#maybe is something i come back to when i need comfort

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Dog Tags (2)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You're still keeping his Dog Tags safe.

Disclaimer: This is Part 2. Part 1 can be found here. Mentions of injuries and blood, Bucky helps carry you to safety (kinda), little angst/hurt/comfort moments, some fluff moments plus friendship moments with Wanda and Kate. Not Proof Read.

���Are you sure you’re okay?” Kate asked you for the millionth time. “It’s just that those arrows…I know I make them but sometimes I can put a little too much after kick- Clint tells me I need to find a substitute but the black market-”

“Kate,” you smiled and held your hand on her arm. “I promise you, I’m okay.”

“But that blast was big. Like, big big.”

You nodded. “I know. But I’m okay, I promise.”

“Kate!”

She turned and looked down the jet. 

“Go, I’ll be fine.”

She looked back at you, “You swear?”

You nodded, “I swear.”

Once Kate finally left, you let the wall drop for a moment. You didn’t blame her. The kick had been big, but it had also saved your life. Maybe you got a few bruises to remember it by, but you knew you’d be okay. 

It would just hurt in the meantime. 

“Here.” A voice spoke somewhere above you.

You looked around you until you found where the voice was coming from. Bucky. 

What the hell did he want?

You looked down at the hand where he was holding an ice pack. “Take it. For your ribs.”

You swatted his hand away, “I’m fine.” 

Bucky just stood and rolled his eyes. Even watching you lift your arm to swat him away looked painful. He’d seen the blast with his own eyes, which also meant he knew that if it was him in your position, he wouldn’t have walked out completely unscathed. 

“You’re not fine.” Bucky broke the ice pack before shaking it as he crouched in front of you. 

For a moment, you recoiled back. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m gonna help you. Would you let me help you?” 

This time Bucky didn’t fully wait for an answer before he placed the ice pack against your ribs for you. And, for a moment, you recoiled from the cold until your body melted into it. 

Okay. Maybe you were hurt, a little. But that still didn’t mean you needed his help. 

“I can hold it myself.”

“You can barely lift your arms.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Bucky shrugged, “You’re getting it anyway.”

“Why?” The question left your lips before you could stop yourself. But it was a reasonable question. 

Save for a few questionable moments outside of the ten minute window you and Bucky could be alone, you weren’t two people that helped each other. Fought with was probably the more likely statement. 

“Because you need it.” 

It was the best explanation Bucky could come up with at that moment. But it still gained him something. 

You were looking him in the eyes. It was rare he ever got to be this close to you and actually see the colour of your eyes. He didn’t quite know how the feud between you and him had started out. But what he did know was that he would happily drown in your gaze. 

And it was thoughts like that, that sent him into a spin. 

So, regrettably, he looked away. But even that gained him something. 

You watched as a smile ghosted its way onto his lips and you followed his eye line to the metal chain around your neck. 

“You’re still wearing them.”

The Dog Tags. The one’s he thought he’d lost nearly three months ago, only to work out you’d had them all along. It had nearly been almost two months, alone, since that night in the training room. 

You raised a hand to touch your chest. You could feel the outline of the tags underneath your clothes. “You told me to keep them safe.”

You watched as a corner of Bucky’s mouth slanted up slightly and, just for a moment, you let your mind wonder what it would be like if you kissed him right in that spot. 

You shook your head and this time, you looked away. You dropped the hand from your chest just before a rattle came over the jet. 

“We’re coming into landing.”

You just nodded, not trusting yourself to use words at that moment. But you gained them again when you stood to get off the jet only for Bucky to put your arm over his shoulder. 

“What are you doing? I can walk on my own, Barnes.”

“You’d only collapse three feet from here. Thought I’d save myself the trouble of catching you.”

You scowled, “Like I told Kate-”

“So help me, God, if you tell me you’re ‘fine’ I’m gonna call Sam. You’ve got a sprained ankle, a few fractured ribs, if not, broken, and a lifetime of bruises to remember today by. And that’s just what I can see.”

You just looked at Bucky, your arm still over his shoulder, his hand still clasping yours. You didn’t know how or why, but you let him help you off the jet. 

But when Wanda asked you about it later on, you just told her it was because you were too tired. 

“It was a moment of weakness.”

Wanda hummed as she sat on the edge of your bed. “Maybe.”

“Maybe? What do you mean, ‘maybe’? There’s no ‘maybe’ about it.”

Wanda chuckled, “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thank you, Shakespeare.”

Wanda hit your leg before climbing up the bed to sit beside you. She grabbed a pillow and crossed her arms over it. 

“Oh, come on. You and I both know you have feelings for him.”

You shook your head. “Yeah, he’s a massive pain in the ass.”

“Those aren’t the feelings I’m talking about.”

You stayed quiet for a few moments. “Stop reading my mind.”

Wanda was calm as she shook her head. “I don’t have to read your mind for this one.”

Your shoulders sagged for a moment and you looked at your hands, picking at your fingers. “It’s not like I meant to let it happen.”

“Nobody ever lets feelings happen. They just happen. It’s what makes you human.”

You just shrugged your shoulders. “He is still a pain in my ass.”

Wanda chuckled. “Have you ever thought to talk to him-”

“No! No. No, absolutely not. No. Never.”

Wanda hummed again. “Maybe it might help. Who knows? Maybe this isn’t a one sided love affair?”

You recoiled a little, again. “Love? Who ever said anything about love? I’m sure it’s just a stupid…work crush.”

Wanda looked at you. She didn’t have to read your mind to know that even you didn’t believe what you’d just said. 

“Hey,” Wanda tapped your leg. “Can I get you anything? You know, since Sam has banished you here for the next week.”

You chuckled. “I’m still allowed to leave…when he’s not here.”

When Bucky had taken you to the medical bay, you’d been given a full diagnostic. A sprained ankle, two fractured ribs, a little bruising around your internal organs that would heal itself, plenty of pulled muscles and, like Bucky had put it, enough bruises to make sure you remembered the day for a lifetime. 

Once Sam had found out, he’d doubled down on the Doctor’s orders to maintain bedrest. 

A few hours after Wanda had left, you were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. And for a while, you just started thinking whilst absentmindedly fiddling with the dog tags still around your neck. 

You thought about the ending of the movie you’d just watched with Wanda. You thought about the pain in your side. You thought about the feeling of Bucky’s fingertips gently pressing at your side as he held the ice pack in place. 

He’d been checking to make sure nothing was broken. That was how he knew. 

Then you looked at the dog tags. Like every night, your thumb traced over the letters. 

Little did you know, the next time someone else traced their thumb over the letters, it was because your blood had been splattered across them. 

[wileys-russo]

a dangerous new hobby II a.russo

"less? babe i'm home!" you called out as the door clicked shut behind you, kicking off your shoes and hanging your jacket up, the house feeling a hundred degrees warmer than the bitter frost of outside you'd just trudged through.

you heard her before you saw her, footsteps making their way toward you as you were halfway done unwrapping your scarf when the blonde appeared.

"hi baby.” the familiar comfort of her accent warmed you just as much as the ac, her hands grabbing the scarf you were trying to untangle and using it to tug your body into hers making you laugh.

"i missed you." the striker exhaled, wiggling your bodies as she squished you tightly making you laugh.

“i wasn’t even gone for two hours less.” you grinned tilting your chin up slightly, smile widening as the girl sweetly pecked your lips a few times in greeting.

"is something baking?" you questioned with a frown as you sniffed the air, stepping back as your girlfriend made quick work of removing your scarf and hanging it up for you. "yes! i have been baking." alessia beamed happily as you gave her a look of uncertainty.

ever since she'd felt a twang in her knee and been benched to rest the poor girl was going absolutely stir crazy, only really leaving the house to attend games or rehab.

which had lead to her trying to find any and every way to occupy herself while you weren't home to engage her attention and focus.

"right..." you trailed off slowly, your girlfriend scowling unhappily at your lackluster response. "and what is that supposed to mean?” alessia huffed crossing her arms over her chest and staring you down with a perfectly manicured eyebrow raised toward you.

“you just aren't normally the best baker in this relationship my love, thats all. but still such a wonderful cook!” you replied gently, trying to approach it in the nicest way possible and sugar coat the truth, which was that alessia was yet to actually bake something that wasn’t raw or burnt, in fact just yesterday she’d somehow managed a tray of cookies that were black on the outside and still sludgy undercooked mush in the middle.

"well thank you for that unwavering vote of confidence!" alessia grumbled with a roll of her eyes. "i just have a big meeting tomorrow that i can't miss due to a case of mild to severe food poisoning baby, thats all." you smiled with a wink before slyly ducking around her.

"oi! come here." you tried to take off but you weren't fast enough as long arms wrapped around your waist and tugged you off the ground. "alessia your knee! put me down." you smacked her shoulder sternly as she easily held you up.

"its fine! you stress more than leah and thats saying something love." her free hand connected with your bum as she manhandled you into the kitchen and forcefully sat you down into a stool by the island.

"i stress because i care and i care because if you properly do your knee some damage and i have to play nurse for another few months, i fear our relationship may not survive because you are a terrible patient!" you shook your head at the memory, trying to crane your neck to see what she was pulling out of the oven, but to no luck as her body blocked the view.

"i was not!"

“oh yes you were. for the first couple weeks you refused to sit still, drove your teammates up the wall with your sideline coaching, drove me up the wall with your inabiity to listen, you-"

“yeah alright! jesus what is it pick on alessia day?" your girlfriend scoffed and turned her back toward you with a shake of her head.

"thats every day my love." you bit back with a grin as she turned to wag a finger in your direction. "cheeky girl." the blonde tutted grabbing you a glass of wine which you thanked her for with a kiss.

"you know i didn't mind that little nurses uniform you had, maybe i might have to hurt my knee again." alessia grinned as you again smacked her shoulder. "maybe for your birthday if you're lucky russo. you and your super knee need to get back to scoring goals on the pitch before you can score any off of it." her face brightened at that making your lips curl into a slight smile of amusement.

"so do i get to know what im taste testing? after all you do need to be able to tell the doctor the cause of my death." you sipped at the wine with a smirk as alessia turned around hands on hips.

"i slave away all day over a hot oven to cop this ungrateful attitude, you're looking the right way to be single by the weekend.” the forward waved a wooden spoon at you only furthering your grin, enjoying this switch in power dynamic as normally it was alessias constant little teasing comments which grated at you.

"i'll make sure my next girlfriends a proper baker then, free carbs on tap and no risk of severe illness." you continued to poke at her with a smile, the blonde now choosing to ignore you as she fussed over whatever likely under or over baked good she was shielding from view.

"get out of my face and go shower!" the taller girl shooed you off as you grinned, darting over to kiss her sweetly before retreating to the bathroom, still in the dark about what it exactly was you'd be eating as alessia hurried to spin around and stretch out so you couldn’t see it which made your eyes roll.

but finally showered and feeling much more relaxed you sent a message to kyra warning that if you and alessia weren't heard from again the cause of death was her baking, the poor australian often the back up guinea pig whenever she’d come over after training.

the midfielder sending back a series of concerned emojis promised to come up and visit with coffee tomorrow morning, as clearly if alessia was baking again she was much more bored than originally letting on.

"baby, come try please!"

tucking away your phone you tugged on a pair of uggs given the winter chill and wandered downstairs, quite pleasantly surprised with the sight you walked into.

“oh less it looks lovely.” you admitted with a small smile, a two tier cake smothered in butter cream and clearly hand iced flowers sat middle of the table, the blonde having set it up with candles.

"five star service for you my girl." the striker smiled charmingly, pulling out and pushing in your seat for you, your hand balling her top and tugging her mouth down to meet yours for a moment in thanks.

you smiled utterly smitten as alessia cut the pair of you a slice each, tapping her lips for another kiss before setting the plate down in front of you and sitting on your left.

"go on then! eat it, see if its edible." the girl mocked with a roll of her eyes, taking a large bite of her own piece and not showing any signs of disgust.

so with a little less hesitation than before you stabbed up a forkful and slipped it into your mouth, eyebrows furrowing as alessia watched on awaiting a reaction.

your eyes widened as you chewed and swallowed, alessias smile turning smug at your obvious delight as you quickly took up another large forkful of cake and groaned happily.

"good then?" "delicious less holy shit!"

"you know my love if football doesn't work out i think we've worked out your backup career. next star of the great british bake off!" you complimented with a wink making her laugh.

"well making you happy makes me happy." the blonde smiled as you leaned across to kiss her again, mumbling an apology for doubting her against her icing covered lips.

"you know love i think i'll take my apology in the form of that little nurses costume tonight. all this baking and decorating suddenly has my knee playing up!" alessia winced dramatically as you snickered.

“mmm poor baby.” you pouted sarcastically, poking your fork back into the cake and shaking your head with amusement as alessia carried on her performance of pain, grinning at the small laugh you couldn’t hold back at her theatrics.

it was in that moment you decided not to mention the cake box from your favourite bakery you’d noticed poorly hidden and wedged behind the bins when you arrived home.

[izzih22]

Can you do something where azzi is feeling really clingy and wants some lil paigey time but she doesn’t fully communicate that to Paige and so Paige goes out with some ppl from the team and maybe Caroline says something about being surprised Paige it there bc azzi said earlier she really needed some P time bc of xyz and so Paige leaves and goes home and then just some fluff

I Just Need You

Note: hope y’all like it

It had been one of those days. The kind where the weight of everything seemed to catch up to Azzi all at once. Practice was intense, the upcoming game was weighing on her, and she was still pushing through the effects of her previous injuries. The physical toll was there, but it was the mental exhaustion that was starting to get to her. With everything moving so fast, all Azzi really wanted was to slow down for a bit. And to slow down with Paige.

She had been feeling a little off for a few days now, and instead of saying anything, Azzi kept it to herself. She didn’t want to seem needy. She didn’t want to be the one to ask for attention, even if it was all she wanted. She needed Paige. Her girlfriend. Just some quiet time together, away from everything.

Before practice, Azzi mentioned to Caroline how much she needed some “Paige time” to recharge. It was supposed to be an innocent statement, a casual admission of how the week had been weighing on her.

Caroline, always perceptive, caught on quickly. “You know, you could just let her know. I’m sure she’d understand. You’ve been running on empty, and it’s okay to ask for a little comfort.”

Azzi hesitated but smiled. “I don’t want to be clingy, Caroline. Paige has been doing a lot lately. I can wait.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow. “Don’t wait too long. You deserve her time too, Azzi. Don’t let her get too busy for you.”

Azzi just nodded, not really believing she could ask for that kind of attention. But still, the thought of spending time with Paige kept swirling in her mind.

That evening, Paige mentioned she was going out with a few of the team members to grab dinner and drinks. Azzi told her it was fine and waved her off with a smile, but deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to be with her. As much as she tried to tell herself that she was fine, that she didn’t need Paige to prioritize her, the longing remained.

Hours passed, and Azzi found herself scrolling through her phone in silence. She wasn’t really paying attention to anything. Her messages to Paige were getting shorter. Nothing too needy, but she was hoping for some sign that Paige might notice she was missing her.

Meanwhile, Paige was out at the bar with some of the team. They were celebrating the win, laughing and enjoying their time together. It wasn’t that Paige didn’t want to be with Azzi. It was just that there was always something going on, and it wasn’t always easy to pull away. She wanted to unwind, too. But there was still this quiet tug at the back of her mind. She missed Azzi. She always did when she wasn’t around.

While Paige was chatting with a couple of teammates, Caroline stepped up beside her, sliding into the booth. Her eyes scanned the table, and she took in the atmosphere before leaning over and quietly speaking.

“Hey, Paige,” Caroline started, voice low enough that only Paige could hear, “I ran into Azzi earlier. She mentioned how she was really hoping for some ‘Paigey time’ tonight. Said she needed you after all the chaos of practice and everything. But… here you are.”

Paige blinked, feeling a sharp pang of realization in her chest. “Wait, she said that?”

Caroline nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t come out with us, and she seemed a little down about it. Thought you’d want to know.”

Paige immediately felt a jolt of guilt. She’d been so wrapped up in everything, in the team, in the noise of the night that she didn’t even pick up on how Azzi was feeling. “Fuck. I… I had no idea.”

Caroline gave her a pointed look. “Well, you’ve got time now, right?”

Without wasting a second, Paige stood up, pushing her chair back. “I’m sorry, I should’ve known. I’m going to go. Thanks for telling me, Caroline.”

Paige’s heart was already racing as she made her way to the door. She quickly sent Azzi a text on the way, barely able to wait for a reply.

“I’m coming home now, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize you needed me. I’ll be there in 10 minutes. I love you.”

She didn’t wait for a reply before she slipped into her car, feeling a mix of guilt and determination. She didn’t want to be out. She wanted to be with Azzi, to hold her, to make up for missing the signal Azzi had dropped.

⸻

When Paige opened the door to their apartment, it was quiet. A little too quiet. The soft glow of the living room lights cast long shadows on the walls. She spotted Azzi on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, her face buried in her phone as she stared absentmindedly at the screen.

“Azzi?” Paige called gently.

Azzi looked up, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Paige. “Paige,” she said softly, her voice betraying a mix of relief and the slightest hint of vulnerability. “You’re home.”

Paige’s guilt washed over her again as she quickly crossed the room. She kneeled down in front of Azzi, cupping her face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice full of sincerity. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone. I should’ve been with you.”

Azzi shook her head, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips, though it was a little unsure. “It’s okay. I didn’t really… ask for you to stay. I just… I missed you.”

Paige’s heart squeezed at her words. “I missed you too, more than you know.” She leaned down, brushing her lips over Azzi’s forehead before kissing her gently on the lips. “I’m here now. No more going out, no more distractions. Just you and me.”

Azzi’s arms immediately wrapped around Paige’s neck, pulling her closer as she deepened the kiss, letting the tension of the day melt away. “I just wanted you here. With me. Not out with the team,” Azzi murmured between kisses.

“I know, baby,” Paige whispered, pulling back slightly to look at her. “I’m sorry. I won’t let you feel like this again. You’re my priority, always.”

Azzi smiled, her fingers gently tracing the back of Paige’s neck. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

Paige kissed her again, slower this time, her hands drifting down Azzi’s back as they both relaxed into the moment. There was no rush now. No noise. Just the soft hum of their breaths and the beating of their hearts in perfect sync.

And for the rest of the night, it was just them. No distractions, no noise. Just Paige and Azzi, in their own little world, exactly where they both wanted to be.

[thebluediner]

MIGHT'VE JUST LOST THE ALLEGATIONS

once again billie was at your house at noon because she had no plans for the day and was honestly bored. she just popped into your room for whatever reason you didn't bother to ask but when she came back out her mood had changed.

''was somebody here last night ?'' here as in was somebody in your room last night. billie asked her eyes looking at you like she already knew the answer but wanted it to be the latter.

'' in my room? no one why do you ask?'' you replied shifting your attention away from your phone to her

'' there's a jacket that's not yours in there'' billie said before sitting on a stool next to you leaning in as if was waiting for an explanation.

''oh got it from my date yesterday it was cold out plus I like it "' you answered her not shying away from her eyes in-fact you were too comfortable with the closeness between the two of you.

'' doesn't suit you '' she muttered under her breath looking anywhere else around the house.

'' so what would fit me yours ?'' you asked just to tease her and as an attempt to lighten up her mood.

'' yeah''

'' are you jealous ?'' you questioned genuinely shocked maybe this is why she was always in a pissy mood when you talked about your dates.

''and if I was?'' her eyes seemed to find your again. your eyes didn't miss the way she bit her lip she was nervous but she played it off.

''you can take me on a date too eilish I'm not picky '' you leaned onto the counter getting closer to her. again, you did not miss the way her eyes flicked to your lips.

'' right then go get ready ?" a smug smirk appeared on a face once the words left her lips

'' right now?'' your eyes widened a bit not expecting her actually do it.

'' you got anywhere else to be?'' she was right you didn't so you had no excuse to not go. that's exactly how your first date went leading to many more and your friendship fading into something more, something official.

people around the two of you thought you guys were already a bit too much when you weren't dating but now you're just insufferable. billie clung to you like somebody told her the moment she let go you were going to be snatched up. her hands roamed around your waist, lower back, around your shoulders, your thighs when she felt possessive over you they tread around your neck.

gosh the way billie wanted everyone to know you were hers she talked about you to everyone even strangers. every time somebody would talk to her she always found a way to mention you too. '' oh yeah my girlfriend right there chose my outfit today'' '' oh yeah my girlfriend likes that brand too'' '' oh yeah my girlfriend was talking about that earlier on'' '' oh yeah my girlfriend wrote that song'' '' oh yeah my girlfriend stars in that movie''.

billie was your number one supporter and she wanted everyone to know too. it was odd to not find her under your comments after posting something sometimes she'd be he one filling the comment section. the one time you had a collaboration with calvin klein. ''fuck baby I'm so hard'' ''when are you coming back home '' '' I need you so bad '' '' I'm going to explode I swear to god'' '' I'm gonna freak to this every single night ''

billie needed to show you off it was becoming her natural instinct. her wallpaper changed from that horny clock to a picture of you she took of you in her car right before she fucked you in it. she even wanted to rock up to every red carpet with you by her side but you refused not because you hated her like she claimed before you'd be too distracted by her you would forgot how to even do your job out there.

billie was an obvious car freak everybody knew that. she hated a mess in her car she hated foreign things polluting her space but not when it's you. her dashboard and her car holders were filled with your lipsticks, hair ties , bows and she didn't mind at all in-fact she left them out so anybody who came in would know you were there ,they would know she's claimed.

pda was definitely on the table for billie at this point in her mind she didn't even realise she was doing it she was just too lost in your presence to even register you were in-front of other people. if she felt the need to pull your body against hers she did so immediately with no hesitation if she felt like your lips tempted her she didn't waist a minute she kissed you there and there. if she felt your exposed shoulder needed a kiss she would place it there with no care who was filming and who wasn't .

billie would always ask you to come sleepover at her house. every time she would go to yours and when she came back it felt empty in her own house and she just missed you too much so she started calling you over. she said when you would come over by the time you leave her bed would smell like you and that somehow brought her relief when you weren't there .

billie refused to watch any romantic movies you starred in . the first time she did she wanted to cry in jealousy so she vowed to never again. well now when she watched them it was a ritual that you kiss her right after every romantic scene so she wouldn't feel so jealous. your friends and family said she was so pathetically in love with you when you told them about it.

god forbid you attended the same events you two were glued next to each other the entire time even in the after parties actually scratch that you were worse in the after parties. if a person would go in some corner there you two were. you were seated on billie;'s lap basically straddling her and billie's hands were all over you.

so yeah you two definitely lost the allegations

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSPIDER LILIES IN THE CRIBㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Peter Parker x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : Your baby dies, and you forget how to breathe—Peter forgets how to let go.

☆⁠ WARNINGS : Angst, hurt/comfort, child loss, trauma bonding, obsessive love.

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You were glowing.

Peter would always say it—even now, even when your skin is pale and your hair is a tangled mess on the pillow. Even when your eyes are hollow and your lips haven't smiled in months. He still whispers it into the silence of your bedroom, "You were glowing."

Because you were.

When you told him you were pregnant, Peter cried. Not the way someone cries when they’re scared or hurt. No, this was the kind of crying that made him fall to his knees and laugh at the same time. Because you were everything to him. You were his entire world, and now you were giving him another one.

He had a name picked out. Drew Parker if it was a girl. Ben if it was a boy.

He talked to your stomach every night, told your baby stories about his Uncle Ben, about Aunt May, about what kind of kid he hoped they'd be. Brave. Kind. A little weird. Like their mom.

But the baby didn’t cry.

The room was too quiet. You were too quiet. Peter was screaming. The doctors were yelling. You passed out from the blood loss, and he swore he saw his whole world bleed out of you.

They handed him a lifeless body in a soft blue blanket. And Peter—God—Peter held it. Held it like it was still warm. He whispered, "It's okay, Daddy's here." But the baby was gone. Already gone.

You didn’t come back after that.

You woke up, but you weren’t there. Not really. You didn’t talk. You didn’t look at him. You didn’t scream or cry or scream at the sky like he did. You just laid there. Breathing. Barely.

Peter brought flowers. You didn’t touch them. He cooked. You didn’t eat. He tried jokes. Nothing. He started reading to you, every night, old comics, poetry, the news. He even read science journals, anything to fill the silence.

You weren’t you anymore.

And Peter? Peter was losing his mind.

His obsession didn't start now.

It started when he was fifteen. With guilt. With responsibility.

But you changed it. You were the only thing in this cruel, broken city that made him feel like a human being. Not just a masked hero or a walking graveyard of everyone he’d failed.

So when he lost the baby, and you slipped away, Peter couldn't handle it.

He started isolating himself. Skipping patrols. Snapping at MJ. Ignoring the Avengers' calls. He couldn’t leave you. What if you needed him and he wasn’t there? What if you tried to hurt yourself? What if you forgot how much he loved you?

He moved his workstation into the bedroom. Monitors, web fluid, everything. He started sleeping on the floor, by your side. Never leaving. His beard grew in. His eyes were bloodshot. But he never left.

"You're not alone," he’d whisper. "I'm here, baby. Always."

Weeks passed. Then months.

One night, he kissed your hand and swore it twitched. He latched onto that like a man dying of thirst.

He bought you a new robe. He brushed your hair while talking to you like you were answering back. He framed the baby’s ultrasound. He needed you to see it every day. “You remember, don’t you?” he'd say softly. “You were so excited. You cried. You said we were gonna be a family.”

