#i barely got to know her before i had to stop taking it

[saymio]

Silent Obsession

Pairing: Hwang In-ho (the front man) x Fem!reader

Summary: your husband was missing, and all you did for days was stay at home crying your eyes out...waiting for your dearest husband to come home. this was until inho had decided to come give you a little visit while you were all alone and vulnerable.

Warning: dead dove: do not eat, noncon, degradation, light bdsm, manipulation, In-ho is obsessed with you, rough sex, mentioned age gap (20 years), cheating (not rlly), there might be more but I'm too lazy to write it.

A/N: not proof read. this takes place during s1. (most/all of the beginning contains junho x reader content)

7.2k Words

...

it was 2015, just a few days ago your boyfriend junho had invited you to meet his family on the day of his brothers birthday. his brother was turning 40 and they were hosting a small party, just a few people... and your boyfriend thought this would be a great time to invite you to meet his mom and brother. he was ecstatic at the thought, he really wanted his family to get to know you since last year he had met yours. and he was really serious about you... but it would be an understatement to say you were nervous. hell, you were scared. you wanted to leave a good impression on his family, this was the man you wanted to marry. if his mom didnt approve of you what could you say? she was wrong? that her opinion didn't matter? these thoughts swarmed your head for hours every day....

junho was driving the two of you from your small shared apartment to his moms place. you were sitting in the passenger seat as you stared out the window of the car, you were shaking... not from the cold but from the anxiousness you were brimming with. your fingers tapped against the interior of the car, your nails making a clicking sound every time they touched the material. "are you cold y/n? I told you itd be cold today..you should've worn a bigger jacket" junho glanced at you for a second before staring back at the road and sighing. he hated when this happened, when youd be so insistent in not 'ruining' your outfit that you wouldn't pay attention to whether you'd be cold or not. this always happens! ..but he always wears a jacket for you. because he knows you'll end up shivering from the cold gusts of wind and he cant stand the thought of you suffering from the freezing temperatures. you let out a small chuckle, it was barely over a whisper but junho heard you loud and clear. "why're you laughing.." he frowned a little, not because he's upset or mad at you but just because you werent taking the situation that seriously. "what if you catch a cold? at least think about me when you dress this way..you know I hate when you're in pain.." the last part of his sentence was soft and quiet, as if he was murmuring to himself..making sure you wouldn't hear him. "stop worrying so much babe...I'm not cold or anything.. just a little jittery, its my first time meeting your family after all." you giggled at his genuine worry for you, he was such a drama queen. making these small actions seem so much more serious then they were..but its something that made you love junho. how kind and protecting he was of the people he cared about. "nervous? you don't have to be nervous y/n...I'm sure they'll love you." junho's right hand made its way to your left hand. holding it tight before giving you a soft gentle smile. his ability to sooth you with just his smile had to be studied, he truly was an angel on earth to you, like he had a halo on his head 24/7. you leaned forward a little and left a quick peck on his cheek, quickly leaning back down to your seat and looking away from him. but at the corner of junhos eyes he could see how red you've gotten...he thought it was adorable. how the two of youve been dating for 2 years but you still got flustered over small kisses. you were so innocent and kind, the exact woman he needed in his life...

but little did junho know, he was right. his family did love you..especially his brother.

you had arrived at his mothers house, .. your nerves were spiking, how should you introduce yourself? what if the cake you made was still raw? what if inho doesn't like his present? these thoughts ran through your head as you two waited for someone to open the door. your finger nails tapping against the box the cake you had made was in. the sound deafening you as you just wanted the damn door to open already. you really just hoped youd make a good impression... after what felt like an eternity the door opened, behind to door revealed the birthday boy himself, Hwang In-ho. junho just shook his hand before you bowed at him slightly before shaking his hand and introducing himself briefly. "happy birthday In-ho, my names y/n" In-ho just nodded coldly at you, if the harsh winds outside didn't freeze you his stares did. he stepped aside, allowing the two of you in. he lead the both of you up the apartment complex stairs, your heels making a loud click sound echo though the staircase with every step you took. after only a bit of walking up stairs you had reached the door to where the party was being hosted.. . . when junho had told you itd be a 'party' you expected a family gathering with like 15 people, but upon arrival you quickly realized..it was truly just him, his brother and mom celebrating inho's birthday today. you were pleasantly surprised, you hated large groups of people..it made you skittish and always super nervous. so just 3 other people being there calmed your nerves down, alot. the apartment was small and cozy, very homey and nice. his mother had made a mini feast with delicious foods and decorated the place with a few balloons and banners. it was a seemingly wholesome sight of a mother doing something nice for her sons special day, it made your heart warm up inside your chest as you took a seat at the table. "hi honey, what's your name?" junho's mother grabbed one of your hands, cupping it with the both of hers. you felt yourself blush and smile, you had barely even been inside yet his mother was being so kind already. her soft gentle voice, and kind soft eyes. it was everything that's junho was. "y/n, what about you miss?" you were trying your best to be as polite as possible, you didn't want to tip her off and cause her to hate you.. but you felt kind of uncomfortable.. inho..he was staring at you alot. and it was like he wasnt trying to hide it, his dark eyes piecing into your soul. as if he were looking for the innocence inside of you... to take it away from you. the entire day just led to you getting more and more uncomfortable. you weren't able to stare into his eyes because you felt if you did he would just jump onto you not giving a shit about his mother and brother being there too. "y/n, what would you say if your favorite thing about junho?" inho spoke, his deep voice sent uncomfortable shivers down your spine.. this entire atmosphere..it was odd. but it was like only you caught onto it. you stared at inho before turning to junho...he was blushing. he tried keeping a stoic face but you could tell he was getting flustered before you even spoke. his ears tinted in a light pink an so was his neck. "ah.. well his kindness..I think its the main reason I fell in love...he's very kind and soft spoken to people. at least until they do something wrong..but either way he's an angel." a gentle smile took over your face, you stared at junho and then at inho to continue your sentence..it was obvious you were head over heels for this man.. "he's just a very likable man." inho smiled at you, not speaking a word but it was like his face said them all for you. but they weren't the words you'd expect a caring older brother to say, it was more like a .. 'wow how nice.' but in a sarcastic tone.. his mother on the other hand.. "aww how sweet! young love, its so beautiful." she clasped her hands together before grabbing your forearm and staring up at you with twinkling eyes, it was like she was already envisioning your wedding and family with junho. "promise me you'll take care of my son, okay?"

it was a little past 10pm by now, everyone had eaten a slice of cake and junho's mother adored it. junho was right, his mom did love you. she was already talking about marriage and how she wouldnt be surprised if you made the wedding cake because the one you had brought today was "just too delicious!" you laughed and giggled at her antics, your face flushed in embarrassment. you turned to look at inho, who was staring at you intensely. your happiness almost instantly vanished as you shuffled in your chair. maybe he was upset you hadn't given him his gift yet...that should do it!! maybe he'd stop once you did. "a- inho, I brought you a gift." his eyes widened and it had seemed like he just heard life changing news, maybe he really was just sulking over a present..it was kind of cute. you grabbed your bag from your feet next to you and shuffled around until you found a yellow box, you pushed it towards inho and smiled. your tried your best to give a genuine, heartfelt smile even though you felt uncomfortable with all his glances and stares. he smiled at you, this time it seemed a little less fake...but still not genuine. he opened the box, it was a watch. a very beautiful one. it was shimmering under the dinning room light, a light white silver with simple but detailed engravings on the band of the watch. it was beautiful and it definitely wasn't the cheapest, you don't remember how much it was exactly since you had bought it the same day junho had told you about his brothers birthday..but you knew it was enough to make you wince at the receipt. "I left the receipt folded under the cloth Incase it isn't to your li-" you were cut off by inhos voice, it was calm, not as cold as it was before..it was rather soothing even.. "no. its perfect." he put the watch on, adjusting it so it fit his wrist perfectly. you felt your lips creep into a wide smile, you were so glad this day was going perfectly. "wow, that's such a pretty watch! it must've costed you a lot." their mother interrupted the two of you, staring at the watch that sat on inhos wrist and then at you. "inho, say thank you! be polite." she hit the back of his head harshly, as if she were scolding a little kid... you laughed at the scene, mothers truly see their children as their babies forever. "no- its okay miss don't wo-" it seemed like today was full of interruptions and cut offs as inho did just it again. "thank you y/n, I appreciate it a lot." his face was blank again, no readable expression was there.. but based off his passed reactions..you felt he was being sincere. . . . "thank you miss, thank you inho." you bowed at the both of them while you stood at the front door with junho, showing your gratitude for their kindness and patience with you and your boyfriend. "of course honey, please come back any time you want." junho's mother grabbed your hand one more time, inho nodded along with her. he wasn't a man of many words but it seemed his scary demeanor had vanished. maybe it was never even there and you were just nervous..either way you were glad you didn't leave the house with a weird feeling about your boyfriends brother. juho's mother then shoo'd the two of you away, telling you it was late and you shouldn't stay up so late at such a young age... you felt happy. a warm feeling sat in your heart and stomach, it was like you had just found your second family.

time skip (5 years)

there you sat in the police station, its been days since youve last seen your husband. you were sobbing into the palm of your hands, the salty liquid dripped onto your long dress as you drained ever drop of water from your body. you were terrified. what happened to him?? where was he?? what had he gotten into? you were devastated to say the least, you explained with a shaky and quaky voice that your husband had just told you he was off to investigate his brothers vanishment and would be back by the night..like always! so when you woke up and he wasn't there you just felt dread. you texted him and texted him all day to no response. when he didn't come back for the second day you reported him missing. you reported this story to the police about 9 times already, everyday since you reported him missing you came to the police station for any clues or help..an obviously everyday they told you the same thing...that they had nothing. the only reason they didn't push you off to the side when you came in was well..because your husband worked for them. he was a police officer under them, it'd feel disrespectful to you and junho if they just told you to give up hope on finding your husband. maybe you'd stop after another week or two..you'd realize whatever fate inho had found was the same junho ended to aswell... and not only that but you were pretty, kind and in obvious distress over your husband. they'd feel like they just kicked a sick puppy in the stomach if they told you to go away. so every day, at 8am you come in. usually in a pretty sundress but your state of mind isn't as pretty. your eye bags were prominent and you seemed to constantly be in a state of dissociation.... "you promise there's nothing? please double check! please..I need my husband back. you don't understand" your words were exasperated and rushed, you wanted answers, your husband, closure, anything! your breaths were getting heavy as you reached your delicate hand to the tissue box on the desk infront of you. you felt yourself breaking down, more and more, every. day. the police officer let out a breathy sigh, he was trying his very best to not tell you off. to tell you to go back to your home and cry there or something. to stop wasting his time every single fucking day.. but he couldn't. and he wouldn't. not when your state was some of the worst he's seen in his years of being an officer. "listen ma'am, there seems to be a dead end a-" you slammed your hand onto the table, one still holding the now damp tissue as you started to cry harder. you shook your head violently, indicating a very obvious no...or in this case obvious denial. "no. there..there isn't a dead end. he's alive and he needs your help!! please..please keep searching i-i'll.." you started to dig into your purse, the same one junho had gifted you for your 5th anniversary not long before this whole ordeal. when you felt what you were looking for you snatched it out your bag, like it was grabbing it, stealing it from your grasp. "h-here..d-dont stop searching please. I'll give you this..p-please.." in between words you started to cry more, tears streaming down your cheeks and dripping off your skin. your head was lowered and you were looking at your lap. you didn't want to stop looking for him. you wouldn't stop until you knew he was safe. "ma'am...you don't have to give me money for doing my job." he slid the stack of money that you had taken from your purse back to you and shook his head in disapproval. "listen.. sigh we're trying our best okay? we arent just laying around doing nothing, he was our coworker and we want to find him as much as you do.." he looked away from your depressing state, you were catching your breath and shaking, your fists were curled into balls. it was clear, even though he was an officer that he didn't want to find junho nearly as much as you did..he didn't think it would even be possible to. "just..take a break. you're overwhelming yourself and it isn't good for you. junho is strong and you know this, so just believe in him and his ability to live..."

the officer opened a drawer that was next to his seat, it was a little pile of candies.. he grabbed a handful and handed you a few. with a shaky hand you took the candies, your eyes were red and puffy. it was painfully obvious that you had just broken down in tears. you didnt want to speak but it was obvious by the way you acted, that all you wanted right now was for your husband to come back into your embrace. "if you want I can step out and let you calm down." the officer stares at you, awaiting the answer that would leave your lips. "no..its okay.. i-...whatever. thank you, I will take a break to calm down and compose myself. please have a good day." you mumbled the first few words, like a scared child who had just gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar and is now making up an excuse. you let out a loud sigh before you stood up from your chair, rubbing your tired, sore eyes before fixing your hair and grabbing your bag. you turned around right as you were in front of the office door, you bowed at the officer to show your gratitude as you proceeded to touch the cold metal handle of the door and creaked it open. with a click of the door closing you were walking away from the room you had just broken down in.

there you were, sitting on the edge of the bed you and your husband shared. it felt cold every time you sunk your body into the soft mattress..cold and empty. you weren't used to this, you were used to your husband coming home from work and giving you a kiss. slipping into the soft blankets together as you worked as heaters for each other's bodies. you didn't like this. you didn't want this. you flopped your upper torso onto the bed, causing it to make a squeaking sound to the sudden pressure. your legs were dangling off the side of the bed as you stared up into the ceiling. the world around you felt hazy, like everything that surrounded your body was just an empty void of nothingness. the world was meaningless without junho. you felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier...until they had finally closed shut.

knock... knock... knock you jolted up from your bed, who was here at this time? it's like 2am... you stared at the closed bedroom door, thinking about if it was a good idea to open the doorm. you're a young woman alone at her house at 2am...what if it was a sex trafficker trying to kidnap and rape you!!?? knock... knock... knock the loud but slow knocks echoed throughout the house, the knocks took a 3 second pause inbetween..it was so creepy.. it made your skin crawl.. bu...what if...what if the police have clues about junho and came to talk to you about it they heard of it!! or..what if junho had finally come home..... these thoughts rand through your head, you were scared of what might be behind of that door. but not scared enough to not open it. you slowly got up from your bed, making it squeak under the pressure of your body. your soft slippers made a swooshing sound against the wooden floors as you shuffled your way to the front door... knock... knock.... knock there it was...the knocking. you couldn't help but feel this dry lump from in your throat, but you had to do it...you needed to make sure... if it was some stranger you'd just slam the door on them and go and hide in a closet or something.. your swallowed the lump in your throat and placed your palm on the cold metal of the handle, unlocking it with a small click and turning it clockwise so that it opened the door.. you didn't open it alot, just enough to see who was on the other side. your eyes stared at the dark soulless eyes In front of you, it was a random man. you had no idea why he was here or what he wanted..but he looked very familiar..maybe he was an off duty cop that just wanted to check up on you..? "h-hello..? how can I help you..." your voice was small and quiet, barely above a whisper as you used the door as some kind of shield from the strange man. "yes. you can." you stared up at the man with confused puppy dog eyes, what did that even mean?? you furrowed your eyebrows and squinted your eyes as you stared at him..you were about to close the door on the strange man until something clicked inside of you. you recognized where he was from.. "inho?! w-what? what are you.." your judgmental facial expression quickly changed into one of shook and worry, was he here to see junho? how would you break the news that his brother was now missing too?? you raised your small hand to your mouth, covering it in shock..you didn't even know what to do....what should you say..? your eyes started to water and tear up, you were reminded of the harsh reality junho was in..he was seriously missing and now the person he went missing looking for was In front of you...it seemed like everyone was just against you. mocking the disappearance of your husband. "what...are you doing here? a-are you here for junho..he's.." you let out choked sighs after every other word, taking your hands from your mouth to your entire face. you were a crying mess In front of a man you barely knew, it was so embarrassing. you were so pathetic and sad. everyone's been telling you to just get over it but here you are, sobbing for what felt like the 6th time today. a loud sigh snapped you out of your saddened state,, but...it wasn't a sigh of disapproval or frustration...it was like a sigh of...desire. like he was getting off to the sight your sobbing, scared and fragile body. "you're doing this on purpose, you have to be." you stared up at inho with confusion. you eyebrow was raised, as if asking him what the fuck he meant by that. before you could even mutter a word he pushed you, really harshly. you went flying back into your home, head hitting the hard wood. you felt yourself getting dizzier and dizzier for a few seconds...you felt like you couldn't move, speak or even see anymore...your head was spinning and alarms were ringing from the inside of your head..until you were passed out.

you woke up... you were sitting in the middle of the dining room, it seemed like someone had moved the table and other chairs out the way as it was literally only you. you and the chair you were sitting on. the room was barely lit up, you could only see some of your surroundings due to the singular light that was on. the ligh that bulb was right on top of you..it felt like you were about to get interrogated for murder,,you were terrified. for you wanted to scream, cry and just run away from what was happening. but you couldn't. your ankles were tied onto the legs of the chair. your arms and torso were bounded to the chair itself with a thick rope., it was digging into your skin hard..it hurt. alot.. you wanted to squirm around and get yourself free but you knew you'd just end up knocking the chair down and you'd be stuck in an awkward position..you tried to start screaming but you couldnt, you were confused..it was like your mouth was glued shut.....your eyes darted around the room, looking for anyone, anything to help you. it took you a second for you to put the pieces together but.. once you did you realized.. your mouth was duck taped shut. you didn't know what to do, you were overwhelmed and you just wanted your husband back to you. you closed your eyes shut as warm salty tears fell from your eyes. your eyes just couldn't catch a break, could they? they were tired and sore. even when you werent sleepy it hurt to open and close the..a result of crying for days.. you just wanted to feel happiness again. but clearly that wasn't going to happen soon. was your fate going to be the same as your husbands? were his kidnappers after you to sew your mouth shut?? you didn't want to die..at least not because you got closure.. "you shouldn't cry Infront of me. its a bad idea. I have a thing for little girls that look pretty when they cry." your head jumped forward, looking at the figure that had stepped out the shadows surrounding you.. your eyes widened, remembering that inho had been the one that knocked you over and caused you to black out. the same man that had gone missing 5 years ago, the same man that your brother went missing looking for.. what was he doing here? was he here to kill you? to keep you silent? to assault you? thoughts rand through your head as he took large, slow steps towards you. as if he was mocking your frightened state. he reached his right hand out towards you, your eyes landed on the silver watch he was wearing. it seemed so similar to the one you had gifted all those years ago..but no way he would still be wearing it, right? before you could even process another thought his hand gripped at your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to literally stare up at him. the roughness of his grip made you wince in pain..he didn't come here with intentions of being nice and if you didn't realize that person you definitely realized that now. you tried to scream and kick your feet, you knew the tape and rope would stop your attempts and make them useless but you still tried. your screams just came out as diluted, muffled noises. the tape had stopped you from making any loud noises... the chair under your only shook a little but it wasn't enough to lighten the grip inho had on your hair. his dark, soulless eyes stared you down. they were like black orbs, nothing behind them. he grinned at you, like he was watching a cartoon and a character had did something funny. he was laughing at you. he thought this was funny. "you look so stupid, you do know that the tape will just silence all your screams, right? or are you too young and dumb to understand that yet." he tilted his head at you and gave you a mockingly confused expression. he was having the time of his fucking life while you were here, scared for your damn life. you glared at him, trying to intimidate him..doing anything to scare him...trying to find the little humanity in him that feels sympathy was clearly never going to happen. so you had to try another approach..even if it wasn't going to work either... and your suspicions were right ..

he just smiled at you, another mockingly fake smile... he released his hand from the grip he had on your hair and pinched your cheeks, just as roughly as he did with your hair. leaving a red mark when he let go... it was like he was treating you like you were a pouting child, stomping your feet because your mom didn't let you buy the comically huge lollipop you really wanted. "youre not scary sweetie." the pet name made you want to throw up in your mouth. he knew well you were his sister in law but here he was, calling you pet names with his disgusting voice. " you know..ive had my eyes on you since i met you...you're just so gorgeous..and delicate." he took a short but slow walk around u and stopped to stand behind you. his cold hands reached to your face and covered your eyes. you couldn't see anything but you knew he was leaned up in your ear...you could feel his hot breath making you unnervingly uncomfortable. "I just wanna ruin you." your breathe hitched in your throat, he was going to rape you. you know it, you had to fight back, you had to. you couldn't let a man that wasn't your husband put his dick inside you. inho took his cold hands away from your face and walked back in front of you. you glanced down at his crotch and...there was a bulge...he was getting off to your scared shape. he truly was an emotionless sadist.. he held up his index finger to your covered lips. "shh. make any noise and I wont think twice about killing you and your husband." your eyes widened as you heard the last part...that meant your husband was alive..and he knew where he was. you nodded slowly, complying with his words. he ripped the piece of tape off your mouth, causing you to let out a yelp in pain. you stared at him with a frightened face, you realized you had just made a loud sound...you didn't want to die you didn't..you didn't want your husband to die! "I said. be quiet." the truth with inho was, he had already killed your husband..at least he thought he did. only a day ago did he shot junho, causing him to fall off the side of the island...he probably drowned and is floating lifeless in the sea right now.. but you didnt need to know that...and it was clear you weren't even aware. your mouth was shut and you tried to silence your heavy rapid breathing....you really did love your husband..he wanted to steal that love from junhos grasp. he leaned down, his face was now perfectly aligned with yours... you wanted to say something, you wanted to scream and cry but if you did he'd kill you...you knew he would... his left hand started to rub your cheek, it was gentle and warm but it just made you hate it even more...his fake kindness. you hated it. his lips connected with yours, at first it seemed like he was trying to be gentle but it was obvious he had quickly gotten bored of it before he got rough. your teeth were clashing with each other as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. exploring every inch of it before he started to nip at your lips...he was aggressive and messy. everything junho wasn't.. this wasn't the kind of kiss you wanted or craved. you felt like your eyes were sewn shut the way you refused to open them, you didn't want to stare at inho. you just wanted this to end..maybe once it did you'd finally have your husband back. after what felt like hours of making out he has finally took his chapped lips off of your soft ones. a string of saliva connected the two of you as he caught his breath. you opened your eyes to stare at him, they were watery..your tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes as you caught your breath. to inho you eyes were like glass marbles...and he wanted to shatter them into pieces. you took deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. if you were calm it wouldn't be as bad. you read this inside your mind over and over and over again. you just prayed he would use you quickly and then leave... "you know, that day..the day where junho has brought you to our mothers house for my birthday.." his eyes wandered away from you, as if he were recalling the day in exact detail, scene by scene...

his eyes snapped back to yours, holding intense eye contact until he continued his sentence... "when I asked you what you loved most about junho you told me you loved his kindness. you said he was a soft person..an angel in your eyes." he crouched down, staring at you with intense eyes. his sharp features were like daggers, stabbing one by one into your heart. "you told me you loved something about him that I lacked. I'm not a kind person. and right now..you probably think I'm the devil instead of an angel like my brother.." he smiled at you, it was a cold, fake smile. if you touched his face right now it'd probably be ice cold.. "thats how I knew someone like you would never willingly be with a man like me.. but it's okay, I'll just force myself onto you." you started to cry, the salty liquid streamed down from your cheeks to your chin. your eyes were red and puffy, you didn't know what to do. you didn't want to be with this man, you didn't want this. inhos left head reached to your face, this time he squeezed the both of your cheeks so that your lips were puckered at him. "got it, princess?" he leaned in to kiss you again, this time he went aggressive right away. forcing his tongue into your mouth, some of your tears dripped onto his mouth. letting him taste the saltiness of your sadness. and it was delicious.

