#summarys are still hard for me personally but like

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Only I Get to Lift You

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Rating: T (Teen)

Warnings: Mild jealousy, light angst, fluff, playful possessiveness

Summary: With TikTok supposedly on the verge of being banned, you’re determined to convince Paige to do the Jacked and Kind trend as a farewell. Paige refuses, saying she won’t even post her drafts, unlike the rest of your teammates. So, you ask someone else...

“C’mon, Paige, please?” I whined, leaning my full weight against her as we sat on the couch in her dorm.

Paige groaned, not even looking up from her phone. “Nope.”

I pouted. “It’s a farewell to TikTok. You have to do it with me.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have to do anything.”

“Paige—”

“No.”

I let out a dramatic sigh, flopping against her. “Everyone else has done it! Ice, Azzi, Sarah, Jana—”

“And that’s exactly why I don’t need to do it,” she cut in. “I don’t even post like that, Y/N. I have like… a hundred drafts, most are ads that having been set to drop yet.”

I gasped. “And you’re not gonna post the non ad drafts?!”

“Nope.”

I sat up, scandalized. “You’re the worst.”

She smirked. “And yet, you’re still in love with me.”

I grumbled under my breath before pushing off the couch. “Fine. If you won’t do it, I’ll just ask Jana.”

Paige quirked a brow. “Jana?”

“Yup,” I said, grabbing my phone. “She’s tall, she’s strong, and unlike some people, she actually likes to have fun.”

Paige snorted. “Go ahead then. Have fun.”

Oh, I would.

Convincing Jana had been way easier.

“You wanna do a TikTok trend with me?” she repeated after I explained.

I nodded. “Yeah, you just lift me on your shoulders for the ‘Jacked and Kind’ thing.”

She smiled. “Okay, sure.”

Easy.

Sarah started the music, and I grinned at the camera as we recorded.

Jana crouched, letting me carefully climb onto her shoulders. She stood with ease, my legs dangling as I gripped her head for balance.

Everything was going great—until I saw Paige standing across the gym, her arms crossed, staring hard.

I could tell exactly what was happening in that pretty little head of hers.

Something clicked.

Something possessive.

And suddenly, the video was no longer cute to her—it was personal.

The second I hopped off Jana’s shoulders, Paige was right there.

“Redo it.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

She gestured at my phone. “The TikTok. Redo it. With me.”

I stared at her for a second, then smirked. “Ohhh, now you wanna do it?”

Paige clenched her jaw. “Only I get to lift my girl on my shoulders. No one else.”

Azzi, Ice, and Sarah cackled in the background.

Jana, bless her heart, just looked amused. “I mean, I don’t mind—”

“No, you’re good,” Paige said quickly. “We’re doing it again.”

I bit back a laugh. “Oh, so when Jana does it, it’s a problem?”

“Yes,” Paige said without hesitation.

Sarah whistled. “Damn, she’s pressed.”

Paige ignored her, just crouching down. “C’mon, up you go. Alright, run it back,” she said.

I rolled my eyes, but agreed to letting etting Sarah re-start the sound. We waited for the sound to start playing.

Once the sound started playing Paige stood, her grip on my waist firm, like she needed to prove something.

I smiled as the song restarted, she lifted me up with ease. With me now resting on her shoulder, Paige smirked up at me, squeezing my calves. “Now it’s cute.”

I laughed, shaking my head. This girl was ridiculous.

But, honestly? I loved her for it.

The second I posted the TikTok, I knew it was over for Paige.

The comments were rolling in within seconds:

@paige4mvp: “FINALLY she did the trend, took her long enough ”

@wnbabuckets: “Paige, just go ahead and clean out those drafts while you’re at it.”

@uconnfancam: “Bueckers, drop the drafts, we BEG.”

I scrolled through the flood of replies, laughing to myself as I sat on the couch. Paige, who was sprawled across my lap, raised an eyebrow at my amusement. “What’s so funny?”

I turned my phone toward her, showing the endless comments demanding that she post the TikToks she had sitting in her drafts.

Paige groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. “Ma, I told you they were gonna start on me the second you posted it.”

I smirked, playing with the ends of her hair. “Well, maybe if you actually posted anything instead of letting your drafts collect dust, they wouldn’t be on your ass like this.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t even have that many—”

“Paige, you have like 105, and I'm pretty sure 50% of em are yet to be released ads and sponsors.”

She sat up, giving me a look. “How do you even know that?”

I gave her an innocent smile. “I may or may not have taken a little peek while you were editing our video.”

Paige groaned again, flopping dramatically against me. “You’re the worst.”

I laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And yet, you still love me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled. “Whatever, you say baby.”

A few hours later kk had convinced me to do a TikTok Live with her

“Alright, y’all, what’s up?”

I grinned at the screen as KK adjusted the phone, setting up the TikTok Live. The chat was already moving at lightning speed, comments rolling in about the Jacked and Kind TikTok.

@paigeismybabymama: “Y/N, YOU SNAPPED WITH THAT POST ”

@kkfanclub: “KK AND Y/N?? ELITE LIVEEEEEE”

@paigeslockscreen: “Where’s Bueckers?? She still hiding from the comments??”

I laughed as KK read that one out loud. “Nah, she and Jana are building something new once again. Probably about to break our damn apartment, from the way they are yelling at each other.”

The camera shifted slightly, showing Paige and Jana sitting on the floor, surrounded by wooden planks and an instruction manual that Jana is reading out loud only for paige to tell her to slow down or she's not making any sense.

KK snickered, before adding fuel to the fire. “Hey, P boogers! The chat said you need to come out of hiding and post your drafts.”

Paige didn’t even look up. “Tell them to mind their business.”

I smirked, leaning toward the phone. “Y’all heard her—keep commenting about it.”

More comments flooded in instantly.

@nukebueckers:“POST THE DRAFTS, PAIGE. STOP PLAYIN.”

@wnbawatchparty: “NAH, WE AIN’T LETTING THIS GO.”

Paige sighed dramatically, setting down the drill and turning toward me. “Y/N, baby, you’re supposed to have my back.”

I gave her an innocent shrug. “I am. I just think you should give the people what they want. Cause its also what I want”

She squinted at me, then at the phone. Then, with a mischievous grin, she stood up, stretching her arms above her head.

The chat immediately went wild.

@paigebiceps:“NAH WAIT WHY IS SHE BUILT LIKE THAT”

@fypuconn:“PAIGE IN THE SPORTS BRA AND GREEN PJS HELLO????”

@wnbabuckets: “IS SHE ABOUT TO DO A TIKTOK ON LIVE???”

I raised an eyebrow as Paige walked over to me, now standing directly behind the couch. She leaned down, resting her chin on my shoulder. “You wanna put on show for TikTok, baby?”

I smirked before turning to look at her. “You trying to redeem yourself?”

She grinned, kissing my cheek. “Something like that.”

The chat was moving way too fast now.

@paigefanclub: “SHE CALLED HER BABY AGAIN BYEEEE”

@jukebueckers: “NOT HER BEING ALL FLIRTY ON LIVE—”

@y/nnation: “SOMEONE SCREEN RECORD THIS”

KK, who had been watching with amusement, shook her head. “Nah, this is actually crazy. Go ahead, do the trend again, since Paige wanna prove something.”

Jana, who was still trying to assemble the furniture, looked up and smirked. “Oh, this I gotta see.”

“Alright, P baby. You ready?” I say as I stood up going to stand in the middle of the floor.

She smirked. “Always, ma.”

Paige stretched again, showing off just enough muscle to make the chat go feral. Then, with zero hesitation, she reached down and grabbed my waist.

I let out a small yelp as she lifted me effortlessly, settling me onto her shoulders like it was nothing.

The chat? Absolutely losing its mind.

@paigeisstrong: “I KNEW SHE WAS STRONG BUT DAMN”

@y/nluver:“THE WAY SHE JUST PICKED HER UP LIKE THAT—”

@uconnfans:“OH SHE OWNS YOU FR”

I laughed, holding onto Paige’s head for balance.

The two of us did the trend flawlessly, Paige flexing way more than necessary, making sure to show off just how effortlessly she could hold me up.

As soon as we both finished, she had a menacing idea to toss me back down onto the couch. Letting out a yelp, as I landed on the couch I sat up only for Paige to put me in her lap. Her hands lingering on my waist as she pulled me close. “That good enough for y’all?” she teased the camera.

The chat was a mess.

@fypnation: “PAIGE JUST BE LIFTING READER LIKE A FEATHER, HUH?”

@wnbastans:“THE WAY SHE HOLDS HER???? THIS AINT EVEN FAIR”

@paigebucketsss: “YEAH OKAY, THEY’RE IN LOVE. WE GET IT.”

I grinned, leaning into Paige. “See? Was that so bad?”

She hummed, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Not if I get to do it with you.”

KK gagged in the background. “Alright, that’s enough of that. Y’all got the people going insane.”

Jana, still struggling with the furniture, snorted. “At least someone’s getting something done today. Paige please come finish helping me.”

Paige just smirked, wrapping her arms around my waist. “So, what I’m hearing is… I should post at least one?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Paige, just post your damn drafts already, and go help Jan.”

She sighed, pretending to think. “Ehh… maybe I’ll just keep making y’all wait, and fine give me the drill,”

The chat lost it again.

And I just shook my head, knowing damn well she was never gonna let this joke die, or post them damn tiktoks.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[murderofravens]

BLACKEST DAY

pairing: cho sangwoo x fem reader

summary: old feelings are rekindled when you encounter your father's old friend at the games.

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, sangwoo is 46) badly written smut, face slapping, slightly toxic dynamics, a smidge of some age-gap kink. lots of angst. body worship. this is a oneshot.

word count: around 5k

[feedback and reblogs are a writer's biggest motivation.]

MASTERLIST

life has a funny way of reuniting people.

when you woke up in the hall, surrounded by strangers wearing those ugly green clothes much like yourself, your first thought was— 'i should have brought someone with me.'

you were always rather wary of doing things by yourself. things seem much easier when you have a helping hand to give you advice, or to make bad decisions together.

your first shock came upon the mention of his name, taken by one of the guards.

player 218, cho sangwoo.

your eyes snapped up to the screen where you could see a clip of him getting slapped after repeatedly losing the game.

"former supervisor of team two at joy investments, embezzled money from his clients, invested it in derivatives and figures and failed. current loss, 650 million won."

you looked around frantically before you caught sight of him— handsome as ever, although visibly distraught. his shocked eyes were looking at the guards with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

you had known sangwoo since you were rather young. idolized him at one point, even. he and your father used to be some sort of business partners— which you can guess was another word for friends who gambled and hung out occasionally. most of your years went by with him acknowledging you politely, getting you chocolate everytime he came to visit, and patting your head with a proud smile whenever your parents told him about one of your achievements at school. you wanted to be like him— smart, ambitious and a hard worker.

you'd moved off for college when you were of age, and according to his mother, he had moved to the US for business purposes.

which, as you can see, didn't work out.

you don't really try to make conversation with him, don't even look at his side of the room. mainly because you're embarrassed. there are two reasons— the first being that you don't want to see the man you idolized at a place like this. and the second is personal. your last memory of him isn't something you're fond of. it still fills you with resentment and a sense of sadness— you had asked to meet up with him before you were going off to college, hoping to express your feelings. you'd developed a childish crush on him when you were growing up, and it had expanded into genuine feelings over time.

but he never showed up, and you were left sitting in the expensive restaurant all by yourself. you never revealed that to anyone, deciding to take that moment of humiliation to the grave.

the first game was terrifying, to say the least. while you could tell there was something inherently shady about the whole organization, what left you in genuine shock was the first shot that rang out through the field, killing the person who moved. you were careful about your steps then, walking forward rather meticulously, ensuring you were not a victim in whatever hellhole you've found yourself in.

splatters of blood covered your face as you almost reached the line, hiding behind another taller man. there were a mere 10 seconds left. your heart was quite literally trying to beat out of your chest, and sweat dripped down your forehead. and that's when you first made eye contact with him.

sangwoo, who was bent in half, was panting as he looked at the finish line. his gaze rose, and connected with yours— eyes immediately widening with recognition. you were frozen as you looked at him, jaw clenched and panic stricken. he looked at the timer, and the doll turned away. you quickly began running, and you saw him straighten up as the timer began nearing zero. you jumped across the finish line, and his hand grabbed you to help. you stumbled into him and the both of you fell onto the dusty ground— a mess of sweaty limbs.

you don't say a word to him as the guards guide you back to the hall. he is just as silent behind you, and you wonder if it's because he's embarrassed about being there, or if he remembered what he did to you and is reluctant to acknowledge you after.

"i didn't expect to see you here." he remarks quietly, voice grim. his head is lowered, and there's an almost disappointed look in his eyes.

the audacity.

"i could say the same about you," you shoot back dryly, sitting cross legged on the floor. he looks at you then, and your gaze challenged his.

"you've grown since i last saw you." he adds, and you scoff in response. so what? you were still bitter.

"it's just two years."

he clenches his jaw and looks away, his ears feeling hot. you've always had a problem with keeping your mouth shut, and apparently it still applies. you look up at him, eyes accusatory.

"i thought you went to the states." there's a taunting edge to your voice— rather shallow and childish on your end, but you can't help yourself. you're playing with life and death, but still you're angrier about your history with him than anything else.

"all those degrees just to scam people? i'd expect more from someone like you, mr. sangwoo—"

"you don't know what you're talking about," he shuts your words down quickly, voice firm. he's quick to change the topic, visibly agitated. "i thought you went to college. what happened to your—"

"father?" you interrupt, sitting straighter. "he got scammed."

you look at him pointedly as you say the last word, and his eye twitches.

"he gambled away his money on some non existent race. i dont live with him anymore and i need money to continue college and pay rent. my mom doesn't know and i don't wanna worry her." you take a sharp breath, voice getting lower, "my landlady threw me out before i found the ddakji guy."

his face softens with every sentence, an expression close to pity taking over. you hate pity, so you shut it down with a glare.

"don't give me that look," you sigh with exhaustion, running a hand down your face.

"i'm sorry to hear that," he says quietly, avoiding your eyes. he blinks a few times, adjusts his glasses. he doesn't know what else to say, and he's almost glad for the interruption when the staff walks in and announces the results of the first game.

it's so sudden how people begin to beg for their lives— kneeling before the guards, pleading to be spared. it makes you feel sorry and disgusted at the same time— you can understand why they'd do so, but you can't imagine kneeling before an organisation like this in any way. you value your dignity.

when the gunshot rings out to silence the begging crowd, the guard announces the second clause of the contract: a player who refuses to play will be terminated.

your head snaps up at the sound of sangwoo's confident voice.

"clause three of the consent form—" he steps forward, "the games may be terminated upon a majority vote."

the guard nods, "that is correct."

"then," he looks around, and his eyes fall on you. he looks away, and cocks his head to the side, "let us take a vote."

you almost feel that sense of admiration for him once again— he was always smart, that you can admit. more attentive than others, better at remembering little details. he's stepping forward to directly challenge these guards while people are begging for their lives. he's brave, like he's always been.

you fall in line beside him, and he looks down at you. you give him a slight nod, before your attention is diverted to the next announcement. the staff then show the money accumulated by the deaths of the previous player— 100 million won for each. as the massive piggy bank hanging from the ceiling glows, you can feel him stiffen at the mere sight of the money.

and the voting starts. your number comes soon enough— player 420.

you don't hesitate.

this money is not more important than your life. you need to consider all your options— you're not confident that you would make it till the end. and you don't want to fucking die yet.

you press the cross, and fall into the crowd.

sangwoo's number comes a while after— and you watch him like a hawk. you know he's a smart guy who knows better than to put himself in a compromising situation. you hope he'll help you go home.

until he presses the 'O.'

you feel utterly betrayed once again and he goes to his side of the crowd, not looking at you even once. you scoff to yourself, baffled by his audacity, before redirecting your focus to the voting counter. you start hoping your side wins purely out of spite.

player 001 presses X. your side erupts into cheers and you let out a breath of relief, glancing at sangwoo who stands frozen with his head lowered.

you don't remember much after.

the car ride feels suffocating— everything is dark. there's shuffling before you feel yourself being shoved, and you let out a yelp as your bare skin hits the gravel. "ouch— fuck!"

you hear your name— and recognise the voice.

"mister sangwoo?" you gasp, and hear a pained 'yes'. you can feel a cloth wrapped around your eyes, and your hands and legs are tied. you groan, shifting and writhing on the ground, impatiently trying to free yourself. you feel teeth on the front of your wrists before your hands are released.

you sit up quickly and snatch the cloth off your eyes. you turn to sangwoo then, and quickly untie his wrists. he grunts before sitting up, and the two of you untie your legs.

"shit, it's cold—" you hiss, quickly standing up. those bastards had only left you in a plain white sports bra and underwear. he was naked as well save for a pair of white boxers. the sight makes your skin feel hot, and you take a greedy but discreet glance at his chest before rushing towards your jeans and hoodie that are tossed to the side of the road, quickly getting dressed.

you clear your throat and turn around, only to see him quickly looking away from you, his clothes still in his hands. your eyes narrow knowingly and he wordlessly gets dressed, buttoning up his white shirt.

"are we still in seoul?" you ask, and he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses before looking up towards the buildings. he nods, and you shiver slightly.

he turns to you and hesitates before moving forward to put his grey blazer over you. you raise your eyebrows in question, and he doesn't respond before checking his pockets.

"are you hungry?" he asks, and almost comically in that same moment your stomach growls. he holds back a smile, and you wrap his blazer tighter around yourself.

you rest your head against the table while you wait. you can feel it pounding, but the smell of hot ramen tempts you to raise it. he takes a seat beside you and places the steaming bowl in front of you.

"do you have the money for this?" you cant help but ask.

"dont worry about it," he says with a wave of his hand, bringing out his chopsticks to eat. you decide to leave the job of worrying to him and get to eating.

you're a rather slow eater, and he doesn't complain. he steps out of the store, and you can see his back as he takes out a cigarette. you slurp up the rest of your food and follow him out.

"i don't feel that cold anymore," you hand him his blazer, and he turns to look at you. you're thankful about your self control, because he is a sight. so devilishly handsome even after witnessing such horrors— his cigarette teasingly hanging off his lips, the smoke wafting up and making his eyes squint just a little. his glasses make him look so much more sophisticated, or perhaps you have a thing for nerdy looking men. you're not a smoker, but he makes it look so good. if you were a weaker woman, you would've gasped. no wonder half of your childhood went by with that barely disguised crush on him— no wonder no guy your age back in college seemed good enough.

you clear your throat, bring yourself back to earth and continue. "you can have it. thank you."

he takes the blazer with a nod and puts it on. takes another puff of the cigarette, and watches you look around.

"i thought you'd come back with an american wife." you almost cringe at your own words. but conversation is conversation, you don't know how else to start. it's a discreet way to find out his relationship status, if any.

"marriage is the last thing on my mind." he responds quietly, taking a puff. you look at the side of his face, and his eyes stare at the road in front of him— thoughtful. you wonder what he's thinking about.

"where will you go?" he asks without looking at you.

you shrug, "i don't know."

"do you have any money?"

you pause, suddenly feeling a sense of dread. you have no money, and what little you got from the ddakji guy, you spent on your rent. which got you thrown out anyway.

your silence speaks volumes. he tosses the cigarette to the floor and stomps on it. you sigh.

"i don't have any money."

"come with me," he looks at you, gaze intense and serious. "i have enough for the both of us. atleast for a few days till we can figure things out."

"why?" you cross your arms over your chest almost defensively, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

he grits his teeth as he glares at you, mouth twitching. he looks away then, tonguing the inside of his cheek before returning your gaze. "you have nowhere else to go. it wouldn't be responsible to leave you alone like this."

you almost scoff— the words on the tip of your tongue. but you were okay with leaving me alone back then? but you don't say it, not yet, because you could use his financial help right now. you sigh, before nodding, and gesturing forward.

"fine, lead the way."

the motel he takes you to looks respectable enough. you look around, eyeing the plain decor. the man behind the counter looks at the two of you, and then gives sangwoo a toothy grin, which immediately alerts you.

"only one room available."

sangwoo doesn't protest. he doesn't have the finances to get two separate rooms either. he opens the room and you go in first, looking around. there's a single bed and some flashy lights, and it makes you roll your eyes. you turn around to settle him with a pointed look.

"it's better than i thought," he grunts, taking his blazer off as he takes in the scene. he steps forward and drags a finger down the side table, examines the dust it leaves on his skin with mild disgust.

you bite your lower lip as you watch him— his shirt stretching across his chest, his hair falling messily across his forehead. his glasses resting delicately on the bridge of his nose.

fucking nerd.

his gaze snaps up to you and that's when you realize you'd said that out loud. you wince, looking away and he straightens up, blinking innocently.

"you're still upset with me."

you cross your arms over your chest as you sit on the bed. you quirk an eyebrow, and he cocks his head to the side, eyeing you from a respectable distance.

you decide to play dumb.

"about what?"

he's not amused. he stares at you, expression serious and intense, "i didn't plan to stand you up that day."

so we're going straight to it, you think.

"then why did you?" you snap, unable to hold back the hurt from your voice, "i waited for an hour. you never came. i wanted to talk to you."

"i know." he nods. he walks up to you then, stands at the foot of the bed. "i know what you wanted to talk to me about. i was scared."

you freeze, looking at him cautiously, your heartbeat rising. "scared?"

"i knew you had feelings for me." he sighs, sitting down beside you. his voice is hushed, making the moment feel more intimate than you'd like. "i could tell that's what you wanted to talk to me about. it terrified me."

your breath feels like it's knocked out of your lungs. you swallow the lump in your throat, holding back the tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. "did anyone ever tell you that you're an asshole?"

he grunts, takes out another cigarette. he lights it up and takes a long drag— taking his time to respond.

"many people," he says, blowing some smoke through his nostrils. the sight almost makes your mouth water, but you ignore it.

"you're a dick," you shoot back dryly.

"what i am—" he points his cigarette at you, "— is too old for you. surely you didn't think it was a good idea?"

"you could've rejected me instead," you chuckle bitterly, "but you decided to leave me there to look stupid."

"you were too young." his voice is low, and his response almost makes you want to strangle him. he dusts some ash off his cigarette, adjusts his glasses, and looks at you with an intensity that makes your skin feel hot. "i couldn't keep you happy even if i wanted to."

you frown, gritting your teeth. he looks away.

"you looked at me like i hung the moon and the stars." he continues, looking ahead at the wall, gaze distant. "i couldn't maintain those expectations. we were in two completely different stages. you were meant to go to college, study well, get a good job, a boy your age—"

"stop talking like you're my father," you snap before he can finish, standing up. there's heat behind your glare and you almost laugh at his expression, "i had no expectations from you. so stop with your- your little— excuses. what's done is done, right? you've stood me up once, no need to reject me by wording it smartly. i don't wanna be with you anymore anyway."

that was a lie. you just hoped he couldn't see through your act. you're riled up because you're still affected by him, and his polite behaviour is driving you insane— you want to tear away at his walls, expose the passion he hides behind his smart guy facade. you know it because you've seen it in the way his eyes light up when he talks about his ambitions— how willing he is to cross any line to achieve what he wants. you want to butcher his self control and unleash the animal underneath, the one he's so desperate to hide. it's what made you fall for him in the first place.

he merely looks at you boredly, taking another drag of his cigarette. you snatch it off him, bring it to your own lips. he looks at you with mild shock as you take a drag, and you blow the smoke out on his face.

it all goes smoothly until you cough, and he's snatching the cigarette away again, watching you almost amusedly.

"you can't even handle a cigarette," he remarks dryly, putting it out on the bedframe. and that one line finally ticks you off. almost as if on instinct, your hand pulls back and delivers a sharp slap to his face— making it turn to the side. he snorts, adjusts his glasses again before he looks at you, unimpressed.

"you've been waiting to do that, haven't you?" he asks. your nostrils flare with anger. you can't hurt him physically— but your tongue is sharp. you'll use it.

"you're one to talk about different stages in life," you add, leaning towards him. a smirk curls upon your face, "look at you. all that ambition and experience only to end up scamming people."

out of the need to provoke him, your hand shoots out, jabbing a finger to his chest.

"how would your mother feel if she found out?"

it's a low blow, and you would be ashamed if it hadn't worked. it does its work to finally get to him. he grabs your wrist, and harshly pulls you down towards him, knocking your breath out. he shoves you on the bed and hovers over you, panting slightly. you chuckle.

"my life is hard enough," he hisses sharply, body trembling with concealed rage. his gaze drifts down to your lips before settling upon your eyes again. "do you really want to keep testing me?"

you can't help but smile smugly as you stare at him. there he is— almost on the verge of losing his composure. a few more quips and you're sure he'll crumble. it makes your skin feel tingly. your face leans up slightly, your hungry gaze drifting down to his lips. your hand reaches up, pries his glasses off his face. and then you flick his nose.

"fuck you."

the way his mouth comes crashing onto yours is animalistic. he desperately kisses you with the passion of a madman— his tongue entering your mouth and messily colliding with your own. as if to tease him, you bite his bottom lip sharply and he pulls back, eyes widening as a small trickle of blood falls down the corner of his mouth. his hand pulls back and strikes you across the face, and you can't help but laugh. your cheek stings and feels like it's burning— and you're addicted. you hope he'll do it again. you look back at him with an almost crazed look in your eyes, and you can see it finally dawn upon him that he's finally giving you exactly what you wanted.

"you're enjoying this too much, you little minx—" he hisses, grabbing your neck and kissing you again. your hands immediately reach up to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons as you try to keep up with his pace. he pulls away and tosses his shirt to the side, and you take that opportunity to use all your strength to flip the two of you around so he's the one on his back. it makes him gasp, and you look down at him with darkened eyes— a finger teasingly running down his chest, making him let out a shudder.

he's the object of all your desires for as long as you've ever known. the man of your dreams, the man that you kept comparing every single one of your college boys to. no wonder they never seemed good enough. how could they? they were no match for this beautiful man laying under you.

with a newfound vigour your head drops to his neck, licking and kissing every inch of his skin. your hungry mouth trails down his chest, breathing in the smell of him, leaving greedy bites in its wake. the sounds your actions evoke out of him are downright pornographic— soft, breathless groans that make you want to consume him entirely. his hand comes down to your head, holding you in place as you worship his body— and you moan when his fingers dig into your scalp.

your lips leave a wet trail and cherry red bites down his torso, until you reach the waistband of his pants. teasingly, you mouth at his bulge, making him hiss in return. his hips buck up slightly and you place a soft kiss to the material before leaning up to his face. his hands wrap around your waist and he flips the two of you over again, desperately tearing away at your clothes.

