#know only that i have never stopped thinking about them

[angelltheninth]

Love your LADS writings! Could we maybe get them reacting to their girlfriend wearing their shirt?

I love writing for LADS, now that Caleb is here there's even more hot men to fawn over.

Pining: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, sharing clothes, domestic fluff, clothes shopping, possessiveness, being playful, flirting

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Wrote this a bit fast because my new PC came in today so I need to set it up. It's gonna be awesome.

Zayne pretends not to notice that it's his shirt you're always wearing in the mornings when you stay over at his place. It's only a shirt, he's got many more just like it. So why is it getting to him when you wear it? Simple, it looks cuter on you, and he tries not to get worked up about it, that would go against his stoic, professional self. However when he sees you waring his clothes he always tells you that it looks good on you. A sort of subltle encouragement that you should do it more often, and also spend more time at his place because he tries not to leave his clothes at your place.

Rafayel wants to buy some matching clothes when he saw that you wear his on ocassion. He's always had a good sense of style and is very happy that you do to, furthermore that you like it so much that you want to wear what he waers. When he sees you wearing his clothes he makes sure to memorize what it looked like on you so he can sketch it later. Before he knows it there are a dozen sketches of you in his clothes. Not that it's a bad thing by any means and he thinks you're catching on to him buying matching clothes because every time you're on a date you're pointing out cute outfits that you say would look great on him.

Xavier doesn't think much of it when he leaves some of his stuff at your place when he comes and goes. What he does think about is how his pants looked on you, too long, cozy, some a bit tight on you, others hanging off your hips, all depending on what you get your hands on at the time. The scene is almost domestic, seeing you not even think about putting on something of his, you don't even say why you do it and he's fascinated by that. Playfuly he tugs on the waistband of the pants and tells you he wants them back, only for you to turn the tables and tell him to take them off you if he wants them so bad.

Sylus is very perceptive of what you do when you're around him so there's no way he wouldn't notice you wearing his fancy shirts around the apartment. Those aren't exactly outfits for casual wear so there was no way you could have mistaken them for one of your own, which means you took them on purpouse. A man like him doesn't do well when other people touch what belongs to him without his permission. It's bad bussiness practice, and dangerous when you're in deep with criminals like he is. But he could be persuaded to let you get away with it, only because you're his girl and his girl can do whatever she wants with and to him.

Caleb leaves his hoodie at your place on purpouse. He did it because he wanted to use it as an excuse to visit again early, he didn't expect that you'd be wearing it when you opened the door for him. All the blood rushed to his brain and caused him to stop all train of thought for a few moments before he smirked and leaned in to whisper how cute you look, his breath hot against your lips before he claimed them in a seering kiss. From that day on he never mentioned anything about you giving him his clothes back. Why would he want it back when it looks so much better on you, sometimes it's all you wear around him.

[corinthianism]

SOMETHIN' STUPID || VIKTOR

pairing: viktor (arcane)/fem!reader additional tags: viktor's pov, viktor is a certified yearner, maybe ooc, unrequited love that's actually requited, no physical descriptions for reader other than having dainty fingers and being shorter than viktor, hopefully correct use of czech pet names, barely proofread synopsis: the ever-brilliant viktor finds himself drowning in feelings for his colleague, so what does he do? bury them, of course.... until he learns that love is not something you can just ignore.

author's note: hello everyone! it's been a long, long while since i've written anything so i thought i would try and see if the ol' writing machine (aka my brain) still works lol. this is more of a blurb than anything so please go easy on me. also trying out something new by writing in present tense (lmk if it flows well!) viktor might be a little ooc but i'm still trying to fully understand him. hopefully my characterization of him in future fics (if any) will be more faithful to the viktor you're all familiar with. anyways, enjoy 2k words of viktor yearning like CRAZY 🫶🏼

Viktor doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. How many more times would your eyes meet from across the room at one of those parties he never really wanted to attend in the first place? How many more times would your fingers brush in the early morning, when he accepts the steaming sweetmilk that you so kindly got for him? How many more times would your laughter intermingle softly late into the night, when exhaustion took over and your writing started to look more like chicken scratch rather than letters?

He might just go insane.

How was it possible to want someone this much? Maybe he’s experienced something like this before, in tiny amounts, for people he hasn’t thought about in years. Deep down, he knows that even if he added all of those fleeting romances together, it would still only be a fraction of what he feels now. For you.

He can’t pinpoint that exact moment in time when everything changed. There were definitely a few of those moments that stood out more than others, but none of those instances were the catalyst for whatever this is. But they certainly don’t help his case.

A few words of encouragement.

A book recommendation.

A smile— so soft, so intimate, he briefly allows himself to believe that it was meant just for him. Something precious for him to keep, to be his and his alone.

In the dim light of the lab, he finds you asleep on your desk. The humming glow of the hex crystals leaves you blanketed in a gentle blue. He’s heard tales of this before, from when he bothered to listen to such things. It would happen just like this, they said: his heart would beat so fast, it threatened to leave his chest entirely. His skin would burn with something unmistakable, a feeling that left one in a state of simultaneous confusion and clarity.

He feels it all now and he finds it polarizing. It’s too much and not enough. He chases and runs away from it at the same time. A part of him wants it to stop, to go away and leave him forever for the sake of ending this game he’s painfully losing… but a greater part of him hopes that it will grow and grow to the point where maybe you’ll notice and do something about it. His palms get a little sweaty just thinking about making the first move. Symptoms of a lovesick fool.

The soft sound of your breathing quiets the pounding of his heart, prevents the wretched feelings from overflowing and spilling everywhere. Even if it was just for tonight. Tonight, he keeps his lips sealed, fights to keep himself from reaching for you. It would be unbecoming of him.

His eyes land on you again, observing how your head rested on your arms. Understanding hits him then, why you’re so bothered by seeing him stay at the lab so late that he ends up falling asleep. That position couldn’t have been comfortable. Of course, he knew that from experience, but it’s your comfort he’s thinking about right now. He wonders if this is what you felt whenever you woke him up and implored him to go home.

Surely not.

No, he can’t wrap his head around you possibly viewing that act the same way he does. Not when he wants to bottle this moment, wants to capture the preciousness of seeing you like this. It just can’t be the same.

So can you really blame him if when he finally rests a hand on your shoulder to wake you gently, he lets it linger there for just a little longer? An infinitesimal piece of time that he claims for himself. He never thought himself to be the sentimental type, but he cherishes it all: he cherishes the way you blink slowly as you returned to the waking world, and your tired murmur of his name that makes his chest tighten.

It’s just a wisp of a moment, never really tangible enough for him to hold in his hands, but he cherishes it all the same. It’s burned in his memory, in his very being, the same way everything else about you is. Every piece of you that you so generously gifted him.

“You should go home, darling.”

The word slips past his lips before he could even think about it. But he allows himself this one indulgence. He can’t help it. He’s always been a bit greedy.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Far too late for you to be here,” he answers.

You huff out a breath of a laugh, “That’s rich coming from you.”

He finds himself smiling. How does someone manage to be so endlessly endearing without even trying?

It takes an embarrassing amount of effort for him to pull back his hand from your shoulder. Had you been more awake and had the room been brighter, he might’ve schooled his expression into something more neutral. Something to hide the unbridled adoration in his eyes. He doesn’t do that now. With the shield of darkness to protect him, he lets the mask come off. He lets his affection for you wash over him in waves. It would’ve been liberating, if it wasn’t for the tiny detail that that affection was unrequited.

Still, he says your name with utmost care. “You must go home and rest.”

To his surprise, you listen. You mumble a tired "okay” and gather your belongings, slipping on your coat. “You should go home, too, Vik.”

“I will. Soon. I just need to finish a few things.”

Your face twists into a frown, “No, you’ll do that tomorrow.” Before he can interject, you speak up again, “Just… come with me? It’s late and I don’t want to walk home alone.”

His brain refuses to reconcile with what his eyes see: the trepidation written all over your features, the way you clutch the lapel of your coat just a little tighter. He knows it’s a trap, you just want to get him out of the lab but how could he possibly reject the promise of a few more minutes with you? The chance to pretend, even if it’s just for those precious few minutes, that he was taking you home as someone more than a colleague? More than a friend? Only a fool would say no to you. Or perhaps he was a fool either way. He really must be going insane.

He says yes almost instantly.

It’s cold in Piltover tonight. It makes his bad leg ache more than it already does, and so his strides are a bit more careful. He doesn’t say anything about how you also slow down to match his pace but he appreciates your considerate gesture nonetheless.

The moon hangs in the sky big and bright, making everything around you seem softer. It’s picturesque. Almost romantic. He tries his best not to entertain that thought for much longer. Instead, he focuses on what you say to him so he could ignore the traitorous thoughts his mind conjures up and the way his knees were protesting because of the cold.

Conversation with you is easy— terrifyingly so. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when you first met.

Early on in the process of finding sponsors and securing funding, him and Jayce quickly realized that they needed help. Yes, Jayce is a friend of the Kiramman family. Yes, Viktor is Heimerdinger’s protégé, but they’re academics. At the end of the day, Jayce’s warm personality could only do so much when he was still greatly inexperienced with navigating these more political spaces and for all of his experience and perceptiveness, Viktor knows he’s no good at sweet-talking sponsors, either.

Enter, you.

Caitlyn Kiramman was the one to recommend you, her former tutor. Jayce was quick to back her up, remembering that you were also Academy alumni; a particularly strategic businesswoman. Viktor was hesitant at first, knowing that a third party could complicate things. Hextech was born out of the dream to help people. He worried that bringing business and politics (even though he knew it was necessary) into the mix would warp Hextech into something it wasn’t. Jayce convinced him to take a gamble, and it seemed that the potential of Hextech was enough to bring you back to Piltover from your travels across Runeterra.

It took him a while to warm up to you. You weren’t nobility, but most definitely well-off. Even more so after your years as a business consultant to organizations all over the continent. He respected you, sure, but Viktor had a hard time trusting someone who was so… privileged. How could you possibly understand how important it was that Hextech remained a beacon of hope for the less fortunate? Perhaps it was naive of him to think that way, as much as he hated to admit it.

But true to your reputation, you delivered exactly what they needed. You bridged the gap between Viktor and Jayce’s hopes for Hextech and the support they needed from sponsors, protecting them and their inventions from being taken advantage of.

Suffice to say, you earned his admiration.

Never in a million years would Viktor imagine that you would captivate his entire being, too.

It was daunting. Scary, really. Especially now that he’s beginning to understand the full extent of his affections. Years and years of burying that softness from his youth deep beneath the armor of his intellect— all that hard work diminished by a pretty girl. Gods, he really is just a man. Not even that. With you, he feels like a highschooler with a crush. It’s painful. Downright humiliating. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when you link your arm around his, laughing at something he said. Was he really that funny? Probably not. He’s just happy to make you laugh.

“You don’t have to be nice about it. Salo is a grade-A asshole,” you grinned. “We both know it. If I have to spend another dinner with him present I might actually stab a fork in my eyes.”

He smiles, “Ah, but that wouldn’t save you from his incessant chatter.”

“I’ll stab the fork into my ears too."

“I might just follow after you,” he hums, “you’ll have to check if it works first, though.”

Your friendship blossomed when your visits to the lab became less for work and more for leisure. You wanted to visit, wanted to learn more about what he and Jayce were working on and why. Everything after that was just dominoes. You, with all your fiery passion and sharp wit, have become a permanent fixture in his life and now? He could hardly imagine life without you in it. You're one of his dearest friends and, much to his dismay, that makes his current predicament even more challenging than it already is.

Before he knew it, the two of you were standing in front of your apartment building— one of the most luxurious in Piltover. He could only imagine how much it cost, though he knew for certain that your penthouse probably barely made a dent in your wealth. He’s gotten somewhat used to your differing lifestyles, but he’s never completely able to not marvel at it. A gust of wind kissed his skin once more as he turned to look at you.

“This is me,” you say, gloved hands in your pocket and your lovely, lovely face framed by your hair and ruby red scarf. He recognizes it as the gift he gave you a year ago now. A spur-of-the-moment purchase on one of the rare occasions he was actually outside Academy grounds. He remembers thinking that the color would look nice on you. He was right. He finds himself holding onto the seconds before he has to go. “Thank you for walking me home, Viktor.”

“Of course,” he nods but the calmness of his voice don’t match the way his eyes bore into yours. “It’s only proper.”

“Proper?”

“Yes. Proper. I am a gentleman, after all.”

His accent comes out thicker, emphasizing the words more than he means to.

“I didn’t take you for someone who cared much about propriety,” you tease.

“Is it because I’m from the undercity?” he deadpans and he relishes in the look of horror on your face that replaces your grin.

“What? No!” you exclaim, smacking his arm when you realize he’s just joking. “You. Are. Impossible.”

A laugh bubbles out of his chest, “Oh, that’s cruel. You would hit a defenseless man? How heartless.”

“Shut up. That cane of yours is a weapon of war. Don’t think I haven’t seen you smack Jayce with it.”

“If I hit him with it, he probably deserved it.”

“Poor Jayce,” you laugh as well. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Viktor smiles.

“I do not think you could even if you tried, lásko."

He freezes and so do you. The laughter—the music—that you shared for the briefest of moments was thoroughly snuffed out, leaving you both in a silence that threatens to swallow him whole. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to speak so gently, but there is not a part of Viktor that could withhold this sincerity from you. Specks of the truth, of the confession he’s barely managed to wrangle into submission and lock away somewhere dark and unreachable.

He pulls back on instinct. He’s shown too much, said too much. You don’t move. He is petrified.

Your eyes widen and he sees his reflection in them, staring back at him. This is it, he thinks. He’s crossed the line and he’ll have to deal with the crushing blow of your rejection.

You manage to compose yourself and what you say next is… well, unexpected. Your tone is light, clearing the air and allowing him to breathe again.

“Do you say that to every woman or am I a special case? I’d hate to be part of a roster.”

He’s taken aback, but he feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. You are a miracle in his eyes. Washing away his worries with a kind smile and a few choice words. He laughs again and this time, he doesn’t stop himself from speaking the truth. It’s now or never.

“Surely you know by now that you are singular,” he whispers, his accent a pleasant drawl in your ears. He takes a step forward. It is gravity that pulls him in, not the Earth’s, but yours. A force that he can’t help but be drawn to. Not that he would ever dare to resist it now that his fear has shrunk down to something a little less debilitating.

His face is inches from yours. You don’t move. He gets a little braver.

“I do not appreciate your implication that I would pay attention to anyone else,” his voice is low, honest. “As if anyone could compare to you. As if you don’t hold my very being in the palm of your hand. Miláčku, I adore you. Don’t you know that?”

There is a hint of pleading in his tone, begging you to understand the full scope of his feelings from those few words so that he wouldn’t unravel before you, a bundle of nerves and petals the same shade as your scarf.

“Say something. Please,” his fear rears its ugly head once more. “Say the word and we’ll pretend this never happened. I will remain your colleague and nothing more. A friend, if you would allow it.”

“What if I don’t want that?” you ask, your own voice a little shaky with uncertainty. Maybe it was also fear. That, he’s not quite sure.

Viktor doesn’t fully trust what he’s hearing, thinks it to be a figment of his deluded imagination, but his heart is screaming at him now to push forward.

“What is it you want, lásko? Tell me and it shall be yours.”

You're almost breathless when you finally respond, “You. I want you."

The world stills. Time itself screeches to a halt. There is only you and him, together in this moment that he knows will be woven into the threads of his soul. He has never known euphoria quite like this. He can’t name it yet, doesn’t know if this is love. He can only hope that it will be.

When he looks into your eyes again, he does not see his own terrified reflection. He just sees you. And the sheer intensity of your gaze that rivals his own. Have you always looked at him that way? Was he just too blind to see it?

“Do you mean that?” he finds himself asking. He has to— has to make sure that this is real.

You smile again, dainty fingers intertwining with his. It is a gentle smile, a hopeful smile that answers his question before you even open your mouth.

“I do,” your voice is so gentle and yet it squeezes his heart. “I’m yours, Viktor, if you’ll have me.”

He brings your knuckles to his lips, places a reverent kiss on them like you’ve given him the world. In a way, that’s exactly what you did. Maybe his lips were always meant to be on your skin, worshipping you like the goddess you are. It feels too natural for it to mean anything else.

And for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to hope.

“I would love nothing more.”

[loveyourlovelysoul]

since now i'm "older", i think i can tell y'all that there's really nothing bad in turning 25 or aging in general. ofc i still have a lot to see and learn but imo there's no limit age when it comes to having dreams, desires, hopes, and fun. or being in contact with your inner child and letting it shine. there's no limit age after which you're too old for something. you're never too old, don't believe all those lies. you're the one deciding how to spend your life and what goals to reach and when (usually, when you're ready for them... and it depends only on you). keep living day by day, and enjoy as much as you can. focus just on this, on being in tune with yourself as often as you can... the rest will come naturally. we're made believe that adulthood is about acting your age, being serious all the time, focusing on producing something/working/being someone/reaching a certain goal and forgetting about your needs, fun and all; but to me it's about being (or trying to be) a balanced version of all your various selves. it's knowing when to be an adult with all their duties and when to still be "a child". it's about realizing that we're still a bunch of "works in progress", and that we will always be until the very end. anyway... try to not worry about your age, there're already many other things we have to worry about in life. age is really just a number unless you decide to give it another worth (and yeah, actually at times I am still worried of it too but the only way to get over this worry is accepting it and yourself: there's nothing you can do about it, time doesn't stop, we're all destined to age... and that number too is part of us, for a year. and if others judge us only for it or compare you with others based only on it, it's their fear talking. they very likely don't know you and your personal path, or don't get it. it's not on you).

I think being afraid of becoming 25 can be combated by like literally hanging out w people of all age groups and realizing that they too have personalities and hopes and dreams and goals and life is not over for you at like 30

[pineapplepr1nc3ss888]

ASSUMING: HOW TO ASSUME

okay i want you to all to have a look at your every day life. how do your friends act? how do your parents act? how do your siblings act? remember now this is your reality, we all show up differently in everyone’s realities.

are your parents strict or chill?

are your siblings mean? annoying? clingy? avoidant?

are your friends involving you in stuff? are they supportive? are they bitches?

let’s say you have a sibling, you believe they are annoying and all they do is constantly annoy you. now why do you think they constantly annoy you? because you believe they are annoying and always trying to annoy you. that’s what you believe, that’s what you are telling your subconscious and that creates a dominant belief your subconscious constantly produces into your reality. your sibling will constantly be annoying because you never change that assumption you have of them.

it is the same with parents being strict, you have that assumption/belief they are strict so they will keep being strict until you change that assumption.

same with friends or an SP, whatever you believe about that person will show up in your reality.

if you think manifesting people is hard, it is going to be hard for you no matter what you affirm because you believe it’s hard, start assuming or believing it’s easy, you will see your manifestation come in faster.

if you think manifesting in general is hard, guess what girl? it’s gonna be hard for you.

if you think you need multiple techniques to induce the void, well guess what your gonna need multiple techniques, you need to assume you don’t need anything and can induce it easily and just that it’s easy to enter, take that void shit for manifesting off the damn pedestal you don’t need it, enter with the knowing you can manifest in there, but tell yourself you know you can enter without a method you are using a method to just simply help with taking awareness of the 3d even though you don’t need it.

manifesting is always instant if you believe if it to be.

it is so simple, don’t overcomplicate it.

remember when you used to so strongly believe in Santa? or the Tooth Fairy?

believing = assuming.

you can easily just assume.

everything is already yours, take manifesting off a pedestal and put yourself on it. you are a fucking god. don’t forget your power and stop fucking giving your power to the 3d.

only need you and your assumptions baby.

[gottencents]

Causal Pt.2 - Yu Jimin

part one.

pairing. mean girl!karina x star soccer player!reader

synopsis. at Changryeo University, Yu Jimin or just Karina is the ultimate “mean rich girl” — popular, wealthy, and always seeking ways to stay on top. After setting her sights on Sunghoon, the charming soccer captain, Karina shifts her focus to Y/N, an up-and-coming soccer star with an unexpected breakout season. Unlike the polished Sunghoon, Y/N is more of an outsider who got by on talent but doesn’t fit the typical college elite mold. Realizing that Y/N is the only one who doesn’t care about the social hierarchy, Karina proposes a deal: they’ll fake date so Karina can boost her popularity, while Y/N gets protection from relentless attention. Reluctantly, Y/N agrees, and the two navigate a world of social manipulation, only to find that their fake relationship might lead to something more real than either expected.

Life didn’t slow down after the gala. If anything, it picked up.

Y/N had never cared much for gossip, but now she was at the center of it. Whispers followed her everywhere—on the soccer field, in the hallways, even in her own dorm. She couldn’t go a full hour without hearing Karina’s name mentioned in some capacity.

“Did you see the way Karina was looking at her?”

“They actually look good together, I won’t lie.”

“I heard Karina ditched someone else at the gala just to be with Y/N.”

None of it made sense. Y/N didn’t do the whole socialite thing—she played soccer, went to class, and tried not to overcomplicate her life. But now, she was part of a spectacle. And the worst part? Karina didn’t seem fazed by it at all.

If anything, she leaned into it.

Y/N had expected the whole PR relationship to be something manageable—occasional public interactions, staged appearances, nothing too deep. But Karina was relentless. She found excuses to be around Y/N at every opportunity.

She’d slip into the seat next to her at lunch, steal bites of her food like they were an old married couple, casually wrap an arm around her shoulder in the middle of campus as if it were second nature.

Y/N, for her part, didn’t know how to handle it.

One afternoon, she was heading to the library when Karina materialized beside her.

