#she’s kind of playing at this boxing is everything when to her it’s really not

[bueckersworld]

can you write reader x paige where it’s the first time reader has used strap? p and r have been dating a while but have never used it. one day paige brings it out and reader tells her she’s never done it before and p takes really good care of her /being really gentle and sweet ?? thank you!

new with you

SYNOPSIS: in an intimate and tender moment, paige surprises you with a strap she’s been thinking about using, offering it as something new to explore together—not out of need, but trust. nervous but curious, you agree. the experience is slow, gentle, and full of care, with paige guiding you patiently and lovingly. afterward, wrapped in each other’s arms, you reflect on how safe and seen you feel. it’s not just about sex—it’s about growing together, sharing vulnerability, and choosing each other fully.

WARNINGS: smut — mdni, fluff, use of strap-on (r!receiving), intimacy, pet names (mama, baby), soft!paige, lowercase intended.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k info. masterlist. taglist.

the box is small. unassuming. resting casually in paige’s lap like it belongs there.

you hadn’t noticed her pull it out from under the bed. you were too busy folding her sweatshirt neatly over the back of a chair, too distracted by the faint sound of bon iver playing through her speaker, the kind of music that makes everything feel slower, closer, quieter.

now, the air is heavy.

she doesn’t say anything at first—just looks at you from where she sits on the bed, legs folded under her, hands brushing the cardboard like she’s nervous.

you raise a brow, unsure. “what’s that?”

her lips twitch into a smile, sheepish and a little crooked. “something i’ve been thinking about for a while.”

she opens the box slowly, carefully, like she’s giving you time to say no. inside, you see it—sleek, black, and neatly folded. not intimidating, not even loud, but it still makes your heart skip because of what it means.

a strap.

you blink at her. she watches your reaction like she’s reading every twitch in your face. “you okay?”

“i’ve never…” you pause. “i’ve never done that before.”

there’s a beat of silence. paige tilts her head, her hand brushing over the edge of the box.

“yeah?” she says gently. “that’s okay.”

you chew your bottom lip, fingers fiddling with the hem of your oversized shirt—hers, really. “i mean, we’ve never needed it. you always make me feel good, it’s not like—”

“i know,” she cuts in softly. “this isn’t because something’s missing. i just thought… it could be something new. something we try together. if you want.”

you look at her then, really look—her calm eyes, her steady hands, the soft patience in her voice. she’s not pushing. she’s not asking because she needs it. she’s asking because she wants to share something with you.

and god, the trust in that.

your voice is quieter when you speak again. “what if i don’t know what i’m doing?”

paige’s smile is so tender you could cry. she reaches for you, tugging you gently down onto the bed beside her. “then i’ll take care of you.”

“you always say that.”

“because i mean it every time.”

you laugh softly, nerves knotting in your stomach, but not in a bad way. you let yourself melt into her side, feeling the warmth of her palm against your thigh.

“i want to try,” you murmur.

paige presses a kiss to your temple. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

and when she looks at you again, it’s like she’s seeing something sacred. not just want—but care, and love, and something deeper than both.

she kisses you once, then twice, her hands steady as they cup your jaw. “we’ll go slow,” she promises. “you’ll tell me everything you feel, okay?”

you nod, the nerves still fluttering, but your heart steady under her voice.

“okay.”

⸻

it started slow. gentle. measured in the way paige always is when it matters most.

she kissed you with intention—tender, warm, like she meant it. and she did. she always does.

she eased you onto your back, settling above you as her lips deepened the kiss. nothing rushed. nothing rough. just the soft, steady rhythm of care in every touch.

her fingers slipped beneath the hem of your t-shirt, the contrast of her cool skin meeting your warmth making you shiver just slightly. she kissed your cheek, then the curve of your jaw, her hands gliding over your stomach as she gently lifted your shirt up and over your head, tossing it behind her.

“you’re so pretty,” she murmured, almost like a secret, her smile blooming sweetly as her eyes roamed over you.

and you smiled back, your heart swelling with all the quiet love you felt for the girl above you.

she kissed your neck, soft and slow, before her hands moved lower, tugging down the waistband of your shorts and underwear in one motion. she paused.

“are you sure?” she whispered, her gaze locked on yours.

you nodded, fingers brushing her cheek. “yeah. i’m ready.”

paige nodded once, almost like a promise, before turning to the sleek black box resting on the nightstand. she slipped the harness around her hips, adjusting the straps until it fit just right. there was nothing hurried about her movements—just quiet focus, steady hands.

she knelt between your thighs and gently guided your legs upward, her palms caressing your skin as she massaged along your calves and thighs. her lips pressed a soft kiss to your knee, her right hand finding yours and lacing your fingers together.

then slowly—so slowly—she eased the strap inside you. you gasped at the stretch, your body tensing on instinct. paige stilled.

“shh, it’s okay, baby,” she cooed, brushing her thumb over your knuckles. “i’ll wait. just breathe for me.”

you did. and when you nodded, giving her the okay, she began to move—pulling back gently, then sliding in again with the same soft, deliberate care.

your quiet moan met her ears, and she smiled, her voice a warm whisper. “there you go, mama.”

her pace stayed steady—deep, but tender. every movement was filled with purpose. she watched your face, studying every shift in your expression: the way your brows knit, the way your mouth parted, how your eyes shimmered as you looked up at her, trusting her completely.

you were beautiful. so painfully beautiful.

she held your hand the whole time, her thumb sweeping gently over your skin, grounding you. her thrusts weren’t fast, but they carried depth—reverent and steady, like she was learning you, honoring every inch of what you were willing to give.

“paige…” you whimpered, squeezing her hand.

“yeah, baby?” she murmured, leaning down to kiss your cheek, her breath brushing your skin.

“fuck—it feels so good…”

her smile was soft, sweet. “good. didn’t wanna hurt you, mama.”

she moved just a little deeper, a little more sure, the bed creaking faintly beneath you both. the moment wrapped around you, heavy with intimacy.

“paige—i think i’m gonna come,” you breathed, your voice shaking with every exhale.

her pace picked up just slightly, her hand slipping between your legs to draw slow, delicate circles over your clit. her lips kissed whatever part of you they could reach—your cheek, your nose, the corner of your mouth.

“come for me, baby…” she whispered.

and you did. your back arched, your jaw went slack, and her name spilled from your lips in a breathless, trembling moan. the warmth washed over you slowly, like honey spreading under your skin.

she held you through it, whispering praises in your ear.

“yeah… that’s it,” she soothed, her hand rubbing over your thigh. “did so good for me, baby…”

she slowed down gradually, finally stilling. her eyes searched your face, and her smile softened at the faint grin playing on your lips.

“was that okay?” she asked quietly. “i wasn’t too much, right?”

“no,” you said instantly, squeezing her hand. “that was… really good, paige.”

she leaned down, kissing you again. not to start something new—but just to stay close. just because she could.

⸻

you don’t know how long you’ve been there—skin to skin, limbs tangled, the sheets barely covering either of you. the world feels distant. muted. like it’s just the two of you suspended in something soft and warm and completely quiet.

your body still aches, but it’s the good kind. not soreness, exactly—just the echo of something slow and deep that still hasn’t left you.

you shift a little, cheek pressed to her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. one of her hands rests low on your back, her thumb moving in small, absent-minded circles.

“you okay?” she asks, her voice rough with sleep.

you nod, lips brushing her collarbone. “yeah.”

she hums, and for a while, that’s all there is. the sound of her breathing. the faint rustle of sheets when you breathe too deep. nothing needs to be said, but you speak anyway.

“i didn’t think i’d be ready,” you whisper. “not for that.”

“i know,” she murmurs. “you didn’t have to be.”

you close your eyes, let yourself be held. “i think i wanted to be. for you.”

paige’s arm tightens around you a little. not possessive. just close. grounding. “you don’t owe me anything, you know.”

“i know.” a pause. “but i still wanted to.”

she exhales slowly, nose brushing your hairline. “thank you for trusting me.”

you smile, a little crooked. “thank you for being so patient.”

her hand slips down to your hip, fingers splayed wide like she’s holding something fragile. like she knows how much you gave her, and she’s not about to drop it.

“you made me feel safe,” you say, quieter this time. like it’s the real thing you’ve been meaning to say.

she doesn’t respond right away. just kisses the top of your head and lets the silence hold it.

it’s not some dramatic moment. no sweeping declarations or promises whispered in the dark. it’s just two people, lying close, learning each other in the quiet aftermath of something new.

and maybe that’s enough. maybe that’s everything.

© bueckersworld

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ man i need me someone like this. 💔💔

𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑟

taglist: @elswhore @private-but-not-a-secret @paigebaby5 @raimund00 @bravemode @d1paigebueckersglazer @evanpeterstoe @zi0nnnn @jadasogay @fuddaround @jaylie-bee @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @mrsarnold @lol-12n @sayurireidotcom @iwasbored-okay @kl0verk @bqringtears @agnesblight @scarlett177 @syraxsbigfanfr @youmeandjennessey @asapeveryday @avvwritesstufff @rand0mmmgg

[jpmarvel90]

Don't Belong Part 4

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word Count: 6125

Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader

Summary: It's Y/n's birthday and everyone is making an effort to make it the best day possible. Including a suprise early visit which sees Y/n experience a happiness she's not had in a long time.

Nat: Mama Wanda: Mom

Y/n's POV:

When the morning comes around, I blink my eyes open. I don't know what woke me first, the muted knock at the door or the quiet creak as it opens. For a moment, I think it's one of my moms again, coming in to check if I've eaten or taken my meds. I'm already halfway to turning away when I hear a familiar voice. "Knock knock," Kate calls softly, her voice like a warm breeze slipping through the room.

I blink my eyes open, squinting at the brightness filtering through the window. She's standing just inside the doorway, a sheepish smile on her lips, and something tucked behind her back. She looks like she always does, messy ponytail, oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder like it was made to, and for some reason, my chest tightens. Maybe it's the way she looks at me. Or maybe it's because, for the first time, someone came just for me.

"Kate?" I croak out, surprised. "What are you doing here?" She enters fully now, closing the door behind her. "Well, it's a special day," she sing-songs, stepping closer to my bed. "And I thought I'd drop by early to wish a very certain badass agent-in-the-making a happy birthday." She smiles.

My brows raise. "Wait... it's today?" Kate giggles. "You forgot your own birthday?" Well, I knew it was coming but it kind of snuck up on me. With everything going on, the healing, emotional trauma, being babysat by my guilt-ridden moms, it just hadn't occurred to me. "Guess I did," I mumble.

"Well, that won't do." She steps closer and pulls a small box from behind her back. "Here." I blink, looking at the wrapping. It's simple, but there's a purple ribbon, her signature colour as I've learnt. "You didn't have to..." I start before she interrupts me. "Shush. It's already here, and you're opening it."

There's something so easy about the way she talks, like we've always done this. Like this, whatever this is, has existed longer than I've allowed myself to notice. I peel back the wrapping, careful not to tear the paper, and reveal a small velvet box.

Inside is a silver bracelet, dainty and simple, with a single hawk feather charm that glints in the sunlight streaming through the window. It's understated, elegant, and... weirdly perfect. I look at it in awe. "This is..." I start but she cuts me off. 

"I saw it when Yelena and I went shopping yesterday." Kate shrugs, suddenly looking nervous. "Reminded me of you. Strong, graceful, always aiming for something even if no one's paying attention." My breath catches in my throat, and I look up at her. "Kate..." She's biting her bottom lip now, her eyes darting between me and the bracelet.

Something twists in my stomach. Not unpleasant. Just... unfamiliar. "Kate..." I say again, but there's not really anything else I can think to add. She shrugs, pretending to play it cool. "Also, feathers are cool. And you're cool. So... logic." I laugh softly, and she looks up, eyes dancing with relief at the sound. "Too much?" She questions in a small panic. "No," I say softly, feeling my heart flutter in a way it hasn't in a long time. "It's perfect." Her grin returns, more relaxed now. "Well, good. Because I was ready to fake an excuse and run out if it was weird."

I laugh, genuinely this time, and motion for her to help put it on. Her fingers are warm as they brush against my skin. She doesn't pull her hands away immediately once it's clasped. "You look good in silver," she says casually, but her eyes say something else. There's a pause, and the air feels different, charged. "You really didn't have to do this," I murmur, though I'm glad she did. "Birthdays deserve presents," she says. "And you deserve to be celebrated."

Before I can respond, there's a knock and the door swings open again. Dr. Cho enters with a clipboard and a smile. "Well, well. Look who's already popular this morning." Kate stands up straighter, pretending to be innocently casual. "Just a quick visit." Cho grins at the both of us. "Actually, I've got a bit of a birthday gift too. Since your vitals have stabilised and your infection is nearly cleared, I'm approving a short supervised walk outside." She announces.

I'm in shock and a smile slowly creeps on my face. "Wait, seriously?" I ask wondering if I heard her correctly. "I don't joke about recovery milestones," she replies, then adds, "Fifteen minutes. Wheelchair assist. Someone responsible with you. I assume you two can manage that without scaling the roof or anything." I states, now turning to Kate with a raised eyebrow.

Kate salutes. "Scout's honour." Cho narrows her eyes. "You were never a scout." She calls her out, making me chuckle. "I could've been." Kate mumbles in return. "Don't make me regret this." Cho says pointing her pen between us. "I'll be on my best behaviour." I promise, moving to sit up in the bed. "That'll be a first." Cho mumbles to herself as she heads out the room.

A few minutes later, I'm being wheeled outside, wrapped in a cozy hoodie and thick blanket that Kate insisted I bring. The sunlight feels foreign on my skin, almost startling in its warmth. I close my eyes and breathe it in. The fresh air, the gentle breeze... it all feels surreal. Like I'm not in the compound, not in recovery, not hovering between everything I want and everything I've lost.

Kate's walking beside me, hands in her pockets, glancing at me now and then like she's worried I'll fall apart in the sunshine. We find a bench near the gardens, away from the main paths. There's the soft hum of bees somewhere in the bushes, the quiet rustle of trees overhead. I sit up slowly, wincing a little as I adjust. Kate sits beside me, just close enough that our knees touch.

"It's beautiful out here," I murmur, breathing in deeply. Kate glances at me. "You okay?" She asks softly. I hesitate for a second, then nod. "I am... I think. It just still feels unreal. Everything happened so fast. One minute I was on a mission and the next..." Her hand brushes against mine, fingers grazing. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she says softly.

I stare down at the grass for a moment. "It's not just the mission," I admit. "It's everything. My moms... I thought they didn't care anymore. I still don't know if I believe this whole 'we're here now' act. Like, where were they when I needed them? I've been alone for years and now that I'm bleeding out, suddenly they remember I exist?" I huff in frustration.

Kate's quiet, but not in a way that feels dismissive. It feels like she's giving me room. "My biological parents gave me up," I continue. "Hydra turned me into something I never wanted to be. Nat found me and... for a while, she made me feel like I was worth something. But then Billy and Tommy came along, and I guess I was just... extra."

I glance down at the bracelet on my wrist, the charm glinting like it knows something I don't. "You ever feel like... no matter how hard you try, you'll never be enough?" I ask suddenly, barely above a whisper. Kate's head turns toward me. "Yeah. More than I'd like to admit."

I nod, staring straight ahead. "That's what it's been like with them. My moms. At first, I had everything. A home. A family. Then the twins came and... slowly, it was like I just faded out of frame. Babysitter, housemaid, invisible. I tried to earn it back. Be better. Be perfect. But they didn't notice. Or maybe they just didn't care." I share honestly.

"Now they're around all the time. Bringing soup and fluffing pillows. Acting like they didn't ignore me for the last few years. And I don't know how to trust that." I admit vulnerably. "You don't have to." She says gently. "Not right away. Maybe not ever. But you can still heal, with or without them." She advises.

"Hard to do that alone," I admit. "You're not alone," she says, brushing her fingers against mine. "You've got Steve. You've got friends. You've got me." I turn to her, heart in my throat. "Do I?" Kate meets my gaze without flinching. "You do. You've always had me."

I finally turn to look at her. "I don't tell people this stuff. Hell, I didn't even tell Steve half of it." I chuckle awkwardly. Kate's expression is unreadable at first, but her voice is steady when she says, "Y/n... you're not extra. Not to me anyway." I blink. She reaches up and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, her hand lingering near my jaw. "Not now, not ever."

My heart skips again. I try to scoff, to deflect with sarcasm like I always do. But it dies on my lips. The world feels still. The breeze moves lazily through the trees, birds chirp somewhere in the distance, but all I can hear is my heartbeat. Louder than it should be.

I don't think. For once, I don't overanalyse or build up walls or second-guess what I deserve. I just lean in, slowly, giving her space to pull back if she wants to. She doesn't. Her breath hitches softly, and then she leans in too. The distance between us disappears with a quiet inevitability. Our lips meet, warm, hesitant, searching.

It's not rushed. It's not perfect. But it's real.

Her hand finds mine again, fingers curling between mine with a gentle squeeze as her lips linger against mine, soft and sure. I feel the way she exhales shakily into the kiss, like maybe she's been waiting for this as long as I have.

The warmth of her palm grounds me, anchoring me in this moment. This tiny, quiet miracle I didn't know I needed. We part slowly, but not fully. Her forehead brushes lightly against mine, and I open my eyes to find hers already watching me. "Wow," I murmur, my voice barely audible. Kate grins. "Yeah," she whispers back, her nose nudging mine. "That was... definitely not just a birthday present."

I laugh softly, the sound surprising even me. It's light. Unburdened. Something I haven't felt in a long time. Then she adds, "But if it was, I really outdid myself." I roll my eyes with a smile, bumping her shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. Don't let it go to your head."

We sit there for another long moment, her hand still in mine, the kiss still tingling on my lips. For the first time in forever, I don't feel like I'm on the outside looking in. I feel seen. Wanted. Maybe even loved.

"I think I like you, Bishop," I murmur. She grins. "Well... I was hoping you'd say that." I laugh, breathless. "Smooth." Kate shrugs. "I have my moments." We sit there for a little longer, fingers brushing, letting the quiet speak for us. Today doesn't feel quite so lonely. And maybe, just maybe, I'm not as alone as I thought.

She stands, offering her hand. "Come on, birthday girl. Let's get you back before Cho realises I'm terrible at following instructions." She jokes. I take her hand, letting her help me up. And for the first time in a long while, I don't feel like a background character in my own life. Maybe this birthday is going to be better than I had expected.

By the time Kate wheels me back through the medical wing's hallway, my chest feels lighter. I can't tell if it's the kiss, the sunlight, or just the fact that, for the first time in a long time, I feel like someone really sees me.

We're laughing at one of Kate's terrible impressions of Steve ("Language!" she says in a fake-deep voice, holding up an imaginary shield) when we turn the corner into my hospital room, and everything stops.

The room is... glowing. Streamers in purple and red hang loosely from the ceiling. There are balloons everywhere. Some Avengers-themed, others with "Happy Birthday!" printed in glitter. My bed is surrounded by snacks, presents, and handmade decorations. Someone even stuck a banner over the window that reads: "Y/n—Top of Her Class and Queen of Badasses."

And then.... "SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

The room erupts in cheers. I blink, startled, as people begin stepping out from where they'd been hiding. Steve's standing at the foot of my bed, grinning. Pepper and Tony are by the snack table (which, of course, is colour-coordinated). Clint's got a party hat on backwards. Even Bruce is there, waving from the corner.

But it's the next voices that break me completely. "We got you! We actually got you!" Tommy cheers. Billy is right behind him, his face lit up. "You didn't even guess!" I'm almost too stunned to speak. "Wait, you guys planned this?" I ask in shock. "Well, Uncle Steve and moms helped a little." Billy admits with a grin, "But we made the decorations. Look!" He runs over to show me a clumsily drawn poster that reads "Best Sister Ever" with stick figures of the three of us drawn beneath it.

My throat tightens. "You guys..." Tommy launches himself forward, arms wrapping tightly around my waist before he seems to remember I'm injured and pulls back. "Oops! Sorry! I didn't mean to...did I hurt you?" I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. "No. You're okay. Come here."

They both crowd me then, Billy on one side, Tommy on the other, snuggling up to me as best they can without bumping the healing wounds. I run my fingers through their hair, holding them close. "I missed you both." I whisper. "We missed you more." Billy says, looking up with wide, honest eyes. "Are you gonna come home soon?"

I look at them, at their innocence, their hope, and despite everything that's happened, I can't bring myself to say anything but, "Yeah. Soon." Tommy grins. "Good! 'Cause we need someone to settle who's better at Mario Kart." He declares. "Definitely not you," Billy shoots back, making Tommy gasp and begin a dramatic argument, and I just laugh. I haven't laughed like this in forever.

I don't notice her until I hear the soft cough behind me. "Room for one more?" I glance up and there's Yelena, standing awkwardly near the doorway with a bag slung over her shoulder and that familiar half-smile she always wears when she's trying not to look too emotional. "Lena." I smile. "Get over here." She strides forward, more confidently now, and kneels beside my bed. "You know, I had a speech planned. Something dramatic about Russian strength and glorious birthdays. But now I feel like an idiot." She sighs. I chuckle. "You're my idiot."

Her smile softens, and she reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Happy birthday, malyshka." I smile widely. Since she has been back, she's been a breath of fresh air. I sometimes go months at a time without seeing her and I realise now how much she does in my life and how much I wish she was around more.

"Thanks. For coming. For... all of it." She nods. "I would burn the world down for you. But instead, I helped decorate and resisted the urge to strangle Tony. Which is almost harder." I snort and take her hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'm really glad you're here." I tell her honestly. She leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead, staying close. "Just don't scare me like this again, okay?" She practically orders. "No promises," I whisper.

Kate's still nearby, arms folded, watching the exchange with an amused little smile. She doesn't say anything, but when Yelena steps back, she gives Kate a subtle nod of approval. I don't miss it, and neither does Kate, judging by the soft pink tint to her cheeks.

Eventually, everyone gathers around. Steve insists on speeches. He actually wrote one, of course he did! Tony hands out cupcakes and calls it "nutrition for emotionally stunted heroes." Clint juggles party favours for the twins. Bruce accidentally knocks over a stack of gift bags and looks mortified.

And me? I just sit there, taking it all in. The laughter. The chaos. The family. It's messy and weird and loud, but it's ours. I can't remember the last time we all just existed together. Not during a mission. Not under stress. Just as people. As a family. I lean back against the pillows, the bracelet Kate gave me catching the light, and I smile.

I've never had this many people show up for me before. The medical bay isn't exactly the most glamorous venue, but no one seems to care. It's alive with laughter, the kind of laughter that vibrates through the walls and settles somewhere deep in your bones. For a while, I just sit there, watching everyone move and talk and tease each other, absorbing the atmosphere like it might disappear if I blink.

The tray table in front of me has become a mountain of tissue paper, ribbons, and gift bags. I've unwrapped more things in the past twenty minutes than I have in the last three birthdays combined. Kate is still right beside me, comfortably close, legs crossed at the ankle, her fingers brushing mine every so often as she hands me each present. It's subtle, but grounding.

From Clint, it's a custom arrow set with glittery purple fletching and tiny inscriptions carved into each shaft. "You'll have to work on your draw, obviously," he jokes. "But when you do, you'll be better than Bishop." Kate scoffs. "Untrue. But cute."

Tony's gift is as over-the-top as expected. A sleek tactical vest designed specifically for fieldwork, complete with integrated tech and a touch of ridiculous Stark flair. "Look, it glows when you're under UV light," he says proudly. "Very nightclub assassin." Pepper rolls her eyes, but her handwritten card makes my chest tighten in a way I don't expect. It says, simply: We see you. Always have. Always will.

Bruce hands me a leather-bound journal filled with his recovery notes, complete with diagrams and some shaky sketches of me in various combat poses. I laugh when I see one labelled: "High kick of doom, 3.5 ft trajectory." There's even a small pouch attached with a hand-carved wooden pen. "You'll need to track your healing. I thought it might help to write it down." I don't say it, but I will. I will write everything down. The good, the bad, and especially the parts where I've felt like I didn't exist. Because now? It feels like I do.

I'm still smiling when the crowd begins to shift, people making room as two familiar figures step forward, each holding something in their hands. The noise in my head returns, just a little. Mom and Mama.

They've been here this whole time, quietly moving through the celebration, helping out, cleaning up plates, never taking the spotlight. I noticed it earlier, and I've been thankful for it. I needed space. I still do. But now they're here, in front of me, and it's harder to keep the barrier around my chest intact.

Nat steps up first, her hands clasped around a long rectangular case. It's black, sleek, familiar. My stomach knots in anticipation. "I, uh..." She hesitates. Natasha Romanoff hesitates. That alone is enough to jolt something inside me. "I wasn't sure what to get you. I've never been great at birthdays. But these... these kept me alive for a long time. And I think it's time they had a new owner."

She opens the case and turns it toward me. Inside is a matched set of weapons. Intimate, in a way only warriors understand. Twin shock batons, sleek and polished with matte-silver handles engraved in Russian script. A Glock 43, lightweight and efficient, with a grip she's worn smooth over the years. And the Widow's Bite cuffs, the real ones, resting on black velvet.

My breath catches. "These are..." I blink down at them, my hands hesitant to reach forward. "Yours?" Nat nods. "They were. Now they're yours. I always knew that you would be a better Agent than me. I just wish I had shown that pride more." There's emotion in her voice, but she reins it in expertly. She doesn't reach for me. Doesn't try to hug or explain too much. She just offers them, like a passing of legacy. Of trust.

I nod slowly, something like awe and confusion twisting through my chest. "Thanks. They're... badass. When I was training, I always based my tactics off you using these." I share a glimpse into what she missed. She gives a quiet smile, a flash of hurt in her eyes, but steps back without comment. I don't miss the way her fingers twitch slightly at her sides, as if resisting the urge to do more.

Then Wanda steps forward, her gift flatter, wrapped in dark green and tied with a silky ribbon. She holds it carefully, like it's something ancient. "No weapons in this one," she says, smiling, "unless you count Frodo's sword." She jokes. I give her a curious look and begin unwrapping the gift, careful with the ribbon. When I peel back the paper and lift the lid, my heart skips.

First editions. Hardcovers. Faded gold lettering on rich leather bindings. The Lord of the Rings trilogy. The original artwork. My fingers hover over the covers, reverent. "Where did you find these?" I ask, my voice shaking.

"I didn't," Wanda says softly. "They were mine. I've kept them for years. You used to sneak into our room when you thought we were asleep, remember? You'd hide under our covers with a flashlight and whisper-read Gandalf's speeches like you were preparing for battle." I do remember. Vividly. That tiny space of time when everything felt safe and warm, when their room was my sanctuary.

I don't realize how hard I'm gripping the box until Kate gently places her hand over mine. "These are..." I swallow. "Wow." It's all I can manage to get out. Both of these gifts have been so thoughtful, and they've caught me completely off guard. Wanda's voice lowers. "I wanted you to have something that reminded you of how strong you already are. Even when you felt small."

A lump forms in my throat, but I force it down. I nod. Not because I'm ready to forgive. But because I'm not ready to push them away either. "Thanks." I say quietly. "Really." And just like that, they back away. No expectations. No more pressure. I appreciate that. It's like they're finally listening to me.

It would've been so easy for them to hijack the day and to make it about apologies or guilt. But instead, they've given me room. Let me have this one day to feel like I'm the centre of it all. And I needed that more than I ever realized.

The party picks up again, as Clint accidentally knocks over a cupcake tower and Billy yells "five-second rule!" before diving for the last chocolate one. Laughter ripples through the room like it belongs there, like we all do.

Kate squeezes my hand again and I smile at her, letting myself melt into the comfort of her presence. That's when I notice it. A movement, subtle and precise. Mama is watching. She's near the far wall now, leaning against it with her arms folded. But her eyes are locked on Kate. Not hostile. Not even judgmental. Just... focused. It's that hyper-vigilant mother-spy thing I haven't seen in years.

Kate follows my gaze and catches Nat's eyes, lifting her chin in subtle challenge. Natasha doesn't blink. Just tips her head slightly, evaluating. I huff a quiet laugh and shake my head. "She's profiling you." Kate smirks. "I should be flattered."

"You should be cautious," I whisper, nudging her with my elbow. "She has very creative ways of intimidating people." Kate leans closer, her voice low and teasing. "Good thing I'm hard to scare." I believe her. And I believe, for the first time in a long time, that someone might actually stick around. Not because they pity me. But because they want to.

The laughter has begun to soften now. People are settling into quieter conversations, cups half-finished, frosting smudges drying on napkins. The decorations still flutter gently in the airflow of the room, streamers casting coloured shadows across the walls like echoes of the joy they helped shape.

I'm still riding the high of it. The weightless kind of happiness that you don't quite trust to last, but you cling to anyway. That's when the door opens, and the atmosphere shifts. Even before I see him, I feel him.

Nick Fury doesn't enter a room. He commands it. Even here, surrounded by friends, cupcakes, and glittery party hats, he's unmistakable. The kind of presence you don't forget once it's in your life. "Don't mind me," he says, his voice a familiar gravel tone, softer than usual but still laced with authority. "Just came to see the guest of honour." He smiles.

A quiet hush falls over the room as he approaches. The tension isn't fear, it's more like reverence. Respect. The kind that makes people straighten their spines without realizing they're doing it. He walks to my bedside, pausing just beside the tray table, arms behind his back. His eye meets mine with a steadiness I've always found both comforting and intimidating.