"i shouldn't be doing this," he mutters under his breath, talking more so to himself than you. you raise your hips and he pulls your jeans down, a throaty groan escaping him at the sight of your panties. they're almost transparent from how wet you are. he frees himself from the confines of his underwear and you watch with fascination as he holds you down with a hand on your stomach. you're panting when he's pushing them to the side and entering you immediately— making you scream from the stretch.

he clenches his jaw, squeezes his eyes shut as he buries himself to the hilt with a grunt. you choke on a pained sob, your fingers digging into his back as he grabs the side of your face.

"it hurts—" you hiss through gritted teeth, a tear running down your cheek. it burns, and he waits a second before wordlessly pulling back and thrusting again. the pain morphs into pleasure soon enough, and you whine as he falls into an easy rhythm, wrapping your legs around his waist. you whine in return, and he gives your cheek a light slap, prompting you to open your eyes. your breath hitches as he looks at you intensely— his own eyes glassy.

"not that young now am i?" you grit out with a glare, crying out as he retaliates with a harsh, pointed thrust. "y-you're my first—"

"fuck," he moans, his head dropping down to your chest. his thrusts get quicker, voice raspy and low, "don't— don't say that—"

"i always wanted you to take my virginity," you moan, throwing your head back, dragging your nails down his back. it makes him hiss, "ever since i was a—"

he slams his hand on your mouth, refusing to allow you to finish your sentence. "shut the fuck up."

he doesn't want to be reminded of the age difference between you two, even though you can tell it gets him hot. the moment his hand clasps over your mouth, you cum with a loud moan. your body trembles but he keeps going— not allowing you a moment to breathe. his eyes are full of rage as he bares his teeth in anger. you chuckle breathlessly against his hand, your eyes fluttering. he looks like an angry cat— you want to kiss him all over his face. his thrusts eventually get sloppy— he's close.

you lock your legs tightly around his waist, and he smacks you again. it surprises you this time, and he takes that opportunity to pull out, jerking himself off quickly.

"i can't afford taking risks," he grunts, clenching his jaw. you whine in response, pouting slightly, and he gives you an exasperated glare before he's cumming all over your stomach with a shaky groan.

you pant heavily as you come down from your high, and almost as if on fire— he quickly dresses himself. he pulls out a handkerchief from his blazer pocket, gently wipes off the fluids on your stomach. he just watches you on the bed— his eyes examining his handiwork. you notice his gaze lingers on your cheek. after a few minutes, he wordlessly gets up and goes to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. you roll your eyes as you pull up your jeans too. a few moments pass, and you breathe a puff of air through your nostrils.

"are we going to talk about this?" you call out. there's no answer. you get up and rush to the bathroom door, except he's locked it. you can hear light splashing of water. you scoff in disbelief, going back to the bed. you lay on your side and grab a pillow, your lips wobbling as you go over everything that happened.

this was not how it was supposed to go. he was not supposed to seem this detached. you'd expected atleast a cuddle after sex.

you don't realize when you fall asleep. it's morning when you wake up— sunlight streaming in through the window and directly onto your face, making you wince. you stretch, look over your shoulder.

sangwoo isn't there.

you immediately go to the bathroom. it's empty, though the tub is full. you frown in confusion before turning back to the bed. there, a note on the side table has you stopping.

'i'm sorry,' it said, in his handwriting. placed along with it were a few won bills.

you sniffle as you stare at the note— the writing on it almost mocking you. you crumple it up, your fist shaking as you resist the urge to cry. suddenly, there's a knock on the door, and it makes your entire body stiffen.

a card slides from the little space under the door. the same one you remember the ddakji guy giving you. the shapes on it just look sinister now. the number on it is different this time.

your breathing gets heavy as you stare at it— your head beginning to hurt. you're sure you can hear your ears ringing.

you're alone. you wonder if leaving in the first place was a mistake. your feelings are conflicted— and worst of all, you feel used and betrayed. you're not sure if you should go back to the games. you're not sure if you could survive without any money.

sangwoo had left. you don't know where he is and you have nowhere else to go. no home, and you don't know how you would face your mother. you don't know how long the money he left you could go on.

you don't want to die. but you can't keep living like this either. you bite your bottom lip as you contemplate your options, the hurt from sangwoo's departure still lingering in your chest like a stab wound.

you pick up the card and place the call.

tags: @movienerd3000 @testdrivethv @leebyunghunswifey @nerdybarbariancupcake @neganhore @k1ra-park3r @vivdolls @wab-i @stantwicr @creativerambling @yasmim-1007 @makethemgirlsgoloco @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @captaincarmel416 @warlabels @ferrarifinnick @smlbch @izzyyann @meheheasasa @poooopy @endlessfl4mes @selfishlittlebeing @pillowtalk6 @antiromanticbaby @sky-forts-and-burning-citadels @flow33didontsmoke

[janeyseymour]

A Case of You

Summary: You and a certain redhead are deeply, and undeniably in love- although the two of you don't realize it. Cue Barbara and someone unexpected to fix that for you on Fourth of July.

WC: ~5.4k

(lemme know if you wanna hear my rendition of the song mentioned in this fic :))

It’s an odd situation that you’ve found yourself in. You’ve been living in Philadelphia for a while now. You somehow manage to scrounge up enough money after years of odd jobs, a few investments, and your day job of teaching at Abbott Elementary to finally be able to afford a house. It’s a beautiful little house- one that you’ve been able to turn into something of a quaint little cottage core house. Your backyard is filled with flowers and emulates what some might say is a house in the movies.

And because you finally have a house that you’re proud of, you invite your folks to the city of brotherly love for Fourth of July. There’s no place like the founding city of the country to be in for the day. From the red and blue dyed beers, to the fireworks that burst over the museum of art (and you’ll have a beautiful view of the display room your house), your new city is one of the best places to be.

Once your coworkers find out that you’ll have the view that they’ve always wanted, it’s decided that you’re going to be hosting the holiday not only for your family, but for your work family as well. So, it might be a little crowded, but… it’ll be fun. That’s what you tell yourself. It’ll be fine.

So here you are, on July 3rd, frantically cleaning your house. Not that it’s messy by any means, but you want to impress. Your house is cozy, and you want to give off the effect that it’s well lived in (and it is) while maintaining the sense that you’re clean and proud of the place that you inhabit. It’s not all that hard. There are pictures dressing the walls, beautiful paintings that you’ve done, little knick knacks that you’ve collected over the years. It all feels homey.

But still, you’re making sure that it’s presentable enough that you won’t get ridiculed and lectured by your mother and your coworkers won’t make fun of your home.

That is, until your cell phone rings. Expecting it to be your mother, letting you know that she and your father have landed, you answer the phone, “Hey Mom.”

“Not your mom,” a voice that you’ve been missing comes through the phone.

Your brow furrows as you pause your scrubbing the toilet as you glance at your phone. “Melissa?”

“Yeah, hun. Just callin’ to see if you needed any help with the party tomorrow,” the redhead tells you. “Any cleaning or want me to bring anything or something?”

You bite your lip. You wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but the person that you’re trying to impress besides your mother is Melissa- the woman that you’ve been hopelessly in love with since you started working at Abbott. “Uhm… I’m just cleaning the last few things now,” you tell her honestly. “But I really do appreciate the-”

“What’s ‘the last few things’? Because you’ve told me that you only have a few things to get done before you head home from work, and then I find out that you stayed at the school so long Mr. J handed you his keys to lock up the building for the night.”

You have to let out a laugh at that memory. You sigh softly as you decide to tell her the truth. “I still have to finish cleaning up the living room and the kitchen. But it really isn’t all that-”

“Jeet?” At your silence, the redhead continues. “I’m bringing over drinks and dinner and helping you clean. I’ll be over in an hour.”

“Melissa,” you try to protest.

She’s quick to cut your argument off though. “I’ll see you in an hour, hopefully less than that.” 

And then you hear the phone line disconnect, and you quietly groan to yourself as you look at your appearance. You’re in your cleaning clothes that are covered with bleach stains, your hair is tied up messily, and makeup hasn’t been applied since probably the last day of school. You look a mess. With a sigh, you head for your bedroom to at least put on your face- you want to look at least somewhat presentable.

The redheaded second grade teacher is knocking at your door less than an hour later.

“Hey,” you smile softly as you open the door. She’s standing there with a case of beer and a bag of what you can only assume is dinner. And somehow, even in just shorts and a tee shirt, she looks as incredible as ever. You find yourself blushing.

“Are you gonna let me in, or should we just have dinner outside?” Melissa quips.

You let out a small, nervous laugh. “No, no, come in. P-Please don’t mind the mess.”

“You’re cleaning, I’m ready to clean,” the woman laughs. “It’s all good. Let’s eat though first, yeah?”

Dinner is nice. The two of you chat about what you’ve been up to since school let out for the summer and potential plans for trips that either of you are looking to take. 

“I just don’t have all that many friends in the area,” you admit shyly. “So, most of my trips are solo.”

“You do have friends in the area,” Melissa refutes. “You got the Abbott group. You got me.” She nudges you with her elbow.

“I do,” you sigh softly. “I just don’t want to be a bother.”

“A lot of people are bothers to me,” the redhead laughs. Then she turns serious. “You ain’t one of ‘em.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “How kind of you to say.”

“If you ain’t doin’ nothin’, I spend a lot of time down at the shore in July,” Melissa offers casually.

You can’t help but smile. “That- that’d be nice, yeah.”

“Well,” your coworker sighs as she sets down her fork and begins to clean up. “This house won’t clean itself. So what do you want me to help you with?”

“You helped enough by making sure I ate dinner,” you tell her with earnest. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m helping, so just tell me what to do, or I’ll start snooping around for cleaning supplies anyway.”

The two of you clean the kitchen and the living room as music floats through your house from your record player.

“You got quite the selection,” Melissa tells you as she dusts the case that holds all of your music. “It ain’t half bad.”

You blush. Your music taste is all over the place.

“Mind if I pick an album to listen to next?”

“Of course not,” you call from the next room over. “Pick whatever.”

You expect her to pick a rock band, so when Joni Mitchell’s hauntingly beautiful voice begins to dance in the air, you’re a bit shocked.

Still, you let the music take over your heart and your soul, and when “A Case of You” starts, you can’t stop yourself from singing along softly. As you sing the words to yourself, you realize that you would drink a case of Melissa and still be on your feet. There’s something about her that is so intoxicating and yet always leaves you on your feet. 

Apparently though, your voice travels more than you were aware of. In the living room, Melissa can hear your gentle melody. Her cleaning pauses as she silently makes her way to where she can hear your voice better.

You’re standing there scrubbing the sink as you quietly echo Joni Mitchell’s vocals. It isn’t until the song is over that you hear a different voice.

“You sing real good,” the redhead compliments quietly.

Instinctively, you jump. You weren’t expecting her to hear you. And then your face flushes as you turn to face her. “I- uh…” You can’t get much out than that. You fumble for words for a few seconds before you just barely whisper out an apology.

“You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for,” Melissa smiles. “I think I like your version more.”

Your jaw practically drops at those words. “Oh, I- uh, thank you. But nobody can sing it like Joni.”

“I think you did it,” the redhead tells you, and you can tell in her voice that she truly means it. “I saw the guitar in your living room too. You play?”

You shrug. “Kind of.” You don’t want to admit that you’ve been playing for quite some time and oversell yourself- better to underestimate than over.

“Well, after we’re finished cleaning, I think I should get to hear it.”

You blush. “Maybe.”

By the time the two of you have the house straightened up to your liking, it’s quite late. If you’re being honest too, with the amount of alcohol that the two of you have consumed tonight, you aren’t necessarily comfortable with sending Melissa on her way.

“So, I believe you owe me a song,” your colleague teases you as she opens up another beer and settles on your couch.

“I was hoping you’d forget,” you laugh as you sit next to her.

“I’d never forget that voice,” the redhead smiles innocently. “C’mon, just one song?”

With a heavy sigh and a dramatic eye roll, you reach for the guitar that you keep in the corner of the room. You tune it up quickly, chuckling when you see the impressed look that Melissa wears on her face when you don’t actually need a tuner.

You strum the guitar a few times to ensure that it’s tuned to your liking before beginning to play.

Of course, you play your own rendition of “A Case of You” to prove to Melissa that you simply can’t do the song justice the way that Joni Mitchell does. Your approach doesn’t work. By the time you’re finished fingerpicking the last few notes, green eyes are wide and in shock.

“What?” you ask weakly. “I told you I only kind of play.”

“That’s a lot more than ‘kind of’,” the second grade teacher says. “You should be teaching Music, not fourth grade.”

You shake your head. “If I had to do it for a living, I’d hate it. But as a hobby, I do love it.”

“Play another for me,” Melissa requests as she leans back and takes another sip of her drink.

Somehow, the two of you end up going through another two drinks as you give the redhead her own personalized concert. Those sparkling green eyes stay mesmerized with your charming voice as you tell her the stories behind why you learned a few select songs, how you wrote a few, and the way that your melodies are nothing but soothing.

“You should be out in LA writing music,” Melissa tells you. “You’re… incredible.”

Your already red and warm cheeks from the alcohol only become more flushed at her kind words. You can only set the instrument down in response.

“I think I’m done for tonight,” you chuckle as you sip your beverage.

The redhead sighs softly. “I guess I should head out for the night.”

“Stay,” you tell her quickly- probably a bit too quickly. “You’ve had more than enough to drink, it’s late, and I don’t want you out there driving.”

The smirk that tugs at Melissa’s lips, along with that mischievous glint in her eyes gets you to look at her curiously.

“Somehow I knew that when I brought drinks over that would be your response, so I packed a bag,” the redhead reveals. “Let me just go grab my stuff from my car."

You can’t help but throw back your head with laughter. “Of course you thought that.”

“Was I wrong?” your coworker teases.

The two of you end up sharing a bed that night, and when your alarm goes off the next morning, despite the fact that it’s July, you find yourself cold. You turn over, only to discover that the redhead isn’t next to you.

But you can hear soft humming coming from downstairs, along with the record player. She’s downstairs. And then once you’ve woken up a bit more, you can smell the coffee and breakfast being made. You make your way downstairs and can’t stop yourself from practically drinking in the sight of Melissa Schemmenti cooking you breakfast.

She must hear your footsteps, because she turns on her heel and smiles at you. “Hope you don’t mind that I made breakfast.”

“I’ll never pass up a Schemmenti meal,” you tease. “You know that.”

It’s only a few minutes before the two of you are sitting at the kitchen table with plates in front of you.

“You know you cuddle in your sleep?” Melissa asks.

You turn a violent shade of red. “S-sorry.”

She shrugs. “Don’t be. It was nice.”

Your heart flutters. You never thought that the rough and tough Melissa Schemmenti would be one for cuddling, but here she is.

Breakfast is nice and warm, and you can’t help the blush in your cheeks as the two of you clean in a comfortable silence. More than once, the two of you accidentally brush hands together or her hand finds the small of your back to guide you out of her way.

The both of you get ready for this party, and by the time you’re making your way down the steps to change the record, your doorbell is ringing.

It’s your parents- of course they show up first. It’s not that you aren’t happy to see them, but you wish the house was a bit more full so that you wouldn’t get the third degree as soon as you see your mother.

“Is it Barb?” Melissa’s voice floats down the steps before she comes into sight. When she turns the corner, she sees your parents still standing on the front step. “Oh.”

“Who are you?” your mother eyes your coworker warily.

“Melissa,” the redhead states. “Just a coworker of Y/N’s.”

Your mother hums quietly before inviting herself in. Her eyes glance around your place with a slight frown. “This isn’t much.”

“It isn’t,” you mumble. “But I very much like where I live and how I live.”

“When you said you could afford to buy a house, I was expecting more.”

“Jane, lay off,” your father cuts in. “Y/N, your house is very… you. I like it.”

You’re not quite sure what to say to that. So you simply smile at your father as a silent ‘thank you’ and direct the conversation elsewhere, praying that your coworkers show soon. “Did you want anything to drink? I have wine in the fridge, or I just have to set out the ice for the coo- shoot.”

“What is it?” Melissa asks, brows furrowed with concern.

“I forgot to buy ice yesterday.”

“Oh,” the redhead rolls her eyes as her arm wraps around your waist. “I can just run to the corner store real quick and grab some.”

Your eyes soften significantly as Melissa Schemmenti saves the day. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, hun.” She grabs her purse from the kitchen table and heads out with a soft hum, only to pop back in. “You need anything else? Or… do you guys want anything?” she directs that last part at your parents.

All three of you shake your heads, so she smiles that Philly smile of hers and heads out.  You momentarily forget that your parents are present, and you can’t help the shy smile and blush that creeps into your cheeks as you watch her figure leave.

“Your little friend is very pretty,” your mother states once the door is shut.

You turn to her sharply. “Oh?”

“She’s very pretty,” your mom says again.

“Oh, good. I thought it was just me,” you mutter.

“No,” your father cuts in this time. “It’s a fact. You should probably get a move on if you want to do something about that. A girl that pretty won’t be single for long.”

“I was planning on pining from afar for anywhere from two to ten years and seeing where that got me. Probably nowhere, but I won’t know until I try,” you quip cheekily. “

"Your mother and I both saw the way she looks at you- she definitely has a thing for you too,” your father tells you. “Just… think on it. Yeah?”

You roll your eyes dramatically, and sigh. “Just… don’t go doing your meddling, please?”

“I won’t,” your dad raises his hands in mock surrender. Your mother, on the other hand though, stays quietly.

Melissa makes her way into the house again not twenty minutes later, a smile dancing on her lips. “The ice is in the cooler, along with the drinks.”

“Thank you,” you smile at her warmly. You then note that she has three drinks in her hand: a beer for her and your father, and a seltzer for you. She passes them out silently before cracking hers open and taking a sip.

She then leans in and wraps an arm around your waist again before mumbling into your ear, “If my mother said that to me about a house this beautiful, I would’ve lit the trash can on fire.”

The giggle that erupts from your soul is hard to contain. Thankfully, you don’t have a chance to say anything else because your doorbell rings. And when the two of you go to open the door, you’re more than pleased to see the entirety of the Abbott clan. Anything to get your mother’s attention off of you.

As it turns out, your mother and Barbara seem to get along swimmingly. What surprises you is how much your mother likes Janine and Ava as well. Your father quite enjoys Mr. Johnson’s tales, is able to talk sports with Gregory, and even falls for Jacob’s awkward charm. And Melissa is able to meander through your backyard with you as you ensure that nothing gets too out of hand.

When you’re chatting with your father and Mr. Johnson, your mother glances over at you. Melissa has an arm slung around your shoulder, and you don’t seem to mind it one bit.

“Tell me,” your mother implores Barbara. “Melissa.”

“What about her, dear?”

“Her and my daughter.”

“Oh,” the kindergarten teacher chuckles as she sips on her wine. “Those two have been pining for each other for years. If you ask me, it’s just a matter of time before they finally pull their heads out of their asses and get together.”

Your mother sighs a breath of relief. “I’m glad I’m not the only one to notice.”

“Oh, you aren’t, Jane,” Barb laughs. “Don’t tell either of them, but we have a bet on how long it’ll take them to finally start dating. I said by the end of July. Everyone else still thinks they’ll be dancing around it come the beginning of the school year.”

“While I don’t approve of a lot of the choices my daughter has made,” your mother sighs. “Including moving away from us, I do want her to be happy. Do you think she’ll be happy with Melissa?”

“That daughter of yours is never happier than when she’s with Melissa,” Barbara states simply. “And just so you’re aware: your daughter has done a whole lot of good while she’s been out here with us. We are very proud of her, and you should be too. I know she sometimes feels that she isn’t good enough for you.”

Your mother bites her lip, a bit ashamed at how she knows she’s made you feel- both today and in the past. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll mend that.”

“As you should.”

“But for now… my husband promised he wouldn’t meddle in her love life, but I made no such promise. Should we win that bet for you?”

The kindergarten teacher is clearly intrigued as she raises a brow. “And how do you propose we would do that?”

Their plan, as it turns out, is not the most intricate. It’s to simply get the two of you hammered while your mother quietly feeds you comments about how you’re already practically in a relationship with the redhead. Meanwhile, Barbara will plant that same seed in Melissa’s head before daring her to just make a move- Melissa is never one to turn down a dare while intoxicated; that’s how she ended up doing cartwheels on South Street one night after a particularly wild night at Oscar’s.

“You know she spent the night last night?” Barbara asks your mother. “Came over to help clean and ended up just staying.”

Your mother’s perfectly sculpted brow lifts. “I just assumed she was the first one here.”

“Nope,” your mother smirks. “I was supposed to pick her up so all of us Abbott people could come together.”

“Interesting… if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have some snooping to do.” With that, your mother rises from her seat and enters your house. Immediately, her eyes turn to the steps where your room and main bathroom are. She ascends up the steps. Melissa’s things, at least that’s what she assumes, are still scattered around in the bathroom. And… bingo: two toothbrushes. Then her eyes wander into the bedroom. Your mother knows that you don’t typically make the bed, but she is surprised to see that both sides of the bed are disheveled- bodies had clearly been on both sides.

Meanwhile, outside, Barbara makes her way over to you and Melissa.

“Where’d my mom go?” you ask.

“Bathroom,” Barb tells you gently. Her eyes don’t miss the fact that the redhead’s arm is still around you. “You two seem to be having a nice time.”

Green eyes glare at her work best friend, but you just smile and lean into Melissa. That glare washes right off of her face.

“It’s nice,” you smile. God, that smile of yours has the second grade teacher wrapped around your finger. “I’m almost done my drink though.”

That’s all the kindergarten teacher needs to hear to begin her side of the plan. “Let me get you both drinks.”

“Oh, I can get them for us,” Melissa tells your coworker. Her hand slips away from your back, and it’s odd that you feel the slightest bit cold without her holding you.

The kindergarten teacher watches the way that your eyes linger on Melissa’s figure. And when she’s bringing back the drinks, you simply attach yourself to her hip again.

“Cheers,” Barb smiles as she lifts her glass in the air. The three of you clink, and then drink. She makes a mental note to pace herself while raising her glass in your direction often. Melissa and you never turn down a toasted drink. 

When Barbara sees your mother make her way back out, she moseys over. “What did you find?”

“Those two are so in a relationship, even if they aren’t admitting it. They shared a bed and everything!”

“Well, I’ve already initiated them getting drunk,” Barb informs your mom.

“Perfect,” your mother grins. Her eyes glance in the direction that you and your coworker are in. “Those two are idiots if they don’t think they’re in love. Well, time to go start.”

When you see your mother walking in your direction, you simply tap your can with Melissa’s before downing a good portion of it. The redhead follows your actions, although her eyes do widen when she sees how much and how quickly you’re drinking.

“My dear,” your mother starts. “Can I have a word with you?”

With a soft sigh, you nod and allow her to pull you in another direction. 

“What, Mom?”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” your mother instructs strictly. Then she softens significantly, and you feel like you’re a young child again. She used to look at you with so much love. “I just… wanted to apologize.”

“For?” you raise a brow.

“The things I’ve said about your career choices and the likes,” your mother sighs sheepishly. “I- I am very proud of you. I hope you know that.”

You frankly aren’t sure what you’re supposed to say to that, so you just give a sad smile. “Thank you for saying that, Mom.”

“I know that you probably don’t believe me, but I am very proud of you. You’re shaping the future generations, and you’ve been able to make it out here on your own. You seem to have a lovely work life, and… you’re a hell of a lot happier here than you were back home.”

“I am,” you admit. “I love it here, Ma.”

“That’s all I could ever want in this life for you- happiness,” your mom smiles as she squeezes your hand. “My sunshine deserves sunshine.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“I think I know how you could be happier though.”

“I’m not moving back-”

“I’m not asking you to move back home,” your mother rolls her eyes. “I’m asking you to pull your head out of your ass and get with that little friend of yours already.”

“I thought I told you and Dad not to meddle in my life love,” you smirk.

Your mother replicates your facial expression- one of mischief. “I never agreed to that, dear. But I mean, come on. It’s quite clear to me that you have feelings for her.”

“So what if I do?”

“It’s also quite obvious to me that she reciprocates those feelings for you,” your mother states. “I mean, the two of you act as though you’re already together as it is.”

“We do not,” you blush.

“She stayed at your house last night, the two of you shared a bed, her toothbrush is right next to yours in the holder.”

“Friends stay over at each other’s houses sometimes,” you counter.

“She’s been hanging off of you all day,” your mother points out. “She calls you hun.”

“She calls every one ‘hun’.”

“Her eyes never leave you, and your eyes never leave her. Just admit that you’re in love with her. And she’s in love with you.”

“She is not,” you roll your eyes.

“All I’m saying is: the two of you act like you’re in a relationship already. Just… think about your happiness for your ol’ Ma. I do want grandkids at some point, you know.”

Barbara grabs her work wife by the arm. “Cheers!”

The redhead only throws back her head to laugh before taking a long swig.

“So when are you gonna just tell that girl that you’re in love with her?” the kindergarten teacher probes.

“Never,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “I plan on pining from afar for… forever. There ain’t no way someone like that would ever want me.”

“I see the way she looks at you, Melissa,” Barbara reminds her friend. “She loves you, and the two of you act like you’re in a relationship as it is.”

“No we don’t.” The pointed look from her coworker has the redhead blushing. “Okay, maybe we do. But there’s a difference between acting like it, and actually being in a relationship.”

“I think you should go for it,” Barb says. “Tonight.”

“What?” Green eyes go wide.

“Why not? Nothing is more romantic than fireworks. And, the two of you are drunk, and if it doesn’t feel right you can always blame it on the booze.”

The second grade teacher bites her lip. “I don’t know.”

“Just… think about it.”

No sooner is the redhead back at your side, holding you by the hip again. And while she seems like everything is wonderful and there is nothing but pleasant thoughts going on in her head, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Her mind is swirling with what it would be like to kiss you, to be in a relationship with you.

Maybe, Melissa thinks to herself. 

Well, that maybe turns into an Absolutely I will, when Barbara dares her a few hours later to do something about the mutual pining that is going on between the two of you.

“I dare you to kiss her while the fireworks are going on,” the kindergarten teacher smirks, pretty intoxicated herself. 

“I will,” the redhead chuckles, never one to turn down a dare.

By the time the fireworks start going off, everyone is either on a blanket that they had brought or in a chair that lived at your house. Of course, you’re the last to search a seat due to your expert hosting skills, and you find yourself coming up with nothing.

