you keen and she circled, sucked and licked at your clit like she wanted to drag it out until you forgot how to do anything but fall apart for her. 

“Such a good girl,” Wanda breathed against you, her voice wrecked with hunger and lust. The words vibrated through you, each syllable soaked in pride, in possession. “So sensitive…look at you.”

Heat poured off you in waves. You were burning. Every inch of your skin felt too tight, every nerve alive and screaming. Her mouth didn’t relent, and your body responded with sobs, helpless, choked little cries that crawled up your throat unbidden. 

You were shaking, desperate for release but far too overwhelmed to ask for it, like your body couldn’t decide whether it wanted to run or fall apart right there beneath her.

Your eyes squeezed shut, vision swimming, the world narrowing to nothing but her, her mouth, her voice, her hands. Until you heard, “Look at her.” A low, smooth voice cut through the haze, amused and dark. Natasha. “Wanda, you’re going to break her.”

It hit you like a lightning strike. Shame and arousal collided so violently that it knocked the breath from your lungs. You couldn’t believe you’d forgotten she was there. But of course she was. 

But now, her voice cut through the fog, pulling you from the tight grip Wanda had on you, the overwhelming rush of sensation temporarily halted as your face flushed with heat. The reality of the moment hit harder than the pleasure had, and yet, it anchored you in a way you hadn’t expected.

Wanda didn’t look away from you. She didn’t even pause. Her mouth just closed over your clit again, firmer now. Your thighs tensed under her grip. Your back lifted. You were sobbing her title like it was the only thing you knew. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy…”

“Shh,” she whispered,  “You’re okay. You’re doing so well.”

You were too far gone to respond. Your mouth opened, a moan catching in your throat and sticking there as you ground helplessly into her mouth, chasing your pleasure. 

Wanda moaned into you, it was low, deliberate, a sound soaked in hunger, and the vibration of it rippled straight through your core. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t restrained. It was carnal, shameless, and it nearly undid you on the spot. 

Your whole body jolted like it had been struck, legs trembling as you continued to grind into her face as the pleasure spiked white-hot and unbearable. 

Wanda then chose to experiment with another of the kinks you mentioned, her voice rough as she spoke. “Mmm such a desperate whore,” she moaned. “Grinding your cunt into Mommy’s face, such a dirty little girl.”

And that… that …was what broke you. You’d suspected, thanks to those deep dives on Tumblr, that it would do something to you…But hearing it for real, hearing it from Wanda . It didn’t just undo you, it detonated something inside you.

You were spiralling now, clinging to the sensation, chasing the edge that felt so close you could taste it. You needed to fall. You needed it, more than breath, more than sense, more than anything you’d ever needed before.

“I...I’m—” The words got stuck in your throat, too tangled up with the raw ache consuming you. “Please!” The plea came out desperate, ragged, your voice a broken whisper of need.

Wanda lifted her mouth just long enough to look up at you, her chin glistening, her eyes blown wide with hunger. “Let go,” she whispered. “Cum for me, Malyshka (Little One). ”

And you did. You shattered. Loudly, helplessly, trembling so hard your teeth nearly chattered, a scream tearing from your throat as every nerve in your body lit up and snapped loose all at once.

Wanda didn’t stop. She licked you through it, steady and patient, never pulling away even as your thighs clamped around her shoulders and your hips jolted beneath her mouth. She drank every twitch, every sob, until you were limp and gasping and twitching from overstimulation.

Only then did she slow, then finally, finally pulled back. Her face was flushed, her lips red, eyes dark and glassy with want.

She looked up at you like she wasn’t quite done. “Such a good girl,” she whispered, crawling back up over your trembling body. “If this weren't our first time, I wouldn't be finished with you yet.”

You were whimpering, breath catching in your throat over and over like you couldn’t get enough air.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Wanda whispered, her hands feather-light now, reverent. “You did so well for me. You were perfect.”

You were too far gone to speak. You blinked up at her through wet lashes, barely able to focus, your whole body trembling with the aftershocks of everything she’d pulled from you.

Wanda leaned down and kissed you. You tasted yourself on her mouth, but all you could feel was the way she held your face in both hands like you were breakable now, like she wanted to kiss every cry back into your body.

She reached for you with both arms and pulled you straight into her chest, tucking your head beneath her chin. You folded willingly, instinctively, curling into the heat of her body as though it was the only place in the world you’d ever felt safe. She held you there, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, the other stroking along your spine in long, calming passes.

“There we go,” she murmured, so soft it was nearly inaudible. “Come here, darling. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t, not yet. But you clung weakly to her hoodie, your fingers barely gripping the hem, and Wanda’s mouth found the crown of your head and kissed it, slow and sure and overflowing with something too full to name.

There was movement to your left, measured and careful. Natasha. She had been quiet the whole time, hadn’t touched you once. But now she approached with something folded in her arms.

“I thought this might help,” she said, voice hushed.. She knelt beside the couch, holding out both the bottle you’d left earlier and a thick, soft blanket.

Wanda adjusted you slightly so she could reach without disturbing your place against her chest, accepting both items with a grateful nod. “Thank you.”

She opened the blanket first, shaking it out one-handed with practiced ease, and Natasha helped drape it over your back and shoulders, tucking it in so gently it barely felt like anything at all. Still, the weight of it made your chest wobble with an aftershock of emotion; it was warm, soft, and it covered you. Like a shield. 

You made a tiny sound, something caught between a sigh and a sob, and Wanda only pulled you tighter. “You’re not vulnerable, Little One,” she whispered into your hair. “Not here. Not with us.”

Natasha’s hand briefly, barely brushed over your shoulder as she pulled the blanket more snug around your side. Then she leaned in, close enough that you could smell her perfume, and offered you the water, unscrewed and waiting.

“Slow sips,” she said gently. 

Your hands shook, but Wanda helped you guide the bottle, letting you rest against her chest as you drank. You managed a few small sips before your throat threatened to close again, overwhelmed by everything by touch, by sound, by being seen. You pulled back slightly, your eyes watery, and Wanda was already there, thumb brushing the side of your face.

“That’s enough for now,” she said softly, taking the bottle and setting it aside. “You did so well. Just breathe.”

You nodded, barely, and Wanda held you even closer, curling one leg beneath her on the sofa so she could keep your body entirely against hers. She wrapped the blanket more securely around your back, and her lips found your temple, your cheek, your jaw. Every kiss was slow. Careful. Anchored in a depth of feeling that made your chest ache.

“I’m so proud of you,” she murmured. “You gave me everything, and you were so brave.”

Natasha shifted subtly, her gaze soft and steady. Her voice was lower now, gentle in a way it rarely was. “You were breathtaking,” she said. “Really.”

You blinked at her, breath hitching, but all she did was reach out and brush your hair out of your face, her touch light as air. You hid your face again in Wanda’s neck, overwhelmed all over again, but in a way that felt like comfort. Maybe even like home. 

—

The rest of the day was a haze of comfort and unease. Wanda stayed by your side, her touch unyielding, grounding you whenever you felt adrift. She kept you close, either holding you or brushing against you constantly, her presence soft and reassuring. 

It was as if she sensed something was off, that your mind was clouded, your thoughts scattered, and your body delicate. You couldn’t fully settle, but Wanda was there, pulling you back whenever you zoned out. Her smile, warm and steady, reminded you she was present, even when you couldn’t quite make sense of what you were feeling.

Natasha, on the other hand, had pulled away. As the day wore on, she became more distant, both physically and emotionally. The same barrier that had seemed to lift during your earlier conversation had slammed back into place, stronger than before. You couldn’t shake the feeling that she was second-guessing everything now that it had all become real. 

The thought struck harder than you expected, a sharp ache in your chest that wouldn’t let go. A wave of loneliness, of abandonment, washed over you, and you couldn’t make sense of it. Why did it hurt so much? You barely knew Natasha, so why did it matter? 

As the day went on, Wanda seemed to sense the unease building within you. She noticed the glances you cast toward Natasha, the way your gaze lingered. Each time, she’d murmur something soothing, reassuring you that it was okay, that Natasha just needed time to process her own feelings. 

And in some way, that helped. Wanda didn’t seem concerned, her belief that this wasn’t the end giving you a strange sense of comfort. If she wasn’t worried, maybe you didn’t need to be either. Slowly, you allowed yourself to relax into that belief.

When it was finally time to leave, Wanda’s sadness was obvious. She kissed you gently on the cheek, her touch lingering as she looked at you with eyes full of things left unsaid. Natasha, though, had a different expression. Her smile was faint, polite, but you could sense the relief in her that the day was over. 

Before you left, Wanda made sure to add both her and Natasha’s numbers to your phone, and then put yours in theirs. She followed it up by insisting you log into her Uber account. “You’re not paying for rides to our place,” she said, her tone firm but gentle, as though the matter was settled. Her quiet confidence made it clear this wasn’t just a one-time thing. You’d be back, she was certain of it, and somehow, that certainty gave you a strange sense of comfort, even as your emotions swirled inside.

You left their house feeling lighter, but still overwhelmed. The quiet warmth of Wanda’s comfort stayed with you, but so did the knot of uncertainty in your chest. Tomorrow would come soon enough, and with it, the weight of starting college. You didn’t know how you’d handle it, but for now, you just had to move forward.

—

Your first day of college had dragged on, with it being the first day, there was absolutely nothing interesting, just a never-ending loop of syllabi readings and assignments you could barely muster the energy to care about. Every class felt like a lecture in monotony, and you found yourself wondering, for the umpteenth time, why you’d even bothered to sign up for this. 

You slouched into your seat, dragging your feet like the rest of the half-dead students shuffling in behind you. 

You scanned the syllabus again, hoping maybe you’d missed something less soul-crushing the first time. Nope, dense readings, no extensions, mandatory participation. You didn’t know much about the professor for this class beyond the basics: she was strict, she was demanding, and she didn’t tolerate nonsense, and you could see that in her syllabus.  

One class left. One more hour, and then you could go home, grab something greasy, and let Kate grill you about your mysterious Saturday night. You weren’t looking forward to that conversation, but at least it wasn’t another lecture.

Then the door opened, and everything came crashing down.

You barely looked up at first, expecting someone completely forgettable. Sensible shoes. A cardigan. Maybe a sigh as they pulled out their notes. But then you glanced up, and your stomach plummeted.

It was Natasha.

No. No. Not Natasha.

Professor Romanoff.

Your body froze, rigid, like a deer caught in headlights. Shit. You hadn’t asked her last name. Hadn’t asked what she did for work. You’d just assumed she was something powerful, a lawyer maybe. Never in your worst nightmares had you imagined she'd be standing at the front of your classroom, like she hadn’t just watched her wife tear you apart on their sofa the day before.

She moved to the front like she owned the ground she walked on. Back straight, jaw set, and when she turned to address the room, her eyes swept over the crowd like a searchlight, briefly landing on you. For a split second, your breath caught, but there was nothing in her gaze. No recognition. No warmth. Just a cold, professional indifference.

“Good afternoon,” she said, her voice low, controlled, and sharp. Just as you remembered it. “I’m Professor Romanoff. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours. And yes, they’re true. I expect discipline and respect. Follow my rules, and we’ll have no problems. Break them, and you’ll be out of this class without hesitation.”

Your chest tightened, and your head went foggy. Every word out of her mouth hit you like a wave crashing over you, one after the other, drowning you. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Your body buzzed with disbelief.

The rest of the class became a blur. She spoke, she walked through slides, she gestured to the syllabus, but all you could hear was static. Every syllable of her voice felt like nails on a chalkboard, scraping across your skin. The tension built in your chest until it was suffocating.

By the time class ended, you bolted from your seat, nearly knocking into someone in your haste to escape. The cool air outside was a relief, thin and sharp, but at least it wasn’t soaked in her perfume or her unyielding authority.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and your heart skipped a beat.

Natasha: We need to talk. Meet me at the gas station. You know the car.

It wasn’t a question, it was a command. A part of you wanted to switch your phone off, go home to Kate, crawl into bed, and pretend the message didn’t exist. But the other part, the one still reeling from how Natasha had looked straight through you like a stranger, knew ignoring her wouldn’t make this go away. It would only make it worse.

You texted Kate a rushed excuse and made your way to the gas station. Natasha was already parked, sunglasses on, face unreadable. You knocked lightly on the window. She didn’t say a word, just motioned for you to get in. You did.

“Where…where are we going?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, unsure if speaking was even allowed.

“To see Wanda,” she said tightly, jaw clenched. “This is going to break her heart.”

Your heart clenched, but you didn’t dare say anything else. Neither did she. The car ride passed in tense, suffocating silence, your pulse hammering harder the closer you got. By the time she pulled into the driveway, your stomach was twisted in knots.

Wanda opened the door with a smile, immediately pulling Natasha into a hug, her voice light. “Hi, my love,” she said, then glanced past her to see you, small and shaking behind. “Nat? Why’s our Little One here, looking like that?”

“Maybe she should explain,” Natasha said, her voice low, each word bitten off with sharp precision. The calm she’d worn like armour since she saw you cracked at the edges now, something colder slipping through, something furious. 

Wanda blinked, visibly confused, her gaze shifting between the two of you as she guided you both inside with careful hands. 

Inside, Natasha stayed standing, rigid, coiled across from you, while Wanda hovered by your side, concern etched into her brow. “Did something happen?” she asked carefully, though her eyes were already searching yours, catching how you shook.

Natasha let out a bitter laugh, dry, humourless, and dangerous. “You could say that,” she snapped, then turned to face you, eyes narrowing like twin blades. “It happened again, Wanda. We’re being used.”

The words were a slap. Your heart stuttered, and beside you, Wanda’s head snapped toward her wife, brows pulling into a deep, confused frown. “What?”

“She’s in my class,” Natasha spat. “My fucking class. She played the innocent routine, wormed her way in, probably thought that whoring herself out would get her better grades.”

“Natasha!” Wanda’s voice cracked through the air like a whip.

But you were already gasping. “N-no,” you managed to get out, “that’s not true! I didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

Natasha stepped closer. “You expect me to believe that?”

Yes!” Your voice cracked. “I didn’t know! I never saw your full name! The portal just said ‘Professor Romanoff’ and there wasn’t even a photo, I…I didn’t know it was you! I swear, I swear—!”

You backed up instinctively. Wanda’s hand caught your elbow, but it wasn’t grounding; your whole body was trembling, heat rising to your face, your limbs cold.

“No?” Natasha’s voice sliced through the air, cold and sharp, every word like a lash. “You just happened to end up in my class, right? You think I’m stupid?”

The words hit you like a freight train, but it wasn’t just the anger that crushed you; it was the way it landed, sharp and bitter, just like everything you’d heard your whole life. Your heart pounded in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, the words rushed out, desperate, broken.

“No! I’m the stupid one, okay?” you screamed, your voice high-pitched and strangled, raw with panic. The pressure in your chest felt like it might suffocate you. Your mind spiraled, racing through a thousand memories, a thousand voices all telling you the same thing. It was all crashing down on you, everything you feared, everything you hated about yourself, flooding to the surface.

“I’m stupid! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong, please, just, please believe me, please!” The words rushed out, tumbling over each other in a desperate rush. “I didn’t know! I swear, I didn’t know you were my professor! I should’ve known, I should’ve checked! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m just… I’m stupid, I’m so stupid…” Your voice broke, your knees feeling weak, your mind a blur of self-doubt.

You could barely see, everything blurred behind a wall of hot, stinging tears. The room faded around you, all sound drowned out by the roar of your breathing, the relentless pounding of your heart in your ears. You were spiralling, free-falling into that familiar place, the one carved out by years of being wrong, being too much, not enough, always failing. You had ruined everything again. 

You didn’t see Natasha’s expression shift, didn’t catch the way her posture softened, the fire in her eyes dimming into something far more fragile, fear, concern, guilt. You didn’t notice her step forward, slow and cautious, pulled not by anger anymore but by instinct, by the quiet, urgent need to soothe. You didn’t see any of it.

All you registered was her hand rising toward your face. And your body reacted before your thoughts could. You flinched, violently, arms flying up to shield yourself, your whole body recoiling with a panicked jolt. You stumbled back, your breath catching in your throat, eyes wide and glassy with terror as you braced for impact.  