there you sat, he had freed your ankles from the restraints on the chair. nipping and licking at your clit. you hated this, you couldn't stop crying. you felt disgusting, a man that wasn't your husband was licking and eating your pussy out. why would you let this happen? at this point death felt better than breaking your husbands heart. you lets out cries and soft no's as he slurped your juices. you hated that it felt good, you hated that he knew what he was doing. your moans and mewls filled the room, followed with wet sloppy sounds of spit and cum mixed together. he's been eating you out for what felt like hours, you've probably came like 3 times already. you were getting tired..your legs were shaky, trying to close in on themselves but inhos arms kept them wide open for you. "p-please stop. I don't like thi-this...ah...please..let me go already..please.." you were begging with him, your eyes were shaky, your face was flushed and your lips were wet from his aggressive kisses. god. the scene of you begging for him to stop as he abused your clit was one he wanted engraved in his mind forever. he let go of your pussy with a loud pop, your juices and his spit was all over his mouth and chin. he looked like a wild animal that had just eaten his prey alive. with his sleeve he wiped off the liquid on his face. 'ruining' his all black jacket. "you want me to stop but your cum is all over my face and lips. you want me to stop but you keep moaning. just admit you're a slut for me." you close your eyes shut, shaking your head viciously, you don't want him. you don't want this. you just want your husband to be safe. that's all you want... inho scoffs at you, as if you were lying to his face. maybe he truly did believe you wanted this..that you wanted him.. but you knew it wasn't true, you knew that you loved junho and that you werent fighting back back because you just wanted him back.. you'd break down in tears in his arms once he comes home, you'll explain it when he's home. he'd understand..right..? you were lost in your thoughts, but reality snapped you out of them.. 2 long fingers were inside of your core, curling and pumping in and out... it hurt so much. it was nothing like you were used to, slow paced and gentle..no..it was fast and rough. you let out a cry, you were in so much pain it made you want to go insane. the rope that was still tied around your arms and waist dug into your skin, burning you as you struggled under the restraints..trying to find a way out. it felt like inhos was trying to split you in half, the rough skin on his finger pads only made it worse. but ofcoourse it had to feel good, because he knew what he was doing. even if it was messy, even if it was rough, even if you didn't like it..he knew how to make a woman feel good past all the pain. he tilted his head up towards you, his dark almond eyes burned holes into yours. "you gonna cum?" instead of a question, it felt like a demand. demanding you to answer yes, scaring you into saying yes.. but you didn't say yes, you said no. you shook your head and mouthed no to inho, not daring to say it out loud..and it obviously made him upset. he sneered at you before grabbing is free hand and pinching your clit before speeding the pace of his fingers. this was something you've never felt before, the pleasure finally overshadowed the pain and it felt like he had just forced your orgasm out of your body. your cum coated his digits, leaving a slightly milky white color on them.. you were catching your breath, it was hard to breath..the pain, anxiety and fear were catching up to you...you felt your throat slowly closing on you..you felt like you couldn't even breath enough air to supply your lungs are this point.. you were so caught up in your own world that you didn't even realize how he was pressing against the bulge that was begging to be freed from his trousers..he stared at you with bleak eyes, there was nothing behind them...nothing but desire and want..you were scared witless of what he would do to your poor body next. and whatever it was, you didn't want it

the bed was creaking under you, the same bed you and juho slept in everyday... you legs were pressing onto your stomach, the skin rubbing against each other. inho was slamming his cock in and out of you.. touching spots you didn't even know could be reached before this. you felt horrible for feeling so good. but you didn't want this. you were a crying moaning mess. your nails were digging onto his hands, the ones that were pressing you down. you were begging for him to stop, you didn't want this..you felt like you were being forced into this. with the life of your husband on the line.. inho let go of your left thigh and reached to your neck. his freezing hand sending shivers through your body as he started to choke you whilst pounding in and out of you..destroying your gummy insides. he lowered his face to you and scoffed, you looked so pathetic. crying and sobbing acting like you weren't enjoying his fat cock. why wouldn't you just admit you liked it for once? "acting like youre the victim while my cocks deep inside of you. is this all women do? complain about everything..just admit you like it. I wont tell." you felt so degrading. you were getting fucked by a man you barely knew on the bed your missing husband and you slept on every day at somepoint. using his life against you and now he's blaming you? was it really your fault? could you have just turned him away and still gotten junho back? was that an option that you weren't told about? you started crying, your weak arms pushing against his chest with no avail. you just wanted it to stop, you were in pain and now you're being told its your fault you're in this situation. you can never win. you began to sob louder, begging him to let you go, louder and louder until you were wailing like a stupid baby. your hand grasped at the tight grip he had on your neck, then to his chest to push him away again. "shut up." he snarled before taking off his hand from your neck, he had left a bruise from how hard he was gripping...with the same hand he harshly slapped you. shutting your cries up quickly. a red spot started to quickly form, your skin was now irritated in what felt like every place on your body.. "you're such a slut. taking the dick of a man 20 years older than you on the very bed your husband would sleep on. do you not feel ashamed? hmm?" he hummed at you, waiting for your reply. but you didn't even mutter a word, nothing. you decided you'll just take it with no noise, if you stay quiet up maybe it'll end faster?.. it should...shouldn't it..you were trying to comfort yourself in your head.. "you can keep trying to tell yourself otherwise but youre nothing but a dirty cheater. taking dick like a good girl. this probably isn't the first time youve done this huh?" he laughed at your now soulless face, he was right when he said he wanted to ruin you. he was doing that, and it got worse with every second that passed. "ffuck I'm close. you better cum or else I'll js' keep on using you until you do." you started to tear up, your clit twitching and your hole began to clench around his cock. you felt good, but terrible at the same time..you doubted he was cumming because he thought you felt good though, it was a factor but it was probably your shape that made him so horny. you were sad, in pain...tired... he got off to it so bad. you let out quiet pants and moans, indicating to inho that you were close too. he started to get sloppy, his pace getting even faster as the wet slapping sound of skin filled your ears to the brim. you felt your clit pulsating, begging for release...once you came you'd be free..you'd be...you'd be....be.. "a-aa.. fuck fuck fuckfck fuck! ouOUGH~" you let out loud, filthy moans. probably for the first time that night, instead of your cries it was your moans and whimpers that the room was now brimming with. inho loved the sound of your noises, your cries, moans, everything. God it made him so horny...once he felt you cum all over his cock he let his go through as well. fucking his orgasm into you deeper, and deeper with a loud groan..

he kept moving slowly, fucking you through your orgasm as your breathes calmed down.. "I want to ruin every inch of kindness and hope for humanity you have left in you. you're so perfect. perfect to corrupt.." his hand raised to your cheek and started to rub it 'lovingly'. you had a feeling he wasn't going to let you go like he had told you he would.

...

Another not: I FINALLY FINISHED YAY took me like all day again but ....yay!! I hope u guys liked it. I'm pretty proud of it but idk if its ooc or not... but SMASH THE LIKE BUTTON N HIT SUBSCRIBE 4 MORE..!!!!!!!

TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf

[hoshifighting]

like what if yn is tired just arrived home from work and cheol is on the couch, legs stretched watching tv. then yn changes to little shorts n sit between his legs, yn's back on his chest. little cuddles and then his hand slowly reaches her 😼 little no's or stops from yn but ofc she actually dont want him to stop. THAN HE LOCKS HER LEGS WITH HIS LEGS AND OPEN THEM MORE AND KEEP GOING

bf!cheol taking care of you after work as you sit between his legs

WARNINGS: smut, fingering, dirty talk, body fluids (cum), a bulge pressed against reader's ass 😇

it’s been a day. work was hell, people were annoying, and honestly, the second you got home, you were ready to faceplant on your bed and not move for the next 12 business days. except you walk into the living room, and there he is—choi seungcheol. stretched out on the couch like he’s got no worries in the world, one arm lazily thrown over the backrest, legs spread. he’s flipping through channels with that casual “i’m hot and i know it” energy that makes you roll your eyes even as your chest does that stupid fluttery thing.

“hey, baby,” he calls, barely looking up, but the smile tugging at his lips is soft. inviting.

“hey,” you mumble back, kicking off your shoes and tossing your bag somewhere in the vicinity of the door because you’re too tired to care. you trudge off to change, throwing on one of those little pairs of shorts you know he likes (and, let’s be real, you also like how they make your ass look).

when you wander back into the living room, he’s still there, scrolling through Netflix now, like he’s trying to find something he hasn’t already seen ten times. you flop down between his legs, leaning back against his chest with a tired sigh, and he immediately wraps his arms around you.

“rough day?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“you have no idea,” you mumble, closing your eyes as his warmth surrounds you.

he hums, his chin resting on your shoulder, and you feel his hands slowly start to wander. it’s innocent at first, his fingers tracing little patterns on your thighs, but then one of his hands starts sliding up.

“cheol,” you say softly, not even looking up.

“hmm?” he replies, his voice all sweet and casual, like he’s not already halfway to breaking the unspoken no-touchy rule you’ve set for nights like this.

“don’t,” you mumble, but there’s no heat behind it, and you both know it.

his hand pauses for like, half a second before continuing its journey. his fingers sneak under the hem of your shorts, brushing against the bare skin beneath. you squirm a little, your legs pressing together instinctively, but all that does is trap his hand where it is.

“you’re not stopping me,” he teases, his voice low in your ear, and you feel his smirk more than you see it.

“cheol, seriously—”

and then he moves. his legs come up, wrapping around yours and locking them in place, spreading you open in a way that makes you gasp.

“cheol!”

“what?” he says, feigning innocence as his fingers dip between your legs, finding exactly what he’s looking for. “you’re not stopping me,” he repeats, his tone teasing but firm, like he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

your breath hitches as his fingers start to move, tracing over the thin fabric of your shorts like he’s testing how far he can push you. you let out a shaky little “stop,” but it’s half-hearted at best, and you’re pretty sure he knows it.

“stop?” he echoes, his voice dripping sweetness. “you don’t sound like you want me to stop.”

“i do,” you tease weakly, but the way your hips tilt up to meet his hand completely betrays you.

“sure you do,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts now, brushing against your bare skin. “you’re so convincing, baby.”

you let out a soft whimper as he finds your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make your head fall back against his shoulder.

“cheol—”

“shh,” he soothes, his lips brushing against your ear. “just let me take care of you, okay? you’ve had a long day. you deserve this.”

your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan low in your ear, the sound shooting straight to your core. your lips hover near his ear, and you gasp when his fingers slide inside you, the wet, obscene noises filling the space between your breaths.

schlk—schlk—schlk

every slide is unrelenting, curling and hitting that spot, making tears flood your eyes. his cock is rock hard, pressing right against your ass, and you can feel him twitch through the fabric of his sweats.

“fuck, baby, squeezing my fingers like this. you missed me, hm?”

you let out a choked moan, your hips tilting to meet his thrusts, but he keeps you pinned, his legs still locking yours open.

“you’re dripping all over my hand...listen,”

your back arches further, your face finding his neck as your cheeks flush with embarassment, his free hand snakes up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“you wanna cum? hm? answer me,” he taunts, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “i can feel it, the way you’re clenching. but i don’t know if you deserve it yet.”

“cheol—!”

“hmm?” he hums, adding another finger, making your walls flutter around him. “use your words, baby. beg for it. tell me how bad you need me to make you come.”

you shake your head, too stubborn to give him the satisfaction, but then he shifts his hand, his thumb pressing against your clit just right, and you unravel.

“please!” you gasp, your voice cracking as your nails dig into his scalp.

“that’s my girl,” he growls, his hips rocking against you, his cock throbbing against your ass like he’s holding back just as much as you are.

his fingers work you faster, the wet noises getting louder, more vulgar, and your moans turn into broken cries. “such a good girl,” he coos, though his tone is still dripping with teasing. “but fuck, you’re so easy to ruin, aren’t you? just a little fingering, and you’re falling apart on me.”

his words push you closer, every filthy syllable lighting you up, until your body tenses and you cum around his fingers, the schelching present until you melt on his chest.

“that’s it, my baby...make a mess for me. let me feel you.”

and you do, your nails raking down his forearm as he praises you for working so hard.

[seulszn]

B.A.S (Both Ain’t Shit)

Fuck it, guess we both ain’t shit

Pairings: Caitlyn X Mel X Reader.

Warnings: smut (fingering), cussing, public sex.

A/N: I wanna thank my sister @2000blde and my friends @grosspube, Kya, and Sina for helping me out with this fic it was a loooong struggle and I promised them this. Also this was suppose to come out yesterday for Caitlyn’s birthday but I had a terrible tooth ache.

You don't know how you got into this messy situation. In a crowded room where businessmen talk about the latest stocks and celebrities discuss the juiciest drama going on.

But Mel and Caitlyn those two were nowhere to be found the two most important woman in the business world are in a janitor's closet fucking their girlfriend like it was your last day on earth.

The smell of cleaning supplies lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the heady scent of sweat and arousal. The small space felt suffocating, yet you couldn’t care less as their bodies trapped you between them. Mel’s lips were on your neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin as she left her mark, making her dominance clear.

Their movements were relentless, urgent, like this was the last night they’d ever have with you. Mel’s low, commanding voice filled your ear as she whispered filthy promises, her hand sliding up your thigh, joining Caitlyn in their shared effort to unravel you completely.

The sharp contrast of Mel’s fiery intensity and Caitlyn’s calculated precision was dizzying, leaving you gasping, barely able to form a coherent thought.

You were theirs, and they made sure you felt every second of it, as if they truly believed it might be their last chance to claim you.

The party outside might as well have been on another planet. The world they ruled so effortlessly had been left behind, the only thing that mattered now being your trembling body between them and the sinful pleasure they were determined to wring from you.

Mel’s gaze is fixed on you, dark and hungry, like a predator sizing up her prey. Her lips curl into a teasing smirk, her golden eyes practically undressing you as though she can already taste you on her tongue. The way she watches you makes your pulse race, every inch of you aching under the weight of her attention.

“Relax baby let us take care of you” With a soft, reassuring voice, Caitlyn coos as her hands glide over the smooth fabric of your expensive black dress. In one fluid and practiced motion, she slips it off your shoulders, letting the luxurious material cascade down your body effortlessly.

The dress pools at your feet for just a moment before Caitlyn scoops it up and casually tosses it into the depths of the closet, Removing your bra the dark skinned girl is fast to latch her mouth onto your breasts sucking and biting on the sensitive nipple.

Their warmth surrounds you, the air thick with anticipation and unspoken desire. Neither of them moves with any urgency, but the tension between the three of you is almost unbearable.

Meanwhile, Caitlyn’s touch is agonizingly slow, her fingertips barely grazing the soft skin of your thighs as they travel downward. The featherlight sensation sends shivers racing across your body, your breath hitching when her fingers finally hook around the waistband of your panties. She slides them down with infuriating precision, her nails scraping gently against your skin as she goes.

When Caitlyn’s fingers find your soaked clit, she pauses, circling it just enough to make your knees weak. A strangled whimper escapes you, the anticipation coiling tight in your core. Sandwiched between them, unable to move or do anything but wait, you silently plead for them to stop teasing and finally claim you.

Caitlyn’s middle and ring finger brush against your folds she's teasing the fuck out of you and you fucking hate it both of them are touching you but this isn't enough whimpering out the blue haired girl snickers as she places her chin against your shoulder “what baby girl? You have to use your words you know this” she coos as her teeth nip at your shoulder.

Please Cait- Mel please fuck me” you mew as both women let out a breathy chuckle at your desperation. Happy at your begs, Caitlyn rewards you by shoving her thin fingers so far inside your cunt that you’d squeal. Drawn-out circles are traced on your swollen clit, her fingers fucking you with the correct quantity of pressure you arch your back against Caitlyn moaning.

“you're such a slut” she whispers in your ear. Her voice is enticing, she knows how to make your legs squirming, and desperate for more. She has that control over you that's what made you so attracted to her. Their touches are rough, yet gentle but you find yourself responding to it still begging for more.

“You like this huh? Us fucking you in public” Mel says wrapping her hand around your throat slightly choking Mel watches you closely, the smirk on her face growing as your eyes roll to the back of your head. Caitlyn's thumb presses down on your clit, and you can't help but buck your hips, the pleasure too intense to hold back.

You squeal as the dark skinned woman grabs ahold of your face squeezing it making your lips pucker up “you don't want them to hear us hm? Be quiet dear” she demands as Cait continues to finger-fuck you roughly.

“Do you hear how wet you are?” Mel questions as her eyes stay glued on your expression wet squelch noises coming from your cunt and the mixture of your moans that fill the closet you know the people outside can hear the nasty sounds your cunt is making. You nod your head as she scoffs at your fucked out face before pulling you closer to her.

Her lips brushed yours, soft and tentative at first, testing the waters. The faintest sigh escaped you as her warmth drew you closer. She deepens the kiss, her lips steadfast and purposeful, molding perfectly against yours. Mel hands slid up to cradle the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. The kiss grew more passionate, her tongue tracing the seam of your lips before slipping inside, exploring you with a mix of dominance and tenderness.

Time seemed to pause as you melted into her, the rhythm of the kiss her touch became more insistent, her fingers tightening in your hair. Breathless, you broke apart for a moment, foreheads pressed together, before diving back in, chasing the electrifying connection only her lips could ignite.

“You two are going to drive me insane,” Caitlyn muttered, her voice low and breathless before quickening her pace. Her hand found your most sensitive spot, her thumb circling your clit with deliberate, maddening precision. Each slow, measured loop sent sparks of pleasure radiating through your nude body.

Her fingers thrust into you with a steady, unrelenting rhythm, each movement calculated to push you closer to the edge of control.

You were an absolute wreck. The hair Mel had spent hours straightening was now curling at the ends, damp with sweat and heat. The makeup you had painstakingly perfected was a ruined masterpiece mascara trailing faint lines down your flushed cheeks, lipstick smeared from the messy kisses.

But none of it mattered. Not the effort, not the mess, not the way you were coming undone under Caitlyn's hands, and not the way Mel is kissing you with so much passion. All that mattered was the desperate craving they awakened in you a need for more, for everything, from the two of them.

Your hips moved at their own accord grinding down onto Cait’s fingers with a raw, and unrestrained hunger. Each thrust sends a spark through your trembling body, her fingers curling just right, finding every spot that makes your head spin. Your breathing is ragged, a string of broken moans falling from your lips as you chase the release they’re driving you toward. Every inch of you is alive, burning, as if the only thing tethering you to reality is the pleasure they give you.

Mel’s gaze was locked on your face, her sharp eyes tracking every flicker of emotion—the way your lips parted in ecstasy, the glazed, desperate look in your eyes. Her other hand hovered near your mouth, two fingers slipping between your lips. You sucked on them greedily, swirling your tongue around them as if trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming sensations below.

A scoff escaped her, though her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Look at you,” she murmured, her tone half amusement, half hunger. “Such a pretty, fucked-out mess.” Without warning, she pulled her fingers from your mouth, eliciting a whine of protest, before gripping your chin firmly and tilting your face toward her.

Mel closed the distance, her lips claiming you once again in a kiss that was both punishing and possessive. The taste of her was intoxicating, and the press of her mouth against yours only heightened the heat pooling in your core. Caitlyn didn’t let up, her fingers curling just right inside you, as if the two of them had conspired to push you past the point of no return.

Mel’s piercing gaze never wavered, her sharp eyes locked onto your face as if she were memorizing every flicker of pleasure that crossed it. Her smirk deepened, a glint of satisfaction flashing across her features as she watched your eyes roll back, your body writhing helplessly under her scrutiny. The cool authority she exuded made every shiver coursing through you feel more vulnerable, more exposed.

Caitlyn, always precise, pressed her thumb firmly against your clit, the pressure sending jolts of electricity through your core. A desperate cry escaped your lips, hips bucking uncontrollably, chasing the ecstasy that had taken hold of your trembling body. The coiling heat deep within you grew tighter, winding with every calculated scissor of Caitlyn’s fingers inside you.

Mel, ever attentive, leaned closer, her elegant hand gliding down to meet Caitlyn’s work. Her fingers brushed over your clit in firm, deliberate circles, the contrast of their combined touches overwhelming. Each movement felt like a perfect symphony, their rhythms synchronized to push you closer to the edge.

“It’s... it’s too much…Mel, please,” you gasped, your voice trembling with desperation as you weakly tried to push their hands away. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the overstimulation threatening to shatter you. But Mel wasn’t the type to grant mercy. Her dark fingers caught your chin, tilting your head until you met her gaze. The closeness of her face, the sharp scent of mint on her breath, made your knees weak.

“Move your hands, Y/N,” she said evenly, her voice laced with quiet authority. You shook your head, lips trembling, but Mel’s grip tightened, her eyes narrowing with a warning that left no room for argument.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” she asked, her tone calm but sharp as a blade. A shiver ran down your spine, your resistance crumbling under her control. With a soft whimper, you let your hands fall away, surrendering completely to them. The static haze of pleasure filled your mind as Caitlyn’s fingers curled just right, hitting spots that made you see stars.

The room in the dim, tucked away corner of the grand ballroom where the celebration was in full swing faded from your awareness. Their hands, their bodies, their presence consumed every ounce of your focus. This wasn’t just pleasure; it was a claim, a deliberate reminder of their control over you.

“I’m…oh god…I’m gonna cum,” you cried out, your voice breaking as the pressure in your core reached its peak. Caitlyn’s fingers plunged deeper, her thumb circling your clit with relentless precision. Mel’s touch remained steady, amplifying every sensation until your body gave in. Your head fell back, a desperate moan tearing from your throat as your orgasm slammed into you, leaving you trembling and undone against Caitlyn’s shoulder.

But even as your body convulsed, they didn’t relent. Caitlyn’s pace quickened, her knuckles brushing deeper, her focus unyielding. Mel’s lips ghosted over your ear, her fingers resuming their torturous circles on your overstimulated clit.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” Mel whispered, her voice rich with amusement. The overstimulation sent sparks racing through your limbs, making you shudder and squirm. But their determination was clear—they weren’t stopping until you were reduced to nothing more than a trembling, incoherent mess.

Just as the coil in your stomach tightened again, ready to snap, the crackle of a microphone interrupted.

“And now, Caitlyn and Mel, please join us on stage to accept your award!”

The announcement pierced the haze, pulling you back to reality like a bucket of ice water. Caitlyn stilled, her fingers still buried inside you as she let out an exasperated growl. “Perfect timing,” she muttered bitterly, withdrawing her hand with deliberate slowness that left you shuddering.

Mel chuckled softly, withdrawing her own touch as she leaned back with a smirk. “Guess we’ll have to pick this up later,” she said, her tone teasing but firm.

Caitlyn shot her a sharp glare, then turned to you, her hands already moving to fix your dress. Her movements were brisk but surprisingly gentle, her fingers lingering on your waist as she adjusted the fabric. “Hold still,” she muttered, though the intensity in her dark gaze betrayed her frustration and her jealousy.

Meanwhile, Mel smoothed a stray strand of hair from your face, her thumb brushing away the faint smear of lipstick on your jaw. “A bit messy,” she remarked with a sly smile, glancing at Caitlyn. “Though I suppose that’s your fault.”

“Enough,” Caitlyn snapped, running her hands over her dress to smooth out any creases. “We can’t walk out of here looking like we’ve been... busy.” Her sharp tone was tinged with irritation, though the flush in her cheeks betrayed something deeper.

Mel only shrugged, clearly enjoying Caitlyn’s frayed composure. “Relax, Cait. You’re the one who couldn’t wait.”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes but said nothing, instead cupping your chin and tilting your face up to hers. “You’re mine as much as hers,” she murmured, her voice low and possessive. “Don’t forget that.”

The weight of her words hung between the three of you as Caitlyn released you and turned to the door. Mel followed, pausing to glance back with a wink before stepping into the brightly lit hallway.

Left alone for a moment, still trembling and breathless, you adjusted your dress, your mind spinning. The unfinished tension lingered, a promise hanging in the air. Whatever jealousy simmered between them now would undoubtedly ignite later, and you knew you weren’t escaping unscathed.

Ok I'm done my first post of 2025 I hope y'all enjoy as I enjoyed writing this (I didn't I haven't written smut since 2023 and I kept self doubting myself) if you wanna part 2 just let me know and I hope you have good day (and keep requesting stuff) orevwa :). Ⓒ︎ seulszn.

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 8

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 7.0k

c/w - angst, language

a/n - i am so sorry for the wait you guys, but i’m so happy to finally be putting this chap out!! i hope yall enjoy 😈

When Paige wakes up before the sun rises, she knows something is wrong.

Ever since she was a little girl, Paige has been a sleeper. While the other kids were fighting off naps, she was begging for them. While the other kids began bothering their parents during the early hours of the morning, she would be konked out until noon if her dad let her.

And then she met Azzi. Became her friend. Had their first sleepover.

And ever since that morning so long ago, when Azzi had shyly jostled her awake so they could get breakfast, Paige will not wake up early unless it’s Azzi doing the waking.

But this morning, it’s silent—eerily so. The AC is humming and there’s traffic noises from outside, but something’s missing. In Paige’s half-sleep state, it takes her a moment to realize what exactly it is: the absence of Azzi bustling around, getting ready for the day, calling room service to ask about breakfast options.

Paige cracks her eyes open, to find they feel dry. Shit, did she sleep with her contacts in?

No—she didn’t. She took them out as soon as they got back last night.

As soon as they got back. Tipsy and flirty. Paige, still too aware of the feelings brewing uncomfortably in her belly, asking if they should drink some more, just the two of them. Azzi, reaching into her pocket with a sly smile and pulling out a joint. Paige, thinking she looked so fucking beautiful, moonlit and blowing out smoke from between her lips. Azzi, confessing things, Paige, asking for more. Azzi, shy and giggly—

Paige, giving in to her urges. Letting the marijuana in her system cloud any rational thought she could have. Pressing their lips together and going lower, lower, down between Azzi’s thighs, watching in awe or wonder or reverence as she bared herself completely. Like she trusted Paige. Like Paige deserved it.

Carefully, almost as if afraid, Paige glances around the dark room. She’s on the edge of the bed, facing the window. Senses suddenly overflowing with something acutely familiar, Paige can picture the girl on the bed next to her, almost knows exactly how she’s laying without even seeing her yet.

Deep breath. Don’t get sick, Paige. Be normal.

Roll over. Onto her back, at first, to stare at the ceiling, and then, finally, onto her side.

And there she is. Lying on her back, the sheets bundled around her waist, one arm over her face while the other spreads out to Paige’s side of the bed—Azzi is breathtaking like this.

Breathtaking, and beautiful, and vulnerable. Oh-so vulnerable, while Paige lays beside her, fully clothed. No part of her bare, because she was unwilling to show herself to Azzi last night. She wonders why, now. She doesn’t really have to.

Cautiously, Paige reaches a hand out, brushing a strand of hair from Azzi’s face almost instinctively. Azzi doesn’t stir, and it emboldens her to move her hand lower, fingers tracing delicately over her jawline, down the line of her neck, to her collarbones. It’s only when Azzi does stir that Paige pulls away, reluctantly, because she’s not sure if she’ll get to see Azzi again like this.

And it’s that thought—the thought of Azzi waking up, naked beside a clothed Paige, angry and hurt—that scares her out of bed, ambling quietly over to her suitcase and throwing on a pair of running clothes. She glances furtively at Azzi while she gets dressed, but not once does she wake up, and Paige doesn’t know whether it’s relief or bitter disappointment she feels when she leaves the room without having words with the younger girl.

Paige comes to a stop outside the hotel, Google mapping a running route, and while she’s at it her fingers move of their own accord, navigating to her messages and then to Azzi’s contact. But as she stares at the screen, she can’t find anything to say. Seeing that their last text thread was from last night, she scrolls up to read it:

azziiii where’d u go

u been in the bathroom too long

shoulda let me come w you

for real we’re abt to play a drinking game come back

i’ve been gone for like five minutes paige

the line to the bathroom was long

u guys in the living room??

yeah

bro it was definitely longer than 5 mins

not letting u out of my sight again fr 🙄

ok drama queen

just missed me that much huh?

yeah and what

missed my girl

ok p chill

i’m omw

hell yeah we’re up

The conversation ends there, and Paige distinctly remembers it, how Azzi had left to use the restroom and Paige had sat there, talking to old friends and boring strangers, not even pretending to laugh at their jokes while she waited anxiously for Azzi to come back. And how when she did, she took a mental snapshot of Azzi’s smile when they saw each other, her dimples lighting up the entire room.