“Come here,” Melissa rolls her eyes. As if you would find anywhere else to be but near the redhead. You stand beside her, ready to take in the spectacle that is about to light up the sky. And in a daring move, the second grade teacher easily tugs you into her lap. She her arms around your midsection and rests her chin on your back.

Your mother nudges Barbara with her elbow, grinning from ear to ear. “You think it’s gonna happen?”

“I dared Melissa to,” the kindergarten teacher mutters back. “So, yeah.” 

“Perfect.”

As the first fireworks go off, you can feel the excitement practically radiating off of Melissa. It’s adorable when you turn and see how awestruck she is by the lights in the sky. Your coworkers are entirely entranced by the display, and when it’s clear that the finale is about to take place, you expect to see those green eyes focused on the dark night above you. But instead, the redhead is looking directly at you.

“Lis,” you chuckle, and you try to turn her head so she can look up at the last of the fireworks. She doesn’t seem to care about the spectacle. No, her eyes are trained on you. “You’re gonna miss the finale.”

“I don’t care,” the redhead breathes.

“But they’re beautiful,” you whisper.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Melissa tells you quietly. And then her lips meet yours. And… the fireworks in the sky are no comparison to the fireworks in your heart.

Everyone that had gathered at your house is mesmerized by the display in the sky- all except your mother and Barbara. Silently, they high five before turning their eyes back to the finale of the fireworks.

Once the fireworks are over, it isn’t long before your friends and family begin to file out of your house.

“Don’t think that we aren’t talking about that kiss that I saw,” your mother whispers to you as she hugs you goodbye. Immediately, your cheeks flush red. But you can’t say anything, because she’s off of you, and giving Melissa a hug goodbye.

Barbara, on the other hand, doesn’t give any inclination that she knows what had taken place just a few short minutes ago. She heads out with a hug and a kiss to your cheek, thanking you for your wonderful hospitality.

And then you and the redhead are alone. And before you know it, her lips are back on yours.

Fast forward to the end of Summer, and Melissa has been your girlfriend since the Fourth. It’s been a wonderful summer spent down at the beach with her, and all too soon you’re walking back into the halls of Abbott.

Barbara doesn’t say anything when she sees the two of you walk in together or the way that Melissa instinctively prepares your morning beverage for you. No. She chooses to wait until the last of your Abbott family has made their way into the staff lounge.

“So,” the kindergarten teacher claps her hands together with a bright grin on her face. “Where’s my money?”

“Your money?” your girlfriend raises a brow.

“My money,” Barbara states with a smile.

“For what?” Jacob asks.

“The bet.”

“No one won,” Ava rolls her eyes. “Not yet at least. I still got my bet going.”

“That’s where you would be wrong,” the kindergarten teacher reveals. “Y/N and Melissa got together on Fourth of July.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “What?”

“You heard what I said, baby.”

“H-how?”

“While everyone else was watching the fireworks, I saw what I needed to see. So, just confirm it so I can win my three-hundred dollars.”

“Three hundred dollars?” Melissa asks incredulously. At her best friend’s nod, the redhead just continues to flounder for words.

“I ain’t payin’ until one of them confirms.”

You sheepishly smile as you raise the two of your hands from under the table, intertwined.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits @schmentisgf

[mariasont]

Art of Losing Control - A.H

summary: sweetheart!reader is uesd to following orders, but she's never questioned why, until now. when hotch turns an academic discussion into something personal. too personal

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader

warnings: dbf!hotch, pyschological tension perhaps??, discussion of power dyanmics, dom/sub undertones, age gap, suggestive themes 4 sure, hotch lowkey putting r through an accidental bdsm awakening

wc: 2.7k

The glass was arguably frigid beneath the pads of your fingers, but it was a biting type that worked its way into your skin before your brain could catch up. You recoiled instinctively, rubbing your hand against your sleeve in a futile attempt to chase away the lingering feeling. That was pointless. The cold had already burrowed itself in. 

You were sure that was the point. Uncomfortable people bred sloppy mistakes. But from the way the woman sat inside the room, the way she barely seemed to notice, you weren't sure exactly how effective said method was.

If the cold affected her, she didn't so much as blink. She leaned forward, elbows sinking into the scuffed metal of the table, her fingers hovering just above, twitching, like they wanted to move but hadn't yet been given permission. Impulse warring with... restraint? Maybe.

At first, you chalked it up to nerves, a subconscious tick, the body's way of trying too hard to stay still. But the longer you watched, the more convinced you became that it was something else.

She looked far too at ease for someone who'd just been arrested. No tension in her shoulders, no fight in her posture, like this was casual small talk over a morning coffee instead of answering for a crime. Her head dipped slightly, her eyes lingering on Morgan as if his words were little more than passing curiosities.

You inched closer to the glass, shifting focus to Morgan. He kept his voice perfectly tuned, soft enough to seem non-threatening, firm enough to demand attention. He was letting the conversation unfold at its own pace, drawing her in without forcing it. It reminded you of a hunter scattering bait, waiting for the trap to spring shut.

You were trying to study it, the pick apart the mechanics of it all—the inflection in his voice, the way he leaned back at just the right moments, how he allowed the silence to work for him rather than rush to fill it.

You used to think it was instinct, just something they (the best, brightest and more experienced of the BAU) had, something that can't be learned. But the longer you were here, the more you saw it for what it really was—craft, skill, an art so finely tuned it just looked like instinct.

When you looked back to the woman, you noticed it, the way she lingered on her words, shaping them slowly, like she was tasting each one before decided if it was worth sharing. 

"She's enjoying this." The words slipped out quietly, almost like an afterthought, your eyes still fixed on the suspect.

The sound behind you—low, contemplative—made you turn before you could think about turning.

Too fast. Too reactive. And suddenly, you weren't just turning you were colliding, your shoulder pressing something solid. Firm. Hotch. His chest absorbed the impact.

It sent a strange disconnect between knowing this is your boss and whatever ridiculous reaction your body had decided to have about it.

If he noticed your flustered reaction, he gave no indication, just took control of it—turning you back to the glass, his palm settled between your shoulder blades.

"Tell me why you think that."

Your heart stuttered. Slamming against bone, thrumming under skin, knocking around like it didn't belong to you anymore. Heat licked up your neck, pressing at the back of your ears.

And Hotch, well, Hotch was just watching, waiting, looking at you like he expected something useful to come out of your mouth. 

Your tongue flicked across lips that felt too dry, but that didn't fix the problem.

"She's keeping the pauses in conversation long—," You exhaled, tried to make it sound normal. "Like she wants him to say more. Like she's giving him the space to take the lead."

Hotch barely tils his head. His version of a nudge. "And?"

You swallowed. He did this sometimes, gave you just enough room to think, to fumble, to find an answer on your own instead of handing it to you. It wasn't impatience, not exactly. It was how he worked, specifically how he worked you. Letting you step forward, letting you find the edge of your own thought before deciding whether or not to pull you back.

You leaned closer to the glass, tracking every detail, letting yourself see her the way he would.

"She keeps touching her lips. Not absentmindedly, but... like she wants to draw attention to them." Hotch said nothing, so you keep going. "She tilts her head, too, just a little—lets her neck show when she laughs."

"Good."

It was just one word. Barely even a murmur. Almost nothing. But it still gets in, slipping into that deep, secret part of you where validation and want blur together, where approval doesn't need to be loud to matter.

And it's not even praise exactly, but it's close enough. And that's all it takes, just that tiny, electric satisfaction sparking along your spine, pulling you upright, nudging your chin a fraction higher. Like something inside of your had been set right without you even realizing.

Then, his voice again. "What else?"

You hesitate, not because you don't know what you're looking for, but because you're trying to separate what you see from what it means.

Your eyes flick lower, and you see the way she presses her thighs together, holds, then releases. It was hardly there, like she was just getting comfortable in the chair. But she does it again, right after Morgan leans forward, his voice dropping, guiding the conversation exactly where he wants it.

You roll the scene over in your mind, trying to pin down exactly what you're seeing, trying to slot it into something else. Engagement. Focus. Attentiveness. It could be any of those things. It could be nothing.

But her lips part—not to speak, not to react, but to breathe. It’s so slight, just enough to let in more air, just enough to give away what she’s feeling. You might have missed it if you hadn't been looking for something, but now it's all you can see.

You swallow, and now not only are your lips dry, but your mouth is too, because you know what you're looking at now.

And you should say it, because that is what profiling is, isn't it? Identifying behavior, understanding it, giving it a name.

But you hesitate, because where you grew up, girls didn't talk about this.

They didn't acknowledge it, didn't name it, didn't let it exist in spaces where they were allowed to be seen. You were raised to be polished, poised, proper. To sit with your legs crossed, to smile without showing too much, and certainly to ignore the things that weren't mean to be spoked aloud.

"She's reacting to him," you say finally, fingers catching on the necklace at your collarbone, rolling it between your thumb and forefinger. You took the cowardly way out. "To the way he talks. She likes that he’s leading.”

You don't wait for Hotch to confirm your words, because the question is already pressing forward, unfiltered.

"But if she's not in control," you say, almost to yourself. "Wouldn't that make her less interested?"

"Not necessarily." Hotch shakes his head. "Interest is subjective. Sometimes it increases when control is taken out of their hands."

"She's aroused." Hotch continues, completely detached, "because she enjoys the feeling of someone else guiding the interaction. It changes the way she experiences the conversation. Instead of leading, she's reacting. Instead of deciding, she's anticipating. That shift can heighten emotional and physical response."

Your body freezes. It shouldn't, but it does. Because he says it so plainly, so unbothered. Aroused. Just another word, just another observation. He could be talking about stress responses, about interview techniques, about anything other than this. But it feels different. Sounds different, slipping from his mouth in that low, even tone of his. 

And maybe that's why your jacket feels too heavy now, why your face feels too warm, why his hand at the top of your spine feels less stable and more like something you can't bring yourself to move from.

She likes giving up control.

That's what he said. That's what makes this work for her. And you hear it, you process it, but you don't get. Not in the way you should. She enjoys it, but how? You've spent your whole life gripping control with both hands, holding it tight enough to leave imprints on your skin.

Growing up, your parents had been distant in different ways—your mother preoccupied with appearances, your father preoccupied with, well, everything else. So, you handled things yourself. Your grades. Your future. Your emotions. You made the decisions, because no one else would make them for you.

But Hotch. Hotch was different.

Your trust in him didn't require thought, didn't need justification. It just was. You listen when he speaks. You follow his orders before you've even processed them. You let him decide things for you, choices you hadn't even realized you wanted made. When he told you to slow down, you did. When he told you to push harder, you gave more. You want his approval, but it’s deeper than that.

You didn't just follow him, you let him lead you. And that should feel strange. It should make you second-guess yourself, make you want to push back. But you don't. You never have.

And that feels like something you should've noticed sooner, a part that you don't quite know what to do with.

You open your mouth. Then shut it.

It's a stupid question, it must be. Because he just explained it, because it's obvious, because she enjoys it, because that's just how some people are.

And still, Hotch, who hasn’t even looked at you, hasn’t moved an inch, somehow notices. Somehow knows. "You don't have to filter your thoughts."

You pause for just a second, lips pressing together, trying to gauge whether this is a question worth asking. It feels too big. Or maybe too personal. Like voicing it might crack something open that you haven’t even looked at yet. But you can’t stop it now.

"Why do people like that?"

"Because for some people, control is synonymous with stress," Hotch says. "It's a constant demand, predicting outcomes, making the right decisions, managing not just their own expectations, but those of everyone around them. Being able to defer that to someone else, to trust that another person will handle it, removes the weight of responsibility."

You shouldn’t be applying this to yourself. Shouldn’t be peeling apart his words and trying to fit them around something  familiar. But you are.

"So, if someone's always been in control, they start to..." You hesitate, grasping for something else, some other explanation. "What? Get tired of it?"

"It's not uncommon. If control has always been a requirement, not a choice, then relinquishing it—at least in certain aspects—can feel like a sort of freedom for them."

You press your teeth into the inside of your cheek, but it does nothing to slow your thoughts.

"And this kind of thing, it doesn't just appear out of nowhere, right? It has to come from somewhere?"

Hotch nods. "Most behavioral patterns do. Sometimes it's environmental, sometimes it's developed naturally. Sometimes it's learned through relationships. And sometimes, it’s an adaptation. A response to an environment where they had no choice but to take care of themselves. Where emotional needs were ignored or never considered at all."

Your breathing quickens. Not in a bad way. Not exactly.

It's just strange, hearing something you've never put into words, something you've never even considered, be said so matter-of-factly. There was something unnerving about hearing your life, your past experiences boiled down into a single sentence.

It makes you feel exposed. Which is ridiculous, he wasn't talking to you. It's just behavior. It's just patterns. It's just psychology. It's not personal. It's not.

"But why would someone be... aroused by that?"

You barely recognize your own voice. The words came out too fast, too eager, and the second they hit the air, you regret them. You weren't supposed to ask that, weren't supposed to say that and certainly weren’t supposed to let it sound like something you needed an answer to.

But the word was out now and the world didn’t seem to collapse around you.

Hotch doesn't even blink. "The connection between submission and arousal is well-documented. Less control means less overthinking. Less overthinking means more sensation. More sensation leads to a heightened response.”

You shift slightly. His hand feels like it was burning through the layers of your jacket.

"And it's not something you should hesitate to discuss." He glances to you, his voice doesn't change, doesn't dip into anything resembling awkwardness, and somehow that only intensifies the heat pressing against your skin. "You can't be afraid of conversations like this. Understanding human behavior means understanding all of it. Power, desire, submission, these things drive people as much as fear or anger. If you hesitate to recognize them, you won't see them when it matters."

You hate that you reacted in the first place. Hate that he noticed. Hate that now, whether you like it or not, there’s something you feel the need to prove—to fix.

"I wasn't—," You exhale sharply, shaking your head as if that would rewind the last ten minutes. "I just—I didn't mean to sound like that. I know it's important. I—" Another sharp inhale. "Sorry. I don't know—,"

You turn, just barely, and it’s a mistake. Immediate. Total. Because now you’re looking at him—fully, completely—and something inside you tilts like gravity just shifted.

Your body brushes his, and somehow, somehow, he still feels bigger than he should be. Like he takes up too much space, like if you moved an inch closer, you'd disappear into him completely.

He hasn't moved. That's the worst part. He hasn't adjusted, hasn't shifted, hasn't done a thing except exist, and yet, he's there, encompassing and suffocating in a way you don't hate. Your breath catches and you know he hears it.

For a second, just a second (maybe even a millisecond), so brief it could be imagined, his lashes dipped before lifting again. You think his fingers twitch at his side. Maybe. But then, it's gone, erased before you could be sure.

"I'm not criticizing you," Hotch says, and you believe him. "You don't need to apologize or justify yourself to me. You're still learning, and I want you to be able to recognize things like this without hesitating. That's all."

You nod, but it's not fully a nod, more like the start of one before you think better of it. 

"I'm sorry," you say instantly, the words automatic, before you can think about them. "I don't want you to think I'm not taking this seriously."

Hotch doesn't sigh, doesn't scold, doesn't soften. He just looks at you, giving you a beat, like he's waiting to see if you'll realize what you just did—if you’ll take back the apology yourself.

When you don’t, he says simply, "That's not what I said. I know you take this seriously. I wouldn't be having this conversation with you if I thought otherwise."

You should move. You need to move.

Your brain fires off the warning like an emergency flare, but your body stays put. You know you should step back, break the tension, say something that makes this feel normal again.

But Hotch hasn't moved either. Hasn't stepped away, hasn't broken his gaze, hasn't done anything but watch you.

Your lips part, a breath catching on the back of your throat. You don't know what you're about to say, maybe something stupid, maybe something honest, maybe something you wouldn't even understand until it was too late.

Before you can, the door opens.

"Hotch?"

The moment snaps. Shatters. Like glass under pressure, breaking apart before you even get the chance to understand what you were standing in. Whatever was there—if there was anything—vanishes in an instant.

Emily stands at the door, her expression unreadable.

"Rossi's asking for you."

Hotch steps away, and the moment his hand leaves you, the cold rushes in like a shock to your system. You don't realize how warm you'd been until it's gone. Until you're left with this.

You don't move. Not right away. Because for a second, you feel off-balance, like stepping away will make something shift, something collapse, but that's ridiculous. Irrational, even. You shake it off, press your lips together, fingers moving before you shove them back to your sleeves. Back to the cold you should have never stopped noticing.

It was always freezing in here. That was the point. Uncomfortable people bred sloppy mistakes.

taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Irreversible.

Gif credits

Pairing: Professor Reed Richards x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI Words count: 430 Summary: You get fucked against the blackboard by your hottest professor. Tags/Warning: implied legal but unspecified age gap, reader is a menace, cheating (Mr Richards is married), POV second person, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v, a dash of oral sex and nipples play, slurs, panties ripping, swearing, a reference to physics. (Look, I had terrible grades in physics in high school, I tried lol), it obviously has no connection to the plot of the film, in this one Reed Richards is a professor with a chair at Harvard and chalk is definitely more “poetic” than markers. I’m not a Marvel fan, I’m just trying to have some pwp, please don't come @ me 💀 A/N: We've all seen the pics and teasers and gifs, right? This is totally self indulgent, I wrote it because I couldn't get the image of him writing on the board out of my head. No proofreading, no beta, English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Thanks to anyone who will read this!

Masterlist

You loved the way you broke him. Lured him into your web to do exactly what you wanted.

You loved it.

The way he yanked at your bra, exposing your boobs, the way his hands were still chalky and leaving white marks all over you, his scruffy beard pinching your skin, his voice vibrating over your tits as he swirled his tongue over your nipples.

“You wanted this huh?” “Yes.” you cried.

You wanted exactly that when you pretended you didn't understand anything about physics.

Your skirt rolled up over your hips, his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping incessantly between your folds, up to your clit.

He stood up, his forearms muscularly sticking out of the rolled-up sleeves, wrapping around your waist, pushing you against the blackboard.

He stopped to undo his pants and kick them off.

Back on you, he squeezed your ass, coming down on your thigh, pulling up your leg to get a better grip.

"You know I'm married" "Yes" you whined, looking at him honeyed. "And you still flirted like a bitch in heat" he angrily muttered.

Of course you did. You did it every day since you started his class, battling your eyelashes, biting your lower lips, asking for tutoring about everything like you were admitted at Harvard by a fortuitous twist of fate, wearing the sluttiest tops and skirts you owned, marveling at the grey in his hair, telling him it suited him so well, while he tried to explain physics to you maintaining a professional tone.

"You couldn't wait to drag me into this mess, could you?" he snarled on your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

He clutched your panties in his fist and teared them like paper tissues.

"I want you so bad" you purred, burying your fingers in his curls at the base of his neck, encircling his waist with your leg, rocking your naked pussy against his still-clothed cock.

"Fuck me, Mr Richards"

He pulled down his boxers just enough to free his cock, and entered you with one thrust.

"Fuck" he cursed "you're soaked, you hungry slut."

You didn't respond; your pussy clutched tightly on his cock, you moaned as he began to thrust deeper and deeper into you, in a frantic rhythm, making your whole body and the blackboard just on the wall behind you vibrate. Small drops of sweat beaded his forehead, his hair now completely disheveled under the work of your hands, the fabric of his pristine white shirt crumpled as it repeatedly banged against your hard nipples.

You came right there, whimpering and quivering in an empty university classroom where every day he lectured you.

Your lust for him was irreversible, as in the second law of thermodynamics that you had pretended not to understand that day.

tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @probablyreadinsmut @joelmillerisapunk @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @thundermartini @harriedandharassed

If you want to be added or removed just let me know, thanks for reading!

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗬 𝗔 𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥 lando norris x  fem! reader (angst) fic summary . . . after a brutal fight where Yn accuses Lando of being a heartless playboy, she realizes the truth behind his shattered expression—he’s been in love with her all along. part 2 to all I've ever wanted (622words)

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

Two days.

It had been two days since you’d shouted at Lando, and the words you threw at him still echoed in your head like a bad song on repeat. Every time you thought about his face—how he looked at you like you’d ripped his heart out and stomped on it—you felt like the worst person alive.

Because you were the worst person alive.

You’d been friends with Lando for years. You knew him better than anyone… or at least you thought you did. But maybe you never really let yourself see the truth. The boy beneath the jokes and the charm. The one who loved you so much it broke him.

And God, you’d hurt him. Bad.

That’s why you were standing outside his apartment now, heart hammering against your ribs like it wanted to break out and sprint down the hall.

You raised your hand and knocked, the sound loud against the door. “Lando? It’s me. I… I want to talk.”

Silence.

But you could hear the TV blaring inside. Some stupid show, the laugh track playing like a cruel joke. He was definitely in there.

A beat later, the TV clicked off.

You almost laughed, almost, because seriously? Did he really think you didn’t hear that?

“Lando,” you sighed, pressing your forehead against the door. “I know you’re in there.”

More silence.

Your chest tightened. He wasn’t going to let you in. You deserved that, honestly. But you weren’t leaving without saying what you needed to.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracked, but you kept going. “I was… I was awful to you. I said things I didn’t mean, and I didn’t take you seriously when I should’ve. You’ve always been there for me, and I—” You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. “I hurt you, and I hate that I did. I’m so fucking sorry, Lando.”

You waited. One second. Two. Ten. Nothing.

The weight of his silence crushed you. Maybe he’d never forgive you. Maybe you’d broken something that couldn’t be fixed.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, your footsteps echoing in the hallway.

But then—

Click.

The door swung open behind you, and you froze mid-step.

“Yn.”

His voice was soft, but it stopped you cold. You turned slowly, your heart leaping into your throat when you saw him standing there, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His hair was a mess, his eyes puffy and red, but God, he was still Lando. Your Lando.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, your voice trembling.

Lando stared at you for a long moment, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. Then, finally, he spoke.

“If you mean it…” He paused, eyes flickering down for a split second before meeting yours again. “Kiss me on the cheek.”

You blinked, surprised by the request, but then a small, relieved smile tugged at your lips. You stepped closer, your heart racing as you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

When you pulled back, his eyes were still on you, softer now, but there was a glint of something else. Something more.

“And…” he added, clearing his throat, trying—and failing—to sound casual, “make dinner.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Make dinner?”

Lando shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t have anything ready for tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart felt lighter than it had in days. You knew damn well he just wanted you to stay longer. And truth be told, you didn’t want to leave either.

“Alright,” you said, stepping inside. “But only if you help.”

Lando chuckled, closing the door behind you. “Deal.”

[cognitiveoverload]

Rejection (Aaron Hotchner x reader)

summary: Being Hotch’s favorite is hard, but when he suddenly asks you out, you don’t really know if you’d like to make things harder for yourself.

tags: fem!tech analyst!reader

note: There will be more parts, not necessarily in chronological order. What do you think, what situations will they find themselves in? Send an ask with your idea, and let’s see what will happen.

At first, it was just a casual and genuinely innocent observation from Spencer. “Have you noticed that Hotch calls only you if he needs something?” he asked one day as he sat between you and Penelope in your little den.

But then this comment spread through the BAU like wildfire, making everyone think back of all the times their boss needed information, and look at that, they all remembered the same detail–it’s not just the fact he was always calling you, it was the fact he always called you by your first name.

And that’s how the constant teasing began. Derek, Emily, JJ and Penelope tormented you, with Spencer occasionally joining to spit out some facts about the both of you, while Rossi targeted Hotch as far as you knew. It was mortifying, really, but you got used to it.

What you still can't get used to is the change in your boss’ behavior. Recently he’s been different, although you can’t quite put a finger on what it is that changed. Sure, maybe he shows up a little more often in your office, strictly when Penelope isn’t around, and he brings you coffee when you’re working late or arrive a little too early as he does.

“How are you holding up?”

You turn your swivel chair around to look at Hotch, who’s standing in the door with an almost worried expression on his face. He sent Penelope home a few hours ago when a case affected her too much, and now apparently it was time for another wellness check in your little office. It’s hard to miss the way he’s flexing his fingers, a clear sign that he’s nervous, although you’re not a profiler, so you remain silent before you say something stupid.

Thinking about his question, you realize one thing. “It didn’t really affect me. Does this mean something’s wrong with me?” you ask him.

His lips part as he takes a shallow breath and thinks about what you just said. For a moment you think he’ll not give you an answer, but then he sits on the edge of your desk and watches you with a small smile. “It only means you’re tough. Look, you said, ‘It didn’t really affect me,’ which tells me it did affect you, just not as intensely as it did Garcia for example,” he explains kindly.

Nodding, you look down at your hands in your lap, but your gaze rises when he bumps his leg into your thigh. You expect him to say something, but Hotch remains silent, and he even acts like he didn’t do anything at all. There is one little thing that’s different, though. That barely visible smirk, the one you’ve all seen before.

Times like this it’s hard to comprehend the extremes in his behavior. He can act like this, so kind and supportive, but he can play rough too, especially when he loses control. And times like that, like a few days ago when he yelled at an agent who tried to take a case from him, you can’t help but think about how he could yell at you any time with you even thanking him.

Because, as pathetic as it might sound, an angry Hotch is simply irresistible. You probably have some issues that should be analyzed, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.

“I often wonder how you all can do this every single day. Penelope told me to brace myself when I arrived, but… It’s hard sometimes,” you admit quietly. “Yet, there are cases that don’t really make me feel anything. I can’t really wrap my head around that.”

His brown eyes soften in sync with his expression, and then his lips curl into a smile. “You’re a good person, never forget that. Not feeling anything might be your brain’s way of protecting you. Either way, if you ever want to talk, you know where to find me,” he tells you as he stands up.

You nod, then return to your computer once he’s heading to the door. But then the sound of footsteps suddenly dies, and when you turn around to see if he has just disappeared into thin air, you find him watching you with a thoughtful look. Your brows furrow in confusion, but you don’t say anything, you just wait for him to spit out whatever’s on his mind.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asks casually.

It seems like an innocent, regular question between co-workers. The members of the BAU often team up in pairs or bigger groups to grab something, even Hotch joins them for a drink in a bar or dinner in some restaurant nearby. But he has never, ever gone out to eat with someone alone. Maybe with Rossi, but that doesn’t count.

So, it’s no wonder you have to think about the offer. You would be on thin ice, the team already has a little too much fun with the fact Hotch is playing favorites with you. If you have dinner with him alone, they might think you’ve been in some secret relationship all along.

In the end, the rational–or maybe rather paranoid–side of your brain makes the final decision. “Thanks, but I’d rather go home after I finish this,” you say, pointing at your computer.