“Where are we going?” Karina asked, as if she had been part of the plan all along.

Y/N sighed. “We are not going anywhere. I’m going to study.”

Karina hummed, unfazed. “I’ll join.”

Y/N stopped in her tracks, turning to face her. “Do you even need to study?”

Karina smirked. “I don’t, but you’re far more entertaining than my usual plans.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“It is now,” Karina said, looping her arm through Y/N’s with a victorious gleam in her eyes. “C’mon, humor me.”

Y/N let out a long-suffering sigh but didn’t pull away.

It was the same every day. Karina inserting herself into Y/N’s life with ease, chipping away at the space Y/N had carefully built around herself.

The worst part? It wasn’t as annoying as it should’ve been.

The library was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of pages and the soft tapping of fingers against laptop keyboards. Y/N sat at a corner table, deep in her notes, trying to ignore the weight of Karina’s gaze on her.

“Why are you staring at me?” Y/N muttered without looking up.

Karina, seated across from her, rested her chin on her palm, a small smile playing on her lips. “Just thinking.”

Y/N glanced up warily. “Thinking about what?”

Karina tilted her head slightly. “How different we are.”

Y/N scoffed. “Wow. That deep, huh?”

Karina chuckled, then leaned forward, lowering her voice. “No, but really. You don’t like attention, and I live in it. You keep people at arm’s length, and I let them think they know me. You run from things, and I run straight into them.”

Y/N paused, twirling her pen between her fingers. “That was poetic.”

Karina smirked. “I have my moments.”

Y/N looked down at her notes, trying to focus, but her mind was elsewhere. There was something about the way Karina said things—like she was peeling back layers one at a time, seeing more than she let on.

And Y/N wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

It became a pattern. Karina showing up unannounced. Y/N pretending to be annoyed. Karina staying anyway.

One night, Y/N had barely kicked off her cleats after a late practice when a knock came at her door.

She sighed, already knowing who it was.

“Karina, it’s almost midnight,” Y/N groaned as she opened the door.

Karina, looking effortlessly put together as always, leaned against the doorframe with an easy smile. “And?”

Y/N sighed, stepping aside. “Just get in.”

Karina walked in like she belonged there, settling on Y/N’s bed.

Y/N leaned against her desk, arms crossed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Karina shrugged. “I was bored.”

Y/N raised a brow. “So your solution was to bother me?”

“Obviously.” Karina smirked before patting the spot beside her. “Sit.”

Y/N hesitated but eventually relented, sitting on the edge of the bed.

For a moment, there was silence. A rare, comfortable kind.

Then Karina spoke, her voice softer than usual. “Does it bother you?”

Y/N glanced at her. “What?”

Karina looked at her then, something unreadable in her expression. “That everyone thinks this is real.”

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it. She hadn’t really thought about it like that.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s weird, sure. But… it’s not as bad as I thought it’d be.”

Karina hummed, watching her carefully. “Not as bad, huh?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

Karina chuckled but didn’t push. Instead, she leaned back, stretching out on the bed like she had all the time in the world.

“You know,” Karina mused, “for someone who claims to hate this arrangement, you don’t push me away.”

Y/N exhaled through her nose. “Maybe I’m just getting used to you.”

Karina’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Good.”

Y/N turned away, hoping Karina didn’t notice the warmth creeping up her neck.

Because the truth was—she didn’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, Karina Yu had stopped feeling like just an obligation.

And that realization was dangerous.

It wasn’t obvious at first.

Not in the way Karina always found her in a crowded room.

Not in the way Y/N started looking for Karina before realizing it.

Not in the way Karina’s teasing had softened, or the way Y/N had stopped resisting when Karina pulled her closer in public.

But it was there.

A shift.

A quiet, undeniable shift in whatever this was.

And Y/N didn’t know what scared her more—the fact that she noticed it, or the fact that she didn’t mind.

Days turned into weeks, and whatever this thing was between Y/N and Karina—it wasn’t fading. If anything, it was intensifying.

It was in the way Karina’s eyes always found Y/N in a crowded room, lingering just a little too long before she looked away. The way their casual touches never really felt casual, fingers brushing a second longer than necessary, an arm draped over Y/N’s shoulder with a grip that felt possessive rather than playful.

And it was in the way Karina had started showing up more.

At first, Y/N thought it was just part of the act—maintaining their public image, reinforcing their “relationship” so people kept talking. But Karina was there even when there was no audience to perform for. When Y/N left soccer practice exhausted, Karina would be waiting, leaning against the fence with a smug smirk and an iced coffee she’d pretend was a thoughtful gift rather than a blatant bribe.

When Y/N studied in the library, Karina found her, sitting across from her without a word, pretending to read but spending more time kicking Y/N’s foot under the table.

And the worst part?

Y/N didn’t mind.

Not really.

She told herself it was fine. That she was used to Karina’s presence now, used to the way she inserted herself into Y/N’s life like she belonged there. But then there were moments—brief, fleeting moments—where Y/N caught herself looking at Karina too long, where she caught herself waiting for Karina’s next move.

And she wasn’t sure what scared her more: that Karina seemed to be doing the same thing, or that Y/N was starting to want her to.

The café was warm, filled with the low hum of conversation and the rhythmic tapping of rain against the windows. Y/N had claimed a seat by the window, her textbook open in front of her, though she wasn’t actually reading. Her mind had drifted somewhere else, too preoccupied to focus on the words in front of her.

Across from her, Karina was scrolling through her phone, chin propped on her hand. They had been sitting like this for almost an hour, saying nothing, just existing in the same space. It was easy now—this quiet thing between them.

Then, without looking up, Karina spoke.

“My mom called earlier.”

Y/N glanced up from her book, arching a brow. “Yeah?”

Karina hummed. “She saw the gala pictures.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, turning a page she hadn’t actually read. “And?”

Karina finally looked up, a small smirk playing on her lips. “She said you look good next to me.”

Y/N snorted. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

Karina tilted her head slightly, watching Y/N with that unreadable gaze of hers. “It means she approves.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Of the fake relationship?”

Karina’s smirk didn’t waver. “Of you.”

Y/N felt something stir in her chest, something unfamiliar and dangerous. She looked down at her book, trying to push it away.

Karina had a way of saying things like they meant nothing when they felt like everything.

And Y/N didn’t know how to deal with that.

The sun had long since set, casting the soccer field in a dim glow from the overhead lights. Most of the team had already left, but Y/N had lingered, taking a few extra shots on goal, running a few more drills until she was exhausted.

By the time she stepped out of the locker room, her body ached in that familiar way that came after pushing herself too hard. She was rolling her shoulders, trying to ease the tension, when she spotted a figure leaning against the fence.

Karina.

Y/N sighed, approaching her. “You know, you don’t have to meet me after practice.”

Karina smiled lazily, completely unbothered. “I know.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Then why are you here?”

Karina tilted her head slightly, like she was debating how much to say. Then she shrugged. “Maybe I like seeing you in your element.”

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Karina grinned. “And yet, here you are, talking to me instead of running away.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

Karina stepped closer then, reaching out. Without thinking, Y/N let her.

Karina’s fingers brushed against Y/N’s jaw, her touch light, fleeting. “You have dirt on your face,” she murmured before wiping it away with her thumb.

Y/N felt her breath hitch, her pulse suddenly too loud in her ears.

Karina didn’t move back.

She was close—too close. Close enough that Y/N could see the way her smirk had softened into something else. Something almost unsure.

And for the first time, Y/N wondered—was she just as scared of this as Y/N was?

“Y/N,” Karina said quietly.

Y/N swallowed. “Yeah?”

A beat of silence. Then Karina shook her head, stepping back with an easy smile, as if the moment hadn’t just happened.

“Nothing,” she said. “Walk me back?”

Y/N hesitated but eventually fell into step beside her.

And as they walked, neither of them mentioned how, for a split second, something almost happened.

Something real.

And neither of them knew what to do about it.

The thing about slow changes is that you don’t always notice them as they happen.

Y/N wasn’t sure when exactly it started—when Karina’s presence in her life stopped feeling like an invasion and started feeling like… something else. Something expected. Something constant.

Maybe it was the way Karina always seemed to find her, even when she wasn’t looking. Or the way Y/N had started instinctively saving her a seat at lunch, despite grumbling about it every time Karina smugly took it.

Maybe it was the way Karina’s teasing had softened, how the smirks weren’t always accompanied by sharp words anymore. How sometimes, when she looked at Y/N, she wasn’t performing for an audience.

Or maybe it was Y/N herself—how she had stopped questioning why Karina was around so much and started wondering what it would feel like if she wasn’t.

But then again, acknowledging that thought would mean acknowledging everything else—the way Y/N had started noticing Karina in ways she wasn’t supposed to.

And that? That was dangerous.

The university library was nearly empty at this hour, save for a few overworked students huddled in the corners. Y/N sat at a table in the back, her laptop open but untouched, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against the wood. She was supposed to be working on an assignment, but focus was a lost cause tonight.

A chair scraped against the floor, and Y/N didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“You know,” Karina said, setting her bag down, “for someone who claims to hate studying, you spend an awful lot of time here.”

Y/N glanced at her, unimpressed. “What are you doing here?”

Karina smirked. “Maybe I missed you.”

Y/N snorted. “Right.”

Karina leaned in, her voice dropping slightly. “Maybe I did.”

Y/N stilled, fingers curling into her hoodie sleeves. It was so easy for Karina to say things like that—to flirt like it was second nature. But sometimes, when no one else was around, Y/N caught glimpses of something different.

Like now.

She looked at Karina, really looked at her, and for once, Karina didn’t look away.

Y/N exhaled, turning her attention back to her laptop. “You’re distracting.”

“I know,” Karina said easily, resting her chin on her hand.

Y/N fought the smile threatening to form. “Not a compliment.”

Karina grinned. “I’ll take it anyway.”

And just like that, the moment passed. But Y/N felt it—something shifting, something lingering.

And she didn’t know if she wanted to stop it.

It had started as a casual hangout, nothing more.

Minjeong had suggested a movie night at her dorm, and somehow, Y/N found herself squished onto a couch between Karina and an armrest, the warmth of Karina’s body too close, too present.

“You’re hogging all the space,” Y/N muttered, shifting slightly.

Karina smirked, not moving an inch. “I’m comfortable.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t push her away.

The movie played on, but Y/N wasn’t really watching. Not when Karina’s thigh was pressed against hers, not when Karina shifted slightly and their shoulders brushed, not when Y/N became hyperaware of the way Karina’s fingers were tapping lightly against her own knee—a barely-there touch, like a question waiting to be answered.

Y/N didn’t move.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

Halfway through the movie, Karina leaned in, her voice soft against Y/N’s ear.

“You okay?”

Y/N turned to look at her, and suddenly, Karina was close. Too close. Close enough that Y/N could see the way her lips parted slightly, the way her breath hitched when Y/N didn’t immediately pull away.

Y/N swallowed. “Yeah.”

Karina didn’t move back. If anything, she seemed to be waiting—for what, Y/N wasn’t sure.

And then, just as quickly as it had happened, Karina pulled away, her usual smirk sliding back into place like a shield.

“Good,” she murmured, eyes flickering back to the screen.

But Y/N knew.

Karina had almost kissed her.

And Y/N had almost let her.

Y/N didn’t bring it up, and neither did Karina.

But things weren’t the same after that night.

Karina was still Karina—still smug, still teasing, still showing up unannounced like she belonged wherever Y/N was. But the space between them felt charged now, like they were both aware of something neither of them wanted to name.

Y/N caught Karina looking at her more often, caught herself doing the same. Their touches lingered, their words carried weight, and yet… neither of them said anything.

And maybe that was the problem.

Maybe Y/N was waiting.

Waiting for Karina to stop hiding behind her smirks and half-truths.

Waiting for herself to stop pretending she wasn’t already in too deep.

Or maybe—just maybe—Karina was waiting, too.

The thing about pretending for too long is that eventually, the lines between what’s real and what’s not start to blur.

For weeks, Y/N had told herself that this was all a game. A strategic move. A PR stunt meant to keep Karina’s reputation polished and Y/N’s own image from spiraling any further.

And yet—

It didn’t feel like a game anymore.

Not when Karina looked at her like that. Not when her fingers brushed against Y/N’s wrist a second too long. Not when Y/N found herself waiting for her messages, for her presence, for something she shouldn’t be waiting for.

And especially not when Karina started looking at her like she was waiting for something too.

But Y/N didn’t push.

Because pushing meant acknowledging, and acknowledging meant risking everything.

And she wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

It had been Minjeong’s idea.

“A small get-together,” she had said. “Nothing crazy.”

Which, of course, was a lie.

By the time Y/N arrived at the off-campus house, the place was packed, music thrumming against the walls, and people were already too deep into their drinks to care about much else.

Y/N wasn’t even sure why she had come. Maybe to clear her head. Maybe because Karina had been acting weird the past few days—texting less, lingering more, her teasing still there but with an edge that felt too sharp.

Or maybe, Y/N realized with a sinking feeling, she had come because she wanted to see her.

She found Karina easily.

She always did.

Across the room, Karina stood surrounded by people, her usual effortless charm on full display. She was laughing at something someone had said, but her eyes—her eyes flickered toward Y/N the moment she stepped in.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Karina excused herself and walked straight toward her.

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

“What are you doing here?” Karina asked, stopping just close enough that their shoes nearly touched.

Y/N shrugged, trying to act casual. “Minjeong invited me.”

Karina’s lips quirked, but there was something in her expression—something unreadable.

“You don’t like parties.”

“I never said that.”

Karina tilted her head. “You don’t like most people.”

“That’s fair.”

A beat of silence.

Then Karina’s gaze flickered over Y/N’s face, her voice softer now. “Then why did you come?”

Y/N swallowed. She wasn’t sure she had an answer that wouldn’t ruin everything.

So instead, she deflected. “Why are you acting weird?”

Karina’s smirk faltered, just for a second. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

Karina’s eyes searched hers, something unspoken hanging between them. “And if I was?”

Y/N hesitated.

Then—

“Karina!”

The moment shattered as someone grabbed Karina’s wrist, pulling her away.

And just like that, the distance was back.

Y/N watched as Karina was dragged into another conversation, another crowd, another moment where she was untouchable

And for the first time, Y/N hated it.

Because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend that this was just a game.

And she wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend she wasn’t already losing.

Y/N left early. She hadn’t meant to, but something about watching Karina slip so easily into the world she belonged to—a world Y/N wasn’t sure she’d ever fit into—made her stomach twist.

The cool night air was a relief as she walked back to campus, her hands stuffed in her hoodie pockets, her mind racing.

She was halfway back when she heard footsteps behind her.

“Running away?”

Y/N didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

She sighed. “What are you doing?”

Karina fell into step beside her. “Walking you home.”

Y/N glanced at her. “You didn’t have to.”

Karina shrugged. “I wanted to.”

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… charged. Heavy.

After a moment, Karina spoke, her voice quieter than before. “Did I do something?”

Y/N frowned. “What?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Y/N exhaled, looking ahead. “I haven’t.”

“You have.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

Karina stopped walking, and when Y/N realized, she turned back, only to see Karina watching her with an expression that was dangerously close to vulnerable.

“Y/N.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “What do you want me to say?”

Karina’s eyes flickered, something unreadable in them. “The truth.”

Y/N hesitated.

And for a split second, she thought—maybe, just maybe—she could give it to her.

But then Karina stepped closer, and Y/N’s breath hitched, and the world felt too small, and suddenly, it was too much.

So she did what she always did.

She deflected.

“You’re annoying.”

Karina blinked. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.

It wasn’t her usual, practiced laugh. It was real. Soft.

Y/N hated how much she liked it.

“Come on,” Karina said, nudging her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

And as they walked side by side through the quiet streets, Y/N knew.

She was already in too deep.

And there was no getting out now.

Mornings were supposed to be Y/N’s time to herself. The crisp air, the rhythmic thud of a soccer ball against the grass, the steady burn in her muscles—it was the one part of the day where she didn’t have to think.

But Karina had a habit of showing up when Y/N least expected it.

Like now.

Y/N was mid-drill, her teammates spread across the field, when she spotted Karina lingering near the bleachers. Dressed in a perfectly coordinated outfit, steaming coffee in hand, she was clearly not here for the sport.

“Dude, your girlfriend’s here again,” her teammate, Jisoo, teased, nudging her as they jogged across the field.

“She’s not my—” Y/N cut herself off.

Because at this point, what was the point?

Jisoo just laughed. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Y/N shook her head, refocusing on the drill. But every time she glanced up, Karina was still there, watching, waiting.

And maybe—just maybe—Y/N started playing a little harder because of it.

By the time practice ended, sweat clung to Y/N’s skin, her breaths steady but heavy. She grabbed her water bottle and made her way toward the bleachers, knowing there was no avoiding Karina now.

“You’re making a habit of this,” Y/N said, wiping her face with a towel.

Karina smirked. “Of what?”

“Showing up. Watching me.”

Karina shrugged, unfazed. “Maybe I just like the view.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the warmth creeping up her neck. “You should get a hobby.”

Karina leaned in just slightly, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Maybe you are my hobby.”

Y/N huffed, taking a long sip from her water bottle before turning toward the locker room. “You need better taste in hobbies.”

But even as she walked away, she could feel Karina’s gaze following her.

And Y/N hated the way it made her heart race.

Later that evening, Y/N found herself in the library, trying—and failing—to focus.

Her econ textbook blurred in front of her, words merging together in a way that made her want to slam her head against the desk.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. Maybe she needed a break.

And just as she thought that, a familiar voice broke through the quiet.

“Are you always this studious, or are you just pretending?”

Y/N looked up, unsurprised to find Karina sliding into the seat across from her, looking as effortlessly put together as ever.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Y/N muttered, flipping a page.

Karina smirked. “I prefer to study people rather than books.”

Y/N snorted. “Sounds like a terrible academic strategy.”

Karina rested her chin on her hand, watching her with a level of attention that made Y/N squirm. “Maybe, but it’s working just fine for me.”

Y/N shook her head, trying—failing—to ignore the way Karina’s gaze made her feel. “Do you ever stop flirting?”

Karina tilted her head, her expression shifting just slightly. “Do you want me to?”

And that—well, that threw Y/N off more than she’d like to admit.

Because she should say yes. She should tell Karina to stop playing this game.

But the truth sat heavy on her tongue, unspoken.

Karina took her silence as an answer, a knowing look flashing in her eyes before she leaned back, stretching. “Relax, Y/N. I’m just keeping things interesting.”

Y/N exhaled, shaking her head. “You exhaust me.”

Karina smirked. “And yet, you still put up with me.”

And that—well, that was the problem, wasn’t it?

It was late by the time they left the library, the campus quiet, the air cool against Y/N’s skin.

They walked side by side, Karina’s presence strangely comfortable despite everything.

Then, without thinking, Y/N reached up, adjusting the strap of Karina’s bag where it had slipped off her shoulder.

It was instinct. A small, thoughtless gesture.

But the moment her fingers brushed against Karina’s shoulder, Karina stilled.

Y/N froze too, suddenly hyper-aware of how close they were, of the way Karina’s breath hitched just slightly.

It was nothing. It was barely a touch.

But it felt like something.

Karina’s eyes flickered to hers, something unreadable behind them.

Y/N should step back. She should make a joke, break the moment, do anything but stand there like an idiot.

But she didn’t.

And neither did Karina.

For the first time, the game didn’t feel like a game.

For the first time, Y/N felt like she was standing at the edge of something dangerous.

And the worst part?

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to step back.

Y/n spent the next few days doing the one thing she was good at—running.

Not just on the soccer field, but from Karina. From the way her presence lingered in Y/N’s mind long after they’d parted ways, from the way her touch—brief, fleeting—still burned against her skin.

So Y/N kept herself busy.

She threw herself into practice, pushed harder in drills, spent extra hours at the gym until her legs ached and her mind was too exhausted to wander. It was easier this way. Easier than acknowledging the shift in the air between her and Karina.

But avoidance only worked for so long.

Because Karina wasn’t the kind of person you could ignore.

She made sure of that.

Y/N barely had a moment to breathe between classes before Karina found her again, sliding into the seat next to her in the lecture hall like she belonged there.

“You’re avoiding me,” Karina said casually, setting down her coffee.

Y/N didn’t even glance at her. “I’m busy.”

Karina hummed, unconvinced. “Busy pretending I don’t exist?”

Y/N exhaled through her nose, gripping her pen a little tighter. “Busy focusing on things that actually matter.”

At that, Karina let out a soft chuckle, amused rather than offended. “Ouch. And here I thought I mattered to you.”

Y/N turned her head sharply, meeting Karina’s gaze. She was smirking—of course she was—but there was something else lurking beneath it. Something almost… expectant.

Y/N swallowed. “You don’t.”

The words came out too fast, too forced.

And Karina? She caught it immediately.

Her smirk widened, but her eyes softened, like she saw right through Y/N’s pathetic attempt at indifference.

“Okay,” Karina murmured, tilting her head slightly. “If you say so.”

And just like that, she turned her attention back to the professor, acting as if they hadn’t just played a dangerous game of push and pull in the span of thirty seconds.

Y/N stared at her, jaw clenched, stomach twisting.

Because Karina knew.

She knew that Y/N was lying.

And she was just waiting for her to admit it.

It wasn’t Y/N’s idea to go out that night.

Minjeong had all but dragged her to the frat house, insisting she needed to “relax and act like a normal college student for once.”

So Y/N went. And if she was being honest, she needed the distraction.

The music was loud, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and cheap cologne. Y/N stuck to the kitchen, nursing a beer, nodding along to conversations she wasn’t really listening to.

And then—of course—Karina walked in.

Y/N felt her before she saw her.