Natasha froze. Her hand hung in the air, suspended in horror, fingers trembling. The colour drained from her face as the realisation hit: you were afraid of her. And it was clear that someone else had carved that fear into your bones long before now.

“Detka… (babe)” she breathed, voice shattered, barely more than a whisper.

You couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at Wanda either. You kept your arms up like a shield, like you could somehow disappear behind them, like maybe if you were small enough, quiet enough, sorry enough, they’d forget you’d ruined everything.

“I didn’t mean to….I didn’t know! I swear, I didn’t know,” you choked out, your voice thin and brittle, like glass about to crack. “I wasn’t trying to get anything from you, I wasn’t…I wasn’t using you, I wouldn’t, please.”

Your knees buckled slightly, your whole frame shaking, and finally, Wanda moved. “Oh, Sweetheart,” she whispered, rushing to your side, gently wrapping an arm around your waist before you could collapse completely. 

Her hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you in, holding you like you might break apart. “No, no, darling, no one’s mad at you, okay? You’re okay, I promise, you’re safe.”

Natasha hadn’t moved. She was still standing in place, her jaw slack, her hand slowly lowering as her chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths. Her eyes were locked on you, wide and glassy.

“I thought—” she tried, but her voice failed. She swallowed hard, blinking fast, like she couldn’t quite breathe. “I thought it was happening again.”

Wanda glanced over her shoulder at her wife, her voice still low but firm. “She didn’t know, Nat...It was just fate.”

“I know,” Natasha whispered. “I know that now. I just, when I saw her in that room, it felt like before.” She let out a breath like she’d been holding it since the moment she walked into the classroom. 

You peeked up through your lashes, finally daring to meet her eyes. The anger was gone. All that was left was guilt and something painfully soft.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” Natasha said, slowly, deliberately, her voice aching with apology. “I was, shit, I was trying to comfort you. I didn’t think—”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, because it was all you knew how to say.

Wanda stroked your hair gently, her voice firm. “You don’t need to be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong. Not one thing.”

But still, the words hung between the three of you like smoke.

Natasha stepped forward, painfully slow, eyes flicking from you to Wanda and back again. She crouched a little, dropping down to your level, her voice raw and barely holding together. “Can I…?” she asked, hand hovering just inches from your arm. “Can I touch you?”

Your breath hitched, but you gave the smallest nod.

The moment her fingers brushed your skin, everything in Natasha crumbled. She sank the rest of the way down, arms folding around you gently as Wanda kept one around your shoulders. The weight of both of them wrapped around you, solid and warm.

“I’ve got you,” Natasha murmured. “ We’ve got you.”

Natasha didn’t let go. Not for a long moment. Her arms stayed around you, gentle and steady, never demanding, just there, like a tether, like she was trying to imprint your shape into her bones, as if by holding you now she could somehow make up for every second she hadn’t before. You felt the way her hands trembled, how her breath caught against your skin.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed, the words cracking on the way out. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not a single fucking thing. This is on me. All of it.”

Your body was still stiff, every muscle drawn tight like a bowstring, your breaths coming in hiccupping, uneven bursts, your chest aching from how fast your heart was racing. But even through the storm inside you, you didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Not when her voice sounded like it was breaking apart just to reach you.

“I should’ve seen you,” Natasha murmured, forehead pressed gently to your shoulder. “I should’ve looked. I should’ve listened. You were terrified, and I was too wrapped up in my own shit, too scared of being used, too angry to even ask. I didn’t give you a chance. I just assumed the worst. And I...”

“Nat…” Wanda said softly, a hand on her back now, grounding her.

But Natasha shook her head, voice raw. “No. She needs to hear this.”

She shifted just enough that you could feel the ghost of her breath against your throat, her hands still steady on your sides, but now you noticed the shake in her fingers. Not from rage. Not anymore.

“You looked at me like I was going to hit you,” she whispered. “And I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. But I need you to hear this, I will never hurt you like that. Not ever. Not unless you ask for it. Not unless we talk about it, plan for it, and make it safe.”

Your voice was barely audible, crushed beneath the weight of your own guilt. “It’s okay. It’s my fault. I didn’t know. I should’ve…I should’ve guessed, I should’ve asked, I’m so stupid—”

“Stop.” Wanda’s voice broke through, warm and firm. Her fingers tipped your chin up, her eyes locking with yours, full of calm and command. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to know everything.”

You whimpered, a soft sound full of doubt and disbelief, but you didn’t look away.

“You’re not stupid,” Natasha echoed, gentler now, her hand brushing your cheek in the softest touch. “I can tell you’ve been taught to expect the worst. To believe it’s always your fault. You’ve been made to apologise for existing, haven’t you?”

You nodded without meaning to, like your body had been waiting for someone to say it out loud for years.

And Natasha’s whole expression shifted, darkening, not with fury at you, but at the unseen ghosts still haunting you. Her voice dropped, low and furious, like a promise carved in steel. “Just one word from you, and I’ll destroy them, just tell me, Little One, and I’ll fix it.”

The title caught you off guard, like a splash of sunlight after days of rain. Your chest fluttered. Your heart squeezed.

“Little One?” Your voice trembled, barely a whisper, fragile and shaking under the weight of your doubt. “I’m still your Little One? After everything? You didn’t even want me in the first place…surely you can’t want me now?”

Natasha’s face crumpled, like it physically pained her to hear you say that, and in that instant, everything she had been holding back cracked wide open.

“Sweet girl…” she whispered, her voice raw, fingers trembling as they cupped your face. “Stop. Please. I wanted you. I want you. I care about you more than I ever thought possible.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “I was scared of how you made me feel. It came on so fast, and I didn't expect to care so soon. But you were so perfect with Wanda. So soft, so beautiful. And I pulled away because I was so afraid of getting lost in you, but fuck, I don’t care anymore. I’m done being scared.”

Behind you, Wanda’s arms tightened around your waist, pressing herself into you as if she, too, needed this moment of vulnerability. “We want you. Both of us, ” Wanda said quietly, her voice steady but full of feeling. “Don’t ever think we don’t.”

Your voice cracked as you looked at Natasha, your eyes full of uncertainty. “But…what about college?”

Natasha gave a small, determined shrug, the weight of her resolve settling in her gaze. “We’ll make it work. I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever. You’re ours.”

And in that moment, with both of them holding you, Natasha’s forehead pressed to yours, her grip grounding you like she was afraid to let go, Wanda’s warmth surrounding you from behind, you finally leaned into them completely. 

That day had changed everything for both you and Natasha. For the first time in your life, you knew, without any doubt, that you could finally drop your walls.

Natasha, too, had her own shift. She realised, with a painful clarity, that by clinging to her past wounds, she wasn’t just hurting herself. She was hurting you. She was hurting Wanda. And even though you’d only known each other for a matter of days, there was a deep understanding between the three of you. 

You felt it in your bones, the unspoken certainty that this was just the beginning. Something beautiful, something real, was waiting to grow between you all.

At first, despite the growing trust, things weren’t always easy. Especially when it came to punishment. There were moments, early on, when the balance wasn’t yet settled, when the rules were still new, still unfamiliar. Punishments were more frequent as you navigated this delicate dynamic, learning where the boundaries lay. 

But any time you flinched in that way, any time your mind betrayed you, when the old instincts to recoil and protect yourself kicked in, they were there. They’d stop. They’d call the safeword, and the world would pause. 

In those moments, no matter how intense the scene, no matter how harsh the lesson, they always made sure you knew one thing: you were safe. “Safe” wasn’t just a word; it was a promise. 

With each moment they showed you that you were cared for, each time they respected your limits, it became easier. And then, eventually, there was a shift. You stopped flinching. You stopped questioning, stopped second-guessing. 

The trust settled into you like a warm embrace, a sensation so profound you hadn’t even known it was possible. In their presence, you were safe, utterly, completely safe, and the weight of that truth was something you’d never imagined could exist. 

Vulnerability no longer felt like a weight; it became a gift, something you could offer freely, without fear, because they had shown you that you didn’t need to protect yourself anymore. They would do that for you now. And in that space, you learned to give them everything, your trust, your heart, your willingness to surrender it all.

Because you knew, deep within your bones, that they would handle it with a tenderness, a devotion, that made you feel like you had finally come home.

—

Did I need to make this as angsty as I did? Probably not. But did I do it because I love exploring how trust builds after darkness? Definitely. What can I say, a damaged girl needing care and love is my thing. Sorry, not sorry. Hope you still enjoyed it!

Taglist: @angelicbrats @chansawrelier

[yourladyofmercy]

Back to Me || J.B.

☆ — Thunderbolts ! James "Bucky" Barnes x afab ! reader ☆ — He knew that you couldn't resist helping him, and he couldn't resist crawling back to you the moment he knew he had a chance to. Your wish for him to come back to you was granted, and yet he happened to be too late. ▹ —Content & Warnings : no use of Y/N, foul language, angst, past relationship mentioned, did i mention angst?, happy ending, MINOR THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS! ▹ — WC : 3.9 k ▹— A/N : oh my god hi this is my first post ever im peeing myself .. it took me so long to figure out how to do angst clean-up so they could have a happy ending so here you go !! I hope you like it xoxo

The sound of the buzzing from your fence. The notification from your doorbell app. you never planned to have someone here, especially this evening. Alpine’s fur rubbed against your leg as she walked by, giving you a curious look as you averted your gaze down to your phone.

The one person who hadn’t shown up when you had begged him to stay—to salvage whatever you two had left,  is standing at your door. A hand rested on his ribs and a batch of misfits that fit a description of an off-brand Avengers were in worse shape than he was.  You could see the group conversing between each other over your security feed. 

Your heart seemed to be pulsing in your ears as you looked at his eyes, locking with yours as he stared into the camera in front of him. He had the same look in his face that you had seen on the nights that were plagued by the constant nightmares. The days where he couldn’t escape the pain that he had caused. He needed help—and God knows you couldn’t rest helping him. 

———————

“If you all don’t shut up for once she won’t let us in” Bucky said, giving the slightest glare at the group behind him. His breath hitched as he said it, knowing that there was already a slim enough chance you would let him in, let alone a whole group of… well, whatever they were. 

The house towered over the fence, lights coming from almost all of the windows on the first floor. Bucky remembered this house. His face deadpanned only leaving his eyes as a tell tale sign of his remembrance of this place—the love he left here. He remembers the rooms, the way you would wait for him on the stairs when he came home, the smell of the bathroom when the bath was running. All of it. Every moment flooded back to him, the life that he left. The life that he could have had. The big house, the family, the wife. Everything was on a platter in front of him, and yet it seemed as if the film had kept rolling without him in frame.

“By any chance are you going to tell us where you have us going?” Ava blurted out, resulting in Alexei sharply giving an elbow to her shoulder.“He said it’s a she. It’s probably a she-she.” Alexei said, giving a glance between Ava and Bucky.

A silence ran through the air as they all had the same thought running through their minds. They all seemed to have a lightbulb moment, immediately turning their heads to Bucky again. “Are we visiting your girlfriend, Bucky? Because I don’t think any of us are dressed to be making first impressions” Walker said, letting out a small chuckle when he finished. “And if this is your so called girlfriend why the fuck is she not letting us in?”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Walker.” He said, pivoting towards him and giving him a pointed stare. His shoulders were stiff and he stood more upright than he did before they had reached the gate. “Any more questions? Or are you all going to keep being irritable for the rest of the night when I’m the only one who has some sort of a plan here?” Bucky huffed in response, his hands exaggerating every single word that came out of his mouth.

The team took two steps back, John putting his hands up in surrender and shaking his head. “For fuck’s sake I’m sorry I’m the only one-“ Before Bucky could finish his sentence, the iron gate started to open with a creak. From their position, the driveway led up to only one of the large double doors open to the house. Distantly, a figure could be seen—leaning in the doorway with her hair swept to one side.

“What’s up with him.." Ava muttered to Yelena, earning her a shrug in response. The five walked up slowly, Bucky leading through the group ahead.

It was obvious life kept moving after Bucky left. Why wouldn’t it? The shrubs in front of the house were bigger. The flowers had bloomed, and he assumed you had  planted more since hydrangeas were popping up now. Every flower was your favorite color and the scents were the ones you always pointed out when you two walked together around the neighborhood. He was surrounded by you again—and he hadn’t even said hello yet. 

___________________

Once the group got closer, the image became even clearer for them. 

“Hey, doll” 

You leaned on the doorway with your arms crossed, no expression crossing your face. You couldn’t let him get to you again. Never again. Sure, you had thought about this moment. This fantasy moment of him coming back to you on a white horse and making amends—but it never came. Weeks passed, months, of waiting for anything. A call would have sufficed, and yet he’s standing at your door, half broken and bleeding. 

Bucky felt himself falling apart as he inched closer to seeing you again. He could remember your face, wondering if you had changed your hair, or painted your nails another color than what he last saw you with. 

“I’m guessing you got your ass kicked and my place was the closest?” It had taken you a second to respond, allowing the words that came out of his mouth to ripple in the air before you spoke. No one had called you that in upwards of a year and a half. The words felt foreign, like a knife entering a wound that had already healed once. 

“That’s the long story short I guess–” John wanted to finish, but the death stare that he had received from Bucky was enough to result in his silence. “Doll you know it’s not like that– I swear” “What? Like you we’re going to call?” The rest of the “thunderbolts” felt like they needed a bucket of popcorn and lawn chairs to get through this argument. 

Bucky shuffled closer to you, pushing his hair back with his left hand. “You know I wouldn’t have bothered you if it wasn’t serious. You’re the only person I thought of at the moment that would have dealt with… us.” Your eyes scanned the group in front of you, at least you knew who the off brand Captain America was. The rest… completely unfamiliar. 

You moved to the side, gesturing them into the house with one arm. “Come on, before someone sees you all” your voice was little above a whisper, immediately locking the door once everyone was in. 

___________________

“So… who are you guys?” All five of them sat on your couch, piled on top of eachother. The sofa jerked downwards as they all sat, slightly curving under their weight. “We are the Thunderbolts” Alexei said, waving his arms around for what he assumed added emphasis. 

“The… Thunderbolts?” You furrowed your brow for a moment, looking at the whole group, then Bucky who was seated in an armchair alone. “Not officially, we did not agree on a name yet” Walker chimed in, placing his folded shield on the hardwood flooring. “It was the name of her childhood soccer team actually,” Ava said, smirking as Yelena covered her eyes and slid down in her seat. “Alexei’s idea originally.” 

The house was cold inside, the type to make you wrap your arms around yourself when you walk in. The mantel was covered with framed photos, memories locked in a time of joy and laughter. Multiple spots on the mantel remained empty with a layer of dust covering the white paint, as if they were waiting for someone to fill them again. Empty Home Depot boxes were spread around, open but not filled. Books were still on their shelves with vinyl records mixed in between—except the house wasn’t a home. It felt empty and alone with only a young woman and her cat roaming inside. No shoes were left at the door, or coats being hung at the doorway. The firewood in the fireplace looks as if it was never lit, and everything was as if it was in a painting. Still and perfect.  

Bucky almost didn’t recognize the house when he walked in. There was no jazz music playing in the background, cups littered around with tea and whiskey. The sound of laughter as the two of you danced barefoot across the floors. The house had turned grey, lost its color. No candles were lit and no sweet scents lingering around the house from them, or plants growing in each windowsill. Everything was shiny and unused, dust only covering up the small areas where his marks once were. The photo frames being taken down of the two of you, or the vases filled with flowers he would bring home whenever the old ones wilted. The house was perfect, but it was the complete opposite of the home he had with you. 

Alpine had already made her way next to Bucky, and he cradled her like she was his first born. He was always the only one that was able to hold her like that. She purred as he pet her, nuzzling into his shirt. You gave a slight glance as he spoke to the cat in a low enough register that no one could hear. Even the cat missed him. 

“Well, Thunderbolts.. make yourself at home” You were already making your way to the kitchen, peeking your head out of the doorway. “I’ll bring water and something a little stronger for those in need” You flashed a smile, rubbing your right arm as you walked in. 

“I like her already,” Alexei shouted out “I do not understand why you do not stay here” Alexei made himself comfortable while pointing at Bucky. The whole team watched as he babied a white fuzzy cat—why would the winter soldier have a pet cat? Everyone seemed to feel like they were in an episode of the Twilight Zone, trying to figure out why Bucky would have given up a shot at domesticity. 