"You gave us a scare, kid." I smile faintly, keeping his gaze. "Didn't mean to." He doesn't laugh, but something in his expression softens. "I read the full mission report," he says. "I know what went down. And I know it was my call that put you there in the first place." My chest tightens. I shake my head immediately, the instinct to defend him rushing forward. "It wasn't your fault," I say. "You didn't know someone on the inside had turned. You couldn't have." I defend.

Fury's jaw flexes. "It doesn't matter." He replies after a beat. "I should've. Should've read deeper. Dug harder. Hell, I should've seen it coming. That's my job. To know before anyone else does. To protect you." His voice cracks, just barely. But it's enough. It unsettles me. Because I've never seen him like this. Vulnerable, human in a way that doesn't wear a patch or a trench coat. And it's not guilt for guilt's sake. It's care. "You've done more for me than most people ever have," I say quietly. "You gave me a chance. You trained me like I mattered. You saw me." I admit.

He lets out a breath, slow and rough. Then he nods. It's not to brush it off, but to acknowledge it. "You're one hell of an agent, Y/n. I've seen plenty come and go, but you've got something different. Grit. Instinct. Fire." She observes. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice to a gravel-soft whisper. "Don't let what happened change what you know about yourself." I swallow hard, nodding slowly. "I won't."

And then, in a rare moment of unspoken affection, he rests a calloused hand gently on my shoulder, just for a second, before straightening and stepping back. As he turns to leave, he casts a long look toward Nat and Wanda near the back of the room. His gaze lingers, and something in it, maybe warning, maybe reassurance, passes unspoken between them before he disappears through the door.

I exhale only once he's gone. Then, just as I start to gather my thoughts, Dr. Cho re-enters the room with a clipboard and her no-nonsense smile. "Okay, everyone," she announces, clapping her hands together once. "Quick update before you all crash from sugar and emotional whiplash." The room chuckles in response. I sit up straighter, something in my gut already stirring.

"Y/n, your scans look great. The infection's resolved, and your vitals have been strong for the past forty-eight hours. Based on today's assessment..." She pauses, flipping a page like she doesn't already have it memorized. "You're officially being discharged tomorrow morning."

The room erupts louder than it did the first time. This time it's more than celebration. It's relief. Release. Tommy jumps up like someone plugged him into an outlet. "You're coming home?! Like really home?!" He questions excitedly. Billy's already halfway into planning mode. "We have to do a welcome-back breakfast. Wait, no, brunch. Brunch is fancier. And we can use the good mugs!"

I laugh, the real kind, as they both launch themselves into my arms, hugging me with as much force as they dare. "I missed you guys," I murmur into their hair. "We missed you more," Tommy says without hesitation, grinning up at me.

Across the room, I catch sight of Nat and Wanda. They're not saying anything. Not pushing their way into the moment. But I can see it on their faces, the way Wanda's lips tremble just slightly, the way Nat's arms remain crossed tightly over her chest like she's holding herself together by sheer force of will. They're relieved. Genuinely relieved. And they're holding back. For me. It means more than I know how to say.

Still... as the twins start rattling off pancake toppings and "who gets to sit next to Y/n at the table," a familiar flutter of anxiety flickers to life in my chest. I'm going home. To the apartment I once called mine. The home that now feels half-foreign and half-frozen in time. To Nat's watchful eyes and Wanda's worry-laced hovering. I know they love me. I believe that now, at least a little. But I don't know if I'm ready to live under that roof again. To be seen that closely. To be reminded of everything that fractured before I ended up in this hospital bed.

Kate must sense the shift in my energy. Her hand closes around mine, steady and warm. "You're not doing this alone." She murmurs. Before I can answer, Yelena slides in from the other side, arms folded but her eyes fierce. "I will be checking on you. Every day." She promises. Kate smirks. "We've got it covered."

"I'm serious," Yelena adds. "If they hover, I will stare them down until they leave the room. If they make too much soup, I'll eat it out of spite." She says with a straight face. Kate leans in toward me, her voice barely a whisper. "She will. I've seen her do it." She chuckles.

"I don't need babysitters." I murmur, but there's no real heat in my voice. Yelena raises a brow. "Good. Then we're just company." She corrects. "Support." Kate adds. I glance between them, and something loosens in my chest. Maybe I can go home. Because this time, I'm not going back alone.

The room is quieter now, but it still glows with the remnants of laughter and light. Nat and Wanda remain in the background, not imposing, not forcing. They're waiting. Not for forgiveness but for me. And I think that matters most of all.

The soft hum of conversation has tapered into scattered goodbyes, quiet laughter, and the rustle of gift bags being gathered. The scent of vanilla frosting still lingers in the air, mingling with the sterile but oddly comforting smell of hospital-grade fabric softener.

I sit at the edge of the bed now, legs dangling over the side, blanket wrapped loosely around my shoulders as Kate helps me tuck away a few of the smaller gifts into a bag. Most of the guests have left. The noise has died down to a gentle murmur. It's just us now, me, Kate, Yelena, my moms, and the twins, who have passed out on a beanbag in the corner under a pile of discarded wrapping paper.

Kate shifts beside me, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "Alright, Bishop Security detail clocking out," she says, offering a playful two-finger salute. I chuckle at her goofiness, and I can't hide the flutter to my heart. "But I'll be back tomorrow. Bright and early. Probably with coffee and really bad jokes."

"Looking forward to it," I reply, trying to keep my voice light, though a quiet kind of sadness starts settling in my chest. I don't want the day to end. Not yet. Not when it finally felt like everything was okay. Kate seems to sense it. She steps closer, her smile softening as her eyes search mine.

"Hey." she says, gently brushing a stray hair from my face, her fingers lingering near my cheek. "You did good today." I huff a small laugh. "I didn't do much." I sigh. "Still," she says, her voice quieter now. "You let yourself have today. That matters." She points out.

She leans in slowly, giving me time, and I meet her halfway. The kiss is brief, gentle, warm, a promise wrapped in quiet goodbye, but it anchors something deep in me. It's the kind of kiss that doesn't demand anything. It just reminds me I'm not alone.

When she pulls back, we're both smiling. But of course, nothing in my life happens without some form of chaos. "I swear to god, Bishop," Yelena calls from the doorway, arms crossed and smirking, "if you break her heart, I will personally staple your arrows together and feed them to you." Kate blinks a flash of fear in her eyes, then she grins. "Creative." She shrugs, trying to play it cool. "I'm Russian. We invent new ways to threaten people daily."

I burst into laughter, chest-shaking laughter that makes me wince slightly, but I don't care. It's worth it. Kate just shrugs like it's part of the deal, then throws me a wink before heading for the door. "Sleep, okay?" she calls back. "I will." I say, holding her gaze a second longer. "See you tomorrow."

Once she and Yelena slip out, the room falls into a softer stillness. The kind that lingers when the lights have dimmed and the buzz of the day begins to fade. Mama, Nat, steps forward first, arms crossed but eyes gentle. "She seems nice," she says, voice casual, but the comment lingers in the air.

I turn to look at her, studying her face for any sign of disapproval. But it's not there. Her expression is sincere, measured, and, if I'm reading it right, curiously fond. "She is." I reply, testing the waters.

Mom then joins us, walking up beside Nat with a little nod of agreement. "She's kind. Confident. I like her. I'm excited to see more of her around the house." I blink at her, surprised. Mom has always been the more intuitive of the two, more emotionally open, but still. The ease in her voice, the warmth, it catches me off guard.

"You're not going to interrogate her?" I ask, only half-teasing. "Only a little," Nat says dryly, but there's no edge to it. Just a trace of the protectiveness I used to crave from her, back when I didn't think I deserved it.

For a beat, none of us speak. They stay near, not hovering, not pressing in. Just... present. And for the first time in a long time, it doesn't feel suffocating. I ease myself back onto the bed, wincing slightly at the pull in my side. The hospital room is quieter now, dimmer. The balloons have started to droop, and the party glow is beginning to flicker out.

My eyes flick to the stack of gifts beside me. Clint's arrows, Mom's books, Mama's weapons. Kate's bracelet still rests gently against my wrist, glinting faintly under the soft lamplight. Today was a good day.

But now that it's over, a gnawing restlessness settles in my chest. Tomorrow, I go home. The word tastes foreign in my mouth. Home. That apartment. That space full of memories, some good, some aching like bruises not fully healed. I can already see the way they'll watch me. The soft questions. The hovering. The awkward silences when no one knows what to say. And I'm not sure I'm ready for it. But I'll go. Because something inside me, faint and fragile, wants to try. And I also know it have no other choice.

The quiet stretches long now, the day finally unwinding. Wanda kisses my forehead gently before retreating to gather the twins. Nat lingers just a moment longer, eyes sweeping over me like she's committing this version of me to memory. "Sleep well dekta. I love you." She says quietly, not making a fuss or waiting for a response. She simply leans in and presses a soft kiss to my head and joins Mom with carrying a sleeping Tommy out of the room.

I'm left alone with the hum of machines, the echo of laughter still clinging to the walls, and the distant warmth of Kate's goodbye on my lips. And for the first time in a long time, I let the silence hold me. Tomorrow begins something new. Maybe hard. But maybe good, too. And maybe that's enough.

Taglist: @reggierizzoli @ordelixx @mousetheorist @oh-thats-cute-blog @bstvst @waiqui @fxckmiup @kosmichs1 @theprincipality @elle161989 @jusnough @nessheartnat @yelldontwhisper

[twistedteatime]

Mistakes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Scorpio!Reader

A/N: This one took a few turns. Not as long as I'd have liked, but I reached a spot I'm content to end it at.

Warnings: LANGUAGE (really you should be expecting this from me by now). Violence. Threats of torture. Fat shaming. Bullying. Implicated bullying of a child.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: A new recruit is making a nuisance of herself and trying to step in on your man and your friends. You educate them on just what it is that makes them all take you seriously.

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Previous Entry: Flowers

AO3 Link: Mistakes

*******

Mondays sucked, Tuesdays could often be worse, Wednesdays were better, Thursdays were kind of halfway between happy and drudgery, but Fridays…Fridays were good.

Except this one.

This one had been ruined.

Some new recruit decided to ruin it for you.

She went by the name of Brea. It wasn’t even her real name; you knew her real name as you had been the one to catalogue and archive her personnel record after verifying everything on it. Her real name was Janice.

She was possibly the most sensorially caustic annoyance you’d ever encountered. The very sight of her was offensive on multiple fronts. The sound of her was worse.

Truthfully, on any other person, the shade of orange she had dyed her hair would have looked good. On her, combined with the rest of what she wore, she looked like a dollar store knock-off version of Natasha and sounded like the voice box in it had been set to play back way too fast. Like a chipmunk version of some tar monster of Tartarus.

Then there was whatever perfume she wore. Whatever bubblegum pink pit of sugar syrup and hydrangeas it crawled out of was no doubt happy to have exorcized itself of it. You wished you could do the same and you were highly tempted to bring sage to work with you in an attempt to rid the compound of it.

That wasn’t what ruined your Friday, though. No. It was her insistence on pushing herself at Steve and Bucky while trampling over everyone that stood in her way. No matter how big or how small they were.

As assaulting as she was on your senses you knew damn well it was worse for them. Bucky had already complained about it on the ride home. You had moved in together after several months of dating and after he admitted he enjoyed the peace and quiet your property afforded. That and the proximity to where you both worked.

Not close enough to be at risk of anything but closer than his apartment. On clear days and nights you’d ride in with him on his motorcycle. Yet since the arrival of the tar pit you’d been the one driving most days.

You weren’t about to watch her give him yet another migraine. Him or Steve. Not after what you had just discovered. You may have picked on him at times and teased him, but much like Bucky had been in their youth, you were protective of him and of those close to him.

Particularly when neither he nor Bucky could figure out how to politely disengage a female without coming off as rude. Usually it was cute and you didn’t interfere. You knew beyond a doubt that Bucky’s heart was yours just as much as yours was his.

You weren’t threatened by her. Far from it. You had been annoyed but now…now you were angry.

Fridays were your favorite days. Fridays were the days that Bucky visited with coffee and scones and kept you company. This one, however, she had crossed a line.

Not only did she corner Bucky again, assaulting his senses with her perfume, she had stolen your scone, and touched him.

Without his permission.

Among other things you found absolutely intolerable.

“Mmmh…fuck this is so good.” She moaned and Bucky looked at you as you walked up, her hand on his vibranium arm.

“You have three seconds to remove your hand from his arm before you lose fingers. The scone was enough on its own but get your hand off and back off.” You said sharply, authoritatively and she jumped at first, moving back until she looked at you.

Her body relaxed. Her alarm was quickly replaced by derision. You were aware of why.

You were, to her, just a librarian with a fancy title Bucky happened to be dating. She had no idea what you were capable of. Nor did she have the sense to believe people when they said not to mess with you.

“I can’t do that. Not if he’s going to help train me.” She said and you looked at her.

“Oh…you need help training?” you asked, head tilted, and Bucky looked at you.

He knew exactly what was coming, and she nodded.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s an expert in the use of knives and hand to hand combat. I’m sure he could show me a thing or two on the mat.” She smiled, shifting her body this way and that, showing it off, yet Bucky’s eyes were glued on you still.

“Doll…” he started and you looked at him, “I can get you another scone.”

“Please do, my love. I’m going to be famished by the time you get back.” You said with a smile and he sighed nodding.

“Don’t…you know…” he said and you just smiled sweetly at him, “No repeat of Shelly.”

“Then you might wanna be quick about it.” You said and he nodded before starting to walk away, Brea followed, and so did you, pulling her into the training room by the arm where Nat was, “You don’t get to train with Bucky just because you want to. First…you gotta work your way up to it. I understand you’re new and…that…you…may have not read all the way through the internal policies pamphlet you were given. It covers what you do and do not do with everyone individually. Like trying to pick up Mjolnir without permission, talking to people’s children without introduction, touching Bruce’s plants without permission, or touching Bucky without his permission.”

“Oh no…” Nat said below her breath as she wrapped up her hands, “Uh...I thought you weren’t training until next month.”

“I’m not, but she needs extra special one on one training time.” You answered with a smile; one she knew all too well.

You had plans and something more than appeared was going on.

“Wait…I wanted training with Bucky.” Brea said and Nat looked at her coolly, understanding the situation very swiftly.

“Sargent Barnes does train recruits but not at your level, just like she said. You’d last two seconds with him. You have to work your way up, from the bottom, just like everyone else.” She said and Brea looked at you then her.

“So I have to start with the librarian?” she asked incredulously, her face on the verge of laughing, and you just started for the locker room.

“No. You’d start with Agent Fitz. ‘The librarian’ as you call her is who you train with before you train with me if she’s in a mood to train. You really shouldn’t judge people by appearances.” Nat replied while looking her over, “It’s a mistake and one you can’t afford to make in the field. Everyone is a threat. Assuming that someone isn’t one because of the job they hold is a mistake.”

She soon found out how much of one it was when you returned.

Time and time again she hit the mat hard. You knew she was getting increasingly aggravated with not only you but also Natasha. The Black Widow had made it her job to sit down and critique everything that Brea did.

“You’re getting too emotional.” She said and took a bite of her apple as Bucky walked in and leaned against the doorway.

“This isn’t fair!” Brea shouted angrily while getting back up, “Why the fuck is this cow trained to fight if all she does is sit around on her fucking fat ass surrounded by moldy fucking papers all day?!”

“Tony would be very upset to hear you calling the Archives moldy.” You said calmly and Bucky spoke, holding his anger as it simmered in the cold blue of his eyes.

“She handles a lot more action than you’d think being in Archives. Just because she’s an archivist here doesn’t mean she wasn’t anything else before.” He said and she looked at him alarmed, “Yeah…I heard you…and no, you’re not at a level to train any higher, and I checked with Fitz. You’ve skipped your training assessment.”

“Oh dear…” you sighed while shaking your head, “Well…at least I didn’t break anything.”

“Yet.” Natasha corrected and looked at Bucky, “You bring anything for me?”

“No. I’m not a vending machine.” He retorted while moving off the door to walk in over to you, pulling you close to him by your waist with his right arm, the left hand was busy holding the bag with your scone in it, “Go bother Bruce.”

“Bucky…I’m in the middle of a lesson.” You said while Brea scowled as she stood herself back up, “Unless people are done.”

“You know…what…I’m…I’m not done yet. I’m not taking what I said back. You…are a fat…chair warming…cunt.” She spat and the air shifted as Bucky looked at her coolly, a silent warning she had just stepped over a line, “You don’t deserve to be here, to be with him, to have…anything!”

You waited. It wasn’t like you hadn’t heard any of this before. You had.

Plenty.

Bucky had just never been present for it before and you knew very well that he was at a new level of furious. Still, this wasn’t addressed at him. It was addressed at you and you would handle it.

In a manner.

“Are you done having your tantrum?” you asked, your voice even, calm, and low.

“No!” she spat and continued on her tirade, spitting out a level of vitriol you were well used to from not just there but years preceding it, “I worked my ass off to get here! Do you have any idea of what I’ve had to do to get here?!”

“Yes. I do. I’m the fat, lazy, greasy, mooing cow librarian that filed your personnel record, Janice, as well as the background checks, testing results, and assessments. I know every…last…thing…that you did to get here.” you answered and smiled while tilting your head, “All of it. You graduated at the top of your classes, all of them. Every last one. Even ones…that…strangely don’t exist…hm…fascinating.”

“What…I…they do…” she sputtered and flinched as Nat bit into her apple again, just looking at her calmly, knowingly, and Bucky just raised his eyebrows as he looked at you.

You didn’t respond to him, you just blinked slowly at your adversary, “Do they? Hm…absolutely fascinating. Would you like to know what’s in my personnel file? I suppose you imagine it’s a bunch of cow pastures and transmutation experiments to give me a human countenance. Sadly, no…it’s…not that outrageous. It does however…contain nothing but the truth. I’ve done a lot of things in my life, not all of them exactly what you’d consider ‘above board.’ Now, not all your records are falsified, and you are indeed calculating. So…calculate this: There are four people in this room. One…can crush people’s extremities. One…has been known to electroshock people and has indeed done so to the other. One…has kept people in closets giving them only the bare minimum of sustenance after psychologically torturing them in an abandoned and run down funhouse. One…has bullied several people here including a small child. Three of the four have varying records for long range shots. One of the four has also skipped that assessment. One knows this because one was talking to the armorer Sharps the other day over tea.”

“You know…” Natasha said, chucking her finished apple over her shoulder into a bin, “Steve said Sharps was pretty off the other day when he went to see her. I was meaning to ask you if you knew why.”

“Yeah…he said the same thing to me.” Bucky said and you nodded to both of them.

“Yeah…I do. Sharps, tough as she is, she really doesn’t like it when her little butterbean is upset and crying. She didn’t want to tell Steve. You know how protective he is of that little girl. She asked me to look into it. I finished my investigations earlier.” You answered and looked at a scowling Bucky, “That reminds me. We’re babysitting tomorrow and I ‘promised’ Sharps that I wouldn’t buy Minnie any ice cream and that I wouldn’t take her to the carnival.”

“Hmm…and I guess you told her that you wouldn’t buy Minnie funnel cake either.”

“Exactly.” You said and smiled up at him before glancing over at Brea as she slowly backed away, “Just like I promised Tony that I wouldn’t tell Steve or Loki that someone made that small, precious, precocious little child cry just because she was excited to show them her new book she made at school and she wrote some words backwards.”

“I heard my name.” Loki said as he walked in and looked at the gathering, and the now rather peaky-looking Brea, “I see you are schooling an infant whelp once again.”

“I’m attempting to.” you answered with a smile and he looked at you, thinking, and slowly smirked.

“You’re up to something. I know that glint in your eyes.” He said, head tilted, “She must have done something quite terrible for you to be addressing it personally.”

“Whatever do you mean? I am doing nothing and I am definitely not telling you anything.” You replied and smiled as Natasha spoke instead.

“Someone made Minnie cry. Apparently she made a book in her class and someone made fun of how she spelled things.” She said and Bucky nodded.

“Steve doesn’t know yet.” He said and Steve walked in next making you smile more.

“I don’t know what?” he asked and you took a deep satisfied breath in while looking at Brea, “I got a text to come here…from…what’s going on?”

“Hm…yes…yes you did.” You said with a smile.

“You promised Sharps you wouldn’t tell them anything…” Brea said and you nodded.

“I know…and I keep my promises. So…I’m not the one that’s going to say anything. Am I, Bucky?” you asked with a smile and he shook his head.

“No. No you’re not. I am.”

*******

A/N: Hmmm...was that a hint of Steve maybe having a budding relationship? Hmm...maybe.

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Previous Entry: Flowers

AO3 Link: Mistakes

Taglist: @highhopes1008 @badatlovesorry

[yjdrabbles123]

hey! hey! loving all your writings and headcanons. I was wondering if you could maybe expand on the trouble story and do little!Mel using her new hand squeeze system?

Just for you anon, part four of Trouble! Do let me know if you like it :)

‘Hi Van.’ 

Van’s hand is warm and steady around her own and it’s the only thing that is keeping Melissa in place: she’s pretty sure that without Van beside her, she’d have already retreated to her bedroom to cry because Gen won’t even look at her and Jackie looks so mad too.

Of course, if it wasn’t for Van beside her, Jackie also wouldn’t have the chance to show that she’s mad at Melissa by very pointedly only saying hello to Van. So there’s that.

(Mel wonders for a moment how Jackie would show that Mel is Not Her Friend right not if Van wasn’t there. Probably turn her back on her with her arms folded and her expression all scrunched up and cross. Which she’s also doing now.)

‘Hey Jax.’ Van’s voice is so easy and calm, it’s as if she hasn’t even noticed the tension. Only the extra pressure as she squeezes Mel’s hand reassuringly tells Mel that she has. ‘Are you and Gen working on a new story?’

‘Uh huh.’ Gen folds her arms too. ‘And we don’t even need the treehouse to play in because we’re going to use the mole family and not the squirrels so it’s FINE.’ (Gen’s tone makes Mel doubt it really is as fine as all that.) ‘And even if SOME people think Sylvanians are lame, that’s just because they suck.’

Wow. Gen really did take Mel’s words to heart.

‘Oh they’re definitely not lame,’ Van agrees. ‘I mean-’ She nods to a paw poking out from the box of kleenex, several other figures arranged carefully around the rim. ‘It looks like that little dude is being buried alive or something- that’s definitely not lame!’

Gen and Jackie share a pleased smile and Mel is silently grateful yet again that Van is just so good at smoothing things over. She makes people feel good, Mel thinks- like a warm orange sunbeam.

‘Anyway,’ Van goes on. ‘I think Mel here has something to say to you both, don’t you buddy?’

Van’s still holding onto Melissa’s hand but now she lets go, standing behind Mel with her hands on her Mel’s shoulders, a warm solid presence behind her: it’s ok, I’m here.

Mel takes a deep breath. She was brave enough to talk to Tai, she can be brave now.

‘I’m really sorry I was mean,’ she says, trying hard not to mumble. It doesn’t feel like enough- she thinks about how Tai apologised to her earlier. ‘I was….’ How to explain things without explaining everything? ‘I was upset,’ she decides to go with. ‘And I just wanted to be by myself but I shouldn’t have said mean things to you and I’m really sorry. And Sylvanians aren’t lame,’ she adds quickly. ‘They’re really cool and you’re really cool and I’m sorry.’

There’s a moment in which they just look at each other….and then Gen giggles.

‘You’re such a bad liar Mel, you don’t think they’re cool, you think they’re creepy! I know you do!’

‘But we are pretty cool,’ Jackie puts in, and she’s smiling too. She picks up a figure from the kleenex box- a rabbit- and twiddles it between her fingers. ‘Mrs Bunny says you’re forgiven. And she’s not usually very forgiving.’

‘She’s burying her husband because he tried to steal her life savings,’ Gen puts in gleefully, and Van grins and puts out a finger to give a very tiny high five to the bunny with a very emphatic ‘You GO girl!’

And Mel knows everything is ok. They’re not mad at her and Tai isn’t mad at her and no one found out about her accident and now she’ll have her new System to let Van know when she needs the bathroom without having to say it so she’ll probably never have any problems with that again. Definitely.

Except…. It doesn’t quite work out like that.

First there’s the fact that for the system to work, everyone has to know what it means if Mel squeezes the hand of whoever is big and in charge. Which is….kind of fine in theory but really, really embarrassing in practise, even though Van promises she’ll explain to everyone without Mel actually needing to be there.

It also means that Van has to wait for everyone to be in the right headspace to be told which means having to tell everyone individually. Which takes a few days.

(When she reaches for Nat’s hand during movie night, she can tell before she’s even done it, from the slight surprise on Nat’s face, that Van hasn’t had a chance to speak to her yet. She snatches her hand back, her face on fire and her chest suddenly tight with anxiety, and tries to not look at Nat’s slightly bemused smile. Luckily, luckily, Shauna pauses the movie two minutes later because she’s thirsty- and Jackie gets up to stretch and Lottie makes a beeline for the bathroom which gives Mel an out….but even so, it makes the whole thing feel a bit more scary.)

The next time she needs to use it, it should be easier- they’re just milling around the garden and half heartedly trying to decide if they should start actually planting things or if the tangle of mint and lavender and forget-me-nots is ok as it is (Lottie and Jackie are lobbying hard for the wild look, Mari insists that it’s stupid to grow anything that can’t handle being hit by a soccer ball, Shauna says their yard looks like the house has been abandoned and Mari says Shauna’s FACE looks like it’s been abandoned and Shauna says that doesn’t even make sense and Mel would laugh at the look on Mari’s face if it wasn’t for the fact that she was trying desperately not to squirm too obviously.)

Van is within reach- Mel just needs to take a few steps over to where she’s scuffing the toes of her worn sneakers into the soil and reminiscing with Nat about the time they tried to grow a garden in a patch of dirt behind Nat’s trailer as kids. 

That’s all she needs to do, it’s all she needs to do- and eventually she manages it: she makes her arms and legs work and pushes herself through the part of her brain that keeps her frozen and she slides her hand in Van’s, her thighs pressing tight together and her face hot, and gives it two quick squeezes and Van looks at her so proudly that it actually makes her chest hurt because she doesn’t deserve this, she doesn’t deserve Van’s pride or her care or her love, and Van redirects Nat into a conversation with Tai so that she can break things off and starts walking Mel back inside hand-in-hand, and Mel is so relieved that she did it, she was brave-

Then she gives a little squeak and she and Van look down to see her pants getting very, very wet.

‘Oh buddy-’

She’s frozen, too humiliated to move or speak or do anything at all other than bite her lip so hard she can taste blood while trying to blink back tears.

Even after everything, she still didn’t make it and the shame of it is bitter in her throat.

‘C’mon.’ Van is gently guiding her inside, an arm around her shoulders. The one good thing is that everyone else is still outside so there’s no risk anyone will know but she knows and Van does too and what if Van is annoyed with her, even after everything Van did to help?

‘’M sorry-’

‘Hey, no-’ Van’s voice is very firm. ‘Remember the rule? No apologising for things you can’t help, remember?’

Mel tries to gulp back a sob.

‘But- I tried to- I still-’

‘Mel. Buddy.’ Van guides her into the bathroom and starts the shower running, an old routine. ‘Remember last week?’

Mel….is going to need Van to be more specific than that.

‘At the park,’ Van goes on. Her voice is a tiny bit stiffer and there’s just the hint of redness in her own cheeks but maybe it’s the shower steam? ‘That asshole husky and it’s shit-for-brains owner.’

Ah. Mel does remember that. She’s just been acting like she didn’t because Van very very obviously did Not want to talk about it so no one did.

‘Should I have said sorry?’ Van presses.

‘What?’

‘Well-’ Van’s shrug is very affectedly nonchalant. ‘You guys did do all that stuff to help- Nat was trying to distract me and Tai and Shauna were holding my hands and I had all of you guys between me and it and-’ Van’s definitely blushing but she keeps her voice steady as she helps Mel out of her clothes when Mel’s own hands won’t stop shaking. ‘Well, you know what happened. We all had to go home early because I freaked out. Despite everything. So i should have said sorry, right?’

(Mel remembers that actually Van did say sorry- a tiny broken whisper through her tear-clogged throat as Tai gave up the drivers seat to Lottie so that she could climb in besides a still-shaking Van. But she isn’t going to mention that.)

‘No, of course not!’

‘So don’t you dare say sorry either, ok?’ Van makes a funny fake-fierce face and Mel actually feels her lips twitch. How does Van do it? How does Van somehow make things ok always?

‘....ok.’

‘Good.’ Van bends to scoop up Mel’s clothes. ‘Is it a my-tshirt day?’

Mel pauses and nods. She wishes she wasn’t quite so babyish but she can’t help it- wearing Van’s clothes is so comforting and she really needs that little pick up right now.

‘I think your favourite one is clean-’ Van refers to the blue shirt with the wolf graphic that Mel knows she’s only not thrown away because Mel likes it so much. ‘When we go back out, do you wanna tell Mari that we’ve decided we want to grow a rose garden over the soccer pitch?’

Mel giggles, even though her eyes are still teary.

‘Uh huh.’

‘Cool. If you can keep it going for more than ten minutes, I’ll buy you a popsicle next time we’re out.’

(They keep it up for a grand total of 74 minutes and Van is so delighted that Mel gets a popsicle and a new temporary tattoo.

Mel quickly walks in front of Van when a lady with a teacup poodle crosses onto the pavement right in front of them. Van gives Mel dry shorts and a hug when they get home after an unexpected traffic jam on the way home from the store. And neither of them say sorry.)