The memory, unlike all the alcohol-hazy ones from last night, is vivid. Too much so. Paige shakes out her limbs, stuffs her airpods in her ears and her phone in her pocket, and runs.

She hates running. With her heart and soul, she hates it. If ever she needs to take her mind off of bad things, she goes for a run, because almost nothing could be worse than the feeling of her feet hitting pavement, her chest hurting, her side seizing.

Today, it doesn’t work. Even with music pounding through her earbuds, memories come back to her in crushing tidal waves: Azzi sat on her lap on the couch, Paige’s hands on her ass, Azzi’s lips on her neck. The two of them pressed close together when they migrated to the kitchen, Paige wrapped around her from behind, listening to Azzi talk to a few other students. She remembers how at one point some guy had approached them while they were snuggled up on the couch and asked Azzi for her snap; remembers how she’d practically snarled at the guy telling him to go the fuck away, Azzi teasing her about it afterwards and asking, What if I had been interested? but there was a satisfied smile on her face when Paige only pulled her in closer, as if she’d known exactly the reaction she’d elicit.

She remembers the way they’d held hands in the Uber, and all the way up to their hotel room.

And maybe it was inevitable, their only option, really, to end up the way they did—Azzi spread out naked on a hotel bed and Paige situated between her legs, licking her clean after she came.

Paige doesn’t know why she asked for a second time. Even in her slightly cross-faded, pussy drunk haze, Paige recognized that it might be because this is the only chance she’d get. Because fucking your best friend once is a simple mistake, something the two of them can laugh about later, even. Fucking your best friend twice is a slippery slope.

Azzi had given her another one, even though she was surely overstimulated and tired. Paige never wanted to stop tasting her, but once they were done, Azzi whimpering above her, she got this strange feeling—a need for affection, maybe even comfort? Like she not only wanted sex and fun but also some emotions attached to it, too.

Paige shakes her head, tries to survey her surroundings, tries to enjoy the view of mothers walking their babies, friends going to early trips at the mall, people commuting to work. But with each pound of her feet, something new hits her and it feels like getting smacked in the face.

As Paige crawled back up to Azzi, as they whispered sleepily to each other, Paige didn’t acknowledge the heat between her own legs, didn’t think about how the fact that she wanted affection from a hookup is somehow a larger revelation to her than the fact that she and Azzi just fucked, and she of course didn’t allow it when Azzi offered to return the favor.

She could never ask that of her. So she lulled her asleep instead, holding onto her like she’s afraid she’d disappear—and maybe she was. She wouldn’t have blamed her.

The truth is, Paige thinks that this was a long time coming. Maybe she knew it when they were fourteen and fifteen and slept on each other on the flight home from USA basketball, after a few weeks of knowing each other. Maybe she knew when Azzi’s family invited her to the state fair for the first time and Paige won Azzi a prize before they held hands on the Ferris Wheel. Maybe she knew when she spent the entire summer at Azzi’s house, and they spent nights tracing shapes and hidden letters into each other’s skin, trying and failing to guess what the other was saying. Once, Azzi had written something longer than usual, and when Paige had been unable to guess, she’d begged for Azzi to tell her what she’d said. But Azzi had stubbornly shook her head, told her that was against the rules.

When it came Paige’s turn, she lifted Azzi’s shirt and traced three words into the skin of Azzi’s back. Azzi had always been good at this game, and so there was a long pause afterward, and Paige thought maybe something real was about to happen, but then Azzi had simply rolled over and said, “No idea.”

Paige didn’t believe her then. Doesn’t believe it even now.

If she’s being honest with herself (and she’s never been very good at that) things between them have always been electric, charged by small moments between them, things that always went unacknowledged because both of them were too scared to bring this sacred little thing they had out into the open.

Paige stops to catch her breath, a little lightheaded, clutching her sides in pain. Running has nothing to do with the ache that’s overtaken her or the way she’s finding it hard to breathe.

The sun is up now, and she walks off the sidewalk into the little park she’s stopped at, heading over to a large oak tree in the middle which will hopefully provide some solace from the morning heat. She wipes at her brow, and the shade helps, but her palms are sweaty, back of her neck still hot, and it might be from the memories of last night, the taste she swears is still lingering on her tongue.

It’s not long before her phone buzzes and she knows it’s Azzi before she even checks. She’s always been good at that—sensing when it’s her best friend on the other end of the line. It’s a blessing and today it’s a curse, because she’s nowhere near ready to face the hurricane of emotions wreaking havoc on her mind. She takes a few deep breaths after the phone buzzes, putting it off, afraid of what she will find: an angry message, how dare you; a heartbroken one, why’d you do this to me; the truth, you’re a bad friend, maybe even a bad person.

With one last steadying breath and trembling fingers, she pulls up the message, only to find four words, so non-threatening they’re almost vulnerable: Hey, where’d you go?

She should be relieved, but her heart sort of sinks a little more at that. She deserves the anger, doesn’t she? The heartbreak, the truth?

Leaning against the tree, letting the rough bark bite into her skin, Paige checks the time and types out a reply. Went for a run, I’ll head back now

But she won’t head back now. She needs some more time. So, she deletes the message and tries again. Just went out, want me to grab u some breakfast??

The answer will be no; Azzi is picky about her breakfast, will only eat a certain few foods and never store bought.

So, sighing, Paige sends a simple: Went for a run. Be back by eleven. And before Azzi can reply, she turns her phone on silent, shoves it into her pocket.

She wonders what Azzi is feeling now. If its anything similar to Paige’s train of thought, or more likely, worse: that maybe this was all a mistake, that they can’t continue to be friends like this, that last night was real and that’s really fucking scary.

If Azzi just woke, she’ll be needing more time to think things over. So, jogging back over to the sidewalk, Paige starts running again, further away from the hotel. Further away from Azzi.

—————————————

When Paige steps into their hotel room, her shoulders are tensed, breath held as she waits for confrontation. But with a quick glance around the room, she realizes she can put this off a little longer—the bathroom door is closed, running water coming from inside. She sighs, shoulders relaxing, and closes the door as quietly as she can.

But it must not be quiet enough. Because a moment later, the faucet turns off, and then there’s a set of slow footsteps approaching the door. Paige tenses all over again, watching in what probably looks like terror when the bathroom door opens and there’s Azzi, in a hoodie and sweatpants, braids tied back, eyes and nose a devastating shade of red.

“Hey,” Paige starts, a softly as her strained voice will allow, but to her surprise, Azzi gives a firm shake of her head.

“No,” she says simply, sniffling, looking Paige up and down. “Get in the shower. We check out soon.”

“I…I know,” Paige stammers, caught off guard by the way Azzi looks both heartbroken and angry. But, of course, she shouldn’t be. Not after what she did to her last night. Taking a tentative step forward, Paige tries to meet Azzi’s eyes. “Az, listen. I’m sorry about—“

“Stop,” Azzi hisses, stepping out of the bathroom, closer to Paige. “I don’t want to hear it. Not—not fucking now.”

Paige opens her mouth, but Azzi holds her hand up, swollen eyes flashing. “Get ready. We’ll leave once you’re done.”

Everything good and stupid in Paige tells her to fall to her knees, beg for forgiveness, take whatever anger Azzi has to give about last night. And maybe, a few years ago, she would’ve. But she’s never seen Azzi like this, and that alone raises enough alarm bells in her head to do exactly what she tells her to do, hanging her head as she sidesteps her into the bathroom, turning the shower on to cold to try and ease the burning behind her eyes, in her throat.

Leaning against the shower wall, Paige rubs a hand over her face, and wishes she were anybody else.

————————————

It’s one hour into the drive home that Azzi speaks to her—really speaks to her—for the first time all day. And when she does, it’s so unexpected that Paige flinches hard enough to jerk the car aside.

“Let’s go to the park, first. So we can talk.”

Once Paige has righted the car, she risks a glance over at Azzi to try to get an idea of what’s going through her head, but her face is turned away, gazing out the window.

Turning back to the road, Paige doesn’t respond. She just drives.

It’s a hot day but once they pull into the park an hour later, the basketball court is empty, and she’s barely stopped the car before Azzi’s getting out. She goes to the backseat and grabs one of the balls Paige keeps there.

“Az,” Paige says, unbuckling.

Azzi looks at her and slams the door shut. Paige watches her walk away through the window before getting out and following her.

It’s clear at this point that talking won’t get Paige anywhere, which is okay and also not: she’s bad with heartfelt stuff, anything too touchy-feely—it makes her uncomfortable; but talking is also what she does best. She’s never been one to stand in awkward silence or take it when she’s told to shut up, because she always has something to say and it’s why Azzi often affectionately refers to her as ‘my yapper’.

There’s nothing affectionate in the way Azzi looks at her now, nothing soft in those doe eyes, nothing sweet in the dimples borne of a scowl. Paige doesn’t know what to do with this version of Azzi.

After a moment, Azzi starts dribbling the ball, and the mere sound is enough to get Paige kneeling a little bit, body reacting before her mind can, ready for a game. But Azzi doesn’t pass to her. “You wanna play?” she asks tentatively.

Azzi stares at her for a moment, then slowly shakes her head. She drops the ball and it rolls a few feet away from them. “No. Not really.”

Paige nods. Shoves her hands in her pockets, then takes them out.

It’s a torturously long stretch of silence before Azzi says, “What are we doing, Paige?”

Paige looks at her best friend, but she finds she can’t really look her in the eye, and she hates that, so she looks at the asphalt underneath her instead.

“And don’t say we’re pretending,” Azzi continues when Paige opens her mouth to say just that, “because last night—that wasn’t pretend.”

The odd thing is her tone lilts up a little at the end, as if she’s asking a question rather than making a statement. But maybe that’s not odd because Paige wonders, too.

Trying to recall everything she thought about during the long ride here, Paige glances up, takes a small step towards Azzi. “I’m sorry.” She tries to sound both casual and heartfelt, but instead it comes out all raspy and choked, and she cannot cry right now. “For this whole trip, this whole thing—I shouldn’t have asked you to do this for me.”

Azzi inhales like she’s going to interrupt. Now, it’s Paige’s turn to stop her. “Just, let me, okay?”

Azzi’s brows are furrowed, but she nods.

Almost immediately, Paige regrets saying anything. It’s now, with Azzi staring at her expectantly, that she realizes she has nothing to say. She has been thinking about it nonstop, all day, and still she doesn’t understand everything going through her mind—the guilt, the fear, the feelings.

She decides it’s safest to start with the guilt. “I need to say I’m sorry. About last night…” she fumbles, tries her hardest to right herself, “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this for me. Shoulda treated you better, instead of taking out my shit with my mom on you. And I shouldn’t have let things get so…real.”

Azzi doesn’t react much. Her stance doesn’t change, expression doesn’t really waver. Eventually she steps forward, so they’re an arms-length away from each other. “Paige,” she says.

Paige shuffles from one foot to the other. “Yeah?”

“You’re sorry,” she reiterates, and Paige nods, a little confused. Fuck, she’s really never been good with words. “You’re sorry for—last night?”

Something inside her wants to correct Azzi, tell her if she could go back and do last night over, she wouldn’t change it, and she doesn’t think she’s ever had to act when it comes to loving her best friend. But she doesn’t say that, instead opting for something less weighted, more trivial—“And for asking you to pretend to love me.”

Azzi’s stare is flat for another second before her eyes widen, and she turns around, pushing her hands into to her hair and shaking her head. And Paige can’t see her but it almost sounds like she’s…laughing?

“Azzi,” Paige mutters.

Azzi turns on her, then, and there is a smile on her face but it’s bitter, nothing humorous in it. “I can’t believe you.”

It’s Paige’s turn to stare. “What?”

“Paige,” Azzi says slowly. Then again, “Paige. You left me this morning. You fucked me last night and then you left me to wake up alone and you couldn’t even look me in the eye all day and now, what? Now you’re fucking—“ two steps forward, and then she’s jabbing an accusatory finger into Paige’s chest, “apologizing about last night? About everything? Like it was all a mistake?”

Paige can’t help but take a step back, heart racing. “I don’t…I mean, exactly. We’re all weird now—honestly we have been since the first week we started pretending—and I don’t want us to be like that. I hate this, Az. I just wanna be normal again.”

Azzi takes a step toward her. “Have we ever been normal?”

That gives Paige pause. Hands, legs, intertwined; fingers creeping under shirts while they lay together at night; stealing glances when they think the other isn’t looking. All things Paige never let herself think about too hard, because it made her nervous, jumpy. And now, after so many years of buildup has finally come crashing down on both of them, they have no choice but to talk about it.

She has nothing to say.

When she’s met with silence, Azzi scoffs. “Even now, you’re too fucking stubborn to admit it.”

“What?” Paige nearly whispers. “I’m not being stubborn,” and she’s really not, “I just—things were good, between us. You’re my best friend and I’m trying to apologize for—for the way I’ve been acting, for being distant and…and rude, and for being a shitty friend and complicating things and—“

“I don’t care!” Azzi screeches, and it startles Paige into silence. “God, Paige, you are so fucking stupid sometimes. Did you ever stop to think about why I dropped everything and came to Montana for you? Why I let you kiss me and look at me and fucking go down on me last night?”

Paige opens her mouth, closes it, and something curls in her tummy, this coiling in her gut warning her of how dangerously close they’re getting to everything she wants to leave unsaid. “I don’t—“

“Of course not,” Azzi scoffs, and Paige hates the anger in her tone. “I should’ve known. Because you’re only ever thinking about yourself. Making sure everything you do aligns with your little moral compass to make you feel good about yourself—well, guess what, Paige? You did fuck up this time.”

Paige steps forward, trying to wrap her mind around anything else other than the way Azzi’s looking at her like she hates her. “I know, I know,” she says, pleading.

Azzi stands her ground when she says, “You left this morning.”

Paige nods, understanding now. “I know.”

“Why?”

“Because I needed—time to think.”

“And, until just now, you didn’t realize that might make me upset? Waking up alone after last night?”

Paige watches her, and seeing the way her eyes get shiny makes her own throat constrict. “I guess, no, but I—things were going to be awkward, and I felt bad, and I was scared.” She finally admits it, the fear, and it doesn’t do much to loosen the knot in her throat. “I thought it was a—a mistake.”

“Well I didn’t think last night was a mistake, Paige,” Azzi says lowly.

And it’s then—just then, seeing the way the tears threaten to fall but don’t, trapped behind the words she wants to say but can’t—that realization dawns on Paige. And it’s enough to make her chest constrict because, no, it can’t be true.

Still, like watching a car crash, Paige can’t bring herself to stop looking. “Why?” she whispers, already knowing the answer.

When Azzi looks up at her with a quivering bottom lip and nothing left in her eyes but heartbreak, it’s all the confirmation she needs.

Paige stumbles back, and Azzi lifts an arm like she’s going to reach out, but drops it helplessly as the first tear tracks down her face. “I thought—maybe, you knew. I thought you knew and you were acting the way you have been because—“ she hiccups like a little kid, and it breaks Paige’s heart, “because you were staring to feel the same. I thought, last night, there was something real. Did you not feel it, Paige?” she doesn’t give her time to answer before she’s continuing. “And now I’m wearing these clothes in this weather because I couldn’t stand to look at the marks you left on me and you’re standing here telling me you’re sorry for wanting to fuck me, and God, Paige—I’ve loved you since I was fourteen. I loved you since I was fourteen and I should’ve fucking known you’d end up doing this to me.”

“Azzi,” Paige chokes out, the knot unraveling and giving way to free-falling tears.

“Paige,” Azzi replies, and there’s desperation in her tone like she wants to reach out, but instead she wipes furiously at her face before crossing her arms, effectively creating a barrier between them. “I need to know.”

Watching tears stream down Azzi’s cheeks, it’s all Paige wants to do to comfort her, to wipe them away. But her own vision is blurring and Azzi has this look in her eyes—like she hates her, like she loves her and she hates herself for it.

“Know what?” she whispers, the sun beating down on the back of her neck in a way that makes her nauseous.

“If you—“ Azzi’s bottom lip quivers, “if you feel it, too. If you love me, too.”

When Paige blinks the moisture from her eyes, there’s a moment of darkness and behind it she sees every moment, every fucking moment where they toed an invisible line, only to never speak of it again, to act as if nothing happened.

She opens her eyes, and realizes maybe they’ve spent their whole lives pretending, and only really stopped when they were just supposed to start.

There have always been feelings. Always an intensity when it came to Azzi, evident in the way Paige would get jealous of any of her other friends, the blowout fights they’d have over small things, because they couldn’t talk about the big things.

Paige has always wanted Azzi as something more. But—love.

Love is so complicated and scary and Paige doesn’t think she’d even be that good at it, anyway. And what if they did this—addressed the feelings between them and dated, for real? Azzi would be perfect, like she always is. Kind and gentle and soft, and Paige can only exhale at the thought of having her best friend that way.

But she inhales deeply, and imagines how she would is. She’s stubborn, hard-headed. Bad with words, bad with apologies.

“Azzi,” Paige says for the nth time, the only word she knows anymore, so she says it like a prayer. “We did one thing last night and I couldn’t even do that right. I couldn’t do any of this right, this entire trip. You don’t—you don’t want me. Trust me. You don’t.”

“You don’t know what I want!” Azzi cries, uncrossing her arms to push again at Paige’s chest. “You’re not perfect, Paige, and I am really fucking mad at you,” she bites, “but you have no idea how much I want you.”

“And you have no idea how much that scares me,” Paige replies, eyes downcast, a few tears dripping onto her sneakers. “I’m good at being your friend, Az. Let me be your friend.”

Azzi lets out a sob at that. “Paige, please, I know—you have to feel something, you don’t act the way you do and not feel anything, I—“

“I’m not saying I don’t feel it,” Paige admits shallowly. “It’s just like I said. I’m scared.”

For the next few moments, there’s silence, and in it Paige hears the birds singing, the distant voices of kids laughing at the playground. But then there’s a sniffle, a scuffle of shoes, and she dares to look up only to find Azzi facing away from her.

“Okay,” Azzi says, voice cracking heartbreakingly. “That’s it, I guess.”

Paige clutches at her belly. “What do you mean?”

“After everything that’s happened,” Azzi whimpers, “you think we can just go back to normal?”

It’s stupid, but that’s what Paige was hoping for. But she knows neither of them can forget this, leave it behind. And she doesn’t know if Azzi can forgive her, either.

She wouldn’t blame her if she never did. Even though the notion kills her.

“I’m sorry,” is all she can say, but it’s weak, broken, and Azzi just shakes her head, not bothering to look back as she heads slowly to the car.

“I’m tired, Paige,” she says. “Just take us home.”

————————————

When Paige walks through the front door, the house feels empty—her parents are gone again for work—but when she walks into the kitchen she finds Lauren on a barstool, eating cereal and watching TikTok. Paige tries to slip past her but Lauren perks up, spinning around and grinning when she spots Paige. “You’re back!”

“Yup,” Paige says, trying for a smile.

Lauren hops off the barstool and as she walks up to her, she gets this weird look on her face, like she’s studying her—but then she’s hugging her and Paige breathes a sigh of relief. “You guys have fun?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Where’s Azzi?”

“She’s, uh…out in the car.”

Lauren pulls away to scrunch her nose. “Why?”

“I dunno,” Paige says evasively, unraveling herself from her little sister’s arms. “Listen, I gotta headache, I’ma be up in my room. But lemme know if you need anything.”

Paige makes her way to the staircase, and Lauren follows after, the way little sisters do. She hears the footsteps padding behind her and remembers when she was a teenager, and Lauren was just a toddler, and their mom would always joke that Paige had a little shadow because Lauren would follow her everywhere.

Back then, it was annoying—and it is now too—but it’s also comforting, endearing.

Still, Paige gets midway up the stairs before turning around to face her sister. “I wanna be alone, Laur.”

Lauren frowns up at her. “Why?”

Paige picks at her thumbnail. “Don’t you wanna be alone sometimes?”

“I guess.”

“Well, this is like that. Just need some time.”

She takes a couple more stairs, but Lauren is still following behind her, and she turns around again. “Dude.”

“I wanna hang out with you!”

“I’m sorry,” Paige says, and she really is, guilty about the disappointment etched on Lauren’s face. “I promise we’ll hang later, okay?”

“Like later today?”

“I dunno, Laur.” The thought of doing anything but moping with her own thoughts sounds exhausting, and it’s evident in her exasperated tone. “I’m tired, we had a big night.”

“Really?” Lauren’s face morphs into a teasing smile. “Doing what?”

Paige fumbles, covers it by reaching to play with the cross at her neck. “Don’t, Lauren.”

“I’m sure you spent allll night kissing your girlfriend, didn’t you?”

Paige takes a breath so deep it’s nearly a gasp, for air, maybe, and she spins on her heel, taking the last steps two at a time. “I’m going to my room now,” she says, eternally grateful that Lauren doesn’t follow her this time. As a last thought, she calls over her shoulder, “And don’t bother Azzi, either.”

Once she’s in her room, she heaves against the closed door, looks around. They’ve been here eight days now, and it doesn’t seem like long but they’ve already left their imprint on this room: their scents mingling into the sheets, bed unmade, toiletries scattered in the bathroom.

In her back pocket, her phone buzzes. For a wild moment she thinks it’s Azzi, calling to ask if she wants anything from the coffee shop or to lay out their plan for the day, but she remembers quickly enough that Azzi has no reason to be calling her. With trembling fingers, she pulls the phone out, and is relieved to see it’s Drew on the other end.

“Hey,” she says when she picks up, plopping down onto the bed as casually as possible.

“Guess what,” is what Drew starts out with, and Paige smiles tenderly as she watches her brother give her an expectant look.

“Aw, I missed you, too,” Paige says, and when Drew’s expression turns to a scowl she laughs. “Okay, what?”

“You’re ’posed to guess.”

Paige sighs; she hates this game. “Fine. Um, Dad got us a puppy?”

“No.” Drew frowns. “I wish.”

“Lame. You’re coming to see me?”

This makes Drew frown even harder. “No, but I wish that too.”

“We’re going to Disneyland?”

“Aw, I wanna go to Disneyland!” Drew is downright pouting now. “Your guesses suck.”

“You didn’t gimme any context!”

“The heck is context?” Drew looks at her as if she’s the dumb one, but before she can retaliate he says, “Fine, I’ll just tell you. Dad said when you get back he’s gonna get us those shoes we wanted.”

“Shit, really?” Paige should be reluctant to match with her eight-year-old brother, but in her opinion he’s way cooler than most eight-year-olds. And also, those shoes are pretty dope. “Sweet. I thought he wasn’t gonna cave.”

“Yeah, I gave him my cute eyes.”

“Thought he said you were too old to be cute.”

“He was lying, I guess.”

Drew widens his eyes and pouts, the look Paige taught him when he was a toddler because if she was too old to mooch her way into things, her baby brother would have to do her dirty work. And it looks different now, without the chubby cheeks and missing teeth, but it’s still just as adorable as it was then. “You’re a real one, Drewski.”

“Mm-hmm.” They settle into momentary silence, Drew’s eyes wandering from the phone to something ahead of him—Paige thinks maybe his TV—and his gaze stays faraway when he mumbles, “I miss you, Paigey.”

Staring at her little brother over the phone—the little brother who’s her best friend, who has never been complicated or scary, who is taller every time she comes home from college—Paige’s throat constricts again, a constant ache beginning to form there from how tightly knotted it’s been all day. “I miss you, too. But I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Still another week.”

“Less than that.”

“Feels like forever.”

“I know,” Paige sighs, suddenly grateful that her too-old-for-emotions little brother is avoiding eye contact, because she can see her own nose and eyes growing red over the screen. “We got the whole summer together, though. By the end of it you’ll be sick of me.”

Drew shakes his head firmly. “No I won’t.”

Again, Paige sighs, trying her hardest to exhale all the feelings creeping up on her. “Me neither.”

“I wish I could come to college with you.”

Paige gives an exaggerated groan at that, causing Drew to look back at her. “No you don’t, I promise. It’s boring.”

“You go to parties every weekend!”

Paige looks at him in surprise. “Who told you that?”

“I have my sources.”

“Was it Ice?”

“KK, actually.”

“Yeah, well, KK’s a dirty liar. I’m way too studious for parties or any of that.”

“KK also said you kiss a lot of girls.”

At this, Paige gasps, downright scandalized. “I do not!”

“Well, she said that you used to, before you dated Azzi.”

Her very name is enough to yank Paige out of this bubble Drew pulled her into, and it’s like getting out of a warm bed on a cold morning. “I guess so.”

“Where is Azzi, anyway? I wanna see her.”

“Uh,” Paige hesitates—she hates lying to her brother, because they may be over a decade apart but they are each other’s confidantes—but she can’t just go telling the truth. Not now, and certainly not to a third-grader. “She’s out right now.”

“Out where?”

“The…gym.”

“But you always go to the gym together.”

“Well, I didn’t feel like going.”

“Why not?”

“Drew,” Paige says, a little too firmly, immediately guilty at the confused look in his eyes, “listen,” she says more softly, “I’m sure you can talk to her later, okay? Just not right now.”

Paige expects more complaints, but what comes instead is a bout of silence and then, “Are you okay, Paigey?”

Drew leans closer to the screen to get a better look at her, and instinctively, Paige pulls the phone away from her face. “Yeah, I’m all good. Why?”

“You just seem a little sad.”

Sad generously understates Paige’s state of mind. But, at the same time, he’s right on the nose, reading her incredibly.

“Promise,” she lies. “I’m good.”

By the time they end the call, Drew still seems suspicious.

————————————

When, ten minutes later, Azzi still hasn’t come inside, Paige peeks out her bedroom window. The car is still in the driveway, and the sun is glaring unhelpfully on the front window but Paige can just make out Azzi’s form in the passenger seat. She can’t tell what she’s doing—she’d assumed she’d be calling her mom, because she knows Azzi and when she’s hurt she calls her mom.

Paige has never made Azzi call her mom before. She is officially the very person she’s always hated: somebody who could hurt her best friend, so heartless and cruel she could make the unshakeable Azzi Fudd cry.

She hates herself for it.

