#going to the gym now because i feel like that might help

[treatbuckywkisses]

HI I STAYED UP WAY TOO LATE TO READ THIS PART !!!! :))

(also this might be my longest rb so far)

SIX UPON A TIME

"You weren’t sure what you wanted him to do, but it was fun to watch the time bomb tick." - let's kiss him on the mouth 🫶🏻

"A reason to get up in the morning." - SHUT. YOUR. MOUTH.

"But then you blink back into reality again when Bucky sits you down on the closed lid of your toilet and slowly makes you let go of his shirt, kneeling down in front of you. The blue of his eyes is devastating, even though you have to keep blinking to keep him in focus." - No I can't do this 

"Maybe that’s the most terrifying thought of them all. You would die for him. Once, twice, however many times are necessary if that meant that he’s safe. " - Nika I'm fucking crying. I wish I was exaggerating but I'm actually fucking crying before 10pm.

"But it seems like you haven’t known it at all, because right now, you feel the knowledge of it, of him, surge through you with all its facets. You can’t even begin to put it into words, because where would you start? How do you explain what he makes you feel when he hasn’t been there himself, not in any way that matters or sticks? And if it’s never happened at all, if time keeps unraveling like this, how can it even be real? " - the woman that you are. Oh. My. God. You are completely unreal this is phenomenal.

"His breath hitches when they dip lower, almost reaching the place you’ve watched dimple when he laughs, but he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t laugh, either." - I have actual tears in my eyes you are so evil 

"That day, he dies with your stupid nickname on his lips, twisted into something that looks strangely close to that earlier smile. This one doesn’t have time to reach his eyes, though." - Nika I'm fucking sick to my stomach what the fuck is wrong with you 

Brief intermission bc I got too into it and read the rest twice before coming back to make notes (I was too immersed)

A crack in the sky you are insane I would FREAK

Where TF does bucky go during the day. As a naturally nosy gal the unknowns in this story make me ITCH I can't wait for everything to be revealed

"Why won’t you look at me? " - this is so hurtful why are you being so mean to me

HOW IS THE DELIVERY MAN EARLY IM LITERALLY IN SHOCK AND WE MOVED ON FROM THIS TOO FAST????????

"You take a sip of your tea and some feeling returns to your translucent fingers. Strange’s cloak draws itself around your shoulders." - hehe we have the cloak 🫶🏻 

""I came to you," you realize. "Or, I will, once I get out of this." The relief that washes over you makes you want to sob. "So there is a way out?"" - why did this make ME relieved like I'm stuck in the loop too 😭 I literally have felt anxious for our dear reader like I'm sick and this has soothed my heart the smallest bit (I'm still scared of you)

"You can’t help but wonder when he’s last tried the bed." - Frick you for putting him in the floor what has my baby done to you let him be comfortable 😭😭 

"No," Strange answers. "This is just when he wakes up." - this made me LAUGH I needed that 

CAPS BDAY IM CRACKING UP THATS SUCH A FUN SILLY MOMENT

"He might has well have doused you in a bucket of ice water. You’re suddenly very aware of every single cell in your body, and you don’t like the challenge sparkling in his eyes." - THEY ARE SO IN LOVE MY GOD IM SICK 

Why are we waking up to silence I'm gonna throw up Nika 

What did the powers do 

Alpine can see us that is both cute and scary 😅 

"You lose a few hours here and there, time seemingly speeding up at random sometimes now. One morning, Bucky isn’t in the gym like he usually is, and you work yourself up over it so much you nearly have a panic attack. In the end, you almost crash into him outside of his room, and a rush of reassurance floods through you with such force you can’t even look at him." - what is wrong with you 

"That time, Sam is there when Bucky gets shot, and it’s his cry that follows you into the next day. Your hands are clean this time, and somehow that feels worse." - how dare you write these 2 paragraphs and also put them so close together????????

"And then it’s you who’s speechless, because the shock on Peter Parker’s face is more than you bargained for." - FULL. BODY. CHILLS. WHAT A MIND YOU HAVE NIKA. I WILL NEVER GET OVER THIS.

"Sweat pearled on your forehead as you and the universe held your breath again. You could feel your hold slipping with every second that wasn’t allowed to pass. Time was impatient with you." - THE LAST LINE ?????? I'm speechless 

"And with time stumbling and flailing around in confusion, you made it out of the building and into the waiting cab." - ok chapter 7 pls 🫶🏻 

I'm kidding you are PERFECT I can't believe I missed out on this for as long as I did?!!!!!!! Thank you so much for sharing your incredible brain with me I want to kiss you on the mouth I love you!!!!!!!

time after time [6]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 12.8k

chapter warnings: maybe reacquaint yourselves with the story premise, it's been a hot minute; characters refusing to be honest with themselves and each other; violence against side characters, minor injury descriptions; strange is still annoying

a/n: this is quite possibly the scariest fic update i've ever made. a lot has happened since the last chapter was posted, and i won't bore you with all of it. suffice it to say, i missed sharing this story. thank you for being patient with me.

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

six: butterfly effect

Working with Sam and Bucky was different than working with Natasha and Steve had been.

At the Compound, it had felt terrifyingly easy to find your place, to slip into the new role they granted you as if you were always meant to fill it. You’d felt that way before, and it hadn’t turned out quite so well. Maybe that was why you used to dread the end.

Now, however, for the first time in a while, you constantly had to prove yourself in order to not be left back in that dark place they’d found you in, alone and trying to make sense of any of it. And you liked that. The challenge was something you could live with, something you could enjoy more than the ever chilling anxiousness that things were simply too good to be true.

So when Sam called you on for a follow-up mission shortly after the first one, you jumped at the chance.

It didn’t matter that you barely talked about anything but work, even when you were hanging out in your spare time; in fact, you much preferred that to digging up the past. You even learned to find a wicked sort of enjoyment in provoking Bucky’s initial dislike of you to the point of where he would barely speak to you at all unless it was to snap at you.

You weren’t sure what you wanted him to do, but it was fun to watch the time bomb tick.

It wasn’t as easy to get under the new cap’s skin.

"You’re making us sound like we’re partners in a law firm," Sam said, a smile clearly audible in his voice even though his eyes didn’t betray it. Bucky didn’t even dignify you with a clench of his jaw.

"What?" you said, crossing your legs. "Every newspaper in the city calls you 'Wilson and Barnes'. Don’t you ever read the articles about yourselves?"

"Unlike some people, I don’t have all the time in the world," Sam said, leaning back on the couch with his eyes closed.

"Pity. The Bulletin called you the 'nation’s new dynamic duo' last week." You looked at Bucky, your eyebrows raised in amusement. "You’ve officially been downgraded to a sidekick, Barnes."

He answered with an empty glare of his own. "And what does that make you?" he said, but not like a question.

"Nothing at all," you still grinned. "Everything is right in the universe."

The reporters had yet to pick up on your addition to the team, which was proof enough that your powers still sufficed to fly under the radar. Combined with the fact that you were actually regularly talking to people again—and people who weren’t your therapist or your customers no less—, things almost felt like they were settling into a new kind of normal. Still somewhat weird, and still a struggle each day, but somewhat hopeful, nevertheless.

You’d almost forgotten what that could feel like.

“Right. You’d prefer people not knowing about your creepy powers.”

"Aww." You tilted your head to the side happily. "You think I’m creepy."

Bucky scoffed into his mug, refusing to look at you like he always did, and then he strolled off again.

In truth, you couldn’t blame him all that much. You’d lived with your powers all your life and still found them unsettling sometimes, particularly when they got away from you and left you trapped in a universe that refused to move.

That was none of his business, though.

Besides, Bucky had taken to moving around so quietly you could never tell he was there until he’d cough and you’d flinch, usually dropping whatever you were holding in your hands. You’d already cracked your phone screen twice.

Not that he’d know, or care if he did. It gave you great satisfaction to erase his amused smirk from existence.

"Give it time," Sam said without moving. "He doesn’t like new people."

"Neither do I," you murmured, and he snorted. "What?"

"Pretend with me all you want, but maybe do a bit of introspection there."

You crossed your arms with a pout. "You sound like my therapist."

"Mhm," Sam hummed, opening one eye to look at you. "You owe me fifty bucks for that."

"Fuck you."

"Oh, would you look at that, the price just went up."

He chuckled as you flipped him off and went to look for the coffee pot.

Of course, your way got blocked. The downsides of not hating having people around.

Bucky was leaning against the counter, considering you. "You go to therapy?"

"You should try it some time," you said distractedly, reaching around him to get your favorite mug. Bucky recoiled like he was afraid you’d burn him. You shook your head in annoyance. "Helps with the stink eye."

"Is that what they told you?"

"They told me I needed to process my grief, but I decided to focus on some more achievable goals." You took a sip of your coffee, sighing in comfort. "We came up with a compromise."

Bucky scoffed, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He still hadn’t taken his gloves off around you.

"Sounds like a way to drag it out," he said.

You frowned into your cup. "It’s not a race, Barnes. There’s no finish line for this shit."

Something odd went over his face, but he went back to avoiding your gaze when you tried to make it out. You knew him well enough by then to get the hint, and so you left him alone.

What was it to you if he didn’t want to warm up to you. That had no bearing on the fact that overall, your situation wasn’t all too bad anymore.

It was something, you supposed as you curled up in your spot on the couch with your book later that day, slipping in and out of time to keep your company a little longer because deep down, you knew you were sick of being alone.

It was weird and different, yes, but it was still something anyway. Something to do with your afternoons again.

A reason to get up in the morning.

*****

"What are you talking about?" Bucky asks quietly, carefully, but he makes no attempt to pull back from your embrace. It allows you to take another shuddering breath, inhaling his scent until it makes you dizzy.

The fact that you probably won’t be this close to him again any time soon makes you press into his chest even harder, hard enough to feel his heart flutter against your forehead, the shock of the situation making it pick up speed.

For a split second, you slip into a sort of vacuum, your thoughts quieting as he keeps mumbling to you, and in that blissful moment, your situation doesn’t seem quite so dire anymore, more like a bad dream. You’re safe now, aren’t you? How could you not be?

But then you blink back into reality again when Bucky sits you down on the closed lid of your toilet and slowly makes you let go of his shirt, kneeling down in front of you. The blue of his eyes is devastating, even though you have to keep blinking to keep him in focus.

You don’t want to have to do this, you realize once your gasps for air start calming again. You’re not sure if you can bear it.

But nothing in this loop has been about what you wanted.

And so your resolve is made, with your heart sinking until it’s hidden away deep, deep inside of your chest. You ball your hands into fists to keep your fingers from twitching.

Two or three times he watches you inhale, start to say something, halt before you can, almost choking on it. Like your body is refusing to go through with it.

"How do you know when I’m lying?" you finally ask, and your voice sounds oddly clear in your small bathroom.

Bucky’s face goes from concern to confusion, his frown deepening. You want to smoothe it away with your thumb.

You close your eyes so maybe the temptation goes away.

"What?" he asks, and he still sounds so damn gentle.

"I’ve never been able to lie to you," you say. "What’s my tell?"

You can feel him move away from you and the ache of it makes you look again. His shirt and his hands are covered in his own blood, and you’re sure there’s some fucking metaphor in the way it stains the golden inlets of his vibranium arm crimson but for the most part, you can’t unsee the damn irony of it all.

Because you’ve pissed him off now.

"You scared the shit out of me, Y/N. And Sam, too." There’s the sharpness in his voice you know all too well. You haven’t heard it in a while. "What the hell is going on?"

"I’m trapped in a time loop," you say, squeezing your fists more tightly. "I’ve been reliving this day for weeks, my powers aren’t working, I’m the only one who can stop time from completely collapsing, I can’t do that without my powers, and you’re gonna die later today. Am I lying?"

It’s maybe the worst way you’ve ever told him, because watching Bucky’s face change is almost too much. This is exactly why you’re doing it, though; as long as you’re going through this loop with a giant guilty knot in your stomach, you’re not going to make any progress. And you need to put an end to all of it.

So you meet his gaze, almost unwavering, and you don’t blink.

His shock bursts free as an incredulous laugh. "What?"

"I’m stuck," you say again, slower, nodding at his hands, his blood, continuing to push, "and you keep dying."

Bucky looks down, then, before his gaze falls back onto you and he sits back on his heels. The pause lasts for way too long, heavy and smelling of iron, and you’re pretty sure you’re suffocating. He only says one word, and it sounds so defeated. "How?"

You swallow heavily. "You got shot on a mission," you say, but he shakes his head, the fire returning to his eyes.

"No. How did you get stuck?"

"I …" You blink, because you’re not prepared for this question, because you can never predict what he’s going to say, because he keeps doing that to you, because somehow, and not like you’ve expected, you feel like you’ve been here before.

How did it happen? That’s not … Okay.

"It was an accident," you finally say, helplessly, defensively.

There’s a flicker of something in Bucky’s eyes. "What happened?"

"You died. You died that first time and I didn’t—I couldn’t …" You swallow the sob that threatens to shake your voice again. Damnit, you’re supposed to push him away.

He moves his arm, then hesitates, as if he wants to reach out to you but changes his mind at the very last moment.

Right. He doesn’t normally do that.

Except he has.

He has held your hand and pulled you closer and written on your arm and let you lean on him with the full weight of your body, as if to him, you weighed nothing at all. He’s been offering to carry your load so many times, and he doesn’t remember a single one of them.

"Please don’t look at me like that," you say tonelessly, watching Bucky retreat.

"Like what?"

"Like I’m gonna fall apart at any moment. And yes," you add when his mouth opens, "I—I know I just did, I’m aware of the irony, but this is exactly why I can’t keep telling you, I don’t—I can’t stand it." You press your wrists against your temples, ignoring the buzz of the whirling time symbols against your skin, the stinging in your eyes. "You shouldn’t even—I mean, are you even the slightest bit worried about yourself? Because I feel like I’m the only one here, and I should’ve just—"

You stop yourself, shaking your head. Your hands are very clammy all of a sudden, and when you tug at your rings just to do something, one of them slips off your finger and clangs against the tiles as if to punctuate the silence.

When you reach down, you move your wrist in a way that makes you hiss in pain and flinch back. Bucky’s eyes flit between your own and your hand, his frown deepening in a strangely soft way. "Did you break it?" he asks quietly.

"I’m fine," you mumble, and he looks at you disapprovingly. "You’d grabbed my hand just before …"

His jaw twitches as the blame settles in again, and you would do fucking anything to finally make him understand that none of this is his fault. That you should be in pain for what you’re putting him through.

"It should’ve been me," you tell him, because it’s true.

Even earlier in the week, you would’ve taken great delight in seeing Bucky Barnes’ face fall at something you’d said. Hell, you’d have probably enjoyed it on Thursday, because there used to be this easy sort of gratification that came from riling him up, from catching him off guard.

Seeing it now, though?

It makes your fingers twitch.

"Don’t say that. Not even as a joke."

"I’m not joking." You can feel your pulse in your ears. "They aimed a shot at me, and you pushed me out of the way, and you died. So by all accounts, if your instincts weren’t so damn noble all the time, it should’ve been me, and if I weren’t such a fucking coward, I’d have gone back and switched places with you weeks ago."

The thought terrifies you, even though it’s true. No part of you wants to go through the things Bucky is, but if someone gave you the choice between either one of you right now, you wouldn’t even have to think about it.

Maybe that’s the most terrifying thought of them all. You would die for him. Once, twice, however many times are necessary if that meant that he’s safe.

"I’d like to see you try," Bucky says, and something slams into your chest as an old familiar shiver runs down your spine.

There’s a pained edge to his gaze, contemplative and heartbreaking and …

"You’re doing it again," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What am I doing?" His hand brushes your knee, and your skin is left searing.

You swallow heavily. "Being noble."

Bucky chuckles softly, and his eyes leave yours for just a moment. "Don’t exactly feel like that."

He’s beautiful.

It’s a new thought, despite everything. Even when you’ve noticed it before, you’d roll your eyes at the fact and move on, because this was Bucky. So what if his face was delectably handsome?

But it seems like you haven’t known it at all, because right now, you feel the knowledge of it, of him, surge through you with all its facets. You can’t even begin to put it into words, because where would you start? How do you explain what he makes you feel when he hasn’t been there himself, not in any way that matters or sticks? And if it’s never happened at all, if time keeps unraveling like this, how can it even be real?

So it’s pure instinct that makes you move, like someone would pinch themselves to ensure they’re not asleep, even though you’re very aware that this isn’t just a dream. You need to confirm that Bucky is real, though.

The air stands still when your fingertips trace along his cheekbone, leaving a delicate flush behind in their trail, barely touching and yet …

And yet.

His breath hitches when they dip lower, almost reaching the place you’ve watched dimple when he laughs, but he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t laugh, either.

There’s a scraping sound at the closed bathroom door, followed by a short knock. You flinch backwards.

"I’m leaving the first aid kit on the bed," Sam calls from the other side. "Just … holler if you need me."

"Thanks, Sam," Bucky says coarsely, and you can hear steps receding. The scratching continues, though. That damn cat.

Finally, he breaks eye contact, clearing his throat.

"Do you want me to help you clean up?"

You shake your head. You’re not sure you could stomach more of this. "I’m good, don’t … Don’t worry about it."

Bucky drags a hand through his hair, muttering something to himself you can’t quite make out. Slowly, he gets to his feet again.

"We need to come up with a plan," he says, and you want to cry except … you’re tired. Tired and sick of this.

"I need to come up with a plan," you correct him. "We have been trying to do this as a team for weeks, and it doesn’t change anything except waste time and …" And hurt. "I can’t do it anymore, Buck."

There must be something in your voice that thaws his defiant glare a little. "So what’s the plan?"

And with a sigh, you fill him in on everything that’s been going on with Strange and your powers. Again. One last time.

You have to do this alone.

Bucky ignores your insistence that you can manage just fine and sets your wrist while you talk. Alpine, now free to roam wherever she pleases again, has decided the bathroom isn’t quite that interesting after a short look inside, and is now taking a nap in the spot of sunshine next to your bed.

"New deal," he says once you’re done, once he’s thought about it all, and you raise your eyebrows. "Don’t do anything stupid."

"You know me," you smile, checking the makeshift dressing around your hand. The green symbols are hidden by the layers of gauze.

Bucky doesn’t bite. "I’m serious, just—don’t."

"How would you know?"

"I wouldn’t," he says, snapping the first aid kit shut so vehemently Alpine’s tail twitches. "But I trust you."

Your head whips up at his words, even though his back is still turned to you. He doesn’t see your face as your heart is jostled into a new rhythm, so violently and unexpectedly that you lift your hand without thinking, pinkie outstretched.

"Promise."

He smiles when he notices, and you wish you could take a picture to carry with you through the rest of this nightmare.

That day, he dies with your stupid nickname on his lips, twisted into something that looks strangely close to that earlier smile. This one doesn’t have time to reach his eyes, though.

***

There’s been a change in the weather.

Not literally, no; of course not literally. Fuck, you long for a single cloud, a raindrop, a damn hailstorm to break the streak of endless perfectly sunny days that don’t fit your mood in the slightest.

But there’s a tinge to the sky that makes your stomach turn. It’s not very obvious to anyone who hasn’t looked at the exact same sunset for weeks on end, just a single strip of color across a storybook horizon. It looks like a crack.

"Do you see that?" you ask warily when you notice it for the first time, ominous and yet almost completely hidden by the trees and the buildings. Just dancing around the edge of your vision like another mockery.

"What?" Sam asks, eyes not leaving the path ahead.

"That … thing in the sky. What is that?"

Bucky stops and squints at where you’re pointing. "It’s called a cloud," he says dryly.

"With that color?" you murmur, but continue walking when he stops to turn to you, your wrist tingling. His stare is searing your neck, but you ignore that, too.

The best course of action, you’ve learned, is to shut your brain off as soon as you get out of the quinjet and just go through the motions, trying to ride out the mission like you’ve done dozens of times before. There’s a sort of autopilot you’ve fallen into after a couple of days, and it’s the only thing keeping you somewhat sane. Most days, it means it’s all over quickly, and you can’t help but feel glad about that.

You’ve given up trying to change your own actions to get him through the day.

But this …

It’s something new, and in all this monotony, that thought is both frightening and exciting. It distracts you enough to get you off script.

"Lovely interior design," Sam mumbles like he always does.

"Remember how this was supposed to be a day off?" You kick one of the pebbles in your path with a sigh. "What happened to 'don’t worry, Y/N, after training the day is all yours'?"

"Occupational hazard," Sam says, checking his map for the thousandth time.

"You know what I mean."

"Don’t you have tomorrow off?" Bucky says over the intercom.

Tomorrow. "Right." It comes out somewhat strained, your fingernails digging into the palm of your hand. "And why do you know that?"

Sam shakes his head and there’s a brief crackle of static in your ear. For a fraction of a second, you nearly dare to hope Bucky will give you an answer, even though you have no clue what it would be.

"They’re heading your way now," he says instead, "so get a move on."

And just like that, you’re back on track.

Quickly clearing your throat of the lump that has formed there, you say tonelessly, "I probably only have one reset left. Two, if we’re lucky and you two aren’t being stupid again."

It’s taken you a while to get used to it. To the constant lying.

You’ve worn fingerless gloves on missions before, so that’s not raised any questions from the others yet, and your rings stay hidden away. You’ve been more reluctant to take them off since the one you lost on your bathroom floor vanished into thin air.

The other thing you’ve picked up on while endlessly repeating this day is that Bucky is less likely to catch you in a lie if he can’t see your face.

So you’ve made an effort of spending as little time as possible with him.

It’s surprisingly easy to stay in your room for the majority of the day, because he doesn’t remember it ever being any other way. Even today’s little exchange will be lost to the loop soon enough, just like that little pause he made, just like the bullet through his heart.

Still, when you wake up with a start on Friday, July 4th, you look at the sky first. Its perfect blue doesn’t soothe the sinking feeling in your stomach at all.

You’ve been waiting for something to change for weeks, and now that it’s here, you don’t like it at all.

"What did you expect?" Strange says with an infuriating composure once you’ve nervously recounted your experience. "I told you, time isn’t supposed to get stuck in this way. Of course your reality was going to act up sooner or later."

"I really feel like you should be more concerned about this," you mutter, letting a ball of green energy pass from your left hand to the right. It’s about the size of a quarter now.

"Honestly," Strange answers, "I thought something like this would have happened a while ago." He taps his fingers together. "Again. Slower."

"So what am I supposed to do then, just ignore it?" The green ball pulses with your indignation, turns around itself once and then sinks into your palm again.

"In all likelihood, it’s a one time glitch. If everything is back to normal today, I wouldn’t worry about it."

Your thumb rubs across the empty space on your finger. "Easy for you to say if you’re not the one who’s stuck in an endless hellscape."

"Aren’t I?"

You both roll your eyes at each other, but then you bite the inside of your cheek again, unable to shake the feeling of a whole new shade of dread. "What if it’s not just a one time glitch?"

The corners of Strange’s cloak roll up on themselves, and he doesn’t meet your eye when he says, "We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it."

It’s still early when you return to the present, too early for Bucky to be back from wherever he’s always going, so you decide to venture out of your room again, stretching your tired limbs. You’re pretty sure at this point that waking up on the floor is never going to feel fun.

Sam is in the kitchen as always, reading something on his laptop. He’s still sitting down, which means that it’s even earlier than you expected. You miss these early parts of the day, the calm before the storm.

If today were only made up of these few hours, you suppose, it might not be half so bad.

You pull up a chair next to him and lean a cheek against your hand. "What’re you doing?"

"Research." Sam sighs, rubbing his temples. "Remember that ULTIMATUM group?"

"Never heard of them," you say with a small yawn. "Is that an acronym? What does it stand for?"

Sam gives you a glare and your mouth twitches slightly.

"Anyway," he continues, turning his laptop so you can see the article he’s reading. "They’ve been more active again lately. Acquired a couple thousand dollars’ worth of lab equipment through one of their contacts and then went underground again."

Of course, you know all this. You’ve been over it again and again, back when you were all still trading information like it could save Bucky’s life. Like there was a deeper meaning behind any of this damn loop other than the fact that you, and you alone, fucked up.

Useless.

You close the mental door on those thoughts and take a deep breath. You hate to admit it, but all of this sitting around with your thoughts bullshit you’ve been doing has actually helped you to clear your head somewhat—if only to make it through the parts of the day you can’t avoid.

"And now what?" you ask, pretending to just have reacquainted yourself with the topic.

"Now," Sam says, taking his laptop with him as he stands up and strolls over to the kitchen island, "I’m waiting for Torres to get back to me so we can decide our next steps once we’re all recovered." He gives you a meaningful look and you scowl.

Then, slowly, his words register in your brain, and you stare at his back as he stretches and then moves to make some coffee, wordlessly taking one of your mugs out of the cupboard as well as his own.

"You don’t seem too worried," you say hesitantly.

Sam shrugs. "Until we have a proper lead, there’s not much we can do. And I doubt they’ll be doing any actual damage any time soon. They’re a lot more covert than the Flag Smashers ever were."

"Right," you say, more to yourself than in response.

"Try that again, less convincing?"

"I don’t know," you mutter, slowly following him to lean against the fridge. "Just … what if Torres did find something? Should I be getting ready?"

Sam frowns. "Are you not telling me something again?"

You try to shake the thought, pulling your arms around you. "Forget it."

You don’t, though.

It keeps bugging you, because that day like any other day, he knocks on your door at 4:32 on the dot, and you go on that mission anyway. And even though this has been happening for weeks, you’re just starting to suspect that you are, in fact, still not getting the whole picture.

***

Catching a glimpse of Sam’s phone turns out to be more difficult than you first thought.

You’re still trying to get the timing exactly right a couple of days later, and you miscalculate enough to catch Bucky on his way upstairs.

"Hey," he says, his shoulders tense when he looks at you. There’s a restlessness to him that he’s not quick enough to hide; or maybe you’ve just grown more perceptive when it comes to him.

"Hi," you say, crossing your hands behind your back. "Where’ve you been?"

He shrugs. "For a walk."

You already know he won’t elaborate if you try poking, so you don’t. "Was it good?"

"Lotta people." He hesitates when you continue to not meet his eye, and then he says, "Do you want to talk about it?"

You swallow, ignoring the tingling sensation on your wrist. "Not particularly. Do you?"

Bucky’s jaw twitches. "Nah."

Somehow, you feel like that’s also a lie. Once again, you’re left wondering.

The silence between you stretches as you continue to not quite look at each other, until you finally clear your throat, nodding at the front door. "I’m getting coffee, do you want something?"

Honestly, it’s just an excuse as to why you need to leave before he notices something off again somehow, but Bucky tilts his head in amusement.

"Didn’t you just get some this morning?"

"So? I like coffee."

"Really. I never knew."

"Screw you."

You can hear him huff behind you, but thankfully the door falls shut before you can do anything stupid. Like turning around to face him, for example.

You miss his eyes.

Why won’t you look at me?

When the elevator doors open, you almost yelp into your delivery guy’s face. He stumbles a half-step backwards, somehow managing to keep a hold of the boxes precariously balanced on his arm while he’s reading something on his phone.

"Oh my god," he lets out, "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I was just …"

"Early." You blink.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing," you say, frowning only a little. "Wait, let me get that."

You quickly sign for the delivery and open the door with your keycard, holding it open for him. You’re not exactly afraid of burglars these days, and besides; you know this guy by now.

"If you could just go straight ahead and to the right, that’s where the kitchen is."

"Sure thing," he shrugs. "Thanks—"

His mouth snaps shut and he blushes a little as if he wanted to say something else but thought better of it.

You’ve introduced him to Sam enough times you know he’s going to be fine, so you just smile and wave him in.

When you step out on the street, you instinctually look up at the sky. It’s outrageously blue, blatantly perfect for an endless Friday, and even when you squint, you can’t make out any irregularities.

It’s a tiny relief, but a relief nontheless.

Lucy is leaning against the wall just out of sight of the storefront, an unlit cigarette dangling between her lips as she rummages through her pockets. Her colorful makeup has begun to melt off in the sweltering heat, making the red-white-and-blue stars on her cheeks bleed into each other to look somewhat purplish.

"Are you off or on break?" you call over.

She lifts her head, the glare vanishing when she recognizes you. "Counting the seconds," she says. "Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You sidestep a couple of pedestrians hurrying to cross the street and join her. "Not really."

"I hate you." She finally fishes a lighter out of her back pocket, sighing contentedly as she takes her first drag. "I swear, this day just won’t pass."

Fine. Maybe your chuckle is a little shrill. "I’m sorry."

Lucy waves you off with a gesture crude enough to make a young dad with a stroller send the two of you a dirty look. "You without your shadow today?" she asks, inspecting her nails.

You blink. "My shadow."

"You know. Your friend who’s been in here eight thousand times and still gets confused when he orders." A cloud of smoke vanishes into thin air. "Kind of the lingering type, isn’t he?"

"He’s old," you say, because for some reason nothing else comes to mind.

"Not that old."

"No," you agree, "not that old."

For a moment, you’re afraid she’s going to ask you to pass her number along to him, and you’re already scrambling to find an answer somewhere in the depths of your brain, coming up empty. That’s the problem with being able to unhave entire conversations; you don’t usually really have to deal with reactions if you don’t want to.

Without your powers, though, you’re stuck, and it’s making you wish you hadn’t come here at all.

Instead of any of that, she pulls a flyer out of her other pocket. "Sorin and Cass are doing a gig in Brooklyn next week, do you wanna come with? They’re still terrible, but they got a new bassist who seems alright."

You take the flyer, staring at it. "I didn’t know they’re in a band," you admit.

The truth is, you’ve never paid that much close attention to the people you work with. Maybe that’s been a mistake.

Lucy shrugs. "You’re always doing your own thing." It stings, even though you’re pretty sure she doesn’t mean for it to. "It’d be fun if you came, though."

"I’ll think about it," you say, and your smile is a little unsure, but genuine.

So is hers.

"If you don’t want to hang with us all night, you can bring some friends, too." Her emphasis hangs in the air between you like a dare.

You snort. "I feel like this isn’t quite their scene."

"You feel like or you know?"

"Isn’t that the same thing?"

"No." She puts her cigarette out on the wall behind her. "Knowledge is based on experience. On memories. Your feelings don’t sit in your head. And so they don’t make sense and they’re not necessarily true." She winks.

"You’re weirdly smart," you say, shaking your head.

"I know. It’s a curse." Lucy sighs. "Anyway, think about it. I gotta get back to hell."

"You know," you say with a grin, "I could really do with a frappuccino right about now."

"You know what you could do?" she answers in her sweetest customer service voice, pointing you down the street. "Get in a trash can."

Damnit. You might actually grow to like Lucy.

She taps her fingers against her temple and then shuffles back inside, a hot rush of air blowing out of the AC as the door opens. You fold the flyer up to fit into your back pocket, hoping you’ll make it to that concert one day, and then you walk on, aimless again for the moment.

***

Time passes while it’s standing still.

The problem is, at least for the moment, that by all appearances you’ve reverted back to square one. Going through your day as though any of this is even remotely normal, counting the hours and minutes to reenter the astral plane and feel some semblance of control again.

It’s been nice, really, if you’re ignoring the constant underlying feeling of dread.

Which you’re getting better at.

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.

Rinse and repeat.

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.

Even on days when you’re sure you’re making progress with your powers, every reset makes it just a little harder to keep dragging yourself onwards.

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.

"You look like shit."

Your head rolls to the side slowly, allowing yourself a glance while Bucky is still distracted with his arm. Concentration makes his brows knit, and something warm spreads in your chest.

"I’m so tired," you say, voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t look at you, but you’re grateful for it for once. Your eyes are stinging a little.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Yes. Yes. Yes.

"Not particularly."

"Do you want to talk about something else?"

You almost smile. "Like what?"

Bucky shrugs with one shoulder. "Like the fact that you just planted Sam into the mat head-first and yet made a face like you killed a puppy?"

Sometimes you wonder how he still manages to slip in without you noticing, no matter how many times he does it.

"Did I?"

"Did you kill a puppy? I’d hope not."

Your body’s been getting stronger, anticipating Sam’s every move. At this point, it’s not so much training as it is an exercise in muscle memory; but how would he know that?

It still isn’t enough. It’s never enough.

You pitiful, selfish, useless bastard.

"You’re doing it again," Bucky says and you blink.

"Doing what?"

"I don’t know, but I don’t like it."

Something inside you twinges uncomfortably and you wrap your arms around your knees, pulling them into your chest. "That might just be me, period."

Bucky huffs. "Take the towel on the right," he says. "I already used the other one."

So you do.

And then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, and then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, and then you wake up with blah, blah, blah.

"I can’t do this anymore."

Strange watches you, but you don’t get up from where you’re lying, blankly staring at the ceiling, feeling like your chest is about to explode.

You don’t want to feel like something is tearing you apart every single time, even though you know it’s not permanent. There’s always the tiniest glimmer of hope that this will all be over soon.

Or maybe it’s dread.

"Maybe you can’t," Strange answers.

You blink, sitting upright. "What?"

"Maybe you are actually incapable of cleaning up your own mess. You’ve never had any training before, after all. Maybe you’re too weak."

Useless. Not good enough. Waste of time.

"If this is reverse psychology, it’s not working," you say through gritted teeth, pressing your eyes shut so tightly they don’t burn anymore.

Strange ignores you. "Maybe you’re going to be stuck in this loop forever. If that’s the case, there’s no point to keep trying either. Maybe we should just call it a day."

You can feel your breaths coming in shorter.

"Maybe you’re just going to keep failing to save anyone for the rest of your life."

"Stop it!"

An explosion of power goes through your body, bouncing off the walls and bathing the room in a ghostly green light. You cough and curl into yourself as you watch it billow, still echoing the words back at you, "too weak", "stuck in this loop forever". Your bones are heavy with exhaustion.

Strange crouches down next to you and a cup of fragrant tea draws itself up to the side of your face.

"You’re drawing the bulk of your power from pain. From a desire to fix things that you think you alone are responsible for when the truth is that each and every one of us is constantly creating reality."

"Fuck you," you mumble. When you sit up, your head is still swimming.

"You cannot keep this up."

"If I’m such a lost case, then why do you bother?"

"I’m trying to tell you that you’re not." He points at the walls, still covered by that greenish fog. "This is the strongest display of your powers I’ve seen from you yet, and it only happened because you were lashing out. Pain is not a sustainable source of energy. Imagine what you could do if you could be in control."

Do as I tell you.

"There’s no way to control my powers on a larger scale. It’s impossible."

"You keep telling me that, and yet you keep coming back. Why?"

You push yourself up to your elbows, wiping at your face. "Because I have to hope, right?"

"And there it is."

You take a sip of your tea and some feeling returns to your translucent fingers. Strange’s cloak draws itself around your shoulders.

The wizard himself stays quiet for another minute or two, before he asks, "Why do you think I’m talking to you right now? Helping you, even, nevermind your constant whining and your insistence that this won’t work, after you’ve spent your whole life running away from anything resembling actual responsibilities."

"I didn’t—"

"Answer the question."

"Because I created a time loop?" you guess.

"But you already know that this loop is just one point on the timeline. A single day, repeated endlessly, but going exactly like it was always supposed to, once resolved. So, without the time stone and my privileges as the Sorcerer Supreme, and with your protections still in place, how would I have found you?"

He knew exactly where and when to look for you. But he’s right, that shouldn’t even have been possible unless …

"I came to you," you realize. "Or, I will, once I get out of this." The relief that washes over you makes you want to sob. "So there is a way out?"

"Of course there is," he says, surprisingly gently. "Time isn’t supposed to get stuck."