[starlightsuffered]

If You Ever Come Back

Info - song fic, lack of sleep, angst, break in, threatened with a deadly weapon, heart break

I remembered when money was everything we thought about. We scrimped and saved so we could have a loving vacations where we just focused on one another.

Now I didn’t care about what it cost, I left every light on in the house twenty four seven. If she wanted to come home, I wouldn’t make it seem like she wasn’t welcome. I was risking even more loss of money by leaving the front door unlocked anyhow.

It had only been two weeks but I was walking through life like a zombie. When I cooked, I set two places. Even in sleep my body didn’t venture to her side of the bed. It wasn’t as though I slept much though.

Dark circles clung to the bottom of my eyes. I knew I was pale and worn looking. My hands spent the nights running over the sheets where she had once laid. Sometimes I allowed myself to cuddle her pillow close and inhale her scent. I tried not to do that much though, because I didn’t want to use up all the smell. I dreaded the day it would no longer smell like she did.

Every time I remembered the argument that had ended it all I squinted as if in physical pain. At this point I longed for her voice, even if it was to yell at me. I would welcome her with open arms and admit I was wrong.

I stood before the stove, watching the kettle. Before I knew what I was doing I was getting out her favourite mug. I wanted to drink out of something her lips had touched so many times, because her lips might never touch mine again.

I huddle up with the cup, slowing sipping the tea. I didn’t even like this flavour. It was her favourite. I didn’t know why she hadn’t taken the box with her. Perhaps, she’d just needed to escape me that badly.

My eyes stung as I tried to blink away the tears. I didn’t want to slide into the darkness of reality. She wasn’t truly gone. She couldn’t be. The lights were on, the door was unlocked, tea was being made, and she’d be home any moment.

As if I’d brought my dreams to reality I heard a noise at the door. I was alert immediately. My whole body perked out of its slumping position.

It wasn’t her.

A man I didn’t know with a ski mask and a weapon entered my home. I didn’t move from my drink.

“There’s nothing you can really take that she didn’t already take,” I murmured.

“What the fuck are you on about,” growled the man. He waved the gun as if I hadn’t seen it.

“Wallet is by the door, in the wicker basket,” I informed him.

Even with the black mask, I could see the expression of confusion on his face. The door still stood open behind him for a quick get away. I guessed my calm demeanour bothered him.

“What the hell are you playing at? Are you some kind of psychopath? What’s in that mug?”

“Just tea.”

“I doubt it, hand it over,” Growled the intruder.

“No,” I said suddenly terrified to lose another piece of her. I remembered all our good times and how many of those had included this mug. I was not letting some thief steal it from me when so much had already been taken.

“What? Mate I’ve got a gun!”

“And I said no!” I roared. I felt anger sear my insides. I stood up, ready to rush him. I heard him switch the safety off.

“Leave now if you don’t want me to call the police,” I heard the voice of been dreaming of. She was in my doorway holding pepperspray.

To my surprise the man left us. He hightailed it out of our apartment. I didn’t have eyes for him though. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I wanted to lunge for her but I was afraid she’d burst into a firework of mist and I would have just been imagining her.

“Y/n?” I choked.

“This place is a mess,” she said with a shaky laugh.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“The lights are all on, so is the stove. Gosh, why are so many dishes out? You’ve been alone haven’t you?”

“It was in case,” I muttered, looking at the floor.

“In case of what?” She asked me quietly.

“You ever came back.”

She ran at me and pressed her lips fully to mine. Her arms wrapped around me and she jumped so that her legs locked around my waist. I kissed her back with as much enthusiasm as my over tired and underfed body would let me.

“I came back,” she assured me between kisses.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming @lovelyrocker @therealbeabodoobee @slytherinqueen4life

[male-duckk]

thinking abt joe/carlos

[ptergwen]

can you do a fic where one of the peters (garfield or holland) is making out with the reader and starts to kiss and bite her neck and the little sounds she makes drives him insane

three strikes

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: 655

warnings: making out, suggestiveness

a/n: i went with tasm!peter hehe, def a fluffier approach to it but so so adorable & i hope you enjoy! keep the reqs coming y'all <3

winter in the city is magical. everything in the park is covered in a light dusting of snow, all the stone pathways and the trees, couples hand in hand and kids playing. then, there's peter. he's looking up at the sky with his tongue stuck out. he's so focused on trying to catch snowflakes that he doesn't notice you digging your hands into the snow, collecting a handful.

something hits peter's chest; a snowball. he looks across the way, where you're smiling mischievously. he brushes the snow off his jacket, chuckling. you're already making another snowball.

"i dunno, babe. i wouldn't do that if i were you."

despite peter's warning, you aim your arm to throw.

"you're playing with fire, you know that?"

"no, i’m playing with snow."

"oh, that's cute. really cute."

you promptly hit peter with the snowball. he raises a challenging eyebrow, and you know you're in for it. you start to run away, giggling, peter chasing after you. he's quick to catch up. he grabs your waist and pins you against a streetlight, breathing out smoke into the cold air through laughter.

"you wanna try that again?"

peter's gaze darts between your eyes and lips. you bite back a grin.

"kind of."

"what a shame. it'd be strike three."

"what happens after strike three?"

"you wouldn't get this."

peter leans in and kisses you. you loop your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. he hums in content, hands squeezing your waist and lips trailing over to your cheek. he pecks both your cheeks, your nose, just above your lips, peppering kisses all over your face until you're giggling and trying to push him away.

"no, no, no, stop! that tickles!"

peter kisses down your chin and back up, across your forehead, over to your temple. you grin despite yourself, tugging at his locks that are damp with snow.

"i’m serious, pete! stop it!"

"no can do, babe. can't help myself, you're just too damn cute."

peter pecks your cheek a few times, earning a noise of protest.

"so cute i could eat you up."

"nuh uh."

you pull the zipper of your jacket all the way up so it's covering the lower half of your face.

"yeah huh."

peter leaves big, lingering kisses on your forehead, each one punctuated with a mwah. when you realize he's not going to let up, you finally concede. you uncover your face and capture his lips with yours, the only way to make him stop. your nose nudges his, head tilting to look at him.

"are you done?"

"not even close."

peter kisses you again. you kiss him back, smiling into it. he moves your jacket out of the way and continues his kiss attack, this time on your neck. you let him have his fun, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin. you squeal when he finds one particular spot and nips at it.

"pete! what're you doing?"

"i told you, eating you up."

he playfully bites at your neck between a series of kisses, arms locked around your waist, drawing the most adorable sounds out of you that he can't get enough of. you thread your fingers through his hair.

"don't forget we're in public, mister."

your tone doesn't match your words, unconvincing, and you're resting your head on the lamp pole so peter has more access. he smirks.

"i know, they're just love bites."

he starts to suck at your neck. the pressure is light, but enough to leave a hickey. you play with his fluffy hair, letting out a noise between a sigh and a moan. you feel the vibrations from peter laughing. you feel something poking at your thigh, too.

"and you're telling me we're in public? whew, i think we'd better get you home."

"you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

peter answers by holding you in place and kissing down your neck, making you breathless from laughter.

tags (join my new taglist!)

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[pucksandpower]

Shameless

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: you + Lestappen + a sex tape leak + one very unamused head of communications … need I say more?

Based on this request

The Red Bull Racing communications office smells like stale coffee and impending doom. Portia, the team’s head of communications, sits stiffly in the center of the storm, knuckles white around her phone. She stares at the video playing on her laptop, horrified but unable to look away.

The footage is intimate, explicit — grainy but undeniably clear. Three people, tangled up in sheets, moaning names, gasping into each other’s mouths. Max Verstappen. You. And, unmistakably, Charles Leclerc.

Her inbox is a dumpster fire of urgent PR memos, emails with subject lines in all caps, and press releases that have already been revised half a dozen times. She hasn’t even responded to half of them yet. No point.

This is beyond damage control.

The door swings open violently, smacking into the wall. Max strolls in first, looking every bit as casual as if he just finished a training session. You follow behind him, your hair in a messy bun, holding a half-eaten croissant. Charles is the last to enter, chewing gum like this is the most ordinary thing in the world.

Portia blinks at the three of you. “… What the hell?”

Max plops into the chair across from her, sprawling out like he’s just arrived at a friend’s house. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Portia repeats, incredulous. “You-” She gestures frantically toward her screen. “The video. The world just saw everything, Max! You, her, him-” She throws a desperate look at Charles, who only shrugs.

“Yeah. We saw,” Charles says casually, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Max. “Kind of funny, no?”

Portia makes a strangled noise in her throat. “No! It is not funny, Charles. None of this is funny!” She can already feel the migraine creeping in, sharp and mean behind her left eye.

Max leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Listen, it’s not like we were hiding it. We’ve been-”

“Friends,” you interject, your voice calm as ever. “Very close friends.”

Charles grins. “Really close.”

Max winks. “Super close.”

Portia pinches the bridge of her nose. “Stop saying that.”

“You’re the one freaking out,” Max says, as if that makes any of this better. “It’s not a big deal.”

Portia throws up her hands. “Max, it’s not just a sex tape. It’s a scandal. Sponsors, shareholders, media outlets — everyone is calling. Red Bull is losing its mind, Ferrari is fuming, and the internet-” She gestures vaguely toward the air, as if the internet is some wild animal loose in the building. “-is losing its collective shit.”

Charles leans back, folding his arms behind his head. “The internet always loses its shit.”

“True,” Max agrees, glancing at you. “Remember when they thought we broke up because I didn’t post anything for two weeks?”

You hum thoughtfully, finishing the last bite of your croissant. “They were so mad.”

Portia stares at the three of you like she’s trapped in some bizarre fever dream. “Are none of you remotely concerned about this?”

Max shrugs. “Not really.”

“It’s out now,” you say, wiping your hands on a napkin. “What’s the point of stressing?”

Charles nods like you just delivered the most profound truth of the century. “Exactly. It’s not like we can put it back in the box.”

“Oh my god,” Portia mutters, pressing her palms to her temples. “You’re all insane.”

Max flashes her a charming smile — the kind that usually gets him out of trouble. “Come on, Portia. You handle worse than this all the time.”

“Not this, I don’t!” She groans. “I mean, sure, we’ve dealt with crashes, team infighting, broken engines, drunk interviews-” She shoots a pointed look at Max, who grins unapologetically. “But this? This is next level.”

Charles checks his phone, seemingly unbothered by her panic. “The fans seem to love it, though. Look-” He flips the screen toward Portia. It’s a Twitter thread full of memes and heart-eye emojis, captioned with things like Lestappen and Y/N living their best lives and Honestly, goals.

Portia glares at the phone like it just insulted her family. “This is not helping.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “Actually, it kind of is.” He points at the screen. “If the fans are cool with it, the sponsors will calm down eventually.”

“Sponsors are not fans.” Portia slams her laptop shut, as if doing so will somehow make the problem disappear. “Sponsors are very rich, very conservative people who do not want their logos anywhere near a video of you having a threesome!”

Charles clicks his tongue thoughtfully. “Technically, it’s not just a threesome.”

Portia shoots him a death glare. “I swear to God, Charles-”

You stifle a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. Max notices, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he nudges you with his elbow. “See? Even Y/N thinks it’s funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” you admit, which only makes Charles beam with satisfaction.

Portia looks like she’s on the verge of a breakdown. “This is not funny. None of this is funny.”

“I think you need to relax,” Max says, as if that’s the simplest solution in the world. “It’s not like we committed a crime.”

“It might as well be,” Portia snaps. “Do you know what Ferrari is going to do with this? They’re probably drafting some moral code violation complaint as we speak.”

Charles waves a hand dismissively. “They can’t fire me. I bring too much to the table.”

Portia gives him a flat look. “Charles, you are the table.”

“Exactly.”

Max turns to you, his hand casually resting on the back of your chair. “Do you think we should put out a statement?”

You consider it for a moment, then shake your head. “Nah. Statements are boring.”

“Agreed,” Charles says, pulling his phone back out to scroll through more tweets. “No one likes statements.”

Portia exhales slowly, as if trying to summon every ounce of patience she has left. “Okay, so let me get this straight. Your solution to this PR nightmare is ... to do absolutely nothing?”

“Exactly,” Max says with a satisfied nod. “We just let it blow over.”

“Like Austria,” you add.

Portia stares at you, aghast. “Austria? You cannot compare this to a racing incident in Austria!”

Max looks thoughtful. “I don’t know. I think it’s kind of similar. People get mad for a while, then they forget.”

Charles grins mischievously. “By next week, someone else will do something stupid, and no one will care about this.”

Portia groans, dragging her hands down her face. “You are all ... impossible.”

Max reaches across the table to pat her shoulder. “You’ll see. Everything will be fine.”

“Max,” Portia says, her voice low and dangerous. “If this mess costs us a single sponsor — just one — I swear I will make your life a living hell.”

Max’s grin widens. “You already do.”

You burst out laughing at that, and even Portia can’t suppress a reluctant smile, though it’s clear she’s fighting it with every fiber of her being.

“This isn’t over,” she warns, but there’s no real bite in her voice.

“It never is,” Charles says breezily. “But that’s half the fun, no?”

You lean into Max’s side, content and completely unbothered, and he drapes an arm around your shoulders. Charles glances over at the two of you, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “See? We’re all good. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Portia shoots him a murderous glare. “Do not say that.”

Max laughs, the sound low and easy, and for a moment, it feels like the world outside the room doesn’t exist — no scandals, no cameras, no angry emails. Just the three of you, stuck in the strangest mess, but somehow, perfectly fine with it.

And, really, isn’t that all that matters?

***

A few weeks later, Portia is sitting at her desk, sipping her second coffee of the morning, when her inbox pings with a new email. She glances at the subject line, hoping it’s something routine — maybe a press update, or an invitation to a sponsor event.

Instead, her heart drops.

URGENT: New Video — Verstappen, Leclerc, and Y/L/N on Beach Vacation

She groans audibly, slamming her head down on the desk with a dramatic thud. They didn’t listen to her at all.

Opening the email, her stomach churns as she scrolls down to the attached link. The video loads instantly — there’s Max, Charles, and you, sun-kissed and carefree, lounging on beach chairs somewhere tropical. The sound of waves crashing in the background is almost soothing.

Almost.

And then, without warning, it escalates — hands everywhere, tangled limbs, kisses that start off playful but quickly turn into something else entirely. A bottle of rosé tips over in the sand as Max pulls you onto his lap, and Charles leans over, dragging his mouth along your shoulder with a grin.

Portia shakes her head in disbelief, muttering under her breath, “I’m going to kill them.”

Another ping. This time, a text from Max.

Saw the email. You’re gonna love the next one.

She screams into her coffee mug.

[lalo0]

INSIDE AESPA EP. 7┃ The Calm That Isn’t

Male reader x Karina

Word count: 6.7k

Tags: squirting, dom/sub, orgasm denial, breath play, dirty talk, teasing PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6

The morning was quiet.

Not the soft kind. The kind that makes your thoughts louder.

Karina wasn’t in bed when I woke up. No note. No sound. Just the dent in the mattress beside me, the scent of her still clinging to the pillow.

I sat up slowly. My body ached in places I hadn’t realized I’d used. My jaw felt tight from clenching. My wrists still held the memory of her grip. The kind of soreness you earn, not regret.

I told myself I was fine.

Then sat on the edge of the bed for five minutes pretending I believed it.

The house felt different today.

Not changed—just... rearranged.

Like someone had come in while we were sleeping and moved everything an inch to the left.

Winter was in the living room, legs folded under her, scrolling through something on her phone. She didn’t look up when I passed.

Ningning was in the kitchen with a spoon halfway to her mouth and a box of cereal cradled in one arm like a newborn. She glanced at me once—just enough to register I existed—then went back to her bowl.

“Morning,” she said around a mouthful.

“Hey.”

She swallowed. “Karina let you sleep in?”

I raised an eyebrow.

She smirked. “No reason. Just surprised you’re walking straight.”

I didn’t answer.

I found Karina in a small room with only a couch and a window. Not on her phone. Not reading. Just sitting—one leg crossed over the other, staring out the window like she was calculating something she wasn’t going to say out loud.

She didn’t look over when I entered.

“Morning,” I said.

A beat. Then: “Hey.”

No tension. No edge. Just... calm.

Like something had shifted between us, and for once, neither of us was trying to wrestle it back.

I sat beside her. Not close. Just within reach if either of us decided to bridge the gap.

She leaned her head back against the wall. Closed her eyes for a second.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Sure.”

Another pause. No eye contact. Just the window and her own thoughts.

“How do you stop acting like you're fine all the time?”

I didn’t say anything.

She opened her eyes again, slow. Met mine, but only for a second.

“I mean—like—I’ve been holding it together so long, I don’t know how to not.”

I let it hang there.

She glanced away. “Forget it.”

“I won’t.”

That got the smallest breath of a laugh. Just air through her nose.

Then, quieter: “I’m tired, Mylo.”

The words sat between us for a second. No drama. No weight behind them. Just truth.

I nodded slowly. “I know.”

She looked at me again. Really looked. Like she was trying to figure out how much I meant that. If I said it because I understood, or because I wanted her to think I did.

“I don’t want to be in charge all the time,” she said quietly. “Not just here. With everything. My parents. My label. The girls. You.”

That last word came slower.

I didn’t flinch. “I never asked you to be in charge of me.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t feel like I should.”

We sat in that for a minute.

The room didn’t feel heavy.

It felt clean. Like something unspoken had been scraped out of the air.

Karina sighed. Shifted. Her shoulder brushed mine.

“I don’t even know what this is,” she said. “But when I told you not to make me chase you…”

I looked over.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t flinch. Just said, clear and quiet:

���I meant it. Don’t disappear.”

It was dark when I left. I didn’t run. I walked. Slow. Careful. Not looking back. The streetlights buzzed like they were about to die. Every time a car passed, I stopped breathing. It didn’t matter if the driver saw me. Didn’t matter if they didn’t. I didn’t have a bag. Just a hoodie and twenty-three dollars in ones. No plan. No destination. Just away. Away from the envelope. From the way he looked at me like he already owned the next few weeks of my life. From my mother’s silence when I told her I didn’t like him. From her not asking why. And from what I overheard the night before.

His voice on the phone, low and too casual: “Yeah, he’s quiet. Doesn’t fight. Should be easy.” I didn’t need to know who he was talking to. I knew what he meant. The couch where he used to sit still had the imprint of his keys in the cushion. I noticed that as I passed. I didn’t cry. Not because I was brave—just because I already knew what it would feel like.

I stared ahead for a long moment.

Then I said it.

“I won’t.”

She held my eyes for another second. Then nodded—barely—and turned. The door shut softly behind her. No dramatic exit, just quiet certainty.

It wasn’t the kind of silence you fight. It was the kind that invites you to sit in it, let it wrap around your ribs, and wait to see if you flinch.

Eventually, I moved. Pushed off the wall. Wandered the loop of the house once—bedroom to hallway to kitchen and back—just to keep from being still too long.

The others came back home before sundown.

It wasn’t loud. Just footsteps, murmurs, the thud of a bag dropped too hard. The kind of noise that means the outside world is back.

Ningning walked in first. Her phone lit her face in a pale wash, and her lips moved like she was mouthing lyrics only she could hear. She looked tired in a way she wouldn’t say out loud.

Winter trailed her. Hoodie zipped to the throat. One earbud still in, the other dangling like she forgot it. Her eyes passed over me and kept going.

Neither said anything.

They didn’t have to.

The air between them was stretched thin—tight with something I didn’t understand yet. Like a conversation had started in the car and ended too early.

I waited a beat. Then moved to the kitchen to give them space.

Ningning’s voice broke the quiet later, from the living room.

“You think she’s okay?”

She didn’t say who.

Winter didn’t answer right away.

“She’s fine,” she said eventually. “Just overthinks everything.”

Ningning didn’t push.

I didn’t ask.

Karina came out last.

She changed. Clean hoodie, leggings, towel-dried hair pulled up like she didn’t care how it dried. Her face was bare—no makeup.

She moved like someone who was used to motion. Someone who didn’t stop unless she meant to.

Her eyes met mine just once. That was all.

I nodded.

She didn’t.

But she didn’t look away either.

Giselle didn’t come out at all.

Her door stayed shut. No music. No voice. No presence.

Like she’d vanished into her corner of the house, and everyone had quietly agreed not to disturb the boundary she’d drawn.

I almost knocked once. Just to break that boundary.

But I didn’t.

Dinner happened in fragments.

Ningning reheated leftovers and ate them standing up. Winter poured a glass of juice and forgot about it. Karina opened the fridge, looked for something for a full thirty seconds, then left without taking anything.

I stood in the hallway and watched it all like I wasn’t really part of it.

Maybe I wasn’t.

Maybe they weren’t either.

They were all in the same house, breathing the same air, carrying different weights they wouldn’t name.

Later, I passed by the bathroom and heard Winter’s voice through the door.

Not talking. Singing.

Soft. Something slow. Not Korean. Not a song I knew.

It only lasted a minute. Then the water shut off.

And the silence returned.

I ended up in the kitchen again.

Leaning against the counter. Cup of water untouched beside me. Hands still. Mind not.

Karina appeared again without warning. No footsteps. Just there.

She didn’t speak.

Neither did I.

She stood across from me, fingers curled loosely around the hem of her hoodie. Her eyes scanned the room—then settled on me like I was something she’d already decided to reach for.

“Come with me,” she said.

Her voice wasn’t demanding. It wasn’t soft either.

It was certain.

I followed her.

She didn’t lead me far—just to the back door. Slipped her shoes on without speaking, unlocked the latch with a twist, and stepped outside.

I paused at the doorframe, then pushed it open and joined her.

The air was cooler out here. Still, like the house was holding its breath behind us.

Karina walked a few paces ahead, then slowed by the fence. She didn’t sit. Just stood there, facing away, her shoulders rising with a breath she didn’t let out all at once.

She spoke without turning around.

“That thing I said earlier—about not wanting to carry everything…”

I said nothing.

She looked over her shoulder. “This is part of that.”

Then she turned to face me fully, hoodie sleeves bunched at her wrists.

“I’ve been watching the others,” she said. “Winter, Ningning… Giselle. They’re not saying it, but something’s off.”

I nodded slowly. “I heard them earlier.”

“Yeah.” Her jaw worked a little. “They were talking about Giselle.”

She finally sat down on the edge of the low bench near the back fence. I followed, sitting beside her with a few inches of space between us.

“She’s been pulling away,” Karina said. “Not just from you. From all of us.”

I didn’t respond.

“She seemed fine this morning. A little quiet, but that’s normal after a long day.” Karina ran a hand through her hair. “Then something happened while they were out. Winter wouldn’t talk about it, and Ningning… she said too much already.”

“What did Giselle do?”

Karina shook her head. “Nothing dramatic. No yelling. Just—she shut down. Didn’t say anything the whole way home. Got out of the car, went straight to her room.”

“Is that normal for her?”

“Kind of,” Karina said. “But usually, she doesn’t vanish unless she’s trying to avoid herself.”

She looked down at her hands. Twisted her fingers once. “I think she felt something today. And it scared her.”

A breeze moved across the yard, soft and dry. It carried the faintest sound from the street—a car door, maybe. Then silence again.

“She asked them something,” Karina said. “Ningning just said it was about being wanted.”

I didn’t move.

“She asked if she was being kept around for the fantasy of her.”

That sat in the air for a while.

Karina didn’t look at me when she said it.

“She didn’t mean aespa,” I said.

“No.”

That was all either of us needed to say.

Karina leaned back a little. Her hands were tucked into her sleeves again.

“She's the kind of person who’s always been wanted for the wrong reasons. Looks. Fame. Money.”

“And then she let someone get too close to the real thing,” I said.

Karina looked at me now.

“And when it got quiet,” I added, “she panicked.”

“She’s not the only one,” Karina said.

I raised an eyebrow.

Karina gave a thin smile. “You think I’m like this for fun?”

That got half a breath of a laugh out of me.

She turned her face toward the fence again. “The whole point of being strong all the time is pretending you don’t notice how tired you are.”

She didn’t say it for pity.

Just a fact.

“And now?” I asked.

She was quiet for a beat.

Then: “Now I notice.”

We sat like that for a while. Not touching. Not rushing.

Karina’s voice came softer the next time.

“I’m glad you didn’t disappear.”

“Yet.”

She smirked. “Don’t make me punch you.”

Then, with a glance that cut sharper than it should’ve:

“You’ve been holding it together a little too well,” she said “Sometimes that’s the loudest red flag there is."

I glanced at her. “You think everything’s a red flag.”

“Only when it is.”

I gave a small smile, just enough to pass for unbothered. “Maybe I’m just good at handling shit.”

Karina rolled her eyes. “That’s what people say right before they crash.”

I looked away. “I’m not crashing.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

A pause.

Then, quieter: “Just said you’re holding a lot.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “Who isn’t?”

“That’s not the point.”

“It kind of is.”

She sighed, but didn’t push harder. Just leaned back against the bench and stared at the fence like it might answer something.

“I don’t need the whole story,” she said after a while. “I just… want to know you’re not white-knuckling everything alone.”

“I’m fine.”

Karina didn’t argue with me. She didn’t nod either. She just sat there. Watching me with the kind of quiet that didn’t feel like pressure—it felt like understanding trying to be patient.

I looked down at my hands. They were steady. Still.

“I’m used to this,” I said. “Being the one who stays calm.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I figured.”

“Good at not making it anyone else’s problem.”

She didn’t answer right away. Then: “Sometimes that just means you stopped expecting anyone to care.”

That stung more than I wanted it to.

But I shrugged, like it hadn’t.

“Look,” I said. “I get it. You’re worried. You want to check in. And I appreciate it.”

“That’s not what this is.”

I looked over.

Karina met my eyes, firm but quiet. “I’m not checking in. I’m here. With you. That’s it.”

I didn’t respond.

But I didn’t look away either.

We sat in silence for a while.

Karina pulled her legs up onto the bench, hugging her knees. Her face looked softer in the dark. Less controlled. Less carved.

“I’m not trying to read you,” she said eventually.

“You are.”

She smiled. “Bad habit.”

I leaned back, elbows on the top of the bench. “You’re not wrong.”

“But you’re not gonna tell me anything.”

I looked at the sky. “Not tonight.”

“That’s fair.”

She let her head rest against the back of the bench, close enough that our shoulders brushed again.

“I used to think staying quiet was strength,” she said. “That being composed meant I was handling it.”

“And now?”

“I think sometimes it just means you’re scared of falling apart in front of the wrong person.”

I looked over. “You think I’m the wrong person?”

“No,” she said. “I think you don’t know if I’m the right one.”

That shut me up for a second.

Karina shifted, stretched her legs back out, one foot brushing mine as she moved.

She wasn’t looking at me anymore. Just out across the yard, the way people do when they’ve said too much and don’t want to see the reaction.

I didn’t speak.

Didn’t touch her.

But I stayed.

Not as an answer.

Just as proof I hadn’t disappeared.

The silence between us had changed.

It wasn’t tense. It wasn’t thick with something unsaid.

It was waiting.

Karina’s foot still rested lightly against mine. Her head tilted back, eyes on the stretch of sky above the fence line. I didn’t need to look at her to know she was still thinking—still holding the weight of the things she hadn’t said.

And then she shifted.

Turned.

Her voice low, but clear.

“You coming back with me?”

I looked over at her.

She wasn’t smirking.

She wasn’t teasing.

She just… meant it.

No game. No pose.

Just want.

I didn’t answer. Not with words. I stood up first, waited for her to do the same.

She did.

She didn’t lead this time. Just walked beside me. Our steps soft across the grass. Through the back door, past the low light of the hallway, down the quiet corridor toward her room.

No one saw us.

Or if they did, no one said anything.

She opened the door and stepped inside. Left it half open behind her.

I closed it.

The room was still. Dim.

She turned toward me and pulled her hoodie off in one slow motion. Her t-shirt clung underneath—thin, worn-in, more sleepwear than outfit. She tossed the hoodie onto a chair, then stepped forward, close enough that I could feel the heat off her skin.

But she didn’t touch me.

Not yet.

She just looked.

“I meant it,” she said.

I didn’t ask what.

But she told me anyway.

“When I said I didn’t want to be in control of everything.”

My chest tightened—but only a little.

Still manageable.

Still quiet.

“Okay,” I said.

Then, softer: “What do you want instead?”

She stepped in, fingers finding the hem of my shirt.

“I want you.”

It wasn’t desperate.

It wasn’t loud.

It was steady. Certain.

Like she’d waited long enough to say it clearly.

I let her lift my shirt. Tossed it aside. She kissed me once—quick, focused—then again, slower this time. And this time, it deepened fast. Her hands were on my back, gripping hard like she didn’t want to fall.

But there was no rush.

She didn’t push.

She just pressed closer.

And when she pulled back, breath slightly uneven, she looked at me like she was daring herself to go quiet again—but didn’t.

“Don’t make me tell you what to do,” she said, voice almost a whisper.

I stepped forward.

“Get on the bed,” I murmured.

She exhaled.

Relieved.

Then she moved—no words, no hesitation. Just turned, stepped backward, and climbed onto the mattress. She didn’t pose. Didn’t sprawl. Just sat on her knees in the center, watching me like she needed to see how far I was going to take it.

Her breath hitched once when I stopped at the edge of the bed.

“Lie back.”

She did.

Flat. Head tilted slightly, hair spilling over the pillow.

I climbed over her, slow and deliberate, one knee between hers, the other caging her leg. My hands pressed down on either side of her ribs, just enough weight to let her feel I was everywhere now.

“You’re not in control,” I said quietly.

Karina nodded.

“Say it.”

“I’m not in control.”