Felt the way the energy in the room shifted, the way heads turned as Karina Yu made her entrance like she owned the place. She wore something sleek, something effortlessly put together, like she hadn’t even tried and still managed to be the most captivating person in the room.

And the worst part? She wasn’t alone.

Some guy—tall, objectively attractive—was trailing behind her, laughing at something she said. Karina turned her head, smiling at him, and something bitter curled in Y/N’s chest.

She hated it.

She hated that she cared.

“Dude,” Minjeong nudged her, leaning against the counter. “You’re staring.”

Y/N snapped out of it, clearing her throat. “I’m not.”

Minjeong raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, okay.”

But Y/N wasn’t staring.

At least, not anymore.

Because Karina had noticed her.

Even through the sea of people, even with that guy still talking in her ear, Karina’s gaze locked onto Y/N’s like a magnet.

And then, like she was making a point, Karina leaned in closer to him, her fingers grazing his arm as she laughed at something he said.

Y/N took a sip of her drink, forcing herself to look away.

This wasn’t her problem. Karina could do whatever she wanted.

But then, before she could stop herself, she was moving.

She weaved through the crowd, past drunken conversations and sweaty bodies, until she reached Karina.

“Can I talk to you?” Y/N said, voice steady, betraying nothing.

Karina blinked, looking up at her with the faintest trace of surprise—just for a second—before recovering.

She turned to the guy. “Give me a sec.”

The guy looked between them, then gave a slow nod, stepping away.

Karina turned back to Y/N, arms crossing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “Can we not do this?”

Karina tilted her head. “Do what?”

Y/N exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “The whole ‘let’s see who can push who further’ game.”

Karina was quiet for a beat. Then, she stepped closer—too close.

Y/N could smell her perfume, the faint trace of whatever drink she’d been nursing.

“You don’t like it?” Karina murmured, voice lower now.

Y/N held her ground. “No.”

Karina studied her, gaze flickering between Y/N’s eyes, searching for something.

And then, to Y/N’s surprise, Karina sighed.

“Fine,” Karina said, stepping back, tension shifting just slightly. “No more games.”

Y/N didn’t believe her. “Just like that?”

Karina gave her a small, unreadable smile. “Just like that.”

And then, before Y/N could say anything else, Karina walked away.

Y/N stood there, fists clenched at her sides, heart pounding in her ears.

Because somehow, that felt worse.

Somehow, Y/N realized, she didn’t want Karina to stop playing.

And that scared her more than anything.

Y/N told herself that after the party, things would go back to normal.

She could shake this off—shake Karina off—and everything would settle.

But the problem with telling yourself something over and over again is that, eventually, you start realizing it’s a lie.

Karina was everywhere.

Not in the obvious ways—she wasn’t texting Y/N, wasn’t suddenly showing up at her dorm unannounced like she used to. If anything, Karina had pulled back.

And that was the problem.

Because now Y/N was the one noticing her.

Noticing the way Karina still sat near her in class, but never directly next to her. Noticing how their eyes would meet across the cafeteria, but Karina would always be the first to look away. Noticing how, during passing periods, Karina’s shoulder would nearly brush against Y/N’s before she’d shift slightly at the last second, putting just enough space between them.

And for some reason, it was driving Y/N insane.

It was like Karina had figured out exactly how to get under her skin—by giving her the distance Y/N had pretended to want.

And now, Y/N hated it.

Soccer was supposed to be Y/N’s escape.

The one place where things made sense, where the only thing that mattered was the ball at her feet and the goal ahead.

But even that had started to feel different.

Practice was tense. Not because of the drills or the upcoming matches, but because Minjeong—who always seemed to have a sixth sense for Y/N’s moods—had noticed something was off.

“You’re playing like someone who has unresolved feelings,” Minjeong remarked after practice, tossing Y/N a water bottle.

Y/N scowled. “I’m playing like someone who wants to win.”

Minjeong smirked. “Right. And totally not like someone who’s mad that Karina Yu is suddenly treating her like a stranger.”

Y/N nearly choked on her water. “I—what?”

Minjeong crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Come on, dude. You think I haven’t noticed?”

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it. Because what was she supposed to say? That she was fine? That Karina’s distance wasn’t bothering her?

Because that would be another lie.

And Minjeong would see right through it.

Instead, Y/N just sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “It’s complicated.”

Minjeong hummed. “Complicated because you like her?”

Y/N stiffened. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Minjeong clapped a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, far too amused. “Just saying, if you wanna keep lying to yourself, that’s cool. But maybe stop pretending you don’t care when it’s obvious you do.”

Y/N groaned. “You’re the worst.”

Minjeong grinned. “I know.”

But as she walked off, leaving Y/N alone on the field, the words stuck.

Because maybe Minjeong wasn’t wrong.

Maybe Y/N had been lying to herself this whole time.

Y/N hadn’t planned to run into Karina that night.

She’d gone to the library late, hoping to cram in some studying before crashing. The campus was quiet at this hour, only a few students lingering in the study rooms, the distant hum of conversation filling the space.

She was halfway through highlighting a passage when she sensed someone sit across from her.

She didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Her hands tightened around her pen. “Didn’t think you studied this late.”

Karina’s voice was smooth, a little too casual. “Didn’t think you cared.”

Y/N exhaled, finally looking up.

Karina looked… calm. Not smirking, not teasing—just studying Y/N with that unreadable expression she’d perfected.

It was infuriating.

“Is this some new strategy?” Y/N muttered. “Ignoring me until I crack?”

Karina tilted her head slightly. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”

Y/N scoffed. “Oh, really? Because last week, you wouldn’t leave me alone, and now I barely exist to you.”

Karina was quiet for a second.

Then, in a softer voice, she said, “You told me you didn’t want to play the game anymore.”

Y/N faltered.

Because… hadn’t she?

Hadn’t she told Karina she was done with whatever this back-and-forth was?

And yet, here she was.

Karina leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. “I gave you space, Y/N. You just didn’t like it as much as you thought you would.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “That’s not—”

But she stopped herself.

Because Karina was right.

Y/N swallowed hard, fingers tightening around her pen. “I just…” She exhaled slowly. “I don’t know what this is.”

Karina’s gaze softened just slightly. “Neither do I.”

That admission caught Y/N off guard.

Because Karina always acted like she had the upper hand, always seemed so sure of herself. But now, in this quiet corner of the library, she wasn’t playing games.

She was just being honest.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Karina let out a small breath, tapping her fingers against the table. “You wanna get out of here?”

Y/N frowned. “Where?”

Karina shrugged. “Anywhere that’s not this library.”

Y/N hesitated.

She shouldn’t say yes.

But against all logic, she found herself nodding.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Okay.”

And as Karina stood, waiting for her, Y/N realized that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t run from this.

From Karina.

Because Karina was the one thing Y/N couldn’t escape.

And maybe, deep down, she didn’t want to.

Y/N wasn’t sure why she agreed to leave the library with Karina.

Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was Minjeong’s words still bouncing around in her head. Or maybe it was the way Karina had looked at her—not with smugness, not with teasing, but with something real.

Either way, they ended up walking through campus side by side, the cool night air settling over them in silence.

For once, Karina didn’t try to fill the quiet.

She walked at Y/N’s pace, hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, gaze flickering up at the dimly lit buildings around them.

It was strange—almost unsettling—to be next to Karina without the usual push and pull.

No cameras. No spectators. Just them.

After a while, Y/N exhaled and shoved her hands into her hoodie pocket. “So, are you gonna tell me where we’re going, or is this some elaborate plan to murder me?”

Karina let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “As tempting as that is, no.” She glanced at Y/N with a small smirk. “Relax. I figured we could just walk.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You? Just walking? Without some grand scheme?”

Karina sighed dramatically. “I’m capable of normal human activities, you know.”

“Debatable.”

Karina nudged her playfully, and Y/N bit back a smile.

They ended up near the soccer field—empty at this hour, save for the faint glow of the campus lights reflecting off the damp grass.

Karina strolled toward the bleachers and sat down, gesturing for Y/N to join her.

Y/N hesitated but eventually sat beside her, the cool metal of the bleachers pressing against her legs.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, though.

If anything, it was… easy.

Which was dangerous.

Because Y/N knew Karina thrived in chaos, in the tension of their usual banter, in the thrill of whatever game they’d been playing since the beginning.

But tonight, there was none of that.

And Y/N didn’t know what to do with it.

Karina exhaled, tilting her head back to look at the stars. “You know,” she murmured, “I don’t think I ever really stop moving.”

Y/N glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

Karina’s lips curved, but it wasn’t her usual smirk. “I mean, I’m always doing something. Going somewhere. Talking to someone. It’s… exhausting, sometimes.”

Y/N frowned. She’d never heard Karina admit anything like that before.

“I guess I just don’t like slowing down,” Karina continued, voice quieter now. “Because when I do, I start thinking too much.”

Y/N shifted slightly, studying her.

There was something vulnerable in the way Karina was speaking.

Like she wasn’t just saying things to be heard.

Like she actually wanted Y/N to understand.

“You ever feel like that?” Karina asked, turning to her.

Y/N hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”

She didn’t elaborate, but Karina didn’t push.

Instead, Karina let out a soft chuckle. “Look at us. Having an actual conversation.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Miracle of the century.”

Karina smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Y/N wanted to ask more. She wanted to press, to understand this side of Karina she was just now seeing.

But she didn’t.

Because if she asked, that meant acknowledging that she cared.

And Y/N wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

They sat in silence for a while longer, the night air cool but not unpleasant.

At some point, Y/N stretched her legs out, her knee barely brushing against Karina’s.

She expected Karina to pull away—to put that usual distance between them.

But she didn’t.

She stayed still.

The warmth of her presence was almost unnerving.

Y/N’s fingers curled into the fabric of her hoodie, suddenly feeling too aware of how close they were.

Karina must have noticed.

Because when she spoke again, her voice was quieter.

“You know…” Karina exhaled, tilting her head slightly toward Y/N. “I didn’t expect you to matter this much.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

She turned her head slowly, finding Karina already looking at her.

It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t teasing.

It was real.

The weight of Karina’s words settled between them, heavy and unspoken.

Y/N swallowed hard. “Karina…”

Karina’s gaze flickered down—just briefly—to Y/N’s lips.

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

And for a moment—a terrifying, fleeting moment—she thought Karina might actually kiss her.

She thought she might let her.

But then Karina pulled back slightly, her expression unreadable once more.

She exhaled through her nose, as if amused at herself. “See?” she murmured. “Thinking too much.”

Y/N blinked, still caught in whatever spell had just been cast between them.

But Karina was already standing, brushing imaginary dust off her coat.

“Come on,” Karina said lightly, her usual smirk returning. “I’ll walk you back.”

Y/N hesitated before standing as well.

As they made their way back through campus, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

That, maybe, whatever space had been between them before… was smaller now.

Something had changed.

Y/N felt it in the way Karina looked at her—like she was expecting something.

She felt it in the way their conversations lingered just a little too long, in the way Karina found excuses to touch her—an arm brushing against hers, fingers catching her wrist, a knee bumping against her under the table.

It was in the way Karina invaded her space, in the way she seemed to think she had a right to it now.

And Y/N was letting her.

That was the problem.

Because despite all her instincts, all her warnings to herself, she wasn’t pushing Karina away anymore.

She was letting Karina pull her closer.

And she didn’t know how to stop.

It happened on a Friday night.

The soccer team had won another game, and the celebrations had spilled out onto campus, the dorms buzzing with energy. But Y/N wasn’t in the mood to party.

She had barely made it inside her dorm before Karina was there—waiting, as if she had been expecting her.

“You’re avoiding me,” Karina said, arms crossed.

Y/N sighed, dropping her bag onto the floor. “I’m not.”

Karina gave her a look. “You are.”

Y/N ran a hand through her hair. “I just needed some space.”

Karina didn’t move. “From me?”

Y/N hesitated.

Because yes. Yes, she needed space. She needed distance before she did something stupid, before she let herself believe that whatever this was—whatever Karina was doing—meant something more.

But Karina was looking at her with something raw in her expression, something that made Y/N’s resolve waver.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Y/N admitted, voice quiet.

Karina stared at her, something unreadable flashing across her face. “I don’t know either.”

Y/N swallowed. “Then what are we doing?”

Karina stepped closer, and Y/N’s heart stuttered.

“We don’t have to name it,” Karina murmured. “We just have to let it be.”

Y/N hated how much she wanted to believe her.

She hated how much she wanted to close the distance between them.

She hated how Karina made her feel—like a thread being pulled too tight, waiting to snap.

And Karina must have seen something in her eyes, because her voice softened.

“Tell me to stop,” Karina whispered.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Karina was so close now, close enough that Y/N could see the flicker of uncertainty in her usually unreadable eyes.

Close enough that Y/N could feel her warmth.

And for a second, Y/N thought she might not stop her.

For a second, she thought she might let herself fall.

But then—

A knock at the door.

They jolted apart like they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Y/N turned, exhaling sharply, while Karina took a step back, hands clenched at her sides.

The moment was gone.

And Y/N wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

Y/N didn’t sleep that night.

She kept replaying the moment over and over, feeling the ghost of Karina’s presence beside her, the warmth she had almost leaned into.

The next morning, she expected Karina to pretend like nothing had happened.

That was how Karina worked, after all.

She played games. She knew when to push and when to pull back.

But Karina didn’t pretend.

Instead, for the first time since their arrangement had started, she was the one avoiding Y/N.

And that was how Y/N knew—

Whatever they were doing, whatever lines they had been dancing around—

They had finally, finally started to blur.

It had been three days since the night in Y/N’s dorm. Three days of silence.

It was like a wall had gone up between them, and Y/N felt it every time she saw Karina—at practice, in the hallways, even in the cafeteria. Karina didn’t make eye contact anymore. She didn’t offer that sly smile or the playful teasing that had become so familiar.

And Y/N… she wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

At first, she thought she was relieved. She had told herself she needed space, that things had gotten too close, too fast. But as the days went on, that relief slowly turned into something else—something like… loneliness.

It was like they had been in their own world, one where the rules didn’t quite apply. And now, that world was slipping away, leaving Y/N with nothing but a dull ache.

She couldn’t quite understand it, couldn’t quite explain it.

But she missed Karina.

It was another Friday night, and Karina’s behavior had only gotten colder. Y/N couldn’t stand it. She found herself slipping into Karina’s favorite hangout spot on campus—an old, quiet study lounge where Karina had a habit of disappearing to when she wanted a break from the crowds.

The door creaked open, and there Karina was, sitting on one of the plush chairs by the window, her back to Y/N.

“Karina,” Y/N said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Karina didn’t turn around. “What are you doing here?” she asked, though the words didn’t have their usual bite.

Y/N hesitated, then stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. “I… I needed to talk to you.”

Karina didn’t respond. She just kept staring out the window, the dim light from the streetlights casting shadows on her face.

Y/N’s heart beat faster, but she couldn’t let it go. “I don’t like this,” she blurted out, before she could stop herself.

Karina’s shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn around. “Don’t like what?” she asked, though there was an edge to her voice now.

Y/N crossed the room, her footsteps quiet against the hardwood floor. She stopped just short of Karina’s chair. “The way you’ve been acting. The silence. The distance. It feels like I’m losing you.”

Karina finally looked at her, but her expression was unreadable. “You’ve always known how to keep me at arm’s length,” she said, her voice soft, but sharp all the same. “You’ve never let me get too close.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at the words. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to what?” Karina interrupted, standing up now, her gaze intense. “You didn’t mean to push me away? Or you didn’t mean to let me in, only to turn around and close the door?”

Y/N’s breath caught. She hadn’t realized it until now, but maybe that was exactly what she had been doing. Keeping Karina at a distance, only to let her close, then push her away again.

“I’m not good at this,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Karina didn’t say anything for a long time. Then, in a quiet voice, she said, “I didn’t think you were.”

Y/N flinched at the words. They stung more than she cared to admit.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said, her voice thick with regret.

Karina’s gaze softened just a little. “I know you didn’t,” she said quietly. “But it doesn’t make it any easier, does it?”

Y/N swallowed, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know how to… how to be with you. I don’t know how to do any of this.”

Karina’s lips parted, like she was going to say something, but instead, she just let out a soft sigh. She looked away, her expression turning inward. “I’m not asking for you to have it all figured out,” she said. “I’m just asking for you to try.”

Y/N stood there, frozen. “Try?”

Karina nodded, her gaze turning back to Y/N. “Yeah. Try. Because right now, it feels like you’re just running away.”

The silence between them stretched, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… real.

Y/N’s heart ached as she stared at Karina, her words lingering in the air. She wanted to say something—something that would make it all make sense, that would bridge the gap between them. But nothing came.

Instead, she just stepped closer.

And without thinking, without a single ounce of hesitation, she reached out and touched Karina’s arm.

Karina looked at her, and for the first time in days, there was no smirk, no teasing in her eyes. Only something deeper. Something softer.

Y/N’s breath caught, her hand trembling slightly as she moved it up to Karina’s shoulder.

“I’m not running away,” Y/N said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

Karina didn’t say anything, but she didn’t pull away either. She just stood there, waiting.

And in that moment, everything between them felt clearer than it ever had. The tension, the uncertainty, the hesitation—it all melted away.

Y/N leaned forward, her heart hammering in her chest.

Karina didn’t move, didn’t shy away.

And then—without thinking—Y/N kissed her.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, like they were both still figuring it out. But as Karina kissed her back, the world seemed to stop.

For a brief moment, there was no confusion. No fear. No doubt. Just the two of them, finally, truly, in sync.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Karina looked at Y/N with a new intensity.

“You’re not running anymore,” Karina said, her voice low and steady.

Y/N smiled, her chest full of warmth. “I think I’m finally learning how to stay.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N realized that maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of something real.

That week, everything between them shifted. It wasn’t an earth-shattering change, but it was enough to make Y/N feel like the ground was slightly less shaky under her feet. They spoke more, spent more time together, even if it was in small ways—Karina waiting for Y/N outside her next practice, or sitting with her at lunch, not really talking much, just existing in the same space.

There was something comforting about it.

But there was still a distance—an invisible line that neither of them had crossed. They didn’t talk about the kiss, not really. It was as though it had been a fleeting moment in time, one that neither of them had fully processed yet. But there was an unspoken understanding between them. They were both scared of what this might become. Neither of them had the answers.

And then, one Thursday afternoon, everything changed.

Y/N had just finished up her last class of the day, exhausted from the week’s grueling practices, when she received a message from Karina.

Karina: Meet me at the bench by the field? I want to talk.

Y/N hesitated, feeling that familiar flutter in her chest. She texted back quickly.

Y/N: Sure. Be there in 10.

The bench by the field was their unofficial meeting spot. It had become a place where, no matter how chaotic their days were, they could sit and talk without interruption. Y/N walked toward it, her sneakers scuffing against the pavement, heart pounding a little faster with every step.

When she arrived, Karina was already there, sitting with her legs crossed, looking at her phone. She looked up when Y/N approached, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“Hey,” Karina said, voice casual, but there was a nervousness underneath, something Y/N hadn’t expected.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, her throat suddenly dry. “What’s up?”

Karina took a deep breath, setting her phone down on the bench next to her. “I’ve been thinking a lot, actually,” she began, her eyes meeting Y/N’s with surprising seriousness. “About… everything. About us. And what happens next.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

Karina hesitated before speaking, the words coming slowly. “I’m not good at this,” she admitted. “I’ve spent so much of my life pretending, controlling everything around me, and now… I don’t know what to do with this. With you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at her honesty. She could see the vulnerability in Karina’s eyes, the same vulnerability she had always kept hidden beneath layers of confidence and charm. It made her want to reach out, to reassure her.

“Karina, I don’t know what to do either,” Y/N said quietly, her voice steady. “I’m just trying to figure it out, too.”

Karina looked down, biting her lip. When she looked back up, there was something different in her gaze—something softer, but more determined. “I don’t want to keep pretending. I don’t want us to be some weird, complicated… whatever this is. I want to figure it out. I want to take it slow, but I want to be real with you.”

Y/N felt her heart skip in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. This was it—the moment they had both been avoiding.

“I want that, too,” Y/N said, the words coming easily. “I don’t want to keep pretending either.”

For a long moment, they just sat there, the space between them feeling different. It wasn’t heavy anymore, just… open. Like they were both standing on the edge of something, unsure but ready.

And in that moment, Y/N realized that, no matter how slow they took it, no matter how many walls they had to break down, she wanted to be there. With Karina. She was finally ready to figure it out.

Together.

[vunblr]

Discipline (Blue-collar Bucky #2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected Sex. Brat-taming (Bucky). Edging/Orgasm Denial. Power Play. Overstimulation. Spanking. A sprinkle of Degradation. Nipple play. Dub-con Elements (induced paralysis).

Summary: Bucky made the rules, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t break them. And when he does, she’s more than ready to make him pay for it.

Word Count: 5.7k.

note: I just had to do this. Out of all my versions of Bucky, this is the only one who deserved it -so far-.

Also, I know it's unlikely that a simple taser could paralyze him, but come on, play along.

Bucky never planned on coming back after that first time.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, a simple, unspoken exchange that neither of them would dwell on. He’d walked into the bakery to pick up the crew’s lunch, and by the time he walked out, his hands weren’t the only things covered in flour. He figured that was it. A lapse in judgment. A moment of weakness.

And yet, here he was. Again.

The scent of fresh bread and warm sugar wrapped around him as soon as he stepped inside. The bell above the door chimed, and he saw her glance up from behind the counter. He didn’t miss the way her lips parted slightly when she recognized him, how her breath hitched in that barely perceptible way that made his cock twitch. She recovered quickly, though, offering him a polite, almost indifferent smile, like she wasn’t squeezing her thighs together under that frilly apron, like she hadn’t begged him to fuck her in the back room not even a week ago.