Peter was spiraling. Not in an angry, aggressive way. He never raised his voice. He just sank. Into you. Into the bed. Into the memory of your laughter.

He started hallucinating your voice. Sometimes he’d smile and reply like you had said something. Sometimes he’d look at you and say “Don't worry, sweetheart, I’ll bring them back. I’ll fix it.”

You never answered.

He hasn’t buried the baby yet.

The body’s still in the freezer at the lab. He keeps saying he’s working on something—on maybe—on what if. No one knows. Not even MJ.

And every night, he lays beside you and whispers,

“I’ll fix this. I swear. Just stay. Just hold on.”

You didn’t look at him.

Not when he read to you.

Not when he brushed your hair.

Not when he whispered “I love you” like a broken prayer.

But your chest still rose and fell. And that was enough.

To Peter, that meant you were still fighting. Somewhere inside all the silence, you were still you. Just…buried under all that pain. Buried under that cold, still hospital room where he held your baby and begged a corpse to breathe.

It’s been five months now. The sunlight hits your cheek some mornings, and Peter holds his breath like that’ll be the day. The day you turn and blink and say his name.

You don’t.

But he’s learned how to live in the pause.

Peter talks to the baby now.

Not just in your stomach. Not in dreams. But in reality—to the small, still body cryogenically sealed in his lab.

He talks to him like he's right there, asking:

"Would you have had my eyes or hers?"

"Would you have hated math like her?"

"Would you have made her laugh the way I used to?"

He visits the lab every night, logs in with trembling hands, stares at the frost-coated glass, and says, “I’m going to fix this.”

Because somewhere in his fractured mind, Peter believes he can undo death.

Not for the world.

Not for Gwen.

Just for you.

Just so you’ll come back to him. Just so you'll open your eyes and be you again.

He stopped being Spider-Man.

New York doesn't notice at first.

Miles fills in. The other heroes think he's taking a break. They think he's grieving. They think Peter’s just being human.

They don’t know he hasn’t left the apartment in a week.

They don’t know he cut a hole in the wall to make the webbing dispenser reach your bed, just in case you ever tried to leave without him.

They don’t know he keeps your toothbrush clean and your favorite mug full, even though you never drink.

You’re not dead. But you’re not alive either.

And Peter lives in that in-between space like it’s sacred ground. Like maybe, if he’s good enough, if he just loves you enough, he can drag you back from the edge.

The day you scream is the day everything breaks.

It happens out of nowhere.

Peter’s reading again—some old sci-fi book you used to like—and you scream. A raw, primal, bone-deep sound.

He drops the book. Crawls to you. He’s sobbing, holding your face in his hands.

“Baby, look at me—look at me—it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here—”

You slap him.

Hard.

And then you start crying. Not pretty tears. Not cinematic grief. Ugly crying. Hurt crying. Animal crying. And Peter holds you through it like your screams aren’t ripping out pieces of his soul.

You hit him again. You curse. You say you hate him. You ask why the baby died. You ask why you’re still here.

Peter never answers.

He just kisses your forehead and whispers:

“Because I need you.”

“Because I’m not letting you go.”

“Because I love you too much to bury you too.”

After your scream, he refuses to leave your side for a second. Even when you sleep, he holds your hand. Even when you eat, he cuts the food. He’s afraid if he blinks too long, you’ll disappear again.

He has violent outbursts now. Not at you. Never. But at mirrors. At walls. At the world. He hates anyone who smiles. He resents anyone who has a child. He avoids hospitals like they’re graves.

He talks to you like you’re made of glass. “Don’t push yourself.” “You don’t have to smile.” “You’re enough. Just breathe for me, that’s all.” But there’s a terrifying edge under the softness. Like if anyone but him tried to help, he’d snap their neck.

Peter isn’t just your husband anymore. He’s your caretaker. Your doctor. Your priest. Your prison guard. Your everything. Because he needs to be. Because if he’s not, he has no purpose.

“You died too,” you whisper once, voice wrecked from months of silence.

Peter holds you tighter. Shakes his head.

“No,” he says softly, pulling your hand to his heart.

“I started dying. But I can’t. Not until you live again.”

And in the dark of the lab, the baby’s body is still frozen.

Waiting.

Because Peter hasn’t given up.

He never will.

You woke up to the smell of rain and the whisper of your name.

Your body still felt like a tomb, but something was different.

There was light. Warmth. Movement.

And Peter—hovering by the door—his face pale, eyes wild, fingers twitching like he’d just stolen fire from the gods.

You sat up, weak and shaking.

“Peter?”

Your voice was rough, unused.

But he dropped to his knees like it was the first sound of life he’d heard in centuries.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at you with tear-glossed eyes and a strange smile. A haunted, delirious, hope-drunk smile.

And then he whispered:

“He’s back.”

Peter lost his mind.

Obsession wasn’t new to him—it’s why he became Spider-Man. Why he kept fighting. Why he’s buried half his friends and still refused to stop.

But this time, he didn’t fight for the world.

He fought for one breath. One heartbeat. One cry.

One baby boy.

He begged help from Reed Richards, blackmailed Norman Osborn, broke into Dr. Strange’s sanctum, and bled for it. Quite literally.

He used forbidden biotech and unstable quantum timelines.

He didn’t even know if it would work. But he did it anyway.

Because you weren’t you anymore. And if the baby came back, maybe you'd come back too.

And then—

A cry.

A gasp.

A small, choking, impossible breath.

Not a clone. Not a dream.

Your son.

Alive.

Peter didn’t name him yet.

He wanted you to do that.

Because he needed you to believe it was real.

You don’t speak. Don’t sob.

You just tremble.

Peter stands behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, lips against your temple, whispering:

“He’s real.”

“You can feel him, right?”

“You’re not dreaming, baby, you’re not dreaming…”

And when your fingers graze your son’s tiny chest and feel it rise—

Something inside you shatters and mends all at once.

You start crying so hard, you can’t breathe. You scream into Peter’s shoulder, clutching the baby like the world could take him again if you let go.

And Peter cries too. Because he won.

He brought you back.

He brought both of you back.

You get better.

You sleep curled around your son like a dragon guarding treasure. Peter sleeps beside you both, hand resting on your waist like an anchor.

The laughter is slow to return. Quiet. Nervous. But it does. You laugh when Peter changes a diaper wrong. You laugh when the baby pees on his face. Peter cry when you laugh.

You name him Benjamin May Parker. Ben, for Uncle Ben. May, for the woman who raised Peter. When you say it out loud, Peter drops to his knees. It’s the first time in years he feels whole.

Therapy. Gentle sunlight. Soft music. Walks in the park. Peter carries the baby, but never stops watching you like you might vanish again.

You touch him again. Kiss him. Pull him into bed one night and say, “I’m sorry I left you.”

He shakes his head. “You didn’t. I never let you.”

Peter now—still unhinged, but softer.

He’s scary good at being a father. Changes every diaper. Takes every night shift. Wears the baby in a sling while web-slinging (you yell at him for this constantly).

The apartment is a fortress. Baby monitors, reinforced windows, Spider-Tech crib that could survive a nuke. He once webbed a stranger for getting too close to the stroller.

He worships you. Kisses your stretch marks. Talks to your body like it’s sacred. Whispers, “You made him. You brought him here. You’re everything.”

He terrified of losing you again. Still checks if you’re breathing when you sleep. Still wakes up in cold sweats. Still holds your wedding ring like it’s a talisman.

And sometimes, when the baby sleeps…

You both sit on the floor, back against the wall, holding each other.

No masks. No saving the world. Just the three of you.

Survivors.

You look at him—your brilliant, broken, beautiful husband—and whisper:

“You saved me.”

He shakes his head, eyes wet.

“No,” he says, kissing your fingers, voice cracking—

“You saved me.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[leo-in-the-pitt]

The Aftermath

Summary: After a traumatic event happens to you, your almost 2 year relationship with Jack Abbott hits a wall. What will it take to bring you two back together again?

Warnings: Established relationship, implied age gap, topic of sexual assault, trauma, mental health struggles, strong language, mostly fluff.

W/C: 5.5K+

This is a sequel to Look Out For Her (highly suggest reading that first so this story makes sense)

The Morning After

As much as you found comfort lying in Jack’s arms after the night you had, nothing could keep your mind at ease. You managed to sleep for a couple hours thankfully. When you woke up around 7AM he was still asleep and had his top arm around you but managed to pull his arm out from under you without disturbing you. As much as you loved this man to death, you felt suffocated under the weight of his arm. You thought to yourself if he could move his arm without waking you up, you were sure you could move his without waking him up. And you were right. 

You grabbed a fresh set of clothes so you could go take a shower. And what better clothes to grab than his. Snuck out of the bedroom, making sure to close the door behind you so he didn’t hear you, and went into the bathroom. 

Your eyes were puffy from all the crying just a couple hours earlier. For a second, you forgot that your hand was broken as you leaned against the bathroom sink. The pain went shot all the way up your arm. You almost yelled but then remembered Jack was still asleep. 

You walked out of the bathroom wearing basically all his clothes. His boxers, t-shirt, even his socks.

The sun was already coming out so you decided to open the shades and sit on the couch closest to the window. Across from you, thrown over the kitchen bar stool was his Beers of the Burgh sweater that you had on only a couple hours ago. The sweater that the man slid his hands in to grab your waist. Under the sweater was the hospital belongings bag with your other clothes, the red dress and black heels. 

A sense of overwhelming guilt hit you. Why did you wear that dress? Jack picked it out for you. You were supposed to be wearing it for him, not for strangers at a bar. Why didn’t you hit him sooner? Yell for help sooner? You could’ve stopped it earlier but, you didn’t. And you didn’t understand why. 

You heard the floorboards in the hallway creaking. He was awake. 

“He’s, how long have you been out here?”

You wiped your eyes, not even realizing that you had fallen asleep. “Um I- I don’t know.” 

“You’re wearing my clothes.”

“Oh yeah”, you looked down at yourself, “sorry they’re just comfier I guess.”

You hadn’t looked at him since he walked over to the living room. 

He leaned his head down to get a better look at you. “You alright? Wanna talk now maybe?”

“Yeah I’m fine. Think I just need to relax today, hands really bothering me.”

You ignored his second question. He definitely noticed. 

“Do you want to go to the police station today?”

Shit. You forgot you had to do that. Was just hoping he’d have charges pressed against him without you having to speak about what happened again. 

“Uh yea- yeah, don’t really think I have a choice. Should probably just go now and get it over with.” You shook your head and looked up at him. 

He looked sad. Almost like he was disappointed in himself for what had happened to you. 

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, Jack it’s okay, I can go by myself.”

“I wasn’t asking.” He shook his head at your. “You’re not going alone.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer are you?”

“No, I’m not. Lets go. We’ll get you some food after.” 

You walked into the bedroom together. 

“What does someone even where to the police station?”

“Um, well it’s warm out but windy. You can take my sweater that on the chair out there if you want?”

“The sweater I had on yesterday Jack? Really?”

“Sorry. I forgot. What do you want me to do with the stuff in the bag?”

“I don’t know just shove it all in the back of the closet or something.”

And that’s exactly what he did.

———————————————————————

It felt like you were in the police station forever. It was only an hour. On the way out, you felt off. Couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was. Definitely not the hand. 

Your heart began to beat faster. You felt sweaty, mouth watering. 

You two walked down the steps of the police station and you had a slight wobble in your step.

“Jack I- I don’t feel good.” 

“What’s wro- “

He didn’t finish his finish before you ran over to the bushes. You threw up right there. 

You were breathing deeply. Fast. 

“Fu- fuck. Fuck.” You put your head into your hair grabbing your hair. 

“Shit! Are you okay?” He put his head on your lower back. 

You jumped away. 

He stepped back and put both hands up. 

“S- sorry.”

“No sorry, sorry. It’s not you, it’s just- I don’t know. It’s like I can still feel his hands on me. I don’t know. I know it’s stupid but I- I”

“Babygirl, it’s not stupid. Something awful happened to know. Nobody expects you to be okay. You’re allowed to fall apart. I’ll be right here to pick you back up.” 

You smiled softly at him. 

“Come on, let’s go home and get you some food.”

———————————————————————

Jack stopped by your favorite diner on the way home to pick you both up breakfast and while he was inside, you decided to call Langdon. 

“Hey kid, been waiting to hear from you. Did you go to the police station yet?”

“Yeah I’m actually heading home from there now.”

“Abbott with you?”

“Uh yeah, he’s in the diner right now actually picking us up some food. Just don’t think I wanna be around people right now.”

There was a pause. 

“You two okay though?”

“I don’t know maybe, maybe not, I- I don’t know. I know that he’s blaming himself for this and maybe I blame him a little for it too. I- I know I shouldn’t but if he didn’t lose his shit over the possibility of me leaving, I wouldn’t have left last night. None of this would be happening. So I don’t know what’s gonna happen with us.”

“Did you talk to him about any of it yet?”

“I don’t know if I can. He knows what happened and that’s basically it. None of what’s running through my head though.”

“Well maybe it’s worth a seat down conversation. He actually just called me right before you did.”

“He called you while he was in the diner didn’t he? So you already knew that he was with me.”

“Uh yeah- yeah I did. He just wanted me to check up on you. He knows you’re gonna try to play the tough guy in front of him and not tell him everything. Told him I’d try to knock some sense into you.”

“Not sure anyone can knock any sense into me right about now.” 

“If anyone’s gonna help you through this it’s going to be him. You guys are basically the Pittsburgh Trauma power couple. Basically the real life version of Meredith and Derek.”

You smiled and let out a little laugh. The first time you had smiled since before it happened. 

“Alright, take care of yourself kid. And take care of that hand. You’re gonna need it when you become an attending here.”

Shit. Forgot your interview for the attending position is next week. 

“Talk to you soon.” And you hung up the phone 

And with perfect timing he was walking to the car with the food. 

“Alrighty, let’s get my girl home.” He leaned in to kiss you. 

You pulled away quick. It lasted less than a second. It was different. You didn’t know how but it didn’t feel the same. And you could see on his face that he felt the same.

———————————————————————

Once you got home, you went straight to the bathroom to freshen up and put his clothes back on. 

As soon as you walked into the kitchen, you saw that he had set out the food already. 

“They had that cheesecake you love, it’s in the fridge if you want some later.”

“I don’t really know if I have the appetite for all of this right now.”

“That’s okay, could eat the rest of it later if you want?”

“Yeah maybe”

You barely touched any of your food despite it being your favorite. Jack noticed but, didn’t say anything about it.

There wasn’t much conversation for the rest of the day until you were getting ready for bed.

Jack walked into the bedroom. “Hey so I’m going to be home with you the rest of the week.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Yeah I knew you wouldn’t ask but, I don’t really think you should be alone right now so I talked to Robby and got some time off.”

“What else did you tell him?”

“He just knows about the hand. Nothing else. Told him that you would call him when you’re ready.”

You didn’t say anything, just crawled into bed.

“Look I’m just trying to help you out here.”

“Well you weren’t there to help me when I really needed it so what’s the point now Jack?” You got into bed facing away from him and pulled the covers over your shoulder.

“You already know that I blame myself.”

He let out a sigh and he shook his head.

“Think I’m just going to sleep on the couch tonight.”

You could here it in his voice. What did you just do?

——————————————————————— 

One Day After

You went in person the next day to talk to Robby in person early before Jack woke up. He stayed on the couch the entire night. You told Robby most of the story.

“So you sure you want to push the interview back? We could just do it right now if you wanted?”

“This isn’t exactly how I planned on interviewing for an attending job here Robby.”

“Well if I’m being honest with you, you don’t need to interview. The job is yours if you want it.”

“Wait, what?” Your jaw was on the floor.

“I’ve seen you grow into an amazing doctor here. Your not the same person you were when you walked through those doors as a med student and I think that’s for the best. The way you treat your patients, the way you teach the newer residents, you’re always trying to learn something new. This things can’t be taught. It what we need around here.”

“Robby I- I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. Think about it. Talk to Jack about it. Let me know. Whatever you decide we’ll all be here to support you. 

“Not sure he wants to talk to me right about now.”

“If I know anything about him, it’s that all he wants to do is talk to you.”

———————————————————————

Two Weeks After

You went back to work two weeks after it happened. One week after Robby offered you the attending position. Jack still didn’t know. He just thought you pushed the interview but, didn’t ask to when.

You started back on nights with Jack. Robby offered to let you do days for the last 2 and a half months of residency but, you just wanted things to go back to normal. So you kept the same schedule and went right back to being chief resident. Things were awkward between you two at home but, at work you managed to keep it civil and everyone thought you two were fine but, truth is you were far from it.

Jack and you had been carpooling to and from work and you typically had to wait for him. Today he was taking longer than usual. 

“I’m sure you guys will be fine.” Said Robby.

“I don’t think we will. She won’t even talk to me. We’ve had maybe 5 conversations since it happened. She blames me for what happened to her.”

“You just have to give her more time Abbott. This isn’t going to be a quick fix. Her hand is still shattered. She cancelled all her interviews. You can’t expect her to be okay with everything going on.”

“Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean she cancelled her interviews? What about the interview here?”

“So I’d be right in assuming she never told you?”

Abbott shook his head. “I’m in the dark here man.”

“She already had her interview. She took the job here. She told me last week. She said she talked to you though.”

He put his head in his hands. “She just doesn’t trust me anymore.”

“Don’t say that.”

There was a pause, “I don’t know I- I guess I should return it then.” 

“You bought the ring already, didn’t you?”

“Bought it 2 months ago the day after we walked past that jewelry shop and she dragged me inside to look at them. Figured her looking at them with me meant she was ready for the next step but, I don’t know anymore.”

“You guys have already been through so much together, you can’t give up on her now.”

“I just thought we’d be in a better place by now.”

“When were you planning on doing it?”

“Once she finished residency. Once she got the job here. I wanted to step into the next part of our lives together. Watching her career take off as we start planning a wedding. Looking at houses with spare bedrooms for a future kids. Start thinking of baby names. I’m ready for the whole thing with her Robby but- but I don’t think we’re going to make it that far anymore.”

“Does she now you’re planning all of this?”

“She called me the night it happened. Right before it happened. Left me a voicemail that she was sorry and loved me. I tried to call her back. It went straight to voicemail, told her all of it, that she’s it for me. I was leaving that voicemail as it was happening to her,” his voice cracked, tears started to fill his eyes, “I couldn’t help her.”

Robby put his arm around him. 

“None of this is your fault and it’s definitely not hers either. You need to sit down and tell her all of this before it’s too late.”

Down the hall, Landon saw you waiting.

“Damn kid, why are you still here?”

“You haven’t seen Jack around have you?”

“Yeah, he’s in Robby’s office. Want me to go get him?”

“No, I got it.”

You walked down the hallway with your bags. You’d been waiting over half an hour for him. And you were pissed.

You opened the office door without knocking. “Hey boys, I’d like to go home if that okay- oh shit, sorry didn’t mean to disturb you guys.”

You didn’t expect to see Jack standing there on the verge of tears with Robby comforting him. 

He reached into his pockets and pulled out his car keys. “Here. I’ll be right there.”

You took the keys and left.

“Just talk to her Jack. The only way out is through brother.”

You waited outside for him, standing against the hood of his car.

He finally came outside. His eyes were red. He was crying. In the 4 years of knowing him and almost 2 years of dating him, you’d only seen him cry once after losing a patient.

He walked up to the drivers side door and tried to open it. 

“Can you unlock the car please?”

“No, I want to talk about what that was in there?”

He took a deep breath, “We were talking about you. That what you want to hear?”

“What’d I do this time?” You glanced over at him. 

“Think it’s more of what you’re not doing. You can talk to me you know? I’m just here to help you. Please let me help you.” He pleaded.

“I’m fine.” You looked down at the ground. 

He walked over and stood directly in front of you. You took a slight step back without realizing it. 

“I can’t even get within 2 feet of you completely losing it. We’ve kissed once in 2 weeks. You won’t let me touch you. At all. Were you going to tell me you took the job here? You keep things secret.”

“I don’t want to talk about this now.”

“Okay so if not now then when? You wanted to talk remember? We’ve been together for almost 2 years. You’re really going to push me away now? After everything that’s happened”

“Jack I- I’m not trying to push you away, I just- You have an out if you want it.”

“What the hell are you talking about? 

“I won’t blame you if you want to leave me. I’m not okay, and- and I probably won’t be for awhile and I don’t expect you to just sit around and wait for me.” 

You turned to walk around and get into the car. He grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Jack, just let me go please. You have to be the one to end this. Please. I can’t be the one to leave.” 

“No, fuck no, I’m in this. I can’t leave you. I’m never going to leave you. Just- just please trust me. I’m here for you, I’m here with you.”

Tears filled your eyes.

“You deserve better Jack.”

“Ple- please talk to someone. You need help that I can’t give you anymore. Please.”

And with that you fell into his arms.

——————————————————————— 

One and a Half Months After 

After your talk in the hospital parking lot, you agreed to start going to therapy. Which, much to your surprise, was actually helping.

Jack went on Tuesday and Thursday in the morning to his sessions and you went to yours. You’d meet up afterwards for breakfast at your favorite diner to talk over coffee afterwards. 

The first few sessions were rough. You struggled to open up but, once you did, you realized just how much trauma you’d accrued these past 4 years. 

“Hey babygirl, how’d it go?”

“Well today we just talked about you, so that was nice.”

“Should I be scared?” He laughed. 

“Um well actually she thinks that I’m scared to let you touch me because it reminds me of that night…”

Jack nearly choked on his coffee.

Coughing he said, “And do you agree with her?”

“I think so, I- I mean I’m not scared of you. Just the last person to put their hands on me changed me in ways I didn’t even know was possible. I know you aren’t him and I know that you won’t hurt me. It doesn’t make any sense and I’m sorry. If I could change it I would.

“No, I mean, I get it. You’re allowed to feel that way.”

You and Jack hadn’t had sex since before it happened. What was once an occurrence multiple, multiple times a week, was now unheard of. 

Yeah it was only a month. But it was a long month for you both. Especially him and you could tell. There was a few instances were to tried to initiate something more. A couple high school like make out sessions but, you always pulled back before things got too far. 

“I’m sorry Jack, I just think I need more time until we can be intimate again.” 

“Did she tell you how much longer that might take?” He was laughing. 

You chuckled lightly, “Wish I could tell you.”

“It’s okay, you’re worth the wait.”

———————————————————————

Two And A Half Months After

There was 2 weeks left until you were going to just be a resident anymore. You’d be an attending running all your own cases. 

4 years ago you never saw this coming. Working as An Emergency Room Physician in your dream hospital with your favorite people in the whole world.

Your hand finally healed. You were finally able to do everything pain free. Guess Jack bribing the best physical therapist in the hospital was worth it after all.

You and Jack were surprisingly better than ever. Still living together. You were going to be working night shift too once you started so you’d be seeing a lot more of each other. Which you didn’t know would be a good or bad thing. But you were hopeful.

There was still no intimacy between you two.  It almost happened after you showed him the outfit you were going to wear to your residency graduation but, once again it was you the stopped it. And he was still as patient as ever. 

———————————————————————

Three Months After 

The day of your residency graduation was finally here. You did it. You fulfilled your lifelong dream. Going to be working with some of your best friends. The best people you could have ever imagined working with. 

You walked out of the bedroom wearing the outfit that Jack was ready to rip off of you the day you bought it. A long red dress. 

He licked his lips as he looked you up and down. 

“You look good. Like really fucking good. That’s my attending physician right there.”

He was wearing a slim fitted black suit. His shoulders. His waist. The way his silver curls shined in the light. You thought to yourself, maybe tonight is the night you can finally jump over that last hurdle in your relationship. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself Dr. Abbott.” 

God you could jump this man right here and now.

“You know I love it when you call me that.” He did sideways smirk that always drove you crazy. “Come on, let’s go, wanna go show you off.” 

The ceremony was quick. There was only 5 in your graduating class. And everyone else was leaving the program to go somewhere else. It would just be you left here. 

You took pictures and videos with everyone. They would all be leaving right away to move for their new jobs and you didn’t want to forget this moment. It was the best day you had in as long as you could remember. All your problems just melted away that day. 

You may have had too much to drink throughout the day but, to be fair, so did everyone else. 

“Glad she’s doing so much better.” Said Robby. 

“Yeah, me too.”

“You guys all good?” He glared over at Abbott.

“Uh, yes and no.”

“Do I want to know what that means?”

“I don’t know, are you my friend right now or her boss?”

“Well we were friends way before she came along.”

“She’s gonna kill me for telling you this,” he took a deep breath, “we haven’t had sex in three months.”

“Jesus Christ, Jack.” Robby shook his head. 

“It’s not me I swear, I’ve tried, a lot actually. It’s just hasn’t happened.” 

“I don’t know, maybe all this excitement and joy today will help you out.”

“God I really hope so. Not sure how much longer I can hold out.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have told me that.”

“All I know is, I’m going to marry that girl. Soon if I can help it”

The day came to an end and all you could think about was getting Jack home and ripping him out of that suit. Tonight felt like it could be the night. 

Jack walked you back to the car. He opened the passengers side door for you like he always does. But before you sat down, you put your hands on his chest. 

You looked up into his green eyes shining in the light from the gleaming sunset and ran your fingers through his silver hair. And kissed him. The spark was back. 

