#but the hooks literally don’t stay

[crybaby-bkg]

I got a really cute corset for this cosplay and it’s the first corset that fits my chest but the hooks aren’t staying and it’s making me so upset ☹️☹️☹️☹️

[cybercanadian]

Boys 🙄

[wyniepooh]

Loving him was never enough

you don’t have what logan needs, but he still takes all that he can.

Cage fighter!logan x reader. Mentions of violence. Porn with a little bit of plot. mdni; 18+

thinking about being logan’s plaything in his cage fighting days.

It’s not uncommon for the fighters to have a beautiful girl around their arms as they enter the ring, and though Logan usually resists against the fan girls who clamour around him in a frenzy, he figures a sweet thing like you could only do him some good.

Not only does it piss the other fighters off, (they hate to see the king of the cage also have a pretty girl like you beside him) turns out, you’re not half bad for company either.

You’re an anxious little thing, brows furrowed and eyes teary before every match. Logan doesn’t bother telling you that he’ll be fine, that he’s going to win guaranteed, that his punch is as hard as metal. Literally.

He hates to admit it, but he finds it endearing, the way you’re so worried for him. through his nonchalant front, he still wipes away your tears with his large hands before every match and reassures you, cooing, “I’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

When logan gets in the ring, the fight goes exactly as he expects it to go. The other guy is destroyed before logan even shows his true strength. In a spiteful and humiliating position, the fallen guy comments something like, “I’ll fuck your pretty girlfriend dumb.”

Logan hears, of course, and though the guy is already bleeding and sprawled over the mat on the ground in a pathetic display, and though logan definitely didn’t consider you his girlfriend, he throws the announcer to the side and pounces. Through gritted teeth and a bleeding forehead, he catches your eye, shaking his head lightly before knocking the other guy out.

You wait for him in the small public washroom afterwords, arms crossed and pouting. As Logan approaches the door and sees your stiff pacing around the room, he knows you’re mad. And he knows it won’t stay that way.

“‘was so worried, logan,” you practically run towards him, “why’d you have to go after him like that? he could’ve really hurt you.”

He scoffs and flashes you the fresh wad of cash. “Hurt me? Please.”

He stays still for as long as he can bear while you dab at the wound on his head with your sleeve, silently hoping you wouldn’t notice the red cut slowly healing by itself. When you try to touch his face, to run a finger down his cheek and his stubble, he grabs your wrist harshly to stop you.

You’re confused, confused as to why he allows you to trail along to his every fight and wipes your tears with such a gentle hand, but refuses to let you in. He doesn’t give you much time to think, though, because as soon as you part your lips to speak, he’s picking you up from under your arms and sitting you down on the cold sink counter.

there’s an aggressive desperation behind his kiss, probably produced by the adrenaline of the recent fight and triggered by the soft whine he heard from you when his teeth knocked against yours. His hand reaches down between your legs and drags your panties to the side, and before long, you’re biting his shoulder and mumbling, “‘gonna cum, logan, please, let me cum.”

He does, drawing out your short orgasm with a few more pumps of his fingers and a graze over your clit. When he’s done, you’re practically already numb, head limp on his shoulder as you hear the metal clinking of his belt.

“You want this?” He asks, holding your head up by your chin as he tilts his head and raises his brows. “You want me?”

You nod feverishly, half-lidded eyes flickering as you breathe, “yes, logan. need you.” Your head falls back against the mirror, and he looks down with a grin at the sight in front of him.

he hooks his arms around your knees to bring you closer before you take him to the hilt in one go, burying a mewl into his shoulder as you wrap your legs around his waist. The first thrust burns, always does, but only he can make you forget the pain in an instant. Soon, your hands are tangled in his hair, his beard is rubbing against your neck, and you’re begging, “please, lo, need it so bad. “ Logan fucks exactly like how he fights, thrusting into you so sharply your ass is sliding back on the metal counter with each movement of his hips.

He’s done this enough times to know what makes you whine and dig your fingernails into his back, but he still demands, every time, “that feel good, baby? you like that?” Of course, you don’t have to answer for him to know that it does, that it does feel good, so incredibly good, and that he’s hitting all the right spots in the body only he knows so well.

You aren’t the only one filling the room with lewd noises. Logan is panting too, the echoes of his each and every grunt reflecting off of every corner in the room and into your ear. It only makes your cheeks flush hotter, only encourages your hips to move more eagerly to match his pace.

It’s always when he’s just about there that Logan pulls back and looks down at where the two of you are connected, slowing down his strokes to slowly watch his bulging cock sink deep into your slopping cunt.

It’s the only opportunity with logan that you get to really look at him, to see the raw expression of euphoria on his face, teeth bared and mouth open. Some strands of previously gelled hair are stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes rolling back with each press of his pelvis. Your eyes trace the sweat on his shoulder, the hair on his chest peaking from behind his white wife-beater, and the vein on his stomach that connects to the one on his dick.

You gaze flickers back at his face, and you extend a hand to guide his head towards you. He tries to turn away, as usual, and you hate that you know he’s holding back; limiting the noises he’s making, the pace he’s taking.

“Just use me, Logan. I know you want to,” you plead against his lips, inhaling a gasp as you press your lips onto his. You expect him to pull away, to push your head to the side and focus on finishing the other task at hand, but this time, he only pulls you closer, one hand around your waist and the other on the back of your head. He doesn’t give you much time to be shocked before he resumes his previous pace, drilling into you with the same vigor, albeit a bit more sloppy than before.

Logan pulls back to catch his breath, and at the same time, you clench tightly around him. A low groan escapes him, a noise so animalistic and fervent that you reach your high right then and there, shrieking as your legs begin to shake.

He’s close too, you can feel it in his breathing, so you let him fuck you beyond your orgasm, even if it’s getting to be too much and you’re losing your thoughts by the second.

“nobody— ah— fucks my girlfriend,” he suddenly growls, lifting you up from under your arms and shoving you against the tiled wall. He squeezes your cheeks, forcing you to look into his hazel gaze as he spits, “n-nobody fucks you like I do.”

He plummets into you deep, leaning his lips in and making you swallow one last groan of his before you feel his warm release fill your insides.

When he’s done, Logan is supporting all your weight, your limp arms splayed around his sweaty back. You whimper at the emptiness as he pulls out, feeling his cum languidly drip down your inner thighs.

You’re too exhausted to realize what he just said, to react to what he just referred to you as, and as the fog of pleasure slowly unclouds Logan’s head, he’s glad he fucked you stupid enough to forget.

-

a/n: anyone else feel like they’re incapable of writing good smut? Hey Google how many other synonyms could there possibly be of the word ‘thrust’?

[angelyuji]

yandere stanley and stanford pines somno thoughts :)

18+!!!

tw // somnophilia, noncon, dubcon, drugging, pls lmk if i missed any tags

sorry there’s a read more link, this one is a little intense so… mind the tws and tags pls🥰🥰

stan is not sneaky or quiet going into your room. he thinks he’s being quiet, but he’s not. after a couple times, he stops bothering. like it clicked for him that it doesn’t matter if you do wake up cuz either way you’re in his home and there’s no way out. no amount of screaming will save you either, like the shack is out in the woods.

the first time wasn’t on purpose, it was a heatwave and stan woke up around 2 am not being able to go back go sleep in the heat. sooo he goes to ur room to check on you, yk to see if you’ve fallen asleep yet or if ur awake like him. he’d go into your room and see the 4 different standing fans he bought for you turned on, and also see that you’re only sleeping in your underwear. the heat was killing you, so obviously you had to strip. immediately stan’s next to your bed, hand slowly messaging your naked chest. you moan a little in your sleep and stan takes that as a sign that you’re literally begging for him. like moaning??? in your sleep??? ok SLUT. same thing next evening, except stan goes farther. and like he’s been out of the game for so long yk so he’s just curious. and like it’s not his fault you were tempting him, he’s an old man. he takes a couple risks: kissing you, pushing a couple fingers into your mouth or hole to see how much of him you could take. by day 3, he’ll see that your body is being conditioned to respond to his touch and he’s actually gonna lose it.

your eyes flutter open, a moan falling from your lips, as you feel something press against your heat. “hey there, dollface.” stan grins at you and you jolt awake, trying to move away.

“stan, don’t! get-”

stan grabs your waist and pulls you back, cutting you off, “no point in trying to run, baby.” he flips you over, pushing your face into the pillow. he gets to his knees and pushes into you, stopping to feel the melting heat.

“s-stan p-please” you moan, muffled by the pillow.

“please what, sugar.” stan grins as you try to move your hips. he grabs a fistful of your hair, making you arch to look at him.

“please, please keep going”

ford is the sorta the opposite of stan like he couldve been doing this to you for months and you wouldve never known. like he definitely crushes up some sleeping pills into your food when you’re not looking. he knows what he’s doing is wrong and knows he should stop, but he can’t help it, you’re just so beautiful.

i feel like first time it happened, it was probably when you fell asleep in his lab. you had stayed with him to do some research and when you fell asleep, he decided to carry you to bed. the warmth of your body against his was enough to get him flustered, but when he laid you down, he took the opportunity to press a kiss to your mouth. and dude… he was immediately devastatingly horny like one kiss almost took him out. he definitely booked it out of your room out of embarrassment (even though you weren’t conscious to see) after this, he didn’t make eye contact with you or talk to you for a couple days. you end up confronting him about it and instead of telling you his feelings, he decided that he should just drug you to keep using you without having to vulnerable.

i feel like every time he does this, even if you’re not awake, he’s apologizing to you and making sure that you cum too. like he feels sooo bad for doing this to you, but like the guilts not gonna stop him. the only reason you ever realized is cuz he fucked up on the pills and you woke up to him pounding into you like a rabbit.

“f-ford, get off me.” you could feel every inch of him as he held you close. you try to push him off you, but instead he folds you in half, legs hooking his shoulders.

in this position, you could hardly think or breathe, he went deep and hard into you. as he gets quicker, he starts to mumble into your ear, “i can’t stop, i-i’m sorry, i’m s-so sorry.” he bites into your shoulder and you moan. “you just feel so good.”

for both ford and stan, once you wake up to them using you and you end up not telling anyone what happened, they’ll take that as a green light to keep doing this to you. and then it evolves from at night while you’re sleeping to the afternoon in a public mall bathroom.

(i kinda want to write about that now… but also… tutor!ford x reader… stan x babysitter!reader… im thinking thoughts…)

[streetlamp-amber]

can we just stay in bed? (18+)

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 2.8k | divider by @cafekitsune | requests are open!

CW: smut (MDNI), p in v sex, oral (fem receiving), soft sex NOTES: i usually don’t write soft smut like this so i don’t really know if i’m 100% satisfied with this or not but i still wanted to share, let me know your thoughts :)

The joyful singing of the birds in the forest surrounding Wayne Manor could be heard from miles away as the sun was rising over the treetops, marking the beginning of a new day in Gotham. A lone ray of sunshine made its way through the gap between the two curtains hung over the window of you and Bruce's bedroom, illuminating the darkness with a soft golden glow.

Today was Saturday, meaning you didn't have work waiting for you or school to drive Dick and Jason to. The only plan on the schedule this morning was to sleep in, even for Alfred.

But your husband had other plans.

Bruce woke up on his own, his body was now used to being up early to make sure the boys had completed all of their homework before dropping them off at school. He was laying on his back with your head nestled in the crook of his neck, your hot breath fanning over his skin at a gentle rhythm while your arm and leg were hooked around him, keeping your body flushed against his. A grateful, satisfied smile formed on Bruce’s lips as he hugged you closer to him and pressed a kiss on the top of your head. He loved waking up with you in his arms, it was his favourite part of the day – when all his worries about Gotham were still dormant in the back of his mind, when he could bask in the peacefulness of the morning with your steady breathing reminding him how lucky he was that you were so much of a hothead, you had him pull over on the side of the road to reprimand his reckless driving when he almost rear ended your car. He remembered that day like it was yesterday, because your anger and your indifference to his celebrity status had already caught his heart right then and there, the fact that you were breathtakingly beautiful was only a plus. Six years had passed since then and Bruce had tried his best to remain on your good side in that time, but it happened sometimes that you let out your anger on him – like when he let Dick patrol with him for the first time. He found that he was still as captivated and enamoured with you as he was when the two of you first met, you’re just so hot when you’re angry, he can’t help it.

Overcome with the love he held for you, Bruce started peppering soft, barely-there kisses on your cheek, your nose, your jaw and your neck, moving you to lay on your back as he did so for him to have better access to your skin. His gentle touches pulled you out of your slumber and you stretched out your limbs, your husband never relenting with his affections.

“Good morning, my love,” Bruce whispered in between kisses on your throat.

You giggled, the softness of his lips tickling you. “Good morning,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck while his held you tight under your back. You turned your head to glance at the digital clock on your bedside table, noticing the time displayed in red light. “Isn’t it too early to be awake on a Saturday morning?”

“What time is it?” Bruce asked as he comfortably laid on you, his face now resting in the crook of your neck.

“Ten past seven,” you answered, your hands finding their way to your husband’s hair. Your fingers threaded through his soft waves and you felt him hum in satisfaction against you.

“I’m not sleepy anymore,” he weakly argued, eyes closing as your scent comforted him.

“Bruce, I can literally feel your breathing slowing down like it does when you fall asleep,” you chuckled.

“Then we should do something to stay awake and enjoy these minutes of peace we have that are oh so rare,” Bruce suggested with an impish tone.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, “we haven't made blueberry waffles in quite some time.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and stood up above you, trapping you under his body with his elbows resting on both sides of your head. “Can we just stay in bed?” He asked, his crooked grin on his lips as he leaned down, brushing the tip of your nose with his.

“And do what?” You feigned innocence, but your husband knew you too well – he had known you for more than six years after all, he liked to think he knew you more than he knew himself – and the mischievousness in your eyes didn't go past him.

“I have a few ideas in mind,” Bruce said before claiming your lips with his. You breathed a sigh of relief that he absorbed and he placed himself in between your legs.

He stood up after a minute for the both of you to get some air and teasingly tugged at the hem of your shirt (which really was one of his old Princeton shirts from his university days). “I think it's not fair I’m the only one who's bare chest,” he said, raising the shirt just above your bellybutton.

“I think you make a compelling argument, Mr. Wayne,” you playfully agreed then removed said shirt, throwing it on the floor.

Bruce didn’t waste any second, immediately peppering your chest with kisses the moment your skin was freed from your clothes. You relaxed into your pillow, enjoying the attention your husband was giving to every inch of your body. He took his time to savour your taste and you let him. There was no rushing this morning, only the two of you in your bubble of love where time and the outside world didn’t exist.

He nipped his teeth all over your chest, leaving soft bite marks in his trail, and sucked on your nipples, his hand massaging your boob his mouth wasn’t currently attached to.

“Bruce…” You mewled after he spent five minutes on each of your breasts, only now beginning his slow descent down your stomach. Ten minutes of working you up had you now very impatient and wanting for more.

“Patience, my love,” Bruce said against your skin, getting closer to where you needed him most. “We’re taking it slow this morning, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Mmm, I know of two certain boys who will be knocking at our door in less than an hour to see if you’re awake so you can watch the morning cartoons with them,” you argued, raising up your hips when he started leaving kisses on the inside of your right thigh.

“That won’t be a problem,” your husband reassured you before claiming your clit in his mouth, making you squeal in surprise. “Good thing I had the walls of our bedroom soundproofed,” he paused his sucking on your bundle of nerves to tease you with a grin on his shiny lips.

You glared at him, unamused, which made him chuckle at your cute face and he quickly kissed your thigh before going back to his previous task. He lapped the slick in between your folds like a man who had spent fourteen days in the desert and was drinking water for the first time. His tongue teased your entrance before diving in, grunting in pleasure when your hips bucked up closer to him, making his nose brush against your clit. Bruce could never get tired of you, of your taste, of the sounds you made because of him. It spurred him on and for the time being, his only purpose in life was to satisfy you.

He couldn’t even begin to explain the control you had over him, the way you guided him through this life like a lighthouse in a storm. He was putty in your hands, has been ever since the two of you met, and he knew very well how lost he would be without you. Yeah, he would be financially secured thanks to his family, but in every other aspect of his life, even as Batman, he wouldn’t be who he was today without you. And Bruce, who had never really been good at vocally expressing his feelings, would let you know how thankful he was to have you in his life the way he knew best: by pleasuring you to completion like no other person ever has before because no one has taken the time to learn every single reaction of your body like he had.

“Bruce…” you whined as your hand tugged at his hair. You needed more, you needed more than just his tongue inside of you so you pulled him up by the head, bringing him to your level, and attached your lips to his, tasting yourself on him, while your legs wound around his waist. You felt his hard cock brushing against your center through the fabric of his boxers and jolted at the slight pressure applied on your clitoris.

The two of you slowly and messily made out, Bruce’s right hand holding your cheek and his left one clutching onto your hip. Your hands had found their way to the waistband of his boxers, trying to pull them down to get what you wanted. Bruce helped you, his left hand leaving your hip to remove the only item of clothing still on, his mouth never detaching from yours as he did so.

Once fully nude, Bruce retracted from you, standing on his knees before dipping his fingers between your folds to gather some of your wetness and rub it over his dick. You watched him with anticipation, the sight before you something you could never get tired of. Your husband was straight out of a dream and, still to this day, you’d pinch yourself sometimes to make sure you were awake, that this was your life.

That somehow, Bruce Wayne fell in love with you.

But he was also so different from how he presented himself to the media, to the public, that sometimes you forgot you married the Bruce Wayne, heir to the powerful Wayne family, prince of Gotham. To you, he was just your silly husband who was incredibly hot and put everybody else before him.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Bruce brushed the tip of his cock against the lips of your pussy. “I hope I’m not too much of a bore, darling,” he said, a teasing undertone lacing his words.

“No, just admiring the view and how lucky I am that my husband is so damn hot,” you replied playfully though there were no lies to your answer.

“Clearly you haven’t looked at yourself in the mirror lately babe because I’m the lucky one,” Bruce told you, his eyes confidently holding yours to show how truthful he was. He lined himself with your entrance, his stare never leaving your face so that he could drink in your expressions when he sheathed himself to the hilt inside you.

The two of you groaned in pleasure and Bruce took a moment to bask in your warmth, his eyes roaming all over you.

“Especially when you look so goddamn gorgeous with my cock inside you,” he added onto his previous comment, making you roll your eyes at the machoness of his words.

“Shut up and start moving already,” you chuckled.

“As you wish, my darling,” he leaned down to kiss you again and started rolling his hips to a slow, steady pace.

You wrapped your legs around his waist again while your hands found their place at his nape, scratching his scalp and tugging his hair, making him moan in your mouth. Your tongues danced to the same rhythm as Bruce’s thrusts, the both of you drowning in the feeling of the other.

Sex with Bruce was usually more rapid, more frantic, more bruising, more fiery, and you loved it. You loved how he could make you forget about the gala happening right down the hallway and the handprints he’d unconsciously leave on your hips from his grip. But you also loved when sex with Bruce was languid with no hurry. When one made you forget everything, the other basked you in love and made you feel like you were in a dream.

Bruce’s mouth left yours to trail down your cheek, then your jaw, until it found its place in the crook of your neck. He deposited open mouthed kisses all over your skin, licking it and leaving small nips on it. He easily found the pulse point behind your ear and, knowing you could easily hide that spot, started sucking on it and doubled the pleasure building inside you.

It made your breath hitch and your nails dig in his back muscles, leaving small red crescents on his skin. You felt him smile against your skin, his pride always swelled up to the reactions he was able to pull out of you.

“Mph, you feel so good darling,” Bruce groaned in your ear and kissed it. “You always do.”

“And you make me feel so good baby,” you answered, squeezing your walls around him as you said so.

Bruce’s head appeared in your eyeline again, his famous grin on his lips as his eyes roamed over your face, full of love. “I love you,” he told you.

You were about to say ‘I love you’ back but he didn’t let you, claiming your mouth with his instead to drag you in another make out session. He changed the angle of his hips at the same time and the tip of his dick brushed your G-spot, making you mewl. Bruce’s left hand fell down to the back of your right thigh, gripping it tight as he held it a little higher. It allowed him to go about one more inch further, said spot now being hit with every thrust.

“Oh God, yes,” you freed your mouth from his as your head fell back, your eyes squeezing shut due to the pleasure gradually overtaking your senses.

“Look at me, darling,” Bruce asked you and you obeyed, struggling to keep your eyes open as the two of you held eye contact. “Are you close?”

He knew you were, he knew your body like the back of his hand, but he still asked you the question just to be sure.

You couldn’t answer him. Your mouth was in a permanent ‘o’ shape as breathy moans escaped your lips with every thrust and you were unable to focus for more than one second on how to speak. So you nodded your head yes.

Bruce’s hand that held your thigh let it go to instead dip between your legs, easily finding your clit and rubbing it in circles with just the right amount of pressure. He proudly watched as you unravelled beneath him, your orgasm hitting you with full force. As he helped you ride it out, he reached his own climax and fell over you, but still made sure to not put his entire weight on you, as the two of you caught your breath.

Your husband removed himself from inside you and rolled over to lay next to you on his side so he could face you. “I love you,” he said again, kissing your temple covered with a sheen of sweat.

You turned to face him, your hand reaching to hold his cheek as you replied, “I love you”. You kissed him on the lips, this time short and sweet, and Bruce laid on his back so you could snuggle up against him with your head on his chest.

“You know, we should wash up before the boys come knocking on our door,” you said after a few minutes of peace.

“Can we just stay in bed for another minute?” Bruce childishly whined, his fingers brushing up and down your bare bicep.

“You're such a big baby,” you teased him, chuckling.

“Well sorry I’m a little spent from our early morning activity,” he lightheartedly argued.

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal,” you said, rising on your elbows to look over him. “I’m going to the bathroom and I’ll bring back with me a wet cloth for you to wash yourself and then we can cuddle and maybe go back to sleep until Dick and Jason crash through the door to drag you downstairs and watch cartoons. Sounds like a deal?”

“Sounds like a really good deal to me,” Bruce answered, bringing you down to peck your lips before he rested his hands behind his head. “You should come down to the tower next time we’re looking to make a deal with another company.”

“Nah, I’m perfectly fine with leaving all that work to you,” you pecked his lips once again and stood up from the bed, not bothering to cover yourself up. “I’ll be right back,” you said behind your shoulder as you walked towards the bathroom connected to your room.

Bruce didn’t hear you, too preoccupied with staring at your ass to focus on anything else. God, I’m the luckiest man in all of Gotham, he thought to himself before you disappeared through the door frame.

[rememberwren]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Third time’s the charm. Simon/fem!reader. Handjobs, edging, cumming untouched, thigh riding, femdom behavior, somewhat submissive!simon, literally tried to cure my depression with this (did not work)

-

“You said you usually go three times in a session. We should try one more time, shouldn’t we?” 

Ghost looks at you like you’ve grown an extra set of eyes. He shakes his head a little, his eyes hard and disbelieving when they meet your own. “Have I not embarrassed myself enough for you?”

“Not really—? I mean—fuck,” you fumble, running a hand down face. “That didn’t come out right. I just meant that I don’t feel like you have any reason to be embarrassed.” 

He stares at you, through you, like if he looks long and hard enough he’ll be able to see your truth straight down to your bones. Well let him look. He hadn’t exactly bared his soul during the few weeks you had spent discussing this before meeting in person, but he had told you plenty: his issue had cost him relationships. It had cost him jobs thanks to lack of focus. Friendships thanks to neglect. You couldn’t imagine anyone willingly choosing something which gave them so much suffering. His lack of complicity cleared him of any blame in your eyes. 

At length, he must see that there is some honesty in you. Looking like it pains him, he nods his head, hulking shoulders deflating a little. “Fine. One more time. I’ll need a few minutes though.”

“That’s fine,” you offer, and it is, or at least it would be if it meant you both didn’t have to sit in complete silence, Ghost uneager to offer up conversation topics and you too awkward to try. 