My hand came up, fingers sliding gently along her jaw. Then I let my thumb rest just under her chin, tilting her face toward mine.

“And you don’t want to be,” I added.

“I don’t,” she whispered.

Her eyes searched mine. Not afraid. Just wide, focused. Like she wanted to feel what it was like to be looked at without armor.

“You’re going to take what I give you,” I said. “And nothing else.”

“Yes.”

“No begging.”

A slow breath. “Okay.”

“No hiding.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

I kissed her—deep this time, all breath and heat and no space left between. Her legs wrapped around me instantly, hips shifting like her body already knew where it was going. But I didn’t move faster.

I slowed it.

My hand slid under her shirt, skimming her stomach, then up—slow enough to make her arch, barely enough to be cruel.

When I finally pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside, she was already panting.

But she didn’t reach for me.

She waited.

Exactly how I wanted her.

I kissed her neck next. Bit lightly. Then dragged my mouth to her collarbone, pressing a hand flat to her chest just to feel her pulse jump under it.

Then I moved that hand higher.

To her throat.

Not choking. Not even tight.

Just resting there.

My thumb brushed the side of her neck, steady pressure.

Her mouth opened.

But she didn’t speak.

She didn’t have to.

Her eyes said it all—yes, please, don’t stop.

I applied a little more pressure—not enough to cut breath, just enough to remind her she’d given it up.

Then I kissed her again, holding her there, body under mine, voice caught somewhere in her chest.

She moaned into my mouth.

It was quiet, choked, honest.

When I pulled back, I kept my hand at her throat.

“Good girl,” I said.

Her whole body reacted.

Her nails dug into the sheets. Her knees squeezed around my hips.

I kissed her temple, then her jaw, then whispered against her ear:

“You’re going to come for me like this.”

She nodded—desperate, silent.

But I wasn’t done.

I shifted lower. Trailed kisses down her chest. Took one nipple into my mouth and sucked, slow and deep, while my other hand slid between her legs.

She gasped.

My fingers found her soaked.

I groaned softly, more for her than for me.

“You were waiting for this.”

She whimpered.

“Say it.”

“Yes—fuck—I was—”

I slid two fingers in, slow and deep.

Her back arched.

I tightened my grip around her throat—still gentle, still measured.

“Stay right there,” I said. “Don’t move.”

Her hips trembled.

But she stayed.

Exactly where I wanted her.

Every breath she took came in pieces—tight, shuddering. Her hips kept rising, chasing my hand like she couldn’t stop herself. I let my fingers stay inside her, slow, deep, curling just right to make her toes flex against the sheets.

My other hand rested at her throat again—gentle pressure, firm enough to remind her.

Her eyes were wide, lips parted, chest rising fast. Her breasts moved with every breath, soft and flushed and begging to be touched again.

I leaned down, brushed my mouth just over hers without kissing her.

“You want to lose it,” I murmured. “Don’t you?”

She gave a small nod.

“That’s not good enough.”

“I—yes,” she gasped. “Yes, I want—fuck—I want to—please—”

My fingers didn’t stop. They moved slower now. Crueler. Keeping her trapped in that ache that sits right before everything breaks.

She squirmed beneath me. Back arching. Nails clawing at the sheets like she needed something to hold on to.

“I’m right there—Mylo—please—”

“No,” I said.

Her moan cracked in the middle. Desperate. Wordless.

“I didn’t say you could.”

She tried to nod, to obey, but her thighs were trembling and her chest was flushed all the way up to her collarbones.

I leaned in again and kissed just beneath her jaw—slow and open-mouthed—then dragged my tongue along her throat where my hand rested.

“You’re doing so fucking well,” I whispered.

She whimpered like praise itself made her wetter.

“But you don’t get to finish until I say you can.”

I bit her collarbone—not hard, just enough to leave a mark.

“Understood?”

“Yes,” she choked. “I swear—I’ll wait—just—”

I cut her off with a kiss, then pulled my fingers from her slowly. She gasped—almost sobbed—at the loss, trying to grind against nothing.

But I wasn’t done.

I brought my hand to her mouth.

“Taste what I got from you.”

She wrapped her lips around my fingers without hesitation, moaning low as her tongue circled them.

“You're mine,” I said. “You get to come when I say you can. Not a second sooner.”

She nodded fast, eyes glassy with need, cheeks flushed and wet where her hair clung to them.

I pushed my hips forward, dragging the length of my cock against her folds—just enough friction, just enough slick—and then pulled back.

She cried out.

“You ready for me?”

“Please,” she breathed.

I pressed forward again—slow, grinding the head of my cock along her clit, teasing her with it, but not giving her more.

She writhed under me.

“Fuck—you’re cruel—”

“No,” I said. “Just patient.”

Then I grabbed her wrists, pinned them above her head, and drove into her with one deep, solid thrust.

Her whole body arched.

A strangled sound came from her throat—half cry, half sob.

“Jesus—”

I didn’t give her a chance to recover. I pulled out, slow, then slammed back in. Again. Again. A pace she couldn’t match, only feel.

Her tits bounced with every thrust, full and soft and flushed. Her legs locked around me.

“You were made for this,” I muttered against her ear. “Weren’t you?”

“Yes—yes, I was—”

Her voice cracked again.

I tightened my grip on her wrists. Pinned her harder.

“Let go,” I said.

“I—”

“I’ve got you. Let go.”

And that’s when she broke.

She came hard.

Not with grace. Not with control. She shattered like she’d been holding it in for days—hips jerking up, breath caught, thighs trembling around my waist.

And I didn’t stop.

I kept thrusting, deep and slow, letting her ride the edge of it while she gasped through the aftershocks. Her eyes fluttered closed, mouth slack, hands twitching where I still held her wrists.

“Too much,” she whispered.

I didn’t slow down.

I leaned in instead. Let my mouth brush her ear.

“That’s the point.”

She moaned—half pain, half bliss—and I kissed her temple, then her neck, while my hips kept the same pace, stretching her open again while her body pulsed around me.

She clawed at the sheets with one hand when I let go, then pulled me closer with the other like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to get away or be ruined again.

“Fuck—fuck—Mylo—”

Her voice cracked beautifully.

“I can’t—”

“You already did.”

She arched again. Full-body. Her breasts bounced with the movement, soft and flushed and still sensitive. I caught one in my hand, squeezed just right, then bent down to take it into my mouth.

She cried out.

Bit down on her own knuckle.

“Fuck—please—just slow down—”

“No.”

I kissed lower. Across her ribs. Down her stomach. Then pulled out with a wet sound that made her whimper from the emptiness.

And just when she started to breathe again, I flipped her.

Fast.

She let out a startled sound as her chest hit the bed, hands braced near the pillow, hair falling across her face. I pushed her knees apart, then leaned over her back, chest flush to her spine.

“I’m not done.”

“Fuck,” she whispered.

My cock dragged against her ass—wet, slick with her, still pulsing. I didn’t thrust in. Not yet. I just ground forward—slow and heavy— humping the curve of her body like I was building tension on purpose.

She buckled back.

I pushed her down.

“Stay.”

She went still.

My hips rolled against her again, lazy, deliberate. The fabric of the sheets rasped against her breasts. My cock pressed between her cheeks without entering, grinding slow over her soaked pussy until she was writhing again.

“You’re not in control,” I growled into her ear.

“I know.”

“You’re not calling the shots.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Good.”

I kept humping her like that. Slow. Cruel. Denying both of us what we needed.

“You want to beg again?”

“No,” she whispered. “I want to be used.”

I watched her hips twitch, legs still spread wide on the bed. Her breath came in sharp gasps, thighs glistening and trembling, her ass raised slightly like her body was trying to stay open even when I denied it.

Then I sat back and said, voice low, calm, brutal:

“Show me how badly you want it.”

She looked over her shoulder, hair in her eyes, completely wrecked.

“What—?”

“You want to come?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Then work for it.”

I leaned back on my heels, grabbed her hips, and pulled her on her back—not into me, just onto my thigh. She moaned, a high breathless sound, then realized what I was doing.

Her face flushed deep.

She was still trembling when I spoke again.

“Ride my leg.”

She hesitated.

And that pause—that pause—told me everything.

She was embarrassed.

Turned on enough to be shaking, but embarrassed.

And I loved that.

“I want to watch you hump like a needy little slut,” I said. “Since that’s what you are right now.”

She let out a broken sound.

Then slowly—shakily—began to move.

Her thighs flexed as she started grinding herself against me. Not graceful. Not practiced. Just raw. Desperate. The drag of her soaked pussy against my thigh slick and hot.

“That’s it,” I murmured. “Keep going.”

She moaned, biting her bottom lip, hands clutching at my knee for leverage. Her hips rolled hard, rubbing herself fast along my thigh. Each motion left her gasping.

“Faster.”

She obeyed.

Her tits bounced wildly, sweat glistening between them, her face burning with shame and pleasure as she humped me.

“Look at you,” I said, brushing her hair back roughly. “Humping like you’ll die if you don’t come.”

“I—f-fuck—please—”

“Please what?”

“I—ahhh—I want to—please—I’m gonna—”

“No you’re not.”

She whined—loud, desperate—and kept grinding harder.

“Even if I beg?” she panted.

“Especially if you beg.”

I grabbed her jaw, pulled her face up to mine.

“You’ll come when I make you come. Not a second before.”

She nodded, legs trembling beneath her.

“I want to see you ruin yourself trying.”

That pushed her over the edge—not into orgasm, but into need. Her whole body started shaking. She moaned uncontrollably, thighs clenching around mine, mouth open in a silent cry as her clit dragged across my thigh in desperate, slick circles.

She was a mess. Humiliated. Completely under my control.

And loving it.

Her hands reached out like she needed something to cling to.

I gave her nothing.

Just my leg.

Just my voice.

“Keep humping,” I said. “And don’t you fucking come.”

She kept going.

Not because she wanted to impress me.

Not because she had something to prove.

Because she was past the point of reason—driven by the need to come, to be allowed, to be owned in the only way that would break her clean.

Her body shook against mine, thighs slick and trembling, hips grinding frantically against my leg. Her eyes were glassy, lips swollen, flushed skin glowing with sweat and need. She looked wrecked—and still she moved.

“I can’t,” she gasped. “Mylo—fuck—please, I can’t—”

“You can,” I said, gripping her ass to keep her pressed against me. “You will.”

“I’m—I’m gonna—”

“No, you’re not.”

She sobbed—high, trembling, desperate. It wasn’t just begging anymore. It was pleading from someplace deep. Her face crumpled as her hips twitched harder.

“I’m trying,” she cried.

“I know.”

“I want to be good for you—fuck—I’ll do anything—”

“You already are,” I whispered. “But you don’t come until I say so.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, breath breaking apart into short, choking gasps.

Her rhythm faltered.

She was right there. Teetering.

I let her grind again—once, twice, hard enough to make her whole body convulse—then I grabbed her hips and lifted her off me.

She screamed.

Wordless. Raw.

Her head dropped to my shoulder. Her whole body shook.

“Why—why—”

I kissed her jaw, her temple.

“Because I’m not done with you yet.”

She was crying now—quiet tears, barely a sound—but her body didn’t pull away. It curled in tighter. Hands gripping my arms like she needed them to stay grounded.

“I can’t take much more,” she whispered.

I held her still.

“Yeah,” I murmured. “You can.”

I laid her back gently onto the bed, and climbed over her again. Her legs parted instantly, involuntarily.

“I’m gonna fuck you now.”

She nodded—shaky, wrecked.

“I want it.”

“I know.”

I lined myself up, rubbed the head of my cock along her slit, then looked her in the eye.

“You're gonna be my good girl?”

She nodded quickly, too fast, eyes wide.

“Yes. Yes, I swear—please—”

“Then take it.”

I thrust in—slow but deep. Every inch.

She screamed again, but this time it wasn’t pain or desperation.

It was relief.

Pure, overwhelming, body-shattering relief.

Her walls clamped around me like she’d been made to hold me there. Her arms wrapped around my back. Her breath caught and broke again and again as I started to move—slow and brutal.

“You’re mine,” I whispered. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped.

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours—fuck—I’m yours, Mylo, I’m yours—”

And then I gave her what she needed.

I drove into her like I owned her.

Because in that moment—I did.

Her legs wrapped around me, ankles hooked behind my back, locking me in. Her hands tangled in the sheets like she didn’t trust herself not to fall straight through the mattress. She met every thrust like her body was done pretending to have boundaries—just open, raw, and wanting.

“Harder,” she begged, voice cracked.

I gave it to her.

The bed creaked under us. Her tits bounced with every movement, slick and swollen, flushed all the way to the tops of her shoulders. She was moaning without rhythm now, lost in it—gripping me, pulling me, dragging me in deeper every time.

“You gonna come?” I asked.

She nodded frantically. “Please—please—I’m so close—”

“Then come.”

She did—loud, full-body, completely broken. Her thighs clenched around my hips, her mouth open in a cry that barely sounded like her anymore. Her eyes squeezed shut as her whole body seized, shaking with every pulse.

But I didn’t stop.

Not right away.

I slowed down—let her feel it all the way through, hips still moving, slow and deep, just enough to overstimulate her, just enough to make her whimper.

“Can’t—fuck—I can’t—”

“Yes you can.”

She sobbed. “I—”

I grabbed her jaw, leaned in, kissed her hard.

“You’re done when I say you are,” I said against her lips. “Not when you think you are.”

She moaned into my mouth, body twitching under mine, completely surrendered.

I fucked her through it—until she went still beneath me, body limp, trembling, breath ragged.

Then I pulled out.

She whimpered at the loss, at the emptiness.

But I was already moving.

I knelt beside her, gripped her hair gently, then guided her down.

She didn’t need direction.

She took me in her mouth like she was starving for it—lips wet, mouth open, eyes still teary and glassy as she sucked me deep. Her tongue curled around the head, her cheeks hollowing as she worked me over with messy, eager devotion.

“Just like that,” I groaned. “Don’t stop.”

Her moan vibrated against my cock.

I gripped her hair tighter, started thrusting into her mouth—slow at first, then faster, deeper. She took it all, drool spilling down her chin, eyes rolling up with each thrust, hands gripping my thighs for balance.

“You look so fucking good like this,” I growled. “On your knees for me. Wrecked. Obedient.”

She whimpered around me.

I held her in place.

“Swallow it.”

Then I came.

Deep in her mouth.

Hot and thick and heavy.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Just took it—eyes half-lidded, lips wrapped around me, swallowing every drop.

I held her there until I was done.

Until I could breathe again.

Then I let go.

She pulled back slowly, licking her lips, face flushed, hair a mess, chest still rising fast.

I leaned down.

Brushed a thumb across her mouth.

“You did good.”

She gave the smallest smile.

And then she collapsed back onto the bed.

Quiet. Spent. Glowing.

And this time—I lay down beside her.

No orders. No pressure.

Just calm.

The kind of calm that meant something had changed.

Not finished.

Just shifted.

For both of us.

Karina hadn’t moved much.

She was still on her back, hair splayed out, one arm draped over her stomach like she wasn’t sure what to do with her body yet. Her eyes were half-open. Her chest rose slowly with each breath.

I stayed close.

Not touching.

Just there.

The silence between us had changed again—no longer tense or waiting. Just quiet. Tired. Real.

She turned her head a little toward me.

“I know I keep saying this, but I meant what I said earlier,” she murmured.

I didn’t ask which part.

She kept going.

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

Her voice was softer now. No command. No challenge. Just a truth spoken carefully, like it could crack if pushed the wrong way.

I looked at her.

She was still flushed. Still wrecked. But something in her face had cleared—like letting go hadn’t weakened her, just peeled something away.

“I’ve never been good at saying stuff like this,” she continued. “But... some people can be trusted.”

Her gaze met mine.

“And maybe you’re not used to that. Maybe it’s easier not to believe it. But it doesn’t make it less true.”

I swallowed, jaw tight.

She didn’t say anything else. Just looked at me. Let me sit with it.

The air was drier that day. I remember that. I was sitting on a porch. Not mine. Not anyone’s I knew. Just a porch in a neighborhood I didn’t belong in, watching the light change as evening crept in. My bag was at my feet. My arms were wrapped around my knees. I hadn’t slept in days.

Then the door creaked open. “Hey.” The voice was older. A woman. Warm. “You’ve been out here a while.” I didn’t answer. She didn’t press. Just opened the door wider. “You want to come inside?” I looked up. She didn’t flinch when our eyes met. Didn’t pity me, either. “We’ve got food,” she said. “And a couch.”

I don’t remember walking in. I remember the smell, though—something like cinnamon and laundry. There was a fan running. The TV was on, low volume. Someone else was in the kitchen, talking to a dog like it was a person. I stood near the wall like I didn’t trust any of it. “Name?” “Mylo.” She smiled. “I’m Cara. That’s Bill. You can stay a night if you need to.” “Why?” Her smile didn’t change. “Because it looks like you’ve run out of places to go.”

Back in the room, Karina was still watching me.

I must’ve drifted longer than I thought, because her expression had changed—slightly more alert now, brow just starting to knit.

“You okay?” she asked.

I nodded. A beat too slow.

“Yeah.”

Karina didn’t press.

But she didn’t look away either.

“Some people really can be trusted,” she said again. Quiet. Like she was repeating it for both of us.

And I almost believed her.

Almost.

Karina drifted off with her hand still barely touching mine.

She didn’t say anything before she closed her eyes. Just shifted slightly, murmured something half-formed, and exhaled. One deep, steady breath—and she was gone.

I stayed there for a while, eyes on the ceiling, heart quiet but alert. Her skin was warm beside me. Her scent still clung to the sheets. It should’ve felt comforting.

It didn’t.

Not in a bad way.

Not in a good way either.

Just… muted.

Like it had happened to someone else.

After a few more minutes, I slipped out of bed.

Softly. No rush. Careful not to wake her.

I gathered my clothes. Moved like I’d done it before. Like I’d learned how not to leave a trace when I walked away.

The door clicked shut behind me.

The hallway was still.

Quiet, but not heavy. Just late.

I walked barefoot across the floor, down to the end of the hall, then into the bathroom. The fan was humming softly behind the mirror light. There was a towel hanging over the edge of the sink, still damp.

I turned on the tap. Let cold water run over my hands. Splashed my face. Let it drip.

The reflection stared back.

My eyes looked tired.

Not in the usual way.

Not the kind that sleep could fix.

I toweled off and caught the smallest mark on my collarbone—faint, red, already fading. Karina’s nails. Or maybe her mouth. Something that should’ve felt intimate.

I touched it.

Felt nothing.

No shame. No heat. No tenderness.

Just skin.

I looked at myself longer than I should’ve.

Trying to find the version of me that belonged here.

The one they thought they were getting.

The one who was stable. Useful. Capable of being wanted without breaking.

The mirror didn’t offer anything back.

Eventually, I turned off the light.

But right before I did, I caught my own expression.

I was smiling.

Not wide. Not warm.

Just practiced.

Like it was something I’d taught myself to wear.

I dried my hands. Left the bathroom.

Didn’t check if anyone was awake.

Didn’t check the time.

Just walked slowly back to the guest room and sat on the edge of the bed. My bag was still at the foot of it, half-zipped. My phone on the nightstand. Still no new notifications.

I sat there a while.

Breathing.

Not thinking.

Not feeling.

Just... sitting.

And somewhere in the back of my head, I heard Karina’s voice again.

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

I blinked.

And then I told myself—quietly, carefully:

If I keep this going, they won’t ask.

And I believed it.

Enough to keep breathing.

[wonusite]

Endless Adoration

❝ Mingyu has been irrevocably in love with you since he was in high school. He decides to keep this a secret until he can move on since you’ve only ever seen him as your best friend’s brother. However, his plan goes awry when you ask him to take your virginity and teach you about sex—as a friend, of course. ❞

PAIRING: kim mingyu x female reader

GENRE: best friends brother au, friends with benefits au, fluff, smut

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

WARNINGS: bestie’s brother!mingyu, virgin!reader, secret pining, suppressed feelings, discourse of how to pronounce caramel, mingyu is the textbook definition of down bad, loss of virginity, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, mirror sex, riding, squirting, multiple creampies, cum eating

A/N: this fic is my contribution to the fall season and part of the fall-ing for you collab! hope you all enjoy! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

It’s no secret that Mingyu is an affectionate man.

Acts of service and giving out his affection is his love language, and everyone knows it. Which is why no one really questions his behavior toward you. If he laughs a little too hard at something you said or always comes to your defense even when you’re wrong, it’s not really suspicious because he’s just a kind and gentle guy.

His little sister, however, does not see it that way.

Minseo knows her brother, and while he may be a walking green flag and a gentleman among beasts, he’s not that nice. Vernon argues that it’s only because you two are best friends that Mingyu treats you just a bit better than anyone else. It’s a viable argument, yet the little telltale signs point to Mingyu’s actions being more than common curtesy.

Like now as you’re arguing with Seungkwan during game night about the correct pronunciation of your favorite candy.

“It’s caramel.”

You scoff, eyebrows furrowed defiantly as you glare at Seungkwan. “No. It’s caramel.”

Vernon and Seokmin watch the exchange with amused smiles while Minseo watches her brother. He wears a similar expression, except there’s a subtle emotion in his eyes as he’s looking at you. It’s been there since you slapped down your last two Uno cards in repulsed shock when Seungkwan mispronounced caramel.

Ten minutes later, neither of you are willing to concede to the other and Mingyu still looks like a lovesick puppy.

“In what world is it caramel?” Seungkwan screeches, rising up from his spot on the couch.

“Mingyu.” You call suddenly. “Is it caramel or caramel?”

Two pair of heated eyes look over to him pointedly. The room goes silent as everyone waits for the answer that will possibly get you two to stop arguing. Minseo watches her brother carefully as he puts down his nearly empty beer bottle. The move seems casual, but she knows he does it to distract himself from the fact that you’re practically saying take my side.

“It’s caramel.”

“Ha!” You yell in victory, pointing a smug finger at a sulking Seungkwan. “I told you!”

Your friend’s pout is bitter. “That’s not fair! You only asked Mingyu because you know he’s going to agree with you no matter what!”

It’s true, and the rest of your giggling friends know it. Minseo doesn’t miss her brother’s bashful smile, and it makes her realize that there might actually be something deeper than just a crush. So she waits until all the guests leave to confront her brother about his not-so-subtle behavior.

“Is there something going on with you and Y/N?”

Now, her brother is naturally clumsy and pretty terrible at hiding his feelings, but Minseo didn’t expect him to drop all the board games he was carrying. He scrambles to pick up all the scattered pieces, pointedly looking at the ground and not up at her with a pout like he would’ve usually done.

“I—” He coughs awkwardly as he haphazardly shoves random pieces into the wrong boxes. “What are you talking about?”

It’s almost insulting that he thinks he can hide the truth from her. “I mean that I already know everything. So quit playing, and tell me how long this has been going on.”

Mingyu’s broad shoulders slump in defeat. He should’ve known that Minseo would find out (she had a knack for finding out everything), but he honestly didn’t expect her to find out this soon.

“Fine.” His tone is resigned as he puts the precariously stacked board games on the coffee table. “It’s true that I took Y/N’s virginity, but I swear that I only did it because she asked—”

“You what?”

His sister’s sharp tone makes him pause. Minseo’s mouth is dropped open and her eyes are almost popping out of her head. Belatedly, Mingyu realizes that his little sister is not referring to the favor you had asked him to do weeks ago. An uncomfortable chill goes down his spine.

Fuck.

You were going to kill him.

It’s not Mingyu’s fault.

When you came to him and asked him to teach you how to have sex, he was rendered powerless to your pretty eyes that shined with so much trust. He knows it’s wrong for him to take his little sister’s best friend’s virginity, but ever since you were kids, he’s never been able to tell you no. Years later, nothing has changed.

“Spread them wider, baby.” His voice rasps as his hands go to pry your thighs apart until he’s left with the sight of your glistening cunt.

Mingyu’s cock twitches at the sight of your pretty pussy. Fuck. You’re dripping in your own arousal, and all he’s done is kiss you and mark up a few places on your body. And yet, there’s already a messy web of arousal covering your puffy lips. His groan is deep and almost animalistic when he sees your pretty cunt clenching with need.

Minseo be damned, he was going to absolutely ruin you.

You mewl softly when Mingyu presses his middle and index fingers against your cunt to spread your lips apart. The heat from his fingers feels different from when you touch yourself. It feels so much better, and you have to bite your lip to stop the moans and whimpers from escaping like they want.

Your best friend’s brother has always been unfairly attractive, but he’s never looked hotter to you than he does now, licking his pink lips while looking at your pussy.

Mingyu glances up at you with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve really never done this before?”

The beefy puppy between your legs thinks he might actually come untouched when you pout at him. That exact look is what got him into this situation in the first place. Your adorable pout always brought him to his knees.

“Gyu.” You whine, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment. “You said you wouldn’t tease me.”

He loves when you call him that, and it takes everything in him to hold himself back from shoving his cock inside you and fucking you roughly like he wants. That would have to be for another time.

“I’m not, baby.” He assures you before he presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. “I just need to know how far I should take this.”

The frown you give him is oddly determined. “You said you’d teach me everything.”

Fuck.

Mingyu wonders if you actually know what you’re asking for, but then he has to remind himself that you’re only inexperienced, not stupid. You came to him because you trust him, and he wouldn’t ever betray that trust. If you happened to be uncomfortable with anything, he would stop right away. Though, it seems like you have no intentions of telling him to stop.

The soft moan you let out when Mingyu starts to gently toy with your dripping slit is like music to his ears. He thinks you can’t get any hotter, but then you buck your aching cunt into his hand as if to say get on with it. Ever powerless to your desires, Mingyu slips two fingers past your folds. He curls them experimentally, feeling your warm, wet cunt stretch around his long fingers. Just as he thought. Virgin tight.

“Fuck.” His growl is deep and has you clenching down on his fingers. “I need to taste you.”

Arousal is clouding your mind and making you feel drunk. The way Mingyu is looking at you like you’re the thing he’s wanted the most in the world has you gushing all over his fingers. His hot mouth latches on to your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. You cry out loudly as his fingers slowly start to fuck your hole, stretching you out to prepare you for his cock.

“Gyu!” You cry out as you arch you back, grinding your cunt into his face in search of release.

Your moans become broken when he forces his tongue into the tightness of your pussy. The groans he lets out makes you release more juices into his awaiting mouth. It’s almost embarrassing the way his room is suddenly full of the wet squelching sounds coming from your cunt, but you feel too good to actually care.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Mingyu groans into your sopping cunt. “You have the sweetest little cunt.”

All you can focus on is the way his tongue is fucking into you with a force that has you seeing stars. He runs his soft tongue along your aching folds skillfully until all you can do is cry out for him. Mingyu smirks into your folds, fingers slowly massaging deep inside you. The wanton cries you’re letting out make him scissor his fingers so you’ll be prepped enough to take his cock.

When you look down and see Mingyu’s pretty eyes looking up at you with unadulterated desire, the coil building in your stomach abruptly snaps. Mingyu moans along with you as you come all over his face. His cock twitches against the sheets when you keep rocking your hips to grind your cunt into his mouth. With a low groan, he keeps going, using his tongue to fuck you through your orgasm.

You’re a panting mess by the time he pulls away. His chin is covered in your release, and you briefly wonder how someone can be so fucking attractive. Mingyu licks his lips before he smashes them on yours. The taste of your own release makes you moan into his mouth, loving how his lips feel against yours.

You chase his lips when he suddenly pulls away. It’s almost cruel of him to laugh when you whine petulantly after he doesn’t give you what you want. But you can’t truly be mad. Not when it concerns Mingyu.

“Are you ready?”

Your attention is quickly drawn to his throbbing cock. He can’t deny the pleasure it gives him to see you gaping at it. It makes Mingyu think about the face you’ll make when he’s splitting you open.

“It’s...” Huge. You swallow nervously. “Will it fit?”

You can’t take your eyes off his monstrous dick. He’s stroking himself slowly, smearing the precum dribbling from his fat tip all over his veiny length. You can only watch in fascination like you’re in a trance, pussy clenching in desire. The only dicks you’ve ever seen are the ones from porn, but even those don’t compare to how thick and pretty Mingyu’s looks.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl.” Mingyu licks his lips, mind clouded with a lustful haze. “I’ll make it fit.”

The face you make when he uses your arousal to get his dick wet nearly makes him come right then and there. After years of fucking his fist to the thought of you, he finally has you underneath him looking more irresistible than ever.

“Ready, baby?” The pet name continues to fall from his lips so easily, and it’s making you unreasonably more horny than you already are. “Remember you can tell me to stop anytime.”

“Okay.” You breathe out in anticipation. Instead of being nervous, you’re just eager, and you know it’s because you’re doing this with Mingyu who actually cares about you.

Mingyu shudders in pleasure as he slowly sinks his leaking tip into your tight pussy. Your warm and wet and already gripping him so tightly that he wonders if he’ll come once he gets the rest of cock inside you. The choked gasp of pleasure you let out makes him throb with pride and arousal. Your pretty mouth is dropped open in a silent moan, and he has to swoop down to give you a sweet kiss.

You whimper into his mouth, starting to feel the stretch burn as he continues to slide in deeper. Mingyu pulls away to place tender kisses along your jaw, whispering into your heated skin about how good you’re taking him. A soft moan is pulled from your throat when he rubs gentle circles on your clit. It eases the sting, and soon enough pleasure cancels out the pain.

“G-Gyu.” You mewl as he finally bottoms out, heavy balls resting against your ass. “Fuck. Your cock is so big.”