Yeah kissing him always felt special. But something changed after that night 3 months ago. But it was back now. 

He kissed you back. His arms now wrapped around your back pulling your bodies together. Hands wondering. You were on your toes as your mouths meet. He let out a slight moan as his tongue slid into your mouth. 

After about a minute, you pulled away. 

“Take me home Jack.” 

“Absolutely.”

The entire drive home, he kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. Nothing was said but, you could feel the excitement. 

You got out of the car as quickly as you could. You normally waited for him to come and open your door for you since he would get mad if you opened it yourself but, you couldn’t wait this time around. 

You were stumbling as you two walked up to your apartment. Definitely wouldn’t failed a sobriety test. And he noticed. 

“You okay?” He asked as he put the key into the apartment door. 

“Yeah, maybe just one too many drinks. I’m fine though, I promise.”

As soon as the apartment door was closed, you threw your body onto his. 

The kiss was passionate, raw. You slid his suit jacket off and threw it onto the couch. You slipped off your heels and started to unbutton his dress shirt. 

Just as you reached for his belt buckle he gently pushed your hands away. 

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted this?”

“Not like this, you’re drunk. You don’t wanna do this for yourself, you wanna do it for me.”

“No, I’m not. I want this, please.”

“You are. And that’s fine, you had a lot to celebrate today. And I want to do this. My god you have no idea how badly I want to do this but- but, no not like this.”

“Are you sure Jack?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure. It’s fine. Don’t worry. Think I’m just gonna go jump in the shower real quick. It’s late we should probably get some sleep.”

You didn’t sleep the entire night. Just tossed and turned. 

Once the alarm clock woke you up, you just sat on the edge of the bed. 

Jack rolled over and saw you sitting there. 

“What’s wrong babygirl?”

“What happened last night Jack?”

“Which part?”

“The part where you don’t want to have sex with me anymore.”

“You know I want to have sex with you all the time.” He laughed.

“So why didn’t you last night?”

“Cause that was all the alcohol talking. You wanna sleep with me because I want to sleep with you. Not because you want it. Not because you’re ready for it.”

“I am ready for it.”

“If I got up right now and tried to have sex with you, you’d stop it.”

“Yeah, because I’m not in the mood now.” You shrugged.

“You always used to be in the mood couldn’t get you off of me before,” he laughed, “you’re not ready and that’s fine. I’ll be here waiting for you. The sex is amazing, don’t get me wrong, earth shattering actually but, it’s not everything to me. It’ll happen when you’re ready. “

“What did I do to deserve you?” You laid back in the bed with him. 

“And I ask myself the same thing about you everyday.”

———————————————————————

Two Weeks As An Attending

You took no time off in between finishing residency and starting work. Graduation Thrusday and work starting Monday. Jack would be at work anyway, so you had no one to spend all that time with. 

The first week was filled with paperwork and classes you didn’t even know existed. The next week you were already starting work. Meeting all the new interns, starting all your new responsibilites. Work was occupying your mind for the most part but, next week was your 2 year anniversary with Jack. 

Of course he was going to plan something big and romantic, especially since you were on such good terms now. Besides the no sex part.

He forced you to go shopping a couple of days before your anniversary. You were filling a box all the things special to him. And at the bottom a photo album with all of your favorite pictures together. You figured he had to be planning something too since he was out of the house the entire day. 

He was out planning with Robby. 

“So you and Langdon have to go pick up the flowers.”

“I thought Collins was getting the flowers.”

“Oh for fuck sakes…”

“I’m just messing with you. We went over this a million times, we got this.”

“I’m planning a proposal in 4 days and you think it’s time to joke?”

“Just trying to help Abbott.” Robby laughed and put his hand on Jacks shoulder.

“You can help by making sure you get the fucking flowers on time.” Jack pulled back.

“Just trying to calm you down brother. I already told you if you want I’ll get Collins to subtly bring it up to her to see what her thought are.”

“No absolutely not. She scares easy.”

He knew you too well.

“And you don’t think this big proposal will scare her?”

“No, no it won’t. When we first started dating, she used to so me all these proposal videos, telling me what she liked and didn’t. She even has wedding ideas saved in her phone. She’ll love it, I’m sure.”

While Jack was finalizing the details of your marriage proposal, you were out buying his last gift. A new watch. He kept saying that he needed a new one and would show you which one he had his eyes on. But he always said he wanted it personalized, so that’s exactly what you did. 

It was expensive. But the new salary was definitely helping. The two of your initials were engraved on the back, along with the original day you met when you were still in med school and the day he asked you to be his girlfriend. 

You explained that to the jeweler who was giving you the watch when you were picking it up. 

“Maybe you can add a engagement day or wedding day on there soon enough!” 

“Yeah we’ll see about that I guess.” You awkwardly laughed remembering the voicemail he left you the night it happened. 

As soon as you walked out of the shop, you called Langdon. 

“What’s up ki- “

“We have a big problem!”

“Oh god, what happened this time?”

“What if Jack proposes on our anniversary?”

There was silence.

“Langdon if there’s any moment where you’re actually quiet for once, it should not be right now.”

“Sorry thought there was more to what you just said. Not sure I’m really seeing why you’re freaking out. Wouldn’t that be a good thing kid?”

“Yeah obviously it would be the best thing ever…” 

“I’m sensing that there’s more on your mind.”

“Well I mean we’re obviously in a good place now it’s just that- “

“Spit it out kid.”

“We haven’t had sex in 3 months.”

“Yeah I could’ve gone the rest of my life without knowing about your sex life.”

“You’re my best friend Langdon, I need to tell somebody about this.”

“Has anyone like tried to initiate something or?”

“Well yeah obviously, we both have. It just hasn’t worked out in our favor obviously.

“You just gotta give it some more time. You’re both probably trying to wait for the perfect moment.”

“What if the perfect moment doesn’t come?”

“It won’t. You both just have to stop overthinking everything. Trust me, I doubt that this is the end of your sex life kid.”

You finished telling Langdon about everything you bought for Jack and decided you should go home before he starts to think that you’re making a break for it before your anniversary.

All of the gifts came together the way you imagined. But his actual gift, was you. You were ready for him. You were ready to have sex with him again. You were since the night of your graduation. And you were ready to convince him too. 

As you walked up to your apartment door, you could hear Jack talking to someone. It was Robby. 

“Oh shit, I mean hey babygirl, didn’t know you’d be back so soon.” He walked you to you to give you a quick kiss. 

“I’ve been gone since 10.” 

It was now 4PM. 

“Time flies when you’re having fun I guess. I should probably start heading home anyway, Collins is waiting for me.”

And with that he was just you and Jack. Alone.

“So what were you guys up to?”

“Nothing just hanging out. Boring guy stuff you know.”

“You guys hang out like everyday at work. Is that not enough?”

“Guess not. Uh you wanna order some food or something?” He was speaking faster than usual. 

“Are you okay Jack?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know, you just seem frazzled or something.”

“Nope all good over here. I think we should order some food. Maybe watch a movie or something” And he picked up his cellphone.

You just stared at him. He didn’t look up. But you watched his fingers against the screen. He wasn’t scrolling looking for somewhere to order food from. He was typing.

To Robby: She knows brother. She knows.

There was only one thought racing through your mind in that moment. Oh my god. He’s going to propose.

———————————————————————

This one goes out to the handful of people that wanted a second part!

Obviously there has to be another part and I think we all know where that one’s heading. Or do we?Actually have plans for another 2 parts at least. The next one might be rated M for mature if you know what I mean. You'll have to wait and see.

See you next time! :)

[jordiemeow]

summary: when anakin gets denied the rank of master, he's overwrought with tension. no better way to deal with it than sneaking out to visit his favourite girl at his favourite brothel on the lower levels of coruscant.

warnings: smut 18+, face-sitting, mild sub!anakin, reader is a prostitute, brief comfort ending in f!receiving oral, anakin is a giver!! cathartic head-giving

notes: in honour of may the fourth! need to remake my taglist for specific fandoms so not tagging anyone here. not my usual audience so if this flops idc but anakin has been on my mind a lot recently (when is he not). anyways happy star wars day :)

"It's... it's a joke, is what it is. And he didn't stick up for me. Not once. What an excuse for a mentor if he's just going to—"

You're not listening at this point. Head tilted, lips slick with red paint, body on display. It's a shame the sheer two-piece is going to waste on a Jedi rambling on about how betrayed he feels by the Order. It's also terribly hard to listen to said 'betrayal' when his robes and tunic have been shrugged off to leave him in just his pants, defined muscles rippling under the dim light of your private room.

Something about feeling too restricted. You'd laughed and said the removal of clothes was pretty typical in this establishment, but your attempts at levity proved futile. Fast forward to now...

"—And don't even get me started on Master Windu." (You weren't going to.) "How can he look me in the eyes and tell me that? Like I don't deserve it for all the work I've done for them. Risked my lives countless times. Saved millions—no, dare I say billions—and this is the thanks I get!"

Billions? You aren't so sure about that. You keep the comment to yourself—maybe he's right. You don't ask him for information; it's always willingly passed on. He could be the most decorated Jedi in the Order after this war and you would be none the wiser.

He paces back and forth restlessly, hands tightened into fits and jaw taut with tension. You'd almost be a little frightened if most of your visits from him didn't start with some sort of temper tantrum. All this just for you to soothe him into bed and make him forget.

"Ridiculous," he spits as you watch on plaintively. It's like spectating a meltdown, you can't help but think. You're surprised he hasn't thrown something yet. Destruction is always a symptom of his annoyance. You wonder briefly if his room back at the Temple is in disarray. "And then Obi-Wan has the audacity to ask me to—"

You cross the room to reach him just in time to stop him from saying something he absolutely should not be telling a prostitute. You know half the Jedi Order's secrets by now from his visits. A hand rests upon his left arm, the one made of human flesh. Gentle, tentative, like you're trying not to scare off a frightened animal. He almost jerks it back, but his eyes soften when you speak.

"Ani," you croon gently. The nickname makes the tension in his shoulders ease. "Just come to bed. You're getting yourself all worked up."

He sighs. He knows you're right. But he's stubborn on a good day, and today is not one of those.

"You don't understand. They're treating me like I'm less than them just because the Chancellor recommended me. Like I haven't done everything to prove I'm more than just a Knight before he got involved."

"You aren't less than them just because they go around calling themselves Masters. A lot of men in here do that, you know. Makes them feel powerful. If it makes you feel better, I could call you that."

He rolls his eyes. Fond. Amused. "That doesn't really count."

"No, I suppose not," you smile. The kind with your eyes that crinkles softly. The kind that always makes him wonder whether you're actually being authentic. Sometimes he forgets you're human under all the sequins and smoke, when you strut around the room like you're one of the suns and everyone else is in orbit.

You seem like you genuinely want to put him at ease right now, even with all your playful little jabs. It makes him sigh, shoulders slumping as his hand finds your waist.

"You're good at this, you know," he murmurs.

"And you're good at being a Jedi hero," you counter, gently urging him back towards the bed. "But enough moping. I'm not wasting this outfit on you if you think your credits are going towards therapy."

He laughs as the back of his legs hit the bed, letting himself fall. He props himself up on his elbows to watch you trail a tantalising finger down your chest, through the valley of your breasts. It's enough to make any man's throat go dry. Especially a Jedi who's only form of action is the rare occasions he can sneak away to see you.

"No? What are they going towards, then?"

"Depends. Whaddya want tonight?" You ask playfully, tugging at the alarmingly thin strap between the two cups barely concealing your tits. His eyes are drawn to them, watching the way the fat spills out of the satin, the red material a stark contrast to your skin.

He swallows thickly.

"Eyes up here, big shot."

His blue eyes flick up to your own, a little sheepish. This is the part where he has you sprawl out beneath him for his perusal. But instead, he says:

"I just want to feel good at something. Make you feel good."

It surprises you a little, your hand faltering where it's been idly exploring your cleavage. You recover quickly enough that he doesn't comment on your blunder. "You always make me feel good."

"That's a practiced answer," he accuses.

"Practiced but true in your case."

"Fine. But I mean it. I could use the ego boost."

"But—"

"Who's the paying customer?" Anakin interjects.

"You aren't making me feel very good by smart-mouthing me, you know."

He ignores your faux-admonishment. "So you'll let me?"

It's not as if you're opposed to it. Not in the slightest. It's just surprising.

"I'd let you do anything. You know I would."

A shadow of a grin crosses his face, before his braced elbows fall and he lays down. Dark hair spread across your pillows, fanning out in messy curls against the satin.

"Ride my face."

He says it so earnestly you almost laugh. Sometimes you forget how young he is. Nothing like the old timers who come in here looking for a quick fuck with no regards for anything but their own dicks.

"Are you sure? We've never done that before."

"You're not the only girl I've been with," he counters. It's almost enough to make your chest twinge with jealousy—you know he's seen other girls here. When you're busy, or before you became his favourite. You're a professional, though. Don't let it show.

"Okay," you relent. You can't help but be spiteful, though. Panties dragging agonisingly down your thighs while he watches through half-lidded eyes as the fabric inches lower, lower, lower...

Eventually they pool around your ankles, and you step out of them. The bra (a generous term for such a skimpy piece of fabric) follows as you move to straddle him.

"Higher," he says, hands finding your thighs and attempting to pull you further up his body. The contrast between cool metal and a warm palm on each leg makes you shudder.

You whack a hand gently. "Patient. Thought you wanted to be good?"

He bites back a groan, his hands stilling. They still rest on the plush flesh of your thighs, but he isn't tugging insistently at your limbs to get you where he wants you. You continue with your torturous pace, moving up his body. The slick of your cunt drags across his bare abs, and a sharp breath escapes him.

The friction is enough to have you sigh softly as you ease upwards. You take your time teasing his nipples until he's tensing underneath you, back arched up off the mattress and fingers curling into your skin.

"I didn't think this would make you so much of a tease," he says breathlessly.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Your eyelashes bat innocently at him. "This is what gets me off. You're being useful."

He gives you an unimpressed look for your faux-naïf, but he keeps his mouth shut. You're so close that he doesn't want to goad you into holding back any longer. And he's rewarded for his patience when you give a little pat to his pecs, and finally move to hover over his face.

He looks like an undercity kid who's seen the surface for the first time. Eager blue eyes, mouth salivating at the sight of your dripping cunt above him. It's hard to find the restraint to not dive in and bury his nose in your folds. Just the smell almost has his eyes rolling back.

"Please," he murmurs. Breathy and whiny, like a young man begging for a drop of salvation, not the famed 'Hero with No Fear' breaking his Code to spend the night in a pleasure house. "C'mon. Just let me. Oh, please, I need it—"

You sink down onto his mouth before he can finish his sentence. He moans into your heat, tongue flicking out to drink up whatever has already spilled from you. There's nothing tentative about it—it's like he's devoting everything into worshipping you with his mouth. Gone are the thoughts of his Master and the rest of the Council denying him. All he can comprehend is your sweet mewls as you sit atop his face.

His chin is soaked with the fluids of your pleasure, nose nudging your clit each time you roll your hips against his face. It's instinctive and you hardly mean to do it, but he grips your hips and guides you to grind against his eager mouth.

"Oh, Ani," you moan softly. "Just like that. Mhm."

It's enough encouragement for him to keep working. Dutifully strokes of his tongue, switching between nuzzling between your slick folds and sucking at your clit. Cheeks hollowed out and applying suction as you brace a hand against the headboard, the other nestled into his soft curls.

Your thighs tremble on each side of his head, toes curling into the sheets every time he flicks eagerly at the bud. Hips rocking upwards against the air in search of friction he physically cannot receive right now, cock hard and leaking in the confines of his pants. His erection is almost painful, but he wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to be good for something.

"You'd do wonders in here, you know,” you manage through a groan. “If you're looking to become a— oh, fuckkkk—different kind of master. Very skilled mouth."

His laugh vibrates against your dripping cunt. "Tempting, if I get to work in such close quarters with you."

"Mhm, maybe. Perhaps we could become a bit of a duo. They pay extra for that, you know. And the tips are great. You should really— oh!"

His teeth graze against that sensitive spot that has your eyes rolling back. "I didn't come here for a new career. Just let me make you feel good, please?"

All you can manage is a hum of agreement with the way he's redoubled his efforts. Tongue flattened against the roll of your hips, obediently letting you use his wet mouth to chase your own pleasure. The feeling of your sopping cunt grinding against his face chases anything but you from his mind.

The pleasure grows almost blinding. "Fuck, close," you gasp out, tugging lightly on his hair.

It earns a pleased moan into your heat. "Please. Wanna feel it," he mumbles, a rumble into you in between licks of his tongue. He doesn't think he's ever tasted anything sweeter.

A few more carefully placed laps and your thighs tense. One of your hands moves to cup your breast as you ride through your orgasm, release spilling over his awaiting mouth. He welcomes it all eagerly, working you through it as his name falls off your tongue again and again.

When you roll off of him, you're both short of breath. Neither of you bother to wipe the smear of your slick off his chin as you sink down next to him. One glance to the chronometer on the wall tells you he's spent most of his time worshipping your pussy rather than chasing his own pleasure. Another glance, this time to him, makes it very clear he isn't bothered by that in the slightest.

Oh, well. You still have a few more minutes for him to smother you in affection unbefitting of two people from your stations in life.

It’s quiet after that. Light, fleeting touches as you catch your breaths.

Aftercare with him is the best part, you think. When all the tension is released and he's all lazy, boyish smiles as he runs his hands absently up and down your bare arm. Soft kisses placed to your shoulders, an apologetic brush of his lips against any splotchy bruises left by the men and women before him. Most patrons are always right out the door, but Anakin...

Well, he likes to check in. Make sure you're okay. Have a bit of banter.

"Was I too much? Was that alright?"

You smile. A silly question, given you were calling most of the shots when you were actually on top of him. You answer anyways.

"No. No, you were perfect," you tell him softly, pushing a sweaty brown curl off of his forehead.

His brow pinches like he doesn't believe you. Not about the too much part. The perfect part. "But I—"

"Ani," you cut him off. The nickname makes him melt back into the sheets. More docile, relaxed. "You are perfect. Those Jedis all have sticks up their asses if they can't see you deserve to sit around their silly little table, or whatever it is they do up in their fancy pants Council Room."

He sighs. A beat of silence.

"... Lightsabers," he corrects.

You blink stupidly. "What?"

"They have lightsabers stuck up their asses."

There's the Anakin you know. You snort softly, bracing your forearm on top of his chest to peer down at him. "I'm pretty sure that'd burn them inside out."

"Maybe they deserve it," he fires back. Something about the way he says it makes you think he's not entirely joking. But you laugh anyways, head shaking softly.

"Maybe they do," you agree, ducking down to plant a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Anyways, you best get going. I have to clean up before the next one comes in."

"Do I have to?" He groans. "Just cancel. Tell them you're sick."

"She's a regular. Unfortunately, you have to go face reality." You sit up, patting his chest. "Go be a big, brave Jedi for me, yeah?"

Anakin rolls his eyes, but he obliges reluctantly, even if he makes a big show of sighing loudly and dragging himself sluggishly out of the soiled sheets in search of his discarded robes.

If tonight has shown you one thing, it's that he probably shouldn't be a Jedi Master after all the rules he's broken in one evening alone. But you don't tell him that. You make your coin out of sleeping with sleazebags from all over the Galaxy in the Coruscant Underworld, after all.

Who are you to judge?

[lalo0]

INSIDE AESPA EP. 4┃ Not Until You Beg

Male reader x Ningning x Giselle

Word count: 12k Tags: threesome, BDSM, squirting, rough sex, dirty talk, teasing PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

I didn’t text her first.

I could’ve. Probably should’ve. But by the time I made it halfway back through the city, I’d already been home. Showered. Changed. Sat on the edge of my bed for half an hour doing nothing but thinking.

Then I walked. Nowhere in particular. Around the block. Then down another. Then through a few more I didn’t recognize. Like I was waiting for my body to make a decision my brain hadn’t caught up to.

It was already dark when I stopped walking.

And found myself standing in front of her building, staring at the buzzer like it was gonna tell me if this was a good idea.

I pressed it.

Two rings. Then silence.

Then: the soft buzz of the door unlocking.

I didn’t need to ask if she knew who it was.

The elevator ride was fast. Too fast. I could feel my pulse behind my teeth. There wasn’t a plan. I just needed to see her. Not even to explain.

Just to exist in the same room again.

The hallway looked the same. Polished floors. Dim lighting. Cold and expensive. I reached the door and lifted my hand to knock.

It opened before I could.

But it wasn’t Giselle.

Winter stood in the doorway.

She was barefoot, wearing loose sweats and a cropped hoodie, one hand wrapped around a steaming mug. Her eyes landed on me, unblinking, calm.

Neither of us said anything.

Then her gaze slid over my shoulder, like she was checking for cameras.

She stepped aside.

“Come in,” she said.

I hesitated.

Then stepped in.

The apartment was quiet.

Winter walked past me, taking a sip from her mug. She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t smirk or give me a look.

She just said, "She's in her room," then padded down the hall and disappeared without another word.

A few seconds later, Giselle appeared from around the corner, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, eyes tired but alert.

She stopped when she saw me.

We looked at each other for a second. No hello. No smile. Just silence.

Then she stepped forward.

And let me stay.

She didn’t ask me to sit. I didn’t take my shoes off. I just stood there while she walked to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, and sipped.

“Long night?” she said finally.

I swallowed. “You could say that.”

She nodded once. Then turned, walked to the bed, and sat. She pulled one leg under the other, resting her arm along the back of the mattress like she hadn’t just asked something that stuck in the air like smoke.

“You gonna sit, or?”

I moved.

Dropped onto the mattress beside her, close but not touching. She didn’t lean away.

She watched me like she always did — eyes steady, curious, a little tired, a little distant.

“You wanna talk?” I asked.

She exhaled. Not quite a laugh. More of a breath with shape.

“I don’t know what I want,” she said.

“Then why did you let me in?”

Her fingers curled against the mattress.

"I'm not sure yet," she said.

Then she looked away, like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Silence again. Not comfortable. Not cruel. Just full of things neither of us were ready to admit.

I leaned back, palms pressed to the edge of the mattress. “It’s not nothing, you know.”

Giselle didn’t look at me. “What’s not?”

“Whatever this is.”

She snorted. “So now we’re calling it this?”

“I don’t have a better word.”

“I don’t either.”

Her voice dropped on the last line like it surprised her—like admitting she didn’t have control over the narrative hurt more than anything I could’ve said.

She pulled her leg tighter under herself and rubbed a thumb across the seam of her sleeve.

“I thought I’d feel different by now,” she said.

“About what?”

“You.”

My throat stopped. I waited for the punchline. A laugh. A cold edge. Something.

But she didn’t deliver it.

“I thought maybe if we had sex, it would be out of my system,” she said. “I’d be able to move on. Blame the tension. Call it a moment.”

“And now?”

Her eyes finally met mine. “Now it’s worse.”

I exhaled. Something in me wanted to flinch. But not out of guilt. Just the weight of it.

She sighed and looked down, tracing the hem of her hoodie.

“I’m not trying to make this a thing,” she said quickly, like she regretted every word she’d said in the last five minutes. “I don’t do things. Not like this.”

“I don’t either.”

She gave me a side glance. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just…” She paused, biting the inside of her cheek. “You came back. That already makes you different.”

I didn’t answer right away.

“You think I’m some romantic?” I said finally.

“I don’t know what you are,” she said. “But I keep trying to figure it out.”

“Why?”

Her jaw tightened. “Because I don’t want to be wrong about you.”

That one landed.

I looked down at my hands, flexed them slowly. They still felt like mine. But something about the way she was watching me made me feel like they were on display.

Giselle’s voice softened. “You don’t let people in easily, do you?”

“No.”

“So why me?”

That question came quiet, but it was the hardest one yet.

And I didn’t have an answer. Not one I could say out loud.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re not here because you got bored.”

“No.”

“You’re not here because you miss the sex.”

“I’m here,” I said, turning to her. “Because I'm confused about us.”

That cracked her, just a little.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t move. But her breath changed. Her hand curled tighter in the fabric of her hoodie. And for a second, she just sat there with that pain in her chest like she didn’t know where to put it.

“Did you think about me?” she asked, even quieter now.

I hesitated.

“After,” I said. “Not during.”

She nodded. Once. Twice. Like she’d expected it but still didn’t like how it felt.

“I didn’t think I’d care,” she said. “I told myself it was just fun. Something I could control.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do.” she snapped

I watched her for a long time. No comeback. No comfort. Just presence.

She looked at me again.

“I hate this,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Not knowing where I stand. Not knowing where you do.”

I shifted a little closer. Not touching her yet. Just near enough to feel her breath hitch.

“You want to know the truth?” I asked.

“No,” she said. Then: “Yeah.”

I nodded.

“I didn’t come here because I knew what to say. Or because I had a plan. I came here because I couldn’t stay away.”

Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

Not yet.

She sat with that for a moment — what I’d just said. That I couldn’t stay away.

Then she blinked, like waking from her own thoughts, and looked at me again.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

“Okay?”

She nodded, slowly. “I don’t know what this is. Or what it’s supposed to be.”

“I don’t either.”

She swallowed. Her voice was soft, but steady now. “And I don’t want to screw it up by trying to define it too early.”

I nodded once. Let her talk.

“I’m confused,” she admitted. “That’s the truth. I like having you around. I like the way you look at me. I like the way you fuck me.”