He nods, and you begin to think he’s about to leave, but then he gulps and takes a deep breath, as if he’s gathering the strength or courage to say whatever’s on his mind. “I have paperwork that can’t wait, but I can give you a ride home after I’m done,” he offers, and there’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite identify.

“No need, I’ll be fine, but thanks anyway,” you tell him with a forced smile.

The last thing you need and want is Hotch taking you home. He means well, you know that, but you can’t risk being seen by someone who could easily start a rumor. The problem is, he’s almost as old as your dad, so people would talk about your nonexistent daddy issues, and he’s your boss, which would only make things worse.

So far the whole joke about being his favorite is something that stayed within the team, but if it gets out and reaches HR, you’re both done. You don’t want that, but not because of yourself. Hotch is ambitious, he’s insanely good at office politics, and if he wants to be promoted, he can’t be involved in such scandals.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sigh that leaves his lips. He looks almost disappointed, which is something you don’t really understand, because you can’t remember anything that could be even remotely rude. What is his problem? Or is there something he wants to talk about, something he wants to get off his chest?

Before you know it, he closes the door and walks back to you. “I’ve been making offers, and you turn down each and every one of them without hesitation. Why?” You can’t help but give him a confused look, because you have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. Well, you know, but why does it bother him? “Is it because we would be alone?”

“It’s just… Wouldn’t it be weird?” you ask.

He inhales and exhales slowly before he suddenly crouches in front of you. “Look, there is a chance it will be weird, yes, but why don’t we give it a shot to see, huh? Come on, just you and me. If you’re afraid someone we both know will see us, we can go somewhere away from the usual crowd.”

You tilt your head to the side as you watch him, observing the look in his eyes, the small smile that makes your heart melt, and you simply can’t get yourself to say no to him. “Why?” you ask, although you know the answer, you just want to hear him say it.

“I’m sure I don’t have to spell it out for you,” he says with a boyish smile.

Gulping, you nod. A date. Aaron Hotchner wants to go on a date with you. But he’s your boss, if you started a relationship, there would be the danger of the aftermath of a breakup. Would you really like to risk it? You love this job, you love this team, you love Penelope, losing them wouldn’t be worth it.

You lick your lips as you push your chair back to build some distance. “I really have to get back to work now, and I’m sure Jack would be happy if you got home before bedtime,” you say, even though it hurts to turn down the invitation.

Hotch lets out a disappointed sigh as he stands up. “If you change your mind… you know. Good night.”

“Good night.”

[acexsmhking]

hey back at it again with a "we listen and we don't judge"

Obsessive Toby x Fem!reader But like He was sent to kill someone at a university and decided to just blend in with the school BECAUSE AND ONLY BECAUSE one of the students caught his Eye

she takes him in, introduces him to her friends, bro because basically dependent and doting on her bc not many ppl will just look past his "Flaws"... Then finds out she has a boyfriend, but that just won't do foe Toby

SORRY IF IT'S ULTRA SPECIFIC AND YOU CAN GO AHEAD AND CHANGE WHATEVER YOU LIKE OFC!!!

𝐄𝐟𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

(𝗻.) 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘂𝘁𝘆

: ̗̀➛ Toby x FEM!Reader

Summary: University life can be hard; stress, exams, homesickness. So of course, as a good person you didn’t hesitate to befriend a ‘shaken’ schoolmate after a traumatic murder happened. Who knew that your trusted companion was quite the gifted actor?

note: omg whoa! You had me actually biting my phone with this request. Istg I love this. Also sorry I went crazy on this. If you wanna skip the plot I put a halfway marker lol!

Warning(s): 18+ content, AFAB!Reader, p n v! Sex, slight coercion, oral sex (F & M receiving), cheating, long plot, affair plot, stalker behavior, descriptions of gore, descriptions of murder, mentions of blood, unhealthy co-dependency, slight emotional manipulation, lots of drool, biting, cum-play, breath-play.

The beginning of mid-term had started off.. rough. One of the students, Cole, had been murdered. To say it shook the school was an understatement. The scene had been fully public, with a huge fire burning the corpse and a large proportion of the surrounding area. Multiple other students had been injured, with an additional three losing their lives. The whole school was somber, close friends and even family of the victims seemed completely lifeless. Barely responding or talking to anybody but themselves and each other. Thankfully, the professors had been merciful with dealing out schoolwork. And the Dean had began some light construction around the school for added security and protection.

About two months after the incident, a new student had been introduced to your friend group. A mutual friend of a mutual was all you thought of him at first. But after chatting you and Toby quickly formed a connection, he was so much like you! Same hobbies, likes, dislikes. The bond was immediate and close, and soon enough you welcomed Toby into your closer, inner friend circle. You were accommodating and quick to meet Toby’s needs. Both emotionally and mentally. He had confided in you about a plethora of problems he had, along with how vulnerable he was to bullying.

You were, in your sweet nature, quick to sympathize with him. Offering a shoulder to lean on and a shield from the meaner kids. While bullying didn’t happen too often in university, mostly because of how it drained the souls from people. But you still stayed by Toby’s side. You were inseparable. Toby followed you everywhere. Classes, hang-outs, parties, and shopping. Toby had a small speculation where you lived, but he was unable to find out yet. After.. he had his fun earlier. He saw you in the crowd. You were.. beautiful.

He latched onto you quickly to say it mildly. How could he refute you! He didn’t even know he had an ideal type since he saw you, no no, you were his ideal type. You were his only type. His. Befriending you was simple, you were so sweet and pathetic. The cutest lamm he’d ever saw. And he’s met a lot of people.. well, killed a lot. He was beginning to like this university. Besides the downfall of socializing it had delicious food, and of course, you. You understood him, never even judged him when you told about his problems. The voices, the visions, his tourette’s, hell you didn’t even mind the drool escaping the gnarly hole on his face.

Okay, sure he knew no one bullied him anymore. But he was sure people had! So it was valid.

In the eyes of innocents, Toby was weak. A riddled dog. A sick man. But you reassured him, took care of him. He didn’t even realize how many things he didn’t like eating til you asked him. You’d bring him delicious foods for lunch, breakfast, hell even dinner. About five months had passed since the incident. You and Toby still as close as thieves. You hated to admit it. But Toby was.. cute. No, scratch that, Toby was downright sinful. You realized your tiny ‘passing’ crush on him was growing more and more. You felt awful. Awful how when you smiled it was mostly at him. Laughing was with him, eating, hanging out.

Toby immediately noticed you becoming distant. It felt awful. He tried to remember what Tim told him. ‘Sometimes people just need space for various reasons. Remember to be empathetic and open-minded.’ And he tried! Really tried. He just couldn’t handle it. How you started ignoring his message for longer, side-stepped him for others, or would just bolt the other direction if you saw him. His heart was twisting. He hated it. Hated this feeling. He needed you. You were the only one who understood him, who took care of him. He loved you! Couldn’t you see that? Why were you pushing him away. You both were perfect together.

It was cold today, however even Toby could feel it. Or maybe it was just how rejection felt as he watched you laughing at another friends joke. His eye twitched, knuckles cracking. He wanted to strangle them. No he had to, all of them. Then you’d remember him again, right? Yeah, you probably just felt bad for neglecting all of them. Sein süßes Lamm, such a giver. If they disappeared you’d only have him again. You’d pay attention to him again.

You shivered, it was ass freezing cold. You could feel the biting of winter through your pants. You glanced at Toby, looking him over. He was dressed fairly appropriate, you had managed to beat in a good habit of him dressing well for the weather even if he couldn’t feel it. But you worried. What if he forgot to heat his blanket up, his pajamas? No no, stop it. You can’t fret over him so much. You had to put distance. But it was hard looking at him. He was silent. Hadn’t even made a sound besides popping and cracks. You worried, he was never this verbally silent.

Your heart squeezed. He looked so.. sad, so incredibly depressed. You hadn’t even noticed that look in his eyes, not like you could see them very well. You weren’t standing even nearly as close to him like you would before. If others in the group noticed, they didn’t mention it. The only one you were positive that noticed anything was your best friend. They were your most trusted confidant and you had confided to them about everything. They glanced between you and Toby, offering you a sympathetic smile.

“You okay, Toby? You been oddly silent, hun.” They asked, Toby flinched at the nickname. It was grating. You should be checking on him. Not this idiot. You. He nodded, neck popping as he shuffled his feet. Calm down Toby, she’ll come back soon don’t be rash. He tried reasoning with himself. It was a very, very losing battle. He hadn’t even noticed someone else walking up behind you, not til their arms wrapped around your waist and twirled you around. Toby’s jaw clenched, he could nothing but ringing and grinding of his teeth as he watched.

Why the fuck were the others happy? Why weren’t you pushing them away? Who are they? Who, who, who. You had been completely jolted when Ethan had picked you up. You hadn’t seen him in months! “You miss me, baby?” He smiled, eyes flickering between you and your lips as he held you. You nodded, lip between your teeth as you forced a smile. Arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed him. Was it mean to admit you hadn’t? Not as much, you have Toby. Had.. god why was this hard. Why did you even like him? You had Ethan. Ethan. Not Toby.

Close friends hugged Ethan, saying their hi’s. New friends introducing themselves, everyone expect.. Toby. His fingers were locked, eyes glued to his feet. Your heart sank.. you hadn’t even told him. It’s okay, you tried to reassure. You didn’t tell many people, you liked keeping personal information to yourself and close ones. But Toby was close.. right? He felt like your twin.. that’s what you two always said. No.. you were wrong not to tell him.

“Who are you?” Ethan smiled, cocking his head at Toby. This time, Toby looked up. You shivered at that look in his eyes, they seemed so dead, hallow almost. More than usual. You quickly stepped towards Toby, arm around his side and smiled apologetically at Ethan. “This is Toby, my best friend.” Toby leaned further into you, appearing to shy away from Ethan. Ethan, who just arched a brow gaze flickering between you both. You patted Toby’s back, “He’s very shy, give him a while to warm up to you, babe.” You smiled, hand lingering on Toby just a bit as you peaked on him.

Toby was.. he was as thrilled as he could be. You were touching him!! Touching him after weeks at that, even defended him. That small feeling of victory was quickly squashed when you returned to his arms. Was this what the saying ‘blood boiling’ meant? Because he was feeling it. Probably the worst way possible. He hated how much everyone liked him, how much they teased you both as the afternoon went on. He hated how this nuisance kept trying to talk to him, ‘get to know’ him. All this pest needed to know was go wonder off and die.

‘He has to kill him.’ Toby nodded to himself, yeah if he does, you’ll come back to him. You’ll be back in his arms, laughing at his jokes. Ethan had offered everyone drinks at some bar. Toby shivered, but this was his chance. He couldn’t leave you alone with him. “Toby are you sure you want to come?” You chewed your lips, shifting on your feet. “I don’t want the smell bothering you.” A mumble was all it was. You knew now, most certainly, you had no right to fret over him. Toby just shrugged, pulling his jacket tighter around him as he held your hand.

His smile made your stomach warm, butterflies fluttering. Gods he was pretty. “I’ll be okay-y with you there.” His voice was gentle, thumb rubbing your knuckles. Why were you blushing, what was wrong with you. You nodded hastily almost stumbling away from him to return to the group. Composing yourself as Ethan wrapped his arms around you. Thankfully, the bar seemed to be in a slow night, or maybe just a slow hour, but either way you were grateful. You checked in on Toby every once in a while. A few others doing so as well.

“You’re doing really well, Toby!” Rebecca comforted, playfully punching his shoulder. Toby just smiled, seeming polite, Ethan turned towards him. “Don’t like crowded places?” He asked, a smirk on his lips. Toby shrugged, “Don’t-t like al-alcohol.” He mumbled, eyes meeting Ethan’s in a cold stare. Ethan just nodded, arm on your shoulder tightening. You felt.. stuffy. Usually Ethan’s arms made you feel safe.. so safe. But with Toby here.. you felt dirty. Or maybe cause Ethan was here? No, what did you need to feel guilty about. Your feelings were your own and you never acted on them!

You loved Ethan.

Yeah, you shook your head you loved Ethan. You tried leaning back into him further. But it still didn’t feel right. His scent was weird, it was strong, too strong. The waitress brought a third round of drinks, Toby just asked for more water. Wow, two cups of water. Tim would be proud. Liam, one of the guys, was telling a funny story when a crush interrupted him. Followed by Toby cursing. “Fuh-fuck sorry!” He mumbled, handing Hannah a napkin. He had been doing good almost all damn day about that. Hannah just smiled waving him off. “You’re good! Not your fault.” She said, patting herself down.

There was a nasty ball in your stomach as you watched. You hated how he touched her, fretted over her. Why were you like this? “The hell happened?” Ethan laughed, leaning over a bit. “Sor-rey, just..” Ethan interrupted him, mockingly. “You really are jittery. What some stutter freak?” Your mouth gaped, everyone’s did. You shoved Ethan away, “What the actual hell is wrong with you?” You pushed him again, out of the booth as you shoved your finger against his chest. “What gives you the right to say that?” You shrieked, brows furrowed and shoulders pinned.

Everyone stopped watching you two. Toby was bristling. He didn’t really care, sure he wasn’t actually gonna let that slide but, watching you defend him? His pants were a hell of a lot tighter. That’s right, Ethan had no place in your heart compared to him. “What it was just a joke! ‘M sure he’d gone through worst.” Ethan scoffed, arms crossing as he looked back at Toby. “Right? You don’t care, man.” Toby got out the booth, cold fingers wrapping around your shoulder gently. “It’s-It’s alright, ‘m just gonna head-d out okay?” He smiled, patting your shoulders as he moved past you both.

Your shoulders sank, you didn’t know what to do. Ethan had never said something like that before, not in front of you. How could you let Toby down like this? “Toby! Wait!” You called after him, pushing past Ethan who called after you. You caught with Toby down the street, hand wrapping around his arm. “I’m so sorry about that, I swear if I knew he was like that.. he.. I don’t even know.” You mumbled, hugging him as he faced you. Toby just laughed softly, arms wrapping around you as he patted your back.

Your face nuzzled into his chest, unwilling to admit to it as you took a breath of his scent in. Woody and spice. It didn’t have that artificial scent, it was like he really was rolling around in pinecones and wood earlier. “It’s ok-ay, pretty! Ain’t got-s to be so upset.” He teased, arms squeezing you. You huffed, linking your arms with him as you both continued down to the university. “I really am sorry. I don’t know what the fuck was wrong with him.” You grunted, your feathers were truly ruffled right now! Toby was so sweet, how could your loving Ethan be so cruel to him!

“W-wah-anna spend the night over with me?” He smiled at you sympathetically, sure it hadn’t been the first time since you and Toby had a sleep over. Typically watching nostalgic movies and geeking out. “Umm…” You glanced back, yeah you were mad at Ethan but.. should you really sleep over somewhere else? Oh but those damn puppy dog eyes! Toby’s eyes were just too cute..

Toby’s place was actually a very good distance away from the university. Tucked in between the dense forests surrounding the area. “Gosh, I still can’t believe you make that drive to university everyday.” You snorted, making sure to politely take your shoes off at the front door. “Seeing you-you makes it a little more worth it.” He boyishly grinned at you, flopping down on his old sofa. You flushed sitting down next to him. Feet tucked under you as you sighed. Toby tilted his head at you, you looked far too cute. Curled in so cutely, clothes hugging you just right.

How long had it been since you’ve been here? Far too long, he missed you. Missed watching you, being able to feel you. Really feel you, as you slept. He hadn’t been able to cum properly the past couple weeks. He needed your skin, your smell. You spoiled him far too much. You two just stared at the other for a while. Basking in the silence as you both admired the other. “I missed you..” He mumbled, an arm reaching out for you, he didn’t immediately pull you in. But you hesitated, shifting in your seat.

“Toby we shouldn’t..” You tried reasoning, convincing. Who? You don’t know. Him? Yourself? Sure, Ethan had been a major jerk but you shouldn’t.. indulge Toby like that, not anymore. Toby’s jaw clenched, he grabbed you faster than you could process. He pinned you to the couch, some his drool leaking onto the spot near your head. Some on your face. You gasped, wiggling a bit under him to release your legs. Caught between the crossfire. “Toby!” You yelped, struggling against him as he pinned your wrists. “Wh-hy do you insist on acting-acting like he matters.” His voice was a rumble, grip bruising as you whimpered.

“Toby! Hurts..” You whimpered, he seemed guilty but didn’t let up on you. “You know-w you should be-should be with me, Lamm.” He intertwined your fingers, leaning close to you. “You said-aid we were perfect!” He growled, you shook your head, squeezing your legs together. You were so desperate to deny him. Anything to cling onto your morals and rules, you had to resist him. “Du süßer Idi-iot. Mach dir keine Sor-gen, ich werde mich um ihn kümmern, Lamm.” He mumbled, releasing you and pushing off.

You held a hand over your heart watching him. He looked.. predatory as he relaxed back onto the couch. After a few seconds he patted his lap, a sweet smile reappearing on his lips. “Come here.” He asked, you hesitatanly obeyed, straddling his waist. His hands rubbed your hips, that sweet smile turning into something sinister. “See? Is it so har-r-d to just be good for me.” He hummed, fingers teasing the hem of your pants, toying with the buttons and zipper. You shifted, the air felt heavy and oppressing. You hated how much his words affected you, how you liked this side of him.

Your fingers tighten their grip on his shirt, hands pressing down on his chest as he undid your pants. He sucked on a breath as his fingers trailed up your side, you were so soft. Your meat.. skin.. flesh.. gods whatever. It made his mouth water. He’d take care of that little Ethan, silent and properly. Quick and clean. You’d never worry about that scum again, you’d be more willing to crawl into his arms.

You felt light-headed as Toby’s hands roamed your skin. His nails racking along your back in a playful gesture, a zap shooting down your spine. Toby leaned up, quickly catching your lips. Thankfully, this time you didn’t try fighting him off. No, in fact you leaned against him, arms wrapping around his neck as you laid your weight on him. Your core was aching, heart fluttering. His lips felt better than you imagined. Shivering as his cold hands ran up and down your back, one hand resting firmly against your nape.

You had not a single thought on you as things grew more headed. All warnings you flung out the window as he undressed you both, you didn’t even care. Didn’t know why you should. This felt right, felt perfect. He was perfect. Perfect as he marked your neck. Perfect as he kissed down your chest, and perfect when the only thing remaining was both your underwear. Feeling the hard press of his cock against your navel.

“Willing to-do something for me, precious?” He teased, his nose rubbing against yours. You nodded, smiling up at him. He gave you one more peak before kneeling down, his fingers hooked on your panties. Slowly he slid them down, smirking at the tiny wet mark on them. Fuck, you smelt heavenly. She smelt heavenly. Like she was calling to him, beckoning him. You giggled as Toby pressed a few, fluttery kisses to your abdomen, just below your belly button. Your fingers playing with unruly curls of his hair.

Toby pressed a big, wet kiss to the front of your cunt. Slowly trailing them across and on your hips before focusing back on her. Your scent was making him dizzy, he could feel himself throbbing. Gently, he pressed his tongue against you, digging the tip just a bit past your lips. You bite your lip at the sound of the moan he released, watching his eyes roll back. “Fuck..” He mumbled, both his thumbs spreading your lips just so slightly. A cute view of your clit making him smile as he looked up at you. Another long, soft drag of his tongue this time making you jolt.

He let out a breathy chuckle before standing back up, pulling you along with him on the coach. “Wanna try some-thing with you-u.” He smirked, quickly taking his boxers off before he helped you onto him. “Umm.. Toby are you sure about this?” You shifted, hands on his thighs and eyes glued to his cock. It was.. massive. Huge. No, almighty. How do you even describe this. It was not unreasonable by any means, nor look grotesque. But it was certainly the largest you’ve ever taken, not to mention the thickest.

Toby had a wolfish grin as the glanced past your ass at you, adjusting his hips a bit more. See, you were laying on Toby, ass in his face. Definitely the most interesting sixty-nine you’ve ever been in. You pulled up a bit more, one hand gripping his length. “Oh, I’m-m definitely sure, Liebe.” He cackled, you had no time for a bratty retort before you felt his tongue. Your head sagged, your hips pushing against him. You tried to focus on his cock, giving him slow and long stripes up to his tip.

Fuck, but he felt so good. Toby ate you out like a feast, nose buried in you as his lips suckled on you. His arms were wrapped tight around your hips, keeping you pressed firmly against him. His lips parted from your briefly as looked towards you, jolting his hips at you. “Beeil dich, La-mm. Sonst hö-r-re ich auf.” He seethed, eyes narrowing at the back of your head. You didn’t need to understand him to understand his tone.

Toby was merciless on you. You both had to of spend an hour like that, he was completely enveloped by you. He loved every little sound you made, feeling the vibration of your moans against his cock. Toby’s cum painted your face as you lazily pumped his cock. “Toby! Please, no more, Love.” You shook your head, pleading with him. Trying to pull away. Toby didn’t fight you this time, letting you crawl off him. He licked his lips, eyes glued to your lower half.

You were a temptress he was sure of it. Your thighs were shaking, eyes teary as you looked at him. Toby walked to the edge of your side the couch, hand shooting down to grab a handful of your hair pulling your face to him. “Little more, Lamm? You skim-mh-ped out on me.” He wheezed, voice raspy as he shoved your face closer. You whined, face still covered in his two previous loads as you took his tip in. Suckling on it as you learned he liked. He sighed, rolling his head back, eyes rolling back.

Your thighs clenched around his arm as his free hand moved to your dripping cunt. Fingers gently just rubbing her and playing with the sticky remnants of your own cum. Your arm wrapped around his hips as the other pumped his cock. You bent down, taking a ball into your mouth. You suckled firmly but not too hard. Toby was losing it, you looked so fucking precious sucking him off. Eyes lidded, face covered in him as you licked and toyed with his balls. “Ju-ust like that, baby.” He sighed, gathering more of your hair out of your face.

You both paused momentarily as a certain ringtone’s muffled tone sang in the room. Your mouth leaving Toby with a pop as you looked to your purse, that you had haphazardly thrown by couch side.

“Toby! Move!” You gasped, pressing against his chest. That look in his eyes.. your cunt fluttered. Thankfully, he let you go, relaxing in your earlier spot as he watched you. You nervously answered the phone, moving further away from Toby. “Where the hell did you go?” Ethan seethed, suddenly the remind of you and Toby’s spends littering your body made you freeze up. “I just.. went to another friend’s place. I’m sorry I swore I thought I turned my location on..” You mumbled, trying your best to sound tired. Had you always been this much of a liar?

Ethan gave you a few more huffs before finally letting you go. Making you promise to get home safely since you refused to let him pick you up. You had quickly washed in Toby’s shower, that he so graciously let you use. He was sitting on the bed when you came out, pair of boxers on. You swallowed, rubbing your thighs together briefly as you hurriedly walked out. Toby stopped you at the door, hesitantly pulling you towards him. And stupidly, you let him. Let him rest his forehead against yours, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Lemme drop y-you off, Sweetie.” He purred, that mischievous glint in his eyes that you knew far too well. You scoffed, laughing as your hands pressed against his chest. Leaning your weight into him, god why was he so… inviting. “Absolutely not, he’d freak if he saw you.” You giggled, you should feel guilty. Horrible. But you just.. couldn’t. “He won’t. Plus, too-too late for an uber. What if something ha-happens?” He chuckled, pressing another kiss against your forehead. You stupidly agreed, thankfully Toby was well-behaved on the drive. Just resting a hand on your thigh as he drove you to your crappy apartment near campus.

Toby pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before you got out. Watching you walk all the way into the building. Only leaving when he lost sight of you. Walking in you glanced at Ethan, who was slouching against the couch. You took off your shoes before moving to the bedroom. “Don’t tell me you’re seriously mad at me.” He sighed, leaning against the doorframe. You scoffed at him, no you weren’t mad. Not anymore. “I want to sleep, Ethan.”

The next couple weeks were.. tense. Despite Ethan apologizing to Toby, sleeping next to you. You felt this weird.. detachment. You were sure if you just powered through it that everything would be okay, things would go back to normal. The guilt you felt was.. eating you alive to put it lightly. And Toby’s smug little smirks whenever he saw you weren’t helping.

The fact that whenever Ethan pleasured you, all you could think about was Toby. How his cock weighed on your tongue, the taste of his cum. You fantasize how his cock would’ve felt. You hadn’t even dared confide in your bestie about this, you couldn’t tell anyone. You sighed, glancing at your bedroom door. Ethan had been watching TV in the living room, allowing you to watch your own things. A group notification distracted you, drawing your thoughts away as you opened it. Ethan had texted in the group chat.. saying.. he was leaving? Your brows furrowed, leaving? Did he find out?

Your heart nearly dropped out your ass as you stumbled out the room. “Ethan?” You called, turning the corner to look at the couch. He wasn’t there, but the TV was still on? You turned to the kitchen, however something stopped your steps. Slowly you crept to further, hand moving to your mouth as you looked at the horrifying sight. Your back making contact with the corner of the dining table. You shuddered as the figure looming over Ethan slowly stood up.

They crept towards you slowly, hands raised in a seemingly mocking form of surrender. You need to move, run, scream. Anything but you couldn’t. Not as your eyes made contact with Ethan’s dead eyes, blood leaking from his neck. It was so.. dark. So much. Your eyes flickered to the individual, tears brimming as you saw the blood staining their hands. Your breath quickened, the murderer slowly inching more and more. Just as you were about to bolt, they caged you against the table. A startled bark escaping your lips as you raised your arms. Trying to shield yourself from them. But they didn’t hurt you, just loomed over you, fingers digging into the table.

You peaked at them from your hands. They just looked at you, drool leaking from the bars of what you could only call a muzzle. Their neck popped to the side as they leaned in, pressing you further into the table. You heard a rumble in their throat before they grabbed your wrist. You cringed at the feeling of Ethan’s blood on your skin. They dragged you to the bedroom, shoving you towards the bed. You huffed as you fell on the floor, holding on the edge of it.

Watching the masked man carefully as he walked around, you could practically hear your heart pounding in your chest. Watching as he tugged his mask off, pulling the goggles off. “Toby?” You whispered, brows furrowing as you looked at him. Your mind was racing as you watched him stalk towards you before kneeling infront of you. His hand reached out, brushing against your cheek. “What’s wrong, pre-tty? Scared?” You flinched from his hand, tears falling as the weight of everything crashed on you.