He keeps staring at you, too. Or more specifically, your breasts. You’re wearing a simple t-shirt, but the effect is aided by one of your prettier bras. You had worn it unsure if Ghost was serious in his insistence that there would be no sex taking place between you both 

It seemed a pity for it to go to waste. 

“Do you want to see?” you ask him, fingers finding the hem of your shirt and gripping it tightly, folding it a little anxiously back and forth like an accordion’s bellows. 

“See? What? No—!”

“I don’t mind, honestly.”

Ghost reaches up a hand to rub at one eye like a headache is forming behind it. His mouth never abandons its signature frown, even as he says, “If you want? Jesus, fuck. I don’t know. I’m not going to stop you.”

You find that you do want. You kneel up, take the hem of your t-shirt into your hands and work it up over your breasts. For all his lack of enthusiasm, his eyes crack open straightaway and glue themselves to you, widening a little at the sight of your strappy, lace-laden bra. 

“I know you didn’t fucking wear that for me,” he says, sounding winded. 

“I’ll be honest, I thought this was just a ploy to hook up. I wore the matching panties too, do you—“

“Stop—talking,” he mutters, closing his eyes. His hand reaches down towards his (valiantly hardening) cock, but thinks twice, turns into a fist, and comes to rest at his side. “And under no circumstance should you take your pants off.”

“Got it. Pants stay on.”

Ghost sighs. “I’m ready. Let’s get it over with.”

That’s the spirit, you think to yourself dryly. You lift your hand to your mouth, creating a little cup with your palm and to spit in, your eyes locked on his own. You hear the click as he swallows, but it’s progress that he doesn’t cum, right? That must mean that he had experienced some level of desensitization, either to you as a partner or to the specific stimulus or a mixture of both. 

But that’s not how this is supposed to work. The whole point is to help him learn to last when he’s as desperate as possible, hoping that edging when he’s truly suffering will lead to a more satisfying orgasm and therefore a need for fewer of them. 

You lower your hand instead of spitting and grip the hem of your shirt, tugging it off over your head altogether. Ghost can’t seem to find his tongue, staring at you with dark, huge eyes as you reach around back and fumble with the clasp of your bra, but at last that comes undone, and you peel it away from you, letting it join his jeans and your shirt on the floor. 

His eyes rake over your naked breasts, mouth forming a curse that he lacks the breath to whisper. His cock is so hard and heavy that it lays against his belly, thick and twitching. 

You shift and straddle his thighs just proximal to his knees. He fists the bedsheets, abs tensing sharply as he watches you with silent awe and trepidation. 

“What are you doing?” He whispers. 

“Getting comfortable?” you suggest. 

Now you cup your hand and spit into it. Then you offer it to him, holding out your hand expectantly. Looking wary, he leans up onto his elbows, ducks his head, and spits into your hand too, quite delicately for being a giant of a man. 

You take your hand and place it palm down against where his cock lays on his belly, slicking the underside from top to bottom. Ghost groans, a low sound torn deep from his chest. He collapses off of his elbows and onto his back, hands finding his eyes and palming at them again while you slick his cock all over with a delicate touch, barely more than a tickle. 

“Are you teasin’ me?” he grits out. 

“I would never.” The tips of your wet fingers trail down over his balls, tight and drawn up against his body already. He hisses through his teeth, cock flexing. You fight a grin. 

Taking him firmly in your hand, you give him a series of smooth, slow strokes, your hand loose and gentle where it is cupped around him. His body writhes against the sheets. 

“Stop, please stop,” he gasps, and you do, letting his cock fall to rest against his belly with a soft thud. He opens his eyes, takes one look at your tits, and squeezes them shut again. ”Fuck, can’t believe you took your shirt off.” 

“I can put it back on if you want.” 

“Really don’t want that. Really fucking don’t. Just—sit there. Please,” he tacks on to the end like an afterthought. You’re grateful to have received a please at all. He takes deep, slow breaths, his nostrils flaring as he strains for air. 

When he gives you a curt nod, eyes still firmly closed, you reach down and use one hand to grip the base of his cock. The other you place toward the head so that you can softly drag your thumb over the deep red tip, tracing the sensitive ridge and over the leaking slit. He whines, honest to god whines, a sound which you feel viscerally in your belly and lower. You shift on his thighs, wondering if it would be so bad to just straddle one, to get some pressure right where you need it most. It’s not like there’s any sort of propriety in a situation like this. He’s getting his, why can’t you get yours? 

You use your thumb to trace a vein up the length of his shaft and smooth the slick over his tip, polishing it softly. 

“Fucking—! Stop! Stop!” 

You stop, and you swallow an unhappy sound. Things had just been getting fun—for you, at least. Ghost looks like he’s being put through the wringer, redness creeping down his neck to disappear under his shirt, knuckles white where he grips the sheets, breaths rapid and shallow. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. He laughs a little, a self-deprecating, unhappy sound. “You’re too good at that.” 

“Good with my mouth too,” you say on a whim. 

His eyes flash open, wide and surprised (and narrowed in on your mouth), his lips parted in a look of near comical astonishment. His hand scrambles to grip around the base of his cock, squeezing painfully. “You—you’re enjoying this aren’t you?” 

“Way more than I thought I would,” you admit. “An obscene amount, honestly—I’m so wet—“

Ghost releases his death grip around his balls and strokes his cock, once, twice, thrice, quick little strokes as his face crumples, as he gives up on the whole fucking thing. You can see it in his face, the defeat, the submission. He’s going to jerk himself off to a quick, unsatisfying release—but it doesn’t seem fair. 

“Stop,” you hiss, reaching out to grip his wrist. He lets go of himself like he’s been burned, immediately obedient even as his face twists with fury. He pulls away from your touch but watches as you shift until just one of his thick thighs is between your own. 

You give a soft, gentle sway of your hips against him. His face is so fucking expressive, his eyes and brows and mouth telegraphing his every little thought and feeling. He watches you with something like tortured awe, eyes flickering towards where your clothed pussy rubs against his bare thigh. 

“Don’t touch yourself,” you breathe, pleasure zipping up your spine at the friction against your cunt. “I want to see if you can cum like this.”

“Came went you spat in your fucking hand,” he breathes, abs tensing, cock twitching as precum pools in his happy trail, watching as you get yourself off against his thigh. “Can cum like this no fucking problem.” 

“You’re not as sensitive now,” you pant, planting a hand against his tensed chest to gain the leverage you need to lengthen the rolling of your hips. 

“Am too.”

“We’ll see.”

His face twists. “Will you—keep going? Even if I do?”

You consider for a moment and then shake your head, breaths too shallow to make words properly. You feel saturated, swollen and sensitive. Every drag of your hips sends muted pleasure up your spine. Normally this would take you ages to cum, but you haven’t been this worked up in a long time. Watching Ghost’s cock turn shades of red and plum is like live pornography, obscene and arousing. Feeling a little cruel, you tell him: “Gotta hold it.”

He tenses his thighs, heels digging into the bed. It does something to the muscle pressed against your cunt and makes your nails dig into his chest. 

He’s shaking his head. “No. Negative. Can’t.”

“Hafta.” 

“Can’t—fuck, I—“

“Goddamnit Ghost,” you whine, hips working feverishly against him. “Hold it and let me cum.”

He really can’t—really and truly. His cock spurts against his belly, a pitiful amount of pearly cum as he groans low and long, moan forming half-hearted, breathy apologies: sorry, ‘m sorry, couldn’t hold it—

You groan, a sound more frustrated than aroused. Your hips slow and stop, and your mouth fights to make a pout. You will it away. It really isn’t his fault. 

“You…you don’t have to stop,” he says, a little shyly. 

You shift off of him and swallow your own sigh, feeling sticky and unsatisfied. “It’s okay,” you reassure him. “Maybe next time I’ll get my pants off.” 

His cock, spent, still twitches against his belly. 

[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

i want to speak into the void so bad rn

[nymphomatique]

wanna sit on nerd miguel’s face while i use my phone to snap other guys that’s my little chair fr😔😻

this just changed the trajectory of my life in a way you cannot understand.

cw: slight d/s dynamics, sending nudes, munch miguel makes an appearance once more, bro literally FEASTS, new character yippee (v minor), brief choking (more like a neck squeeze tbh), praise, squirting LOL, miguel gets kicked out again 😔 reader catching feelings?? we may never know. semi proofread today i felt nice. this is a longer one than usual, so enjoy!

“stop fuckin’ squirming down there and eat me out properly,” you say, looking down at miguel. his eyes are hazy and hooded, his glasses somewhere on the bed, his brown eyes clear as day. you grip his head by his hair and position him to where his nose brushes above your clit, and you moan at the feeling. “l-like that, okay miguel? be good for mommy.”

miguel takes heed of your instructions and begins to lick, suck, and thrust up into your wetness, making it hard for you to maintain something relative to your composure. in the throes of miguel’s mouth work, your phone screen, next to miguel’s head, lights up with a snapchat notification from none other than the star quarterback of your school, peter parker. you bite the corner of your lip, mouth pulling up in a smile at an idea. you grab your phone and open it to snapchat, seeing peters name at the top of your snap list. you open his snap and it’s a picture of him shirtless, abs on display, his happy trail just peeking over the band of his pants. his snap is captioned with text reading ‘wyd?’

you prop your camera up, angling it enough that miguel’s face and your pussy are out of frame. miguel stops for a moment to ask what you’re doing, but before he can get a word in you speak up, “if you stop, this will be the last time i ever let you touch me. got it? keep fucking going.” and wordless, miguel does as he’s told, going back to eating you but with a new energy this time. it catches you off guard a bit, and you let out a light f-fuck in response, but you don’t let it derail you from answering peter back.

peter. you and him have had.. complicated history to say the least. since high school, the two of you ran in the same social circles, with him being on your high school football team and you, a cheerleader. a true status quo. the two of you had ended up attending the same underaged parties, hooking up and even going steady for some time, until the blonde busty thing known as gwen stacy walked into your high school in sophomore year and made her claim on your then boyfriend. you figured it out after you walked in on them under the bleachers post-game, the spot where you habitually got on your knees to congratulate peter for his win. you stayed with him after a profuse apology and intense “i’m sorry” fuck session, to your dismay, but broke up with him in the beginning of your senior year. now, you two fuck from time to time, scratching an itch when you have it.

you look back at the tease of a photo on your phone, your tits spilling out your plunge neck crop top and your abdomen cutting off right above your pubic area, your pink thong still visible coming up the sides of your hips. you feel miguel plunge his tongue into you, causing you to fall forward, steadying yourself with one hand, phone in the other. “keep this up and i’m gonna squirt on you, but i bet you’re into that huh?” you laugh out a little, miguel moaning into you in response. you try not to get distracted and caption your snap to peter ‘nothing really’ and press send.

immediately, you see that he opens it and he replies just as fast, this time the photo of him in grey sweats with a visible tent, layer out on his bed. the caption attached, ‘wanna turn your nothing to a something? ;)’ and you roll your eyes. you move to answer him with another midriff picture, but you change your mind. “hey, look at me dweeb,” you say, turning the camera so that it’s capturing the angle of miguel’s mouth on your pussy, covered in spit and your juices. he looks up and sees the camera of your phone pointed down towards him and he goes red in the face and tight lipped. “remember what i told you about stopping,” you remind him, and he maintains eye contact with the camera as he goes back to lick a strip up your pussy, from your leaking hole to your clit. you move your unoccupied hand to his face, palm to his cheek as you slowly caress him with your thumb. “that’s a good boy.”

you move your hand from his cheek, trailing softly down to his strong neck and you wrap your hand around his neck and squeeze. at the pressure he lets out a groan, his hands moving to grip your thighs tighter to his face. “fuck miguel, you’re making mommy so happy right now- ah! fuck, just like that. keep doing that, o-okay?” you moan out. he says nothing, his eyes, still maintaining contact with the camera, clouded with lust, answering for him.

you snap a picture, turned on at the lewdness of it. it’s your pussy on miguel’s face, pink panties pushed to the side as his mouth is sucking on your clit, his hands gripping the fat of your thighs, and your hand around his neck at the same time. you make quick work to save the photo and caption it ‘busy, sorry’, feeling your orgasm approach. you press send and drop your phone, ignoring the back to back buzzing, probably of peters reply to your salacious snap.

a steady heat begins to boil in the pit of your stomach, and you keen forwards, your hand leaving miguel’s neck to grip the white sheets on your bed. “i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna-“ and with that, you feel the pleasure within you tighten then burst, like a damn breaking way, and you begin to tremble as miguel continues his work down on you. the overstimulation begins to hit you, and you feel a spurt of liquid leave your body and miguel groan and suck. “oh my god,” you heave out, “st-stop, no more.”

miguel places a final kiss to your mound as he moves to lift your limp hips for you. he feels sheepish how, his sweater and mouth drenched with your liquids. he wipes his lips and makes way to speak to your still firm on the bed. “are- are you okay?”

you say nothing, grab the nearest pillow you have, and throw it at him. miguel dodges and understands that means get the fuck out.

after collecting yourself, your body still spent and sheets still wet, you roll over on your back and grab your phone to look at what peter replied to you. you open his snap, and laugh a little at his responses.

peter 🚮

| is that fucking o’hara..?

| you’re fucking with me???

| fucking whore

| you sleep with nerds now??

you make way to reply to peter one more time, opening the camera and taking a picture of the wet bedsheets, caption it ‘nerds that can make me cum? yeah’ and unadd him after.

you finally haul yourself up to change your sheets when you see miguel’s glasses on your bed. you grab them and put them on your nightstand, feeling heat rush through your blood to your face, thinking of him and the mess he made of you.

fucking dweeb.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

May I have Childhood friends to lovers with Loki or Bruce Wayne pleaseee… thank you!

.⋆｡For the Longest Time｡⋆.

Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

You were always there in his life, just like he was for you. A little jealousy and a clingy eight year old might finally give you the push you both need

Warnings: fluff, jealousy, simp!Bruce, vague mention of hook-ups, little bit of Dick’s abandonment issues, mutual pining WC: 2.5k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Where’s Y/N?” A little voice spoke up from somewhere over Bruce’s left shoulder. He groaned and buried his face deeper in the silk pillowcase, he had only just crawled into bed. The mattress dipped as Dick hauled himself onto the bed, making Bruce swallow down a curse.

“What’s up?” He rolled onto his back and pulled back the blankets enough for a little body to slip under the covers. He received a kick to his very sore ribs as Dick clambered over him in his attempt to settle in the crook of Bruce’s shoulder. The eight year old sighed happily and cuddled up close to his adoptive father.

Bruce smiled despite the throbbing pain in his torso and the early wake up. “What did you need?” 

“Where’s Y/N?” He asked again, propping his chin on Bruce’s collarbone.

“She’s at her apartment?” His voice tilted up, confused at the question. Sure, you were at the manor quite frequently given that you helped Bruce with Dick’s care but you had never stayed the night, save for once when both you and Bruce were too drunk to even move.

Dick huffed, his bottom lip poking out as he looked away from Bruce. “That’s stupid.” The older man swallowed back a chuckle, instead he placed a hand on the boy’s back, his palm almost covering the entire thing. 

“Why’s it stupid?” He shut his eyes again. 

“Cause I want her to live with me!” 

“Hmm, maybe you can go live with her and I can finally get some sleep.” Tiny fingers dug into his armpit, making Bruce yelp and raise an eyebrow at Dick.

“No. I don’t wanna move my toys. Make her live here.” Bruce sighed heavily, sinking further into his mattress.

Yeah, right. He wanted to say but held his tongue. He had broached the idea when he had first taken Dick in, needing an extra set of hands for the rowdy child but you had quite literally laughed him off, just the same as you did when you were both eighteen and he had tried to give you one of his credit cards. You were fiercely independent and while you loved Dick, you still had your own work and life.

“You could try, chum but I think she likes her house more.” 

“Then let’s go there today!” Dick pushed himself up onto his knees, eyes shining with this brilliant idea. 

“Chum-“ But Dick had rushed out of the room before Bruce could get another word out, leaving him to contemplate whether he was going to break his son’s heart by falling back asleep or get up for the day and end up with a massive headache later. Distantly, he could hear Dick chattering away to himself and he knew he would have to raid your medicine cabinet in a few hours.

——————

Dick practically flew up the stairs of your apartment building, his backpack rattling with the sound of loose Lego bricks and inevitably a book he would get you to read him, as Bruce trailed behind, dark sunglasses perched on the end of his nose. He himself held a bag of food from Alfred and a bottle of your favourite wine as a sorry for the unexpected visit. He could at least pat himself on the back for delaying Dick just long enough for the boy to get some food and Bruce to get a couple hours of sleep.

“Come on! You’re so slow!” Dick whined as he reached the landing on your floor. He bounced on the balls of his feet before he huffed and threw open the door, darting down the empty hallway. The rattling of his bag grew distant and then, he was banging on your door with all the might his little fists could muster.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” Bruce cringed, his head ducked down as he passed by the other apartments on your floor, silently apologising to each of them. 

“Chum you can’t-“ But your door opened right then and the breath was knocked from his lungs. You were wearing a dark red dress that perfectly matched the matte lipstick on your plump lips. The fabric perfectly clung to you, making your curves even more prominent. You were still wearing your slippers and only had one earring in but you were still the most beautiful thing Bruce had ever seen, just as you always had been.

“Well isn’t this a surprise.” Dick wasted no time, throwing himself into your arms, he squealed loudly and buried his face in the crook of your neck. You laughed as his little fingers dug into the neckline of your dress, no doubt ruining the fabric. “I thought there was a monkey at my door with all that noise.” You ran your left hand along his side as you stood up, making Dick giggle and cling to you even tighter. In a couple months, Bruce doubted you’d be able to pick him up anymore.

“I missed you!” You beamed. Bruce felt his knees buckle.

“It’s a good thing you came over then, cause I missed you too!” 

Bruce cleared his throat. “I hope I can be included in that sentiment as well.” You finally looked up at him, your eyes shining like stars. You smirked, biting down on your lip as you gave the man a quick one over.

“Depends, what did you bring me?” 

“So my child doesn’t count?” Dick laughed again, his knees digging into your side. You raised an eyebrow at Bruce who lifted the bottle of wine with a sly smile.

“Why didn’t you start with that? Come on in.” You stepped back into the apartment, leaving the door open for him to follow behind. 

Your home had always been a comfort for Bruce, a safe haven tucked away from the world and his responsibilities. The weight of Batman and being the last Wayne, and even though he loved him dearly, being Dick’s father, lifted from his shoulders as the soft colours of your walls surrounded him. 

You wandered into the kitchen, like you normally did when they stopped by for a visit, Dick chattering away about anything and everything that came into his little mind while Bruce stopped to look at the new photos you had hung up in the living room. Photos of memories he had forgotten. There was one of the both of you in a pillow fort that towered over you, your faces slathered in chocolate from bags of candy at your feet. Another was the 3rd grade dance that your parents had chaperoned, you in a bright pink princess dress complete with fairy wings and a plastic tiara and him in a tiny suit with one of his father’s best ties that was far too big for him. Your high school graduation party where you and Bruce in all your drunken genius decided to race up one of the old trees on the Wayne property and got stuck at the top.

But the most recent one made his heart skip a beat; it was of all three of you curled up on your couch, Dick sound asleep on your lap as Bruce ‘rested his eyes’ while leaning on your shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around both of you as you beamed up at the camera. All of his happiest moments had you in them and for the life of him, he wouldn’t change anything about it.

Bruce turned and spotted your heels by the door, the red-bottomed ones that you only ever used when you wanted to get laid. Something in his stomach turned sour at the thought. “Why are you so dressed up?” He asked as casually as he could though his voice cracked. 

“Yeah! You look pretty!” Dick chirped though his own voice was muffled, no doubt you had already given him a cookie that he shouldn’t be having.

“I have a date,” You cooed (to Dick but Bruce liked to pretend it was for him), “but since you guys are here now. I’ll cancel it.”

“You don’t have to do that. We can go.” Relief made his shoulders sag but Bruce still forced a frown on his lips as you came back around the corner, Dick still perched on your wide hip. You were practically glowing with joy.

You waved him off and pressed a kiss to Dick’s chubby cheek, leaving a bright lipstick stain there. “I would much rather spend the evening with you guys. It also means I get to wear comfy clothes instead of this dumb dress.” Dick slipped from your arms and went to his bag, which he had dropped on the couch.

“Are you sure?” But that wasn’t the question he was really asking. You just smiled at him, putting a hand on his bicep as you leaned in close.

“There’s nowhere else I would rather be. Now let me get changed and we can watch a movie, how’s that sound bud?” Dick grumbled something to the affirmative, making you laugh to yourself as you turned to go to your room but not without a parting squeeze to Bruce’s arm. He watched you go, his gaze dropping to your ass to appreciate the sight for just a moment before he caught himself and turned his attention back to his son.

Dick, who was already observing his father with a curious expression, suddenly lit up with an idea. He covered his mouth with his hand and then disappeared as he fell back onto the cushions, a little laugh escaping him as he landed. Bruce ignored the boy and went to the kitchen to get some snacks together for all of you. 

The TV flicked to life, dousing the apartment with a hazy background noise that served to lead Bruce deeper into the fantasy of this life of domesticity actually being his. If he let himself, he could almost imagine how perfect it would be, just his family spending time together away from the rest of the world. But there was still that nagging fact that you had a date tonight, one that you cancelled for him sure, but a date nonetheless.

You weren’t his wife or his girlfriend, and that made his blood freeze.

He pulled out the cork from the bottle with perhaps a bit more force than necessary, sending a few drops of red liquid directly onto his white shirt. “Fuck.” He groaned and grabbed the dish towel on the counter to try and scrub away at the stain. 

“I can’t leave you alone for a second.” Your smaller hands gripped his waist, turning him around so you could take the towel from him. Bruce let you manhandle him until you could easily rub against his chest but the stain had already set in. Your bottom lip poked out, an almost overwhelming temptation to your oldest friend, before your fingers curled into his belt and tugged him away from the kitchen counter.

Bruce went willingly, eagerly. “I’ve got some of your shirts in my wardrobe, go get changed and I’ll finish up here.” He nodded blankly and wandered away from you.

You watched him go for just a moment before finishing pouring out the wine and laying some of the cheeses Alfred has so thoughtfully packed on a small tray. You grabbed some hopefully not stale crackers from the cabinet and journeyed back into the living room. “What are we watching tonight Dickie?”

Dick looked up from his spot between the couch and coffee table as you sat down with an almost bored expression on his little face. “Star Wars.”

“Duh.” You replied.

Soon Bruce wandered back in. “Why exactly do you have so many of my shirts in your closet?” You shrugged behind your glass, though he knew your cheeks were heated with embarrassment.

“Cause you’re clumsy and I knew I’d have to keep clean clothes for you.” He flopped down on the couch next to you, his arm immediately finding its place across your shoulders.

“Yeah right.” You curled into his side, settling in for a nice little evening.

It was halfway through the movie that Dick climbed onto the couch between you and his dad. “I wish we could stay like this forever.” He muttered wistfully, taking yours and Bruce’s hand into his. You looked at Bruce from over his little head.

“Aw buddy, we can do this whenever you want. You’re always welcome here, you know that.” He shook his head and Bruce's heart sank.

“What do you mean chum?” He asked, wondering if there was something more going on. Dick’s chest inflated as he took in a deep breath.

“But we always go home and you never come with us! You-you don’t really want us, you live so far away. And,” he sighed heavily, giving you the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes he could muster, “and you go on dates with people who aren’t my dad. You’ll leave.” His grip on your hand tightened like you would disappear right then.

Bruce’s heart lurched as your lips parted. “You should date him instead! And then we can all live together at home like we should be!” Dick continued and then, he slammed your hand into Bruce’s, forcing your fingers to intertwine.

“Dickie-“

“No! You’re supposed to be together! Even Alfred says so! So just do it already and then we can go home. Together.” His gaze switched to Bruce, who caught his glare. The man swallowed thickly and looked at you and for the first time in his life, Bruce couldn’t tell what you were thinking.