That made my breath catch, but I didn’t interrupt.

She kept going.

“But I also like not being tied down to a label. Not yet. Not when I’m still figuring myself out.”

There was no apology in her tone. Just honesty. Like she was laying out a map neither of us had drawn yet.

“So we’re not together,” she said, more to herself than me. “But we’re something.”

“I can live with that,” I said.

She looked at me again — this time longer.

“And if something happens with someone else?” she asked.

My heart didn’t jump. I’d already braced for this.

“I won’t lie to you,” I said. “But I also won’t pretend it wouldn’t mean something if you asked me not to.”

She nodded again.

“I’m not ready to ask,” she said. “Not yet.”

That cracked something deeper. But it wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t cold.

It was permission.

“I don’t want to own you,” she added, quieter now. “I just don’t want to pretend I don’t care, either.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Good.” Her eyes met mine. “Then let’s just go with it. Whatever this is. However long it lasts.”

There wasn’t a perfect response. So I didn’t give one. I just looked at her, took her in — the skin under the hoodie, the mess of her hair, the way her fingers picked at the mattress even when she tried to sound calm.

I leaned forward.

And kissed her.

Not rushed. Not demanding.

Just lips on lips. Warm. Slow. Honest.

She kissed back like she meant it. Like this wasn’t closure, but the kind of beginning that doesn’t come with a name.

When we pulled apart, she was smiling. Barely.

And I could feel the pulse of something just under the surface. Something we weren’t ready to name — but weren’t going to ignore.

The kiss lingered in the space between us even after we pulled apart. There was no music, no line to close the scene. Just the silence, warm and fragile, like a blanket we hadn’t decided to share yet.

Giselle exhaled through her nose. Almost a laugh. She didn’t smile, not really. But her hand drifted toward mine and paused there, not quite touching.

Then—

“Mylooo.”

The name came floating through the hallway, singsong and light.

Giselle stiffened instantly.

I turned my head toward the sound, pulse tightening before I even saw her.

The door creaked open with no knock, no announcement.

Ningning leaned against the frame like it was hers. She was barefoot, wearing nothing but a long white tee that fell halfway down her thighs. Hair down, damp at the ends. No makeup. Just flushed cheeks and that slow, feline smirk.

“Well, well,” she said, tilting her head. “Look who came back.”

Giselle’s voice came sharp. “He was invited.”

Ningning didn’t flinch. She stepped inside, walked like she was gliding — not quite bouncing, but close. There was something too casual in the way she moved. Like she was here for fun. But not just that.

Her eyes went straight to me.

“I missed you,” she said, with a pout that didn’t touch her eyes.

“Didn’t realize I was missed,” I said, careful.

“Oh, you were,” she said, brushing a lock of hair over her shoulder. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

“That was kind of the point,” Giselle muttered under her breath.

Ningning turned to her with an exaggerated look of surprise. “Still mad at me for stealing your toy?”

Giselle didn’t rise to it immediately. She just leaned back, arms crossed over her chest. “You didn’t steal anything. He makes his own choices.”

Ningning grinned. “Exactly. And he chose well.”

Mylo. Neutral. Stay neutral.

I cleared my throat. “You two always talk like this?”

Giselle said nothing.

Ningning walked closer to the bed and sat — not beside me, but close. Her bare leg grazed mine. Her skin was warm.

“Only when we’re sharing,” she said.

Giselle’s jaw twitched.

She looked at Ningning. “You’re not even pretending to be subtle.”

“Why should I?” she said, shrugging. “He already knows what I sound like when I scream.”

That hit harder than I expected.

Giselle’s stare didn’t break. But her expression dropped a degree colder.

“And you know what I sound like when I don’t,” she said calmly.

Ningning’s grin faltered. Just a flicker.

She blinked, then laughed. “Touché.”

The air was a heavy. Not angry. Not yet. But charged in a way that said: one wrong word and this turns into something else entirely.

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, trying to breathe normally. Ningning smelled like coconut body wash and heat. Giselle still smelled like her sheets. Like me.

“Why are you here?” Giselle asked, her tone neutral, her posture not.

Ningning stretched her arms up in a dramatic yawn. “I was bored. Heard voices. Thought I’d say hi.”

“You never just say hi.”

“True,” she said, twirling a piece of hair. “But tonight I might surprise you.”

She turned to me again.

“You seem tense,” she said, voice softer now. “Need a distraction?”

I didn’t answer. My eyes flicked to Giselle, whose silence was loud enough to register as its own response.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Oh,” Ningning said, tilting her head. “That’s a shame.”

She leaned closer, almost whispering now. “You know, I was thinking about you last night.”

“Don’t,” Giselle warned.

Ningning grinned wider. “Just saying. He made an impression.”

“You think this is cute?”

“Not really. I think it’s fun.”

I looked between them. Giselle, clenched jaw and quiet fury. Ningning, all innocent malice wrapped in sugar.

And me, dead center.

“You want me to leave?” I asked Giselle, gently.

“No.” she said immediately.

Ningning raised her brows. “Wow. That was fast.”

Giselle turned to her. “You want to start a fight?”

“Nope.” Ningning leaned back on her hands, her shirt riding high on her thighs. “But I’d love to finish one.”

Neither of them spoke after that.

It wasn’t just quiet anymore.

It was the kind of still that only came before a storm.

Ningning didn’t move.

She was still perched on the edge of the bed like it was hers, one knee folded under her, the other dangling just enough to brush against my shin. Casual. Deliberate. That look in her eye like she was toying with something breakable just to see when it’d crack.

Giselle hadn’t changed position either. But everything about her posture said I see you. The line of her spine. The stillness in her jaw. The way her eyes kept dropping to Ningning’s leg like it had no business being that close.

“Funny thing about you,” Ningning said, turning to me again. “You don’t act like most guys.”

I kept my voice even. “Yeah?”

“Most guys wouldn’t survive one night here without getting all…” She twirled her finger vaguely in the air. “Messy.”

Giselle’s voice came flat. “He’s not here for your commentary.”

“I didn’t see a sign-up sheet yet.” Ningning replied sweetly.

“You came to say hi,” Giselle said. “You’ve said it.”

Ningning looked at her, unblinking. “I’m staying.”

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a statement. It was a challenge.

Giselle didn’t flinch. “It’s my room.”

“And he’s your guest?” Ningning tilted her head toward me. “Or are we still pretending this house runs on rules?”

Neither of them looked at me.

It was like I’d stopped being the point and started being the prize.

“Let her stay,” I said.

Giselle turned to me, slowly. Not mad. Just… measuring. Like she was trying to decide if that was weakness or strategy.

“You sure?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “But I want to see what happens.”

Ningning smiled like she’d already won something.

She stood and walked over to Giselle’s dresser, started rifling through the top drawer like she lived there. Pulled out a piece of gum, popped it in her mouth, and chewed slowly.

“Your taste in underwear has improved,” she said over her shoulder.

Giselle raised an eyebrow. “Why? Hoping to borrow a pair?”

Ningning grinned and let the drawer slide shut. Then she turned and faced both of us again.

“I’m not here to steal,” she said. “I’m just bored.”

She sat down again—this time on the other side of me. So now I was flanked. One girl on each side. Neither touching. Both watching.

My mouth was dry.

“So,” Ningning said, stretching again, “are we just gonna sit here pretending this isn’t weird?”

“Yes,” Giselle answered.

“Shame.”

A long pause.

Then Ningning leaned in, her voice low in my ear. “Did she make you beg?”

Giselle sat up straighter.

“I mean, she looks like the type,” Ningning continued. “All soft at first, then suddenly you’re the one on your knees.”

“Jesus,” I muttered.

Giselle’s face didn’t change.

But her hand reached behind her and tugged her pillow onto her lap like a shield.

Ningning didn’t miss it.

“She told me you were good.” she whispered.

That pulled my attention.

I turned to Giselle, slow. “You told her?”

Giselle didn’t blink. “She wouldn’t stop asking.”

“That’s not a no.” Ningning said brightly.

The air got heavier. Tighter. Like all it would take is one touch and the whole thing would ignite.

“I’m gonna make tea,” Giselle said suddenly, standing up. “Either of you want some?”

“No thanks,” I said.

“Sure,” Ningning chimed.

Giselle rolled her eyes but left the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Ningning turned to me, voice lower now. No smile.

“She’s not okay.”

I blinked. “What?”

“She’s pretending she is. But she’s not.”

“She said—”

“I know what she said. I also know what she looks like when she’s hurt.”

My voice dropped. “And what’s this? Helping?”

“Maybe.” Ningning shrugged. “Or maybe I’m just curious what you’ll do when we finally stop pretending we don’t want the same thing.”

I stared at her.

And she smiled, slow and wicked.

Ningning stayed close.

Too close.

She didn’t touch me, but everything about her presence screamed intentional. Her thigh rested just shy of mine. Her shoulder turned toward me, open, relaxed. Like if I leaned even slightly, I’d fall into her orbit.

“She’s strong, you know,” she said, voice softer now. “Giselle.”

I nodded.

“But not invincible.”

Her gum clicked once. Then silence.

The door creaked a moment later, and Giselle returned with a single mug — hers.

She didn’t ask why Ningning hadn’t followed her.

Didn’t ask what was said.

She just walked back to the bed and stood in front of us, taking a long sip of whatever was steaming in the ceramic.

Then, quietly: “She’s still here?”

Ningning smiled. “You miss me already?”

Giselle didn’t answer. She set her mug down on the nightstand, then sat. Right next to me. Her hip brushed mine. It wasn’t subtle.

And suddenly, I was caught again. Giselle on my right. Ningning on my left. Both sitting too close. Both pretending they weren’t measuring me, but measuring each other.

“You ever feel like you’re in the middle of something?” I muttered.

“Usually means things are about to get interesting.” Giselle replied smoothly.

Ningning gave her a look. “You’re getting territorial.”

“Am I?”

“You tell me.”

“I don’t have to. You’re still in my room.”

“Maybe your room is the most interesting place in the house.”

“Or maybe you just like an audience.”

That one landed.

But Ningning didn’t back down.

She looked at me, biting her lip like she was thinking about saying something worse.

Instead, she leaned in and whispered, “You’re real quiet for a guy caught between two girls.”

“I’m processing,” I said.

“Don’t take too long,” she said. “You might miss the fun part.”

I looked at her. Then at Giselle.

And I could feel it — the heat rising, slow and patient. Like the room itself had started listening.

Giselle leaned forward and grabbed the mug again, wrapping her fingers around the handle.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“I’m good here,” Ningning replied, stretching her legs out across the floor like she owned the space. “Unless Mylo wants me to go.”

Their eyes both found me.

And for a second, I wasn’t sure whose move it was.

But I could feel the pulse in my neck. The air around all three of us pulling tighter.

“I don’t want a fight,” I said.

“Then don’t start one,” Ningning said.

“I won't.” I said, turning to Giselle.

But Giselle’s expression had changed. It wasn’t angry, just… aware.

Her eyes met mine, and there was something new there. Not fear. Not jealousy. Just quiet understanding.

And under it — a question she hadn’t asked yet. You want this? You want her? I didn’t answer it out loud. But I think she saw it in my face. Her throat bobbed once, then she exhaled. And when she set the mug down again, her hand brushed mine.

Not a grab. Not a challenge. Just a reminder that she was here, that I wasn’t alone in this. And that maybe… neither was she.

The room felt warmer now.

Not just body heat. Something else. Tension crawling along the floorboards. Every breath between us a thread waiting to snap.

Giselle’s hand still rested near mine, fingers not quite touching, and on the other side, Ningning shifted closer—just enough to let her bare thigh press against mine.

They didn’t look at each other. But I could feel the weight of them on either side of me, gravity pulling in both directions.

Then Ningning smiled, slow and teasing.

“Okay,” she said softly, “I’ve been good. I haven’t touched.”

She leaned in, breath brushing my ear.

“But I’m done being good.”

Her lips grazed the shell of it. Not a kiss. Just the suggestion of one. Her hand slid to my knee and stayed there, warm and bold.

Giselle moved instantly.

Not rough, not loud—just decisive. Her fingers laced into mine, pulled my hand to her thigh, where her skin was already hot.

“He’s not yours,” she said coolly.

Ningning’s eyes flicked down. “Doesn’t seem like he’s yours either.”

“He came here for me.”

“And stayed for me.”

“Funny,” Giselle said, “I don’t remember him moaning your name last night.”

“Oh?” Ningning turned to me. “You moan for her?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

She was already climbing into my lap.

Her hands slid up my chest, smooth and slow. She straddled me without hesitation, grinding once—slow enough to tease, firm enough to be felt.

But Giselle didn’t back down.

She leaned in from the other side, her lips grazing my neck as her fingers dipped under the hem of my shirt.

“Let’s see if you’re still so cocky when you’re crying under my mouth,” she murmured against my skin, and I shivered.

Ningning laughed. “Babe, don��t threaten me with a good time.”

Her tongue traced my collarbone. And then—Their mouths met right there.

Giselle leaned over me and kissed Ningning hard, open-mouthed, aggressive. Not for her. Not for passion.

For me.

A show of force.

Ningning moaned into it, not backing down. Her hand dropped to my belt, tugged it open without asking. Her hips rocked forward as she kissed Giselle harder, nails dragging down my stomach.

I could barely breathe.

Giselle pulled back, breath shaky, and turned to me.

“Lie back.”

I obeyed.

They followed.

Ningning yanked my shirt off while Giselle stripped her own. Their hands moved fast, not clumsy—confident, practiced. Clothes disappeared like they’d done this a dozen times.

Only this time, it was for me.

And then Giselle was on her knees beside me, straddling my thigh, her lips dragging a hot trail down my chest.

Ningning grinned and climbed over me, facing the other way, her thighs caging my head. Her mouth met my cock just as Giselle’s tongue found my nipple.

I groaned—deep, guttural—fingers gripping the sheets.

They were in sync, but not gentle.

Ningning’s mouth was greedy, messy, stroking and sucking with zero pretense. She made noise on purpose—slurping, moaning, letting spit drip and drag down my shaft like she wanted Giselle to hear it.

Giselle bit my chest, not hard, just enough to leave a mark.

“You’re loud,” she said flatly.

“Jealous?” Ningning gasped.

“Focused.”

Then she shifted down, her tongue following the trail of skin Ningning wasn’t touching.

I was losing it.

Ningning's hand cupped my balls, rolling them gently as she bobbed deeper. Giselle’s mouth dragged down my stomach, teeth grazing just enough to pull a hiss from my throat.

I looked down—Two heads, pink and dark hair brushing against each other, mouths working opposite ends of me, completely focused. No hesitation. No shame. And both of them watching each other out of the corners of their eyes like they were keeping score.

I was going to lose it fast.

“Fuck—slow down,” I gasped.

“Make us,” Ningning said, pulling back with a wet pop.

Giselle just smirked.

And then she wrapped her mouth around the base of my cock while Ningning took the tip again, their tongues briefly brushing—fighting—for control. It was like they were trying to devour me from opposite ends.

Ningning moaned first. A little loud, a little performative. She popped off me with a gasp, slapped my cock against her cheek twice, then turned her face just enough to let the shaft smear against her lips.

“God, he’s throbbing,” she said with a breathless laugh. “You gonna let me win this one?”

“I don’t let anyone win,” Giselle snapped, and in one motion she slid her mouth all the way down my cock—past halfway, deeper, wetter, slow and brutal.

My whole body jolted.

“Fucking—Giselle—”

Her name spilled out without meaning to.

Ningning raised an eyebrow. “Round two, huh?”

She leaned in, licked up the underside of my cock where Giselle wasn’t, and then pulled the other girl’s hair aside to kiss her cheek as she bobbed up.

“You missed a spot.”

She dove back down.

Giselle didn’t yield.

Instead, she grabbed the base of me in one hand, stroked what Ningning couldn’t reach, and bit her lip as she whispered, “You’re drooling all over him.”

“I am.”

Ningning went deep again, this time moaning on purpose around me, fingers kneading my thighs, her other hand creeping up to cup my balls as she sucked hard—sloppy, loud, relentless.

Giselle dragged her tongue over what was left of my shaft, licking around Ningning’s lips, not even flinching when their mouths collided again on me.

The sounds were obscene. Wet and raw and constant. I was sweating, trembling. My fists curled in the sheets.

“You wanna cum already?” Giselle asked me, voice deceptively soft as she looked up, her lips slick.

I shook my head. Couldn’t speak.

“I think he does,” Ningning teased, pumping me twice, her wrist twisting with precision. “Look at him. He’s about to beg.”

“I don’t beg,” I growled.

“Maybe not,” Giselle said, mouth brushing my base again. “But you break.”

And then she sucked hard—just the base—at the same time Ningning swallowed me down, deep.

“Fuuuck—”

My hips twitched and they both felt it.

“Almost,” Ningning purred. “Someone’s close.”

Giselle didn’t stop.

She just squeezed tighter at the base, held me there with one hand, and took over completely—mouth gliding, lips tight, tongue working in cruel little flicks under the head.

Ningning backed off, eyes locked on me, watching every stutter in my breath.

“Come on, baby,” she whispered. “Let’s see whose mouth wins.”

Giselle looked up, never breaking rhythm.

My hips buckled.

“I’m—fuck—”

“No,” Giselle said, pulling off instantly, gripping my cock tight.

My head dropped back.

Painful denial.

“You don’t cum yet,” she said, stroking slow, mean.

Ningning smirked. “Aww. He was so close.”

Giselle tilted her head. “Good. He’s staying hard for round two.”

Ningning straddled my chest like a cat in heat—smirking, smug, her thighs pinning me down while her fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt. The oversized tee she’d come in still clung to her hips, soaked through with sweat and tension, her nipples already hard under the thin cotton.

“I think I want to ride your face next,” she said playfully, leaning forward. “Think you can handle that, Mylo?”

She barely finished the sentence before Giselle yanked her back by the hair. Not rough. Not violent. Just… dominant.

Ningning gasped, not from pain—but shock.

Giselle’s grip was firm, the other hand sliding to her hip, spinning her off of me like she weighed nothing.

“Not yet,” Giselle said. “You’re forgetting who finishes first.”

“Excuse you?” Ningning snapped, but she was already on her back, legs tangled in the sheets.

Giselle didn’t answer.

She climbed on top of her.

One thigh between Ningning’s legs. One hand gripping her wrist and pinning it above her head. Her eyes, cool and focused, locked down like a predator who’d just lost patience.

“You want to be loud, Ning?” Giselle asked, lips hovering inches from her mouth. “Wanna act like you’re the one he wants?”

Ningning bared her teeth in a grin. “He came in my mouth last night.”

“And he fucked me raw the night before that.”

They were nose to nose now. Breath to breath, no laughter left, just electricity. And then—Giselle kissed her. Hard. Not sensual, not romantic. Claiming.

Ningning bucked against her, one hand trapped, the other scrambling to grab Giselle’s side—but she didn’t stop it. She moaned into the kiss like she’d been waiting for it, hips grinding up against Giselle’s thigh with something between frustration and heat.

When they finally broke apart, both of them panting, Giselle leaned in and whispered something I couldn’t hear.

Then she sat up, still straddling Ningning’s waist, and pulled her shirt over her head. No bra underneath. Her tits bounced free, sweat-slick and flushed, nipples hard as glass.

Ningning licked her lips.

“I hate you,” she muttered.

“No, you don’t,” Giselle said.

She reached over to the nightstand drawer.

I didn’t know what she was looking for.

Until I heard the jingle of metal.

Cuffs.

Real ones. Not fur-lined. Not decorative.

Stainless steel.

The sound made Ningning freeze—just for a second.

Then she smirked. “You’re seriously cuffing me?”

“You don’t get to make the rules tonight.”

“Giselle—”

“Hands. Up.”

She said it like a command, not a request.

And Ningning—bratty, cocky, untouchable Ningning—obeyed.

She lifted her arms over her head, wrists together.

Giselle snapped the cuffs on fast, locking them to the headboard with a flick of her wrist.

Then she looked down at Ningning, spread and restrained, shirt pushed up under her arms, her bare thighs squeezing together from anticipation.

She looked fucking ruined already.

And Giselle hadn’t even started.

“Don’t worry,” she said softly. “You’ll still get his cock.”

Then she turned to me.

“But not until you beg for it.”

Ningning snarled. “Fuck you.”

Giselle laughed. “Later, maybe.”

She slipped down her own panties, tossed them aside, and sank lower between Ningning’s thighs. The younger girl shuddered, ankles flexing as Giselle kissed her inner thigh—once, twice—then bit it just hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck—Giselle—”

“Shh,” she said.

Her tongue slid over Ningning’s folds in one long, hot stroke. Ningning moaned, loud. Giselle did it again. Then sucked. Then licked faster.

Ningning’s back arched, fists clenched in the cuffs, and she let out a string of breathless whimpers that barely formed words.

“Oh my god—fuck—fuck, right there—”

Giselle didn’t let up.

She gripped her thighs and spread her wider, tongue working in circles, then flicks, then deep strokes that made Ningning gasp and writhe.

“Fuck—Giselle—I’m—”

“No,” Giselle said, pulling back instantly. “Not yet.”

“Giselle—please—don’t—fuck—don’t stop—”

“You want to cum?” Giselle asked, eyes gleaming.

Ningning nodded furiously. “Yes—fuck—yes—please—”

“Beg better.”

“Giselle—please—I need it—need your tongue—please—fuck—just let me cum—”

Giselle went back in, tongue relentless, mouth tight around her clit.

Ningning came like a fountain—back arched, legs shaking, mouth open in a silent cry that broke into a sob.

Giselle didn’t stop.

Didn’t even slow down.

She held Ningning’s hips down and licked her through it, over and over, until she was jerking, twitching, gasping for air. And still cuffed. Still helpless.

When she finally stopped, Giselle sat up, mouth slick, and turned to me.

“She’s not done,” she said.

Then she reached for the rope.

Ningning let out a shaky breath. Her legs trembled. Her chest rose in ragged bursts. But her eyes—red, wet, wide—were still defiant.

Still burning.

“I said I’d make her beg,” Giselle murmured, as much to herself as to me.

She turned to the nightstand and unspooled the rope in slow, fluid movements—knots already half-formed, like she’d done this before. Like she had planned to do this again.

“Come here,” she said to me without looking.

I moved. Silently. Kneeling beside the bed as the heat off Ningning’s body reached me in waves. Her skin was glowing. Her arms still pinned above her, wrists cuffed to the headboard. Her pussy was soaked—spread, twitching, pink and sensitive as hell. And her voice was hoarse from the moaning.

“You’re gonna help,” Giselle said, passing me one end of the rope. “Lift her leg.”

I didn’t hesitate.

I hooked my hands under Ningning’s thigh and pulled it up, bent and open.

Giselle looped the rope around her ankle, quick and snug, tying it to the side of the frame with a flourish. Then she did the same to the other—until Ningning was bound open, her knees parted wide, arms still cuffed, body completely exposed between us.

She squirmed, pulling against the restraints.

“Oh my god,” she gasped. “You guys are—fuck—”

“Quiet,” Giselle said.

She moved between her legs again. Her fingers ran down the inside of Ningning’s thighs, featherlight, teasing.

“You’re gonna cum for him this time,” Giselle said, glancing back at me. “You’re gonna let him watch every second of it.”

I swallowed. My cock throbbed. Just seeing her like this—splayed out, dripping, gasping—was enough to make my head spin.

“She’s yours for now,” Giselle added, crawling backward on her knees to make room. “But keep her begging.”

I leaned over her.

Ningning’s eyes met mine, wide and wet. Her bottom lip trembled.

“Mylo,” she whispered. “Please—touch me—I need it—I can’t—”

I slipped two fingers inside her without a word.

She screamed.

Her body arched so violently the headboard thudded against the wall. Her back bowed, her arms trembling in the cuffs.

“AHHH—FUCK—YES!”

She clenched hard around my fingers. Still so tight. Still fluttering from that last orgasm.

I stroked inside her—deep, firm, curving just enough to brush that spot that made her wail.

“YES—oh my god—don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop!”

I didn’t.

I pumped harder. My palm slapped her clit with every thrust, wet and loud and nasty. Her body fought the restraints like she was trying to throw herself into me.

Her legs trembled violently.

She gasped.

“I'm—I’m gonna—Mylo—fuck I’m gonna—”

I stopped.

Dead still.

Two fingers inside her. One second away from the edge.

She screamed.

“NO! Mylo—fuck—you asshole!”

Giselle smirked behind me.

“Aw. Poor thing.”

“She’s shaking,” I said, pulling out just enough to feel her clamp down, desperate.

“Give her a break?” Giselle teased. “Or make her work for it?”

I looked at Ningning.

Her head was thrown back, cheeks flushed, chest heaving.

And still—still—she looked cocky.

Just barely.

“Work,” I said.

Giselle laughed. “Good choice.”

She reached between Ningning’s legs and gave one slow drag of her fingers over that soaked, trembling clit.

Ningning twitched.

“Beg again,” Giselle said softly.

Ningning growled. “You bitch—”

Slap. Not hard. But firm, right across her pussy. Ningning howled.

“AHHH—fuck—okay—okay please—please—let me cum—I’ll do anything—I swear—please Mylo—please—!”

I slipped my fingers back in. Deep. Giselle leaned in and sucked her clit. And Ningning exploded, she screamed so loud it cracked.

Her thighs shook so violently the rope tensed. Her body locked—completely—like a live wire, shuddering and gasping as the orgasm ripped through her like lightning.