Hates herself enough, in fact, that she almost wants to go out there. To apologize a million times over—something she’ll end up doing anyway—and to comfort her and to let her break that last barrier away, the barrier that kept her from saying yes in the park, the root of all her fears and inhibitions. To ask Azzi to give her a chance and to be brave enough to take it. To risk everything they’ve so carefully built over the years for something that could be even better.

But then, Azzi glances up. Paige ducks away from the window, wincing at the sound of the car door slamming.

The front door follows soon thereafter, and Paige presses her ear to the bedroom door, trying to make out Azzi and Lauren’s conversation downstairs. She can’t hear them, though—she can only hear enough to know that Lauren is doing most of the talking. And she doesn’t have nearly long enough to prepare when Azzi’s familiar footsteps ascend the stairs, coming closer to her with each rapid thump of her heart.

Paige barely has the common sense to back away from the door just before she comes in. And then, it opens, and they’re standing face-to-face, Azzi’s eyes red-rimmed and stone-cold as they avoid Paige’s.

“Hey,” Paige says hesitantly.

When Azzi doesn’t answer, Paige steps out of the way, wondering if maybe Azzi wants to come in, but she stays put. Her gaze goes over Paige’s shoulder, to the bed. She looks exhausted.

“You tryna sleep?” Paige asks. Azzi only shrugs, making a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat.

“Aight, I’ll…leave, then.”

Still, Azzi doesn’t move from the doorway. Finally, her eyes find Paige’s, and she holds them there when she says, “I think…I think I’m done, Paige.”

She’d implied it, earlier—That’s it, then—but hearing her say it out loud like this is a whole other thing, and it makes Paige want to double over. It’s instinctive, the way she reaches out to beg Azzi to stay, to let her amend for her wrongdoings and make everything right again, but Azzi flinches back and her arm falls limply to her side. “Okay,” Paige says, helpless. “I was looking at flights, earlier—I could get you one for tonight, or tomorrow morning, I know you prefer morning flights. But if you want good seats you might have to wait a couple days, but I could maybe call the airline and see what I can do? Just, whatever you want.”

Azzi winces, shaking her head slowly. “No, I meant—I’ll stay, for the trip. So your parents don’t get suspicious.”

“You don’t—“

“But after that,” Azzi interjects, “I think I have to be done. With you.”

Paige doesn’t react much, not outwardly—she takes a small step that’s more of a stumble back, and her eyes widen—but on the inside it feels as if she’s being ripped in two. “Azzi.”

“Don’t,” Azzi murmurs. She kicks at the floor. “I—we—need this. If we ever want a chance at being us again, we need space, okay? We need time.”

Paige stammers, so many words lunging up her throat but stopping behind her lips, creating a torrent so strong she can only make a weak, helpless sound. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“I don’t blame you,” Azzi mutters, looking up at her as she takes a small, tentative step forward. “You can’t help how you feel.”

Paige wants to scream at her, to say I feel it, too, to take her by the shoulders and hold her close and whisper, I love you, too—but she can’t.

So instead she says, “I wasn’t—I meant—I’m sorry. For leaving you this morning, for acting distant a couple days ago—for sending so many mixed signals, for being rude to you at the lake and for being mean when we got here—“ as she says it, it all becomes very clear to her, just how much she has managed to damage the trust between them in such a short amount of time. “It might not help, but I need you to know, you know?”

Slowly, Azzi nods, and her hand brushes against Paige’s arm. “I know you are,” she whispers. “I just—I don’t know if I can…”

“It’s okay,” Paige is quick to fill the silence, her arm burning from where Azzi touched her, “I know, it’s okay.”

Azzi bites her lip, and when her eyes trail back to the bed Paige shuffles awkwardly. “Hey, how about I sleep downstairs tonight, okay?” when Azzi opens her mouth, Paige stops her. “We’ll tell my parents that you kicked me out because I was—snoring too loud, or something. I dunno.”

“But won’t they think—?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Paige waves her off, stepping aside, relieved when Azzi finally comes in. “You deserve some sleep.”

She doesn’t expect her to, but when Azzi doesn’t protest any further, doesn’t say I can’t sleep without you next to me, it comes with a bitter disappointment.

She really, really fucked up this time.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa @router2260 @guesswhoitsn @patri-ots87 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @ijustreadignoreme @pazzilover101 @tropics43 @bueckersss @bigheadfudd @surferandskater5 @iknowth35nd @rhyxanwaters @graceinshade @azzilov

[redroomreflections]

With The Roses - Her Best Secret 2

1950s Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha and R are having an affair. - they get to spend a night together

Note: I wrote this after watching Mother's Instinct with Anne Hathway and Jessica Chastain. I needed to make it gay. I don't know what this is truly but it's here.

Warnings: Smut and fluff and angst - there's a bit of panic =)

w/c: 7k

The sun was high, and the air was humid as you walked down the street toward your neighbor's house. Claire was having a girl's day with your mother, and Sam and Steve were away on one of their fishing trips. The house felt too big and quiet, so your feet naturally led you to Natasha’s. The sight that greeted you stopped you in your tracks. There she was, Natasha Romanoff, tending to her rose garden in the front yard, utterly absorbed in her work. She was sporting a crisp white blouse tucked into her black slacks. A sun visor perched on her head as she leaned down to inspect a blooming rose. She snipped away at the stems with small pruning shears.

You didn't call out to her immediately, enjoying the rare moment of seeing her so at peace. Her hair was tied back into a neat bun, with a few loose strands sticking to the nape of her neck with sweat. She hummed softly, a tune you couldn't quite place, as she moved to the next bush.

"Staring's rude, you know," She finally said, without even turning around.

"Well, I'm just enjoying the view," You said without thinking. Natasha smirked, though you couldn't see her face. "The roses are beautiful."

Natasha straightened up, turning to face you with an amused expression. Her cheeks were flushed, likely from the heat, and a faint sheen of sweat was on her brow. Even in the humid air, she looked as effortlessly composed as ever.

“They are,” she agreed, arching an eyebrow. “Though I have a feeling that’s not all you were looking at.”

You felt your face heat up, and you tried to play it off with a laugh. “Guilty as charged. But really, the roses are stunning.”

She smirked, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “Nice save.”

You stepped closer, leaning slightly against her yard's white picket fence. “You’ve got quite the green thumb, huh? I don’t know how you keep them alive in this heat.”

Natasha shrugged, slipping off her gloves and tossing them into her wicker basket. “Patience. A little care goes a long way.” Her gaze flicked over to you. “Kind of like friendships.”

You tilted your head, smiling softly. “Is that your subtle way of telling me I don’t visit enough?”

She chuckled, pulling the sun visor off her head and running a hand over her hair. “Maybe. But you’re here now, and I’ll take what I can get.”

“Well, I was feeling lonely,” you admitted, looking down at your feet for a moment before glancing back up at her. “Claire’s with my mother today. They've gone down to do a little shopping and to get tea."

Natasha’s expression softened. She gestured toward her house with a nod of her head. “Come on inside. I just made some lemonade. The perfect excuse to take a break from this heat.”

She turned and headed toward the front porch. You followed behind her, admiring the way her slacks hugged her shapely legs and backside. Your mind drifted to the first time you had seen her in her pants. You had been unable to stop your eyes from trailing over her body, her curves barely contained by her tight clothes. Natasha was a modern woman. She was everything you wished you could be. Not too long ago, you couldn't tell whether you wanted to be with her or be her.

In the kitchen, Natasha handed you a glass of lemonade, the ice clinking as it settled. You murmured a quiet “thanks” before taking a sip. The tartness was perfectly balanced with sweetness, and it helped you cool down. Natasha leaned against the counter, her gaze casually following yours as you scanned the room.

It was quiet there too. Your attention snagged on the stack of books on the table. The covers were worn, and the spines creased from countless reads. Titles like East of Eden by John Steinbeck, Peyton Place by Grace Metalious, and The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger caught your eye.

“You read a lot,” you said, gesturing toward the books as you set your glass on a coaster.

Natasha followed your gaze and smiled. “Guilty as charged. It’s how I unwind.”

You picked up East of Eden, running your fingers over the aged cover. “These are good choices. Heavy, but good.”

“I like a story that makes me think,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “But I also like a little drama. Something juicy enough to make me forget about the world for a while.”

“Peyton Place fits that bill,” you quipped, flipping through its pages.

Natasha chuckled, her voice warm and rich. “It does. Small-town secrets and scandal? What’s not to love?”

You glanced up, catching her watching you with a soft smile. Her red hair was coming loose from the bun, a few strands framing her face. Her tight white blouse clung to her form, and you could not resist letting your gaze linger for a moment longer than it should.

Natasha noticed—of course, she saw—but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she walked over, brushing past you to pick up another book from the pile. Her perfume lingered, a mix of roses and something earthy, grounding.

“You should borrow one,” she offered, holding the book out to you. “Unless you’re more of a magazine person.”

You smirked, taking the book from her hands. “I think I can handle a real novel, thank you very much.”

Natasha held up her hands in surrender, chuckling. "Alright, I’ll behave."

You glanced at the book she’d handed you, The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway. Your fingers traced the embossed title on the cover, appreciating the texture of the paper.

"What a striking title," you murmured. "You do have an eye for fine books, Nat."

She smiled, her green eyes sparkling. "It’s a favorite of mine. You’d enjoy it, I think."

"How’s little Claire-bear?" Natasha asked, shifting the conversation with ease.

"She’s quite the spitfire," you replied, unable to hold back a smile. "Though she’s been picking up words, I’d rather she didn’t. I told her I’d wash her mouth with soap if she tried them again."

Natasha chuckled, her laugh as soft as the breeze. "Children do have a way of testing boundaries. I imagine Sam isn’t much help with discipline."

You rolled your eyes, though your tone was fond. "He’s utterly hopeless. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger. ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’ and all that."

"Well," Natasha said, raising a brow, "it sounds like you’ve your hands full."

You hesitated, tracing the condensation on your lemonade glass. "I’ve been glancing at the classifieds lately," you admitted your voice a touch hesitant.

Natasha leaned forward slightly. "Oh? Are you considering a position somewhere?"

"Yes, though Sam doesn’t see the point. He keeps saying we’re managing fine, but it’s not about the money. I just... I feel as though I need something of my own."

Natasha frowned, her lips pressing together briefly. "And what’s his argument, exactly?"

You sighed. "It’s still the 1950s, Nat. No matter how modern things are becoming, people expect women to keep the house running while their husbands provide. It’s not as though I don’t understand it—it’s just..."

"It’s just not what you want," Natasha finished for you gently.

You nodded, the tension easing slightly under her understanding gaze.

"You deserve more," Natasha said firmly. "If there’s one thing I know, it’s that a woman who follows her heart is never truly out of step with the times."

You chuckled, her words both comforting and inspiring. "Thanks, Nat. You always know what to say."

"Anytime," she replied with a warm smile. "If Sam needs a nudge in the right direction, just say the word."

"Do I seem ungrateful?" You questioned. "Sam provides well; he is good to me, and I have everything a woman could ask for."

"Except the right to choose for yourself," Natasha remarked.

"Yes," you sighed. "I can't explain it, but something is missing. Like a piece of myself that I've yet to find."

Natasha hummed, her eyes scanning over your features. You held her gaze for a moment before shifting the conversation.

"You know," you began, tilting your head, "you never talk about you and Steve."

Natasha’s brows lifted slightly, caught off guard by your remark. She recovered quickly, though, leaning back in her chair with a shrug. "There’s not much to say."

"Nat," you said pointedly, giving her a look. "That’s not true, and you know it. You’re always checking in on me, listening to my endless rants, offering advice, but you never let me return the favor."

Natasha’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I don’t mean to keep things from you. It’s just complicated."

"That’s not an excuse," you countered gently. "You’re my friend, Nat. I care about you, just like you care about me. Why not let me in for once?"

She hesitated, her fingers brushing against the rim of her glass. "Steve’s a good man," she said finally, her voice measured. "But sometimes... sometimes I wonder if being with me is best for him."

You frowned, your heart aching at the vulnerability in her tone. "Why would you think that? Anyone would be lucky to have you."

Natasha let out a soft laugh, though it was filled with bitterness. "I’m not exactly the ideal woman, am I? I’ve got too many rough edges and too much baggage. Steve deserves someone uncomplicated, someone who fits neatly into his world. Someone feminine. I'm not a homemaker. I can't cook but a few dishes. The roses are the only thing I can keep alive."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words. Natasha shifted, the weight of the conversation settling between you both. She looked down at her glass, her fingers tapping lightly against the rim. Her lips parted as if she was about to say something but quickly closed again, unsure of how to continue.

"He's lucky to have you as a wife," you said, trying to break the tension. "You're smart, witty, and a great listener. You've got the sharpest tongue and a killer sense of style. Steve couldn't have asked for a better match."

"It's not the same," she insisted, her eyes meeting yours. "He doesn't need someone like me. He needs a woman to run a household and keep his parents happy. Someone who doesn't enjoy sex with women."

You blinked, startled by the last bit. Natasha was staring at you, her expression guarded. You felt the sudden urge to reach out and reassure her, but you didn't know how.

"I'm not sure what you mean," you said carefully. "Are you saying that you and Steve don't—"

"No," Natasha interrupted. "I'm not saying that. But our sex life is... complicated. I enjoy sex with him, but I also enjoy sex with other women. It's not something he can understand."

Your cheeks flushed as her words sunk in. The air seemed to crackle between you both, charged with tension. Natasha was still watching you, waiting for your reaction. You didn't know what to say. You'd never given much thought to other women before her.

"The postman is here," Natasha said, suddenly standing and heading to the window. It was her way of pulling away from the conversation. She tended to do that a lot. "Let's see if we've gotten anything interesting today."

She didn't wait for your reply before stepping outside, the screen door shutting behind her. You watched her walk down the front steps, her posture perfectly poised. She spoke to the postman briefly before heading back toward the house, a stack of envelopes in hand. You stood, clearing your throat as she came inside.

"Let's see," Natasha murmured, sorting through the mail. "Bills, bills, more bills... oh, and this must be the latest copy of Vogue."

She pulled out a magazine, its cover featuring a stunning model wearing an elegant evening gown. You glanced at the cover, admiring the sleek design.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who loves fashion," you teased, giving her a knowing smile. She stacked the mail on the foyer table.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to look good," Natasha said, a faint smile curving her lips.

You hesitated, the words spilling from your lips. "Do you want to go out?"

Natasha raised a brow, surprised by your suggestion. "Like a date?"

"Yeah," you said, shrugging. "We could get a bite to eat or go dancing."

"Oh, honey," Natasha said with a soft chuckle, leaning against the table's edge as she folded her arms. "You know it can’t be a date."

"I know," you said quickly, feeling a slight flush creep up your cheeks. "I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought..." You trailed off, fumbling for the words. "Well, I just thought maybe we could spend some time together. But if it’s too much, forget I said anything."

Natasha’s smile softened, her green eyes warm. "Now, don’t go putting words in my mouth," she said lightly. "I didn’t say no. I just think stepping out together might turn a few heads. Folks around here love a bit of gossip."

"True enough," you said with a small laugh, nodding in agreement. "The neighborhood grapevine’s quicker than a telephone line."

"Exactly," Natasha said, her tone playful but with a hint of caution. She paused for a moment, tilting her head thoughtfully. "But who says we can’t make a night of it here? I’ve got a good bottle of wine in the kitchen and more records than I can count. No need for all the hullabaloo."

You raised a brow, your lips curving into a smile. "So, you’d rather keep me hidden in your house than be seen with me in public?"

Natasha smirked, grabbing the stack of mail and heading toward the kitchen. "Something like that. Besides, I think you’d enjoy the songs I’ve been spinning lately."

"Oh, now I’m curious," you teased, following her. "What kind of tunes are we talking about?"

"Only the best," Natasha replied, glancing over her shoulder with a twinkle in her eye. "But you’ll have to stick around to find out."

"Fair enough," you said, feeling a warmth spread through you. Spending a quiet evening with Natasha, just the two of you, felt more inviting than any night out.

********

Hours later, you found yourself back at Natasha’s house, taking note of the sun setting as your cue. You’d taken your time getting ready, selecting an outfit that was comfortable and flattering. It wasn’t overly fussy—Natasha would never expect that—but you wanted to look your best for her.

You’d even dabbed on your favorite shade of lipstick, which always made you feel more confident. And for good measure, you pinned your hair up, remembering how Natasha once mentioned how much she liked the style on you. Her words had stayed with you, playing on repeat in the quieter corners of your mind.

As you climbed the steps to her porch, the soft glow of light spilling through the windows made the house feel welcoming, almost magical in the dusk. You smoothed your skirt one last time and knocked, your heart picking up a rhythm that felt both ridiculous and exhilarating.

When the door opened, Natasha stood in a simple yet elegant outfit—a soft sweater and slacks that looked effortlessly chic. She gave you a once-over, her lips curving into a small, approving smile.

"You clean up nice," she said, stepping aside to let you in.

"You don’t look so bad yourself," you quipped, though your tone betrayed how much you meant it.

The house smelled faintly of roses, and the faint crackle of a record player filled the air with a familiar melody. Natasha led you into the living room, where a small table had been set with two glasses and the bottle of wine she’d mentioned earlier.

"You didn’t have to go to so much trouble," you said, taking it all in.

"It’s not trouble," she replied, her voice warm. "I just figured if we’re staying in, we might as well make it nice."

You couldn’t help but smile at that, feeling a little flutter in your chest. Natasha always had a way of making the simplest moments feel extraordinary.

"Here," she said, holding up the bottle. "I think it's best to start with a toast."

She poured the wine, and you each took a glass, clinking them together before taking a sip. The wine was smooth and rich, warming your throat as you swallowed.

"Good choice," you murmured, admiring the deep red color.

"Only the best," she repeated, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"So," you said, glancing around the room. "What song did you have in mind?"

"Ah," Natasha said, nodding. "Let me put on the record, and you'll see."

She crossed the room, and as the music began to play, your eyes widened.

"Oh, I love this one," you exclaimed. "Billie Holiday is a gem!"

Natasha smiled, the look in her eyes softening as the music filled the room. "She's a favorite of mine. This particular song always reminds me of a dear friend. A girl, actually. We used to dance together when we were younger."

Her voice was full of affection, and you imagined a young Natasha swept up in the arms of a girl, their bodies pressed close as they moved together to the music. You swallowed, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy in your belly.

"Did she mean a lot to you?" You asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

Natasha laughed, her eyes sparkling. "We had some fun times. Truthfully, she was always a bit too wild for my taste."

"Oh," You nodded.

"Are you jealous?"

"No," you said, shaking your head. "Just surprised.”

Natasha grinned, her lips parting slightly as if she was going to say something, but instead, she walked over and held out her hand.

"Dance with me."

You stared at her, surprised. You didn't know what to say, and your heart was racing.

"Dance with me," Natasha repeated, her voice softer now.

Slowly, you took her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours. She drew you close, wrapping her arm around your waist, and you followed her lead. Your bodies swayed to the music, the rhythm guiding you both. You and Natasha had never danced this close before. You'd never had this moment of intimacy with her. All of your meetings before this were guided by hurriedness and practicality. There was always a purpose—a reason—for your time together, whether it was helping with her garden, sharing a quick cup of coffee, or catching up about your families. But this moment was different. There was no rush, no task to complete, no excuse to look away.

The world outside her cozy living room slowly faded, leaving just the two of you. Natasha’s hand rested firmly but tenderly against the small of your back, her touch grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

"You’re a natural," she murmured, her breath brushing against your ear.

You let out a soft laugh, a little embarrassed but unable to tear your gaze away from her. "I’m just following your lead."

Her lips twitched into a faint smile that softened her typically sharp features. "You make it look effortless."

You couldn’t tell if she was talking about the dancing or something else entirely, but the weight of her words wrapped around you just the same. The space between you was almost nonexistent now, and you were hyper-aware of every place her body met yours—the press of her breasts against yours, the warmth of her breath, the brush of her thighs against yours. You knew it was wrong to feel this way, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt.

You couldn’t deny how much you wanted her.

As the song ended, you remained close, neither willing to break the spell.

"This is nice," Natasha muttered. "Being here with you like this."

You hummed in agreement, her words sending a shiver down your spine.

"I can't believe you've been here this long and I haven't kissed you," She said.

"Natasha," you whispered.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Kiss me."

She didn't need to be told twice.

Her lips met yours, her kiss tender and firm, and you melted into her. It was unlike any other kiss you'd experienced, and you wanted more. You parted your lips, deepening the kiss, and she responded in kind, her tongue meeting yours in a slow, languid rhythm.

You were lost in the sensation, the taste of her, the scent of her perfume, the softness of her skin. You couldn't think straight. Your whole body was buzzing with desire, and the only thing you could focus on was her.

"You always taste so sweet,"

"Mmm, it's just my lipstick," you said with a soft laugh.

"It's more than that," she countered, her fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. "It's you."

Her words made your heart skip a beat, and you could feel yourself getting flushed.

"Nat," You murmured.

"Yes?" She asked, her gaze locking with yours.

"I love being here with you.” 

Her expression shifted, a mix of emotions playing across her face. Surprise, desire, and something else, something softer. Somehow, she figured that’s not what you were going to say. 

"I love being here with you too.” 

And with that, she captured your lips in another searing kiss. You both knew there was no turning back now. You were each other's, and nothing could ever change that.

"We haven’t had dinner," She whispered. "I cooked for you. Um, brisket. It's in the oven."

"It's perfect," you breathed, the two of you stumbling to the couch. "Everything's perfect."

"Well," Natasha said, her eyes dancing with amusement. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Take a compliment," you replied, a playful edge in your voice.

She smiled, leaning in to capture your lips once more. As the kisses grew heated, her hands began exploring your body, her touch igniting a fire within you. You were burning up with need; she was the only thing to quench the flames.

You couldn't resist reaching for her, pulling her close as your kisses became desperate and hungry. The heat between you was undeniable, and you were both lost in the moment.

"Can I touch you here?" Natasha asked as her hand raised to rest along your breast. It was an interesting question, considering she'd touched you in far worse places. You nodded.

She was careful and gentle, as if afraid to scare you away.

"Don't stop," You said, breathless, as she cupped your breast and rolled your nipple between her fingers.

You could feel yourself getting wet, the ache between your legs growing more intense. Natasha was relentless, her touch firm but tender, and you were drowning in the sensations.

"Please, Nat," you begged, not sure what exactly you were asking for, but you needed her more than anything.

"Shhh," She cooed. "Let me take care of you."

She began kissing down your neck, her tongue tracing the line of your collarbone. You gasped, your body responding to her touch as if it was made for her.

"I'm glad you wore a dress tonight," She said, her voice low and husky. "It makes things so much easier."

Before you could respond, she was lifting your skirt, exposing your thighs. She traced a path with her fingers, slowly making her way up. She took note of your lack of stockings and garter.

"Oh, no undergarments?" She teased. "You naughty thing."

Your face was hot as she slid her hand between your legs, her fingers teasing at your entrance. You couldn't hold back a moan, the pleasure too intense.

"Is this okay?" She asked, her touch light and deliberate.

"Yes," You gasped, your hips rocking against her hand.

She bit her lip, watching your facial expressions and chest heaving.

"I want to try something," She bit her lip. "If you're okay with it."

"Anything," You moaned.

She smiled and removed her fingers, placing them in her mouth. You could only stare, transfixed, as she licked them clean.

"You taste even sweeter down here," she said, her tone full of mischief. She dropped to her knees and, without another word, buried her face between your legs.

"Oh," you whimpered, feeling her tongue lick a long stripe over your sex. She hummed against your skin, sending vibrations through you.

"You like that?" She asked, looking up at you with hooded eyes.

"Yes," You breathed, barely able to form the word. Based on your responses, she could tell this was your first experience with a person's mouth there.

She was unrelenting, her tongue finding every spot that made you cry out and then some. The sounds coming from her were positively sinful, and they only added to the pleasure building within you. You were lost in the feeling, unable to do anything but let go and surrender to the waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

Your orgasm hit you hard, and you cried out, gripping the cushions beneath you. Natasha's grip tightened on your thighs as she helped you ride out the aftershocks.

"How was that?" She asked, a self-satisfied grin on her face.

You could only stare at her, completely speechless.

"That good, huh?" She chuckled, licking her lips.

"More," You demanded, your voice hoarse.

Natasha was happy to oblige until a distinct smell came into the air.

"Something's burning," You said, alarmed.

"Shit," Natasha exclaimed, leaping up and running toward the kitchen.

You followed her, quickly taking the pan out of the oven and opening a window.

"Damn it," Natasha cursed, looking down at the charred brisket. "I was so distracted, I forgot about dinner."

"It's alright," You reassured her. "The important thing is that we're together."

She smiled, the expression warming her features. "I couldn't agree more."

"We should eat something," You said.

"I'm not sure there's anything edible left," she joked.

"I can make some sandwiches," you suggested, not wanting the night to end. You looked over at Natasha's face. Her lipstick was smudged, and her hair was a mess. You couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

"What?" Natasha asked, looking at you.

"Nothing," you said, grinning. You reached across you to wipe her mouth. "Was it enjoyable for you to do that? It seemed awfully one-sided."

Natasha blushed. "I enjoyed it."

You gave her a coy look, feeling brave.

"Do you want me to... um... return the favor?"

Natasha swallowed hard, her gaze locked on yours. You could see the desire burning in her eyes. She leaned forward to kiss you, but you hesitated.

"What?"

"Is it proper for us to kiss after?" You asked. "I mean, you did just..."

Natasha grinned, shaking her head. "Nothing about what we did is proper. "

"Then why do we bother doing it?" You asked.

"Because it's fun," Natasha replied, her voice low and seductive. "And because I'm selfish. I want to see how far we can go before the neighbors start to gossip."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, your heart racing at her boldness. You leaned in and kissed her, the taste of you on her lips sending a thrill through you.

"To the bedroom," She said, standing and pulling you with her.

"But what about the sandwiches?"

"Screw the sandwiches," Natasha said, her expression dark with desire. "I want to fuck you."

You felt a flush spread across your cheeks, and a rush of heat flooded your core.