“Why.. why would you.” You trailed off, trying to shift further away from him. “I had to, Lamm. He was keep-eping you from me.” He sighed, shaking his head before smiling at you. “It’s alright tho-ho-ugh now, wir können zusammen sein, Liebling.” His hand gripped your throat as he pulled you back up. His lips meeting yours as he brought you to sit on the bed. You couldn’t move, your brain was completely fried. Shock. Fear. How was he expecting you to just accept all this, and yet. You yielded. You let him as he undressed you again, lips trailing down your abdomen.

“I-I don’t think..” You pushed yourself up, Toby settled between your legs as he held your leg. “Hush, Liebe, las-s es einfach sein.” He murmured, helping you wiggle off your shorts, thumb rubbing up and down your slit. “Kein Höschen? Hure.” He gave your cunt a kiss before standing back up, unbuckling his belt. You rubbed your legs together watching him, biting your lip your eyes trailed. He was so.. enticing. No, tempting. You didn’t refuse him as he caged you under him, pressing against him as he brought you into a kiss.

It was claiming, Toby wasn’t gentle as he kissed you, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You gave into him completely, as your legs hooked around his hips. Everything between the two of you was sloppy, the kiss, his cock rubbing against your folds. He clouded you, clouded your mind as two of his fingers rolled and pinched your nipples. A small yelp from you, Toby just laughed at your reaction. Bending down to take one in his mouth, the slow rolling of his hips becoming just a bit faster.

Mesmerized as you watched him, fingers threading through curls. Your cheeks flushed, whining at him, your hips moved in sync with his. Your heart fluttered watching that hazy look in his eyes as he suckled on your breast, able to see his cock grounding into you. Your heel dug deeper into his back, hips jolting. “Frech, Lamm. Want me, baby?” His mouth left your tit with a pop. You nodded furiously, pleading with him to give you what you want. No, need. You needed him. Your moans were deep as he pushed into you, he was so thick. He moved one of your legs to his shoulder, hand moving down to rub your stomach before his thumb rubbed lazy circles on your clit.

You cared for nothing, not when hearing the text notifications, not the ringtones, not even the blood staining your body. No, all you could focus on was Toby’s cock, his fluttery kisses as he pushed into you. Completely transfixed on him. Bottoming out in you, Toby didn’t give you a moment of rest. His pace was desperate, deep guttural moan leaving his lips as he leaned down into you. Your toes curled and your nails dug into his biceps as he fucked into you. Completely taking your breath away, he felt better than you imagined. Everything felt so, so good.

The kisses between the two of you were sloppy, slobber everywhere from Toby. But you didn’t mind, you loved it. You love him, especially as he hit that one spot inside you. Your eyes rolled back, head dangling as your nails held him tighter. “Fuh-ck! Please right there!” You sobbed, eyes brimming again but this time in pleasure. Toby swore under his breath as he held you firmer, keeping himself right in that spot for you. “Du wurdest für mich geschaffen, sie wurde für mich geschaffen.” He swore, looking down at the slick mess you both made, a white ring forming on the base of his cock.

“Du gehörst mir. Nicht diese verdammten Schädlinge.” Your lip quivered, you were so close and that stupid accent of his was driving you up a wall. You tried pulling yourself up to him, or maybe you were pulling him down. You didn’t know, didn’t care, you needed him to kiss you. Toby just cooed at you, how pathetic you looked, perfect little brain dead whore.

You gaped at Toby when he moved out of you, tears rolling down your cheek. The feeling of him burned into your cunt, making your stomach twist in yearning. “Tobs! Gimme, gi-gimme back!” You pleaded, coming out more so as sobs. Toby just hushed you, cock rubbing against you again. “Hush, baby. I’ll giv-v-e it back to you, just wait.” He chuckled, laughing how your eyes were glued to his cock. He wanted you obsessed. Your nails leaving angry red marks all over him as you followed him, your legs straddling his waist as he laid down.

You held onto his shoulders, lips swollen from his kisses and nibbling. Toby thought you looked gorgeous, desperate as you aligned his cock back to your hole. Not even caring about the shake in your thighs as you bounced on him. Blabbering words of praise and want. Toby just watched you, absolutely heart struck feeling you squeeze and take him in. One hand held your back, the other propping him up. The sight of the mirror behind you catching his eye. Fuck. Did you know your ass looked this good? He spread his own legs, hypnotized at the strings of lewd mess connecting you together everytime you moved up.

Seeing it glisten in the light, some of it turning more cream color as you constantly mixed it. His lips moved to your chest giving you sweet kisses, harsh bites. Your hips were beginning to falter, and your thighs ached but you were so desperate for him. “Aww, mein süß-ßes Mädchen. Mach dir keine Sorgen-en, ich werde auf dich aufpassen.” He snickered, tone mocking as he laid back. He pushed you both up further to the bed, feet planted as he held your hips. You slouched against him as he began fucking up into you.

“Yes, yes!” Was all you could babble, drool escaping the corner of your lips and down his shoulder. Toby’s pace was far more brutal than before, his nails for sure leaving marks in your hips. You could feel that familiar coil quickly building itself up. You pushed up on Toby, coming face to face with him. Was it okay to say he looked divine? That look in his eyes was softer, gentler. It made your heart flutter, that look of love. You kissed him softly, savoring the taste of him. Your hands cradling his face as best they could, though really it was the tips of your fingers.

“Love you, s-sweet girl.” He mumbled, your kisses slowly becoming more frenzied as you both got closer and closer. “L-luh-ove you too, loves you so much!” You cried, nails digging back into his shoulders as you felt your orgasm wash over you. Toby held on a bit longer than you, reveling in how you looked. “Look so pret-ty when you cum.” He cooed, kissing the tip of your nose before rolling you both over. Hips hammering into you before stilling as his own orgasm took over. One his hands squeezing your tit, mostly to ground him but also for the feeling.

Toby rolled his hips a bit more, helping you both ride out your highs. The sound he made pulling out of you causing you to hide your face with a groan. Toby just hummed, watching his cum leak out of you with satisfaction. “Don’t think-think there’s a single person that’s cum on a murder-er’s dick so hard.” He wheezed, fingers tightly grabbing your jaw. You shuddered, right… Ethan. You tried closing your legs but they were swore and Toby was far stronger than you as he held them open. “There’s that look, remembering someone?” Your heart skipped a beat, lip wobbling.

“S’okay, love. I’ll make sure you fucking forget about him-m.”

: ̗̀➛ Guys i fucking swear I didn’t even realize how long this was til like.. halfway through I was just writing. But I am happy with the psychological value of it! I hope you guys are too. I was just really getting into the idea. I love stalker!toby so much, he is bae. Honestly, I did name the ex after my own. Felt therapeutic 🙂‍↕️ Thank you so much for the request Whoa! You have a lovely mind — Ace

[hoonieyun]

a lovesick girl's guide to heartbreak

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ex!heeseung x reader hell is not the same without you... summary: you thought everything was going well 3 months after your breakup with your ex-boyfriend!heeseung until you realized that maybe you miss him more than you hated being with him.

warnings: profanity, toxic relationships, morally grey characters, huge red flags in dating, consensual skinship, kissing, overall 18+ wc: 2332

something was missing, like there was a looming feeling that there was something absent from your daily life and as hard as you tried to push down that feeling and act like it wasn’t there; it was all your mind drifted off to. 

the missing thing in question? heeseung. 

your boyfriend of 2 years.. ex-boyfriend that is. the two of you had broken up just a few months ago and since that day you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. sure a lot of the thoughts that surrounded heeseung that swam in your mind were negative and left a sour taste on your tongue, but then it would lead to you thinking about all of the sweet things he’d do to make up for the bitterness he put you through. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 

“why can’t you just listen to me?” you shouted from the top of your lungs as heeseung rolled his eyes with an aggravated sigh. “i’d listen to you if you weren’t acting like this! you’re so emotional!” he yelled back. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 

several memories replayed in your head involving heeseung, you wished you didn’t have to think about it but after you left him it felt like that was what was left of you. like you were no longer the person that you were when you were with heeseung. like he took something with him when you broke up and has refused to give it back. 

you just weren’t sure what it was. 

it shouldn’t be like this but you’re left in this limbo of uncertainty and heeseung was the only way of adding any solace or clarity, but he was no longer there. you hadn’t seen him since that night, broken dishes, cracked picture frames, and a hole in your chest where your heart is supposed to be. your relationship with heeseung started off how a lot of relationships start, it was great. he was sweet and so were you, your love overflowed into one another and it felt like everything was sunshine and rainbows and then one day, it wasn’t. you were spending nights crying yourself to sleep while heeseung would leave you to cry because he didn’t want to deal with the emotional mess that you were and still are. 

that’s how your breakup went, you cried, you both yelled, and heeseung walked away. it was like a routine, a deadly cycle that neither of you could get out of until three months ago. this cycle was endless and exhausting yet it was all that you knew. as fucked up as it sounds, you found comfort knowing that you had heeseung on your side even if it didn’t seem like it. 

even when he would walk away from you…

even when you felt like he was ignoring you to prove a point…

even when it felt like you were the one person that he hated most in this world…

no matter what, it felt like heeseung was always by your side. like a shadow that you couldn’t feel but was always there. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 

your phone sat in your trembling hands as you contemplated on whether or not you should hit the send button. it was like the button on your phone had a strong gravitational pull and you found your thumb hovering over the button, the tiniest sliver of space between the skin of your thumb and the glass screen of your phone. 

there wasn’t even any time to process your final thoughts before your thumb was making contact with the cold glass and the familiar sound of the text being sent rings throughout your bedroom, much louder than it should’ve sounded. 

like it was an echo that rang in the room as a reminder of the decision you’ve just made. 

hi hee.. i dont even know why i’m sending this im just so lost. i didnt ever think that i would be missing you the way i do right now but you’re all ive been thinking about the last few months.  i miss the way you hugged me when i would cry.. granted i’d be crying because of you.  i miss when you would whisper sweet things into my ear when my brain got too loud and would lead to arguments.  i just miss you so much and you might not even respond to this but i just.. i miss you..

whether it was a good or bad decision however, was still out for debate. 

surprisingly enough, another familiar sound rings throughout your room, indicating that you have received a text message. 

hey pretty girl. i’m so happy to hear from you, can i come over?

it was short but definitely effective because you were responding in seconds and telling him that you’d leave the door unlocked to which he tells you that he still has a copy of your house key and would be there in no time. 

your heart was pounding a lot harder than moments before, like you had just put yourself in a life or death situation and in a lot of ways you did. death more than life. being with heeseung felt like two things, heaven and hell. it was either bliss or chaos whenever you were with him and neither heaven or hell was the same without him. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 

you had decided to change into your pajamas that just happened to be heeseung’s favorite. a pair of silk pajamas that barely left any imagination of what you looked like underneath; hence why it was his favorite. you’re brought out of your thoughts when you hear a knock on your bedroom door as it slightly creaks open, revealing heeseung who looked like he was going through just as much as you were. 

it was slightly comforting to know that in the time you were broken up until now, you weren’t the only one suffering. 

you muttered a whispered “hi” as he walked towards your figure sitting on the bed. the closer heeseung got the more visible his eyebags were. he looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his hair a mess, and he was wearing the same hoodie that he was wearing when you told him to “get the fuck out i fucking hate you” all those months ago. 

“hi, pretty girl. are you ok?” he asks, even though you both knew that you were the furthest from “okay”. 

he stands right in front of you and gently cups your face to look up at him, his touch instantly brings you warmth and a sense of comfort that you wouldn’t associate with him, not for the last year at least. 

“hee… i miss you.. but-” you begin to say and he interrupts you by softly rubbing your cheek with his thumb. a simple action that brings chills down your spine as you think about all of the other times he soothed your mind with that gesture. melting into his touch wasn’t something you weren’t accustomed to but this all felt so foreign and uncertain even if you knew where it was going. 

you were now back to the cycle that you were once in. 

“but?” he says, squatting down so that you two were somewhat on the same level. 

“i don’t know if it’s a good idea to want you. i miss you everyday that you’re gone but it doesn’t bring comfort knowing how much you hurt me..” a hiccup slips past your lips as you speak and heeseung is finally seeing what he’s done. you looked utterly broken and he knew it was because of him. his pretty girl that he loved so much was shattered and ruined because of him and he wished that he had realized it sooner. 

“baby.. shh.. its okay.” heeseungs says, pulling you into his arms as you cry into his chest. his hoodie getting soaked as you let out your emotions that he shamed you for in the past. “everything is okay, baby..” hee coos, rubbing the back of your head gently as you wrap your arms around him. 

if heeseung was being honest, he didn’t know what to do in this situation and it was only making him realize further how shitty he was. he barely knows how to comfort the girl he loved so much and it was breaking his heart. it may seem selfish that he was reveling in his own discernment and that he’s trying to wrap his head around his past mistakes instead of the one currently crying in his lap. 

“i’m sorry, yn.. i’m sorry, please stop crying, baby..” he whispers into your ear, hugging you even tighter than before as if you were going to slip away from his grasp any second now. 

he doesn’t know what to do now and he didn’t then. 

it was like you guys had each other wrapped around one another’s finger, knowing that one way or the other, one of you would crawl back and start the cycle all over again no matter how many times you may think it’s finally over. 

the two of you stayed that way for one moment, in one another’s embrace, your heartbeats syncing up with one another and for once in a long time; your hearts were in the same place. you were finally on the same page when it came to your love for each other even if it meant being in a place of uncertainty… you were sure of one thing, the love you had for each other, if you could even call it that, was something you couldn’t lose. 

“heeseung.. will you stay?” coming out of your lips as you slightly pull away from him, your eyes originally intending to land on his doe eyes but instead they fall onto his plump lips that glistened just the right amount from the small light in your bedroom. “i’ll stay only if you want me to.” he responds and you nod eagerly, like it was the only thing you could want. 

and in a lot of ways, it was. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 

that night you slept in heeseung’s arms, a place you once vowed to never return to but as a cycle rounds itself, you found that his embrace was the place you were the most familiar with even if loving heeseung only brought uncertainty and a sense of unfamiliarity that brought you so much dread that you never know if the world you were living in was a heaven that wasn’t anything like you expected or a hell that was much worse than the words you’d hear on a sunday morning. 

however, no matter where you were; you wanted heeseung to be there because none of it would be the same without him. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 

“good morning, pretty girl.” heeseung says, his voice was low and a bit raspy as he pulled himself up from laying next to you. you stirred as he readjusts himself, turning to face him and he’s got a smile on his face you haven’t seen in a while. a smile you loved so much and the longer the two of you were together… it began to fade away. it only appeared for special occasions like birthdays or anniversaries, then one day; heeseung just never smiled the same way ever again. 

you sat up, wrapping your blanket around yourself as you situated yourself in front of heeseung who did the same. “hee.. what are we doing?” you asked, the events of last night replaying in your head as you recall crying into heeseung’s chest and him trying his best to comfort you. 

“whatever you want, my love.” heeseung was good at that. saying all the right things to make it seem like everything was just that, alright. he would soothe your worries with empty promises, a soft rub on your back, and a gentle kiss on your lips. 

a kiss… something you craved from heeseung. 

“we’re too toxic for each other… but i don’t think i ever want to lose you. you’re all i’ve ever known and i feel even more lost when i’m without you. there’s so many signs that tell me to turn around, to stop, that this is just a dead end, but if i just keep ignoring the signs– it always leads me back to you. 

it always leads back to you, hee.. 

i don’t ever want to lose you but… can we even do this without falling apart?” 

heeseung looks at you momentarily, eyes flickering from your own eyes to your lips, something he also craved to feel. 

“you’ll never lose me, not even if you push me away… i’ll always pull you back no matter what. i don’t care what anyone says, they don’t know us like we know each other. the way i know your brain and body… and even soul. 

you’re mine and i’m yours, even if it destroys us.” heeseung’s face has gotten a lot closer with each word he speaks, nose slightly grazing yours. 

“i love you, ok?” he says and after a long time, you believe it. like he was willing to fix up any of the issues you two had if it meant that he could hold you every night as the two of you drift off to sleep. your dreams being filled with your happiest moments with each other instead of the nightmare of losing one another. 

you jump onto heeseung’s lap to which startles him at first but your hear his low chuckle in your ear as he embraces you in his arms. you would’ve said i love you back but you weren’t sure if you would mean it or if it would even change anything. 

you guess you’ll just have to see in a few weeks to know if things have changed and if the cycle is finally broken. your life was nothing without heeseung and whether or not you loved him was uncertain– you did, however, know that nothing was the same without him.  

"toxic" meovv the usage of song lyrics is credited to the artists above

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

heart not broken enough? let's try again... ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

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[wooataes]

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part 11)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Hanahaki!AU, angst, all hurt no comfort, swearing, tears, the usual 🙂‍↕️

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: It has been WAY too long since I've updated this story and I apologise for that 🙂‍↕️ I finally feel like I've gotten my life back on track to finally be able to post a long awaited update!! Thank you to everyone who still reads and enjoys my fics, it means a lot ! 🥹 - Tae 💜🌸✨

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“Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

“His girlfriend left him, genius. What do you think is wrong with him?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. His housemates have as much subtlety as an earthquake. Their naturally loud voices seep through the closed door of his bedroom as he stares at his ceiling, a sigh leaving his lungs in the darkness as the outside voices drone on.

“Hyung,” Mingyu sighs. “It’s been over a week now… Should we call someone?”

“Who would we call?” Junhui retorts. “His soulmate? Because up until last week, I thought his soulmate was Ji-ah.”

The mention of her name creates another pit in Jihoon’s stomach. He hates it. He wishes he could just get over the stupid emotions that run through his veins at the mere thought of his not-soulmate, now also not-girlfriend.

“His parents are hours away and he has no siblings that we can contact.” Junhui continues, frustration laced in his voice. “I don’t know who we could call.”

“Doesn’t hyung have a cousin who-”

“I can hear everything you guys are saying. You know that, right?” 

Jihoon’s hard voice carries through the door, his housemates falling silent on the other end.

“Jihoon-ah.” A deep voice mutters, causing him to tense up. He knows that Wonwoo knows how to get through to him. “Can we talk?”

After a long pause, Jihoon’s bedroom door slightly creaks open. “Wonwoo, I told you yesterday,” he stares at the ground, refusing to make eye contact with the older man. “I am fine-”

“You are not, Jihoon-ah. And we both know it.” 

“How do you know?” He snips.

“You haven’t left your bedroom since Ji-ah left you last week.” Jihoon sucks his teeth at her name.

“I never left my bedroom before she left me.” He hisses back.

“Yes, you did.” Wonwoo retorts back. 

“When? To go on dates with her?” he barks. “To take her out? To go visit her family? Well, guess what? She is gone, Wonwoo, so I have a whole lot more free time and I choose to spend that time at home.” his voice cracks slightly, bottom lip shaking as he moves to close the door once more, his frown deepening as Mingyu grabs a hold of the door before it closes.

“Hyung, we’re sorry.” Mingyu’s voice is softer now as he looks at him with sad eyes. “We’re so fucking sorry that you’re going through this but we are here for you and want to be there for you.”

“I don’t need-”

“Please don’t push us away.” Wonwoo frowns, his hand resting over Jihoons. “Jihoon-ah…”

Jihoon shakes his head quietly, a small hiccup leaving his lips. “Wonwoo, I promise, I’m fine.” He gently lets his hand fall from Wonwoo’s as he moves to shut the door to his bedroom once more, wiping the stray tears that threaten to spill from his eyes.

“I truly don’t know what to do, guys.” Jihoon winces at the defeated tone of his older housemate’s voice as he climbs back into the comfort of his bed once more, hoping to forget about the world around him for a little bit longer.

Jihoon heaves a loud sigh as he steps into his first Film Studies class in nearly two weeks, slumping down in his chair, rubbing at his temples slightly as Professor Park begins his usual droning on. He really should be listening to the lecture at hand, but he can’t bring himself to. Not when he can feel the eyes of multiple people in the class lingering on him. He’s sure that word has gotten around now about his very public dumping and the fact that Ji-ah was obviously never his soulmate. He hates that he can feel the sympathy radiating off of his peers, and even off of you, his real soulmate, sitting directly beside him with your stupid perfect hair and stupidly neat notes that you wordlessly offered him to help catch him up on the classes he missed. He accepts them graciously, spending most of the lesson copying your notes into his notebook.

“Professor,” a deep voice from the back of the room calls out near the end of the lesson, drawing Jihoon from his thoughts. 

“Yes, Jaebeom?” 

Your soulmate glances at you at the sight of your body tensing up at the mention of the newcomer’s name. He tilts his head slightly as he feels nerves begin to bubble in the pit of his stomach from you, causing him to raise a brow. You take a slow breath before scribbling idly on your page again, indifference on your face, but Jihoon knows it’s a front. 

Why are you so tense?

“About the extension on our group project?” Jaebeom’s voice lulls out in a drawl, a clear cockiness hidden in his tone. 

“Ah yes,” Professor Park hums, nodding his head. “I know some of you have gone ahead and already submitted your essays and presentations to me, and I’m thankful for you guys for getting these to me on time and even earlier. For the remainder of you all who have yet to submit your projects, I’ve extended the deadline by two weeks, due to an unavoidable event I must attend.”

Jihoon hears his classmate’s sighs of relief, and in turn, he breathes out as well. He knew he had neglected his end of his project with you for the last week, and he feels grateful that he can make up for it.

“I do hope the rest of you,” Professor Park sends a look to the back of the room, “get this done in due time. Class dismissed.”

Jihoon wordlessly offers your notebook back to you, a frown forming on his face when he sees you duck your head, letting your hair fall over your face. He glances to see a taller man wearing low jeans and a beat up baseball cap on his head march- no, strut down the stairs to reach the door, sauntering out with what Jihoon can only describe as a sleazy grin on his face. Once he steps out of the room, you immediately collect your things, bow your head to Jihoon with a little smile, and jump up to leave the classroom.

“Professor,” your soulmate approaches the teacher. “I appreciate you extending the deadline-”

“Oh, Jihoon-ssi!” Professor Park smiled. “Are you feeling better? Miss Choi told me that you were unwell when she submitted your project to me last week.”

“Oh.. Yeah, I’m feeling alri- Wait. Submitted?” Jihoon blinked.

“Yes,” he smiled. “Both of your arguments had wonderful points to pit against each other. Well done! I will be posting your grades in a few weeks!”

You finished off the project for him? Why are you so… nice?

“Uh… Thank you, Professor.” Jihoon bows his head in thanks before slowly stepping out of the classroom, starting to walk in the direction of home, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance.

Jihoon takes a deep sigh as he finds himself sitting down at the park bench that is so familiar to him now, letting the raindrops land on his clothes and face as he tilts his head back.

“Jihoon-ssi?” your voice is quiet over the sound of the loud rain, but Jihoon could hear you. He always does. He blinks as he feels the heavy raindrops that land on his hoodie abruptly stop, looking up to see a pastel umbrella being held over his now drenched body. “What are you doing out here?”

Jihoon shrugs quietly for a moment. “I… don’t know.” He glances down at the wet sleeves of his hoodie. “Just.. Thinking.”

“Well, I think you should think away from a torrential downpour next time,” you quip with a little smile, hoping the joke makes him crack a smile.

“Nah,” he hums. “It’s comforting, the rain..” 

“Comforting?” You echo, tilting your head innocently as he hums a confirmation.

“Mm. Rain doesn’t have colour.” He glances at you for a moment, slightly amused by the cluelessness on your face as you just blink at him. “Ah, it’s silly, really,” he continues. “The sky doesn’t have colour when it rains, it reminds me of what the world looked like before everything changed. Everything is so different now.”

“You’re right.” You agree quietly. “Everything is different.”

“Thank you,” Jihoon mumbles after a brief silence. “For helping finish off the project while I was… y’know.”

“Oh, that?” You shrug. “That was nothing. You had all the arguments, I just articulated them for you. Figured that you already had enough on your plate so I thought you wouldn’t mind if I submitted a little early to get it out of the way for the both of us.”

“How do you do it?”

“Huh? Do what?”

“... Live.” Jihoon’s voice is barely above a whisper as you settle down on the park bench beside Jihoon, still holding the umbrella over his head. “How do you just live life so damn happily while you feel like absolute shit all the time? And don’t deny that you don’t, I have felt every single emotion you have felt for weeks now.”

You pause for a moment, looking up at the sky before humming. “I suppose I just got used to it.” You shrug. “It kind of just became like a background noise for me. It’s just always there.” 

“Even when the pain is doubled now? Because of me?”

You shrug once more. “It’s not something I haven’t dealt with before. I can feel the pain for both of us, Jihoon-ssi. It’s okay.” You give him a little smile. “I have had a lot more practice at loss than you have.”

Jihoon feels the irritation bubbling up inside him slowly.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

You blink in confusion as you glance at him. “Huh?”

“I have experienced loss too, you know.”

“I know that, I just-”

“I am more than capable of feeling these emotions too.” He frowns.

“I know,” you emphasize, “I just wanted you to know you don’t have to face them on your own.”

Jihoon scoffs quietly. Who does she think she is, giving him advice on how to deal with his emotions? “I know that too. You don’t need to point out the obvious, Choi.”

“Do you know that?” You retort, raising an eyebrow. “Because from what Mingyu told me, you’ve barely left your room until this week.”

“Ugh,” Jihoon groans, leaning his head back. “Am I not allowed to have time to myself?”

“Of course you are,” you sigh. “But you’re also-”

“You know, you should think about facing your emotions on your own instead of relying on everyone else around you.” Jihoon hisses at you with a glare as you freeze with wide eyes. 

“H-huh?” He can feel your doubt seeping into his veins.

“Your brother, his soulmate, Soonyoung, Seokmin,” he rambles. “They’re always at your beck and call when they could be living their own lives with each other and not have to worry about you every five fucking minutes like you’re their child.”

“I…” You balk, Jihoon wincing at the feeling of your stomach twisting inside him. But he doesn't care, he wants you to hurt as much as he does. It’s your fault he doesn’t have Ji-ah anymore, afterall.

“Just go away!” He barks. “When will you realize that your help isn’t needed?! You’re not needed! I lost the one girl I truly fucking loved because of YOU! Why would I want you around?! Leave me alone already!”

After a long silence, Jihoon finally turns his head to look at you, staring at him for what seems like hours with the same look that you had on the day you brushed hands for the first time. That isn’t what frightens your soulmate, though. What frightens him is the fact that he can’t feel anything inside him anymore, besides his own pain.

“... sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” You mumble robotically, delicately placing the umbrella beside him before rising and walking through the heavy rain in the direction of your house, letting the rain run down your clothes.