“FUCK—FUCK—FUCK—YES—AAHHHHH—MYLO—!”

I didn’t stop.

Neither did Giselle.

We made her feel it. Made her ride it. Dragged it out until she was sobbing, soaked, babbling through clenched teeth. And still tied up. Still ours.

Giselle pulled off her with a pop and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Then looked at me.

“She’s ready for round two.”

She was still panting.

Wrists trembling against the cuffs. Hair stuck to her face. Sweat pooling at the bend of her neck. But Ningning’s eyes were already sparking again. That same wicked, bratty fire back in full blaze.

“She’s ready for round two,” Giselle said, wiping her mouth, cool and smug.

“Damn right I am,” Ningning hissed.

I looked at her—then back to Giselle. Although Giselle was cute when she was in charge, I wanted to see her beg.

“She’s earned something.”

Giselle tilted her head. “You think so?”

“I think,” I said, stepping closer, “you’re overdue.”

And before Giselle could reply, I leaned down and undid the cuffs.

Ningning’s wrists dropped limp at first, tingling, red-ringed. Then she pushed herself up. Slowly. Deliberately. Stretching her back, rolling her shoulders, cracking her neck like she was preparing for a fight.

Giselle raised an eyebrow.

“What now, baby?”

Ningning lunged.

She shoved Giselle back onto the bed in one smooth motion, knees straddling her hips, hands pinning her arms. The sheer force of it left Giselle breathless for a second—and Ningning grinned.

“My turn.”

Giselle tried to smirk. “You think I’ll just lie here?”

“You’re not gonna lie,” Ningning whispered. “You’re gonna squirm.”

Her hands shot down and yanked Giselle’s wrists up over her head, fast and sure, and before Giselle could twist away, click. She had grabbed the cuffs. One locked. Then the other.

Giselle gasped. “Are you fucking serious—”

“Dead serious,” Ningning purred. “You said I was loud, right?”

She leaned in, tongue trailing over Giselle’s collarbone.

“Let’s see how quiet you can be.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Ningning dragged her nails down Giselle’s sides—slow, hard enough to leave lines.

Giselle bit her lip.

“You’re bluffing.”

“Oh, babe,” Ningning said, dipping her head. “I never bluff.”

Then she bit her nipple.

Giselle yelped.

“Fuck—!”

“Oh, did that hurt?” Ningning teased, licking the tip.

“Do it again,” Giselle growled.

Ningning did. Harder.

I watched Giselle squirm—hips shifting, legs twisting, eyes squeezed shut, breath shaky.

“You’re dripping,” I said.

Ningning glanced down. “Oh, I know.”

She climbed off her chest, dropped between her thighs, and spread her open with two fingers.

Giselle moaned without meaning to.

“Still think I’m bluffing?” Ningning asked.

“Do your worst.”

“I plan to.”

She ducked her head and went to town.

Her tongue was everywhere. Sloppy, aggressive, fast—completely different from how Giselle had taken her apart. She wasn’t building pressure. She was breaking it.

Giselle bucked hard.

Her wrists strained against the cuffs. Her legs tried to close—but Ningning held them wide.

I stepped in. Grabbed one thigh and pinned it.

“Good boy,” Ningning said without looking.

I stroked Giselle’s leg, fingers grazing her skin, as Ningning ate her like a meal. Her mouth was loud—wet, messy, cruel. Every lick made Giselle twitch. Every suck made her whimper.

And then—

“Fuck—fuck—I’m gonna—”

Ningning stopped.

Dead silent.

Giselle growled.

“Don’t—fucking—edge me.”

Ningning grinned. “Now you get it.”

She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the vibrator.

“Wait—wait—” Giselle’s voice cracked. “Not that—”

“Oh yeah.”

The toy buzzed to life.

“Remember this?” Ningning said sweetly

Giselle thrashed. “You little—fuck—don’t you—”

Ningning pressed it right against her clit. Giselle screamed. Not loud. Violent.

Her body locked instantly, thighs trembling so hard I thought she’d tear the rope off the frame. The toy never left her—just constant, brutal vibration while Ningning licked right beside it.

“I hate you!” Giselle cried out.

“I know.”

“You bitch—fuck—Mylo—!”

I knelt beside them.

Held her hips down.

Watched her fall apart.

“Let it happen,” I said.

She did. And came like a storm.

Giselle was gasping, twitching—still cuffed to the headboard, legs shaking from the vibrator pressed relentlessly to her clit. She’d just come hard enough to shake the bed.

And Ningning? She wasn’t done. Not even close.

She shut off the toy and tossed it aside, crawling up over Giselle like a panther licking blood from her teeth. Her eyes sparkled, cruel and gleeful. She straddled Giselle’s chest, leaned down so close their noses nearly touched.

“Aww,” she cooed. “Poor princess can’t handle a little tongue?”

Giselle glared through her sweat-soaked bangs. Her chest still heaved. “Fuck… you.”

“Oh, you wish,” Ningning said, tilting her head. “But you don’t get to make demands right now.”

She grabbed a pillow from the side, stuffed it behind Giselle’s head, then reached for the waistband of her own panties. Slowly—tauntingly—she peeled them down.

And dropped them across Giselle’s face.

“Since you like mouthing off so much,” she said, “maybe try mouthing this.”

Giselle froze.

Her breath hitched.

Then Ningning slapped her lightly across the cheek with the damp fabric. “Open up.”

Giselle didn’t move.

So Ningning did it for her.

Two fingers between her lips, prying them open just wide enough. Then she shoved the balled-up panties into her mouth and pressed her palm against Giselle’s chin to hold them in.

“God, look at you,” she said, grinning down at her. “Still cuffed, still dripping, now gagged with my panties. Tell me, Giselle—do you still feel like the one in charge?”

Giselle moaned behind the gag—frustrated, humiliated, and fucking soaked.

I watched, hard as a rock, my cock twitching from the sight of it. Giselle’s thighs still trembled. Her cheeks were red. Her tits rose and fell under Ningning’s knees.

She looked wrecked. And Ningning wasn’t done. She leaned forward again, closer to Giselle’s ear.

“You act so tough,” she whispered. “So perfect. The hot one. But the moment you get a little pressure, you come like a needy little cumslut.”

Giselle whimpered—low, guttural, almost a sob.

“Pathetic,” Ningning said, licking her lips.

Then she turned to me.

“Mylo,” she said sweetly, “do you know how many guys dream about her?”

I nodded, eyes locked on the mess between them.

“And now look at her,” Ningning said, grabbing a fistful of Giselle’s hair and yanking her head back slightly. “Stripped. Gagged. Cuffed. Thighs twitching like a toy.”

She leaned down and spat on her chest.

It hit just above her nipple, sliding down her breast.

Giselle moaned again, louder now, almost desperate.

“Oh,” Ningning laughed, “you like that, don’t you?”

She turned back to me.

“Tell me,” she said. “You still think she’s in charge?”

I didn’t answer.

I just moved beside them, hard and leaking, and stared down at Giselle’s red, ruined face.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Ningning whispered, dragging her thumb through the spit on Giselle’s chest. “You’ll get a taste of redemption soon.”

“But first,” she said, “I want to see you break for him.”

Giselle was gagged and cuffed, cheeks flushed, chest still wet with spit. Her thighs trembled. Her breath came in short, shaking huffs. And Ningning?

She was glowing.

Crouched over her like a devil in heat, eyes gleaming, voice velvet-edged with cruelty.

“She looks mad,” she said, pinching Giselle’s cheek. “You mad, baby?”

Giselle didn’t respond. Couldn’t—not with Ningning’s soaked panties stuffed in her mouth. But the way her eyes burned was enough. Her jaw tightened. Her chest hitched like she wanted to scream.

Ningning leaned closer. “Want me to take it out? Hm? Let you talk?”

She reached down.

Slid the gag out slowly—dragging it along Giselle’s tongue.

The panties dropped onto her chest with a wet slap.

“Say something.”

Giselle spat.

Not at her—just to clear her mouth. Then she whispered, hoarse and shaking: “You’re going to regret this.”

Ningning laughed. Then slapped her across the face. It wasn’t hard. But it echoed. Giselle flinched. Not from pain—from shock. Her mouth opened in protest, but the words didn’t come.

Ningning slapped her again. Opposite cheek. Same sting. Giselle gasped. Her arms pulled at the cuffs. Her back arched. But the moan she made? It didn’t sound angry. It sounded wet.

“She likes it,” I said, watching her nipples harden.

“She does,” Ningning said, grinning. “She just doesn’t want to admit it.”

She reached up and grabbed a fistful of Giselle’s hair, yanked her head to the side, exposing her throat.

“Tell him,” she hissed. “Tell Mylo how much you like being slapped.”

“Fuck you—” Giselle started.

Slap. She cried out. Then moaned again. Her hips rolled. I moved closer.

Watched her chest rise and fall in desperate waves.

“She’s close,” I said, staring at her pussy—still glistening, still dripping, even though she hadn’t been touched in minutes.

Ningning glanced at me.

“You wanna help?”

I didn’t answer. I just reached out and grabbed one of Giselle’s tits, rough and fast. She whimpered. Then I slapped it.

She gasped—sharp and loud—and her legs twitched.

“Holy shit,” Ningning said, biting her lip. “Do it again.”

I slapped her again. The sound was filthy. Her tit bounced hard, skin flushed. Giselle made a noise that wasn’t a moan or a cry. It was somewhere in between.

“I think she likes being our toy,” I said, leaning in.

Ningning crawled over to the other side and slapped her opposite breast—synchronized.

Giselle broke.

“F-fuck!” she cried. “Fucking stop—”

But her hips didn’t stop. They fucked the air. I grabbed her jaw. Made her look at me.

“You’re soaking the sheets,” I said. “You want more?”

She shook her head.

But her thighs said otherwise.

Her clit throbbed. Her chest heaved. Her voice cracked.

“You want to be used,” Ningning whispered, pinching her nipple until she whimpered. “Admit it.”

Giselle bit her lip.

“No.”

Ningning leaned down. “Then why are you still dripping?”

“Because—fuck—because—”

I reached between her legs.

One finger—barely inside her.

She clenched.

“Because you’re mine,” I said.

“No—fuck—stop—”

But I didn’t.

I fucked her slowly—just my fingers—and watched her squirm.

Her eyes rolled.

She didn’t want to come.

But her body begged.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Don’t stop—don’t—please—”

Ningning smirked. “Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say you love it.”

She shook her head.

Then Ningning slapped her again—light, fast, teasing.

Giselle screamed.

“I love it—fuck—I love it—please—just let me cum—please—”

Her eyes found mine.

Desperate. Wet.

And I saw it.

She was a mess.

Wrists still cuffed, arms stretched above her head, chest glowing red with slaps and spit. Her thighs trembled, hips rolling helplessly into my hand, soaking everything under her. Her eyes were glassy—half-defiant, half-broken—and her lips trembled every time she tried to form a sentence.

And Ningning?

Still straddling her chest, watching her squirm.

"You hear that, baby?" she purred, brushing a thumb over Giselle’s swollen lip. "You’re dripping all over for us."

“Mmnh—” Giselle whimpered.

Ningning leaned in and kissed her cheek, then nipped at her ear.

“You’re such a good little girl when you’re falling apart.”

I ran my fingers down her thigh. Slow, soft. The kind of touch that would’ve made her squirm if she still had strength left. I reached between her legs again, fingers sliding through slick heat.

She twitched.

"She’s so sensitive," I muttered, watching her melt.

“She can take it,” Ningning whispered. “Right, baby?”

Giselle nodded once. Barely.

“Say it,” I told her.

“I… I can…”

“Louder.”

“I can take it,” she gasped. “Please—please let me—please—”

“Aw,” I cooed. “Princess wants to cum?”

Giselle nodded again, desperate.

“Like a good girl?” I said.

She whimpered. “Y-yes—yes, like a good girl—”

We moved together.

Ningning slid down to kiss her again—deep and wet and claiming—while I lined up between her legs and pushed into her in one slow, thick stroke.

She screamed.

“AHHH—f-fuck—Mylo—!”

I started slow. Deep. Cruel. Every thrust designed to make her feel full, helpless, owned.

Ningning held her face, whispered things between kisses.

“You’re so pretty like this, baby… so perfect when you cry… keep taking it… show us how good you are…”

Giselle sobbed.

“Please—please—ohmygod—I’m gonna—”

“Not yet, princess,” I said.

Her walls fluttered around me. She writhed.

Ningning dragged her nails down her sides. “Hold it, baby. Just a little longer. Be good.”

I slammed into her harder. Faster. Giselle’s body lifted off the bed with every thrust. She begged with her whole body—arched, stretched, trembling.

“Please—I c-can’t—Mylo—please—Ning—I need—”

“Now,” Ningning said, voice low and firm. “Cum for us, princess.”

“Cum like a good girl,” I whispered.

And she did.

She screamed.

Long, high, broken.

Her whole body convulsed. Her thighs locked around my waist. Her cunt clamped down and milked my cock like she never wanted to let go.

She sobbed through it, moaning both our names, her voice cracking on every syllable.

Ningning kissed her again.

“Good girl… good girl…”

I didn’t stop.

I kept fucking her through it. Giselle was trembling, her moans dissolving into whimpers. Her eyes fluttered. Her whole body gone, melted, wrecked.

And I was close.

Too close.

Ningning watched me, smirking. “Give it to her.”

I slammed in deep and came—hard, full, spilling everything inside her. My groan was low, rough, desperate.

Giselle shuddered around me, riding every pulse of it. We stayed there like that—tangled, breathless, dripping. She blinked slowly, eyes dazed.

Ningning brushed hair from her face. “Still with us, baby?”

Giselle nodded weakly.

“Good girl,” I whispered again.

And she smiled.

Just barely..

Ningning leaned back on her knees, messy and smug, fingers trailing down Giselle’s cheek like she’d just won a war. Her grin said it all—she thought she was done. That we were finished.

But Giselle was already lifting her head.

Eyes glassy. Hair wild. Lips swollen from the gag and kisses. Still trembling—but smiling now. A slow, wicked smile.

I reached up and unlatched her cuffs from the headboard. She shook her wrists out once, then sat up.

And I saw it click. She wasn’t broken. She was waiting.

Ningning turned toward me, ready to bask in her chaos—and that’s when I moved.

I grabbed her by the hips and flipped her down onto her back, her body hitting the mattress with a gasp. Before she could scramble up, Giselle slid over and grabbed her wrists.

“What—wait—” Ningning started.

But she was too slow.

I snapped the cuffs around her wrists before she could squirm away, locking them to the same headboard Giselle had just been strung up on.

“Shit—what the fuck—” she thrashed once, then stilled, staring at both of us. “You guys are serious?”

Giselle leaned in close, chest still glowing from slaps and sweat. “You think you’re the only one who gets to have fun?”

Ningning’s eyes darted to me. Her mouth opened like she had something clever to say—but I kissed her before she could. Rough. Claiming.

She moaned into it.

And her hips rolled.

Giselle slid down, kissed her neck. Then lower. Her mouth traced the curve of Ningning’s tits, sucking until deep red marks bloomed under her tongue.

“Still think you’re in charge?” she asked.

Ningning didn’t answer.

So I slapped her breast.

Not hard.

She gasped—loud, shocked.

Her back arched and her thighs clenched.

“She likes it,” Giselle said, licking a slow path across her stomach. “Of course she does.”

I slid between her legs, palms on her thighs, holding her open.

“She made a mess of you,” I said. “Time to return the favor.”

Giselle smiled. “Together?”

“Together.”

Ningning tried to pull away—but the cuffs held. And her pussy?

It was dripping.

I ducked down and dragged my tongue through her folds, slow and thick. Her hips bucked. She tried to twist, to get away from it—but I didn’t let her.

I held her down and devoured her.

Giselle climbed up, straddling her chest again, dragging her fingers through Ningning’s hair, keeping her pinned.

“You gonna be our good girl now?” she purred.

“F-fuck you—” Ningning gasped, voice already cracking.

I slapped her thigh. Bit the inside of it. She screamed.

Then I dove back in.

Tongue on her clit. Two fingers inside her. My pace merciless. Wet. Filthy.

She was thrashing. Moaning. Her voice was breaking.

“Please—please stop—please—”

Giselle leaned down.

“You didn’t stop when I begged.”

She slapped her. Just once. Sharp across the face.

Ningning whimpered. And she came. Just like that.

Her whole body snapped, her legs clamped around my head, and she screamed—a loud, wild sound that cracked halfway through.

I didn’t stop.

I licked harder, deeper, fucked her until she was sobbing.

Giselle reached back and pinched her nipple, twisted it until she was writhing beneath both of us.

“Please—please—I can’t—I can’t—” Ningning begged, shaking.

I pulled back, just enough to speak.

“You can.”

Then shoved my tongue back in.

She screamed again. And broke.

Tears streamed down her face. Her body thrashed. Her thighs shook. She came so hard she soaked my mouth, the sheets, everything.

She looked ruined. Beautifully, perfectly ruined. And we weren’t done. She was still cuffed.

Still flushed from the last orgasm, thighs twitching, lips parted like she needed more but wouldn’t admit it. Her body said yes, but her eyes? Still holding that spark. That edge.

The brat hadn’t surrendered.

Yet.

I knelt beside her, dragging two fingers along her inner thigh. She shivered, but didn’t move. Her hands tugged at the cuffs. Not to escape—just to feel it.

“You look good like this,” I said.

She turned her head, eyes locking with mine. Her smirk was faint but there.

“Don’t think I’m saying thank you.”

I grinned. “Didn’t ask.”

I leaned in, stroked her cheek. She let me. But when I brushed my thumb across her lip—

“Don’t call me baby,” she said sharply.

I blinked. “What?”

“Or princess. I’m not your little anything.”

Giselle let out a slow laugh behind me. She was sprawled on her side, legs still damp and red from where Ningning had wrecked her earlier. She propped herself up on one elbow and raised an eyebrow.

“Well. That’s new.”

Ningning tugged at her cuffs again, chin tilted high.

“I can take whatever you throw at me,” she said. “But don’t think I’m one of your soft little toys. You don’t own me.”

Her voice cracked just slightly on the last word.

I reached out and grabbed her jaw, not hard—just firm enough to stop the noise.

“Not yet,” I said.

Her eyes narrowed.

And I saw it—the flash of heat beneath her defiance. She liked pushing. She just didn’t know how much she wanted to be pushed back.

I leaned closer. My cock pressed against her cheek, wet and heavy.

“You open your mouth when I tell you.”

She stared up at me. Didn’t move.

So I slapped her. Not hard. Just enough to sting. Enough to make her eyes widen.

“Open.”

She did. But her glare didn’t drop.

I slid in—slow at first, letting her feel the weight of it on her tongue. Her throat clenched reflexively. She gagged once. Then again. But she didn’t pull back.

Didn’t whimper. Didn’t break.

Not yet.

I grabbed her hair and started to move. Shallow thrusts at first, then deeper. Her spit coated everything. Her chest rose faster, her toes curled against the sheets. But her eyes never softened.

Giselle moved behind me and slid her fingers between Ningning’s legs.

“She’s soaked,” she said softly. “But still so fucking proud.”

“Not for long,” I muttered.

I shoved deeper. Ningning’s moan caught in her throat. She tried to twist her hips—away or toward, I couldn’t tell. Her body wanted it even if her pride didn’t.

“You gonna be good for us?” I asked, sliding out just enough for her to speak.

She coughed once. Spit clung to her chin.

“Fuck. You.”

I smirked.

“Princess, huh?” Giselle said, fingering her faster.

“I said—fuck—don’t—call me—”

Her voice broke. Her hips bucked.

“You feel that?” I growled. “That’s your body saying yes while your mouth still lies.”

She moaned. Loud. Uncontrolled.

And I knew. The brat act was unraveling. Bit by bit, she was starting to need this. Starting to fall. She was trying so fucking hard to hold it together.

Giselle had her fingers back inside her, slow and cruel. My cock rested heavy against Ningning’s cheek, glistening from where she’d gagged and moaned and nearly choked around it. And still—somehow—she had that look.

Like she was stronger than this. Like she could come out the other side and laugh in our faces.

Her wrists tugged uselessly against the cuffs.

Her legs shook.

And when Giselle curled her fingers just right, she flinched—but bit her lip instead of screaming.

“Still holding on, huh?” I said.

She didn’t look at me. Didn’t dare.

“Answer me, princess.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m not your princess.”

Giselle laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her stomach. “She’s still got fight.”

“Not for long,” I muttered.

I slid two fingers into her mouth. Wet. Rough. She moaned around them—but she didn’t suck. Didn’t give me that satisfaction.

So I pulled them out.

And slapped her clit with the fingers.

She screamed. Her hips jerked off the mattress—and I knew that one was close. I could feel it in her body. That tension. That edge. But Giselle pulled her fingers out.

I slapped her pussy again—light, fast, just enough to drag her back down.

“No,” I said. “Not yet.”

“I—fuck—please—”

“Please what?”

She bit her lip again. Hard. And that pissed me off.

So I leaned down and bit her nipple. Not gently.

She arched off the bed, crying out as I sucked hard, teeth grazing the soft skin until her breath came in sobbing gasps.

“Still not ours?” I growled against her chest.

She shook her head. “I—I—”

Another moan. Her hips twisted again, looking for anything—anything—to grind against.

Giselle smirked, brushing her lips across Ningning’s inner thigh.

“She’s close.”

“She doesn’t get to be.”

I reached down and rubbed her clit in hard, fast circles—just enough to make her hips stutter, her mouth drop open—

Then stopped. She let out a ragged cry, almost a sob. I did it again. Same rhythm. Same pressure.

Then stopped right at the edge.

“No!” she gasped, pulling at the cuffs. “No, please—I was—fuck—I was—”

“You were what?” Giselle asked sweetly, kissing her hipbone. “Cumming? About to cum for us?”

She whimpered. But still didn’t say it.

So we did it again.

And again.

And again.

Ten times.

Twenty.

Every time she got close—every time her body started to tremble, every time her moans pitched up, every time she gasped like she couldn’t breathe—

We stopped. And every time, she begged a little harder. Not for release. Not yet. But for mercy. For anything.

Her thighs were soaked. Her voice was shot. Her chest was flushed and rising in frantic waves.

She was breaking.

Finally.

“Please,” she panted. “Please—I need to—I can’t—”

“You can,” I said. “You will.”

“I’ll be good,” she whispered.

I tilted my head. “Say it louder.”

“I’ll be good.”

“Say what you are.”

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. “Don’t make me—”

I grabbed her jaw. “Say. It.”

She choked on the words. Struggled. Fought.

Then, finally—

“I’m yours.”

I paused.

Giselle looked up at me.

I leaned down.

“You’re whose?”

She moaned.

“Yours, Mylo. Giselle’s. Yours. I—I belong to you—please—please let me—”

But we didn’t.

Not yet.

She hadn’t earned it.

And she knew it.

Tears slid down her cheeks. Her pussy clenched around nothing. Her body bucked, straining against the edge we held her on like it might kill her to stay there.

She didn’t say no anymore. She didn’t say anything. Just soft, broken whimpers of please, over and over, like a mantra. Like worship. Like surrender.

And when I slid my fingers into her mouth again, she sucked them eagerly—desperate, needy, completely wrecked.

Giselle leaned up and kissed her cheek, soft and slow.

“That’s our baby.”

And this time?

Ningning didn’t protest.

She was crying now.

Not sobbing. Not afraid. Just… shaking with the need. Her cheeks were wet, lips swollen, arms stretched taut against the cuffs above her head. Her body had given up. Her pride was gone. The brat? Buried under sweat, spit, and surrender.

I cupped her jaw and tilted her face toward mine.

“Say it again.”

Her voice was barely there. A rasp soaked in tears and desperation.

“I belong to you…”

“To who?”

She swallowed. “You. Mylo. Giselle. Yours—fuck, I’m yours—”

Giselle kissed the inside of her knee.

“Good girl.”

Her legs fell open wider without us even asking. Her eyes flicked from me to Giselle to the space between her thighs, like she didn’t know what she wanted first—just that she needed it.

“Let her have it,” Giselle said, crawling up beside me. “She earned it.”

“I don’t know,” I said, rubbing one knuckle against Ningning’s oversensitive clit. “Feels like we should make her say it one more time.”

She gasped.

“I’ll say anything,” she breathed. “Please—I’ll say anything—do anything—”

I slid two fingers inside her and watched her whole body seize up.

“Anything?” I asked.

“Yes! Please—I—I need to—please—I can’t take—”

I added a third finger.

She screamed. Her hips lifted off the bed, her cuffs rattling hard enough to shake the headboard. Giselle sucked on her nipple, tongue flicking fast. “Come for us, baby.” she whispered.

And Ningning broke. Hard.

Her orgasm ripped through her like lightning—violent and loud and devastating. Her back arched. Her mouth dropped open. And the sound she made? It didn’t even sound human.

“AAHHH—fuhhh—MYYLO—fuckfuckfuck—I’M CUMMING—!”

Her pussy clamped down on my fingers like she never wanted them to leave. She was twitching, shaking, gasping—eyes wild, legs kicking.

And it didn’t stop. Because I didn’t stop. Neither did Giselle. We forced it to keep going. Over and over.

Every time her voice cracked, I curled my fingers deeper. Every time her thighs locked, Giselle dragged her tongue up the inside of one. Every time she cried out, we gave her more.

Until she was nothing but sound and wetness and broken moans.