You sit with that for a minute, hiding your face in your hands as Strange stays silent. Finally, you take a deep breath and look at him again with newly sharp focus.

"So why don’t you just tell me how to do it?"

He raises an eyebrow. "You know that’s not how it works."

"Yes. It is. It’s literally what I do all the time."

"What you do is leaving realities you don’t like by turning backwards."

"That’s not true."

"Just because your motivations aren’t entirely selfish doesn’t mean you’re right."

You’re so damn exhausted. The frustration of this whole thing is really starting to scratch at your sanity, and there’s an ache in your chest as you stare at your own sleeping face, biting the inside of your cheek, thinking.

Strange snaps his fingers to get your attention back.

"I’m not a mind reader," he says. "Out with it."

"I want to see him," you say, getting up. The cloak flaps around you in a very satisfying way. "Bucky. It’s early this morning, right? Just before the loop starts again. That means he’s upstairs."

"And what’s seeing him going to do?"

You ignore him and walk towards the door, reaching for the handle. Your hand goes right through it. You try it several more times, to no avail.

"Heaven help me," Strange mutters behind you.

Shutting your eyes, you take a deep breath. The circle of green tingles around your wrist.

Then, you walk through the closed door.

You fully expect to crash into the wood head first, but instead you feel the door moving through your noncorporeal form, and then you’re standing on the other side.

With a startled hum, you turn left, not waiting to see if you’re being followed.

You only hesitate in front of Bucky’s bedroom door. You’ve never actually been inside his room since he’s moved in; well, apart from that time he patched up your feet and you woke up in the astral plane for the first time. It feels odd to consider entering without him actually being aware of it.

Then again, there’s quite a few things at this point that he’s unaware of.

Before you can make up your mind, the door swings open just a little, and you automatically take a step back. Alpine sleepily slinks through the gap and trots off in the direction you came from, probably to sit in the kitchen and mope until FRIDAY activates the food dispenser again. On the stairs, she passes Strange who raises an eyebrow at you.

"Changed your mind?"

You glance into the room.

At first, you can’t find him. The bedding looks untouched, and there’s a brief flurry of panic that makes you step inside before you can keep questioning yourself.

Bucky is lying on the floor next to the bed, his hands balled tightly into an old throw blanket. It’s haphazardly draped across his torso, like he’s been trying to wriggle free during the night. He grimaces in his sleep.

Try the floor.

You can’t help but wonder when he’s last tried the bed.

"Can he hear us?" you ask quietly, not needing to look over your shoulder as you sink to the floor next to Bucky.

"No," Strange says. "Not until you put in a lot more work."

"Would he remember if I did?"

"I don’t know."

You do look back at him, then. "You know, considering your position you don’t know a whole lot of things."

You concentrate on your own hand until you’re starting to feel cool metal underneath your fingertips, ignoring the throbbing of your head. Carefully, you touch the crease between his brows, smoothing it out tenderly.

Bucky sighs a little in his sleep, but doesn’t stir. Doesn’t stop quietly murmuring in his dreams.

"You feel better?" Strange asks.

"Not really." You’ve already reached out to him without it having any repercussions too many times. "But that wasn’t the point."

"What was?"

"Just …"

Comfort. He brings you comfort, even when he doesn’t know it. It’s the same reason you keep waiting for him to arrive in the gym in the mornings, even though you could probably hurry up and miss him.

Even if the loop never ends, it’s still good to see that it’s bringing him back like it’s supposed to.

How incredibly selfish, you think as you continue looking at Bucky and letting a quiet, hesitant wash of calm come over you.

And then, all of a sudden, his eyes open.

You flinch backwards, but even though you’re almost face to face, he seems to stare right through you, his breaths heavy.

"Did I do something?" you say quietly.

"No," Strange answers. "This is just when he wakes up."

You watch as Bucky drags a hand over his face and then gets up with a determined tick in his jaw, grabbing a notebook from the nightstand. He scribbles something down, hastily, like it’s threatening to get away from him if he doesn’t hurry. You don’t have to read it to know it has something to do with what he’s seen in his sleep.

When the words stop flowing, he sits on the edge of the bed for a minute longer, but the tension doesn’t leave his shoulders. Finally, he rolls his left arm a few times before pulling on a shirt and his running shoes.

He always goes for a run in the morning. You’ve made fun of him for it before, but you hadn’t put together that while Strange was trying to get you to clear your own head through sitting still, Bucky might be doing the exact opposite to get the same result.

The door clicks shut.

"Are we done with the spying, then?" Strange says.

"No need to get weird about it," you mumble and take his outstretched hand.

***

Something changes once you know that your situation actually has an end date, even though Strange either cannot or will not tell you how many more loops you’re going to have to go through until then. Even so, there’s a new assurance to your every step again, a determination grown from the knowledge that all this isn’t for nothing. That there is an out.

You can cling to that.

"What would you do if you were stuck in a time loop?" you ask, letting your legs dangle over the ledge of the roof.

"Ew, no," Lucy replies, shaking the few remaining ice cubes in her cup emphatically. "My shift was long enough as is, and I’ve been looking forward to my Sunday off all week."

"Fair point," you concede.

It’s early afternoon then, and you’ve found a quiet spot on the top of the Tower. If Lucy was at all confused why you’d shown up at the store right when she clocked out and asked her to hang out, she’s not showing it. Over the past couple of loops, you’ve learned that she really likes to go with the flow, and you appreciate that.

"If it’s not today, though," she continues, like she’s thinking aloud. "Imagine the books you could read. You could try out all that stuff that you say you want to do, and then you never have the time to actually do them."

It’s a good thought, but a lack of time has never really been an issue for you. "Nothing you do would really stick, though."

She squints against the sun. "You realize that’s a pro, right? No consequences whatsoever. I could cut my bangs again and they’d be gone the next day."

"You used to have bangs?"

"Never, and I’m willing to state that in a court of law."

You smile and lean back on your elbows. "If something good happened, that’d be gone, too, though. You don’t get to keep that, either."

"Yeah," Lucy says thoughtfully. "I’d still remember it though, right? It still happened. I could make it happen again."

"Maybe." Your thumb scratches the empty space on your pinkie. Even though you’ve turned your entire bathroom upside down, your ring is still gone, like it just up and disappeared from this reality. You can’t help but wonder if that rift in the sky from a few todays ago has anything to do with that.

"What about you?"

"Hm?"

Lucy takes another slurping sip from her almost empty cup. "What would you do in a time loop?"

You can’t help but laugh. "I’d try to keep making the good things happen, I guess."

"Sounds like a lot of work."

It is.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" someone shouts behind you. "It’s in the fricking nineties today and you’re baking?"

"Technically, we are baking," you say, nodding at Lucy and leaning back further so you can look at Sam upside down. "And we’re baking for you."

"Hi, cap," Lucy says, pulling her sunglasses off.

"Hey." Sam crosses his arms and fixes you with a very cap-like glare. "Why are you baking for me."

"Y/N said it’s for your birthday."

"My—" He cuts himself off, rubbing his temples. "My birthday’s in September."

"Whoops," you say, your grin just believable enough. "My bad, cap."

"You’re not funny," Sam says, "I hope you know that."

You know.

Of course, today isn’t actually his birthday, not even if time were allowed to pass normally. It is day forty-fucking-nine of the loop, though, which makes it your fiftieth time living through this crap and frankly, you all deserve some damn pie.

It’s not going to make a difference in the long run, of course, and yet you can’t help but feel like keeping count of those little markers of time helps to hold your head above water. Making the good things happen, even if they don’t change a thing and no one but you is going to remember.

So you simply say, "It’s turtle pie," because you know that it’s Sam’s favorite. "Hey, what’s the time?"

"Oh, it better be," he says, holding his phone up for you to read and then marching out of your field of vision.

Sadly, you’re just about a minute early.

"He could’ve stayed," Lucy says when you let out a frustrated huff.

"He has that thing at the Garden," you tell her distractedly, taking a mental note to stall Sam a little longer next time.

"There you are."

You flinch at the sound of Bucky’s voice, barely daring to move your head when he sits next to you, his back to the brink.

He never comes up here. That’s the whole point.

"Hi?" you say carefully, and a grin tugs at his mouth.

"Not you," he says, nodding to the ground in front of him.

You turn around fully to find Alpine taking a nap just a few feet behind you, her snowy tail wrapped around a flower pot.

You let out a relieved breath and ignore the small sting in your chest. Of course he’s not up here because of you. Why would he be?

"Gee, thanks," you murmur, quietly shifting around so your hands are hidden underneath your legs. "You sure know how to charm the ladies."

You glance back at Lucy, but she’s looking at her phone, her eyes once again indecipherable behind the large sunglasses.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Think you could handle my charm, Y/L/N?"

He might has well have doused you in a bucket of ice water. You’re suddenly very aware of every single cell in your body, and you don’t like the challenge sparkling in his eyes.

So you do what you always do and you block it out. Dismiss and distract.

"Does Alpine seem weird to you?"

He tilts his head, his jaw tight. "Weird how?"

"I don’t know," you say, staring at her. "She’s just been acting … odd, lately. Today, I mean."

And following you around in a way you’re pretty sure she’s never done before. Not before the loop, at least.

Bucky sighs. "Did you make her scratch you again? Because I’ve told you before that I’m not getting rid of her for enforcing her boundaries."

"First of all, I never make her scratch me, she does that well enough on her own."

"That’s victim blaming," Lucy says without looking up. Bucky snorts and you almost roll your eyes.

"Second of all, she’s up to something. I know it."

"Oh, yes," Bucky says dryly just as Alpine makes a small noise in her dreams, her nose twitching. "That’s the embodiment of evil right there."

"I don’t trust her," you mutter.

"And yet the cat’s the weird one."

"I hate you," you mumble, standing up. "I’m gonna go check on the pie."

"There’s pie?" Bucky says.

"Not for you!"

You turn at the door to see Lucy leaning in to show Bucky something on her phone; the frown has disappeared from his face, his shoulders relaxed. If he’d pull off his glove right now, it’d almost be like sitting in a park.

That’s good, you tell yourself as the door slams shut behind you with a bit too much gusto. Reminds you that there’s nothing special about you in particular, which is much needed, really.

Can’t wait to punch that one out of your system later.

Again and again and again and a—

"Whoa, whoa, you alright?"

You blink. Riff slumps to the ground in front of you, body limp.

Bucky stares at you in concern, his hand still on your shoulder. His lip has split open and there’s the usual bruise already forming on his cheekbone. You can’t help it. Your gaze is drawn down, your breathing shallow.

You screw your eyes shut to snap yourself out of it, but when you open them again, Bucky hasn’t moved an inch.

"Never better," you whisper, and for a split second, you almost believe it yourself.

Liar, liar, liar.

***

At least, you suppose, reality seems considerably less broken these days. No more cracks in the sky.

You get your wake-up call when you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY …

"… FRIDAY?" you say into the silence of your room, your heart pounding wildly. This cannot be happening. Not now.

Not yet.

He got shot again yesterday.

A pleasant jingling sound rings out. "Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N."

You look at the clock on the wall. Ten to eight, just like every morning. "What day is it?"

"Today is Friday, July 4th."

You can taste bile in your mouth despite your relief. There’s an impatient thrum to the symbols around your wrist, like a noose that’s tightening.

What did you expect?

"Rise and shine, McFly! Time to get your ass kicked!"

"Didn’t you set FRIDAY to wake me?" you ask Sam as you’re climbing the stairs, nerves on edge.

He looks at you weirdly. "I did. You’re up, aren’t you?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Didn’t sleep well."

That much, at least, is still true. Full nights of sleep are a long distant memory from before constant back-to-back repetitions. The only time your body shuts off is when you manage to sleep for a little bit in between your astral visits and the mission call.

"I hope you don’t think that’s an excuse," Sam says, bumping your shoulder, and you manage a tired grin.

"You wish."

Today, you let him win, even though your ankle makes an odd crack when you land on the mat. You’ll take care of it later.

"You look like shit."

Grief and relief, you’ve learned, both taste like salt and iron, but the latter is so much easier to swallow.

"That makes two of us," you say, sitting up slowly. "How was your run?"

"Good," Bucky says, putting the cloth away and stretching his fingers out. They catch a ray of sunlight. "What’s wrong with you?"

Not this again.

"Later, okay?" you answer, because that’s not a lie. "Let’s just … not, right now?"

"Alright," he says.

And, oh, you want to tell him again. Because he doesn’t press it. Because you miss having someone to share things with. Because you miss telling him the whole truth. Because you’re scared, and tired, and sick of losing him.

But those are egotistic thoughts, and so you keep them all to yourself and take the towel on the right.

There’s one good thing about this today. You make it to the living room just in time to finally catch a glimpse of Sam’s phone right when it pings with Torres’ message.

I can check it out on Monday if you’d like.

That’s it. No urgency, weirdly proper spelling, not even an exclamation mark.

In other words, you’re not sure what you expected but you’re no closer to answers than before.

"What does it matter?" Strange sighs when you tell him all of this with a frown.

"It matters," you reply, "because if we hadn’t gone on the mission, Bucky wouldn’t have died that first time and none of this would’ve happened."

"So what?" he says. "It’s already done."

"But if I could prevent it—"

"It already happened."

"I can make it not happen."

"You and what powers?" Strange says sharply. "Even if you did that, it wouldn’t stop the loop."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you’ve already seen first-hand that it’s bound to you and your powers, not to whatever you do or don’t do during the day. Karma is a fairy tale for those who don’t want to take responsibility for their actions."

"Do you really still think this is me not taking responsibility?" There’s a green flare that goes through you, hot and seething and making goosebumps crawl down your arms.

Strange smiles at the sight. "Let’s find out."

He extends his arms and slowly opens his fists until orange symbols dance across his shaky fingers. The band around your wrist prickles at the weight of his magic flooding the air.

Strange’s cloak nudges you towards the center of the room and your heart gives a heavy thud. "What, right now?"

"Would you prefer being stuck for a couple weeks more?"

"Of course not it’s just—I don’t feel ready."

"No one ever feels ready until they try."

And maybe it’s because it reminds you of something Steve once said, but it makes you step up, falling into the stance you’ve practiced over and over again. You breathe in deeply and close your eyes.

The pull comes easier now. Your powers have just been resting, nestled somewhere deep inside your bones like glowing embers, waiting for you to call upon them.

When you look at your open palm, the green wisps of your powers have curled up to the size of a ping-pong ball. You take another steadying breath and let it glide to the tips of your fingers, carefully letting it balance itself out for a second before moving your other hand.

"Good," you can hear Strange say quietly.

Slowly, carefully, you let the threads untangle until they’re just about to touch the green band circling around your wrist. You can feel the electric tingle of it, the soft beat of each passing second contained within, and you push past it.

You’ve done this before, so you’re not surprised when you feel the energy drain from your body almost immediately. Up until now, though, it’s just been trial and error, not expecting anything to happen. This time, you have Strange’s magic feeding some of his strength into you as well, and so instead of hesitating, you press on, your heartbeat speeding up.

The band around your wrist does the same.

"Don’t lose your focus." Strange’s voice sounds very far away, almost warped.

Very funny, you might have said, but you’re too busy watching it all unfold.

The whirring inside of your head grows louder as the circlet of time keeps rotating with accelerating speed, faster and faster until your eyes start tearing up and there’s something that looks almost like a crack.

You gasp quietly. At first, you think you might have just imagined it, but then the split starts growing, the symbols growing farther and farther apart as the band itself keeps spinning. Your pulse is beating in your ears. Your wrist feels like it’s being set on fire.

There are voices, then, quiet and fast, like you’re watching a sped up movie, music and noises and chatter and birdsong and a whooshing sound like something flipping right past you. Then, something like distant shots.

I’m getting Bucky out of this, you think as the green band continues rotating until suddenly, there is a shockwave of green light that takes up your entire field of vision.

You close your stinging eyes, keeping your feet firmly planted on the floor as your powers rush through you once more and then, with a shudder, settle down again, exhausted. The glare subsides. Something like a trickle of sweat runs down your noncorporeal neck.

"Did it work?" you ask, your voice rough, not daring to look for yourself. There’s no answer, though. "Doc?"

Slowly, your eyes readjust to the gloomy darkness of your room in the astral realm. The only source of light is the glowing green band continuing to circle around your wrist, the rifts stabilizing again like it’s clicking back into place.

You swear under your breath and turn around to ask what went wrong, but Strange is no longer standing beside you.

You’re all alone.

***

Three, two, one—

"Iced grande extra whip caramel macchia—shit!"

You catch the plastic cup before it drops onto the suit of the business man standing in line in front of you. "Here you go, sir."

He grabs his drink with a grunt and hurries back outside. One of these days, you might ask him why he’s in such a hurry, but it’s not today.

You’ve grown to adore the noise of the pre-noon rush. The cacophany of the whirring machines, the AC and the people is just loud enough to make your head calm down a little. Besides, being alone in a crowd has never been easier than when you know for a fact they are not going to remember you.

The drinks are starting to pile up at the hand-out, and because you feel bad for your colleagues, you start handing them out to people. You’ve been here a lot, after all.

"Tall hazelnut latte for Misty!"

Plus, it helps to keep your mind from wandering back to everything that’s going wrong.

Strange still hasn’t returned.

The astral dimension feels different when you return the day after your experiment, like someone’s been pulling invisible strings to make everything just slightly more disordered and dark.

It’s cold, too. You watch your body shiver in her sleep as you wrap your arms around yourself. The books are still there, shimmering slightly with the magic they contain.

"Doc?" you call out, and the vibrations of this place hum it back at you. There’s no answer.

The book at the top of the pile is still opened to a page, as if it’d just been left a moment ago, and you pick it up. The words glide around like they are looking to jump back into an inkpot, and you have to squint to make out any of them.

Incursion, the section header reads. Result of a contraction in a universe’s timeline. Can cause premature disintegration or collapse of any one reality within the multiverse.

"Just great," you say, slapping the book shut again. "I get it, alright? You can come out now."

But there’s no sound apart from your own heartbeat.

Your noncorporeal head is swimming with pressure as you pass through the closed door and into the hallway. The walls seem larger than usual, the stairs warping ever so slightly underneath your feet so that you can’t look at them for too long without feeling seasick.

Upstairs, the air doesn’t feel quite as heavy. The silence follows you, though, lingering in the grayish morning shadows like the remnants of a nightmare.

Bucky still mumbles in his.

You can’t make out what he is saying, and you wouldn’t have understood the words, anyway, but there’s sweat on his brow again. His fingers are tightly clutching the thin throw blanket like it’s shielding him from whatever he’s seeing in his dreams.

You take a step closer to him, desperate to do something, anything, when you notice movement out of the corner of your eye.

Alpine is perched on top of the bed, complacently tucked into herself on one of the fluffed up white pillows like it’s really her room, not Bucky’s.

And she’s staring right at you.

You take a step to the side, then another. Alpine tilts her head, her large eyes fixed on you. They follow your gestures as you wave your hand.

A quick glance tells you that Bucky is still sleeping. You take a deep breath and conjure up a small dot of bright green light, letting it dance across your fingertips. Alpine uncurls herself in interest, her tail twitching.

"You can see me," you whisper, and the little spec of your power disappears.

The cat meows in disappointment.

Carefully, you move closer to the bed, reaching out your translucent hand until you place it on Alpine’s head.

She rubs against your palm.

You chuckle incredulously, scratching behind her ears. "You little devil."

Alpine seems particularly pleased with herself. She starts purring.

This is simply bizarre, you think as you continue petting her soft fur. You’re expecting a sarcastic comment from behind your shoulder any minute now, but it doesn’t come.

So, you lower yourself down on the floor next to Bucky, the tips of your fingers not quite grazing his arm as you swallow heavily.

And then you wait until he gets up.

It’s possible, you think as you watch him leave and then make yourself wake up too, that Strange is simply messing with you for the hell of it. You don’t like the timing of this, though. Your day still continues on and on and on, like it always does, but it seems just a little too pointed that this would happen right after you had your first hopes of getting out of here in a long time.

It doesn’t help that the reality glitches have decided to return with a vengeance.

Every day is still July 4th. You wake up with a start, you train, you get coffee, you fight over lunch, you take your astral visit, you go on that damn mission. It’s the details that start to get … fuzzy.

In the beginning, every single thing around you was the exact same every single day. Now, though, there are sometimes details that are just wrong. A different mug left on the drying rack. A mess all over the tables in the lab. Weird noises all over the Tower.

You don’t know what to make of any of it, and so in general, you follow Strange’s rule of thumb and simply ignore the things that are wrong one day and then right the next—which, thankfully, is all of them. You just go with it, telling yourself that this is simply reality malfunctioning a little, like a machine that needs oiling.

Weirdly enough, that doesn’t reassure you in the slightest.

But what else can you do?

You lose a few hours here and there, time seemingly speeding up at random sometimes now. One morning, Bucky isn’t in the gym like he usually is, and you work yourself up over it so much you nearly have a panic attack. In the end, you almost crash into him outside of his room, and a rush of reassurance floods through you with such force you can’t even look at him.

That time, Sam is there when Bucky gets shot, and it’s his cry that follows you into the next day. Your hands are clean this time, and somehow that feels worse.

Everyone’s back to their usual stuff again, and that’s that.

Another time, you’ve barely rolled out of bed and into your bathroom—"Rise and shine, McFly!"—when you’re suddenly jolted forwards and you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume. Your stomach feels like it’s still turning, nauseous, as if you’d sat up too fast.

That feeling still leaves a bad taste in your mouth, sticking to the back of your mind like the blood you haven’t even had time to wash off.

The thing that demands most of your attention, though, is the pile of books waiting for you in the astral realm. Since you don’t have any control over the loop itself, you pour all of your energy into trying to understand the theory behind your powers. It’s giving you a constant headache, and it takes a lot longer than you would like to admit, but at least you feel like you’re doing something that’ll last.

Nothing else will.

There’s one last lonely cup sat on the counter next to your own, which signals that the rush is over for now. You can see Lucy wiping her forehead as you wave your goodbye, picking up both drinks on your way out and handing one of them to the guy just hurrying back downstairs.

"Here you go," you say without stopping, glancing at your phone. You haven’t stayed this late before.

"What the—" you hear behind you, just before the doors glide open and you’re greeted by the sound of traffic and a hot breeze of air.

If you’re lucky, you can make it back to your room without anyone seeing you. You’ve moved on to a particularly hefty tome about relativity, and you’d like to—

"Hey! Miss? Hold on a second!"

You look over your shoulder to see the delivery guy has run after you, cup still in his hand. His bike is leaned against a lamp post nearby, his cap dangling off one of the handles.

You found out a couple of weeks ago that he takes his break just after dropping off your order, but you don’t usually make eye contact anymore.

Now, he holds out his cup accusingly. "That’s my drink."

You smile. "Good for you."

"No. No, that’s not—I mean—how did you know it was my drink?"

And because nothing really matters and you really want to go home, you say, "It has your name on it, doesn’t it?"

You expect him to look at you with wide eyes, just like people normally do when you know things you’re not supposed to. His mouth will drop open, speechless, his frown will deepen, and you can wink at him and continue on your way so he can spend the next couple of hours wondering what just happened.

The cup falls out of his hand, but somehow he manages to catch it before it hits the sidewalk. When he looks up at you again, and his expression is unlike anything you’ve seen coming.

"But that’s not …" he says quietly. "Do you remember me?"

And then it’s you who’s speechless, because the shock on Peter Parker’s face is more than you bargained for.

*****

"Honestly, I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this," you said quietly, looking over the rim of your glass at the crowd.

"You complaining?" you heard Sam’s voice say over the little earpiece you were wearing.

"Not at all."

Apparently, people connected to terrorist organizations threw incredibly fancy parties.

You hadn’t felt this glamorous in a while, if ever, dressed up to the nines in a dark green jumpsuit with an incredibly flattering cut that you’d never had a reason to wear before. Despite your initial doubts about this whole thing, you felt great, for the first time in way too long.

"Are you gonna move any time soon?"

Well. Mostly.

At least Barnes cleaned up nice, you supposed; it almost made up for his grouchy demeanor.

With a sigh, you downed the rest of your drink and got back to work. You let the crowd swallow you up, seemingly on your way to the restrooms, and then you stopped it all to slip upstairs unnoticed by prying eyes and cameras.

You didn’t hold it for very long; you had to rattle some doors, after all, and despite your espresso martini, it was still hard to tell if you could manage several redos back to back. After all, you’d only been back in the game for a couple of weeks.

It took you a few tries to find the right office, and locating the files was comparatively easy with what you already had access to. There it was, proof that ULTIMATUM had managed to secure most of the Flag Smashers’ previous supporters as well as some high brow weapon dealers.

While you copied everything onto a flashdrive, your eyes caught one of the designs. You frowned.

Even though you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, exactly, something about it seemed just slightly too highbrow for an organization of the international bad egg committee that was supposedly still mostly underground. Your gaze started drifting through the rest of the office, noting the usual boring books and glass awards in the bookshelves on the far wall. You pulled open one of the desk drawers.

"You almost done in here?"

"Fuck!" You slammed the drawer shut again, getting your pinkie stuck in the process. "Damnit, where did you come from?"

Bucky pointed over his shoulder.

"Fuck me," you murmured, your eyes stinging at the pain.

Bucky looked nonplussed. "Can’t you just undo it?"

"Great input, thank you." The flashdrive beeped softly and you shut everything down again. At least you were definitely sober now. "What are you, anyway, my babysitter?"

"Wouldn’t have to be if you could check in on time," he answered, checking the corridors, then nodding for you to follow.

"Time’s a social construct," you murmured, but followed him, the flashdrive hidden in your fist.

You didn’t even make it to the staircase.

"Didn’t I tell you?" a voice said right before several triggers clicked and you both froze. "I knew I’d recognized that arm. And who do you have with you here, Winter Soldier?"

No one, you thought, and then you yanked time backwards so forcefully you stumbled into the desk, your heart still racing. The copy sat at 57%.

You felt almost seasick with the rewind, but there wasn’t any time. "Keep going upstairs," you said into your earpiece.

"What?" Bucky said.

"I’m fine. Don’t come get me. Just keep going," you gritted through your teeth, trying to calm your breaths. 70%.

"Exit plan C, then," Sam said.

Bucky didn’t answer. You looked at your hands. There was a slight tremor to them, but nothing too bad. If you could get the nausea under control, you could probably make it past the cameras one more time.

You should’ve eaten more.

As soon as the flashdrive was done, you ripped it out and forced everything to a halt again. Your palms were sweaty as you hurried out of the office and in the direction of the staircase, your lungs burning. This didn’t feel like a good sign.

You stumbled over your damn heels and the noise returned for that moment you lost your concentration.

Not good enough.

Sweat pearled on your forehead as you and the universe held your breath again. You could feel your hold slipping with every second that wasn’t allowed to pass. Time was impatient with you.

A small crowd had assembled at the bottom of the stairs. As you closed in on them, you felt a jolt go through you and suddenly found yourself surrounded by people as time attempted to right itself again. Your nails dug into the skin of your palm so hard you could feel yourself draw blood.

It went quiet again and you moved through them, almost blindly. Everything seemed to be spinning.

Behind your shoulder, you could hear several people talking, interrupted only by the world stopping around them every now and then.

"—d’you—see that—"

"—could’ve—sworn there—”

And with time stumbling and flailing around in confusion, you made it out of the building and into the waiting cab.

chapter seven

thank you for reading!! you can follow my library blog @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💚

[princessconsuelapark]

x

[luminni]

I have a feeling Johnny would try and set up Simon with one of his friends

like

“M’ tellin ya mate yer going tae like ‘er,” Johnny teased, bounding a couple steps in front of Simon, turning back to him and rocking back and forth on his heels, hands shoved into his pockets to protect them from the cold. As Price often quipped, the 'scott can't stand still for the life of him.'

“Mhm,” Simon just grumbled in response.

“See mate, That’s the attitude that scares all the girls away.” Johnny commented, hands outstretched and exaggerated.

“Whatever.” Simon huffed, shaking his head. Johnny wasn’t wrong, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything with a girl that wasn’t a quick lay, and even then it had been months, not to mention going out on a proper date. Well, a date was a stretch, you were Johnny’s close friend for a couple years. He had heard of you, but never met you and now Johnny was insisting that he go on a date with you because he was convinced it was going to work well, Simon wasn’t convinced in the slightest.

“She’s real nice though- so put away the tough guy act big man- girls don’t like that.” Simon couldn’t believe he was getting dating advice from his sergeant, so he just doubled down and kept scowling but Johnny kept pressing. “I'm telling you she's a real sweet girl, kinda lass who would try tae make a crying baby laugh on the tube or go and feed some mangy stray dog, perfect for a prickly bastard like yerself.”

“Okay okay, Jesus. ’s not like ’m going to scare ‘er off on purpose.” Simon relented 

“You better not, gettin' laid might do ya' some good man, calm yer ass down a wee bit” Johnny chuckled

Simon would have yelled at him for that comment but his friend cut him off, “‘Kay we’re ‘ere,” Johnny chirped, “Gaz and his girl should be inside already and she’ll be ‘ere soon,” Johnny said, pushing his Lt. through the pub door.

Johnny had invited Kyle and his girlfriend for a kind of double date situation because he thought having another girl there would help you feel more comfortable, something Simon couldn’t argue with. Why Johnny’s single ass would be attending was a mystery.

and he's been playing both sides

“Ya like serious guys right?” Johnny had asked you out of the blue, a week or so prior while hanging out at your flat.

“Uh yeah sure? I mean I guess so, more than immature assholes like you.” You had joked back across the small kitchen.

“Well,” He had began, unphased by your teasing, “There’s this guy I work with-”

“Don’t even.” you cut him off

“Wha'?!” he whined

“Don’t try and set me up with one of your military bros,” you warned, “I’m not interested.”

“Jus' 'cause yer last dates 'ave been busts doesnae mean you shouldn't keep tryin’,” He pleaded, catching the sponge you threw at him, “He’s a real good guy, kinda intimidating but you’d like him, promise!”

You glared at him before going back and forth, Johnny was really trying to sell this guy, and he wasn’t wrong, your last three dates had been nothing short of disasters. So, after lots of pleading -and a couple tasteful photos from them at the gym- you agreed. So as you walked closer and closer to the pub, your nerves were buzzing. Just gotta get past his tough exterior is all, Johnny’s words of advice rang through your head. Thankfully he had invited another one of his friends there along with his girlfriend, you would have been hyperventilating if it was just going to be you and some guys. As you reached for the door, you could only hope Johnny was right about this guy.

So, who would be surprised when it actually works out, when Simon actually falls in love with you and your sweet smile at first site. When you find his corny and sometimes morbid jokes genuinely funny, having to cough around your drink to prevent spitting it out.

Johnny's just happy Simon might finally chill out, and he won't have to listen to you complain about failed dates every other week.

[ceilidho]

sundog

prompt: Simon comes across a girl when she's recently been evicted and takes her back to his place, despite her reservations (nsfw, 8.5k) [based on this old post] [on ao3 here]

-

The circumstances of your life change so abruptly that you lose sight of it for a moment. 

Then, you’re out on the streets with the clothes on your back and a suitcase packed so full that a sweater sleeve sticks out where the zippers meet. The locks to your apartment have already been changed. You know because you tried them anyway, desperately hoping that the eviction notice taped to your door might have been misplaced.

Evidently not. The keys don’t work. You contemplate chucking them on the walk out, but instead you keep them close like a talisman of protection, though it’s failed to live up to its purpose so far. 

You’ve got it under control for a day. If by ‘under control’, you mean experiencing a full body panic attack in the locker room of the twenty-four hour gym down the street from your old apartment. The staff gives you uncomfortable looks when you come in on the verge of tears with your suitcase rolling behind you, but they let you in because your membership is up to date. If you can count on anything in life, it’s consumerism. 

That doesn’t last long though, mainly because a locker and a wood bench won’t cut it in the long term. You sleep in the back of the local library until a stern-faced, if pitying, librarian threatens to call the cops on you. Pity isn’t sympathy, evidently. 

Gym management threatens to cut the lock on the locker you’ve been using as temporary storage space. Matter of fact, they say, you can’t be using the locker room as your quasi apartment between the hours of nine P.M. and seven A.M. just because everything else in the city is closed. Go home, they say. 

What home, you don’t say, before packing up your things and heading out on your way. 

If there’s one thing you can count on, it’s capitalism. 

You didn’t think this kind of thing could happen to someone like you. Someone like you being an ordinary person. Homelessness always felt like a far away concept. But the world is cruel and life is brutal. What you didn’t realize before was that, at any moment in time, you’ve been closer to poverty than wealth, and here you are now, sitting in the park with your suitcase between your legs, the sun rapidly setting behind you, your phone at ten percent battery, and nowhere to go because your family is, frankly, nonexistent, and your friends, for lack of a better word, have almost entirely washed their hands of you.

Sorry, they’d say, the frown emoji expressing something like pity at a distance. We don’t have a couch to spare. 

I can sleep on the floor, you’d texted back. They’d gotten cagey after that. People like to be wanted only to a certain extent.

You can feel the panic rise up in you, too big to contain. It comes out in the form of blubbering tears and snot running from your nose. Big, hiccuping sobs. It’s not pretty. Passersby avert their eyes for the most part, save for the ones that eye you with something bordering on perverse delight and that’s what finally makes you get up and speed walk away, lest they feel compelled to approach you. 

But even in the tailwinds of summer, it gets cold outside at night. Worst of all, as the evening grows dark, the streets empty out until you can’t help but feel like a beacon with your little rolling suitcase. It clatters against the sidewalk as you try to hoof it down the street, looking for any shop still open to loiter in. Most close after nine though. You’ve googled homeless shelters, but the sheer anxiety keeps you floundering around up and down the streets instead.

It feels beyond helpless. You’re in a state like you’ve never been before, crying under a streetlamp because you needed a moment just to get your bearings. 

What you know now is that this world is a house of false bottoms. You thought the circumstances of your life could never change. You were never well to do, but you were doing well. The sight of the unhoused sitting with their backs to the brick and mortar stores on your walk home or congregated in a park in the middle of the city with their tents and shopping carts used to fill you with immeasurable pity, maybe even a quiet moment’s reflection; now, you see them as kin. 

Easy, isn’t it? To slip between states. To go from solid to liquid to gaseous. Easier than you ever could have expected. 

When it starts to rain, you almost close your eyes in relief. Anyone could’ve predicted this. 

You almost don’t respond to him at first, keeping your eyes trained on the sidewalk to avoid any bumps. Also, it never pays to look up at a man barking at you, especially not when he’s barking something like, Girl or Bird, turn around. 

Then he says it again, closer this time, and you’re forced to look up, if only to see who’s approaching you. Your suspicion melts away to distrust at the sight of the man stalking towards you. Distrust with a touch of trepidation—maybe outright alarm. Surely no man his size wearing a balaclava tucked into a hoodie straining around his arms would have innocent designs on you. 

He’s one of the bigger men you’ve ever come across. You look across the street to see if there’s a bar missing its bouncer, but all the shop fronts are dark like the ones on your side. 

You don’t bolt at the sight of him, but it’s a near thing. He appears from nowhere, and yet there’s nowhere for him to hide. Not with the size and breadth of him damn near taking up the whole sidewalk. His demeanour and stride evoke such a sense of authority that at first you mistake him for a plainclothes man, and wouldn’t that be just the icing on the shit cake of a week you’ve been experiencing. But something about him says otherwise. 

“Plan on catchin’ your death out here?” he asks, and you shiver. Not from the cold, but from the sound of his voice. 