He smirked.

He sauntered toward the counter, tossing his gloves onto the surface with a lazy flick of his wrist. His vibranium fingers tapped against the display case absently as he pretended to glance over the pastries. "You know," he drawled, tilting his head, "I think I'm developing a sweet tooth."

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Is that so?"

"Mm." He nodded, dragging his tongue across the inside of his cheek. "Keep finding myself coming back here. Weird, huh?"

She snorted, shaking her head as she reached beneath the counter for the already-prepared order for the workers. "Yeah, real weird. Almost like you have a job that sends you here regularly."

He liked this little game they played, this dance where she pretended his presence didn’t affect her, and he pretended he wasn’t counting down the hours until he saw her again.

"Convenient, isn’t it?" He leaned against the counter, letting his gaze flick over her slowly, deliberately. "Guess I’ll just have to keep coming back."

She rolled her eyes, setting the bag of sandwiches in front of him with a little more force than necessary. "Try not to strain yourself."

He chuckled, reaching for the bag but making no immediate move to leave. Instead, he let his fingers graze hers in a way that wasn’t exactly an accident. She tensed, just for a second, but it was enough for him to notice. He could see it in the way her pupils dilated, in the way her chest rose ever so slightly as she inhaled.

Yeah. She wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted him to think.

Good.

He stepped back, slow and measured, still smirking as he adjusted the bag in his grip. "See you around, muffin."

And just like that, he was gone.

----

The visits kept happening.

Sure, the foreman had asked him to handle the lunch pickups a few more times, but even when he didn’t, Bucky found reasons to stop by. Maybe he needed a drink. Maybe he was suddenly interested in croissants. Maybe he was just bored.

The excuse didn’t matter. The outcome was the same.

He’d show up, she’d pretend not to notice him lingering too long, and by the end of the day, he’d have her pressed against a wall somewhere, muffling her breathy moans against his lips.

Not that he was thinking about it too hard.

It was casual. No expectations, no obligations. She got off, he got off, and they both moved on. Just as he told her, the only thing he can offer her at the moment.

So why the fuck was he in front of the community center, squinting at a stupid flyer about free baking classes?

He stood there for a long moment with his arms crossed, his jaw ticking as he stared at the neatly printed words. "Learn to bake! Free classes every Tuesday & Thursday evening! No experience necessary."

Bucky exhaled slowly through his nose, shaking his head at himself. This was stupid. And yet…

The class was across the street from the bakery. It wasn’t that much of a stretch to sign up. He’d learn something, sure. Might be useful. But more importantly, he’d get to spend more time with her. And -if he was being honest- he wasn’t entirely thrilled about the idea of some random asshole getting too comfortable around her in a class full of strangers.

He knew how men were.

And he was the only one allowed to make her squirm.

Bucky smirked, turning toward the entrance with a sense of purpose. This was going to be fun.

----

He had expected her to be even a little flustered when she saw him walk into the class on that first day. Maybe she’d stumble over her words, maybe her eyes would widen in surprise, or -if he was lucky- she’d pull him aside and demand to know what the hell he was doing there.

But she didn’t.

She looked right at him, blinked once, and simply said, “Find a seat, we’re about to start.”

That was it. No reaction. No acknowledgment of their situation. Just... professionalism.

He hated it.

Not that he wanted special treatment. But it irked him that she could turn it off so easily like she didn’t spend countless nights milking his cock, moaning his name like a prayer. It was almost insulting.

So, naturally, he made it his mission to get under her skin.

It started small. Little things.

When she instructed them to knead their dough for ten minutes, he’d lean back against the counter after five and smirk. “Pretty sure my hands are strong enough. You wanna check?” just loud enough for the class to hear, just enough to make a few people chuckle.

If she ignored him, he escalated.

In the second class, when she passed by his station to inspect his work, he pressed the pipping bag in a very suggestive way and smeared some frosting on his hands. Then, he licked a slow, deliberate stripe of buttercream from his knuckle, watching her reaction closely.

She didn’t waver. Didn’t blush. Didn’t react at all.

And that pissed him off.

By the lack of reaction, he knew she was holding back. And if she was holding back, that meant she cared. At least a little.

Which meant he had to push.

By the third class, the students were catching on to his antics. A few laughed along with him, some just shook their heads, but one particular moment set something off in her.

She demonstrated how to pipe pastry cream onto cupcakes and showed them the proper wrist movement. It should have been a simple, uneventful lesson.

Then he had to open his mouth.

“Real delicate touch there, sweetheart,” he drawled, leaning forward on the counter,  flexing his forearms against the surface. His voice was smooth, too smooth, dripping with mock appreciation. “Bet that comes in handy for other things, huh?” A few students gasped. One let out a choked laugh.

And she?

She froze. Just for a split second.

Bucky saw it, the slight tightening of her grip on the piping bag, the way her lashes fluttered, the flicker of heat behind her composed expression.

But when she turned to him, her face was perfectly calm. And that was when he knew he was in trouble. Because instead of snapping at him, instead of rolling her eyes or brushing him off like she had before, she smiled.

“Oh yeah, it’s actually really, really handy. You’ll see, eventually.”

-----

When the class ended, she just looked at him with a neutral stare. "Barnes, a word? Since you are more than capable, be a dear and help me carry the supplies to the storage room, will you?" he nodded, grabbing almost all the stuff that was already clean into a couple of boxes and followed her toward a dimly lit hallway.

When they reached their destination, the door shut behind them with a soft click, sealing them off from the rest of the world in the storage room. The scent of flour and vanilla lingered in the air, mixing with something heavier: the unspoken tension crackling between them like a live wire.

Bucky dropped the boxes onto the floor with a dull thud, dusting his hands off on his jeans before turning to face her. She was already watching him, arms crossed, chin lifted in that quiet, unreadable way that made his hackles rise.

"What do you think you’re doing in my class, Bucky?"

His smirk was instant, practiced. "Learning."

She scoffed. "Don’t give me that crap. You made it very clear what our thing was: fuck buddies, no strings, no extra credit." Her expression remained impassive, but her words hit sharper than he expected. "So why the hell did you sign up?"

Bucky bristled.

Yeah, fine. Maybe he overstepped. Maybe this was a little more than what they agreed to. But something about her tone, about the way she looked at him like he was some inconvenient disruption instead of the man who had her coming undone in his hands, made his jaw clench.

His smirk turned sharper, edged with something almost mean. "Well, let me remind you. I may not be the perfect student, but at least I’m honest about who I am." He took a step forward, and his voice dropped just enough to make the space between them feel too small. "You, on the other hand, acting all high and mighty just because you’re wearing a teacher’s badge..." His voice carried, echoing in the empty room as he loomed over her.

She narrowed her gaze, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"Oh, don’t worry," she said, voice deceptively sweet. "I’ll teach you a lesson, alright."

Bucky exhaled a quiet laugh, slow and deliberate, before tilting his head down to look at her. "A lesson, huh?" he repeated, his voice thick with mockery. "Sounds like you wanna play principal for a day." He shifted, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Well, go ahead then. Show me what you’ve got."

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. Which, if he was being honest, kind of turned him on. He could feel it, the twisted little thrill beneath his irritation. A part of him craved this, to have her undivided attention, to see what she thought would be enough to discipline him. It was a fucked-up kind of want, born from the way she brushed him off in front of her students, pretending like he was just another guy instead of the one who made her tremble behind closed doors.

But he’d be damned if he admitted it aloud.

Instead, he held her gaze, waiting. Daring her to make the next move.

He barely had time to process the sigh that left her lips before she spoke. "Just be useful and give me that bucket over there. Unlike you, I still have things to do."

His brow quirked, amused by the audacity of it, but he humored her, rolling his eyes as he turned to grab it. "Yeah, yeah, princess. Don’t get your apron in a twist."

And then was when she did it.

Years of perfect training, years of being Hydra’s fist, a ghost on the battlefield, an apex predator in human skin… and yet he didn’t see it coming.

The zap of electricity hit him hard, sharp and unforgiving against the side of his neck. His entire body locked up instantly, and his nerves short-circuited as every muscle seized at once. His breath caught in his throat, his vision blurred at the edges, and before he could do anything, before he could even curse her name, he felt himself falling.

But she didn’t just let him collapse, no. She guided him down. Lowered him carefully. Like he was something fragile, something that mattered.

It was almost insulting.

His chest hit the floor first, then his head followed, resting against the side of his arm, his vibranium fingers twitching as they struggled to respond. He wasn’t unconscious, far from it. For the first time in a long time, Bucky Barnes was vulnerable.

And she? She simply stood up, walked toward the door, and locked it. The click of the deadbolt sent a slow, crawling shiver down his spine.

Well, shit. Maybe he should have taken this class more seriously.

Bucky let out a strained growl, and his breath was uneven as he fought against the lingering paralysis in his limbs. "You backstabbing vixen," he bit out, roughly but undeniably amused beneath the indignation. "Using a fucking taser on me?"

Despite his predicament, despite the absolute betrayal of being taken down so effortlessly, his eyes still flicked to her legs as she moved. He also took in the way her skirt hugged her curves, the sway of her hips as she stalked toward him. Even flat on his stomach, and his nerves still tingling from the electric bite, he was Bucky Barnes. Cocky, stubborn, and utterly incorrigible.

That arrogance barely had time to settle in before she reached for something on the nearby shelf. A ruler.

Not one of those flimsy plastic ones. No, this was an old, thick wooden ruler, the kind meant for use on chalkboards. Or as he will discover, putting cocky super-soldiers in their place. His brow furrowed slightly as she turned back and closed the space between them, ruler in hand, with an unreadable expression.

Then, without hesitation, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and yanked them down -underwear included- leaving his pert, pale ass bare to the cool air of the storage room.

Bucky’s spine stiffened.

“What the fuck-?!” His face contorted in a mixture of outrage and mortification as his body betrayed him, heat prickling beneath his skin as the reality of his situation dawned. He tried to move, to push himself up, but the taser’s aftershocks still hummed through his system, leaving his muscles sluggish and uncooperative. The best he could do was shift slightly, but even that only served to expose himself further.

Then she spoke.

"You'll learn today, Sarge,” she mused, tapping the ruler lightly against his bare skin as a warning. “That you might be the fearsome Winter Soldier out there on the streets…” The ruler pressed against the curve of his ass, not hitting, just…resting. Teasing. “But I’m not afraid of the needy man who came in his pants not too long ago after just a little grinding."

Bucky froze.

Heat flared in his chest, creeping up his neck, and across his cheeks. She did not just say that. His mind flashed back to the bakery’s back room one afternoon, to the way she had ridden his clothed cock with desperate little whimpers, to the sticky, shameful mess he had left behind, the evidence of just how easily she had undone him.

His fingers twitched against the floor. His face burned.

“Y-you…” His voice faltered, but before he could string together something -anything- to claw back his dignity, she pressed the flat side of the ruler firmly against his skin. The sensation sent a jolt through his gut, and his stomach coiled tight with something unnameable. Humiliation? Frustration? Anticipation?

He didn’t have time to figure it out. Because then-

Smack!

A sharp, biting pain bloomed across his sensitive flesh.

He gritted his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache, curling his hands into fists as he swallowed the instinctive whimper threatening to escape his lips.

“You don’t get to talk if I don’t talk to you first.”

Smack!

“I won’t tolerate this bratty attitude inside these walls, won’t have you jeopardizing my job just because you can’t control your mouth.”

Smack!

"You think you’re so rough, huh?" She leaned in slightly, voice dropping to something syrupy sweet, something dangerous. "Newsflash, Sergeant: you're just a bratty, horny little thing who needs to be put in his place."

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Each sharp crack of the ruler on his ass sent a fresh sting through his body, each strike perfectly placed, each one burning a little hotter than the last.

His thighs tensed, his hips shifted, as if his own damn body was reaching for it, arching into it despite himself. His cock twitched against the hard wooden floor, and fuck, that was a problem.

His breath hitched, the telltale prickle of unshed tears burning at the corners of his eyes, not from pain, not really, but from how fucking overwhelmed he felt.

He didn’t know whether to curse her or beg for more.

And judging by the way she was watching him, ruler poised for another strike,

She knew it.

“Muffin, p-please…” Bucky choked out between sharp, stinging smacks, his voice raw with something he couldn’t name, something that tasted too much like desperation.

The floor beneath him was merciless, rough wood pressing into his chest, his hardened, pierced nipples rubbing harshly through the fabric of his shirt. Every jolt of sensation, every sharp crack of the ruler against his skin, fed into the unbearable pressure coiling low in his stomach. Shame and arousal twisted together like an inseparable duo. And fuck, his cock was aching, straining, leaking, trapped between his trembling body and the cold, unyielding ground.

She tutted, watching him squirm beneath her. “Since you used the magic word -please- I’ll humor you,” she cooed.

Her icy fingers, smoothed over his scorched skin, caressing the very spots she had punished. Bucky’s breath hitched. The contrast between the sting of the ruler and the gentle chill of her touch was almost unbearable, a heady mix of pain and comfort that made his thighs twitch. His body, traitorous and weak, leaned into her hand, silently begging for more.

“Are you going to behave around me?” she asked, in a sweet, knowing tone.

His throat worked around the lump forming there, as the humiliation and need kept dancing inside him. His instincts screamed at him to fight back, to reclaim his dominance, to snarl something cocky, hurtful, something that would undo the growing control she had over him.

But instead-

“…Yes, Muffin,” he whispered. It was barely a breath, barely more than a surrender. “I’ll behave. I promise.” The words felt foreign, bitter on his tongue, but they left his mouth without hesitation. And the worst part? He meant them.

Because the desire to please her, to earn her approval, to make her touch him again, was overwhelming. His cock throbbed against the wooden floor, shamefully wetting it with pre-cum.

She must have noticed, because she reached down, wrapping her fingers around his aching length with a grip that was mocking and possessive.

“What’s this?” she mused, giving his hard, neglected cock a deliberate squeeze.

Bucky’s entire body jerked at her touch, a choked, pathetic moan escaping his throat as his hips bucked helplessly into her hand.

“Are you turned on because I put your bratty ass in its place, hmm?”

His cheeks burned at the realization.

Yes. He fucking was.

The evidence was right there, dripping onto the floor for her to see.

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head in mock disapproval. “Look at the mess you’re making.” She stroked him slowly, deliberately, gripping just firm enough to keep him on edge. “I think I’ll have to teach you a lesson about taking care of the establishment’s property, Sarge.”

His still-paralyzed body betrayed him, his head thrashed side to side in a futile attempt to regain control. But she was in charge now. And she was going to prove it.

“You defied my authority in front of the class today,” she murmured, tightening her grip for emphasis. “You can fuck me stupid in whatever situationship bubble we have, but I’m going to make sure that what has been transpiring in my classroom won’t happen again” Before he could process what she meant, she moved, flipping him onto his back with just enough force to remind him of how little power he had at this moment.

He sucked in a sharp breath, as she studied him—watched the way he twitched under her gaze, helpless and humiliated. Then, with calculated ease, she reached up, pulled the elastic band from her perfectly pinned bun, and-

Tied it at the base of his cock.

Bucky’s lungs stalled, a strangled whimper tore from his throat as the tight constriction bit into his swollen flesh, cutting off the blood flow.

Fuck.

His cock pulsed violently in protest, the restriction making his entire body thrash, but she didn’t stop there. No. She lowered herself, grazing her lips through the tip of his deep red, neglected length, and kissed it. A high, desperate sound tore from Bucky’s throat before he could stop it, and his hips jerked upwards as if begging for more.

She licked slowly, teasingly, flicking her tongue along his leaking slit, gathering his shameful arousal before pulling back just enough to watch him fall apart beneath her.

“F-fuck, Muffin-“ His voice cracked, and his muscles coiled tight as the heat surged through his body, building his orgasm. But then-

Nothing.

His release, -so close, so inevitable, so fucking unbearable- never came.

His eyes shot open, and his breath ragged as the realization hit him. She was denying him, trapping him on the edge and refusing to let him fall.

She tilted her head, with mock sympathy. “What is it, Sarge?” she asked, feigning innocence. “Does the bratty little soldier need to cum?”

Bucky’s throat bobbed, his eyes wide as he struggled to form words. But before he could beg, before he could even think of it, she pressed her lips on his throbbing cockhead once more and purred. “Well… you won’t get to.”

His entire body convulsed, and his mouth fell open in a silent scream as the her words penetrated his brain.

She leaned in. “If you had paid attention in class, you’d know that it’s physically impossible until I remove the tourniquet from the piping bag.” She explained with amusement while swirling her tongue around his leaking tip.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back, and his muscles tensed violently as his cock twitched uselessly against the unrelenting knot, pulsing with the orgasm that would never come. His body shook, his skin flushed, and his desperation got humiliatingly obvious.

He whimpered, something raw and desperate spilling from his throat as his cock throbbed violently, aching under the unrelenting pressure of the tight band still restricting him. Every pulse was torture, every slick twitch a reminder of just how thoroughly trapped he was in the pleasure she refused to give him.

“I-I’ll behave, Muffin,” he pleaded, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Fuck, I’ll drop the classes if that’s what you want, just, please…”

The admission burned him, but he’d lost any sense of shame earlier, at the moment his cock started dripping all over the floor. He needed her to touch him, to finish this, to let him fall apart, and he didn’t care what it took.

But she?

She simply tilted her head, unmoved, watching him like he was some fascinating little puzzle she was still piecing together.

“I’m not convinced,” she mused, softly. “After all, you’re the fearsome Winter Soldier, and I? Just a simple baker.” She let the words linger, let them sink deep into his buzzing, over-sensitive mind, before shifting her focus -completely ignoring his tortured cock- and zeroing in on his chest.

Bucky barely had time to process before she moved, sliding the fabric of his shirt up, up, up, exposing the broad plane of his scarred torso, the dark ink of his tattoos, and-

The silver bars piercing through his already-hardened nipples.

He twitched violently at the first brush of cool air, and his breath stuttered, clenching his hands into fists against the floor.

She smiled. “I have to make a point, you know.”

Then, with agonizing precision, she dragged her fingers over one of the piercings, then letting her nails scrape just barely against the sensitive flesh.

Bucky’s entire body jerked.

“F-fuck!” The strangled cry tore from his throat, hips buckling helplessly into nothing as his cock twitched pathetically, still bound, still denied. His nipples had always been sensitive, but this, this was too much.

And she knew it.

She leaned in closer, ghosting her warm breath over his exposed chest, watching the way he trembled beneath her.

“Poor thing,” she cooed, toying with the pierced nub, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger before giving it a sharp little tug.

Bucky shouted, the noise wrecked, broken, and fuck, fuck, fuck- his cock ached so badly he could barely think. His hips lifted uselessly, but she kept her focus above, kept him on the razor’s edge of something devastatingly unsatisfying.

Then, without warning, she lowered her head and took one into her mouth. He choked on air, arching his back sharply as her hot tongue laved over the hardened bud before sucking, teasing, biting just enough to make his thighs tremble.

Every little movement sent sharp, electric pleasure bolting straight to his cock, a cock that was still trapped, still denied, still leaking helplessly onto his lower belly.

“F-fuck, Muffin-” he gasped, in a high and wrecked tone, as his chest heaved beneath her mouth when she moved to the other nipple, repeating the same exquisite torture.

His thighs shook again, his muscles locked, and his cock twitched violently… but his orgasm remained agonizingly out of reach.

She stared at his wet, tender nipples, the silver bars glistening under the dim light, and hummed in satisfaction. Then without a word she moved, straddling him, settling her weight over his hips, pressing herself down against his aching, trapped cock.

Bucky’s vision blurred at the sudden slick, teasing friction of her pussy dragging along his length, sending a jolt of pure, blinding ecstasy through his still-paralyzed body. His hips bucked involuntarily, chasing more, chasing anything, seeking relief that he already knew she wouldn’t give him.

“Ahhhn… just, please,” he moaned, voice thick with need, desperation, surrender. Then, through the haze of pleasure, something darker surfaced. His teeth clenched, “If you know what’s good for you-”

She cut him off immediately.

“Poor, defenseless Sergeant,” she mocked, in a tone drenched with sickeningly sweet amusement as she slammed herself down onto his cock, impaling herself fully in one smooth motion.

Bucky’s head snapped back, and a hoarse scream tore from his throat as her slick heat swallowed him whole, gripping him like a vice.

“See,” she continued, settling herself above him, grinding her hips to fully seat herself on his fat cock, “you don’t get to threaten me, Sarge.”

She began to ride him mercilessly, bouncing with wild abandon, taking exactly what she wanted from him.

“This is a valuable lesson,” she panted, rolling her hips as her fingers dug into his tense, flexing abdomen for leverage. “I’m going to discipline you so every time you think about disrespecting me in front of other people…” Her nails scraped down his stomach, and her pussy clenched tighter around him as she rode him harder. “…you’ll start leaking like a fucking faucet.”

Bucky’s back arched violently, his body betraying him completely as each ruthless downward thrust drove him closer, closer, closer-

“F-fuck, Doll!” he howled, his voice raw, wrecked, echoing off the walls. “Y-you’re killing me here!”

Each intense, wet slide of her inner walls around him had him spiraling, hovering right at the edge of relief, his entire body coiled so tightly he thought he might snap apart. The sight before him, her breasts bouncing despite being confined by her bra, her moans and panting filling the room, the sheer fucking confidence in the way she rode him like she owned him…

It was too much.

A pathetic, broken sound left his lips as she used him, took him, denied him.