You let out a shaky breath after a moment, your fingers pressing into the back of his hand. He could feel your pulse against his wrist, your heartbeat was fast, almost matching his own. “Maybe you’re right Dickie.”

“What?” The word escaped him like he had just been punched, making your lips curl up into a bashful smile. 

“Maybe, I should be dating you and not those other men who I always end up comparing to you anyway. Maybe I should be going home with you.” 

“I think maybe you should.” Bruce leaned over his son, his free hand coming up to hold your full cheek. “Because I have spent my whole life with you by my side and now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t want you so far away anymore. I want to see your face everyday and hear your voice from beside me every moment that I can.” 

Your eyes dropped to his lips and that was all it took for Bruce to close the distance and finally kissed you like he should have done years ago when he realised that no other woman would live up to the place you carved out in his heart. You immediately melted into him, laying your hand on top of his own. 

Just as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, Dick got up on his knees between you and threw his skinny arms around your necks. You separated just as he shouted, “I told you!” 

You both laughed and hugged him back, sinking back down into the couch all together. Bruce’s chest warmed. Maybe, finally, he could get you to come home.

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[inosukijiro]

𝗚𝗜𝗬𝗨𝗨 𝗛𝗔𝗦 𝗔 𝗖𝗥𝗨𝗦𝗛

𝙨𝙮𝙣. ━ giyuu is wholeheartedly in love with you.

━ 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. no bc i am making this man a pathetic simp for you idc. im writing these with myself in mind so yk, i have to pour out my feelings. and also i need to get all this giyuu writing off my chest, its actually a problem the fixation i have on this man but no fics tickle my brain just right so i have to write them myself

━ 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. btw thank you so much for all the love and support on my last two posts. literally you all are so incredibly sweet !! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ i just graduated college so i might have a bit more time to write but no promises!

━ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨. none. giyuu might be a little ooc. modern reader in kny. i rewrote this a few times so pls be nice 🤧. 1.4k words.

━ 𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙩. im just going though and adding a synopsis and fixing my titles. og title: falling for you.

Giyuu actually doesn’t know how this occurred. No, actually that was a lie. He knew how this happened, but didn’t at the same time. And honestly speaking, the man does not care at all. You were so nice and sweet to Giyuu it made his head spin. Like it makes him ill in the best way imaginable. He doesn’t understand why you want to be around him so much, why you want to be his friend – not that he minds – but he just can’t get past his own indiscretions about himself. That was until you told him to his face.

You tell him that you thought he was cute – I'm sorry? – and you liked how calm he was – really? His brain can’t compute anything that you say. He doesn’t know if you need any medical assistance or he’s just dreaming. But it makes you laugh. The cute, dumb look on his face as he stands there, gaping at you like a fish.

It wasn’t like it was new information. You did enjoy his company the most. He was very quiet and by no means were you either, but you have this habit of matching the energy of people you were with. So, it was almost relaxing and refreshing spending time with Giyuu. Though Giyuu is silent most of the time, he does in fact talk. At first it's about a mission he was on recently, if and most likely when he gets more comfortable with you, he’s talking a little more in depth about random things that are on his brain. It's endearing really. Or sometimes he’s just talking about things that he thinks you might like to know, random facts, and so on.

But sometimes you do the talking and he likes that too. You could talk for hours and he could listen to every word you have to say. He would soak it up like a sponge as you focus your eyes on the crochet hooks weaving in front of you. Your voice is quiet and nice, soft and warm sounding.

This typically happens when you visit his estate. And you visit his estate a lot. Maybe Giyuu was a little disappointed that you weren’t staying with him, but he knows that he shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds. He’s lucky enough to see you this much, as much as he's lucky to see you at all. He can’t be too mad though. Mitsuri has jumped you the first moment she got when the Master had brought up your living arrangements. You had nowhere to go. And honestly, Giyuu may have been a little relieved that Mitsuri of all people had gotten to you first.

He really wouldn’t have minded if it had been Rengoku or Gyomei. For obvious reasons, Rengoku would be happy to have him stopped by and probably Gyomei too, because it seems like they don’t have a bone to pick with him. Honestly speaking, he wouldn’t have minded Muichiro either, though the boy would have probably forgotten your existence within the day. But any of the others, the thought made his skin crawl for plenty of reasons. Maybe it was because it would have become a hassle, or he would be harassed every time he went to visit you. Yes, it does seem on par with him that might just avoid you so you don’t get verbally assaulted like he does if you were to associate with him. But he was a lonely, pathetic man who was enamored with you at first glance the minute you showed up out of nowhere and he couldn’t help but thank the heavens that the stars had aligned so nicely for him – even if he felt he didn’t deserve it.

His only issue with the arrangement was Obanai. The man had almost butchered him on numerous occasions just for showing up to the Love estate. Even if he wasn’t there for Mitsuri, the Serpent Hashira didn’t seem to care. Maybe it was funny the first few times – it actually wasn’t – but you really couldn’t keep your mouth shut anymore. Obanai was wearing you thin with his commentary. Everytime Giyuu was around, it was like the others just couldn’t help themselves by making a comment insulting the man. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to disrespect a Hashira, especially if four of them were in the room with you, but Giyuu was here to see you, and it was almost like insulting Giyuu was an insult to you for wanting to spend time with him.

Mitsuri was okay with Giyuu coming to visit you, she actually encouraged it. So watching Mitsuri stand behind you while you gave Iguro a piece of your mind was something Giyuu didn’t know he needed to see until then. And maybe he did allow himself to feel a little selfish and smile mentally. He still remembers how Iguro had this look of disdain on his face, simultaneously looking like a scolded child and embarrassed because this was happening in front of Mitsuri.

Giyuu wondered if you caught the look that Obanai and Kaburamaru were giving you – if looks could kill and all that – but that was stupid. You most certainly did and just didn’t care enough. And Giyuu also wonders just what kind of sorcery you have, because he did hear you mention Sanemi by name at some point and now he's not bothering him as much, especially when you are around.

It wasn’t like he could do anything about it, not like he had ever done anything about it in the past. He never really had the heart to correct anyone in their assumptions of him, he never really thought he had to. Though, that mainly was because he thought he deserved such mistreatment. Regardless, it didn’t matter how he felt about it and himself. If you enjoyed his company that much to defend him, he was going to provide as much of it as you wanted. But there was something about it that made his heart swell a little bit bigger and flooded him with enough warmth that you could have mistaken it as him having a fever.

Now here the two of you were, sitting outside the Water Estate. You both had taken your places by the koi pond Giyuu has. It's so calm and cool. The soft moving of water could be heard every time the wind blew just enough, as well as the sharp sound of water splashing because some fish got too close to the surface.

Giyuu isn’t losing himself as he stares at the pond, watching the fish move around. He finds himself mesmerized though, as you talk. It’s nice, as usual. He likes how you talk and the way you talk. He could listen to you for hours and never get tired of hearing you. And he knows that if he glances at you now, even briefly, he wouldn’t be able to look away. You just look so… wonderful. It makes him dizzy. But he has such a weak will to do so, and now he's staring at you. Eyes soft and relaxed. He has never felt so content.

Giyuu doesn’t know if he realizes what kind of situation he is in. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s finally realizing just how much of an effect you have on him. He likes you. He likes you beyond anything in the world. He loves you and everything about you.

You don't notice him staring. You’re too busy weaving the crochet hook in and out of your craft. You make it look so effortless. So enjoyable. And you seem so happy crocheting away as you speak. The way you talk and do it at the same time, you're so smart. You have to be. And Giyuu can’t help but hope you don’t look up. You’re as mesmerized with your work as he is with you. He would die though, if you caught him. The thought makes him sweat almost, being so close to you like this. His hands are clammy, and he's never been this nervous.

Yeah, he definitely has it bad for you. And for the first time in a while, even despite his nerves, he found the corners of his lips curling upwards, in a soft and timid smile. He averts his eyes, almost to gather his bearings, but that isn't enough. The subtle flush creeping onto his cheeks betrayed him. But he couldn’t be more delighted.

thank you for reading !! ૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎ა

[drghostwrite]

Hello! I'm obsessed with Agatha too and I would like to request 1."Touch her and you're dead" and 7. "I need you to stay close to me."

Protective Agatha x reader is my weakness pleaseeee

omg yes… I would literally melt for protective Agatha… ughhh😫

p.s. I hope this is okay, I went with a angsty and fluffy version instead of the usual smut lol

Summary: what happens when your wife’s ex lover makes a grand appearance… Rio hears that Agatha has settled down, but when she arrives to find Agatha’s very pregnant wife, it’s not what she was expecting.

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x preg!wife!reader

Hold my hand

********************************************************

The clock ticked past midnight, and the soft glow of your laptop screen blurred, pages of research scattered across your desk as a dull headache clawed at your temples. Between the strain of staring at your laptop screen and the relentless kicking of the baby growing inside you, focus was a distant memory. You leaned back in your chair, rubbing a hand over your swollen belly.

“Okay, little one,” you murmured, half-amused, half-exhausted. “You are your mothers child.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite your discomfort… something about the fact that your baby was already showing stubborn determination felt poetic. With a sigh, you closed your laptop and the open books scattered across your desk.

It was time to call it a night.

The quiet of the house felt grounding as you made your way to the bedroom. The warm glow of a bedside lamp greeted you, and there, perched against the headboard, was your wife, Agatha.

She looked stunning, as always. Her dark hair fell in wild, natural waves, framing her sharp features in a way that made your heart flutter. The silk of her deep plum pajamas clung to her curves, the rich color enhancing her porcelain skin. One hand held a book while her other traced absentmindedly along the edge of the pages. She looked so serene, but when her eyes flicked up to meet yours, that familiar smirk curled her lips—knowing, teasing, and utterly irresistible.

“Finally decided to join me?” she drawled, closing her book and setting it aside. Her eyes roamed over you, lingering on the way you cradled your bump.

You slipped into bed beside her, letting out a soft groan as you tried to settle under the weight of your growing belly.

She reached over brushing a stray piece of hair out of your face, “What’s wrong?”

“Headache,” you murmured when her hand found its way to your hair, her fingers immediately raking through it with practiced ease.

“Come here,” she whispered softly, feeling as you shifted to lean into her more. Her other hand pressed gently into a pressure point at the base of your skull, and you couldn’t stop the contented sigh that escaped you as the pain began to ease. “There, better?”

“Much.” you sighed leaning into her touch.

“What would you do without me,” she teased, her lips quirking as she chuckled softly, “be completely helpless, my love?”

“Don’t start…” you huffed.

You rolled your eyes, too relaxed to protest, and leaned further into her touch. Just as you felt yourself starting to drift off, your baby decided to remind you of their presence with a strong kick.

“Oh, little one,” you groaned and shifted slightly, Agatha’s hand was warm as it came down to feel the kicks of your baby, “We get it, you’re feisty.”

Agatha’s laugh was soft and rich as her hand replaced yours, her fingers moving in soothing circles over your belly. “They take after their mother,” she teased, her voice low and affectionate.

“You’re not off the hook,” you mumbled. “You’re just as stubborn as I am.”

Another sharp kick and you groaned, your hand flying to your belly. “Seriously, do they ever stop?”

Agatha smirked, leaning down so her lips were mere inches from your belly. “Alright, my little love, settle down for your mama,” she brushed her lips over the taut fabric covering your belly, “your mama needs to rest.”

Almost immediately, the kicking softened, and your baby responded to her voice as if they were already under her spell.

You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t know how you do that.”

“Magic,” she replied with a smug smirk, “and they know who’s in charge.” She leaned up to place a kiss to your temple.

The gentle soothing of her voice and the constant warmth of her body against yours lulled you into a peaceful sleep, your head tucked against her neck, her arms wrapped protectively around you.

But the peace didn’t last.

You woke in the dead of night, your senses prickling with unease. Agatha’s arms were still draped possessively over you, her breathing steady and soft as you tried getting closer to her, but something felt wrong. Carefully, you slipped out of bed, wrapping a robe around yourself as you padded downstairs.

You froze at the sight of a stranger standing in your living room. A tall woman with dark hair and matching dark eyes, she ran her fingers over the mantle above your fireplace, adorned with some decor and pictures of you and Agatha.

“Who the hell are you?” you demanded, your voice low but firm as you instinctively shielded your belly.

The woman turned, her lips curving into a predatory smile. “Rio Vidal,” she introduced herself, her tone dripping with mockery. “And you must be the reason Agatha’s been so quiet these days.”

“Rio… you and Agatha…” you started, hearing a name that your wife avoided saying at all costs.

“So you do know me,” her sadistic smile catching in the light, “I always thought Agatha kept me a secret.”

“What do you want?” your pressed a firm hand to where your baby kicked in response, you voice wavering at the thought of Agatha sleeping upstairs.

“Oh relax,” she started slowly moving towards you, “I was just curious. I heard Agatha had settled down… I never saw her as the marrying type and yet here you stand pregnant with her baby no less…” Rio’s gaze dipped to your belly, and her smile widened.

Her hand ghosted over your bump, and you instinctively stepped back, magic flaring at your fingertips.

“Don’t,” you warned.

But Rio only laughed, her dark energy crackling around her. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve got some fight in you… nice to see you’re more than just a pretty face.”

She struck first, but you were quicker, deflecting her attack and sending a blast of energy that sent her skidding back.

“Oh I like you,” Rio’s smile turned feral. “Feisty and powerful. No wonder Agatha fell in love with you.”

Before she could strike again, your eyes flashed silver, your untamed power surging to the surface. But before you could unleash it, a low dangerous voice froze you both.

“Touch her and you’re dead.”

Agatha’s tone was lethal and laced with venom, when Rio turned, her smirk faltered under the weight of your wife’s glare.

Rio glanced at her, her smile turning coy. “Agatha,” she said, her voice dripping with mock affection. “It’s been a while. You didn’t tell me you’d moved on so… domestically.”

“This isn’t a game, Rio,” Agatha snapped, “Get out. Now.”

Rio’s eyes flicked back to you, and she smirked. “You always did love a challenge… nice to see you still have good taste.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Agatha growled, her magic flaring dangerously.

Rio held her hands up in mock surrender, stepping back. “Alright, alright. No need to get territorial.” She glanced at you one last time, her grin sharp. “Until next time, sweetheart.” With a flick of her wrist, she vanished into the shadows.

The moment she was gone, Agatha was at your side, her hands trembling slightly as they cupped your face and then moved to your belly. “Are you hurt? Is the baby…?”

“I’m fine, we’re fine…” you assured her, though your voice wavered.

Agatha’s jaw tightened, and she pulled you into her arms, holding you as if to reassure herself you were truly okay.

Later, back in bed, you curled against her, her hand resting protectively over your belly. “I can hold my own, you know,” you murmured.

“I know,” Agatha said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “But you’re mine, and I don’t take chances with what’s mine.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “You’re stuck with me, you know. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her voice cracked as she whispered, “I… I can’t lose you… I need you to stay close to me. Always.”

“You have my whole heart, Agatha,” you replied. “I’m not going anywhere, you have me... always.”

“I love you Y/N Harkness.” She said pressing a kiss to your head as she continued tracing patterns over your baby bump, reassuring herself that everything was okay.

“I love you to… Mrs. Agatha Harkness.” You said leaning further into her, placing a kiss to her neck before your forehead found the crook of her neck as you settled against her.

And as you settled back into bed, her arms wrapped tightly around you, you both knew there was no breaking the bond you shared… no matter what… or who tried.

[withwritersblock]

Blowing Smoke

~Blowing Smoke by Gracie Abrams~

Author's Note: requested! italics are flashbacks and how i met your mother is literally my favorite show of all time so when I saw this request nearly passed out. Summary: Quinn and Y/N have a complicated friends with "benefits" situation Warnings: implied smut Word Count: 4,136 Quinn Hughes x fm!reader

She sat down in the bar booth beside Quinn a groan leaving her lips. Kasey and Michael looked towards her suspiciously while Quinn was already watching her sit down. Frankie was off flirting with some girl in the bar, leaving the extra chair empty. 

“Hey honey, what’s wrong?” Kasey asked as she slid the small scotch glass towards her. Y/N immediately took a hold of it and chugged it. Quinn’s eyes widened as he watched her drink the whole thing. Michael tried to hide his smirk while he brought his own beer towards his lips.

“I hate my job,” she let out as she fought the burn of the scotch down her throat. “I swear I’m never having kids because of this job,” she slammed the glass down onto the table.

Quinn wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards his body. She rested her head onto his shoulder. Her lips fell into a pout as she met Kasey’s gaze. “What happened today?” Kasey asked.

The pair worked together for the last three years and is the whole reason why they in this booth together. Y/N was new to the area and needed a group of people to be with. Kasey was the only other person less than forty at the elementary school they taught at. 

“Three of my students got into a brawl and I got brought into the principal’s office,” she explained as she lifted her head from Quinn’s shoulder. She looked into his eye for a moment. 

Quinn cringed as he slide his drink towards her, “Maybe you need this a bit more than me,” he let out as he shifted his gaze towards around the bar. She gladly took a hold of it and chugged the remainder of the drink. She let out a hushed groan as she shook her head. “I’ll go get us another round,” Quinn offered as he stood up from the booth, tapping his hand against the table.

“You’re going to love them, it’s going to be a great group,” Kasey let out as she guided her inside the bar, the bar her and her friends hang at nearly every other night. Kasey began to guide them towards the group of three guys sitting in a booth that they seemed quite comfortable in.

Y/N held back looking towards the guy she hooked up with two weeks ago. Hooked up was a strong word but they had a lengthy make out and a romantic evening on a rooftop. He was looking at her with so much love for someone who was on a first date. She wasn’t looking for anything serious but by the way he was looking at her and kissing her; he was. She told him that she wanted it to be a one time thing and he listened and they haven’t spoken since.

“You okay?” Kasey asked as she spun around. Y/N blinked rapidly as she looked towards the three guys again.

“Those are your friends?” Y/N asked quietly. Kasey nodded, a small grin on her lips. 

“Oh god, did you hook up with Frankie? I’m so sorry-he’s-I don’t actually know why we’re friends with him,” Kasey explained while shaking her head.

“What about him?” she asked, her gaze on Quinn. Kasey followed her line of sight and her eyes widened. 

“Oh Quinn? Are you a Canucks fan? Of course you are, you’re from Vancouver-he’s harmless,” she ranted.

“No, I mean yes but we sort of-had a night together a few weeks ago. I don’t want to make this awkward, thank you for inviting me-I think I’ll just-”

“No, stay! Come on, there’s so much testosterone over there, I need someone to balance it out! Come on, he won’t make it weird,” she took a hold of Y/N’s arm and dragged her towards the table.

“I’m worried, I’ll make it weird,” she mumbled. Kasey chuckled as she walked towards the booth.

Quinn lifted his gaze and met her eye, he smirked as he squinted his eyes slightly as he brought the beer towards his lips fighting the grin. 

“Frankie, get up and get a chair,” Kasey asked, smacking her hand against his upper back.

“What? Why do I ha-” Frankie argued but Kasey smacked her hand against his back again before he stood up and walked away to get a chair. Kasey’s fiance moved and sat beside Quinn, letting the girls sit beside one another. 

“Boys this is Y/N, we work together and she is my newly found best friend so you better be nice and behave because I would like her to stick around,” Kasey said waving a finger between Quinn and Frankie, her finger staying pointed towards Frankie a little longer than Quinn.

Y/N smiled softly towards them before she brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face. “I’m going to go grab a drink,” she let out as she slipped out of the booth seat.

“I’ll join ya,” Quinn let out as he smiled towards Kasey, almost mockingly. 

“Behave,” Kasey whispered loudly. 

Y/N walked towards the bar, smiling towards the bartender ordering an espresso martini. Quinn leaned against the bartop, smiling towards her. She pursed her lips forward, keeping her gaze on the bartender, watching him make the drink.

“So have you changed your mind then?” he asked as he leaned his head into his hand. Turning her head, she met his eye fighting a grin forming to her lips.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Kasey when I agreed to hang out with her friends tonight,” she explained as the espresso martini was placed in front of her. Quinn gestured towards the bartender to put it on his tab. She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked into his eye.

“It’s my night for the tab,” he mumbled. The bartender placed a beer in front of him. 

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she brought the drink towards her lips, taking a small sip. “Are you okay with this?” she asked while glancing towards the table. Quinn looked into her eyes, almost searching for something.

“Yeah,” he said quite confidently, almost nervous. “As long as you don’t sleep with Frankie. You’ll be the third friend of Kasey’s to stop hanging out with us because of him,”

“Noted,” she let out laughing as the pair returned to their booth.

“I’m gonna get fired,” she let out as she rested her head into hands.

“They won’t fire you,” Kasey said as she rested her head onto Michael’s shoulder. “We’re in a teacher shortage, you know that,” she teased. Y/N rolled her eyes playful as she turned her gaze towards Quinn and a short blonde talking at the bar. He was flirting, she could tell by the way he was leaning against the bartop.

Her mood was already in the dumps but it was getting worse the more she was watching him flirt with a girl, he probably doesn’t even know the name off. Frankie stood behind the blonde, holding up a thumbs up towards Quinn. 

She felt the oxygen in her body dissipate as she continued to watch him talk with the girl. Their drinks were sitting on a tray in front of him but he was not attempting on bringing them over towards them.

Kasey turned around, “Oi Huggy bring me my beer!” she shouted. Quinn shifted his gaze towards the group, he began chuckling before he took the tray cautiously and began walking towards his booth table. The blonde girl huffed before she wandered towards a different corner in the bar.

“What if that was my future wife, Kase, you could’ve just ruined that,” Quinn expressed as he delicately placed the drinks down in front of them. He slammed the tray against his side as he looked into Kasey’s eyes.

“Sure Quinn, the girl with her tongue down Frank’s throat is your future wife. Sit,” she expressed. He spun his head around to see the blonde making out with Frankie against the bartop. Quinn laughed awkwardly as he left the tray on an empty table before he plopped back down beside Y/N. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her towards him.She rested her head onto his shoulder as she took a deep breath.

It was a common routine between herself and Quinn. If she was asked about her feelings towards Quinn three years ago, she would say it was merely attraction, but now she was not so sure. There was a handful of nights over the years that reflected the first night they met. It never went past a sleezy make out with their clothes on. It always ended with them cuddling and falling asleep in each others arms.

She brought her espresso martini towards her lips, taking a tiny sip before she rested her head back onto Quinn’s shoulder. He ran his hand up and down her arm. “You’ll be alright,” he whispered before he pressed his lips to the top of her head. 

Michael and Kasey shared a glance before they awkwardly brought their beers to their lips. Frankie soon took a hold of the empty chair, spinning it around as he sat down. “Look what I got!” he sang as he showed a napkin with the blonde’s number on it. 