“She is so out of your league man,” John said looking around the house, pressing his palms to his knees as he got up to look at the frames on the mantel. “Are any of these photos of you actually enjoying life by any chance?” He said while picking one of the frames up. 

Bucky stayed silent, immediately putting Alpine down and walking towards the kitchen. He turned back for a moment, only muttering “Don’t break anything” before he disappeared to talk to you.

Yelena and Ava shared a look, Alexei suddenly having Alpine walking between his legs as he sat and John being entertained by looking at your shelves and photos. “We are having the same idea, right?” Yelena cocked her head slightly at Ava, quickly glancing at the doorway to the kitchen. “ohhh… yes. The same idea.” She gave a nod in agreement and the pair immediately sprung up and raced to the doorway, hoping to hear some strays of the conversation. 

___________________

“Need any help?” 

You could hear his boots on the wooden floors from a mile away. You knew his stride, his breath in silence, the way that he would tap on the kitchen counters as he waited for a response from you. You were scared of what you might let out if you opened your mouth, lashing out at him had no point, did it? It had been long enough for you to let this go—let him go. “There’s leftover lasagna in the fridge, too much for me to finish.” You pointed in the direction of the fridge as you put on the stove for some tea. It’s not like Bucky needed directions of where everything was, everything had still been in place from when he left. After all, what if he did come back home? You kept your head down, your eyes fixated on the stove burners. Bucky made his way closer to you, inching to the fridge while still looking for your face as your hair covered your side profile. Your arms were crossed, leaning on the kitchen island behind you. “Doll–” his breath hitched as he got closer, reaching out for the back of your arm. “Don’t.” You said sharply, flinching and then tucking your hair back into place as it fell out. He watched as you moved to the otherside of the island, acting like you were looking for something in the cabinets below. “We really don’t have to do this Buck.” You stood back up with a bottle of whiskey and three glasses in your hand, setting them down on the counter. “We can’t do this–I can’t keep doing this with you.” Your eyes looked like you were pleading. Pleading for this cat and mouse game to be over. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” His body hovered over the counter, leaning towards you as his hands gripped onto the marble. “I never want to hurt you– you know that.” He pushed his hair back with his right hand, closing his eyes as he awaited your response. Bucky knew that ending this was for the better. The lingering looks at parties, the nights sat drinking at the hotel bar and laughing over your childhood stories. A spark doesn’t always light a fire, he kept telling himself.  He could mess around, find someone who eased the loneliness that constantly ate away at him. To fill his nights with something other than waking up in a cold sweat. He never wanted to get this attached to you. 

New nightmares were added to his nightly rotation once he left and you were the main character. How he had left you haunted him, adding to his list of lives that he had lost one way or another. He knew you could find anyone, probably someone who is more in your league to actually agree with Walker for once. 

You stayed silent, unable to look up at his eyes. “You know I saw dancing in our living room for the rest of our lives and children with your last name,” You pushed your hair back out of your eyes, twiddling with a ring that laid on your left hand. He didn’t know how he didn’t notice it before. He glazed back and forth at the ring, you could feel his eyes practically burning a hole into it. 

“I had to move on Buck.” You finally looked up at him, as he met your gaze the silence was palpable. His mouth opened, then shut again, just analyzing this new person he stood in front of. You weren’t his anymore. “You didn’t have to go get fucking married.” 

“What the hell was I supposed to do? Keep waiting for you?” You cocked your head to the side, tears starting to brim at your eyelashes. “And don’t play the ‘it was for your own god’ and ‘i wasn’t meant for this kind of life’ card.” The tea kettle started to whistle in the background, low enough for it to go unnoticed between the two of you even between the silence. The world felt as if it was just you two standing in it, no one in your living room and no threat to the world sitting right outside your door. “You know damn well I would’ve patched up every wound on your body. I would have dealt with every sleepless night that came with you because I would rather be knee deep in your blood and everything else that comes with you than go on without you” 

He stayed silent. He never knew how to respond in these situations. He was made to observe, to stay silent and simply react. He watched you stare into his eyes, desperately looking for something in him that he knew wasn’t there.

James Barnes was the man that you wanted to marry, but he wasn’t the man that was going to marry you. He knew he couldn’t be the picture perfect husband. The one that could take care of children or simply take care of the house. He tried to be domesticated, for you, for your future together. But the world seemed to fight him in every way. Bucky felt as if he would do anything just to tell you that he was sorry, yet you probably didn’t want to hear any of it. He didn’t know if you had yearned for the day you two would touch again. Until the day that the two of you would meet again. He missed the way that you laughed in surprise when he remembered something small, or the way you would stay up talking to him until the sun came up. “You’ll get over this, doll.” His jaw clenched after he said it, a piece of his heart leaving with the words when they escaped from his mouth.

You shook your head silently, looking back down at the counter. “You haven’t.” The world seemed to stop spinning. A year of waiting, dreaming of when he would come back to you. You could see your face at the altar, marrying the man who you knew would stay. The one that had no risk, he was safe. 

None of your friends had to worry that he may hurt you. That the love of your life would suddenly go rabid, killing anyone and everyone. Maybe even you. The man who didn’t have a foggy reputation, one who instead had a bright future. A stable life and a happy wife. A big white wedding with a dress that seemed to drown you and a life– 

“Do you love him?” “What?” “Are you as in love with him as you were with me?” 

“He’s a nice guy, Buck.” 

The tea kettle continued to whistle, growing louder and louder as the two of you finally snapped out of each other. Your breath hitched, as you muttered a curse word under your breath, your hands slightly shaking as your hand brushed his body as you walked past. “You don’t have to marry him.” He turned towards you, the two of you now standing directly in front of each other. “I’ll always be waiting for you,” as you attempted to walk away again, you felt his hand lightly grab your forearm. “I will never get over this, but I did this for you.”  Your head knew better than to give into this. To run out of this house while you still had the chance. “I did it so you could fall in love with someone who could have given you everything,” His hand cupped your face for a moment, you couldn’t help but lean into it, savoring it. Imprinting this moment into your memory so you would never forget this… or forget him. ___________________

The group all started saying their thank you and goodbyes as night completely covered your neighborhood, allowing for a safe exit for the whole group. It’s as if they only needed some water and food to actually be able to make a suitable plan to save New York. 

The group started to walk away from your door, all looking like they had a renewed purpose in a good two hours of rest. John, Ava, and Yelena continued to bicker their way down your driveway. The only one left inside was Bucky, saying his final goodbyes to Alpine yet again. As he finally made his way out the door, Alpine threaded through your legs as you both watched him leave. “I don’t know how to make this up to you” Bucky turned towards you, a hand resting on his hip. “No need, Bucky.” Your breathing was heavy, as you looked at him again. Trying to take in those details that you’ll ‘get over’ anyways. The way that his eyes closed as he smiled, or the way that his eyes looked in the middle of the night. Closure was what this was. The light finally fading on a chapter of your life that you continuously tried to close by yourself. Maybe this is what you needed. Bucky pivoted on his left foot, giving a mock salute one last time. Your breath started to quicken and you found yourself blinking back the tears that threatened to escape again. You watched the man you thought was the love of your life walk away for a second time tonight. You waved, one hand slightly covering your mouth as you made an attempt to silent the small sobs that were about to fall once you locked your door behind you. ___________________ Bucky’s apartment buzzer continued to go off, his hands fiddling with a light blue tie that matched with his eyes—or at least that's what John had told him when he was picking out a suit for this evening. Tonight was just another one of Val’s PR stunts. She and Mel are in the midst of trying to make the New Avengers look like the shiny new heroes that come to the rescue for everything. They weren’t anything like Steve or Tony. Sam definitely didn’t think so either. 

“Jesus christ…” He finally made his way over to the buzzer, automatically allowing them up assuming it was Yelena or John coming to pick him up. He slid on his grey suit jacket, giving a glance at his gloves before deciding to leave them on his foyer’s table. As the knock on the door finally came, he slid his boots on and walked over, “You know I told you to be here thirty minutes ago, we’re supposed to be at least slightly punctual–”  His breath stopped at the sight in front of his door. It was you waiting for him outside of his apartment. You were in a white sundress that he recognized, with your hair pinned up and flowers in your hand. “Hi.” you looked like a deer in headlights when he opened the door. Everything you had practiced went out the door. “I had practiced this for days–and I brought flowers because I thought it was something you would do..” You swallowed all the spit forming in your mouth as you watched him look you up and down.  Bucky looked down at your ring finger, seeing it completely bare from the last time he saw you nervously fidgeting with it. You caught him, watching his eyes go back to your face from your hand. “I couldn’t do it, Buck,” you said “I know that you probably don’t want me to be here and–”

Your whole speech was cut off by him matching his mouth with yours, pulling you in by your right arm. Your arms wrapped around him, your left arm reaching out and dropping the flowers on his foyer table. After all, flowers will not be wasted in this economy. You stood on your tiptoes, his hands moving to cup your face as your lips parted for a moment.

“You don’t know how much I thought about this moment” He said, slightly pushing your hair back behind your ear. “I do, actually” a slight giggle came out of your mouth, making a smile appear on his face again. “I’m sorry, for everything” he said, you watched him as he took in this moment, every detail seemed to be recognized by him. “Stop apologizing, I forgave you as soon as I saw you at my doorstep those months ago. I love you so much that I couldn’t help not forgiving you.” you grabbed his tie and reeled him back in, your arms wrapping around his neck as he leaned down to kiss you again.

Because what is love if not longing to have one come back to you?

[itelya]

divorced but.. ex-husband! nanami kento x fem! reader

synopsis: your ex-husband fvck you months after your divorce.

warnings: MDNI (NSFW), sad s€x, fIngering, creampIe, cvm, pvssydrunk, fatdIck, tears, love, mess, saliva, beg, i think its all

words: 2737.

a/n: bruh i have to repost i have so much rage omg but well..

You divorced Nanami a few months ago because he was becoming more and more distant, neglecting you without explanation. Every time you confronted him about it, it only made things worse. His apologies, although sincere, sounded more and more like empty promises.

When he confessed to you, in a last desperate effort, that he truly loved you and wanted you to stay, you understood that his words no longer touched you. You no longer believed them. That's what broke your heart even more.

Even if you had decided to leave, even if you thought his words no longer made sense, you found yourself there, on your bed being fingered by your ex-husband. You blamed yourself for being so weak but you had missed his thick and long fingers so much.

His fingers found their natural habitat. Nanami knows your body better than you do. He finds your g-spot so easily. His fingers curl inside you to tease your g-spot. It feels so good.

You couldn't help but instinctively close your trembling thighs but Nanami opens them again. "Don't think for a second about closing them, honey." Hearing him call you 'honey' made you palpitate but the memories of the past make you sad.

You moan and look at him, your eyes slightly blurred by the little tears. You look like an angel to him, you are so beautiful like the first day. Your hungry pussy swallows his fingers and doesn't let go. He wants to be inside you. Your pussy is heaven.

Your hands already hanging on his shoulders, pull him towards you and kiss him. It was clumsy, confused but passionate. His fingers sink further into you and his thumb still tickles your clitoris.

"Ken-! I.. Imgonna cum- hmh- soon!" You moan his name and incoherent things. He looks at you and smiles softly. The nickname you gave him at the beginning of your relationship. He missed it.

He leans towards your breasts still covered in his old t-shirt that he gave you, you hadn't managed to throw it away. It makes her smile then he looks at you. You understand that he wants you to take it off. You put it over your head and throw it into the room.

He gently licks one of your nipples already hardened by the excitement and the air of the room then bites it lightly. The slight pain mixes with the pleasure and makes you moan even more. You are slightly masochistic but you couldn't help it.

You feel like you are on the edge of the precipice. Your walls squeeze Nanami's fingers even more. You moan incomprehensible things and tears run down your pretty cheeks. "I- fuck imcoming! Ken’ ken!-"

A few moments later, you cum like you haven't done in months. Your lower body trembles, you scream his name and cling to him and dig your nails into his broad shoulders. Your juices squirt against his hand.

"Ken! Kento..", you look at him still overwhelmed by your orgasm, your eyes whimpering. He removes his fingers from you and puts them in his mouth. He had missed your taste so much. Your juices taste like heaven.

"You taste so good.. I missed them. I'm sorry my love, I didn't mean to hurt you." His words were sweet in your ear. He removes his fingers from his mouth and a light trickle of drool connects them. It was so sexy.

He takes a handkerchief and wipes his fingers then throws it away. He completely removes his shirt which was half open. He is still as fit as ever. His torso seems even more toned than before.

"Do you like what I see darling?" He smiles slightly. You don't answer and look away. He lets out a small laugh. He removes the rest of his clothes. When he removes his boxers, his cock straightens up, patting his abs.

It's so perfect, big and thick and sexy veins all over its length slightly curved upwards. You can't even close your hand around its thick girth. You need your second hand. You love so much his dick.

His cock looks so angry like it hasn't been touched in a long time. His head is red and leaking precum. You want it in your mouth but now you just want his cock in you.

"Do you have any condoms love?" He looks at you as your gaze was on his dick. His fingers place themselves under your chin and lift your head. You shake your head.

"No, how could I have predicted that my ex-husband was going to show up and fuck me?" You laugh a little, you are sarcastic.

Your remark makes her smile. "That's right.." Her hand rests on his cock and begins to gently move back and forth. A vein appears on his forehead, that's when he's frustrated. So hot.

"Fuck me without Kento," you say. He looks into your eyes searching for any hesitation but there was none. You're sure. You couldn't stop there. You need him in your pussy, now.

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" You nod, sure of yourself. He smiles again then his big firm hands turn you over to put you on your stomach. You reposition yourself as you wish.

Your ass is in the air towards him and your upper body is against your pillow. You feel the weight of his cock against your ass. You can't help but throb in anticipation. His firm hand rests on one of the cheeks of your ass and kneads it.

Nanami removes his hand and his two thumbs spread your soaking lips. His cock rubs against them. You're so wet that he doesn't really need any lube. He leans towards you and speaks:

"Are you really on, love? I don't want to make you uncomfortable..", his voice is low but soft against your ear. You nod shyly. You really want it. He understands and smiles. He gives you a light kiss on the shoulder and begins to enter you. You can't help but let out a small cry.

"Ken.. mh- fuck", your voice is weak and trembling. The intrusion was slightly painful but so good. You haven't done much in months, you missed it.

His big dick stretches the tight walls of your cunt rarely touched in months. Shit, the stretching was so good that small tears escape from your eyes. He starts hard and deep hip thrusts into you.

"I missed this pussy so much... you are made for me aren't you?" He pulls your hair back forcing your head to come out of the pillow. You are already a complete mess. Your mouth is swollen and red and drool is coming out. And your eyes are filled with tears.

"You are so beautiful, I'm sorry honey.. I don't deserve you. I was such an idiot.. shit." He seems sincere. He leans towards you and turns your head towards him and kisses you. He starts pushing into you slowly and picks up the pace.

The kiss is still as messy but passionate. You close your eyes and moan into the kiss as he continues these hip thrusts. On the contrary, he doesn't close his eyes. He looks at you and regrets even more what he made you go through.

You are so beautiful, you are his universe, his landmark in this world that he finds shitty and boring. He worked hard so that you could settle down together in your dream country, but along the way, he lost you.

He detaches himself from your lips. His lips stay close to you and whispers sorry to despair. You wanted to tell him it was nothing but that would be lying. He hurt you even though you know it wasn't his intention.

His hand slides between your legs and makes small circles and lightly pinches your swollen clit. Your walls tighten around him. The sound of your ass against his hips filled the room. It was such beautiful music with your moans for him.

"I- I.. nghh! kentoo I feel like Imgoing to…", you stutter without wanting to under the intensity of nanami. He is so wild at the moment but you appreciate it so much.

"I know love." His voice seemed deeper, almost hoarse. Your pussy is heaven. She swallows his cock without restraint and squeezes him. He feels that he is soon on the edge too. "Let's change position baby."

You nod and feel him pull out. The disappearance of his cock in you made you cry a little without understanding why.