“Shut it.” Her voice was sharp, cutting through his haze of pleasure. “I gave you tons of opportunities, and you kept pushing further and further.” She leaned forward, pressing her chest against his, and her breath came hot and heavy against his ear. “This is what you get for being horrible to me.”

Bucky whimpered, and his hips trembled beneath her, as his cock twitched violently inside her tight heat.

“I won’t take the hair tie off your cock,” she whispered, brushing her lips  against his sweat-damp skin, “you won’t get to cum.”

His eyes flew open, and his breath stuttered.

“Me, on the other hand?”

Her fingers slipped between them, finding her swollen, needy clit, and she moaned loudly, circling it in quick, precise strokes as she chased her own release. “I’m gonna cream all over your fat, bratty cock.”

Bucky’s whimpers of pleasure morphed into anguished wails as she rode him mercilessly, grinding down harder, clamping around him tighter with every roll of her hips.

“P-please,” he gasped, his voice breaking with desperation. His cock was throbbing, pulsing, aching, each squeeze of her pussy only made the pressure worse, worse, worse-

“I can’t- I’m going to- Ahh, FUCK!”

But nothing happened.

His body wanted to cum, needed to release the unbearable tension, but the hair tie held firm in place, trapping him in a state of endless, excruciating denial.

She, on the other hand…

Her rhythm stuttered, and her movements turned erratic as her moans grew desperate, and her brows knitted together tightly as she neared her climax. “So big, so fat, Sarge,” she mewled, trembling as she rode her orgasm out over him, soaking him with her slick.

Each pulse of her pussy sent pain-pleasure waves radiating through his cock, threatening to tear him apart. Bucky was shaking, thrashing, begging-

“Fuck!” he gasped, his voice wrecked beyond recognition. “Stop, I can’t-”

Despite his pleas, he couldn’t deny the way her praise sent a twisted thrill through him. It fueled his ego, his need to please her, even as his body screamed for release.

And finally, after what felt like an eternity, she lifted herself, sliding off his cock with a wet, slick sound. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, and his entire body trembled as he stared up at her. His eyes were glassy, his nipples red and swollen, and his shaft almost painfully engorged.

She looked him over critically, tapping her finger against her lips as if thinking.

Then, without warning… she spat.

A slow, deliberate string of saliva landed on the tip of his cock, glistening, mixing with his pre-cum, adding more slick to his aching, desperate length.

His gaze snapped down, staring at the wetness on his cock, with his pulse hammering. She smirked.

Then, kneeling beside him, she wrapped her fingers around his twitching, neglected cock and started jerking him off. “Do you wanna cum?” she asked, mockingly sweet.

Bucky’s breath hitched, and his hips bucked wildly into her grasp.

He nodded quickly, so quickly.

“T-thank you, Muffin,” he whispered with gratitude and lingering lust. “I promise, I’ll be good for you.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were hollow. Deep down, he knew he’d push her again. Provoke her again. And oh, when he’ll regain control of his body…

She tightened her grip, stroking him harder, faster.

“Beg for it.”

Bucky snapped.

“Please, Muffin, please let me cum!” he whined, pleaded, and sobbed. “I need it so fucking badly! I can’t take it anymore! I’ll do anything- please, PLEASE let me finish!” his body shuddered violently as he begged.

She hummed, pleased.

“Alright,” she murmured. “Since you begged so pretty.” She pulled the hair tie free. “Cum for me, Sarge.”

And the instant the band snapped free, the dam burst.

Bucky’s cock erupted, thick ropes of hot cum splattered across her hand, his stomach, and pooled messily onto the floor beneath him. His back arched violently, and every nerve in his body was ignited as an earth-shattering orgasm tore through his entire body.

A guttural roar ripped from his throat, his hips jerked wildly, and his cock twitched and pulsed nonstop as if making up for every second of denial.

“Ah, ah, ah- YES!” he howled, as his vision blurred at the edges, the intensity of his orgasm consumed. “FUCK, IT FEELS SO GOOD!”

His body convulsed, the aftershocks hitting hard, every lingering stroke of her fingers making his overstimulated cock twitch helplessly in her grasp. He had never felt so wrecked, so drained, so utterly destroyed, and yet…

He was already thinking about the next time.

She held him just a little longer, letting his final weak spurts dribble down his spent shaft before finally, slowly, releasing him.

And then -without a single word of praise or sympathy- she wiped her cum-coated hand on his shirt.

Bucky barely had the energy to glare, but his jaw clenched, his cheeks burned, and a fresh pang of humiliation mixed with the post-orgasmic bliss.

Her eyes flicked over his wrecked form. “I estimate the taser’s effect will wear off in about half an hour,” she said matter-of-factly, brushing invisible dust off her skirt as if she hadn’t just broken him into pieces. “So,” she continued, leaning down just enough to press a single teasing peck to his damp forehead, “you have plenty of time to reflect on your behavior.”

With that, she straightened, adjusting her skirt back into place, retrieving the wooden ruler from where she had left it, and placing it neatly back on the shelf. Then, without looking back, she turned on her heel and strode toward the door.

She just…left.

Bucky watched her go, helpless, spent, ruined, still lying in a pool of his own cum on the floor.

His breath was uneven, his body still tingled, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at the ceiling, floating in the limbo between debauched satisfaction and simmering frustration. But as the post-orgasmic haze began to clear, as the sting of humiliation faded beneath something darker, sharper, his thoughts slowly began to shift.

Her parting words echoed in his mind.

The taser’s effects will wear off soon.

And when they did?

Payback’s a bitch, Muffin. And she wouldn’t see it coming.

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[voxslays]

You need to do a NSFW Alphabet - Hwang In-Ho version🤫🫣

NSFW ALPHABET — HWANG IN-HO

A/N: 😏

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

 ၴႅၴ Very cuddly. In some sense, In-ho is terrified of you leaving him like his first wife. He knows he can’t handle another loss, and in a way, he feels like holding you will stop you from leaving him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

 ၴႅၴ For In-ho, he doesn’t really have a favorite body part on himself. I honestly think he could care less. Meanwhile, for you, In-ho is definitely a boobs or thighs guy.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

 ၴႅၴ I don’t think In-ho is the type to have any ‘secrets’ when it comes to intimacy. With the people he cares about and cherishes, I doubt he’d keep much from them. He seems like an honest man with you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

 ၴႅၴ Very experienced. He is an older—yet extremely attractive—man, who not only had an ex-wife (may she rest in peace), but several other partners as well.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

 ၴႅၴ Breeding press.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

 ၴႅၴ Very serious. I don’t see In-ho as the type to make jokes on the regular, and definitely not during your intimate time.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

 ၴႅၴ A professional romantic. In-ho knows just what to say to you every single time. His words are a mix of degrading and praising—but mainly praising.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

 ၴႅၴ Nope. Why would he? He has you!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

 ၴႅၴ Breeding kink. I’m not sure if these count, but he also loves creampie and cockwarming too! Possibly a lactation kink aswell…anything that involves you carrying his child.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

 ၴႅၴ The bedroom or office.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

 ၴႅၴ Fast, but sensual.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

 ၴႅၴ Absolutely not. Never. He likes to take his time with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

 ၴႅၴ Maybe…? I don’t think so though. He’s been doing it for a long time and he knows what he likes and what he doesn’t.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

 ၴႅၴ I’d say a 3-4 on a regular night, and maybe 4-5 if he’s pent up.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

 ၴႅၴ Haha…nope!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

 ၴႅၴ In-ho is usually a pretty fair man—unless you are being bratty. Then he just has to remind you of your place by edging you for what feels like hours.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

 ၴႅၴ Bro is trying to get you pregnant on a regular basis.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

 ၴႅၴ Very slowly—if at all. Like the salesman, I think In-ho is a very light sleeper, because he knows the dangers that his job brings both you and him.

[natalievoncatte]

“Wake up,” Lex snarled.

Kara’s eyelids were brutally heavy. She couldn’t force them open no matter how she tried, and everything sounded distant, as if she were listening from underwater. The loudest sound was the blood rushing in her own ears and the steady march of her pulse, like the distant rush of some animal moving across leaves.

“Whu?” she managed to choke out.

“Open. Your. Eyes.”

Kara finally managed to split them open, blinking away gummy eyelashes to take a blurred look around the room. She wasn’t sure where she was, only that they were underground. Her limbs felt leaden and her body ached. It was soon clear why.

The chunk of kryptonite in front of her glowed a paler green than normal. It was different somehow, hard to look at.

“What? What did you do?”

“I broadened my mind,” said Lex.

Kara managed to raise her head and look at him. He was stripped to the waist, a flabby early middle aged business executive, much softer than he would allow anyone to realize. He looked a little absurd, especially after all the effort he put into a public image of a physically fit, debonair, imposing man.”

“What is this?”

“That is a very special type of kryptonite. You wouldn’t believe what I had to give up to get it. It’ll be worth it in the end.”

“Where are we?”

“Oh this place,” Lex said, glancing around the stone walls, lit by flicker torches and glowing Edison lamps. “A castle, in Scotland. It was incredibly expensive, I assure you. The grounds are quite lovely, though you’ll never have a chance to see them.”

“Of course I won’t,” Kara rasped. “Can you finish your monologue without the dramatic pauses? I’m on the clock.”

Lex smirked at her.

“This castle was built on a conduit of energy- a ley line. Actually several, and they converge beneath our feet. That and the peculiar construction -sandwiched within these walls are layers of copper, cold-hammered silver, and pure selenium- make it perfect for my purposes.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Oh no no no,” Lex laughed, “not everything is about you, Supergirl. This is about Lena.”

Kara heard a muffled cry and looked around frantically.

“She’ll join us shortly,” said “Lex. I wasn’t finished.”

“You talk too much.”

“Oh indeed. You know, I’ve wondered what she sees in an alien freak like you. Why you’re so alluring to her. I’ve often wondered why you never made a move- I know you think about it. Fantasize about it.”

“Shut up,” said Kara.

“I’ve been watching, you know. Did you think I’d let you out of my sight?”

Lex walked to a table and began toying with a long dagger with a thin, blue-black blade, drawing the edge over his thumb with a wince. He let a thin bloppy stream of his blood trickle into a silver chalice on the table before staunching the bleeding with a towel.

He turned to Kara sharply, holding the dagger.

“Know what?”

“Your little secret? Or should I say, your big secret?”

“I haven’t told her.”

He stopped and regarded her with a smile.

“I don’t mean your real name, Kara,” Lex chuckled. “I mean the other secret, you moron. The one that made you switch from the skirt to pants.”

“What? No, of course not…”

“I know what you want to do with her,” Lex said, kneeling to look Kara in the eye as the heavy chains weighed her down.

“Fuck you,” Kara spat.

“Oh dear me no, I don’t play catcher. Anyway, as I was saying, I think I know what she sees in you. Turns out that rutting with inhuman monsters is in my half sister’s blood. On her mother’s side, obviously. Someone in the deep end of my dear sister’s gene pool interbred with one of the fair folk. The kindly ones. The fey.”

“The what?”

Lex lashed out with the knife and a hot red sting slashed Kara’s cheek. To her shock she felt blood running down her jawline and chin. Lex let it drop into the chalice, mingling with his own, then stood up.”

“Bring her!” he shouted. “Otis you oaf, bring her in.”

Kara’s attention snapped to the far end of the room. Otis Graves shoved Lena into the room. Kara knew it was her even with a black bag over her head. Lena was barefoot and bruised, her blazer and skirt torn from putting up a fight.

There was a thin chain of dark metal looped lazily around her neck.

“Once I learned about this, I did what I always do,” said Lex. “I decided to master my circumstances. I studied, I learned, I applied what I’d researched.”

He turned back to Kara, and as her vision cleared, she saw that Lex was drawn and haggard, thinner than she remembered.

“It took me almost two years to prepare this ritual. I have walked trails blazed by gods. I had to beg, borrow, and steal to piece together the forbidden lore I need. I even had to strike treaties with the pit.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” said Kara.

“Lex,” Lena panted through her mask. “Don’t do this. Let her go. Please.”

Lex barked out a sharp laugh. “Let her go? Come on, sis. That’s Kara’s line.”

Lena let out a sharp gasp, visibly tensing.

“Kara?”

“It’s me, Lee.”

“Lee?” said Lex. “You hate that nickname.”

“Not from her,” Lena said softly.

“Lena, I don’t know what crazy nonsense he’s talking but I will get us out of this. He has some kind of-“

Kara was cut off as Lex kicked her hard in the belly, driving the toe of his shoe up under her ribs. The world exploded in pain and Kara doubled over, almost retching in agony.

“As much as I’d like to spend the rest of the day making you feel pain, we’re on the clock. I have power to acquire, a world to master, and a deal with a devil to weasel out of.”

“Lex,” said Lena. “You didn’t.”

“I did. Promised my immortal soul upon death, but alas, I’m never going to die. Otis, get her in place.

Kara strained at her chains as the big oaf wrenched Lena around and bound her hands behind her back with ancient looking iron manacles.

“The iron keeps her from trying any tricks,” Lex explained.

Kara was tired of his bullshit. The only thing that mattered was Lena’s shocked cry of agony when Otis forced her to her knees on the stone floor, followed by the whimper as he yanked the bag from her head. Her right eye was swollen almost shut and she had a split lip.

Incandescent rage boiled in Kara’s chest with the fury of a newborn star. If not for the strange kryptonite sapping her powers, Otis Graves would burn, screaming in agony in the terrible wrath of a Kryptonian’s gaze.

He hurt her. He hurt her Lena.

“You know how this is going to end, Lex.”

He was leafing through the pages of a heavy book on his work table.

“Out, Otis.”

Graves withdrew, smirking at Lena. She turned to Kara, eyes soft with emotion.

“Not often we get kidnapped together.”

“I’d rather have had a movie night.”

“Ugh, can you two please save the tearful love confession? I’m gagging.”

“Why didn’t you ever ask me out?” said Lena.

“I’m stupid,” Kara sighed. “I thought about it. I was scared. I thought… I don’t know.”

Lex rolled his eyes. “Danvers, are you really going to pretend you didn’t know that my sister is a rug muncher? It’s the worst kept secret in the Luthor family history. Throwing her into a girl’s boarding school was like throwing a pig in shit, but then Mother has always been a dolt.”

Kara ground her teeth. “Don’t talk about Lena like that.”

“Or?” said Lex. “Alright, look. I’d love to spend a bit longer taunting you, but I’m busy. The forms have been observed. I monologue, we taunt each other, I kill you.”

“No,” said Kara. “You try and fail and I drag you to jail.”

“Not this time,” said Lex.

“No, not this time,” said Kara. “This time I break my biggest rule.”

Lena stared at her across the room, eyes wide.

“I’m not going to let him hurt you anymore.”

“How noble,” Lex deadpanned. “Hold still, sis.”

He grabbed her by the chin, dabbing a thin paintbrush in the chalice, and began to paint lines and sworls on Lena’s face in their mingled blood. When Lena tried to turn, her let go and backhanded her across the face. Lena almost fell to the floor and let out a pained yelp.

Kara pulled hard at the chains but the held fast. She felt like she was weighed down by an invisible force, unseen hands digging spectral fingers into her arms and legs.

“It’s interesting,” said Lex. “Everyone assumes you have one weakness- Kryptonite. But you’re just as vulnerable to magic as anyone else.”

“What?” said Kara. “You’re insane.”

“I don’t think he is,” Lena said, wincing at her split lip. “When I was a girl, there were rumors that my mother was a witch, and she did some… some things I didn’t understand.”

Lex smirked.

He propped the book open on his forearm, making a final study of the markings he’d drawn on Lena’s face.

“You know the most annoying part?” said Lex. “It’s that you can’t just do magic. The power source, as it were, has to come from somewhere. The most common place to get it is from ancestor fucking a dragon or a god damned fairy or some other absurd thing. I don’t have the spark. But she does.”

He looked at Lena, a feral, hungry glint in his eye, and began to chant, reading from the book.

Kara flinched. The words sounded wrong, twisting and turning unnaturally as they fell from Lex’s mouth. The air grew heavy, as if a coat of soot and oil fell over everything, and a hideous stink of rotten eggs filled the room.

Lena cried out, eyes flying open in shock. She tried to say something but choked.

Kara lunged, desperate to free herself, to break the chains, to reach Lena and spirit her to safety the way she always did, but she was helpless. A terrible certainty of her own death fell over her like an ebon cloak, and she felt a distinct certainty of things, other presences in the room just out of sight.

“Lex,” Lena pleaded, “Stop. Please. You’re hurting me.”

Kara let out a sharp snarl, a ripping sound of threat from deep in her chest.

Lex briefly broke his chant. “Yes, the ritual will most likely kill you. No great loss. The world has enough degenerates and alien-fuckers as it is.”

He resumed his chanting, and Kara felt a sudden wave of agony through her body. She tried to scream but no sound came. It was as if a giant’s hands had shoved into her chest and begun crushing her lungs from the inside. She fell boneless to the floor, writhing in pain.

Lena lay on her side, tears streaming from her eyes, tears that tinged pink with blood as she jerked and convulsed, teeth clenched.

And Lex… Lex changed.

There was a soft crack and the rhythm of his chanting changed. He grew taller before Kara’s eyes. His arms swelled, corded with new muscle as his paunchy belly flattened and tightened into a washboard.

“That’s right,” he snarled. “Soon it all be mine. All your beautiful power mine. I will be powered by the sun! Lex Luthor will fly faster than a speeding bullet, bend steel in his bare hands! I will be a god, and when I am I will finally lead humanity into its glory! My glory! Lex Luthor, the Man of Tomorrow! Invincible! Immortal!”

Kara could feel herself fading, the world irising shut as death stalked her from below, a hungry predator always waiting just beyond the edges of her gaze. Her hands were pale, the flesh drawn so tight to the bone that they seemed barely more than skeletal. Her hands actually slipped free of her manacles, but she might as well be buried beneath a mountain for all the good it did. She had no strength to move.

Yet she could speak.

“Lena,” Kara rasped out, “Lena!”

Lena forced her eyes open.

“You have to fight him.”

“I can’t,” said Lena, her face shattering into a mask of agony. “It hurts so much, and I’m too weak.”

“You are not weak!” Kara spat, with all her remaining strength. “You’re beautiful and powerful and… magical. You’re my Lena.”

“Kara,” Lena gasped.

“I love you.”

“Kara!”

“I love you, Lena. Please, I need you to know.”

“I know,” Lena choked out, pinching her eyes shut, tears of blood streaking her face as she clenched her jaw in tooth shattering pain. “Oh God I know, Kara. I love you too. I love you so much it hurts. I just wish we had more time. I…”

She went silent, and still. Kara stared at her for an awful endless moment of white hot pain as something ate her alive from the heart out, yet that pain paled next to the agony of watching Lena suffer. She was almost glad that death would take her first, but prayed to the god of a distant broken world that Lena wouldn’t have to see it. She felt a dim hope that somewhere past this, in fields beneath a crimson star there would be a place for them, that Rao would find a way to bring Lena home to Him, that He would not let her wander in the dark, forever lost.

Kara had fucking earned a little grace.

Then, Lena’s eyes shot open, ablaze with stunning, brilliant light. She wrenched from the floor with a sudden strength and arched her back, screaming.

Lex looked down at her as the iron manacles fell ruined from her wrists and she yanked the chain from her throat, her hands wreathed in otherworldly light as the links snapped.

Slowly she rose to her feet, eyes still blazing.

Lena screamed, a banshee wail that shook the walls around them, and her cry seemed to swallow Lex’s frantic chanting, opening vast shark-toothed jaws of music that gouged into his feeble warbling and bit down, devouring it.

He stumbled back, frantically turning pages in his book.

“Fuck you,” Lena snarled, and the words carried an intensity, a physical force just as Lex’s had, but where his sharp wrenching syllables turned the air somehow profane and tainted it with invisible filth, Lena’s burned, not as fire but as daylight burns, clear and bright to chase dark crawling things back into their hateful shadows.

With a soft cracking sound, the strange chunk of tainted kryptonite turned a dull gray.

It had become lead.

Kara planted her palms and pushed up to kneel. She could feel, see the vitality coming back to her. Her frame expanded from skeletal and deathly thin to its normal self, slabs of lithe muscle bunching beneath her colors and crest as she stood and watched Lex shrinking.

Lena sagged, suddenly winded, grabbing the table for support.

Lex silent and stunned, wasted no opportunity. He snatched the dagger from where it lay and raised it high to slam down into Lena’s back.

It clattered to the floor instead as Kara effortlessly grabbed his wrist, feeling her thumb drive between the bones of his forearm.

“I,” Kara said, “am tired of you hurting us.”

So she hurt him.

Lex screamed in agony as Kara closed her hand, pulling every bone in his forearm. She reached out and seized his throat, savoring the hate and terror in his eyes as red sun fire blazed in her own, savage loathing kindling a blaze in her chest. This ended now.

A soft hand fell on her shoulder.

“Kara,” said Lena. “Don’t.”

“Lena,” she rasped.

“Not for him. For you. He made his own grave. Let him lie in it.”

Kara turned and looked at her. There was still blood on her face- the mingled painted lines smeared with her own. She looked so small and fragile and soft and the furnace that burned in Kara was doused, and suddenly nothing mattered but making her safe.

Kara let the sniveling coward go and brought Lena into her embrace, sheltering her with all her might.

“We have to go. Now. Trust me.”

“Yes,” Lex gasped, “time to leave, take me to jail now.”

Kara looked down. Lena’s eyes hardened.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Kara raised her foot and brought out down, snapping Lex’s ankle in a single sharp motion. He screamed and collapsed, crawling for the door.

Kara heaved Lena into a bridal carry and walked past him.