“Fuck.” Jihoon sighs heavily and buries his face into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut as he hears your footsteps move further and further away.

He needs to apologize. He knows he does. He knows he said those words out of anger and hurt, and he knows you definitely didn’t deserve it. 

But why can’t he find it in himself to go to you and do it? You’re literally two tables away from him right now.

Jihoon, he scolds himself, it’s been days. You need to man up and tell her you’re sorry. 

Could he be worrying a little now because since he confronted you, he has felt no emotions whatsoever from you? Has he finally lost the tether from you?

“Hello you!!” A loud, cheery voice snaps him into reality. He blinks as he stares at his cup of ramen in his hand, fidgeting on the hard steel of the cafeteria chair underneath him, trying to figure out where the loud voice had come from.

Seungkwan makes his way over to where you’re sitting, draping himself over your back. Before he can ask how you are, you jolt up quickly, scooting away from him like you’ve been burned.

“Hey.” You give him a little smile, pressing yourself up against the wall. “Where’s Hansol? You should be with Hansol.”

Seungkwan’s face contorts slightly as he sticks his lips out in almost a pout. “He had to run to make his next class… Bug, what’s wrong-”

“I actually have to run too, Kwan.” You stammer out quickly, grabbing your backpack and stepping out from behind the table. “Talk later?”

“But, you haven’t even touched your lunch…” his voice fades out as he watches you rush quickly out of the cafeteria, surprise etched on his face.

Jihoon watches on, just as surprised as Seungkwan as he reaches the table with him, Soonyoung and Seokmin.

“Okay, what the hell was that? What happened to Bug?” Seungkwan immediately questions Soonyoung, who upon further inspection, looks just as out of it as you are.

“We don’t know,” Seokmin speaks for his soulmate. “Every time she’s at home, she stays locked up in her room and only leaves to cook dinner for us and clean up. She didn’t even come down for movie night the other night.”

Your soulmate’s eyes widened slightly as Soonyoung took a deep breath. “Something has happened and she won’t tell us what. She doesn’t even speak when she’s at home anymore.”

“We’ve tried to talk to her, get her to come out of her room, do anything, but she doesn’t budge. I’m getting worried.” Seokmin bites his lip.

“I don’t know what the hell has happened to our Bug. She is literally just doing fucking chores and whenver one of us tries to hang out..” your best friend rubs at his temples. “She keeps insisting we hang out with our soulmates. With each other. I don’t know why the fuck that doesn’t mean she can’t hang out with us too.”

Jihoon feels sick as your housemate’s words sink in to him.

When will you realize your help isn’t needed? You’re not needed!

Fuck.

“Jesus Christ, Jihoon-ah.” Wonwoo breathes out when Jihoon finally steps through the door. “You were supposed to be back four hours ago. What the hell were you- Jihoon-ah?” 

His eyes widened at the sight of his housemate stepping under the lights of the hallway, lip trembling and hair sticking in six different directions. Jihoon truly didn’t mean to take so long making it home. He supposes he lost track of time wandering campus with his racing mind.

He knew his words had gotten to you. At the moment it felt good, for you to feel the pain he did. But now? Seeing his friends, your family agonizing over how detached you are? 

What has he done?

“Jihoon…” Junhui looks on worriedly, reaching forward to slip the backpack off his housemate’s shoulders.

“I… I knew what I was getting into when I chose to date her, Wonwoo.” His voice quivers as he stares at the ground. “I knew that she already had a soulmate, but… I-I didn’t think…” 

“Of course you didn’t.” Wonwoo agrees.

“She told me that he had moved countries years ago… There was no chance he’d come back…” a small tear slides down his cheek as his housemate hums in acknowledgement. “And when I… when I found my soulmate and I-” Jihoon chokes back a sob. “And I rejected them to keep a hold of Ji-ah…” His soft cries echo into the quiet hallway. “I… I felt their heart break inside of me, I’ve felt their pain for weeks a-and now I feel their pain on top of my own and… fuck, I broke her, man.”

“Oh, Jihoon…” Junhui sighs sympathetically as Wonwoo pulls Jihoon towards him, bringing his head into his shoulder as his arms wrap around his back in a warm embrace. 

Jihoon pauses for a moment. He blinks once, twice, and a third time before he lets out a soft sob, his hands gripping onto Wonwoo’s shoulders desperately as he buries his face into the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Hyung,” he chokes out. “I r-really fucked up.”

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[cherryxbooo]

Love is never easy

Summary: Meeting a certain footballer wasn’t on your bingo card, but falling in love with him was even more unimaginable.

Reader x Pablo Gavi

Genre: fluff/angst

They say love should be simple.

That when you find the right person, it’s effortless, like a perfect pass that lands gently at your feet, as if it was always meant for you.

A connection so natural, so fluid, that you don’t even have to think.

But what happens when love feels like a game you’re always one step behind in?

When you’re constantly chasing, reaching, hoping, only to feel the ball slip just beyond your grasp?

I met Pablo Gavi in the most unexpected way, by quite literally crashing into him outside the stadium on a stormy evening.

The rain had been relentless, the kind that soaks through your clothes in seconds and turns the world into a blur of grey.

I hadn’t even been at Camp Nou for football.

My best friend’s brother worked security there, and I had come to meet her, completely unaware that fate had other plans.

One moment, I was battling my umbrella against the wind, the next, I was colliding into someone with enough force to make me stumble back.

My breath hitched as I looked up, my heart pounding, not just from the impact, but from the realization of who I had just crashed into.

Pablo Gavi.

His brow furrowed as he rubbed his arm where I had hit him, a soft curse slipping from his lips.

"Joder…" His voice was slightly irritated, rough around the edges, but the second his eyes met mine, something in them shifted.

His frustration faded, replaced by something else, curiosity, maybe. Amusement.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer now.

I could barely find my words. "Y-yeah, I think so. Sorry about that."

He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head.

"You put up more of a fight than most defenders I face."

I didn’t expect him to remember me after that.

But he did.

The next time I visited my friend, I felt a pair of eyes on me before I even saw him.

And when I finally turned, there he was, leaning casually against a railing, arms crossed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"Still fighting with the wind?" he teased.

That time, I laughed.

The time after that, we talked.

And before I even realized what was happening, he had become a part of my life.

It felt easy. Too easy.

Like a dream you don’t dare wake up from.

But love, love is never easy.

They say the best love stories begin with friendship.

That the strongest bonds are the ones built slowly, quietly, in the spaces between laughter and late-night conversations.

That was us.

For months, Gavi and I existed in a space that wasn’t quite friendship but wasn’t something more either.

A delicate balance of playful teasing and unspoken feelings, of being each other’s first call at the end of a long day, yet pretending we didn’t notice the way our voices softened when we spoke to one another.

It started with late-night phone calls.

"Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?" I’d ask when my phone buzzed at nearly 2 a.m., his name lighting up my screen.

"Can’t sleep," he’d mumble, voice groggy but warm, like he had already been dozing off.

"Tell me something."

"Like what?"

"Anything."

So I would. I’d tell him about my day, about a funny thing my professor said, about how my best friend had tried (and failed) to set me up with someone.

I’d hear him scoff at that, muttering something under his breath that I could never quite catch.

Sometimes, it was the other way around.

"Tough game?" I’d ask when he called me after a match, his voice quieter than usual.

"Yeah," he’d sigh. "I just... I don’t know. I should’ve done better."

I’d listen as he talked, let him get it all out, the frustration, the pressure, the weight of expectations that never seemed to ease.

And when he was finished, when there was nothing left but silence, I’d whisper, "You’re too hard on yourself, you know that?"

His response was always the same, a quiet exhale, a soft "Only you say that."

I never knew what to do with the way my heart reacted to those words.

Then there were the little things.

The way he always seemed to know when I was having a bad day, sending me a simple "You okay?" that somehow made everything feel lighter.

The way he showed up at my university when he had a rare afternoon off, waiting for me outside my lecture hall with a coffee in hand.

"You didn’t have to do this," I’d tell him, but he’d just shrug, like it was nothing.

"You always forget to eat when you’re stressed," he’d say, handing me a sandwich like he had memorized my habits better than I had.

We never talked about whatever this was.

Never acknowledged the way his hand always seemed to find the small of my back when we walked through a crowd.

Or how we lingered just a little too long whenever we said goodbye.

It was easier this way.

Easier to pretend we were just friends.

Even when everything we did felt like something more.

Even when I already knew, I was falling.

And then, without realizing it, I had already fallen.

I fell for the way he looked at me, like I was something rare, something worth holding onto.

I fell for the way his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on my palm whenever we sat in silence, as if memorizing the shape of me.

I fell for the way he always pulled me closer in a crowded room, his grip firm, protective, like he was afraid I’d slip away.

I fell, hard and fast, like I never had before.

But love, love is never just about falling.

It’s about what happens after.

And somewhere along the way, something changed.

It didn’t happen overnight.

There was no sudden, dramatic shift.

It was slow, subtle, the kind of change you don’t notice at first, like the days getting shorter, the cold creeping in before you even realize summer is gone.

It started with the little things.

The way his replies to my texts, once almost instant, started coming slower.

At first, I brushed it off he was busy, caught up in training, exhausted from travel.

But then, the messages themselves became shorter. A simple "Yeah." or "We’ll see." replacing the playful, teasing paragraphs he used to send me.

The voice notes that once made me smile, his laughter, the way he always seemed to have a story to tell, became fewer and fewer, until one day, they just stopped.

The late-night calls faded too.

"Are you awake?" I would text, staring at my phone, waiting for those three little dots to appear.

Sometimes they did. Sometimes they didn’t.

When they did, it was always the same answer.

"Tired. Talk tomorrow?"

But tomorrow came, and we didn’t talk.

At first, I told myself it was fine.

I told myself I was overthinking it. That he was just busier than usual, that he was under pressure.

I made excuses for him, ones he never even had to say out loud.

"He’s training harder." "He needs space." "Nothing’s wrong."

But deep down, I knew.

I knew when he started canceling plans.

It wasn’t dramatic.

No last-minute apologies, no elaborate excuses. Just a quiet shift.

A "Can we reschedule?" here, a "Next time, yeah?" there.

Plans that were once effortless, ones he used to fight for, rearrange his schedule for, suddenly became too difficult to make.

I knew when he stopped showing up unannounced at my university.

When I stopped catching him watching me from across the room.

When his touch, once so natural, so certain, became hesitant, like he was holding himself back.

The first time I felt it, really felt it, was at a party.

It was crowded, loud, the kind of scene he usually hated but endured because I was there.

I saw him across the room, talking to someone, a teammate, a friend, I wasn’t sure.

He was laughing, the kind of carefree laugh I hadn’t heard from him in weeks. And then, for just a second, his eyes met mine.

A beat of silence.

And then, he looked away.

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the sinking feeling in my chest. Maybe he hadn’t seen me.

Maybe I was imagining things.

But later that night, when I reached for his hand the way I always did, he didn’t pull me closer.

He let go.

And that was when I knew.

The boy who once fought for every second with me was now letting moments slip away.

The boy who once looked at me like I was his safe place now seemed distant, distracted, like he was carrying something he couldn’t share.

And then, one night, everything came crashing down.

It wasn’t one thing, it was everything.

A missed call that turned into three. A message left on read. An excuse that felt too rehearsed, too empty.

And finally, the truth, the thing I had been too afraid to admit to myself.

I wasn’t losing him.

I had already lost him.

Meanwhile,

The ball bounced off his foot awkwardly, rolling too far ahead.

Gavi cursed under his breath, sprinting to recover it, but his timing was off again.

The pass he attempted was sloppy, the kind of mistake he never made, and when he looked up, he caught the coach watching him with narrowed eyes.

"Focus, Gavi!" the coach called out.

"Sí, míster," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Something was off with him today, had been for days, if he was being honest.

He felt it in the way his movements were just a fraction too slow, in the way his mind wasn’t fully locked into the game.

Football was supposed to be his escape, the one thing that cleared his head. But lately, it wasn’t working.

And the reason?

Y/n.

He had been trying not to think about her.

Trying to push away the ache that settled in his chest whenever he saw her name on his phone screen and didn’t answer.

Whenever he caught himself reaching for his phone, only to stop himself. Avoidance was supposed to make this easier.

It wasn’t.

He didn’t notice Fermin watching him until his friend nudged him, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Alright, qué pasa contigo?" Fermin asked, keeping his voice low as they walked off the pitch for a water break.

"Nothing," Gavi answered too quickly, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Fermin snorted. "Yeah, sure. That’s why you’ve been playing like absolute shit today?"

"Fuck off," Gavi muttered, but there was no real bite behind his words.

Fermin wasn’t having it. "Seriously, bro. What’s going on? You’re not yourself."

For a second, Gavi considered brushing him off again.

But something about the way Fermin was looking at him, genuinely concerned, made him sigh in defeat.

"It’s about Y/n."

Fermin’s eyebrows raised slightly in recognition.

"The girl you’ve gotten close with?"

Gavi nodded, running a hand over his face.

"I thought you two were good. What happened?"

Gavi let out a breath, shaking his head. "Nothing happened… that’s the problem."

Fermin frowned. "Okay, you lost me."

Gavi hesitated before finally admitting, "I fell for her." The words felt heavy, like they had been weighing on his chest for too long.

"And I don’t know what to do with that."

Fermin stared at him for a beat before laughing under his breath.

"Pablo, you’re acting like that’s the worst thing in the world."

"You don’t get it." Gavi exhaled sharply.

"I never had someone like her before. She’s… different. She actually knows me, not just the football part of me, but me. And if I tell her how I feel and it ruins everything, I lose that. I lose her."

Fermin tilted his head, considering his words.

"So what? You decided the best solution was to avoid her?"

Gavi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I thought maybe if I put some distance between us, it would go away."

Fermin blinked at him. "Go away?"

"Yeah—"

"Are you dumb?" Fermin cut him off, looking genuinely baffled.

"Like, actually, physically dumb?"

Gavi scowled. "Qué?"

"You’re trying to avoid losing her, but you are losing her. Right now. Because you’re pushing her away." Fermin threw his hands up.

"Bro, you’re literally doing the one thing you don’t want to happen."

Gavi clenched his jaw, looking away.

He knew Fermin was right, but hearing it out loud made his stomach twist.

"Just talk to her," Fermin said, his tone softer now.

"Be honest. If she doesn’t feel the same, then yeah, it’ll suck, but at least you’ll know. At least you won’t lose her like this."

Gavi sighed, staring down at the grass beneath his feet.

"And if she does feel the same?" he asked quietly.

Fermin smirked, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Then you stop being a dumbass and finally do something about it."

Gavi rolled his eyes, shoving his hand off. "You’re annoying, you know that?"

"And you’re dramatic," Fermin shot back.

"Seriously, this is some novela-level shit."

Gavi groaned, tossing his water bottle at him. "Shut up, tío."

Fermin just laughed, dodging it easily.

"Nah, but for real, you owe me when you and Y/n get together. I'm talking VIP tickets, front row seats."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Gavi grumbled, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips now.

For the first time in weeks, he felt like he knew what he had to do.

He had to stop running.

And he had to tell you.

Pablo had called.

Twice.

And then he had texted. "Can we talk?"

But I didn’t answer.

I told myself it was because I was still mad.

That I wasn’t ready to hear whatever excuse he had for pushing me away like I meant nothing.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

I was scared.

Scared that if I let him back in, he’d hurt me again.

That I’d start hoping, start falling again, only to end up in the same place, alone, confused, wondering where it all went wrong.

"You’re overthinking this."

I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts.

My best friend sat across from me, legs tucked under her as she scrolled through her phone like she hadn’t just said something completely outrageous.

"I am not overthinking," I defended, arms crossed.

She gave me a pointed look. "Oh really? So what do you call ignoring him for days instead of hearing him out?"

"I call it self-respect."

"Mhm, sure," she said, unimpressed.

"Or maybe… just maybe, you’re terrified of whatever he has to say because it might actually make sense."

I groaned, flopping back against the couch. "Why are you on his side?"

"I’m not on his side," she argued.

"I’m on the side of common sense, which neither of you seem to have. Look, men are dumb, babe. They don’t know how to act. They get feelings and then short-circuit like malfunctioning robots."

That made me laugh.

"So what, you think he just malfunctioned?" I teased.

"Obviously," she said dramatically.

"Poor guy probably thought ignoring you would fix his feelings. Meanwhile, here you are, going through all five stages of grief in your pajamas."

I smacked her arm, but I was laughing now, the weight in my chest feeling just a little lighter.

"I hate you," I muttered.

"No, you don’t," she sang, standing up and stretching.

"Alright, I gotta go. Just… think about calling him, okay? At least to yell at him properly. You deserve that much."

I rolled my eyes but nodded.

"That’s my girl," she said before grabbing her bag and heading out.

The apartment was quiet now. Too quiet.

I sat on the couch, staring at my phone, thumb hovering over Pablo’s contact.

Should I call him?

My best friend’s words played in my head. "You deserve that much."

She wasn’t wrong. I did deserve an explanation.

But was I ready to hear it?

To let him back in when I wasn’t even sure I had fully healed from the way he had pushed me out?

I sighed, rubbing my temples. Maybe I’d sleep on it.

Maybe tomorrow—

Knock, knock.

I frowned.

Was my best friend back? Did she forget something?

I stood up, walking over to the door. "Did you leave your—"

My breath caught in my throat.

It wasn’t her.

It was him.

Pablo stood there, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his hair slightly messy like he had run his fingers through it too many times.

His eyes met mine, and for a second, neither of us spoke.

"Can we talk?" he asked, voice quiet.

I should’ve slammed the door in his face.

Or at least made him wait longer, the way he had made me wait for an explanation.

But I didn’t.

I stepped aside, letting him in.

Pablo sat down on the couch, his knee bouncing slightly like he wasn’t sure how to start.

"I know you’re mad at me," he finally said.

I crossed my arms. "No shit."

He sighed. "I deserve that."

"Yeah, you do."

Silence.

He ran a hand through his hair.

"I messed up, Y/N. I know that. And I hate that I made you feel like I didn’t care, because I do. More than I should, probably."

My heart clenched, but I kept my expression neutral.

"Then why did you push me away?"

Pablo hesitated, like he was still debating whether to be fully honest.

Then, he exhaled sharply. "Because I fell for you."

I blinked. "What?"

"I fell for you," he repeated, looking at me now.

"And I freaked out. I thought if I ignored it, if I put space between us, maybe I wouldn’t ruin everything."

I stared at him, waiting for the logic to kick in.

It didn’t.

"So let me get this straight." I leaned forward.

"You caught feelings… and your solution was to avoid me?"

"Yes?"

"Pablo, that is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."

"Okay, Fermin already told me that, no need to gang up on me," he muttered, rubbing his temples.

"No, because—" I let out a frustrated groan.

"Do you even realize how badly that hurt? You were my best friend, Pablo. And then you just… disappeared."

His eyes softened, guilt flashing across his face.

"I know. And I hate that I hurt you. But, Y/n, I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve never had someone like you before. Someone who actually sees me. Not just the footballer, but me."

My heart skipped a beat.

"And I didn’t want to lose that," he continued, voice quieter now.

"I thought if I told you how I felt, I’d ruin what we had. But then, avoiding you just made me lose you anyway."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Yeah, it did."

Silence again.

Then, softer this time, he asked, "Can I fix it?"

I exhaled slowly. "You really are an idiot, you know that?"

He cracked a small smile. "Yeah, I’m getting that a lot lately."

I didn’t even realize I was smiling too.

The tension in the room slowly shifted, the weight in my chest lifting ever so slightly.

"So what now?" I asked.

Pablo hesitated before saying, "I don’t want to just be your friend anymore, Y/n. I want more. But if you don’t feel the same, I swear I’ll—"

I cut him off by grabbing his hand.

"You’re an idiot," I repeated. "But you’re my idiot."

His breath hitched. "So…?"

"So, you better not run away again."

His grin was instant, and before I could say anything else, he pulled me into a tight hug, burying his face in my shoulder.

"I won’t," he promised. "Not again."

I let myself melt into his embrace, my heart finally at peace.

We broke the hug, but his gaze never left mine.

Before I knew it, I felt his hand on my cheek, gently pulling me in for a passionate kiss.

Damn. It really was worth the wait.

Eventually, we both pull away to catch our breaths.

"So, does this mean we’re together now?" Pablo asked, grinning.

"I don’t know," I teased. "Are you gonna ignore me and be stupid again?"

"No!"

"Then I guess so."

He smirked. "You could’ve just said you wanted to be my girlfriend, princesa."

"And give you the satisfaction? Never."

He groaned, flopping onto the couch dramatically.

"Great. I’m dating a menace."

I threw a pillow at him. "And I’m dating an idiot. Perfect match."

He caught the pillow, tossing it aside before grabbing my hand again, this time intertwining our fingers.

"Yeah," he murmured, looking at me with that familiar, warm gaze.

"Perfect match."

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right again.

The end

[cloudlessly-light]

The deprived agreement of the BAU (One-shot)

A/N: I think this one might actually be the most unhinged thing I’ve ever written and I know there’s a special place in hell for me. But we thank @sapphoe-sun for encouraging this piece of filth, and I hope you guys still like it even if we know this is no logic and all filth!

Title: The deprived agreement of the BAU Summary: They had a rule, an agreement within the BAU, a rule Emily thought was a rumor. As it turned out it wasn’t and now she’s agreeing to that rule.   Word count: 5,3k   Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, oral sex, rough sex, orgasm control, begging, exhibionism, Derek is there for a little bit but he doesn’t join

There was a rumor within the Bureau about the BAU. When Emily joined the team she heard whispers about it, saw the curious glances from people certain days and picked up on the subtle hints from JJ to not push her team, especially Aaron, too hard. But she never believed it. Because it would be insane, that their small team had a rule that meant they were allowed to do whatever they wanted to another team member, within reason of course. She remembered scoffing at the ridiculousness of it, because it couldn’t be true.

But then Derek is pissed off at JJ for not having Reid’s back when they encountered Tobias Hankle and the blonde walked with a slight limp the next day. And maybe Emily believed it a little more. It still didn’t make sense to her, she didn’t want to believe it.

It’s Penelope who finally comes out and tells her, the bubbly blonde admitting it after Emily had probed her about it. They had a rule, an agreement, that if someone from the team made a mistake that became dangerous for the rest, or made another teammate upset in some way, they had to apologize in whatever way they saw fit. It was not something that was a common occurrence, the rule had rules to make sure that it wouldn’t get out of hand. But it was there, an agreement between the six of them, and now Emily could be a part of that agreement if she wanted to.

Emily still had trouble believing it, listening to the blonde with her mouth open and eyes wide. It didn’t make sense to her, and yet it did. They were all close, they worked together closely, they were bound to get on each other’s nerves. According to Penelope this had been the way it was for years, since long before she joined the team even, and everyone always had the option to say no.

It wasn’t something that would be forced upon them.

“Are the apologies, or whatever you want to call it, always sexual?” She heard herself say and even she couldn’t deny the curiosity in her voice.

“No, Hotch never uses sex since he was married to Haley. Not sure if he’d still do that even now. And for everyone else it depends, I once had Gideon clean my apartment dressed in a bird’s costume.” The blonde smirks at the way Emily bursts out laughing.

“You didn’t.” She isn’t sure she wants to believe her, but Penelope didn’t lie. It’s the first time she sees the slightly sadistic side of her friend’s personality.

“Sure did, sweet cheeks.”

Weeks go by, then months and Emily almost forgot about what Penelope had told her because nothing seems to happen within the team, even though there’s arguments and disputes, she can’t see any evidence of anybody making up with another team member. Until it happens to her.

She had questioned Aaron in the field, then outright disobeyed his order to wait for backup and she and Derek had run in. She didn’t think it mattered, because she got a child home safe which hadn’t felt like a possibility if she had waited. But he’s furious at her, eyes dark and frown heavy as he speaks to her with clipped words.

“My office when we get back.”

She’s heard those words before, after all it wasn’t the first time they’d had a disagreement, so she doesn’t think much of it. It’s JJ’s warning stare and Derek’s poorly hidden smirk that tips her off. And she feels a lump of excitement as well as worry in her stomach.

She knew that she could say no, that Aaron wouldn’t force her into anything. No one of them ever would. And yet she feels the steady pulse of arousal between her thighs as she sits by herself on the plane. Aaron is seated on the opposite side of the plane, anger still very much radiating from him. They had never really liked each other, she knew he hated her stubbornness and that she would spit the word sir at him with contempt when she felt like he was being unreasonable. She hated his arrogance and the way he clearly didn’t trust her completely yet. And still, there was friction between them, the sort of tension she found herself thinking about as she laid alone in bed with her own hand between her thighs.

“Hey, are you alright?” JJ asks quietly as she passes her from the way to the bathroom and breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She offers the blonde a smile when blue eyes stare her down. “Penelope told me about… your agreement.”

“I know.” She shrugs with a smile. “And she told you that you don’t have to, right?”

“It’s okay JJ, don’t worry.” She leans back into her seat and lets her head roll slightly with a smirk. “Besides, it’s Hotch, he’s as uptight as they come. How bad could it be.”

Famous last words.

When they get back it’s still early afternoon so the bullpen is buzzing with activity. She doesn’t think much of it as she puts her bag down and then climbs the stairs toward his office where the door is left open for her. He’s already seated at his desk, a large pile of files in front of him and his pen in hand.

“Garcia told me you’re informed about the deal we have within the team.” He doesn’t even look up at her and it makes her blood boil. His arrogance once again managing to set her off.

“I am.” She doesn’t walk closer to him than she has to, the door is still open behind her and she’s acutely aware of the people working behind her in the bullpen.

“Do you want to be a part of it?” He looks up at her then and she sees the way he’s studying her to make sure she’s not lying.

“I do.” She swallows hard as nerves twist in her stomach, still unsure about what’s going to happen, still finding this whole idea close to insane.

“Good.” He looks down at the open file in front of him again and signs something quickly. “Be ready at 6.”

The finality of it makes her heart beat so hard in her chest she thinks her ribs might break.

She finds herself lost in her own thoughts for the rest of the afternoon. The hours drag by slowly as she works her way through a few consultations. Spencer and Derek are quick to pick up on her mood, but none of them were surprised. The first time was always nerve wracking, not fully knowing what to expect, not sure what was going to happen.

She catches Dave giving her a quick grin before leaving for the night and she realizes that it’s getting late. There are still people working, Derek is hunched over a large pile of files, JJ is still in her office, a few straggling agents are still working behind her. But it’s 5:59 pm and she stands from her desk. Her stomach is still in knots, adrenaline making her hands shake and she clenches them quickly once, twice, three times, before knocking on his office door.