He spun it around, “Vanessa,” he sang before he ripped the napkin and let it fall to the floor. “Quinny, she wanted me to give it to but I guess I lost the napkin,” he teased as he smirked before he brought his scotch towards his lips. Quinn rolled his eyes as he pulled his phone from his pocket to see a text from his younger brother Jack. He pulled his arm away from Y/N as he began to reply.

~~~

She was laying on the couch, her feet draped over Kasey’s lap as they were both scrolling through their phones. Michael and Frankie were in front of them attempting to get a new high score on Just Dance. Quinn was pacing back and forth adjusting his collar and running his fingers through his hair repeatedly. 

“My hair look okay?” he stopped behind the couch, looking down towards Y/N. She pulled the phone away from her face, looking up towards him, she hummed before she returned her gaze back to her phone. “You wouldn’t lie to me right?” he pressed further. 

“Quinn, it looks good,” she let out a chuckle leaving her lips. He nodded before he walked back towards the bathroom.

Despite being the captain of the Canucks, money everywhere at his disposal, but he still lived with his first ever roommate in Vancouver. It was only a few seconds before he stepped out of the bathroom holding two bottles of cologne. “Y/N, which one is better?” 

He held both bottles in front of her face, rolling her eyes playfully she leaned up and smelled both bottles. She smiled after she looked at the blue glass bottle, “That one,” she muttered. He smiled as he sprayed a few across his entire body. 

“You’re the best, Y/N!” Quinn said while jogging away. Y/N nodded as she raised her eyebrows while trying not to laugh. 

“What’s the name of this one?” Michael asked loudly while panting as the song finished. Frankie clapped his hands together while pointing his finger guns towards Michael, “Start it again,” he forced out.

Frankie started the game again, “Your funeral Atkins,” Frankie said completely normal, no sense of being out of breath.

Quinn remerged adjusting his collar, “Her name is Josephine and we met at that coffee place down the street. She has no idea who I am, which is great,”

“Doesn’t sound creepy at all,” Y/N mumbled, getting a laugh from Kasey. 

“It’s not because this could be it guys! I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” He let out as he continued walking towards the door. “I’ll be back!” he sing-songed before he stepped out of the apartment. Y/N shook her head while she kept her gaze on her phone.

Kasey delicately tapped her hands against Y/N’s thigh. She lifted her gaze from her phone to meet Kasey’s gaze. “Are you okay?” Kasey asked softly. Y/N blinked a few times before shaking her head slightly.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kasey pouted her lips. 

“I’m fine,”

Kasey leaned towards her, practically getting on top of her, “The love of your life just walked out the door on a date with another woman,” Kasey whispered. 

“He’s hardly the love of my life,” she shot back quietly while looking into Kasey’s eyes. “I don’t have any feelings,” Y/N expressed. Kasey huffed and stood up from the couch, dodging Michael and Frankie in the process. She walked around towards the back of the couch. 

Kasey motioned towards her to follow her. Y/N reluctantly stood up from the couch, Michael nearly smacked her in the head. “Damn, Y/N, you know not to get in the way of Mikey and Gaga,” Frankie joked as she stumbled away from the pair.

“Alright, we’re going to head home, Quinn are you coming?” Kasey asked as she started to climb out of the booth. Michael started to slide out too. Quinn shook his head as he brought his water towards his lips.

“I’ll head back in a bit,” he mumbled. Michael and Kasey smiled towards him before they started walking out of the bar. Quinn’s gaze followed Frankie who was busy chatting up a red haired girl that was definitely way out of his league. She seemed interested enough.

Quinn lifted his gaze to see Kasey talking with Y/N for a moment before her and Michael walked out of the bar. Y/N didn’t need to look through the bar to find Quinn. They sat at the same booth every time they were there. Which was nearly every night. They would only drink two nights they were there but it was their hangout spot. 

She pouted her lips slightly as she slide into the booth, the same side as Quinn. 

“Why is it every time you come here you have a pout on your lips,” Quinn teased as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Y/N rested her head onto his shoulder, he ran his hand up and down her arm. 

“It’s not every time,” she mumbled fighting the grin on her lips.

Quinn’s face scrunched while smirking, “It’s almost every time.” He leaned his head against hers as he stared blankly ahead. 

“Well you… guys always make me feel better,” she mumbled. Quinn smiled to himself before he leaned towards her, pressing his lips to the top of her head for a second. 

After a few seconds she lifted her head to meet his eye. His hand glided up her arm, running through her hair as he took a hold of her neck. “What are you doing, Quinn?” she asked softly as she rested her forehead against his. Their hearts were beating out of their chest as they felt like they were in their own little bubble. 

��Quinn,” she mumbled before he leaned towards her, delicately kissing her. She hummed against his lips as she took a hold of his t-shirt, tugging it slightly. 

“You have an apartment upstairs, we should head to your apartment upstairs,” he mumbled against her lips. She giggled.

“Let’s go to my apartment upstairs,” she teased as she slowly glided out of the booth, holding out her hand for him. He gladly took a hold of it as she guided him towards the exit of the bar.

“Oh yeah!” Frankie shouted as he saw them walking out together. 

Once they were upstairs, her small studio apartment was always there “secret” spot together. She shut the door and twisted the lock as she pressed her back against the door. He stood in front of her, shyly shoving his hands into his pockets.

She reached her hands up and delicately took a hold of the base of his neck. She dragged her thumbs across his skin as she looked into his eyes He pressed his lips together as he scanned her features. 

“What are you thinking?” she asked as she tilted her head back against the door. 

He smirked as he inched towards her, “I’m not thinking,” he mumbled as he leaned towards her devouring her lips.

Kasey took a hold Y/N’s arm and guided her towards her bedroom, to talk without the boys hearing. Not that they were listening much anyway. “Frankie said that you two left the bar the other night holding hands and that he saw you guys be all close and cuddly,” Kasey whispered excitedly as she forced Y/N to sit down onto her bed.

Rolling her eyes she pursed her lips forward. “It’s not like we had sex,” she mumbled. 

Kasey let out a dramatica groan as she sat beside Y/N yet she also laid onto her back. Kasey pretended to punch the ceiling. “So you’re completely okay with making out with him and then watching him go on a string of first dates pretending to find the one. When we all know the one is you,” she explained while dramatically using her hands to make her point. 

“I don’t know about that,” Y/N let out barely above a whisper as she laid on her back, following Kasey in pursuit. 

“Do you have feelings for him?” she asked as she turned her head to meet Y/N’s gaze. 

She didn’t want to say yes. She knew that Quinn was special from the moment that she met him but she wasn’t ready. Still didn’t feel totally ready. Because what does being ready even mean?

“I’ll take your silence as a declaration of love,” Kasey teased. 

“It’s not, it’s an I don’t know,” she muttered. 

~~~

It had been a month since Quinn’s gone on any date. Josephine ended up being a huge Canucks fan and wanted nothing more than to be involved with the captain. Quinn swore off dating after that, he was honestly terrified of the stalking that came with girls like that. 

Quinn stumbled into the apartment after a win by the Canucks where he had the game winning goal. Despite his friends having season tickets that Quinn paid eighty percent for because they insisted on contributing; they didn’t end up going to the game that night. 

Kasey stumbled out of the bedroom, her pajamas covering her frame. She threw her hands to the side, “Why do you insist on playing good when we don’t go? That’s so unfair,” she let out somewhat jokingly. She jogged towards him, pulling into a tight bear hug. 

“Then you guys need to start coming to every game,” he muttered as he chuckled. His eyes scanned the apartment, furrowing his eyebrows. “No, Y/N or Frank?” he asked softly. 

“They went out to a club or something, said that they were going to be each other’s wingman,” Kasey said, somewhat instigating. Quinn’s eyes widened as he nodded, he ran his hand across his chin.

“They went-like- together?” Quinn asked softly, meeting Kasey’s gaze. She nodded slowly, fighting the grin forming to her lips. “Cool, that’s cool.”

“One more time and I’ll believe you,” she muttered, raising her eyebrows.

“It’s cool,” he let out. She smirked as she started stepping back towards her bedroom.

“Okay, goodnight Quinn,” she teased before she slipped back into her room. Quinn nodded before he slowly walked towards his bedroom, directly opposite of Kasey and Michael’s room.

He stepped inside of his room and every hit he took during the game suddenly overtook his body. His entire frame felt battered and bruised. He took in a shaky breath as he took a hold of the hoodie on his frame, he pulled it away from his body, tossing it towards the corner of his room. 

He walked towards the small mirror hanging above his dresser, taking note of the redden and bruising jagged spot on his ribs. Clenching his jaw, he delicately ran his fingers across the top of the skin. He sighed as his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw that Y/N was calling him. 

Quinn lifted it up and brought it towards his ear, answering it. “Y/N, you alright?” he asked.

“Can I come in?” she asked softly. He furrowed his eyebrows as he felt his heart jump into his throat.

“You have a key to our place,” Quinn offered as he took in a deep breath. 

“Not what I meant,” she mumbled. He pressed his lips together as he fought a grin forming to his lips. He reached for the door and pulled it open. They both still had the phone up to their ears. He was the first to slowly pull it away from his ear, he quickly ended the call as he placed it onto the shelf beside him. 

She slowly pulled her phone from her ear, smiling softly. Her body was covered in a tight red dress and her hair was pulled awy from her neck. He scanned her frame. 

“Are you drunk?” he asked softly as he stepped back into the room. She took that as an invitation and stepped inside. Swinging the door shut, it closed quietly. 

“It’s Wednesday, I don’t drink on school nights,” she said with a grin toying to her lips.

“What are you doing here then?” he asked barely above a whisper, a small grin on his lips. 

“I am not sure,” she mumbled as she let out a sudden breath. Quinn bit his bottom lip as he took a hold of her waist as he cautiously pushed her against the door. She let out a small gasp as her eyes widened slightly. Her eyes lowered towards his frame, taking note of his bruising frame. “Oh my god,” she muttered as she delicately traced her fingertips across his bruises.

“It’s not that bad,” he said while holding his breath. She tilted her head to the side while staring into his eyes. He nodded as he stepped back.

“Got my ass handed to me tonight,” he muttered. She chuckled as she watched him sit down onto his bed. She chuckled as she walked towards him. His gaze followed her intently.

“I can make you feel better,” she mumbled. He smirked as he scanned her frame.

“How do you plan on doing that?” he asked as he leaned back on his hands. She stood in front of him, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Y/N,” he let out barely above a whisper. She took a hold of his cheeks, lifting his head up. 

“I’m gonna-” she muttered before she leaned towards him kissing him desperately, almost as if they’ve never kissed before. He reached his hands towards her, taking a hold of her waist as he pulled her towards him. 

Her fingertips began to run through his hair as they began to devour each others lips. She slowly climbed onto his lap as his hands took a hold of her thighs. His fingertips glided along her skin as he slowly ran his hands higher and higher up her frame. She pulled her lips away from his as she pressed her forehead against his.

“I’m gonna say it,” she mumbled before she pressed her lips against his again. He hummed against her lips before he tilted his head back, slowly opening his eyes. She met his gaze as she continued to slowly run her fingers through the ends of his hair. 

“I’m waiting,” he let out teasingly before he pecked her lips.

“You know this is really hard for me right,” she muttered. He smirked before he took a hold of her thighs, and tossed her onto the bed. Her eyes widened as he started to climb on top of her. Scanning her features, he leaned down and delicately pressed his lips against her cheek.

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbled as he leaned towards her, he brushed his lips against her ear, “But I need you to say it.” he pulled back and met her gaze. She rolled her eyes playfully before squeezing her eyes shut.

“I have feelings for you,” she muttered before she slowly opened her eyes. He had a grin on his face as he looked into her eyes.

“What kind of feelings?” he asked teasingly. 

“Oh shut up,” she said as she took a hold of his neck pulling him towards her. She kissed him urgently as a giggle fell from his lips.

“This feels a little out of nowhere,” he mumbled against her lips.

“If you think three years is a little out of nowhere, you are hopeless,” she let out before she kissed him urgently.

[hazelfoureyes]

Hello! Not sure if you're taking requests, so do ignore this if you feel like it.

I adore your work sm!! Rewatching the Stayed Gone mv, Vox had a picture of a bootleg Alastor and pointing to his microphone were the words "dildo?"

Do you think you could write an Alastor x Reader, or just Alastor pleasuring himself with the microphone? (That sounds weird now-)

Thank you for taking the time to read this!

-🍺

Good Vibrations

the way I immediately knew what to do is proof of my depravity. I know it isn’t exactly what you meant but this is what I’m comfortable with writing. This was a quick little 30 minute write, I hope it still brings you joy 🎙️

After you make an offhand comment about doubting if his microphone actually works, Alastor finds a creative way to convince you while at dinner with the group.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, erotic but not smut?, smut is explicit, this is just horny, the microphone does in fact work, vibrator

Rarely was Alastor without his microphone. Even Vox made note of it. But, his voice sounded like it came from his mouth. Sure there was a radio affect to it, but he was a demon after all. You couldn’t figure out how it worked. Or rather, if it worked.

As you all waited to take your seats for dinner, Niffty having turned out to be a surprisingly good cook, you were caught staring.

“Is there something I can do for you?”, Alastor leaned down to meet your eyeline.

You blinked, “Oh, sorry. Just wondering if that even works.”

“If what works?”

“Your microphone.”

He knew it worked, of course. But your question felt… offensive. “Do you think I’d carry a functionless microphone around?”

Without hesitation you replied, “I do, yes.”

“Oh absolutely!” Angel pushed between you two.

“You do have a flare for the dramatic, boss.” Husk took his seat beside Angel.

Charlie nervously scratched her cheek, “I always wondered that too! But it worked in Cannibal Town, so I’m a believer now.”

“But wait-,” Vaggie looked to Charlie, “If it worked when you put it to your mouth why doesn’t he have to? It’s literally everywhere but his mouth.”

Alastor’s forced grin strained against this cheeks, black gums showing. You gave him a shrug and joined the group. He took his seat opposite you, pulling his chair in all the way.

You’d already forgotten the conversation when you felt something graze across your lap. Before you could investigate, Alastor spoke, “Why don’t we all say what we did today! I’ll go first!” Your knees shot up, knocking the table as a strong vibration lit up your crotch.

Vaggie leaned in, “You good?”

Slowly, eyes wide, you looked up to meet Alastor’s wicked smile.

“I went downtown to grab a fresh cut of venison. Niffty makes the best venison roast this side of Pentagram City.” You white knuckled the edge of the table, glancing down to see the microphone resting between your thighs. The top was nestled firmly above your mound.

“Hmmm what else? Oh! I got some deviled eggs. My, what a treat. My mother made the best deviled eggs. You know-,” as he droned on, you tried to push your chair away from the table. “Ah ah! It’s so rude to leave while someone is speaking.” He leaned back, foot reaching under the table to hook around your chair’s leg and pull you forward.

“Aww Al, you never talk so much! This is great. What else did you do today?” Charlie rested her cheek on her hand, eyes sparkling at Alastor.

“I am so glad you asked! Let me think, hmmmmm” He drew out the consonant, the sound making a rougher vibration than others. You were hunched over the table, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet. “Oh I went to— what is it called again? Ummmmm,” Your leg shot up again, the silverware clanking against your plate.

“Will you just fucking say it?!” You spit it out louder than you meant.

“Woah! That’s not very nice.” Charlie gave you a disappointed look, pulling a groan from you, “What’s gotten into you?”

Angel looked over to you, “You doin’ alright? You’re like… sweatin’.”

“What indeed, Charlie. Well, anyway! I think I’ve made my point!” You felt the weight of the microphone slide down your thighs and past your knees. You took in a deep breath, finally able to relax your body.

“You’re pretty pale…”, Husk commented, “You sick or something?”

Angel pushed your hair from your forehead, “That face looks so familiar.”

Before you could answer, Alastor opened his mouth, “I think she should lie down. Allow me to escort you to bed, my dear.”

“You are so sweet today! I love it! Fuck yeah!” Charlie punched the air. Alastor came behind you and pulled your chair back for you. “Take your time, if she’s sick maybe she shouldn’t be alone.”

“If you say so!” Alastor practically sang the words. With both hands on your shoulders, he guided you out of the room.

“He’s the best.” Charlie beamed, “Alright whose next?”

༻Masterlist༺

[kissitbttr]

omgomgomg… a lil quickie w frat!miguel before his big game me thinks 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

“do you think they have fries stall back in the booth? i want their seaweed one”

“my dick is literally inside you muñeca, and you’re talking about fries?!”

he has you pressed down against the locker room’s bench, where his teammates had already gone. snuck you in the moment he checked that the locker’s empty,

in which you were against at first, because it’s smelly and being in the boy’s locker room is disgusting. you told him that before. suggested to do it in the teacher’s lounge or library like you both always do it, where everyone is off to the game. but he couldn’t wait that long.

it has been pretty much a ritual for him and you to fuck before the game. something about being a good luck charm when he fucks you. especially when you look as good in your cheerleading uniform. that short skirt and skin tight top makes him go crazy. you can’t blame him.

“well i’m hungry! i only had that half of burger gloria shared with me and it wasn’t enough!” you protest with a huff, sliding your hands to his biceps,

he rolls his eyes, fingers running through his lightly dampen hair, stealing a kiss from you to get you to be quiet.

“i’ll get you everything they have there, muñeca, yeah? but now? i need you to shut up for a moment”

he hooks his arms underneath the back of your knees, circling them around his waist as he plunges deeper into you making you gasp at the sudden stretch, toes curling at the sensation

miguel smiles at your reaction, hoisting your skirt up just a bit more. “mierda.. you look absolutely beautiful, baby” he grunts, thrusting his cock a little bit faster,

you dig your finger tips into the skin of his arms as he fucks you, back arched deliciously as he watches your tits bounce inside the material of your top,

“oh fuck, miggy” your whine comes off high pitched, needy. one that he has find himself obsessed with. “d-don’t stop, baby—fuck, that feels so good”

hearing that makes him growl, resting his forearm above your head to help him press down his weight on you just a little bit. your jaw goes slack, eyes lulling to the back of your head and nothing miguel appreciates more than the sight before him,

“gonna come, sweetheart? hm?” his hand moves to your jaw, getting you to look at him. his thrusts going even more brutal and deeper making you whimper

“gonna coat my cock, aren’t you? be my good girl”

nodding fast, you bite down your lower lip. big wide eyes looking into him and he swears he’s not going to make it too. not when you look at him like that,

“y-yes! yes miggy, please let me cum!”

soon enough, you both reach your high. soft moans and loud groans escaped your mouths,

miguel stays in you for a while to catch his breath, forehead resting against your collarbone before chuckling. he presses a soft kiss on the soft skin before pulling out,

he watches you trying to regain your composure, breathing heavily with your arm above your head,

“earth to muñeca? you good?l” he heavy pants with a joke, patting your thigh,

your eyes snap open to look at him, giving him a small yet satisfied smile. “i’m good.”

he helps you get up slowly after that, not before pulling the condom off him and throwing it in the trash,

“miguel!” you slap his arm. “people will see that! throw it outside!”

“no one is going to! the janitor maybe. and i’m sure he had his fair shares of seeing used condoms” he shrugs, wiping his hands off the varsity

you brush it off before pulling your panties up and skirt down, fixing up the ponytail after. you eye yourself through the small mirror attached on the wall, removing any smudged mascara and lipstick,

“do i smell like sex? i feel like i smell like sex. ugh, i smell like you!”

he quirks an eyebrow. “and what is wrong about that?”

“nothing! i like smelling like you. but they will—“

“know that i fucked the shit out of you and that you’re my girl? yes” he leaves a soft kiss on your cheek,

you smile at that, looking over your shoulder before pointing your finger at his neck,

“also you have a hickey”

he widens his eyes. “what?! FUCK!”

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ⌇ BITE ME. featuring m. o’hara.

↻ he doesn’t want to hurt you, but when you beg so nicely, miguel can barely resist.

tags : biting, size kink, fingering, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, teasing, paralysis, venom usage, mentions of blood/blood licking, dirty talk // wc. 0.8k

author’s notes : MIGUELLLL oh my god i have NOT given up with him even after a year and when the next spiderverse movie comes out it’ll be ALLL over this blog. this is another kind of dark one so again, heed the tags :P notes and reblogs are always appreciated here but please don’t spam (can’t express this enough), and enjoy your read !!

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

“do it.” 

you sit in front of MIGUEL on the bed, hands folded in your lap as you look up at him. he looms over you almost menacingly, hands on his hips as he quirks an eyebrow. “no.”

“do it, miguel. bite me.”

“no, muñeca. i don’t want to hurt you.” (tr : doll)

miguel is unmoving, even as you batter your eyelids up at him and spread your legs a little. “please?”

god, how can he say no when you open yourself up to him so willingly? he’s always wanted to do this, but he always holds back because of his fear of hurting you, but now that you’re literally asking him, begging him for it…

who is he to say no to his little doll?

in the blink of an eye, he’s pinning you down onto the mattress, hands climbing up your thighs and hooking under your panties before pulling them down to reveal your dripping cunt. “how long have you been thinking about this, cariño?” (tr : dear)

your back arches off of the sheets when his thick fingers begin to toy with your aching clit. he’s so large, and to be rendered completely helpless to his venom is a fantasy you’ve kept locked away ever since you started sleeping with him, only mustering up the courage to bring it up with him now. every time he eats, smiles, even just talks and displays those sharp canines of his, you begin to flare up a little.

you want him to bite you so badly that it’s become a need, but every time he’s even gotten close, he’s pulled back. 

but not today.

miguel’s tongue travels a path from your navel up to your neck, fingers staying pressed to your now rapidly pulsing hole. “you look so pretty under me, baby,” he purrs, the spanish lilt to his voice sending a waterfall between your legs. “gonna make a mess of my girl tonight.”

you gasp sharply when you feel his teeth against your jugular. it never occurred to you how good it would feel, and adrenaline rushes through your veins when you feel his tongue come into contact with your skin. “miguel…”

“are you having second thoughts?” before you can answer him no, his fingers slip into your cunt, and your response is cut off by a breathy moan. “we can always stop here if you want, mi vida.” (tr : my life)

you shake your head deliriously. the feeling he gives you is toxic, yet you feel as though you could get addicted, and when you feel the sharp points of his teeth begin to pierce the skin of your neck, you can hardly hold yourself back. 

he’s barely done anything yet you’re cumming on his fingers, the sheets below you moistening with the juices of your release. miguel smiles against the curve of your neck, tongue repeatedly flicking against it and hips grinding down onto your spread thighs. “did you just squirt, angel? i’ve barely done anything.”

“f-feels good,” you babble, vision flickering with dark spots as his teeth dig in deeper. “more, please, need it s’bad.”

“lo sé, muñequita, i’m gonna give it to you.” his voice is muffled as he attaches his lips to your neck fully, teeth finally sinking into you as he begins to inject you with his venom. (tr : i know, little doll)

it feels different to what you expected. instead of the sharp pain accompanied with regular biting, you feel light, muscles relaxing as you feel an irregular warmth spread throughout your body. miguel’s heavy fingers in your cunt suddenly feel featherlight, and as he presses up into your overstimulated g-spot, your back arches. 

or at least, it tries to. you’re rendered completely helpless, seemingly stuck to the mattress as you blink up at him hazily, body unmoving. his large hand cradles your cheek and he looks down at you, tutting and cooing as he watches you try to move against him futilely. 

“are you feeling comfy, muñeca?” you try to nod, but all that comes out is a muffled grunt of affirmation. (tr : doll)

“good,” he says, and you feel his heavy cock pressed against your tummy. he’s big, and yet you can’t get away, trapped under his large form as he teases your drooling hole with his engorged tip. 

it seems as though the venom has increased your sensitivity too, because when he finally sheathes himself inside, you find yourself cumming again, eyelids flickering as he returns his fingers to play with your clit. 

and still, you don’t move, legs not even shivering as he pushes you relentlessly into overstim, the blunt head of his cock diving deeper and deeper with every thrust until he reaches your cervix. it’s so good that it’s almost torturous, and you swear you cum again for the third time that night. 

“you’re squeezing me so hard, belleza. you sure the venom’s working?” miguel is such a tease and he knows it, leaning down to lap at the blood dripping from his bite mark before leaning into your ear, lips just brushing its shell. (tr : sweetheart)

“gimme another one, pretty, i know you can.”

PREVIOUS : SAY ‘AAH’ ft. wriothesley NEXT : LUCKY GIRL ft. daichi sawamura

liked that? check out the WE’RE SO BACK main masterlist.

© choslut 2024 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[evansbby]

𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑☆.｡.:*

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mean jock!Ari Levinson x naive!reader, mean jock!Steve Rogers x naive!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smutt, noncon, dubcon, daddy!kink, dd/lg vibes, choking, spanking, anal play, fingering, size difference, innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You never thought you'd be stuck between two beefy basketball players who have it out for each other - but which one do you choose?

𝐀/𝐍: This is part 3 of my fic, Wicked Games. I'm literally so nervous about posting this. This is 21k words long. I hope you enjoy and forgive any mistakes!

“I told you, Wanda. I barely remember anything from last night,” you say, balancing the phone between your ear and shoulder as you manoeuvre the vacuum cleaner around your room. You’d woken up feeling like shit – hungover and with a terrible headache to boot. But a warm shower and some skincare later, you’d decided to do some chores in order to clear your mind. “I do remember you ditching me though.”