“Supergirl!” Lex bellowed, “you can’t leave me here! You don’t know what’s coming.”

“I don’t care,” said Kara.

She shoved the door open with her foot, then turned to close it the same way. Lena clung to her, arms around her neck.

“Lock him in.”

Kara did more than that. A quick flicker of heat vision welded the heavy metal door closed. Lex screamed and pleaded from the other side.

Something was coming. Something ancient.

“Please. Get us out of here,” said Lena.

A crimson light blazed behind the door, bleeding through its edges. The stink of rotten eggs filled the corridor. Kara turned and carried Lena away.

“Wait!” Lex called. “Supergirl! You can’t leave me here!”

Kara ignored him and kept walking.

“No,” Lex was screaming, “no, wait, we can make another deal, a trade, there has to be something I can-“

“You tried to trick me,” something said in a voice like a hot knife dragged across a tombstone.

“What is that?” Kara whispered.

“I don’t know and I don’t want to,” said Lena. “Get us out of here. Take me home, Kara.”

Kara touched a soft kiss to her forehead, a promise of more and deeper to come. Once they were outside, Kara used the comm bead in her ear, and called Alex, told her what happened.

“Let’s go home, baby,” said Kara.

A year later, she flew back to the castle.

It was secluded, somehow forgotten, a tumbledown ruin. Heart thudding in her chest with uncharacteristic fear, she walked down the corridor into the underground and slammed the door open with her first.

No remains. No body. There was only one sign that Lex had been there at all. Scratches across the store floor, one with a fingernail still stuck in it.

As if he had been dragged.

Kara rocketed outside at supersonic speed, desperate to feel the sun and cleanse the oily, tainted feeling in that room. A cold, lingering dread welled inside her, twisting deep in her belly.

She had to be sure.

Part of her regretted what she did to the old ruin. It was history. Only part of her.

The rest of her flew fifth thousand feet up and came straight back down fast enough to destroy the stonework in massive shockwave that dug a crater where the building had stood seconds before. She then turned her heat vision on it, burning and melting. By the time she was done, by the time it no longer felt like she was being watched, as if she might be followed, there was nothing left but a smoldering, glassy crater. It looked like someone had dropped an atomic bomb.

It still felt like something slithered beneath, but whatever it was, it would not follow and that was all that mattered.

Kara flew. She had places to be. She’d already planned a date night with Lena.

Alex was watching their baby.

[0xstarzx0]

NDA: Sleeping with Rafe was easy until you caught feelings. Unfortunately, you were married with kids, but let’s be honest, that was never going to stop the great Rafe Cameron.

+18

People would never understand.

William was a good man—wealthy, kind, affectionate. He had given you beautiful children, cherished you, loved you in every way a husband was supposed to.

So why did you cheat on him?

William was gentle, patient, and attentive, but you weren’t in love with him. The only reason you stayed was for your children, to give them the stability of a present, devoted father.

The first time you and Rafe slept together, it was a mistake. A drunken night that spiraled into something reckless, something forbidden.

It just happened.

You weren’t happy—not romantically, not sexually, not truly—and Rafe was the only man who made you feel like more than just a wife, more than just a mother. With him, you felt alive.

Yet, you had sworn to yourself that it wouldn’t happen again.

And now, here you were, standing in his dimly lit living room at 9 PM. Just the two of you.

“Rafe, I don’t want this anymore.”

He turned to face you, eyebrows knitting together as he poured himself a glass of whiskey.

“Did I miss something?” he asked, his voice calm, indifferent, like this conversation was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

You stepped in front of him, refusing to be intimidated by his height, by his presence.

“I love my husband. I love my kids. I have everything I could ever want,” you argued, trying to convince him—trying to convince yourself.

Rafe took a slow sip of his drink, eyes locked on you, unreadable. Then, he simply nodded.

“Alright.”

That was it. No fight, no plea. Just alright.

Your heart skipped a beat. That wasn’t what you expected. You had prepared for an argument, for persuasion, for the inevitable temptation. But not this.

“Okay,” you whispered, grabbing your things.

And then, just as you turned, he caught your wrist. Before you could react, his lips brushed against yours—just for a second. A mere ghost of a kiss.

You froze.

He pulled away, waiting. Watching.

And then, before you could think, before you could stop yourself—you crashed into him.

Rafe manages to stabilize you in a few seconds, his lips moving desperately against yours, damn it, is this what they call "love"?

He buries his head in your neck and you moan, his hands gripping your ass tightly, his breathing heavy against your neck.

"You're going to leave your husband and come spend the rest of your days with me." He carries you to his sofa and pushes you against it, you pull him in by tugging on the collar of his shirt.

"And you know why you'll do it?" He tears your tights, eliciting a loud moan from you. "Because you're completely crazy about me."

"Go to hell Rafe!" You moan, he laughs and pulls your panties to the side without warning, he thrusts deep inside you. You feel your body shake with pleasure. He curses under his breath as he pulls your legs over his shoulders, deepening the angle. "Say it," he growls, his hands digging into your thighs. "Say you'll leave him." You whimper, your nails clawing at his back. "N-no,"

He pushes harder, your pussy feeling so good around him—it's better than it was with William. "Fuck, you're so tight," he grunts, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. You gasp, your head tossing side to side on the sofa.

He leans down, his teeth grazing your neck. "You're so fuck up f’me, whether you admit it or not," he hisses. "Your body knows it, even if your heart doesn't." His fingers find your clit, circling it firmly. "Come on, baby. Give in."

Tears stream down your face from overwhelming pleasure as Rafe chuckles. He laughs because he knows that William has never had you like this—completely at his mercy, your body surrendering utterly. 

"That's it, sweetheart," Rafe purrs, feeling your pussy clench tightly around him.

"God!.." he groans, his pace quickening. "You make me lose control." He swallows hard, then asks darkly, "Are you on the pill?" You freeze beneath him. " Answer me," he growls, "Before I put a baby in you."

you bite your lip hard and scratch his back.

"Say it," he demands, his hands gripping your hips possessively. "Say you don't care if I knock you up right now." He pulls out slightly, teasing his tip at your entrance. "Say it, and I'll do it."

"I don't care if you put a baby in me Rafe Cameron. I just want you to do it." You look Rafe straight in the eyes, there's no ounce of doubt or hesitation, only love, love that has been repressed for far too long.

His eyes darken dangerously at your words, raw emotion flashing across his face. "Fuck," he mutters, then drives into you hard and deep, each thrust deliberate. "You realize what you're saying? That you want..." He breaks off, his voice becoming thick. "My baby."

"Say it again," he demands roughly, his body shaking above you. "That you'll carry my baby, that you'll be the mother of my children." He pants, his face contorted with emotion.

You remove your legs from his shoulders and cradle his face in your soft hands. "I'll be the mother of your children." You smile, your eyes starting to fill with tears. "I'll be the mother of your children." Rafe laughs, a hint of sincerity, and kisses you deeply.

For the first time in his life, Rafe felt like he had found the right one—and he had no intention of ruining it.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 5

Chapters 5 and 6 are done! Yippy! Chapter 7 is going to be a slice-of-life type of thing because I don't want to time skip straight to the bats finding out quite yet. Also, did y'all know that Gothamite also means an inhabitant of NYC? Whenever you see me use that just know I mean an inhabitant of Gotham City.

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 5 >>next(TBC)

NYC was hell on earth and that’s coming from a Gothamite.

Sure- did a rogue attack 3 times a week, maybe more, in Gotham? Yes. But NYC felt lawless and without rhyme or reason. Every day something was happening, every day a building went down if it wasn’t a whole street, every day a hero would almost run you over while you were just trying to chill in the air.

At least on the third Tuesday of every month, there would be no robberies in Gotham, at least if something happened to the city and Batman wasn’t around the rogues would keep the people safe. Here it seemed to be everyone for themselves, and the rent was heinous for the type of bullshit that went down, in Gotham it was pennies compared to NYC. The constant feeling of being watched didn’t help either it irked at the back of your head every time, only stopping in the safety of your home.

The shadows stopped talking to you as well, you could barely hear them anymore, your theory being that NYC was simply too bright compared to G. City. Visiting Midnight City helped keep you connected to them, it felt somewhat like Gotham. But Darkwing felt too much like Batman, making you paranoid, so you never truly lingered for long. You missed them. Missed the rogues, the garden, the kids, the manor. The house really grew on you.

But you liked it. You liked the chaos, the myriads of heroes, the aliens that kept trying to conquer the world, and you enjoyed how the heroes knew that sometimes the best course of action was to kill the threat.

You were still bitter about how Joker took Jason from you, about how Mr. Wayne hid that from you, so seeing Omni-Man, War Woman, Immortal and so many more deal with clearly deadly threats as they should be dealt with felt nice. They would never let Joker live, the clown wouldn’t have millions of kills, and he wouldn’t have gotten Barbara and Jason.

Of course, you’ve heard rumors that while Batman doesn’t go out of his way to kill, he lets others do the dirty work, everyone in Gotham has. You’ve seen Lois Lane cover some of the bigger, worldwide alien attacks that the Justice League helped with. Batman didn’t seem to have a problem with killing or seriously injuring them. He was either a hypocrite or afraid to lose it once he did kill a human, either way, both were bad options.

So, you put up with it, found yourself a studio apartment owned by an old woman, overlooking the fact that the whole building may have been owned by a gang, and kept on doing your online schooling. Kept on making art, donating to charities and shelters, found yourself a nice job pet sitting, and even did some volunteering at local shelters when they needed an extra hand.

You got better at flying, getting so fast you could go around the globe in 5 minutes. It was fun visiting the places you heard Bruce talk about to the others, Algeria, Argentina, Australia, Austria, Bangladesh, Belgium, Brazil, and China. You were planning on visiting every city in every country with this newfound freedom. It was fun, and Bruce didn’t even notice as you used more and more of your allowance.

Sadly, your moments of peace and happiness always seemed to last for a short while. You were happy with just flying, it opened opportunities you didn’t even think were possible, but you’ve never seen a meta whose ability was only flying, not if they didn’t have wings, and maybe paranoia settled in.

Were you just dreaming? Was this just a really long dream? Were you dead? Would you go off the rocket when or if other powers showed up? What will you do when they do show up? You wanted to be an artist, to paint until your heart gave away. But if people needed help you wouldn’t be able to stay on the sidelines knowing you’re more than capable of lending a hand.

You knew you already had some strength power active- you wouldn’t be able to fly that fast without your skin peeling right off. Maybe it just made your skin stronger? Well, that’s how you ended up in a forest, or deep in a park- you weren’t sure, you flew without thinking, your thoughts and theories eating at you until you had to act.

The tree in front of you had an average-sized trunk, maybe on the smaller side compared to the others around you. You’ve been staring at it for a bit, debating if this really was something you wanted to see if you could do. “Ignorance is bliss” flew through your mind, but the full sayings of these quotes always rang at the back of your head. “Where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise”.

Your fist met the trunk with a small thud, you didn’t feel any pain, nothing was happening, so you bit your lip, closed your eyes tight, and punched the trunk harder. You heard the wood splinter before you saw it, your eyes flying wide open at the sound. The trunk had a dent in the shape of your fist, not quite all the way through. You still felt nothing.

Maybe you shouldn’t have tested out your strength this much, Ivy would have been quite mad at you for destroying so many trees, each one thicker than the last, but you were simply curious and made sure to clean up after yourself. It was weird. If you hit fast enough your arm could go right through quite cleanly, but there was no pain, none at all… Is this how Superman felt?

In your excitement, you didn’t even notice the figure above you, watching your every move or the flying orb camera doing the same. And while the figure kept watching you grow in your powers for a year, watched you help around in small ways, mostly clean up and small muggings, the orb stopped after a few months.

It took a while for you to be able to lift as much as you could now, for the first half of your newfound power you had to break stuff like big rubble down before you could lift them, you still found it amusing how Red Flash stayed quiet about you, but how could he not when you shushed him the first time he tried to tell the others. The man wasn’t about to fuck with Cecil’s worker, even though he might have said a word or two to the old man’s face about child labor.

Despite all that you truly felt happy, fulfilled even. You were doing art, helping people, and despite still working on having friends during the day part, you were glad you left. You were on cloud nine, well, literally more than figuratively. You were flying above the clouds, basking in the sun. Nothing could cloud your life anymore.

…Where did the sun go? Your eyes opened, blissful expression turning into a frown as your eyes caught a dark figure flying just a few paces over you, its eyes glowing, a wide grin showing a full set of teeth, cape billowing behind it.

What. The. Fuck.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion

hope I didn't forget anyone 😬

[allfearstofallto]

"Aren't you Going to Finish That Thought?"

Wanderer x Fem! Reader

Pure fluff, hurt and comfort

AN: Super super self indulgent fic. Just something I needed as a D1 yapper

“And when you dig the hole, it has to be very shallow, because the roots continue to grow down faster than-” you stop yourself, a hint of embarrassment on your face. You're talking too much. Again. Blabbing on and on about something or other that no one cares about, filling the silence with your annoying voice.

You always talked to Wanderer. You'd seek him out wherever he went just to sit and chat with him. Although, chatting meant he'd actually respond, he never said much back. Instead he'd have his nose in his book or his eyes focused on what was happening out the window, typically it was the sunset. You felt your heart sink at the realization. He was ignoring you. Telling you that you were bothering him with actions rather than words.

“You talk so much,”

“Don't you ever shut up?”

“Not everything needs to be said,”

You mentally cringed at the words that suddenly filled your brain. All things that'd been said to you, all things that people you considered friends or loved ones thought about you. They could say it as a quip or with a playful smile on their faces, but you know that every joke has a bit of truth behind it. They meant it, even subconsciously. And maybe he felt the same way.

You silenced yourself. That familiar lump was forming in your throat, the one that meant you'd possibly cry if prodded the wrong way.

“Aren't you going to finish that thought?” Wanderer had finally looked up from his book. Pretty blue eyes now focused on you with a questioning gaze. His words startled you, seeing as he only spoke so often. You assumed he was being sarcastic again, but he wasn't wearing that smirk that he always did when saying something snarky. He truly meant it.

You shrugged your shoulders, trying to give him a weak smile that wasn't very convincing at downplaying your sudden lack of confidence, “I just- thought I was talking too much,” words spoken with a bit of sorrow behind them. Stammered out forcefully while you still resisted the urge to cry.

“Who said that?” His question had a bit of a bite behind it. A touch of anger in it. For a moment, you feared that he was angry at you, but his eyes had a certain softness to them when he looked upon your face.

“I don't know. Everyone?”

He clicked his tongue, “Am I everyone?”

“I don't-”

Wanderer cut you off before you could finish a self deprecating thought, “I was listening. I'm always listening. Don't you think I would've told you if you were bothering me?”

“I thought you were just being nice?”

“When have I ever been nice?” he asked, but there was a softness to his voice that you realized only you had ever got the pleasure of hearing. Whenever you eavesdropped in him speaking to anyone else, he sounded annoyed, furious even that they'd dare approach him. But never with you.

His question makes your heart beat quicken and your eyes foggy with tears. You shrugged, shook your head, but didn't say anything else. You couldn't. Unless he wanted to console you as you sobbed.

“Now finish what you were saying. About the flowers, right?” Wanderer tried to mask that softness in his voice by sounding butter again, but you could hear through it.

With a laugh, you started up again, watching as his eyes fell onto his book. If you looked closely, really really closely, you could see a little smile playing at his lips.

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

you know this post seems a lil sad to me, cause when I was stuck in a corn maze I only managed to get out because there was an enthusiastic effort amongst everyone in the corn maze to help one another get through it, pointing the way and offering hints and asking questions When I was in the dmv so miserably early the doors hadn't even opened yet people were bringing over big buckets for others to sit on, and when inside there were so many random acts of kindness between the individuals there and silly little interactions that by the time I finally got my driving test done there was an air of kinship in the air and I only got out so quickly because another person realized she'd gotten something wrong paperwork wise and gave me her place in line

And when I hurt my wrist as a kid everyone kindly held open doors for me at every turn When my mom and I got stranded in the middle of no where thanks to a car issue like 5 different people stopped by our car and asked if we were okay, offered to help, (we were waiting for the repair guys or something like that) and warned us "its a bad area so be careful" and yet not once did anything bad happen at all, every person we saw was kind and worried for our wellbeing...(which while that does make me wonder what on earth they were trying to warn us about it did give me the impression at the time that perhaps they just all had some sort of beef with other, but i was a little kid so I wouldnt really know, it seemed to me like it was in fact a much nicer than average area)

When tragedy strikes don't people rush out to help?

When there's a hurricaine, a fire, a tornado, an earthquake, don't neighbors rush to help and protect one another? don't we try to save each other? don't we express heartache and rage when the first response ISINT to help? Why is it that our first response is rage? grief? heartbreak? when the first response to a bad situation is to take advantage of it or to abandon those suffering, or worse yet, to yank them back down?

Because we are social animals Crabs dont likely understand why they cant get out or even that theyre forcing the other crabs to stay in the bucket when they yank and pull, they just think its a way to pull themselves up, they dont have enough going on to grasp how physics works or to be cruel and want others to suffer with them.

Selfishness does exist, but it's not the rule

it's the exception, and we shout and point when it happens.

Of course we notice, because kindness is the rule

do we know the names of every single individual to ever save another human life? let alone to save thousands? Have we memorized the names of heroes who eradicated disease or created safety guidelines or fought for rights and for goodness in this world? Is it not the names of those we revile that we focus on most

telling our children of their crimes?

Why don't we focus more on every hero? Because theres just too many of them, because being a good decent human being is the norm.

Maybe not perfect, maybe even a pretty messed up human being but with a good heart, goodness knows I know a lot of people who while you might not say "thats a great person" you'd also never call them cruel or evil, just that they could use some help or deserve better lives.

I truly believe humans for the most part are good, and I say this without denying the evil exists. I am vividly, horrifically aware of the darkness in this world, but I refuse to let that define our race because to do so would be to excuse those who chose to do the wrong thing.

I believe humans are above all else, defined by the fact we can chose right or wrong. I dont want those who do evil to be the ones who represent us, in my mind or in anyone elses mind

They are the exception to a kinder rule.

this is just a me ramble though , my opinion thats not more valuable than anyone elses, just one I felt like sharing, because maybe it will bring someone some relief...

I used to feel guilty as a child for being human, for being something as horrible as that, and I know maybe some others did or do too

But remember please like mewtwo once said, its not the circumstances of your birth which defines you, but what you do with the gift of life.

we are not evil we are capable of it.

we are not good

we are capable of it.

and we will do both in our lives.

but I have been pleasantly surprised now that I'm older and know more about the world to see that in fact the world isint just like in history books overflowing with grief and pain, and convinced that since everyone said children were naive and unaware, that it must be worse than I could ever imagine

but in fact the world is full of the mundane, and every day normal people go about their lives and chose to be decent to one another and often do much more kindness than we will ever know.

I'm glad we arent crabs in a bucket

i love you all

people are like "if you put crabs in a bucket they can't escape because they keep pulling each other back in, this is called crab bucket mentality and describes why people don't help each other" and never acknowledge that crabs do not naturally occur in buckets, a human with more power had to put them there

[rhiannonsknife]

okay, but... jackie taylor with reader! princess treatment? reader just loves sitting on her lap while wearing a cute short skirt and pretty ass, having jackie's arms around her, giving her a kiss with lip gloss when she wins a game, looking at her with big eyes and a cute pout ... just princess treatment?

i really love your work!

god….jackie taylor princess treatment, save me!! save me jackie taylor princess treatment!!

jackie taylor lives to spoil you.

she’s got an arm slung around your waist at all times, fingers resting just beneath the hem of your shirt to have a feel of your skin. she never lets you walk on the outside of the sidewalk, she opens doors for you without a second thought, and if you so much as shiver, she's already draping her varsity jacket over your shoulders, murmuring, “can't have my girl getting cold, can i?”

it’s fair to say that she is obsessed with you. and jackie doesn't even try to hide it.

it’s obvious to everyone around in the way she pulls you into her lap the second you're close enough, her arms wrapping around your waist like she owns you. she doesn't care where you are (on the bleachers after practice, at a party, even in the middle of the cafeteria if there's space) you're sitting on her, not next to her.

“you're so clingy,” you tease one afternoon, even as you settle comfortably against her, your skirt riding up just a little when you shift in her lap.

jackie’s hands squeeze your hips. “and?”

“nothing,” you say. “i like it!”

if she's not actively pulling you into her lap, she's tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear, playing with your fingers, kissing your temple just because she can. jackie even carries your bag after school, waits for you after class, and lets you steal her clothes even though she knows you only wear them so people will see.

and after a big game? there is no stopping her: even sweaty, breathless, and radiating victory, all jackie wants is you.

the second she sees you waiting for her near the sidelines, she beams, racing right over, gripping your waist, pulling you in.

jackie barely has time to catch her breath before you cup her face, press a sticky-sweet, glossy kiss to her lips, and pull back just enough to admire your work. a perfect pink layer left behind, her lips glittering with it.

"you taste like strawberries," she murmurs, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

you flush, curling further into her as the other yellowjackets begin to catch up. jackie just grins, keeping you right where you belong: wrapped up in her arms, pressed against her like she never wants to let go. (which, truthfully, she doesn’t…)

— nsfw below the cut. mdni.

okay but now i‘m thinking…jackie finger fucking you in her lap…? because, if you think about it, that also counts as princess treatment, right…?

maybe you’ve convinced her to let you do her make up or something:

at first, you’re confused as to why she would agree to this at all: jackie is definitely better at doing makeup than you, and hates when somebody messes with her face like that.

it only really dawns upon you when you’re already sitting on her lap: here you are, in the shortest little skirt, looking all cute and focused, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you reach for a brush.

no wonder jackie actually wanted this.

no wonder she’s got no sense of self control now.

her hands drift to your thighs, fingertips teasing along the hem of your skirt. just barely at first, featherlight touches that make you squirm but don't fully distract you as you reach for a brush.

but she doesn't stop there. she squeezes your thighs, her fingers pressing into soft flesh as she watches you try to ignore her.