Until she was limp in the cuffs, eyes glassy, mouth slack.

Until she whispered it on her own—no prompting, no order.

“I’m yours,” she breathed, again and again. “Yours… yours… yours…”

And we believed her.

Because now?

She knew.

The only sound in the room was Ningning’s breathing—broken, shallow, too light for someone who’d just screamed her voice raw.

She hadn’t moved.

Her body was slack, arms still stretched from the cuffs, wrists pink. The defiance that had burned in her just minutes ago had vanished, drained out through her skin along with everything else. She didn’t say a word. Didn’t look at either of us.

I didn’t wait.

I got up first. Found a fresh towel, ran warm water from the bathroom sink. I soaked it, wrung it out. The mirror caught my reflection for a second—hair wrecked, chest rising with the kind of high that comes only from the most intense experiences.

But I wasn’t thinking about myself.

I was already back at the bed, already kneeling beside her.

Ningning flinched slightly when the towel touched her inner thigh.

“Easy,” I said, my voice lower, slower now.

Her eyes opened—barely. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

She blinked, trying to focus. “I feel…”

“Overloaded,” I said. “Yeah. I’ve got you.”

Giselle watched from the other side, head propped in her hand, gaze soft but quiet now. She didn’t move to interfere.

I ran the towel between Ningning’s legs, gentle, careful, like I was wiping away more than just the mess. Her breath hitched. Not from pain. From… whatever was settling in her now. She turned her face toward the sheets and let me keep going.

“Let me see your wrists.”

She hesitated. Then raised them.

Pink. A little red. No welts, no breaks. Just pressure marks. I kissed each one without thinking, then rubbed my thumbs in slow circles over the skin.

“You okay?”

Her throat worked. “I think I left my body.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I noticed.”

She made a small noise—not quite a laugh. Then: “I wasn’t expecting… all that.”

“You didn’t have to be. We were watching you.”

“I liked it.”

“I know,” I said, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. “That’s why we did it.”

Her lashes fluttered. She looked tired. Glowing. Messy and open and real in a way I hadn’t seen before.

“Do you want some water?” I asked.

She nodded.

I helped her sit up, cradling the back of her neck with one hand, slipping the bottle to her lips with the other. She drank slow, eyes on me the whole time.

When she finished, I wiped her mouth and kissed her cheek.

She closed her eyes again and leaned against me.

No words. No bratty lines. No biting.

Just trust.

That weight hit me all at once. She’d let us wreck her. And now she was letting me hold what was left.

Giselle finally moved, pulling a blanket up over Ningning’s legs. She didn’t speak—just rested a hand on her thigh and met my eyes.

You’re doing good, that look said.

I wrapped both arms around Ningning and let her settle into my chest.

“Stay here,” I said. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

And she did.

Ningning was warm against me. Warm and limp, her body curled into my side like she belonged there, her breath still a little shaky. She hadn’t said much since she came down. Just small hums, tiny nods. I kept stroking her hair.

[wonsiwon]

the breaking point | p.js

genre— angst (not really) hurt/comfort, slice of life, domestic

pairing— reader × jay (husband!jay)

synopsis— after the worst day in a long time, you get in jay’s car without a word. you don’t mean to be mean, but when he asks what’s wrong, everything you’ve buried comes crashing out.

warnings— mentions of stress, crying, emotional shutdown, implied burnout, slight argument, comfort-heavy ending

you didn’t even want to call him.

you stood outside the building, hands freezing, breath visible in the air even though it wasn’t that cold. your phone screen showed his name on the lock screen, calling you because you were late. because you said you’d be out by six, and it was already pushing seven.

it was supposed to be an easy day. a few reports, a presentation, some annoying emails. you’ve handled worse. but today, nothing worked. the printer jammed, your coworker dumped their part of the work on you last minute, your boss nitpicked everything you did like it was personal, and someone even made a comment about how tired you looked in the elevator. you forgot your lunch on the kitchen counter this morning. you spilled coffee on your shirt before noon. and then had to stay late to redo something that wasn’t even your mistake.

so, yeah. you were already over it before you even stepped into jay’s car.

you pull the door shut without saying anything. just drop your bag at your feet and lean your head back against the seat, eyes closed.

jay turns his head, smile ready but it falters the second he sees your face.

you don’t look at him. don’t say hi. don’t even breathe in his direction. your jaw’s tight, arms crossed, eyes fixed out the window like the sky pissed you off too.

jay watches you for a second, hand still resting on the steering wheel. “hey, baby..” he says softly, “you okay?”

you exhale, sharp and tired. “just drive, jay.”

his brows pull together. “okay…” he puts the car in drive, silence wrapping around both of you. but he keeps glancing over, concern growing. “work was that bad, huh?”

you don’t respond. you’re chewing your bottom lip raw, picking at your nails like if you stay quiet long enough, you’ll disappear into the leather seat.

jay tries again, gentle. “wanna talk about it?”

“no.”

“you sure? maybe i can help—”

“i said no, jay.” it came out harsher than you intended, turning to him.

jay blinked, pulling the car up to a red light. “alright. but you don’t have to snap at me, baby.”

“jesus.” you mutter under your breath, head falling back against the seat, again. “i’m not snapping, you just don’t listen.”

his hand grips the wheel a little tighter, but his voice stays calm. “don’t do that. i’m trying here.”

you shake your head. “i don’t need you to try. i just need peace. five fucking minutes without someone asking me to explain myself.”

that does it.

he pulls the car over to the side of the road and puts it in park. turns to face you fully.

“baby, what’s wrong with you tonight?” his voice is low now. not angry, hurt. “you’ve been all snappy since you got in the car.

you open your mouth, to yell, to bite back, to say something that’ll push him further away, but instead it crumbles.

your lip wobbles. breath catches. and then it hits you all at once.

the tears you’ve been holding back since noon break loose. they burst out of your eyes like a dam finally gave in. you turn your face to your hands, sobbing so hard like you’ve been holding it in for weeks.

jay’s already unbuckling. leaning over to wrap his arms around you. “oh, sweetheart—” he whispers, wrapping you in his arms before you can even think.

“i’m so tired..” you cry into his chest. “everything’s falling apart. they dumped everything on me again, and i messed up and my boss was on my ass and i didn’t even get to eat and—fuck, i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

“hey, it’s okay. don’t apologize.” he murmurs, brushing your hair back. “my poor girl. why didn’t you say something sooner?”

you can barely talk through the sobs, but it spills out in pieces. how everything just felt too much and you didn’t know how to breathe anymore.

“you should’ve called me..” he says gently, brushing your hair back. “i would’ve brought you lunch. you’re my wife. if something it’s happening, you have to tell me.”

he pulls back just enough to cup your face, thumbing away your tears. your shoulders shake again and he kisses your forehead.

“you’re so strong, baby. i’m proud of you, especially on the worst days.”

“i was mean to you..” you whisper.

“you were overwhelmed.” he corrects gently. “you don’t have to be perfect with me. i know who you are, and i love you. all of you. even the tired, pissed off version.”

you let out a broken laugh, still teary.

he tucks your hair behind your ear. “we’re gonna go home. i’m gonna run you a bath, order your favourite food and rub your back until you fall asleep. okay?”

you nod slowly, clinging to him.

“okay..” you whisper. “thank you.”

“always, baby.” he says, kissing your temple again. “you don’t have to go through any of this alone.”

need a boyfie jay like dis ˙◠˙

[biggianteggplant]

RANDOMLY THOUGHT ABT THIS IN THE SHOWER ALSO SORRY FOR SPAM POSTING POOKIES, EXAM WEEKS ARE COMING AND I MIGHT VANISH FOR A WHILE SO IM SPOILING YALL AS MUCH AS I CAN

DRUNKKKK

KUROO TETSURO

You and Kuroo had a bit of a fight earlier. Nothing explosive—just one of those quiet disagreements that start over something small and fester in silence. You snapped at him for always forgetting to put your laundry in when he does his, and he bit back with a “Maybe I forget because you act like I mess everything up.”

Ouch.

He left soon leaving you a message. “I’ll be home late. Out with the guys.” You heart-reacted his message but didn’t reply. You knew he only went drinking with the old Nekoma team to blow off steam—still, you didn’t love it. Not because you didn’t trust him. You just knew how sensitive Kuroo really was under all the dry sarcasm, and alcohol always made those feelings louder.

You sat curled up on the couch, hoodie sleeves over your hands. His hoodie. The one he always forgets he stole from you.

It’s nearing 11:30 when your phone rings. Yamamoto.

You pick up and he’s already chuckling.

“Hey, uhh… sorry to call so late. Kuroo’s, uh. He’s not wasted but he definitely just tried to use his credit card on a vending machine. Thought he bought you a ring.”

You blink.

“What?? Where is he?”

“At your building. He wanted to surprise you but we figured we should warn you so you’re not, like, alarmed by the sounds of him softly singing 'Baby Shark' in the hallway.”

You throw on slippers and hurry down, half-annoyed but mostly worried.

When you open the lobby door, there he is—sitting on the hallway floor with your cat keychain in his hands and your name on his lips. He looks up at you like the world just made sense again.

“There you are…” he breathes, like he hadn’t seen you in years. “I was scared you wouldn’t come. Yamamoto said you’d probably still be mad. I told him you always come for me.”

You kneel down, and he leans forward, his head pressing against your shoulder. He’s warm and smells faintly like citrus soju and a hint of your shampoo—he used your bottle again, the one you told him to stop hogging.

“M’ sorry…” he murmurs. “For being a jerk earlier. I just—I suck at fights with you. I get defensive. And I shouldn’t. You’re right.”

You sigh, running your fingers through his messy hair.

“It’s okay. I was mean too. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“Still…” he sits up, blinking at you like he’s trying very hard to focus. “Can we not go to sleep mad? Even if I smell like… regret and lemon?”

You nod and hold out your hand. He smiles like it’s the best thing anyone’s ever done for him.

—

Back in your apartment, he curls up next to you on the couch, burying his face into the hoodie he’s wearing.

“Hey…” he says sleepily. “I just realized this is your hoodie.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah. The one you ‘accidentally’ took like a month ago.”

“Mm. That’s why it smells like comfort.” He tightens his hold around you. “Wanna wear it together. Forever. Hoodie marriage.”

You laugh softly. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is now. You’re stuck with me, hoodie and all.”

His breathing slows, one arm lazily draped around your waist, thumb brushing over your shirt like he needs to keep touching you or you’ll vanish.

“Love you,” he murmurs.

“Love you too,” you whisper back.

“…Even if you fight like a crab.”

You roll your eyes. But your fingers find his under the blanket, and you hold on.

Just like always.

BOKUTO KOUTARO

Bokuto doesn’t drink often.

Not because he can’t handle it—but because when he does, he goes all in. Like “suddenly poetic about sunsets” all in. So when he shows up to the MSBY boys' night with sleeves rolled up, a determined look in his eyes, and says:

“Let’s get drinks. I’m drinking tonight.”

Everyone immediately knows something is off.

Atsumu raises an eyebrow. “Bro, you don’t even like the taste of beer.”

Bokuto shrugs, already downing his first soju shot with the bitterness of betrayal written on his face.

“I saw a guy ask for Y/N’s number today.”

Silence.

Sakusa blinks. “Did she give it to him?”

“No!” Bokuto shouts, loud enough for the bar to turn their heads. “She told him no! She said, ‘Sorry, I’m taken,’ and then he looked at her like she was lying!”

“Okay, so…” Hinata asks cautiously. “Why are you drinking then?”

Bokuto slams his second shot.

“Because she called me a little sensitive about it!!”

The MSBY team collectively sighs. Here it goes again.

Fast forward an hour and Bokuto is tipsy-talking with the passionate intensity of a man who would write your name in the sky if he could.

“Y/N is so pretty,” he mumbles to no one in particular, chin resting on the table. “Like, not just pretty. Soul-pretty. And she always laughs at my jokes even when they’re not that funny, and she puts extra cheese on my ramen, and she lets me wear her socks when mine disappear—I LOVE HER SO MUCH—”

“WE KNOW,” the table groans.

Atsumu, sipping his beer like it’s holy water, mutters, “Every damn time he drinks, it’s like watching a rom-com with a protein shake.”

Even Sakusa, in his usual cool monotone, looks vaguely disturbed.

“I’m happy for him but I’m also very tired.”

Bokuto, absolutely unbothered, points at all of them.

“You’re just jealous ‘cause I get forehead kisses and you don’t.”

Hinata grins. “Okay, he’s got a point.”

Meanwhile, you get a call around midnight.

“Hi babe,” Bokuto says sweetly, “Can you come pick me up? I drank because I was jealous but I’m not mad anymore. I just wanna cuddle and tell you you’re my favorite human until I pass out.”

You sigh, heart warm.

“I told you he was just a random guy, Kou. You really didn’t have to get drunk over it.”

“But you’re mine,” he slurs softly. “And I get nervous sometimes. You’re… y’know… you.”

“I love you,” you say quietly. “Even when you’re a tiny bit sensitive.”

He giggles. “Told you.”

When you arrive, Bokuto throws himself into your arms dramatically, mumbling into your shoulder:

“I’m not drunk. I’m in love.”

You look up to see the MSBY team watching from the table, visibly exhausted.

Atsumu: “Please. Take your owl. He’s been reciting your contact name like it’s poetry.”

KENMA KOZUME

You weren’t expecting company tonight. At all.

So when someone starts knocking at your door like they own the place, you open it with a half-annoyed sigh—only to find Kuroo Tetsuro standing there with a smugness so dense, it could fuel a small city.

He’s got one hand steadying Kenma, who looks both sleepy and mildly done with existence.

Kuroo, grinning like he just delivered a cursed artifact, says:

“Your package has arrived. Handle with care—might bite if threatened.”

Kenma lets out the softest sigh and leans forward into your arms without hesitation, nearly knocking you off balance.

Kuroo claps you on the back with zero shame.

“That grin?” he nods toward himself. “Yeah, it screams ‘I know he’s not affectionate, so consider this a gift.’ You’re welcome.”

Before you can reply, he’s already walking away, hands in his pockets, humming some dramatic villain theme.

“Good luck with him. He’s in full cling-mode. I call it Kenmess™.”

The door closes. Silence. You look down at the human cat blanket now half-draped over you.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Let’s get you to the couch, Kenmess.”

He makes a small, pleased sound like a warm riceball and clings tighter.

Once you finally get him settled, you grab a warm cloth from the bathroom and come back to wipe his face gently. You’re expecting sleepy mumbles at most.

You’re not expecting him to say

“I like your hands.”

You freeze.

“What?”

“They make my head stop buzzing.”

You pause the cloth mid-wipe. What is happening?

“Also,” he adds, blinking up at you, “you always make me feel safe. Like… even when I’m annoying. Which I probably am. But you never make me feel like a bother.”

Your entire brain short-circuits.

“Are you—okay?”

“I’m awesome,” he slurs softly. “I’m just being honest. You’re my favorite person. Like. In the whole server.”

“Did you just call our relationship a server—?”

“Ban anyone who flirts with you,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut, “They’re NPCs anyway…”

He reaches out and pulls you down beside him, his arms wrapped around your waist with alarming strength for someone who just drank three sojus because Kuroo annoyed him into it.

You try not to combust.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being real,” he counters sleepily. “Let me keep you for the night. Recharge my social battery. Please.”

You give in. Of course you do. You tuck the blanket over both of you and feel his grip around you relax just slightly.

Before he passes out completely, he mutters:

“Tell Kuroo he’s still a menace. But thanks for the drop-off.”

AKAASHI KEIJI

It’s a quiet celebration. Akaashi and a few of his coworkers are out drinking after hitting a big milestone—finally submitting the last round of edits for a project that’s been haunting their backs for weeks. There’s laughter, clinking glasses, small talk—but Akaashi?

Akaashi’s silent.

He’s nursing a glass of plum wine, sitting off to the side in a booth like he’s physically present but mentally curled up in your hoodie on your couch.

And that’s when Tenma Udai—half-tipsy, half-wise—leans over, squinting.

“You good, Akaashi?”

No response.

Akaashi just stares into his drink like it holds answers. Then slowly, quietly, his shoulders start to shake.

Tenma blinks. Oh.

“...are you crying?”

Akaashi lets out a very soft, “Just a little,” like it’s the weather or something.

Tenma sighs, already smiling. Here we go.

“Let me guess… girlfriend withdrawal?”

Akaashi nods solemnly, bottom lip wobbling. His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Five hours.”

“Damn. A whole five.”

“She makes me food,” Akaashi mutters. “Like… actual meals. Even cuts the bread weird so it’s fun to eat.”

“Mhm.”

“And massages my back when I get stiff from writing too long.”

“Very kind.”

“She kisses me on the forehead like I’m a baby.”

“You do give off baby energy sometimes.”

Akaashi glares through his teary lashes.

“Shut up.”

Tenma chuckles, waving him off.

“Young love. It’s cute.”

Akaashi sniffles and pulls out his phone, unlocking it to your name on speed dial. You’re listed as EMERGENCY CONTACT in all caps, with a little heart.

“I think I should call her.”

“You think she’ll pick up?”

“She always does.”

And sure enough, your phone buzzes—and you answer on the third ring, voice soft with surprise.

“Keiji? Is everything okay?”

His voice cracks a little:

“Can I come home now?”

---

You’re in your comfiest pajamas, watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S when the doorbell rings.

You already know who it is.

You open the door slowly and there he is — Akaashi Keiji, looking like he ran through three stages of heartbreak, an existential crisis, and a Pinterest board of “Soft Boy Autumn.”

His hair’s slightly tousled, eyes a little red, and in his hands? A crumpled convenience store bag full of the most random—but specifically your favorite—snacks.

He holds the bag out like a peace offering.

“Hi,” he says, sheepish. “I missed you.”

You blink. “You’re drunk.”

“Not really.” (He is. But it’s the soft, sleepy, too-much-thinking kind.)

You step aside and he walks in slowly like he’s entering a sacred space. The second the door closes behind him, he wraps his arms around your waist and just… melts into you.

His forehead presses to your shoulder.

“Five hours,” he mumbles.

You giggle softly. “I know.”

“Do you know how long that is?”

“A little over 300 minutes?”

“It felt like years.”

You wrap your arms around him and run your fingers through his hair gently. He sighs so deeply you feel it in your spine.

“Everyone was talking and laughing and I just kept thinking…” sniff “…what if you’re cold right now and I’m not there to give you my hoodie?”

You laugh again, pulling away to cup his cheeks.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Only for you.”

You guide him to the couch where he immediately plops down with his head in your lap, mumbling something about your thighs being the only acceptable pillow.

You grab the bag of snacks and go through them.

“You got me honey butter chips, banana milk, and… a single boiled egg?”

He shrugs.

“That’s love.”

“That’s concerning.”

He closes his eyes, content and clinging to your waist.

“I don’t care if I’m clingy,” he murmurs. “I don’t wanna be cool tonight. I just wanna be yours.”

You lean down and kiss his forehead.

“You always are.”

[with-my-calamitous-love]

i’ll be in denial for at least a little while / what about the plans we made?

ya! k. bakugou x reader

after a month with radio silence and encouragement from concerned friends and family, you end up at katsuki’s doorstep. themes of depression/isolation, mentions of death (katsuki failed to protect a family on a mission), angst with some comfort at the end.

one of those ones i just needed to write. special tag for @crushmeeren <3

song: tv

11:03 pm.

"he doesn't normally do this." you have eijirou on speaker phone while you look for your keys. you can't see him, but you know already the worried look in his red eyes as he speaks. its the same worry he's had for katsuki back when they were still in UA. its the worry you'd expect from a best friend.

he can't see you, but he knows you're worried, too. because anyone who gets thoroughly ghosted by their boyfriend with no warning would also have shaky hands as they drive over to check on them. anyone who cares about someone else, worries.

"you said he's still coming to work, though?" you know the answer. yes, you've heard from shouto that he's still heading to the agency regularly, going on patrol and field missions as normal. but what you don't know, what you aren't able to confirm from what people are seeing, is what scares you: what if he's dragging himself out of bed, exhausted because he didn't sleep? what if he's skipping meals? what if he's going on missions, secretly hoping that something goes wrong?

"yeah, but he barely talks to anyone. i mean, i know he doesn't care for small talk, or whatever, but... somethings wrong. i can feel it."

your stomach churns, making the turn onto his street. for a while, you sit in the driveway, trying to see into the windows. maybe he's asleep. maybe he's perfectly fine. but most of that is just hope.

"what if he doesn't let me in?"

literally, because theres always a chance he's asleep and doesn't answer his door- though he's always been a light sleeper since going pro. but theres also the chance that he lets you inside his home but not into the walls he's built around him this past month.

"he will. he has to. he loves you." eijirou's voice feels like refuge, even over the phone.

you take a deep breath, hands clutching the sweater your wearing. its his, and you almost feel a little bad that you've taken it from him. does he have other things keeping warm? he has other sweaters, or blankets, hot showers and even his own explosions, but is he still feeling cold? alone?

eijirou drones on a little more. he's not the one sitting in his abesent best-friends driveway, but like you, he's stalling. "what happened was... it was terrible. but no ones blaming katsuki for that."

"yeah. except katsuki probably is."

he's silent over the phone. you both knew it, but didn't want to say it.

"i'm going in."

the redhead nods, though you can't see him. "i'm here if you need me."

"alright, by eiji."

"bye, [y/n.]"

your heart is pounding, bracing yourself for whatever may happen. but part of you knows that whatever you're feeling, your boyfriend is probably feeling tenfold and alone. its why you need to do this.

tentatively, you raise your knuckles to the door, knocking.

theres silence for a moment. you hear some footsteps that pause just before the door, like he knows its you.

on the inside? he feels pathetic for trying to hide, hoping you'll go away. he knows you won't, you both know it.

"katsuki?" your voice is quiet, afraid of disturbing any ghosts. "c'mon, i know you're in there."

he tenses. he wants to make up an excuse, tell himself that he's fine, that he doesn't have the time, that leaving everyone behind suddenly isn't a sign that something is wrong. but he's a liar and a bad one.

"go away."

he winces to himself, knowing he sounds like a child. but truthfully, its what he wishes he were, right now. a child who didn't have to feel the weight of failure pressing down on his ribs.

"i'm not going away until you let me inside." you say, firmly. "please."

its the first time you're hearing his voice in weeks, and its enough to bring you to your knees. he's been doing this for a month, but you wonder if he's felt lonely or scared or confused for longer than that.

"...i don't want you to see me like this."

you fight back tears. "maybe i do. maybe i wanna see you."

he's leaning his forehead against the door, knowing it's gone on too long. he knows he can't keep this up forever, and that at one point, you'd come to his front door. he expected more anger, anger for being a shitty neglectful boyfriend that never opens up about his feelings.

but he doesn't hear any anger in your voice, at all. and that makes him feel worse.

"please." you plead again, ringing the doorbell, hoping it'll annoy him enough to open the door. you'd rather have him pissed off, annoyed or angry than have none of him at all.

he shakes hid head, hand on the doorknob. its already unlocked.

"you're fucking stubborn, aren't you?" a sentence that comes out with something like a laugh. your chest tightens, worried he's about to tell you off. for a minute in the silence, it seems like it.

but then he opens the door, letting you see him.

you want to run towards him, feeling his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into his home and back into his life. but the fear of him rejecting that holds you back as he lets you inside, closing the door behind you.

you first note how dark it is. obviously, because its near midnight. but he's never been one to go without at least a window open, to let some moonlight in. he can't stand artificial light, anyway. he's always bitched that it messes up his sleep.

"you mind if i open some curtains?" you ask him, softly gaging his reactions.

he scoffs quietly, but reels in his attitude- most of it, anyway. "i don't care, do whatever."

you ignore his spite, walking over to the living room window and drawing the fabric. it's a perfectly clear night, a sky so full of stars you could swim in it. its something so beautiful, something he hasn't let himself experience in weeks.

you presence in his home is felt like that of a ghost. you take more time to look at his surroundings. you can hear his voice before this: "i like shit clean. and you're bad at that."

but now, he doesn't seem to care. theres dirty mugs and unwashed laundry. you're not saying anything, but he's expecting it. he's expecting you to call out his hypocrisy, or just how shitty he's let his place become. the thought makes his anxiety skyrocket, and following that, shame.

but instead, he watches as you collect a few of the cups and rinse them off in the sink. somehow, that makes him feel worse. what the hell did he do to deserve that?

"what are you doing?" he asks. you notice one of the mugs he got as a gag gift for his 20th birthday, though he took it seriously. a world's greatest hero mug, now dusty and forgotten.

"don't worry about it." you say, turning back to face him.

neither of you know where to start. he's hoped that if he stayed alone, drowning in his own depression, he wouldn't have to watch when you inevitably leave him.

"you know it's been a month?" you gently approach him. he's not moving away from your presence, which should be a good sign.

"i know." he says fast, cold. you know his tell that he's angry- short replies, pissed off red eyes and distance. he's not even mad at you, though. just himself.

"eijirou called, said he was worried. we all were, i mean."

his eyes dart up to meet your for a brief moment. the mention of him makes his chest tighten up more, knowing you're not the only person he's disappointed. he feels like a true, honest coward. he's not getting along with anyone. maybe he's the problem.

his silence makes you panic, wondering if he's listening. "i wanted to give you space. you're my boyfriend, i care and i-i didn't wanna push you."

he nods, arms crossed, looking at the floor.