You’re not used to talking to strangers. A month ago, you would’ve ignored the man lambasting you for being out in the rain; maybe crossed the street and hailed a cab instead. You don’t have those kinds of options anymore. The only thing left in your repertoire is to shout back. 

“I’ve got mace!” you yell out, your voice a hoarse rattle carved out from hours spent crying. 

“That’ll do ya fuck all out here,” he says, a touch condescendingly. “You lost or somethin’?”

“I’m not lost,” you sniff, rubbing the snot away from your nose with the end of your sleeve.

“Then get home instead of roamin’ the streets. You’re askin’ to get snatched up, bird.”

The threat of that has been lingering in your head these past few days, even stretching back to the very first moment that you noticed the sign on your door, but now it has its intended effect. You shake. 

“I can’t,” you whisper.

“Bloody hell,” he sighs. “Why the fuck not? Need someone to call you a cab?”

“I got evicted. I don’t have a home,” you say, and sniffle when your nose leaks again. Saying it outloud brings tears to your eyes again, a pressure building behind your orbital sockets and down to the tip of your nose. 

You must look like the saddest thing in the world standing there in the rain under the dim light of the streetlamp, the pole looped with graffiti and old gum. When the man berating you for being out in it takes a step forward, coming into the light, you can finally make out the bored depths of his eyes. A deep brown. Entirely unimpressed with the picture in front of him, maybe even a bit peeved. 

Your socks are wet and your shoes squelch when you take a step back. You pull the sheer sweater tighter around your frame, but it does nothing to protect you from the damp, frigid air. 

“You been out here long?” he asks, taking another step closer. Not tentatively either. His gaze sweeps over you proprietarily, taking stock; his arrogance comes as an afterthought. He’s not rubbing it in your face that he can do whatever he likes—he just does. 

You wheel your suitcase around in front of you to put something between the two of you. “…Just today. The gym kicked me out.”

You sound petulant, words chewed between your lips and teeth; begrudgingly admitting to the various pitfalls of your existence. All the bad luck. It’s shameful to admit to losing complete control of your life. 

“Haven’t ya got any family, girl? Friends? What’re they letting a girl like you stay out on the streets for?”

You could be sick on the pavement. “…That’s none of your business.”

His eyes go flat at that, unimpressed. “You always this nasty to people tryin’ to help?”

And you’re not. That’s the part that grates the most. You’re all soft underbelly; no bark, no bite. It’s inconceivable that this could’ve happened to you—inconceivable because your head is filled with false promises and mythologies. The myth of exceptionalism. This happens to other people. Not good girls that go to college and get their degrees and find a stable job. 

They’ve pulled the rug out from under you so fast that you haven’t even toppled over yet. That’s how quick it all happened. 

“What help are you?” The bite comes out of nowhere, fueled by bitter humiliation and resentment for the predicament you’ve found yourself in. “Are you gonna put me up in a hotel?”

“Think I’m made of money, bird?” he asks rhetorically. 

“You’ve probably got more than I have.” 

Now you’re weepy again at the thought. Down to your last hundred dollars and you’re in between jobs at the moment. It might’ve been easier to haul yourself out of poverty if applying for jobs didn’t require a mailing address. That’ll be your first priority once you find a place to live. But conversely, how are you meant to find housing with no proof of income? Landlords laugh in your face before slamming the door shut. The conversations are circular, but they always come to a grinding halt; that’s the only thing you’ve learned to expect. 

The worst part of this whole conversation is that it doesn’t follow any of the scripts you’ve previously memorized. When have you ever had to deal with a man interrogating you about your place of residence? It makes no sense. 

It’s inconceivable to imagine that this is happening to you, but it is. Life comes at you hard, with a razor’s edge. Sharp enough to cut, to lacerate. 

“You need a place to stay,” he states bluntly. 

“It’s fine. I’ll—I’ll find something.” 

“You could come home with me.” He says it so bluntly that for a moment all you can do is blink. Surely you misheard him. Surely a man of his size and breadth, dark mask obscuring his face, wouldn’t be daft enough to ask a woman he found on the street to come home with him.

The offer, as well-intentioned as you hope it is, puts you on edge. “No, that’s…that’s alright. I don’t want to…put you out. I was going to look up nearby shelters.”

“Shelters’ll all be full this time of night,” he says. “Never been on the streets?”

You clenched your teeth, nerves starting to get the better of you. 

“I can go to a church,” you say, voice terse now, frayed with nerves. 

He snorts. “Haven’t been to one in a long time, but pretty sure those close too, pet. It’s late.”

You sway on your feet, the suitcase at your side the only thing keeping your knees from buckling. Dead ends everywhere you turn. You’ve always thought of yourself as resourceful; that if push came to shove, you’d figure your way out of any sticky situation. That smacks of arrogance now. All your suppositions are dissolving right in front of you, your own self-image along with it. 

A heavy foot stepping into a puddle brings you back to focus. The masked man is closer now, within arm’s reach. Your heart jumps into your throat. He towers over you, monolith man; big as a sequoia, or other deadland creatures that vanish out of sight when you catch a shadow out of the corner of your eye and whirl around to look it dead on. 

“I can’t go home with a stranger.”

You know you’re not supposed to put your faith in strange men. Bad things happen to girls that go around trusting any man that offers up their help. 

The fist in your chest loosens infinitesimally when the man reaches up to pull the mask off his head. He’s every inch the brute you imagined in your head—blunt chin and crooked nose, a nasty scar running up his lip. There are scars all over his face, in fact—bisecting his left eyebrow and down his cheek. The blond hair on his head is slightly grown out, like he’s used to keeping it neat and tight but it’s been awhile since his head has seen a razor. His beard grows in a bit patchy, the burnish gold of a five o’clock shadow.

You frown. “Is that supposed to make me trust you?”

“Well, now we’re not strangers, are we?”

“That doesn’t—that doesn’t change anything! I still don’t know you.”

He shrugs. Takes a step back. “Suit yourself then. No skin off my ass.”

Your stomach roils, anxiety coming back with a vengeance. You hadn’t noticed it recede since the man started talking to you, but you notice its return. When he makes a move to turn back around, you lurch forward, your hand extending out and fisting in the side of his shirt. He pauses, then looks down at you. 

“…Where else am I supposed to go?” you whisper.

He tilts his head. “Could sleep on a bench in the park.”

You glare at him through tear-soaked eyes. “That’s not funny.”

“Wasn’t meant to be. You’re shit out of other options at this time of night.”

“So, what? Now it’s-it’s my fault or something?”  

His eyes don’t exactly soften, but they lose their hard edge. 

“I’m not gonna ask twice,” he says. Not cautioning you, just stating a fact. “You coming or not?”

Disaster seems like a given at this point. At least you could pick your poison. 

Words are beyond you though, so you just bite your lip and nod, eyes downcast now. 

What else is there for you to do but follow him after that? You trail along after him like a sad, wet cat left out in the rain. 

He finds her wandering the streets with her pretty little suitcase rolling over every bump and crack in the sidewalk and there’s no fighting the urge to drag her home. 

She doesn’t look like a runaway. Just a poor thing down on her luck. Her cheeks practically glisten with her tears when she looks up at him with her big, pathetic eyes, and it makes his cock plump up against his thigh. 

That’s not what this is about though. Simon presses his hand against his dick to rub out some of the ache while she flutters around the bedroom and reminds himself of that again. He didn’t take her home to maul her like a dog. He dragged her back to his flat because she looked wounded and scared out of her wits. 

He can be good every now and then. 

“Sit down, will ya?” he grunts, tugging her down onto the couch when she flits across the room to grab more of her shit out of her suitcase, glancing down at him apprehensively on her way by. She yelps when he sends her sprawling onto the couch. 

His flat isn’t much. A one-bedroom above a laundromat; eggshell walls and torn up baseboards because he hasn’t gotten around to fixing the place up. It’s better than sleeping on the streets though, he knows that much. 

Simon’s no stranger to that; if being in the military taught him anything, it was how to survive regardless of circumstances. In the weeks after his medical discharge—his knees beyond busted, basically bone on bone, and even these days, though he works more to have something to do than to earn a living, they still scream at him when he puts too much weight on them—he wandered aimlessly for a bit, crashing on Gaz’s couch for a bit and sleeping on benches for a spell after that before finding his footing again. 

Simon ignores the way that she yaps at him though, used to tuning people out. He flicks on the television and flips to a show that looks vaguely entertaining before getting up and ambling over to the kitchen. 

“D-do you want me to help?” she asks from the kitchen, tripping over her words in her haste to get them out. 

She reeks of the need to please. Desperate; cloying, sickly sweet like flowering dracaena. It clings to her like a perfume, silk-wrapped and packaged just for him. It could give a man like him indecent thoughts. His thoughts already tend towards the impure. 

He must eye her like a ravenous animal because she flinches suddenly under his gaze, eyes flicking away nervously before meeting his again. Good girl, Simon wants to say. Eyes on me. 

“Sit down,” he barks instead, and relishes in the way she sits back down with her hands tucked under her thighs. 

She’s really a pretty little thing. A shame that he found her out wandering in the rain, out where any man with worse intentions could have stumbled across her. The thought alone could drive him to violence. Again he stares at the back of her head and the slope of her shoulders, evaluating. His bloodlust dulls to a simmer. It pounds in his ears like a dull drum, but at least now he can hear again. 

Anyone else could have found her first, but they didn’t. He did. That tempers the homicidal impulse thrumming in his blood. She’s in his flat now, freshly showered and skin still damp. When she looks over her shoulder, it’s him she sees. 

Poor bird with her clipped wings. She’s not in danger of flying off anytime soon. The thought placates him. Tucked away in his cage, he doesn’t have to rend anyone limb from limb.

It’s been years since he traded in his fatigues for a hi vis jumpsuit, but some days he misses it so acutely that his hands shake and his vision fades in and out. This is one of those days. He toys with the idea of reaching out to Price in the morning to learn more about her, but then discards the idea. Better if it comes straight from her.

Besides, he doesn’t like asking for favours anyway.

“Name’s Simon, by the way,” he grunts, nostrils flaring when he sees her flinch at the sound of his voice. “Riley.”

“Oh,” is all she says. He waits a beat.

“Gonna give me your name, bird?”

She does, voice squeaky like it’s said under duress. That pisses him off more. 

He's not much of a cook, but he can whip up something quick, so he tosses one of his frozen meals into the microwave and sits her in front of the TV while she shivers and shakes on the couch.

They eat in silence, the TV on in the background. It’s the only noise besides the soft sound of her chewing. Simon can tell she’s gone hungry in recent days by the voracious way she eats, unable to keep herself from shovelling the food into her mouth. She seems almost embarrassed by it after swallowing her last bite, looking over at him from the corner of her eye like a guilty dog. He ignores it, keeping his eyes on the TV instead.

He can tell she wants to say something. A shit childhood and two decades in the military have left him with the ability to sniff out tension, and it comes off her in waves. After putting her plate on the coffee table, she sits back against the couch and squeezes her fists over her lap. Gnaws her lip and casts furtive glances in his direction. When the tears build up on her waterline, his cock twitches. 

“What?” he barks after the umpteenth sniffle, twisting to face her. 

“I—um—I just wanted to say thank you,” she whispers, her head still tilted downward, trying to make herself small enough to go unnoticed. 

Simon stares down at her, unblinking. He half wishes she’d cry a little more, just a few tears to soothe the beast in his chest. It’s better for her that her eyes remain dry. He doesn’t think he could hold himself back if one slipped down her cheek right now. He’d have to grab her by the nape of her neck and twist her over the side of the couch, shove down both their drawers and feed his cock into the warm, wet slot between her legs. Pummel her little cunt until his spend leaks out in thick, viscous globs, until her thighs shake so violently that only his hands on her shoulders and his shaft shoved deep in her pussy keeps her upright. 

He can almost smell it from between her legs, throbbing with gratefulness. He stares down unabashedly at the spot between her legs. Let her say something about it. 

“Don’t mention it,” he says instead, tilting his head when her tongue peeks out to wet her lips. “‘Was nothing.”

“No, it was really nice of you,” she insists, speaking more forcefully after gathering up some of her courage. “What if I…—you took a stranger into your house.”

That gets the blood pumping. “Gonna gut me while I sleep, pet?”

It’s half deranged that his cock chubs up in his jeans at the thought of his little bird with a knife in her hands, hands dripping with wet, dark blood. He shifts, readjusting himself so the metal teeth of his zipper don’t bite into his dick. 

She frowns. Endearing. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Not really good at looking after yourself, are you?”

“I am—it’s just…” tears build up on her waterline again, “it was one thing after another. I couldn’t get it all together.”

Pity isn’t an emotion he’s accustomed to feeling. Simon’s not even sure if that’s what he’s feeling now. It’s more like the bastard child of pity. 

He lets her off to bed with a warning not to fuck with anything in his room. She skitters off quickly after that. Her cute little ass follows her into the room until she shuts the door behind her, hiding it from view. He huffs. Being good never gets him anywhere.

He lets her run away though because he can’t tarnish everything he touches. Some things deserve to stay polished. 

Instead, he brushes his teeth and washes the last of the dishes before turning in as well, getting a clean sheet out of the linen closet to drape over himself. The couch isn’t nearly long enough for him to stretch out on, not like the king sized bed in his room; there’s already a spring poking him right in the middle of his back.

Sleep won’t come easy tonight. 

Simon wakes up on the couch with a kink in his neck. He lays there for several minutes gritting his teeth until the worst of it passes. When he sits up, his back cracks and pops, joints loosening only reluctantly. His age is getting away from him again; the wear and tear on his body finally starting to catch up. There’s only so much abuse he can put himself through. 

The morning races on outside his front door and he has work to get to, but his body orients towards the closed door of his bedroom almost without his say. It creaks as it swings open. 

In the slowly dimming haze of sleep, he must have subconsciously thought he dreamt the night before because seeing the girl from yesterday curled up in his bed halts him in his tracks. Her suitcase is open on the floor beside the bed. She must have changed into her pyjamas after slinking away last night because he doesn’t recognize the little cotton shorts hugging the swell of her ass and the shirt riding up over her belly button. 

Despite the perfunctory morning jerk he gave himself just ten minutes prior, his cock twitches in his work pants, gaze locked on the underside of her ass, the flesh peeking out from beneath her sleep shorts. 

The hunger ebbs out of a deep, cavernous hole in him. A heavy, oppressive heat; lust so gnarled and twisted that he hardly recognizes it. He can see it play out in his mind—crawling over the bird’s prone form and turning her over onto her belly, his knees on either side of her legs, cloaking her. Tugging down the zipper of his pants and wrenching those slutty shorts down to mid-thigh before burying his shaft in her hole. Little bird that followed him home, sleeping in his bed. She should thank him for his help with a wet hole. 

Simon takes a step into the room and then stops. He won’t—can’t—

His teeth grind together from how hard he clenches his jaw. 

He stands in the doorway and watches her sleep in his bed for longer than he should. Only when he feels something ugly well up in his chest does he finally bark out her name, snorting softly when she jumps and nearly falls right off the side of the bed. 

“Get up,” Simon grunts. “And make yourself something to eat. I’ve gotta head out.”

He walks away before the befuddled look on her face makes him crack a smile. 

She tiptoes out a few minutes later, still in her PJs. Her wary glances tick him off. For the effort it’s taken him to keep his hands to himself, he deserves more than her shifty looks, scoring him like he split her little peach open in her sleep.  

Breakfast is an uncomfortable affair. It’s partly his fault, but he doesn’t apologize for it. They eat in tense silence until it’s time for him to head to work. 

“Don't think about leaving—any of my shit gets nicked and it's your ass.”

He leaves her with that warning, slamming the door behind him.

Your heart goes quiet at the dawning of your new life. 

Adjusting to your new reality takes a bit of effort. The first few days with Simon feel tenuous at best. You worry constantly about doing something wrong and finding yourself back out on the streets. You’re thankful to the point of pandering, apologizing for any sudden move or sound that you make. You can tell it annoys him. 

The real work is recontextualizing your perception of yourself. The world feels strange now that you’re outside of it; alien somehow. You used to think of yourself as somehow inextricably woven into the fabric of society. The thought of losing everything never even occurred to you. It never even presented itself as a possibility. You worried about homelessness the way people worry about quicksand—in some nebulous way touching on the real without being absorbed by it. 

And now you are cut from another cloth altogether; abruptly, without any warning. You used to feel like one with the rest of the world, a kind of kinship based less on parentage or ancestry and more on inner nature. Weren’t you the same as any of them? But now the drapery has been pulled down and you know—you are not the same. 

Your future used to shimmer under the surface like a bioluminescent fish, but now it’s just a ghost.

He tells you to stay put when he goes to work so you do, spending the days puttering around the apartment, watching TV, and cleaning. There’s not much else to do. It’s almost a relief, to be honest. You’ve spent so much time without a place to call home that the second someone offered you one, the outside world became anathema in your head. You couldn’t step foot out of the front door even if you wanted to. 

Tears well up at the smallest thing. You blubber over not being able to work the coffee machine in the kitchen. When the sound goes out on the TV, you cry so hard that it leaves you woozy. You’re lachrymose, downtrodden. Soul a startling verdigris; your waterlines might as well be white with encrustations of salt. 

He must notice the dark cloud following you from room to room, but he doesn’t bring it up. You’d find it tactful, but you know him a bit better than that. 

Then Simon brings home a cat after his shift one day and you don’t know what to say to that.

Thank you doesn’t seem to suffice. I love it doesn’t cut it close. The truth of the matter is that words only ever approximate the feeling; they can get close enough to give you a glimmer of what’s stashed inside, but you can’t pry them all the way open. So you take the off-white cat from him when he practically tosses the poor thing into your arms, and stare up at him wide-eyed, eyes already watering for reasons once again unbeknownst to you. 

“Thank you for taking him home,” you say, already on the verge of tears.

He stares down at you, unblinking. You’re learning to read into his silences though. 

“Don’t expect me to take care of it,” he says instead of accepting your thanks. “If you can’t handle it, it’s going back outside.” 

You hold the cat tight to your chest, staring up at him with horror until the little beast nearly scratches your eye out in an effort to squirm out of your arms. 

At first, you’re not sure what to make of it. It can’t be a peace offering because, apart from the rare occasions where you manage to get on his nerves (not wholly impossible, but you’re learning how to stay on his good side for the most part), you and Simon get along pretty well. You coexist, at least. He cooks, you clean. 

It’s likely a distraction, you finally realize, something to keep you from moping around the apartment all the time, listless and directionless. Despite the fact that you’re no longer in any immediate danger now that you have a roof over your head, misery still clings to you like a second skin. The relative safety of Simon’s flat has actually only given you a chance to really properly mourn the loss of your former life. 

Training the cat to wear a harness without tipping over (the little drama king) and taking him on his first walk outside (just a little turn around the block, though you half jump out of your skin whenever you cross paths with another person) gives you enough of a sense of purpose to propel you through the next week. 

You can tell that Simon thinks the cat is more trouble than it’s worth, especially when it decides to fixate on the one person in the flat that doesn’t pay it a lick of attention, but still it makes your heart melt to see it curled up by his side when you watch TV together at the end of the night. 

“Is this normal for you?” you ask, hands folded in your lap.

His gaze doesn’t move from the television screen. “Is what normal?”

“Taking in strays.”

He snorts, then takes a second to answer. “No.”

You wonder if he intends to sound as caustic as he comes across. The truth is self-evident though. Words only mask the real, and the real in this case is that Simon Riley is a man that feeds and takes home strays. He can grumble about it all he wants. It’s a bit demeaning to think of yourself that way, but once again, the truth is what it is. 

You study him from the corner of your eye until bedtime rolls around again. He’s become the most interesting thing in the world to you, through every fault of his own.

If he didn’t want you to fixate on him, he wouldn’t have left you home alone with nothing else to do. 

“Bird!” Simon roars from the other room. “The cat’s pissed on the floor again.”

You spring out of bed before Simon has a chance to toss it out onto the balcony. 

It feels temporary up until the first time you use Simon’s address on a job application. It stands out stark on your phone screen, black on glowing white. You’ve always preferred it to dark mode, though that preference has fluctuated in recent weeks as you’ve spent more and more time on your phone. 

This is the first time staring at the screen without blinking for a prolonged period of time that hasn’t left you with a throbbing migraine. 

He tells you to stop bothering him with stupid shit when you ask him if it’s alright to use his address. That answers that. Guilt lingers on the periphery of your mind the first time that you do, but then the application is submitted. An innocuous grey box that redefines your whole world in a way that [Thanks for applying!] doesn’t seem to encapsulate. 

Your old friends come next. They come back one by one, guilty, furtive looks aplenty. You Facetime the one who wouldn’t let you sleep on her couch while sitting on Simon’s bed. When she asks you about your living situation, all you tell her is that you found a roommate. It doesn’t feel right to give her more information than that. What has she done to deserve your honesty? 

You manage pleasantries and a half decent conversation, but truth again lingers at the back of your mind. The unspoken reality that this person—someone you trusted—could’ve been there for you in your time of need but chose to look the other way instead. Like taking you in would’ve been some big, terrible thing. 

The body forgets everything except what hurts it. The body remembers nothing except what helps it survive. 

Gratefulness lodges into your heart like an arrow shot from a castle’s ramparts intent on your demise. You could pull it out from the other side and succumb to blood loss, or you could push forward, lay siege to the man hidden inside its walls. 

And you do. You want to show him every grateful inch of you. Even when it only results in more upset. Simon comes home to the smoke alarm blaring and a small fire in the microwave before he bans you from the kitchen altogether. You only cry for an hour in the bedroom with the door shut before he drags you out to takeout on the table in the living room. It’s an improvement. 

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle into your veggie burger, on the verge of tears again when you glance into the kitchen to see most of the mess still there. 

“It’s fine.”

“I just want to—I wanted to make it up to you…for taking me in.”

“You don’t owe me shit,” he says brusquely, dismissing you. His tone tells you to drop it, but that seems as likely as you growing wings and flying away. 

“Yes, I do. You let me stay here when I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“If you want to make it up to me, take care of the cat and stop leaving your shit all over the bathroom. Found your knickers on the floor after you showered yesterday.”

Your face goes hot at that. You have nothing else to say. 

Your attraction is a banal consequence of living under the same roof as him. There are only so many times he can come up behind you while you’re making your morning cup of coffee and swipe your mug before taking a sip from over your shoulder, barricading you against the counter. Acutely aware of the size of him with the way he’s pressed up against you. 

You lose your train of thought whenever Simon wanders into a room. He lumbers in like a beast, steel-toed boots covered in mud and dust, ignoring the way you scold him for walking around the apartment in his shoes. Just cocks an eyebrow and stares down at you knowingly, like he can see right through you, knows that you’re only squawking and flitting around to hide the way your thighs rub together. 

“It’s my fuckin’ flat,” he says instead of pointing out that your pussy’s wet because she knows there’s a man in the house that could take care of her proper. You know it too. 

“I live here too, you know,” you huff. “I can’t wash the floors every time you come home.”

“Thought I was doing you a favour letting you live here.”

His words would fill you with righteous indignation, but they don’t because his actions don’t line up. You study him like a moth under glass, enthralled by the parts of him that used to frighten you. 

It’s more than that though. He’s wedged himself into the hurt place in your heart, holding it up like Atlas. 

You really do think that there’s something so special about him that you’ll never be able to articulate. Simon is everything you didn’t know you desperately wanted. The longer you live with him, the harder it is to deny how much you need him. 

You will show your gratitude though. Every tender, aching morsel of it. 

The little peach she grinds on his thigh is wet and ripe. Simon doesn’t tell her that he doesn’t need her gratitude; if he wanted it, he would’ve taken it already. But he doesn’t shove her out of his lap either. It’s not his problem if she thinks it’s necessary or not.

Maybe it’s not solely for his benefit, he concedes when she winds both arms around his neck and pushes her supple tits into his chest, climbing over his lap until her pussy is pressed right up against the cock fattening up in his jeans. She whimpers like she’s in pain. 

Must not come a lot; he knows she at least hasn’t in recent days. Simon’s always been a light sleeper—he’s sure he would’ve heard any desperate attempts to get herself off in his bed, the springs creaking under her weight, her hushed, bitten off moans leaking out from under the doorframe. The thought riles him up more than he thought it would. 

Still, Simon doesn’t lift a hand to help the poor bird in his lap as she grinds down on his length. His arms stay stretched across the back of the couch, hips canted just enough to give her a perch and nothing more. 

She gasps every word into his ear, voice all pitched and breathy. “Ah, ah, ah—thank you, thank you, I…—can I please have it? Please, please let me, Simon, pleasepleaseplease—”

It feels like everything they’ve been through so far has been leading to this. He’d smelt it coming like blood in the water. 

All week, his bird has been sitting on her hands and trying not to give herself away. Cloaked in a nervous, frenetic energy. Anticipatory. She’d doe-eyed him the night before and begged him to sleep in the bed with her instead of wrecking his back on the couch, but he’d ignored her in favour of watching Argentina decimate Croatia in the semi-finals. It must have not sat right with her though because she’d been broody from the moment he left for work until he got home, steering him into the kitchen and practically hand feeding him before coaxing him into the living room to watch a movie while she cuddled up beside him.

That hadn’t lasted long. 

“What’s gotten into you, pet?” Simon asks, hardly dissuading her when she presses petal soft lips to his jaw and nuzzles, breathing heavily. His heart swells. Desperate little slut. 

“Took care of me,” she mumbles, almost slurring her words. “Always taking care of me, Simon.”

There’s no denying how hard it makes him to think about being her protector. The littlest things make her smile. Even the bloody cat had her trailing after him for a week straight after the fact, eternally underfoot. Always trying to curry favour. Eager to please. 

Her worship leaves him unbalanced. Unstable even. A train careening off its track, the massive weight of catastrophe right behind it. The sense that life will never be the same after this. His surface level indifference is underscored by steeled self-control. He keeps his arms on the couch because he knows the second he puts them on her, it’s over. There’ll be no holding him back anymore, no possibility of him ever letting her go back out into the real world. Lock jawed, teeth sunk into her tender underbelly. 

“Told you, you don’t owe me nothing,” Simon murmurs, curling his hands under her ass. 

“Then—then…—I don’t know, pretend it’s just for me.” It’s a joke because they both know it’s not just for her. When her eyes sparkle with amusement, his cock throbs.

He lets her ruck the shirt over his head and struggle with his belt until she manages to unbuckle it like he has no say in the matter. She’s far less considerate with her own clothes, shucking them off and nearly ripping her knickers in the process, which almost prompts him to take her by the wrists and slow her down. He likes the lace and frills. 

It’s a fight to fit his cock into her hole, as slick as she is. Coin slot tight; he almost breaks and tells her to take it easy when she reaches behind her to line his shaft up with her entrance and sits down, just barely stretching around the mushroomed head of his dick before wincing, tears springing into her eyes. 

Simon does break when she tries to sink down another inch, thighs shaking violently. “Right, get off—you ain’t ready for this.”

“I am!” she insists, face screwed up in a scowl and a bead of sweat dripping down her temple. “Just—I can do it, Simon—”

“No, you can’t. You’re rushing and hurting yourself—”

“Wait, okay, wait, I can…just give me a minute, okay?” she begs, and he doesn’t tell her that he’d give her all the time in the world. Stay on this couch until the flesh fell off his bones. He’s waited so long; what’s a little longer? 

Besides, the sight of her stretching herself out with her fingers is reward enough. She whines into his shoulder and shudders when she has to force another finger in before she’s ready. Too eager. It could give a man a complex. His blood is already scorching him from the inside out, too hot for his veins.  

He considers helping her out, but watching her writhe and struggle in his lap is far more enjoyable. 

He stopped paying attention awhile back, too focused on cupping her tits and running his tongue around the budded areola, sucking her pert nipple into his mouth, but she couldn’t have gotten to more than three fingers before running out of patience and lining him up again. This time, she sinks a bit deeper on the first stroke, still choking on her breath but forcing herself to take a bit more. 

“You’re alright—you’re alright,” Simon murmurs, stroking a hand up and down her back while she impales herself on his length. She’s still too tight to take him comfortably, sweats and shakes over him. He pinches her nipple to distract her from the pain and smiles when she yelps. 

She melts all over him, slick drenching his shaft and lap, her tongue lapping at the sweaty skin of his neck. Honeysuckle fragrant; the sweetest thing he’s ever known. Silken, tight. Fits like a glove around him. 

He could lose himself in her. Piston into her until the thought of where he begins and where he ends dissolves into the tight warmth between her legs.

His bird is a greedy girl. She uses him like a toy to get herself off, bouncing in his lap and mewling into his ear everytime his cockhead nudges against her cervix. Too big to fit all the way in. 

“You do this a lot, pet? Fuck every man that lends you a hand?” he pants, taunting her.

“No!” she snarls in his ear, feisty and sharp-toothed. Her nails dig into his back, scoring white lines into his skin. The shiver that wracks him is so violent that his arms tighten around her waist reflexively, making her gasp. 

It doesn’t matter whether she does this often or not; the only thing that matters is that he’s the only man that gets to fuck her from here on out. Still, winding her up is half the fun. 

“Perfect girl,” Simon chuckles, breathless. “Made for me. Got m’self a pet right off the street.”

And he did, didn’t he? Went wandering out into the night and came home with a bird fluttering her wet little wings. 

His conscience is clean. He could’ve tied her down, kept her right where he wanted her (in his bed, his flat, the yawning cavity of his chest—) but his self-control remains unparalleled. Tough as nails. Strong as steel. And now look at what he has as a reward for his patience—a fever-hot cunt around his cock and delicate fingernails scratching the base of his skull. 

A pretty bird that’s made his chest a cage. 

The world goes vertical, horizontal. Fluid; sliding away from him. Something crashes in the background, so far off in the distance that he can hardly make out the sound. 

He opens his eyes to find the ceiling staring back down at him, and then her face, hovering over him on the carpeted floor, her hands kneading the muscle of his chest. Her brows are drawn tight now, pinched. She stares down at him, past him, gaze like a transparent veil. 

“Gi’me…gi’me…” she pants, barely able to pull herself off his cock. 

He has to dig his fingers into her ass and pull her off, ignoring the way she whines and begs him to fill her back up. Ignores it because he knows what’s best for her; knows how to take care of what he owns. 

When he bucks up into her, she chokes, fingers nearly yanking his chest hair out. 

“Fuckin’ hell, that’s pretty,” he breathes. Snaps his hips up into hers again, relishing in the way she squeezes tight around him, almost to the point of pain. 

His pleasure always comes jagged though. Whether the ache of his joints or nails tearing up the skin of his back and chest. Vicious and messy—how he likes it. She gives him everything he could want and more. The hand dug into his chest right above his heart could pierce right through the flesh and tear it out.

He pulls her all the way off his cock just for the pleasure of hearing her beg him again, then pulls her up his chest and eats her out until the beast in his belly calms down. 

He yields to her whining only after a good few minutes. Soft bastard. Drags her back down until her soaked hole mouths at the head of his cock and he thrusts back up inside. Home. It’s his now, whether she likes it or not. Simon guesses he’s lucky that she wants it too; if he had to convince her, he would, but her desperation is just another gift for him to savour. 

“Squeeze me good, bird. Say thank you—” thank you for taking me home, thank you for keeping me– almost spills off his tongue, but he reigns it in. She knows what to be thankful for. 

“Nngh, Simon,” she sings, fucking herself on his cock. The sweetest sound he’s ever heard. 

Simon’s never felt bigger than under his sweet bird. Thighs spread so wide around him that he knows she’ll ache in the morning. Brutish hands groping her thighs and waist and tits, rough against the softness of her skin. Stuffed full of a big cock, not even to the root; she bites right through her bottom lip when Simon pets at the thin skin stretched around his cock, her gaze wounded, overwhelmed. 

Nearly blacks out at the thought of cramming a finger up there too. Only faint concern for her well-being tamps down the urge. 

“Come on, fuck—that good, pet?”

“R-right there, oh god, ohgodohgod—”

He lets her ride him until she comes, until he comes, until his spend is blistering hot in her cunt, drooling down the length of his cock, frothy white with her cream and his come. 

It’s a sight to look at. Gets him right in the chest. Nothing like times of yore; this is something with meaning, with feeling. When he lifts her off, his seed trickles out of her soft hole in white globs and makes his chest ache. It doesn’t matter whether it takes root or not. All that he needs is already here. 

Beautiful and rare as a sundog; haloed by light. All this time, he dared not think this could be it. 

He thinks he’ll love her with the same ferocity Icarus had on his descent.

She shivers when he traces his fingers up her spine. “N’more. M’tired.”

“Wasn’t gonna, pet.”

The bedroom then. She twitches in his arms when Simon carries her to bed and pats his chest approvingly when he slides in beside her. 

He could’ve told her that it’d end up this way. He smiles indulgently when she shifts and splays over his chest, her nose nudging his nipple. Already fast asleep. 

In the morning, you sit across from him, half a grapefruit in a bowl in front of you and a mug of coffee, black. 

“I think I want to go back to school,” you say, apropos of nothing. The spoon clinks against the inside of the bowl. 

“Yeah?” he says, only half-listening. 

“I can always get a part time job on the days when I don’t have class. I never liked my old job anyway.”

“Do whatever you want,” Simon grunts. “Not my problem.”

Under the table, your cat’s tail curls around your ankle while he waits for you to sneak him the scraps. 

You smile.

[d-z20]

A Favour Owed (NSFW)

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You get caught in the pouring rain, soaked to the skin, when Rio Vidal comes to the rescue. In exchange for her help, she asks for a favour with a mischievous glint in her eyes -OR- Rio walks you home in the rain and later cashes in the favour to take you home and fuck you silly (Modern AU)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, more smut, a little bit of fluff at the end, Top Rio, Dom Rio, bratty(ish) reader, even more smut, R receiving: fingering, strap, bondage, blindfolding, light choking

Words: 4.0k

A/N: I planned out the rest of my Agathario backstory and it’s broken my heart so I've countered it by writing this. It is a healthy way to cope and you cannot tell me otherwise.

AO3 link my loves <3 | Master List

It’s pouring rain by the time you leave work, the sky dark and brooding as you step outside. You don’t even make it half a block before the downpour hits, drenching you in seconds. You duck under the awning of a nearby café. Already soaked through, hair dripping, you curse yourself for not checking the weather before you left the office. The wide-legged jeans cling uncomfortable to your legs, heavy with water, and the cropped olive cardigan you thought would be perfect for the chill now feels like a poor choice, offering little protection against the rain. Your white tee, once neatly tucked, is now plastered to your skin and slightly see-through. Cursing the cheap fabric, you glance around at the empty street, your teeth starting to chatter as the cold settles in.

As you stand there shivering, you notice someone approaching through the sheets of rain—a figure in all black, moving with a confident stride. It’s only when she steps closer that you realise it’s Rio Vidal, her umbrella held high above her head. You’ve seen her at the gym more times than you can count, occasionally sharing a class. You’ve exchanged a few nods and maybe a smile or two, but that’s as far as it’s ever gone. You don’t expect her to stop now, not in this weather. But then she sees you, and for a moment, you think she’s just going to walk on by.

But she pauses when she spots you, her expression unreadable as her eyes flick over your drenched figure. You can tell she’s about to keep going—there’s a split second where she looks away, like she’s debating whether she cares enough to stop. Then she rolls her eyes, heaves a dramatic sigh, and steps under the awning with you.

“Really?” she drawls, tilting her head as she looks you up and down, eyes lingering at the sight of your bra showing through the now definitely see-through top. “No umbrella?”

You shrug, giving her a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Guess I didn’t realise I had to expect a monsoon today.”