“jackie,” you warn, not yet looking down.

jackie hums, all innocent. “hmm?”

“you’re distracting me,” you murmur, dipping the brush into the powder, trying to refocus. but, god, it’s hard when she trails her fingers up until she’s squeezing your ass.

“am i?”

you turn her chin slightly to apply the blush. “yes”

jackie, completely unbothered, presses a lingering kiss to your wrist, then the inside of it, then your palm. before you can react, she’s already leaning up, catching your lips in a kiss as well.

you sigh against her mouth, your hands sliding into her hair as the brush clatters to the floor.

as easy as that, and all your resolve is gone, replaced by arousal when jackie reaches between your legs. when she catches your eyes, tilts her head, and waits for the breathless nod before pushing your panties to the side, moaning as if she could feel actual pleasure from the way her fingers slide through your wetness.

it’s not long after that, that you find yourself propped up above jackie, most of your weight resting on your knees, one hand on the headboard, as she pounds her fingers into you. you don’t even have to do anything at all, she’s doing the work for you, wetness gushing down her arm.

“just like that,” jackie praises as the hem of your skirt bounces with each thrust. her free hand lingers on your lower back, supporting you in your current position and her face is covered in your lipgloss, chin and jaw glistening with it over a thin layer of sweat.

“come on,” she encourages, leaning back on her elbows to get a better look at you, her fingers stilling inside of your throbbing cunt.

it is up to you to take pleasure from her now.

later, you will be embarrassed by how fast you switch to riding her fingers…

[ateezscupid]

I need yungi x reader after concert smut jsjsj

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST yungi noticed you out of everyone in the crowd ♡

Yunho and Mingi lounged backstage, their energy still buzzing from the concert. The air had the scent of sweat, hairspray, and the faint smell of burnt rubber from the fire effects. Yunho leaned against the cool metal of his locker, his chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths as he tried to calm his racing heart. Mingi sat on the floor, legs stretched out, sipping water from a plastic bottle.

You came out of the storage closet with two towels, one for Yunho and one for Mingi, to help them cool down. You had been their stylist for months now, and the bond you shared had grown stronger with each performance. As you approached, you could feel the tension in the air thicken. The chemistry between the two of them was palpable, a dance of unspoken desires and playful glances.

"You guys are really fucking sweaty so here," you said, tossing them the towels with a laugh.

Yunho caught his with a grin and began wiping his forehead. "Thanks," he murmured, his eyes lingering on you for a beat longer than usual.

You forced yourself to ignore that, glancing at Mingi. "So? Was it a good performance at least?"

Mingi nodded, a tired smile on his face. "It was amazing. The crowd was wild tonight."

You couldn't help but agree. The atmosphere during their performance had been amazing. As you watched them wipe down their faces and necks, you felt a familiar stirring in your stomach. Being around these two, especially post-concert, was always a rollercoaster of emotions.

"Uh, so," you clear your throat, trying to shake off the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach, "What's the plan for the night?"

Yunho looked at you, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Well, I was thinking of a little celebration, just us." He threw his towel around his neck and stepped closer.

"I- You- Wait, us? Three?" you stuttered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as the implication of his words settled in.

Mingi chuckled, standing up and taking a step closer as well. "Yeah, just us. It's not every day we have a show like that." He wrapped the towel around his neck and took your hand, pulling you gently closer to the both of them.

Your heart was racing now, and your mind was spinning with possibilities. You had always felt a pull towards both of them, but you never thought anything would come of it. You were their stylist, after all, and crossing that professional line was risky.

"Uh, I- s-sure, yeah." You managed to squeak out, the room suddenly feeling much hotter than the post-concert heat could explain.

Mingi glanced at Yunho, then the dressing room in the back. "That dressing room is empty. How about we go in there?"

Yunho nodded in agreement, his gaze never leaving yours. You took a deep breath and allowed them to lead you into the room, the door clicking shut behind you. The space was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the flickering bulbs of the vanity mirror. The walls were plastered with posters and polaroids from past performances, creating a collage of memories.

Mingi reached out and switched on the fan, the whirring sound filling the quiet space as the cool air circulated around you. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, the anticipation building. You had fantasized about moments like this, but never dared to believe they could become a reality.

"So…w-why'd you want to be in her-"

"Stop acting dumb," Yunho said with a smirk, cutting you off. "You know why."

Mingi stepped closer, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. "We've noticed how much you care for us, how much you put into every detail of our performances."

You nodded, swallowing hard. "It's my job," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yunho took a step closer, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. "It's more than that," he murmured, his eyes searching yours. "You always give us extra attention, staying up late to fix our outfits, making sure we look perfect."

Mingi's hand slid down your arm, his fingers lightly brushing against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "We just wanted to show you how much we appreciate you," he said softly. "How much we…desire you."

"Oh my god," you exhale, your eyes darting between the two of them. Yunho's touch sends a warm jolt through your body, and you feel yourself leaning into it despite the butterflies in your stomach.

Mingi's hand moves to your waist, gently pulling you closer to him. His eyes are dark and intense, and you can feel his breath against your cheek as he whispers, "We've wanted this for a long time."

Yunho's hand slides around to the small of your back, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin as he leans in, his voice low and seductive. "We've talked about it, you know," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. "How amazing it would be."

You tried to speak but everything was bubbling in your throat, making words impossible. You felt Yunho's hand at the base of your neck, gently turning your head towards him, and before you could think, his lips were on yours. They were soft and warm, and you melted into the kiss, feeling his tongue slip in to dance with yours. His other hand slid down to your waist, pulling you closer so that your bodies were flush together.

Mingi's hand on your waist tightened, his thumb making small circles on the bare skin above your shirt. He leaned in and kissed your neck, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moaned into Yunho's mouth, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his sweaty shirt.

Breaking away from the kiss, you looked up at Yunho, his eyes dark with lust. "I-I don't know if we should do this," you murmured, trying to gather your thoughts.

Mingi's hand slid around to the front of your shirt, his thumb grazing your collarbone. "Why not?" he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "We're all adults, and we all know what we want."

Yunho's hand had moved down to your hips, his thumbs tracing the waistband of your pants, and you could feel his hardness pressing into your stomach. The thought of turning them down was fading fast. You looked at Mingi, his eyes filled with desire, and you knew that you couldn't resist.

With a shaky breath, you leaned back into the kiss, your hands roaming over Yunho's chest and back as you gave in to the passion. Mingi's kisses grew more insistent, moving down your neck to the collar of your shirt. His hand slipped beneath the fabric, his fingers playing with the clasp of your bra. The tension was unbearable, the three of you tangled together in a dance of need.

Yunho broke away, his eyes searching yours for consent. You nodded, unable to find the words to express how much you wanted this. He smirked, his hands moving to the buttons of your shirt, deftly unbuttoning them one by one. The cool air of the room hit your hot skin as he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, revealing your bra. He leaned in, his breath hot on your skin as he kissed along the exposed line of your neck.

"Oh my god," you breathe out, the sound of fabric rustling as Yunho's shirt hits the floor. The room is a cocoon of heat, the fan's breeze brushing against your skin doing little to cool the fire that has ignited within you. You feel Mingi's hands at the zipper of your skirt, the slow descent of the material releasing the tension of the moment.

"You're so beautiful," Mingi murmurs, his eyes tracing the path of your curves as your skirt pools around your ankles. You step out of it, standing before them in just your bra and panties, feeling both vulnerable and powerful.

Yunho's fingers trace the edges of your bra, his eyes locked on yours. "May I?" he asks, his voice husky. You nod, your breath hitching as he unclips it, the fabric falling away to reveal your bare chest.

Mingi's gaze lingers on your breasts before he leans in to kiss you again, his tongue flicking against your bottom lip. His hands roam your body, exploring every inch of your exposed skin. You can feel his hardness pressing against you, and the need to touch him becomes overwhelming. You reach down to unbuckle his belt, feeling the heat radiating from his body as you do so.

"So needy," he growled.

As you unbutton his pants, Yunho's hand slides up your thigh, his fingertips grazing the lace of your panties. You gasp into Mingi's mouth, the sensation making your knees weak. He takes this as an invitation and slides his hand under the fabric, his touch making you wet and desperate for more.

Yunho's hand joins Mingi's, their fingers teasing and exploring, making you squirm between them. Your own hands are busy with their shirts, pushing them over their heads to reveal their toned bodies. The smell of their cologne and sweat mixes with the scent of arousal in the air.

Mingi kisses his way down your neck to your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth. You arch your back, the pleasure shooting through you. Yunho kisses down your spine, his hands sliding to the back of your panties and pulling them down. The cool air on your exposed skin sends goosebumps racing down your legs.

You're standing in the middle of the dressing room, both of them worshiping your body with their mouths and hands. The only sounds are the muffled moans and the steady beat of the fan. You can't believe this is happening, but you don't want it to stop.

"Take them off," Yunho commands, his voice low and authoritative. You obey, stepping out of your underwear, leaving you completely bare before them. They look at you with hunger, and you feel your body respond, eager for what's to come.

Mingi picks you up, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he carries you to the couch in the corner of the room. He sets you down gently, kneeling before you as he kisses up your inner thighs. You're panting, your hands fisting in his hair as he brings his mouth closer to where you need him most.

Yunho stands before you, unbuttoning his pants and letting them fall to the floor. He's already hard, and the sight of him makes you wetter. He climbs onto the couch, his hand reaching for yours, guiding it to his cock.

As Mingi's tongue meets your clit, you let out a cry that's muffled by Yunho's kiss. His hand is in your hair, holding you in place as you explore his body with your mouth. The sensation of Mingi's mouth on you and Yunho's hand guiding yours is almost too much to handle.

"Who woulda thought our stylist was such a whore?" Mingi murmured, his breath hot against your skin as he teased your folds with his tongue. His words should have stung, but instead, they sent a thrill through you, making you wetter.

Yunho's hand tightened in your hair, guiding you to take more of him into your mouth. You felt his cock pulse under your touch, the taste of him making your mouth water. His thumb stroked your cheek as he watched Mingi's mouth work on you, his eyes filled with lust.

The tension grew as Mingi's tongue swirled around your clit, his fingers sliding into you, stretching and curling. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, the pressure building with each stroke.

"So pretty with your mouth all full like this," Yunho murmured, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you take him in deeper. You moaned around his cock, the vibration making him shiver. Mingi's tongue flicked against your clit, his pace increasing, and you felt yourself getting closer to the brink of ecstasy.

"Are you close?" Yunho chuckles, watching your face contort with pleasure as Mingi's tongue works magic on you.

You nod, unable to form words as you feel your climax approaching. Mingi's fingers speed up, pushing deep inside you, and you moan around Yunho's cock.

"Good girl," Mingi whispers, his voice a gentle rumble against your skin as he feels your body tighten around his fingers. He increases the pressure, his tongue circling your clit as you squirm, lost in the sensations he's creating. You can't believe you're here, with two of your celebrity crushes, about to come undone by their skilled hands and mouths.

Yunho's grip on your hair tightens, his hips thrusting gently as he feels your mouth suck him deeper. He groans in pleasure, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you give in to the moment. You can feel his cock pulsing in your mouth, and the thought of making him come sends another jolt of arousal through your body.

Mingi's fingers are like a maestro, conducting an orchestra of sensations that have your legs trembling. You're so close, and you know it's only a matter of seconds before you shatter into a million pieces. His tongue presses down on your clit, and you moan around Yunho's length, the vibration sending you spiraling over the edge.

"She's so pretty when she cums," Mingi murmured, his tongue still working your clit as your body convulsed with pleasure. You whimpered around Yunho's cock, the waves of your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Yunho's eyes were intense, his jaw clenched as he watched you come apart for them. "Swallow," he ordered, his own climax approaching. You nodded, feeling the warmth of his seed fill your mouth. You obeyed, swallowing with a gulp, the salty taste lingering on your tongue.

"So pretty," Mingi echoed, his voice filled with satisfaction as he watched the tremors of your orgasm subside. He kissed up your stomach, his lips meeting Yunho's, sharing the taste of your pleasure. The two of them pulled back, their eyes on you as you caught your breath.

Yunho's hand gently caressed your cheek, his thumb brushing away the beads of sweat that had formed. "Our turn," he whispered, his eyes dark with lust as he leaned in to kiss you again. You could feel the heat of his desire, his breath hot against your lips. You nodded, your body still pulsing with the aftershocks of your climax.

Mingi stood up, his own erection obvious against his thigh. He pulled you to the edge of the couch, his hands sliding around your waist as he positioned himself between your legs. Yunho kissed down your neck, his hand reaching to stroke your still sensitive nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

Mingi's eyes met yours as he lined himself up with your wet entrance. You gasped as he pushed inside, filling you in one slow, deliberate motion. His eyes never left yours as he began to move, his strokes long and deep. You felt your body respond immediately, the pleasure building again, even as the aftershocks of your first orgasm still danced across your nerves.

"O-Oh my-" you panted as Mingi began to move, his cock sliding in and out of you with a delicious rhythm. His eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze making you feel seen and desired in a way you never had before. Yunho's mouth traveled down your body, his kisses leaving a trail of fire that made you arch your back and press into Mingi's thrusts.

"T-Too big-" you reached for Yunho's shoulder, your eyes widening with a mix of pleasure and shock as Mingi filled you completely. His strokes grew more insistent, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the small room.

"You can take it," Yunho whispered in your ear, his hand moving down to play with your clit. The dual sensations of Mingi inside you and Yunho's touch on your clit was too much, and you threw your head back, letting out a moan that was equal parts pleasure and surprise.

"F-FUCK-!" You wince, your eyes watering as Mingi stretches you open wider than you've ever felt. You're so tight, so slick around him, and it feels incredible. He grunts, his hips rolling into you, his abs flexing as he holds your gaze, his eyes never leaving yours.

Yunho's hand on your clit is a symphony of sensations, his thumb flicking and pressing, syncing perfectly with Mingi's deep, claiming thrusts. The two of them are relentless, their movements in sync, their breathing heavy in the quiet of the room. You're sandwiched between them, a maelstrom of pleasure building inside you once more.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Mingi groans, his eyes never leaving yours as he picks up the pace. You bite your lip, trying to hold back the moans that want to spill out of you. You can feel his cock hit that perfect spot with every thrust, the friction making your toes curl.

"Good girl, takin' me so good, princess. You're gonna make me cum," Mingi's voice was strained with lust as he pumped into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You could feel his muscles tense and his breath hitch as he approached his climax. Yunho's hand never left your clit, his movements becoming more urgent as he watched Mingi claim you, the sight of it driving him wild.

The room was a haze of pleasure, the three of you lost in the moment, the scent of sweat and arousal filling the air. The only sounds were the slaps of skin, the heavy breaths, and the occasional moan that slipped from your lips. You could feel your body tightening again, the orgasm building like a storm within you.

Mingi's hand slammed against the couch cushion as he pushed deeper, his eyes glazed with lust. "I'm gonna cum," he grunted, his movements becoming more erratic. You nodded, your eyes fluttering closed as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge once more.

Yunho's hand moved to your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple as Mingi's pace grew even faster. The combination of sensations was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself getting closer to the precipice of another orgasm.

"Cum for us," Yunho whispered, his breath hot against your ear. His hand slipped away from your clit, and you felt the loss like a pang in your core. But before you could protest, he slid his fingers into your mouth, coating them with your juices before moving back to your chest, using your own wetness to slick over your sensitive nipples.

Mingi's strokes grew deeper and more demanding, his cock swelling inside you, the pressure building. You could feel his need, his desire to mark you as his, and it only served to increase your own. You moaned around the fingers in your mouth, the taste of yourself mixing with the salt on Yunho's skin.

"Do it," you whispered, your eyes finding Mingi's again. He took it as permission, his movements growing more frenzied as he neared his peak. His eyes locked with yours, he gave a final, powerful thrust before stilling, his warmth flooding you as he came, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

"Mmmh!" you gasped, your eyes widening as Mingi's cock pulsed inside you, the sensation sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your body. His chest was heaving against yours, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he pulled out, a trail of cum connecting the two of you.

Yunho wasted no time, his hand sliding down to guide himself into your still quivering pussy, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. He pushed in, filling you completely, the feeling making you whimper with pleasure. His movements were slower, more deliberate than Mingi's, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to move.

You felt like you were in a daze, your body still reeling from the intense climax you had just experienced. But as Yunho's cock slid in and out of you, the pleasure began to build again, a gentle warmth spreading through your core. His hands roamed your body, his fingers tracing every curve, every dip, as if memorizing your form.

Mingi didn't move away, instead, he kissed along your jaw, his hand moving to your clit, taking over where his mouth had been. His touch was gentle, tender, as if savoring every second of the moment. You could feel his cock growing hard again, pressing against your thigh as he watched Yunho fuck you.

"Cmon baby, be loud," Yunho urged, his voice gruff and thick with need as he thrust into you, his eyes never leaving yours. The feeling of being filled by him was incredible, his size stretching you deliciously. Mingi's gentle touch on your clit was the perfect contrast, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

You moaned, your hips bucking to meet Yunho's rhythm. The combination of his deep strokes and Mingi's deft fingertips had you spiraling again, your body a live wire of sensation. The room was a symphony of moans and gasps, the sound of flesh on flesh echoing in the enclosed space.

Yunho leaned in, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispered, "You're so fucking perfect. You make me feel like I'm gonna lose my mind." His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you tightened around him, eager to bring him closer to his own release.

Mingi kissed his way down your neck, his breath hot on your skin. "You're so tight around him," he murmured, his eyes locked on where their bodies joined. His hand moved to your ass, his fingers digging in as he encouraged you to ride Yunho's cock faster.

You felt the tension building, your muscles tensing as the pleasure grew. Yunho's hand found yours, his grip tight as he guided your hand to his chest. You felt his heart racing, matching the tempo of your own. His strokes grew deeper, more urgent, and you knew he was close.

"I'm gonna cum," Yunho groaned, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment before snapping open again, staring into yours with an intensity that stole your breath. You felt yourself tighten even more around him, your body eager to feel him release inside you.

Mingi's thumb circled your clit faster, his other hand moving to cup your breast, his fingers playing with your nipple. "Do it, baby, come for us," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. The dual sensations of Yunho's cock and Mingi's touch was too much, and with a keening cry, you shattered around them, your body convulsing with pleasure.

Yunho's eyes widened as he watched you come, his own orgasm crashing into him. He thrust deep one last time, his cock pulsing inside you as he emptied himself into you. "Ah, fuck," he grunted, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

For a moment, the room was still, the only sounds the harsh breaths of three people lost in the aftermath of passion. Yunho's chest heaved against yours, his heart pounding in time with yours. He leaned in, kissing you gently, his tongue tracing the line of your lips before delving in for a deep, lingering kiss.

Mingi's hand slowly slid away from your clit, and he leaned back, watching you with a satisfied smile. "You're amazing," he murmured, his eyes sparkling with lust.

You felt a blush spread across your cheeks, the reality of what had just happened finally setting in. You had just had sex with both of them, your idols, your friends. The thrill of the moment was intoxicating, leaving you lightheaded and giddy.

Yunho pulled out, his cock glistening with your juices. He leaned back, his hand caressing your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Mingi leaned in, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth. "This isn't the last time,"

[yoongelectric]

Drunk in love — LN4

~ believe when i say that you’ll know once you taste it

• part 1

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: the night where you and lando just wanted to forget about each other but ended up getting closer than ever

genre: smut, angst, fluff, friends to lovers

warnings: curse words, jealousy, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, oral sex, breeding kink

notes: english isn’t my first language so i’m sorry ig there’s any mistakes. i might have gotten a little excited with the lenght of this fic, part 2 will be shorter

The music plays loudly within the walls of your room as you and your best friend get ready for the night. After hours and hours of trying to convince you, Olivia had finally made it, not that you weren't a party girl, in fact you adored it, the feeling of being drunk, the people, the dancing, the music, flirting with strangers, you used to spend the whole week looking forward to go to your favorite club but for months now all those good times have lost all meaning when all you can see is your best friend going from girl to girl every weekend without any type of remorse. And for months you’ve been trying to do the same thing to stop thinking about him, only achieving the opposite.

You can’t blame those girls, in fact, you understand them perfectly, not just because Lando is rich and famous, that's the least important thing really, but in any crowd he's always the first man you see, he's handsome, attractive, even magnetic, the kind of man no girl would ever say no to, and you were painfully aware of that, because of course, you were one of those girls who could never say no to him.

That's what bothers you the most, because no matter how many dates you go on, how many strangers you flirt or sleep with, how much time you go without seeing him or speaking to him, you always notice how they are not him, how they don't have his laugh, his eyes, his charisma, his charm, his way of hugging you, his way of making you forget everything and everyone, no matter how good they are in bed, none of them can make you feel the warmth that you feel when he simply holds your hand or rests his hand on your waist to help you walk through a room full of people, and it's already getting tiring to hope that at some point that's going to change.

While you finish applying the sluttiest red lipstick you have, and check that you are not missing anything in your purse, you look at your outfit in the mirror, a little black dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, actually, if you are not careful you can flash anyone at any moment, you feel attractive, you know you look pretty, but you also know that neither this dress, nor the makeup you spent so much time on, nor your perfect hair will be enough for Lando to look at you the way you want.