"i'm just sorry it took me so long to get here."

his eyes meet yours again, this time holding your gaze. he wants to cup your face and tell you that you have nothing to apologize for. that he's hard to approach and hard to love, even though he knows you'd disagree with that. but the words get caught in his throat, and filtered by unresolved anger.

"yeah, well... you're here now, aren't you?"

you just nod, grateful that you're both, at least, talking. thats more than anything else in the past month.

you think back to the articles of what happened. how two young parents with kids even younger were tragically injured during a bank robbery. how pro-hero dynamight successfully captured the criminals but couldn't prevent what happened to the innocent.

whats worse is how neatly packaged and sanitized it became. "a physical altercation." "an unforeseen criminal event." "and unfortunate and untimely demise." he hated the way they tried to save his name, to not pin any blame him or his failures. he was blaming himself. why wasn't anyone else?

"you know no one blames you for what happened, right?"

because no one does. but for katsuki, thats the worst part. he should have bee faster, better. if he had been seconds earlier, maybe they could have gotten to the hospital faster. maybe he could have prevented it, all of it. if he was just a few seconds faster.

but he wasn't, and it'll haunt him forever. "they should be blaming me." he says solemnly.

you shake your head, stepping closer to him, hands itching to reach out. you want to take his blame and guilt away, even just for a moment. you wanna be able to touch him again. you wanna feel your boyfriend and everything he is.

theres tears in his red eyes as he recounts everything, breaking down. he once swore to himself he'd never cry in front of you, or anyone. now, he's starting to see that you're the only person he could cry around.

"how many people are grieving because i fucked up?" his voice raises slightly, but you hear through it.

"they know you tried."

"yeah well, not hard enough!"

he takes a deep breath, the thing he always tells you to do when you sprial. he lets the air sit in his lungs before finally pulling you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your head as he holds you. he's tired of being alone.

"has it really been a month?" he asks, quietly.

you just nod into his chest, speechless. he's letting you in again, letting you touch him, feel him. its the closest you've been in what feels like decades.

you pull away just a little, hands cupping his face, looking into his teary eyes. its the first time in a while he's let himself cry, feel. and it makes his chest ache. his bones are exhausted from pushing down his feelings, of saying that he's fine, that he deserves the exile he's placed upon himself the past month.

"i'm sorry i'm shitty a boyfriend." he sobs. "and a shitty person. you deseve so much fucking better, they all did."

you shake your head, hushing him compassionately, wiping his tears. "i don't want better. i want you." he pulls you in tighter, and for a moment, time stops, the way he's wanted it to for the past few hours.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

2 am.

you both sit on the living room floor, backs against the couch. you're pressed against him, holding his hand while he rests it against your thigh, his thumb gently stroking over your skin. he's been exhausted as of late, but he doesn't want to close his eyes and miss this moment with you.

but when he looks over at you, your head on his shoulder, he feels more and more that he's allowed to let his guard down. you're still very much awake, but it's the first night in a while you can sleep without aimlessly worrying about him.

"you know idiot, for what its worth, i haven't been completely alone." he says looking over at you.

your eyes perk up. if there was anyone else who made sure he wasn't suffering in silence, its someone you wanted to know. "really? who?"

he pauses for a moment, like he's recalling a conversation in his head. one thats been buried by guilt and anxiety for the past month. but with you, he's letting himself admit things.

"...i spoke with a member of the victims family. she was the sister to the mother of the family. she was at the hospital the day it happened."

his answer took you off guard. in your head, he boarded himself up in his house, isolated and alone. you're not completely wrong, but you do feel a pang of guilt for not thinking better of him.

"how did that go?" you push gently.

"i expected them to be angry. to blame me for it. hell, i blame me." he starts, reminiscing the event. "but she was kinder than i deserved. said she didn't blame me."

you can tell he doesn't believe her words, or anyone's. that he still replays it in his head, living the guilt, the guilt that he survived and others didn't, eating at him.

"she sounds really sweet." you squeeze his hand.

he nods. "yeah, she was."

"you know," you start, trying to give his mind a brief holiday from the turmoil. "if everyone is saying it, it kind of has to be true."

his lips twitch into a reluctant smile. "whatever, idiot."

you sit up, facing him as you piece together your next words. he pulls your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles, wanting to hear your voice. right now, its the only thing keeping him afloat.

"the hardest part about this job is that you can't save everyone. you can't change that."

what you say isn't new, its a reminder. that no matter how many things he blows up, how many villains he handles and how many times he climbs to the top, he'll have to endure the pain of loss. he's seen it in every teacher and every hero who came before him, and all the up and coming heroes who still have lessons to learn. and deep down, he knows that its no reason give up. he's determined to be the best, to be everything he said he'd be.

he nods, hearing the truth in your words, knowing that he'll need to make peace with it. he has no witty remarks or curses to add. just a drive to do better.

"but knowing you? you'll probably still try."

he brings his face to yours and then your lips to his, kissing you. his hand comes up to your cheek as he lingers for a few moments before pulling away.

"of course i will."

[mixolya]

heyy! don’t know if you write for yukimiya, if you don’t it’s completely fine, but could i maybe ask for yukimiya, alongside sae, and otoya (including anyone else you want if you feel up to it!) when reader is on their period? Idk if this is an uncomfortable topic and i geniunely apologize if it is. you can ignore this! thanks so much anyway, i wish the best for you ^^

ᓚᘏᗢ — blue lock: when it hurts, they stay !

synopsis: period pains were never fun, but being taken care of by boys who loved you made it just a little easier to breathe.

yukimiya kenyu, sae itoshi, otoya eita x reader (separate) ⭑ fluff / comfort + likes & reblogs are appreciated <3

note: hi!! thank you sm for your request and it isn't an uncomfortable topic for me dw <3 i hopeee this is good enough hahaha i never wrote for yukimiya & otoya BUTTT i tried

— yukimiya kenyu

it started with a text.

y/n 🩷: i want to rip my uterus out 😃

thirty minutes later, a knock echoed at your door, and there stood yukimiya, hair still slightly mussed from morning training, wearing his favorite beige coat and holding a tote bag full of survival supplies like he was on a mission.

"emergency delivery," he said softly, offering you a gentle smile that was tinged with concern.

you opened the door wider, wincing as another cramp rolled through your stomach. "i didn't mean for you to actually come..."

"i know," he murmured, stepping inside anyway. "but you sounded like you needed someone."

he moved with quiet care, setting down everything he brought. ginger tea. painkillers. a soft pair of fuzzy socks, pink with little white hearts. your favorite chocolate. a heating pad. even a tiny stuffed bear wearing a sweater.

"is that banana bread?" you asked, blinking.

he looked sheepish. "i tried to bake. had a bit of help. but i stirred the batter."

your stomach twisted. not from the cramps but from the way your heart felt suddenly too full. you shuffled forward, leaned your head against his chest and let yourself breathe in the calm he always brought with him. he smelled like soft cologne and warmth.

"thank you," you whispered.

"always," he said, arms wrapping around you like he'd been waiting all day to do that. "now sit down. eat something. yell at me if you want."

you did all three.

and he stayed, tucked you under his arms on the couch, listened as you complained about your uterus, your cravings, the universe. he didn't try to fix anything, just held you like it was enough.

and it was.

— sae itoshi

sae didn't ask what was wrong, he just knew.

you came home grumpy, sluggish, arms wrapped protectively around your stomach as if that would lessen the betrayal. you dropped your bag at the door, collapsed face-first into bed and groaned.

sae quietly closed his laptop. a moment later, you felt his hand on your back, rubbing slow, even circles through the blanket.

you peeked up, barely. "i'm dying."

"no," he said, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. "you're bleeding. big difference."

you scowled. he almost smiled, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"do you want food?"

"..yes. and you. and the heating pad. and maybe death."

"i'll do three out of four."

he returned fifteen minutes later with warm food, a heating pad and your comfort show already playing. you blinked at him in disbelief.

"i thought you hated this show."

"i do," he said, sliding into bed beside you. "but i love you."

you curled into his side, clutching at the hoodie he was wearing (which was technically yours) and blinked hard against the sudden sting in your eyes.

later, as the world faded around you and sleep crept in, you heard him whisper against your hair, "if i could take the pain for you, i would."

he didn't expect a response, but your fingers squeezed his just a little tighter.

— otoya eita

otoya knew something was off the moment your text came in.

y/n 💫: my body is actively trying to kill me y/n 💫: if i go missing, avenge me

he did not reply. wow, rude!!

instead, twenty-five minutes later, your doorbell rang, and when you opened it, he stood there with a smug grin, a bag of takeout in one hand and a heat patch in the other.

"your knight in shining hoodie has arrived," he said, cocking a brow. "or should i say, knight in emotional support and grilled cheese?"

you blinked, still in your pajamas, clutching a pillow to your chest. "you didn't have to-"

"i wanted to," he cut in, stepping inside like he'd done it a thousand times. "also, you get super cute when you're in pain."

you glared at him.

he winked.

but behind the teasing, his eyes were careful, watching you, checking how you walked slightly slower, hunched over. he set everything down, then gently tugged you toward the couch.

"lay down. i'll warm the heating pad and feed you like royalty."

"are you always this dramatic?"

"when it's you?" he grinned. "yeah."

he made good on his word, adjusting the heating pad to your lower back, tucking the blanket around your legs with surprising tenderness and handing you a grilled cheese like ht was some divine offering.

"see?" he said, sitting beside you and resting his arm across the back of the couch. "being babied by me isn't so bad."

"you're so annoying," you mumbled, taking a bite.

"and yet, you texted me instead of dying alone."

you rolled your eyes. but when a particularly sharp cramp made you shift and whimper, otoya's teasing faded.

"hey," he said, voice softer now. "you okay?"

you nodded.

he didn't say anything for a moment, then leaned in and pressed a light kiss to your temple.

“if i could punch your uterus, i would.”

that made you laugh. and it made something ache in your chest too.

because beneath the jokes and flirty smiles, otoya eita always showed up when it mattered.

and when your head dropped onto his shoulder not long after, he didn’t move. just let you stay there, humming a soft tune under his breath while his fingers threaded through your hair.

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[enhaeil]

BEAUTIFUL ! ☆ 엔하이픈

"the way that gucci look on you amazing ... but nothing can compare to when your naked"

beautiful - bazzi

sensual moments with enhypen !

c/w: suggestive esp more in hyung line ... nothing explicit tho actually fluffish!!

heeseung

you saw a couple on Instagram who bonded by cooking together while only wearing lingerie and boxers, and decided to try it with heeseung.

several aromas filled your kitchen as music blared on your bluetooth speaker.

you were standing by the counter, stirring something in a bowl while heeseung watched the meat cook on the stove. as it simmers, heeseung makes his way behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and swaying to the beat of the music playing.

"mm, aren't you supposed to watch the food!" you say, giving his hand a light slap as it starts to roam lower.

"oh i'm watching the food, baby. i'm watching ..." he says, biting his lip as his eyes roam to your ass that's peeking out your lingerie dress. you'd be lying if you said you didn't want him to take you right here and now, but he could at least let you finish cooking first.

"go do your job, then maybe i'll think of giving you some." heeseung has never moved so quickly.

after several attempts to touch you and a few 'almosts', the food is completely cooked, and you and heeseung are chowing down, despite the sensual tension that could'nt even be cut with a knife.

as you guys finish the last bites, a silence falls over the table before you're the first one to speak.

"race you to the bedroom?"

jay

tonight, jay rented out a room at a luxury hotel. there was no special occasion. no valid reason. he just wanted time with his wife.

you guys just got back from the dining hall, both wine drunk and full of food. despite your drunken state, you didn't fail to notice how handsy jay was with you the whole night, and it continued in the confinement of your room.

as you stood in the mirror, you feel jay come up behind you, the heat of his body sending chills down your spine.

"you looked so beautiful tonight, love." he says, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. he lets his hands roam over your waist, pushing you closer against him as if he wishes you could morph into one ... and he does.

you tilt your head to the side, giving him full access to press kisses against your neck, his hips absentmindedly pushing into you from behind. once he presses a kiss on your weak spot, you can't help but let out a soft moan.

"jay ... i need you, like now."

he doesn't waste a breath, as he picks you up and lays you on the bed, licking and kissing the parts of your body that are already revealed to him.

tonight was gonna be a long night.

jake

what a mess of a first date.

the food was burned, your dress ripped in the most embarrassing way, and now ... your power decided to go out.

you and jake sit in the middle of the floor, huddle next to each other while the thunder roars outside. there's a bit of an awkward yet comfortable silence between you two as you sit with two phone flashlights and a candle.

"22% ... what's your phone on?" you ask jake, breaking the silence.

he sucks his teeth before responding, "15...".

although it's dark, you can still feel his eyes lingering on you before he turns away. he speaks up again.

"some first date, huh?" a moment of silence passes before you burst into laughter. jake shoots you an obviously unnoticeable glare as you laugh like he just told the funniest joke on earth.

"wh... whats funny?" he says nervously, not wanting to make a fool of himself anymore.

"jake ... this date has been horrible.." you say in between wheezes and laughs.

"ouch ... you wound me woman," he says, placing his hand on his chest in offense.

"no, no," you begin as you scoot closer to him, which jake doesn't miss. "it's not you, it's just ... i can't believe all this happened in one night. it's comedic almost."

jake nods and lets out a small chuckle. "i can see how that would make you laugh. at least we tried!"

your laughter finally dies down, and a silence falls again. "you know ... I really do like you, y/n. since sophomore year.."

you turn towards him, trying to make out his features in the dark. "yeah? even after all this?" you say tilting your head curiously, which he can barely see but can imagine.

"if anything, I'm even more in love with you."

another silence falls between you two, but your actions are loud. before you know it, your lips somehow find his in the dark, and all that's heard is the smacking of lips and the patter of rain.

maybe this date wasn't so bad after all.

sunghoon

"hoonie..." he hears the voice of his sweet wife call out for him from their shared closet.

he's there within seconds, ready to fufill her every need.

"yes, baby?" you turn around to look at him, and he swears he stopped breathing for a second. how can someone get more beautiful every time he sees them?

"can you help me? i can't zip my dress on my own." you say, delicate hands still trying to reach for the zipper behind you.

before you could struggle anymore, sunghoon is behind you, calloused fingers pressing against the small of your back as his other hand reaches for the zipper.

he's careful as he zips up your dress, not missing the opportunity to let his fingertips brush against your spine, a reminder of the times he's had you in this exact position.

he finally zips it to the top, fixing your hair back to how you styled it before pressing a kiss on your temple.

"you look so beautiful."

"but I can't wait to see this dress on the floor later."

sunoo

the stress of the world had been getting to the both of you, so when sunoo recommended a self care day, you couldn't turn it down.

sunoo stood behind you in the shower, fingers making soothing patterns in your hair as he massages the shampoo into your scalp. you can't help but lean into him, body relaxing.

once done, he turns and lets you do the same. your shower is filled with kind words, back scratches, and passionate kisses that said everything the both of you were too tired to say verbally.

you both hop out, helping eachother dry off and lotion up, before throwing on your robes and heading to your mirror to do face masks.

you dont miss the opportunity to take some cute pictures to savor this memory among the many you've already created. once the face masks are off, sunoo offers to give you a massage to release the tension you've built up throughout the week.

you quickly nod, letting him work his hands into your calves before making his way up to your thighs. you don't miss the way his fingers accidentally or intentionally graze against your bare body, but pay no mind to it.

you guys later doze off in eachothers arms, bodies still bare in the night.

jungwon

you and jungwon make it to the roof of the building just as the city grew quiet. jungwon layed out the blanket and snacks he brought before getting comfy and patting the spat between his legs.

you get comfy in his embrace, letting the heat of his body warm you.

you guys watch as the lit city becomes even brighter now that night has fallen, until your eyes wander up to the sky, trying to make constellations out of nothing.

"that's definitely a strawberry..." jungwon says matter of factly.

you shake your head, munching on a cookie he baked just for this occasion. "nuh uh! it's clearly a puppy!" you argue back.

he tickles your sides as a rebuttal, causing you to giggle and kick your legs.

after a few moments of silence, you notice an oddly shaped pattern in the stars.

"hey, what about that one? it looks weird .." when you get no response, you call out for him, looking back.

"won?"

as you turn around, you immediately lock eyes with your lover, him staring at you as if it were you that was the night sky.

"wonnie, you're staring at me more than the stars!" jungwon just smiles before leaning in to press a passionate yet needy kiss against your lips.

you place your hand on his face to ground yourself before you guys both pull apart to catch your breath.

eventually, layers of clothes are removed, a silent thank you that the world is asleep.

niki

when you told niki you wanted to have an artsy date, he didn't expect this.

he's sitting there on a stool, wearing his usual black tanktop and sweats, hair falling so perfectly. to niki, this was just his 'around the house' look. to you, he was art and deserved to be painted.

"hold still, nik, i'm just finishing up some lines." you say, looking between him and the canvas.

you peek from behind the paper, observing him to make you get every detail. niki notices this, causing him to be extra antsy, as if he were trying to hide the fact that you make him nervous.

"riki, don't make me come over there and tie you down." you say, warning him.

"jokes on you, i might like that!" he says as he wiggles his eyebrows, earning an eye roll from you.

you continue working for another 10 minutes before finally setting your paint brush down.

your paint covered hands fold together as you admire your work, and niki rushes over to you to see it, his eyes lighting up.

"you even painted my beauty marks. i thought you'd forget those.." he says, eyes darting as if they couldn't decide whether to look at you or the canvas.

"I've worked on memorizing the pattern of those marks every night to go to sleep. i could never forget."

niki swears he just fell more in love with you.

he takes your hands in his, not minding the paint, as he brings them up to his lips. he then takes his finger, dipping it in some of the remaining paint.

a/n: hi

"i think it's my turn to paint you."

[blckbrrybasket]

Remmick and His Missy

Remmick remembered the first time you had found out about his little “condition”, a calm summer’s night. To be frank, Remmick knew you had to know that something was off about him. A normal man didn’t watch you from the treeline, night in and night out.

He simply had a fascination with you! Somehow that interest had devolved into talking — Remmick remembered that first night too. It had been spurred on by his approach being a little too forward, feet three steps onto your land.

Now, you had no problem when he was on the outskirts of your property, but getting closer to your dwelling was a whole ‘nother story. You had told him that much. “Get your damn ass off this here property if you’d like to keep your brains at home in your skull!” is how he remembered it. Remmick was sure you would try and sugarcoat how you had shouted at him.

Your fire had lit his own, his smirk growing wider. “I think we both know my brains are the last thing keeping me alive,” he’d responded. You both knew then that the inhuman pinpoints of his eyes told his story well enough. Yet you hadn’t pushed to know what he was, only pushed him away. But he came back.

He was persistent like that.

And damn did he wear you down — enough that a bond formed. Remmick liked the challenge of whittling information out of you but he thought it much sweeter when you would talk to him out of the kindness in your heart and whatnot. “So you can’t come inside?” You had surmised one evening, hangin’ half outside your window with a cigarette in hand.

“Now who said that,” Remmick replied, looking up from where he sat below your window — back propped against the wood paneling. “I did, just now.” He chuckled at your retort, watching the smoke lazily curling from between your lips. “Aye, that you did.”

“There you go again,” you mumbled without a second thought. One of his thick eyebrows raised, “Doin’ what now?” Your eyes swept down his figure and back up to settle on his face. “Talkin’ like you ain’t from here, maybe from a different time.” You tilted your head to the side.

“Are ya from a different time?”

Remmick cocked his head back at you, mimicking your movement. “Depends, what time is now?” There was his ever cryptic answers again. “You know damn well what time it is,” you huffed to his amusement. The corner of his lips twitched up towards a half smirk. “Ain’t no need for that language, missy.”

“Missy? You haven’t used that name in a while.” Remmick glanced back up at you, “You mind?” Thinking slowly, you shook your head, “Nah, not much a’tall.”

He nodded slowly and kissed his teeth. “I can’t come in, without an invite is all,” Remmick finally answered. “You’d kill me if I let you in?” You inquired. Remmick’s shoulder lifted and lowered in an unanswering shrug, not that you suspected he would hurt you, not anymore.

The crickets buzzed across the long stretch of land, singing to the moon. “If I wanted ya dead,” he grunted as he got up, “You would’a been gone a long time ago, I figure.”

“How comforting,” you muttered, watching Remmick stroll away — never one for goodbyes. He raised his hand, showing you the back of it while he walked away, “G’night Missy.” You shook your head and straightened up, “Goodnight to you too.”

[bellaxgiornata]

What's Left to Lose [2/2]

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 5.5k [Part one] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, angst with an eventual happy ending, pining, emotional hurt/delayed comfort, Tara is an ass, Reader smokes, Reader has a brother (nameless/description-less to be inclusive as possible)

a/n: The final part to this angsty short fic that y'all have been waiting for. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Jax Teller One Shot Tag List: @kmc1989 @secretlysamcro @bonnyclydecat @steviebbboi @bear-ink @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @nutellajade @aria725 @f1samcro

Admittedly, you were already a few beers in tonight. The alcohol had given you just enough of a buzz so that you could relax this evening–something you desperately needed after the awful week you’d had. As you leaned against the side of the bar, the cool brick against your back helping to fight off the heat of the night, you took a drag from the cigarette between your fingers. Inhaling the smoke, your eyes drifted towards the attractive guy leaning along the building beside you. You watched as his own lips wrapped around his cigarette before he shot you a wink.

You’d met him tonight while you’d been out drinking with your friends. Granted, you could not remember his name right now, but you figured that was less to do with your slight buzz and more to do with the fact that he wasn’t who you wished was paying attention to you tonight. But that was fine–or so you told yourself. He was funny and he was hot and he wasn’t avoiding you. You weren’t sure how far you were considering taking this with him tonight, but for now, you were enjoying the attention.

Attention you used to get ‘platonically’ from Jax.

Ever since that run-in with him at the hospital earlier this week, you hadn’t heard a single thing from him. Not a call or a text. No apology for the way he'd gone off on you. So you’d been avoiding the clubhouse even though your brother had asked you to come out for drinks a few times throughout the week. But you couldn’t bring yourself to go there, not after the way Jax had spoken to you in the hospital hallway. Not after how you’d seen him bringing her coffee.

No. If he was going to push you away and choose to take Tara back after those eleven years she'd disappeared on him, then you were going to cut him clean out of your life. You couldn’t just be his friend and watch him with her, especially not after the way she’d been speaking to you ever since she’d found out how close you and Jax were. Him being with Tara was a vastly different thing than him taking some random girl to bed when he was drunk just to get off. If he had actual feelings for someone else, being a spectator to that would feel like physical torture. 

Torture you weren't interested in subjecting yourself to.

“So what’re you doin’ after this?” No Name asked, resting his head against the brick as he watched you. “Anything in mind?”

The corner of your lips curved upwards into a smirk as you drew your cigarette back to your lips, taking a long drag off of it. Focusing your attention back on No Name, you tried to stop comparing and contrasting the differences of his features to Jax’s. Though you definitely hadn't drank enough to ignore the faintest twinge of something in your gut that kept trying to tell you that you didn’t quite want this guy.

“I don’t know yet,” you answered, expelling the smoke from your cigarette away from the pair of you. “Only planned to come out drinking with my friends. Hadn’t figured out if there was an…after.”

“You want there to be?” he asked.

Your eyes scanned over the attractive features of his face, taking in the faint grin on his lips. Gradually your eyes drifted downwards, openly and shamelessly scanning over the rest of him. He was broad with a bit of muscle, and he looked like he could be fun for a bit. But truthfully you couldn't shake that lingering feeling in your gut. The one telling you ‘no.’

“I don't know, maybe,” you answered.

As you drew your cigarette back up to your lips, the silence of the night was abruptly broken by the approaching rumble of a motorcycle. A jolt of something hit you at the sound before you shook it off. It could have been any of the Sons making their way through downtown right now. It wasn’t necessarily Jax.

“So there's a chance I could turn that into a yes?” No Name asked, still grinning as he leaned a bit closer to you. “Maybe have your evening plans for after involving me?”

His hand reached out as he gently brushed his fingers over your shoulder. There was nothing subtle in the way he was looking at you right now. You knew damn well what he wanted.

Expelling a trail of smoke, you shifted your head from side to side as if you were considering what he'd asked. “I mean, there's a–”

You'd been tapping the ash off the end of your cigarette when you caught sight of the motorcycle making its way through downtown Charming suddenly taking a sharp U-turn. As the bike swung around on the street, making its way back towards the bar you were standing outside, you caught No Name beside you finally noticing it. He muttered under his breath as you squinted, trying to figure out who it was. 

You soon realized that it was in fact Jax. 

He pulled his bike up to the curb, half-heartedly parking it in the space before he cut the engine. As his hands began to undo the buckle of his helmet, his eyes shifted from you to No Name leaning against the building next to you. You caught the way they narrowed before he dismounted his bike, roughly slamming his helmet onto the seat before he turned and closed the distance between you.

“Haven’t seen you all week,” he said, eyes locked on you.

Raising a brow back at him, your head tilted to the side. “Yeah? Well I thought you made it pretty clear the other day who you wanted to spend your time with,” you sassed back. “Surprised you even noticed my absence.”

Jax’s lips thinned along his face at your tone. You didn’t talk to him like that. You never had before. But in fairness, he didn’t yell at you like he’d done the other day at the hospital, either. And right now, you were still pissed and hurt over that.