Her lips twitch into a smirk, and she shakes her head. “Clearly.” Without another word, she shifts under her umbrella, angling it so it covers both of you. “Come on, I’ll walk you.”

You fall in step beside her, matching her pace as you make your way down the rain-soaked street. It was awkward at first, the two of you trying to find a rhythm without bumping into each other. You make a bit of small talk, mostly about the weather, but then Rio starts teasing you, throwing out little jabs at your lack of preparedness, and you find yourself laughing despite the rain soaking through your clothes.

“Do you always go out unarmed in a storm?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"I like to live dangerously,” you grin.

“Oh, is that what this is?” she retorts dryly. “Because it looks like poor planning to me.”

You snort, bumping into her playfully. “Careful, you might actually sound concerned.”

Her smirk softens into something warmer, and for a moment, she just looks at you, as if she’s seeing you for the first time. It’s disarming, the way her eyes linger, and you suddenly realise how close you’re standing.

As you walk, the rain intensifies, pounding against the umbrella. Rio adjusts it, stepping even closer until her arm presses against yours. You glance at her. She had chosen to shelter you with the umbrella more even though it meant she was getting caught in the downpour; the scent of her perfume mixing with the rain is intoxicating, and you can’t help but shiver.

“You’re getting wet,” you murmur mostly to yourself, voice softer than you intended.

She looks down at you, her smile widening into something almost predatory. “You have no idea, darling,” she says, her voice dropping low. The look in her eyes is heated—a flicker of something you’ve never seen before—and it makes you shiver for a completely different reason.

You hold her gaze, the world fading away around you. The rain, the city noise—it all melts into the background, leaving just the two of you standing there, inches apart. It would be oh so easy to lean in, to close the gap between you. But then she clears her throat, stepping back just slightly, and the moment breaks.

“We should keep moving,” she says, almost too casually, like she’s trying to convince herself as much as you.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Right. Yeah.”

Soon enough, the conversation picks up again and you’re back to casual teasing. 

“You know, they do sell these things called coats,” she says, glancing sideways at you with a teasing smile.

“Oh yeah?” You play along, nudging her lightly with your elbow. “I’ll have to look into that.”

She laughs—a low, husky sound that makes your pulse skip. “You probably should. You look like a drowned rat.”

“Rude,” you shot back, but you’re smiling, warmth spreading through your chest despite the cold rain.

By the time you reach your street, the rain has slowed to a drizzle. She stops, tilting the umbrella back as she looks up at the sky. You quickly steal a glance at her neck, imagining what it would be like to trail kisses down her throat, to nip at the soft skin just under her collarbone, to take her ni-

“Looks like you’re safe now,” she says, a small, teasing smile playing at her lips.

The words snapped you out of your daydream.

Shit. She had caught you staring. And oh fuck, your mouth had dropped open slightly as you fantasised about her. Your clothes weren’t the only thing that was wet now. “Uh, um, yep. Thanks for the rescue,” you reply, scratching the back of your neck, trying to play it cool. “I owe you one.” You offer her a weak smile.

She cocks her head, considering you for a moment. “Yeah, you do.” There’s a flash of something playful in her eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by her easy agreement. “Oh? Planning to cash it in?”

Her smirk widens. “Maybe,” she says, voice low. “But I like to keep people guessing.”

Before you can respond to invite her in for a drink, she steps back, giving you a small, almost imperceptible wink before turning on her heal and walking away, leaving you standing there, wetter than you had been when she first found you but not from the rain.

- 

You’re still thinking about your little encounter with Rio the next day at the gym. You’re in the locker room, towelling off after a particularly gruelling class, when you hear the familiar sound of a certain teasing voice. You glance up and see Rio leaning against the row of lockers, arms crossed over her chest, watching you with that same smirk from the day before. It was only then you noticed just how attractive you found her hands as they gripped her bicep.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she drawls, arching an eyebrow.

You chuckle, tossing your towel into your bag. “It’s almost like I come here at the same time every day or something.”

She doesn’t reply straight away; instead, she pushes her tongue into the cheek of her mouth, shaking her head at your retort. She pushes off the locker and steps closer. “Almost,” her gaze flicks over you, lingering just a moment too long. “You remember that favour you owe me?”

Your stomach flips, heat pooling low in your belly at the way she’s looking at you—dark eyes glinting with mischief, like she’s got a secret she’s about to share.

You swallow hard, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I remember. You planning to cash it in?”

“Oh, definitely.” She takes another step, close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off her skin. Your body seemed to be absorbing all of her heat and sending it straight between your legs. She reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, and her fingers linger against your cheek, a teasing caress that makes you ache with need.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, your voice coming out breathier than you intended.

Her smirk widens, and she leans in, her lips brushing yours as she whispers, “You’ll find out soon enough, sweetheart.”

You shiver, your breath catching in your throat as she pulls back, giving you one last lingering look before she turns on her heel and saunters out of the locker room. Your heart is racing, anticipation thrumming through your veins. For a split second, you stand there frozen, unsure if you imagined the intensity in her gaze.

But then, just as you start to gather your things, you hear her voice call back from the doorway, rich and teasing.

“Well, are you coming? And remember to pick your jaw up off the floor on the way out.”

Your pulse spikes at the challenge in her tone, the words hanging in the air, heavy with desire. You don’t think. You don’t hesitate. You grab your bag, rushing to follow her out of the locker room, silently cursing yourself for being caught gaping at her once again

She’s already halfway down the corridor, glancing over her shoulder with a grin that sends a thrill through you. “Hurry up,” she calls, her voice low, almost like a command.

You catch up to her as she pushes through the gym’s exit, the cool night air hitting your skin. Without missing a beat, she heads straight for the parking lot, her steps purposeful. You fall in line beside her, curiosity and desire mixing in equal measure.

Her car is parked near the back, and before you can say anything, she’s unlocking the door and sliding into the driver’s seat with an easy, confident motion. She looks over at you as you approach, her eyes dark and inviting.

“Get in,” she says, low and charged.

You don’t need to be told twice. You slide into the passenger seat, and before you know it, the engine roars to life, the sound of tyres crunching on the gravel as she drives with purpose. The ride is quiet but thick with anticipation, the only sounds coming from the hum of the car and the occasional shift of your bodies as you both settle into the journey.

When she pulls into the driveway of her place, you can’t help but feel the electric charge in the air—there’s no mistaking the unspoken agreement between you. She parks and turns off the engine, unbuckling her seatbelt, leaving the silence to stretch between you, thick and expectant.

You wait for her to make the first move, and she doesn’t disappoint. Without a word, she reaches across the console, her fingers brushing yours as she unbuckles your seatbelt. “You’re going to see just how much I care,” she whispers in your ear, remembering your teasing comment from yesterday.

You just look at her, mouth going dry, searching for any hint of hesitation, but there’s none. Just an almost predatory stillness to her gaze. She leans down, her lips brushing the side of your neck, setting every nerve in your body alight.

“You wanted to know what I had in mind,” she murmurs against your skin, her breath warm, sending goosebumps over your arms. “I think it’s time you found out.”

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, and before you can even respond, she’s kissing you—hard and hungry, her hand tangling in your hair, pulling you close. It’s urgent, like you’ve both been waiting for this moment, the tension from yesterday finally snapping.

Her lips move against yours with a feverish intensity, her hands already tugging at your clothes, exploring the heat between you. There’s no more teasing, no more games. Just the heat of the moment, the rush of desire, and the feeling of her body pressing against yours, claiming you as much as you’re claiming her.

She pulls back for a moment, breathless, her eyes scanning your face with a satisfied smirk. “You wanted to know,” she whispers again, her voice thick with desire, “now you’re going to learn exactly what it means to owe me.”

Before you can respond, she’s already round by your door, pulling you out of the car, her grip firm and unrelenting as she leads you towards her front door. The way she moves is confident, like she’s done this a thousand times, and it sends a thrill of excitement straight to your core. You stumble slightly, half from the urgency, half from the anticipation buzzing through your veins, but she doesn’t give you a chance to catch your breath.

Rio unlocks the door with swift precision, shoving it open and tugging you inside. The moment you cross the threshold, she’s on you again, pinning you against the closed door with her body, one hand braced beside your head and the other gripping your hip.

“Do you need me to do everything for you?” she murmurs, her voice full of mockery as she tilts your chin up with a single finger. There’s a taunting gleam in her eyes, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you, and it’s infuriatingly effective.

You try to muster a cocky retort, smirking up at her. “Maybe I just like making you work for it.”

Her laugh is low and dark, vibrating against your skin. “Oh, you think you’re in control here?” She presses her knee between your legs, pinning you firmly in place. The pressure is just enough to make you gasp, your bravado faltering for a split second. “That’s cute,” she purrs, leaning in until her lips are brushing against your lips. “But we both know who’s really calling the shots tonight.”

Before you can react, she captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, her hand threading into your hair, tugging just hard enough to make your scalp tingle. It’s a claiming kiss, like she’s determined to make sure you remember this moment, to imprint herself on your body.

You try to push back to regain some semblance of control, but she’s not having it. She breaks the kiss with a sharp tug of your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. “I don’t think you understand,” she says, her voice a husky whisper as she drags her lips down the column of your neck, nipping at your skin. “You owe me. And I’m going to take exactly what I’m owed.”

You shiver, a whimper slipping past your lips before you can stop it. You hate how easily she turns you on and how she seems to know every spot that makes you melt. “What if I don’t want to pay up?” you manage to taunt, your voice breathy.

Rio’s smile is slow, scheming. “Oh, you will,” she says simply, stepping back and yanking you by the hand, dragging you down the hallway to her bedroom. You barely have time to register the surroundings before she’s pushing you onto the bed, her body hovering over yours, caging you in.

She pauses, looking down at you with a smirk, her eyes dark and half-lidded with desire. “Do you need me to do everything for you?” She repeats, and this time there’s a distinct edge of command in her voice.

You raise an eyebrow, refusing to look away. “Maybe I do.”

She chuckles, the sound low and almost dangerous. “Fine,” she breathes, leaning down to kiss you again, softer this time but no less intense. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Her hands are everywhere, tugging at your clothes, stripping you bare with a skill and efficiency that leaves you breathless. Every touch feels like it’s setting you on fire, the anticipation building to a fever as she takes her time, teasing, testing your limits. When you try to touch her, she grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with a single hand.

“Ah, ah,” she chimes, her grin sharp. “You said you needed me to do everything for you. So keep your hands to yourself, and let me take care of you.”

You want to argue, to push back, but the look in her eyes makes you hesitate. There’s a thrill in giving in, in letting her take control, and you realise with a pulse of excitement that you want this—want to see what she’ll do when she’s given free rein.

Rio doesn’t waste any time. Her mouth is on your skin, lips and teeth and tongue, exploring every inch of you. She’s relentless, drawing out sounds from you that you didn’t even know you could make. When her hand slips between your thighs, you arch into her touch, a moan slipping out before you can stop it.

“Already?” she teases, her fingers teasing along your inner thigh, deliberately avoiding where you want her most. “You talk a big game, but look at you now. So eager, so needy.”

You glare up at her, trying to muster a retort, but it comes out as a whine instead when she finally touches you where you need it most, her fingers sliding against your slick heat. She smirks down at you, clearly enjoying the way you react, your back arching off the bed, your hips bucking into her hand.

“That’s what I thought,” she says, her voice soft but edged with dominance. “You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you? You’re going to give me everything I want.”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back a moan. “Maybe,” you say, aiming for defiance but sounding breathless instead.

Her smirk widens. “Maybe?” she repeats, leaning down until her mouth is at your ear, her breath hot against your skin. “That’s not good enough.”

With a sudden, purposeful movement, she shifts, sliding two fingers inside you, her thumb pressing against your most sensitive spot. You cry out, your hands instinctively trying to reach for her, but she tightens her grip on your wrists, keeping you pinned down.

“Say it,” she commands, her voice low and insistent. “Say you’ll be good for me.”

You struggle for a moment, clinging to the last shred of your pride, but when she curls her fingers just right, the pleasure shoots through you like a lightning bolt, and you break.

“I’ll be good,” you gasp, your voice almost a sob. “I’ll be good for you, Rio.”

She hums in satisfaction, pressing a kiss to your mouth. “Good,” she murmurs, her lips curling into a smile against your skin. “Now let me show you what it means to really owe me.”

Once again, you are gaping at the woman before you, and she takes the opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth. Your moans are gradually growing louder and more unhinged with each stroke of Rio’s fingers, and you’re about to cum when she pulls away completely.

You whine at the loss of touch, but this only spurs Rio on more. “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” she asks, now running her hands up and down your sides. “I’m going to undress for you now, and you need to look at me the whole time, okay?”

You’re not sure if you should answer. Not sure if you can answer. The questions seem rhetorical, but you’re so eager to get her touch back that you nod enthusiastically, hoping it’s the right thing to do. 

Rio chuckles softly at your desperation and starts to strip. It’s slow and deliberate. She starts by shimmying her shorts down, kicking them into the corner with a flick of her foot. Next she peels off her top, crossing her arms at the hem and pulling it over her head slowly. Very slowly. The action pushes Rio’s tits together, drawing your eyes to her cleavage. It’s all too much, and you bring your hand down and start to touch yourself, your eyes fluttering shut. Feeling your wetness on your fingers for the first time, you let out a soft pathetic whimper.

Big mistake. Rio is on you in an instant, tugging your hand away and securing your wrists to the bed frame with ropes you had failed to notice until now. 

“If you can’t behave, I will make you behave.” Rio snapped, her voice wasn’t malicious, no, instead, it almost came out as a moan and you realised just how turned on she was. 

Disappearing into her closet briefly, she quickly returns, holding something behind her back and an innocent smile plastered across her face, but her eyes hid something more dangerous. “Shut your eyes,” she demanded. “Now.”

You obliged and then felt as the mattress dipped with her weight. You could feel her straddling your waist, gently lifting your head to put something over your eyes.

“Since you clearly didn’t want to watch,” she clarified, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You strain your ears trying to get some sort of idea of what was going on but you cannot make out any distinct noise. That’s when you feel her start to caress your legs again, trailing light, teasing kisses right up to your core. 

She was kneeling between your thighs when you felt the tip of something cold and hard push in to your entrance.

“Fffuuuuccckkkk,” you moan, drawing out the word as Rio’s strap fills you completely. 

Her movements are slow at first, easing you in to it. “You’re being so good for me, darling,” she coos. “Taking me so well.” Then her pace starts picking up, thrusting in to you harder each time.

It’s a relentless pleasure, and you can feel yourself barrelling towards an orgasm. Rio must sense it too as she grasps her hand around your throat, giving it a light squeeze. “Ask for it.”

“Pl-please. Please Rio. I need to cum,” you try your hardest to get your words out between moans, unsure if you could actually stop yourself from climaxing if she denies your pleas.

Luckily for you, you don’t have to find out as Rio hums her agreement, tilting your hips to reach another angle. “Good girl. Cum for me, I want to watch your beautiful face as you cum,” you hear her gasp out, clearly working herself up as well. 

You climax with a flurry of moans and gasps, arching further into Rio. The woman fucking you shows no sign of stopping, drawing out the pleasure. You feel her leaning over to her nightstand, picking something up with a grunt, when the stap rubs just right against her clit. Just as you start to wonder what an earth she had picked up, you hear a faint click, and suddenly the strap starts vibrating inside you.

This time it’s both of you moaning and gasping with each thrust as Rio guides you through another orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck,” Rio is panting. “Fuck, baby, I’m cumming.” Rio collapses into you, breathing hard. She stays there for a while before slowly pulling out and removing the blindfold, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

She ducks into her bathroom, grabbing a cloth to clean you up. Her touches are gentle and soothing. “You did so good, sweetheart.” Rio’s voice is soft as she lies down next to you, scooping you into her arms.

You look up at her, blinking slowly, the adrenaline draining out of you. “That was not what I had in mind when I said I owe you one,” you sigh, coming to rest your head on her chest.

“Oh yeah?” One of Rio’s hands comes up to play with your hair, the other stroking up and down your arm. “And what were you thinking of, hmm?” She whispers softly. “Because your staring was definitely not subtle.”

All you can do is huff out a small laugh, her hands coaxing you into an easy sleep. With another kiss to the top of your head, Rio wishes you a good night and holds you as you drift off peacefully.

remember to like/reblog if you enjoyed :)

[f1fantasys]

uhm so i have an idea where Lando is working out alone to release his emotions, perhaps after a bad day or bad race. but suddenly, you enter the gym, which annoys him because he wanted to be alone right now.

however, as you start working out, he kinda ogling your 🍒 and eventually decides to approach you to talk and that led to the spicy part when he starts touching you and fucked you on one of the bench using you to let out his anger 🫣 tysm!!!

THIS!! I don't feel like I've done this INCREDIBLE request justice. So someone please write a better one and tag me in it! @ccsainzleclerc5516 you would do amazing at this!

POST RACE WORKOUT

Warnings - smut!! need i say more?

2.4 words. IDK why it's so short - feel like i have writers block.

The Monaco weekend was always a fun one. Fun, but extremely busy, especially being a Sky presenter. From the Monday leading up to the weekend you'd been in and out of meetings, events, and not to mention recording and being live on air for several hours a day. But you loved it, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

But now that the race and post-race shows were finally over, you still had a lot of adrenaline and energy to burn, which is why you currently found yourself walking up the stairs to the gym, wearing the tightest tights and a sports bra. It was well past midnight, but, having connections had its perks, so here you were.

You pushed open the door and stopped in your tracks. There was some distant music playing and as your eyes scanned the room you definitely weren't expecting to find Lando Norris who was currently lifting weights, shirtless, might I add. He stopped what he was doing and stood up, eyes shamelessly searching your body, but an annoyed look on his face.

''Uh, hey'' you greeted.

All he did was nod his head.

''You good?'' you couldn't help but ask at the way he was looking at you. You felt you own cheeks heat up as you gawked at his body that was riled with sweat.

''Yeah'' was all he said as he turned around and continued what he was doing.

You of course have had a lot of interaction with Lando - several interviews and social media videos which meant you'd spent quite a lot of time with him. Obviously, he was one hell of hot man, and yes, you looked, but you'd never touch. Your work was too important to get involved with any of the drivers. You'd also noticed him looking more often than not, but you never allowed your mind to go there.

As you stood there for a few minutes you couldn't help but feel bad for the guy. He'd had a shitty race - mclaren had fucked his strategy, once again, and he didn't get the win. So you totally understood why he was in the gym at the time - also trying to get rid of the adrenaline.

You dragged your feet to the treadmill and hopped on, setting a medium pace, trying to focus on something else and not the half naked man across the room.

After about 15 minutes you slowed your pace down a bit, grabbing your towel to wipe the sheet of sweat over your face and arms. As you walked over to do some weights, you looked ahead in the mirror and locked eyes with Lando. He was standing drinking his water, and you watched as his eyes left yours and shamelessly looked your body up and down again. To be fair - you were swearing the skimpiest gym clothes which left nothing to the imagination.

What you didn't know was that Lando had been eye fucking you the full 15 minutes you were running. He had wanted to be alone, let out his frustration, but that changed the minute he realized it was you who walked through the door. He licked his lips as he saw how your tights wrapped around your ass so perfectly, how your boobs were bouncing and threatening to spill out of your bra, how you back muscles flexed as you ran, and how sweat covered your body making you glisten under the lights. Lando had always found you attractive to say the least, and now he was painfully hard by just watching you workout. He wanted nothing more than to walk up to you and rip your clothes off, bend you over, and rail into you.

You tried your best to ignore him and focus on your task, so you sat on the bench and started brench pressing, heavy breaths leaving your mouth.

Suddenly, you saw Lando standing above you, staring down, and his own breathing just as heavy as yours.

Before you could react and say anything, he held onto the weights and pryed it out of your hands.

''Lan-'' you started, but he cut you off.

''Shh'' you said, before walking around and facing you as you sat up. He took a seat in front of you, legs on either side of the bench as yours were.

You swore you heart was beating out of your chest right now. He looked so heavenly. Bright green eyes, curls messy and sticking to his forehead. And not to mention his god-damn beautiful torso. Muscles taught and defined, with sweat dripping down, his own body shining in the lights.

''Eyes up here'' he said, smirking, catching you out for staring.

''Fuck'' you mumbled to yourself, before you looked up at him.

You felt as his hands found your waist and effortlessly slid you closer to him, and now your breaths were mingling, the heat in your body rising.

As you found yourselves in an apparent staring contest, Lando's hands started roaming your body He traced your arms up and down, your shoulders, you back, and your breath hitched as he suddenly slipped them under your sports bra, feeling up your boobs and fondling with them.

You closed your eyes and tried to calm your breathing, but that was impossible with the fact that he was sitting right in front of you and touching you. Now he was rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling at and tugging them, earning himself a moan from you.

''Lando'' you panted, needing more, almost grinding yourself on the bench.

''I know baby''

The nickname gave you goosebumps, and you couldn't help but open your eyes and smile at him.

Soon after, Lando tore your bra off of you, revealing your perky boobs. He lowered his head and latched his mouth onto your left nipple. Biting and sucking on it before using his tongue to sooth over.

Your hands found his hair and you pulled at his curls, edging him on, begging him some more. ''Lando, please'' you said, grinding down on the bench harder than before.

He lifted his head and crashed his lips to yours. It was eager and messy, tongues clashing and spit sliding down both yours and Lando's chin. He bit on your lower lip and you felt him slide his hands through your tights to grope at your ass. By now you were cupping his face, pulling him impossibly closer. While his one hand stayed on your ass, the other slid round to your front and cupped your cunt.

The action has you arching off the bench, breath increasing ever so much as he slid his fingers through your folds, which were soaking by now - something that didn't go unnoticed by him.

''Already dripping for me, love?'' he asked, voice thick and hoarse with his British accent.

''Uh huh'' was all you managed to say, biting your lips at the feeling of his calloused fingers rough against your clit, which he found rather quickly.

He captured your lips with his as he thrust two fingers through your entrance, the swift movement making you tremble in his arms.

''Ride my fingers y/n'' he said between breaths.

And so you did, you rode his fingers hard and fast, and just as he curled them at just the right time, feeling you soft cushiony spot inside of you, you felt a warmth begin to build in your stomach.

No word spoken and Lando added a third finger, sending you trembling over the edge as you latched onto his shoulder for support to ride you through your orgasm.

He slowed his fingers, eyes never leaving yours, before pulling them out and shamelessly licking them clean of you cum, moaning at the taste.

''Hmm, so fucking delicious'''he said, smirking, as you watched, mouth agape.

''Lando please'' you panted. ''Need to feel you in me'' you said, looking at him with longing eyes.

When you looked at him again, his whole demeanor changed. His eyes became ridiculously darker and the emotion he wore on his face was a mix of sudden anger and frustration.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he man handled you to lay down before he ripped your tights off of you and stood up to free himself of his constraints.

You watched as his hard cock bounced first then stood tall and angry.

''Fuck, he's big'' you thought to yourself as he placed himself between your legs.

Lando leaned down to kiss you as you took him in your hands and pumped him a few times, using your thumb to spread his pre cum around his tip.

The movement had him bucking forward, grunting into your mouth.

He pulled back and looked you in the eyes. ''You sure?'' he asked.

''Please. Please fuck me''

He lined himself up and wasted no time in slamming into you, bottoming out in one thrust.

''Shit'' you gasped. He was definitely the biggest you'd ever had, and the sting was intense. But this was Lando Norris, and you were determined to let him have his way with you.

He finally started moving, setting a pace that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your nails dug deep into his skin.

''So fucking tight, fuck y/n''

''Oh, Lando, yes, please, yes'' you cried out, unable to keep your moans at bay.

Lando continued to fuck into you while his mouth found your boobs and sucked hard at them, surely leaving purple bruises for tomorrow.

Within minutes you could feel your walls begin to clench around him, your orgasm approaching fast.

''Fuck, gonna cum Lan-'' you started but before you could finish he pulled out. You whined at him, an annoyed whine which you knew would edge him on further.

He scooped you up with such an ease, and suddenly you were flipped over and on your tummy, Lando sliding into your cunt with force again.

He bunched up your hair and pulled it tight, earning pornographic moans from your mouth straight to his ear.

''Can't win a fucking race but at least I got you begging for me'' he said through bated breaths, finally railing you the way he wanted from when you first walked in.

''Fuck Lando, you won. You won for me'' you moaned. You didn't care what the outcome of the actual race was - in your eyes, he was always a winner.

''Doing so well for me babygirl. That's tight.''

This time your orgasm gave you no warning. Hearing him call you babygirl pushed you over the edge, your body shuddering underneath him and your juices spluttering all over.

You moaned his name as you came, and if anything, he sped up his movements briefly before sliding out of you again.

This time he sat facing the mirror and pulled you up to sit down his lap, facing the mirror as well.

You immediately sank down on his now throbbing dick, setting a harsh pace as his hand snaked its way around you and settled on your throat.

''Want you to watch yourself fuck me'' he roughly whispered in your ear.

You kept your eyes on each other while you rode him, Lando's occasionally dropping down to watch how your boobs bounced up and down with each thrust.

''Fuck'' you hissed as you felt another orgasm approaching.

''Fucking me so good baby, go on. Be my slut'' he urged you to carry on.

Your movements were becoming sloppier, unable to hold yourself up and able to continue to thrust so Lando had to take matters into his own hands.

He was now fucking into you again, but at a relentless pace, clearly chasing his own orgasm as well.

''Together, yeah?'' he asked, his hand sliding down to toy at your clit.

You couldn't hold it in anymore. ''Fuck, Lando, now. I need to cum'' you said, as you felt his cock twitching inside of you.

The room now filled with grunts and moans, swear words flying everywhere as you both reached your climax, juices spilling out of you like the end of the worlds. Lando made sure to empty his load painting your walls white with his warm splutter.

You sank back down on him, letting your weight fall back leaning on him.

You locked eyes in the mirror again, both trying to catch your breaths, sweat dripping down the both of you.

Now that he got his release, Lando couldn't help but feel ashamed at the fact that he used you. Although this was the best sex he'd had in a long time, he felt he needed to apologize, and hope he hadn't fucked up a chance at anything more.

You could feel him softening inside of you, but neither made any attempt to move.

''Lan-''

''Wait. Fuck. I'm sorry if I was too rough'' he said, shyly.

''What?''

''I'm sorry i called you a slut. It was a complement, actually. I just had all this adrenaline from the race. And you were there. And...Fuck, i couldn't help myself'' he was rambling.

''Lando stop.'' you said firmer than you intended to. ''I didn't say I didn't enjoy it. Did I?'' you asked.

He shook his head.

''Really, it was so fucking good, and I'm glad it was me. I'm glad you used me''

''I-What?''

''Yeah, think I needed it as much as you did'' you said.

He wrapped his arms around you holding you tighter.

''Well then I'm glad you walked through the door. Thank you'' he cooed.

You smiled at him and slowly got up, letting him slip out of you, when something dawned on you.

''You ripped my clothes, Lando! literally'' you shrieked, eyes wide and a chuckle filling the air.

He stood up and pecked your lips.

''Well then, you'll just have to come home with me'' he said, smirking, but throwing his t-shirt to you to wear.

As he watching you put it on, he couldn't help but notice the stickiness dripping out of you.

''Fuck'' he mumbled, more to himself.

''What?'' you asked, as you didn't even release he was still watching you.

He didn't say anything, instead he bent down and licked your core, collecting the mixture of both of your cum.

The action had your breath hitching, not expecting it at all. You held onto his head as he did what he did, before he stood back up and let the juice slide out of his mouth and into your, before he kissed you roughly again.

''So fucking hot. Round 2 at mines?'' he asked.

You just smiled and walked to the door, opening it while gesturing him to follow you out.

REMEMBER - requests are open!

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 01/10/2024 Max Verstappen- Voyerism

Plot: Max cannot help but take pictures or videos of you whenever you guys get heated! But what happens when he’s leaving you for a long time.

Warnings: Kinktober, Smut, pillow humping, VOYERISM, masturbation, watched unknowingly etc. 18+ Minors DNI

Max was obsessed with you.

Not in like a creepy stalker way, but in a more … you were his person kind of way.

Every time you came to a race, all he would do is follow you around. His team? Didn’t exist. Christian Horner? Who is that? Sergio Perez? Not sure who you mean.

His interviews were 90% staring at you and 10% listening and answering the interviewer. It actually got to the point, that even though it wasn’t affecting his driving Christian threatened to black-list you from all F1 races.

Max of course didn’t take this lightly.

Due to Max’s obsession with you, when you couldn’t attend race weekends he was sort of lost, just in this limbo area of his mind with nothing to do. Especially if you were doing a modelling gig and didn’t have much time throughout the day to answer him.

So he started to film you, in your more intimate moments to feel closer to you when you were away as the more you started to do, the bigger you were getting and the bigger you got the more you were booked in for.

But it didn’t stop there, once he got to a race weekend and became particularly frustrated he realised how much these videos helped him let off some steam when you weren’t there to help him.

Of course you knew about the videos. It was something fun for you and Max to do to liven up your sex life when you were together.

But then Max became obsessed with the idea of you not knowing when he was playing these videos just for himself. You were unassuming at a shoot, strutting your stuff and he was there tangled up in the sheets of a hotel room in Italy, using one hand to jerk himself off while the other held up his second video of the two of you of the night.

When he would come home, he’d start to watch you get undressed and shower from the crack in the bathroom door that he needed to get fixed but because he felt like he was never home he didn’t ever bother. He would make sure to tell you wrong times that he would get home, just at the off chance he might be able to catch you in a private moment to yourself, hearing those little noises you made and calling out his name as if you knew he was there.

Then came the bedroom camera. Max never told you about this camera, why would he … it was his apartment after all. That’s what he told himself when he was thinking of the idea.

It was one of those motion-activated ones, and he installed it just before a triple header, above the wardrobe in between two show boxes, and unless you were looking specifically for a camera you definitely wouldn’t be able to see it.

“Bye baby I’m going to miss you! Look I’ll try and make it out to your home race. But good luck for the first ones, I love you so so much” you smiled at him kissing all over his face.

“Mmmm I’ll miss you too, don’t know how I’ll last without my gorgeous girl” he sighs before leaving.

But that was a lie, he knew exactly how he would last without you. He knew that camera in the bedroom would make him feel as though he was at home with you. Even if he was just watching you sleep or get changed like he normally did when you both got ready with each other in the mornings.

He waited and waited, pulling his phone out every-time the custom haptic vibration he’d made for the app that linked the camera to his phone so he knew what it was buzzed..

Mostly it was just you doing house chores and bringing washing back to the bedroom to put it away in the closets or changing the bedsheets now that he’d be gone for three weeks so they’d be fresh for when he was back home. He missed you changing the first time because he was out with Lando, Oscar and Charles playing Paddle and his phone was in his gym bag.

He of course rewatched it but he just sort of found it sweet watching you do the same routine you did even when he wasn’t there, only missing out a few steps that normally involved him.

It wasn’t until the night before his first race that he was laying in his hotel room, exhausted from the day he’d had in qualifying and staying late to train on the sim against the teams orders that he saw you more intimately on the cameras.

You’d come into the room rather naturally actually. You had a large cup of water with ice and a straw which wasn’t uncommon for you before you went to bed. You then sat on top of the duvet covers with your back propped up with the pillows against the back board as you put something on the TV.

And you pretty much got through the whole film just watching it drinking your water slowly and eating the snacks you’d brought with you.

He saw you get a little fidgety towards the end but you never were one for sitting still for long periods of time. So he didn’t think anything off it and nearly clicked off for the night until you got your phone up.

He immediately saw the bite of your lip as you started scrolling.

He sat up more awake and alert than he had been the last hour of watching you on and off while you watched your film. He was curious about what was on your phone that was making you bite your lip.

However once he heard the audio come from your phone he was all too familiar with what you were watching. It was a video he’d taken during the last time you guys had had sex with one another. He knew immediately because of what he said at the start of the video.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me while I’m gone?” And when he heard himself say that, he could feel something in him stir.

It excited him, the thought that you were just as desperate and needy as he was.

He watched as one hand travelled down into your silk shorts as you spread you legs open giving you easier access. He watched as you hand grazed over you clit, he couldn’t see much right now with those shorts still on but the light airy moan that he heard through the cameras audio was enough to let him know what your fingers had just brushed against.

He couldn’t even really tell if you were just rubbing yourself through your panties or if you’d pulled them to the side and he wanted to know more. He wanted and needed to see more.

When you made that face, the one where something stated to feel really good that’s when he knew you’d dipped your fingers in a little further, only to test the waters. Your legs closed around your hand as he could hear those sweet noises still coming from you.

You attempted to prop the phone up against your knees but he could see your frustration as it kept sliding down at an angle you could view it.

Max was already hard as a rock from just watching you lightly touch yourself but when you spun round so that you were facing away from him, propping the phone up on the top of the headboard and placing a pillow underneath you he pulled himself right out of his pants.

He almost felt like a pervert but he convinced himself if he told you what he’d done or was doing you’d love the idea. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

His hand rubbed quickly up and down his length as he watched you hump a pillow, which was of course one of his usual ones. Your moans came through the camera way clearer than he had expected.

What caught him and nearly had him letting go of that growing feeling was when you moaned his name.

“Max, fuck please” you’d groaned and the camera had picked it up perfectly, his jaw dropped and his hand sped up seeing the stuttering of your hips into the pillow meaning you were also close.

He kept watching you completely obsessed with everything he was seeing.

“Come on baby, come for me” he called and as if you’d heard him you were shaking, moaning and gasping into the other pillows while your hips drove down into the pillow riding out your high.

Max came watching that wet spot grow on your panties from the angle your currently were at. He couldn’t believe that this was only the begging of the night. And when you turned round pulling your underwear off and you went into the special draw by your shared bed, he knew you’d both be in for a long long night.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[prettyinsophie]

Cum with me…to the gym

3k words

Your visit to the gym with Abby escalates quickly when you find out that a certain area can also be worked on by the adductor machine.

warnings: fingering (reader receiving), oh and the fingering is in public so yeah…

I lowkey hate this but it’s the only thing I’ve managed to finish writing throughout the whole year…sigh. I recently watched Arcane so…maybe I’ll start publishing about Vi or Sevika or both.

“Oh, c’mon! We still have two more exercises to go before finishing with some cardio!” Abby exclaims with a devilish smile across her lips, enjoying seeing you sweating and panting after doing three sets of Bulgarians.

After weeks of your best friend begging you to pay a visit to the gym, you obliged with the condition of getting to see Wicked afterward since Abby’s not a big fan of long movies, let alone musicals, so here you were; hair-sticking to your face, red cheeks, and skin glowing with sweat because Abby’s routine is no joke.

“Two more?! Can we just do one more? Pleaseee?” You beg in a whiny pout, giving her puppy eyes because you feel like you’ll pass out any moment now if you keep going. Of course, you’re being dramatic, but that’s just your zodiac sign being true to itself.

Abby playfully rolls her eyes, suppressing a smirk because she thinks you look adorable like that. She won’t tell you that, though, at least not in a non-mocking tone. “The machines are easier, and you can hit whatever weight you want. Sounds fair?”

You purse your lips, looking at her while she chugs some water down. It’s so unfair how godly she looks right now while you feel like a sticky mess. You nod, defeated more than anything because you might as well complete the routine properly. “Fine…”

The gym is fairly empty, but that doesn’t surprise you since it was one of your conditions to agree to come. And so you walk to the bench press, which was as hard as any other machine even with the lowest weight. You were more of a workout-at-home type of gal, after all, and Abby always mocked you because she’s a gym rat and this is her second home. To each their own, you don’t like being around strangers that much.