Nanami lies down and makes you understand that he wants you on him. You place yourself in front of his cock soaked with your juices and you move back and forth on his length with both hands. You hear some deep moans escape from Nanami.

Your gaze rises to him and you see his face a bit of a mess. He is so cute like that. It reminds you of your first time together. A small smile forms on your face.

You finally decide to put yourself above his big dick and enter inch by inch in your tight and wet entrance. You moan at the sweet intrusion and Nanami lets out a grunt of satisfaction. Your muscles tighten around him.

After a few moments of adjustment, you start moving. Nanami places his hands on your hips and lets you follow the rhythm. Your hands rest on his big hard chest and caress it.

You move up and down slowly, feeling every pulse of his cock inside you, every shiver that runs up your spine. Your head tilts back as the cream between your bodies clings to you.

Nanami grips your hips a little tighter, groaning with every movement of your pelvis. His thumbs trace slow circles on your skin, as if trying to encourage you to go even faster, even deeper.

"You're as beautiful as an angel... I'm so sorry, my love," he breathes, his voice husky, almost broken by the mixture of pleasure and remorse.

His burning gaze pierces you, rekindling something inside you you thought was buried. It makes you tingle even more. You unconsciously pick up the pace, your clit rubbing against his blond hairs at the base of his stomach.

Nanami leans back and captures your mouth in a wild kiss, a mixture of raw desire and adoration. His tongue dances with yours, your ragged breaths mingling.

When he breaks the kiss to place light kisses on your jaw, you hear him breathe, almost desperately, "I missed you..."

You don't answer right away, unable to speak as your body craves more. You continue to roll your hips more eagerly, feeling his cock pulse, vibrating violently inside you. Your nails dig into his broad shoulders, marking his skin, as the wave of pleasure approaches dangerously.

Nanami, half-closed, looks at you as if you were his only reason for living, his hand sliding towards your stomach, down to your swollen bud, which he teassed with an almost cruel slowness.

In a whisper, barely audible so he wouldn't hear it: "Ken... I missed you too..." Your confession slips between you, fragile, like a shameful secret you wished you hadn't.

"I'm really going to... ngh- to cum... Ken—" Your body can't resist anymore. It trembles violently against him as the orgasm sweeps you away in a hot wave. Your walls tighten around him, squeezing with such force that Nanami groans, losing control too. You're squeezing him so hard.

With one last thrust of his hips, he unleashes himself deep inside you, filling you with his hot, viscous cum. A low moan escapes his lips, echoing in your ear.

You stand there, panting, your forehead pressed against his sweaty chest, your bodies still intertwined, your hearts pounding, unable to fall back down just yet.

Nanami runs a hand through your disheveled hair, caresses the nape of your neck with painful tenderness. He lifts your chin, searches your gaze, and without a word, he kisses you again, languidly.

The kiss is slow, desperate, full of nostalgia and everything unsaid between you. When he finally releases you, he looks at you for a long time, his thumb brushing your cheek.

You lie on top of him, his hot breath sliding against the nape of your neck. His cock, still inside you, hard, throbbing gently inside you, as if he refuses to leave you, to truly let you go. His hands continue to slide down your back, slow and trembling. A long silence falls, broken only by your heavy breathing.

"I- I want you again," he murmurs against your skin. His voice is hoarse, imploring. He pulls back and straightens slightly, tilting you onto your side without withdrawing from you. Your heart skips a beat as he repositions himself above you, his torso brushing against your bare chest.

His hips roll slowly, bringing his cock back, hardening against your thigh and sliding against your still-sensitive clit. A plaintive moan escapes you despite yourself.

"Can I? Please, my love..." His words are a desperate breath against your mouth before he kisses you again. This kiss is slower, more painful too. You feel all the guilt he's trying to stifle. You nod and suddenly feel him inside you.

His thrusts are slower but still just as deep. He wants to take his time this time. With each thrust is a silent declaration, an "I'm sorry," a "forgive me," that he didn't dare say out loud before. You feel his hand slide into your hair, tugging gently to expose your throat, where he leaves a trail of feverish, wet kisses.

"Why... why was I such a jerk..." You hear his voice break against your skin. You don't answer. You don't have the strength, but your body speaks for you, arching under his touch, welcoming every inch with desperate hunger.

Nanami presses his forehead against yours, his eyes fixed on yours. He slowly rolls his hips, keeping you both on the edge, just on the edge of pleasure without ever completely tipping over.

"I want you to come for me again... I want you to scream my name, like before," he moans against your lips. He pushes a little harder, a little deeper. A high-pitched cry escapes you, your body already ready to buckle under the pressure.

You beg him with your eyes. He knows that look, you want him to go harder. He's unable to resist you, so he speeds up, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more devastating, as if he wants to mark you with his love in your gut.

The obscene sound of your bodies mingles with your muffled moans. You feel your stomach tighten, your clitoris burning with the friction of your movements.

"Ken- phf.. Kento..!"

You cry out his name in a strangled moan as your orgasm explodes suddenly, almost painfully. Your body arches beneath him, your walls squeezing him so tightly that he has no choice but to follow you.

With a guttural moan, he slams into you a second time, gripping your hips so tightly you're sure to see marks tomorrow. He's come a lot, you can feel it. He pulls out, and you feel his hot cum leak from your lips and drip onto the rumpled sheets.

You lie there, bound, breathless, trembling, eyes closed. Silence falls again. A bitter silence this time, a little ashamed. Nanami strokes your cheek, his fingers trembling with pent-up emotion and hesitant.

"I still love you," he finally breathes, so quietly you almost think you imagined it. You feel a burning sensation behind your eyelids, but you refuse to cry now.

"Ken-... don't ever leave me again... or I'll kill you." You raise your arms and pull him closer. You snuggle against his shoulder without another word, listening to his warm but gentle breath. A small tear escapes you, out of sadness or love? You don't know.

"Never again. I promise." He pauses and smiles slightly against your damp hair. "Marry me again, please... Give me another chance. Let me spend the rest of my life with you, my love."

masterlist

requests: OPEN.

© 2025 itelya. All work belongs to @itelya. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms.

[enhaeil]

all this dad jay content needs to b a series or sumn cuz its so good 😫can u write a fic abt the reader having postpartum depression?

NOBODY IN THE WORLD! ☆ 박종성

"you and I... ain't nobody in the world you keep wonderin' if you're the one I'm wantin' but you don't even have to try.."

you and i (nobody in the world) - john legend

c/w: postpartum depression, body issues, + insecurities pls skip if that is a trigger <3

you look at the glow of the clock on your dresser, 9 pm. the baby's sleeping, you're freshly showered, shaved, and for the first time since your baby was born, you try.

you put on a little gloss, and a comfortable yet sexy pajama set you never got to wear. you stare at your reflection in the mirror, not failing to miss the stretch marks and scars having a baby left you with. you're still unsure of yourself, feeling disconnected from your own body.

before you can finish your thoughts, your husband makes his presence known, eyes roaming over your figure. he approaches you to wrap his arms around you like he always does, but you can't help but flinch away. not dramatically, but enough to raise concern.

"did i do something wrong?" jay says, concern written all over his face.

your chest tightens, feeling guilty for worrying him. "it's not you, i promise i just ... i don't feel ... touchable. like someone you'd want to touch anymore. i feel icky." you say covering your insecurities with a nervous giggle, but jay isn't laughing.

"baby, of course I want to touch you. I want you. desperately. why wouldn't i?"

you look at your feet, contemplating on whether you should give him an honest answer or not.

"well ... i don't look like i used to." you mumble.

jay lets out a sigh of disblief, stepping closer to you, running his fingers over your stretch marks, hands carresing the softness of your belly.

"you made me the happiest man on earth and brought our baby into this world. it doesn't take anything for me to think you're beautiful, y/n."

your fingers fidget with the edge of your shirt, processing his words. "i guess i keep thinking that if i don't look like the person you fell in love with, maybe you'll stop loving me. i know it's stupid i just— can't help myself sometimes."

jay exhales sharply, as if it hurts him just to think about what you said. he takes your face into his hands, making you look at him.

"i didn't fall in love with your waist, or your thighs. i fell in love with the way you laugh. the way your face scrunches up when you're concentrated. the way you fought through everything just to give our baby life." he begins to say as his hands roam over you.

"this body? i worship this body. because of what it endured. because it holds everything i love most in the world."

you don't say anything, but your breath slows, eyes becoming glossy.

jay's hand reaches for the hem of your shirt, not to undress you yet, but to feel you.

"I was worried you didn't want me like this," you say between light sniffles.

"are you kidding? look at you." he says, spinning you around, causing you to let out a genuine laugh, one you haven't had in weeks. "now, are you gonna let me remind you how beautiful you are?"

you give a shy nod, and jay doesn't hesitate to kiss you, gentle, but deep. full of yearning and desperation.

he guides you to the bed, his hands rubbing over the curves you've hidden from him, the places you've apologized for, but he doesn't let you apologize this time.

"there is nothing about you that i don't want."

when you finally submit, allowing yourself to be touched, loved and desired again, you know it's not just lust.

it's healing, something you're feeling for the first time in months. as he worships you that night, you start to believe, even if for a split second, you are still worthy of being wanted.

a/n: i think i got carried away oh well

[katnipp]

Can I request jealous Lara where she’s wondering where y/n is at so she’s scrolls through Instagram to find out that y/n is at a party dancing with other girls. And then in the end they make up. Thanks

just a little too jealous— lara raj

genre: FLUFF BUT A LITTLE BIT OF ANGST IN THE BEGINNING

synopsis: lara gets jealous when she sees y/n having fun at a party with other girls. after a heartfelt apology, they make up and share a sweet moment together

warnings: jealous lara☹️, miscommunication, THATS ITT

—

lara was used to being busy. constant schedules, rehearsals, fans, and the endless need to keep her cool in public. but tonight, for the first time in a while, she had nothing to do. no interviews. no photoshoots. no practice. just her, sitting in her hotel room, staring at the ceiling.

she hadn’t heard from y/n all evening, and the silence was starting to feel heavier than usual.

it wasn’t like y/n had to check in with her all the time, but lara couldn’t help the way her mind kept wandering. where is she?

after a long sigh, lara pulls out her phone, thinking she’ll kill some time by scrolling through instagram. she opens y/n’s account, half-expecting to see some funny selfies or a video from their latest hangout. instead, her thumb stops dead at a story posted just minutes ago.

y/n is in the middle of a crowded party.

the lights are dimmed, but the music is loud. y/n’s laughing, carefree, dancing with a group of girls. one of them has her hand resting on y/n’s waist, leaning in close, and y/n is looking up at her, smiling in that way she only ever did when she was feeling really good. lara’s heart sinks, and she tries to shake the feeling that starts to swell in her chest.

it’s just a party. it’s just friends. but why didn’t she text me?

lara scrolls to the next clip. y/n’s spinning around in a circle, her hair flying as she moves, completely at ease with the world. and there’s another girl beside her—someone lara didn’t recognize—looking at y/n like she was the only person in the room.

lara felt like someone had dropped a brick into her stomach. the insecurity, the sudden jealousy, the nagging thought that maybe she wasn’t the one y/n wanted. maybe she had more fun with these girls.

lara swipes away from the story, her breath shaky. she couldn’t help it. she pulls up a few more of y/n’s posts—photos of her laughing with friends, another one where she’s holding a drink with that same girl.

“why didn’t she say anything to me?” lara mutters under her breath.

she stares at her phone for what feels like forever. the questions spiral—why is she even feeling like this? why shouldn’t y/n have fun? but the jealousy creeps in anyway, and soon, it’s all lara can think about.

⸻

when y/n finally texts her, it’s after 2am.

sweetheart:

sorry, i didn’t check my phone. having fun with friends! i miss you tho

lara stares at the message, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. part of her wants to snap, tell y/n that she shouldn’t have to beg for attention. but instead, she just types:

lara:

looks like you’re having a lot of fun.

there’s a pause. then, another message from y/n.

sweetheart:

i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you feel like i was ignoring you. i was just in the moment. but i miss you more than anything, lara. come here, i’ll be back in the hotel soon

lara takes a deep breath, the tension easing a little. she puts down her phone and heads for the door, a small smile playing on her lips despite the jealousy still simmering inside.

⸻

when y/n walks through the door, she looks guilty, hair still messy from the party.

“lara,” she says softly, looking down at her feet. “i’m sorry.”

lara crosses the room and pulls her into a hug. “it’s fine,” she murmurs, holding y/n tight. “just next time, maybe text me before you get lost in the fun, okay?”

y/n laughs softly, her arms wrapping around lara’s waist. “i will, i promise.”

lara pulls away slightly, her thumb brushing over y/n’s cheek. “don’t make me jealous again.”

y/n grins, leaning up to kiss her on the forehead. “no promises, but i’ll try.”

lara can’t help but laugh as she pulls her back into the hug. “you’re impossible.”

“yeah,” y/n says, grinning. “but you love me anyway.”

lara smiles, feeling the warmth spread through her chest as she rests her head against y/n’s. “yeah, i guess i do.”

they stand there for a few more seconds, just holding each other, letting the quiet calm them. lara feels the last of her jealousy fade away as y/n squeezes her a little tighter.

“you really do miss me, huh?” lara murmurs, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

“more than anything,” y/n whispers, her voice warm and genuine. “you’re the person i miss, lara. always.”

lara’s heart flutters. she pulls back just enough to look at y/n, soft but serious. “i think i might be a little obsessed with you.”

y/n chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to lara’s lips. “i’m okay with that. i’m a little obsessed with you too.”

lara smiles against her lips, letting the kiss deepen, feeling her chest tighten with affection. they stay like that for a while, just being close, the world outside fading away.

“next time, i’m coming with you to the party,” lara mutters, half-joking, half-serious. “can’t let you have all the fun without me.”

y/n laughs softly, pulling her even closer. “deal. but only if you promise to dance with me.”

lara grins, the last of her jealousy completely gone. “oh, i’ll dance with you. just… maybe not with that much enthusiasm.”

y/n snorts, shaking her head. “you’re impossible.”

lara winks. “you love it.”

and for the first time that night, lara feels her heart settle completely.

—

[lilybug-02]

❤️🌸🌼 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞…. 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 🌼 🌸 ❤️

To get questions out of the way, yes, The Chara Timeline Comic will not be continuing… (mostly)

I started this comic back in November of 2021 on the simple idea of "What if Players possessing humans was normal?". I didn't think it would go beyond a simple page, but it did. It was an idea that blossomed into a 3+ year comic, spanning hundreds of pages, side art, fanart!!!, new blogs, and led me to meeting some of the sweetest and brightest Tumblr people I have ever met. ✨❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜✨ (I’m gonna shout u out eventually 😈)

But, I was doing this COMIC on my OWN and in my free time while juggling college, serious mental health issues, and many crazy life events.

So after so many years, I think it's finally time to put this comic to rest. I grew out of my Undertale and Deltarune love months ago and I am ready to look forward to other projects and interests. (Now... I am open to drawing more for it...but I am okay with telling the world the full story in case I don't ,:))

Because this comic means the ABSOLUTE WORLD to me... I want to give it a last hoorah! I am making multiple parts to this because I want to do my comic justice. ❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

I will be going over my favorite art, scenes, characters, deleted scenes and more. And at the end of it all I will go over what the finale would look like and give you guys some art of that :)

First off...MY FAVORITE SCENES!!! (and my thoughts on them)💕

The Beginning:

Still have this saved in my files, thank god. Man... my art has improved so so much!!!! Gone are the playdough hands and strange proportions! Though my faces and consistency always need work.... haha. I'm surprised how colorful and pretty this first page is :) It makes me happy to see it in a new light.

My Favorite Darkworld Page:

I put hours upon hours of work into each page (especially for the colorful Darkworlds), but none still makes me hold my breath as much as the first introduction of The Mayor! I loved drawing the perspective and colored background motifs in this page. And the way the emotions are on full display ~ Chefs Kiss. (I also loved the "Let's shoot out the lights" metaphor being a double entendre. Representing the Mayor's wants to kill/get rid of light-ners and also the term being an old saying for "completely dominating one's opponent" as he want's Kris to join him in his dastardly deeds.)