“That’s not even remotely what the fuck happened,” he shot back. “You’re not exactly bein’ fair here, darlin’.”

“Do you really want to talk to me about fair right now, Jackson?” you questioned him, gaze hardening as your own anger returned. “Because I’m going to go ahead and say the way you’ve been treating me for the past month hasn’t exactly been fair.”

He nodded his head bitterly as your words hung in the air, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. This was teetering on the edge of becoming an explosive fight, you could just feel it from the way he was already visibly growing tense–and a fight was something the pair of you had never had before. But if he was going to choose to be with Tara and you were going to be tossed to the side like your friendship had meant so little, then you’d sure as shit get everything off of your chest.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” he asked, voice dropping lower. 

“Dude,” No Name said, cutting in as he pushed off the wall beside you, his attention on Jax, “why don’t you leave the lady alone, yeah? She’s–”

“Shut the fuck up, dipshit,” Jax snapped, his head darting over towards the guy so fast that No Name froze in place. “Nobody fuckin’ asked for your opinion. Better yet?” He gestured his head towards the bar. “Get the fuck back inside. Nobody fuckin’ needs your ass here.”

You grit your teeth together at his sharp dismissal of the guy you’d been considering sleeping with tonight, but you didn’t ask No Name to stay. Something he was clearly waiting for as he glanced back over at you. But when you remained quiet, he muttered something under his breath before he tossed his cigarette to the ground, his voice so quiet that you hadn’t caught what he’d said.

But apparently Jax had.

“The fuck did you just say about her?” he asked, the words cold and even as he took a step closer to No Name. “You wanna say that a little louder?”

No Name visibly recoiled from Jax, fear passing over his face as his eyes dropped down towards Jax’s kutte. Everyone in Charming knew better than to fuck with a Son.

“That’s what I thought, dipshit,” Jax spat, gesturing his head at the bar once more. “Now fuck off.”

No Name didn’t waste any time, ducking his head and slipping past the pair of you as he headed back towards the bar. You took another drag of your cigarette, your eyes still narrowed into a glare at Jax when he shifted his attention from the guy back to you. Even if he had just defended you from whatever that guy had just said, you were still pissed at him. That hadn’t changed.

“Well, at least I can say I never cockblocked you,” you pointed out bitterly. “So thanks for that.”

“You seriously gonna pull that shit right now?” he asked sharply. “Cause that ain’t you, darlin’.”

Tossing your own cigarette to the ground, you stamped it out beneath your shoe as you held his gaze. While you might not have actually slept with that guy tonight, having his attention for a bit had been nice. It had felt good. And Jax had gone and ruined that, too.

“What do you want, Jax?” you asked.“Why’d you decide to finally grace me with your presence tonight?”

He pulled a face at the comment, his jaw tensing. “Can you cut the shitty attitude already? I saw you out here and figured we should talk.”

“You’ve ignored me for a month and now you want to talk?” you countered in disbelief.

That did it. You saw something in him snap just before he did.

“Dammit, would you stop with the bullshit already?!” he yelled at you, finally losing his temper. “Do you have any goddamn idea what this past month has been like for me?”

A humorless laugh fell out of you at his question. He’d ignored you for a month and yet now he was going to make this entirely about himself? He wanted sympathy when he’d ignored you for weeks on end?

“Are you serious, Jax?” you retorted, your own anger surfacing. “I’ve barely heard from you! You haven’t been answering my fucking calls or texts for weeks. You’re always showing up at the hospital for Tara. Bringing her coffee like you used to bring me and sitting in her fancy fucking office while you barely said two words to me in the halls. My own best friend can’t even bother to acknowledge that I exist anymore.”

“You think that’s what’s actually been happening?!” he roared back, taking a step towards you. “You really think I'm over here choosing her over you? Is that really the stupid bullshit you’ve been thinking this whole fucking time?”

There was a wild look in his eyes as he held your stare, his shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breaths. Your own narrowed gaze held his unflinchingly, catching the way his nostrils flared with each of his rough exhales. 

“Tara came back to Charming,” you began, your voice lowering to a steady but no less hurt tone, “and you bailed on me the first chance you got. And not only that, but you blamed me for starting shit with her the other day. Blew up on me about her without even listening to what I had to say.”

A sharp breath passed between his lips like a hiss before Jax took a step back from you, one of his ringed hands running across his mouth in frustration. He fell oddly quiet for a long moment, just standing there in the harsh light of the streetlight overhead. Your narrowed eyes continued to watch him, not sure what to make of his abrupt silence instead of the usual shouting you’d always witnessed when he was pissed.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, finally breaking the tense silence. His eyes shifted back towards you, a faint crease between his brows and something heavy in his gaze. “I shouldn’t have acted like that the other day, you're right. You're completely fucking right. And I shouldn’t have been ignoring you for weeks, either, darlin’. You didn’t deserve that. But it…”

He trailed off, his lips tightening into a thin line along his face as he shook his head. Standing there, you were taken off guard by his sudden shift in mood. Gone was the furious Jax, replaced by one who looked uncertain and a little lost. A Jax you hadn't quite seen like this before.

“That’s not what was happening,” he continued quietly, a pained expression twisting at his features as his gaze held yours. “Darlin’, I was pushing everyone away when Tara came back. If it wasn’t club business, I wasn’t hanging out with anyone. Not with Opie, not with your brother, not with you. No one. Because when Tara suddenly reappeared it just–just fucked with my head, alright?”

Jax had never been this honest and forthright with his feelings before, and certainly not when it came to the topic of Tara. This was a vulnerable side of himself that he’d never even fully shown you before, and it had come out of absolutely nowhere tonight. You weren’t sure what to do with it, but your own anger was beginning to lessen as you listened to him.

“You gotta understand something,” he continued, that pained look still on his face. “That shit with Tara in the past? It was toxic. That kinda shit where I had to be with her or it felt like I was fucking drowning. It was awful.”

He paused, inhaling a deep breath as if he was struggling to get all of this out. And he probably was because he'd clearly never told anyone this before. So you remained patient, waiting for him to continue. 

“Then she just shows back up in Charming one day eleven years after she walked out on me,” Jax told you, voice so quiet that you had to strain to hear him over the muffled music from the bar. “Just walks back into my life wanting to catch up like nothing fucking happened. And how was I supposed to react? I was fucking confused. Half of me wanted to scream at her, tell her everything I’d been holding inside for eleven fucking years, but the other half of me was just…completely goddamn thrown off balance.” He took a step towards you, that pained look in his eyes turning almost pleading. “But darlin’, I fucking swear to you I wasn’t trying to push you out. I was just tryin’ to make sense of all the goddamn noise in my head for weeks now.”

You hesitated, letting his words settle over you as you studied his expression. He looked so painfully sincere right now and it tugged at something inside of you.

“Tara told me that you two were going to get back together,” you replied quietly, an ache in your chest at the memory. “She made that pretty damn clear whenever she’d corner me in the hallways at the hospital. And considering how much time you’d been spending with her, that definitely seemed like what you were doing, Jax.”

He shook his head again, the gesture sharp and firm before he took another step closer to you. With barely half a foot between you both, you could practically feel the way his blue eyes were burning into yours.

“Darlin’, I was trying to make sense of something this whole fucking time,” he told you earnestly. “At first I thought it had to do with what the hell I was feeling about Tara coming back, so yeah,” he admitted. “I was talkin’ to her. To see what the fuck she wanted. To get some fuckin’ closure with how shit ended. But the more time I spent around her, the more pissed off I got.” His tongue slipped out, wetting his lips in frustration as he paused. “Took me weeks to realize that I was focusin’ on the wrong goddamn thing this whole goddamn time.”

Head tilting slowly to the side, you carefully studied the way he was looking at you, one of his hands running through his shaggy hair. You’d never seen Jax look at you with quite this much raw emotion in his eyes before–like something more was sitting right there behind them. It had the rest of your anger slowly dissipating as you held his gaze, his explanation of the past few weeks gradually beginning to make more sense.

“Then what was it?” you asked carefully. “The thing you were supposed to be focusing on?”

Jax's hand left its place combing his hair and reached out, crossing the small space between you both and surprising you when his warm palm landed gently along your cheek. The touch was soft and tender. A touch with more affection than you'd both ever shared in the past, and it had your pulse racing.

“You,” he answered. “Every time I was tryin’ to make sense of the fucking mess in my head when I was with her,” he continued, his eyes searching yours as if he was looking for something while he spoke, “I thought it was because of my past with her. Because of the way shit was left. But it wasn’t. The mess in my head was because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And I’m not great with feelings, darlin’, so I’ll admit it took me far too fucking long to figure out why.”

Eyes widening at his completely unexpected admission, your mind was rushing to try and fill in the gaps from these past few weeks. He'd understandably been caught off guard by Tara's return to Charming–no one had seen that coming. And you'd admittedly been so focused on how hurt you were these past few weeks with him ignoring you that you hadn’t even noticed how he'd been ignoring everyone else, too. It hadn’t been something intentionally targeted at you like you’d thought this whole time. He’d just been confused and overwhelmed.

And apparently her return had him realizing there was something between you both this whole time.

“Nothin’ happened with Tara,” he assured you. “We just talked, that’s it.” There was a soft, almost apologetic smile that pulled at his lips as he stood there, his hand still lightly resting against your cheek. “And they were usually really fuckin’ irritating conversations, babe. Ones that left me more pissed than when I’d first shown up.”

It was hard to keep up with what he was telling you tonight, the bit of alcohol you’d drank making your brain struggle to process everything. Before you could stop yourself, your mind locked onto something from the other day again and the words flew right past your lips.

“But you brought her coffee,” you blurted, as if that somehow meant something.

Jax sighed, his expression falling as he nodded. “Yeah, I did. Cause she asked me to,” he replied. “I didn't think it was that big of a deal until I saw the look on your face the other day, though. Guess that…was kinda our thing, huh?”

Brows furrowing together at his words, something hit you in that moment at his explanation. She’d asked him to bring her coffee. Had that been some intentional shit she’d done to mess with your head? Because the other nurses had told her how Jax used to bring you coffee when he visited all the time. Was she really that fucking petty and vindictive?

“And I shouldn't have snapped at you the other day,” he continued softly. “I got no excuse for that. I was pissed at myself and it came out on you.” That small, apologetic smile tugged wider across his lips, turning a bit sheepish and guilty. “Sometimes I'm a jackass.”

A soft, amused breath passed between your lips at his words, the sound causing his smile to grow a little wider as his thumb traced over your cheek. He definitely had the ability to be a jackass, but usually it was reserved for anyone but you. 

“I'm sorry,” he repeated. “I wanted to apologize in person, but you stopped coming by the clubhouse afterwards. Which is another lame fuckin’ excuse, I know, but my ass kept talking myself outta stopping by your place the more time passed. So like a goddamn idiot, I didn’t. But when I saw you out here tonight with that guy–” He broke off, a flash of anger passing in his eyes before it dissipated. “I knew I had to own up to my shit. Be honest with you ‘bout everything.”

Inhaling a deep, trembling breath, you stood there trying to let everything he’d just dropped on you sink in. He hadn’t been intentionally ignoring you specifically, he’d been ignoring everyone these past few weeks. Which, though shitty, made sense when you thought about it. Jax had never dated anyone besides Tara, and she’d shattered his heart. To have her suddenly reappear in his life after eleven years again? It would’ve been unrealistic to think he wouldn’t have a reaction to that. 

But then he’d told you that nothing had happened with Tara. All this time, with everything she’d been saying and doing while you’d ran into her at St. Thomas, it had just been her trying to push you away from Jax. Now he was telling you that he didn’t want her, either. Because it seemed like he wanted you. Something you’d been hoping for years to have happen–for Jax to return your feelings. 

“What are you trying to say?” you asked carefully.

Jax took another step towards you, leaving barely any space between you both. Tilting your face closer to his, his warm breath fell over your lips, the sensation somewhat dizzying.

“I want you,” he murmured, thumb still tenderly brushing your cheek. “I want you to be mine. My girl. Like you should've fuckin’ been a long time ago.”

His words had you briefly forgetting to breathe as your eyes remained fixed on his. Without even realizing it, you leaned in closer towards him, barely refraining from just closing that small gap between you both and kissing him like you’d spent far too long thinking about.

“You want something serious?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“With you,” he confirmed, lowering his forehead to yours. “Yeah. That's what I want.”

Standing there with his forehead pressed against yours, the pain of the past few weeks gradually melted away. All of those times he’d spent waiting for Tara outside of the hospital, those days passing without hearing from him, the confusion of what was going on–it all made sense now. 

And like hell if you were going to let the chance you'd always wanted with him slip between your fingers.

Not giving yourself a second to question it, you abruptly closed the remaining distance between you both, crashing your lips onto his. Your hands instinctively flew forward, roughly grabbing at his kutte and tugging him into you as you kissed him with everything you'd been holding back for three years.

Jax didn't hesitate to return the kiss, his own mouth frantically moving against yours like he'd finally found the thing he'd been missing all along. His hand gripped your face tighter in his hold as his other grabbed your hip, pushing you backwards. Your back slammed harshly into the brick of the bar behind you, a soft gasp falling out of your mouth and straight into his.

But you didn't care. You didn't care about anything right now other than one thing–that Jax was finally yours.

Sitting at the clubhouse bar, you absently scrolled through your phone to pass the time. Beside you sat the beer you'd been nursing for the past ten minutes. Jax, your brother, and a few of the other guys had disappeared into the chapel with Clay for an unexpected meeting shortly after you’d arrived, so you were entertaining yourself while you waited for them to finish up.

The past few days since Jax and you had become an official thing had been better than you could've ever imagined. Things had gone back to how they used to be between you both, but this time with vastly more satisfying improvements to your relationship. 

Jax didn't even look at any of the croweaters. Ever since that night a few days ago when he'd told you how he felt, he hadn’t paid them a single ounce of attention. And now that you didn't have to hold back around Jax anymore, you kissed him whenever the hell you wanted, and you'd stopped trying to keep your hands to yourself. But that wasn't just you–Jax’s hands were always on you now. The pair of you had barely spent any time coming up for air with all the sex you'd been having, trying to make up for three years of lost time.

Your brother had even given Jax a firm talk the other night. It had been hilarious as hell to watch considering Jax was his VP, especially as Jax stood there nodding with a little grin on his face, shooting periodic winks at you over his shoulder. But your brother already had an idea that something was going on between you both for a long time now, so he wasn't too threatening in his brotherly speech.

Everything had felt like it was finally falling into place, as if things were finally how they were supposed to be now–except for the fact that Tara was still in Charming. Since Jax had been so focused on you the past few days, he hadn't spoken to her at all, which meant that she had no idea the pair of you were officially together now.

Which was probably why you saw her walking through the clubhouse doors tonight as your attention fell away from your phone. The main room was practically empty with the guys back in the chapel, so Tara's eyes immediately found you sitting at the bar. A look of disgust spread over her features as her eyes narrowed, her strides purposefully bringing her over to where you were sitting.

“Thought I already told you to stay the hell away from Jax?” she snapped.

Tara crowded into your space as you sat on the barstool, a frustrated sigh falling out of you. Reluctantly, you focused your attention on her. Even though you'd been looking forward to rubbing it in her face that she wasn't the one he’d wanted after that comment she'd made to you over a week ago saying the exact same thing, you still didn't feel like dealing with her.

“Yeah, you did,” you agreed, turning on the stool more towards her as you casually leaned an arm against the bar. “But he's not exactly yours to be making demands like that about.”

Tara's eyes narrowed even further as she fixed you with that icy glare. “He will always be mine,” she countered. “You're just too damn stupid to see it. You will never have what Jax and I do.”

Unable to stop yourself, a small laugh slipped out of you. She thought you were the one too stupid to see what was going on? 

“Right,” you said with a nod, a smile tugging at your lips that had her expression faltering. “So how’ve things between you both been the past few days?”

“They're good,” she retorted. “Not that things between us are any of your business.”

“Oh, is that right?” you asked her, raising a brow. “You two been spending a lot of time together the past few days then?”

Her lips pulled into a straight line at the comment, her glare growing even darker. It looked like she wanted to hit you, and part of you wished she would try just so that you could have an excuse to knock her on her ass right here and now. 

The door to the chapel behind you opened before she could answer your question, and Tara's attention shifted away from you. You continued to watch her, still comfortably leaning against the bar despite the way her finger jabbed in your direction when she presumably spotted Jax leaving the room behind you.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” she snarled at him.

“That's enough, Tara.”

Picking up your beer from off the bar counter, you grinned back at her as you heard Jax’s already annoyed tone coming from behind you. Eyes on her as if you wanted to permanently remember this moment, you took a pull from your beer. Soon after, you felt the familiar weight of Jax’s arm resting along your shoulder as he appeared at your side, and you leaned in towards him.

A mix of emotions played across Tara's face at the sudden closeness between Jax and you. His arm thrown along your shoulders was a clear physical sign, one that said you were his. A sign that said far more than words needed to–but apparently Tara still needed those, too.

“What is this?” she asked, anger settling onto her features as she gestured a hand at the pair of you. “What the hell is going on here, Jax? Why haven't you been returning my calls?”

“Because I told you a few days ago, Tara,” Jax stated. “There's not a damn thing I want from you. The past is the goddamn past. That’s where it’s saying.”

An irritated scoff fell out of her, her face pinching tight in anger at his words. “So you're just settling for club pussy now?” she spat, clearly referring to you. “Your standards have dropped that low?”

You could feel the way Jax immediately tensed beside you at her words. His hand resting along your shoulder curled into a tight fist and you knew that she’d just crossed a line. He was pissed.

“The fuck did you just call my girl?” he hissed at her.

“Look at her,” she continued, clearly not knowing when to shut her mouth as she gestured a hand at you again. “Hanging around here like the fucking club whores. She's trash, Jax. You could do far better than something like her.”

Jax didn't remove his arm from around your shoulders as he took an intimidating step towards Tara. You’d have taken offense to her words if it wasn't for the fact that you knew Jax was about to tell her off. And truthfully, after what she’d been doing to you for weeks, you were eager to let it happen.

“That's my old lady you're talking about, Tara,” he growled low, that menacing tone not lessening as realization seemed to finally cross her features. “You don't fucking talk to her or about her like that. You hear me? Cause the only one here acting like trash is the one throwing insults and a tantrum like a goddamn child.”

You took another pull off of your beer, fighting not to laugh at the look on her face right now. After the weeks of torment she'd put you through in the halls of the hospital, that expression of shock and disbelief made it all worthwhile.

“Now get the fuck outta here,” he warned her. “Because you've worn out your goddamn welcome in this clubhouse.”

Tara stood there seething, her lips pursed as her eyes slowly fell away from Jax’s unyielding expression. She focused on you next, her jaw tensed as if she was considering saying something else. As you swallowed your beer, you raised your other hand and waved at her, a sarcastic smile on your face.

“Goodbye, Tara,” you said.

She stood there for one moment longer before she let out a sharp, frustrated huff. Then she turned, walking briskly out of the clubhouse as multiple sets of eyes watched her exit. The smile on your face grew satisfied at the sight of the door closing behind her. 

You had a feeling she wasn’t done trying to come between you and Jax, but you also knew that if she tried, Jax would back you for going off on her.

With Tara gone, Jax turned a bit more towards you, his arm still slung around your shoulders as his other hand reached up, gently grabbing your chin. He turned your face towards his, smiling down at you as if the situation with Tara was already forgotten.

“Sorry about the meeting, baby,” he murmured. “Some shit came up. But we're done now so I'm all yours for the night.”

You grinned up at him in return, a warmth settling in your chest. “Damn right you're all mine, outlaw,” you replied, loving the little smirk that pulled one corner of his lips higher. “And that’s all that matters, Jax.”

[mocchiixxx]

Words in Ruin Series # | 06 : Jeon Wonwoo 🐈‍⬛

Genre: Slow-burn Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Healing, Soft Romance

Warnings: Sudden emotional outburst, overthinking, guilt, crying (mutual), hurtful misunderstanding

Summary: Wonwoo doesn’t raise his voice, not usually. He’s calm, introspective, gentle in his affection. But even quiet hearts break under pressure. When the stress of endless recordings, interviews, and expectations eats away at his core, he accidentally lashes out at the one person who’s always been there, quietly loving him through the silence. And when the calm fades and regret sets in, he’s left with a question that terrifies him: did his silence hurt you more than his words?

It had been three days since Wonwoo had come home before 1 a.m.

You understood. You really did. SEVENTEEN’s schedule had been brutal lately— content shoots that stretched into the night, endless interviews that demanded his smile even when he was running on nothing but caffeine and pressure, choreography practices that left him barely standing.

But understanding didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Especially tonight.

Because tonight, you had waited.

You brewed his favorite tea, added the honey just the way he liked it, and stayed up on the couch with the dim lights on. Just in case— just in case tonight would be different.

But when he walked through the door, exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin, he barely looked at you. He took the mug from your hands with a tired, distracted “Thanks,” then walked past you toward the bedroom, his footsteps heavy and heart seemingly heavier.

No kiss. No how-was-your-day. Just… silence.

And that silence was louder than any shout.

You stared after him, the warmth from the spot where your hands had brushed already fading.

You told yourself not to overthink. He’s tired. He always comes around. But something inside you tugged, a gnawing ache of being forgotten.

So you followed. Slowly. Carefully.

You paused at the bedroom door.

“Wonwoo?” your voice was soft, unsure. “Are you okay?”

He was sitting at the edge of the bed, hunched over, face in his hands like the world was too heavy to hold.

“I’m tired,” he said, voice muffled.

“I know,” you said. “I see how hard you’ve been working. I just... wanted to check on you. You’ve been so quiet lately. I miss you.”

He looked up then, and the look in his eyes startled you.

Exhaustion. Frustration. A wall you didn’t remember helping him build.

“Do I have to say something all the time?” he snapped.

Your breath caught.

He rarely raised his voice. He rarely even spoke like that. Not to you.

“I didn’t mean to push you,” you said quickly, your tone trembling. “I just—”

“Then don’t,” he interrupted. “I’m doing my best to keep it together, Y/N. I can’t carry your expectations on top of everything else.”

You blinked, stunned.

Your expectations?

That wasn’t fair.

“I never asked you to carry anything,” you said, voice barely a whisper. “I just… wanted to be here. For you.”

His jaw clenched. His eyes avoided yours.

“Well maybe I don’t need your help.”

And just like that, the silence between you turned from familiar to foreign.

It used to be peaceful. Loving. The kind of silence where hands stayed laced together and glances said everything.

Now it felt cold. Like standing outside in the rain without an umbrella, waiting for someone who promised they’d meet you there.

You stepped back. “Okay.”

One word. Small. Final.

Wonwoo looked up and that was when he saw it.

The way your shoulders curled inward. The slight tremble in your fingers. The tears welling in your eyes, stubbornly held back like you were too scared to let them fall.

That’s when he realized what he’d done.

He stood quickly. “Wait— Y/N…”

But you were already turning away. Already retreating.

You curled up on the couch again, only this time, not waiting. Not holding tea. You were hugging your knees to your chest, eyes staring at nothing, heart trying to keep it together.

He followed you, but slower this time. Like he was approaching something fragile.

Because he was.

“Hey,” he said gently, kneeling in front of you. “I didn’t mean that. Any of it.”

You didn’t speak.

“I wasn’t angry at you,” he said again, his voice quieter, cracking. “I was angry at… everything. At myself. I hate how distant I’ve been. I hate how much I miss you even when you’re sitting right in front of me. And when you asked if I was okay, it scared me, because I realized I’m not. And I didn’t know how to deal with that. So I lashed out. That’s on me.”

Still, you said nothing. Just tears. Slow, quiet, endless.

Your silence said more than words ever could.

“All I wanted,” you finally said, voice shaking, “was to love you. That’s it. I didn’t think it would mean walking on eggshells. I didn’t think I’d have to tiptoe around you just to keep from breaking something I didn’t even drop.”

Wonwoo closed his eyes, guilt pressing down on his chest like a weight he couldn’t lift.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You don’t deserve that. You’ve never deserved that.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m the one being punished for you being tired?” Your voice cracked. “Why does it feel like I have to disappear for you to breathe?”

He reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek with shaking fingers.

“You don’t,” he said, barely managing to hold back tears of his own. “You’re the only thing that keeps me breathing. I just forgot how to show you that.”

Your lips trembled. “Then remember.”

“I will.” He leaned in closer, hands cradling yours. “You make me feel safe. Safe enough to fall apart. But I should’ve known that safety doesn’t mean I stop showing up for you.”

He swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry for the silence. For the words. For not being there when you needed reassurance the most. For making you question your worth in my life.”

You stared at him, searching his face for truth. You found it in his trembling jaw, his watery eyes, the way his hands refused to let go of yours.

“Do you still love me?” you asked, voice small.

His answer was immediate. “More than anything. More than I know how to say. And I promise, I’ll learn how to say it better. Every day.”

You let him pull you into his arms. Not perfectly. Not like nothing happened.

But real. Honest. Fragile. Healing.

You buried your face into his shoulder. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to let me in. Let me hurt with you. Carry the weight with you.”

He nodded into your hair. “You will. I won’t shut you out again.”

You both sat there, tangled in a quiet kind of closeness. One that didn’t need fixing. Just holding.

And for the first time in days, the silence between you was warm again.

Because this time, it was full of promises.

And this time, he kept holding on.

Taglist: @babycaratdeul @viacb97 @christinewithluv