Your fucked out whine makes his dick throb. Mingyu only offers you a shy chuckle, thumb still working your sensitive clit. Your hot cunt is pulsing and gripping him so tightly that he knows the slightest movement will have him busting inside you. And while that’s one thing he’s dreamed of for a long time, this was about your pleasure not his.

“Like it?” His voice is seductive and not teasing at all which just turns you on more. “Tell me, pretty girl. Let me hear you.”

His hips shift, and it makes his cock curve into your sweet spot that makes you arch your back. The moan you let out is louder this time, hips bucking in need. Your arousal is drenching his cock and spilling down to coat his heavy sack.

“Feels so fucking good, Gyu! Please move!” You whimper desperately as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Mingyu moans into your skin, hips moving upon your command. He starts to thrust in and out of your hot cunt with precise yet slow movements. His hands trail up to your bouncing tits, gently caressing and rubbing your hardened nipples. You moan again, turned on by how tenderly he’s touching you.

“Told you we’d make it fit, pretty.” His grin is so attractive that it makes you tighten impossibly and stain his cock with more cream.

Mingyu’s hips start to snap a little more desperately now. His cock seems to swell when he looks down to see how tightly you’re gripping him. Strings of arousal cling to your skin and his as he continues to stretch out your tight little cunt. His heavy balls slap against your ass as you continue to moan in pleasure.

“You’re dripping all over me, babe.” He grunts, feeling like he’s in heaven. “Am I making you feel that good?”

Just like outside the bedroom, Mingyu likes to be praised. Your heart swells with fondness, unable to believe how cute he can be even as he’s splitting you open on his cock. It makes you want to oblige him all the more.

“So fucking good, Gyu.” You moan wantonly as his cock continues to spear into you.

You’re sensitive, mewling and whining in pleasure as he snaps his hips at the perfect speed and intensity. Mingyu lets out a deep groan when your thighs start to quiver. Your eyes are rolling back as his cock keeps slamming against your sweet spot, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“God, you’re pretty.” Mingyu moans as you squeeze his cock tighter. “Prettiest little thing ever.”

Your entire body heats up, and you can’t help but pull him down for a passionate kiss. Mingyu moans into your mouth. His soft lips move against yours with a need that makes you ravenous. You start to meet his thrusts, eager for more of him.

The sound of wet skin slapping fills the room, and you don’t ever want it to end. Mingyu’s mouth, hands, and cock are too addicting for you to ever want anything else. With the way his throbbing dick keeps fucking into you desperately, you’re pretty sure the feeling is mutual.

When he reluctantly pulls away from your sweet lips, he trails wet kisses down to your neck. You moan out his name when you feel him start to mark you up. The ache in his cock grows when he feels your nails dig into his shoulders. Your sensual moans of his name sounds like music to his ears, and he knows he’ll be fucking his hand to the memory often.

Your orgasm is close, the coil in the pit on your stomach on the verge of snapping. All it takes is for his long fingers to smooth over your wet clit, rubbing fast circles on the sensitive bud for you to come undone. Your back arches off the mattress as you gush all over his cock with a loud cry of Mingyu’s name.

The erotic and breathtaking sight of you coming on his cock is something that leaves him breathless. It’s all Mingyu needs for his own orgasm to rip through him. He stills with a low groan of your name. You can feel his cock pulsate inside you as he shoots thick ropes of cum into your pussy. The two of you are moaning and whimpering as your walls spasm around his aching cock.

“That’s it, baby.” Mingyu moans as he rolls his hips to fuck you through both your highs.

You’re whimpering in pleasure, milking him for every last drop of cum he has. The way he fucks it back into you makes you feel delirious with pleasure, and your cunt gets tighter with need at the thought of doing it all over again.

Mingyu holds you close as you both pant—spent and satisfied. He gently coos at you, sweetly caressing your face as he keeps his cum plugged inside you with his still-throbbing cock.

“How was it, baby?” He wonders, big puppy dog eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You wrap your arms around his muscular back, bringing a hand up to gently play with his hair. The gentle hum you let out eases his worries. “You were amazing.”

The smile he gives you is bright and makes your chest jerk with affection. Mingyu gently caresses your body, telling you how good you were for him. It makes you burn for him all over again.

Before you can convince him to fuck you again, he gets up and goes into the bathroom. You watch curiously as he brings back a wet towel. It’s warm against your skin as he starts to clean you up. The act is somehow more intimate than him stuffing you full of cum, but you don’t hate it.

Once he’s done, he gets back into bed with you. It takes you by surprise when he pulls you on top of him. Mingyu caresses your naked back, basking in the feeling of your weight on him. His heart jumps when he feels you start to trace small patterns on his chest.

“Can we do that again?” Your voice is coy, and he really fucking loves it.

“Yes.” He promises. “I’ll order some takeout for us first then we can do it again. Unless you want to do it now.”

You stay silent for a moment before nuzzling your face his sculpted chest. With your eyes closed, you let out a content sigh. “Let’s just stay like this for a little while.”

Mingyu caresses your head with a love stricken smile you can’t see. “Okay.”

In retrospect, Minseo should’ve realized it sooner.

The signs were there—have always been there, apparently. It’s almost embarrassing that it took her so long to realize something was going on. Especially when she thinks back to the annual camping trip that took place a week ago.

It started off like all the other trips, except Mingyu insisted that you drive with him since he wouldn’t subject you to being a third wheel to his sister and Vernon. This was only the start of Mingyu’s unwarranted clinginess toward you. Minseo didn’t think too much of it because no one liked being the third wheel, and her brother always has a way of guilt tripping like no one’s business.

The campground looks beautiful covered in hues of red and yellow. Mingyu has brought along his camera and is already taking pictures and candids of everyone setting up their space. He especially captures some of you taking in the beautiful autumn scenery. You always looked so pretty when you had a look of awe and wonder on your face.

“I didn’t see you taking that many pictures of me.” Seungcheol teases as he peeks at the camera screen Mingyu is smiling fondly at.

His friend’s neck burns, and before he can think to say anything back, your voice grabs his attention. Seungcheol snickers quietly. It’s this simple action that Minseo’s attention again.

“Gyu.” You whine, holding up the tent you brought in frustration. “Help me.”

Her helpful brother goes over to you immediately like a puppy being called by its owner. Minseo should’ve thought more about the way he hands over his prized possession to Seungcheol like it’s nothing. The smitten smile he directs at you doesn’t seem that way to her in the moment, but again—hindsight.

Mingyu’s tone is playful as he asks you what you need. You don’t answer him because in the next second he tells you to follow the instructions in spite of the fact that he’s already starting to put the sticks together to actually lift the tent off the ground. Mingyu goes on to say that you should’ve gotten a smaller, one-person tent instead of a large dome tent big enough to fit five people inside.

“The guy at the store told me it would be easy to set up!” You whine with a frown. “And it’s not my fault the instructions are impossible to understand.”

Mingyu’s laughter is full of affection and adoration. He shakes his head fondly as he continues to build your tent for you. “You need to learn how to do these sorts of things.”

“Why? That’s why I have you.”

Once again, she should’ve thought more about the bashful look on Mingyu’s face and the way his ears and neck turned red. Instead, she chose to make sure that Vernon was setting up their own tent correctly because she had also bought one very similar to yours.

By the time everyone has their tents set up, the sun is starting to set. Mingyu helps Seungcheol start the fire while everyone else helps prepare the snacks and drinks.

The vibe is peaceful as you all settle around the fire. Mingyu claims the spot next to you, and you’re all too happy to have him by your side. It goes unnoticed, but now the image is clear in Minseo’s memories.

“Here.”

You look over to see Mingyu handing you a stick with a perfectly roasted marshmallow at the end of it. Maybe it’s the way the setting sun hits face or maybe it’s the fact that he was careful not to burn the marshmallow since you didn't like that. Either way your chest throbs with something you’re sure is not appropriate to feel for your best friend’s brother.

“Thanks, Gyu.” You smile at him before you start making your s’mores.

The night progresses like this, with Mingyu roasting your marshmallows and you happily making the s’mores. Vaguely, you wonder if it’s right to keep doing this with him. He’s so sweet and attentive that sometimes this line you’ve drawn gets blurry. The worst part is that you don’t mind if that line isn’t clear because being with Mingyu is like having a cup of hot cocoa when it’s cold—comforting and appealing.

For now, you decide to enjoy the moment. Evaluating feelings and this deep affection you feel would have to wait.

Fall has always been a special time for Mingyu. The leaves always change to beautiful red and golden colors, the weather turns the kind of crisp that’s invigorating, and it’s a time when family gets together. And possibly the most important reason: it’s the season when he met you.

He was only nine years old when you two met. It was a random autumn day meant to uphold the lifetime tradition of his parents taking him and Minseo to the pumpkin patch. Picking out pumpkins was something he looked forward to all year because it was a time where his entire family was together.

Mingyu vividly remembers being caught by surprise when his sister brought along an unexpected guest. She was holding the hand of a girl with a solemn expression that was a great contrast to her own bright one. Minseo cheerfully introduced the unknown girl as her best friend. You had offered him a barley-there wave that had him wondering how his sunshine of a sister could possibly like someone so closed off.

It was a misconception on his part because on the car ride to the pumpkin patch, he realizes his sister couldn’t have found a better friend. Minseo talks possibly more than he does, but you listened to every word attentively, like actually listen. Also, you offered her (and Mingyu after some shy contemplation) the snacks in your bag.

Your overly cautious attitude reminded Mingyu of his cousin’s unfriendly cat. Trying to get you to open up was a challenge, but you slowly started to warm up to him as the evening went on. He truly won you over after he offered to carry the heavy pumpkin you chose. The unsure pout you directed at him was adorable, and his heart just soared when you quietly thanked him.

“Here.” You huffed out, feeling embarrassingly shy as you stuck out your small hand.

Mingyu’s grin soothed the bashfulness. He thanked you for the candy you gave him, claiming that the caramel you put in his hand is his favorite.

Looking back on it, that was the first time you tugged on his heartstrings.

Of course, it was completely innocent back then. There was no way you could’ve known that Mingyu held on to that piece of candy for as long as he could until he forgot it in a pair of pants that his mom threw in the washer. Nor could you have known that as you two got older, it killed him just a little bit every time you referred to him as Minseo’s older brother.

These feelings don’t make sense in his mind, but it all becomes clear to him the fall of his junior year.

Just like all those years ago, you found yourself at the pumpkin patch. Except this time you don’t have either of the Kim siblings by your side. Minseo was hanging out with her almost-boyfriend and of course Mingyu hadn’t joined you two at the pumpkin patch for years now. You weren’t uncomfortable being alone, but it did feel odd picking out a pumpkin without Minseo inspecting it to make sure you picked one suited for carving.

In your lonely search, you meet Lee Chan. He too had been left alone after his friends went off with their respective partners. What you don’t realize is that your resident puppy boy is watching this kindred meeting from afar. Unbeknownst to you, Minseo had texted her older brother asking him to keep you company because she still felt sorry for leaving you alone.

At the time, Mingyu can’t explain why his chest feels strangely heavy. It feels like he can’t approach you despite knowing you wouldn’t be unhappy to see him. So he doesn’t even though it’s arguably one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. Later that night, his mom helps him come to the conclusion that this icky feeling is none other than petty jealousy.

As a teenage boy who loved his little sister more than anything, this realization was devastating. It was very likely that Minseo would be upset if she ever found out her brother had a crush on her best friend. The fear of what would happen if his feelings ever came to light was the reason Mingyu decided to keep it a secret.

After all, it was just a small, harmless crush.

Unfortunately for Mingyu, this teeny tiny crush soon blossomed into something more intense that he’s not ready to acknowledge. Time goes by, and yet his feelings haven’t gone away even when he starts to date. It makes him feel icky, and most likely the reason why none of his relationships ever last.

When it’s time for him to leave for college, he thinks that maybe he can move on. Only, you never give him that chance.

“Why don’t you ever bring enough clothes?”

It might seem like Mingyu is scolding you, but he’s actually only worried that you seem to value fashion over practicality. Your heart jumps when he takes off the scarf he’s wearing to put it around you, making sure it covers your neck and looks pretty with the outfit you’ve chosen. He doesn’t seem to notice that your eyes shine with endearment as he adjusts it to cover your mouth.

“Come on.” He absentmindedly grabs your hand, not realizing his touch is making your heart pound. “The cafe is only open for another hour.”

Mingyu had insisted that this new cafe had drinks to die for. So he waited until you got off work to go with you together. You’re glad his scarf covers the lower half of your face because you’re sure every single emotion you feel for him would be very obvious as he hands you a warm cup.

Walking in silence with Mingyu isn’t ever uncomfortable, but it does leave you to contemplate how you’re going to confess to him. He’s been nothing but sweet to you, and you hope he won’t be upset at your sudden feelings since you’re the one who insisted the sex between you two would be strictly platonic.

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

It kills you that Mingyu can look so pretty while he’s tilting his head at you curiously. You let out a nervous breath. It was now or never.

“You told Minseo you took my virginity.”

The air goes still, and you feel like smacking yourself because that’s not at all what you were planning to say—not like that, anyway. Mingyu’s eyes practically pop out of his head as he feels a blush crawl up his neck and suffuse throughout his face. You don’t seem angry, but he can’t really tell with his scarf covering your face.

“I’m sorry!” He rushes. “I didn’t mean to, but—”

“I’m not mad.” You assure him with a laugh.

“You’re not?”

“No.” You let out a fond laugh. “And Minseo isn’t either.”

Before Mingyu can fully process your words, you crush him with a hug. His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and press himself closer to you.

“I like you, Mingyu.” You confess, feeling like your heart is on the verge of exploding. “I like you so much.”

He stills in your arms. Slowly, he pulls away to look at your face. His expression is one of pure shock, and before you can brace yourself for any kind of rejection, Mingyu is kissing you.

The movements of his soft lips are needy and full of undeniable want. You moan into his mouth, returning his kiss with just as much vigor. It all feels like a wonderful dream, especially when you whisper against his lips that you want to go back to your place.

If this is a dream, Mingyu wishes it could go on forever.

Having you kneeled between his parted thighs, worshipping his cock in the exact way he’s shown you how has him coming apart quickly. You’re slobbering all over him, saliva slipping down the sides of his dick to lubricate him.

“Fuck, Gyu. You have the prettiest cock ever.” You gush, entire body hot with arousal and want.

The way he actually blushes as you praise him has your cunt dripping with more juices. You can’t wait to wreck him and have him writhing in pleasure. His cock is throbbing as you continue to lick and stroke him with your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his leaking tip, licking into the slit which causes him to let out a guttural groan. The moans you let out run through the length of his dick in the most pleasurable way.

Mingyu feels completely fucked out at this point. He can’t believe how good you’ve gotten at sucking his cock. And now, he’s going to be the only man to experience what that pretty little mouth can do.

“Y/N, fuck.” He cries out as his orgasm abruptly hits.

As always, Mingyu looks absolutely breathtaking when he comes. His mouth is dropped open as a pretty blush covers his entire face. Dark eyes are unfocused and dazed as he keeps releasing thick ropes of cum into your mouth. The way you keep pumping and sucking him to squeeze more cum out of him is starting to make him tremble.

You pull off his cock with a satisfied grin. Mingyu’s chest is heaving as you go to straddle him.

“Wait!” He pants out, slowly coming out of his euphoric bliss. “It’s your turn—”

“I want you to fuck me now.”

Mingyu groans when he feels your creamy folds slide over his twitching cock. “But I really want to taste you.”

He’s so cute, you think as your cunt leaks with arousal. You hum in pleasure as you rub your aching cunt over the length of his dick. His fat tip is enveloped between your warm lips every time you grind forward while his heavy sack is slowly getting soaked with your arousal.

“Tell you what, puppy. After you fill me up with your cum I’ll let you eat it out of me, okay?”

You feel his cock throb at your words as your cream covers him entirely. Mingyu nods cutely, and that’s all you need to grab his pulsing cock. He’s hot and heavy in your hand as you tease him by circling his tip against your slick entrance.

Mingyu moans loudly when you sink down. A choked whimper is forced out of him as you take him entirely, puffy lips brushing against his pelvis. His thick veins drag against your hot walls deliciously until his heavy balls are flush against your ass. It’s like all the air is being shoved out of your body to make room for his cock.

“God, Y/N. I need you to move. Please.”

You slowly grind on his cock, juices dripping down to his big balls and making a mess all over him. It’s probably really hard for him not to fuck his cock up into you, and it really turns you on that he’s trying so hard. You can tell he’s on the verge of breaking. Literally you can feel it. His cock keeps throbbing inside you like it’s on the verge of exploding.

“Show me what I’ve taught you, baby.” His voice is sultry and tempting—something you can’t say no to.

Immediately, you start to gyrate your hips. You two moan in sync as your pussy clenches tightly on his cock. Mingyu sucks on his bottom lip, completely beginning to lose his composure. His hands go to your waist, slowly guiding you as his imploring eyes gaze up at you with unmatched desire.

“Fuck, Gyu!” You cry out. “You’re so deep!”

The sound of your pleased cry, Mingyu starts to move his hips to thrust up into you. He groans lowly because it feels like his aching cock is hitting the hilt of your sopping pussy. Your soft hands smooth over his naked torso, crying out his name as you feel every inch of his muscular chest.

“Mmmh, pretty girl.” Mingyu hums in pleasure as his big hands smooth down your body to grab your ass. “Fucking my cock just right. Feels so fucking good.”

When he starts to kiss and suck on your neck as his cock spears into you, the coil in your stomach snaps. You moan his name loudly as you come all over his dick. Loud squelching fills the room as he continues to bounce you on his lap. His thickness is stretching you deliciously, the unmistakable sound of his heavy balls smacking against your ass mixing in with your moans of pleasure.

Mingyu fucks into you a few more times before you feel his hot, thick cum spurt inside you. His euphoric moan is as pretty as ever, and you can’t help but move your hips to fuck him through his high.

You sag against him, and it’s silent for a moment until you bring your lips to his ear. “I want more of your cum, puppy.”

That’s how you find yourself on your side with Mingyu behind you. Your back is pressed against his beefy chest as he lifts your leg up to expose your soiled cunt to the cool air. He nuzzled his nose into your neck before he trails it up to your cheek. Your body shivers as his arm breath fans against your ear.

“Watch how your pretty pussy stretches open for me.”

You wonder what he means until his other hand lifts up your chin delicately to look at the full body mirror he bought for you a week ago after you told Minseo you wanted it. His fat cock is teasing your entrance, and the filthy sight makes your cunt flutter in need.

Without a word of warning, Mingyu thrusts his thick dick inside you, heavy sack flush against your creamy cunt. You whine out in pleasure, feeling completely full and stuffed to the brim. It’s impossible to look away from the mirror because you can see how tightly your pussy is gripping him.

Mingyu’s cock throbs inside you as his skin tingles with desire. He starts to thrust slowly. The lewd wet sound coming from your cunt is erotic as it fills your room. You moan again when the hand that isn’t spreading you open comes up to play with one of your tits. The sensations of his cock hitting your sweet spot while his fingers pinch and pull on your erect nipple have you close again.

If you weren’t so drunk on the pleasure Mingyu’s throbbing cock is providing you with, you’d tell him to let you record because the sight of him doing you like this is one you want to remember forever. His thrusts start to pick up as your moans get louder. He’s groaning into your ear as his fat tip slams against your cervix.

Mingyu pounding into you while in this positions feels like he’s tearing your pretty little pussy apart. He messily kisses your jaw as start to tremble in his hold, grunting when you tighten around him once again like you’re trying to milk him.

“You look so pretty like this, baby.” Mingyu’s moan is low, but you hear it perfectly. “Sweet little pussy was made to take my cock.”

Your eyes roll back as you whimper out a nearly incoherent agreement. So lost in pleasure, you don’t realize your second orgasm is one thrust away.

“Mingyu!” You moan as your orgasm hits.

Juices spurt out obscenely and cover his entire cock and the sheets bellow you. Mingyu groans as he holds your legs wide open. He keeps fucking your messy cunt as you squirt all over him. All you can make out in your euphoric haze is Mingyu calling you pretty while his twitching cock keeps ramming deep into you.

“Fill me up.” You manage to mewl out as you turn your head to give him a sloppy kiss.

Mingyu moans into your mouth, thrusting into you deeply before he stills. He forces his tongue into your mouth as he floods your sloppy cunt with his cum. You swallow each others moans as he stuffs you full to the point where you can feel it leak out of you. The feeling of his cock pulsing inside you is one of your favorite feelings which is why you’re eager to feel it at least one more time.

It’s why Mingyu is quick to put you into a different position, your legs pressed into your chest as he rams his aching cock inside you once again. Your fucked out eyes are the prettiest, and he knows that he’ll never get tired of that stare. He loves how your gaze never loses the affection you feel for him. It makes him feel like you’ll never leave him.

“You feel so good, Gyu.” You whimper as his big cock spears into you.

Mingyu roughly pounds into your ruined cunt, not holding back since he’s determined to fill you up one last time. His cock throbs as your mouth drops open in a silent scream. Your pretty mewls and whines mix in perfectly with the sound of skin slapping. It only makes him fuck you harder.

His dick forces out an obscene amount of juices from your fluttering pussy. Mingyu is so deep that it almost feels like he’s in your guts. You always feel so full when he fucks you like this, and all you can feel is bolts of euphoria dancing across your skin.

“Come for me, pretty.” Mingyu urges sweetly as he hooks your legs over his shoulders. “Come all over my cock and cover me with your sweet cream.”

Somehow he feel just as deep from this angle. He keeps railing your tight cunt, splitting you open to fully claim you as his. Your senses go into overdrive when he slips his fingers down to your puffy clit to rub gentle circles. At this point you’re trembling beneath him, all thoughts gone as he thrust harder and deeper inside you.

Mingyu’s eyes are locked on the way your tight pussy swallows his thick cock. The way your cream covers him completely make him more ravenous. He’s hitting your spongy spot with mastered precision, and it only takes a few more thrusts for the coil in your stomach to snap.

Your moan is pornographic as your walls contract and your juices squirt out everywhere. Mingyu’s pace doesn’t falter as you cover him with your orgasm. He groans loudly, loving how you can only seem to chant his name.

“God, you look pretty when you come on my cock. So pretty. Every. Fucking. Time.” His words break off into a guttural groan that bounces off of the walls.

Hot streams of his seed flood your insides, stuffing you full until the white pours out from around the thickness of his cock. Mingyu slowly releases your legs and goes to give you a passionate kiss. His hips move slowly as he fucks his cum back into you. With one last peck he pulls away and slowly eases his cock out of your messy pussy.

You moan again when he suddenly starts to lap up the mess between your legs. You’re too fucked out to stop him. That, and you did say he could eat his cum out of your pussy after you were done (plus it just feels so fucking good). He licks and sucks on your clit until there’s nothing left to lap up.

When he crawls back up your body, your insides clench at the erotic sight of him licking his lips. “So fucking sweet.”

You pull him down for another kiss. The taste of you two mixed together is so filthy yet so addicting that you have to lick every inch of his mouth. Mingyu pulls you flush against him as he continues to kiss you like he never wants to breath again.

Minutes later, you two are still in your bed, cuddling and unwilling to separate from each other.

“This feels like a dream.” Mingyu sighs into your hair.

You hum, running your finger tips along his biceps. “It’s not a dream. I really do adore you, Kim Mingyu.”

He buries his face in your neck, mumbling into your heated skin that the adoration he has for you is endless.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors

[baniisharur0tte]

Thin Walls ☆

p2 here

you and Suguru Geto are roommates!!! but long nights lead to wandering eyes... ;)

word count: 4.1k <3

content: SMUT!!!! 18+!!!! Creep!Geto perving on u, mention of: hair pulling, P->V, oral (F!Receiving). mild breath play (M!Self-Inflicted)

authors note: i've been working on a longer fic for geto but i couldn't allow him to continue being neglected on my blog!!!! i love my baby girl cult leader <3333

(inspired by this song)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

you and geto have been roommates for a few months now. you both moved to the other side of the city around the same time, and your mutual friend suggested you to each other when they heard about your respective roommate hunts.

it was nice, you were both tidy quiet people. you cooked for each other, helped each other with chores, you both left the bathroom neat after showers, and you each had a cat that got along well.

but the walls were thin.

a little over a month after you moved in together, the last of your respective unpacking completed, suguru was in the living room quietly watching tv before bed. his long frame sprawled out across the couch, a soft black long sleeve and grey sweatpants hanging off his lean muscular body. you called it an early night after your shower, a loose tee shirt and fuzzy shorts on as you stepped out of the bathroom.

"i'm headed in for the night, i'll see you tomorrow! would you be able to feed the cats dinner?"

"of course, yeah. sleep well!" he replied smiling slightly, shifting in his seat giving you a quick glance up and down.

not long after you shut the door behind you, he quickly put together why you were in such a hurry to get under the covers.

through the thin walls of your apartment, he heard your small hushed whimpers and moans as you pleasured yourself.

his spine stiffened as he sat up, unsure if he was hearing correctly.

she's not....

his cock hardening in his pants at the sound, he searched around the couch for the remote to turn down the volume.

a curiosity he had nurtured was raring it's head, and he was too weak to ignore it.

the first day here he noticed how thin the walls were, you had been in your bedroom on the phone, sitting amongst the clutter, trash bags scrawled with clothes and winter blankets on the front, brown cardboard boxes stacked in all corners of the room.

sorting through some nick nacks, you spoke to your friend about the moving process.