“I didn’t ditch you!” Wanda screeches from the other end of the line, and you wrinkle your nose, holding the phone away from your ear before she speaks again. “Curtis told me you’d left, and then he took me back to his place! I left you a message and everything, but maybe it didn’t send because the service was so shitty.”

You hadn’t received her message until you got home last night, along with about a dozen more from Ari which you also still hadn’t looked at, let alone responded to.

“Wait, you went home with Curtis?”

Wanda giggles, “Yeah. I didn’t think someone as popular as him would ever be interested in me but he was! And he was so good, and gentle too, and–”

You stay quiet, letting her gush on and on about her magical night with the basketball player, ooh-ing and aah-ing and gasping at all the right places. The truth was, the moment she’d mentioned Curtis’ name, the memory of him cornering you on the dancefloor and giving you drink after drink had all come back to you. How he’d offered to take you upstairs before Ari had interrupted… Oh, but what did that matter? It’s not like you didn’t already have your hands full with a basketball player of your own…

“So, what about you?” Wanda finally asks, “Do you really not remember anything?”

You inhale deeply, “I remember talking to Ari.”

No. You remembered more than that. You remembered the thumping music, the flashing lights, the crowd surging around you. His hands on your hips, his lips on your neck. His words in your ear. How he’d fucked you right there in front of everyone… All of that had come back to you in the shower this morning, but you’d been trying not to think about it ever since. All you could really do was persuade yourself that it was too dark and crowded for anyone to have seen that.

“Ew. Not that two-timer. Please tell me you didn’t fold.”

Scrunching your eyes shut, you bite your lip, “We hooked up.” You weren’t going to delve into the details of where you’d hooked up with him, though.

“OH MY GOD, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DO THIS?!” Wanda screeches again, and you press your lips together. It was a valid question, but you just weren’t in the mood for a lecture.

“You ditched me and went home with Curtis. Please spare me the lecture, Wanda.”

She’s silent for a handful of seconds, “Okay fine. But how did you get home? Did Ari give you a lift?”

You frown, “He must have. I don’t really remember–”

At that moment, your eyes land on a blue and white varsity jacket draped over your desk chair, and your heart jolts all the way up to the roof of your mouth. Wanda’s voice prattles on, but the phone falls slightly from your hand.

Steve. You’d met a guy called Steve last night. It was slowly coming back to you now. How Ari had broken your heart in that bathroom, how you’d felt so alone and heartbroken the rest of the night. Blurred bits and pieces slowly join together like a jigsaw puzzle in your mind… Steve had found you, and you’d talked to him. And then…? Ari and Steve had faced off, and you’d chosen to leave with Steve…

You couldn’t remember anything after that. But surely Steve had called a cab and dropped you home, right? You had no recollection of what happened in the cab, however. You just have a vague memory of feeling cold and Steve giving you his jacket while you were both in the backseat. But that was the gentlemanly thing to do, as was dropping you home after the terrible night you’d had thanks to Ari.

“Hello? You still there??”

You blink, pressing the phone back against your ear, “Uh, yeah, I’m here. I don’t know what happened after that, but I got home safely so I guess that’s a win, right?”

Wanda agrees, before launching into a detailed account of how Curtis had let her sleep over and he’d even gotten her coffee in the morning after allowing her to sleep in. You sit there, half listening and half staring at Steve’s varsity jacket on your chair. Inexplicably, your fingers itch to touch the soft material, to hold it against your nose and see if you can detect a scent to try and remember more of what had happened last night. You have a vague memory of how heavy and secure it felt around your shoulders, but you can’t recall anything else no matter how hard you try.

A distinct rattling against your doorknob distracts you momentarily, and before you know what’s happening, your door flies open, and Ari appears. The spare key you’d given him clenched tightly in his fist, and a scowl on his handsome face.

“Why the fuck have you been ignoring my messages?” He snarls.

Seeing him now, seeing his devastatingly handsome face, his hair which is slightly wet at the ends, as if he just showered. His grey tank that clung to his body and showed off those incredible, tanned biceps. Oh God, seeing him now just makes you feel all weird, hurt and angry and helpless and yet so attracted to him all in one. And you wonder if all these conflicting emotions show on your own face as you stare him down.

You sniff in what you hope is a dismissive way, “I’m on the phone with Wanda right now.”

It takes him two seconds to cross the room, snatching the phone from your hands before speaking into it gruffly: “Fuck off, Carla.” He hangs up while you gape at him in shock and annoyance, before throwing your phone to the other end of your bed. “Answer me. I won’t repeat myself.”

He’d been messaging you nonstop all night and even this morning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at them. Not after how much he’d hurt you last night in the bathroom.

“Why would I reply to your messages when I have nothing left to say to you?” You say, priding yourself on keeping your voice level and calm.

He scoffs, running a hand through his hair like he usually does when he feels insulted or frustrated, “Watch your tone. That’s no way to talk to someone who’s been worried sick about you since you let that asshole abduct you last night.”

Your jaw drops open, “Worried sick? Are you for real, Ari? You weren’t worried sick when you left me in that bathroom even after I begged you to stay with me.”

Ari blinks, crossing his arms over his chest, “You remember that?”

You side-step your vacuum and square up to him (as well as you could possible square up to someone who is almost double your height). “I remember how heartbroken I felt, how hopeless and drunk I was. And you… you didn’t even care! Not even a little bit…” Your voice breaks, and you hate it and you wish you were stronger but you feel your shoulders crumple and your eyes well with tears.

“Aww, baby…” Ari’s strong arms wrap around you, and he pulls you into his solid chest. And he smells so good, like fresh soap and aftershave, and his embrace is so familiar, so safe, and you hate him for that. “Don’t cry, baby. You know I hate it when you cry. Look, I didn’t want to leave you, but I had to. Sharon was making a scene and multiple people were looking for me.”

At the mention of her name, you push him away immediately and take a few steps backwards to create some distance between the two of you. No, you wouldn’t let him sweet-talk you this time, you wouldn’t fall victim to his manipulations. You were going to stand your ground.

“Don’t, okay? You don’t need to make all these excuses because you basically laid it all out on the table last night, Ari. I remember everything.”

“Baby, listen–”

“No, you listen! You strung me along for weeks, telling me you’d make me your girlfriend one day. I told you I’d do anything for you. I let you fuck me wherever, however you wanted! I begged you to stay, but you told me you already had a girlfriend, and now I know that if it came down to it, you’d always pick her over me. So, I’m done.”

You swallow back your tears and stand with your head held high, heart pounding at everything you’ve just said. But you also feel exhilarated, liberated because you’ve never voiced your thoughts to him like this before. And he just stands there, eyes narrowed as he stares you down and yet he says nothing, and you wonder if you’ve finally rendered someone like him speechless.

With triumph, you turn on your heel, walking past him and into your bathroom. You have nothing to do in there but you busy yourself with rearranging your lotions and creams, determined to ignore him until he leaves.

“I could take you out tonight,” he calls from the bedroom, “Like a real date. We could go to one of those Italian restaurants downtown. And we could stay at a hotel after that, I can easily get us a penthouse suite at the Hilton, I know you’d like that.”

You would like that. In fact, your heart lurches in excitement. A romantic, public date with Ari? Oh, that would be incredible! But your happiness is short-lived when you realise that none of it meant anything if he was still with Sharon. That meant this date would probably take place in the shadows of the night, with him on edge over someone spotting the two of you together. And you refused to be his second-choice, his dirty little secret, any longer.

“I’m not interested, Ari,” you mutter, pretending to read the label of your shampoo bottle. A minute passes before you look up, disappointed when he doesn’t answer. Had he left? Oh, you were hoping he would’ve stayed longer and grovelled a bit more. Or even grovelled at all because he still hadn’t apologised. You resist the urge to call his name as you stare hard at your shampoo bottle, so hard that the label blurs. Still nothing. You sigh before leaving the bathroom, heart sinking that he left.

But Ari’s still there, standing in the middle of your room. Deathly still, and in his hands is Steve’s blue and white varsity jacket. Shit. You’d completely forgotten it was there.

“This is his.” Ari says softly.

You don’t say anything.

His blue eyes meet yours, narrowed and accusatory, his jaw tense with contained anger. He holds the jacket up as if it’s a piece of damning evidence in a murder case, and you’re the convict on trial. You see a glimmer of betrayal on his face, and his lips press into a thin line.

“Why is this here?”

Your mouth suddenly feels dry. It’s like his demeanour has completely changed in the past thirty seconds. You’d never seen him so calmly angry before. It’s almost eery.

“I asked you a question.”

You chew on your lower lip, “I-I was feeling cold, so he–”

Again, he closes the gap between you with just two long strides. But this time, he pushes you against the wall, his hand going around your throat and giving you the strangest sense of dejavu.

“Was he in here? Did you let him fuck you?”

He shakes you when you don’t answer, and his fingers squeeze your throat threateningly.

“No, okay!” You say, feeling your windpipes close. Of course, you and Steve hadn’t slept together – all he’d done was give you a ride home, right??

“Did you let him touch you? Did you!?” He shakes you again, “Did you hook up with him? Tell me the fucking truth.”

“NO! Get the fuck off me!” You cry, pushing at him feebly.

“Do you remember everything? Tell me right fucking now, because if you don’t remember then that means that asshole took advantage of you while you were drunk.”

“I REMEMBER EVERYTHING, OKAY?!” You lie, “Nothing happened. H-He gave me his jacket because I felt cold, then he dropped me home. Nothing else happened, just let me go!”

Ari does let your throat go, but his menacing eyes never leave yours. You’ve never seen him so… affected before. He was always so cool, collected, so nonchalant… but right now, he almost looks frenzied. The sneer never leaves his face as his hand slips up to grab your jaw instead.

“Are you sure?” His every word is enunciated slowly, in a frighteningly level manner as he stares you down. “You better be fucking sure, because I know guys like him. He’s a fucking slimeball who would’ve been happy to touch you even if you were unconscious.”

Your heart sinks at that, but you know Ari’s just speaking out of anger. Steve had been so sweet, and he’d never do that. You were sure of it…

“All he did was give me a lift home!” You try to wiggle out of Ari’s grip but he holds you firmly against the wall, his huge body pinning you flat against it similar to how he had last night when he’d fucked you. Out of nowhere, a wave of anger surges through you, the memory of him using you and disposing of you flashing through your mind once again. And now he had the audacity to get mad at you for going home with someone else? The next words out of your mouth are spiteful:

“But it wouldn’t be a problem if I did hook up with Steve, would it? I mean, it’s not like I have a boyfriend.”

Quick as a wink, Ari flips you around, till your cheek is rammed up against the cold wall, and you can practically hear the angry rumble from his throat. He roughly yanks your shorts down your legs, along with your panties too. You struggle against him, but your protests die as his palm cracks down on your bare ass hard.

“Don’t you fucking even think about that.” Ari hisses, smacking your ass four times in quick succession.

“Stop!” You squeal, pushing back against him but he’s too big and strong, “Stop, you jerk! It hurts!”

“Don’t you ever even entertain the idea of hooking up with someone else.” Ari growls in your ear, his unforgiving hand raining slaps down on your poor, ass which already feels raw, “You’re mine. I own your whole fucking body and nobody else can touch you. Say it.”

You sob in pain, fighting against him, “No! You don’t respect me, you don’t–”

“That doesn’t fucking matter,” he says through clenched teeth. Roughly, he pulls your pyjama shorts down, and your panties are quick to follow. His palm collides with your ass over and over again, alternating between your two bare cheeks with unforgiving slaps whilst ignoring your cries of protest. “I had you first. That means you’re mine, and he can’t have you. No one can have you unless I fucking say so.”

Your eyes widen, his words chilling you down to the bone. Never before has Ari ever sounded so serious, so scary. You swallow harshly, before gasping when he pinches your ass meanly. It hurts, you feel like your ass is on fire as he resumes slapping it over and over again. His other hand holds you tightly by the hip to keep you in place – otherwise, with the force of his smacks, you’d have gone flying across the room.

“Stop it, Ari! Fucking stop it!” You beg, trying to keep resilient despite the fact that your backside is stinging so bad. The last thing you want to do right now is start crying and fall into a submissive stupor that has you begging for his forgiveness and approval. And you know that very well could happen, because that’s what’s always happened in the past when he’s punished you.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“No! Fuck you!” You weren’t gonna give in to him. Not this time.

You squeal when his hand presses against your lower back, bending you over slightly. He spreads your glowing ass cheeks, swiping his finger up your slit. You squeeze your eyes shut when you hear him smirk at your wetness. Your body can’t help but respond to his touch… but it’s your mind and willpower that you need to keep strong right now.

“You won’t say it, huh? What, you decided to develop a mind of your own overnight?” He gathers your wetness on his finger, steering clear of your clit completely as his finger moves upwards instead. You clench involuntarily when you feel his digit probe your asshole, “I make all your decisions, you got that, sweetheart? I own you. I decide what you do, who you talk to, all of that shit.”

Oh, how was he so possessive over you when he couldn’t even call you his girlfriend? You just couldn’t understand him…

He forces his pointer finger into your asshole, making you scream out loud at the intrusion. He’s fingered your ass before, but never as roughly as now. You bite down on your lower lip – you’ve already screamed once but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of doing it again. His other hand leaves your hip to grab your hair, pulling your head back.

“Say you’re mine, or I’ll add another finger.”

“How can I be yours when you’re the one who doesn’t want me to be your girlfriend!?”

Ari scowls, and yet he doesn’t respond. Instead, he continues to spank your ass. And his finger continues to pump in and out of you, and you find yourself biting your lip now to suppress your moans.

There was just something so carnal, so raw, about him finger-fucking your ass. He was stoic and angry right now, but in the past Ari would always tell you how obsessed he was with your butt. How cute and round it was, how it drove him crazy when you bent down in your cute little skirts. How you had the type of ass that was always just begging for a smack. And he’d always find reasons to “punish” you, insisting on spanking you for the smallest of offences. He’d told you that he loved how needy you got when he spanked you, and how he knew it got you horny when he fingered your butt.

But right now, it seemed like Ari was more fuelled by anger and jealousy than lust. And a part of you, despite everything, the neediest and most insecure part of you is happy that he’s so jealous. That he’s so affected by the prospect of you getting with Steve. And yet… Yet it clearly isn’t enough to get him to leave Sharon for you…

“I own you.” He grunts in your ear, “I don’t fucking care if you say it or not. But you’re not gonna speak to Steve Rogers again. Do I make myself clear?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer, probably because he knows you won’t right now. There’s a shift in energy, you both can feel it. You know he can sense your mind fighting against him harder than ever before. It’s in the way you keep your mouth clamped shut, despite inwardly wanting to moan in pleasure.

Ari slips his hand down your front, cupping your mound as he continues to finger your butt with his other hand. You suppress another gasp, fighting the urge to press against his palm. You hear him smirk again from behind you, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit. You exhale loudly, thrill shooting straight down to your core.

“Don’t think I give a fuck about you giving me the silent treatment,” he says into your ear, “Daddy can still make you cum harder than anyone else ever could, and you’ll cry like a fucking baby while you do it.”

His words go straight to your pussy and you clench hard. Your hips move on their own accord, thrusting forward to hump straight into his hand before you still them. But it feels so sinfully good, your clit rubbing against the hard heel of his palm. And it doesn’t help that he knows exactly how to move his hand against your bundle of nerves, circling and pressing and rubbing at you.

“Fuck,” you breathe.

“There she is,” Ari murmurs cockily, “There’s my girl. I guess the little baby didn’t lose her voice after all…”

“I mean, fuck you.”

He snorts, rapidly pressing his finger in and out of your puckered hole with such force that he rocks you forward, making your pussy press deliciously against his hand.

“You’ll listen to me,” he says beguilingly, licking the shell of your ear, “you’ll do exactly what I say. I don’t care if you want to throw a tantrum right now and act out and pretend you don’t want me anymore. I own your pussy, and I decide when we’re done. Not you. Me.”

You drop your head in shame, the pleasure in your tummy making you almost dizzy. Your body sags, surrendering to him physically as he mauls you. The tight walls of your ass swallow his finger up each time he thrusts into you with it, the force jolting you forward, making you dry hump his hand. Your ass burns and yet it feels so sexy, and you know you’re losing yourself; you know you’re losing the battle…

“Say it. Say who’s making you feel this good,” Ari breathes, rubbing your clit sensually, coaxing you to rut against his hand, to chase your pleasure while he dangles it in front of you like a carrot. “Nobody else will ever make you feel like this, you got that? Just me. So, say it.”

“Ari,” his name falls past your lips in a choked whisper, and you scrunch your eyes shut as you cum violently. You spasm in his arms, pussy walls clenching and releasing over and over again as you squirt all over his hand.

“That’s a good baby,” Ari coos, holding you up because your legs feel like jelly, and you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. “It’s okay, you can be mad at daddy all you want. But I know what’s best for you, and I lo–” He pauses, clearing his throat and pressing his lips down on your neck, kissing and licking at your skin, “I own you, you got that?”

You don’t answer, and he walks backwards with you in his arms. He lays you down on the bed before making a show of licking your cream off his fingers. You lie there, watching him and trying to catch your breath. Coming down from that orgasmic high, a dark feeling manifesting in the pit of your stomach. You’d let him get to you…again.

“We’ll go out tonight,” Ari announces, “I’ll pick you up around nine, and we’ll go wherever you want to go.”

“No.”

His eyes narrow, “What?”

It takes you a second to gather up your strength to sit up. Your orgasm has weakened you – or maybe it’s the emotional weight of what you’re about to say next.

“I said no, Ari. I don’t want to go out with you.”

He blinks, but doesn’t say anything. You take that as your cue to continue.

“I’m done, okay? I’m serious this time. I don’t wanna be with you if you’re still with her.” You suck in your breath, looking somewhere beyond his shoulder because it’s too intimidating to meet his gaze. “I don’t wanna go on a date that starts at nine in the evening when it’s pitch-black outside, just because you can’t risk being seen with me. I deserve better than that.”

Ari crosses his arms over his chest, regarding you carefully and yet he still doesn’t say anything.

“A-And I deserved better last night. I didn’t deserve to be left alone in that bathroom. I was high, and drunk, and I begged you to stay with me,” you bow your head, “I-I deserve someone who isn’t embarrassed of being with me in public, Ari.”

“I’m not embarrassed of you, I just can’t–”

“You can’t risk it, I know. You have a girlfriend. And I wish to God it was me, but it’s not. So, I’m done trying to persuade you.”

He scoffs, “You don’t mean that. You’re just in a mood, but you’ll come crawling back to me the moment you start feeling needy again.”

You shake your head sadly, “Think whatever you want to think, Ari. I’m done.”

Sighing lowly, you keep your head bowed as you pick at a loose thread on your quilt. You can’t bare to look at him, because a part of you knows that looking at him would make you melt and then he’d have you back eating out of the palm of his hand. But you were done this time, you were so exponentially done, and–

“Listen to me,” In a flash, Ari grips your chin harshly between his thumb and forefinger. Forcing you to look into his menacing eyes that flash with indignation and anger. “If you end this now, then that’s it. We’re done. I won’t ever speak to you again.”

Your heart jolts, stunned by his harsh words. But that was what you’d decided you’d wanted, right? For you and him to be done? Or had you wanted him to grovel, apologise, break up with Sharon and shack up with you? Nevertheless, you try to remain strong.

“Okay. That’s fine.”

“I’m serious. I know you think this is some kind of game and you’re playing hard to get, but I swear to God, I will leave this room and never even look at you again. Is that what you fucking want?”

His face is inches from yours, and you try to read his eyes. Try to understand him on any level, try to detect if there’s an inkling of care behind those eyes, even an iota of love or adoration for you. A desperation to stay with you, be with you. But you can’t. His face is unreadable, like a mask. And so a lone tear breaks free and meanders down your cheek, and you speak in a broken whisper:

“Maybe it’s for the best…”

He backs away as if you’ve stung him, or flung a vial of poison right in his face. His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring, chest rising and falling with each breath as he glares daggers at you. And a large part of you just wants to take it all back, to jump into his arms and burst out crying like you always do, and he’d make you feel better for the night and then leave before you woke up tomorrow. No, you had to stay strong.

Easily, like he’s slipping on that damned mask once more, Ari’s features morph from anger to nonchalance, and he straightens up and shakes his head.

“Fine. Then we’re done.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

He opens his mouth as if to say something else before thinking better of it. Instead, he turns and leaves without a second glance back at you, his fists balled up at his sides.  

It’s only when he’s gone, and the door slams shut with a crushing finality, that you allow yourself to burst into tears. Loud, wracking, sobbing tears, and one word falls past your lips in a choked whisper:

“Bye.”

***

Heartbreak felt strange. For one thing, it was constant. You missed Ari all the time in the days that followed. You thought it would get easier after a few days, but two weeks later and you still felt like your heart had been sawed in half. And every time you’d see him on campus, your heart would jolt.

In the past, he’d always smile at you or give you a wink – even if he was with his girlfriend. Now? You may as well have been invisible for all he cared. He never looked at you, or whenever his eyes did glance in your direction, it was like he’d see right through you or over your head. You didn’t exist to him anymore. And it hurt.

But isn’t this what you had wanted?

Well, yes. And yet, you can’t fathom how it’s actually happened. A large part of you had expected him to come crawling back to you like how he had last time. You’d expected your phone to blow up with texts and calls from him, expected him to show up at your door at midnight for a booty call, even. But nope. Radio silence. You and Ari were well and truly done and he’d moved on.

And often, when you were getting ready in the morning, your gaze would fall on the blue and white varsity jacket still draped on your chair and wonder if it was time for you to move on to someone else too…

But Ari still plagued your mind, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to contact Steve or even if you wanted to. After all, all he’d done was give you a ride home when you were messy drunk and probably at your most unattractive. He probably wasn’t even interested in you like that…

“Oh my Gosh, Curtis is coming this way. Do I look okay? Do I need to powder my nose again?” Wanda hisses at you. The two of you are sat on one of the wooden tables in the campus courtyard. She quickly grabs your compact, not waiting for you to answer as she scrutinises her reflection in the tiny mirror.

Oh, right. Another important advancement in the past two weeks: Wanda and Curtis were now a thing. Which made it even harder to avoid Ari, who was Curtis’ best friend. Even now, as you look beyond Wanda’s shoulder, you can see Curtis walking towards her with Ari right next to him. To your relief, Ari hangs back, getting his phone out instead.

“Hey, babe.” Curtis pulls up behind Wanda, wrapping his arms around her while she throws your compact back at you so she can squeeze his bicep. It hits you in the face and you huff to yourself as you put it away, pointedly trying not to look at the two of them while they start to make out. Watching them be a happy couple especially stung seeing as your own “relationship” had ended in such a disaster.

Looking beyond them proves to be a mistake, however. Ari’s now been joined by Sharon, and the two of them are also wrapped up in a kiss. God, what was with everyone? You scowl and look down at your lap.

“What’s wrong with your friend, sweetie?” Curtis asks Wanda, his voice dripping with smug amusement. You almost scoff out loud at the use of “your friend,” as if this man hadn’t been flirting with you the night of the party two weeks ago. You still haven’t mentioned that to Wanda – not when she’s so happy with him now.

“Oh, nothing. She’s always moody nowadays.” Wanda says flippantly, pulling him down to sit on the bench next to her as the two of them continue to kiss obnoxiously. The buzzcut-haired man squarely grabs her breast and gives it a squeeze – right out in the open! But Wanda only giggles, letting him pull her into his lap and feel her up as their make-out session takes a quick, R-rated turn.

“That’s my cue to leave,” you mutter to yourself, gathering your books and standing up. The happy couple doesn’t even glance your way or even acknowledge you’ve said anything. You sigh, wondering whether this was what the rest of your college experience would be like. You’d had your fun at the start of the year and now you were doomed to be the third wheel to these two…

“Oh my gosh, you’re the girl from that party, aren’t you?”