“Come in.” His voice is muffled through the door and she takes a deep breath before opening the door and then closing it quickly behind her. She looks around and notices that the desk had been cleaned from the items that usually belonged there. He had shut the blinds over an hour ago, his suit jacket was hanging over the back of his chair and he had rolled up his sleeves. She stands firm as he stands from behind his desk and slowly walks closer to her. He doesn’t stop until he’s close enough for her to smell his cologne. He’s just to the side of her, his breath falling onto the side of her neck as he speaks. Imposing and strong and she has to fight the urge to close her eyes as goosebumps erupt on her skin.

“Tell me why you’re here.” He says lowly as his hand hover over the small of her back.

“Why don’t you tell me.” She mutters and immediately she feels his large hand on the back of her neck, gripping hard enough for her to hiss as he forces her toward the desk.

“This is exactly why you’re here. You’re insubordinate, you lack respect and today you put yourself and Derek in danger while defying a direct order.” His voice is graveled and low, almost threatening and she squirms. “I’ve been nice, I’ve given you time to learn and adjust and clearly that isn’t working. And don’t think I haven’t heard you calling me uptight more than once.”

When his hold on her neck loosens she barely registers it before he turns her around to face him. He’s imposing as he looms over her, pressing her against his desk as she leans back slightly.

“That’s not really-”

“So you’re here to apologize. You’re here for me to loosen up.” He grabs her chin tightly and speaks close to her face. “You’re here for me to use until I’ve had my fill.”

She hates that her panties are uncomfortably wet as her clit thrums between her thighs already, because she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“But only if you agree.” He softens just slightly then and she’d nodding without realizing, a smirk on her face as she does.

“You want a toy, is that it?” She challenges him and she sees his eyes harden as his grip on her face tightens.

“The only words I want to hear from you are yes sir, I’m sorry or if you want to stop.” His eyes fasten on hers, his dark orbs so intense she has to force herself not to look away. “Do I make myself clear?”

The seconds it takes for her to answer feels like an eternity. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been this, and yet she’s so turned on it’s ridiculous. She knew that she had always been attracted to power, but this was something else. This felt like a need, something she wasn’t sure Aaron should know about her, it was almost embarrassing, how insanely turned on she was despite herself.

“Yes, sir.” The words fall from her lips effortlessly and she wonders if this is what insanity feels like. Because this shouldn’t be happening, her boss shouldn’t have this effect on her, he shouldn’t be looking at her with such contempt and yet the evidence of his want is pressed against her hip.

His lips curl into a smile that she’d only call feral and he snickers at her as he steps away, giving her a second to catch her bearings.

“Unbutton your shirt and take of your pants and underwear. Leave the shirt and bra.” His eyes stay on hers as she stares at him for a moment. “This is the way you’re making today up to me, do not make it more difficult on yourself.” He lets his hand hover over his belt and he nods as she catches on with wide eyes. “I will use it, don’t think I won’t.”  

Her hands are still trembling when she starts to unbutton her shirt, the black button down soon enough hanging loosely from her shoulders like he told her before she takes her pants off. Her entire body flushes as he looks at her expectantly when her fingers above the lining of her underwear.

“I’m being nice because it’s your first time, but if you stall for another second I swear I won’t be so nice.” His own hand still hovers over his belt and when Emily slowly drags her white panties off and then kneels in front of him he hums approvingly.

“Pretty.” He comments and she glares at him. It doesn’t have the desired effect with her dressed in only a bra on her knees and she knows it. But she doesn’t say anything, and instead waits for his next move. Her eyes flitter down to where his hand is still holding his belt buckle, down where she sees the outline of him, thick and long, even through his underwear and slacks.

“Open up.” He looks amused when she looks back up at him, arrogance radiating off him as he drags the zipper of his pants down and then gets his cock out through it. “Don’t make a mess though.”

Anger flashes in her dark orbs but she still stays quiet. Because she had agreed to be a part of this, she didn’t want to stop, and she did not want that belt around his hips to be used on her. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t hate him a little bit right then. Not because of what he’s wanting from her, but because she wanted it too.

Slowly, her lips open and he grabs her hair and angles her head back. She gasps at the pain in her hairline and he takes advantage of it, his hips pushing forward as he keeps her still with his grip. He’s heavy and hot on her tongue, his shaft sliding forward until he hits the back of her throat with a groan.

“Stay just like this.” He mutters quietly, his eyes fastened on her face as he starts to move. When she chokes he smirks. There was something about having Emily Prentiss, hard-headed, overachieving, button-pushing Emily, on her knees before him. He had waited for this, knew that eventually the day would come when she ignored his orders in such a way that it put her in danger. And he had waited, and planned, and now as he watched her try to hide just how much she was enjoying it he couldn’t believe how fucking good it felt.

She isn’t aware that her hands are gripping the fabric of his slacks as she gags around him. He’s thick, huge, and all she can focus on is to get enough air in her lungs whenever he pulls back enough for her to draw a few breaths. Spit is dripping down her chin, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knows that not making a mess is impossible.

“You know I’m almost tempted to finish just like this.” He speaks almost conversationally, like he didn’t have his cock down her throat as she struggles beneath him. When her eyes, glassy from tears look up at him through her long eyelashes, he flashes her a grin. “But where would the fun in that be, huh?” He pushes forward harder and when her eyes widen and he goes as deep as he could down her throat he hisses in pleasure.

“Fuck yeah, I knew you’d be able to take it.” He pulls back and releases her hair and she immediately starts coughing, her hands still firmly gripping his slacks and her forehead leaning against his thigh as she gasps.

He strokes her hair as she calms for a few moments and when she lets go of him he angles her face up by a hold on her chin.

“Lay on the desk.” His voice is thick with want, graveled in a way that makes her shiver and for a moment she wonders if she’ll ever get to hear it like that again after tonight.

Her knees buckle when she stands, lightheaded and dazed. He doesn’t give her more time though, and forcefully pushes her back against the desk with a hand on her sternum. The wood is cold against her thighs and ass, her shirt still hanging loosely from her shoulders as she lays back.

“Spread your legs.” He strokes his cock as he watches her, from the slight nerves he sees on her face, to the flush on her skin, to her breasts, barely contained in the lacy white bra, down to where he sees her slick is shining on her inner thighs as she spreads her legs for him. If they ended up here again he would take his time and taste her, but this wasn’t about her, this was about him and what he wanted. And right now he wanted Emily Prentiss to beg, to let go of her prestige and stubbornness, for her to know who truly was in charge and to never disobey his orders again.

“My my, you’re a mess.” He bites back a smirk when the pink on her cheeks flushes harder. He slaps the tip of his cock on her clit and when she jerks he can’t help but to chuckle. “I had a feeling this would get you going, that you’d enjoy this.”

“I’m not.” She lies through clenched teeth and he laughs at her, the sound close to condescending.

“Is that so?” He grabs her hips and pulls her to the edge of the desk. He lets his fingers dig into the muscle, makes sure to leave bruises on her soft skin as he does. “Well lucky for me this isn’t about you then huh?”

She’s pretty sure she hates him, hates that this side of him exists because she isn’t sure how she’ll ever be able to be in the same room as him without thinking about the gravel in his voice, the way he’s effortlessly driving her mad with want and he’s barely even touched her. Then she feels him, the tip of him just barely pushing in and she releases a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“Soaked and tight, perfect little play thing.” He can see her bite back a retort, that she more than anything wants to tell him to fuck off, but she doesn’t and instead looks of to the side in a vain attempt to hide her face from him. “None of that.” He grabs her jaw and she looks up at him with eyes blown black. “You’re going to look at me until I’m done with you.”

Her eyes widen at the sudden stretch of him, the fill making her hips twitch and a low moan escapes from her lips. He’s huge and he’s looking close to smug as he stares down at her, giving her a few seconds before he starts to move. His hands stay on her thighs, pulling her body against his as he groans.

Soon enough she’s sweating and biting back moans that would be too loud, her hands grabbing the edge of the desk in some futile attempt to keep grounded. Her eyes are heavy lidded as she continues to look up at him. He’s sweating, his head thrown back as some of his dark hair is falling over his forehead, and he still manages to exude power and arrogance.

“You’re doing better than I thought.” He bends down to speak lowly against her face. “I was sure you’d give me more trouble, but you’re listening to the rules. Good.”

“What’s the point of agreeing to this if I wouldn’t?” She counters, her voice breathy and trembling slightly. She was still fighting her body’s urges, she didn’t want him to get the satisfaction of knowing how much she was enjoying it, so she had kept most of her moans down. Her bottom lip is swollen from biting down on it, her muscles tense from keeping the pleasure at bay.

It didn’t matter though, because she wasn’t able to come without touching her clit, she never had. She wanted to touch herself though, the tension in her stomach was building by each thrust of his hips. Her hands grip the desk harder, her thighs are trembling and even though she was trying to hide her slight desperation it was useless.

“You’re going to drip on my floor soon. It’ll leave a nice stain, serve as a reminder for you every time you’re in here.” He slows his thrusts slightly and catches the way her breathing hitches. If he wanted to he could finish quickly, use her and leave her desperate for more, but a part of him wasn’t satisfied with that, he needed more.

“What are you doing?” She gasps at the way he slaps the outside of her thigh in response to her question, the sting of it letting her know that there will be a red mark from his palm on her skin.

“Tell me how much you like it.” His voice holds a slight edge to it and she licks her bottom lip, but ultimately shakes her head. Still defiant, still in need of a lesson, he thought. The desk rattles from the power of his next thrust and Emily can’t hold back the breathy whimper as her back arches.

“You will beg Emily.” He breathes against her ear as he bends over her again. His shirt itches against her sweaty skin, his low groans fill her ears and his cologne surrounds her. He’s everywhere, all she can feel and her eyes roll back in her head. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’s thankful that he doesn’t see it.

“You’re soaking my cock, you’re clenching me so good, I know you want to come for me, to show me how much you love it.” He mumbles quietly and her moans become breather, needier, at satisfaction fills him at the sound. “You’re desperate for it, for me.”

When he straightens again, there’s a gleam in his eyes that makes her pay attention and then he lets go of her thigh with one hand and she watches as he lets his thumb hover over her clit. She holds her breath, her eyes moving from his hand to his face as she waits for his next move. If he started to rub her clit she would come without a doubt and if he didn’t he’d have her on edge without the release her body was craving. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Oh that’s what you need huh?” He chuckles and slowly brushes her swollen clit up and down once and her eyelids futter closed. “Tell me what I want to hear and you’ll get what you need.”

“No.” She whines without realizing, her voice low and breathy and he clicks his tongue in condemnation.

“So be it.” His grip on her is on the verge of too tight when he grabs her around the hips instead. He starts to fuck into her with powerful thrusts, skin slapping against skin and heavy breaths filling the office.

“Jesus, fuck!” She cries out, unable to hold back this time. Each time he fills her she gets closer, much to her own frustration because her orgasm was just out of reach. But she wouldn’t beg, that much she refuses to do.

“You’re clenching so good on my cock.” He pants, a smug grin on his face. “You’re so close, so needy.”

“Fuck you.” She seethes and in the blink of an eye his hand is wrapped around her throat in warning.

“Don’t forget why you’re in here.” He squeezes hard around her throat and she whimpers as her eyes close. “You’re just something for me to use, don’t forget that.” He lets go and watches with satisfaction as she draws a few desperate, deep breaths and her pussy clenches harder around him.

She bites her tongue to keep her retort back, because she was dangerously close to crossing the line, to start taunting him right back but for her own enjoyment. Her hips buckles against his, the tension in her stomach is feeling like a boulder and she knows that if he doesn’t come soon, she’ll be giving in to him. He seems to sense it, because his thumb is back on her clit, gently tracing it and watches as her entire body trembles. Satisfaction in dripping off him and his hips speed up as she just barely swallows down his name.

“You’re so fucking close, look at you.” His voice is thick with tension and she barely keeps from agreeing this time.

And then there’s a knock on the door, forcing both of them to stop.

“Hotch I know you’re in there with Prentiss. Can I come in?” Derek’s voice sounds through the door and Aaron turns to her with a smile.

“Should I let him in?”

“I-I.” She mutters but can’t seem to form words. All she could think about was how much she wanted to come, how badly she needed to come. “I don’t know.” She finally gets out and he hums lowly.

“I think he should, I think he deserves to see you like this after today, after all you put him in danger too.” He waits for her to say no, to shake her head or disagree but it doesn’t come. Instead the flush on her cheeks enhances and she nods once. When he pulls out of her she gasps and he shakes her head at her before moving to open the door.

“We’re in the middle of it still.” He tells the other man, wanting to give him a chance to walk away, but Derek only grins at him. “Want to come in?”

“Absolutely.” He quickly closes the door after himself and locks it. “So you finally decided to use our little rule for your own pleasure huh?” He grabs Hotch’s chair and rolls it to the side so he can watch Emily properly, the files he had come in to leave forgotten in his hand.

“I did, it was time.” Aaron slides inside of her like he hadn’t stopped in the first place. “But she’s still subordinate.” He gives Emily a stare and she swallows hard.

“Of course she is.” Derek looks at her, finally addressing her. “Looking good Princess, having a nice time?”

She glares at him and he laughs as he leans back in the chair, enjoying the show.

“She’s close, refuses to admit it though.” Aaron’s thrusts are slower, deep pushes of his hips as his hand press down low on her stomach, earning a guttural groan from her. He keeps pressure on her stomach and lets his thumb rub circles around her clit again as he watches her intently as her entire body reacts to the stimulation.

“Always stubborn, why would you do that to yourself?” Derek winks at her when all she does is moan something resembling a curse in his direction. She is tense and trembling, her skin shining with sweat, make up smudged and hair wild.

“So fucking tight.” Aaron starts to move a little faster as Emily’s moans become louder as she stops trying to hold back. “Beg for it.”

“Hotch, fuck!” She’s getting so close, her body twisting in pleasure as the tension builds steadily. The little break she got while Aaron was letting Derek in, somehow had made her body even more sensitive and she felt every ounce of pride dissipate by every passing second.

“Getting closer.” He would laugh at his own pun if he wasn’t so focused on the way her eyes were rolling back in her head and her jaw was turning slack.

“Come on, let us hear it.” Derek chimes in, he’s stood up but stays back, still respecting that this was Emily’s apology to Aaron and not to him. He didn’t need it.

“Fuck, p-please!” She finally gives in and instead of getting what she wants, Aaron stops rubbing her clit and laughs as she cries out in disappointment.

“Now that wasn’t so hard was it?” He wipes some sweat from his forehead before grabbing her hips to keep her still as he continues to thrust. His own orgasm was building, each thrust getting him closer. “Again.”

Her jaw clenches as she stares up at him in disbelief, then it dawns on her that this was what he wanted all along, her desperate and begging for him. This was her actual way of making today up to him. If she hadn’t already been so delirious she would have been furious, but she didn’t think she could stand not getting to come, and having Derek there, watching her, was only enhancing that feeling. She didn’t think she would enjoy being watched, she didn’t think she’d find that out by being fucked in her boss’s office while her friend was watching, but here they were and she was sure she’d never recover if Aaron didn’t let her come.

“Please, make me come.” She relents and through the blood rushing through her ears she hears Derek chuckle and Aaron mutter words of encouragement.

“Good girl. Now tell me what I want to hear.” He fucks into her hard enough for her body to jolt and she mewls.

“I- I like it, fuck I love it.” She whimpers and he rewards her by starting to rub her clit again, this time with more pressure. Her eyes are wild and wide when she looks up at him, and she sees the same wild expression on him, even in a rumpled suit and heavy breaths.

“That’s right. And you’ll listen to me from now on? Follow my orders?” He’s so close his knees are buckling, hips stuttering but he needs to hear her say it.

“Yes, yes, yes. I won’t disobey you again.” She feels pleasure everywhere, and then he’s rubbing her clit faster and she grunts loudly, only seconds from coming.

“I think we both know that’s a lie. But you should be nice, she’s desperate for it.” Derek’s voice sounds muffled in her ears, her entire focus on Aaron.

“We do, but it’s her first time. I won’t be so nice next time.” If he hadn’t been so damn close himself he would have stopped. But his need for pleasure wins out and he looks down at Emily who’s dangerously close to coming and it felt so fucking good having her like this. Finally she’s giving in to him, giving him what he’s been wanting for months.

“Please, Aaron please!” She writhes and it’s the sound of his name falling from her lips that does it.

“Come for me.” He says and like her body is trained she comes with her head thrown back and a silent scream. She clenches around his cock and it’s enough to send him over the edge as well and he pushes as deep inside of her as he can. He growls something resembling her name as he gives in to his orgasm and through the pounding in his ears he hears her breathing hitch at the heat of his release inside of her.

By the time he feels like he can move without falling down, Derek is sneaking out through the door, the files he came in with sitting at the edge of the desk and Emily is panting and dazed as she looks up at him.

“Well, that was, something.” She jokes and he chuckles breathlessly, still not moving away from her.

“Tell me what you learned.” He takes her hand and pulls her into a sitting position, her face close to his.

“To listen when you give me an order.” She smirks as he nods and then steps away from her. She shivers at the loss of him inside of her but barely a moment later he’s pulling her to stand.

“Don’t think we’re done yet.” He whispers against her face before pushing on her shoulder until she kneels on her own accord. “I said you’d be here until I’ve had my fill.” He gasps at the feel of her tongue around him. “We’re nowhere close to done.” Emily really didn’t see a problem with that.

[crowsofdarkness]

Vaz Prizrak: Chapter Fourteen

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader.

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, violence, mentions of losing a pregnancy, thoughts of taking one's life, an attempt to take one's life. I will give another warning when that chapter is posted.

Summary: Bucky and Reader have been in their own solace while in Wakanda for years. They were finally happy to create the life they wanted and deserved. That was until a new foe came along to dust it all away.

Authors Note: This takes place during Infinity War and Endgame! If you haven't yet, please read Soldat and Dorogaya beforehand.

Tags: @globetrotter28 @sakuracyberhex @chinggay85-blog @bookofriverr @misatxox @that-blonde-girl @cats-chaotic-mind @wintrsoldrluvr @sebastians-love @pumpkin-babydoll @ordelixx @starfly-nicole @j23r23 @baw1066 @capswife

Soldat Masterlist | Dorogaya Masterlist | Vaz Prizrak Masterlist

“Will you stop it,” I smacked Tony's hand from my face. 

“I don’t understand how you’re alive right now,” He pondered. 

My eyebrows rose at him. “Super healing, remember?” 

“Actually the bullet grazed her head, she’s very lucky to be alive,” Bruce said as he entered the room. 

I still was located in the medical bay of the compound, only waking a few hours ago. Bruce had mentioned that he wanted to keep an eye on me before allowing me back on my feet; even if I healed fast or not. 

From what Bruce had told me is that the bullet in fact only grazed the side of my head but if Steve hadn’t pulled me from the lake, I would have drowned. 

“I still think it’s cool if we tell people that I healed over the bullet but whatever,” I joked with a shrug. 

It was weird. After my almost death experience and that dream of Bucky before waking, I had become my old self again. Joking around with my friends and feeling a sense of happiness fill my veins.

Bruce and Tony shared a chuckle. 

“Is she going to be ready? Just because you tried to end it doesn’t mean we're stopping our plan. We bring everyone back in-,” Tony looked at his watch briefly, “-T-minus two hours.” 

“I’ll be ready,” I nodded afrimly. 

“You need to rest.” 

We all looked into the doorway of the room and Steve leaned against the wooden frame, arms crossed over his chest. 

After I had awoken, Steve had told me that I had been asleep for almost twenty four hours. They all thought I wouldn’t wake up. Steve was more worried than anyone. 

“Let’s give them a minute,” Bruce mentioned to Tony. 

Once we were alone, I patted the empty spot at the end of the hospital bed. 

“I think we need to talk,” I said. 

He nodded. “Only if you’re up for it.” 

I pulled my legs to my chest while sitting up. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through, Steve. It was wrong of me to do that in front of you. And it was so fucking wrong to use you like that.”

“You didn’t use me, Y/N,” Steve said while squeezing my thigh. 

“Didn’t I? I used you for sex hoping to feel something. It’s disgusting,” I scolded myself. 

Steve gave a slight shrug. “It wasn’t that bad.” 

I couldn’t help the giggle that fell through my lips. 

“No it wasn't,” I admitted, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks remembering us together, “But I shouldn’t have done that to you. I’m a terrible person.” 

I tried to look away from him but he wouldn’t allow it, lifting my chin oh so gently to look into his eyes. 

“You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, Y/N. I don’t think of you any less or love you any less for what happened,” Steve avowed. 

A smile played at my lips. 

“I love you too, Steve. Even though our night together was amazing, I can’t do that to Bucky; not again,” I admitted. 

Steve nodded with a sad sigh. “I know. It’s always been hard to compete against him.” 

“Hey,” I spoke while grabbing his hand. “You two are not competing against each other for me. I love you both but with Bucky, it’s more than what I feel with you. It’s because of our past together and what we’ve been through. We were both there for each other through one of the roughest parts of our lives.” 

“Bucky always had been a great guy. He’s lucky to have you,” Steve stated. 

“Promise me something?” 

When he nodded, I continued. “Promise that you won’t let how you feel about me stop you from finding love? Don’t let what happened with you and Peggy happen with us.”

“Only if you promise me something?” 

It was my turn to nod.  

“Promise that you’ll have a room for me when you fix up your house?” Steve smiled with his demand. 

“Deal.” 

My lips reached my eyes with how big I was smiling. We chatted for a while, just the two of us like how it used to be; back in our Shield days together. There wasn’t any awkwardness or fear of hurting the others feelings for what we had decided. 

Steve was the only closest person I had left in my life and I was incredibly grateful that he had chosen to stay alongside me even if I had decided Bucky will forever be the one for me. 

“You know, when this is all done, we should give Natasha a funeral. Even if we don’t have her body, she still deserves it.” I voiced my thoughts to Steve. 

With a quick kiss to the top of my head and a squeeze to my shoulder, he agreed. 

“Hey guys.” 

Both of our attention turned towards the doorway of the room and saw Tony peek his head in. 

“It’s ready,” He announced. 

Steve and I looked at one another before he nodded. “We’ll be there in a minute.” 

“Do you need help walking to your room?” Steve asked once he saw me pulling out my I.V’s. 

I wanted nothing more than to change out of this medical gown and into my tactical suit. 

“Nope. Meet you down there?” 

Steve agreed with a nod. 

With my hands clenched tightly around the necklace Bucky gifted me for my birthday, I listened as the men of my team fought on who would wear the gauntlet. 

“I’m the strongest avenger. I will be the one to do it,” Thor stated. 

Tony quickly shook his head. “It’s not only that the glove is channeling enough energy to blow up an entire continent, you’re in no condition.”

“What do you think I have coursing through my veins right now?” Thor chuckled. 

“Beer and cheese wiz?” Rhodey suggested.

My boot stomped loudly on the ground, letting the others know how annoyed I was with this petty argument of who’s metaphorical dick was bigger. 

“Jesus, will someone just decide already?!” I snapped getting impatient. 

The gauntlet with all of the infinity stones sat neatly on it’s pedestal in front of all of us, teasing us with the mere thought that we were seconds away from bringing everyone back. And these idiots couldn’t stop fighting on who was going to wear it. 

Steve gave me a disapproving look and immediately I apologized with a shrug.

“We’re so close so sue me for getting impatient.”

“Someone wants to see her lover boy,” Tony wiggled his eyebrows at me. 

“Damn right I do,” I couldn’t help the excitement I felt. 

Before I saw the gauntlet, I had so many doubts that this would actually work; that we would actually be able to retrieve all of the stones and create our own gauntlet. 

I was tired of dancing with Bucky’s ghost in my dreams. I needed to feel his warm embrace around me again. 

There was a lingering thought in all of our minds, however, one that we were all very afraid to ask out loud. 

“Will this bring her back?” 

My attention turned towards Clint and even though he didn't utter her name, I knew he was wondering about Natasha. 

Sadly, I shook my head. “No. What we went through on Vomir can’t be undone. I’m sorry, Clint. She’s not coming back.” 

I swallowed the large lump in my throat to hold back the tears. 

“So we need to do this right; for her,” Bruce suggested. 

We all nodded in agreement. 

“Which is why I need to be the one to wear it,” Bruce continued speaking. “We all saw what it did to Thanos, it almost killed him. None of you could survive.”

The decision was made and final; since Bruce was mostly made up of gamma, he would be the one to make the snap. 

“Remember, bring back everyone who got dusted five years ago to now, today. Don’t change anything from the last five years,” I reminded him. 

“Got it,” he nodded. 

Steve pulled me close to him and slid his mask over his eyes which caused me to place Bucky’s old mask over my own face. Flames sparked to live, creating a shield to protect Steve and I from whatever aftermath would occur from Bruce’s snap. Everyone else protected themselves in their own way. 

“He’s coming home,” Steve nodded towards me. 

Bruce yelled out in pain as the gauntlet came to live, the sparks causing my eyes to sparkle in awe. In one fast snap, he fell to the ground in pain and we all saw his right arm burned and bloody; an aftermath caused by his snap. 

Steve, Tony, and Thor all crowded around Bruce, wondering if he was alright. Scott and Clint had ventured off to the other end of the room, muttering something to themselves, something that we couldn’t hear.

“Did it work?” I asked everyone. “How do we know if it worked?” 

They looked at me, smiles wide on Clint and Scott’s faces, but I couldn’t ask why they were so ecstatic. I then realized that we were missing someone who had been on this mission from the get go.

“Where’s the robot?” I asked.

A thunderous boom shook the building and our bodies to the core as fire rained down upon us, encasing us in debris and darkness. 

[whenlifegivesticks-blog]

The long overdue, extremely lengthy Heroes in Crisis Review. Put on your reading glasses because this is long. I just want to give a little summary, The entire comic is the definition of disrespecting existing characters as well as real people and their problems. I seen better writing from 13 year old wattpad kids who are just getting started on their writing journey. It's hard for me to believe professional writers wrote this. Now onto the detailed review.

Brain rot enjoyment meter (how much I enjoyed it without actually analyzing it) : 7/10

Actual rating: 3/10

I'll go on with the analysis part by part.

first of all characters: Half of them are out of character and the other half are random characters that dc hasn't used in over a decade, we don't care about. Only to kill them off and it has no impact whatsoever as we don't know who these people are plus bunch of one panel cameos of characters for absolute no reason and adds absolutely nothing to the actual plot or story. For example, Red Devil, Tattooed man, Hotspot (i later recognized him from teen titans). I am pretty young person so I absolutely did not know half the characters. And they didn't introduce or reintroduce in this case any of these characters. We barely know what their issues are or why they are at sanctuary.