“What’s this one for?” You ask with your head tilting to the side, confused but willing to learn all about the stupid machine, eager because it’s the last one you’ll use today and for a while.

“This is the leg adductor, great for toning your legs and inner thighs. I’ll show you how to use it and then you can give it a go, yeah?”

“‘Kay…”

You can’t deny that it’s fun to see her in a trainer-like role, and you decide that it’s not that bad and that the reward will come later when you watch the 190-minute-long film. You watch Abby setting the machine and its weight intently, trying to make mental notes of everything so you won’t need her help for each little thing. And here goes…your eyes definitely find her hands gripping the handles more interesting than the exercise itself, or the way her thunder thighs push the weight inwards almost effortlessly. Phew. She finishes her set and stands from the machine so you can give it a go.

“See? Easy.” She smiles before adjusting the weight so it’s lighter for you.

You hesitate to get on it because it looks silly, and you definitely feel exposed with your legs spread open in your yoga pants.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you could open up this much,” She teases with a quizzical grin and her head cocking to the side, which makes you scoff and roll your eyes.

“Shut up, I do pilates after all, don’t I?” You excuse your almost obscene spreading, and to only make it worse, you’re wearing a thong and you plead that Abby won’t look down because you’re certain she’ll be able to catch a detailed glimpse of your pussy.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with ya. Let me help you…” Abby snorts, amused at how you respond to her mindless teasing. She bends down in your direction to adapt the position so you won’t be opened up like a christmas present, “…and there! Now hold onto these and try to push the weight inwards slowly, if you do it fast you’ll hurt yourself.”

Abby instructs and you do as you’re told. Slowly, you push your legs together, gripping the handles because the weight is definitely challenging, and after the bench press, Bulgarians, and squats, your legs are not the strongest, but you manage to do it.

“How’s the weight? Do you want me to lower it?” Abby asks, leaning on the machine’s weight rack, “Y-Yeah…it’s too heavy.” Your voice quakes tiredly, and the blonde wants to poke fun at you for it but decides to save it because she knows you’re doing your best. So she lowers the weight so it’s more comfortable.

It’s definitely difficult to do it with your wobbly legs, but it’s also fun in its own way. You close and open your legs at a slow pace, breathing deeply as you do each one, and with Abby watching is only making it harder to pretend you’re not struggling as much. Although it hurts, you’re not sure if you’re targeting the right area since you keep clenching your core unconsciously, and it only causes you to breathe heavier and heavier for some reason. Abby’s on her phone since you got the hang of it, and yes, you can do the exercise, but with each push from your legs, your body gets hotter and your breathing gets sharper. The last rep comes, and the pressure is overwhelming even after taking small breaks between each set. The muscles in your lower stomach tighten, and that’s when you feel your pussy clenching around nothing, and you realize…

This fucking exercise is fun because it’s stimulating you, and your friend in front of you probably has no idea of what’s happening since she’s watching instagram reels.

Your back arches ever so slightly from the seat, a familiar reaction from when you pleasure yourself, and the pooling between your thighs only worsens as you get closer to the end of the rep, clenching every muscle because it feels so good. A loud, raspy gasp escapes your lips, and your eyes immediately seek Abby, checking if she’s seeing what’s engaging between you and the machine, but she remains still so you keep going. Your thighs are shaking, begging you to end the exercise but you keep going despite already hitting the fifteenth one.

‘Almost…’ Even the voice in your head is ragged. Your cunt is throbbing, your abs are inhumanly clenching and the band in your stomach’s about to snap. The sweat is running down your face and your neck, but all you can focus on is that aching pooling in the pit of your stomach.

With your chest heaving and your lip caught between your teeth, you close your legs one more time and groan softly at your release, the chemicals in your brain plastering colorful dots in your vision, and you finally let go since your body’s all weak and shaky. You can barely ride out the bliss when it hits you.

You just had an orgasm. At the gym. With Abby two steps away from you.

“Fuck…” A throaty breath catches Abby’s attention, and thank god your yoga pants are black and not pink today.

“You finally done? I know you’re a newbie but it took you long enough.” Abby puts her phone in her pocket and looks down at you with that kind and charming grin of hers, and then there you are, a panting mess.

“I…need to go to the bathroom,” You announce breathily, quickly getting off the machine because you need to take care of the situation in your pants. The blonde frowns and you know she wants to ask if something’s wrong, but she sees you in a rush and simply points at the ladies' room. You almost run, cursing in your head again and again because what the fuck is wrong with you? The bathroom stalls are empty so you enter the last one, immediately banging your head against the door.

“You’re a fucking pervert. You’re pathetic!” You whisper, and your legs threaten to give up once again, which only upsets you further.

You rest your head against the door and look up, battling the tears brewing in your eyes. This is it; the lowest you’ve reached so far. Who knows if one of the few people out there saw you? Shit, shit, shit. You haven’t had time to play with yourself but this definitely wasn’t the solution to that!

Deep breath in and out, but no matter how calm you are now, the wet spot in your pants remains.

“Hey…you in here?” Abby’s voice makes you jump startled, and you curse again in your head.

“Y-Yeah, last stall.” Your voice is weak and raspy, but you manage to get the right tone to not let her know you’re about to cry.

“You okay? You looked…I dunno, weird.”

Abby’s worry makes your heart clench, and guilt showers you like a bucket of cold water. She’s your best friend though; you know every small quirk, have seen each other’s awkward phases, and most importantly, have kept secrets you know aren’t for anyone else to know. So you’ll be fine, you’re adults now so this isn’t a big deal, right?

You open the door and pull her arm so she’ll join you. Rapidly, you close the door again as if the entire bathroom isn’t empty. Abby chuckles, amused by the sudden move from you, but the smirk fades as soon as she sees the sulky look on your face with your lips almost pouting and your eyes glossy. “Hey…what happened?” Her brows meet in a concerned frown, and she reaches for your hand.

The embarrassment is strong enough to block your throat and tighten your chest. You bite your lip, looking up when Abby’s thumb gently rubs the back of your hand.

“I…” How could you even put it into words? No fancy vocabulary would make this any better, “...the pressure of the exercise was really strong, and I…don’t know how but I think I came.”

Abby’s heart dropped to her stomach, and for your sake, she contained as much shock as she could inside her, but the truth is…she found that adorably amusing and even kind of hot…? You look defeated, just like a puppy who knows did something wrong, and she wants to pet your head and cuddle you.

On your side though, you’re certain she’s thinking you’re a freak that should be locked away from society. You look away from her. Your heart thuds in nothing but shame, pumping the blood to your cheeks, painting them a bright red color.

“How bad is the situation?” Her voice is lower than usual, and you assume that is in case someone enters the bathroom.

“My pants are soaked…” You nearly sob, sniffing but holding it in.

Abby hums, taking a step close to your position against the door, and she hesitantly brings her hand to your clothed crotch as if to make sure you’re telling the truth. Your body reacts to that, naturally, and you jump a little, looking at her with your eyes widening because that’s unknown territory.

“Okay…listen, it’s completely normal, yeah? Tons of girls have gone through the same thing so it’s not like you’re the first one.” She soothes you, her voice low and smooth, almost like a lullaby, and her hand moves to your hip, squeezing it lightly to comfort you.

You huff in relief, still embarrassed but that statement definitely took some weight off your back. “Thank god, I feel like a pervert.”

“You probably are, but that’s okay too.” Of course, she pokes fun at you at the first chance, but she manages to make you laugh a little.

The scenario is a little weird. You’ve been in the most insane and random situations together, but this could top any of those other ones. Your back’s against the door, and Abby’s just centimeters away from you; her hand gripping your hipbone rather firmly, causing your hips to jerk unconsciously. Your eyes meet hers, and she has such an indistinct look on her face that you can’t say you’ve seen before.

“You’re still sensitive,” She states huskily, and you catch her licking her lips.

“Well, yeah. I just had an orgasm.” You also state, almost sarcastically because it’s more than obvious why your body is reacting to her grip.

“You know…having multiple orgasms will help you relax your tensed muscles.”

…okay?

She takes the one step that kept you away from each other, and now both hands are on your hips as she glances down at you with her usual crystal-clear blue eyes gone several tones down to navy. You gulp nervously, your arms on your sides as you stand awkwardly.

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Lemme help you.” She answers on the spot, with no hesitance or stuttering. And -shockingly- no hint of it being a joke.

You want to say no for the sake of your friendship more than anything, but your body’s been craving release for months, and if your best friend is willing to help you with such devotion then who are you to reject the thoughtful offer?

“Okay…”

Your answer takes Abby by surprise, but she doesn’t press on it because she doesn’t want you to change your mind, not when she’s getting worked up herself.

“Try to keep it down, though.” She winks a snarky smile at you, and before you can tell her to fuck off, she slips her hand down your pants, cupping your aching core.

“Fuck, you are soaked,” Abby whispers surprised, her voice coming out ragged at the realization, and she begins to move her fingers over your folds, spreading them and feeling the slickness of your previous orgasm.

You wanted to be cocky, but one of your hands goes straight to your mouth to muffle the whimper you almost let escape. You know your friend’s anatomy almost as perfectly as her personal traits and her thick fingers were always secretly acknowledged by you, and now they’re spreading your pussy, teasing you better than you’ve ever done it yourself.

“I didn’t know you were a thong girl,” Abby mutters sultrily, obviously noticing the lack of clothing for your cunt. Her fingers find your clit and she starts tracing slow circles, mostly to see your reaction.

Your eyes are fluttering, and your whimpers come out as hums with your hand blocking your lips. Her touch is gentle but firm, and god is it heavenly. It’s definitely better than your own, and you can’t believe you’re doing this in the bathroom of the gym Abby’s attended for the past years. Still, your hips roll in the direction of where she’s touching you, pathetically writhing under her to feel her calloused fingers even more against your throbbing clit.

“You like that?” Oh her voice…is as sweet as honey right now and it sends a shiver down your spine. You nod your head, too scared of being caught, but Abby -being the jerk she is- yanks your hand off your face, letting it rest on your side and very clearly hinting at you that she wants an answer vocalized.

“Y…Yeah,” You manage to gasp under your breath, your head hitting the door when her fingertips rub a little faster, right in that magnificent spot with the right amount of pressure to turn your legs into jelly.

Abby’s having the time of her life. You look angelically sexy, as if you were trying to seduce her with those red lips of yours; parted open and inviting hers to get a taste. She can’t, though, and she won’t…for now. She wants to see every twitch of your brows, every flutter of your lashes when you blink repeatedly, and every bead of sweat that rolls down your forehead and causes your flushed cheeks to glow under the dim light of the bathroom.

“Abs…” It kills her to hear that beloved nickname of hers coming out of your lips in a needy gasp. She purses her full lips, pitying the situation because she wishes you could just whimper her name out loud. Later…she thinks to herself.

Abby calls out your name as well, matching your discreet and low tone, “...yeah? Feels good?”

You nod again, not risking a moan coming out. Your chest heaves, feeling tight because you can barely breathe. It’s almost like a fever dream…or a wet one, in this case. The blood is pumping hot and fast, adrenaline rushing all over you as she sends you to the fucking moon in steady circles. A loud gulp jumps on the walls of the stall, your best attempt at trying to keep quiet.

You feel that familiar pressure in your belly, but Abby whispers your name again. Her eyes are darker, with a loose strand of her blonde hair falling over her face, and she leans down. “I really wanna finger you, ‘s that alright?” She almost begs you, her pretty brows arching in eagerness for what your answer will be.

Your heart’s about to leap out of your chest at this point, feeling like you’re close to suffocating, but you lick your puffy lips and whisper a very needy ‘yes’. And Abby does not waste a single second before guiding one of your legs around her hips and immediately lowering her two digits to your entrance, spreading your arousal so her fingers won’t come in dry. You close your eyes at the weird sensation, but your hips jerk in her direction more aggressively than before.

“So wet for me…I wish I could taste that sweet pussy,” Abby hoarsely mutters in your ear, and before you can react, her middle and ring finger slip inside you oh so smoothly, stretching you open with her thick and long digits.

“Fuck…!” You hiss agitatedly, unconsciously clenching around her from how overwhelming everything is at this point. Abby slips them out and thrusts them until her knuckles become an obstacle, groaning under her breath as well, which only makes it harder for you to keep quiet. Why were you doing this again? Whatever the fuck was the reason, you wish she would’ve brought it up long before today.

Heat’s consuming your body, colored in a passionate red from your cheeks to your chest, probably from holding your breath, or the force Abby’s fingering you with. Either way, it’s all stimulating you in a way you know you shouldn’t be enjoying. Your heavy sighs are getting progressively louder, but the loud beating of your heart in your ears silences them.

Abby’s fingers thrust forcefully, almost abusing your soaking cunt, and squelching sounds filter out, causing the blonde to groan once again in your ear. Seemingly, the pornographic sound of her fingers pumping in and out only encourages her to seek deeper, finding a spongy spot at the very top when she curls both fingers expertly.

“There!” A normal whimper escapes, and as if to punish you, the door of the ladies’ room opens with two voices following as they chat about gains and what to have for lunch in terms of protein goals. Eyes wide as plates, you look at Abby, silently asking her what to do, unsure if it scares you more to keep going or stop.

Abby has her priority clear; you. So the solution is to cover your mouth with her hand and angle her fingers higher and deeper inside you, hitting the spongy wall repeatedly with the two girls chatting in the background, making enough noise to quiet the squelching of her fingering. Abby cages you between her body and the door, and her groans soon become growls, like a hungry animal salivating over its prey.

Tears brimmed in your wide eyes, beginning to tear up as you breathed raggedly through your nose and winced against Abby’s hand. You should’ve stopped, but the adrenaline rush of possibly -hopefully not- getting caught only caused your muscles to clench tighter, and the pooling in the pit of your stomach to swoop like a crashing wave. You’re close, so fucking close that you’re seeing stars this time. Abby’s eyes even shine before your eyes roll back and your body spasms like you’re being electrocuted. Creaming and cumming all over Abby’s fingers and in your yoga pants for the second time today. A loud ringing in your ears almost concerns you and makes you think you passed out, but it only lasts a minute or two before opening your eyes again and seeing your blonde friend looking at you like she just saw a UFO or something.

She keeps her fingers inside until the two girls leave the bathroom, and you can’t say it isn’t awfully awkward to feel the emptiness when she pulls them out and retrieves her hand from your lips as well, letting you pant loudly while you ride out the thunderous orgasm.

Your eyes meet, and Abby’s cheeks seem to get pink, which would’ve been funny in any other situation. “You, uh, you good?”

It’s so awkward that it makes your stomach cringe uncomfortably. “Yeah, just…recovering.”

Abby nods, letting you know that she understands, but you can tell she’s also embarrassed, probably regretting talking to you the way she did…publicly.

“Are we still watching Wicked?” You ask out of the blue, trying to lighten up the mood, and when Abby snorts everything returns to normal.

“Not only are we watching it, you’re getting eaten out afterward,” She taunts you sweetly, licking her dripping fingers clean.

[p1utofairy]

★ WHICH COMIC BOOK COUPLE ARE YOU AND YOUR PERSON MOST LIKE?

NOTE — love and light my babies ⭐️🧿 take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. for entertainment purposes only. your feedback is always so greatly appreciated, enjoy!

— PILE 1.

channeled couple(s) → batman x catwoman + jean grey x cyclops.

your person is a very hands-on, actively involved and dynamic individual who thrives in fast-paced environments. they’re very resourceful and can turn a negative into a positive in the blink of an eye – a true problem solver if you will. they learn things/adapt quicker than most and i feel like a lot of people regard them as an amazing friend. your person is very inquisitive and always wants to know more. once they complete a task, they’re on to the next; it can be hard to pin them down for long periods of time. they might move around a lot physically (could have OCD) but i’m more so picking up that they’ve lived here, there and everywhere.

they’re always on the go! i’m also picking up that your person is a little bit of a control freak but gosh they can't help it; they truly love to lead and be of service. you’re gonna find this so hot lowkey lol which is funny because i think you typically go for someone that let’s you control things and have the upper hand but with this person it’s not like that. their sense of control is different though — it’s not possessive, like “you’re mine!” or “no, you can’t go out wearing that!” instead, it’s more about seeing you struggle with something and insisting on helping you with it. you might say, “no, i’ve got it,” but they’ll respond, “here, just let me…” you get frustrated because you just said you could handle it, but there they go, taking it from your hands and easing the stress and pain you were carrying. wow, that was such a descriptive scenerio but it just randomly came to me lol. it’s giving 6H energy!

11:11 on the clock i’m blushing hehe your person is super sweet and chivalrous it’s very charming, pile 1. don’t even get me started on their physique WHEW you’re gonna love their arms/biceps…your person might even have a lot of tattoos (i’m seeing sleeve tats) and i can just see you fighting the urge to playfully bite them lol. they could be very athletic and go to the gym a lot. now switching gears, the comic book couples that similarly mirrors your connection is jean grey x cyclops + batman and catwoman. some of y’all might be rolling your eyes at the mention of jean and scott (my wolverine girlies i’m talking to you) but HERE ME OUT and let me cook!

i feel like you’re more of a wanderer and don’t care to be as involved as your person is, if that makes sense? gypsy by fleetwood mac just started playing in my mind. trials and tribulations throughout your life might have caused you to turn inwards, and you feel unsure about what it is your supposed to be doing/where life is exactly taking you. your presence is more calm and still and your person is again, more hands on and out there. like jean grey, you are very clever and passionate but there’s a temperamental side to you. you might have strong air sign placements in your chart because i feel that you’re very rational about your emotions – sometimes to a fault. i think you hold back a lot of the times (especially when it comes to love) in fear of hurting other people’s feelings or just being misunderstood. some of you could have people-pleasing tendencies. your person gives that scott summers vibe because their actions are typically driven by a sense of duty rather than a desire to please others.

whether you know it or not, you wield a lot of power and sometimes i think people take your kindness for weakness. what your person is really going to admire about you is how intentional you are especially when it comes to giving/receiving love. you are so gentle and kind with your person – soooo doting and attentive. you two deadass have a telepathic connection cause when one person is feeling off, the other one can sense it. your person is also tryna be funny and say that you’re used to dealing with logans (wolverine) but they’re coming to change that. LMAOOOO your person is funny as fuck if you couldn’t already tell.

you both compliment each other so well, spiritually and physically. that’s why i also channeled batman x catwoman because y’alls vibe just gives that. y’all know those crazy ass tiktok/IG comments when people are like i need to see the tape PLS yeah…y’all evoke that reaction from people. you both find each other incredibly sexy like the sexual tension between you both is gonna be insaneeeee. i’m also sensing a bit of a bratty energy coming from your end in terms of the attention your person gets lol they might be very sought after. it’s reminding of the ending scene of ‘the batman’ when selena is urging batman to come with her and part of him is superrrr tempted but duty calls. i promise you that your person only wants you, though. like i’m being so deadass when i say that they’re literally gonna be devoted to you.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

“i work alone”, you might be used to the wolverine types but what you really need is a scott summers, back to black by amy winehouse, spotless mind by jhené aiko, maneater by nelly furtado, dylan, slayyyter, dua lipa, ESFJ, ISTJ, resemblance to callum turner, 333, sagittarius, 6H cancer, capricorn rising, 555.

— PILE 2.

channeled couple(s) → daredevil x elektra + rogue x gambit.

oooo right off the bat i’m hearing stand still by sabrina claudia. you’re so unaware that we're feeling, the same thing, the same damn thing…time is standing still and why are we still here? interesting, pile 2. very interesting! you and your person are more alike than you would think. from the outside you both appear very different, but energetically you both are sooo compatible. i’m hearing “from different worlds” and being drawn to the movie aladdin lol maybe that’s one of your favorite disney movies or your person’s? i think that’s why i was picking up on elektra x daredevil because it’s like…you and your person’s upbringing differed in a way but there’s a common ground in terms of how it’s shaped you both. one of you is more forward and hasty while the other is more reluctant and calculated.

you feel very confined and limited…like your environment is just so repetitive and boring. you’ve been hoping for something new to manifest – and you feel like you’re on the brink of it, it’s like you can almost reach out and touch it. for most of you, this is in regards to your connection with this person but for other’s it’s a job/traveling opportunity of some sort. you could possibly live in a very small town or somewhere that doesn’t have a lot to offer/keep you occupied. you’re about to see some progress sooner than you think, pile 2. give it about 1-3 months and watch how the magic happens! sagittarius season could be very significant for you.

your person is going to come into your life HOT and HEAVY, omg. you’re gonna be like wait wtf when did you get here?! nobody’s supposed to be here by deborah cox is playing in my head now – i’ve tried that love thing for the last time…my heart says no, no! nobody's supposed to be here…but you came along and changed my mind. LMAOOOO well pile 2 get ready cause your person is gonna sweep you off your damn feet. now it makes sense why i channeled rogue x gambit for you two because it’s like you’re taking of risk of some sort…the risk being your heart. trusting someone romantically is like risky business for you.

you’re so used to being able to predict outcomes and know what’s going to happen next, but with this person uhn uhn things are not so black and white. actually, there’s a lot of grey areas and that’s what’s going to scare you yet intrigue you about this person. you’re so rogue coded, awww. rogue has the ability to absorb the powers and memories of others through touch, so that makes her very guarded and reluctant to form close relationships. gambit is intrigued by her, but she is wary of him. i see this being similar to you and your person’s interactions…there might be an initial hesitation on your end but there’s an undeniable chemistry between the two of you!

your person is similar to gambit who is a smooth-talking, charming, and rough around the edges type of character. he’s very drawn to rogue’s beauty and strength (and similar to you) her self-imposed isolation and emotional baggage makes her hesitant to open up to him. i’m definitely picking up on the slow-burn trope for y’all, pile 2. although you really want this connection you might feel held back by self-doubt and fear intimacy/vulnerability. you’ve gotta work through this slowly but surely, my loves. it’s not easy but it’s necessary because this person absolutely loves you, pile 2. they’d put everything on the line for you if they had to.

just like gambit, this person will always be deeply in love with you no matter how much you try to shut them out or act like your feelings aren’t as deep as they really are. i also just want to mention that your person has such a way with words like UGH the way they say things/articulate themselves is gonna have you going feral lol they’re so knowledgeable and persuasive. it doesn’t help that they’re fine as fuck too lol you’re gonna be mentally shadow-boxing your anxiety whenever you’re around them because they’re just soooo damn charming fr!

i’m also being drawn to one of the biggest themes of rogue and gambit’s relationship which is rogue not being able to physically touch him without absorbing his memories and abilities – which is something that frightens her, not only because it could harm him but also because it’s something that strips away everything from the person she’s touching. now y’alls situation is obviously not that dramatic, but i am picking up that some of you that picked this pile could be virgins or celibate. i feel like the wait will make you both become even closer.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

you make wanna by usher, “i never thought this was possible”, bit of a wild card (no pun intended), fiery personality, leo/aquarius placements, you’re their best friend, love on the brain by rihanna.

— PILE 3.

channeled couple → wanda maximoff x vision.

you and your person are too stinkin’ cute, pile 3. lmaooo i know that sounds so corny and cheesy but your person puts you in this kind of mood. the sun is shining sooo bright as i’m writing this. it’s like you light up their life and vice versa. you remind them of a warm summer day at the beach where you’re free to just roam around, have ice cream and relax. you’re like a breath of fresh air for this person. your person can be extremely sappy (in the best way possible) like i see them randomly just grabbing you and spinning you around or twirling you lol they’re like…always in a good mood. they might like to sing or dance mhm i get the vibe that they have a CD collection like they really love music sooo much! they will love to cook for you as well awww they’re so considerate, pile 3. you guys are definitely giving that old school cutesy romantic 60s couple vibe for sure, i could cry!

i channeled wanda maximoff x vision for a reason i see. i feel like when you first meet your person you’re going to be going through alot in your own life and i’m not necessarily getting that it’s anything bad but it seems like you’re either working through something or towards something. this could be you confronting some childhood trauma and/or previous relationship baggage. it might also be that you're not quite where you imagined you'd be in life right now, or maybe you're feeling a bit unsure about your current path. whatever the reason, your person will likely sense that you're feeling a little lost, and they'll pick up on that shift in your energy. you might meet your person while you’re traveling or outside of wherever you live (i’m hearing out the country for some) and i see you two forming a very close friendship first. infrunami by steve lacy is coming to mind – girl, you're the one i want, you’re the one i need…i’m beggin' you, please. can you come back to me? 'cause i was blind to see that you were right in front of me. hm for some of you this person could be a mutual or you somehow know them through your friends? if not, there just seems to be a sense of familiarity between the two of you.

i’m hearing “wow what a small world!” so tbh you could meet this person through one of your friends lol now i’m hearing best friend’s brother by victoria justice PLEASE that’s so random but on brand. also i’m picking up that your person could wear glasses? they are very inquisitive and can read you like a book, pile 3.

like vision, your person can pick up on your emotions, sensing when something is off even if you don’t express it. though vision is a synthezoid, his close connection to wanda and his time with the avengers allowed him to empathize deeply with human emotions. over time, his understanding of these feelings went beyond his programming, and his love for wanda amplified his ability to sense when she’s in distress. he offers comfort to her when she's struggling with her powers or grief. i feel like this relationship will be therapeutic for the both of you! you scratch their back, they’ll scratch yours.

you are similar to wanda in the sense that you can alter/create your reality – YOU have the power, but you have to believe it first. you doubt yourself a lot and create a lot of chaos within your mind because you can’t decide whether or not you should do something or if you’re even making the right decision. i think this has a lot to do with your childhood/upbringing, you stay in the shadows instead of being in the spotlight. that’s the problem, pile 3. i think you’re afraid of taking up space in fear of what others might say or think. there’s this sense of imposter syndrome. in order to bring this relationship into fruition you’ve gotta trust and believe in yourself, my loves. you’re an absolute badass – pop out and act like it! 10:10 on the clock. stop getting so caught up in the idea of what you think should be perfect. nothing and no one is perfect and ironically that’s the beauty of life lol shit ain’t always sweet and that’s okay. the world keeps spinning. it might not seem like it now but you will be more than okay, trust me! your person can’t wait to be in your orbit eeek i’m giddy at the thought of you two connecting. you don’t even realize it but your spirit guides are working overtime to make this connection happen hehe it starts with you though, babe. buckle up cause your person is ready. are you down to ride?

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

michael, breakfast at tiffany’s, NYC, month of may, one of the girls by the weeknd ft. lily rose depp & jennie, looks like MBJ, leo, 7H, 6H/virgo venus.

[yenqa]

SO AMERICAN! | where you meet tsukishima and—wow you are so american.

♫ – currently playing… olivia rodrigo

warnings – profanity, reader is learning japanese and is american if u couldnt tell! reader is called pretty

pairing – tsukishima x fem!reader

a/n – hashtag semi hiatus! anyways i was reading an ao3 fic while listening to this song and it sparked smth in me so enjoy! (did my research on culture shocks btw guys!!)

word count – 571

You’re smiling at him like you know him.

Tsukishima doesn’t know you. He’s just seen you for the first time when you walked into the gym–presumably to become the manager for the club next year.

It’s starting to worry him, you haven’t been properly introduced, only your eyes have met a few times, yet you don’t hesitate to smile every time you make contact.

You’re not in the same class. But he can tell by your mannerisms that you’re a foreign student. You talk a little louder than most, and your Japanese is accented but not enough where he can’t understand.

He knows he’s spot on when you go to greet Daichi with a handshake, he can see you firmly grip his hand which catches him off guard.

Y/n. That’s your name.

It’s a pretty name he admits to himself, you’re a pretty girl so it fits. He doesn’t acknowledge that–or tries not to.

You’re standing in front of the whole team being introduced to everyone, waving and smiling like you’re old friends.

He can see from his peripheral vision when they all bow that you’re unsure of what to do. You awkwardly tilt your body down too, and he lets out a quiet chuckle.

It’s cute.

He’s disgusted by himself, he thinks that something is up with him.

Shaking his head, he starts his warmups.

He tries not to keep his eye on you, but he can’t help it.

You’re holding a clipboard now, there's a paper on it he can’t see, but he can tell by your furrowed brows that you’re still struggling a bit with reading.

Making an excuse for himself, he walks up to where his water bottle–luckily right next to where you are, turns around and takes a sip of it. He’s standing right next to you now, reading the same paper as him.

Your eyes scan left to right on the paper, he laughs.

Whipping your head over, you ask, “Is something wrong?”

“Right to left, we read right to left.” He speaks a little slower than his usual pace—hoping you wouldn’t be offended.

You aren’t a smile grows on your face instead. “Oh my gosh–I was wondering what was wrong this whole time!” You laugh at yourself, thanking him quietly before restarting, eyes moving right to left this time.

“You’re so american.” He mutters, a chuckle comes out of him as he says it.

“Is that a compliment?” You ask, the paper is discarded now, your full attention is on him.

“Whatever you want it to be.”

You roll your eyes, hitting his shoulder with no real force behind it, “Whatever Kei.”

He doesn’t miss the fact that you’ve called him Kei instead of his surname. He brushes it off as another mistake, you’re new to the country after all.

Later he hears you complimenting “Kageyama and Hinata”, your voice is still louder than what a normal student speaks, and you’re gushing about their skills, to their faces. But then he looks over at you, and you two make eye contact.

He almost misses how you wink at him, it's a teasing one but it still makes his heart flutter. Then as quickly as you looked over, you looked away, a bright smile present on your face while you talked to his other teammates.

It’s definitely not fair of you to make him feel this much. Because he might just fall in love.

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[traveler-at-heart]

You're ok

Summary: As you recover from a life threatening mission, Natasha struggles to be vulnerable.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Edit: The last part is a scene from The Diplomat's season 2. Highly recommend the show, as it also has our lovely Ali Ahn ( AKA Alice Wu)

Death is part of the job. You had always been prepared for it.

Failure and a slow recovery were things that you were less inclined to accept.

It was hard to deal with the fact you had been ambushed, and almost killed by a bomb in what was supposed to be an easy mission.

Two weeks after being confined to the sterile hospital walls you’re back at the Compound. Bucky offered to help, carrying your things and lending his arm as support.

You certainly didn’t expect the rest of the Avengers on the foyer, excited to greet you.

“Don’t make a fuss” you say, letting them hug you. Wanda rolls her eyes, taking your bag.

“It’s a miracle you’re alive. We’re gonna make a fuss”

“Just for today, let us make a big deal out of this” Steve says.

You had seen all of your teammates when they visited at the hospital, with one notable exception.

Said exception walks through the door, the hint of a smile on her beautiful face as your eyes meet green ones.

“Welcome back” Natasha says, her tone gentle.

“Thank you”

“Romanoff might like you, she almost smiled” Tony says, but you don’t pay him attention.

“That’s just because I thought you weren’t here” Natasha walks past him, squeezing your good arm as a silent goodbye. How you wish you could follow after her, ask why she didn’t even stop by once, but she’s hurrying out the room in record time, as if she can sense your intentions.

Truthfully, you won’t act on them. Natasha doesn’t owe you anything, not even a get well card.

“Let’s get you settled in your new room” Tony becons, and you frown.

“New room? What happened to the old one?”

“This one has some improvements. You’re gonna love it”

It’s evident he still feels guilty over what happened, though it was definitely not his fault that you almost got killed.

The new room has a mini fridge, a giant tv, a king size bed, and a small couch. It also has a huge bathtub, as well as an incredible view of the forest behind the Compound.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s… I’m perfectly fine going back to my old room”

“Can I have it if she doesn’t want it?” Sam intervenes, looking around the space.

“Come on, you’re gonna be using crutches for a while. You need a bigger space. And entertainment”

“It’s true” Steve says. “Of course we all want to be optimistic but…”

The doctors had said it would take at least six weeks to get you walking without aid. And then, you’d have to train and get back in shape. You are looking at two or three months of recovery.

It’s not that you dislike the bigger space or amenities. It’s the fact that Natasha was closer to you in the other room, and so you’d meet her most mornings as you’d step out to hit the gym or make breakfast.

Now, not only is she emotionally distant, she’s also physically away. And you don’t know which is worse.

“I’ll give it a try” you promise, though you know nothing will be better than your old room.

—

There are unexpected challenges that come with your injuries. Like cooking breakfast. Wanda is more than happy to help most days, but she’s been out for a mission the past week. You could have stuck to cereal, except Steve is always around by the time you wake up, and he insists on making your breakfast.

It’s a nice gesture, though the food is horrible.

You’ve spent the better part of your morning  playing with your eggs, considering eating cereal again, when someone places a cup of coffee and a paper bag next to you.

“I don’t know who told Steve he could cook” Natasha says with a smile.

“He means well” you answer, and wait for her to nod towards the bag to inspect its contents. Grilled cheese and a scone. Your mouth waters at the smell.

“You’re amazing, Natasha, honestly” you say between bites, moaning at the taste. “I can’t remember the last time I ate something this good. Except Wanda’s food, of course”

“Enjoy” she says, taking away the plate with eggs for you.

You were hoping to have her company while you eat, but maybe that’s too much to hope for.

—

At last, there’s something you can do. While everyone is busy with missions, you focus on reports and intelligence, which is perfect, because all you have to do is sit and read.

There are still deadlines and though no one wants to put pressure on you, you make sure nothing is delayed. As you keep reading in one of the conference rooms, the door is pushed open and you look up, alarmed at the sudden intrusion.

“Yes?” you say, pushing your glasses up, staring at Natasha. She turns around, struggling to speak.

“Y-you should be resting”

“I’m doing Bucky’s reports. You know how he is, he can’t type anything in the computer”

“It’s close to midnight. Have you even had dinner yet? I’m sure he won’t mind if you do them later”

“Nat. It’s fine, honestly” you say, smiling at her awkwardness. “I like to feel useful”

She nods, looking around the room, as if weighting her options. Moving away from the door, she walks and sits next to you, checking out some of the paperwork you’re reviewing

“Someone should have really taught James how to type” she mutters when she gets to the part where Bucky wrote target pulled out a cock instead of Glock.

You snort out a laugh, because it’s the dumbest fucking thing in the world.

“Ten bucks if you leave it like that” she insists and you shake your head.

“I considered it but then Tony wouldn’t know when to stop the teasing”

“Fair” she tilts her head, still smiling at you.

It’s obvious now that Natasha’s staying to make sure you go back to rest soon. So you enjoy the silence that comes with her presence, thinking this might be a step in the right direction.

But then, you stretch your arms above your head, forgetting about the stitches in your side until you feel a pull.

“Fuck” you bend over in pain, and Natasha is by your side in an instant. “It’s ok. I just stretched too hard. Forgot I still have a hole on my side”

Natasha’s hands hold on to the edge of the table, as if she’s struggling between storming out and staying.

“You should get some rest now” she manages to say, eyes not meeting your own.

“I’m fine”

Natasha gets ready to argue, but then reconsiders and just nods.

“I’ll leave you to it. Goodnight”

The redhead leaves the room in a hurry, and you wonder what could have possibly made her so upset.

For the next few days, you don’t see Natasha at all, and a part of you is certain she’s avoiding you.

As you lay in bed, watching a movie with Wanda, you keep going back to your interaction. Did you say something offensive? Was she simply too repulsed by weakness and didn’t know how to deal with it?

Is she avoiding me? Am I overthinking?

“She is and you are” Wanda says, her eyes never leaving the screen.

“But why… now wait a minute” you click your tongue, looking at your friend.

“I didn’t mean to, your thoughts are so loud. And so are Natasha’s. When you came back she was having a screaming match inside her head”

“What do you mean? What was she thinking?”