'"...and one of the movers chipped the corner off my dresser. it's brand new! i only got it a few months ago. ugh. but it's fine, everything is in one piece.... geto? yeah he's really nice, we got coffee and breakfast a few times before we signed the lease, he's great.... i mean, he just looks like a guy. you can meet him when you come over after the house is settled, but he's got long black hair and he's tall.... oh my god why would you ask me that???..... i never thought about it.. no!!!... i mean, i guess.... okay fine, yes, he's very hot. is that what you wanted to hear???... no you cannot sleep with my roommate, gross!!!! i have to go, i have to make lunch soon and unpack enough to sleep here tonight.... yeah, i'll talk to you tomorrow. bye!"

with a huff you tossed your phone over your shoulder and onto your bed, muttering to yourself ..is he hot... god, what kind of question is that?..

from the kitchen, suguru was unpacking his cookware and dishes and neatly organizing them in the cupboards. hearing your conversation, he smiled to himself and laughed.

you aren't alone in that.

his friends had been asking him about you, curious about his new roommate. "what's her name?" "what does she look like?" "is she hot?" "does she have hot friends?"

as annoying as it was, he couldn't pretend he wasn't attracted to you. when you first met at the diner to discuss potential living arrangements, the first thing he notices was your smile. bright and warm, you were inviting off the bat.

next was your eyes. the way you looked up at him as he stood over you approaching the table to greet you, they widened as you drank in his height. he found it endearing if not enticing to see your shock at his build.

the curve of your neck, the dip of your collarbones, the way your hair fell around your face.

you were gorgeous.

and it got so much worse as the weeks passed, the happenstance of intimacy you develop as you live with someone only continued to unfurl your beauty to him.

wet hair as you leave the bathroom after a shower, baggy pajamas ghosting around your frame in the morning, the passing interactions as you left the house to go out with your friends, tight shirts and sparkly earrings catching his eye as you put on your shoes and cheerfully say goodbye before leaving.

and the walls were so painfully thin.

considering the rent price, he found it particularly annoying. unsure if you had noticed, he was very careful to keep himself quiet as he touched himself, hiding in the bathroom with the shower running or waiting until you turned on your tv to fall asleep at night. the drone of a comforting show drowning out whatever huffs and soft groans escaped his lips as he pumped his cock, closing himself away in his room.

thoughts of you often crossed his mind as he pleasured himself, curiosity getting the better of him every time.

a mix between guilt and indignation swirled inside him every now and then. it was incredibly inappropriate to indulge in such lewd fantasies given the nature of your relationship, but he's allowed to think whatever he wants. the mind is a safe haven to explore all possibilities, why should he feel bad for having an interest in you?

at least that's what he told himself to wave away the sharp sting of guilt as he slowly tipped off the edge into an unsightly indulgence.

a night like any other would play to the tune of that aching lust in his chest.

on any night under your shared roof, he would find himself relaxing on the couch beside you, watching Your Show together. the gentle swish of your legs as you reposition on the couch, or the wind of you plopping yourself down next to him after getting up for a snack, wafting your perfume around him.

utterly intoxicating, stirring his stomach.

when you would scurry off to bed, he would follow your lead shortly after. tying up his hair in the mirror, an innocuous flush on his face, almost imperceptible to anyone but himself as he stares back into the mirror. as he pulls his hair up, his hands run excessively over his neck and shoulders, pulling his hair a bit too hard as he puts it up. a silent scream tearing inside him, subconsciously circling the thought of you running your hands along his skin. your hands gathering his hair, pulling it hard as he pleases you, painting artwork with his tongue. every blink brings forth a flashing image of your flushed sweaty face under him, scratching his back, snaking your hands into his hair and pulling tight, a tangled mess of limbs and heartbeats.

his low eyes stare back at him, his pulse hot in his neck. splashing cold water on himself, washing his face trying to chase away the tension he feels.

leaning into the counter brushing his teeth, the air soft and minty around him, a sparkling rainbow of bubbles.

padding into his room, he would strip of his clothes to change into loose pajama pants. the act of undressing would dance around his chest, the haunt of your fingers hooking under his shirt to strip him bare and take him hungrily. like a ravenous animal, gouging chunks out of a rich cake and licking the frosting off your fingers.

his cock stiff and begging for attention as he stood naked in the looming darkness of his room, a palpable solitude in the air.

across from him a mirror stood, he turned without thinking to meet his own gaze. his taut, towering frame in the glow of the moonlight spilling over him through the gaps in the curtains, he wondered to himself.

how would you look pressed against me in my mirror?

is there anything inside you begging to feel my skin?

can you hear what i'm thinking? would you like it if you could?

sighing and slipping into his pajama pants, he crawls into bed. already groping himself feverishly, he palmed his cock around through his pants.

rolling your name around in his mind, curious how it would taste saying it in the heat and throws of pleasure.

as if you were a spectre passing through the walls, he was flooded with broken bits and pieces of fantasies of you spurred on by the casual passings of every day life.

watching you stand at the kitchen counter cutting fruit, curious about what a fistful of your hair would feel like in his hand as he bent you over the cold granite, hunching down with you pressing his chest to your back and his cock to your ass as he whispered filthy things in your ear. i want to fucking tear you apart.

the words i'm gonna go take a shower, do you need the bathroom? were more than enough for him at times. conjuring thoughts about you lathering your body in suds, your face tipped up to the water, the gentle curve of your neck exposed, curious about what it would feel like to have the hot water hit his back as he pinned you to the wall, dropping to his knees to eat your pussy, your slick wet skin under his fingers as he dug his nails into the plush of your thighs and the fat of your ass.

once, he even caught sight of you quickly scurrying from the bathroom to your bedroom, clearly having forgotten a towel. he pretended not to notice as to not embarrass you, appearing deeply enthralled in the book he was reading on the couch, a cool air around him as he lounged effortlessly on the arm of the couch. careful not to tip his head up as his eyes followed you to your room, your arm clutching your breasts as you hurried quickly just across the hall to hide in your room to dry off and change clothes.

but for how cool his demeanor remained, the hot buzz of lust ran down the back of his neck. though it was only for a moment, he learned so much about the curve of your waist, the heave of your chest, the valley your spine leaves down your back. such curiosity he has for you, the deep yearn to learn more about you crashed into him hard as laid in his bed stroking himself though his clothes. he hooked his cock over the edge of his pants, spitting into his hand and coating himself in his own slick.

dragging long strokes over his twitching cock, his hand flies up to his face to quiet himself. dragging his palm from his forehead down the side of his face to bite his knuckle, the weight of his own heavy hands spurred him on. to be touched even by himself was enough to warrant a hitched groan tripping in his throat, muffled by his hand.

his long fingers made to be wielded by an artist wrapped tight around himself as he wracked with pleasure, that curiosity lighting a brutal fever under his skin.

your wet pussy dripping down his chin, soft lips on his neck as your tongue drags stripes up and down his skin, biting his ear and moaning his name. how would i sound in your mouth?

his name spilling from your lips as if it were a crying plea to a god he's never known, he would give you everything his body could offer to bring you pleasure. anything you asked for, anything you could need he would do to make you cum. questions and answers, movement and understanding, reacting in tandem with each other.

information, information.

he needed it, he craved it.

anything he could get from you to learn about what would make you cry tears of pleasure for him, he would dedicate himself to it.

his pace quickening, careful to keep his shuddering breaths low and shallow as to not arouse suspicion through the ever-exposing framework of your shared home.

the thought of watching his cock disappear inside you, your pussy swelling around him, accommodating his length so generously sent a chill down his spine, his back clinging to the silky sheets as sweat condenses on his skin.

your body swallowing him so greedily, milking his cock for cum like a feral animal desperate to take all of him. he would give you everything he had until he was drained and spent, pumping you deeply with his cum just as he hoped you would beg him for.

hissing and panting, his legs tensing and shaking as he approached his orgasm, the vile fantasy of him fucking you into his mattress pouring into his mind. the roll of his hips hitting everything you need, your body sucking him in as you clench around him, cumming down the length of his cock leaving a creamy ring of your cum at his base, matting down his dark happy trail.

he choked back a deep guttural groan as he came onto his stomach, holding his breath to ensure his silence as he offered up his pleasure in your name.

his head swimming from the lack of oxygen and the crushing wave of dense ecstasy washing over him, he laid still for a few minutes, his chest heaving as he came down from his high.

but all the stolen glances and hushed stimulation didn't alleviate his tension.

on a night like tonight, when his curiosity couldn't be helped, searching for the tv remote in the couch to get a better ear for the sound of your secluded pleasure, he was quickly worked into a frenzy inside. finding the remote and quickly turning the tv down to near-mute, he slowly approached the hallway hosting your bedrooms.

the door shut tight, something uncommon for you. that should've been his first clue.

your cat liked to wander in and out throughout the night, a shut door like this would warrant incessant yowling and indignant complaints from her until you dragged yourself out of bed to let her in.

leaning against the corner, your door just over his shoulder, the sound grew clearer.

the muffled moans and panting coming from behind the flimsy, feeble door poured into his ears. his cock pressing angrily against the fabric of his pants, he tipped his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. drinking in the utter music you made.

it was better than he even imagined.

he thought about all the ways you could be pleasing yourself. on your back, on your stomach, riding your pillow, a vibrator perhaps, or maybe just your fingers or your palm. maybe you were plunging a thick dildo into your aching pussy, fucking yourself imagining it was his cock pushing a bulge out in your stomach.

how he craved to know what you looked like pleasuring yourself.

the fresh idea of you being completely unaware as he watched you through a crack in your door was exhilarating. it was better than if you were willing to do it in front of him. maybe it was the corrupt and vile nature of perversely spying on his friend as she made herself cum for him over and over again.

or perhaps it was because there was no audience for you to perform for, no need to make sure you looked pretty as you brought yourself up to your high. the rawness and vulnerability of an act under no one's gaze was the most authentic pleasure you could receive.

imagine all i could learn about her if i could only see..

he squeezed his cock though his pants, weighing the risk of touching himself now or holding onto the memory of your voice dripping from the doorframe.

with a small 'aah!' falling from your lips, he made his choice.

there's no way i can wait.

he quickly and quietly unbuckled his belt and shuffled his pants down slightly, his hard cock springing free nearly hitting him in the stomach.

he spit into his hand and began quietly and furiously fucking his fist around his cock, holding his breath and quietly and shallowly releasing it as to absolutely ensure he was silent.

he slowly crept around the corner, the side of his face pressed into the doorframe, mere inches from your door as he pleasured himself with you.

what we're doing in there?

will you show me?

would you leave your door open for me someday?

he was quickly approaching his orgasm, the rush of adrenaline from doing something so disgusting and hearing your siren's voice were guaranteeing he wouldn't last long. his pace quickened and so did his breath, shallow quiet pants escaped him between staggered bouts of holding his breath. his head swimming and fuzzy, he heard you quietly call out his name.

"hmm... suguru~" you mewled quietly to yourself, your moaning and panting becoming faster, obvious you were close yourself.

his eyes widened and his other hand flew up from the doorframe to his mouth, clamping it shut as he growled quietly to himself.

there is no fucking way she just said my name.

overwhelmed by the notion that you were touching yourself to the thought of him, he was about to cum as he heard you quietly call out for him again, breathy cries indicating you were cumming all alone in the heat of your bed.

he came in his hand, trying desperately to catch it all before any spilled onto the ground, his knees slightly buckling and heaving shaky quiet pants into his palm as he experienced your cries for him, an utter exorcism ripping him apart.

he quickly backed away from your door, running to the bathroom to clean up the mess you made of him.

that night, as he laid in bed tossing and turning- ruminating over everything he heard from you, he decided he was going to force your hand. if you wanted him so badly, he was going to make it impossible to deny yourself indulging in him.

for the next few weeks, he essentially stopped wearing shirts altogether. the only time you saw him fully dressed was around the evening, often wearing a loose sweater or a baggy tee shirt- but the mornings were no longer safe for someone with such wandering eyes like yourself. shirtless with no underwear and loose pants hanging low on his pointed hips, his hair cascading over his shoulders, casually walking out of the bathroom in a towel loosely hanging from his hips, stopping in the entry of the living room to make an insignificant comment about how we are running out of hand soap, can you remind me tomorrow at the store? an obvious excuse on his end for you to run your eyes up and down his body, his hair dripping water down his chest and taut stomach, shiny soft skin and rippling muscles in his arms. the veins on the back of his slender hands drawing your eye down to wear he loosely held his towel, a tuft of black just barely peaking over the top, his long cock gently leaving an impression against the plush fabric.

he left very little to your imagination, torturing you for weeks.

watching your wide eyes pour over him that first morning as you stepped out into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes and yawning as you were met with the sight of his toned back as he cooked you both breakfast was much more satisfying than the meal you shared that morning.

his long lean frame towering over the stove, music softly playing from radio in the living room as he shuffled scrambled eggs around in the pan in front of him, his long glossy hair curtaining down his back, his slender waist and loose pants flowing around him.

you were immediately just as flushed and hot in the face now as you were when you touched yourself last night before bed.

"good morning. sleep well last night?" he said coolly, looking over his shoulder at you smiling. his eyes were low and hid a darkness behind them.

you stammer out a feeble "yeah, i did. you?" still reeling from the sight you found in the kitchen.

"i did, yes. although i admit not as well as i would've liked. i should've gone to bed early like you, i had trouble falling asleep for a bit. you want tea? i'm making some in a minute."

heat waves over your face as he acknowledges how early you scurried off to bed. he always noticed the little things about you, making you a bit self-conscious in moments like this.

you sat and ate breakfast together on the couch as he continued to neglect putting on anything even resembling a shirt.

for those few weeks, he spent his time at the house preying on your helpless inability to tear your eyes off him. standing just a little too close sometimes, his cologne would waft around you as you were enthralled in his presence.

and then he'd step away as if it was nothing. he would take note of the small movement you made almost as if to follow him, stopping yourself.

his hand would linger on yours for just a moment too long as you passed him clean cups to put away, doing the dishes together.

and then his touch would leave you as if he didn't notice. he would take note of how your breath would hitch in your throat as his fingers brushed yours.

he began undressing on his way to the bathroom to shower rather than behind the privacy of a closed door. hooking his fingers under the hem of his shirt, stretching his long arms carefully up over his head to relish in the feeling of your eyes on him as he walked down the hall to the bathroom. every now and then, he would glance over his shoulder to soak in your reaction. a visible hum around you as you stared like a deer in headlights. once, he tossed a cool smile at you as if he were an aloof cat, unaware of what he was doing. as soon as the door shut, you ran flustered and red to your room to pleasure yourself for the entire duration you heard the shower running.

but unaware he was not, and these calculated efforts were paying off in tenfold for him.

your early bedtime became a routine in the household, with the added side effect of the cats now begging him exclusively for dinner.

shortly after you would hurriedly shut the door behind you, he would abandon his book or his movie and slink around the corner to drink in the noises you made as you touched yourself to the thought of him. unable to be as quiet as you once were, a feverish infection of the mind possessing you forcing you to cry out with wavering control. he would go from presenting the affectation of boredom or as if he was ill-attentive to your habits- to a ravenous creep lurking around your bedroom door at the click of the latch.

as if he were a vampire stalking his prey in a frenzied bloodlust, he would lean his face on the same spot on the doorframe every night learning the way you sounded when you pleased yourself. some nights he would milk his cock in time with you, others he would stand still, silently drinking in every noise you made. he quickly picked up on your cues, understanding what pleasure meant to you. he would relish in fantasies fueled by his depraved habit- bending you over the couch as he worked his length into your eager, drooling pussy. digging his fingers into your thighs pushing them into his face as you shook and clenched around his tongue. resting his hand over your stomach as he rolled his hips, feeling his cock bulge against the wall of your stomach. fucking you slow and deep, watching your eyes intently. endless possibilities, so many ways he could make you cum for him in the secret of night, behind the locked doors of your home. his nasty habit of nightstalking devolved into an anxiously anticipated ritual he would wait for from the moment he woke up every day. like clockwork he could time when you would cum based on how you sounded, how much you said his name, the pitch and lilt in your breathy voice reaching out to him from under the door.

until one night, the door was cracked.

your was voice ringing out to him clearer than ever before, a curious discovery. a newfound feeling of nerves stirred in his stomach. he slowly rounded the corner to find he could see a sliver of your figure writhing in your bed, your chest heaving and the blankets carelessly discarded in a heap on the floor beside the bed.

running your hand through your hair, down your body, over your chest and thighs as the other drew quick circles over your clit. he watched you in awe, utterly entranced.

wide eyes and a cold chill running its blade down his back, he was practically shaking with anticipation. already pumping his cock in his hand, his eyebrows knitted together and his jaw slack as he silently watched you whisper his name to yourself.

your voice growing louder with every pant, you cried out for him again. he was breaking down under the weight of your lust for him, a burden he wished more than anything to relieve you of. consumed with desire to get closer, he was frenzied trying to come up with anything that could get him inside. you called out for him once more, a desperate 'suguru, please~' making his eyes roll back and a small grunt to get stuck in his chest.

his mind whirring, he came up with something particularly perverse.

if she's calling for me, why wouldnt i come running?

he rounded back down the hall into the looming darkness of the living room, hiking his pants back up and painfully shoving his hard cock into them. smoothing his shirt down, his heart pounding, he turned back towards your door.

he slowly pushed it open with the tips of his fingers, unfurling the sight of your flushed face and heaving chest for him to admire- your eyes shut tightly as you rolled your nipple between your fingers. your body rocking against your hand, the steady roll of your hips hypnotizing him. the thick tension and heavy heat in the room was reaching the point of snapping at any moment.

with the creak of your door, his voice poured into the room in a low sultry purr, "you called for me, you need some help?"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

(authors note#2- if heaven exists it's in a dark room behind a locked door with suguru geto. when i die, take me to him.)

p2 here <3

[brazilian-girl02]

~ Vlogger!Reader and Future yandere!Batfamily Part: 2 ~

Warning: This is where some yandere stuff shows up.

🦇 It was another normal day at Wayne Manor. Tim was walking to the kitchen to get one, or maybe the fourth, cup of coffee;

🦇 He arrived in the kitchen and noticed the absence of the butler Alfred, as well as an old notebook on top of the kitchen island. curious, he turns on the notebook and an email addressed to Alfred appears on the screen;

-dear Alf... It's been two years since we've seen each other in person, two years since our last book club meeting and without your wonderful tea. I came here to say that everything is going well with my studies and I am adapting well in (city of your choice). and I continue to post my videos, I know you watch them, but anyway, I hope you come visit me one day. a big hug, {You}

🦇 Tim read the email again and again.... "who are {you}?" he asked himself as he went to his room. Once there he started going through the files and even found his college's files;

🦇 Tim was so immersed in taking in every piece of information that he didn't notice that someone was at the door watching him;

🦇 it was Bruce... they started talking and Tim asked incessant questions about you, but Bruce had no answer. soon Alfred appears, he accompanies Tim to your old room, with a mournful Bruce behind;

🦇 When they got to their old room, the walls were your favorite color but in a more worn tone and an old computer on the desk. Tim quickly stops the computer to search it;

🦇 while Bruce looked around the room in a daze, how he forgot about you, and soon he started searching the closet and with an Alfred watching;

🦇 At dinner, Tim was very focused on watching his videos, which he discovered by searching the room's computer. Dick asked him what he was watching and Tim started pouring information about you, sparking curiosity in the others, except Alfred;

🦇 Dick started watching all the videos almost religiously and he always comments on all the videos. If you have a public mailbox on your social network, it will certainly send Nightwing merchandise;

🦇Jason, I would read any book you recommended or appear reading in a photo or video... perhaps you noticed that classic books and a box set of Jane Austen's works mysteriously appeared in your apartment;

🦇Tim has scoured every corner of the Internet looking for information about you, from your Amazon account to an old social media account you no longer use. Maybe he hacked your phone and cameras from places you frequent;

🦇 Barbara would be a little like Tim, but in a milder way. if you have a disability of any kind, you can be sure that she would have researched it, perhaps she would have become a little more protective;

🦇 Cass was happy to be able to watch your videos, she even started to have some of her quirks that she sees in the videos. If you practice some dance, she will definitely improve in that dance while dreaming of doing a ballet duet with you;

🦇 Stephanie is so excited to have someone to share trends and memes with. if you are part of a specific fashion style or subculture, she will research everything about it, from the clothes to the political or historical views of it;

🦇 Duke is surprised how the others didn't notice you, he watches your video game reviews and plays them from start to finish. I hope you notice your energy bill dropping suddenly;

🦇 Now there is a very thoughtful Damian, how could you hide from him for so long. he wonders if you would like to paint with him or if you have a pet, he would love to introduce you to his clan of animals;

🦇 Bruce pondered many things. he really loves you, don't get him wrong but his duties as Batman were a property and he wasn't sure how to approach a civilian like you, his beloved daughter. but rest assured that he will protect you... so don't worry that he has researched everything about your friends and girlfriend, after all it is for your safety;

🦇Alfred is pleased, they finally noticed the amazing girl he created and maybe you'll come home;

-Don't worry Young Miss, soon everyone will be paying attention to you like you always dreamed of.

----------------------------------------------------------

This is chapter 2, I hope you all like it. And yes, my Barbara have a wheelchair. kisses

part 1:

[coldfanbou]

Fair is Fair

We get to learn a little bit about Mina in this fic. Turns out she's a little needy.

Length 2.3K

Mina X Mreader

Previous Part

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Once Chaeyoung had left your home, you lay on the couch, wanting nothing more than to relax when your phone began vibrating. It was a series of messages. “Why did Momo get a turn?” was the first one that got your attention. You wonder who would know about your night with Momo and Jihyo. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you open your messages. You scroll to the top and realize it’s Mina messaging you. The rest of her messages were her complaints about being left out.

“I’m not the one that decided that,” you reply.

“Well, I want a turn; it’s been so long since I’ve been with someone.” She texts back before she begins calling your phone. You pick up the phone and instantly hear Mina's voice come through, “It’s not fair that Momo gets to have fun with you. We share everything, and she shouldn’t be able to have fun with you alone.” she repeats, her voice high. Mina’s whines were odd to you. From the small amount of time you had spent together, she had acted much more like a lady, so her complaining like a bratty child was weird, for lack of a better word. 

“Mina, things just happened. What do you want me to do about it.”

“Tonight, you and I are going out, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Mina,”

“No, we’re going out.” Mina whines, the soft pounding of something heard in the background. On the other side of the phone, Mina kicked her feet against her bed, cheeks full of air as she pouted. “I want to go out tonight, and then we can spend the night at your place. Chaeyoung got to fuck you last night, why can’t I?” You question the last part, your mind working slowly until you figure out that the friend Chaeyoung had been talking about was, in fact, Mina.  “Chaeyoung was showing us pictures last night, and I couldn’t believe it was you. I want my turn now!” She whined, kicking her feet again. 

You reluctantly agree, too tired to put up a fight. “Alright, fine, but you plan the date.” 

“Really?” Mina almost shouts, the glee in her voice ringing out.

“Yes, give me the details, and I’ll meet you there.” You were already tired of the situation. You place your phone on the coffee table before shutting your eyes. 

When you wake up from your short nap you have several messages on your phone from Mina, including the time and place for your date. You check the clock and realize there isn’t much time left. You get yourself ready, already regretting giving in to Mina so easily. You head to the address Mina had sent you. Arriving at the address, you double-check to make sure it’s the right place. You question Mina’s choice of a Lego cafe, but soon enough, you see her arrive, standing outside the cafe and typing something out on her phone. Your phone buzzes a second later, “Where are you?” 

“Okay, guess this is the right place.” You say to yourself before getting out of the car. You walk up to Mina, who smiles when she sees you. She’s dressed casually, wearing oversized jeans and a hoodie.

“Let’s go!” Mina says, taking your hand and heading inside, grabbing a table for the two of you. 

“What kind of place is this Mina?”

“It’s a Lego cafe,” Mina says, stating the obvious.

“I know that, but why here? Why have the date here?”

“It’s fun,” Mina says, pulling out a set of legos from under her sweater. You feel like you’re in another world as Mina begins playing with the set. Looking at the box, you see it’s a car she’s building. You’re more confused than anything else; you never would have thought Mina would be interested in something like this. Seeing her pull a box set from under her sweater was another can of worms in and out of itself. You watch the young woman smile to herself as she puts the pieces together. It was cute, almost innocent. You feel out of place as she continues to build the car. “We’ll get you a set,” Mina says without looking up at you. 

As the waiter comes around, Mina takes charge, ordering coffee for both of you and a Lego set for you to work on. You sighed briefly, “I didn’t expect this would be our date. I thought you’d want to do something else.”  You pick at the set Mina had chosen for you; it was a set of flowers, something simple.

You build your set while watching Mina work on hers, “Do you do this often?”

She nods, focusing intently on the tiny stickers she had to place on the Lego pieces. “Yeah, I think it’s fun building these sets. Most guys don’t really like it, though; they think it’s childish.”

“It kind of is, but if you enjoy it, you should be able to share that.” You reply as you look through the instructions. “If they don’t like it and don’t want to date you because of it, that’s their problem.” Mina glances up from her set, looking at you before continuing to build it.

“Thanks,” she murmurs. “It’s peaceful building these,” Mina pauses as the coffee arrives, taking her time to sip from the hot cup before returning to her build.

“I thought you would just want to get straight to business. Not go on a date first.”

“I-well, I thought it would be rude to go to your house and do it.” Mina stammers, “I thought this would be better; besides, I wanted to build this set. I’ve had it for a month.” Mina says, trying to give another reason for the date. She hoped you wouldn’t see the price tag on the box. She had bought the Lego set before coming here. After your call with her had ended, she got flustered and went out to buy it. 

“So what else do you like?” 

“Games, video games,” Mina says, drawing out another question from you. “I like Minecraft; it’s a lot like Legos. I like building things more than going on adventures.” You nod along and continue asking Mina questions about herself. She slowly grows more comfortable as the date goes on, and once she finishes her build and you finish yours, the two of you decide to leave.

Mina places her little car in the back seat, with your plant, staring at them as you drive home, hoping nothing happens to them.

As you arrive in the parking lot, Mina slips a pill into her mouth and swallows it, preparing herself for a long evening. The effects are immediate as she feels her body begin to heat up. Walking to the door, Mina grows anxious, her body growing needy.

Reaching the door, Mina throws herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck as she presses her lips against yours. “Let’s get started,” You struggle to open the door but eventually manage it, moving inside with Mina. She grabs your hands, moving them under her sweater. You feel her toned stomach as she drags your arms up her body until you reach her modest chest. Mina cranes her neck, letting you mark her body with hickeys as you lead her to the bedroom. Mina’s nipples rub against the palm of your hand, and she lets out a light moan as you squeeze her breasts. You push the door open and place Mina on the bed. You pull the hoodie off her before continuing to mark her body, her moans growing louder as you tease her nipples. Mina holds you against her chest, wanting to keep you there forever as you begin tugging at her jeans. 

Mina grabs your hands, stopping your advance. When you look up at her, her eyes are already on yours. “Before we keep going, I want to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else.” 

“Okay, I promise,” You state to her, staring into her eyes and creating a sense of trust.

“Momo doesn’t know about this, but…” Mina’s face becomes flushed as she struggles to finish her sentence. “Can I call you Daddy? I like it better this way; please take the lead.”

For the second time today, Mina stunned you. “Uhm, sure, that’s fine.” This version of Mina was a lot different from the woman you had sex with a couple of weeks ago. Whereas when she was drunk, she degraded herself, Mina seemed more soft when she was sober. Mina giggles as she unbuttons her jeans and lets you pull them off. You become distracted, thinking to yourself how Mina has been the opposite of what you expected of her as she reaches down and rubs your bulge. 

“You’re so big,” Mina whispers, “Can I see it, Daddy?” You nod and lay back on the bed, letting Mina pull your pants off you; she slowly moves her head over your crotch, her long fingers pulling at your underwear. A smile creeps onto Mina as she tugs at your underwear, and your cock flops out. She grasps it gently, her hand moving along it slowly.

“Keep going, Mina, that feels good.” You groan.

The young woman drips her saliva onto your cock, spreading it out as she runs her hand along her shaft. “I want you, Daddy, in here.” She says, placing her other hand on her stomach. Mina stares into your eyes as she strokes your cock, her body growing hotter as she becomes more eager to move on. Mina flashes her gummy smile as she uses both hands to stroke your cock, rubbing the tip with the palm of one as the other runs along your shaft. You groan Mina’s name, the pleasure flowing through you as she leans down and kisses the tip. Mina smiles after, feeling shy. 

“Mina, I want you.” The young woman’s heart skips a beat after hearing your order. She straddles you, rubbing her lips along your cock and moaning as she prepares herself. The heat coming from your cock, makes Mina want more. She doesn’t wait long before lifting herself and rubbing the tip between her folds. Light moans escape Mina’s lips as she slowly sinks onto your cock, her walls squeezing your shaft as she slips more into her cunt. Mina places her hands on your chest as she begins to feel full. 

Mina rides you, her hips rocking back and forth as she leans back. “You’re so big,” she groans. The young woman bites her lip as she moves up and down your shaft, slowly putting more force into her bounce as she takes every inch inside her. “Mmm, Daddy,” Mina moans, her strength slowly leaving her body, leaving you to thrust into her. You roll Mina onto her back and lift her lower half, continuing to thrust into her. Mina’s moans only get louder; she grips the bedsheets, getting closer to cumming. She wraps her arms around you, holding you tightly as you ram more of your length inside her. “D-daddy, you’re so deep,” she whines, her legs wrapping around you. You kiss Mina’s neck and listen to her whimpers. Your hands grip the back of her thighs; they quiver as you push Mina closer to her climax.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum for Daddy,” you growl in a low voice. Mina’s body tenses, and she cries out as she cums. You continue thrusting into her tightening cunt, driving Mina mad. She continues to moan, “Daddy, wait!” She whines, her body becoming overrun by the pleasure. 

“I’m going to cum, Mina,” you groan. 

“I want Daddy’s cum. I want it inside me,” Mina moans, the pleasure breaking her as she feels your cock throbbing inside her. As you're about to cum you bury yourself inside Mina, your cum pouring into her cunt. “Oh, Daddy, more,” Mina moans. You kiss the young woman, shutting her up for a moment as you enjoy her body, her cunt milking you.

“Does my baby want more?” You ask, running your finger between Mina’s tits. 

“Yes, Daddy. Please give me more,” Mina says, biting her fingertip as she uses her other hand to spread her lips. “Please fuck me again, Daddy.” The sight of your seed leaking out of her cunt gets you hard again, and you slide back into Mina, gripping her ass as you begin thrusting again. 

As you fuck her to another climax, you feel something rub against your finger. Moving your hand just a little, you feel a plug. “Does my baby have a plug in her?” You whisper into Mina’s ear. 

“Yes, Daddy.” Mina says with a pout, “I want to save that for later.” she says softly. You leave it alone for now and continue fucking the young woman until you’re both exhausted. As you lay beside Mina, your chest heaving, you comment on her other side.

“This is a lot different from our first time together. So you have Sharon, and this is Mina?”

Mina looks away from you, covering her face. “It’s only when I’m drunk. I say a lot of things when I’m drunk.” She admits.

You laugh at Mina, “Oh yeah? Like ‘cum inside my slutty pussy’ or ‘fuck me like a whore’”  Mina’s mind flashes back to the first time you had sex, and she grows more embarrassed. “So, which do you like more?” You lean in closely to Mina’s ear and run your hand along her body, pushing two fingers inside her cum-filled cunt. “Or is it both?” You ask her, “Are you my slutty baby?” Mina gasps, and her body shivers. She bites her lip and nods.

“I like both,”

[kabuki-writes]

The Laugh of Nero

chapter: 4 chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 5

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: General Acacius faces the consequences of his conspiracy, while his daughter unexpectedly meets Emperor Caracalla alone for the first time.

warning(s): mention of violence | mention of alcohol | swearing | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: -

word count: 3.6k

Romans loved the story of old philosopher Seneca. He was once the teacher of Emperor Nero almost 200 years ago and although body was dead, his life continued through writings: one of it being the drama 'Octavia'. It was a popular play in the amphitheaters of Ancient Rome and beyond. And it was a favorite of yours.

The plot focused on three days during which the Emperor divorced and exiled his wife Claudia Octavia and married another, his lover Poppaea Sabina. It was indeed a tragedy, that gave the audience a glimpse into the madness of Nero, the wisdom of Seneca and the tragedy of Octavia. Oh how you could relate to Octavia. The divergence between her fear, hatred and sadness against her will to withstand and be wiser than what was thrown against her, it intrigued you. Somehow you felt the same in your current situation. On the one handside you feared the future and displeased the attention of the Emperors on you, yet you wanted to do everything to persevere. In a way, the stoic nature of Seneca's character in this play gave you some kind of guidance too. Stoicism, maybe you needed to stick to that even more as you were not able to control your surroundings as it seemed?

You took your seat in the upper-ranks of the amphitheater, accompanied by two of your closest friends. Cicero was one of the grandsons of senator Gracchus and now served as one of the senate’s transcriptors for as long as he was not old enough to candidate for a political mandate himself. The other one was Lydia, the daughter of General Britannicus, who fought alongside your father countless of times and was now fighting with his legions in the far north of the Empire. "Oh, i hope Scato is going to play Octavia this time! The last time i saw him in the role of Electra - it was just mesmerizing. He is just so handsome", Lydia sighed, as she always seemed to be that actor's number one supporter. You and Cicero laughed in response before you gave your friend a small pat on the shoulder. "I already heard that you approached him after the last play. Beware actors, Lydia. They might be charming, but they're also free spirits," you explained with a smirk on your lips, before Cicero added. "Oh everyone would run, when they hear about her father."