A high-pitched voice knocks you out of your hole of self-pity, and you almost run smack into… Sharon. She’s standing by your wooden table now, hand in hand with Ari, who looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

“H-Huh?” Your mouth suddenly feels dry. You’ve never spoken to Sharon before – and how could you? How could you even look her in the eye after you’d spent weeks and weeks sleeping with her boyfriend?

“You’re the girl from the party,” Sharon repeats, elegantly raising her voice over the obscene making out sounds coming from Curtis and Wanda. “I was pretty drunk but I remember you! You were in that gorgeous red dress, right?”

Your heart’s racing, and you wish you could disappear. Instead, you nod and force a smile.

“Yeah, that was me. Hi.”

“I thought so! You have to tell me where you got that dress, girl! I honestly couldn’t stop talking about it. I mean, just ask my boyfriend!” She nudges Ari, who is trying his best to appear nonchalant, ignoring her as he texts someone on his phone. Sharon rolls her eyes before continuing, “I was totally off my face drunk, but if I remember anything, it’s that dress.”

You nod, forcing a tight smile. “I was pretty drunk too. And the dress is from this website called White Fox Boutique. Look, I have to go–”

“Did you get home okay?” Sharon interrupts, her face morphing into a look of concern. And God, you hate how kind she’s being. It would have been easier to swallow the fact that you’d slept with her boyfriend had she been a bitch. Not a ray of literal sunshine who was so pretty to boot – with messy blonde hair cascading down her back in perfect waves, and the sparkliest blue eyes. No wonder Ari had chosen her – she was absolutely stunning, and even more so up close.

“Yes, I got a lift home–”

“Oh, that’s right! You were with Steve Rogers, that guy from St. Jude’s!” Sharon says excitedly, clasping her manicured hands together before grabbing Ari’s bicep, “I didn’t know he had a girlfriend now. Although it’s a good thing we both had our boyfriends there that night to get us home safely.”

Ari snorts, finally deciding to contribute to the conversation: “He’s not her boyfriend.”

“Um, okay. And how would you know that, babe?” Sharon smiles sweetly up at him.

The brunet freezes, glancing at you for a nanosecond before he clears his throat. “That guy couldn’t hold down a girl if his life depended on it. He’s too volatile.”

Sharon rolls her eyes, “You’ll have to excuse my boyfriend. He has this weird rivalry thing with Steve Rogers. They’re both basketball players, you see.”

You nod, trying to pretend like this is all new information to you. “Uh, right. Well, Steve isn’t my boyfriend, actually. I only met him that night and he was kind enough to give me a lift home. Speaking of home, I gotta g–”

“You and Steve would make a cute couple,” Sharon muses, “you guys looked good together that night.”

You smile awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other and not knowing what to say. She clearly had an excellent memory of that night considering she was off her face drunk for the majority of it.

You hear Ari huff while you’re wracking your brain for an excuse to leave. Sneaking a glance at him, you find him frowning, his hands curled up into fists by his side. Oh, he was affected! Did that mean he still cared? A lightbulb goes off in your head…

“M-Maybe I will go out with Steve. We’ve been texting a lot since that night.” Your voice comes out shaky, the lie feeling foreign on your tongue.

Ari glares daggers at you, “That’s a bad idea.”

Sharon slaps his chest lightly, “Don’t be rude! I think that’s a fabulous idea!”

The brunet bristles and looks down at his girlfriend with an annoyed look on his face, “Don’t you have a class you need to be getting to?”

“I do but–”

“Go.”

Your eyes widen at his gruff tone, and you’re even more surprised when Sharon nods at his command. What was it about Ari that made every girl around him bow down to his authority so easily? You’d been guilty of it too in the past…

“Okay, grumpy-pants,” she says easily before turning to you, “it was nice meeting you! I’m Sharon, by the way.”

You tell her your name.

“Cool, I’ll find you on Instagram. You can text me the details of your dress there!” She says happily, and all you can do is nod while Ari continues staring at you with a steely expression on his face. Clearly, he was bothered by the idea of you and Steve texting! So what if it wasn’t even true?

You stare back at him defiantly, finally feeling like you’ve gained the upper hand in the two weeks since you two have been apart.

In response, Ari narrows his eyes, grabbing Sharon as she’s about to walk away. Your heart drops when he kisses her right in front of you, his gaze fixed on you as his lips move against hers. You feel your face grow hot, then cold, then hot again, heart feeling like someone’s shredding it into pieces. How could he? Your eyes well with tears, but you fight to keep them at bay because you can’t cry here, not in front of everyone.

He continues making out with her, being as obscene as possible as his eyes lock with yours, and you just stand there, frozen and gormless, not even able to look away. Finally, after what feels like ten years, they break apart. Sharon giggles, and Ari slaps her ass before sending her on her way. You wish you could gouge your eyes out.

“You’re unbelievable.” You mutter lowly once Sharon is out of earshot.

“And you’re a liar.”

“What?”

Ari steps closer to you, “I can always tell when you’re lying. You’re not texting Steve.”

You roll your eyes before pushing past him, “It’s none of your business anyways.”

Curtis – you’d forgotten he was even there – breaks a kiss with Wanda to grin up at you. “Don’t mind Ari, he’s just been extremely crabby lately. Not getting laid does that to people.” He goes in for another kiss, adding against Wanda’s lips, “Same can’t be said about you and me, huh, sweetheart?”

Ugh.

“Wanda, I’m leaving. Are you coming?” You ask, doing your best to ignore the two basketball players.

“What? Uh, no, I’m busy,” your friend answers distractedly before Curtis pulls her back in for another kiss.

“You’ll stay away from Steve if you know what’s best for you.” Ari says quietly.

Great. Was he seriously threatening you now?

“I’ll do whatever I want,” you raise your chin up at him defiantly once more.

Ari scowls, running a hand through his hair. You know him well enough to know that he does that when he’s frustrated. “Look, I’m being serious. It’s for your own good–”

“Why do you even care? I thought we were done, Ari.”

“We are done.”

“Then leave me the fuck alone, okay!? I’ll date whoever I want to date.”

“Not him.”

“Yes, him.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“We’ll vacate this bench if you two need the space to fuck.” Curtis offers jokingly, but both of you ignore him as you stare each other down.

Finally, you huff, attempting to sidestep him but he’s way too big and easily blocks your path. A second attempt, and he blocks you again – and this time he has the audacity to smirk amusedly. That boils your blood, and you glare up at him. How dare he try and tell you who you could and couldn’t date? When he just made out with Sharon five inches away from your face not even two minutes ago!?

 “Just listen to me for once,” Ari grabs your wrist but you’re quick to tug it back. His scowl deepens, but he doesn’t grab you again, “Steve is bad news. He–”

“He can’t be any worse than the guys I already do know.” You cut him off pointedly before turning around and walking away without a second glance.

***

“I can’t believe I let you drag me here.”

You’re all too familiar with the university’s basketball court – you used to come here all the time to watch Ari play. That didn’t mean you wanted to be here now. In fact, it was the last place you wanted to be, and you’d told Wanda that several times but she wouldn’t hear any of it.

Wanda rolls her eyes, “Curtis is playing, and as his girlfriend, I need to be there for moral support.”

You wrinkle your nose; she’d only been going out with Curtis for a few weeks now and yet she was running around acting like Curtis was the president and she was the first lady or something. She didn’t really have any time to be your best friend anymore. You and Wanda had bonded at the start of the academic year – doing everything from attending society meetings together to having movie nights and sleep overs.

But now, it was all “Curtis wants me to go to this new club with him,” and “Curtis says that it’s okay to bunk lectures once in a while!” and “Oh sorry, I can’t hang out tonight – Curtis’ schedule just got cleared up so he needs me to go to his room.” It made you wonder whether you’d been this insufferable too when you were with Ari.

“Moral support? Wanda, this isn’t even a proper game. It’s just a practice,” you remind her, “and anyways, I don’t know what I’m doing here. It’s not like I’m dating Curtis.”

“Of course not, you’re not his type at all. I just couldn’t show up alone, that’s just sad,” says Wanda before she spies Curtis in the corner of the court with a few other teammates, all of them stretching and doing warm-ups. She waves at him like mad, blowing kisses in his direction. He shoots her a quick smile before turning around to talk to a nearby cheerleader.

You spot a familiar figure, tanned, tall and muscular with his long brown hair pushed back with one of those metal wire headbands that men wore, barking out a game plan to the rest of his team. Ari. You freeze.

“Wanda!” You hiss, tugging hard at her sleeve, “You said that Curtis told you that Ari was sick and wouldn’t be at practice today!”

Wanda blinks, “Oh. That was a lie.”

“What!?”

She shrugs, “Come on. I needed you here today and I knew there was no way you’d come if you knew Ari was here. Hey, does my lip gloss look okay, by the way? I’m gonna go say hi to Curtis.”

“Don’t leave me all by myself!”

Wanda rolls her eyes, tugging her arm out of your grasp, “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right back anyways. In the meantime, just find us a good spot to sit. Somewhere close to the front where Curtis will be able to see me.”

And she’s gone before you know it. Great. The last thing you needed right now was Ari thinking you’d come here specifically to see him play. And with his big head – that’s exactly what he’d think. You contemplate just leaving – you could tell Wanda that you’d had a medical emergency or something. Or maybe you could just sit somewhere in the back or hide in the bleachers, and Ari would never have to know you were here. He was too busy ordering his team around, he hadn’t noticed you yet anyways, and maybe you could–

“Sweetheart, I was hoping I’d see you here.”

A warm hand grasps your waist, and your first reaction is to jump back and smack whoever’s touching you in such a forward way. But then you turn, being met by a sturdy chest covered by a blue and white St. Jude’s basketball jersey. Golden hair. Sparkling blue eyes. Angelic face.

“Steve!” You exclaim, before realising that you sound way too happy to see someone who is essentially still a stranger to you. You clear your throat, trying to sound more casual. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“Our court is being renovated, so we got permission to practice here with your team.” He flashes you a bright smile, his hand still on your waist, his thumb stroking you from over your blouse. His eyes rake over you unabashedly, and you find yourself growing hot under his gaze. “This is a really pretty outfit you got on, sweetheart. Is it for anyone in particular?”

You were wearing a pink blouse and cardigan set, with a matching pink tennis skirt which had unfortunately shrunk in the washing machine. You’d still worn it though, promising yourself you wouldn’t make the mistake of bending over and giving everyone within close vicinity a good eyeful of your panties.

“Oh, uh, no, not for anyone in particular,” you babble. You feel nervous around him, but not necessarily in a bad way. “Thanks for getting me home safely that night, by the way. I, uh, I meant to thank you the next morning but I didn’t have your number or anything.”

Steve nods, shooting you a wink, “That’s alright, princess. I think it’s me who should be thanking you for that night.” His hand slips down to your hip, giving it a warm, meaningful squeeze.

You frown, “Why would you be thanking me? I didn’t do anything.” Your Uber ride home with Steve was still a blur to you, but you doubt anything eventful had happened during it. “Oh, don’t tell me I kept you entertained with all my drunken chatter. I’m sorry, I do that sometimes, and I was so embarrassingly drunk that night.”

He blinks, before a slow smile spreads across his face, “Baby girl, don’t you remember?”

“I remember me being a total embarrassment, and you being a total gentleman. You even gave me your jacket and I still have it now!” You say brightly, picturing his varsity jacket still hung up on your desk chair back in your dorm room. “I wanted to return it to you but you never called, or texted, or…” your eyes widen when you realise what you’ve said, “I mean, not that I expected you to call me. I understand that all you did was give me a lift home. I’m not insinuating that you had to call me, or that you’re attracted to me–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve easily grabs your chin before his thumb brushes upwards over your lips, effectively shutting you up. His eyes are intense, and so close, his lashes fanning his cheekbones as he looks down at you, “I am attracted to you.” He says squarely, before chuckling, “I thought that much was obvious. I should’ve gotten your number that night, baby girl, but you’d been drinking a lot.” His eyes glint as he licks his lips, “And I’d never take advantage of you when you were drunk.”

Oh, he was such a gentleman! Of course, he’d never take advantage of you while you were drunk! Unlike dumb, stupid Ari! As if on cue, you look beyond Steve’s shoulder, the tiniest part of you hoping that Ari’s watching this interaction between you and the blonde. But the brunet is busy warming up now, grunting as he does his push-ups in the corner of the gym, his tanned, muscular arms bulging. You almost bite your lip before focusing back on Steve.

“Give me your phone,” Steve says suddenly, and you’re obeying him before you’ve even registered what he’s asked. He smirks, taking it from you and typing his number in, saving it before handing it back to you. “You’ll text me tonight, won’t you?”

Was he asking you or was he telling you? Either way, you find yourself nodding.

His eyes bore into yours, “Say it, then. Say you’ll text me tonight.”

Oh, he was so intense! But you don’t seem to mind one bit. Again, you nod. “Y-Yes, Steve. I’ll text you tonight.”

He gives you a relaxed smile, “Good. We can discuss where I’ll take you on our first date.”

A thrill ripples through you. A date?! You’d never been on a date before! Oh wow, this was–

“Hey, you guys!”

Sharon’s bright voice echoes across the gym as she makes her way over towards the two of you. Sharon. Of course. Of course, she’d be here – she was a cheerleader. And she looked beautiful as she always did, with her blonde hair piled up in a messy bun, her cute cheerleading outfit accentuating all her curves perfectly. You’re hit with a sudden wave of insecurity – would Steve forget about you now that she was here? – but you try to keep it at bay.

The truth was, Sharon had requested you on Instagram a few days ago as she’d promised she would. And you’d had to follow her back, which was painful enough seeing as half of her pictures were her with Ari. But she was sweet when she texted you asking about where your red dress was from, and a few more mini-conversations and a bit of small talk later, clearly, she thought the two of you were friends.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Sharon squeals, giving you a quick hug which you reciprocate whilst wondering why exactly she’s so happy to see you. She nods at Steve with a humorous twinkle in her eye, “And you’re Steve Rogers, aka Ari’s best friend in the whole world.”

Steve snorts, “Yep. That’s me.”

She giggles, looking from him to you and back to him again, “Let me guess. You guys are a couple now.”

You shake your head, “No, we–”

“–We are.” Steve cuts you off, winking at Sharon before wrapping his arm properly around your waist and pulling you into him. Your eyes widen, cheeks feeling hot. You weren’t at all used to public displays of affection like this, nor were you used to anyone being as forward as Steve was being right now. After all, this was only your second time meeting him- how was he already telling people you were together? And why weren’t you objecting to it?

Sharon clasps her hands together excitedly, “Yay! I told her you guys would make the cutest couple.”

Steve chuckles, and your eyes widen when his hand meanders downward. His palm settles on your ass, cupping it as he casually speaks to Sharon. She’s in front of you, so she can’t see it, but your eyes nearly bug out of your head as you feel his big, warm hand cup your ass through your tennis skirt, even giving it a squeeze.

“Careful, Sharon. You might get in trouble if your boyfriend sees you talking to me.” Steve jokes airily, as if he isn’t kneading your ass cheek at the same time. Your face is on fire, but you also feel your walls clench, turned on by the extra attention he’s giving you as he nonchalantly talks to someone else. It’s hot.

“Pfft, no way. Ari doesn’t care who I talk to, he’s not really the possessive type.”

“Interesting…” Steve murmurs softly, almost to himself.

“Look, there he is now,” Sharon waves across the court, “Hey, babe!”

You follow her gaze, watching Ari as he dribbles the basketball casually. Upon hearing her voice, he looks up. He’s got a disinterested look on his face as he nods in acknowledgement at Sharon, but then his eyes meet yours. And it’s like the whole world freezes over, and your body freezes and your blood freezes.

Ari’s face contorts from disinterest to shock as he drinks in you standing with Steve. You feel your chest tighten, as if your body can’t decide between feeling triumphant that you’re making Ari jealous, or upset that you’re making Ari jealous. Either way, you hear Steve smirk, and then he pulls you closer, giving your ass an even harder squeeze that has you yelping.

The shock on Ari’s face quickly morphs into hatred and disdain. He’s all the way across the court, and yet you can see his knuckles redden as he grips the ball so tightly you fear it may explode. A part of you wants to move away from Steve out of respect for Ari, but you couldn’t do that even if you wanted to. Steve’s grip is like iron around you, his palm glued to your ass as if he owns it.

Almost like he’s doing it on purpose…

You don’t know what to expect from Ari, but you brace yourself nevertheless as he makes his way over. But the dark look on his face has melted away, and by the time he reaches you, he looks cool as a cucumber, almost as if he’s slipped on a mask of nonchalance at the drop of a dime. You always wondered how he did that so easily…

“Why aren’t you out there cheering me on?” He asks Sharon, pulling her into his chest and pointedly kissing her. Your blood starts boiling once more and you subconsciously sidestep closer to Steve, lifting your chin up in defiance in Ari’s direction. The brunette side-eyes you and clutches Sharon closer in return.  

Sharon beams up at Ari, “I was talking to Y/N. I’ll go in a second, because the squad is starting a new routine today and I want us to get it down in time for the next big game, and–”

But Ari’s no longer listening to her; him and Steve have now locked gazes much like how they did weeks ago at the party.

“I’m not sure why you even decided to show up today, Steve.” Ari breaks the steely silence first, “No amount of practice could help your godawful team beat mine.”

Steve smirks, undeterred. Pointedly, his arm tightens around you. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Something tells me you’ll be distracted tonight.”

Ari – somehow – looks equally unbothered, never breaking eye contact with Steve. You think you see his lip curl into a snarl for a millisecond, but it’s gone before you can be sure. “Even distracted, I’d still beat your ass.”

The blond snorts, “Your overconfidence is going to cost you, Ari. It’s what made you lose her.”

“Lose who?” asks Sharon, but she quickly grows distracted by the cheerleaders that are in the corner of the court, “Ugh, I gotta go. They’re trying to practice the pyramid and we need six of us to make it work. I’ll catch you later, okay? Please don’t try to kill Steve while I’m gone.” She kisses Ari’s cheek before waving at you and Steve and skipping away.

That just leaves you, standing frozen by Steve’s side while the two men lock eyes in their silent battle. And why does it kind of hurt, the fact that Ari hasn’t looked at you even once throughout it? In a way, you’re relieved that all they seem to be disagreeing over is basketball and who would beat who (aka lame boy stuff). But then that in turn makes you wonder: Is Ari not even affected by Steve’s arm around you? But then why did you even care if he was or wasn’t affected? And how was Steve being so forward, and, and, and–

“I-I gotta go. Wanda’s calling for me.” You lie, slipping out of Steve’s grip and scurrying away. The energy bouncing off both of them made you feel nervous, on edge, almost unsafe. You look back over your shoulder now to see them still staring at each other. Cold, barren stares that seemed to have grown more intense now that you’d left. It makes you gulp, and you wonder if it’s just a basketball rivalry between them after all – or it it’s something more.

“Where the hell have you been? Didn’t I tell you to find us good seats?” Wanda rolls her eyes, grabbing your hand and yanking you over to the last remaining front row seats. You try to clear your head of any thoughts of Ari or Steve, instead marvelling over how many people had showed up to watch these two teams play together in what was just a practice match.

“I was, uh, I just saw Steve.”

“Who?”

“He’s the… he gave me a lift home the night of the party.”

Wanda wrinkles her nose, about to say something before she grows distracted, “Look! There’s Curtis! The game’s about to start!!”

You never held much of an interest in basketball, even when you used to watch Ari play. But now, you pay attention carefully as the teams hit the court. Ari’s team have maroon jerseys and Steve’s team are in blue. They huddle on opposite sides of the court before the coach blows a whistle and they start playing.

“Look how good Curtis looks in his jersey,” Wanda gushes.

Ari looks pretty good too, you almost say out loud. And Steve too.

Both Ari and Steve were very similar on the court. Both the respective captains of their own team, you observe them ordering their teammates around, calling out strategies and gameplans, hyping the players up. They moved around similarly too, both so big and beefy and yet so fluid and lithe when dribbling the ball across the court. They were both clearly the most talented players out of everyone, yet you couldn’t tell who was better between the two of them.

“C’mon Rogers, is that the best you can do!?” Ari taunts after shooting an easy three-pointer about a minute into the game.

Steve rolls his eyes before beckoning one of his teammates closer. He’s a brunette with “Barnes” printed on the back of his jersey. The two of them confer for a few seconds while Ari and Curtis laugh and gloat with their own teammates. Then the coach blows the whistle again.

You zone out for a while, the maroon and blue jerseys becoming a blur as they whiz across the court. A bunch more points scored, the roar of the crowd, Wanda shrieking happily every time Curtis scores or jogs close to your seats. You, however, are much more interested in the way Steve had brazenly felt you up just now before this practice match had begun. Or how Ari hadn’t even looked at you when he’d come over to confront Steve. Or how…

“You fucking tripped him.” Steve seethes, the frustration in his voice carrying across the court and making you refocus on the game which has suddenly halted. The blond looks pissed, a borderline lethal look on his face as he kneels down next to his teammate. The brunette, “Barnes” is on the shiny floor, clutching his knee in pain.

Ari shrugs, “No I didn’t.”

Curtis snickers behind him.

Steve gets to his feet and shakes his head, but he barely has time to react before Ari throws the ball at him. Hard. It hits Steve squarely on the chest before he catches it, his jaw twitching as he does.

“C’mon, Rogers. You got a sub for your friend or are we gonna have to call it like last time?” Ari grins.

The brunet called Barnes limps to his feet, “Nah, I can play.”

Ari frowns. But the coach blows the whistle and the game resumes. This time, you pay closer attention. You note how Curtis is playing dirty, shadowing Barnes till he’s nearly on top of him, even trampling on his feet a few times.

And it’s meant to just be a practice game, but Ari and Steve look like they’re playing in the basketball world championships – or whatever it was called, it’s not like you would know. Both look stone-faced and determined, stealing the ball from each other multiple times, blocking each other, not letting each other shoot. They seem to be within a game of their own, one which was mental almost as much as it was physical.

“Is that all you got, Steve?” Ari taunts as he steals the ball from the blonde.

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve mutters, stealing the ball straight back.

Back and forth it goes, neither of them letting the other shoot. Taunting and jeering each other every chance they get.

“What’s the deal with them?” You find yourself asking Wanda, your eyes glued to the court, “Why do they hate each other so much? Has Curtis ever told you?”

Wanda shrugs, “All I know is that the last time our team played against Steve’s, he lost it and got a yellow card, making his whole team lose. Curtis told me that. Basketball is a competitive game, Y/N. I thought you knew that.”

This seemed more than just a silly sports rivalry, though…

“I fucking saw that, you bald fuck!” Steve rages at Curtis, halting the game once more. “If you trip another one of my guys one more fucking time–”

“You’ll what? Blow your top off and get another yellow card?” Ari smoothly steps in front of Steve, squaring up to the blond with a smirk on his face, “Not a single person in here would be surprised, pretty boy.”

In a flash, Steve has hold of the front of Ari’s jersey, “Keep fucking talking–”

Ari doesn’t back down, and your heart begins to thud like crazy as you watch them. They’re quite close to where you and Wanda are sat, but you have to lean forward to hear what exactly they’re saying.

“Not so fucking smug now, are you?” The brunet sneers lowly. “Thought you could dangle her in front of my fucking face? But you can’t keep a girl, pretty boy. And you can’t keep your cool either.”

They’re like two Adonises, one as ripped as the other. One every bit as tall and built as the other. One every bit as handsome as the other. And both with an equal look of hatred on their faces, a kind of deep-seated hatred that made you uncomfortable, that chilled you down to your bones as you sit frozen in place, watching it all unfold.

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve murmurs threateningly, a blue vein in his forehead looking like it’s about to pop.

Ari smiles coolly, “Or what? Gonna let your team down again, Rogers? Maybe a yellow’s not enough for you, maybe you’re aiming for a red card this time, huh?”

“A red card’s worth splitting your fucking skull–”

“ROGERS, LEVINSON, BREAK IT UP!”