"Then take me," you breathed, wanting her more than anything.

The two of you made your way to her room, an unfamiliar room. You'd never been in her bedroom before. There was no reason to be, considering. She was a very private person. But now, you were both ready to take this relationship to the next level.

Once inside, she wasted no time in pulling you close, her hands exploring your body as she kissed you deeply. You could feel her urgency, her need, and it fueled your own.

"Let me undress you," she murmured, her breath warm against your ear.

"Natasha, let me spoil you," you insisted, wanting to repay the favor. "You deserve."

She didn't protest this time. Instead, she simply nodded, a small smile curving her lips. You stepped back, allowing her to watch as you slowly stripped off your dress.

"Beautiful," she breathed, her gaze lingering on your bare breasts.

You blushed, feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny.

"Don't be shy," she said, her tone soothing. "You're perfect."

You couldn't help but smile at her praise, and you were suddenly filled with renewed confidence.

You stepped toward her, reaching for the hem of her sweater. You lifted it slowly, exposing her smooth skin.

She wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts were just as perfect as the rest of her. You couldn't resist running your hands over them, feeling her nipples harden beneath your touch.

"You're amazing," you whispered, kissing her.

She responded eagerly, her lips parting to allow your tongue entrance.

The kiss quickly heated, and you pushed her back toward the bed. You both fell onto the soft sheets, your bodies tangled together.

Natasha was the one to break the kiss, her green eyes dark with lust.

"I want to do what you did to me in the den," You blushed. "I've never done that before. Will you show me how you like it?"

Natasha was more than happy to oblige. She lifted to remove her pants and underwear. Then, she laid back and spread her legs, allowing you to get a good look at her.

She was glistening with arousal, and the sight was almost enough to make you come right then and there.

"Go ahead," she encouraged, her voice low and husky. "Taste me."

You bit your lip, leaning in and pressing against her center. It was a simple kiss, one that garnered a weak expression. She was being patient with you. Her scent was intoxicating. Musky and uniquely her.

"Again," She urged gently. "But, harder."

You did as she said, putting more pressure behind the kiss. You could feel her body tense, her breathing growing heavier.

"More," she pleaded. "Use your tongue."

You obeyed, flicking your tongue against her, causing her to moan softly.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped, her hips bucking against your mouth.

"Is that okay?" You asked, worried you were doing something wrong.

"More than okay," she assured you, her hand resting on your head. "Just keep going." She directed your head where she wanted it, and you happily complied.

"Yes," she groaned, her grip tightening. "Just like that."

Her sounds were intoxicating, and you found yourself getting more and more turned on by her reactions. Recalling where her tongue had taken you, you decided to try something new.

You puckered your lips and suckled the sensitive bud there, earning a loud moan from Natasha.

"That's it," she gasped, her back arching off the bed. "Keep going."

You continued the motion, alternating between sucking and flicking your tongue. Her taste was addictive, and you couldn't get enough of it.

"I'm close," she warned, her voice strained. "Don't stop."

You picked up the pace, wanting to bring her to the edge. You could feel her body tensing, her breathing becoming ragged. You appreciated the fact that she could tell you how she felt, as this form of sex was not a common practice.

Suddenly, her body went rigid, and a cry tore from her lips. Her release was intense, her muscles clenching and releasing in waves.

You kept going, wanting to draw out her pleasure for as long as possible. She was breathtaking like this, lost in the throes of ecstasy. You'd never seen anything so beautiful.

As her body finally began to relax, you slowed your movements, bringing her down from her high. You rested your head against her thigh and waited for her.

"Come here," she said, her voice shaky.

You crawled up her body, meeting her lips in a deep kiss.

"That was incredible," she murmured, a lazy smile across her face. "Not bad for your first time."

"I had a good teacher," you replied, returning her smile. You slipped under the sheets. 

"And a very willing student," she teased.

You settled into her arms, both of you content and satisfied.

"Sex with you is," You began.

"Incredible?" She smirked.

"It is, but also... it's just so easy," you explained. "Being with you is like breathing."

Natasha didn't speak but drew you closer, kissing gently on your temple.

"I'm learning so much," You continued. "Thank you for letting me explore with you."

Natasha's expression softened, and she leaned in to kiss you, slow and tender.

"You're welcome," she whispered, her voice full of affection."Why do you do that?" She questioned.

"Do what?" You asked, unsure what she was referring to.

"Hide from me," She said, her gaze trailing over your bare skin. "There's no need. Not here."

You swallowed, not knowing how to respond.

"I've had a child," You answered. "My body isn't as..."

"It's perfect," She interrupted. "Just like the rest of you."

She was right, you decided. Why should you hide from her? After all, she had seen you in all your naked glory. It was only fair that you returned the favor.

Slowly, you emerged from beneath the sheets, letting her look her fill.

"Beautiful," she murmured, her eyes filled with desire. "Absolutely beautiful."

"Come here," She instructed, holding out her arms.

You obliged, crawling into her embrace. Her lips met yours, and the kiss quickly grew heated.

You found yourself straddling her, her hands exploring your body, and the ache between your legs intensified. You wanted her, needed her.

"Please," you whispered, desperate for her touch.

"Tell me what you want," she said, her voice low and husky.

"You," you replied, unable to articulate more than that.

"Then you shall have me," she said, rolling the two of you so she was on top.

"How would you like to come this time?" She asked, her hands cupping your breasts.

"Whatever you want," You answered, eager to give yourself to her.

She chuckled, her lips curling into a devilish grin. "Then we're in for a long night."

And with that, she proceeded to show you exactly how many times a woman could orgasm in a single night.

By the end, you were utterly spent, your body exhausted and sated. You lay against the pillows, your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath.

Natasha was curled around you, her body pressed against yours, her head resting on your shoulder.

"I could stay here forever," She said, her voice sleepy.

"Me too," You agreed, your own eyes heavy. "I should probably go home soon."

"What if you didn't?" She suggested, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

"What do you mean?" You asked, confused.

"What if you stayed here with me?" She elaborated, her words slow and deliberate.

"It's risky," You sighed. "If anyone found out—"

"I know," She interrupted, her tone soft. "But we've been doing a good job keeping this a secret. No one suspects anything. Besides, I can't bear the thought of not having you by my side tonight."

You considered her words, your heart pounding in your chest. It was true; the two of you had been careful. And, you had to admit, spending the night in her arms was tempting.

"Okay," You finally said, making up your mind. "I'll stay."

Natasha's smile lit up her face, and she kissed you, her lips warm and soft.

"Good," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Because I can't get enough of you."

***********

You stood by the armchair, slipping back into your heels quickly. The soft sound of your dress fabric brushing against your legs filled the quiet room. Natasha sat on the edge of the sofa, still in her robe, nursing a cup of coffee that smelled rich and inviting.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, observing every movement you made.

You gave her a fleeting smile, smoothing out the creases in your dress. "Claire’s coming home soon. She spent the night with my mother, but you know how she gets—she’s practically attached to my hip.”

"Mm," Natasha hummed, sipping her coffee.

"They’ll be back soon, too," you said, avoiding her gaze as you adjusted your earring. The rush in your movements betrayed the careful calm in your voice.

Natasha set her cup down, leaning forward slightly. "You’re in a hurry," she noted, her voice softer now, almost teasing but edged with something more. "Do you regret our night together?"

You froze for a split second, feeling her words settle uncomfortably in the air. You knew you shouldn’t feel guilty. You hadn’t done anything wrong—or had you? Shaking off the thought, you reached for your purse.

"I just don’t want to raise any questions," you said, your tone light. "It’s nothing."

Natasha’s voice followed you, stopping you in your tracks. "Do you think about it?"

You turned to face her, her words catching you off guard. "Think about what?"

Her green eyes stayed on yours, steady and unflinching. "What it would’ve been like if things were different. If we were different."

You blinked, caught in her gaze, the question hanging in the air. "Natasha," you began, trying to find the words. "I—"

"It's alright," she said, her lips quirking up. "I understand. We have our responsibilities. And, besides, some things can't be changed, no matter how hard we wish they could."

Her words cut through you, and you felt a wave of sadness.

"I'm sorry," You sighed. "I enjoyed my night with you. I really did."

"I know," She reassured. "So did I. We should do it again sometime." She opened her arms for a hug.

"I would love that," You answered. She breathed in your scent, smelling herself all over your body, and hummed.

"The idea of him touching you makes me crazy," she murmured. "But I also love smelling my scent on you. I bet he wouldn't be able to do a quarter of what I did to you last night."

It's the first time you've heard her be so possessive. Your breath caught in your throat at her words.

"It's only fair," She continued. "You should have let me mark you."

You felt a surge of arousal course through you at her words but also a flicker of unease. It was dangerous territory, the two of you getting so attached.

"We have to be careful," You warned, though it was the last thing you wanted. "Someone could find out."

"Would it be so bad if they did?" Natasha knew she was being reckless, but she didn't care. All she cared about was you. She nuzzled her nose into your neck.

"Natasha," You protested, your resolve weakening. "We can't."

"Yes, we can," She said, her voice low and seductive. "Just think about it, being with me every day, sharing our lives."

It was tempting, but you knew it was impossible. "It would never work," You said, trying to sound firm, but the words came out sad.

Natasha’s brows furrowed as she pulled back slightly, her piercing gaze locking onto yours. "Why wouldn’t it work?" she challenged, her voice steady, though there was a hint of frustration beneath it.

"Because it’s not just about us," you admitted, your hands trembling as you stepped away, needing space to think clearly. "I’m scared, Natasha. Scared of what this... of what you make me feel."

"Scared?" Natasha repeated, her tone sharp now, almost incredulous. "What’s there to be scared of? Isn’t it scarier to stay in something that doesn’t make you happy?"

You shook your head, your voice cracking as you tried to explain. "It’s not that simple. I love Sam. He’s a good man. And I don’t want to hurt him—or Steve."

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, she looked away, exhaling deeply. "You should have thought about that before," she said quietly, her words cutting like a knife.

"I know," you replied, guilt heavy in your chest. "And maybe... maybe that’s why we need to cool down. This—whatever this is—it’s too much, Nat. It’s moving too fast, and I... I could lose Claire."

Natasha blinked, clearly taken aback. "Lose Claire?" she repeated, her voice filled with disbelief. "That’s ridiculous. Sam would never take her away from you."

"You don’t understand," you said, your voice rising as panic bubbled. "You can’t understand because you don’t have children. You don’t know what it’s like to have your entire life revolve around them, to know that one wrong move could take them away from you."

The words hung in the air, heavy and biting. Natasha’s face hardened a flicker of hurt, crossing her features before she masked it. "You think I wouldn’t understand?" she asked, her voice quieter now but no less intense.

"I didn’t mean it like that," you said quickly, regret pooling in your stomach.

"But you did," she countered, stepping closer, her gaze uncompromising. "You think because I don’t have children because I can’t have children, that I wouldn’t understand what it means to love someone so much it scares you?"

You froze, her words hitting you like a punch to the gut. "Natasha, I—"

"Don’t," she interrupted, her voice thick with emotion. "You’re scared, fine. But don’t you dare stand there and tell me I don’t understand love? That’s the one thing I do understand."

The room fell silent. Natasha’s breathing was steady but labored, as though she was holding back everything she wanted to say.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just... I’m trying to do the right thing."

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "The right thing? For who? For Sam? For Steve? When do you start doing the right thing for yourself?" Natasha sniffled. "You're right." She said. "You should go home and prepare for Sam."

"Natasha," you started, but she held up her hand.

You stood there, conflicted, unsure of how to proceed when she moved towards you. For a moment, it seemed like she was going to say something more, but instead, she reached out, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that surprised you.

"You're a good friend," She murmured. She placed a final kiss on your lips before pulling back. "I suppose you can see your way out."

She turned and walked down the hall, leaving you alone.

You stared after her, feeling the ache in your chest grow, and tried to ignore the sense of loss that was settling in.

You told yourself that you were doing the right thing, even as tears spilled down your cheeks. It was the right thing.

And yet, as you walked out the door and headed home, you couldn't help but feel like a part of you had stayed behind.

[svgarseason]

𖹭 cw: explicit, smut, fluff

══════════════𖹭 MINORS DNI 𖹭═════════════

PT 1 ⋆ PT 2 ⋆ PT 3 ⋆ PT 4 ⋆ PT 5 [SOON]

English professor Nanami values his free time. He was never one to keep late hours, until he shared his office with you. Your enthusiasm is contagious. He doesn't mind the overtime so much, these days. Not with you sat on the couch in front of his desk, feet tucked under your stockinged thighs, brow furrowed in concentration as you marked up some some mediocre student's poor excuse of an assignment.

You would preface any question with a soft, sweet, "Professor Nanami ?" As if you weren't sure you had yet garnered the right to say his name. So shy, at first, but you got more and more comfortable as the semester went on. Often, now, you would plop a paper down in front him, crowding into his space as you poke fun at a student's sacchrine overuse of adverbs or rant about passive voice.

Professor Nanami is thrilled that you are opening up, but the trill of your laughter in his ear and the brush of your arm against his makes it difficult to remain objective.

"Her analysis really thins here, don't you agree? Am I being too harsh?" You've been sitting right next to him at his desk all afternoon. As you talk, you are scooting your metal folding chair even closer. He wonders if you realize the way your thigh crushes into his knee as you lean in so close he can smell the light floral scent of your perfume. A lock of your hair falls onto his forearm, soft. He thinks about what it might feel like brushing against his bare chest, the tops of his thighs.

Professor Nanami couldn't honestly answer your question because no matter how long he stares at the page, his brain refuses to absorb the words. So, he just agrees with you, returns your soft smile.

For some reason, that is the turning point for him. It's the moment he stops pretending, at least to himself, that he wouldn't give his left nut to bend you over his desk and fuck you absolutely full of his cum. You're just so good. He knows you would take his cock so well.

Although he attempts to focus on grading the paper in front of him, your proximity steals his attention. Suddenly, he can't stop thinking about the way you looked when you arrived that morning, rosy and breathless from the cold. Images of the sliver of flesh exposed when you pulled your hoodie up over your head are currently occupying every available braincell. The glimmer of your belly-button ring and the strap of some tiny undergarmet underlining the angle of your hip bone eclipse any remaining fragments of concern with narrative structure or parenthetical citations.

Professor Nanami is thinking that it's only a matter of time before you notice the rather prominent outline of his aching cock beneath his khaki slacks. Probably not much time, with the way your leg insists on rubbing up against his.

Why are you squirming like that anyway? Jesus Christ.

Professor Nanami stifles a groan when he feels the sticky warmth of his precum soaking into his boxers. Not wanting to call attention to his predicament, he resists the urge to assess the severity of the situation by looking down at his crotch. So, he looks at you, instead. Bad idea. You are running the end of your pen over your bottom lip as you pour over the paper in front of you. The glistening tip of your tongue protrudes slightly as you concentrate. He can't help but imagine the weeping head of his dick nudging you there, insisting.

Professor Nanami is looking around for something to hold over his stubbornly rigid cock so he can escape to the bathroom, when you suddenly stand and say you're going to get a coffee.

Professor Nanami tugs his slacks halfway down his thighs as soon as you close the door. His cock springs free, a pearly smear of precum leaves a dark splotch on his blue button down as it slaps against his abdomen. He hikes the shirt up in an effort to prevent any further evidence collecting on his pristine clothes. His arousal leaks into the divots of his abs, instead.

Professor Nanami hardly needs to spit on his cock as slick as it is with pre, but he does anyway. "Oh, fuck," he groans as he grips his thick base, slowly stroking himself from root to swollen, leaking tip.

Professor Nanami can't believe how fucking hard he is just from looking at you combined with your innocent, accidental touch.

He grabs your hoodie off of the folding chair where you left it. Buries his face in it and breaths in your addictive scent as he strokes himself. He groans out a strangled string of curses as his hips buck, fucking his fist with long, slow strokes. It only takes a couple of pumps and his abs are seizing up, his thighs shaking. Thick ropes of milky white erupt out of his tip as he moans your name into your hoodie which is still pressed to his face.

After that, it becomes almost like a game. Seeing how quickly or how many times he can jerk himself off before you return from lunch or a bathroom break. It's totally fucked, sure... but his intentions are pure. It's the only way he can preserve the efficacy of this mentorship. Otherwise, his brain would remain too clouded with lust to be of any benefit to you.

Professor Nanami knows he can't deny his desperate attraction to you anymore. He knows just how wrong it is. It is a betrayal of the trust you've placed in him. It is more than simple lust, however.

Professor Nanami cares for you. So much it's like a physical ache, a near painful tug in his chest every time he sees you, hears your voice, thinks about you. That's why you can never find out.

Never.

[mayahawkesfirstwife]

semi teasing her crybaby/extremely sensitive gf? 😓🙏🏼 (smut)

Sensitive

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

Pairings: Se-mi x Fem! Reader

Summary: Se-mi teasing her sensitive girlfriend when you’re being needy.

Warnings: Smut, teasing, oral sex (r! receiving), edging.

Author Note: Sorry if theres any spelling mistakes or anything like that! It’s a bit rushed bc I wanted to post b4 bed :(

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

You had been so needy for your girlfriend, Se-mi all day and when you finally got her into bed with you she was being such a tease.

She was sitting on her knees in front of you, in between your open legs as she rubs you through your panties and sucked your neck.

You both were in your undergarments, she had been rubbing you through your panties for what felt like forever.

“Baby, p-please?” You whined, she smirks into your neck before she pulled back to look at you.

“Please what, baby?” She asks, with a hum. You whimper, “Please quit teasing me…I need you.”

“Oh, yeah? You need me? What do you need me to do?” She rubs faster and you grip her shoulder.

“I need you…I need you to…” You whine and she chuckles.

“What’s wrong, love? I’m barely touching you.” She reaches up to grab your chin, running her thumb down your bottom lip.

“Se-mi.” You moan.

“Tell me what you want.” She stops rubbing you and you huff, she slaps her hand on your clothed pussy and you yelp.

“Tell me.” She says and you whine, “I need you to eat me out.” You said lowly.

“That’s my girl, using her words.” She grabs the waistband of your panties and slowly and teasingly pulled them down.

“Take this off.” She grabs the strap of your bra and you quickly arch your back to reach your bra clasp and unclip it.

It loosens and you pull it off and toss it off the bed, she grabs your boobs and kisses each of them slowly.

“Se-mi, I thought you were going to eat me out?” You whine, she hums.

“What’s the rush? I’ll get to it, be patient.” She says and you whimper, all frustrated and you push her shoulders.

She scoffs, “All you do is tease me!” You cry out, she clicked her tongue.

“Bad girl, you’re being a stupid little brat.” She grabs your hip, pulling you closer to her body.

“You know I don’t like teasing, Se-mi…” You whisper with a pout.

“Well that’s too damn bad, you deserve it.” She kisses down your body.

She kisses your clit once and when you arch your back she pushes your hips to touch the mattress.

“Nuh uh, don’t squirm.” She rubs your clit slowly and you whine.

“Se-mi…Se-mi, please!” You plead, looking up into her eyes with a frown.

“I love when you beg.” She giggles and you groan, “Se-mi, it’s not funny! I can’t take it anymore.”

She hums, kissing your clit again and licking a stripe up your pussy.

You moan out, your hips rocking into her. “What did I say? Quit squirming.” She grabs your hips, holding them down.

Without warning she dives in, eating your pussy like she never had before.

You were a moaning mess, tossing your head back as you whine.

“Se-mi! Se-mi! It’s so good!” You whimper, gripping her hair tightly.

You were so sensitive from her teasing you felt you could cum right now.

“I-I…I think i’m close!” You moan, she pulls back and you groan.

“Se-mi, why are you doing this?” You whimper, she chuckles.

“It’s fun, but I guess i’ll stop.” She hums before she starts to eat you out again and you moaned.

“Please, Se-mi…please don’t stop.” You grab her shoulder, back arching.

“It’s so fucking good, baby…right there!” You whimper, biting your bottom lip.

Your eyes tear up as you felt so overwhelmed with the pleasure and finally feeling the pleasure without any teasing.

She hums into you, her tongue moving faster as she rolls her eyes back before shutting them.

Your legs start to shut around her head and you push on her shoulder, “I-It’s too much! Se-mi, oh my!”

She grabs your thighs, opening them and pushing them into the mattress while you squirmed under her.

“Oh, Se-mi! F-Fuck…i’m so close.” You whimper, she nods her head and you moan loudly.

You were glad you were finally able to cum, you whimper loudly as your hips rock onto her tongue.

You came on her tongue and she pants as she pulls back, “You have to learn to control that squirming, honey.” She sighs.

You wipe your forehead with your arm and hum, “I’m just really sensitive, i’m sorry, Se-mi.” You said.

“It’s alright, just need you to stay still if you want a round 2.”

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

[meazalykov]

pick a side

gio queiroz x uswnt!reader

summary: you feel forced to pick a side during the national break

warnings: swearing, google translated language

this match has been fast-paced.

the stands in this los angeles stadium are packed, the crowd yelling with excitement as the game nears its conclusion. you’ve kept your head down for most of the match, focusing on your role, finding your rhythm, and working to break through brazil’s backline. 

the banter on the pitch has been light, even playful at times. you’ve exchanged a few teasing smiles and glances with gio, your girlfriend of eight months, but nothing that would draw attention… at least, that was the plan.

it’s the 87th minute now, and the game feels like it’s teetering on the edge. tied 1-1, neither side is giving an inch. the sun has dipped low, painting the sky a hazy orange as the stadium lights flicker on. the ball pings around midfield, and then lindsey charges in, her presence commanding, as always for someone who needs to fulfill a captain role. 

gio had the ball, but lindsey steps in hard on gio, winning the ball but making contact that’s just a bit too aggressive. you see gio stumble back, not falling but she almost did. the brazilian’s face twisting in frustration as she plants her feet.

lindsey straightens, turning to walk away, but gio isn’t letting it slide. 

"que porra é essa?" gio snaps, her voice carrying just enough to draw a few heads. you recognize the tone immediately.. sharp, challenging. your eyes widen from forty yards away. 

lindsey pauses, pivoting back to face her, jaw tight, eyes narrowing. 

"you got something to say?" lindsey shoots back, her voice calm but laced with that signature edge. she’s keeping it together.. for now. you can see her fingers curl slightly, her composure fraying just enough to be noticeable.

gio waves her hand dismissively, a clear gesture for lindsey to back off. 

"fuck off," gio mutters, shaking her head. the motion isn’t aggressive, but the intent is clear, and you know lindsey well enough to know it’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

lindsey takes a step closer, her head tilting slightly, her voice dropping lower but losing none of its sharpness. 

"what’s your problem?"

you instinctively start to move toward them, but trinity’s hand stretches out across your chest before you can take a step. 

"don’t," she warns, her voice quiet but firm. 

"i think you should stay out of it luv."

you glance at trinity, your brows furrowing in silent protest, but you know she’s right. lindsey doesn’t need you stepping in, and gio doesn’t need you choosing sides.. not here, not now. 

that doesn’t stop the unease curling in your stomach as you watch the exchange unfold.

gio plants her hands on her sides, her expression unwavering, meeting lindsey’s glare with equal intensity. they’re inches apart now, voices rising just enough for the crowd closest to the pitch to pick up on the spat.

this is when sonnet, and angelina from the other team start to run up and break things apart before they go too far. your heart pounds as you stay rooted in place, the tension crackling like static in the air. 

your position at striker suddenly feels miles away. you can’t hear every word, but the tone is unmistakable.. neither of them is backing down. of course not, gio had never broken down from a challenge. even when you played against atletico madrid in barcelona, your club, she was the last person to accept defeat for the sake of her own ego.

you feel your hands ball into fists at your sides, every instinct screaming for you to step in, to diffuse this before it escalates further. 

trinity’s hand presses against your shoulder again, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"i know you want to help your girlfriend and linds but it’s not your fight." you nod reluctantly, your eyes flickering between lindsey and gio. 

you just hope neither of them crosses a line they can’t step back from.

your hopes go to waste. one second, lynn is stepping in, arms raised in a gesture to calm things down, her voice steady as she tries to play the mediator. the next, gio jerks back, her expression shifting sharply, mistaking lynn’s approach as something hostile or aggressive. 

“don’t touch me!” gio exclaims, her voice cutting through the noise, and it’s like a spark to dry grass. the reaction is instant. a few of the brazilian players rush in, their protective instincts kicking in as they misinterpret lynn’s movement. 

your eyes widen, heart pounding in your chest as the tension erupts into chaos. voices overlap, sharp and heated in english, portuguese, and even a bit of spanish. players from both teams converge, trying to either escalate or diffuse the situation. you see gabi arguing with lynn, their gestures animated. lindsey steps forward again, her captain’s armband visible as she squares up, shouting something you can’t quite make out.

the ref’s whistle blows, shrill and piercing, but it barely cuts through the commotion. she rushes into the fray, trying to separate players, her face stern and authoritative, but it’s clear she’s losing control of the situation.

you feel rooted in place, torn between stepping in and staying back. trinity’s hand is still lightly on your arm, a silent reminder to hold your position. beside you, sophia jogs up, her brow furrowed in confusion. 

“are they still upset about the gold medal game?” she asks, glancing toward the brazilian players who seem particularly agitated.

trinity lets out a soft, almost incredulous giggle, but you shut it down quickly, your voice firm. 