Olivia seems to notice the sad expression on your face, "y/n don't make that face, if Lando is stupid enough to not make a move on you then he doesn't deserve you to spend another second thinking about him" she says handing me a shot of vodka that I swallow without hesitation

“Do you think I'm in love with him because I want to, Olivia? If it was up to me I would only see him as the friend he sees in me, that's what he wants, but it seems I can't.”

“if you want to believe that he sees you only as a friend then go on, i think he’s just a pussy” Olivia shouts from the door as I grab my keys and follow her.

-

Lando stared at his glass of whiskey, lost in thought, looking at the time on his watch from time to time thinking about when you would arrive, he was dying to see you, he didn't know if he was imagining it but he had this feeling that you’d been avoiding him all week, you didn't answer his messages, and if he called you, you quickly ended the conversation saying that you were busy, you had always been very bad at lying, who can be busy on a Saturday morning? He knew that his doubts would be solved at any moment and oh how he wished it was just his head fucking with him.

In the distance he saw a girl who he could have sworn was you, but after looking at her for a few seconds he slapped himself internally for having mistaken you for someone else, how could you be that girl? She doesn't have your grace, nor the light that seems to follow you everywhere making you look untouchable, the people around her don't turn around automatically and he doesn't feel that comfort in his heart when looking at her, but what's the point anyway? None of them make him feel anything like that, none of them are like you and he knows it.

He knows that you are the girl for him, he has known it since he won his first race and as soon as he crossed the finish line the first thing he thought was if you would be proud of him. He knows that he will probably love you all his life and that without you his destiny is to wait for someone to entertain him enough to not think about you all the time. He knows how sad that is and he's not sure if he can continue like this for much more, but he can't condemn you to what a relationship with him means, he barely has time for himself and how could he try to have a relationship with you if he can't give you all the time you deserve? How can he try to be with you if it means you have to be moving from one side of the world to the other all the time or not see him as often as he would like?

If everything was different he would have jumped right into your arms months ago, but you deserve much more than what he can give you.

Max's voice brings him out of his thoughts telling him something painfully true "so you’re already looking for a girl who looks like Y/N to spend the night?" How much more time can he spend trying to find you in another person? probably a lot less than he thinks.

-

He was hypnotized, watching you dance with your friends, running your hands over your body, laughing and looking so sexy, since you arrived he couldn't stop looking at you, a feeling between how bothered he was by that sinful dress that hugged your body in all the right places and the concern for the cold greeting he had received, he was gripping his glass tightly and using all his will not to grab you by the waist and pull you against him, he wanted to ask you the reason behind your actions, how were you able to stay away from him, when it felt impossible for him to do that.

It was then that he saw him, tall, with a bright smile, just the type of boy you've always liked, he approached you and spoke to you so carefree, calm, without the all the nerves Lando felt every time he had to get too close to you. He doesn't know what the boy said to you that made your laugh echo throughout all the VIP area but he was sure as hell it couldn't be that funny, how could your eyes shine like that looking at someone that two seconds ago you didn't know existed? how could you look at a stranger the way Lando had always wanted for you to look at him? oh how oblivious he was

As soon as he tried to get up to stop the situation, he felt the hand of the same girl he had seen earlier on his shoulder and as some type of divine signal it was then that he came to his senses. If he really loved you, he should let you live your own life.

Back to where you were, the nameless boy grinded against you while grabbing your hip and the two of you danced to the rhythm of the music, he was cute, sure, he was nice and funny, but in your drunken state your head seemed to betray you making you think about Lando over and over again, each song seemed to be talking about him, about you, about the two of you, and just when you were trying to get away from the boy it occurred to you to look at him, At this point you should be used to it, glass in hand, a girl on his lap, kissing so passionately it made you want to cry.

You were fucking sick of it, sick of the looks of pity from all your friends, of not being able to get mad at the girl, or Lando, you could only be mad at yourself for having these stupid feelings and not being able to settle for his friendship that at the end of the day was the best thing that had ever happened to you, and you really don't know how or when but you were glued to a wall kissing the guy, he was grabbing your ass tightly and biting your lip while you were pulling his hair trying to understand the situation you found yourself in, with far too many drinks on you, the jealousy, shame and unreciprocated feelings you felt for your best friend, you decided to lose yourself in the touch of the boy you had just met.

When the girl moved away from him to take a breath he saw you, your hair messy, your dress rolled up and that son of a bitch's hands grabbing you just like he would like to do, he didn't even have the decency to take you somewhere more private, but again, who was he to get involved in what you were doing if he knew that he couldn't give you what you deserved anyway, so he grabbed the girl's face and continued kissing her, but he couldn't stop thinking about you, the weight of the girl on his lap made him wish it was you, Lando wanted you to grab his hair just like you did with the boy you were kissing, he knew he could make you feel much better than him, he would take you somewhere empty because only he should be the only one to see you this way, he would grab you by the waist and pull you against him, he would kiss you with so much feelings that you wouldn't doubt his love for you, the erection that grew underneath his pants made him imagine how good you would feel rubbing yourself on him and he was sure it would feel like heaven listening to you moaning his name when he went down to kiss your neck.

“fuck, y/n just like that, baby” he didn't expect that it was going to be your name the one that escaped his lips.

The look of confusion and shock from the girl who was sitting on his lap brought him back to reality, and he doesn't know if he was suddenly sober or if all the alcohol that was in his system hit him at once but his body, his mind and all his senses told him to look for y/n, so apologizing to the girl and getting her off of him, he began to look for his love.

He looked around but there was no sign of her, her friends were still dancing in the same place but she and the boy he had seen her with earlier had disappeared, he asked Max but he told him that he had lost sight of them ago. For a while, when he saw Olivia, he realized that if anyone could help him, it was her.

he got into the crowd of dancing girls trying to get her friend's attention, "Olivia, hey, where did y/n go?" He said when the girl finally saw him

"Lando, I think you should leave her alone, she's busy" your friend knew that today you just needed to forget about him.

"Did she leave with him? Just tell me if she's still here, please" Lando was desperate, he feared that if he didn't find you now he would never have the courage to confess his feelings to you again

Olivia finally gave up "she just told me she was going to his house, I don't think they're gone yet" she took a deep breath and added "she's trying to forget you, I know deep down you know that, don't do anything if you know you're gonna hurt her, Lando."

"Thank you, i promise i will not" he said before running to the club’s door

You don't know why you agreed to this, but you found yourself walking towards the car of the boy you just met today, do you really want this? you don't know, in your head you just think that maybe this is it, maybe he can make you forget about Lando, in fact, you should be happy, he is cute, hot, funny, attentive and respectful, why aren't you happy? And why do you feel so relieved when you feel a hand on your shoulder stopping you?

"y/n, please don't go with him" you turn around when you hear the familiar voice and you feel your stomach do a thousand flips when you see the person you've been thinking about all night.

You pause to look at him before speaking, he looks agitated, in a hurry even, as if he was going to run out of time, but even in that state he is the most attractive man you have ever seen, some buttons on his shirt are undone showing his chest, as if the slightly see-through fabric wasn't enough, his tanned skin glowing under the night lights and you don't understand why he has to come out of nowhere now to ruin anyone else for you.

"Lando, is everything okay?" Your voice denotes concern and Lando just wants to have you in his arms.

"lov- sorry, y/n" he corrected himself "don't go with him, I need to talk to you, please, I need you to give me a chance"

"what are you talking about?" Your words came out like a whisper, you had to be misunderstanding him, or not?

"Sorry mate, this isn't your fault, but I love her, she's the love of my life, I can't let her go."

Suddenly you remembered the boy who was there with you, you looked over your shoulder, you only saw confusion in his gaze and you felt sorry for how he had ended up in this situation just because of bad luck, you shared a look and the boy understood that he had to leave.

"Lando, if this is some kind of joke or you're just doing it because that girl rejected you, I want you to know that it's not funny."

Lando felt a pang of pain in his chest, what had he been doing wrong all this time for you to believe him capable of playing with you like that?

"this isn’t a joke, y/n, I'm tired of pretending that I don't just love you, baby." he said taking a few steps until he was right in front of you "I don't know what I did for you to not want to see me or talk to me, but let me fix it, even if you don't feel the same way, I need you to treat me like before, I miss you love"

"I was just trying to forget you, Lando" the tears began to fall down your face and you didn't know if you felt shame, joy, anger or relief, if he felt the same, why had he made you see him with all those girls before? Why hadn't he spoken sooner? Why hadn't you spoken sooner?

you felt his lips on yours, and for the second time that night you were kissing someone, but this time everything made sense, you could only think about lando, you were right where you wanted to be, you were aware of his touch in every place where his body made contact with yours and time seemed to have stopped, you were addicted to the feeling of finally having him all to yourself and you didn't want to stop even to take a breath or move to another place.

He felt the same way and with all his strength he moved away just enough to mumble "let's get out of here."

-

The car ride to your house felt like a fever dream, you wanted to talk to each other but you had so many ideas in your head that you didn't know what to say first, you wanted to touch each other but you didn't want to spend another minute without being in a place just for the you two, so all you did was share looks of love and happy giggles

You two were finally home and it seemed like you were glued to each other, the heat in the room was becoming more and more unbearable as you kissed, grabbed and caressed each other, thanks to muscle memory you managed to get to your room and Lando just pushed you to the bed before climbing into it straddling you

"So pretty, baby, I can't believe I finally have you" he said kissing your neck and lifting your dress asking permission to take it off.

You nodded silently and Lando wasted no time in removing the garment that covered your body. He began to run kisses and licks over your shoulders, collarbones, arms and stomach until he left you desperate and trembling beneath him. You knew he was enjoying it but you had waited so long for this that you couldn't stand him not touching you right where you wanted, losing your patience you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra.

“nuh huh, that's my job, precious, let me enjoy you just the way I want” He said kissing, sucking and biting your neck, his words sending shivers to the wet areas of your skin.

"Lando, please, you're going to have plenty of time to enjoy me in every way you want, just fuck me already, I can't wait." As you spoke you couldn't help but arch your back when lando gently bit your collarbone making a moan escape your mouth.

you heard him laugh cockily "plenty of time? does that mean we're going on a second date?" and just when you thought about slapping him for his bad joke you felt him cup your pussy relieving half of the tension you felt.

He lived to please you and if you wanted to get to the point that's what he would do, he quickly got rid of your bra attacking one of your nipples with his tongue, circling the muscle over it before taking it all in his mouth, moaning softly into it, after a while he moved to your other nipple, repeating his actions, but paying attention to the previous one with his big, rough, veiny hands, you were a moaning mess, and every once in a while you had to remind yourself that this was really happening and it wasn't a product of your imagination.

"mmh Lando that feels so good, please don't stop" you said trying to reach his member to touch it over his clothes, but you instantly felt him pin your arms over your head

"not yet, y/n tonight is all about you, let me make you feel good" he said moving down to your hips leaving kisses right on the waistline of your panties

He stopped to look at the lace panties you were wearing, black and all see-through, they were sexy but at the same time elegant and Lando felt like he would faint right there.

"these are so pretty, it's a shame i have to take them off," he said, taking your underwear on each side and removing it in one go.

It was at that moment that he saw you naked for the first time, you looked so hot but also innocent, the look of desire and at the same time love in your eyes could not be compared to anything that Lando had seen before, and he couldn't believe he had been missing on this for so long.

He ran a hand over your wet center and hissed at the sensation.

"baby, please do something, I'm going crazy" you begged, pushing your hips against his hand, trying to get more friction.

"well, since you're in such a hurry, god, we have to work on your patience, love." Without warning, Lando put a finger inside your hole and at the same time went down to lick your clit, while leaving his finger still inside you, he licked your bundle of nerves from side to side, up and down and circling his tongue against you, the euphoria you felt at that moment didn’t allow you to speak, the only thing that came out of your mouth were desperate breaths and moans of his name repeatedly. Every time you dared to look between your legs and saw your friend's piercing eyes you felt yourself embarrassingly quick getting closer to the edge.

"Lando, I need more, please, I want to cum."

so you felt a second finger inside you, he began to move them at a soft and strong pace, curving them inside you in the most delicious way, it didn't take long for you to finish all over his mouth and fingers, with a scream of his name and pulling him against you by his hair, he continued sucking your clit until you pushed his head due to overstimulation.

“You taste so good, my love, please let me do it again” he said kissing your inner thighs trying to open your legs again.

"another time, babe, I want you to fuck me, I need to feel you" you said pulling him from his shirt, you were feeling a little self conscious as you noticed how he was fully dressed and you were naked in front of him, so you unbuttoned his pants begging him to take them off, he, always willing to please you, pulled them down at the same time with his boxers, letting his dick come out freely in front of your face.

None of all the dirty nights you spent thinking about him could prepare you for what was in front of your eyes, his member, the perfect length, thick and veiny, with his tip all wet, seemed to beg you to put it in your mouth.

And that’s what you did, kneeling on the bed in front of him, licking the tip vaguely and without wasting much time you started sucking on it. Lando grabbed your hair in a ponytail and allowed himself to enjoy the heat of your mouth.

You wanted to make him feel good, it was the only thing you could think at that moment, and when you looked up and saw his face contorted with pleasure, his head thrown back and tasted his salty precum you could only moan in satisfaction, the entire moment made you so wet again and your hole clenched around nothing.

Against all his desire and will, Lando removed his dick from your mouth, it felt so good, but he needed to fuck you, he needed to feel your wet walls around him, so once again he pushed you on the bed and put your legs on his shoulders.

"Are you ready?" The question felt like a joke, you had been ready for months.

"yes, so ready, please fuck me"

You felt his member press against your pussy and the wetness made it so easy for him to slide in all at once.

Both of you moaned in unison as you felt that you were finally where you belong, Lando stayed still for a moment to let you get used to the size and to take a breathe so he wouldn’t cum on the spot.

When he saw your desperate face and felt how you pushed your hips against him, Lando began to fuck you without mercy, hand on your neck choking you just the way you like it, grunts and moans escaping from his mouth, turning you on more and more.

"baby, please, I'm so close, you fuck me so so good, I love your dick so much, please" you didn't know what you were saying, you just knew that you didn't want anyone but him.

Lando couldn't help but laugh at your state, but he wasn't much better than you, feeling his orgasm getting closer, he removed his hand from your neck and began to draw circles on your clit, his thrusts were erratic and the trembling in his legs let you know that he wasn't going to last much longer.

"land-o, baby, cum inside, I need you to fill me" and with those simple words the two of you climaxed at the same time, white dots filled your vision and you could swear it was the longest orgasm you’ve ever had, when you came back to your senses, your friend removed his member from your hole and turned your positions so that you were on top of him.

"We should clean up" you said, ignoring your tiredness, trying to be responsible.

"Let's stay like this for a while, I need to hug you, hold you close" despite his tired tone you could hear him talking to you with a smile.

A few minutes passed and just when Lando was about to fall asleep, your words brought him out of his state.

"You know we'll have to talk about this tomorrow, right?"

And just like that, he remembered each and every reason why he hadn't done this before.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Blue for a while | Buddy & Monkey: Double The Trouble

summary: monkey's loan spell in the 2022/23 season.

double the trouble masterlist

The Manchester rain felt different. It wasn’t just that it was heavier, colder, or lingered in the air longer than it did in London.

It was lonelier.

And you hated it.

You hated the city. The constant rain, the grey skies, the way it was always cold. You hated how the wind cut through you even when you wore three layers. London was cold too, but it never felt this miserable.

You hated the shirt. You especially hated how the blue felt wrong against your skin, and how every time you pulled it on, it made your stomach churn.

You had grown up in red. Arsenal was your home, your family. 

This? This was nothing but a punishment.

Or at least it felt like it was.

And more than anything, you hated Jonas for sending you here.

You had been absolutely fuming when you found out about the loan.

“You’re joking? I’m not going there!” You exclaimed, outraged even at the thought of it.

“You don’t have a choice, kid,” Jonas had said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“You… You can’t make me! Leah–” You turned to her, desperate, “Le, can’t you stop this? You can’t let this happen!”

Leah’s jaw had been tight, her fingers flexing at her sides. She was just as frustrated as you were, but the fight had already been lost before it even began, “It’s out of my hands I’m afraid, my girl,” Her voice was strained, “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to go,” You had pleaded.

“I know,” Leah exhaled a sigh, running her hand through her hair, “But you’re going to be fine. Kei, G, and Lucy are there. Just think of it like an adventure.”

Of course, Leah tried to make it sound like it was better than it was, but it wouldn’t be.

You scoffed, shaking your head in protest, “But I don’t want an adventure, I want to stay here.”

Jonas, however, didn’t look the slightest bit phased, “You’ll be expected to arrive in Manchester for your medical tomorrow. The club is sorting your transport out.”

Your stomach had twisted at that. It was happening, whether you wanted it or not.

“Where am I even gonna stay?” You asked, confused as your voice was small.

“Don’t worry, Monkey. I’ll speak to Kei and Luce, and I’m sure you can stay with them,” Leah said, she was trying to be reassuring but you saw the way she was struggling with the idea of this herself.

And then, just like that, the club’s announcement post dropped the following morning after you found out.

It was official.

“Remember, it’s going to be an adventure,” Leah said, forcing a faint smile.

You scowled, “A terrible adventure. Why do I have to go?”

Leah sighed, barely managing to get a spoonful of porridge into Buddy’s mouth, “It was the club’s decision, Monkey. I can’t do anything about it.”

But you didn’t want to hear that. You wanted her to fix it.

You hated it here. And you were vocal about your feelings.

“I hate it here. It’s so shit,” You grumbled, collapsing onto the bed in Lucy and Keira’s spare bedroom after another miserable training session.

“Stop swearing,” Leah chided through the phone, “It’s only for this season. You’re going to be fine, and you have Kei, G, and Lucy, remember? It’s going to be alright.”

You huffed, rolling onto your stomach, “You’ve sent me to live with a crazy woman, Le!”

Leah sighed, “You’re being dramatic, Monkey,”

“Am I? Lucy tried to shove pineapple on my pizza yesterday. I barely made it out alive,” You protested, dramatically.

“Relax, squirt. Auntie Kei is here to keep you safe,” Keira popped her head around the bedroom door with a cheesy grin, “Don’t yer’ worry, Le. She’s safe with us!”

You wrinkled your nose, “Did you seriously just refer to yourself in the third person? So lame.”

Keira cackled, “You’re just mad ‘cause I scored that banger past you in training.”

You groaned. You hated that too.

You hated how Keira and Lucy had been given orders from Leah before you even arrived. 

Don’t let her spend too much money.

Don’t let her stay up late.

Make sure she eats properly–no sweets, no energy drinks.

You weren’t a child.

Okay, sure, you were only seventeen, but still. You could take care of yourself.

Except… you were currently banned from Uber Eats because Keira caught you trying to order a McFlurry for breakfast. Lucy had physically taken a pack of Haribo Goldbears out of your hand at training. And when you tried to sneak an energy drink before the match, Keira snatched it and took a sip right in front of you–just to be annoying.

“You’re the worst,” You grumbled, arms crossed.

“You’re predictable,” Keira had shot back, grinning.

You just wanted to throw something at her.

But the worst part?

It wasn’t just that you hated Manchester. 

You hated City. 

Their football was different, it wasn’t Arsenal’s football, and you felt it in every training session, every match. The movement was different, the patterns weren’t the ones burned into your brain from Hale End. Even when you did well, it didn’t feel right.

And the dressing room? It wasn’t the same. Sure, everyone was nice, but they weren’t your people. You missed Katie’s loud, chaotic energy. You missed Lia trying to make sure you ate before training. You even missed Kim’s usual Captain’s mannerisms and stern words.

You missed Leah. You missed Jordan.

And most of all, you missed your favourite little buddy.

The Arsenal group chat was still very much active on your phone, but it didn’t feel like yours anymore. The first few days, the girls had kept you included – talking about training, sending memes– but then the messages started to feel different. The jokes weren’t ones you were in on anymore. You saw pictures from team dinners–moments that you weren’t a part of.

You tried to pretend it didn’t sting.

Jordan and Leah, of course, always checked in.

Jordy: How’s City treating you, little one?

Your answer was always the same.

You: Shit.

Jordan sent a laughing emoji. That bad?

You didn’t hesitate to show how much disinterest you had for the city or the club.

You: Yes. I hate it. I fuckin’ Jonas. I hate the shitty weather. I hate the stupid fuckin’ football. I hate everything.

Followed by a phone call from Leah, usually to scold you about your vibrant language.

“Stop swearing will you,” Leah chastised in her usual manner, “Jord told me about the text you sent her. I know it’s hard, but…”

You didn’t say the worst part.

You didn’t say how much you missed home.

You didn’t say how much you missed your family.

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter, “I want to come home,” You muttered, quieter this time, “What if Buddy forgets who I am? I can’t let that happen.”

“Monkey,” Leah’s voice softened instantly, “She’s not going to forget who you are. She’ll still remember her big sister.”

“She’s just a baby,” Your voice cracked, “Babies forget things.”

Silence stretched between you. Then, the call flickered into a FaceTime request. You accepted it without hesitation, and the screen filled with Buddy’s tiny face. She was clutching your old stuffed monkey, babbling your name like it was the only word she knew.

Leah smiled, tilting the camera, “Someone’s missing their big sister. She won’t let go of it,” She teased, her voice warm, “Does this look like’s forgetting you anytime soon?”

Your throat tightened, eyes burning as you fought back tears, “That’s not fair,” You mumbled, voice thick, “You can’t just make me cry like this.”

Leah’s smile softened, “It’s just this season, my girl. You’ll be back home in London before you know it.”

That season felt like an eternity.

© scribblesofagooonerr