Backgrounds:

I put my heart and soul into the backgrounds of this comic. I hid details like eyes in walls, moss covered plateaus, spoon shaped rocks, tea kettle inspired trains, hidden characters, and wayyyyy more. Some of my favorite backgrounds have to be of the more subtle ones. But I’m very proud of the detailed ones like the computer.

Silly Kris to Chara Talk:

This one scene (part 8 and 9, which was 12 pages) took me 5 months to make. It was hell. But I did it. The script took me FOREVER to figure out. I have like 4 different drafts of this scene (which I'll show later). I was exhausted and a bit deflated at the time, so I wasn't as proud with it. I'm happy now, but I feel like it could have been easier to make. I'll never know.

All of the Weird Route:

THIS. I LOVED EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS.🩸💔 I would love to say this is the magnum opus of the comic, but I am being very biased. Horror is my specialty and I was ecstatic when I made the decision to write and draw the weird route for this comic. The idea of having a THING control your body to kill while you’re conscious of your actions is a great horror concept and I loved delving deep into it. Obviously, I feel like some of the writing could have been more worked on (like the part where Chara is explaining HOW soul entities control the body) bc it's confusing, but I'm still so happy with it :) And even if I didn't finish the main one, I finished the weird route. So I made a conclusion somewhere!! (even if it's hella morbid lol)

Darkworld Train Fight:

I had been hoping to make this scene since week ONE of the comic. An epic train fight in a Wild West themed Darkworld? It was perfect! And I also really wanted to have a reference to the Alaskan Bull Worm 🪱🧽 from Spongebob for some reason. Because Sandy Cheeks (the squirrel) is Texan and somehow that all connects back to Rodger the Worm haha. I thought it would be fun, but it took me forever to figure out how the worm and train would combine in a fight scene. In retrospect, I think i spent a little too much time in the darkworld, as it took time and energy away from a more tight-knit story, but hind sight is 2020. 💖🚂🚋🚋🚋🪱

Shaker Sisters:

Just look at them. They are actual baby.

Chara's Crashout and Eventual Talk with Asriel:

This idea of Chara yelling at the Mayor was originally just one page of Chara making an offhand comment about how he was annoying. But it turned into a much more impactful, story changing moment. I wanted to highlight Chara's intensity and why they might have been labeled as "not a good friend" in Undertale. They have anger issues. They are unapologetically blunt. They are anxious and critical of their self worth. They echo their past abusers onto themselves and others and they believe they are justified in their actions. But Chara is human and I wanted to respect them as such.

...I also love Chara being silly <3 (That ice cream took 3+ hours to draw) 😭🍦🍪

Asriel Being Cute:

I just think this one drawing looks cute :)

Chara Finding Kris:

I love drawing comedy and this was no exception. I wanted it to be equal parts horror and funny. Chara's "F*Ck" being cut off is so funny to me 😭 And the horror of a literal Human organ just floating up to you?? Peak dark humor. I also think I nailed the panel layout here 😊

Kris' Confession:

These are my FAVORITE pages out of the ENTIRE COMIC. I feel like the writing, art, and scene layout is as flawless as it can be. I'm still shocked at how well it turned out. They were also a blast to work on ❤️

Silly Azzy 🥺 Face:

I knew people would love his droopy face, but literally so many people liked it, it became a meme. Thank you. I also think it's the funniest thing ever.

A Moment Between Friends:

I love Asriel and Chara's relationship in this comic. They care for one another so much even when they don't see eye to eye.

Breakfast:

This one panel took me 4+ hours. The perspective is wonky and there are 5 different characters. But man do I love how it turned out. Susie is chowing down on those detailed pancakes (yes, those are human and monster pancake faces :) 🥞🥞🥞).

Chara Kicking Stones:

idk why but this one panel scratches an itch in my brain. It’s detailed and colorful :3

The 7 Humans:

I guess we’re getting to some of the last pages I’ve done…. I’m really happy with this one. It’s spooky but gives a sense of intrigue. I also love the layout. Also Also- Frisk’s shirt is a reference to that one submarine guy from the Titanic movie. Idk why, but the happy face with a bullet in its head just fits the vibe.

[memoirofasparklemuff1n]

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER

AN OBX SMAU

synopsis: the summer after graduating highschool was the dream. after years of tedious hours at school and of nonsensical drama, you are finally an adult, but most importantly? free. or so you thought. after a tragic incident the night of midsummers, the four of you decided to never, ever speak of it again. everything was going to be okay because only those present that night knew the truth, right?

pairing: exbf!jj x kook!reader; rafe x kook!reader

cw: guys, it’s a slasher story so gore comes without saying. if you’re not comfortable with that then don’t read, i totally understand.

a/n: this is shit, i’m sorry. i know it’s a bit long but it’s only because i don’t think i could have made it as clear as possible as to what happened the summer before the story unfolds. i don’t think there will be as much writing as in this one because in a situation like this you wouldn’t use your phone, honestly. *english isn’t my first language so sorry for any mistakes. not proofread.

prologue:

midsummers soirée, june 21, 2024.

you saw a flash of car lights coming up to where you and jj were standing hand in hand. the gravel crunched under the tires of topper's porsche, sarah rolling the window down with a smile.

"c'mon! we have to get out before my dad sees me leaving," urgency flooded her tone, her frantic waves adding to her worry.

you rolled your eyes but pulled jj alongside you, quickly climbing into the car and settling in the dark interior that smelled of leather, mint, and expensive cologne.

"about time," topper quickly pressed on the accelerator, causing your boyfriend to crash into you as the car jerked forward.

"hey!" you complained but jj didn't move, intead tugged you to his side in a firm embrace with a chuckle. you sighed and rested your head on his shoulder. he moved his thumb on your arm with a soothing rhythm before pressing his lips against the top of your head. you tilted your head up, meeting his gaze with a small smile.

"hi." he muttered. his eyes glowed under the faint light of the car radio. jj lifted his right hand and traced your cheek with a feather light touch. your heart thumped faster, the butterflies in your stomach colliding against one another.

"hi." your eyes fell to his lips that looked incredibly kissable at the moment but when he leaned in topper turned on the radio, the weeknd blaring through the speakers, causing you to jump and break apart.

"topper!" you chastised, "are you deaf?"

topper met your gaze through the rearview mirror, and put his hand around his ear with a "huh?" you glared and flipped him off causing sarah to chuckle at the interaction. she leaned forward a bit and lowered the volume.

you threw her an appreciative look, "thanks sar." she blew you a kiss before turning off the ac and lowering the windows of the car to lean backwards out the window.

"sarah!" topper yelled. "be careful!" he reached for her but she pushed his hand away and yelled over the music and wind "i'm fine! just keep driving."

sarah called over to you, "can you take a picture of me? i want to post it on instagram."

you nodded, untangling yourself from jj causing him to grunt annoyed. you ignored him and lowered your window to lean out as well.

you quickly took sarah's picture, which turned out like it was pulled straight out of a magazine. but then again she was a model so, no surprise there. you couldn't help but feel a small pang of envy. you knew you were pretty but that didn't stop you from feeling a little insecure around sarah cameron. after all, she was the kook princess, daughter of the kook king, ward cameron.

you quickly pushed the thought away because sarah was your best friend, hell, she was your sister in the ways that mattered. guilt flooded your stomach but the butterflies burned away the feeling as soon as jj pulled you onto his lap and began pressing kisses all over your face, your giggles drowned by the music.

"jj! stop, it tickles," your efforts to push him off were weak, and he knew that.

"omg jj, leave her alone. i can't with her annoying voice," topper stated. jj opened his mouth to tell him off but he didn't need to.

you smacked the back of topper's head, "ow!"

"shut the fuck up, topper." you rolled your eyes with a huff as you accomodated back into your seat. "envy doesn't suit you."

he flipped you off and your voices raised over the music, chaos erupting in the car. all your bitter sentiments towards each other brimming to the surface. the road ahead was dark, the waves crashing down below the cliff at your right blocked looming as a dark omen.

insults started spewing between you and topper, sarah and jj trying to control the situation without success.

topper turned towards you in his seat, taking his eyes off the road.

"my god, you never shut the fuck up. i cannot stand you, all you ever do is complain! you're such a spoiled brat!"

"oh, i complain? last time i heard, you are the one that can't stop whining because your girlfriend won't have sex with you." shit. you realized the mistake you had just made but it was too late. the damage was done.

the boy's face contorted with shame that quickly turned into rage, "listen here you little—"

"WATCH OUT" sarah shrieked causing topper to face the road and swerve to the right before slamming the brakes, causing you to fly across the seat and slam your head against the windshield.

sarah screamed your name and jj quickly grabbed you by the waist, pulling you to the back with him. your vision was blurry with tears from the pain beating your head.

"hey, hey, look at me," jj's voice was shaking with fear and something else you couldn't quite point out. he inspected your forehead, causing you to wince as his fingertips brushed the hair out of your forehead.

you touched your forehead where it hurt most, your fingers meeting a warm, wet substance. your fingers were coated with it. red. blood.

you were dizzy but the pain subsided as the adrenaline pumped through your veins. you turned to your friends, only to be met with two expressions of horror. they weren't looking at you, though. their stares were directed to the body sprawled on the pavement. their legs were contorted in an unnatural position.

"no. no no no no." you shook your head frantically.

this can't be. i'm imagining it.

you reached for the door handle and opened the door, tripping on your dress as you got out, causing you to fall onto the road on your hands and knees.

"y/n!" jj quickly got out after you and helped you up, before turning to the gruesome sight in front of you.

topper was still sitting with a hollow expression, while sarah was crying silently. you stumbled towards the body in fear, because they couldn't possibly be dead. this only happened in movies and horror stories. not in real life. they were just badly injured. yes. exactly. everything was ok.

you heard your name being called behind you but you ignored them as you kneeled beside the body. the man. it was a human being laying on the pavement.

get your shit together.

you saw shoes to your side and you looked up to see jj breathing heavily and topper came up beside him a beat later.

sarah was getting out of the car, her dress tangling with her legs causing her to stumble over to you.

"i-is he?" she didn't finish the sentence but we all understood.

he wasn't breathing, that much you realized. yet you couldn't bring yourself to find a pulse, because as long as you didn't, you could convince yourself he was still alive.

"check for a pulse." topper looked at you with a frown.

"why me? you're the one that hit him." his nostrils flared at your comment and he came up to your side, grabbing your hair to push your face against the corpse man.

"hey!" jj grabbed topper and peeled him off of you, causing him to fall to the ground with a groan. "touch her again and i will kill you."

jj stood above him with a murderous expression before kicking topper on the leg and turning back to you. his expression softened, "i'll check, alright?" you nodded as you stood up and hugged sarah, who had since stopped crying but still looked extremely and utterly terrified.

your boyfriend looked queasy but he pushed through, pressing his fingers to the man's neck. he froze.

he muttered something that you couldn't quite make out but he then repeated it louder.

"he's dead." his gaze turned empty and he quickly got up, stepping as far away from the body as possible.

sarah began crying all over again and you felt yourself begin to hyperventilate at the thought of you being the cause another human being had died.

"we have to call the police, maybe they can still do something."

"are you insane? they'll never believe us!"

you turned to topper with a glare, "believe what? that your ego got so wounded you took your eyes off the road and killed someone?!"

he pointed at you, "shut the fuck up! this is all your fault too. if you hadn't hit me, we wouldn't be here in the first place!"

"if you weren't such an asshole, you wouldn't have said the things you said!"

"ENOUGH!" you all turned to sarah, never having heard her so mad.

"we have to call the police," she said with a surprisingly calm expression. a stark contrast to her state a few moments ago.

"no, we can't." this time it didn't come from your best friend's asshole of a boyfriend. instead, those words came out of yours.

"what?" disbelief colored your tone. "jj. you can't be serious. if we don't call the police we will get in a lot of trouble."

"if we do, we will get in a lot of trouble." jj stepped towards you with his hands up, as if approaching a wild animal.

"you guys could probably make it out fine, but i can't. i'm a pogue. i don't have the money nor the connections you guys have. even if by some miracle we made it out unscathed, everyone on the island would know." your mouth hung open in shock, no words coming out.

"he's right. my dad is gonna be pissed enough as it is. my car is ruined, you know how much a panamera costs? i haven’t even had it for a year!” topper starts pacing and running his hands through his hair, a crazed look taking over. “this is gonna cost me a fortune to fix. and i could get kicked out of duke. i have too much to lose.”

ice ran through your veins, you stared in silence at your friends. you slowly began to step back before you hightailed it towards the car. you only made it a few steps because of your stupid heels, causing topper and jj to reach you in no time. the latter grabbed you from behind and covered your mouth with his hand before carrying you back to where sarah was still standing.

jj put you down but held you firmly as he turned you to face him. you didn’t recognize him, the boy you loved was gone. something else took over his form, something you had seen only once before in another life. maybe you could bring him back.

“jj, please. you weren’t driving, i can get you out. it was an accident!” your words fell on deaf ears, but you still hoped that it was just the initial fear.

“baby, they’ll never believe that. they would pin it on me no matter who takes the fall. i-i can’t have this on my record. you know that. please, baby. i could end up in jail for at least five years. my life would be ruined.” he searched your eyes for signs of you giving up and he found it; you were cracking.

he was right, you could get out fine but not him. if anything it was your fault he was in this situation. this wasn’t his world, it was yours.

you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“ok.” his eyes widened in shock, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

“finally you say something smart.” topper’s obnoxious voice seeped through the night air and into your ears.

you turn your head slowly, “i’m not doing this for you.”

he rolled his eyes, “regardless.” he places his hands on his hips and stares at the body. “we have to leave. now.”

sarah snaps out of her trance, “are you for real? our dna is all over him, plus your car is covered in his blood.”

you can’t believe what you’re about to say, “we have to hide the body.”

jj squeezes his eyes shut, “yeah, we do.”

topper nods to himself before stepping by the head of the corpse. “jj, help me.”

your boyfriend hesitates before nodding as well. he steps towards the feet of the man. they look at each for a moment before crouching down and lifting the body.

“sarah, open the trunk.” you’re still frozen, wondering if this was the right thing to do.

you open your mouth but nothing comes out as sarah hurried to the back of the car.

a large blood stain marked the space where the body had laid. a loud thunder sounded, causing you to jump. rain.

all traces of what happened here would be gone by morning and it will be as if nothing happened.

you heard sarah calling your name and you stared at the crime scene for one last time before running into the car.

as soon as you climbed in you sat as far away from jj as possible. he tried to take your hand but you jerked away, the hurt look on his face almost made you cave.

the car ride was silent but full of tension. sarah was staring straight ahead, jj was looking out the window while topper drove with a clenched jaw a firm grip on the wheel.

suddenly, red and blue lights filled the car your heart beginning to beat frantically.

topper swore and sarah began rambling over how you would get caught. jj and you simply stared at one another in fear but it was all in vain because the lights soon disappeared and only the ghost of your crime loomed over.

after an eternity, you reached the docks. topper gripped the wheel so hard, his knuckles were white. sarah looked ahead before nodding to herself as if trying to convince herself that this was the right thing to do before opening the door and shutting it behind her.

topper made a gesture with his head, “c’mon, j.” he nodded and got out as well leaving you alone in the car.

you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down before opening the door to get to the others.

topper and jj had gotten the body out of the car, sarah close behind. you closed the trunk and ran after them. you looked around to make sure nobody was around but because of the hour you doubted anyone was.

topper’s speed boat was a bit far, the boys clearly struggling with the dead weight.

you saw a light flash in the dark out of the corner of your eye. you turned and saw a security guard about fifteen feet away.

“guys!” you hissed. the looked at you and then at where you were pointing.

“oh my god!” sarah exclaimed.

“what do we do?” topper asked in panic. if the situation weren’t so serious you would’ve laughed.

you looked around but there was nowhere to hide. you were screwed.

think think think.

bingo. “ok. sarah and i will distract him and you guys pretend he’s a drunk friend or something.”

“that’s your brilliant plan?” why was he such a pain in the ass?

you narrowed your eyes at topper, “you got anything better, einstein?”

”guys, stop. let’s just do that,” jj sighed, tired of our arguing. topper rolled his eyes but complied.

“c’mon sarah,” you grabbed her hand and began walking towards the guard. he hadn’t seen you yet but once he did he ogled at the two of you. disgust colored your face but you quickly masked it once he was close enough to talk.

sarah put on a bright smile and you thanked your few lucky stars that your best friend was the prettiest girl on the outer banks. and that despite a bit of her makeup being a bit messy from all the crying she still looked good.