“no, they’ve moved on.” you mean it, mostly. gio and the others had congratulated you last year, telling you the better team had won, and there was no lingering bitterness.. at least, none you’d picked up on.

watching the scene unfold, it’s hard not to wonder if the loss still stings, if the weight of that match lingers in moments like this, where tempers flare and emotions run high. your eyes dart to gio, who’s still gesturing animatedly at lynn, her voice raised, though the words are lost in the noise. 

a minute after lynn came through and.. attempted.. to break things up, the collective retreat is almost comical, like someone hit an invisible pause button. players from both teams step back, hands raised or resting on their hips, the tension diffusing in unison as if they all silently agreed this wasn’t worth escalating further. 

the ref stands at the center of it all, her whistle still gripped tightly, her face a mix of frustration and exhaustion. 

you watch as she raises two yellow cards, one in each hand..one for lindsey, one for gio. it’s not exactly shocking. both of them are fiery, unafraid to stand their ground, and, honestly, it could’ve been worse. 

still, you can’t help but roll your eyes, letting out a soft exhale as you shake your head. you mutter to yourself, “of course.”

as you jog back to your position, your gaze instinctively shifts to gio. she’s standing about twenty feet away, her expression unreadable at first. then, she meets your eyes, and you see it..a look that’s part curious, part questioning. it’s subtle, but you know her well enough to catch it: 

are you on my side?

you bite back a groan, unwilling to let her pull you into whatever narrative is brewing in her mind. instead, you mouth the words, exaggerating them just enough so she can catch them from the distance: 

we will talk about it later. 

you emphasize the later, hoping she understands there’s a time and place, and it’s definitely not here.

gio smirks faintly, her head tilting as if to say, fine. 

the game resumes, but not without a sigh from almost everyone on the pitch. the board goes up at the 90th minute, signaling 8 extra minutes. you don’t even have to ask; you know those minutes are for the chaos lindsey and gio stirred up. 

"unbelievable," you mutter under your breath, repositioning yourself and shaking off the lingering tension. this match just couldn’t end quietly, could it?

finally, the final whistle comes which brings a sense of relief for you, the tension melting away as both teams fall into the familiar post-match routine. 

players exchange handshakes, some linger to chat with club teammates, and there’s an easy camaraderie between many of the players despite the earlier chaos. you weave through the crowd, smiling and greeting a few friends, like angelina and gabi, catching up briefly before your focus shifts to the stands.

you’re about to walk over to greet the fans when a hand gently catches your arm, stopping you in your tracks. the touch is familiar, as is the soft voice that follows. 

“can we talk? i don’t think i’ll be able to wait until we’re back in spain.”

you turn around, meeting gio’s eyes. there’s a softness there now, a sharp contrast to the fire she showed on the pitch earlier. you give her a small smile, trying to keep things light. 

“can we swap?” you ask, tugging lightly at her jersey… her lips curve into a smirk, but she doesn’t let you off that easily. 

“you’re avoiding the conversation,” she says, the teasing lilt in her voice clear.

“i am,” you admit, not bothering to deny it. 

“because that moment was ridiculous, gio.”

she chuckles softly but doesn’t argue as you both swap jerseys, the smooth motion practiced after years of playing. you pull on her green brazilian home kit while she slips into your blue popsicle-colored away jersey, your name standing out boldly on the back.

“i’m sorry,” gio starts, her tone quieter now as she rubs her hand gently on your shoulder.

 “i just thought you’d be on my side. you saw how your captain pushed me right before.”

you sigh, meeting her gaze evenly. 

“i know. it was a wrong move, but you know it didn’t have to escalate that far.”

gio nods, her head dipping slightly.

 “i know, and i’m sorry, baby.”

the corner of your mouth lifts into a smirk, though you try to keep it stern. 

“gio…” your tone is warning, but playful. “there’s a time and a place.”

she exhales dramatically, though her smile doesn’t falter. 

“again, i’m sorry. i know you’re on her side—”

“i’m not on lindsey’s side,” you cut in quickly. 

“in fact, i think she might talk to me about this since, you know, i’m your girlfriend and all.”

gio winces slightly but recovers with a sheepish grin. 

“again, i’m sorry.”

“stop apologizing,” you tell her firmly, your tone light but sincere.

“there’s nothing to apologize to me about.”

“fine,” she relents, her smirk growing as she steps closer and pulls you into a hug. the warmth of her embrace melts away any lingering frustration, and just as you’re starting to relax, she leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“i know you’re on my side, as much as you don’t want to admit it.”

masterlist

[circeyoru]

Shadow and Void _ Part 4

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Enemy Monarch!Reader]

Part 1 ― Part 2 ― Part 3 ― Part 4 (here)

You want to kill something—someone to be specific—right now. Even as you were surrounded with snacks you liked, you hated the situation unfolding before you. The mind of a human is just too weird for you to understand in any sense.

You angrily bit on the chip between your fingers with a loud and resounding snap that broke the silence while your eyes drilled holes into the man who was basically holding you there against your will, maybe with some form of bribe, but it was definitely not the snacks. Definitely.

“Just let her in your guild, you edge lord.” You hissed as you took the female Hunter’s side, annoyed at the various ridiculous excuses Jinwoo listed to push Hae-In away. You would admit that you’re impressed with her resilience when facing such a menace; then again, she is in love, and love makes one do crazy things.

Jinwoo had half a mind to know not to voice out the question of how and why you’d know such phrasing, since there was Cha Hae-In present and there was no need to raise alarm bells. Though the greatest reason was that he didn’t want another to know about you or what you are precisely. He can’t say he’s bothered by the way your eyes stared at him, all focused and guarded, ready to take Hae-In hostage if the situation calls for it.

Ah, but it won’t be much help to you. You’d have picked the wrong target. If it were someone like his mother or younger sister, then there’d be an effect you’d wanted. However, this was Hae-In, he barely met her and she barely knew him. That can’t be the case between you two. 

He knew about your being as a Monarch and an inhuman thing using a human body as a vessel, you knew about his levelling-up system that granted him his status as an S-Rank and all his other abilities. He and you could be your true selves in each other’s presence, no filter, no expectations of fulfilling anything. In a sense, he felt more at peace with you than the other people around him. Like you were someone as close to him as family. 

Perhaps this was the after-effects of viewing the memories between you and Ashborn, but that was his thoughts.

“There’s an entrance test before I can allow you to join, Hunter Cha.” Jinwoo stated nonchalantly.

You raised a brow while Hae-In flinched in alarm, “H- Huh?! That wasn’t in the recruiting notice…”

“A mistake, since we were busy these few days.” Jinwoo got up and eyed you to do the same, you complied while bringing along your unfinished snacks. “If you think it’s too sudden and unreasonable, you can―”

“What kind of test is it?” Hae-In asked with resolve.

You practically saw the shock in Jinwoo’s eyes, hiding a snicker as you internally mocked his poor insight into a woman’s determination. 

“You have to win against one of my summons.” Jinwoo laid out the simple yet vague requirement. 

“Is the evaluation of me in your eyes so low, Hunter Sung?” Hae-In’s tone turned firm and solid, nothing like her previous blushing mess. You can’t miss the fire burning in her eyes, “What kind of summon is it?”

With a cruel thought, you wondered if killing this Hunter for Ashborn and adding her to his army would be a good enough apology gift. Then again, you had to do it when the vessel’s soul is gone and Ashborn is back to fully appreciate your work well done. You’ll keep the thought in mind for the future. For now, you’ll let the humans deal with their business.

“For you, Hunter Cha, I’ll use my strongest summon ally.” Just as you were leaving the scene, Jinwoo’s hand placed firmly on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. You looked up at him in confusion and question as he looked down with a smirk. “This one.”

Hae-In jumped, “You’re a summon?! But you’re so… So…”

“Human?” Jinwoo smiled, leaning down to your level as his face was next to yours and made eye contact with Hae-In, “Yes, this is my perfect ally and companion in battle; it wouldn’t be good for a monster to be around me, right?”

You glared at Jinwoo, completely unaware of the conflicted expression on Hae-In’s face as your back was facing her. You whispered a hiss at him, “What are you doing? Don’t drag me into this.”

“A small deal then.” Jinwoo whispered back, taking advantage of Hae-In’s inner turmoil. “If you can ward Hunter Cha from joining my guild, you won’t have to stay by my side all the time. In other words, defeat Hunter cha and you get some free time for yourself without me around.”

That got your attention and you turned to glance at Hae-In. This woman can’t even manage to hold this vessel’s attention for long, not to mention how you were now dragged into some useless fight. Even if you let her into the guild, her use wasn’t much and she is weak compared to this vessel before you. The comparison was unfair, but it was the truth.

“Fine, but you keep your word.”

“Of course.”

You turned your heel and dumped the snacks back onto the coffee table. Taking a page out of Igris’ book, you stood at attention and fixed your expression to a more stoic and indifferent look, your chin angled down and your hands were placed behind your back, your eyes stared sharply at Hae-In. “My Lord has suggested I do battle with you for your place in his guild,” You offered your hand as you asked, “Should you accept, only if you win against me will you be considered acceptance. Do you still wish to partake in the duel?”

Jinwoo was almost taken aback with your shift in attitude and character. Not that he found fault in it, but rather, he was more drawn to you. It was smart of him to make such an appealing offer to you. The System’s information was right on the money. You are so self-centered and willing to abandon others for your own cause.

Now, all he needed to do was make sure you don’t can’t leave him.

His eyes glowed briefly when Hae-In’s hand gripped yours with a firm nod that meant ‘yes’. The moment you looked over as if asking for approval made his heart skip a beat, you were acting just like an actual Shadow soldier of his. He nodded back and watched you raise your other hand to snap your fingers. 

In the blink of an eye, all three of you were transported to another dimension. All your surroundings were misty, and even the ground was covered with a layer of fog that obscured their vision of their own feet. You had long walked off from Jinwoo’s side, only when he snapped back to attention did he realize he was standing at the perfect angle to see you and Hae-In on either side of a field of sorts.

“Here, we can battle without restraint.” You said, and with another snap of your fingers, a rack of weapons appeared by Hae-In’s side. “Pick your weapon, and we will begin on My Lord’s mark.”

So Jinwoo was right; you could have escaped to your own realm at any moment, with or without his consent and knowledge. Why you haven’t done so was odd, but that also proves how much of a hold Ashborn has on you. If only he could shift your attention from his predecessor to himself. 

Hae-In picked a long sword while you stood immobile. 

“Ready.”

Hae-In got into a stance, but you were as still as can be like you were frozen in place.

“Set.”

Hae-In’s mana aura surrounded her, charging her blade as well. You did nothing.

“Go!”

Hae-In took the initiative and charged forward, planning to end the duel with one quick decisive move. However, just before her blade reached you, you had disappeared in thin air. As quickly as you disappeared, you materialized behind Hae-In and kicked her in the back to send her flying to the side. You stood at your spot, fixing your clothes, tugging at your sleeves from your movement.

Swiftly, Hae-In had recovered and remained on the offensive. Your head tilted and you dodged her incoming attacks with graceful movements. The way you put minimum effort into this was almost like you were toying with the Hunter. Your monotonous expression and your hands behind your back were screaming handicap. It may look like an advantage to Hae-In, but it hurt her pride.

“Fight me for real.” Hae-In panted, finding this play irritating.

You merely blinked and hummed. Your eyes darted over to Jinwoo’s analytic look, no doubt he was watching this fight with a hawk, mainly judging your abilities than Hae-In’s qualifications to join the guild. You knew and he knew, there was no way Hae-In could win against you, a Monarch. It was only a matter of how to create that loss without death.

If only you could kill. Then everything would be so easy. You sighed, momentarily closing your eyes before they opened and glowed, “Humans are so ignorant of their limits…”

Note: Probably not the update you guys wanted, but I've been writing for this series still~ I'm thinking of making the parts longer cause of the gaps between updates though, not just for this series, but maybe for future posts too.

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: @o-qi-shisme @2021animeandwebtoons @mochinon-yah @skylar896 @rai-xxx @lilliana-14 @larettajudith

[marvelousels]

HOOKED ON YOU.

authors note — once again was listening to doja cat but this time the song was tia tamera YESSIRR sorry but that song is so iconic and gives this confident feeling to listeners. so here we are, it may not fit exactly but meh! i might write with this song except its jinx this time? omd jinx is so this song core OKAY NOW I'LL STOP YAPPING.

pairings: vi x fem!reader 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

Tia Tamera — doja cat playing!

The club was alive with the electric pulse of music, the bass vibrating through your chest as you leaned against the bar. Lights flashed in rhythmic bursts, painting the crowd in neon colors. Your drink sat untouched beside you, condensation pooling around the base of the glass. You weren’t here for the drinks or the music, though—you were here for her.

Vi was in her element, moving through the crowd with a natural charisma that left heads turning in her wake. Her cropped pink hair caught the strobe lights, and the signature cocky smirk tugged at her lips as she danced. She was magnetic, a force of nature, and watching her felt like being caught in a storm you didn’t want to escape.

You didn’t even realize you were staring until her eyes locked onto yours across the room. A playful challenge sparked in her gaze, and before you could look away, she was weaving through the bodies, heading straight for you.

“Hey, stranger,” she said, her voice just loud enough to cut through the music. She leaned against the bar beside you, her arm brushing yours. “You’ve been watching me all night. What’s the verdict?”

Heat rose to your cheeks, but you refused to let her fluster you. “You’re not bad,” you replied, keeping your tone light. “For someone who’s clearly showing off.”

She laughed, the sound low and warm, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “Can you blame me?” she teased. “Hard not to, when I’ve got you as my audience.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. Vi always had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room, even in a place as chaotic as this. She reached for your drink, taking a sip without asking, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Bold of you,” you remarked.

“That’s me,” she said with a wink. “Besides, I’ve got something to celebrate tonight.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

She straightened, her grin widening. “Us,” she said simply. “You and me. We… we just work. I’ve got the edge; you’ve got the spark. Together? Unstoppable.”

You blinked, caught off guard by her words. “Are you saying we’re some kind of dynamic duo?” you asked, amused.

“I’m saying we’ve got chemistry,” she replied, leaning closer. Her voice dropped, softer now. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The way we just… click?”

Her words hung in the air, and your heart raced under the weight of her gaze. She wasn’t teasing anymore; there was something raw and unguarded in her expression. You searched her face, and for once, there was no smirk, no bravado. Just Vi, honest and vulnerable, laying herself bare.

“Vi,” you began, your voice almost lost in the music. “I…”

She cut you off with a grin, her confidence creeping back in. “Don’t overthink it, okay?” she said. “Just dance with me.”

Before you could protest, she grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the dance floor. The crowd swallowed you both, the music pounding around you, but all you could focus on was her. The way her hands found your waist, the way her body moved against yours, the way her eyes never left yours—it was intoxicating.

“You know,” she murmured as her lips brushed your ear, “I’ve never met anyone like you. You’ve got this energy… it’s got me hooked.”

Your breath hitched, her words sending a thrill through you. “Hooked, huh?” you managed, your hands resting on her shoulders. “Is that your way of saying you’re obsessed?”

She chuckled, her voice low and sultry. “Maybe I am,” she admitted, her hands tightening slightly on your hips. “But you’re not making it easy to play it cool.”

You smirked, leaning closer until your faces were inches apart. “Who said I wanted you to play it cool?”

Her eyes darkened, her gaze flickering to your lips. The air between you crackled with tension, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. The music, the crowd, the flashing lights—none of it mattered. There was only her.

“You’re dangerous,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the pounding bass. “You know that, right?”

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, your voice equally soft.

Her lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. “You’re gonna be trouble for me, aren’t you?”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” you replied, tilting your head slightly in challenge.

Vi didn’t answer right away. Instead, she closed the remaining distance between you, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that was equal parts soft and electrifying. It was the kind of kiss that left you breathless, that made your head spin and your heart race.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, and her smirk was back in full force. “Yeah,” she said, her voice husky. “Definitely trouble. But I think I can handle it.”

And as you stood there, wrapped up in her, you couldn’t help but think that maybe she was right. Maybe together, you really could handle anything.

[the-ace-with-spades]

(sorry this got longer than I thought)

You know what fic I'd love to read?

One where Carole dies but doesn't get anything in order before her death (as is many times the case) and Mav is installed as Bradley's temporary guardian after her death but everything goes wrong very fast

Due to Mav's less than heterosexuals tendencies, Bradley ends up in the foster system. One day a social worker with a police officer just shows up and takes him away from school and he doesn't know what's going on. He ends up in his first not so good foster family the same evening. Mav can't even visit as he is deemed a bad influence and has an ongoing investigation if he is 'fit' to be Bradley's guardian.

He doesn't stop asking about Mav for months. Keeps trying to run away to him (he's about 50 miles away because foster homes are sparse so no dice) and finally his foster 'mom' is fed up with the constant asks to at least try and call Mav so she tells him Mav didn't want him and doesn't want Bradley to contact him.

And because Bradley is twelve, he believes it.

(It's not that Mav didn't try. There was a whole appeal process but Mav had a deployment right after and he couldn't explain to the social workers that no, Bradley would stay with someone trusted while he was gone, because that someone was Ice, the source of his suspected homosexual tendencies. They literally told him he's not allowed to contact Bradley and once he came back from deployment, Bradley was already in a different foster home, a few counties over and lost in the system.)

Bradley spends the rest of his childhood in the system. His first family is dubious and the following ones are a mix of constant hope and disappointment. He has at least two different families foster him every year, until he is sixteen and ends up in a group home. There are only two families that he actually comes close to calling family - a young married couple that stops fostering when the wife is diagnosed with chronic autoimmune disorder, and a couple of teachers that have to drop one of the two kids they foster when the financial requirements to foster raise and decide that Bradley is going to be that kid.

No one ever even thinks about adopting him. He's got good grades and stays on top of school, but that's about what is going well in his life. Some families he's with are average - they let him be and maybe don't care as much for anything that involves him as long it doesn't stir trouble at the fostering agency and Bradley is healthy and safe. Some families are worse - sometimes he is one of the five kids and is expected to stay and be a live-in nanny, sometimes they're only doing it for the money and he has barely anything, barely any food, barely any attention, barely any clothes, barely any school supplies, just so he doesn't cost too much. Sometimes, things get physical - it happens less, the taller he gets and by the time he starts fighting back, he has enough reputation that no one believes it and no one wants to foster him anymore. And group home it is.

By the time he's seventeen, he's enlisted. Just so he leaves the system as fast as he can. It all works out because the Navy fits the bill for his university and NROTC when the time comes - even if he's told he's not a good candidate for the USNA, even if he was told his grades and his achievements should be more than enough, even if despite the circumstances, he managed to meet the same requirements.

Finding out that it was Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell who protested his application and pulled the plug on it is Bradley's second heartbreak.

Bradley bites down any complaints he has about life and enters UVA at 21, with a military scholarship and NROTC bursary. At that point, he doesn't even know if he still wants to go into aviation, it brings so much bitterness in him. But then his grades and his overall achievement are so good, everyone says it'd be a waste if he didn't go to one of the most competitive pipelines. The Navy pays for his private pilot licence when he hesitates, and sure enough, it does feel good.

The pipeline is where he meets Jake Seresin. Jake Seresin, who has two brothers and two sisters and who has jars of homemade jam and chocolate-covered plums sent in a little package from his mom at least once a month. Jake Seresin, who uses all his leave to attend weddings, holiday parties, birthday parties, even a dog's funeral. Jake Seresin, who comes from every Thanksgiving with spare pumpkin pie, who has a new handmade Christmas sweater every year.

Jake Seresin, who, for some reason not known to Bradley, is impressed with how effortless learning to fly is for Bradley, with how much Bradley knows, with how much he leads in the lectures and the flight lessons - most guys find Bradley annoying and cold and Bradley would've agreed with them if any said it to his face. The Navy is the only good thing Bradley's had since his mom died, he has much more time to focus on being good at whatever Navy throws at him and maybe that makes him strange and aloof. But not Jake.

Jake Seresin, who is a competitive asshole that can't shut his mouth for his own good. Who has no idea of personal space, who fills the silence better than a jukebox, who will drill and drill the topic until he gets an answer he can comprehend, who doesn't care what people think of him as long as he knows his worth.

Bradley might have a bit of a crush on him, but it's an annoying crush kind of crush - one he doesn't really want to have, one he doesn't really know what to do with. Jake Seresin, who probably would never look at Bradley twice, especially in that way.

They get separate F-18 training bases and Bradley forgets for a moment Jake Seresin ever existed.

Then, summer of 2011, Jake Seresin gets restationed, right into Bradley's squadron. And he's still his annoying self, inserting himself into Bradley's private space, private time, and doesn't let Bradley have a say in it, at all.

Maybe Bradley doesn't want to have any say in it, deep down.

A few months later, DADT gets repealed. It doesn't change much for Bradley, he's not going to talk to anyone about his personal life. But it seems it changes something for Jake.

Because he asks Bradley out on a date.

Bradley's never really dated. Didn't really have the time to when he was a teenager, moved so many times, and then he enlisted, and then he was in college and NROTC. He slept with people, but he's never dated anyone.

So he gets to know Jake Seresin. Jake Seresin, who despite bringing all that food back with him any time he visits his parents, can't cook at all and who would hang onto Bradley's arm or shoulders whenever Bradley cooked. Who can sew so well that he saves all of Bradley's old shirts. Who can't keep his mouth shut, no matter the circumstances - not in the theatre, not when they eat, not when they just watch a movie at home, not even in bed. Who seems to know every single tune under the sun but can't play a single instrument. Who has elaborate, detailed plans for his life - an admiral by forty, two kids by thirty-five, a nice little house in driving distance to some body of water, a German shepherd or a border collie for a family dog once the house is there, a personal two or maybe four-person plane by the time he's forty-five, maybe co-owning aeroclub by fifty.

Bradley's never before thought about the future.

He never tells Jake even half of the things he's seen and lived through when he was in foster care, never tells him about his pulled application from USNA, never tells him about Mav. He doesn't think Jake would be able to understand, the way his family seems perfect and loving and caring. He doesn't want him to know how many things is wrong with him.

But Jake knows he's got no family, that his dad died in the Navy, his mom when he started middle school, that he's been in foster care for all his teenage years. Knows that Bradley has no one to come back home.

"Don't be a fool, sweetheart," is what Jake tells him. "You've got me."

For the first time in his life at the age of 29, Bradley requests Christmas leave.

Bradley's never had a big family, but there was a time he once had a family - or so he thought, when he was twelve and the illusion shattered - so he thought he'd be okay.

And at first, he is fine. Jake rotates him around like a prize piece, introducing him to his siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, nephews, cousins, grandparents, but it's just two or three people at once. Whenever it seems like too much, Bradley drifts away to the kitchen where he can just stay silent and listen to Jake's mom talk to the various people that come by while he slices homemade ham or he steps out onto the backyard and talks to the kids of all the ages gathered around the makeshift playground.

But then they're right before dinner starts - there are over thirty people in the open space of the house, now that everyone arrived, and Bradley feels hot, suffocating in the crowded space, in the clutter of gifts and food and colorful Christmas sweaters.

And then, before he can take any of it in, he hears Jake, saying in his typical loud and teasing tone, that Bradley can play the piano, and look at that, he could play something Christmas-y before the turkey is done, and next thing he knows, there's over thirty pairs of eyes on him and plenty of people asking questions and making teasing remarks and it all seems so tricky--

He can't imagine himself, in that room, with all those people, feeling comfortable. So he walks out.

Bradley doesn't know how to be a part of a family. There's no reason to try and lie to himself and everyone else.

They don't see each other for years after. The next time they do, it's only the eight weeks at Top Gun. The Jake that Bradley knew isn't there - this Jake is bitter and sarcastic and sharp with his tongue. This Jake wins Top Gun and never looks back at Bradley when he returns to his station base.

The next time they see each other is at the Top Gun recall when Bradley is going through a life roller coaster.

Not only is Jake being the biggest ass not just to him but to everyone, for the first time in twenty years, Bradley sees Mav. Sure, maybe he's not moved on from Jake - he still remains the only person Bradley ever dated - but he's managed to dodge Maverick, and Iceman by association, in all those years he's been in the Navy and now he's forced to pretend all is fine.

And Maverick doesn't make it easier.

He tries to approach Bradley like they're long-lost friends, saying all those things about how he missed him and how Bradley looks so much like his dad. Like he didn't leave him in the foster system when he was a kid and didn't fuck up his application for USNA.

So he pretends he doesn't remember Maverick because that's the easiest given that Maverick is supposed to train him.

On top of that, Jake mixes himself up into Bradley's shit life situation when he overhears Mav trying to get Bradley to 'remember' and 'renew their relationship' and keeps pestering Bradley. Maybe he can tell you more about your childhood, why the hell are you so rude to him, he wouldn't make up knowing you, you know, maybe he's got some of your parents' stuff and can share---

And hearing the love of his life that he let get away because Bradley didn't know how to be part of his family side with the first person that told Bradley he's not enough to be someone's family - well, it's not exactly helping the state of Bradley'e mental being.

So maybe he explodes at Jake, a little bit, in the end. You want to talk to the man who left me behind when I was twelve and the only time he looked back was to tell me he didn't think I was good enough? Then so be fucking it.

Instead of butting into Bradley's life, Jake shuts up and starts avoiding him. Bradley supposes he has what he wanted.

Bradley doesn't care what Maverick thinks or if he changed or if he wants something from Bradley.

He still turns around when he's shot down. It's not like he's got someone to come back to anyway. Not because he cares about Maverick.

"I'm not you," Bradley tells Mav. "I don't leave people behind."

The admittance - that he knows and remembers Mav and wants nothing to do with him, wants to be nothing like him - works. They survive and Bradley doesn't see Maverick again, not when they're in the med bay, not when they're in the hospital in San Diego, not when he gets discharged.

He sees Jake instead, waiting on him at the reception of the unit he had been on, patiently waiting for Bradley to sign his discharge papers without using his broken wrist.

"What, do you have someone else to take your broken ass home?"

In truth, Bradley was just going to take a taxi. Instead, Jake takes the plastic bag with Bradley's clothes and silently leads them to his truck before he asks for Bradley's address.

And in all this mess, the first thing Jake asks him is, "Are you going to stay in San Diego?" because they have the offer to stay there and make their place in Top Gun-adjacent brand new squadron.

"No, I'm going to go back to my base," Bradley tells him. There's nothing for him San Diego, but there's plenty for Jake and he doesn't want to be a barrier.

"I think you should stay in San Diego. With me."

He wishes it was that simple but the truth is, Bradley is still the same.

"I can't be the person you want to have in your life."

"But you already are the person I want in my life."

"I think this is going to end up badly."

"Only if you let it."

Bradley's never really could say no to Jake.

It all seems so easy, when he falls asleep on Jake's shoulder watching Top Gear, but at some point, Bradley knows, they will get to the point when it'll all crush again.