All characters are out of character or completely dumbed down. Wally's entire character is massacred and even by the end I barely understood what was up with him. I'll expand on this later.

Batgirl, Barbara was just frustrating and felt really empty. Like she was just there and really didn't seem to add anything to the story. At least as a character she doesn't. She felt more like a plot device.

Batman was just ??? but he wasn't that bad but suffers from same thing as Babs. Felt like he was just there as a plot device and character wise he added nothing whatsoever. We don't even see him investigating properly.

superman was downright foul And made no sense. Ok so you're working on the investigation with Diana and Bruce, so what's with the tension and secrecy??? Like Clark is that really you?

and louis lane was just evil, will be explained later.

Hal Jordan made one of the one panel appearances and that one panel was enough to show that the writer knew absolutely nothing about him. I been reading old GL comics and that one panel was just... wow.

the bat kids made cameos and they just copy pasted dialogue for them with little differences.

The comic is only 9 issues and is short so it just doesn't really show off a lot of personality from characters that aren't Harley or booster. And even then these two were just... not very satisfactory.

Second of all, plot: Made absolutely no sense whatsoever, I read the ending twice and still don't know what happened or what's the message.

obvious spoilers:

So, in a heroes mental institute called sanctuary, everyone was found dead other than Harley Quinn and booster gold. Booster saw Harley kill everyone. Harley saw booster kill everyone. So its a murder mystery.

Except the comic is all over the place and does not give any needed or required context so it doesn't really feel anything. Like it immediately pulls you in with no context whatsoever, with characters you aren't allowed to build a connection with.

There's this ridiculous segment where Harley Quinn defeats the trinity like what???? Harley Quinn defeating superman , wonder woman and batman is impossible. Ya telling me Harley is stronger than darksied??? Better plot armor than batman...

and superman comments saying how Harley is just as good as Bruce... I call BS. The writers really trynna convince us Harley is stronger than batman.

like what?

she went toe to toe with booster gold and I'm like??? even with half his powers, booster gold wipes the floor with Harley.

And here's the thing, Barry Allen thinks booster killed everyone. Ya telling me he chose to believe Harley Quinn a known dangerous criminal over booster gold?? Booster gold isn't even a anti hero. he doesn't kill. Plus someone pointed out to me Booster probably experienced all this after he watched a version of batman kill himself in front of Booster. Which explains Booster talking about how he sees the blood on his visor despite nothing being there.

Barbara helps Harley and takes down blue beetle (whose helping booster) like even she chose the psycho Harley to protect over booster??

what they smoking!

Now if you take actual culprit. it was wally. Now the story shows a pretty okish segment of wally's downward spiral to a mental breakdown. Except it still was more tell than show. And the plot made no sense.

Wally had a mental breakdown because he believed everyone at sanctuary was faking their mental illness to make him feel better. That he alone was the crazy one. So he "hacked" the system in place and found recordings for everyone's sessions and lost control of his powers accidentally killing everyone.

Ok I can believe he accidentally killed everyone. He was insane and not in the right mind.

but then the writers make him make a plan to frame Harley and booster so he can have time to release all the footage he found as a way to do good for the world what??? people anonymous confidential therapy sessions to louis lane as a way to do good in exchange for his murders and framing others. He also time traveled to kill himself and get a body??

Wally has a segment where everyone tells him he's hope or something. Plus him reliving his Titan days. Him using the stupid mask. But I can't make a sense of it. Because mentally ill people are more likely to hurt themselves than others. The comic perpetuates harmful stereotypes even if Wally killed by accident.

worst part is the writer make it a good thing showing bunch of cameo characters who came to therapy because they realized they weren't alone due to the released recordings???

so Wally was insane enough to lose control and kill and yet still manage to make a supervillain ass plan to frame and kill himself. the story's point is lost in this nonsense.

Plus Clark didn't tell Bruce or Diana about louis having the recordings and only told them after releasing them to the public. What happened to patient confidentiality??? Do superheroes not have rights? Clark went on a spiel about being a reporter- So being a reporter means stomping other peoples rights and outing their private info. The time travel nonsense didn't make sense even with my drawn diagrams to make sense of it. So I'm just left confused. The conclusion is this vague shit where its ok to get help and hope something.

third thing the premise: The premise is mental health institute yet, the writer shown they know nothing about mental health Sanctuary isn't run by people. its run by an AI. The place has chambers where heroes can go in and make anything they want. Any scenario. Now imagine mentally ill people with no guidance and just using the chambers for whatever they want. Wally was using it to relive his dead family in fantasy lala land. Lagoon boy was reliving his ptsd again and again and again Gnarrk was the only one who it helped and that's because he wasn't mentally ill in the way wally or lagoon were. He was just lost and used it as a guidance because he already knew his own issues. Yet dc tries to frame the chambers as a helpful thing and heroes are getting better You cant expect me to believe that after watching wally ignore the AI's questions and pretend has back with his family in a fantasy. The comic is an insult to mental health.

Again, we don't know why 90% of the heroes are at sanctuary. They are just killed off after one appearance. Plus, Jason canonically never went to therapy. Roy was killed off for shock factor. Green lantern apparently doesn't know what "WILL" is... Harley Quinn's word is taken more than Boosters-

I have so many more things I could say but if I have to list everything wrong in this comic this review would be longer than my future. I DO NOT recommend this comic. It's trash and save your sanity. Not even the retcon of this comic salvaged it. Over all, The only good thing in this was Harley and booster interactions because it was funny. That's it.

[bellobambino]

The Safe House - Part 1

fluff to smut in a future fic

Summary: Unnamed female reader's brother seems to be involved with Luigi's disappearance. Her first person POV.

1,045w

AN: So far this is 3 parts. 4th part will be smut. Part 1 here is set up. please leave a reply, just tell me what you think. i'm looking for some constructive crit if u have time. ill post part 2 in a few days.

The Safe House - Part 1

Gravel crunches outside, the unmistakable pop and shift of tires rolling up the driveway. My stomach twists. No one should be here. There are only a handful of people who even know about this place, and none of them are supposed to be showing up right now.

I glance through the studio window, heart hammering, and my breath catches in my throat.

Ben’s car.

My brother’s car.

Holy fuck.

Ben has been missing for three weeks. No texts, no calls. Not even one of those passive-aggressive thumbs-up emojis he overuses. Nothing. Radio silence.

I abandon my paintbrushes, running to the front door, opening it before he even cuts the engine. The cold air bites, but I don’t care.

The property is big, tucked away in Vermont, the trees stretching high and leafless against the late winter sky. It’s a quiet retreat. Remote and away from everything. That’s why I came here in the first place. To be alone for a few weeks and paint.

He slams the car door, looks up, and we just stare at each other for a second, both of us blinking like we’ve seen a ghost.

“What the fuck?” I say first, because that’s all I’ve got. My voice comes out strangled.

Ben runs a hand through his messy hair and exhales sharply. He looks exhausted, thinner, his jaw sharper than I remember. His hoodie is all lopsided. He should not be here.

“Ben, where the hell have you–?”

“What are you doing here?” he asks, cutting me off like he’s just as surprised to see me.

I throw my hands up. “What do you mean, what am I doing here? This is Uncle Jeff’s place, I’ve been up here for weeks… where have you been? Why haven’t you answered our calls? We’re all worried sick about you!”

He exhales through his nose, glancing past me into the cabin. He looks wired. Restless. He mutters a low, “Fuck,” under his breath.

Then, before I can react, he reaches out, plucks my phone right out of my hand, and turns it off.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” I lunge for my phone, but he steps back, slipping it into his pocket.

“We can’t have any electronics on.”

“Ben.” My voice is sharp now. “Give me my phone.”

“Not right now.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “Just listen to me.”

I fold my arms tight against my chest. “I’m listening.”

“You need to get cool with some things really fast.”

I go still. A prickle of ice works its way up my spine. Oh fuck.

He’s serious. Like, deeply, fundamentally serious in that way Ben only gets when he knows he’s about to say something I’m really not going to like.

I swallow hard. “What things?”

He looks around, then gestures toward the main cabin. “Inside.”

He moves first, which is smart, because my legs feel weirdly detached from the rest of me, like I’m floating rather than actually walking. Inside the loft, I perch on the arm of the couch. He stays standing. Neither of us speaks.

Finally, I break the silence. “Ben. Talk.”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “Do you know who Brian Thompson is?”

My stomach drops. “Yeah.”

Ben nods slowly. “So you heard what happened to him.”

The room goes very, very still.

I try to swallow, but my throat feels thick. “Jesus, Ben,” I whisper. “Are you telling me you know something about that?”

He lifts his chin slightly. It’s not an answer, but it is.

I stare at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“it was me,” he says. “And Luigi.”

I feel like I’m gonna be sick.

Luigi.

Lu, who’s been missing for months. I thought he was dead or had dropped everything and moved overseas. I wasn’t the only one who thought this. We all did. Nobody knew where he was. But now Ben is here telling me they knew where he was this entire time, while we all thought the worst.

Nobody has been able to reach Ben since… well, since the Brian Thompson shooting. Now I know why. 

I’m furious but relieved. “He’s alive.”

Ben exhales. “Yeah. He’s alive.”

I almost laugh. Only because my brain can’t process all this information in real-time. He’s standing there, patiently waiting for me to stop freaking out before he drops the next bomb.

“And he’ll be here tomorrow.”

My stomach lurches. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Lu.” He rubs a hand over his jaw, glancing toward the window like he’s checking for ghosts. “He’ll be here tomorrow. This place is good to lay low for a while.”

Fantastic.

I press my hands against my temples, squeezing my eyes shut. This is happening so fast. One second I’m up here in Vermont, soaking in the beauty of solitude, then my brother shows up out of nowhere, tells me he’s an accomplice to murder, and that tomorrow, Luigi is going to walk through that door like a ghost returning from the grave.

I push off the couch and follow Ben to the door, catching sight of him popping the trunk. He hauls out a silver suitcase, then another. They’re heavy. My stomach twists.

“What is that?” I demand.

Ben doesn’t look at me. “Stuff.”

Stuff. Awesome.

I should say something. I should demand answers. But my brain keeps skipping ahead to the part where tomorrow, Luigi will be here.

Ben and Luigi were practically inseparable in college, both in the same frat, Phi Kappa Psi. They rushed together, partied together, graduated together. And now they’ve done… this together.

The last time I saw Luigi, it was summer. Some birthday party. We had circled each other all night, and when he finally got me alone, he whispered, “Ben is gonna kill me,” and kissed me. Soft, his hands in my hair, tasting of tequila and maybe the start of something new.

Then he fell off the face of the earth. 

Ben slams the trunk shut, looks at me over the roof of the car. “You good?”

I force myself to nod. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t press, just hoists another bag over his shoulder and heads inside.

Luigi will be here tomorrow, and I don’t have a clue what to expect.

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 21 - Let’s ignore the elephant in the room.

Summary: Y/N learns more about the people who live in Izuku’s head. No, she doesn’t think Izuku needs to see a therapist. Izuku already does that anyway.

Izuku also acts weird when it comes to the Hero Gala… what is he hiding?

(Is this how you write a summary? Hell, I’ve been away for too long.)

First Chapter Master List Ko-fi

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Somewhere in the near future

Y/N’s Diary entry #145

Life has been great. Too great, to be honest.

I was loved and appreciated and my side hustle helped me to get enough money to feel safe in case something goes wrong. No more stress about being a burden or feeling useless. Sounds great, right?

It was… it was great. Everything was splendid.

I knew something will happen in the future. I knew it can’t stay this good forever.

But I didn’t think the reality will hit me this hard.

The funny thing is, that it isn’t even about me. My life is still… great. But seeing my loved ones in so much pain is worse than being in it myself. The tears, the loud sobs, the sound of choking on air in the middle of a breakdown… these things live in my head rent-free, they keep me up at night and mess up my mornings and I hate how I’m completely unable to do anything to help my loved ones.

~•~

“I know we usually go from number ten to number one, but tonight… it will be different.” The entrepreneur announced on the hero gala without a single smile, shaking and kinda broken. No one clapped. They just sat in silence, their eyes the size of saucers, their anxiety clear even through the screen of the TV. “I have a letter from our favorite number one pro hero, Deku. Now let me read it for you.”

I knew right at that moment… that things won’t be same anymore.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Back to the present.

“Do you think we went a bit unhinged in there?” You mumble to yourself as you enjoy the hot water of the onsen. Izuku looks at you questioningly, not really understanding what this is about; feeling his gaze on you after everything you two have just done it’s a little bit… well… embarrassing? No, it’s not the right word to use. It’s a pleasant feeling but it also makes you shy away a little bit. You feel like that meme that’s circulating the internet about wives getting shy around their long-term husbands after getting… well… loved hard. Now, there is two problems with this; first of all, it was your first time with him (plus you’ve only been together for a few months), second of all, your time together was anything but… hard. It was soft but scorching hot like a marshmallow being cooked by a fireplace. It was the exact opposite of what that wife was going through in that one meme.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… we are a bit too much, aren’t we?” You try to make yourself a bit easier to understand and by the look of it, Izuku gets it; but instead of getting shy about it, he just gives you a massive, adorable smile then moves into your personal space to answer you while your lips are almost touching.

This man will be the death of you.

“Is it weird to be obsessed with my girlfriend?” Izuku closes the distance, his lips moving on your own as he speaks. It makes your heart beat out of rhythm and you feel the familiar warmth in your tummy again, only half an hour after your cheeky shenanigans.

You blame it on the hot water, because otherwise… How insatiable can you be?!

“I mean, it might look weird to other people. But I guess I’m no better than you and if you are okay with it then so am I?” You answer with your eyes half lidded, anticipating the kiss you are so hungry for.

“I don’t give a fuck what others think, Sweets. Not when it comes to you.” Izuku grumbles in a deep voice and finally puts his lips back on yours for a chaste kiss. You can’t help but giggle.

“Did Kacchan’s soul just infiltrate you for a second there?”

“Nah, but my answer was heavily influenced by one of the vestiges inside me. He doesn’t talk much but when he does, he has a strong opinion.”

“They… talk to you?” You look up at your boyfriend with pure wonder. This is the first time you hear about this; he told you about feeling the old wielders inside him but he never clarified on what level he can communicate with them. In your head, you thought it’s more like a second conscience, like you can feel it when they are angry or happy about whatever is happening around Izuku but that’s about it.

“Yeah, I…” Izuku moves his face away from you but his arm snakes around your middle to pull you closer. You put your head on his chest, ready to hear his story. It’s something you do quite frequently; you put your head on his chest or in his lap while Izuku tells you unheard tales about stuff he’s been through. “You see, it’s really embarrassing to tell someone that there are several other people living inside my head, taking over my own thoughts sometimes. I don’t want to end up in a mental hospital… not like you would ever do something like that, but… I’m sorry I kept this a secret.”

“How does it work?” You take Izuku’s free hand in your own and start playing with it, trying your best not to sound so nosy. You fail.

“They… well… uhh, this is so hard.” He giggles. “They aren’t constant… they jump into my head once in a while when they have a strong opinion about something but they let me live my own life and they try their best not to interfere nor influence my decisions. They talk to me during battles, help me with strategies, I can also close my eyes and talk to them if I want to or need to. During my dark days, right after the accident I sometimes managed to completely zone them out. They weren’t happy about that.” Izuku admits.

“What were they thinking about us?” You try to change the topic because there is no way in hell you want Izuku to start getting all nostalgic and sad right now.

“They teased the shit out of me for being a coward. They knew about my feelings sooner than I did. They haven’t said too much but when they did they were… let’s just say I have a full ass “SweetZuku” ship gang inside my head.” He giggles, leaving a tiny kiss on the top of your head. “Don’t worry, they love you. Especially the first wielder. And the second, even if he denies it.”

“Tell them I said hi.” You mutter sleepily, way too comfortable in this position.

“You made them really happy by saying that. Maybe, in the future we could try and talk to them together.” Izuku smiles, elated from being understood.

“I would love that. Thank you, Izu… and the gang.” You giggle, moving your head towards Izuku’s to give him another kiss.

“I hope this kiss is only for me though. I’m a really giving guy, but I’m not sharing you.”

You laugh out loud; this reminds you of the time when Izuku got so jealous of that poor fan who asked for a selfie with you that his black whip came out in the middle of a meet and greet, scaring the shit out of the staff while the fans just took it as “fan service” and wrote poems about how cool it was to see black whip in action.

“I’m aware of that, Izu. Way too aware.” You giggle yourself as you keep peppering kisses on your boyfriend’s mouth.

“Sorry, it won’t change.” Izuku announces proudly and you are so proud of him that you are about to cry; this might sound like a red flag from anyone else, but seeing Izuku finally sticking to his opinion instead of trying to change for other people is such a big step up compared to his old self you can’t help but feel pride swelling in your chest because hell, you did that. It was a long struggle but finally, your work has payed off.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I know you wouldn’t harm anyone nor me and it’s in your rights to be protective over your loved one so please, keep being jealous, it’s kinda hot, anyway.”

“Wow.” Izuku looks at you incredulously, extremely entertained by your answer. “I’ll… do my best to be healthily jealous then. I love the way you looked at me when I said that. In your words - it was kinda hot.” He gives you a massive grin.

“Going back to our original conversation…” you give Izuku a knowing smile. “We are really weird, but I really fucking like it.”

“That’s my girl.”

… yeah, you are definitely insatiable. There is no other explanation to why are you two heavily making out in the scorching hot onsen right now, absolutely ignoring the dizziness from being in the hot water for so long.

“Jesus Christ, can you stop making out so loud?!” Comes Kyouka’s voice from the other side of the massive privacy fence. “I’m trying to relax here!”

“Wanna take this to the bedroom, Sweets?” Izuku looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I heard that!”

“He knows!” You yell to your friend as you crawl out of the water, stumbling to your towel while Izuku’s eyes move from your head to your toes shamelessly, clearly enjoying the “5 star view”. You really want to comment on it but after doing the same only a few hours ago, you have no rights to do so. “Come on, let Kyouka enjoy her solitude.”

“Yes, madam!”

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“Yup, they fucked.” Kaminari declares with a straight face, once he opens the door.

You really want to lie and say you have no idea why Kaminari thinks that’s true, because surprisingly enough, you did look into the mirror before and coming here and you did try to sort yourself out but… there are things you can’t really hide with make up; for instance, your eyes that shine like a fucking star got stuck in your irises or Izuku’s puffy lips and pink neck, still ruddy from all the kisses.

After the onsen… you two… well… uhm…

Let’s just say you couldn’t forget how Izu said he’s never done certain things in bed and that he was always on the giving side and never on the receiving side… So once you two were inside the four walls you decided to show him some other things he might have missed. You are quite sure you lost your voice during the “process” but it was absolutely worth it and Izuku got hooked on the new type of intimacy and came up with ideas of his own and… well, yeah. You are limping a little bit. Just a tiny bit. Mostly because of all the “leg training” but there’s also that other factor that you can’t even say out loud because you two are too fucking sweet to say those things. And all of these things had happened out of love so… there is no need to make it sound dirty. You two had a good time but maybe went a bit too far. Oh well, it happens.

“I really have an urge to yell about the audacity of coming to my humble abode looking like a wreck but if I would need to suffer another day with you two eye fucking each other at my table I’d probably explode myself to the other world, so just shut up and sit down.” Katsuki mutters, also with a straight face and Eijirou just sighs at that.

“At least they are not denying it. I remember you telling everyone a week ago that you got beaten up in a “secret mission” when…”

“OH MY GOD THERE WAS NO SECRET MISSION?!” Denki hollers out loud. “

“Nope. Just me. Sorry.” Eijirou gives the group the biggest grin known to mankind, not even flinching when Katsuki slaps him in the face with a kitchen towel.

After the group is finally distracted, everyone sits down to eat another gorgeous meal made by Katsuki himself, mostly talking about hero stuff and Rody’s shenanigans. The night goes well, until Kyouka brings up the hero rankings. Izuku’s whole body stiffens next to you as Kyouka starts to talk about the dress she decided on for the big event next week; the whole gang chimes in with their own choice of clothing, showing pictures on their phones back and forth, completely indifferent to the turmoil in Izuku who just stares at his leftovers and plays with a little pea in his bowl. You wordlessly try to console him by taking his clenched hand into yours; he clenches it so hard you almost yell out loud from the pain.

Something is wrong. Really wrong.

“What are you gonna wear to the Gala, Izuku?” Kirishima asks, eyes full of excitement but it changes into a look of concern once he takes a better look at the greenette.

“I’m not going to this one.”

Someone’s butter knife hits the table. Someone chokes on their drink. Everyone processes the information differently but one thing is identical; everyone looks at Izuku like he’d grown another head.

“You can’t be fucking serious.” Kyouka looks at Izuku, utterly dumbfounded.

“You are the Number One hero of this country.” Katsuki sneers. “It’s your fucking responsibility to show your cute little freckled face and make sure people know you are still there for them.” Katsuki said these words with venom in his voice; you are extremely surprised to hear Katsuki’s tone so harsh.

“I’m not there for them though, am I?” Izuku snaps back with his eyes full of tears. “I can’t fight their battles. I can’t help them. You can’t possibly ask me to show up and be all smiley and “cute” when my whole fucking career is in shambles!”

Everyone steps back for a second. There is an awkward, tension-filled silence at the table and you have no idea what to do; Izuku’s words make sense but they also don’t and you really don’t know who to stand with.

“Like it or not, he has a point.” Eijirou puts his hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. “As you can see, he’s still not okay. Let him sit this one out. It’s not worth ruining his amazing day.”

“He ruined it for himself when he started fucking yelling at me.” Katsuki stands up from the table, clearly shaken up by the whole situation; Katsuki might look like a strong person but he’s actually really sensitive; you can clearly see how wet his eyes are when he stomps into his room and slams the door on everyone.

“Kacchan!” Izuku is the next one to leave the table, running after the blonde with nothing but guilt in his teary eyes. Everyone just stares at the drama in utter silence, not really sure how to help or what to do to save this evening.

Thankfully, the fact that everyone at this table is an grown ass adult, the drama sizzles out after half an hour; Izuku and Katsuki emerges from the bedroom after some yelling and banging is heard from the other side of the door; their eyes are red rimmed and cheeks blotchy but they have their arms around each other’s shoulders and everything looks “okay”; or at least for the rest of the group who sigh happily when the two joins the Netflix-binge on the couch. Not you, though. You look at Izuku intensely, you look at the way his mouth smiles but the edges are still facing downwards, and you realize that something is still wrong; Izuku is hiding something, from the group, and from you.

Something is wrong but everyone ignores it, too happy to have the “good vibes back”.

You really feel the urge to yell at the group to look closely, to find a solution for the problem before someone gets hurt but all these heroes worked their asses off to have these few days off and you don’t have the heart to ruin their good time nor ruin Izuku’s only time where he can be out and about, far away from those four walls he is not used to be surrounded by for more than a few hours.

Will this decision bite you in the ass in the near future? Probably. Will you regret this decision a few days later? Yes… But you can’t help but smile when Izuku’s weird half-smile becomes a real one as he sits down on the sofa, snuggles into your arms while his legs end up on Katsuki’s lap who plays with the hem of his trousers in a weird, affectionate way.

“Are you okay?” You mutter into Izuku’s ears.

“No.” Izuku admits and your whole world turns upside down. “But one day…” he looks around his friends, who are all snuggled together on the sofa enjoying each other’s company, not knowing when the next time will be when they can be together like this. “One day, I’ll be okay. And that’s good. I’m happy with that for now. Sometimes, it needs to get worse before it gets better, you know.” Izuku smiles at you with a sad, but genuine smile and your heart skips a beat once again. You are so far gone for this man it’s ridiculous.

“It will all make sense, eventually.” You leave a tiny kiss on Izuku’s fluffy curls and turn back towards the TV. “I’m not worried, because if you ever get lost, I’ll be there to show you the right way.”

“And I’m counting on it.” Izuku smiles, but somehow, the sentence brought some weird eerie vibe into the room.

You try your best to read between the lines but you feel like there is a missing piece to this puzzle.

Ahh, let’s not overthink it for today. There is always a “tomorrow” to sort that shit out.

… to be continued!

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TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @themultifandomgirl @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave @alyss-eiz @sleepisfortheweakpooh

Potato ramble:

- Long time no see, guys. I know I have a lot of explanation to do but I’ll spare you from the gruesome details as I genuinely think no one deserves to even go through all the shit I’ve suffered even through another person.

But if you want to get a short version then here you are, but you don’t need to read it if you don’t want to.

The short story is: I’ve had two traumatic experiences in the last 3 years which made me extremely weak mentally but I always pushed through by saying “until this one person is with me I’ll be fine.” Well, this person stabbed me in the back in the most evil way, while I was the weakest, which ended up completely ruining me and traumatizing me once more (therapist’s words, not mine, I’m not being overly dramatic, just factual.) I live far away from my small family (2 hours with a plane) and I didn’t want to run away from my new home as I knew I’ll never have the balls to come back all alone so I had to endure all of my mental struggles without my family’s support. The only reason I’m still alive is my friends and my family who worked their asses off to keep me alive through the phone, and my work colleagues who never let me out of their sight and called me over so I don’t have time to think. I also have a therapist now which does wonders. So yeah, I literally didn’t have the mental energy to even give you guys a heads up.

I’m still struggling and I’ll probably never be the same but I’m trying my hardest; I gained all the weight back that I’ve lost (I was 45 kg to start with so me losing weight really wasn’t a good thing, I literally looked like a skeleton it was a nightmare), I started working out (in a healthy way) and I’m trying to get back to my old self. Please be patient with me.

- I have 3 or four chapters already written hence I decided to start posting again! I wanted to wait until the full story is done but I miss communicating with you and I also like to hear your thoughts before I write a chapter hence I decided to yolo it and start posting but please be patient with me. I still have breakdowns sometimes and I’m having a hard time writing about romantic things as my whole life is in shambles. But I really like this story (and the Kirishima one too! You will need to wait a little bit longer though 😭) so I decided to try and finish it.

- On a more positive note; look at my new rainbow flat! There is MHA in every single corner, even in the toilet btw, I’m living that best single life right now with my purple sofa, a magenta rug and fairy lights! With that said, see you in the next chapter! Please send me your thoughts 🩷 (Also, there is some angst incoming but this is the last one. Only good things after that!)