“hi, officer! we were wondering if you have seen a short red headed girl around. she’s one of our friends and she asked us to meet her here.”

the security guard scanned her face before responding. “uh no i haven’t seen her but i could help you find her if you want.” you recognized him from the cut, his name was doug or dan or something like that.

you turned to see if the boys had made it to the boat, but they were still a few feet away. thankfully the boat was further away from you than you had anticipated. you could barely make out their figures in the dark.

“really? thank you so much, i’m so sorry to bother with this.” sarah touched his arm and he blushed a little at the gesture. men.

“it’s not a bother really, i’m happy to help.” your phone buzzed with a call. jj. you answered, “yeah?”

“you can come back now,” he said.

“oh great! we’ll see you there then, jess. bye,” you hung up and tried your best to put on a happy smile.

“she said she was on the other side,” you laughed. “but thank you so much for your help!”

you pulled sarah away without waiting for a response from the guard, leaving him with a confused expression. you quickly ran to the boat or much as your heels allowed, before helping sarah in, climbing after her.

jj steadied you when you wobbled under the rumbling boat, before pulling you down to sit with him. you wanted to pull away but didn't because as much as you were angry, you weren’t strong enough to face this on your own.

the night was quiet, the stars lighting a path for topper as he went as deep into the ocean as he could. once he found a spot that he thought was good enough, he turned off the engine. the only sound were the waves lapping against the sides of the boat.

you all looked at each other to confirm that we were really doing this.

“the fish will eat away at his body by the time they find him, if they find him. there won’t be any evidence,” jj’s quiet voice filled the silence.

topper sniffed, “good. ok, let’s do this.” he got up and grabbed the man by the shoulders while jj settled by his feet.

“wait,” your voice shattered the silence. they all looked at you in exasperation.

“shouldn’t we check to see if he has an id? that way we could know who he was.”

topper jerked his head in your direction, “what? are you crazy? no!”

“i agree with topper, it’s better if we don’t.” sarah looked at you apologetically but with no sign of taking her words back.

you looked at your boyfriend but he wasn’t looking at you. that was all the answer you needed.

you sighed and crossed your arms, “fine.”

“ok, on the count of three, top.”

he nodded at jj, before they both lifted him and threw the body overboard. a loud splash sounded in the night, bubbles bursting through the surface as the corpse sank to the bottom of the ocean.

silence came once again, all of you coming to terms with what you had done. topper turned the boat on and sailed back to the docks.

“we will never, under any circumstances speak about this again.” topper looked at the three of you.

“is that clear?” none of you responded.

“we need to swear that we will take it with us to the grave.” he grabbed sarah by her chin, “swear it.”

she nodded, “i swear i’ll take to my grave.” a beat passed before he let her go, turning towards jj.

he took a deep breath, “i swear it.”

topper nodded before turning to you. “do you swear you’ll never speak about this again?”

you nodded, not trusting your words. that clearly displeased him, “don’t nod. say it.”

you sat in silence before speaking, “ok.”

he sighed in frustration before going up to you and wrapping a hand around your throat, “not ‘ok.’ not a yes. i need you to say that you swear that you will take it to your grave.”

his breath smelled a bit like alcohol, realization dawning on you as to why he had such a short fuse tonight. you were fucked.

you looked at him in defiance but complied, “i swear that i will take it with me to the grave.”

his jaw clenched before he nodded, letting you go with a shove which caused you to jerk backwards. jj reached for you but you moved away from his touch.

if there was something that became clear that night, it was that life would never be the same.

what was supposed to be a grand summer became a bleak utter nightmare. one that would only stop once you were dead.

—

i feel like this was bad lol but hopefully i make it better 🙂‍↕️

[not4simp]

OOPSIES!

You got caught red handed smoking!

featuring - Sylus x reader, Caleb x reader

a/n - i can't do endings and english is not my first language so forgive me for any grammatical or structural mistake. Maybe I'll continue and make a version for Rafael, Zayne, and Xavier idk thoo.

Sylus

Sylus is an observant man. Every small detail, every precise moment, every specific word, does not go unnoticed. So it was quite a surprise that you have gone so long without him noticing your minor addiction. There were quite a few times where you almost thought you were done for. But hey, luck was truly on your side.

3 months ago You had invited Sylus over to your place to just relax. He had brought some food over and placed it over the kitchen counter where he came across 13 lighters splayed out. At first he thought you had taken an interest in collecting them, but upon taking a closer look it was from the same cheap brand you could find in a nearby mini market but in form of different colors. ‘sweetie what’s with all these lighters?’ he asked amused.

You paused for a moment, every time you used a lighter it somehow always ends up lost, frustrated you bought a whole bulk the other day. ‘oh I just love lighting up scented candles’ you waved it off. Sylus didn’t press further on and left it at that. That day Sylus went home but found not one single candle present in your house.

2 weeks ago Under the hot scorching sun you draped a shawl over your head trying to shield your boiling scalp from the immense heat. For the past days Sylus and you had just finished running some business errands and now had some free time to hop from one stall to another checking out what the locals had to offer. Within a few stalls Sylus had gone to purchase some refreshments leaving you some cash to look around and buy anything you wanted. You were looking through some fine jewelry when something else caught your eye.

A beautiful gold-plated ashtray adorning with intricate carvings. It was cool to the touch contrasting with the current weather and truly one of a kind. ‘An ashtray?’ Sylus appeared holding strawberry lemon soda in hand. ‘exquisite don’t you think?’ i said eyes still on the item. Sylus nodded an agreement, ‘let’s take a look at what other stores have to offer , oh and i already payed for it’ nudging his head towards the ashtray in my hand.

Present It was late at night yet the street lights illuminates the dark. Sylus and you had just drove through Linkon taking in the gorgeous city. It was cold and quiet everyone was fast asleep but you were parked in a 24 hour fast food restaurant enjoying an ice cream cone.

‘sweetie where’s the charger?’ he asked rummaging through the glove compartment. ‘oh yeah it’s in the armrest console’ you quickly replied. As Sylus reaches out to open it you had just recalled that it was where you had kept your Marlboro stash. Panic flowed through your chest ‘wait!’ you exclaimed, but it was too late and all you could do was sink into your seat.

Sylus examined the pack, opening it to find 4 sticks left 'Kitten this can’t be good for you, you just bought this 3 days ago' his voice carried out softly. I whipped my head to look at him 'how did you know when i bought this?' my brows furrowed questioning him. 'oh sweetie you can’t think I’m that oblivious' his lips curl into a smirk. 'if you knew all this time then why didn’t you tell me?' 'i thought I’d wait until you would tell me yourself besides, Mephisto is having a blast scouting for lighters to add to his collection' you gasped as a hand flew to your mouth feeling disbelief 'that was you?!' a finger pointed at him.

Caleb

Your head hung low looking aimlessly as cars passes by. A hand lays on the steel railing supporting your whole body while the other holds a cigarette between your index and middle finger.

You couldn’t comprehend why you continued this habit. Caleb is back, he’s alive, and you both have made up. So why couldn’t you put this habit behind you? Perhaps you were paranoid that he could be taken away from you any moment just like last time. Perhaps you’re worried that Caleb has changed and you couldn’t accept it, or perhaps-

You shut your eyes and took a long drag as the warmth overcomes you. The heavy bitter taste dances on your tongue as the nicotine settles in calming your nerves. You really needed to find another alternative way to soothe these thoughts. You were to caught up with your own mind when your ears perked up. It was as if someone has called your name.

Light footsteps clicked through your apartment’s living, You flipped your head towards the glass door behind you and to your suprise your favorite Fleet-space Colonel was currently peeking through your bedroom to look for you. Shit. At times like this you surely regretted giving him a spare key to your home. Quickly you dropped your cigarette onto the ground stumping on it before kicking it off your balcony.

The glass door slid and in walks Caleb with a big smile 'Hey Pipsqueak I’ve been calling out for you what’s got you so preoccupied out here?'. You shrugged and gave a nervous smile slowly inching back, afraid that the persistent tobacco scent would be noticed. 'Not happy to see me?' he chuckled grabbing your waist and pulling you into his embrace.

You noticed that he pulled away longer than normally but his hands were still placed firmly on your waist. 'name' his voice was sharp. It was the tone he carried when commanding the space-fleet. Oh surely you were fucked. 'hmm?' you cocked you head. 'Have you been-' he paused taking a scan of the small terrace. 'Have you been smoking?' brows furrow. Feeling caught red handed you didn’t bother answering him but rather threw your gaze towards the bustling streets.

A hand reaches your cheek guiding you to look at him But you’ve never, Why would you… Your gaze meets his and as the two of you locked eyes a silent understanding falls. His face softens up ‘You know you don’t need to carry all your burdens and worries alone anymore right?’ 'i knoww' you whined. 'how about you throw this away,' he said whilst reaching for my back pocket and waved the cigarette pack in front of me, 'and we’ll get dinner, my treat' he winked playfully. 'but it was expensive' i groaned frowning a bit. 'all the more reason to stop pipsqueak how about we also stop for dessert’ he squished your cheeks. ‘and snacks’ your voice muffled from the force against your cheeks. Caleb chuckled 'alright we have a deal' placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

[winterfleursblog]

If you’re up for it and have the time, could u write a minghao x yn where they’re keeping their relationship a secret which causes some angst between them but in the end they tell people and live happily ever after❤️❤️ non idol preferably

Hope it works out! Thank u

My muse | x.m.h

PAIRING. Xu Minghao x nonidol!reader GENRE. Angst (with a happy ending), hurt/comfort, established relationship WARNINGS. None really just Idol realities .ᐟ WORD COUNT. 8k (not proofread)

You've been nothing but at peace dating Minghao for the past year. Since the day you two met in the art exhibit of your favorite painter, the red string of fate always brought you together in coincidental meetings—the library, the cafe, or even just down the street. What began as stolen glances soon turned into eyes that looked at you with so much love—the kind of love that engulfs you in an embrace when your fire within starts to flicker. He always supported you in the things you do, found ways to help you grow together, and consistently reminded you of how important you were to him.

Except that he could only love you in secret.

It couldn't be avoided—he was a known idol, after all. It's a harsh industry where a dating scandal can put not just him, but even you under fire. Even so, he took the risk and entered a relationship with you.

Dating an idol was never easy. Aside from loving you, he also had to love his fans, just like that one time he came home from a fanmeet where him holding hands with a fan quickly went viral not even hours from the event.

"Y/n-ah, sorry about earlier. I promise it's all fanservice..."

Your boyfriend says as he sinks into your cuddles by the couch.

"No, don't worry, it's okay, it's okay, as long as you know who you're supposed to come home to~ hehe~"

Most of the time, situations like these ended in playful banter as you always wanted to lighten the mood. However, deep inside, it actually pulled some strings in your heart. Had circumstances been different, it wouldn't be a problem for you to hug him in the street, post couple pictures on insta, or at the very least, love him without hiding from the public eye.

Before you even realized it, a year has passed since you two started dating. For your anniversary, you decided to buy him a ring which was crafted with pure silver and adorned by his birthstone. The night you gave it to him, he couldn't believe his eyes—he swore to himself that he'd say yes if that was a proposal, but luckily, it wasn't, cause he wanted to be the one to propose instead of you.

From that day on, he never took the ring off. To him, it bore the same weight as an engagement ring, and in his mind, you two are engaged. In the same way, you also never took off the matching pair he bought you, which was considerably more expensive than his.

Months later, Minghao had a scheduled interview with a famous designer company for his remarkable style in his previous fashion shows. The interview went well for the first few minutes, with questions purely about his aesthetic preferences and the like. However, when a luster of light from his ring's sparkle caught the interviewer's eye, all attention was drawn into the ring.

"Minghao-ssi, that ring looks really nice, where did you get it from?"

Confronted with a sudden question, he internally panicked and thought of excuses to cover up the fact that the ring was given by his lover.

"Oh this?"

"... I just bought it overseas, I really liked the design."

With a sheepish smile, he cautiously thought of his next words.

"Wow, you've got really good taste. Romantics from all around the world usually come to that brand to buy engagement rings."

Denying his lover in front of the cameras made his heart ache and filled him with guilt, but he knew that it was for the best.

"Speaking of engagement, do you have plans of finding love in the near future?"

For the second time, he lied.

"I haven't found the right one for me, and I'll be waiting for love to come."

He shared a few giggles with the interviewer as they shifted the topic, with the latter even joking about introducing him meet his daughter. That light-hearted exchange later circulated around the media for Minghao's elegance and playfulness, leaving everyone smitten by your boyfriend — except for you who only turned off the laptop with a heavy heart.

Minghao had said beforehand that he'd come home late, and so you went straight home, just to compose yourself before going straight to sleep. Today has been a bad day—your worthless manager asked for major revisions on your proposal that he didn't even bother to read, your family abroad asking for help after your brother got into an accident, and that newly released interview you just watched. The last thing you wanna do is to confront Minghao over his words, and so you decided to head straight to sleep to avoid him.

Upon reaching home, you lay flat on the couch while dropping the bags to the side. For a few moments, you just stare at the ceiling—contemplating whether you're being reasonable or just upset at Minghao for the wrong reasons. Suddenly, you heard the keys to the main door getting unlocked. It was just 7pm, how could he be here? Knowing that you can't pretend to be asleep within a few seconds, you grab you bag and fix yourself before he opens the door, pretending to just be leaving.

"Honey, hello, I missed you"

Minghao said while smiling, walking up to you to give you a hug. Still conflicted, you just nod and stay still, refusing to return his hug. He planted a soft kiss on your cheek to make sure it wasn't just fatigue causing your cold demeanor, but as soon as he saw your blank face, he knew something was wrong.

"Y/n-ah, is there something wrong?"

"Nothing. I'll be going now"

You keep your back turned against him as you walk toward the door. As you reach the doorknob, he grabs your other hand.

"I've got night shift today."

That was a lie. There was no night shift that day. He beckons you to turn to face him, holding your shoulders and adjusting his position to get infront of you.

"Come on, talk to me. How are we fixing this if you keep shutting me out?"

Finally getting enough of this argument, your emotions spill out, with tears from both eyes threatening to fall.

"Is that ... all I'm worth?"

Seeing a tear fall from your left eye, his expression changes into that of panic and concern.

"Love—"

"So little that you'd ... deny my love...in front of everyone"

You weren't sure when you'd become such a crybaby, but at that moment, you just couldn't stop crying. Minghao, on the other hand, seemed to have picked up on what you were talking about — the interview from earlier where he claimed to have bought the ring by himself.

"We've talked about this, haven't we? I can't be caught in a datin—"

"Could I have atleast been a friend then?"

"I would have been happy being referred to...as a friend...than not even existing at all."

"But that could raise everyone's eyes as to where you stand in my life."

"Is it...a sin to be part of your life?"

With that last line, he was caught off guard, and all he could utter was a weak "I'm sorry" before you left the door.

Still crying, you head to the nearby park to clear your mind. The voices inside your head were having a chaotic meltdown, taking in what has just happened between you and your boyfriend, still thinking about your manager's harsh words from earlier, and worrying over your brother's state—too loud that you couldn't hear the thunders warning of an impending rain. Unbeknownst to you, a man has been following you since you left earlier.

Suddenly, with one final thunder, heavy rain started falling. You run to the nearest bench under a canopy, not minding how wet you are now. Home was too far to run to in the heavy rain.

From the distance, a familiar shadow emerged, but you were too lost in your thoughts to even notice it.

"Honey, please, I'm sorry."

Startled by the familiar voice, you look up to the man, who turns out to be Minghao.

"Why are you here?"

"You just did a night shift last week. It's impossible you're on one again this week"

He may be a very busy man, but he still has your schedule memorized. You just stare at him kneeling below you with your eyes slightly swollen from crying.

"Let's come inside before you catch a cold, hm?"

Minghao sat beside you for a while, waiting for the rain to calm down. While at it, he began holding your hand, rubbing circles on it to calm you down. He didn't talk just yet, afraid that it'll just make you more upset.