There is also the whole thing with Maverick, their now CO, who appears to be some kind of ashamed now that he finally knows that Bradley remembers what he did - or rather what he didn't do. He avoids Bradley like the plague and it seems to be affecting the squad - because they all love Maverick and Bradley is the weirdo who can't have fun or be friendly. He's just waiting on someone to call him out as the party pooper contrasting to their fun CO and deem the problem, as always, just because he can't pretend to be happy to be around him.

Jake hasn't said anything about the Maverick thing explicitly but he gives Bradley those looks whenever Maverick is nearby and sometimes he makes those quips

[mattsobvimyfav]

neighbors (matthew sturniolo)

pt 8

The SUV rumbled to a stop in the driveway, the hum of the engine fading as Matt cut the ignition. The air felt heavier in Los Angeles, like the weight of reality had returned to settle back on all of our shoulders.

Nick, Chris, and Matt jumped out first, each grabbing suitcases from the trunk. Charlie and I stepped out slowly, our legs stiff from the long drive. The laughter and lightness of the trip lingered faintly, but the tension of everything unresolved had crept back in with the familiar surroundings.

“Alright, ladies, welcome back to reality,” Nick joked, setting Charlie’s suitcase by the front door.

Charlie grinned, rolling her eyes. “Reality isn’t so bad.” She turned to Chris, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulled her in for a lingering hug. His forehead rested against hers for a moment before he kissed her softly.

Nick came over next, grinning as he hugged both of us. “Don’t miss me too much, okay? Group dinner soon.”

“You live next door, if I miss you I'll just come over,” Charlie said, nudging him playfully.

When it was Matt’s turn, everything slowed down. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching mine before he finally stepped forward. Without a word, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close in a hug that was almost crushing. His hands gripped the fabric of my shirt like he was afraid to let go, and my cheek pressed against his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart.

I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the embrace for just a second longer than I probably should have. My hands rested lightly on his back, and I could feel the tension in his body, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the space between us.

“Take care of yourself,” he murmured softly, kissing my forehead.

“You too,” I replied, my voice muffled against his chest.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes lingered on mine for a moment before he turned away, walking toward the car with Nick and Chris. I stayed rooted in place, watching as they drove into their driveway the weight of his embrace still lingering like a phantom touch.

Charlie nudged me gently. “You okay?”

I nodded, though my throat felt tight. “Yeah. Let’s go inside.”

As we carried the last of our things in and closed the door behind us, I couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted, but whether it was for the better or worse, I wasn’t sure.

The soft hum of my laptop filled the empty living room as I sat cross-legged on the couch, editing the vlog from our trip. The familiar sound of laughter and waves crashing in the footage felt distant now, almost like a different lifetime.

It had been a week since we got back, and the house felt quieter than ever. Charlie had been spending her nights at the triplets’ place with Chris, leaving me to fend off the creeping loneliness.

The knock on the door was sharp and sudden, making me jump. I froze for a moment, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

“Y/N, it’s Leo. Open the fucking door!”

My breath hitched, my body instinctively stumbling back a step. My heart raced as I stared at the door, his muffled voice sending a chill down my spine.

Without thinking, I grabbed my phone from the couch, my hands shaking as I scrolled to Charlie’s contact. I hit the call button and pressed the phone to my ear, my gaze fixed on the door like it might burst open at any moment.

“Come on, Charlie, pick up,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat.

The phone rang once, then twice. Just as I was about to hang up and try someone else, Matt’s voice came through.

“Hello?”

The sound of him made the lump in my throat swell. “Matt,” I choked, my voice cracking. “Leo’s here. He’s at my door, yelling. I—I don’t know what to do.”

There was a beat of silence, then the call disconnected without a word.

I stood there frozen, staring at the screen. Did he hang up? My heart pounded as I peeked out the window.

Not even two minutes later, I saw them—Matt and Chris walking down the sidewalk, their faces set in a grim determination. Relief and fear tangled in my chest as I backed away from the window.

The pounding on the door intensified, and Leo’s voice grew louder. “Y/N, don’t make me do this! Open the fucking door!”

Before I could even think, the door swung open, and there was Matt, shoving Leo back with a firm hand. Chris followed close behind, his posture tense as he positioned himself slightly to the side, ready to intervene if needed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Matt growled, his voice low and threatening.

Leo took a step forward, his face twisted in anger. “This has nothing to do with you. I’m here to talk to Y/N.”

Matt’s laugh was humorless. “Yelling and banging on her door like a psycho? That’s how you ‘talk’ to her? You need to leave. Now.”

Leo’s gaze darted to me, standing frozen a few feet back. “She’s mine,” he spat, pointing in my direction. “She knows it, and you all need to stay the hell out of it.”

Tears stinging my eyes as I shook my head. “Leo, we’re done. You wanted a break—”

“A break isn’t a breakup!” Leo shouted, his voice shaking with rage.

Matt stepped forward, his jaw tightening as he blocked Leo’s line of sight to me. “She said it’s over. You don’t get to decide for her.”

Leo’s nostrils flared. “And what about you, huh? You think you can just swoop in and fix everything? You don’t even deserve to be in her life after what you did.”

Matt’s shoulders stiffened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Maybe I don’t. But I’d rather spend the rest of my life making up for my mistakes than treat her like some possession you can just control.”

The tension in the air snapped like a rubber band. Leo shoved Matt hard, and Matt stumbled back a step before retaliating with a hard shove of his own.

Chris stepped forward, his hands raised. “Alright, that’s enough—”

But it wasn’t. Leo swung first, his fist connecting with Matt’s jaw. The sound was sickening, and I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth.

Matt barely flinched. His eyes burned with fury as he swung back, his punch landing squarely against Leo’s cheek. The force sent Leo stumbling back into the porch railing, but he recovered quickly, lunging at Matt again.

The moment Leo lunged at Matt again, my instinct took over, and I stepped forward, desperate to stop it.

“Stop it!” I cried, placing myself between the two of them.

Before I could say more, Leo’s arm swung wide in his anger, and his fist connected squarely with my jaw. The impact sent me stumbling back, my vision flashing white as pain radiated through my jaw.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” Chris yelled, rushing toward me.

Leo’s face paled instantly, his hands flying up as if to apologize. “Y/N, I didn’t—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish. Matt’s face contorted into pure rage, his entire body trembling with fury. “You hit her?” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

Matt lunged, grabbing Leo by the collar and throwing him to the ground. Before anyone could react, Matt started swinging. His fist collided with Leo’s face over and over again, the sickening thuds echoing through the night.

“Matt! Stop!” I screamed, clutching my throbbing face.

Chris jumped into action, grabbing Matt by the shoulders and trying to pull him back, but Matt was relentless. His fists continued to rain down on Leo, who laid defenseless on the porch, groaning in pain.

“Matt, that’s enough! You’re gonna kill him!” Chris yelled, finally yanking him back with all his strength.

Matt stumbled to his feet, his chest heaving and his hands trembling, bloodied from the fight. He turned to me, his eyes wide with a mixture of rage and concern. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt, sweetheart?”

I nodded shakily, my hand pressing against my aching jaw. Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the scene before me: Leo lying bruised and bleeding out on the ground, Matt trembling with fury, and Chris trying to keep the situation from spiraling further out of control.

Leo groaned, rolling onto his side, and tried to sit up. “Y/N, I—”

“Don’t,” Matt spat, stepping forward again. Chris quickly put a hand on his chest, stopping him.

“You’ve done enough,” Chris said firmly to Leo. “Get out of here before I call the cops.”

Leo’s gaze darted to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. He staggered to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth, and limped away without another word.

The moment he was gone, Matt turned back to me, his hands hovering near my face but not quite touching. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Chris ran over to his house, running inside to grab Charlie knowing that’s all Y/N wanted. Minutes later Charlie comes sprinting full force out of the front door and across the lawn to reach me, not even waiting for Chris as he runs after her.

Matt’s arms were steady as he scooped me up, cradling me against his chest, and I instinctively buried my face into his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin under the cool fabric. My heart was still racing, but his touch grounded me. He didn’t say anything, just carried me inside with a protective gentleness that made the tears begin to flow.

As he sat down on the couch, he adjusted me so that I was sitting on his lap, holding me close to him as if he would never let go. His hands rubbed up and down my arms, trying to calm me down. The sound of Charlie’s hurried footsteps were heard across the porch before she burst into the living room, eyes wide with concern.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” she gasped, rushing over to me. Without hesitation, she grabbed an ice pack from the fridge and sat beside me, gently pressing it to my swollen face. Her hand brushed the back of my head, and she pulled me closer to her, her voice shaky as she whispered, “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

I shook my head, my tears falling harder now, mixing with the ice cold on my face. “No, it’s not,” I sobbed, “It’s just… so embarrassing. I can’t believe this is happening.”

Matt’s hands tightened around me as he placed his head gently on my shoulder. “You don’t have to explain, Y/N. You don’t owe anyone anything,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “We’re here for you. I’m here for you.”

Charlie held me close, her fingers combing through my hair as I leaned against her. “It’s not embarrassing,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

But I couldn’t stop the tears. The weight of the situation felt too much to bear, the embarrassment of it all crushing me. The fight with Leo, Matt’s bloody fists, my bruised face—it felt like it was all too much. “Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t I just have one peaceful night?”

Matt kissed the top of my head, his voice full of regret. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You should’ve never had to go through that. None of it’s your fault. Please remember that.”

I clung to him, feeling the warmth of his body against mine, the comfort of having him close. “My face fucking hurts.” I sobbed louder

“It will,” Charlie giggled, squeezing me tighter. “You’re just emotional and thinking your life is over cause you just got socked in the jaw. I promise you’ll be okay when you come back to your senses.” 

I giggle into Matt's chest through my sobs.

The sound of Charlie and Chris’s footsteps faded as they made their way upstairs, leaving Matt and I alone in the living room. I wiped my tears, the sobs starting to die down, but I still felt the weight of everything pressing on me. Matt gently lifted me off his lap, cradling me in his arms as if I was weightless, and carried me toward my bedroom.

I didn’t say anything as he laid me down on the bed, the soft sheets feeling oddly comforting against my skin. He pulled the covers up around me, his eyes scanning my face for any sign of pain or distress.

“I’m gonna go clean up, okay?” he said quietly, voice rough, but it was clear he was doing his best to keep it together.

Before he could leave, I grabbed his wrist, my grip weak but firm. “Matt, please,” I whispered, my voice small, fragile. “Stay.”

He hesitated, looking at me for a moment, the blood on his shirt and hands a reminder of what just happened. He took in a deep breath, the exhaustion in his eyes almost unbearable. “Y/N, I’m a mess,” he said, his voice quiet and unsure. “I’m covered in blood…”

“I don’t care,” I replied, my voice just as quiet. “Please, stay.”

Matt’s gaze softened, and after a moment of contemplation, he nodded. “Alright,” he murmured, stepping back to the bathroom. “I’ll be right back. Just… let me shower first.”

I lay back against the pillow, closing my eyes for a moment as I tried to gather my thoughts, the emotions swirling inside me. My face still hurt, but the sting was nothing compared to the emotional toll everything had taken.

When Matt returned, he was in nothing but his boxers, his hair damp from the shower. He looked different now, calmer, the blood and anger from earlier replaced by something more vulnerable. He crawled into bed beside me, pulling the covers back gently before settling down, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me close. I rested my head against his chest, letting the rise and fall of his breath steady my own.

I had changed into an oversized shirt, the comfort of the fabric a small relief, and I snuggled closer into Matt’s warmth, feeling the tension slowly leave my body.

“I’m here,” Matt whispered, his fingers brushing through my hair as he kissed the top of my head. 

I closed my eyes, the warmth of his body beside mine, his steady heartbeat against my ear, lulling me into a sense of calm. I didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, or how everything would play out, but for now, I just needed him here.

In the quiet of the room, with Matt holding me close, I allowed myself to drift into a deep, much-needed sleep, knowing that I wasn’t alone anymore.

I woke up slowly the next morning, the soft hum of the morning light slipping through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. My body was warm, Matt’s arm still draped around me, and for a moment, I felt comforted by the weight of him beside me. Then, as I shifted slightly, I felt a sharp pang of pain in my jaw. I flinched, and the sharp sensation made my breath catch in my throat.

Matt immediately looked down at me, concern flooding his eyes as he noticed my discomfort. “Hey, what’s wrong? What do you need?” he asked softly, his voice filled with worry.

I winced but smiled up at him, despite the pain. “Just… stay with me today, okay?” I whispered, my voice low and fragile. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Matt nodded without hesitation, pulling me a little closer into his chest, his hand softly rubbing my back as if to soothe the unease within me. “Of course,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For the next few hours, we stayed wrapped in the warmth of the bed, doing nothing but lounging and talking in low tones. We flipped through the TV channels, finally landing on an old rom-com that neither of us really cared about but still laughed at together. I didn’t mind the lighthearted distractions; it kept my mind off everything that had happened. We even joked about how cheesy the movie was, poking fun at the overly dramatic dialogue, which lifted my spirits, even if only for a while.

Around noon, we ordered food—comfort food, naturally. Matt had a burger, fries, and a milkshake, while I opted for a simple grilled cheese and tomato soup. As the food arrived, we sat on the couch together, eating while we chatted about nothing in particular. The conversation meandered through random topics—everything from silly stories about the trip to the latest memes we’d seen on Instagram. I felt a small sense of normalcy return, the type of comfort that was hard to come by recently.

After lunch, Matt suggested we try editing the vlog we had filmed on the trip. We moved to the desk in my room, and I set up my laptop while Matt helped sort through the footage. As we watched through the clips, it was almost surreal to see ourselves laughing, joking, and having a good time, knowing everything that had happened since. Matt sat behind me, his hands brushing against mine as we navigated the editing software, his presence a steady anchor.

“You know,” Matt said casually, “this trip wasn’t all bad. There were good parts, too.”

I smiled, glancing at him over my shoulder. “Yeah, the good parts were definitely worth it. And we made some memories, even if things got… messy.”

He chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. “Messy is an understatement.”

Once we wrapped up the vlog, we moved to the living room, deciding it was time to relax with a movie marathon. We picked a series we both enjoyed—one of those mindless, action-packed movies that didn’t require much brainpower. I snuggled up next to him, and we spent the next couple of hours watching as the characters on screen got into wild situations, while we lazily munched on snacks.

By mid-afternoon, we were both a little bored, but content. I glanced over at Matt and suddenly had an idea. “Hey, we should make a TikTok together. Just for fun,” I suggested.

Matt raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What kind of TikTok?”

“Something simple,” I said, grinning. “Just us, having fun, showing people we’re okay.”

He agreed, and I moved closer to him putting on a song we both knew as we lip synced it. As soon as we finished, I put the caption - we uploaded the video, laughing at how cute we both looked in the process. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt good to share something lighthearted.

After the TikTok was posted, we sat back down, and I rested my head on his shoulder.

Later in the afternoon, the doorbell rang, and Matt went to answer it. Moments later, Nick, Chris, and Charlie came into the living room, their expressions a mix of concern and hesitation. Charlie immediately came over, sitting next to me on the couch, her eyes scanning my face as if to gauge how I was holding up.

"Hey," she said softly, her tone cautious. "How are you feeling?"

I sighed, already sensing where this was headed. "I’m fine," I said quickly, waving her off.

Nick and Chris exchanged glances before sitting down across from us. Nick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You sure, Y/N? You don’t look... you know... great."

I rolled my eyes, shifting uncomfortably under their pitying gazes. "Seriously, guys, I’m fine. You don’t have to—"

"You don’t have to pretend," Chris interrupted gently. "We get it. Yesterday was... a lot."

Matt came back into the room, standing behind the couch with his arms crossed. He looked at me, his jaw tight as if he wanted to jump in and defend me but held back.

Charlie reached for my hand, her voice soft and understanding. "We’re just worried about you, that’s all."

Something about their careful, almost coddling behavior made me snap. I stood up abruptly, pulling my hand away from Charlie and taking a step back. "Can you guys stop treating me like a baby?" My voice was sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. "Yes, yesterday was awful, but I don’t need you walking on eggshells around me. I’m not going to break."

The room fell silent, everyone staring at me in surprise. I crossed my arms over my chest, determined to make my point clear. "Can we just drink or do something fun? Let’s forget yesterday happened, okay? I don’t want to sit here and dwell on it."

Nick was the first to break the tension, standing up with a slow clap. "Well, damn. There she is!" he said with a grin, his tone teasing. 

Chris smirked, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. If that’s what you want, we can do that."

Charlie hesitated for a moment, but then she smiled, standing up to hug me. "Okay, fine. But only if you promise to let us know if you’re not okay. Deal?"

"Deal," I said with a small smile, feeling a little lighter now that they’d backed off.

Matt disappeared into the kitchen and came back a moment later with a bottle of tequila and a mischievous grin. "Guess we’re doing this, then."

Charlie poured two shots, sliding one over to me with a sly grin. “Here’s to forgetting yesterday,” she said, raising her glass. I clinked mine against hers, the sharp sound echoing in the room before we both threw back the tequila. The burn was immediate, but the warmth that followed felt like freedom.

"Alright, our turn," Nick called out, grabbing the bottle. He poured shots for himself, Chris, and Matt. They raised their glasses in unison, Nick declaring, "To... whatever this night turns into!" before downing their shots together.

An hour in, the tequila bottle was half-empty, and I was at least seven shots deep, feeling a buzz that made everything a little brighter and a lot funnier. Charlie was giggling uncontrollably at one of Nick’s terrible jokes, and Chris was trying to teach Matt how to shuffle a deck of cards, which wasn’t going well.

I leaned back on the couch, letting the laughter wash over me before sitting up with a sudden idea. "Okay," I announced, clapping my hands together. "We’re all sufficiently drunk, so I think it’s time for food."

Nick groaned dramatically, as I argued with him to order me an uber to go to McDonalds. “Why can’t we just get it delivered like normal people? UberEats exists for a reason.”

I shook my head stubbornly, the tequila making me bold. “Nope. I want fresh fries, not ones that have been sitting in someone’s car for twenty minutes.”

Charlie clapped her hands in agreement, laughing. “She’s got a point, Nick. Nothing hits like fresh McDonald’s fries.”

Nick sighed, pulling out his phone. “Fine, I’ll order the Uber. But if I get a bad rating because of you, you owe me.”

“I’ll owe you fries!” I yelled at him.

Charlie jumped up from her seat, nearly tripping over the coffee table in her excitement. “I’m coming with you, Y/N!”

Before I could reply, Matt shot up from his spot on the couch, his drunk eyes narrowing. “Absolutely not.”

Charlie and I both turned to him in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘absolutely not?’” Charlie asked, crossing her arms.

Matt crossed the room, standing in front of us like a protective wall. “I don’t trust two drunk girls to go to McDonald’s in the middle of the night. I’m coming with you.”

Nick smirked, looking up from his phone. “Tough guy Matt activated.”

“Whatever,” I muttered, grabbing my purse. “As long as we get fries, I don’t care who comes.”

A few minutes later, the Uber arrived, and Matt made sure both Charlie and I were buckled. 

The Uber driver was a middle-aged man with a cocky grin plastered across his face. The moment we got into the car, he started with a casual comment. “So, what brings you guys out this late?” His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, locking on me with just a little too much interest.

I was too tipsy to care at first, so I laughed and answered, “The holy grail. Fries.”

He chuckled, a little too enthusiastically. “You’ve got good taste. A pretty girl like you deserves fresh fries, not cold ones.”

Matt stiffened beside me, his jaw tightening as he stared out the window, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. I could practically feel the tension radiating off of him, but he didn’t say a word.

The driver wasn’t done. “So, you’re from around here? If you ever need a ride again, maybe you can give me a call directly.”

Matt’s head snapped toward him, but he stayed silent, clearly trying to keep his cool. I knew he didn’t want Nick’s Uber rating to take a hit, but the frustration in his eyes was evident.

Feeling bold and a little spiteful, I decided to stir the pot. “Oh, actually—” I said sweetly, cutting myself off as I unbuckled and shifted in my seat climbing into Matt’s lap, straddling him. His hands instinctively gripped my hips, his eyes widening in surprise as I leaned in.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Matt started, his voice low and intrigued.

“Showing him who I belong too” I pressed my lips to his, kissing him. He deepened the kiss by grabbing the back of my head to pull my face in closer, while his other hand tightened on my hip. The kiss was hot and intense, fueled by tequila and adrenaline.

I could feel the driver’s gaze darting nervously to the rearview mirror, but I didn’t care. If he wanted to flirt, he could deal with the consequences.

Matt finally pulled back slightly, his breath hot against my lips. “I'm going to have a boner now.” he whispered, though his voice held more amusement than anger.

“Good,” I whispered back, a smug smile on my face.

He groaned softly, shaking his head but unable to hide the small grin tugging at his lips. The rest of the ride was silent except for Charlie’s giggles beside us. By the time we got to McDonald’s, the driver seemed thoroughly flustered, and Matt looked like he was ready to strangle me—but not in a bad way.

The Uber pulled up to the house, and as the driver put the car in park, I turned to him with an exaggeratedly sweet smile, still feeling the tequila running through my veins. "Thank you, mister!" I chirped, leaning forward to kiss his cheek dramatically.

Matt's grip on the bags tightened, and before I could pull back, I felt a sharp smack on my butt. "Let’s go," he growled lowly, his hand lingering on my hip as he gently guided me toward the door. His touch sent a jolt through me, but I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing as we walked up the driveway.

When we stepped inside, the smell of tequila still clung to us, and Charlie was already grinning, ready to spill. “Oh my god, you guys are NOT gonna believe what just happened!” she squealed, making a beeline for Chris and Nick, who were sprawled on the couch.

“What now?” Nick asked, raising an eyebrow as he handed Chris another beer.

Charlie threw herself onto the couch dramatically. “So, we’re in the Uber, and the driver’s this totally creepy older dude, right? He keeps flirting with Y/N—like full-on, ‘call me directly for rides’ flirting. Matt’s sitting there, probably about two seconds from exploding, but he’s holding it in for Nick’s Uber rating. Like, he’s fuming, jaw clenching, hands in fists—the whole thing.”

Chris chuckled, leaning forward. “Oh no, what did she do?”

“She climbs onto Matt’s lap,” Charlie continued, her eyes wide for effect, “like, full straddle. And then she starts making out with him—like, right there in the Uber. I swear the driver looked like he was about to cry.”

Nick nearly choked on his drink. “No way.”

“Oh, it gets better,” Charlie added, holding up a finger. “When we get to the house, she kisses the guy on the cheek—like a little ‘thank you’—and Matt smacks her ass and says, ‘Let’s go.’ It was like something out of a movie.”

Chris doubled over laughing, while Nick shook his head, his mouth open in disbelief. “I cannot leave you two alone for one second. You’re both absolute menaces.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said, plopping onto the couch beside Matt, who rolled his eyes but pulled me into his side anyway. His arm draped protectively around my shoulders as the group erupted into more laughter, reliving the story like it was the most ridiculous thing they’d ever heard. 

The party kept going, the energy in the house reaching a chaotic peak. Chris and Charlie were in some kind of dramatic arm-wrestling competition, Nick was trying to convince everyone he could do a backflip off the couch, and I was doubled over laughing at… honestly, I wasn’t even sure what. Everything just felt hilarious.

Matt stood from the couch and stretched, his voice cutting through the noise. “Alright, it’s time for bed,” he said, looking directly at me with a pointed expression.

I grinned at him, feeling bold and bubbly from all the shots. “I’m going to bed with Matt!” I shouted, throwing my hands in the air for dramatic effect.

The room erupted into laughter, everyone yelling, “Goodnight, Y/N!” in unison like it was some inside joke we all shared.

Matt shook his head but grabbed my hand, leading me toward the stairs. I stumbled a little but let him guide me, giggling the whole way. Once we got to the bedroom, he pulled off his shirt and jeans being left in just boxers. I stood in the middle of the room, trying to yank my hoodie over my head without falling over. Eventually, I managed to kick off my shoes and flop onto the bed in just my oversized t-shirt.

Matt climbed into bed, leaning back against the headboard, looking like he was about to say something. But before he could, I crawled onto his lap, straddling his waist. My hands cupped his face, and I leaned down, pressing my lips to his in a messy, needy kiss.

His hands found my hips, steadying me as he kissed back harder “Y/N,” he murmured against my lips, his voice muffled but firm.

“Hmm?” I kissed him again, trailing my hands down his chest as I grinned against his mouth. “What is it?”

“Y/N,” he said again, pulling back slightly. His forehead pressed against mine, and I could feel his breath, warm and shaky. “We can’t… not like this.”

“Why not?” I pouted, tilting my head as I brushed my lips along his jaw. “I want you, Matt. Right now.”

He let out a deep sigh, his grip on my hips tightening slightly before he loosened it. “I don’t want to do this for the first time again while we’re drunk,” he said softly, his eyes locking with mine. “I want it to mean something. I want you to remember it—every part of it.”

I blinked at him, my drunken haze making his words sink in slower than usual. “That’s… sweet,” I mumbled, though I wasn’t fully ready to give up. I leaned in again, “Lets just… Kiss than” I smashed my lips back into his rougher than before.

“Just. Kiss. Than,” He said each word in between kissing,

I grinded my hips into his as I felt his erection grow under me, I moved my lips to his jaw, and finally to his neck where I sucked and bit it softly making sure to leave marks. I continued rolling my hips into him while he was a moaning mess.

“Fuck your making this really hard,” he said through a moan. 

“Good.” I said as my hands grabbed his neck connecting my lips back to his.

After a few more minutes of making out he lifted my hips off him and placed me on the bed next to him.

“Your done. My dick actually hurts” he said, laying down pulling me into him. I giggled as I snuggled into his chest.

“Goodnight sweetheart” He said as he kissed my forehead.