You jump when both the teams’ coaches blow their whistles, making their way over to the two captains. Curtis drags Ari away, and a guy with “Wilson” on his jersey, as well as Barnes both pull Steve in the other direction too. A five-minute recess is called, and you can’t believe what you’ve just seen.

In his team’s respective corner, you watch as Ari snatches up a bottle of water and takes a long swig before pouring the rest of it over his head, as if to cool himself down. Swivelling your eyes, you see Steve in his team’s corner of the court, his hands curled into fists by his side as Barnes and Wilson speak lowly to him. But his blue eyes seem far, far away. And his jaw remains tensed, a dark, almost unreadable look on his face.

The game resumes, but this time it feels different. The dynamic between the two men is completely juxtaposed from what it was the night of the party. Then, Steve seemed in control, laughing as Ari lost his cool. Now, it’s the complete opposite. Ari seems to have recovered from the scuffle, resuming his taunts and insults as he dribbles the ball up and down the court like a pro. But Steve is somewhat out of it, still playing well but almost as if he’s out-of-sync with himself, as if his mind is elsewhere.

And Ari seems to have picked up on it.

“What’s the matter, Rogers? About to lose it again?” Ari snickers after he’s dodged Steve and scored another three-pointer.

Steve says nothing.

St. Andrews (Ari’s team) is up by three points. There’s no scoreboard as it was just a practice and not an official match, but there’s a freshman in the front row – Jake Jensen – who’s acting like a play-by-play commentator.

“Will Steve Rogers lose his marbles and cost his team another match?” Jake speaks into his headset in a suspenseful tone, “Will this all-star athlete crack under the pressure? Will he succumb to the opposition’s tireless taunts? Will the golden boy lose his cool once more? Will he–”

Steve swiftly tosses the ball aside, and the ref barely has time to blow the whistle to call for a time out before the blond grabs Jake Jensen by the collar and hoists him up in the air as if the freshman weighs nothing more than a feather.

“You say one more fucking word, I’ll shove this headset up your fucking ass, got that?” Steve shoves Jensen back in his seat before throwing the poor freshman’s headset at his face, knocking his glasses off. Jake swallows and nods, his mouth clamped shut and a frightened look on his face.

You bite your lip and watch as Steve returns to the game. He’s still got that far-away look in his face, as if he isn’t quite one hundred percent there. He also looks agitated, rattled, unnerved. You feel wary of him, and yet at the same time you also feel a pang of pity, a part of you wanting to go up there and give him a hug despite the fact that you don’t know him like that.

The game starts up again, and quite frankly, you really just want this damned practice to end already. The atmosphere is so intense, so thick, you could practically cut through it with a knife. Steve scores a point, then Ari does, then Steve, then Ari – it’s almost like they’re playing a one-on-one match and everyone else on the court is a paid actor.

“You’re losing your edge, pretty boy,” Ari starts his taunting once more, “Do it. Lose it. Let everyone down, Rogers. Show everyone what a–

“GODDAMIT, JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

 Steve explodes. What happens next happens very quickly. Steve, in a fleeting fit of rage, throws the ball straight at Ari’s face. Hard. Except Ari dodges it just in time. You hardly register what happens after that, and –

THWACK.

The ball hits you right in the face.

Commotion around you. Yelling. Whistles blowing. People talking. Whispers of your name. You think you even hear a snicker from right next to you. And yet you hardly take in any of it, trying your best to catch your breath. Your ears are ringing, your face burning with immediate pain.

Oh god, oh god, oh my god!

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Ari roars at Steve.

You try and find your voice, try to voice that you’re okay, try to grab for Wanda’s hand but it’s like you’re stunned into place. And truth be told, you’re not okay. The whole right side of your face where the basketball hit you hardest throbs in pain. You can even feel the tears brimming in your eyes. Oh, but you can’t cry here, you just can’t! But it hurts! Oh, it hurts so bad!

The next thing you know, you’re being scooped up into someone’s muscular arms.

“Are you okay?” It’s Ari. You blink several times to clear your fuzzy vision. Were you imagining him? No, his arms feel very solid and familiar around you as he lifts you up, carrying you out of the crowd and to the side of the court.

“It hurts!” You can’t help but whimper, feeling like a baby. A disoriented, helpless baby.

“Oh my gosh, is she okay?!” You hear Sharon run up to you two. Shit. Ari wouldn’t be caught dead holding you in his arms in front of his girlfriend, would he? Despite your disoriented state, despite all the pain, you brace yourself for him to drop you.

“Go get some ice,” Ari orders her. “There’s an ice box in the locker room. Go.”

You’re too preoccupied with your throbbing face to really notice Sharon’s reaction, but she dutifully does what he tells her.

“It’s okay, you’ll be okay,” He murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I’m sorry,” Now you hear Steve’s voice, a scuffle which was him probably pushing past people. You try to straighten up in Ari’s arms so you can look at the blond, but dizziness overtakes you. You can still hear him though, despite the ringing in your ear, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“You stay the fuck away from her,” Ari growls.

“Shut the fuck up, I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m talking to you, asshole. You’ve already done enough.”

Ari walks away with you in his arms. You’re finally able to look over his shoulder as he carries you, and catch one last glimpse of Steve just standing there. He’s staring at his hand, flexing it in front of him as if he can’t believe what he’s just done. But it wasn’t his fault, was it?! You can’t think straight, and your face throbs with pain if you try to touch it.

“I can’t fucking believe him,” Ari fumes, as he walks the two of you into a bathroom off the side of the court. You welcome the privacy, being away from the multiple pairs of eyes that had been ogling you when the basketball had hit your face. He gently sits you down on the sink before grabbing a first aid kit that’s conveniently in one of the drawers. “I told you he was trouble, didn’t I? Now he’s physically attacked you in front of everyone. He’s a fucking psychopath–”

“Ari, it hurts,” you interrupt, your voice all wobbly.

The brunet’s features soften. He’s got an ointment in one hand, but he uses his other one to brush your cheek, coming up to stand between your dangling legs.

“This’ll numb the pain.” He says, his voice soft like a cloud. And you’ve never felt this type of softness from him before. Especially not in the past few weeks whilst he’s been giving you the cold shoulder. He spreads the numbing ointment over and around your eye, and you sigh, feeling a little relief.

“That’s a good girl,” Ari murmurs, his hand coming to rest on your leg and giving it a squeeze, “He got you straight in the eye, that dumb fucking prick. It’s definitely gonna bruise, but you’re doing so good, baby. You’re being such a brave little girl.”

Oh god, the way he was speaking was giving you butterflies! Why was he doing it? Did he still care about you?!

“Why are you being so nice?” You blurt out, the pain on your face making you deliriously bold.

Ari snorts, squeezing your thigh, “Baby, I can be nice. You know that.”

Well, he’d been awful these past few weeks. He’d been awful to you the night of the party, too. And yet… You can feel yourself slipping, getting lost in his blue eyes that seem to be sparkling with earnesty, and– No! No, you weren’t going to let yourself go there. Not this time!

“Y-You weren’t being so nice to Steve tonight.” You accuse, trying to shake off the romantic tension that seems to be creeping up on both of you, trapping you in that bubble of desire that you always seem to find yourself in alone with him.

Ari scoffs. “Don’t defend that asshole, not after he gave you a black eye.”

“He didn’t mean to!”

“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him? That he was bad news?” Ari’s hand doesn’t leave your bare thigh, and you’re acutely aware of his thumb stroking your skin softly. “Now he’s gone and hurt you just like I knew he would.”

“You were goading him the whole time, Ari!”

“That doesn’t give him the excuse to physically assault you.”

“That’s not what it was!” You try to frown, but it makes your eye throb with pain, and you wince instead.

“Well, either way, you’re never gonna see him again after tonight.” Ari declares.

Your jaw drops open, “Excuse me?”

He meets your gaze squarely, the hint of an amused smile touching his lips, “You heard me. He’s too volatile, and if you had listened to me, you’d know that.”

“He only blew up like that because you wouldn’t stop insulting him!”

It’s his turn to frown, “He blew up like that because that’s who he is.”

You regard Ari suspiciously, “How do you know him so well?”

Ari sighs, suddenly devoting all his attention to screwing the cap back on to the ointment bottle. He takes his time, carefully placing the bottle back in the first aid kit before he refocuses on you. You expect him to answer your question, but instead he cups your face (the side that hadn’t been hit by a basketball).

“Sweetheart, the bottom line is that he hurt you.” Ari’s voice drops a few octaves, his face suddenly so close to yours, so close that you can see his long lashes flutter as he blinks, “I didn’t like that.”

You bite your lip, goosebumps running up and down your arms. You feel a sudden sense of dejavu – being in a bathroom with Ari alone like you were all those weeks ago at that party. The bathroom where he’d left you. “Wh-Why didn’t you like it?”

“You know why.” He moves even closer, his lips looking so plump and pink…

“No. Tell me.”

“Because I care about you. And I’m sorry for leaving you alone that night.”

Tenderly, he kisses you. And you don’t even fight it, easily melting into it despite everything. Despite how much you’d coached yourself not to fall for him again. His lips just feel so good, so natural, so him. And he’s holding you so gently, almost like you’re made out of glass. It’s like it’s a different Ari that’s kissing you now, so different from the man you’d gotten to know, from the man who’d hurt you and lied to you countless times.

The two of you pull apart, before instinctively pulling back in for another kiss. And you don’t know if it’s you or him that initiates the second one, but it’s like there’s an invisible string between the two of you, keeping you connected no matter how hard you try to run away.

“Ari,” you whisper against his lips, “Ari, what does this mean?”

He says nothing, continuing to peck at your lips. His hand slips up your skirt, but you quickly grab it to halt him. No, you needed answers this time before you took it any further.

“Y-You said you care about me.”

“Yeah, I did. I do.”

“Are you going to break up with Sharon?”

Silence.

And just like that, the bubble pops. You crash back down to reality. Your black eye throbs, your heart throbs, and now your head’s throbbing too. Sighing sadly, you push Ari away.

“Hey, look, I’ll figure something out.”

You shake your head, “I don’t have time for you to figure something out, Ari. It’s either me or her. Because honestly, Sharon doesn’t deserve this and neither do I. And I’m not going to start sneaking around with you again if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ari doesn’t say anything, but his eyes look torn. He opens his mouth as if to say something before clamping it shut again and sighing. Running a hand through his mane, he leans forward as if to kiss you again, but you turn your head, not wanting to give in to the temptation a second time.

His silence is all the answer you need. With a heavy heart, you sigh.

“We need to pull the plug on this – whatever this is.” You say firmly, “and maybe it’s time for me to see other people so I can properly move on from you.”

Immediately, Ari’s eyes narrow, “What, like Steve? I already told you he’s dangerous.”

“He likes me and he’s not afraid to be seen with me in public!”

“He’s not afraid to physically assault you in public, that’s for sure.”

Round and round the two of you went, in this never-ending circle of fighting then making up then fighting again. It needed to end. You had to end it.

“Steve asked me out earlier today, and I think I’m going to go.” You scoot off the sink, feeling a bit shaky on your feet but overall alright enough to walk away.

“No, you’re fucking not.” Ari blocks your path, looking frustrated beyond belief. “Look, the only reason he even asked you out is because he wants to get back at me.”

Your jaw drops open for the second time in the span of five minutes. Angrily, you push past him, “You’re a fucking dick, Ari.”

“I’m not saying it to hurt you, I–”

“No, just shut up!” You interrupt, “Another guy asks me out and you can’t help but make it about yourself, can you? Because God forbid a guy likes me for me, right? Fuck you.”

He opens his mouth to as if to say something, but the door to the bathroom pushes open at that exact second.

“There you guys are!” Sharon huffs, looking red and out of breath, with a bag of ice in her hands. “It took me ages to find the ice box, are you okay?!”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You answer, but she insists on icing your eye for you. It makes you feel even worse, standing there and allowing her to gently press the ice against your injury. The physical relief is instantaneous, but you feel icky on the inside. Yet again, you’d kissed her boyfriend behind her back. And it was even worse since you and her were kind of friends now.

Ari slips out of the bathroom without another word, and you watch over Sharon’s shoulder as he leaves. As he disappears down the corridor until he’s just a shadow, and only then you allow yourself to let out a long sigh. There. It was done. You and Ari were over now.

Forever.

***

“Sorry again for the black eye,” Steve says, his hand pressing against the small of your back as he leads you up the cobblestone pathway to his front door. “I promise I don’t usually have to resort to violence to get a girl to go out with me.”

It’s been a week since the fateful basketball practice game. Steve had texted you that very night, apologising over and over again for throwing the ball at your face. You were forgiving, naturally. It wasn’t his fault, and it’s not like he was aiming for you anyways. After that, the conversation had quickly flowed over to other things, and you found Steve easy to talk to over text. It wasn’t as intimidating, and he led most of the conversation, telling you how he’d love to take you out that weekend. The two of you had texted all week – and it was a welcome distraction from Ari, anyways.

Now, you giggle, feeling all glowy and special because the day of your date is finally here. You’re outside, the sun is shining and Steve’s confidently taken your hand in his. In comparison, you can’t even remember the last time you’d held hands with Ari – or if you’d ever held hands with Ari for that matter.

“That’s alright, Stevie. Just as long as you promise not to do it again, I don’t think I’d fare well as a battered and abused wife.” You answer before your eyes widen once you’ve realised what you’ve said. Had you just referred to yourself as his… wife? On your very first date? God… What the fuck was wrong with you?

But Steve only smirks, pulling you up the stairs leading to the front door of his house before yanking you into him, taking you by surprise. Your face collides with his hard chest as he kisses the top of your head. Your cheeks immediately go hot – he was so forward sometimes! No. All the time. He was incredibly forward all the time. And you don’t think you mind it in the least.

“Trust me, sweetheart. If you were my wife, I wouldn’t have allowed you to run around in that slutty little outfit at practice in front of so many feral basketball players.” He says, grabbing his keys from his pocket and going to unlock the door.

You bite your lip, “Are you calling yourself feral?”

His gaze is intense as he looks back at you, but then he chuckles, “Baby girl, with you prancing around in that tiny excuse of a skirt, who wouldn’t be feral?”

Your eyes widen and you stare down at the floor again, cheeks forever hot at his way with words. Steve smirks, pulling you inside. You find yourself in a massive foyer. You’d never seen anything like it, because the front door to your family’s house back home simply led into a living room. But this place was all marble floors and crystal chandeliers and grand staircases – like a fairytale palace.

Everything leading up to this moment had felt surreal like a fairytale. Steve had picked you up promptly at 4pm, just like he said he would. And he’d checked every box on the imaginary first date checklist in your mind that you didn’t even know you had. His hair was all windswept and gorgeous, starting to grow longer down his neck. His face was clean-shaven, blue eyes sparkling as he’d kissed you on the cheek when you’d opened your dorm room door to greet him.

With your hand grasped tightly in his, he’d tugged you to his car. Held the door open for you, helped you inside and he’d even secured your seatbelt for you.

“I’m so excited!” you’d blurted out when he’d got into the driver’s seat. And Steve had smiled, leaned over the console and kissed your forehead, murmuring in agreement. And it had made you swoon, your eyes widening at how forward he was, how comfortable he was with you when this was only the first date.

And then he’d grabbed your chin and looked at you with those intense eyes, “Baby girl, you know what would make this date even better?”

Entranced, you’d asked him: “What?”

His features had hardened for a second, and his grip on your chin tightened all of a sudden too, “You don’t mention Levinson tonight. Or ever again. Not when you’re with me. You got that?”

Your jaw would’ve dropped open had he not been holding your chin so hard. But you’d shaken your head hastily, not wanting to do anything to upset him or ruin your first date, “O-Of course, not, Steve, I wouldn’t, I–”

“I’m serious,” Steve had said softly, and yet he sounded almost threatening, “I hear his name come out of your mouth even once, and I’ll be very angry. Got that?”

“Y-Yes, Steve.”

“And if I find out you’re dating me just to make him jealous, I won’t be happy. Understood?”

You had swallowed harshly. Was that what you were doing? Oh, you didn’t even know! But you decided to focus entirely on Steve after that.

“I understand.”

And then he’d changed, letting go of your chin and shooting you a winning smile. His demeanour relaxed once more as he’d started up the car, and all the tension in the air dissipated. He began complimenting your dress, your hair, telling you how beautiful you looked and how much fun the two of you would have tonight. His warm hand patted your bare leg, and then it stayed there for the duration of the car ride, making you relax, making it seem as if that moment had never happened.

And that’s how you’d ended up at Steve’s house. And sure, it was a bit strange that you were at Steve’s house for your first date with him. But he’d said something about checking on a few things at home before he took you out. It was a casual date anyways, so you didn’t mind. Plus, he looked so handsome and earnest in his pressed white shirt and navy jacket, how could you ever say no?

“This place is huge,” you can’t help but marvel.

Steve shrugs, “I guess. It’s pretty empty nowadays – my parents are both surgeons and they travel overseas a lot to perform big surgeries. And I live on campus at the frat house, so it’s just my little sister here now. I like to check in on her every now and then.”

Oh, he was so sweet! Nothing like Ari, who was looking worse and worse by comparison. Ari, who never took you out on dates. Who only ever wanted you for sex. Whose love language seemed to only consist of lying to you, and the only times he was ever sweet was when he was manipulating you…

And yet… despite everything, your mind flits back to the way he’d carried you off when Steve’s ball had hit your face. How tenderly he had stroked you and tended to you. How sweetly he’d kissed you, making the butterflies in your tummy grow alive with excitement and nerves.

Stop, stop, stop thinking about Ari!

“So, where are we going for our date?” You ask brightly, letting Steve grab your hand again as he pulls you through a large, carpeted corridor.

“Oh, you’ll see,” Steve says vaguely, “But I thought we could hang here for a while. Do you want anything to drink?”

He leads you into a modern yet grandiose looking front room, with luxurious leather couches and a fireplace and an ornate coffee table that looks more expensive than your whole house back home. There’s also an open plan kitchen, also modern and minimalistic, and Steve drags you over, pulling out a chair and pushing you down by the shoulders to sit at the marble island.

“Water is fine.” You answer politely, not wanting to ruin your appetite before the date itself had even begun. Again, you start to wonder what he has planned for you two… A cute café? A posh restaurant? An aesthetically pleasing diner, even? Your heart somersaults excitedly at all of the potential prospects. The closest you’d ever gotten to a date before this was Ari ordering Nobu to your dorm room and the two of you eating on your bed while you forced him to watch Gossip Girl with you on your laptop…

 “What’re you smiling about, gorgeous?” Steve interrupts your thoughts.

“Huh? Nothing.”

He shakes his head and gives you another one of his charming, lop-sided smiles, “You sure you want just water? We’ve got some good bottles of wine down in the cellar. Or I could mix you a drink, although I’ll warn you now, I’ve been told I’m a bit too generous when it comes to measuring out the alcohol.”

Your eyes widen – was it a thing to drink before a first date? You didn’t know, since you’d never been on a date in your whole entire life. Would you look dumb if you just stuck to water? Could he tell how much you were currently overthinking things? It’s not like you were against drinking – it’s just that you had done so much of it on the night of the party that you were looking to steer clear. Plus, you wanted to be completely sober for your first date, and–

Steve chuckles, “Okay then, water it is.” He tosses you a bottle of still water and you catch it gratefully. Unscrewing the cap and taking a swig, you watch him as he moves around the kitchen island, settling down on the seat next to you before grabbing your chair and pulling it over till you’re very close to him.

“I’m really happy you said yes to this date, baby girl,” he says in that intense way that he speaks, all up close and his blue eyes sparkling like a crystalline lake where the sun’s hitting it just right. It reminds you of Ari’s eyes, actually – and it was crazy how both Steve and Ari had the exact same shade of blue eyes.

“Oh, uh, I’m happy too,” you say shyly, gulping as he pulls you even closer, his hand coming to rest on your bare thigh. He strokes your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake before he fingers the lacy hem of your sundress.

“And I love this little dress you’re wearing,” His voice lowers, and your lips part as you watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows, his face so close to yours. “I love that you wore it for me today, sweetheart. You did wear it for me, didn’t you? Just me?” His grip on your leg hardens slightly, but you’re too busy focusing on his long lashes to even notice.

“Y-Yes, I thought it would look cute for our date,” you breathe, acutely aware of his fingers playing with the soft material of your dress, lifting it up slowly.

Steve smirks, “You do look cute, in your pretty pink dress that you wore just for me.” He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you forward, his eyes hooded and lips hovering over yours. Just an inch away, and your heartrate quickens, and you move closer–

“Steve! I thought I heard you come in!”

You and Steve spring apart when a girl appears in the doorway of the kitchen. But her wide smile is immediately replaced by a look of embarrassment and even fear the moment she sees that you’re there too.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had company…” she stutters, backing out of the room.

“Kira, wait, don’t go,” Steve jumps up and grabs the girl’s arm before she can escape, “Come meet my date. Babe, this is my little sister, Kira.”

For some reason, when Steve had mentioned his little sister living here earlier, you’d automatically just assumed there was a pre-teen running around somewhere in the house with a live-in nanny chasing after her. But Kira looks about the same age as you, and she also looks somewhat petrified. Standing there next to her brother, wringing her hands together and barely being able to make eye contact with you.

“Hey, Kira, it’s nice to meet you.” You say pleasantly, and she returns your smile awkwardly for a nanosecond immediately looking back down at her feet, as if she felt embarrassed in her own skin. She’s pretty, with pale skin and blonde hair just like her brother. But Steve was big, assured and confident, whilst Kira looks extremely shy, with a slight build – much smaller than him. Her hair is scraped back in a tight plait down her back, and her glasses were slightly crooked on her face.

“Hey,” she whispers softly, and she looks at you for a second or two, but seems to grow alarmed when you meet her gaze. Quickly, she looks to the floor again, her fingers fidgeting nervously.

“She’s the girl I’ve been telling you about,” Steve says to his sister.

Your heart swells, and you beam up at him, “You’ve been talking about me?”

He gives you a wink, “Of course. You’re practically a household name, sweetheart.”

Kira clears her throat, backing away slowly, “I-I should go, uh, it was nice meeting you–”

“Stay, Kira, please!” Steve says, “We’re leaving in a second anyways, then you’ll have the whole place to yourself.”

The poor girl looked extremely awkward, and a part of you feels sorry for her as she stands there quietly, with Steve beaming next to her.

“I like your sweatshirt.” You say after a few seconds of silence.

“Th-Thank you,” Kira answers, glancing down at her front before shooting you another quick, tight-lipped smile. “I – uh – I thrifted it a while back.”

“I love thrifting! I’m new to the city though, so I don’t know any of the good places.”

“Kira could show you around!” Steve suggests. You nod politely. Kira smiles too, but you can tell she still looks mortified. You try not to make it obvious, but you’ve noticed how her hands are shaking as she keeps them clasped in front of her. A part of you can relate – you still get shy and awkward around people you don’t know, too.

Kira starts backing out of the room again, “I – uh – I’m so sorry, I have a report, I–”

“No, please! You’re good!” you say, “It was really nice to meet you!”

“You too,” she answers, before leaving the room and closing the door gently behind her.

A few beats pass before you speak.

“She seems really nice,” you say, taking another sip of water.

Steve nods, looking distracted as he watches after his sister through the glass pane of the door. His smile from earlier is still plastered on his face, but it no longer seems to reach his eyes. The atmosphere, the air itself, suddenly feels heavier, different in a way, and you can’t quite pinpoint what it is.

When Steve finally looks at you, he’s got a dark look suddenly shrouding his face. But he smiles nonetheless, grabs your hand and pulls you up to your feet, “Yeah, she’s great. I know she didn’t talk much but that’s only because she tends to get really anxious around people she doesn’t know. But I promise you, she’s a good kid.”

“I totally understand.”

“No really, if you get to know her, she’s a lot of fun. She doesn’t really go out much…” His voice trails off, but you feel him squeeze your hand tighter as he leads you out of the kitchen and into a spacious corridor.