"Come on! Stop it! I am just daydreaming! I know he will never let me spend time with someone that isn't a boring military officer!" Lydia turned her face away because she turned completely red, but as she did, she noticed the black armory of the Praetorian guards, who escorted one of the Emperors to the royal box of the Amphitheater. "y/n, Cicero, look!"

You quickly turned your eyes to the scene and your face went pale in an instant, when you saw the luxurious decorated robe, the blonde-ginger hair and the golden laurel wreath. That profile, the curved nose and the make up... you instantly noticed, which brother was here to witness the play of 'Octavia'.

Nero.

In that very moment, he turned his head in an attempt to take a look at the crowd and you tried your best to keep your head low, while your sight was locked to the stage in front of you.

"Is everything alright, y/n?", Cicero asked irritated, while he tried to make sense of your sudden change of behavior.

"Yes, yes i just... i've never seen Emperor Caracalla here."

"Really? He comes to the theater quite often to watch plays", Lydia managed to say, before the crowd slowly fell silent as the first actor slowly walked on stage. The young woman next to you blushed and you could feel Lydia's hand clinging on your arm as if she needed something to hold on - the actor was indeed Scato and the costume he wore was 'Octavia' - a flowing robe with a long, curled wig and extravagant make-up that captured the sadness of her character perfectly.

But you couldn't really focus. Your eyes went to the royal box, the best place to watch the play in a comfortable isolation from the rest of the spectators. Here he sat, accompanied by an entourage of 'friends' and a little monkey which sat on his lap. Suddenly his eyes went from the stage over the crowd and suddenly, he saw you. Your heart sunk to your feet and you instantly turned back to the stage to witness Scato's monologue. He had seen you... and what you were not able to witness now was how he turned to one of his Praetorian Guards, to which he whispered an order.

You tried to keep calm as you stared at the stage, where Octavia was now accompanied by a chorus, who wept for the terrible treason she had to endure when Nero decided to take another woman as his wife. Meanwhile your fingers clinged into the fabric of your toga-styled dress as you gathered your thoughts. You still recalled the words you'd talked with him at the Collosseum - the way you had his attention. Women would kill for what you were able to get if you just continue - but then you heard the words of your father, you saw his worried eyes in front of you and you knew something was terribly wrong.

You were so encaptured in your own thoughts that Lydia grabbed your arm again, but this time it was not because she was about to fall for the man on stage, but because a Praetorian Guard was standing right at the side of your seats and pointed at you. "You. Follow me," he ordered in a very demanding tone, while your friends looked at you in shock. They didn't know what you'd witnessed before, so you grabbed their hands and just gave them an encouraging smile. "Don't worry about me, we see each other soon, alright?", you whispered before you stood up and followed the guard upstairs to the place where Emperor Caracalla had his seat.

_________________________________

"y/n, what a pleasant surprise to meet you here! Please, take a seat!", you heard the voice of Emperor Caracalla as you stepped into the royal box of the amphitheater and bowed to him.

"Leave us, Go!", he hissed quickly to his entourage, who - without a word - got up from their seats and left as quickly as they could, but not without giving you a two-faced look. It was almost as if they already knew something you didn't, as if they both pitied and envied you at the same time. You hold their glances to not give in to any mockery they might've had in their minds and would speak out to each other when they were gone. Then it was only you and the young Emperor,... and his pet monkey, which was seemingly busy eating grapes from a bowl of fruit.

With slow, careful movements you approached the seats in the front and sat down beside Caracalla, his eyes never leaving you as you did. "A funny coincidence, is it not? I remember that we talked about 'Octavia' and here we are now", he chuckled, while he leaned back and for a moment, he watched the stage, where Seneca approached Nero about the divorce of his first wife.

"A coincidence, indeed", you answered and followed his glance. There he was, the mad Emperor, who complained about the unfair treatment of him through his own mother, which he cursed over and over again. At that point she was already dead - believed to be murdered by an order of Nero himself.

"You haven't fully answered me back then, when i asked why you see yourself as Nero". The question came from your mouth while you still followed the actor's movements in his luxurious decorated robes, a red wig on his head - it somehow reminded you of Caracalla.

"The play is written to portray him as a monster, am i sitting next to one?"

Maybe it was almost too bold to ask that. You already regretted speaking those words out loud, when his view instantly switched to you, his blue eyes digging into you like a sharp blade. Suddenly, he simply burst into a resounding laughter, that made your lose your breath for a moment, as you stared at him with irritation.

"Gods, you're really amusing", Caracalla grinned wide, showing off his gold tooth. Nonetheless he gave you an answer. "It depends..."

He raised his hand and let his little monkey climb on it. When he reached his shoulder, Caracalla took a grape and fed it to the animal, before it started to groom his wild hair. Not caring about it, he continued. "Everyone views Nero as mad for breaking the chains that his mother and his predecessor layed on him. He never loved Octavia, yet he had to marry her. He never wanted to be Emperor, yet he became one. His mother tried to control him, so much so, that he needed to get rid of this old hag." The last words were almost a hissing tone, as if he was speaking of something he could truly relate to.

"Now everyone is plotting against him, the Gods, his damned first wife, his teacher, all of Rome, only because he started to follow his own path and married the woman he loved. A tragedy, truly - not just for Octavia, don't you think?"

He looked straight into your eyes, waiting for your answer and you sensed that this was a key moment, where you could say something wrong. In a way, you could see what he meant, but there was something he didn't see. Nero broke the chains, yes, but he broke them with cruelty, murder and terror.

"Isn't everything in our lives a tragedy?", you asked and it seemed to please Caracalla, as his bright grin returned, before he turned to the stage once more, crawling his pet monkey while he followed the next scene.

Oh how he could relate to those words. No one could understand the tragedy of his own life, always being seen as the underestimated, 'weaker' and younger brother. But he enjoyed this talk more than he was willing to admit. And he was sure that you were able to understand him to a certain degree, the first woman to do so.

Suddenly, his pet jumped over to you, climbing onto your shoulder and taking a strain of hair to look at your curls.

"Dondus, no! Don't hurt the fair lady!" In an instant, Caracalla jumped from his seat, but before he tried to take the monkey again, he noticed your sudden yet beautiful laugh and how you reached out to pat Dondus carefully, softly, with your filigran fingers. How he wished that those fingers would touch him in that very moment, while his hands stiffened.

"It is fine, please - don't worry", you said quickly, since the monkey didn't hurt you in any way - in fact the way he climbed on your shoulders, touched your hair with his tiny fingers and groomed them with interest in his dark eyes, was very cute. And your reaction was honest.

"I think, he likes you", Caracalla mumbled, while he returned to his seat, still watching you how gentle you were with Dondus, one of his only 'real friends'. It was his own pet, his alone and caring for him often calmed his mind. Just as you did in this very moment since no word came from his mouth - he just watched. Why, just why does he have to share you with Geta soon...

Slowly he reached for his cup of wine and poured it down in an attempt to numb his thoughts over this damn fact.

"You said you see yourself in Octavia, but you could be Poppaea", he whispered, his eyes locked on yours.

"I could be," you responded, the focus laying on 'could', while you were still playing with the little monkey. In a way you started to find your path in this game. "Either way my fate would end in death then."

Caracalla laughed boisterous once again in response to your words, while he raised his cup. "And yet you would live in delight instead of agony. Let us toast to the inevitable death of us all". You took your cup and followed his toast.

"To the tragedy of us all." As you drank a first sip of your wine, you still saw how he looked you straight into the eyes. It was clear that he just waited for the next chance to say something and this time he was closer than before, leaning over the armrest of his throne. The Emperor was close enough for you to smell the scent of his perfumes and the wine on him.

"I just know we will have a lot of fun, once we see each other more often," he chuckled. His words hit you, but you tried your best not to drop your mask of neutrality. You'd almost began to enjoy this conversation up to this point. What did he mean by that?

Should you ask? No, it would be terribly impolite to question something like that in the presence of an Emperor. Only your lips parted, while you searched for your next words. Caracalla was the one to grin again, his gold tooth shimmering in the lights that came from the stage of the theater. And his next words rang through your ears like a bell.

"Don't forget to thank your dear father, once you're back home."

_________________________________

Marcus Acacius walked through the hallways of the Imperial Palace, escorted by the Praetorian Guard. He was not in chains, but wore his dark brown leather armor with the wine red whool cloak and his helmet under his arm - the armor of a General. In fact, he didn't really know why he was even here in the first place. It was quite early for a new war campaign, but he stopped to question them long ago anyways. It wouldn't be a surprise, if the Emperors had already found a new target for their obsession. The mere hunger for expansion was enough to never satisfy both Geta and Caracalla, who simply took military like Acacius and moved them on a map as if they were simple toy figures. The glory of Rome was what they promised the people, yet all the older man had seen was death and despair over and over again - even though he always came back with a victory laurel wreath on his head. What an irony.

The fact that everything was like the last times he was called to the palace, made him unobservant to the fact that he was walking straight into a trap. He was sure that his secret was still a secret - that he and the senators were safe in a way. Maybe safe enough to carry out their plan once the time was ready for it. How wrong he was on this...

When he stepped into the throne room, the guards behind him closed the door and he greeted Emperor Geta according to the protocol in situations like these. "My Emperor", he said with his fist on his chest and his eyes locked on the young man, who stood in front of one of the two elaborately designed thrones, which were placed on a platform at the center of the room.

"General Acacius! It is good to see you again. Come forward...," Geta called and his waving hand was a signal for him to move, to come closer. As he did, Marcus noticed that the other twin was missing, but this wasn't a surprise too since Caracalla was often 'occupied' with other things. In reality, he simply hated politics and rather threw himself into diffent forms of pleasure in an attempt to escape the stuffiness.

They were not alone, a couple of Praetorian guards stood at their distinct positions as they always did and therefore the general simply ignored them.

Meanwhile Geta had to force himself to keep a straight face, when the traitor approached him as if nothing happened at all, as if he was not about to put a sword into his neck with those filthy senators - just as Julius Caesar got betrayed by his kin and the senate as well. The young Emperor would not let this happen again.

"Tell me, General, why did i call for you?"

Acacius brows furrowed, while he looked to the map table, which was standing alone in front of the great window. It was untouched.

"I thought you might answer me that, your Grace. The last time we talked, you granted me a pause before i will regroup my legions in Ostia and start the next campaign in Numidia."

Geta's laughter filled the room in response to the General's words and it took him even more strength to not scream at him.

"Oh, don't worry, Acacius. This plan hasn't changed yet."

Yet. A feeling of unease creeped up his body, as he stood still, his eyes locked on the pale, gingerblonde royal, who stood in front of him in a toga of black and gold.

"But let us be honest now, shall we? I question your loyality to me and my brother, to Rome. As i know, you're meeting with members of the senate," Geta called out and even though this was true, Acacius kept a straight face, hiding his fear in trained perfection.

"As you know, my dear wife is the daughter of senator Galba. Is it now regarded as treason to meet with my father-in-law?"

Geta stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Acacius in an instant, while his jaw clenched in anger. His mind was like a volcano, ready to erupt at any second.

"Do you think we're fools!?", he hissed with an even more aggressive undertone that grew louder with each word. Marcus had to tackle the urge to say 'Yes', in fact there was even so much more he wanted to say right now. That they were tyrants, mad, arrogant and overall spoiled little brats, which he cursed at every given second of his life.

"We know what you're up to Acacius - a snake amongst the men we regarded as the most loyal to our father and to us. How dare you turn against us and plot with those maggots from the senate, even though you've seen that they were not able to rule an Empire for yourself! Have you no respect for Emperor Septimius Severus, who gave you all what you're now!?"

It was too late, he obviously knew. And Acacius was not even able to put in words how much he hated himself for not being able to keep it as a secret long enough. It not only put his own life in danger but the rest of his family too, his wife... his daughter. His jaw clenched at the mere thought of the consequences that might errupt in the aftermath of this audience. Yet he couldn't hold back what was laying under his tongue for so long: "You father still holds my greatest respect and loyalty even after his passing... may the gods grant him peace in elysium. But i've seen your shortcomings many, many times. You lack the wisdom and restraint he had, yes maybe even the love he had for Rome and its people. You and your brother are not worthy of the crowns he placed upon your heads."

Geta's eye twitched and he grabbed a dagger, placing it right in front of Acacius' throat. His whole body trembled in pure wrath at the audacity of that General's words.

"I should kill you now Acacius! I should kill you and all those filthy senators for that treason!", he screamed at him, while his opponent only responded with a cold and collected gaze. This look alone made him Geta even more aggressive and hateful towards Marcus, but killing him would only create another problem - so he went with the path he had already planned in his mind.

"My brother was right, you are a Brutus. But we're not Julius Caesar", Geta hissed against Acacius, leaning his head to the side for a moment, as he studied his stern facial expression. Oh how much he hated it that he didn't fear him. The Emperor wanted to change that.

"We should start all over again, shall we? As a hero of Rome, the people won't be pleased with you being crucified publically... But we can still kill your wife... your daughter?", he started and noticed how - even for a second - the corners of Acacius' mouth twitched, as if he wanted to say something against this. Now there was fear, something Acacius tried desperately not to show, but Geta still noticed.

A wide, knowing smile appeared on his face and he nodded in silent agreement. "Ah, now you see the consequences. Yes, i am not above killing you kin and let you watch... but it would be such a shame, such a waste... especially for your beautiful daughter. I wonder how you will explain to her, that you threw her young life away because of your pride"

The blade of his dagger was dangerously close as the tip touched his skin at his neck, while Acacius stood in an almost frozen position.

"I have a proposal for you, Acacius...it is the only option to safe your own life and the ones of those you love the most - wed your daughter to me."

Geta's word hit Marcus like a lightning bolt. His eyes widened in response to the request of the Emperor in front of him. And his heart broke in that very moment.

"I will not sell out my daughter like this", he answered with a firm tone in his voice, but Geta only smirked and leaned forward, whispering in his ear with an amused undertone. He knew that Marcus wasn't able to say 'No' in any way. He loved his daughter too much to watch her die.

"One option, General. She either becomes my wife - and i will make her Empress of Rome. Or she will be crucified alongside your pathetic senators..."

He would always choose her life, but at what cost.

_________________________________

Tags:

quuinyoung koshkahhh mmkkzz analves pandora-journey ange-olras tellynojelly targwh0re h3k3t onelemonoat whitenoise808 spooky-cupid dev1lbella onelemonoat hawraa-alzubaidi omg-hellgirl the-holy-pigeon justnobodynothingmore fandomblogs-stuff justnobodynothingmore superblyspeedydragon deliciousfestsalad moon-390 lv9su harmfulb1tch apollonshootafar zalera8310 sweetffcts lvspedri soltik capitanostella weepingfashionwritingplaid labellapeaky

[biteyoubiteme]

lemon cake

lemon drop!soobin x angel cake!reader

‧₊˚ ⋅ synopsis In a world where everything is sugary and sweet, it is always fun to throw in a little twist. Quiet and tired Lemon Drop finds himself struggling to keep up with the day to day of single-parent life. Knocking on Angel Cake's door, begging for more than just help, might take care of two of his problems.  ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ warnings 🔞!!! fairytale au, lemon drop!soobin, angel cake fem!reader, slight spit kink, spit and cum as flavored aphrodisiacs, not really but chubby reader implied bc angel cakes body is soft and described as cake (skin indents and takes a few seconds to bounce back), mentions of masturbation (f! and m!), hand job, oral (m!rec), virginity loss, breeding kink, corruption kink, biting, cumplay/eating/snowballing, no protection, creampie, prob forgot some sorry

⊹₊ ݁ . wc: 8.9k . ݁₊ ⊹

၄၃ ⸝⸝⸝ now playing: new emotion- the aces an: ive never been so happy to post a fic before! this was so very fun to work on with my moots. im honored to have worked alongside some absolutely incredible writers- actually wild that you let me in on this when you guys are just so amazing im a little dazed lol. and it was so fun to read everyones fics early and go back and forth on little ideas we found would benefit each others works. this was one of the best things to do and im so thankful for mae and her mind,,go read everyone elses fics pls pls pls they are so so good. anyways love my friends <333 [m.list] [strawberry shortcake m.list]

Angel Cake loved a routine. Most things could be broken down into a neat list of checkpoints, a simple to-do list set up like the recipe for a good day. She would get to the store early, prep the tables, and make sure all the clothes were neat enough for when she opened the door. Sometimes a new shipment would come in and she would take her time checking off every box as she added the new items to her inventory. She loved folding all the shirts up, stacking them, lining them all so neatly, and keeping them color-organized.

It wasn't until an hour later that the store officially opened for the day, the sweet buttery scent from the town's shops wafting in through the doors. Angel Cake would sit behind the register looking through catalogs to pick out new things to order, helping customers when they filtered in and lulled around the shop admiring her cute displays. Almost an hour after opening is when her favorite customer arrived. “Strawberry!”

She loved to shop, everything she wore was hand-selected by Angel, perfectly picked out from the catalog with her in mind. Even the pale blue shirt worn by Kai was bought within these four walls. The sweet blueberry boy gave a shy wave, apple dumpling, strawberry’s little sister, running right past the two of them to her favorite section in the store.

“I brought you your share from the bake sale,” the cream-colored box carefully held in hand. It was one of the small things Angel looked forward to, the soft cake and cream, the first bite of sweetness. “They took a little longer than expected to make but they turned out so good,”

Kai flushed a deep shade of blue, the color only highlighted by the blue strands of his hair. Even Strawberry was blushing, her eyes tacking onto apple dumpling to avoid looking at angel cakes questioning glance. “Berry why don't you help Dumpling pick out a new school dress, I see angels gotten some new ones in,”

It was all it took for Kai to follow after the giggling child, leaving Angel and Strawberry alone. “You won't believe the weekend I've had,”

“Was it beomgyu? I hear he went to the market for the first time in a month and acted so bitter over Cherry’s jam,”

“No no nothing like that, I just- berry and I-” If strawberry could get any more color to shade her cheeks she would, her flush traveling to her ears, “We kind of…”

“You kind of what?” Angel Cake had known for years that Blueberry had a crush on Strawberry. They spent most of their time together, strawberry baking and blueberry strumming his guitar. It wasn't news to Angel that either of them had fallen into a relationship without much effort.

“We kissed and then it wasn't kissing it was- well-” she was struggling to find the right words, the images of the night before flashing in her eyes as she stumbled through the words. “It was so much more than kissing, the both of us were just insatiable and he just- he tasted so good,”

“Tasted? Like when you kissed?” Angel tilted her head as if that would tip the right information into the right spot for her to understand. Tasting someone did not necessarily sound all too fun, she could picture the underwhelming flavor of blueberries and didn't find it appealing at all. Angel was never really a fan of how plain they could be, although she would never confess that to Strawberry who couldn't stop herself from remembering the flavor as if it was spilling right back onto her tongue.

“Not exactly-” but it was all Strawberry could say before the two of you turned to the sound of apple dumping giving a shout.

“Meringue!” the little blonde, dimpled-cheeked child, giggling as she ran to meet her friend, exclaiming just as loud, “Dumpling!”

Everyone in all of Strawberry Land knew exactly how close the two little girls were. Spending hours joined at the hip, playing games, singing songs, and laughing enough to fill the sweetest of souls with the happiness shared between the two of them. Most times lemon meringue would find herself sprawled out on the living room floor, coloring with apple dumpling while angel cake and strawberry tested recipes in the kitchen. The two little girls being the best test testers, never afraid to say when they didn't like something.

Most times meringue was over because Blueberry was the perfect babysitter, teaching the girls how to play the guitar, and finding fun ways to keep them entertained. He kept them busy while Lemon Drop, meringue’s dad, was off at the local college teaching. Lemon drop soobin was always a bit bitter, the slight tinge to his personality always brought forward with his obvious sleepiness. His under eyes slightly bruised from the late hours he spent bent over books, grading papers, and chasing after his little sweet tart. Rumpled shirt half untucked from his pants, butter blonde hair mussed, and glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Angel Cake could feel her stomach flutter at the sight, he looked unbelievably warm, the kind of person you wanted to slip into and cuddle up. His lazy blinking eyes tracked around the sweet cream shop, deeply breathing in the sugary air.

Soobin wanted a nap, the warmth of the shop hugging him the second he breached the doorway. It was the favorite shop on the strip, the scent pulling him in amongst the rest of the fruity temptations. Buttery warmth hinted with vanilla cream beckoned him in that direction every time. It was easy to get lost in thought and follow his footsteps right to your door without realizing it when he followed his instincts. With an excuse to step inside, he could settle his craving without shyly backing away from the doorway, tinted pink from the recurring embarrassment of finding the shop irresistible. It was okay when Meringue was with him, but when he was alone, gazing through the sugar glass window to see angel cake folding or hanging clothes, it was a little more awkward.

He wasn't particularly known as the fondest resident in strawberryland. He was known to fight back, the sting of his arguments leaving people with a bitter impression of him. It was something that was expected of the debate professor, teaching the people how to stand up for themselves and find the proper form to an argument.

Angel found him to always cut back the sweetness of the people who took his class, leveling out their need to please in a way that she knew people who didn't take his class found caustic. Working in such a closed shop she heard more than anyone else did in the street market, the stalls so open the voices carried over to one another. No secrets could be kept when the air picked up every sound, enough so that anyone could get burned when gossip traveled. It made her shop the gossip harbor, the walls soaking in the secrets enough so that it set the illusion that nothing would make it to the unknowing subject of conversation.

Just last week she heard the run-around rumor mill turning out stories of frosty puff and gingerbread taehyun. The occasional talk of lemon drop, he's just so sour, listing ways to prove someone wrong. Can't we all just get along and not fight? He must be teaching that poor sweetheart of his such nasty things.

It had made Angel roll her eyes. Who cared if he was giving the rest of Strawberry Land a backbone, it was needed in such a basket of softies. But Angel knew she was in the same boat, still a product of her environment, soobin had moved back after finding himself in a big city amongst the rich and decadent. Nothing like the homegrown bunch he had been born from.

Strawberry pinched angel's arm, her soft flesh dimpling at the draw to attention. It always took a second for Angel's skin to bounce back from a tight hold, easily squashed like the cake from which she was named. “It wasn’t just kissing it was- I don't even know how to describe it, we tasted each other in places I never thought to before,”

“Like where?” it felt absurd to think of putting angel's mouth anywhere besides the mouth of a lover, maybe the back of their hand. Strawberry fiddled with the loose ribbon she used to tie a bow on the shortcake box, tugging the strand until it neatly fell away. Even for her name, Angel had never seen strawberry so pink, from ear to ear as she swallowed. “Down there,” her eyes flickered down to Angel's zipper, popping up just as quickly to see if Angel understood what she was saying.

“Berry!” Angel whisper-shouted, shocked, and intrigued all at once. Angel wasn't too dense, she understood to some extent how it worked but never thought about their being a flavor, or even that your mouth was used for more than just kissing.

“Angel, I don't even know how to describe how good it tasted- better than this,” she held up the short plump cake, the sweet cream swirled on top and donned with a little strawberry heart. “And it's hard to taste any better than this, I mean it's more addictive than sugar,”

It seemed hard to believe, especially when Angel sunk her teeth into the light dessert. The warmth of the sponge still lingers in between the ripples of fresh fruit. The frosting was her favorite part, dotting her upper lip in the clear mark of overindulgence, the creamy whips making her softly moan.

The sound echoed in the shop, just loud enough to be heard under the giggles of the girls, talking out planned outfits to wear to school tomorrow, but it didn't catch Kai’s attention, only catching the ear of lonely Lemon Drop Soobin. He watched the way Angel wiped at her mouth, sucking her thumb clean before rolling her eyes, “Hard to believe,”

“Well, you won't know until you try,” Strawberry muttered, closing the box of sweets and tying the bow back up.

“Ew no, I hate to say it but blueberry is kind of a flavorless fruit-” Angel Cake started looking over to where soobin and Kai stood. Angel stuttered in her speech, cheeks flushed and shoulders straightening under Soobin’s piercing gaze. Strawberry not even noticing the hiccup, “No! Not with Kai, anyone else but him, I mean it, Angel, it was something else,”

Soobin quirked a brow, Angel's cheeks deepening in color. It didn't help that he was looking at her with her train of thought derailing in the direction of a lovely open pool of crisp lemonade. She could just smell the citrusy freshness that followed after him, the scent that made her perfectly aware of how different they were, and forced her to face the recollection that she wanted him in a horribly needy way.

She wondered exactly what he would taste like, obviously lemony, but would he be more sweet or sour? Fresh or bitter? He was the opposite of sweet little blueberry who was now clapping at the choice of dresses the girls had picked out. Lemon drop was a streak of verbena-washed clarity in a town full of half-baked sweet tarts. She wanted him to wash over her and teach her things she never would have known without him, open her pallet to more than just the sweets found in a shop just like Strawberry said. Because as much as she talked down on the people around her, she was just as close to them, still grappling with the niceties of sprouting out in a field of pushovers. But she had time to bake, enough so that she knew she wanted more than just a dollop of sweetness to finish her off. She needed the honesty of someone who would be just as bitter as she was sweet, someone who had left and come back, someone who knew exactly what she wanted and had achieved it themself. Only now all she could think about was what exactly you had to do for a taste of anything at zipper level.

“You know, I heard he's looking for a sitter, especially because Kai is helping me so much at the stand. It's great to have Dumpling around but sometimes following her and meringue is a bit much,” Strawberry added, looking right past soobin to where Blueberry was fussing over apple dumplings shoelaces.

“Really?” soobin had broken eye contact to tend to little lemon meringue, carrying the outfits she's picked out in one arm and pushing back his hair with a ruddy knuckled hand. She watched the two of them like she was memorizing her favorite recipe, taking the time to run over every line, connecting the little bullet point dimples the two of them shared. Even when Strawberry took her bunch with her out the door, leaving the two of them alone at her counter, she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her features.

“Don't you just love it, angel? It's so bright and pretty and does a perfect twirl when I spin,” meringue is nearly a spitting image of lemon drop, the only difference is her hair doesn't have the classic butter blond but a sun-washed version, the roots starting as a toasted tan color before fading out. But even then it's impossible to say they weren't related. Holding onto the edge of the checkout counter, hand still fluttering over the dress she's picked. Soobin reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, grinning with the edge of his mouth as he watches her look up at Angel with her big brown eyes, dimple so deep in his cheeks she's sure she can swim in it. “It's perfect,” Soobin mutters.

For someone who has been pushed into the bitter pile by the rest of the town, Angel finds it hard to believe someone like the man before her could be anything but comforting. It was in his name, lemon drop, so nostalgic, in and of itself an acquired taste.

“I know you think that but I was asking angel,” meringue scrunched up her nose in that little kid's way, the light dusting of faded freckles tucked into the creases like a bunched blanket.

“I love it, would it even be a good dress without a perfect twirl? It's why I make sure all of the dresses in here look good when you spin,” Angel folds the items neatly sliding them into the gift bag. “Here you go,”

Soobin passes out the exact change, hand brushing angels as he lets the money go, surprised by the warmth radiating off the soft contact. Just as comforting as the alluring scent in the streets he shouldn’t have expected any less. Meringue is elated to be handed her bag giggling to herself as she thanks Angel and her dad. “Next time I see you I hope I can see your perfect twirl and soob- lem-” Angel stumbles over the right name, never really having spoken to him personally besides a few light greetings in passing.

“Soobin is fine,” his grin was a mix of amusement and arrogance that whipped Angel around in a mix of unrelenting jealousy. The ease with which he found himself walking through life was something angel only wished to grasp, and here he was, with confidence written into a single smile.

“Okay, soobin, if you ever need help after five I'm always free to watch her when you need work done. Strawberry was just telling me you could use a hand, "Angel says it so innocently, eyes blinking up to him in a way that he can't think about too closely. It takes everything in him not to look down at the very hand she speaks of, even if it's metaphorically. Because he could use a hand, specifically hers wrapped around him revealing the stress he was feeling in ways that he knew only she would be able to take care of. But it was too much to ask in a place like this, too much to think about when he was in public, and certainly too much when his child was waiting by the door for him to take her to her playdate.

“Thank you I could- um- really use the help,” he didn't know what to do with his hands, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose only for them to slip right back down, hand running through his already messy hair. It was the most angel had ever seen him discomposed, more like a stuttering school boy instead of a college professor who made school boys cower.

“Okay just let me know, you know where you can find me,”

It was only a few days later when soobin came by to ask for Angel's assistance, meringue hot on his heels as he shuffled into the shop right before closing. “I know it's last minute but Kai was supposed to take her to Strawberry’s house but turns out he cant and-”

“It's okay,” Angel chuckled, “I know the two of them have been so finicky with plans recently it's no problem at all. I just need to make sure the doors are locked up and then we can go,” and so they waited while you twisted the key, checking the knob twice, and shuddering from the slight chill in the air. In only a few days, Angel knew the gingerbread cobblestones would be coated in the thin glaze of the first frost, dollops of shoveled snow pushed up against her shop looking like misplaced piles of spilled frosting.

Lemon meringue ran ahead, her ballet flat-covered feet skipping between each stone like a made-up hopscotch map only she could see. Instinctively, Angel walked a step closer to soobin, bumping his arm with every other step they took toward his house at the end of the lane. Angel knew this was one of the reasons why he was accepted more than his other bitter labeled fellows, he lived in town, and went to town meetings even if he didn't add to the majority opinions. If he lived down on the outskirts, house kissing the woods or worse buried deep inside them, he wouldn't have a chance of being accepted in the way that he has been. It gave Meringue the best opportunity to find friends and build a relationship with the community before they ostracized her for being anything but sweet because of the name she carried.