“No, that’s where I draw the line. If you want to know, ask her”

“If I ever see her again, sure” you mutter, though you know you lack the confidence to confront Natasha. Even if you had the chance, what’s there to say? "Hey, why are you making sure we only see each other when strictly necessary?"

She doesn’t like you, that’s the only explanation. Natasha is just being polite to keep appearances and the screaming inside her head was probably her thinking how much she wished you were still at the hospital.

Wanda snorts next to you, making you glare.

“Outta my head”

“Hey, I’m trying to watch the movie. You’re the one that needs to keep it quiet up there”

A few days later and you still have no idea how to approach Natasha. Mind you, she’s only been around the kitchen to get coffee once or twice, spending the rest of her time in missions or at the gym across the Compound.

The only time you’re not thinking about her is when the physical pain is distracting you. Like now, while changing your bandages. The doctors told you to get someone to help, but you already get help with food, laundry, even changing your god damn sheets. You’ll be damned if you ask for help with this.

“Fuckfuckfuck” you clearly did something wrong because the dressing is stuck around the edges. You pull again, but the pain is too much, so you plop down in bed. There’s a knock at the door, and you groan, which will hopefully make whoever’s on the other side go away.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Natasha says, rushing to your side.

“Can’t change my bandages” you say, not caring if your incompetence upsets her.

“Can I look?”

You nod, sitting up so she can see for herself the mess you’re in. Her hands are surprisingly soft and tender, and you’re almost dozing off while Natasha works silently.

Except when there’s a tug and you jump back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’ll be just one painful pull, ok?” the woman says, one of her hands going to your cheek. Your eyes meet and the way she’s looking at you almost makes the pain go away.

“Ok” you nod. Natasha takes it off in a swift movement, and all you can do is take a sharp breath as your skin stings. “Fuck me” you say through gritted teeth.

“I don’t think you’d enjoy it that much with the state you’re in” she jokes, which makes you smile.

“You know what I mean”

“Just teasing”

“You’re certainly good”

Natasha keeps working in silence, and you worry you may have crossed a line. When she’s done, she picks up the trash and goes to throw it away.

“Ask for help next time”

“I need help for everything. I wanted to at least do something on my own without being a burden”

“You’re not a burden” she says, her back to you as she washes her hands on the sink.

Something comes over you, and when Natasha walks by your side to exit the room, your hand shoots up to hold her wrist.

“Y/N?”

“I… I missed you. I know we’re colleagues and all I do is share whatever meal I’m having, or train with you from time to time. I know I can’t really do any of those things right now. I’m inconsequential, I know, to your life and to whatever you do. But I do miss you, Natasha. And I wish I didn’t care so much”

It feels like her skin is burning under your fingers, so you let go, ashamed at your little outburst. You’re expecting her to leave without another word but instead, she kneels to meet your eyes.

“You’re the opposite of inconsequential. But I don’t know how to care without being vulnerable”

“I don’t think that’s possible. Caring is vulnerability” you say softly. “But it’s also a strenght. It means you’re not alone”

Natasha smiles, a genuine smile for the first time in weeks. She’s about to say something else when FRIDAY calls for her at the conference room.

At this hour, it only means one thing. She stands up, looking apologetic.

“Be careful” is all you can say as she leaves the room.

—

A party is the last thing you’re in the mood for. Not only are you still wearing a cane (an improvement from the crutches) but Natasha has been gone for several days to complete a mission only a handful of people know about.

It makes you anxious, to think she might be in danger, though she is the most capable agent in the entire world.

“So glad you made it” Tony says when you finally show up. It took some convincing on Wanda’s part, but you agreed once you found an outfit that didn’t require you to wear heels.

The Avengers are at their own couch, talking and laughing. Bucky has apointed himself as your personal waiter, bringing snacks and drinks.

“Any word on Nat?” Stark asks, which distracts you from the conversation with Sam.

“Said she was still stuck at the debriefing” Steve shrugs his shoulders. It’s no surprise, if she can avoid these parties, Natasha will.

At least she’s home and safe. That brings you some peace of mind, and you’re able to enjoy the rest of the party.

Tony announces the fireworks are about to start, and you relunctantly stand next to the huge crowd assembled at the front yard of the Compound.

The first burts of color is followed by a couple of cheers.

But it’s different for you.

The booming sound, the lights, it all sets you on edge.

You’ve been around explosions before, and this had never happened. Frozen in place, you try to close your eyes and control your breathing as the noises increase your anxiety.

How you wish you could run back to your room right now, but it’s nearly impossible to walk between everyone.

“It’s ok” a voice says, and there’s the warmth of another body next to yours. “You’re ok”

“Nat” you sigh with relief, closing your eyes. Another firework explodes and you jump.

“Look at me” she says, her hand going up and down your back in a soothing motion. You nod, turning your body so she can wrap both arms around your waist. “Breathe with me”

You follow her lead, in and out, until your heartbeat is steady again.

“You’re ok” she says, this time more of a reminder to herself. “And I’m here”

“Thank you” you lean your forehead against hers, letting her decide if she wants to take that final step. Natasha smiles, a hand cupping your cheek as her lips meet yours in a tender kiss.

“I missed you too” she says when you break apart.

“I’m not going anywhere”

[the-ace-with-spades]

So, I imagine that Soap is around 5'11, which is not short at all, even if it seems so if you look at the people he works with.

However, from his whole family, he is the tallest.

His da is 5'8, his brother is 5'9, his sisters are 5'2 and 5'3 and his mam is 5' nothing. To his family, Johnny is not only tall but also overgrown.

(This is also why entering the military was a shock to the system --- Soap was used to being pretty tall if not the tallest person around and then boom, he's smol)

The first time Soap takes Ghost to his family home, he is instantly named a giant. Literally, his mam when she sees him says something along the lines of 'and I thought my boy was a giant' and his da makes the typical joke of 'what does the army feed you?' and one of Soap's sister says she 'woulda climb him like a tree too if she had the chance' and his brother goes all 'was gonna give the fella a shovel talk but I think he's too big too bury by myself any case'. Soap is so embarrassed by them but Ghost is awkwardly shy anytime his height is pointed out.

On top of it, he tries to help Soap's mam in the kitchen (I like to think he likes to cook) and there is the comical image of her, standing there tiny at 5'0 and Ghost towering over her at 6'3 or 6'4 (Soap's not sure, Simon slouches often) and trailing behind her as she orders him around. There's literally a moment when she goes to grab herself a step ladder to reach something on the top shelf and Ghost just stretches his arm a bit and gets it for her. She might or might not ask if he can dust the cobwebs from the corners of the ceilings she can't reach herself. (Ghost dusts the cobwebs, duh, even if Johnny can't snicker at him enough).

Johnny's brother uses Ghost's height to make his kid eat his veggies, 'if you eat your veggies, you're going to grow as tall as him'. Ghost goes along with it.

The kids in general treat him like a walking jungle gym --- especially because he's not only tall but also strong enough to function as a walking jungle gym. One of Soap's nieces who used to love piggyback rides from him now insists Ghost has to be the one because he makes her feel taller than Soap does.

They're supposed to sleep in Soap's childhood bedroom and Soap's da brings in an ottoman and a couple of pillows so Ghost's feet 'don't stick out'. Soap laughs it off until he realizes that Ghost's feet would, in fact, stick out from his tiny double bed if he slept straightened out.

[p0orbaby]

Could you go an request for Leah Williamson x Reader.

Leah has a crush on reader, no one knows except for Alessia who caught her watching edits of reader. The team are in the gym, doing pulls up, weights all that stuff. And Leah can’t keep her eyes off you. Getting turned on by the movements and flex muscles. Alessia seeing this teases her through-out the whole time.

-

The gym reeks of dedication, effort, and that specific brand of post-workout musk that no amount of designer deodorant can hide. It’s all heavy bass music, the metallic clang of weights, and the occasional grunt from someone pretending this is their 15th rep, not their fourth. You’re mid-pull-up, arms flexing in a way that looks almost unfair to the human eye. Leah, meanwhile, is failing miserably at playing it cool.

She’s not even trying, really. She’s perched on a bench with a dumbbell that’s more decorative than functional, staring at you like you’re the last goal in stoppage time. Her gaze keeps flicking from your biceps to your shoulders, her jaw tightening whenever you move.

“Subtle,” Alessia whispers from the treadmill beside her, not even pretending to hide her smirk. She’s seen this before—caught Leah at 11 p.m., huddled over her phone, watching a fan-made TikTok edit of you scoring last season. Leah had looked up, panicked, and slammed her phone down like a teenager caught watching something decidedly not safe for work. Alessia hasn’t let it go since.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leah hisses, trying and failing to keep her eyes on her dumbbell. She gives it a half-hearted curl, immediately setting it down because apparently, five kilos is suddenly too heavy.

“Right,” Alessia drawls, upping the treadmill incline just to feel something. “You’re just admiring the… technique?”

“Exactly”

Your laugh cuts through the gym noise, and Leah flinches, like she’s been caught red-handed. You’re joking with Katie McCabe, something about the pull-up bar being too high for her. Leah swears she’s never been jealous of metal equipment before, but here she is, wishing she were that bar.

“Look at her,” Alessia says, low enough for only Leah to hear. “Flexing, laughing, being all… sweaty”

Leah glares. “Stop”

“Stop what? Observing?” Alessia bats her lashes. “Honestly, it’s inspiring. You should go tell her she’s doing great. Maybe offer to spot her?”

Leah shakes her head, panic flashing across her face. “I’m not that obvious”

Alessia’s grin widens. “Mate, you’re a blinking neon sign. I half expect you to start holding up a banner that says, Please notice me, Reader”

Leah clenches her jaw, staring fixedly at the ground like it’s personally offended her. You’ve moved on to the bench press now, lying back, the muscles in your arms and chest taut as you push the barbell up. Leah makes the mistake of glancing up.

“Christ,” she mutters under her breath, her ears turning red.

“Christ can’t help you,” Alessia quips, leaning forward on the treadmill handles. “You’re done for”

You finish your set, sitting up and wiping the sweat off your brow with your shirt, inadvertently flashing just the tiniest sliver of toned stomach. Leah, already fighting a losing battle, looks like she might combust.

“Alright, that’s it,” Alessia announces, stepping off the treadmill and grabbing a water bottle. “I can’t watch you suffer like this anymore. Either talk to her, or I’m telling the entire team you’ve got a crush the size of Wembley on her.”

Leah’s eyes widen, and she grabs Alessia’s arm in a death grip. “You wouldn’t”

Alessia just raises an eyebrow. “Try me”

Before Leah can argue, you saunter over, a casual smile on your lips and a towel slung around your neck.

“Hey,” you say, glancing between the two of them. “What’s all this about?”

Leah’s brain short-circuits. Alessia, unbothered and enjoying herself far too much, grins. “Leah was just saying how impressed she is with your form. Weren’t you, Leah?”

Leah stammers something incoherent, her face flaming, and you tilt your head, amused.

“Well,” you say, smirking just enough to make Leah’s pulse spike, “I’m more than happy to book you in for a one-on-one to show you the ropes, if you’d like?”

You walk away before Leah can respond, leaving Alessia in stitches and Leah questioning every decision that led her to this moment.

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

MOUTHWASHING CHARACTERS HEADCANONS!

under the cut!

Captain, Grant Curly.

Nationality : His mother is Half Australian/Canadian. And his father is Half British/American.

Age: 36

Height: 193 cm ( 6'4 )

Sexuality: he is questioning,but he definitely ain't straight.

Comes from a very big and happy family,is the 3rd oldest brother to 2 sisters and 1 brother. And has 2 older brothers.

His parents are very happily married.

His family is the type to host dinner parties every now and then and invite the entire neighborhood over for barbeques.

has a reputation of being 'the picture perfect family'.

He is the tallest out of his siblings.

Got his driver's license first.

Is very protective of all of his siblings,even the older ones.

Valedictorian.

Was the sports team's captain for 3 years running.

Extremely well liked at the gym,lots of newcomers look up to him.

Can play the violin, effortlessly.

Can also play the guitar very well.

His family had a Rottweiler for 17 years.

All of his siblings have moved out.

Was a very popular jock in high school,but so kind that students and teachers alike loved him.

Met Jimmy in middle school,and for some reason became joint at the hip with him. His fellow peers didn't understand why he liked jimmy so much.

Has had a fuckton of girlfriends all throughout highschool and college.

Only drinks beer,does not smoke.

Is kind of a country bumpkin.

Co-Pilot, Jimmy "Jim" Zare.

Nationality: American. ( Mom is from Louisiana,Dad is from Florida ) Born and brought up in Texas.

Age: 34

Height: 180 cm ( 5'11 )

Sexuality: Closeted gay with internalised homophobia.

Comes from a nuclear family consisting of him and his parents.

Did not have a happy home life growing up.

His parents did not have a happy marriage and were constantly fighting.

M O M M Y I S S U E S

his mother didn't like him from the get go,he was very close with his father up until his death.

His mysogynistic behaviour comes from the pent up hatred towards his mother.

Used to be a kleptomaniac.

Contrary to popular belief,he takes good care of his hygiene.

tw. ( used to self harm,but hated his scars,hence he always wears full sleeved clothes )

When he met curly,he wanted so badly to be friends with him because he thought he was so cool.

Had no friends other then curly growing up.

Picked up a smoking habit at the age of 14.

Heavy drinker.

Although he is quite lanky,his agility is shit.

Might be ooc for him,but he's an incredibly talented chef. But hates talking about it.

His grades were average at best growing up.

Was a great swimmer.

After his mother's death,his grandparents took him in.

Has a huge ass crush on curly but feels so disgusted with himself that he passes homophobic comments in front of curly to erase any suspicions.

This pent up crush slowly started building up into hatred.

The school counselor did try to look out for him,but he just never cared.

Never been in a relationship.

Nurse,Anya Marinova

Nationality: American/Russian.

Age: 29

Height: 175 cm ( 5'9 )

Sexuality: Closeted Lesbian.

Her parents divorced shortly after she was born,she never really saw her father because her mother moved to America soon after the divorce.

Her father did help out with her education.

She has a half-sister. ( Same mother different father )

Is very close to her half-sister.

Her sister was diagnosed with stage 2 cancer at the age of 7,it's where she got her dream to be a nurse from.

Loves listening to music when she goes out for walks.

Is a skilled scuba diver.

The only makeup she wears is mascara.

Isn't really all that close with her mother.

Her grades were very very impressive up until college,where she slipped due to feeling burnt out.

Jollibee > Kfc

She has visited russia once when she was 8

Used to have a pet snake.

Has lots and lots and lots of friends from high school and college that she still hangs out with.

Doesn't drink but occasionally smokes due to stress. ( She has never told a single soul this )

Prior to boarding the tulpar she had heard about curly. ( Due to his popularity )

Loves sweet things.

Wanted to be a vet originally.

Mechanic,Swansea Harold.

Nationality: American. with Welsh/Irish Ancestry.

Age: 58

Height: 172 cm ( 5'8 )

Sexuality: Straight.

Used to slack off in college.

His father passed away without having seen his son's sobriety.

His mother was heavily disappointed in him,up until he decided to get sober.

Is the middle child of 7 siblings.

His older brothers helped him out financially throught out his struggling years.

He met his wife when he was in his mid to late thirties,his wife had already been divorced with a son.

After his marriage he had a daughter with her.

Drinks root beer a lot.

His sneaker collection is no joke,he has a closet dedicated to them.

Curly was an intern of his,and he is incredibly proud of him.

He actually had given his paella recipe to jimmy.

Snores very loud.

Dislikes sweet and heavily spicy things.

'who the fuck messed with the thermostat?' kind of a dad.

Has showed up to every single one of his kid's school events.

Is quite scared of his father in law.

Whenever Daisuke would fall asleep,he would sometimes sneakily play on his game boy kid.

Mechanic Intern,Daisuke Juanez

Nationality: Half Japanese/ Half Mexican.

Age: 20

Height: 177 cm ( 5'10 )

Sexuality: Questioning.

has 3 older sisters.

His parents relationship was quite tumultuous but they always managed to work it out.

Comes from wealth.

His three sisters are already well settled in different countries.

Was very popular back in high school and college.

Although his grades weren't the brightest,his charismatic personality is what drew people to him.

Runs very fast.

Although he was popular, he's only been in a relationship twice.

The arcade which he frequents has kids waiting for him to show up,to teach them how to win.

Loves to eat different cuisines. ( Indian and Mexican are his top ones! )

Loves eating spicy food.

Had a weeb phase.

Used to be in the theatre club in school.

His family loves animals.

Has 7 cats.

He got his left ear pierced at 16. His mom whooped the shit out of him.

Very clumsy,has random ass bruises all over his body.

[jupiterpilgrim]

SEX CAGE - A Certain Kind of Freedom

Kwon Eunbi x male reader

word count: 14K

part 1

Eunbi and Somi are lounging on the couch, comfortably wrapped in the delicious art of gossip — the kind of conversation that could fuel hours of free entertainment, without the need for Netflix or Wi-Fi. Eunbi grabs another cookie, chewing slowly as Somi talks with the passion of someone who just watched the latest episode of a dramatic reality show.

"You heard the latest about Mina, right?" Somi starts, her voice full of that conspiratorial tone only someone who truly revels in other people's misfortunes can master.

Eunbi raises an eyebrow, with the moderate interest of someone who knows this is going to be good. "Oh, Mina, the embodiment of perfection... at least according to herself."

Somi nearly chokes with laughter. "Yes! And can you believe her boyfriend dumped her to date her younger sister?!" She drops the news as if she’s revealing the biggest scandal of the week, which, for their circle, might just be.

Eunbi stifles a laugh, which turns into a rather sadistic smile. "Of course, because obviously the only way to escape that arrogance was... to dive headfirst into an even bigger mess. Congrats to him for making the dumbest choice available."

Somi slaps Eunbi’s arm, laughing. "The worst part is, apparently the sister thought it was cute that he tattooed her name on his arm. Cheap tattoo, mind you. And, of course, she fell for him right then and there. Because nothing says 'I love you' like a bad tattoo."

Eunbi grimaces, shaking her head. "A name tattoo is like signing a contract with disaster. But hey, everyone does what they can with the little brain they have, right?"

They burst into laughter again, the kind of shared humor only longtime friends can appreciate — especially when they’re mocking someone they never really liked. The sound echoes through the apartment, and for a moment, it’s almost like they’re back in the days when their biggest worry was deciding which nail polish to wear that week.

Somi finally catches her breath and looks at Eunbi with a softer expression. “But seriously... you’re glowing, you know? You’ve got such amazing energy! Way different from the last time we talked, when you were, like, at rock bottom with the whole unemployment thing.”

Eunbi feels her stomach churn slightly. Ah, rock bottom. What dark times those were (three months ago). Until she turned things around, of course, but by means Somi can’t — and shouldn’t — know about. Eunbi plays with her hair, as if she can brush away the discomfort with the gesture. “Ah, you know... things have gotten better. Lucky for me, my roommate is super smart.”

Somi narrows her eyes, curious. “Smart how? Did he help you get a new job or something?”

Eunbi tries not to sweat. She can’t exactly admit that her current 'job' involves cameras, masks, and an eager audience hungry for more content. So, the lie flows, smooth as oil. “Oh, you know, he’s into all that nerdy stuff. Investments, bitcoins, NFTs... those complicated things only weirdos understand. He’s been covering the bills for now.”

Somi looks at Eunbi, genuinely impressed. “Wow, you really lucked out! A rich nerdy roommate. Sounds like one of those cliché romances.”

Eunbi lets out a nervous smile. “Yeah, it was a good roll of the dice.” Before Somi can start connecting dots or asking more complicated questions, Eunbi quickly decides to steer the conversation in a different direction. “But enough about that. Now that I have more time, I’m thinking of going back to the gym. What do you think about us going together? Like, a triumphant return to the fitness life.”

Somi almost spills her tea in excitement. “You? The gym? I’m shocked!! But seriously, that’s awesome! What gave you the sudden motivation?”

Eunbi smiles, satisfied to have shifted the topic to safer ground. “Oh, you know... health, staying in shape, that kind of thing. And now that I’ve got more free time, I’ve got no excuses, right?”

Of course, the real reason for the new gym routine was less noble and more... vain. Keeping that ‘porn goddess body’ requires work, after all. The cameras don’t lie, but they definitely have their preferences. And Eunbi was determined to live up to those expectations — hers, the fans’, and anyone else willing to pay to watch.

Somi gets excited about the idea, clapping her hands animatedly. “I LOVE this! Finally, a gym buddy! We can even take those post-workout selfies, you know? Like, ‘no pain, no gain.’ It’s going to be great!”

Eunbi laughs, already picturing herself doing squats while Somi films her for Instagram. “It’ll be fun. My goal will be to get abs like yours.”

The conversation flows smoothly, with occasional laughs and sharp gossip, until the apartment door opens and you walk in, as usual, a bit clumsy, unaware that you’re interrupting the gathering. Somi turns her head to look at you, surprised but with her usual friendly, easy smile.

“Hey! Long time no see!” She gets up to greet you while you try to force a tired smile and give her a quick hug. Not that you don’t like Somi; she’s great, really, but she always brings this certain energy that leaves you feeling slightly... drained. The kind of person who could empty the battery of an entire room just by showing up.

“How’s it going?” you ask, trying to be polite as you prepare to escape to your room.

Somi responds with the same enthusiasm as always. “Everything’s great! And you? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Ah, I’m good too. Make yourselves at home, don’t mind me, I’m just heading to my cave,” you say, and with that, you finally make your way to your room.

Barely closing the door, Somi, who never misses an opportunity, turns to Eunbi with a curious gleam in her eye.

“So, has he been bringing a lot of girls around here?”

Eunbi lets out a theatrical sigh, as if the question were more ridiculous than it actually was. “Thank God, no. He’s always been pretty chill, actually. More of a stay-at-home, play-video-games type than the ‘hook up with everyone’ kind.”

Somi crosses her arms, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Really? That’s funny. He’s cute. And I always thought cute guys were taken. What a waste.”

Eunbi tries to keep her composure, but something about Somi finding you cute bothers her. Not that she’s jealous. Obviously not! But hearing Somi compliment you... well, let’s just say it’s irritating. “Yeah, he’s cute. But anyway, back to the topic... the gym, right? I think I’ll start tomorrow.”

“Great! The gym I go to is amazing, you’ll love it.”

Eunbi smiles, satisfied with the sudden shift in conversation, and decides to change the course even further.

"By the way, I’ve always wanted to ask you something, Somi... have you ever been with a girl?"

Somi almost breaks the cookie she was about to eat. She blinks, processing the question. “Uh... like, kissed?”

Eunbi shrugs. “Kissed, hooked up, anything. Has it ever happened?”

Somi, still a bit taken aback, furrows her brow. “Ah, kissing, sure. Everyone’s kissed a friend after a few drinks, right? It’s like a friendship ritual.”

Eunbi lets out a little laugh. “So, just a kiss then? Nothing more?”

Now, Somi’s completely intrigued. She places her teacup carefully on the coffee table, as if she’s about to disarm a bomb. “Well... I’ve never slept with a girl, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Eunbi continues to probe. “And... would you try it?”

She pauses, looking at Eunbi more intently now, as if trying to catch the hidden subtext in the question. Then, connecting some dots, maybe a bit hastily, she smiles slightly. “Wait... are you suggesting that—”

But before Somi can finish her sentence, Eunbi waves her hand, as if shooing away a bunch of unwanted thoughts. “No, no! Nothing like that. I’m not suggesting anything. I was just curious.”

Somi laughs, but there’s a faint thread of tension in the air now, something light, something that wasn’t there before. “Oh, okay. Because, you know, I wouldn’t judge if you were thinking about it. I mean, you’re gorgeous, I’m gorgeous... It wouldn’t exactly be a tragedy.”

Eunbi gives a short, controlled laugh, like someone who needs to keep the train on the tracks. “I know, but that’s not it. I was just asking.”

Somi relaxes, but the mischievous look doesn’t fade. “Ah, got it. Just checking if the hot friend’s into girl-on-girl stuff. Sure, makes sense. Now tell me, what about you? Ever been with a girl?”

“Well... like you, I’ve kissed some friends a few times, you know, those party moments when everyone’s drunk and hyped. But I never... went beyond that, you know?”

Somi puts on a fake dramatic act, clutching her chest like she's deeply offended. "What? You've kissed other friends but never me? And here I thought our friendship was special!"

Eunbi, with the calm of someone who always has an answer ready, shrugs. "Well, we could change that right now, if you want."

Somi raises an eyebrow, surprised, but a smile begins to form on her lips. "Are you serious?"

Eunbi simply nods. "Why not? Friends do these things, right?"

If this were a book, this would be the moment when the reader holds their breath, eagerly anticipating what's next.

Then, without much fuss, Somi gives a mischievous smile, and they both lean forward until their lips touch in a quick, simple kiss. No drama, no complications. Just a brief moment, but with an underlying tension neither of them will admit to.

When they pull away, Eunbi smiles like she just checked off something from her to-do list.

"There. Now you're part of the exclusive group of friends I've kissed."

Somi laughs, raising her cup of tea. "Wow, what an honor. Let's toast to that."

Eunbi raises hers too, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "To open friendships."

They clink their cups, the sound echoing through the room, and the atmosphere relaxes again, as if nothing unusual just happened.

—

[12:03 AM]

Yujin: Heyyyy Rubydden! 🖤✨ Saw your sextape, girl, you SLAYED! Congrats!

[12:07 AM]

Rubydden: Omg, thanksss! I was so nervous, you have no idea 😳

[12:08 AM]

Yujin: Nervous? Pff, no way. You looked super natural. You’ve got that je ne sais quoi. Like... I dunno, a mix of dominatrix and Instagram fairy, you know?

[12:09 AM]

Rubydden: 😂😂 What a description! Now I gotta add that to my bio. But seriously, I loved what you do too. I watched some of your vids and I was like... wow ❤️🔥

[12:11 AM]

Yujin: Some? Haha, liar, bet you binged them all 😏

[12:15 AM]

Rubydden: Well... maybe five or six 😅

---

[10:35 AM]

Yujin: Look, I'm gonna be blunt... I got off to your titjob. That was AVN Awards level 🥵💦

[10:36 AM]

Rubydden: 😳 Omg! Wasn’t expecting that. Now I’m blushing

[10:37 AM]

Yujin: You're a goddess, Rubydden. That close-up on your boobs... girl, perfection!!

[10:38 AM]

Rubydden: Haha, I thought the same about you when I saw that video of you making yourself squirt... hard to forget

[10:39 AM]

Yujin: Haha perfect! But seriously, that titjob you did... I had to grab a vibrator because it was sooo hot 🔥

[10:40 AM]

Rubydden: OMG, really?! I'm feeling flattered now 🙈

[10:41 AM]

Yujin: Of course!! I’m not gonna lie, you and your guy have crazy chemistry. Ever tried a threesome?

[10:42 AM]

Rubydden: Never tried, actually. But I've always been curious... 🤔 Why, got something in mind?

[10:44 AM]

Yujin: Girl, if you haven't tried it, you're missing out, seriously. I've done it a few times and, for real, it’s amazing. Now, imagine this: me, you, and your guy in a video. It'd break the internet!!

[10:46 AM]

Rubydden: Wow... That definitely sounds like something to think about. I guess I'd have to talk to him first, right?

[10:47 AM]

Yujin: For sure, for sure! But think about it seriously, okay? We could make something super sensual, something that would drive the audience wild. Plus, it’d be a lot of fun 😉

[10:49 AM]

Rubydden: Haha, gosh, I'm nervous just thinking about it. But I won’t lie... the idea is tempting

[10:50 AM]

Yujin: Trust me, girl. It’s gonna be an experience you won’t forget. And, obviously, who could forget you after that?

—

You’re sitting in Eunbi’s room, her laptop open on the desk in front of you, your eyes skimming over the messages again and again. That dialogue on the screen doesn’t just surprise you, it throws you into a world you didn’t even know existed a few months ago.

Yujin?

Collab?

A threesome?

Eunbi, standing beside you, looks at you like she’s already made up her mind. To her, this is just another chance to go viral again. "So?" she says, tapping your shoulder lightly, a carefree smile on her face. "What do you think?"

You swallow hard, the words getting stuck in your throat. "I... I don’t know what to say."

She frowns a little, but still in a playful way, like she’s hearing someone complain about being hot in the summer. "Oh, you never know what to say. Relax. It’s not that complicated." And then, with a twinkle in her eye: "Yujin's hot, right? And she's got millions of followers. If we do this, it’s gonna be huge. Like, huge."

"It’s not that," you mumble, trying to form something coherent, but all logic seems to slip away from you like sand through your fingers. "I mean, it’s just... all of this... it’s so new."

She lets out a soft laugh, like she was expecting exactly that. "Of course it’s new. I still remember us sitting on the couch freaking out, thinking we’d get evicted from our apartment. Everything’s happening so fast, but look where we are now!" She picks up her phone, scrolling through Yujin’s photo gallery, clearly much more comfortable with the idea than you are.

"But I don’t even... know if I want to do this," you admit, trying to understand why your voice sounds so small in this conversation when you should be shouting HEY, I LOVE YOU, CAN WE TALK ABOUT US?!

"It’s okay to not want to... right now," she replies, still half-distracted as she shows you another picture of Yujin, this one even more provocative. "But seriously, look at this. Us and her? It’s gonna break the internet. And you’d be the luckiest guy in the world." She says it like she’s pitching the latest smartphone, full of perks and no downsides.

"I’m not sure ‘lucky’ is the word I’d use," you laugh awkwardly. How do you explain that, in your head, luck would be getting to take her out to dinner, with no cameras or masks in the way?

She frowns, clearly not understanding why you’re not jumping at the idea. "Okay, then what’s the problem?"

Inside, the knot of emotions keeps growing. You’re still trying to process the fact that you’re falling for your best friend. The girl you’ve always shared everything with, who stood by your side through the tough early days of adulthood. You two share something special... but she doesn’t seem to see it the same way. She’s caught up in the work, the followers, the rising fame.

And you?

You’re caught up in the feeling of falling in love with someone who might only see you as a tool for her career.

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and all you can manage is a frustrated sigh.

"I’ll... think about it, okay?"

She gives you a quick hug, like you’ve just agreed to go to her Barbie-themed party. "Relax, it’s gonna be amazing, you’ll see. We’re doing so well! Maybe, when things calm down, we can even take a trip, just the two of us. What do you think?"

You allow yourself a small smile.

A trip, just the two of you?

That sounds almost... romantic.

"Yeah... that sounds nice."

"Yes! I was thinking maybe the Swiss Alps, how about that? Us in a cozy little cabin, snow falling outside, a fireplace burning... perfect, right?" She looks at you, her eyes shining with the idea. For a brief moment, you imagine the two of you together, far away from everything, just enjoying each other’s company. Damn, that would be perfect.

But, of course, Eunbi continues: "And we could shoot a video there! Imagine, us having sex in front of the fireplace, with the snow falling outside... it’d go viral."

You roll your eyes and take a deep breath. Of course.

Because in the end, that’s what it all boils down to. The romance fades faster than your desire to keep this conversation going.

—

You're lying on the couch, engrossed in your book, when you hear the apartment door open. Eunbi had gone out to pick up a package, and you were already used to her dramatic entrances. But the excitement with which she bursts through the door this time makes you suspicious of what on earth is in that box. It could contain anything from a toaster to a new vibrator powerful enough to emit sound waves detectable by a hydrophone at the bottom of the ocean.

“So, what’d you get this time?” you ask without looking up from your book.

“Oh, you'll find out soon enough,” she replies in a voice full of secrets.

You raise an eyebrow but go back to your book. “Right. Whatever it is, I hope it doesn’t explode.”

She disappears into the bedroom, and for a second, everything returns to normal. You almost convince yourself it’s nothing to worry about… until hours later, when another door opens again, this time with the subtlety of a hurricane. And who enters the room is… well, Eunbi, but a version of her that looks like she just walked out of a weird fanfic written by someone with way too much time on their hands.

She’s wearing a schoolgirl skirt that honestly makes you question the sanity of fashion designers and a baby tee she probably last wore many years ago.

You look at her, half incredulous, half amused, and can’t help but laugh. “Okay, what the hell is that?”

Eunbi spins around like a runway model, making the skirt dangerously twirl. “My new costume! For the next video, obviously.”

You tilt your head, a bit cynical. “What video?”

“I mean, our video,” she corrects. “We’re gonna do a roleplay. I’m the younger sister, and you’re the older brother.”

What?

You frown.

“Wait, what?”

But she moves closer, sitting beside you, her hand strategically landing on your thigh. And it’s that kind of hand slide that makes your neurons scream to ignore it, but of course, your body had already betrayed you the second she walked into the room in that… outfit. Now you start to understand that the mysterious box might have had something to do with this transformation.

“I’m going to be your stepsister,” she begins, while her fingers trace slow circles on your leg, “and our parents aren’t home... and I want to show you something. Something I just discovered, you know, like… sex.”

“Oh, sure. Sex,” you say, as if it’s the most revolutionary concept you’ve ever heard. “Because that’s what every little sister does, right?”

She either ignores the sarcasm or just doesn’t care. “Exactly! Oh, and of course, it won't be anything too scripted, we'll just feel the vibe and improvise. It’s going to be our best video yet. It’ll have that… forbidden touch, you know?”

You lean back on the bed, trying to figure out a way out of this. “So… like… can I finish my book first?”

Her eyes gleam with pure determination as she leans in closer, her hand now dangerously high on your thigh. “You can finish later. This will be quick.”

You had spent the last few days deciding that, no, this was too much, that you weren’t going to have sex with Eunbi just to create content anymore. Boundaries, you told yourself. Self-respect. You were more than that, right? You were going to set limits, be firm...

But now, with her hand so close to something that does not respect any rational decision, those words start to feel distant.

Then she delivers the final blow, the argument that should be illegal in any discussion. “And, look, it’ll be my first anal. You’ll get to fuck my ass. And, to make it better, I’ll let you come inside.”

Your synapses short-circuit. All those mature reflections about feelings and dignity… vanish. The decision you had sworn to keep firm just... dies. Just like that.

Her hand is already on your cock, and of course, it’s already rock-hard. Not that you have much of a choice at this point. Your body had already made the decision for you.

“It’ll be fun,” she says with a slight tease, her fingers now playing with your erection. “And I promise I’ll make you feel... very good.”

You try, by some miracle, to keep your composure. “Okay, but... shouldn’t we have, like, talked about this first?”

She looks at you with an expression that clearly says: Are we really having this conversation right now? “The only thing we need to talk about is how much you want to fuck my ass.”

You let out a sigh—whether of surrender, desire, or just because you’re an idiot, you’re not sure.

But deep down, you knew you were defeated the moment she walked into the room wearing that damned skirt.

Of all the absurd decisions you’ve made, this is probably the most obvious one. With your mind utterly overwhelmed by a mix of desire and confusion, you heard yourself saying yes before you had time to process anything more rational—like, for instance, no.

Eunbi smiles as if she's about to invite you to play house, but a version that would never be allowed on any playground. She bounces off the mattress, as if the thrill of seeing you sink into this pit of poor decisions is a small personal victory, and rushes to the bedroom. You hear the sound of boxes being rummaged through. She comes back with a mask and the camera. Your camera, which, let’s be honest, she practically stole from you a long time ago.

"Here," she says, handing you the equipment with a sparkle in her eyes. "Now I’m going to redo the entrance," she continues, already in full actress mode, putting the mask on, "but this time, you’re going to be my older brother, and I’ll be your... well, you already know."