“I get that,” you answer honestly, wondering if you should say anymore or whether it would be overstepping. But Steve still looks distracted, and you want to show him that you’re present and attentive and interested in what he’s telling you – which you are. “Honestly, I get it. Does she have a good group of friends at her college? I know that friends can be–”

“She went to your college.” Steve interrupts you.

 Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “She goes to St. Andrews’? No way, that’s so cool! I don’t think I’ve seen her around but that’s probably ‘cause the campus is so big, but wow, I–”

“No, she used to go there,” he says, stopping in front of what you assume is his bedroom door, and turning to look at you with a peculiar expression. Steve, always so forward with his emotions, but right now his blue eyes gaze at you with a look that’s almost unreadable, and his words come out blunt. “She doesn’t go there anymore. She dropped out.”

Oh.

You can feel his hand clutching yours very tightly, his grip almost crushing. And yet, despite the physical contact, he seems far away. Like he’s lost in his own world, like there’s something brewing inside his head but you can’t seem to read him and figure out what exactly it is. His full lips are pressed into a thin line, and his other hand grips the doorknob tightly for a handful of long seconds before twisting it and pulling you into his room.

“Steve, I…”

He shuts the door before turning to face you once more, and he’s still got that stormy, distant look on his face, a look you’ve never seen before now. It’s almost eery, how quickly his demeanour had changed. Just a minute ago, he was being charming as hell…

But then his face suddenly relaxes, lips twitching into that lop-sided smile of his. The familiarity of it relaxes you too, makes you not fully notice how it still doesn’t reach his eyes as he tugs you into him.

“Why did she drop out?” You breathe.

Steve’s face is so close to yours, his blue eyes blazing and his jaw tensing and untensing almost rhythmically. He sucks in a breath, his charming smile freezing on his face as he looks somewhere beyond your shoulder.

“She just didn’t have the best time there,” his eyes darken, the grip he has on your hand not relenting in the slightest, “There were some people – one person – who just…” He trails off once more, before his gaze suddenly snaps back to you, and he clears his throat, “It was just one of those things where she decided it was best for her to drop out. That was last year, and she’s taking some courses online now.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. That must’ve been so tough for her,” you exhale, unaware that you’d been holding your breath in.

He nods, and you watch him closely. His eyes twitch before he smiles once more, pulling you towards his bed, “Yeah, it was.”

He backs up till he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling you on top of him till you’re straddling his lap. Automatically, your arms wind around his neck, and you don’t think you’ve seen a more intense-looking pair of eyes than his in that moment. Neither of you say anything, but his fingers dance up and down your bare legs. Slip up your hips and give them a squeeze, and you bite your lip.

He kisses up your neck, the first few being feather-light before they grow more frenzied. His hand cups your ass through the material of your dress, giving it a squeeze that has you breathing hard.

 Wait, what was happening? Just a second ago he was opening up to you about his sister, and now…?

“Steve, what’re you – ah – wh-what about our date–?”

He’s got a glint in his eye when he looks up from kissing your skin, “I didn’t forget about our date, sweetheart. I just thought we’d take a little detour first.”

Oh. Okay. It’s easy to grow distracted when his kisses on your skin are making the butterflies spiral and flutter in your tummy. You want to melt into his arms, let him kiss you all the rest of the day and all night too. Let him take you on this amazing first date that he’d painstakingly planned for you, and in doing so erase the thought and touch of Ari from your mind completely, till your body forgets about the man you’ve been nonstop thinking about for the past month. Maybe this was it, maybe it was time for something new. Someone new. All Ari ever wanted from you was sex, but Steve? Steve was different.

“I wasn’t – ah, Steve – I have to say, I wasn’t planning on kissing you until the end of the date, definitely not before it,” you giggle, pushing at his chest to try and get a word in as he tugs the strap of your dress aside and trails his lips down your shoulder blade.

You feel him smirk against your skin, “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll be a gentleman and save our first kiss for the end of the date, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do other things right now.”

You feel your core thrum with excitement at his words, and you look up to beam at him except he’s too busy pushing your dress down to meet your gaze. The sun shines through the open window, making his hair glisten golden, and you wonder if the sunlight makes his eyes glimmer like that too. But he’s not looking at you.

“Steve,” you push at his shoulder, “Steve, won’t we be late for our date?”

His fingers find the zipper at the back of your dress, and with ease he unfastens it before looking at you, and his eyes are so dark, “Who’s planning this date, sweetheart? Me or you?”

You giggle nervously, “You, of course. But–”

“Who’s in charge?”

“Y-You, but–”

“No, no buts. We’ll go when I say we’re ready to,” he runs his hand down your bare back through the gap created by the open zipper of your dress, his calloused fingers running over your sensitive skin and making your heart skip a beat. His tone is distracted, and yet there’s a finality and authority to it that makes you listen to him.

Before you can think of a response, he grabs you by the waist and pushes you down on the bed before climbing on top of you. You gulp, a huge part of you so turned on by how in control he is, and yet it’s such a contrast from the easy-going Steve’s you’ve gotten to know today. But at the same time, you get a strange sense of dejavu, as if you’ve been in this situation before with him… But that wasn’t possible at all, was it?

“Stevie, please, my hair and makeup’s gonna get ruined!” You laugh, trying to bat him away as he kisses down your chest, pulling your dress down with him, “I worked really hard on it, you know!”

You wait for him to quip back, say something funny or charming to reassure you and make you feel all warm inside. Like how he’s been doing today ever since he picked you up from your dorm room. But he doesn’t reply at all, too focused on tugging your dress off. It’s crazy, almost as if his personality had completely switched since he’d dragged you from the kitchen into his room. He seems distracted, frenzied, unresponsive almost as he licks and nips at your chest.

And a large part of you wants to give in. You know your panties are soaked through, and it would be so easy to just relinquish control completely, till you did that thing where you went all dumb and submissive. But then… what about the date? You’d been looking forward to finally going out with a guy, really going out instead of just hanging out in a bedroom…

Was that all you were worth?

“Steve! Stevie, c’mon. I don’t wanna wrinkle my dress before our date–”

“Then just take it off,” he yanks at the fabric hard, and you hear a rip.

“My dress!” You cry, but he pins your arms above your head with just one of his hands before you can survey the damage. His face is hovering over yours, so close that his nose brushes against yours, and yet despite the closeness, his eyes look so far away. So dark and far away, even the sunlight from the window doesn’t seem to reach into them.

“Steve, please slow down–”

“C’mon, baby girl. The innocent act is cute but everyone knows you’re not exactly a prude…”

“Huh?”

His kiss swallows you whole, and his lips are so soft, so warm. They mould perfectly against yours, and you momentarily forget everything, your arms winding around his neck as you kiss him back. For a few seconds, it’s magical. It’s different from kissing Ari – but not at all in a bad way. When Ari kissed you, it felt like the whole world stopped moving, like everything came to a halt except him and you. But with Steve, it felt like the world was spinning doubly fast, making you feel light and heady and excited, like you were in the midst of a whirlpool, like Steve was consuming you whole.

But only for those precious few seconds, before he bites down on your lower lip, and you feel a jolt of pain. He ruts against you, his movements rough and animalistic. You make a sound of protest, but it’s drowned out by another loud rip, and you feel your dress coming further undone.

“Hey, stop!” you manage to pull away, the metallic taste of blood invading your tastebuds. You wipe your mouth, heart beating faster than a drum. You look down at your dress – the front of which has been ripped down to your waist, and a horrified feeling spreads through your chest. “M-My dress…”

“It’s not a big deal,” he tries pressing his lips against yours again but you dodge him.

“It is! H-How am I gonna go on our date if my dress is all ripped?”

Steve blinks, “We’ll figure something out, sweetheart.”

“No, wait! Please… I was looking forward to–”

He cuts you off with another rough kiss, his hands spreading the tear of your dress to expose your bra. He palms your breasts through the lacy material, and you don’t know whether to give in to the pleasure or address the sinking feeling in your chest. You’d gotten all dressed up for him, for this date! And now?

“S-Steve, can we please just stop for a second – ah!”

He pulls the cups of your bra down, his mouth latching on to your nipple. And oh, it feels so good! And yet…

You push him off you, “Please, Steve. Slow it down!”

Steve blinks, his eyes looking so deeply stormy, so dark and far away despite the fact that he’s making direct eye contact with you, “That’s strange.”

“What’s strange?”

He grips your chin roughly with his thumb and forefinger, “Playing hard to get isn’t really your strong suit, so I don’t get why you’re doing it now. You didn’t do it the night we met.”

He’s back on you once more in a flash, when his words haven’t even properly sunk in. His lips brush past your collarbone, kissing back down to your bare breasts. He circles your nipple with his tongue, grabbing your hands and squeezing them before bringing them up to his abs. Your breath hitches, the feel of his mouth on you… and his body, so hard and masculine and big, it’s got your mind clouding over. You almost forget what he’s just said…

You force out another giggle, although you don’t much feel like laughing anymore. “What do you mean? Look – ah! – please just stop for a second –”

“That’s not what you were saying the night of the party,” Steve mutters against your neck, pushing your hand past his waistband, his grip too strong for you to pull away from. “You clearly didn’t have a problem spreading your legs for me then.”

Your blood runs cold. What did he mean by that?

He gets rougher, biting and sucking on your nipples, manhandling your body till he’s got your legs spread and he’s slotted himself between them. Lewdly, he thrusts his clothed dick against your panty-covered pussy, and you suppress the need to moan. Your entire body’s screaming for you to just lay still and let him do what he’s going, because it feels so fucking good. And yet, once more, your palms press hard against his chest to push him off.

“Steve, stop, I don’t think–”

“Shut up.” He bites down on your nipple harshly and you gasp, continuing to push at him. How had his whole demeanour changed in such a short amount of time? Where was the sweetness and the charm he’d shown you less than half an hour ago?

“Wh-What, Steve, I–”

“You heard me. Don’t act like a nun all of a sudden, not when you let Levinson fuck you in the middle of a party in front of the whole fucking world.”

Your heart drops all the way down to the pit of your stomach. Your blood freezes up, making you go deathly still. You feel like there’s poison in your veins all of a sudden, turning all your insides into black tar. Your hands stop pushing him, dropping to your sides like you’ve forgotten how to use them.

Steve stops too, blinking suddenly as if he’s just woken up, as if he’s just been doused by a bucket of ice water.

“Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that–”

“Get off me.” Your voice sounds oddly thick, and you feel the sudden urge to cry.

Steve doesn’t budge, still on his knees on top of you. He frowns, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I said I’m sorry.”

“Get off me. Get off me. GET OFF ME!”

He does, regarding you carefully as he stands up beside the bed. Watching as you scramble to your feet, feeling disoriented, confused, hurt, used, upset – oh, and so much else! So he knew about what you’d done with Ari the night of the party… But for him to use it against you? After being so charming and perfect all day? You don’t know what to think anymore as your mind feels like it’s moving a hundred miles per second.

Steve sighs, reaching for your hand, “Baby, I didn’t mean–”

“I’m going home.” You say quietly, fixing your bra back into place before reaching behind you to zip your dress back up. Praying to God that you don’t struggle with the zipper just this once. And by some miracle, you get it zipped up in one go. Not that it does anything to rectify the fact that the front of your dress is torn down the top. Another wave of tears threatens to spill from within you.

Steve’s eyes narrow, “Home? Why?”

You stare at him incredulously before quietly making a beeline towards the doorway, holding the front of your dress together almost pitifully. You need to get out of here, get out before he sees you burst into tears.

Steve grabs your arm before you can get to the door.

“Look, let’s just go on our date. We can talk it out, I just said I didn’t mean to say that.”

You shake your head, “I just want to go home.”

His eyes flash dangerously, and you find your heart beating faster than normal as you shrink back, trying to tug out of his grip but to no avail.

“I fucking apologised.” He says sharply, “I’m taking you out now, so stop trying to leave.”

“You never wanted to go on a date with me.” You say shakily, tears welling in your eyes. And that’s when you realise it, like it’s just dawned on you that all of this… him asking you out, picking you up in his car, acting all sweet, introducing you to his sister… All of it was just so he could get you into his bed.

All men were the same. Ari, Steve, all of them…

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I do want to take you out, so let’s just go.”

Steve tugs hard on your arm, making you cry out in protest. His eye twitches, and he reaches down towards your face as if to tuck your hair behind your ear. But you can’t help but flinch, and then another realisation slowly dawns on you. You’re afraid of him.

You tug with all your might, freeing your arm from his and shaking your head profusely.

“I-I-I need to go home. Just, please. I need to–”

“GODDAMIT, I SAID I WANTED TO TAKE YOU ON THE GODDAMNED DATE.”

There’s a loud crack. You duck in fright, hands covering your face. When you peak through the gaps of your fingers, you see Steve breathing hard. His fist, driven straight through the wall, has created a massive hole and several cracks in the plaster.

Silence. Except for the sound of your heartbeat. You don’t even think you breathe; you’re so paralysed with fear. You watch Steve as he slowly removes his hand from the wall, as he examines his fist with an unreadable expression on his face. He flexes his fingers, and his whole hand looks red – as does his face. His jaw is tensed, almost to the point where it’s vibrating.

And then he looks at you.

“Look, I’m sorry. Sometimes I…” his voice trails off, and he shakes his head as if trying to clear his own thoughts. “Let’s just go on the date, okay? Just let me explain–”

“P-Please, just let me go home,” you beg, and it comes out as a broken, scared whisper. You can’t take your eyes off his fist, or the gaping hole in the wall. You’d seen men punch through walls in movies, but never in real life. Your heart still hadn’t calmed down, and now you’re even more sure you have to leave.

 “Goddamit, why can’t you just listen to me?” He takes a step towards you and you flinch, cowering back once more as if he’s going to hit you next. Instead, he freezes, taking in your expression. He swallows, blinking several times. “Look, let’s just calm down. This doesn’t have to ruin the date, you can borrow something from Kira and I’ll buy you a new dress, alright?”

“I c-can’t, I…” you don’t even know what to say to him. What could you say? That you felt unsafe? Afraid? Not to mention, betrayed and used too? How could he possibly expect you to forget all that and go out with him?

You take a deep breath, tightly holding the top of your torn dress together with one hand. You dart towards the door, hoping to slip out without him catching you. But he’s too quick, and once again takes hold of your elbow just as you exit his room and come out into the hallway. This time, you can’t help the tears as they spill down your face.

Steve’s blue eyes flash once more, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Didn’t you hear what I just said? Borrow something from–”

“Let me go, Steve,” you tug once, before growing more panicked and tugging again, harder. “Let me go, let me go, let me go–”

“I’m sorry you feel scared, I didn’t mean for that. Sometimes I get like that – just stop fucking struggling for one second, okay?”

“Steve, let her go.”

Both of you look up to see Kira standing in her doorway across the hall. Steve’s grip loosens momentarily, and you take his distraction as your opening. You break free, hastily making your way down the stairs. You don’t dare look back, focusing on the steps beneath you because the last thing you want to do right now is fall.

“Let her go, Steve. Just… Just sit down.” You can hear Kira say.

“No, she can’t just leave. I need to–”

“Please, Steve. You’re freaking out again. I’m gonna have to call mom and dad if you don’t sit down right now.”

And that’s all you hear, both Steve and Kira’s voices fading as you descend further down the stairs. Through the kitchen, your shoes pitter-pattering over the marble floors of the lobby. The ornate front door is heavy as you pull it open, escaping to the fresh air outside. You don’t dare look back, too scared to see if Steve has followed you or not.

You’re halfway down the porch steps when you hear the door open behind you. You’re about to break into a run lest Steve grab you again, when–

“H-Here.”

It’s Kira. You turn around and she throws you something soft. A pink hoodie. Despite your frazzled, haphazard, frightened state, you can’t help but feel gratitude. You quickly put it on, and it smells sweet – like candy perfume. It solves the problem of your ripped dress, and yet it does nothing to calm your frenzied heart, or stop the tears that drip past your cheeks. You back away from the town-house quickly.

“Thank you, Kira. I need to go, I need to–”

She nods as if she understands, “W-Will you be okay?”

You bite your lip to stop from bursting into full on tears. All you can think right now is that you need to get away. Far, far away. Somewhere quiet where you can think, where you can straighten your thoughts out, somewhere where you’re alone. Away from Steve, away from Ari, away from boys like them, away from everyone.

You leave, hoping she’ll understand. After all, she’d helped you – and it wasn’t her fault that her brother had been so… so…

Oh, you don’t even know what’s just happened! Your speed walk turns into a slow jog before you all but break into a run, only slowing down once you’re off his street. How had he just said all those things to you? How had he known about Ari fucking you at the party? And what did Steve mean by you spreading your legs for him the night you’d met him?

He thinks you’re a slut, you realise. All he ever wanted from you was sex, and you were stupid, stupid, stupid to think this first date was going to be something special. Or anything at all apart from sex.

You feel like crying, screaming, sobbing, pulling your hair out. But you can’t do that here, not while you’re on some random street so close to Steve’s house. Instead, you take a few deep breaths to gather yourself. Wait until you get home, wait until you’re alone in your room, you coach yourself, desperately holding on to the single thread that’s keeping you together right now. When inside you feel all torn – he’d torn up your heart just like he’d torn up your dress.

You call an Uber, luckily only having to wait a minute or two before it arrives. The ride home is silent, you just stare out the window and try your hardest to keep your tears at bay. Oh, why couldn’t you be like those other girls? The ones who could easily find a boyfriend who loved them for them? Boyfriends who liked to hang out, go on dates, cook together? Why did no boy ever want that with you? Were you only ever worth their time when you spread your legs for them?

You feel numb by the time you reach your dorm building. It feels like you’re wading through cement as you forlornly walk inside, not even noticing the familiar car parked outside. You fish your keys out of your purse only to find your door already unlocked. You swing it open, ready to just burst into tears and sob into your pillow and–

“I broke up with her.”

Ari is sitting on the edge of your bed – you’d forgotten he still had a key to your dorm – with a bouquet of pink roses his hand. Pale pink, delicate, tied together with a pink satin ribbon. But you didn’t care, not anymore.

He stands up as you walk in, slowly shutting the door behind you. You hardly register him, your mind still racing with thoughts of: Steve used you; he didn’t really want you. No man could ever really want you. They all just want one thing. They all just–

“I broke up with Sharon,” Ari repeats. “It’s over between me and her. I told her I wanted to be with someone else.”

You still don’t say anything. He may as well be speaking in gibberish.

“Go away,” you say, but it barely comes out as a whisper.

Ari grabs you by the shoulders, his blue eyes sparkling. And he looks so devastatingly handsome, his hair brushed back, wearing a crisp white button-up as if he’s gotten ready just to tell you all this. “You were right, I should’ve done it a long time ago. But who cares, we can be together now.”

“Go away.”

“I told you I’d make you my girlfriend, didn’t I?” He says cockily, thrusting the pink roses into your hands. And yet the bouquet feels like nothing, like you’re holding on to air. Ari doesn’t seem to notice your lack of enthusiasm as he continues, “And now we can do all that shit you always told me you wanted to do. I’ll take you out somewhere nice, in fact we can go right now, we can–”

“Go away.” You say it much louder this time.

He hears you, his brows etching upwards in a frown as he regards you almost suspiciously. As he looks at you, really looks at you, slowly drinking in your shrunken demeanour, your dishevelled hair, the numb look on your face, the dried tears on your cheeks, how your eyes don’t quite meet his.

He squeezes your shoulders before his hands freeze, and you look up to see him staring at the hoodie you’re wearing. You see a flicker in his eyes, but it’s so fleeting it’s almost like you imagined it. He inhales deeply.

“Where did you get this?” He asks, before he grows distracted when his gaze flits over to your dress. Your poor, torn dress. His frown deepens, slowly turning into a snarl, “Who the fuck did this to you?”

You shrug out of his hold, feeling like you’re a million miles away, “Just go away.”

Ari’s lips press into a thin line, his jaw tensed up as he surveys you carefully. His hold on your shoulders never loosens.

“He did this to you, didn’t he?”

“Go away.” You feel like a broken record.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Ari’s features harden like stone, his fists curling at his sides as he surveys you. “I knew this would… Fuck, I can’t fucking believe–”

“DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME!? I SAID GO AWAY!”

You erupt like a fucking volcano, tears flowing freely down your cheeks as if you can’t hold them in anymore. But you feel more rage than sadness: rage at him, at Steve, at yourself. You throw the bouquet of pink roses at his chest. Hard. They bounce off him at fall to the ground in a dejected heap. The look of seething anger on Ari’s face is replaced with one of shock, and then concern. But was it even real? Was it ever real when it came to you?

“Just get out of here, Ari!”

“He’s a piece of shit, and I’ll fucking kill him, alright? I promise he’ll never hurt you again.” Ari says it slowly, trying to step closer to you but you immediately push him back. One shove turns into two before you lose it, your tiny fists landing on his chest over and over again.

“I DON’T CARE, OKAY!? I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU DO JUST GET OUT OF MY FUCKING ROOM!”

You scream it at the top of your lungs. You’re pretty sure everyone in the building heard you, but you don’t care. You don’t care about anything anymore. All you want to do is be left alone.

“Hey, hey, stop. Calm down.” Ari grabs your fists in his hands but all you feel is trapped. Like you did back in Steve’s bedroom. Like Ari’s about to administer his sweet manipulations once more so that you end up in bed with him. It was all you were good for after all, wasn’t it?  You jerk away from him, shaking your head fiercely.

“GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!”

“What the fuck did he do to you?” Ari looks like he’s at a loss, and yet at the same time he looks livid, “Hey look, you’re okay now. He can’t hurt you anymore, you’re okay. Just calm down–”

“Get out!”

You scream it over and over again, till your throat feels hoarse and yet you still don’t stop. You just want him out, want him gone. You push at him again, and then again, and he’s so strong and solid that he doesn’t even budge, and this makes you even more upset. He’s looking at you like you’re crazy, but there’s also a softness in his eyes but you don’t know if it’s real or if you even want it to be real anymore.

“Baby, you’re okay. Just calm down, you’re safe now, I won’t let him hurt you again.”

He sounds so soft, so kind, so unlike himself. He’s acting, you think to yourself. Acting just like how Steve was acting. He doesn’t really care about you. Neither of them do. You’re the idiot. You’re the fool. You’re the slut.

“GET AWAY FROM ME OR I’LL FUCKING SCREAM!”

Ari is the most stubborn man you’ve ever met, and he never takes orders from you, that much you know. And yet, by some miracle, he backs off. Maybe he sees how broken you look, how there’s nothing he could really do in this moment that wouldn’t just make you angrier, and push him away even more. You also believe there’s a large part of him that wants to genuinely kill Steve – for whatever reason – probably pride – and yet, you don’t care.

And so he does leave, but not before promising once more that he was going to murder Steve Rogers. He says some other things too, but you’re too distraught to even take them in. He tries to touch you again, but you bat him off, screaming even louder. Finally, he just leaves, an unreadable look on his face and his hands still curled into fists, undoubtedly going to find Steve.

And that’s when you collapse to the floor, the tears uncontrollably rolling down your cheeks as you cry and cry and cry. You grab the pink roses, and in a fit of uncontrollable rage, you rip them apart. Rip flower from stem, petal from petal, throwing them on the floor with such vitriolic rage and sadness all rolled into one.

Ripped flowers. Ripped dress. Ripped heart.

AHHHHH OMFG OKAY!

I want you guys to know that I literally don't even know if I like this. I do but I also don't... Basically I'm super insecure about it. Nevertheless, please do tell me what you think!!!! ANY SHOCKS?? ANY SURPRISES?!?! OMFGGGG.

I prepared a few questions, although you guys don't have to answer them!! These are just for fun hehehe.

So... whose team are you now on? Team Ari or Team Steve? Hehe.

Why did Steve's mood suddenly change during their date???

IS WANDA A GOOD FRIEND?!?!?!

Any ideas NOW on why Steve and Ari hate each other?? What could it have to do with... I wonder...

ANYWAYS thank you guys so so much for reading! I love you all so so much, please reblog and give me feedback as I live for that and sajdjag IDEK ENJOY ENJOY ENJOY