The sudden downpour didn't last long and it has stopped raining immediately. Your boyfriend took it as a sign to carry your bag and take your hand to walk you home. The walk back home was quite silent, not until his unspoken sentiments finally came out.

"You know, it's not that I'm scared of breaking my idol image. I'm just afraid that everyone goes after your identity... that's how the media acts, doesn't it?"

Looking at it, now, he's right. You suddenly feel a pang of pain in your chest as guilt drowns you. Maybe you just overreacted because of today's circumstances. Maybe you were actually being selfish.

"I'm sorry I over—"

However, before you could speak, he interrupted you.

"But that doesn't mean I can't protect you. Y/n-ah, give me another chance please?"

He comes in front of you and pleads, his despair and sadness showing through his eyes.

"I'll make it up to you. I'll be more open on showing the world how I love you. I know how bad it must've felt for you all this time we've been together, but I'm ready now, really."

There was nothing but sincerity in his words.

"No—but—it's okay that you don't reveal our relationship to the media yet—"

"Then I'll make it so obvious that anyone with eyes would know."

"... just so that .... they know ... that I already have a muse ..."

You couldn't stay mad at your boyfriend—not when he's professing his love ever so genuinely in front of you. He suddenly becomes breathless as your hands find their way to his cheeks, cupping them before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Uhh....let's get back home before it rains"

He'll never admit it to himself, but he still gets flustered when you kiss him, even after a year of being together. On the way back home, he asks you about your day, and upon knowing about everything that happened, he helps you sort it all out.

From that day on, people online have started speculating him of dating someone. After all, who wouldn't speculate a man who posts paintings of a girl so frequently, having the same face always, just in different backgrounds. The captions weren't any better too, as they were always pulled from chinese romance novels. He never directly admitted to have been dating someone, but also never denied it. It has gotten to the point where Carats began begging him to just reveal his girlfriend instead of acting like a disgustingly lovesick boy. However, he likes to keep it sentimental and private. Maybe one day he'll just surprise them with a wedding ring—but that's for another story.

Author's note: Hello! Thank you for the request! I'm sorry if it's ooc, it's my first time writing a minghao fic (⁠╯⁠︵⁠╰⁠,⁠) I'm sorry I couldn't put the "they tell everyone" part too because it was getting too long huuhuhuh 💔 Hope u like it!

[storiesaplenty]

The Pitt Masterlist

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy, though. This has not been proofread. Please enjoy, though.

Warnings: loss of limb (nothing descriptive) a bit of swearing. Child birth (nothing descriptive)

WC: 3338

Requested by no one.

©️ storiesaplenty 2025: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work. All readers are female, unless stated otherwise.

Summary: During a storm, Jack can't sleep. As he sits in his office, he looks back over the memories of your relationship.

I was sitting in my home office, listening to the police scanner, not being able to sleep.

When there is a storm happening outside, I can never sleep due to the thunder.

My mind flashes back to memories I wish to forget. Each boom of the thunder makes me jump slightly, and I start to do my exercises to calm down.

But a flash of lighting lit up the room, seemingly to light up the photos across my desk, and my eyes zoned in on the first set of photos.

The memories that seemed to haunt me on nights like this slowly faded away as I looked at the first photo her and I took together.

I couldn't help but shake my head at the photo.

It was taken during high school, and it was at a Halloween party.

I didn't want to go to the party, as my girlfriend at the time had just broken up with me.

She was angry at the fact that I was focusing on school, my final season of playing football, and well, I told her I was going to join the military once I was done school.

I knew she had our future all planned out.

We were going to get married and have three children. I was going to work for her Dad, and she was going to be a stay-at-home-mom, but that was her dream, and never mine.

So at the beginning of our senior year, she dumped me, and even though I knew it was for the best, I just knew seeing my ex with other people may hurt, but my best friend, Alan convinced me to go to what would be the party that would change my life.

Everyone was dressed up.

I was just wearing my football jersey, but put in some fake vampire teeth, and drew two red marks on my neck with fake blood.

I was walking around Alan's girlfriend's house, trying to find a washroom that was occupied, when I bumped into someone who was going to change my life.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?" We both said as we bumped into one another, my hands instantly going to her shoulders to steady her as she was wearing heels.

I couldn't help myself as I looked at her costume.

She was wearing a pumpkin poncho, with a headband that looked to be a steam, wearing black tights and green heels.

"I'm okay, are you?" She looked me up and down, taking I'm my costume."Vampire Jock?"

"The name is Jack, Miss Pumpkin, and yeah, I'm okay."

"Let me get you a drink, though, to make up for bumping into you." I was about to take her up on her offer when Alan's girlfriend, Becky, came up to her and grabbed her arm, mumbling something in her ear, making her groan.

"I'll catch you around VJ." Was all she got out before Becky was dragging her away. She looked over her shoulder as I gave her a small wave.

"I'll see you around Pumpkin." I said to myself, knowing that I would find her later.

Through out the rest of the party, I tried to find her again, but she wasn't with Becky, and when I asked Becky about her, she just said that you went outside to talk to your mom on the phone, and will be back in soon.

I waited and waited until I gave up.

I told Alan I was going to leave, but I couldn't find him anywhere. Most likely making out with Becky somewhere.

I stepped out onto the front porch, and to my utter surprise, there she was, sitting in the outdoor rocking chair.

"Thought you went home." I said, making her jump at a bit as she was looking up at the clear night sky.

"Na, staying the night to help Becky after we sleep." She told me as I sat in the chair next to her.

"I haven't seen you before. You don't go to our school." She shook her head no.

"Becky is my cousin. I go to The Ellis School for girls."

Her and I went back and forth, getting to know one another, until my watched beeped, letting me know it was time for me to leave.

"I should be going." I said as I yawned.

"Oh, well, I hope to see you again Jack."

"I don't have anything to write my number down, but Becky has it."

"Well, before you leave, may I get a photo?" She pulled out a disposable camera, looking to see how many photos she had left.

"Yeah." My voice seemed to crack as she stood next to me, putting my arm around her waist to get as close as possible.

The light almost blinded me as she took photo after photo, the two of us hoping for a decent photo.

"I'll be seeing you around Pumpkin." I teasingly said, making her playfully roll her eyes.

"Hmmm, sure you will Jack."

◆

A week after the party, as I was going through the mail to sort it, there was one for me.

From an address I did not know, but I still opened it. To my suprise, there was the photo of the two of us, smiling at the camera, in our costumes.

There was another note in the envelope, and it was just her phone number.

I didn't waste any time. I called her, hoping her parents didn't pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey Pumpkin." She let out a small giggle, but tried to hide it by clearing her throat.

"Hello Jack."

Her and I spent what seemed like hours on the first phone call, until she had to tell me she was being called for dinner.

"Wait, before you go, I have a game this Friday. Can you come?"

"I'll try."

The line went dead, and I hung up my phone, looking at the photo, wondering where I should put it.

◆

She came to that game, sitting in the stands with Becky.

She came to every game after that.

My eyes searching for her in the crowd, and when I would see her, she would wave at me, and I her.

Becky, Alan, her and I would all go out to eat after the games.

"Becky isn't felling well. I'm going to take her home."

I was disappointed, but tried to hide it. "Just go out with out us." Alan said as he winked at me, which confused me for a moment.

Then I caught on to what he was meaning.

He knew how much I liked her. Hell, he brought it up to me.

"Just have her home by 11:30 Jack, or she won't be allowed to come to the next game." He warned me.

◆

Years later, she told me she knew her cousin was faking being sick, but that night was our first date.

We were already at ease with one another, but as I drove her home, I became nervous.

I parked in front of her house, turning off the engine, turning to look at her, and she was looking at me.

"I had a really good time tonight Jack." She told me as she leaned her body closer to mine.

"I did too." I said just as our lips touched for the first time.

It was gentle at first, as we were testing the water, until she deepened the kiss.

We made our in my car until my watched beeped, reminding the two of us that she now has two minutes until it was 11:30.

"I'll call you tomorrow." I promised her as she got out of my car. I did offer to walk her to her door, but she said she was fine to walk up by herself.

I didn't drive off until she was in her house, the door closed behind her.

◆

Ever since that night, her and I have been together. We spent every moment together that we could. Her and I went to my prom together.

Our prom photo went with me when I was in the military. It was always on my body if I could help it.

Another flash of lighting lit of the room, and I looked at the photo that was next to our first photo we took together.

It was the photo of when I was in the base hospital. Our lives forever changed. She came to see me the moment she had clearance.

I woke up confused, as I saw her sleeping in the chair next to my hospital bed.

At first I thought I was dreaming, knowing she was back home, going over her lesson plans for the Monday as she teaches history at her old school.

I groaned as I felt some pain as I moved.

"Jack." She said, startling me.

"Pumpkin, what are you doing here?" Her nickname has stuck all these years, and sometimes she calls me Vampire Jock, or VJ for short.

"I'll get the Doctor." She said as she kissed my cheek, walking out of the room, leaving me confused, until it finally dawned on me.

What happened flashed in my mind, bits and pieces. I remember the five of us talking and then a loud ringing in my ears as I felt the worst pain imaginable. I remember seeing my leg burned and barely attached to my body anymore.

I moved the hospital blanket to the side, and just as I feared, the lower part of my right leg was gone.

I couldn't stop staring at it.

Not when the nurses came or the Doctor.

She stood next to me, grabbing my hand as I barely listened to the Doctor tell me what happened.

I just looked up at her, knowing she was listening intently to what was being said.

Her hand was gripping mine as tight as she could, knowing our lives were changed forever.

I could feel her engagement ring as she gripped my hand.

I smiled to myself as I thought back to us walking along the Emerald View Trail when I was on leave.

The box felt heavy in my pocket as we finally came to look out spot.

As she was taking in the view, I got down on one knee, the engagement ring box open as I cleared my throat.

As she turned around, her hands covered her mouth as I started to tell her how much she means to me.

How I knew the first time I saw her face, that she was the one for me. How I couldn't live without her in my life as she is my world.

She is my heart.

She said yes, and as I put the ring on her finger, her and I kissed for the first time as an engaged couple.

Her voice brought me back to what was happening into my hospital room.

"When can he go home?"

"We do not know yet."

At that moment, I knew I had to push her away. So she could have a normal life.

◆

I barely talked to her as I just stared out the window. Two days of me basically ignoring her.

She told me later on she thought I was just trying to process what happened to me, and she wasn't completely wrong, but to me, I was just trying to push her away.

"Jack, love, you got to eat." She said as she noticed I barely touched my food.

"Why are you here?" I finally asked, without looking at her.

"Why am I here? Because I love you Jack." She tried to grab my hand, but I pulled my hand away. I knew she was hurt.

"You need to leave." I told her.

"I'm not going anywhere Jack. I want to be here. I need to make sure you are okay."

For some reason, that made me angry.

I threw my food tray across the room, hitting the door, making her gasp.

"How the fuck am I okay? I lost my leg. I am barely a man anymore."

"Jack, baby," I didn't wait for her to finish. I screamed at her to get out.

Seeing tears streaming down her face made my heart clench, but I knew this was for the best.

I watched her leave, knowing this was for the best.

◆

She didn't come back for three days, and I hated every single second of it.

But to my utter surprise, when I was being wheeled down the hall, back to my room, she was standing there, talking with the Doctor.

I looked down at my hands that were in my lap, fighting an inner battle with myself.

I was happy she was there, but I didn't want her to be there. Even then I knew I was lying to myself.

I didn't get back into the bed, as I was some what happy to be out of it, even if it was only for a short while.

I was looking out the window as the nurse left and I heard another set of footsteps enter the room, and closing the door gently behind them.

"I thought I told you to get out." I told her as she sat down on my bed.

"Jack, I know why you did that." I could see her reflection in the window, and she was looking at me.

"Of course you do, because you know everything." I muttered, trying to get her to leave again.

"Jack, I'm not going to leave you." She softly whispered as she stood up to stand next to me.

She placed her hand on my shoulder, as I tried to push her hand away, but she just kept holding on.

"You need to find someone who is whole. Who can take care of you." I finally said to her as I looked up at her.

I knew how I must have looked.

Like a broken man, who knew he should be alone and not drag her down with him.

But she gently cupped my face in her hand, and I couldn't help but close my eyes at the contact.

I didn't realize she leaned down so we were eye level until I felt her breath on my face.

"I am not going anywhere my love. You may not think you are whole, but you are. You are still my Jack, the same man who I fell in love with the moment I bumped into you. I love you VJ, forever and always."

I didn't say anything as I captured her lips with mine, finally kissing her.

And at that very moment, I just knew we were going to be okay.

That I was going to be okay.

We got married while I was still recovering.

Just her and I and the priest.

It was intimate, and just what her and I wanted, and we didn't care what our families and friends would say, as we knew this moment was for us and for us alone.

The priest took the photo of us, her in my lap, as the sun was setting behind us.

Even through one our darkest times as a couple, we pulled through it together. Not knowing what our future looked like, but we would be together.

I saw the hallway light turn on just as another clap of thunder seemed to hit. This time louder.

"Jack?" Came her sleepy voice as she slowly opened my office door.

"You should be asleep love." I said to her as I wheeled out from behind my desk.

When I am home, I do not wear my prosthetic leg,

"You should be sleeping as well." She said right back at me, as she sat in my lap, as I wrapped my arms around her waist, making sure to be as gentle as possible.

"Bad dream?" She asked me as she played with the curls at the nape of my neck.

"Same one." She knew which one I mean. The day where I lost the lower part of my leg, and friends. Only two of us survived that day.

"Hmm, so what were you thinking about while you were in here?"

"Just memories of us with each photo." I said.

"I think the most recent one is my favourite." She said as she grabbed the newly framed photo off my desk.

It was us at the hospital I work at, the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital.

It was a normal start to my shift when Dana came up running up to me.

"Your wife is here. She is being taken up to labour and delivery."

I didn't even say anything as I rushed past her, Robby calling out to me that he will stay.

As I got to level 8, the nurses at the front desk just told me which room she was in.

"Jack." She cried out as she breathed through the contractions.

"I'm here baby, I'm here." I said as I grabbed her hand and kissed her.

"We still have a bit to go, but I will back in to check on her soon Jack." The Doctor, Kylie, said to us.

"I'll call if anything changes."

Then it was just us two. Nurses coming in and out to check on her as she slept on and off, but I couldn't sleep.

I just paid close attention to the monitors.

But the moment I was actually dosing off to sleep, she woke up, gasping.

"Get her, Jack. The baby is coming." My wife cried out.

I lifted the covers, and I could see the head. Swearing, I walked as fast as I could to the door, call out that I could see the head.

It was a blur as our birthing team came running down the hall towards us.

I got behind her, letting her rest against me as she pushed our child out of her tired, spent body.

The moment we heard him cry, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"It's a boy."

"He is finally here, Jack." She said to me, as I moved her damp hair, from her sweaty, beautiful face.

"And you did perfect my love."

Our son was taken to me looked over and did the normal tests as my wife was taken care of.

I wasn't to far from her just in case she needed me.

I was sitting behind her once more, brushing her hair and putting it in a messy bun, when to my utter surprise, Robby and Dana came in.

Dana was pushing our son in.

I was going to get up to grab him, but Dana gave me a look, which I knew what it meant, so I didn't move.

Dana gently lifted our son up and placed him in his mother's arms.

"He is just perfect." I said as I looked at him. Her thumb was rubbing his cheek.

"What is the little guys name?" Robby asked.

"Owen Jack Abbot." I proudly said.

"A good name. Now, how about family's first photo?" Robby suggested. I handed him my phone and he took many photos, none that really turned out well, except for one.

You could see her and I smiling at our Owen. Tired but happy.

I had that photo framed and put in my office and in our bedroom before she even came home with our son.

"Yes, I have to agree. That one is my favourite as well." I said just as I was about to kiss her, but then, our son started to cry.

I looked at the clock and noticed it was time for his night-time feeding.

"I'll go feed him. I won't be long." She said as she stood up.

I followed behind her, turning off the hallway light as I opened his bedroom door.

She was sitting in the comfiest chair I could find, feeding Owen.

As I watched the two most important people in my life, I couldn't help but feel content.

Even with the storm still happening outside.