You sigh, half-amused, half-resigned, but lie down on the bed as instructed, slightly frustrated to give up something important to do... this—and yes, you did consider finishing that book important—but, if we're being honest, resisting Eunbi was like trying to hold water in your hands.

You turn on the TV, something generic is on, maybe a show about giant cakes, which, of course, doesn’t match what’s about to happen. You press the record button on the camera.

And this is how it begins:

The bedroom door opens, and there she is, the personification of every possible cliché of fantasies that shouldn’t exist. A schoolgirl skirt that’s way too short, a baby tee that only someone with questionable taste would consider appropriate for anyone past puberty, and a walk that was almost a caricature. But the strangest thing was how much she had changed. It wasn’t just the outfit. It was everything: the posture, the gestures, even the expression on her face. When she approaches and says, “Hey, big brother,” the voice is so sweet it’s almost sickening.

Pure poisoned sugar.

You glance at her as she sits at the edge of the bed, the camera strategically positioned to film from the neck down, focusing on that damned tight baby tee that accentuates her breasts. “Hey,” you reply, casually.

“Parents are gone,” she announces, sitting beside you on the bed. You mutter something vague in response, more focused on surviving the scene than keeping up the act.

“Remember what dad said before he left?” she asks, with that voice that sounds like it’s meant to sell children’s toys or, in this case, sell the idea of something entirely different.

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure, take care of the house. And you.”

She smiles. But it’s not an innocent smile.

No, definitely not.

"Exactly. And I was thinking… shouldn’t you, like, take care of me now?"

“Hmm, take care of you... how?”

She smiles again, and the insinuation in her voice is so heavy it could sink a ship. "I discovered something. Something people do to feel good. And I think we should try it."

You try to fake indifference, which, of course, doesn’t help at all. "Oh yeah? What’s that?"

She leans in a little more, almost whispering. "The man puts the, um, what’s it called? Penis! That’s it! The man puts the penis into... the vagina... I think that’s it. He puts the penis in the woman’s vagina. That makes them feel good." She pauses, watching your reaction. “I want to try that with you.”

You almost choke on your own saliva.

"What? Who told you that?"

She shrugs, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. "Saw it on the internet."

Ah, of course. The internet. The vast well of wisdom and depravity.

Before you could come up with a reasonable excuse to cut this strange performance—something like ‘I can’t do this, sorry’ or ‘please, I just want to finish my book’—her hand was already on your cock. And, to be fair, that’s exactly what your brain didn’t need at that moment.

“Hey, what are you doing now?” you ask, more because you felt you should say something than because you really wanted an answer.

“Let me see your dick, brother,” she said, as if asking to see the TV remote. “Please, please, please!”

"I can't show you that," you retorted, in vain.

She frowned, but in a mischievous way. “I’ll show you what’s under my panties if you show me your dick.”

And, of course, her next move was to part her leg and lift her skirt, revealing the most enticing panties anyone could imagine—pink, with little animal prints, the full provocation package.

Your self-control—or what was left of it—flew out the window. She kept pressing on your dick over your pants, and finally, you gave in. "Alright, alright."

“Yaaay!!”

Eunbi took on the role with an almost disturbing enthusiasm. When you finally gave in and let her pull down your pants, her eyes lit up with exaggerated curiosity, as if she was dealing with something mysterious, incomprehensible, and worthy of scientific study. She looked at your cock like it was a particularly intriguing puzzle—one to be solved not with logic, but with her hands.

"Wow..." she murmured, her words filled with rehearsed admiration. Her fingertips brushed against the warm skin, exploring as if it was the first time she had ever touched a cock. She giggled and, with a touch that was almost innocent (if it weren’t so provocative), started handling it like she was investigating the workings of a new toy.

“It’s... so big!” The words came out with an overly exaggerated tone of surprise.

You tried to maintain some semblance of indifference, but it was like trying to keep a dam intact in the middle of a hurricane. "Careful there," you said, your voice already tense, feeling every light touch as if your cock was now in the hands of an inexperienced mechanic unsure of how to proceed.

She used both hands, holding it with a curiosity that seemed clumsy but intentionally sensual. “Why is it like this? Like, hard... but the skin’s soft at the same time?” The question was so simple, almost comical in its innocence, that you couldn’t hold back a nervous laugh.

“That’s how it works,” you muttered, the effort to keep your head in the game becoming harder as her hands slid more confidently. She squeezed a little more, testing different ways to hold it, as if searching for the perfect grip, her short nails brushing the sensitive skin in a way that made you squirm.

“And these balls down here?” She looked at them with genuine curiosity, playing with your balls, her gaze still so inquisitive that it almost made you laugh again. “What are they for? Do they get hard too?”

“No...” you took a deep breath, trying to explain without completely losing your composure. “I mean, they can get a little hard when they’re full... They’re… sensitive , just... don’t mess with them too much.”

She laughed, clearly amused by the reaction she was provoking. Her touch grew bolder as she became more familiar with what she was doing, running her hands along the entire length, holding your balls with a mix of care and silly curiosity, like she was weighing something valuable. “Oh, so the balls are sensitive...” she teased, laughing mischievously. "I’ll be careful."

She wasn’t, of course. Her touch, though clumsy for the character, was becoming more precise, more intentional. She knew exactly what she was doing, even if the role demanded a forced innocence.

"Can I... try something?" she asked, lying under your legs, her face so close to your dick that you could feel her warm breath on the tip.

"Try what?"

It was an unnecessary question because the answer was already written between the two of you in bold letters. She knew. You knew. Everyone—including the audience watching this later—knew.

“Can I... lick it?” she asked with the same sweetness as someone asking to taste a piece of candy. She tilted her head, her eyes big and bright behind the mask, and without waiting for an answer, lowered her head and gave a timid lick, almost as if she was testing the taste.

You took a deep breath, your muscles tensing involuntarily. "Go ahead..."

She started licking with small, experimental touches, giggling with each new move as if she was genuinely enjoying herself. "It tastes kind of... salty," she commented, like she was talking about a new gourmet ice cream. She laughed again, licking once more, this time with more intention, running her tongue from the base to the tip with an almost disturbing concentration. "Is that good for you?"

"Fuck yes," you responded, trying to control the moan already escaping your throat.

“Then I’ll keep going...” she murmured, smiling satisfied with herself, like a good sister just wanting to make her older brother feel good.

Her movements were a strange, seductive mix of rehearsed hesitation and almost genuine curiosity. The tip of her tongue traced small lines along your skin, up and down, almost like she was discovering a new flavor. She giggled between licks, which for some reason only made the situation hotter. With each touch, the heat in your body intensified.

“You really like this, huh?” she asked with a feigned innocence that you knew was part of the act, but it didn’t make the situation any less provocative. The way she spoke, as if asking an everyday question, contrasted deliciously with the explicit nature of what she was doing.

You let out a low moan, struggling to maintain some control over the situation. “It’s... incredible,” you replied, your voice already shaky.

She paused for a moment, her eyes shining with interest, as if analyzing the situation from a new angle. “So... if this makes you feel so good, what’s the best part?” The question came with that unsettling curiosity of wanting to learn more, wanting to be better at making her brother happy.

You try to stay focused, fighting the urge to just drop the camera and use both hands to make her gag on your dick. But no, she wanted it to be a game, she wanted it slow—you both had roles to play. "The tip," you said, vaguely pointing to the most sensitive part of your dick. “The tip is... where you should focus more.”

Eunbi raised an eyebrow, amusement clear on her face. "The tip?" She looked at your dick with the same exaggerated fascination, her lips moving slowly as she considered the new challenge. "Okay, big brother... If that’s what will make you feel better."

She leaned her head closer, her gaze fixed on the tip of your dick, like she was about to solve a Rubik’s cube. And then, with calculated slowness, she wrapped her lips around the head, giving a light suck, as if tasting something for the first time.

You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips. The touch of her soft lips, combined with the light pressure of the suction, was simply electrifying. And she seemed to love the reaction she provoked, laughing softly as she continued, her movements increasing in intensity.

“Like this, is it good?” she asked, her voice slightly muffled, as she kept the tip of your dick in her mouth. With each word, the vibration made you lose more and more control.

"Keep going... just like that... it's really good," you managed to say, the words escaping with difficulty. She gave a low, satisfied laugh before going back to what she was doing, now using her tongue to explore the tip with even more curiosity. She swirls her tongue in slow, teasing circles, gently increasing the pressure before relaxing, repeating the motion as if she's experiencing something new each time.

"It's kind of weird," she says suddenly, pulling her mouth away for a second to catch her breath but keeping her hand firmly around your cock, playing with the base like it's something she just learned to use. "But in a good way, you know? Like... kind of funny."

"There's nothing funny about this," you say, almost laughing but trying to keep your composure. "Just... keep doing what you were doing."

She smiles, that mischievous smile that shows she knows exactly what she's doing. "Okay, okay... I'll be a good sister, I promise." And with that, she puts the tip of your cock back in her mouth, now with more determination, sucking with a steady rhythm that makes your whole body react.

You and the camera watch everything, your mind torn between the rising lust and the surrealness of the situation. The way she slips into the role, playing with the idea of being a little sister "discovering" something so dangerous and exciting, only heightens the effect. She sucks the tip with absurd concentration, as if each movement were a new step in a forbidden game.

She pulls the cock out of her mouth again, her hands still busy, and looks at you, eyes gleaming with excitement that comes more from the game than the act itself. "Do you want me to keep going like this? Or should I do something else? I... I can learn quickly, you know."

"So, remember the balls? You can suck them too. I’ll like that a lot."

"You said they’re sensitive, right?" Her voice has that exaggerated tone of curiosity, like she's playing a little sister who wants to learn everything, absolutely everything. "What do I do with these... little balls?"

You, already sunk into the role she’s forcing on you, struggle to keep your voice steady. "Yeah... yes. They’re... sensitive. You can... suck them too. But, carefully."

She raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Suck? Like I did with your cock?"

You nod, the words almost slipping. "Yes. But... slower, okay?"

"Mmm, got it!" she murmurs in a devilishly sweet voice. "I'll take care of you, just like you take care of me."

She lowers her head further, moving slowly down to your balls, as if she’s deliberating her next move. She gives them another lick, experimental and almost casual, like she’s licking a popsicle in front of the TV on a Saturday afternoon, and not your body.

"Like this?" Her voice is loaded with fake innocence, but the mischievous smile on her lips leaves no doubt that Eunbi knows exactly what she’s doing. "Or should I be a bit... more careful?"

You swallow hard. "That’s it, just… a little slower..."

She giggles again, that light laugh that makes it seem like you’re really playing make-believe. But, obviously, what she’s doing is far from that. She tilts her head more and begins licking your balls slowly, this time without hesitation, but still with that touch of exaggerated curiosity.

"It's funny," she comments between licks. "I didn’t know they could get harder." With each word, she lets her tongue glide smoothly over the sensitive skin, teasing in a way that makes everything feel like one big game.

You can barely think of a coherent response. "Yeah... the more you play with the balls, the 'harder' they get," is all you can say, trying to maintain some control while her head moves between the base of your cock and your balls, like she’s deciding which part she likes best.

Then she looks up again, as if a brilliant idea just struck her. "What if I suck it all at once? Do you think I can fit it all in my mouth?"

"Yes... go ahead, try..."

And she does, enveloping your balls with her mouth slowly and carefully, almost with that rehearsed sweetness, like an obedient little sister.

"Am I doing well?" she asks in that sweet little voice, her words muffled as she continues playing with your balls, moving her head side to side, as if she’s, once again, testing the limits of what she can do.

You almost laugh, but it’s a forced laugh, the kind you make when you’ve been taken to a place where reason was lost long ago. "You’re such a good girl!"

She smiles, satisfied. "I want to be the best little sister in the world!"

"Okay, if you really want to be the best little sister in the world, then do as you promised and show me what’s under your panties, alright?" you ask, knowing it’s best to stop for now, or the video will end in just a blowjob.

She obediently stands up, unbuttoning her skirt with deliberate slowness, almost ceremoniously. You get rid of your pants and boxers for good and sit on the edge of the bed. She lets the fabric slide down her thighs to the floor, revealing pink panties. It doesn’t help that she seems genuinely excited about it, like she’s playing with something her parents didn’t allow.

"Do you like it?" she asks, turning slightly to show off the pink panties decorated with little animals and bows on the sides.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your composure, which is a colossal challenge considering the scene. "It’s... yeah, it’s nice."

"Nice?" She pretends to be offended, crossing her arms over her chest. "These panties are cute. I chose them especially for my brother." She emphasizes the ‘brother’ with a tone that should be sweet but only manages to sound dangerously suggestive.

"Sure, sure," you reply, looking away for a second, as if that would help you escape the trap. "Cute."

With an even wider smile, she slowly lowers her panties, revealing her already wet pussy. The ‘little stepsister’ looks at you with a rehearsed expression of pure innocence. "Huh? Why... is it so wet?"

You take a deep breath, knowing that any answer to that question will only dig you deeper. But like any protagonist in a story who’s clearly made the worst decision, you answer: "It’s because... you like me. Your body reacts like that when you... really like someone."

She ponders for a second, as if she’s considering this revelation for the first time. "Ah... that makes sense. I do really like you, you know?"

"Yeah... I like you a lot too," you murmur, as if that would help keep things within some kind of boundary.

"So," she continues, her eyes fixed on yours, "what do we do now, brother? How are you going to take care of me?"

You try to keep your voice calm, even though you know it’s quickly becoming impossible. "Why don’t you start... touching your pussy? Slowly. Just to see how it feels."

She seems surprised, but excited by the suggestion. Slowly, her fingers begin to descend, gliding over her soft skin until they reach her wet pussy. And the moans start, first light, then becoming continuous, accompanied by a smile that drives you crazy.

"Like this?" she asks, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

"Yes, exactly like that," you reply, your voice a little rougher than you’d like, slowly stroking your cock while you film and watch the scene.

She continues, her fingers still timid, almost hesitant, like she’s discovering a new toy and doesn’t know exactly how to use it. She bites her lower lip, clearly enjoying her own curiosity, but you notice that something... is missing.

"No, no... this way it won’t be as good," you say, trying to sound instructional, which is a colossal challenge given the situation. "Let me show you a better way."

She stops, her eyes blinking at you with a mix of surprise and excitement. "Show me? Like... you’re going to teach me, big brother?" She smiles like she’s learning to do homework, except the ‘lesson’ at hand is far from academic.

"Yes... that’s it, I’ll show you. Trust me. Lie down on my bed and open your legs."

You stand up as she does what you asked, her legs slowly spreading to give you full access. With a sigh, you slide your hand between her thighs, your fingers lightly brushing her warm, damp pussy.

She trembles slightly at the touch, letting out a soft moan. "What are you going to do...?"

"Just relax, okay? You'll feel much more pleasure that way," you respond, still in 'older brother instructing' mode, because somehow that twisted logic makes sense right now.

Your fingers find her clit, and you start making slow circles, pressing just the right way—the way you know will make her writhe with pleasure. And, as expected, her moans intensify, her hips moving involuntarily against your hand.

"Ah... this is... so much better," she whispers, her eyes half-closed, her voice now more drawn out, almost surprised at the intensity of what she's feeling. "This feels so good, you're making me feel so good!" She arches her back, getting more lost in the touch, her hands squeezing her breasts, still covered by the baby tee, her moans echoing through the room. "This... this is incredible," she breathes between sighs. "Do it again, brother. Do it like that."

You comply, your fingers now firmer, exploring the small spasms of her body, each touch precise to make her feel more, to make her moan louder. Her breathing becomes ragged, her hands gripping the sheets tightly, and for a moment, the absurd theatrics of the situation disappear, replaced by a raw, physical connection.

"You like that, don’t you?" you ask, knowing the answer is obvious.

"I love it... Mmm, I didn't know I could feel this way." she replies, her voice broken. "You're... you're the best brother I could ever have."

Your fingers move faster now, firm and precise, playing her body like an instrument, each stroke making her tremble. She's gasping, eyes closed, writhing beneath you, her hips rising and falling against your hand. It's a hypnotic sight—almost like watching a chaotic dance, where her body is the instrument, and you, the conductor.

"Ah... brother, I... I’m feeling something strange..." she murmurs, her voice hoarse, almost trembling.

You smile, keeping your tone calm, as if you've been through this before. "It's normal... just relax and let it happen. It'll feel good, trust me."

She lets out a long, nearly broken moan as her body begins to lose control, her muscles contracting involuntarily around your hand. The camera is focused on her movements, capturing every contortion, every muffled moan, as if it were the final piece of a banned masterpiece in several countries.

"Ah, ah... I can't... Oooh..." She begins to beg, her words dissolving into pure sound, as your fingers continue, relentless, pressing and circling, giving no reprieve.

"That's it, let it out... it'll feel good, just let it all out." You encourage her, your voice soft, almost paternal, a sharp irony considering the context.

And then, it happens. She arches sharply, her body trembling violently, and you feel her wet heat spill over your hand. She comes with a scream that echoes through the room, her moans transforming into a primal sound, pure instinct and release. You keep playing her, extending the moment until the last spasm fades.

The camera captures everything—the unbridled pleasure, the ecstasy etched into every curve of her body. Every tremor and sigh are recorded.

When she finally collapses on the bed, exhausted, her breathing uneven, you gently pull your fingers away, bringing your soaked hand up to the camera lens for a close-up.

"Good job, little sister," you say, a hint of teasing in your voice. She just giggles, exhausted but satisfied, her body still trembling with the last traces of pleasure.

"I knew I could trust you," she murmurs, eyes closed, a satisfied smile on her lips.

"But we're not done yet," you say. "I want you to get on all fours for me, I'll show you something.”

Eunbi eagerly complies, lying face down with that almost naive obedience, arching her back with the precision of someone who's done this before. And you, in the role of the responsible older brother, observe and film.

"Now open that ass," you say, giving her a light slap that makes her skin ripple, and without question, she pulls her small hands to spread her cheeks, revealing her tight little asshole and wet pussy, everything perfectly exposed.

You run your fingers over her pussy, wetting them carefully, like you're preparing for a sacred ritual. Then you slide the wet finger down to her tight little asshole. She shifts a bit but stays in position, letting out a low moan as you finally push the finger inside.

"This little ass is precious, you know?" you say, almost in a teacherly tone as your finger slowly explores. "No one else can play with it but me. Just me."

She moans again, a sound mixed with pleasure and a promise about to be made. "I know, brother. It’s yours... only yours."

Her voice sounds sweet, almost begging for more, and you increase the pressure with your finger, pushing a little deeper, testing how far you can go. She arches her back even more, as if trying to make your job easier, offering her body.

"Good to know you understand," you tease, and she murmurs something in agreement. "Because if anyone else tries, there’s going to be a problem, understood?"

She bites her lip, her fingers still holding her cheeks apart. "I promise, brother... it’s only yours."

You smile, satisfied with her promise. "That’s how I like it."

Eunbi remains there, face down, obedient, her hands gripping her cheeks firmly, opening herself to you as if this were the natural purpose of her existence. Her breathing is heavy but eager as your fingers explore, playing with the tight little asshole still learning what it means to belong to someone. You feel the heat of her skin, and the way she trembles with each of your movements makes it clear that despite everything, she's enjoying it.

"Good girl," you say in a tone of approval that sounds almost paternal, moving your finger with more determination now, circling slowly before pressing in again. She lets out a shaky sigh, biting her lip and closing her eyes as if trying to focus on anything other than the pleasurable discomfort you're causing.

"It... it hurts," she admits in a trembling voice, as if revealing a secret, but then immediately moans again, that strange mix of pain and desire. "But it feels good..." She arches her back a little more, as if to encourage you, even as her body struggles to adjust to the new sensation.

You chuckle, pleased with her progress. Then you wet your fingers more in her pussy.

"It’s going to hurt a bit at first," you admit, moving the wet finger more slowly now, just to test her limits. "But don’t worry. Soon enough your little ass will get used to it." The promise is made in a reassuring tone.

Eunbi lets out a louder moan as you penetrate a little deeper, her fingers gripping her cheeks tighter as if trying to steady herself. She moves, arching her back into an even more inviting angle, legs slightly apart. "You... you think?" Her voice is a mix of insecurity and excitement, almost as if she's asking for more.

"I know," you respond, soaking in the confidence of the role, moving your finger with more rhythm, teasing her. "You're a good girl, and good girls always learn fast."

She moans again, her face buried in the mattress, but her arched back continues offering everything you've asked for and more. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna be a good girl for you, brother. I promise..."

You pause for a moment, your fingers still wet from the recent exploration. Eunbi—or, for the purposes of this performance, your ‘stepsister’—breathes deeply, still arched, her body tense with anticipation. The atmosphere is thick, and for a brief second, you just stand there, silently absorbing every almost imperceptible tremor running down her spine. The camera, your silent partner, focuses on every nuance of her expression, every shiver.

“It’s time for you to find out what you’ve been wanting, princess,” you say.

“Please… put your cock in me.”

"Say please," you respond, your voice low, so heavy with desire you barely recognize it. "Be a good girl and ask politely."

Eunbi, ever the meticulous actress, turns her face toward you, her wide eyes behind the mask with an innocence that only exists in fiction—those big eyes, the kind that say ‘I’m pure, I swear,’ even when nothing happening in the room suggests anything remotely innocent. Her breathing is fast, like a theater student at the peak of their dramatic performance.

"Please..." Her voice is a fragile whisper, but sweet, carefully rehearsed to sound vulnerable. "Please, brother... I want you to put your thick cock inside my tight little pussy."

Ah, there it is. The final barrier collapsed with the weight of a house of cards pushed by a breeze. You can’t help but smile—not that the camera can catch it—as you adjust your position with the precision of a watchmaker fine-tuning a delicate gear. The heat emanating from her body is magical, and when you finally penetrate her, slowly, each inch is consumed by her pussy, which wraps around you with a softness that defies reality.

She lets out a moan—the kind of sound that floats between pleasure and surprise, as if she’s being taken into unknown territory while, at the same time, exactly where she wanted to be. "Like that... like that... please," she moans, her voice strained, fingers gripping the sheets as if she’s on the brink of an existential revelation and only the sheets can keep her from being pulled into the abyss.

You start to move, oscillating between slow and deliberate, savoring the moment like you’re tasting the finest wine in the world, while she whispers sweet words between moans.

“Yeah, good girl!” you say softly.

The pace increases, the sound of bodies colliding echoes through the room, and as Eunbi arches her back, moaning for more with an almost religious fervor, you feel like you’re in control of not just her, but the entire scene.

You begin to pick up the pace, your movements gaining a life of their own. Beneath you, Eunbi is moaning non-stop, each sound a bit louder, a bit more desperate. Then, with the precision of a medieval archer hitting the bullseye, your hand comes down fast and firm on her ass.

The slap echoes through the room like an unexpected sound. The impact is immediate: her skin turns a reddish hue, the contrast clear and satisfying against her pale skin. Eunbi lets out a moan that’s half pain, half pleasure—the kind of sound that makes you want to repeat the action just to hear it again.

"More," she moans, her eyes half-closed, her voice muffled by the sheets, as if talking to herself but at the same time asking directly for you. "Please, spank me more, brother!!”

Ah, how could you resist such a polite request? Your hand comes down again, harder this time, leaving another red mark, and her body writhes in pleasure. You begin to alternate between thrusts and slaps, creating a symphony of pleasure and impact that seems to defy the basic rules of decency.

"You like that, don't you?" you say, your voice thick with provocation, as your hand meets her ass again and again, each slap resonating like a gong in a distant temple—or, in this case, the perfect sound of approval for what you two are doing.

"Yes!" she moans, the words coming out in broken breaths, "please... don’t stop!" She raises her hips higher, almost begging for more, and you, always generous, don’t disappoint.

Another slap. Harder. Her body reacts instantly, and the moans turn into something almost primal, as if she’s surrendering completely to the sensation.

"You’re a good girl, baby," you say. "But good girls need to be reminded who’s in control."

She only moans in response, her breathing ragged, her body completely given over to the moment. And, of course, you're more than willing to keep claiming territory, with each slap and thrust taking both of you closer to an inevitable climax.

You stop for a moment, feeling the sweat drip down your forehead, looking at Eunbi and the red marks you left on her buttocks.

“Now, be a good girl and ride me,” you say. “You’re going to like this position, I promise.”

You pause the recording.

Eunbi, obedient and eager as always, pulls away from you, giving you room to lie down on the bed. And then, with a grace that would make any mythological goddess jealous, she positions herself over you. For a brief second, your eyes meet hers, and there’s that exchange of complicity. That look that says: ‘Yes, we know exactly what we’re doing.’

You resume recording.

She lowers herself onto your cock, with a slowness that’s almost torturous, but at the same time, delicious. With every inch she takes in, you feel her warmth enveloping you, the tightness that almost defies logic. She moans softly, adjusting her body, and starts to move. Slow at first, learning the right rhythm.

But, of course, that doesn’t last long.

Soon, she’s riding with more intensity, picking up the pace. Her breasts bounce under the tight baby tee, and then, with a swift movement, she pulls the fabric up, revealing her large breasts that now move freely to the rhythm of her ride.

You can’t resist – who could? – and zoom in on her breasts. Her moans, the bouncing breasts, the hips moving up and down with precision. The camera can barely keep up, but you’re not exactly thinking about perfect angles right now.

This is living art, and you’re documenting every second as best you can.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” you say, half to her, half to the video. “Keep going, my good girl.”

Eunbi bites her lip, increasing the pace even more, and the room is filled with sounds – the bed creaking, her moans getting louder, the slap of bodies meeting. Your fingers grip her waist, helping to guide her, but the truth is, she’s in control for now.

And honestly, you’re not complaining.

She tilts her head back, eyes closed, her whole body focused on the frenzied movement. “Do you like watching me like this?” she asks between moans, with that completely calculated innocence, knowing exactly the effect her words have.

“You have no idea,” you reply, your voice hoarse, as you keep filming, knowing this recording will be something people will want to watch – many times.

The way she moves, even as her body consumes you inch by inch, is a balance between the innocent and the forbidden, as if she’s trying to convince you that she really is a good girl, only with a very, very fertile imagination.

“Please, brother...” she murmurs, almost in a whisper, leaning forward. The words come out in a sweet tone, with a hint of hesitation, as if testing the limits of roleplay with each syllable. “Do you think I’m being a good girl... for you?”

You smile, unable to hold back the sadistic pleasure that surfaces with the question. Your hand moves up her thigh, squeezing firmly. “You’re doing very well, little sister,” you reply. “But good girls can do better. Come on, show me how much you want to be the best.”

She bites her lip, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and nervousness – part of the act, of course, but brilliantly performed. “I... I can do better,” she says, trying her best to sound shy, as if begging for your approval. “I promise I can be the best little sister for you. Just... let me show you.”

And then, she lifts herself again and starts moving with more intensity, speeding up as her hands rest on your abs for balance. Her moans grow louder, almost stuttered, but she keeps the sweetness in her voice. “This feels so good... do you like seeing me like this, brother?” She asks, as if genuinely concerned about your verdict.

You don’t answer immediately, just watching her with that calculated expression. “You haven’t convinced me yet,” you finally say, your words sharp. “Good girls need to try harder. If you want to be my favorite, you’re going to have to work for it.”

Her eyes widen in mock concern, her breathing coming in heavier pants as her effort increases. She leans forward, her hair falling around her face as she continues to ride you, her movements becoming more intense, and the steady pace she maintains pushes you over the edge. “Brother... I’m trying,” she says between moans, her voice tinged with a mixture of effort and supposed innocence, as if the simple act of continuing is proof of her dedication. “Are you... are you enjoying it? Am I being a good girl right now?”

Your smile widens, seeing how far she’s willing to go to keep the fantasy alive. “You’re almost there, baby,” you reply with a superior tone, enjoying the power of the moment. “But good girls don’t just try. They give it their all. Show me how much you want this.”

She lets out a small moan, her eyes filled with an intensity that seemed to be growing with each movement. “I… I can do more,” she murmurs, picking up speed, her thighs now pressed against your body, rising and falling at an almost frantic pace. Her breasts bounce with the force of her ride, and her lips tremble with the effort, but she keeps going, determined.

“That’s it,” you murmur, your eyes locked on hers as you watch the hypnotic sway of her exposed breasts. “Good girl. Keep it up. Do it right!"

She bites her lip hard, clearly struggling to please you, her hands gripping your shoulders tightly as she picks up the pace even more. “I… I’m doing this for you, brother,” she moans, her voice sweet and broken, feigning complete devotion. “I want you to love me. I want to be your favorite girl. Please… love me…”

You grip her waist, helping to guide her movements. Her body moves down harder, with more determination. “If you keep it up, I might just love you,” you tease, tightening your grip. “But only if you really try. Go on, faster. Show me how much you want to be my good girl.”

She obeys, her moans louder now, mixed with panting breaths. “I’ll be… I promise,” she barely manages to say between her rapid movements. “I’ll be your good girl. The best one ever. I swear!”

“Then make me cum,” you say, your voice low and controlled, but full of expectation. “Only good girls know how to do this. Will you make it, little sister? Will you show me that you deserve it?”

She responds with only a strangled moan: “I- I w-will!”

“Then turn over,” you demand, your voice low but full of command. She stops riding you slowly, a smile on her lips, as if she’s been waiting for this order all along. She carefully turns her body, now facing away from you, her ass sticking up in a way that leaves her completely exposed. “Now you’re going to let me play with your asshole.”

"Brother... you're going to take care of me, right? Mommy and daddy said you needed to take care of me."

"Of course I'll take care of you. But now you're going to let me play with your asshole." You take your cock in one hand, holding it tight like a guide. "Come on."

She hesitates for a second, biting her lip with a hint of insecurity—not of the Eunbi you know, but of the character she's playing. "B-But... what are you going to do there, brother? You shouldn't..."

"Trust me," you murmur, almost out of patience now. "You're going to like it, it's going to make you feel really, really good."

She lets out a small moan, leaning forward, and you start to press in slowly. Entry is difficult—the pink ring of muscle resists at first, tight and almost impenetrable, as if her body is trying to say no while her mind and desire say otherwise.

"It's too tight..." she murmurs, her voice full of feigned nervousness, part of the act. But at the same time, there's something real in that sound, the little tremor in her voice as she tries to adjust herself... It's Eunbi's first anal too, not just the character's. "Do you think it'll really fit, brother?"

"It will fit," you say, your voice low, controlled, with a promise of pleasure behind it. "Just relax. You trust your brother, don't you?"

She nods, inch by inch, you feel her body giving in. The initial resistance gives way to a delicious pressure when it finally goes in. She lets out a loud moan, surprised.

“Mmm, brother… this… this is so different.” Her voice sounds vulnerable, almost shy, as she begins to move slightly, trying to get used to the intrusion.

“You’re being a good girl,” you reply, controlling the pace, thrusting in and out slowly. “You’ll like it more as you keep going.” And with each movement, each slow thrust, she begins to loosen up, her moans getting louder, her body adjusting to the pleasure.

“Come on, brother… take care of me,” she whispers.

“You’re making me so proud, baby. Your ass is perfect.”

“Ooohh, brother…” She lets out a long sigh, trying to adjust, moving her hips slightly, exploring the new sensation. “Why does this… feel so wrong, yet so good?” Her voice is of calculated innocence that drives you wilder with each passing moment.

“It’s because… sometimes, the best things are the ones we shouldn’t do,” you reply, controlling your tone to keep your character, even though the pleasure is almost knocking you over. You push deeper, feeling her insane grip. “And you’ve always been a curious girl, right? Wanting to try everything…”

She lets out a little laugh, although the tension is still there, hidden beneath the surface. “I am curious, yes, brother… I want to learn everything from you.” Then, she starts moving again, slowly at first, moving up and down hesitantly. “Do you think… I’m a good girl for wanting this?”

You can’t keep calm any longer. Her words, that sweet tone mixed with boldness, are destroying you inside. “You’re the best girl, the hottest, the most obedient,” you reply, your voice husky with desire as you hold her hips tightly to help her keep the rhythm.

“So, I’m going to make my big brother happy,” she murmurs, and with that, she starts riding you harder, her movements more confident now, her hesitation disappearing with each passing second. Each time she goes down, you feel the crushing pressure and heat, a tightness that makes you see stars. Eunbi’s moans are getting louder and louder, and beyond the character, you know how much she’s enjoying this.

“That’s it, like that,” you encourage, your hands now squeezing her ass. “Keep going, baby… show your brother how much you want to make him happy.”

Eunbi arches her back, throwing her hips back with more desire, the sound of their skin slapping against each other echoing through the room. “I’m going to… I’m going to take care of you,” she moans, between giggles, clearly enjoying the role. “But you have to take care of me too, okay? Because I’m just your little stepsister… I can’t do everything on my own…”

Her answer is almost fatal to your sanity. You pull her hips harder, helping her to go all the way down, feeling the overwhelming pleasure consume you. “I’ll take care of you,” you promise, without even thinking about the words. “I’ll teach you everything.”

She speeds up her movements, and now the room is filled with the sounds of her body against yours, her moans getting louder, more desperate. “Brother…” she begins, her voice filled with a mix of pleasure and excitement, “I think... I think I’m really enjoying this. You like being in my tight ass, don’t you?”

You almost laugh at her brazenness, but the pleasure is too much. “I love it,” you reply, feeling the urgency take over. “You’re being so good to me. Now, let me fill you with pleasure... until you can’t take it anymore.”

Eunbi continues riding, her movements now more desperate, her face clearly torn between keeping character and giving herself completely to the pleasure. “Aaaah, brother… You'll fill my ass with your cum, right? Because... you promised to take care of me.”

Her head tilts back a little, a mischievous smile lighting up her face, but her moans cut off any possible response. You’re close, so close that words no longer make sense, but the roleplay is still in the air, and you know Eunbi is going to push all the way in.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna make you cum so much, big brother. Because you’re the best brother in the world,” she moans, grinding harder, and you feel like you won’t last much longer.

“You’re going to make your brother so happy… now, get on all fours because your brother is close… I’m gonna fuck your ass until I cum.”

Eunbi lets out a short laugh, her breathing still ragged from the effort and pleasure. She slides out of you slowly, almost provocatively, and you can see how much her asshole has already opened up with your cock. When she finally stands up, she throws that playful look over her shoulder, biting her lip as if she knows exactly what she's doing.

“On all fours?” She asks, with false innocence, as she positions herself on the bed. “Do you want your sister to be like this, brother? Do you want to fill my tight asshole with your milk?”

The answer doesn't need to be verbalized — your body already speaks for you. She leans on the bed, sticking her ass up, her back arched perfectly, offering everything provocatively. The ridiculously short baby tee remains raised, her heavy breasts hanging from her body.

“You know how to obey, don't you? Good girl…”

Without further hesitation, you stand behind her, your hand running down her body, exploring the perfect curve of her hips and the pulsing heat of her skin. The camera is well positioned, capturing every angle of the final moment. Her pussy is wet, swollen with excitement, but it’s her asshole that you want now, and she knows it. Your firm hand positions itself on her ass cheeks, slowly spreading her, revealing the tight little hole that barely hides how much she enjoyed every second of it.

“Are you ready, little sister? Because now I’m going to put everything in you… and I won’t stop until I cum deep inside your ass.”

She looks back, smiling. “I trust you, brother. Do whatever you want with me.”

With that, you line up your hard cock against her narrow entrance and begin to thrust. It’s still tight, incredibly tight, and the initial resistance only makes the pleasure more intense. Eunbi lets out a muffled moan as the head of your cock finally enters, her body adjusting to the size with a mix of discomfort and pleasure.

“Ah... like that,” she moans. “My asshole is burning so much... but it’s so good.”