I closed my eyes, the weight of the night finally catching up to me, and fell asleep to the sound of his breathing, feeling more content than I cared to admit.

tag-

@tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @sturnsvelocity @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @christophersstar @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend

[lostatsea-blog]

Aftermath Part 3 (Final Part)

Alexia Putellas x England Reader

Warnings: None

The immediate aftermath of the ACL injury. This is a 3 part fic and will go between different POVs

Alexia’s POV

The knocking continued and you felt yourself becoming frustrated. It was likely one of you team and while you knew they meant well; you wanted to be left alone. You managed to use your crutch to hobble over to the door and pulled it open ready to scold whoever was on the other side but the words died on your lips when your eyes landed on the one face you had wanted to see since this nightmare started.

Y/N stood on the other side of your door, her eyes filled with concern as she took in your appearance and in that instant, you felt the dam break. Tears streamed down your face and your body began to crumple. Strong hands caught you before you hit the floor and manoeuvred you back to the bed. You felt her strong arms wrap around you and she held you while you cried. She did not say anything or tell you that it would all be okay, which you appreciated, she was just there. Her presence bringing you comfort.

“I’ve got you baby,” she whispered in your ear whilst stroking your hair “I’ve got you”

After what felt like an eternity, you finally ran out of tears. Your body, which had been rigid with tension since your injury this morning, slumped against your girlfriend. Her strong steady heartbeat under your ear bringing a sense of clam to your exhausted brain.

“què fas aquí? (What are you doing here?)” You finally ask, “You are supposed to be in camp.”

“Maria contacted Serena” she explained “Sarina has given me time to come here and be with you. Maria was worried, she said you hadn’t spoken to anyone, wouldn’t eat and hadn’t cried”

“You did not have to come” You whisper trying to pull yourself together “You have a tournament to try and win and don’t need to be pulled down by a failure like me” Your self-deprecating words triggered something in Y/N and she took a firm hold of your face, forcing you to look at her

“Stop” she commanded you firmly “Stop with this self-depreciation. You are Alexia fucking Putellas and you are far from a failure! I have never known anyone to work as hard as you do for their team. This is a setback, a devastating setback but a setback. You will come back stronger than ever”

“What if I don’t want to come back?” You ask, your voice barely about a whisper “I am so tired, what if this how it ends”

“My love, you are tired because you carry so much on your shoulders and do not allow yourself time to rest” Y/N sighed “Alexia, you do not have to carry the expectation of an entire nation on your shoulders, there are others who can help carry that burden” she kisses the side of your face as she finishes her words

“I am scared” you admit and Y/N pulls you closer ensuring you can feel her support “I am scared of coming back different and not being able to play the way I have. I do not want to be an embarrassment to you” You utter these last words while staring at the bedsheets below. You could not bring yourself to look and see your fears confirmed. After your recovery, you will come to understand that you were projecting your own fears onto Y/N but she was a woman who didn’t take anyone’s shit. You felt her fingers lifting your chin so that you were looking in her eyes.

“I did not fall in love with you because you are Alexia Putellas, La Reina, Ballon d’Or winner. I fell in love with Alexia, my Lex, funny, kind, sweet, goofy, clumsy, shy but above all perfectly imperfect. I fell in love with you, not your football persona” She wiped away tears that you did not realise had started to fall “If you never kick a football again, I will still love you and be immensely proud of you” she promised “but I know that is not how you want to bow out”

“How do you come here and turn everything on it’s side” you ask finding it difficult to understand the change in your mood. Everything felt a little less dark

“On it’s head” she corrected and at your raised eyebrow she clarified “The saying is turn everything on it’s head and to answer, the most important job I have is my job as your partner. I have always told you if you need me, I don’t care what I am doing, I will be there” she leaned forward and took your lips in a gentle kiss. You felt her love surge through your connected lips and again, things felt a little less dark. You knew that the road ahead would be long and it would bring challenges but you had all the support you needed to get through it. while the Euros were not on the cards for you - you had twelve months to make it to the World Cup.

[thewizardingpost]

The Sting of Jealousy

poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary ⌇ dating them comes with rewards and consequences, one of which is dealing with your jealous roommate. warnings ⌇ 1.8k, estblashed relationship, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, bullying, injuries (r receiving, bruises), Marauder's coat described as loose on reader, this is my post (I just got a new account)

Whenever you felt like you were taking two steps forward, there would always be a day when you had to take one step back. It was life’s way of reminding you that things aren’t always fair—that for every ounce of happiness, a bad day lurks nearby to keep you humble.

Since you’d started dating the Marauders, it was like you’d been placed center stage with a spotlight shining directly on you. You weren’t completely invisible anymore—their reputations had eclipsed your own. Being friends with them was one thing, but dating them was another—and it had brought a lot of negative attention. You had “crossed the line” for many onlookers. Those who had fantasized about being with the three of them before bed and during classes weren’t happy to discover that you’d taken the place they’d only dreamed of.

They just couldn’t understand why they’d open up their circle for someone like you.

Your roommate—after witnessing a kiss placed on your cheek—felt her heart drop. The door had barely shut before she was moving off her bed.

“Did James Potter just kiss your cheek?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you waved her off, moving to your bed to remove a coat that your roommate immediately recognized as too loose on you.

“That’s not nothing,” she slid over to sit beside you. “How long have you been with James?”

You fiddled with the coat. “And Remus and Sirius. I’ve been with them for a month now.”

She nodded, biting her cheek and looking away. “So the rumors are true.”

“What rumors?”

You watched her stand, eyes following her as she wandered back to her side of the room. The prolonged silence made your heart race just a little faster.

“That you’re a whore for dating three men.”

You felt as if you stopped breathing, your breaths short and shallow.

“What?”

“Others are saying wild things, suggesting you’ve cast spells to get them to date you,” she added, looking at you almost playfully. “Have you?”

“No. Never.”

“Hm. Not sure why that’s hard for me to believe. Anyway, goodnight.”

She climbed into her bed, turning her back toward yours. The weight of her words affected you both differently. It brought a smile to her face, knowing she’d made yours drop.

The next day, you noticed people staring, others whispering behind their hands as they looked in your direction. With the knowledge of what people were saying, you felt self-conscious—walking with your mind tumbling in all directions. Two hands appeared in front of you, gripping your forearms.

“G’morning,” James smiled down at you. You attempted to return the smile, but it felt forced. “You nearly ran into me. Everything alright?”

“I’m alright,” you lied, “I just didn’t sleep well. Sorry.”

He didn’t seem to fully believe you, but he pulled you into a hug anyway. In his mind, he hoped it would help like it always had before, but this time was different. The affectionate gesture caught the attention of nearby students. The glares you received made you pull away from him. You were sure there was confusion and hurt on his face, but you intentionally avoided looking at him.

It was like someone else was controlling your body. You didn’t want to hurt him or push him away, but out in public, it felt like your eyes glazed over. Your focus shifted from the guys to anyone else that passed by. It did nothing but worry them. You noticed the way they exchanged looks across the dining table, but they brushed it off that night—trusting your word that you were just tired.

Back in your room that evening, you found your roommate and a few of her friends lounging on her bed. You offered them a polite smile, but it did nothing to thaw their cold expressions.

“Where are your boyfriends?”

“Back in their room. I can go get them if you—”

“No need,” she interrupted, patting the sheets beside her. “We just wanted to talk to you. Can you come over here, please?”

As you stepped toward them, you found yourself stumbling backward instead. You collided with the edge of her desk, your arm taking the brunt of the fall. The impact made you wince.

The girls smiled, not caring at all that you had just injured yourself on their behalf. You’d been sure the rug had been beneath you, but when you looked down, you saw it had been pulled into a different section of the room. It was almost as if they’d moved it on purpose.

“Oops,” your roommate whispered, wand raised. “Sorry. Just trying to prepare you for when the boys inevitably ‘pull the rug out from under you.’ By that, I mean they’ll dump you.”

You blinked back tears, rushing out of the room. With your room occupied, you were thankful there was one place you could go—their room. Even before you’d started dating them, they’d always welcomed you to stay.

James opened the door when you knocked, his wide smile faltering when he saw your expression.

“Who’s at the door?” Sirius asked from inside. James opened the door wider so Sirius could see.

“Would it be okay if I stayed here tonight?”

“Of course, you’re always welcome,” James said, stepping aside so you could slip through. He sent a glance to the other two as you did. You settled at the edge of the bed, Remus sitting closest to you, a book on his lap. James flopped back on the ruffled sheets near Remus.

Usually, when you came over, you were greeted with hugs and kisses all over your face. You missed the teasing and planning for the next day. Now, the room was silent, and all their attention was fixed on you.

“Are you okay, dove?” Remus’s voice was soft.

“Yeah.”

“Anything happen?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Sirius swung his chair around, dropping the front legs to the floor as he leaned in. “We can all tell something’s bothering you. You keep looking off like there’s a ghost in the room.”

“I’m fine. Honest.”

“Like hell, you’re fine.”

Remus shot Sirius a look, and he threw his arms up in exasperation. James moved closer, sitting beside you and rubbing sweet circles on your back. When his fingers brushed over your left side, where you’d collided with the desk, you couldn’t help but flinch.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed James flinch too.

The room went still. The tension was palpable, freezing everyone in place. You heard Remus stand up behind you.

“Can I lift your shirt?”

You nodded, allowing him to pull up the side of your sweater. He examined the spot where you’d winced earlier. The welt was just beginning to form, but there was enough swelling and color to worry them.

“Is this why you’ve been distant lately?”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked into Remus’s gentle gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I didn’t mean to hide anything from you.”

He shushed you gently. “Don’t apologize. Can you tell us how you got this?”

“I swear to Merlin, if anyone else caused this injury…” Sirius began, but he stopped when James placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s let her explain first before we jump to conclusions,” Remus said, his thumb gently brushing over your hand, urging you to speak.

“The other night when you dropped me off, my roommate saw you kiss me goodnight. For some reason, she brought up the rumors people have been saying about us, about me. And… I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have pushed you all away over a few rumors.” You glanced at James. “And just now, at my room, I think she pulled the rug out from under me—like a cruel prank. She said she wanted to prepare me for when you’d do the same.”

James’s grip on Sirius’s shoulders tightened as he tried to stand. “Really, James? You’re going to stand there while her roommate is in the room right now? Perfect timing, don’t you think?”

“I know,” James replied, holding Sirius back. “But it’s better to deal with this now. Look,” he nodded toward you, seeing you weeping into your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “I should’ve told you.”

“Why didn’t you?” Remus asked gently.

“I didn’t want to be a bother. I thought you’d all dealt with stuff like this before.”

“We have,” James chimed in. “But we had each other. We learned to tune them out.”

Sirius threw his hands up. “I’m only coming to talk to her. Calm down.” He turned to you, his expression softening. “Look, gorgeous, I’m sorry for what she said and did. None of it was warranted. My only regret is that you didn’t come to us sooner. If you’d told us what she said right after, she never would’ve done what she did just now. I can promise you that.”

You smiled through

your tears, and the sight made his lips twitch upward.

“You’re right,” Sirius continued. “Even if you told us, it wouldn’t stop people from being arseholes. But it would’ve meant we could care for each other. You don’t have to go through that alone, alright? Promise you’ll talk to us next time?”

“Promise.”

[angstywaifu]

Not Enough - Liam Mairi

Request: Would you maybe do a soft smut slash angst with liam where reader gets hurt in a challenge and storms off belittling herself and getting so down because her parents would have expected more from her and it all comes to a head when liam runs after her and she blows up on him screaming about how stupid she is and how she isn't enough and liam like shuts her up by kissing her and showing her that she is enough and how amazing she is - @elliot-rain

Masterlist | Support Me

The impact of landing on the mat runs through me as I lie there stunned, the pain in my leg barely noticeable. Shit. They were going to be disappointed me if they found out I got hurt and lost. I could already hear the lecture in my head.

”How could you lose?”

”You could do so much better.”

”You have a family name and reputation to uphold.”

I push myself up as best I can, ignoring the hand my opponent holds out to me. I couldn’t show weakness. I needed to be strong, even as my leg screamed at me to take the help. I limp off the mat, the crowd of riders parting to let me through.

”You ok?” Violet asks as I pass her.

I stop and turn to look at her, doing my best to hide my grimace. “Yeah, just going to go rest for a bit. I’ll be good.”

She purses her lips, but eventually nods at me. She clearly sees through me. She always does when one of us gets hurt. She knows what pain is like better than any of us, so it’s hard to hide from her when we are in pain. Before she can stop me, I turn around and do my best to walk out of the room. Now my challenge was done, I didn’t technically need to stay, meaning I had at least an hour till my next class. An hour to think over my mistakes, to explain them to my parents once they found out and no doubt demanded to see me somehow. For any other rider, losing on the mat would just be a bad day or their opponent just being better than them. But that wasn’t an option for me. My entire life I was taught to be perfect. No mistakes, no errors. Mistakes were punished, a lesson that they were not to be made again. I had a legacy to uphold.

I’m too lost in my thoughts to hear the rushed footsteps behind me until movement out of the corner of my eye startles me, causing me to jump and aggravate my leg, a pained hiss escaping my lips through gritted teeth.

”Shit, what happened?” Liam asks hurriedly as his eyes scan over me, his hands resting on my arms as he steadies me.

”A mistake, that's what happened.” I say as I avert my eyes from his.

I see him furrow his brow out of the corner of my eye, clearly confused at my words. “Mistake? Things happen all the time in challenges. It was nothing. You’ll come back better and stronger next week.”

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut as tears threaten to break free as my emotions bubble over the edge. “To me it’s not nothing” I mutter out, part of me hoping he doesn’t hear, but I know he does.

”It is nothing Y/N. No one in there is going to care you lost a challenge. It happens.” He almost pleads to me, and I know if I open my eyes his blue eyes will be soft and caring.

”It’s not the people in there I’m worried about.” I say as I open my eyes, a tear rolling down one of my cheeks.

Liam reaches out to wipe it away, but I knock his hand away before limping over to one of the few cut outs in the wall, looking out into the empty Rotunda.

”I come from a family where I have certain expectations to meet. An image to live up to. Nothing but the best is tolerated. Anything less than perfect is….”

”Is what?” Liam's voice soft but demanding from behind me.

”Punished.” I say as I look at him over my shoulder, watching the colour from his face drain. “Anything less than perfect, than one hundred percent isn’t tolerated.”

”You’re safe here, they can’t pun-”

”Yes they can!” I yell as I turn on Liam, wincing as my leg protests at the sudden movement. “I am not safe behind these walls. They provide no protection from what they will do if they find out how stupid I was to let myself lose! They provide no protection from being told I am not good enough. That if anything I do is less than perfect will never be enough. I’m not en-”

Liam’s lips crash against mine, cutting off my frantic words. The heat of his kiss swallows the air from my lungs, silencing every self-deprecating thought spiralling in my mind. For a moment, I’m too stunned to move, too caught off guard to process what’s happening. But then the warmth of his hands, one cupping my cheek and the other steadying my trembling arm, grounds me.

The world falls away—the walls, the fear, the doubts—all of it fades into the background. All I can focus on is him: the way his touch feels steady, the way his kiss feels like a promise, fierce yet tender, as if he’s trying to piece me back together with every brush of his lips.

When he pulls back, his forehead presses against mine, and his breath fans across my face. His hands don’t leave me; instead, they grip tighter, as if afraid I’ll shatter the moment he lets go.

“You’re enough,” he says softly, his voice rough but resolute. “You’ve always been enough. Stop doubting yourself, because I won’t let you tear yourself apart anymore.”

I blink up at him, my chest heaving from more than just the kiss. “Liam, I—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice firm now. “Listen to me. You are stronger than you think. You’ve faced so much, and you’re still standing. You are more than good enough, and no one—no one—gets to make you feel otherwise. Not even you.”

Tears sting my eyes, but for once, they’re not from pain or frustration. They’re from the raw, unrelenting belief in his voice, in his gaze as he looks at me like I’m worth fighting for.

“I’m scared,” I whisper, my voice breaking.

“I know,” he says, his thumb brushing a stray tear from my cheek. “But you don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Something inside me shifts, loosens, as his words sink in. For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight pressing on my chest lightens, just a little. And for now, that’s enough.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

sorry if this is like uncomfortable or off limits but uhhh

really sweet and loving smut with dave- him and his gf have been dating for a few years now but shes still a virgin and whenever Dave made advances on her she would go until they got their pants off bc she was too embarressed- but one day, Dave makes sure they have the most perfect day together, going out and getting fav foods, doing fav actvoties all the good stuff and hopes the night will end w them in bed. she hesitates a lot but agrees none the less and they get the the bedroom and kissing and stuff and when he has her laid out on the bed he reaches to take off her skirt/pants but she gets really nervous and scared again bc she thinks that hell think shes a monster or ugly or messed up but she just has SH scars on her thighs and dave reassures her and comforts her that nothing vcould make him think that and he takes them off and feels a bit sad that she once did that but kisses them and praises her and is just very sweet and then its gentle loving smut

sorry this is so so so so so so so so so long and confusing but yah love ur fics btw

A/n: Something about Dave just gives me the vibes of “hurt her and I’ll kill you” but in a “I’ll give anything for her” kind of way, y’know?

Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), angst, talk about self harm, brief description of scars, drugs (just at the beginning), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

"She's just gonna stop you again." Junior said, chuckling as he held the joint between his fingers out for Dave to take.

The ginger scoffed as he took the joint, bringing to his lips. "She won't, she said she was ready." He insisted, holding the air in as he spoke before letting smoke flood out his nose.

Junior made a face and Dave pushed him, knocking him off the box he was sitting on. They just laughed, so hard Dave fell off his own box and they laughed harder.

"Fuck, we are so high." Junior mused, reaching for the joint back.

Dave had planned out the perfect day for you, a walk down through the park, down by a creek and taking a straight from there to a new café he knew you'd been wanting to go check out. Then it was back to your place and he'd finally get to have you to himself.

Everything had been going great, just the way he planned, although he hadn't expected the food to be so pricey, but it didn't matter so long as he got to see you smile.

As you walked with him up the street, getting closer to your house, you could tell something was on his mind but he wouldn't say.

"Come on! Just give me a hint." You pleaded, tugging on his arm thrown over your shoulder.

"No, it'll ruin the surprise!" He said, laughing at your insistence.

You chewed your cheek, thinking for a moment as you turned the corner, your house coming into view. "Tell me or no you're sleeping outside." Dave stopped completely at that.

"Are you kidding me?" He asked, eyes wide in fear that you weren't joking.

You bit your lip as you thought it over, eventually shaking your head. "No, I want my cuddles tonight." Dave let out the breath he'd been holding in and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Don't scare me like that." You chuckled as he lifted you up, letting you wrap yourself around him like a koala bear. "I'm serious, I'm not a dog, I'm your boyfriend."

"That you are, Davie, that you are." You purred, kissing along his jaw as he walked the rest of the way to your house.

He pulled the keys from the back pocket of your jeans and opened the door, letting you hold onto him until he set you down on your bed. He hovered over top of you between your legs, arms on either side of your head, caging you in while his soft hair fell around his face, framing it.

Not that you could see it, his lips barely left yours for longer than a second to mumbled something into your mouth. However, you felt his hand sliding lower on your body, groping your chest which he'd done countless times before, moving down your sides and squeezing your hips and waist, mapping out your curves.

His hands didn't stop and he unbuttoned your jeans before you could stop him. "Davie-Davie, wait." You said, pushing on his shoulders until he pulled away.

"Why, what-what happened?" He asked, looking over you for anything that could be wrong, searching for what was making you uncomfortable.

"I- we-we have to stop." You said, squirming under him.

"Why?" He asked, brows furrowing slightly. He didn't mean to get upset but it was hard not to, he loved you, he didn't want to hurt you, he wanted to show you how much he loved you. "Tell me why, I'll get off if you just tell me why."

You nervously bit your lip, holding yourself up on your elbows. It's not that you didn't want to go further, you tried to convince yourself every single time that it would be fine but you had to stop before he saw what you'd done to yourself when you were younger.

"I- my legs are... I have scars." You muttered, looking down to the sheets instead of him.

"Scars?" He repeated, looking for confirmation. "Like, stretchmarks?" He asked. "You're scared I won't like your fucking stretchmarks? Oh my god, are you fucking kidding me-"

"They're not fucking stretchmarks, Dave." You bit, cutting him off.

He stared at you for a moment, not having expected you to use such a harsh tone with him. "Then what is it?" He asked, his voice significantly lighter.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the upcoming conversation. "They're from me..." You mumbled, still not looking at him.

The pieces slowly connected in his mind and his expression softened. "Sweetheart, you made them?" He asked, reaching up to cup your face in his hand. "Why? Why would you do that?"

You chewed your cheek, not really having an answer, not one that would be good enough for him, anyway. "When I was younger... Highschool was hard, Dave." You mumbled, hoping even though it was vague it would satisfy him.

Dave looked over your eyes for a good long moment before inhaling deeply. "Well, highschools over, you have me now." He kissed your lips and moved down to your jaw and neck. "And I love" then he kissed your collarbone and pushed up your shirt to reveal your stomach, "every." he kissed just under your bra. "Single." Your abdomen. "Part." Finally he tugged your jeans down and you lifted your lips to let him.

He took in the scars embedded in your otherwise pristine skin, some deeper than others, all over your thighs. His gaze met yours as he continued to pull your jeans off. "I love this part of you, too." He said, making sure you heard him. "I don't love that you felt like you had to do this, but I love you no matter what."

Dave adjusted himself so he was laying between your legs, his arms hooked under your thighs as he held the plush flesh of them in handfuls.

He planted tender kisses over your scarred tissue, looking up at you periodically to make sure you were watching and enjoying yourself.

Soon his kisses moved to your panties, watching you twitch and bite your lip. Dave smiled and kissed right over your clothed clit. "That feels good, doesn't it?" He asked, waiting for you to nod before he continued. "It's gonna feel a lot better soon." He assured, giving a last kiss to your scars before pulling your panties out of the way and licking up your folds.

He hummed, satisfied with the noise it drew from you. His tongue swirled around your clit, listening to the whines you let slip passed your lips as he did. "God, you sound so pretty." He mused, licking up you again before his tongue delved into you.

Your hand slammed down onto the mattress, clutching onto the sheets as he fucked you on his muscle, his eyes staring up at you the entire time as his nose repeatedly bumped your clit. Your hands clenched and flexed, mind going blurry at the sensations he was bringing between your twitching legs and trembling thighs.

He watched you come undone, watched your hands finally let go of the sheets to grab onto his hair so you could pull him right to you, holding his face to your cut as you rode out your high on his face. "Hah-! Oh-oh, fuck, Dave!" You moaned, back arching off the bed and your head fell back.

Your foot pushed down on Dave's back gently, moving down his torso as you slowly came down from your high, breathing as heavy as your eyelids.

Dave moved back up the bed, wiping his mouth and chin of your juices. "How was that?" He asked as he hovered over you, hands planted on either side of your head. "Feeling loved yet?" He teased, pecking your cheek.

You chuckled, hands going to his shoulders. "Mm... I could use some more love." You said, pulling him down to kiss you. "You know, to really feel it." He smirked at the implications of your words, grinding against you, his jeans snagging your clit and making you whimper into the kiss.

"I can do that, I can definitely do that." He muttered against your lips. He reached down to undo his own jeans, pushing them down and kicking them off the bed before he pulled away and tore his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the ground with the rest of the clothes.

He looked down at you, still with your shirt bunched up by your tits. You sat up, pulling it off and wrapping your arms around his neck, lips crashing into his once more.

Neither of you broke the kiss, only taking quick gasps for short breaths. Dave unclipped your bra and slid it off your arms before trying to get your panties off, only to eventually give up and just snap the flimsy strings on the sides.

Dave quickly got his own boxers off and pulled you into his lap, easily slipping into you in a swift thrust and holding you down as you moaned. "Ngh- just sit-sit still for a minute, it'll- fuck, it'll feel good in a second." He stammered, trying to hide his own sounds, his muscular arms tightening around you.

Needing more friction you reached down to rub your clit, Dave took it as a sign to start moving so he rolled his hips up, bucking into you. You choked out a moan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Dave snapped his hips into you, tip of his dick angled just right for you. When he heard the moan that left you, felt your muscles relax in against him, he knew he found your sweet spot and hit it repeatedly, setting a steady rhythm.

"That's it, let me do all the work, let me show you how much I love you." He said, mouth not far from your ear so you could hear every word of his praise. "You sound so pretty, and, fuck, let me show you how much you deserve to be loved."

Part of you wanted to stay hidden in his neck, but the other part won, the part that wanted to pull away and bounce on him, to hold onto his shoulders and watch him fuck you.

Even sitting in his lap you were only barely eyelevel with him. His bruised lips parted slightly, just enough for soft grunts and grown to leave him, along with whatever affection he decided to spill to you. His eyelids were heavy, lust and adoration swirling in his pupils.

The knot in your gut was tightening again, Dave was close and pulsing in your gummy walls. "Don't-don't ever do that again." He blurted, struggling to keep the same rhythm. You tried to ask what he was talking about but it just came out as moans. "If-if you ever, ever feel like that again you-you come to me and I-I'll- fuck, I cah-can't-!" With a few final thrusts he finished inside you, cum painting your insides.

You followed shortly after, fingers still on your clit, the warm, gooey feeling he spilt in you was nice too.

Dave lowered you down onto the bed, pulling out and curling up beside you. His arms stayed nicely wrapped around you as you laid your head on his chest.

"So," you started once you got your breathing right again, "do you want to finish what you were saying?"

Dave snorted and shook his head. "No fucking way." He brought a hand up to play with your hair. "You're tired, go to sleep, I'll be right here when you wake up." You didn't have to be told twice, smiling softly and letting the sound of his heartbeat and breathing lull you to sleep.

Dave lay there awake, tired but not enough to sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about you, about what might've driven you to do such a thing to yourself. He didn't see you as a monster, some messed up psychiatric patient, you were still his love, his girlfriend. You were still you, just with a little more hurt that he needed to help heal.

"If..." He started, voice low to avoid waking you up. "If you ever feel the need to hurt yourself... you come to me first, sweetheart, I'll help." He knew you couldn't hear him so he continued. "You can hurt me all you want, can't break plastic... but you, love... you are the stained glass in a century old chapel."