Pushing open the door to their modest place, Angel was surprised by the solace laced into the brown woods and honey-colored accents thrown around the house. Stacks of leather tomes litter tidy shelves, and little dolls, and figurines placed by meringue are known only because of how high each item reaches. It smelled of freshly picked lemons and the cozy baked smell of warmed sugar. It was just late enough for the sun to be setting in through the gauzy curtains, casting the room in a warm golden glow. Angel wasn't to bask in the light, curl up like a kitten on the plush couch, tucked in with the knitted blanket tossed over the back like an invitation.

Meringue shot forward, hand wrapped around Angel's wrist tugging her past the living room and to the overly saturated room that could only belong to a child as happy as her. “Look, angel! I can show you all my princess dresses, we can do a fashion show!” She pushed open a trunk decorated like a little carriage fit to wheel a queen in, the lid holding back all the tulle and silk, only to now spill out like an overstuffed donut.

Soobin chuckled by the doorway, knowing exactly how his daughter was. She would keep Angel entertained enough for the both of them, needing no help to find something to do. It was the only thought in his head until he caught sight of Angel's wrist, his little meringue’s handprint still indented on her soft skin. He watched in amazement the way it slowly rose back into shape like a cake filling the tin in the oven. The thoughts running in his head were nothing to be proud of, images of his hands on the plush of angel tummy driving him mad. He had to turn away, leaving them alone in the room to focus on the stack of papers he had on the edge of his desk to dull the image of his handprint on the crease of her hip, dented into her thigh.

It was hard to get work done as is, his mind always fluttering through the tasks at hand, the next paper to grade, the time to pick up meringue, when he would be able to fit in the time to sleep. Now all he can think about is sweet cream dotting the smooth expanse of buttery cake. He hardly got through the few papers waiting for him, red pen in hand, staining the tips of his fingers as it sat motionless waiting for him to write. Hours passed, the soft laughter and chatting heard through the cracked door, every so often a glimpse of yellow and pink crossed in front of his field of vision, both angel and meringue going from the living room and back.

It made soobin happy to not worry that Meringue was having a good time, sometimes she fell shy especially when not near Apple Dumpling. She even had to warm up to Strawberry, only becoming her bubbly self when she and dumpling were alone, hiding behind her closest advisers in the face of someone new. But Meringue had always wanted to talk to Angel Cake even before they had known her to be best friends with Strawberry. His sweet lemony girl's eyes go wide and glittery seeing the expanse of clothes held in Angel's shop, do you think she gets to try on anything she wants? Look at how cute she dressed Daddy! I wish I had her job.

Every little comment only showed how deeply Meringue wanted to play dress up, more so play with Angel. He's sure even if he had asked for Angel to watch meringue in the shop she would have just as much fun as she was having going around the house now. He loved how comfortable Meringue found herself around Angel, and how Angel accepted his girl with open arms.

Time slipped past soobin without realizing the laughter had faded into hazy silence, more than half his stack of papers cleared through and marked to be returned to waiting students. He ran his fingers under his eyes, glasses set askew from the rubbing, sighing into the empty study. Soobin didn't notice Angel until he smelled her, that wonderfully delicate sweet smell of vanilla sweetness making him hold back his groan. He had thought it had only been the smell of the shop. The cake-like walls were made to pull in customers like the cinnamon scent of a bakery wafting through the streets, beckoning all who breathed in the air. Maybe Angel smelled so delicious because of working all day, the scent rubbing off and sticking to her hair, her clothes, her skin.

“She's fast asleep, knocked out almost as soon as she laid down to read her bedtime book,” Angel leaned against the edge of soobins desk, hip digging into the wood, fingers sprawled over the skewed pages of work. To Soobin, she was a dazzling masterpiece of messy hair and flushed skin, dress short enough for him to see the way the desk was pinching her thigh.

“Thank you,” the words twisted into a whisper from how dry his mouth had gotten just from looking at a single strip of skin. Licking his lips he tried to swallow, finding something to say besides the hollow echo of words he had managed.

“Oh it's nothing really, she's a doll,” Angel's eyes danced over the pages at her hand, “you lived in the city right?” even just the mention had soobins mind going back to the dull colorless house he found himself in when studying for his degree. It made him sick to think about raising meringue in a place like that, she was why he had moved back home, not caring how off-put the rest of the town was about him now.

“Yes, I did,” he sat back in his chair, one elbow still resting on the desk and the other laid out on the armrest. He was half turned to angel, lower because of sitting and now having her tower over him. And her damn thigh was there right next to him, knuckles twitching to brush over the smooth expanse of skin.

“Did you like it?” Angel had tipped her voice down to a whisper, the dim light needing the change when she had decorated the question in enough hope and worry. It wasn't as if Soobin’s answer would change much, she knew she dreamed of a city out there bright enough to blind the thought of home but it was hard to leave when it was all she ever knew, she didn't even know if she truly wanted to leave.

“I liked it enough,” soobin bit at his bottom lip, worrying over the question. It was as honest an answer as he could give. “But it wasn't home, not for me, not for meringue. There is nothing quite like the comfort of home,”

“Like this place you have here,” Angel lifted her chin, looking around the packed study with even more books and bobs. “That couch of yours looks too cozy not to nap on,”

“You should see my bed,” it was a quick response, one that didn't pass the filter connected to the bit of his mouth that kept him from saying anything embarrassing. “I- I didn’t mean it like that-”

But Angel didn't get the innuendo embedded into the words, she just nodded, “I should, I bet it's just as warm as the rest of this place, you have it at just the right temperature,”

The lack of sleep was making him loose, his finger drifting out to press right into the outside of Angel's thigh, pushing against the soft plush of her skin just enough to feel the heat from her, “you sure it's not you? You seem to keep warm enough,”

“Oh no, take it from a cake to know exactly when they walk into the right level of warmth. This is perfectly cozy,”

“You do feel…lively,” soobin drags his finger up Angel's thigh, reaching right to the hem of her dress, stopping right before it could go any further. The line he had drawn was like the roadmap to the realization that he should not be touching her like this. But it was incredibly hard to remember his mind when he felt this hazy; drunk off the lack of sleep and the sweet smell of sugary cake.

Angel felt the pad of his finger slip right up her spine, sink into her nervous system, and cloud her mind. Even if he had pulled away, flexing his hand as if that would sink the feeling of her warm skin into his palm, she could swear the touch was tattooed right there forever now.

She couldn’t forget it, not on the walk home, not when she showered the day away, not even when she climbed into bed. The moonlight slipped in through her lacy curtains, the soft gleam pulling her mind right back to the study. Her finger pressed right where she remembered him, circling the spot like she was tracing the shape of the yellowing moon on her thigh.

Even the moon made her think of him, a little lemon drop in the sky, her bed warm enough to picture what it would be like to snuggle up in his. Her fingers were too soft and not at all how she needed them to be to pick up her illusion. Pressing them harder into her thigh she felt an ache between her legs, centered right at the heart of her.

Angel had never felt such a pull to touch herself, not until the butter blonde boy was there just out of reach, so close to palming her thigh instead of just using the tip of his fingers. She wanted his hands all over her, they didn't even need to be warm, she just needed him. Needed his finger pressed on the tormentor's bud that called for him. But for now, she would have to make do, her hand pushed into her shorts feeling along the wet seam of herself never knowing that her body would crave someone so bad without even having tasted them like strawberry had said.

But the only thing on her mind was lemon drop, her hips rolling into her hand, the soft moans drawn out from a mouth so unfamiliar with this sound. Her body told her the way to move, and where to seek peak pleasure until she was a gasping mess, creaming around her dainty digits. Angel Cakes' new discovery was a calamity, highlighting a deep desire she didn't know she could hold within herself. A catastrophe; soobin had been the one to knock a tray of glasses to the floor, already so recklessly close to the edge until one push sent them shattering, angel couldn't clean the glass fast enough, left to never be the same again.

Soobin was no better, he was a cracked vase slowly leaking out in drips of sun-melted ice, he had to hold it together for work, for home; hastily wrapping fingers around the seeping seams only for his thoughts to pour out between his fingers. Because angel cake was spinning in his living room, twirling around with his daughter, giggling until they were a dizzy pile on the floor. His office door just cracked as he caught sight of angels' sweet lacy white panties, clinging to the curve of her ass. If he had knocked over the tray of her sanity, angel cake had taken a hammer to his fragile vase, smashed it until it was powered, and easily passed as dusting sugar on the treats in strawberry’s shop.

Soobin felt his addiction take its toll on him, every night the image of angel cake washed over his sleeping mind until he was reduced to nothing but a needy muddled mess of thruming joints. He couldn't go one day without his hand wrapped around his cock, working his wrist until he was spilling dribbles of cum onto sheets that needed her in them. It was worse when his order from strawberry came in, Kai handing the box over right at the doorway, picking up Meringue for her sleepover with Dumpling. The smell of the shortcake filled the house as soon as he shut the door behind them.

He was embarrassed to have such an obsession with angel cake, sure that she would cringe away from his desperation for her. So desperate he was standing in the kitchen with one hand down his pants and the other digging into the soft sponge of one of the cakes just brought over. The cream and crumb squished out between his fingers as he came, moaning into the empty space until the sound reverberated around him, the smell of her dancing around his body. He wanted her, needed her.

Soobin didn’t even remember the trip to Angel's shop's door, his nose pulling him along the crumb-dotted cobblestone, leading him right to the front doors, so willing to be eaten by the magic-laced girl inside. He could see her through the frosted glass windows, the closed sign turned to signal the end of her shift but she was leaning over the stand of shirts, fixing them in the way she wanted, her end-of-day routine. He could smell her, that buttery sweetness addicting, making him delirious. He wanted to sink his hands into her warm flesh, hold her tight enough so that if anyone saw they would know it was his hands that had been on her, that she was his, and his alone.

He pushed open the unlocked door, the ding of the bell signaling his entrance, that glance over her shoulder ruining him once and for all. “Hi! Did I forget I was supposed to come over tonight? I can pack up real quick or she can stay here-”

“No, blueberry took her- i- i-” he was struggling with the words, a stuttering fool standing in the middle of the shop like he'd come to beg. And he had, he would beg her till the end of his days to have one taste, to have her tear into him like she was peeling back the layers of his sanity. “I need you,”

“Oh?” she tilted her head to the side, the pure look of innocence smashing into him like a wave. He wanted to stain her, fill her up, and call her his.

Soobin struggled to swallow, every breath filling his lungs with her, she was right there on the tip of his tongue. “I need you,” his hand reached down to the bulge sitting against his thigh, hard, thick, and weeping for her.

If Angel Cake hadn't spoken to Strawberry about the zipper-level kisses she would have been confused beyond belief. But it had been all she could think of since then, what it would be like to lick up his body and know exactly what it was that made people so addicted. Because she was grappling with the fact that she was already falling down the rabbit hole of need, to finally taste him would be like crashing right into another world. “I don't know- I don't know how-” she was flushed all over from the confession because she didn't want him to leave, if he needed her she would mold herself to fit and fix any problem he had. Her lack of knowledge wouldn't hold her back, if he was a teacher she would be his best student.

“I'll show you, tell you everything you need to know,” he snapped the button on his pants, undoing the zipper releasing enough pressure to let out the most sinful noise angel had ever heard. She could feel her panties flooded with the cream that had been leaking from her for days now, always tied to the thought of him. If he felt even a fraction of how she did, Angel would make sure to take the best care of him.

“O-okay,” Angel Cake could feel her mouth water, her thighs pulling together, needing them closer to relieve the ache she felt. Soobin locked the door behind him, tugging Angel to a spot behind a rack of clothes. “Here get on your knees in front of me,”

Angel was fast to listen, sinking to the ground in front of him, hands placed neatly on the tops of her thighs, looking up at soobin with those wanting eyes. Just thinking about those plush lips warping around his cock was taking him out, and watching the tip of her tongue wet her mouth was excruciating. Soobin reached into his pants, pulling out his veiny shaft, the sheer size making Angel's eyes widen.

She didn't know what she was expecting but she was not expecting to feel empty at the sight. The top of him was shiny with a layer of leaking pre-cum. Soobin ran his thumb across his slit collecting the wetness to swirl around the tip, moaning at the way Angel's mouth fell open without realizing. “You can touch it,” he nodded, watching how Angel was gripping her skirt, crinkling the fabric trying to hold herself back.

Angel lifted a shaking hand, fingers brushing the side of him, amazed at the softness so much that she wrapped her hand around him and gave a tug. Soobins chest rumbled, his hand reaching out for the rack next to him, the hangers clattering from the force of his grip. “Sorry-”

“No, no you're doing good, just like that, slow and easy,” he nodded, biting back his moan when her wrist flicked again, “you can squeeze a little harder,” he whispered, his free hand finding itself around hers, showing her just the right amount of pressure he was looking for. Soobin's hand guided Angel's until he was using her hold as if it was his own, speeding up the pace.

Angel watches in amazement as soobins head rolls back, his brows pinched as he whimpers. She's never wanted to taste something or someone so bad, and now, with him right in front of her, she can't resist the temptation for what it is. Angel sits up just enough so that she can press a sweet kiss to his tip, a string of pre-cum still connecting her lips to him. Soobin lets out a shocked gasp, watching the way she licks her lips clean.

The taste is subtle, the sweet and sour mixed together only to draw Angel back in for more. She didn't even know what she was doing, compelled by the flavor to envelop him fully, the flat of her tongue licked up and around to collect more of the addictive fluid. Soobin’s knees go weak at the warmth of her mouth, hips jerking to try to chase the feeling, “Oh fuck just like that,” his hand still holding hers, working over the rest that wasn't pressed into her mouth.

Angel cake moaned around him, his bitter lemon taste mixing with the sweetness from his pre-cum. She wanted to swallow him whole, take more of him down. Soobin couldn't even think anymore, Angel's mouth trying to work further down, her hand stopping right at his base. Angel hollows her cheeks, sucking him down like its instinct, soobins groan taking over the silence and joining the soft wet noises. Soobins restraint breaks, overwhelmed by the way her mouth molds to his cock so perfectly, his mind working to imagine it's her waiting cunt. She takes him down so deep he can feel the back of her throat. It's enough for him to wrap his hands into her hair, fingers wrapping softly around her skull as he fucks into her mouth without warning. Angel moans, the vibrations going straight up his cock and making his balls clench. Her hands reach out for his thighs to keep herself steady, tears welling in her eyes, loving the newfound sensation.

Angel Cake doesn't know what to expect, lashes fluttering as he loses himself in the feel of her. It's a shock when his thrusts become erratic, his body trembling with a deep groan, sweet lemon cream spilling on her waiting tongue. Angel tries to swallow, unable because he keeps going, fucking his cum right into her still willing mouth, spurt after spurt following until he has to pull away. Angel gasps, sucking in gulps of air, mouth a mess of dripping lemon custard and saliva.

If she had thought the pre-cum had been addicting, she didn't know the effect the real deal would have on her. Blindly, she wiped the corner of her mouth, licking the cream she'd collected, humming as if she'd just taken a bite of the richest lemon bar. The sight and sound made soobin impossibly more obsessed with her, fingers going down her cheek, pulling her attention to his awestruck expression.

His head was clearing but it didn't stop the infection of her as it slipped well past his mind, into his bones, into his soul. He had heard about how easy it was to save a fruit tree if you cut away the rot fast enough; right at first sight. Angel cake had taken hold of every thorny branch on his tree and twisted herself in the sparse foliage, so deeply intertwined now that he wasn't sure there was ever a time when it would have been an easy snip to rid himself of this fever.

Angel Cake's face was a glistening mess of wetness when he squished her cheeks with one large hand, her pouting lips so kissable and pink. “Look at you,” a surrealistic sigh caught on the edge of his tone. He leaned down, needing a taste of the two of them, the perfect combination of bitter and sweet, angel's sugary spit mixed with his lemony custard making him powerless. And when he pulled away, letting go of angel's cheeks, he watched the way her lips stayed puffy, the illusion of dimples still there as her skin rose back, flushed a petal pink. “Did I do good?”

“You did perfect,” soobin brushes his nose along the bridge of hers, his eyes closing, breathing her in. He wanted to tear into her, squish his fingers into her, and memorize every little action that brought out a sound. But in his post orgasm clarity, he noticed exactly what he had done. He had tainted this perfect angel, filled her with more than just bad ideas but had fully gone in and let his uncontrollable emotions take over.

Even when Angel Cake had gotten home later that night, she couldn't stop licking her lips. She was lying in bed, wriggling in the sheets trying and failing to find a comfortable position let alone sleep. Her hand was stuck between her legs, on the verge of tears for nothing working to cave in a hunger that she was only now painfully aware of. She hated that she was alone, hated it more than she knew the feeling of his hands on her, knew that those long fingers would have been perfect to fix her problem as easily as she had fixed his.

The hunger triggered a compulsion within her similar to the one soobin experienced on his walk to Angel’s shop, her feet carrying her through the streets, half-dressed in her silky lace pajamas. The lemon drop moon cast its path down the cobblestone to Soobin’s front door. The cold unfelt against Angel's warm skin, and when soobin opened the door he could see the steam rising off of her heated body. The haze of it mixed with the backlight of the moon made her look like a true angel waiting right at his front step, outlined in the glow. She hasn't even come in shoes, her thick socks slouched around her ankles, her shorts pinched at her waist, and one tank top strap down her shoulder. He could see her pebbled nipples through the thin material, his lips pursing at the thought of wrapping around them. “Angel?”

He couldn't tell if this was one of his dreams, the kind that left him reaching out in a bed she never saw. “I think I need you now,” she couldn’t find it in herself to be embarrassed by the words, not when she had seen him in the same state, begging and just as needy. Soobin rushed to pull her inside, ready to get her wrapped up in something to keep her from freezing if that was possible for someone so warm. He hardly had the door closed when she was pulling him closer to her, wrapping her arms around his neck, tugging him into her space. She needed to have him in her mouth again and soobin knew he wasn't going to turn her away. His hands slid down her back, fingers digging into the soft skin, groaning into her sugar-sweet mouth, the sound catching in the back of her throat, and she swallowed it down greedily.

Angel didn't know what to do with her hands, her mind shutting off and following their natural way, slipping into his hair, the strands tangling between her fingers, his lemony sweet kisses taking over her mind as he slowly kissed her. But Angel was impatient, whining and rubbing her thighs together.

“What is it baby? Tell me,” he kissed down her jaw, intoxicated by the smell of her, so much stronger when she was so hot against him.

Angel reached down for one of his hands, guiding it like he had done for her, pushing his fingers until they slipped right against the silk of her shorts, “it's so achy,” she whimpered, “and all I can do is think about you,”

She was like a freshly wrapped gift left on the front step, the label perfectly signed with his name and his name alone. A sinful treat he couldn't wait to sink his teeth into. He dragged his fingers along the seam of her, the silk already spotted with wetness, “you want me to take care of you?” the husk of his voice was thick in her ear like syrup.

“Please- please,” her nods are erratic, hips rolling trying to keep him right against her tender clit. Her pathetic cry echoes in the living room when he pulls his hand away. But he doesn't keep his hands away for long, dragging her to his room, having her fall to his bed, right where he's wanted her. Her knees fall open, the heels of her feet digging into the mattress. She's a vision of her namesake, mewling when soobin hooks his fingers into her waistband and takes down her panties and shorts, sliding them down her legs and peeling her socks off, leaving her bottom half exposed.

Soobin is caught at the sight of her gleaming cunt, leaking arousal the color of royal icing, creamy and sweet, looking as if she had been stuffed full of him already. Nothing could keep him from getting a taste. He fell to his knees like this was a place to beg for forgiveness. But he wouldn't be sorry, not after he started his feast. Soobin licked a bold stripe up from her entrance to clit, groan ripped from him with only one drop of her. He wrapped his arms under her legs, holding her open and watching how his fingers dented her flesh, the plush of her spilling between fingers itching to stay there and mold her as his forever.

Angel let out a sharp gasp the second his mouth was attached to her aching center, thighs trying to snap shut around his head, held in place and forced open as she arched her back. Her fingers twisted in the sheets, her breathing only coming out when she slipped out moans. He was devouring her, licking her clean like he was enjoying the frosting before the cupcake, sucking deeply on her clit just to watch her tremble.

Soobin does not care about the mess he's making of her, face dripping with his Angel's cream, moans of delight vibrating against her puffy clit. He doesn’t even notice the way she's writhing beneath him, only that he's now faced with the most delicious meal he has ever had. Moaning into her, slurping up all that she has to offer trying to pull forth more of her sweet cream. And he didn't have to try hard, not when she needed him so bad already, the bubbling building in her lower belly so newfound and yet never before so intense. Angel cake feels like a balloon ready to pop, one deep long suck on her clit has her seeing stars, her orgasm washing over her as swiftly as a needle prick, causing her to come undone. The gush of her arousal keeps Soobin’s mouth right against her, his persistent licks only pulling him in more.

He was a desperate mess, working away at his pants, rutting into the mattress as if that would curb his insatiable hunger. He needed to be inside of her, filling her up with his lemon custard, fucking her senseless until she was begging to stay right here in his bed and never leave. He wanted that, to keep her as his, not just press his hand into her thigh and leave that lasting mark. No, he needed to claim her as his in the best, most lasting way. “Do you want me inside you Angel?” he pressed the flat of his palm into her pelvis, relishing in the way he felt himself sinking into her skin. “Right here, filling you up, making you mine-”

Angel had never felt so empty, not until he pointed it out, solving a problem she never thought she had. Her mewling response was a mix of pleas and whimpers. She didn't care what he did so long as she could have him near, and if he could fix the burn in her belly he could devour her just as well as tear her apart.

Soobin lifted Angel's legs enough so that the backs of her knees were slotted against his inner elbows, one hand reaching down to guide his dripping cock to her waiting entrance. Angel does not expect the pressure of being pushed into, her gasp caught on a half-open mouth of pure bliss. Every slow tantalizing inch stretches her out, her body instinctively clenching around him trying to suck him in. “Relax, baby,” he whispers, his hand sliding up her stomach, up under her tank top to reveal her breasts. He rubs at her skin, soothing her tense muscles until he's sunk all the way into the hilt, her body melting and molding around his.

Soobin waits, catching himself from letting go, letting their bodies adjust to each other. But Angel is impatient, rolling her hips, not even realizing she's trying to fuck back onto him, only that she needs some kind of friction. But soobin is slow to pull out and even slower to push back in, eyes connected to the spot they meet at. Her body was like clay beneath him, so easily shaped into the perfect temptation. Every drag in and out coated his cock in her cream, mesmerizing him, numbing his brain.

Angel could tell the difference in him, that split second that makes his eyes go hazy, hips snapping into hers making her body ripple from the force. “you were fucking made for me- do you feel how deep I am-“ he’s slamming into her, the lude sounds of their wetness mixing; echoing with their moans. All the veins in his hands straining from the hold on her soft sides.

He was pressed so deep into her she could feel him hitting a spot that made her hips sink, her hands reaching out to hold his hands, needing the comfort not knowing what was building inside her. so much more intense than when it’s her fingers or even just his mouth. “soobin im-im-“ she can’t even find the words looking for something that she didn’t know existed until just now.

“we can cum together- I’ll fill you up make sure to pump you full so you know exactly where I'm going to put our baby,” he moves his hand down to press his thumb to her clit, triggering her to jolt, the walls of her pulsing around him before she’s falling apart.

Angel's body is a tightening mess, her back arching, cheeks flushing as she comes undone for him. The pull of her body to his makes him shudder, his whole body falling against hers needing to be close, needing to smell the vanilla sweetness of her skin, sinking his teeth into her shoulder as he holds back his strangled moans. Slow languid thrusts push his lemon custard cum back into her, needing to make true to his promise to have her full of him and only him. Needing to mix together their cream for the perfect bake.

Neither of them knows what's happened to them, only that they are a tangle of limbs, wrapped up tight enough that Angel can still feel the pulse of his cock deep inside her, still pumping into her never having cum so much in his life before then.

Angel feels boneless when he pulls away, her whimper making him chuckle. “I just need to see your creamy pussy again,” the sight to behold better than before now that he knows the wetness is more his than hers. His fingers dragged through her sensitive cunt, collecting the mess to shove it back Into her, fucking her on his fingers for a second. He lifts his fingers in front of them showing Angel the sheer amount of cream coating the digits. “If I could bottle this flavor I would,” he licks them clean before leaning over to shove his tongue into her mouth, needing her to taste what he’s found as his new obsession.

Angel swallows down the cum, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, twisting legs and burrowing in closer. “you taste sweeter than I thought you would,”

“Did the thought of it keep you up?” he asks, nose brushing along the column of angel's throat. “because thinking of you while being alone in this bed is hell, I need both of my girls under my roof to feel complete,”

“both…” the sound of the word was heavy in her mouth. Not in an uncomfortable way but in a way a piece of chocolate sat on her tongue, melting and sweet, craving to place another one as soon as it was gone.

“Both.” The finality of the word is better than the buttery sheets he’s pressing her right back Into.

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @no1likemybbgcharlie @chasingthatjjunie want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask! thank you so much @izzyy-stuff for helping edit this for me ily ily ily @thetxtdevil and @beomiracles for betareading this a bit, but special special thank you for mae who gave me a lot of these ideas in the first place, her perfect mind came up with the cake like reader with indenting skin and helped with the conversation with strawberry and angel <3

[456-is-the-way]

hiii so ive had this idea for a while now but i just dont have the skills to write it myself, its not really a reader x character but more of a maybe actor!reader x the actor of the character if u get me??😭😭

so the idea is actor!reader plays a character that is also played as the love interest/partner of hwang inho (lee byung hun's character) and during their scenes together (like an intimate scene between their characters) reader just keeps messing up her lines or having trouble staying in character because she keeps getting flustered/shy by lee byung hun causing them to redo the scene over and over again so him and the whole cast just keeps laughing and teasing her about it😣😣🙏🙏🙏

A/n: So I will be going in order of the requests I get in my ask box then I will start on some suggestions I have in the comments. Once again, I do Actor x reader actor! So here is one of those ideas and I love it. I was going to do a tag list but I don’t know why it won't let me tag people!

Trigger warnings: Talks of smut, Partial Smut (lol?)

Squid Game Masterlist

Lee Byung-hun x reader

Quiet On Set

(Y/n) knew this scene would be the hardest to film. Sure as a professional actor, she filmed multiple movies that had intimate scenes. However, (Y/n) never had a romantic interest in the other actors. There was an instant spark when she met Lee Byung-hun. His character happens to have a complex background and in this season goes undercover to destroy Gi-hun, Lee Jung-jae, in an attempt to show him no matter what, people are greedy. Thats when (Y/n) character is introduced. (C/n) is written to be the complete opposite of The Frontman, In-ho. She is kind, patient, understanding, caring, and meant to show the good in humanity even though she has been dealt only hardships in life. Throughout the season their love builds up, soft touches, knowing glances, and quick kisses in secret. All the while (Y/n) had been falling helplessly in love with Lee Byung-hun. Of course, the fans did not let this go unnoticed during their recent interviews. Social media had blown up with edits and multiple bloggers posting about the chemistry they shared. (Y/n) would not admit her guilty pleasure is watching those edits and making comments herself which and fans foaming at the mouths. Lee Byung-hun even found it humorous that people not only shipped their character but them as well. When any with him and (Y/n) not on set but together was posted the fans always blew the comment section up within minutes. 

“Alright places everyone!” Hwang Dong-hyuk called as the crew rushed to make sure everything was set up in the correct frames. “(Y/n), Byung-hun are you all ready?” He asked kindly always wanting to double-check checking the actors were comfortable in scenes where they would be partially on display. (Y/n) nods even though slightly hesitant she walked onto the set and stood by the bathroom wall where the scene was going to be shot.

Byung-hun walked behind her with a smile, “Don’t be nervous (Y/n) this scene will be over before you know it.” It earned a shy smile from the actress leaning against the wall. 

“I am not that nervous… It’s a while since I have done scenes like this. Alright, I think we are ready.” She told the director and Byung-hun nodded in agreement. 

“Quiet on set, Take one, action!” He yelled and silence filled the room. (Y/n) could swear her heartbeat could probably be heard by how badly it was beating against her chest. 

Byung-hun fell into character without hesitation moving to press (Y/n) the cold tile. She breathes heavily cheeks flushed looking into his eyes. “In-ho we can’t” She whispered as he began aggressively kissing up her neck pressing their bodies together. (Y/n) let out a whimper from the pleasure she felt. 

“But you (C/n)” His voice went low showing his absolute dominance. (Y/n) wasn’t used to this side of the sweet Byung-hun. As scripted their jumpsuits were quickly discarded. The heavy breathing filled the room as the two actors stood almost nude in front of each other. His leg slipped between (Y/n). 

She arched up and moaned softly feeling him rub his knee against her covered core. “Byung-hun!” (Y/n) gasped causing him to instantly freeze. “Fuck I’m sorry.” She said as the director yelled cut. 

“Let's roll again.” As the scene had to be started over (Y/n) continued to be a flustered mess messing up the lines or using Byung-hun’s name instead of Young-Il.

“You are a mess.” He chuckled as the team thought it was hilarious she could not for the life of her finish the scene. Byung-hun smirked and leaned down whispering in a low sexual voice. “Do it in one shot this time and I’ll let you cry my name tonight.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widen looking into her costars eyes with a grin. Let's just say she didn’t mess up again.