You push deeper, inch by inch, until you’re completely inside. The pressure is unbearable, the heat and firmness of Eunbi’s asshole squeezing you in an overwhelming way. With your hand firmly placed on her hip, you begin to push slowly, feeling her tight asshole slowly give way.

The camera focuses on this movement, of course, because, after all, the show is for the audience.

Eunbi lets out a moan, something between surprise and pleasure. “Mmm, you are so big, brother,” she murmurs, her voice cracking with the effort of keeping the role.

You go deeper, the camera recording every movement, every inch. “It's because good girls deserve big cocks,” you tease, thrusting harder now, each thrust eliciting a louder moan from her.

“I am,” she replies between gasps. “A good girl... just for you.”

The moans grow louder as you pick up the pace, fucking her ass with increasing force. The camera shakes a little in your hand, but it’s capturing everything, every detail of Eunbi’s masked expression as she grips the sheets, her fingers digging into the fabric.

As the pace intensifies, the tension in the room builds to a breaking point, and you feel the inevitable wave of pleasure about to spill over. Eunbi is panting, her moans turning into excited whispers. Your free hand grips her ass cheek tightly, keeping her open, and her tight asshole wraps around your cock like a hot trap. You know you’re close to the end, and the thought of it only increases the urgency.

"You... are going to take it all, aren't you?" The question comes out almost like a command, her voice hoarse with pleasure. The camera, forgotten for a second, shakes slightly in her hand, but it's still capturing everything.

"Yes, yes!!" she gasps, her eyes rolling back in their sockets, something the camera unfortunately doesn't capture. "I'm going to take it all! I want... I want you to fill my ass, please! ‘Cause I'm your good girl... your favorite stepsister."

Every word, spoken in that sweet, lustful voice, only makes you harder, closer to climax. You grip her hips and thrust hard, each thrust sinking deeper, every inch of your cock being devoured by that unbearable tightness.

"You like your brother's cock, don't you?" Her voice is deep now, full of the energy of someone who knows she's in control. "Tell me. Tell me what you want!"

“I... I love it!!,” she moans, her voice cracking with pleasure, as if she were about to come undone right there. “I want you to cum inside... please, make me yours, for real... Cum inside your sister!”

And that’s what pushes you over the edge.

With one last thrust, you sink your cock all the way in, feeling her body tremble with the impact. The heat begins to spread inside her, the cum spurting with an almost unbearable intensity, filling the tight little asshole of the “little stepsister” who is moaning in pleasure beneath you.

“Mmm... Fuck! Do you feel it, baby?” you tease, thrusting hard as the last hot spurt of cum floods her. “This is what you wanted, right? To be a good girl for your brother.”

She lets out a long moan, her shoulders shaking, her legs weak with pleasure. “Yes, baby… Mmm, I'm feeling all your cum deep inside me!”

You stay inside her for a few more seconds, feeling the heat of her body and the involuntary squeeze of her ass around your cock. Eunbi takes a deep breath, her moans now fading, but the satisfied smile still on her face.

"You made me feel so special," she murmurs, still in the role. "Now I'm your favorite little girl, right? Because I'm the only one who gets your cum."

You pant, lost in pleasure, your eyes closed as you answer: "It's always been you, baby... always you."

You're still breathing heavily, like you just ran a marathon, but your mind has already switched into content production mode — the ship had already sunk, so might as well make this worth something.

With the camera still in hand, you lean in for a better shot.

“Alright, show me the result,” you say bluntly, pointing the camera at the target.

Eunbi moves slowly, resting her elbows on the mattress, her legs still trembling a bit, and with a satisfied smile on her face, she spreads her cheeks with her hands, fully opening the angle for the lens.

“Is this good?” she asks with that fake sweetness you now recognize as part of the performance, but it still works anyway.

“Perfect,” you reply, adjusting the focus, the lens capturing every detail. She spreads her ass slightly, and the cum inside slowly drips out, a bright white line lazily descending, as if it knows it's the star of the show.

“Now look at the camera, baby,” you ask, while she turns her head back, her masked eyes meeting the lens with that look of pure satisfaction. “Tell them what just happened.”

Eunbi, without hesitation, slips into the sweet and innocent tone of her role, “Look what he did to me... filled my little ass with cum.” She giggles, and it's genuine, mixed with that post-climax thrill. “I guess you really like me, huh, bro?”

“Of course I do,” you say, more as part of the act than anything else.

But deep down, there’s something there that isn’t just performance.

“Now rub it a little,” you ask. Eunbi giggles, and you help her, pulling one of her cheeks while she starts rubbing a finger around the entrance, mixing your semen with her juice.

“See that, bro?” she asks with an adorable giggle, “Now I’m all dirty because of you!”

The camera focuses on the scene as you let out a tired but satisfied moan. “I can see that, princess. You got really messy.”

She keeps playing with her fingers, spreading the remnants of your load provocatively, knowing exactly how to play to the lens. “And now, what are you gonna do to me? You left my little ass all wrecked, it’s burning a lot…”

You pretend to think, but the answer is obvious. “Well, I guess now I need to take care of you, don’t I?”

“With love?” she asks, voice full of tenderness.

“With a lot of love,” you reply.

The camera finally shuts off with that classic final beep, like it’s exhausted too. You let out a sigh, while Eunbi, still catching her breath, stands up and removes the mask.

"Yeah, game over," you say, placing the camera on the desk. The vibe shifts instantly. The heavy air from the scene disappears, and the apartment feels normal again, like it had been put in studio mode for a brief moment.

Eunbi stretches her arms like she’s just woken up from a nap, then extends a hand toward you. You high-five, like two classmates finishing a school project instead of… well, what you just did.

“We did good,” she says with a tired but satisfied smile. “Teamwork was solid.”

“Yeah, it was,” you respond, still trying to process it all. “You okay? I mean... because of, you know...”

She laughs, shaking her head. “The anal? Oh, I should have used the fucking lube. But I’m fine. It stings a little, but it'll pass," she explains, as if she’s talking about a mild sunburn.

You’re not sure if you should feel relieved or admire how casually she handles it. Before you can overthink it, Eunbi suddenly turns and hugs you. The warmth of her body against yours is almost comforting, even with sweat still drying on your skin. “Seriously, thanks for doing this with me,” she murmurs, her voice soft, almost vulnerable.

You stand there, a bit awkward, but aware that this moment matters. “It was kinda… weird, right?”

She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, chuckling lightly. “Weird? Of course it was weird. But, like, in a funny way. It was a little bizarre at first, but then it was just… getting into character. In the end, we just… made it work.” She shrugs, and the gesture is so typical of her—practical, lighthearted, never taking things too seriously.

“Next time,” she says, pulling off her tight baby tee, “I’ll pick something less... out of the comfort zone.”

She laughs and casually grabs her panties and skirt from the floor.

You watch as she straightens up and walks toward the bedroom door, already slipping back into her natural self, as if the scene had just been a quick detour from routine.

“Wanna shower with me?” she asks, with no malice, just a simple invitation after a particularly exhausting marathon.

You hesitate, a second that feels like forever. The temptation to give in once more is strong. It’d be so easy to say 'yes,' to go with the flow. But you shake your head, declining. "I'll go later... I need to make the bed."

She raises an eyebrow, surprised by the refusal, but doesn’t push. “Alright,” she says with an easy smile, already heading for the shower. But before she crosses the door, she turns, like she’s about to say something important. You even brace yourself, expecting some post-scene revelation, some deep reflection.

“Feel like pizza tonight?” she asks, with not a trace of tension or seriousness.

“Yeah… I guess,” you reply vaguely, still trying to keep up with how quickly she shifts gears.

And then it’s just you and the messy bed. The camera’s still there, the sheets that need fixing, but what really needs fixing is your head. You wish you hadn’t agreed to film. Hadn’t let her hands on your skin convince you again. But how do you resist Eunbi when, with that smile and a promise, she makes everything seem like one big fun game, a fantasy that’s too easy to fall into?

Except while she can turn off the character with a snap and get back to her practical life, you’re stuck. Because it’s not the role that’s messing with your head, it’s what’s behind it. It’s what you feel for her, something you know shouldn’t exist and that Eunbi clearly doesn’t share. To her, it’s work, pleasure, about views and clicks. And sure, who would turn down being the lucky partner in a porn video with Eunbi?

But at the end of the day, is that all you are? You sigh, trying to focus on fixing the bed, while inside, the knot tightens.

—

It’s a cloudy morning, with that fine misty rain that barely gets you wet but can soak you through if you stand still for two minutes. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, tying the laces on your running shoes. Running is something you used to do every day, a habit you let go of for some reason that now escapes you. But today is different. You’ve decided to start running again because, as always, it helps organize the mental chaos that has become your life lately.

As you pass through the hallway, Eunbi’s bedroom door is half-open. You think about closing it to keep the warmth in, but a glow from inside stops you. It’s the light from her laptop. You hesitate, but of course, your curiosity wins. You peek in as casually as possible, and there she is: Eunbi, sleeping in a way that’s both adorable and awkward, with the laptop still on beside her, like it fell asleep with her, exhausted from hours of work. Or from whatever she spent the night editing.

You can’t help it. In fact, it’s impossible to resist. Seeing her sleep so peacefully stirs something in you, only making the mess in your head worse. Why does she have to be so… Eunbi? You walk over, switch off the laptop that’s still open on the OnlyFans homepage, with the notification icon showing +99 interactions. You close the lid carefully and place it on the desk. Then, you adjust the blankets that are haphazardly draped over her.

She stirs a bit but doesn’t wake up.

—

You start running in the park, with that light rain and cold wind cutting across your face—the kind of weather the meteorologists would call 'uncomfortable,' but you would call 'perfect for clearing your head.' Each step on the wet pavement echoes in your ears. With every breath, your chest tightens, not just from the cold, but because the only thing more intense than the physical effort is the whirlwind of thoughts now screaming in your mind.

Eunbi. Always her. Like a beautiful shadow you can’t shake. The images from last night, the mask, the dirty talk, the way she always seems to know exactly how to melt any resistance you try to build up. You almost laugh, bitterly, realizing just how pathetic it is to be stuck in this cycle.

Fuck, the truth is you’ve been hopelessly in love with her for a while now. Of course, you have, but the problem isn’t knowing it—it’s figuring out what to do about it. You’re running, trying to escape the reality that no matter how much you love Eunbi, she seems to be in a completely different universe. A universe where she can suggest absurd things, like some ridiculous roleplay or a threesome, while you, the idiot, are more worried about the color of the blanket you adjusted for her earlier.

Sweat drips down your forehead, mixing with the rain. You pick up the pace, trying to turn this confusion into clarity. You can’t keep living on this emotional rollercoaster. Every time she involves you, you convince yourself it’s just your body being used as a tool, just another role to play to help her grow in this obscure niche.

But with every touch, every smile, your mind whispers: What if it’s not?

What if, somehow, she’s just as lost in this as you are?

Maybe if you finally tell her how you feel, the pieces will fall into place. She could leave this life of videos, masks, and scripts behind. It would be a release for both of you. And then, you could have something normal. A real relationship. One that doesn’t involve cameras and personas. The idea starts to take shape, becoming clearer with every mile you run. You love Eunbi. Simple. And you need to tell her. Simple as that.

Well, in theory.

The park is empty, except for a few brave souls who also thought running in the cold was a fantastic idea. You run one more lap, your body asking for rest, but your mind now buzzing with purpose. When you get back to the apartment, you’ll tell her. Direct and honest.

Then your phone vibrates. You slow down, your shoes hitting the wet ground more softly as you pull out your phone. A message. It’s from your friend. I think it worked, he writes. Your heart races in a different way this time. HR liked her profile. I think they’re gonna make an offer, man. Stay tuned. You almost slip on the path, coming to a sudden stop.

What worked? Oh, right. The plan.

The plan you secretly put together.

The job opening at the company where your friend works, in the marketing department.

The one where you secretly submitted Eunbi’s LinkedIn profile, trying to give her a chance to get out of this crazy content creator life.

Looks like the damn universe is finally working in your favor.

You find yourself smiling like an idiot.

‘It worked.’

She could have a normal life, away from the cameras, and you could start fresh together.

You barely even feel the fatigue anymore.

Now there’s only one thing left: the conversation with Eunbi.

Because, of course, confessing your feelings to a woman you see every day, who sleeps in the room next to yours, with whom you’ve been through situations that would challenge any definition of ‘strange,’ should be easy, right?

You take a deep breath.

No, it won’t be easy.

But it’ll be worth it.

—

Eunbi is in the kitchen, still looking half-asleep as she holds a cup of coffee. The dim light from the cloudy morning mixes with the cold glow of her phone screen, which she scrolls through lazily with her thumb. The coffee—a blend of ‘I need to wake up’ and’ 'I’m not sure this will help’—warms her hands, but her mind is far from awake. Her reflection on social media, though, is wide awake.

With an automatic gesture, she opens the comment tab on the latest video. It’s the new roleplay video you and she recorded the day before. The video had already racked up an impressive number of views. She sighs, taking a sip as she reads through the comments. It’s the usual mix of praise, teasing, and, of course, the kind of absurdity only the internet can provide.

"Little sis, you drove me crazy today!"

Eunbi lets out a muffled laugh. "Little sis" was probably the mildest term she came across in that sea of comments.

She quickly types a reply:

"Careful, or 'big brother' will get you too! 😘"

"I wish I were your blood brother, damn, just to make it all wrong!! I'd sneak into your room every night after our parents were asleep so we could 'play' together 😈"

Who knew people could take a weird fantasy and make it even more bizarre and unsettling?

"You need therapy, darling, but thanks for the love 🙂"

"The way you bit your lip... it made me... lose my mind."

Ah yes, the detail-oriented observers. They're always around.

"Glad I could help!!"

And then comes the classic:

"Step on me more, mommy!!!"

This time, she laughed out loud. What kind of twisted logic was this?

'Mommy' in a little sister video?

"Sweetie, pick a fantasy. I can't be your little sis AND your mommy at the same time 😅"

"Just show your face already, everyone knows you're hot"

She paused for a second. That comment felt like a jab somewhere inside her. Her face was the last piece she kept hidden, the final wall of protection between Eunbi and the world she had chosen to explore.

She took another sip of coffee as the comments kept popping up on the screen. The amount of absurdity was always a surprise, even for her. But the show had to go on, and responding was an important part of ‘engagement’.

Ah, the wonderful engagement.

"You’re my muse. One day, I’ll marry you!"

She rolled her eyes but kept a polite tone in her reply:

"Glad to inspire... but let’s start with something simpler, like not marrying strangers from the internet.

Kisses 😘"

Next comment.

"I'd give anything to be that tight top on your massive tits 😊"

Eunbi nearly dropped her phone from laughing so hard. What kind of fetish was this now? She took a deep breath before typing:

"Well, it’s actually a baby tee, but I guess clothes live too dull a life for anyone to want to be one. But who am I to judge your dreams?"

Another one popped up right after.

"Hey sis, how about teaching me in person? I’ve got so much to learn... 😏"

Ah, the ever-eager students. She rolled her eyes again, smiling slightly.

"You can learn a lot on your own with a good imagination!"

"You should make a video stepping on Legos barefoot. I bet that would be amazing!!!"

What? Where did these people come from? She bit her lip, trying to hold back laughter as she typed her reply:

"I try to keep my videos at an entertainment level, not torture 🥰 But I appreciate the creativity!"

"It’s obvious you only do this because you love being a slut, I can see it in your expression, even with the mask 🔥 I’m already your number one fan."

Her smile faltered a little. A mix of praise and silent invasion that left her with a mild discomfort.

"Glad you enjoyed the content! Loving what I do is essential. But don’t get too carried away, alright?"

She gave one last glance at the rising view and like counts, but the comments started to lose their charm.

And that’s when the ping of a LinkedIn notification appeared at the top of the screen. An app she had basically forgotten she had installed since the last time she used it was to block an annoying old guy who was pestering her.

She reads the message:

Subject: Job Opportunity - Marketing Department.

Dear Kwon Eunbi,

We are pleased to inform you that your profile has caught the attention of our Marketing Department. After a brief review, we would like to invite you to participate in the selection process for the position of Marketing Analyst.

Responsibilities:

- Development of communication and digital marketing strategies;

- Analysis of KPIs and market trends;

- Collaboration with creative teams and planning advertising campaigns;

Requirements:

- Bachelor’s degree in Marketing or related fields;

- Previous experience managing digital campaigns;

Benefits:

- Competitive salary;

- Health and dental plan;

- Flexibility for hybrid work (remote);

We look forward to your response to schedule an interview.

She almost spits out her coffee.

What the hell is this?!

For a second, everything seemed to make sense, as if the universe was aligning the stars to give her a 'respectable' way out.

But only for a second.

In truth, it felt like the damn universe was conspiring against her.

The thought of waking up early every day, dressing like an executive, sitting in a cubicle, and smiling at people she probably couldn’t stand while doing mechanical tasks...

“No, no, no. No way,” she says aloud in the empty apartment as anxiety starts to tighten around her. And the strangest part is that she feels... bad. Bad for not wanting it. Bad for thinking she should want it.

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her mind. Maybe she should, right? Maybe being ‘normal’ would be easier. Maybe this whole video thing is just a phase. She looks at her coffee, as if it held the answers, but it only reflected her face back at her. She gulps the rest down, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

On the one hand, the college-era Eunbi would’ve jumped for joy at this message. A great job in her field, something ‘respectable’ career-wise; it doesn’t get much better than that.

Well, to be fair, it wasn’t exactly her big dream, but who, after all, dreams of spreadsheets and endless emails? But now, the idea of a normal life, with bosses, deadlines, and white collars, suffocates her more than any corset in a photoshoot. She’s thinking about how good it felt to leave all that behind, how much she loved the freedom she had now.

Sure, she graduated, but that’s not what she wants.

Not anymore.

But

On the other hand, something inside her hesitated to accept that she didn’t want this opportunity. It was like there was a younger version of her somewhere, screaming in panic: "You can’t be serious, right? Turning down a job like that to... keep being a virtual slut? You’re definitely not me..." And that little voice it's annoying because it hit on an uncomfortable truth. She had, at some point, carved out a different path. A temporary one. And now, this path it's leading her into the unknown, and this offer it's like a way back to her old life.

Monotonous, but dignified.

Difficult, but without exposure.

The safe choice or the leap into the abyss.

College-era Eunbi would say being stuck in an absurd dilemma like this was insane. But the Eunbi of today knows that 'conventional' career isn’t for her.

"This is my life now," she murmurs to herself. Creating adult content wasn’t just a choice; it was her choice. And not only is she going to keep doing it — she’s going all in!

Showing her face.

Now that would be a bold move.

No more masks.

The real Eunbi for the world.

She only has one small obstacle ahead: you. She needs to tell you. Explain how things were about to change. Show you that, even though she once said this was temporary, she’s rediscovered herself and finally found something she’s good at and willing to put her effort into.

She sighs and thinks about the conversation she’ll have. Knowing you, it’s going to be a tough one. You’ll definitely want to argue, try to convince her to take the more traditional route, thinking you’re protecting her. But it’s her life, her body, her decisions.

And if she’s going all in, she has to start by being honest.

When you get back, she’ll lay it all out. In the meantime, she stretches, still feeling the weight of the job offer, and tries to imagine the look on your face when she explains her plans.

—

You come back from the run looking like a drowned rat, which, considering the weather outside, is a reasonably accurate description. Your shoes make that annoying sponge sound as you walk across the room, and Eunbi is there, sitting on the couch, sipping coffee like she’s contemplating the meaning of life—or more realistically, deciding what her next big revelation of the morning is going to be.

“Good morning,” you mutter, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Good morning...” she replies. You look away as if you have something really important to do—like grab a towel.

The bathroom is a good place to rehearse difficult conversations, so you do that while you dry off, but the words still sound wrong in your head. It’s not like there’s a manual on how to confess to your best friend that you’re in love with her after you’ve filmed sex videos together.

It would be helpful if there was.

After grabbing a coffee and taking a sip, bracing yourself for the bomb you’re about to drop, you walk back to the living room. Eunbi is still there, but now you’re looking at each other like two actors who know the big scene is coming, but neither wants to be the first to step on stage.

“We need to talk,” you both say at the same time, which would be funny if it weren’t an absolutely terrible moment for comedy.

“You first,” you say, trying to sound generous.

“No… you, please,” she insists.

“Okay,” you sigh, sitting down on the couch, already feeling the weight of what’s about to happen. The words gather in your throat, like a rescue team about to jump out of a helicopter. “Look, what I’m about to say isn’t easy. In fact, it’s pretty hard. And it could... well, it could change our friendship. Maybe forever.”

Eunbi nods, encouraging you, though her expression clearly says, ‘I know this is big, but I’m going to pretend I’m calm.’

“I love you,” you finally say, the words coming out stronger than you expected. “And no, it’s not just a friend thing. I’m in love with you, and I’ve been feeling this for a while. Since... since we started filming together, actually. Every time we did a scene, something inside me got more confused, like the fake sex was revealing real feelings.”

Eunbi looks at you, surprised, but she doesn’t interrupt, so you keep going. “I thought it was temporary, something that would go away over time, but it only got stronger. And honestly, I can’t keep going like this, pretending nothing’s changed, because it has. I’m in love with you, for real. I want to be with you. Not just filming together, but... living with you, as a couple. I want us to be real.”

You take a deep breath, feeling some of the tension release from your chest, but vulnerability quickly takes its place. Eunbi looks at you, her eyes slightly teary, and then, before anything else, she says, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” you repeat, confused.

“For making you film all of this with me. I didn’t know what you were going through. I had no idea it was hurting you inside. If I’d known...” She pauses, trying to find the right words, but they seem as hard for her as they were for you. “I would’ve stopped.”

You shake your head, almost laughing, but not in a happy way. “No, you don’t have to apologize. What matters is now, and now is that... I’m being honest. I love you.”

She smiles, that smile you know so well, but now it seems different, softer, more... meaningful. “I like you too. A lot. And I’m not just saying that because you confessed. It’s weird, you know? I’ve been in relationships before, but it was never like this. We have this... bond, this connection I’ve never had with anyone. And I think, actually, I’ve always felt something for you, I just didn’t know exactly what it was. Now I do.”

She pauses, wiping away a solitary tear that escaped despite her efforts. “I want this too. I want to be with you. For real. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. We’ve spent so much time together, it... feels right. It feels like it’s how it’s supposed to be.”

You feel your heart leap in your chest. It’s surreal, all of this.

“So...?”

“So... I guess we’re together,” she says, still smiling, and this time you feel like the smile is for you, and only you.

“Finally,” you say, half-joking, but it’s an undeniable truth.

Still in the high of the magical moment, your heart beating faster than usual for all the right reasons, you decide now is the perfect moment to drop your second bomb.

“Oh, there’s one more thing,” you say, smiling like someone who just found a lost bill in their coat pocket. “Great news, actually. My friend messaged me. The company where he works loved your profile!! You might be getting a job offer soon!”

You wait for a scream of happiness, a tight hug, or even an improvised celebratory dance, but none of that happens. Eunbi doesn’t react the way you imagined. In fact, she seems to have frozen in place, as if someone hit the pause button on real life.

“So it was you?” she asks, her voice suddenly cold.

“Me?” you repeat, having no idea where this is coming from. “Me what?”

She sighs, like someone on the verge of losing their patience. “I got a job offer on LinkedIn.”

You blink, absorbing the information, and then smile widely. “Oh, so it worked! That’s great! I mean, now you have a chance to get out of this life... right?” But Eunbi’s expression, far from joyful, is one of... anger? Something between irritation and deep disappointment starts to form in her eyes.

“Why the hell did you do that?” she asks, her tone more like a police interrogation than a simple question.

You’re stunned, you feel like you’ve just been slapped in the face. “What? I was trying to help. I just wanted what’s best for you!”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she fires back, her tone growing harsher, like someone who’s been holding something in for a long time and finally let it out.

The ground starts to shift beneath your feet, the romantic and peaceful moment now turning into an unexpected storm. “Drop the pride, Eunbi,” you say, trying to maintain control of the situation. “This is your chance to get out of this life. You don’t have to keep doing... you know, what you’re doing now. And now that we’re on the same page, that you feel something for me too, we can be a real couple. Isn’t that what you want?”

She looks at you for a long, silent moment, as if she’s trying to decide if you’re really as clueless as you seem or if you’re just pretending not to understand what’s happening.

“This has nothing to do with pride,” she says, finally, with a calm that’s more frightening than any scream. “That job offer... it made me feel like crap! It made me rethink everything. Who I am, what I want... And you just... don’t get it.”

You really don’t get it.

Of all the scenarios that ran through your head, this one didn’t even come close to showing up. “I don’t understand. You wanted a stable job in your field, didn’t you?”

She shakes her head, exasperated. “I thought I did. I mean, that was the initial plan when I got fired from my last job. But... I can’t. I don’t want to... What I’m trying to tell you is that I’m not going to take that job.”

The silence that follows is so heavy you can almost hear the sound of raindrops hitting the window.

“So, what are you going to do?” you ask, your voice quieter than you expected.

Eunbi looks you in the eye, and suddenly, the full weight of what she’s about to say appears in her expression. “I’m going to keep doing what I do. I’m going to be an adult content creator, but this time, I’m going all in. No more anonymity. I’m going to show my face. That’s what I’ve decided. This is going to be my life now.”

It’s at that moment that your brain, which had been busy processing the joy of the love confession, just stops working.

This wasn’t in the script.

She was supposed to be happy about the job, you were supposed to be celebrating and planning a future as a normal couple.

Not this...

“You... you want to keep doing this?” you ask, incredulity leaking into every word.

She looks at you with a mix of sadness and determination. “Yes. I want to keep doing it. I want people to see me. I want to keep doing what I do. I love it. And if you’re going to be with me, you’re going to have to accept all of that too.”

The words echo in the room. You stand there, looking at her, trying to fit the pieces of this emotional puzzle that, until seconds ago, was a beautiful, simple picture of a future together. Now, it feels more like one of those abstract paintings people pretend to understand.

She takes a deep breath, and you can tell that the emotion is about to overflow. "Look... I really love you. Truly. And if you want, I'll be the happiest woman in the world by your side. But—" she pauses, the word hanging in the air like a sword about to fall, "if you want to be with me, you’re going to have to accept this Eunbi. The Eunbi you see now, who does what she does. And the weight that comes with it."

Silence. You hear your heart pounding in your chest, so loud it's a wonder Eunbi can't hear it too. The world feels like it’s moving in slow motion, the time between blinks stretching out as if the master of time himself is waiting to see what you’ll say. But what can you say? You’re still processing everything. The confession, the proposal, the fact that she wants to continue in this career—and wants you to be a part of it.

"You... you want to... keep going?" The question comes out hesitantly. You can hardly believe you're asking it. The shock is a physical thing, sitting between you like a third person in the room.

Eunbi, her eyes already shining with tears she’s trying so hard to hold back, nods. "Yes. I want to keep going. I want people to see me. I want to keep doing what I do. I love it. And if you’re going to be with me, you’ll have to accept all of that too."

The tears finally fall, one after the other, as if gravity had won the battle she was trying to fight. You watch, unsure if what you’re feeling is fear, sadness, or some strange sense of relief.

Maybe all of it at once.

She continues, her voice now shaky but still steady. “You can think it over, if you want. This is serious. Our parents are going to find out sooner or later. You know the kind of exposure we’ll face... that I’ll face. And if you’re with me, we’ll be facing that together.”

Eunbi looks directly at you, the intensity in her eyes almost painful. “You warned me about this before. You’ve always worried about me. But if you stay with me now, there’s no going back. People we know might find out, they might see. Are you really willing to risk everything because of me?”

Another pause. This time, it’s not dramatic. It’s just a simple pause, where your mind, suddenly overwhelmed by all these emotions, finds a small space of clarity.

And in that space, the decision that seemed so complicated just moments ago suddenly makes sense.

“Yes,” you say, the word leaving your mouth with a calmness that surprises even you. Eunbi’s eyes widen, as if she isn’t sure she heard you right.

“I accept,” you continue, firmly. "I accept you as you are. If this is what you want to do with your life, then that’s fine by me. I’ll be by your side, no matter what."

She stands there, looking at you like you're some kind of alien that just landed on Earth. And then the tears she was holding back finally fall. But this time, they aren’t tears of sadness or anger. They’re something completely different. Relief, maybe. Or raw happiness, the kind you rarely see.

“Are you sure?” she asks, between sobs. "I... I mean, this won’t be easy! You can think about it more. You can really consider what you’re accepting, what it’s going to mean for you, for us."

You give her that half-smile, the one you know always made her feel safe. "Eunbi," you say, calmly, "I’ve already thought about it. I accept the risk, the exposure. I accept you... As long as I’m with you, it’s all okay."

And with that, she falls apart. Not in a sad or uncontrolled way, but in a beautiful, genuine way. She starts crying, but they’re tears of gratitude, of love, of everything she’s held inside for so long.

You step closer and wrap your arms around her, as if trying to protect her from the whole world. She cries into your chest, her words lost between sobs. You kiss the top of her head, taking in the familiar scent of the shampoo she always uses.

"I love you so much," she says through her tears, her voice muffled against you.

"I love you too," you reply, with a sincerity that fills her up from the inside. “We’re in this together.”

And then, there, in the midst of tears, hugs, and confessions, the world seems to align again. The mess it was before starts to make sense.

Okay, maybe it’s not a fairy tale, but who needs a fairy tale ending when you can have something this real, this alive, this raw, this imperfect and yet, somehow, so absolutely perfect?

And for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

With her.

—

[Rubydden] Three minutes ago

This month, we’re going to skyrocket the quality of our content!!

And to kick things off: FACE REVEAL!!🔥🥳

[sweetdispatch]

Written by a woman - L. Hughes

Songs masterlist

song: Written by a woman - Mae Muller

pairing: Luke Hughes x girlfriend!reader

summary: Moments in Luke and his girlfriend relationship that made them realised, they are made for each other

warning: NSFW, mentions of sex (nothing graphic), swear words

words: 1.3k

note: i had so much fun writing this! hope you're enjoy it as much as i do haha

---

She and Luke met in Michigan. Both were students searching for fun and nothing more. She had been in terrible relationships and lost all her hope to find a right man, especially during her college years. Luke was scared to open his heart because every girl was using him to get into his brothers. They were two teenagers with trust issues, terrified of another disappointment in love.

One party changed everything. She opened herself for Luke and Luke felt that she’s not gonna go for his brothers. Casual conversation turned to dates and later to relationship. They were soulmates despite coming from different environments and not sharing much of common interests. Their love can be summed up as right person, right time.

So cool but so kind

With that look in your eye

When she laid eyes on Luke, she saw the spark in his eyes. He was stoic yet cheerful. She couldn’t keep her sign out of him. He wasn’t blind. He felt her piercing eyes on him and decided to approach her. Luke was talkative and flirty. He was telling her stories to impress her, but he didn’t know that she’s already gone in him.

Luke was respectful, he hasn’t pushed his luck with her. He was way different from other guys who made her feel uncomfortable the minute, they started to talk with her. She found Luke as a very intrigue person. She wanted to know more about him. She asked him the most random questions.

After couple minutes of their conversation, she started to tell him about herself. Earlier it was all about Luke but now, she was the center of attention. She was telling him about her origins, her major and her hobbies. She thought that she might bored him. He was a popular hockey player, and she was just an ordinary girl but when she saw the sparkles in his eyes, she fell in love.

She felt so safe telling him all the stories. Luke was grateful that someone was looking at him as a person and not athlete. They spent all night on talking. He asked for her number and the next day, he asked her out. They say eyes are mirror of the soul and their eyes were showing it. Both were obsessed in each other, and they could communicate with each other just by looking into eyes.

And you ain’t scared to cry, what a rare breed

She was growing up in household where men weren’t crying. They couldn’t show their weak side. That’s why she always thought that women can cry. All her exes also never sheer a tear in front of her. She believed that they can’t show proper emotions.

For her, crying was like a release. When she was felt weak, mad, panicked or tired, she was bawling her eyes. It was helping her to settle her emotions down. She always wondered what men are doing to calm down.

When Luke picked up a shoulder injury and told her about it, he cried in front of her. For the first time, she saw a man crying. She was confused, she didn’t have a clue what to do. She froze in spot when this happened. She wanted to cheer him up, but she didn’t know what to do.

She asked him what to do and Luke told her that he just needed to release his emotions. He felt comfortable to do it next to her. She explained him why she hasn’t reacted and apologized but he laughed. He promised her that it’s normal and he’s doing this a lot of times. In that moment, she knew, he’s the one.

Your shoulders, your hands, oh you must be a man

Written by a woman

Luke was lanky. Despite being an athlete, he wasn’t muscular. This changed when he joined New Jersey Devils. He started going more and more on the gym. His shoulders and arms became wider and gained more muscles. She loved him previously but now; she loved him even more. She loved dragging her nails down his biceps.

The thing she adored the most in Luke were his hands. They were so big compared to her. His fingers were insanely long. He knew about her kink on his hands and he used it to his advantage. He always had his hand on her. When they were on a walk, he held his big hand on her lower back or were holding hands. In a car, he always placed his hand on her thigh.

Their sex life was superior. She adored when he was fucking her, and she could mark his strong shoulders, later admiring the marks on his back. He loved to make her cum just by his fingers. With her, he learned that he has a thing for choking. When he was seeing his long fingers on her throat, he was going insane.

You can be rough

But it’s never too much

She trusted Luke, especially in the bedroom. He was caring and loving while they had sex. Although, they had unwritten rule that if he’s angry, he can use her. He was always giving her heads up so she wouldn’t be surprised. The minute he stepped back into their apartment, he was all over her.

She loved this side of him. She knew Luke would never hurt her, so she was letting him to have his way with her. Most of the times, he was deepthroating her and fucking in doggy style. When she felt freaky, she was acting like a brat just to see how it’s gonna end up for her. Luke wasn’t into punishment but when she was getting on his nerves, he would spank her.

After he was done with her, his priority was aftercare. He knew how important it is to show her love and respect, after he fucked her like a whore. He was always helping her in the shower and feed her so she could get back in strength. Later, he was cuddling her in their bed and whispering sweet words thanking her for this.

All day, all night

You’re on my mind

Since she and Luke started dating, they’ve been all the thinking about each other. Back in Michigan, when the lectures were boring, they’ve been daydreaming about what another one is currently doing. He was bad texter but on her message, he was responding immediately saying that he was about to call her.

When they were forced to live for a year in different states, they had been all the time thinking about each other. She was wondering how’s Luke doing in new environment, how his life looks like and how does he feels living with his brother. He was reasoning about her classes and exams, how she’s feeling being there by herself and if she’s still wearing his clothes all day.

After her graduation, she finally moved to New Jersey, and they rented an apartment. Living together hasn’t stopped them about thinking about each other. If she was working, Luke was thinking what’s going through her head. When he was watching hockey games, she was wondering which part of the match he’s currently analyzing.

All their thoughts were spiraling about each other. She could never get bored of thinking about Luke and Luke could never get bored of thinking about her.

You got me down bad, oh you must be a man

Written by a woman

She knew she fell hard for her when all her future was going around his career. When Luke went to New Jersey, she wanted to go with him. How much he loved this idea, he knew that her education is more important. He was the one to force her to graduate university because she was ready to pack her whole life and go after him.

When she finally ended up college, she moved to New Jersey. She had better work options in Michigan, but she wanted to be closer to him. Luke felt bad that she’s sacrificing her career for him but at the same time, he was grateful to have her by his side. They were made for each other.

Luke knew she’s the one and despite their young age, he decided to propose to her. He saw a future with her and that’s all what matter for them.