[fic-girlie]

Some assembly required

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Summary: You and Joel just moved into your new home and spent the day building furniture—though even with his contractor skills, it wasn’t easy. After laughter, teasing, and teamwork, you fall into bed together, trading soft banter and kisses as the house slowly starts to feel like yours. Warnings: fluff, unspecified age gap (Joel is in his mid 40's)

The truck bed is packed to the brim, and Joel’s already rolled his sleeves up before you’ve even made it to the front door. There’s a kind of buzz in the air, the kind that comes with new beginnings and the smell of fresh paint. The front lawn is still more dirt than grass, the porch is waiting on a second coat, and there’s a dent in the mailbox from when the movers clipped it—but none of that matters. Because it’s yours. Yours and Joel’s.

You watch him hoist one of the bigger flat-packs out with a grunt, muscle shifting under his shirt as he carries it up the walkway. His hair’s a little messy, sun catching on the few silver strands near his temple. You follow behind him, arms full of pillows and bags of tools.

“This one says ‘minimal tools required.’” You nudge him as he sets the box down inside the entryway.

Joel straightens, resting his hands on his hips. “Yeah? So does a bear trap.”

You laugh, bumping your shoulder against his. “You’re the one who said we didn’t need to buy the showroom stuff.”

“And I stand by that. Overpriced junk. We’ll put it all together ourselves.” He looks down at the box again, squinting. “Eventually.”

You take a long look around the open space—the bare living room, the faint smell of sawdust and newness. The windows are wide, sun slanting in, dust floating lazily through the beams of golden light. It doesn’t feel like home yet. Not quite. But Joel’s here, and the thought of making this space together, piece by piece, feels better than anything you’ve ever imagined.

You sit cross-legged on the floor beside the first box and rip open the cardboard, spreading out the pieces while Joel grabs the manual with all the suspicion of a man who’s been burned by flat-pack lies before.

“Well, there’s twenty-eight parts,” you announce.

Joel tilts his head. “I see thirty-two.”

You look again. “Oh no.”

“Oh yeah.” He drops to the floor beside you, knees cracking as he lands with a sigh. “Told you. Sorcery. These people count washers as individual parts. You ever heard of somethin’ so stupid?”

You smile as you sort screws into piles on the floor. Joel scoots closer, brushing your knee with his. He picks up one of the boards, turning it over in his calloused hands, brows knitting.

“Hey, babe?” he says slowly.

You glance up.

“This board’s labeled A… but the diagram shows A as longer. This is, like, B. Maybe C.”

You blink. “Did they mislabel it?”

Joel frowns at the board as though it’s insulted his entire lineage. “Or this is their idea of a cruel joke.”

You stifle a giggle and pluck the manual from his hand. “Okay. Maybe we just… match it by shape?”

“Shape?” Joel echoes, like you just suggested witchcraft.

“Sure. This one’s got the rounded edge. That matches the bottom shelf.”

Joel narrows his eyes, then tilts the board. “Huh. Look at that.”

“I know things,” you say proudly.

He gives a low hum, one that almost sounds impressed. “Mmm. You also thought we could get this all done before lunch.”

“It’s three pieces of furniture, Joel.”

“Yeah. And each one’s gonna come with forty mystery screws and a riddle from hell.”

You lean your weight into him, shoulder against his bicep, and he lets out a soft sigh—one of those breathy, half-laugh sounds that only comes when he’s genuinely relaxed. It makes your chest warm.

He starts piecing together the frame while you read out the next steps. “Step three,” you say. “Attach piece D to the underside of panel A using bolts 4A and washers 6C.”

Joel groans and lays his head back dramatically. “The hell does that even mean?”

You hand him a bolt. “It means we’re in this together, partner.”

He takes it, but not before kissing the side of your head. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“You’re lucky I know how to read.”

It becomes a rhythm—sorting, reading, Joel swearing under his breath, and the two of you dissolving into laughter every time something doesn’t line up the way it should. You work through the early afternoon, Joel on the floor in front of the half-finished coffee table, you perched beside him cross-legged, one foot resting gently against his thigh. There’s an intimacy to it, this process—an easy, comfortable domesticity you hadn’t even realized you craved until now.

He huffs when one of the legs doesn’t tighten all the way, leaning back on his palms and eyeing it like he could will it into place. “Goddamn thing’s crooked.”

“Maybe you’re crooked.”

“Maybe this table’s made for people who hate joy.”

You grin, reaching over to ruffle his hair, and he lets you—just like that. A big gruff contractor, who’s used to hauling bricks and framing beams, sitting on the floor surrounded by tiny screws and letting you mess up his hair.

It’s not just a new house. It’s the beginning of a life built slowly, like these shelves and coffee tables—one screw at a time.

And when you finally get the first piece assembled, Joel throws his hands in the air like you just won the lottery.

“We did it!” you declare triumphantly.

“Damn right we did. Didn’t even break anything.” He leans over, brushing a kiss to your temple, then your cheek. “You’re a good teammate.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, eyes warm as you look up at him.

Joel shifts so he’s kneeling in front of you, hands coming to rest on your thighs, his voice going soft. “Yeah. Real good.”

He kisses you then—slow and steady, mouth warm and a little rough, like he’s pouring all of that quiet pride and affection into the space between your lips. His hands slide up, thumbs brushing along your waist as he deepens it just a little, exhaling through his nose.

When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours. “Let’s take a break before we build that bookshelf. I need to… y’know. Emotionally recover.”

You laugh against his chest. “From the trauma?”

“From the disrespect.” He gestures at the table like it’s personally offended him. “That was war.”

“You won, soldier.”

He smirks, tugging you into his lap until you're straddling him right there on the floor, boxes scattered around you. “Yeah. And my reward’s sittin’ right here.”

You roll your eyes, but your hands are already smoothing down his back, fingers brushing the hem of his shirt. “We’re never buying pre-assembled furniture again, are we?”

“Nope,” Joel says, mouth already pressed against your neck. “From now on, it’s just wood, nails, and me.”

You hum, curling your fingers into his shirt. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Damn right it doesn’t.”

——

It’s late by the time you both crawl into bed.

The bedroom is still half-finished—no curtains yet, a single lamp on the floor casting a golden, sleepy glow against bare walls. The mattress is set up, at least, and the sheets are clean, freshly washed with a scent like lavender and sunshine. You’d wrestled with one more piece of furniture after dinner, a nightstand that nearly drove Joel to drink, and when it finally clicked together with a triumphant snap, he declared the day officially over.

Now, you’re both stretched out under the sheets, your legs tangled together lazily, Joel on his back with one arm behind his head, the other resting across your stomach like he’s claiming territory. You trace slow circles on the back of his hand, feeling the warmth of him, the quiet peace that only comes at the end of a long, shared day.

“You know,” you murmur, voice low and drowsy, “for a contractor, you sure cursed a lot trying to build that bookshelf.”

Joel snorts. “It wasn’t a real bookshelf. That thing was an insult to wood.”

“You stripped a screw.”

“I did not strip the screw,” he says, mock-offended.

You glance at him with a grin. “Joel, I heard you say—and I quote—‘why the hell won’t this damn screw catch, it’s defective, I’m gonna throw it out the window.’”

He rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his palm, eyes narrowing just slightly as he smirks. “And yet… it got built, didn’t it? Thanks to my expert skill set.”

You raise a brow. “You mean my reading comprehension skills?”

“Your what?” he teases, pretending he didn’t hear you.

“You were holding the instructions upside down at one point.”

“Listen, I just—” He leans in, his voice lowering into that playful, honey-warm drawl. “I had a long day. Got distracted by this pretty girl sittin’ cross-legged on the floor, talkin’ about dowels and washers like she’s speakin’ a foreign language. You expect me to focus with that goin’ on?”

You giggle, turning toward him, your nose brushing his. “So now it’s my fault?”

“Always,” he whispers, nuzzling you gently, his scruff brushing soft along your cheek.

You let out a content sigh as his hand moves across your waist beneath the sheets, warm and slow. Not urgent, just… grounding. Like he wants to memorize every inch of you again now that the chaos of the day is behind you.

You nudge his ribs with your knee. “You know, I’m kind of impressed. You didn’t even throw anything.”

“Didn’t have the energy,” he mumbles, kissing your shoulder. “But tomorrow? That dresser’s gonna test my damn patience.”

“You want me to read the instructions again?”

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes soft and amused in the low light. “Sweetheart, I want you to read everything to me from now on. Menus. Assembly guides. Hell, read me the back of the cereal box. I’ll just nod and agree.”

You hum thoughtfully. “That could be dangerous.”

“I’m willin’ to risk it,” he says, and leans in to kiss you—slow and warm, like the last stretch of daylight before everything fades into dusk.

When he pulls back, his voice goes softer. “You did good today, darlin'.”

“So did you.”

Joel kisses your forehead, then settles behind you as you roll to your side, spooning up behind you with one heavy arm slung around your waist. You can feel the weight of him, the solid warmth and comfort of a man who’s tired but content, who’s found something quiet and sacred in this new home, in you.

There’s a long pause. His breath evens out. Yours does too.

Then, in a lazy, teasing murmur: “Still sayin’ that bookshelf was cursed, though.”

You reach back and swat at his hip, and he laughs against the back of your neck, lips brushing soft along your skin as he pulls you tighter.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

“Night, darlin'.”

[mocchiixxx]

Words in Ruin Series # | 11 : Boo Seungkwan 🍊

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Miscommunication, Emotional Healing

Warnings: Shouting, emotional breakdown, crying, comfort and reconciliation

Summary: Seungkwan’s laughter is infectious. His sharp wit and confident demeanor have always been a source of joy for those around him. But lately, the weight of constant expectations, both from the public and himself, have been chipping away at his spirit. When he lashes out at you, the person who’s always stood by him, he regrets it immediately, but the damage has already been done. Will you be there to help him rebuild the pieces?

The text came just as you were finishing dinner.

“Y-nnie, Seungkwan's not doing well today.”“He’s been quieter than usual… Don’t take it personally if he snaps, okay?”– Soonyoung🐯.

You frowned at your phone, heart clenching.

Another came seconds later.

“He messed up during rehearsals. Tried to laugh it off, but we can tell it hit him hard. Just be gentle with him tonight.” – Jeonghan.

You sighed quietly as you put your phone down.

It wasn’t the first time the members had reached out like this. They knew how close you were to Seungkwan, how often he ran to you when things got too loud or too heavy. You were his safe space. His place to fall apart, even if he never said it out loud.

Still, it hurt to know he was struggling and pretending like he wasn’t.

You looked down at the table, his favorite soup was still warm, the rice fluffed just the way he liked. You had lit a candle even though you knew he’d tease you for being cheesy again.

But tonight wasn’t about romance. It was about giving him peace, in whatever little way you could.

You looked around the apartment, quiet, warm, soft lighting, and hoped it was enough.

The door opened a while later.

You didn’t even have to see him to feel it.

The energy that usually radiated off him, like sunshine wrapped in sarcasm, was missing.

His steps were sluggish. There was no sing-songy “I’m home,” no dramatic entrance like he always did when he wanted attention.

Just the quiet thud of his bag hitting the floor and the soft shuffle of shoes being taken off.

You stepped out from the kitchen gently, not wanting to startle him. “Hey,” you said softly.

Seungkwan didn’t even look up.

“Kwannie, it’s okay to take a break,” you said gently, standing by the doorway as he was removing the tie of his shoes, still in his stage clothes, sweat-drenched and clearly worn thin.

He barely acknowledged you, brushing past in silence as he kicked his shoes off, picking up his bag once again, shoulders sagging under exhaustion. His hair was damp, face flushed, and eyes clouded.

This wasn't the bright-eyed Seungkwan you knew, the one who could light up a room with a single witty remark or laugh that echoed with warmth.

You followed him quietly into the kitchen. “I made your favorite. I thought it’d help you recover.”

No response. He dropped his bag on the dining table with a loud thud that made you jump slightly. He stared at the table, then at the floor.

“I’m not hungry,” he muttered, voice clipped and cold.

Your heart sank. “Kwan… you didn’t eat lunch. You need to eat something, please.”

His jaw clenched. “I said I’m not hungry!”

You flinched. His voice, so sharp, so unfamiliar, cut straight through your chest.

Still, you tried to keep your voice calm. “I’m just worried, love. You’ve been pushing yourself so hard lately. I can see how tired you are.”

He turned to face you, and the frustration in his eyes startled you.

“Why do you always do this?!” he snapped, eyes suddenly glassy. “Why do you act like everything’s okay just because I’m home? Like your food or your soft voice can magically fix it all? I’m not okay! And I’m sick of pretending I am!”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

“You think because I smile and crack jokes that I’m fine? That I don’t feel anything?” His voice cracked, and for a moment, the mask slipped. “I’m not some entertainer for you to fix. I’m tired. I’m burnt out. And I feel like I’m falling apart, but no one seems to care unless I’m breaking down in front of a camera!”

You stared at him in shock. The man you loved, so sensitive, so expressive, was now standing in front of you like a shattered mirror, reflecting only jagged pieces.

“Seungkwan…” you said softly, but your throat was tight. “Why are you yelling at me? I didn’t do anything wrong…”

His face immediately fell. Guilt flooded his expression as he looked away, biting his lower lip.

“I… I didn’t mean that,” he whispered.

“But you said it,” you whispered back, tears brimming in your eyes. “You’re hurting, I can see that. But I’m not your punching bag.”

He sat down at the edge of the table, burying his face in his hands. His voice came out broken. “I know. I know, and I hate myself for it. I just… I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore.”

You stood there for a moment, watching the man you loved fall apart in front of you, unsure if stepping closer would help or hurt more. Eventually, you sat beside him, gently placing a hand on his back.

“I get it,” you said softly. “You feel like you have to be strong all the time. That if you crack even a little, the whole world will see and question everything about you.”

He sniffled, his voice muffled. “I’m so tired, babe. I don’t even remember the last time I laughed for real. Not for a camera. Not for a crowd. Just… laughed, because I felt like it.”

Your hand rubbed slow circles on his back. “You don’t need to perform for me, Seungkwan. Not now, not ever. You don’t have to smile if you don’t feel like it. You don’t have to talk if it’s too much. Just… let me be here.”

He turned to you slowly, his cheeks tear-streaked, eyes swollen and red. “I shouted at you. You shouldn’t still be here.”

“I’m not here because you shouted at me. I’m here despite it,” you said. “Because I know that wasn’t you. That was the pressure talking. The pain you’ve been hiding. And you’re allowed to have a breaking point.”

He reached out, tentatively touching your hand. “I’m scared,” he said. “That if I stop pretending, people won’t love me anymore.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “Then let them go. Because the people who truly love you, like me and your members, will love you even on your worst days.”

He leaned into you, pressing his forehead against yours, letting out a shaky breath.

“I feel like I’m always letting someone down. The members. The fans. Myself. Even you.”

“You’re not,” you whispered. “But you’re allowed to rest. You’re allowed to cry. You’re allowed to be.”

“I’ll try,” he said, voice raw. “I can’t promise I’ll get it right all the time. But I’ll try to stop shutting you out.”

You pulled him into a tight embrace. “That’s all I ask. You don’t have to be perfect. Just be you. That’s more than enough for me.”

He clung to you like a lifeline, the dam finally breaking. The apartment filled with quiet sobs and whispered apologies. You held him through it all, through every tremble, every tear, every confession of fear.

After a long silence, he pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes.

“I love you,” he said, voice barely audible.

“I love you too,” you replied, brushing his bangs from his forehead. “More than you know.”

He let out a soft breath. “I don’t deserve you.”

You smiled. “Maybe. But you have me anyway.”

“Oh, by the way, don't forget to thank your hyungs when you see them. Soonyoung and Jeonghan oppa especially, they warned me before hand about you looking so down so I'm slightly prepared to a gloomy you. ”

A broken laugh escaped him then soft, real, a little tear-stained. And for the first time in weeks, it didn’t sound forced.

“Those guys... I'll thank them when we see each other tomorrow. Thank you for being patient with me babe.”

He leaned his head on your shoulder, and you sat there, the cold food forgotten, the weight on his chest just a little lighter.

You knew there would be more bad days. But you also knew he wouldn’t have to face them alone anymore.

Because behind the laugh, behind the exhaustion, behind the expectations...

there was Boo Seungkwan. And you’d always be there to remind him that he was loved, even in silence.

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