#the only think she’s ever owned was her love and it got thrown back in her face with graysen GOD TAKE ALL HER SUFFERING AND GIVE IT TO THE

[lotsofmilfs]

Shades Of Cool Part 1

Pairing : Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Summary : You and Agatha were close in Salem, but things happen of course, and now you’re reunited due to the Witches Road

Word Count : 7kish

Authors Notes : I took creative liberties with the road !!! but i’m hoping you still like !

Warnings : Angst, Brief mention of suicide, longing, i think that’s it.

You were in Agatha’s trial on the witches road, you had on the same outfit as her, only it was a pink jersey, instead of the purple. Your hair was down instead of up in the hairstyle that Agatha was wearing, and your knee high socks were white with two purple stripes at the top. You don’t even know how you got here, but that was just how strong Billy was. Summoning you for a trial you had no idea you were taking place in.

You’d met Agatha during the Salem Era, both of you young, and close. You hated your own parents, and when Agatha told you about her mother, you planned to run away together. Things never worked out that way though, the closer you got with Agatha, you wanted to bond with her.

Bonding was something ancient, bringing together two witches. It would open their souls, their minds, and their hearts to one another. Agatha was petrified of being that open with someone, the vulnerability was just too much, and even though it hurt, she left you the next day after you poured your heart out, asking for her to break the barrier and become one.

Now it’s been centuries, and you freeze as you stop messing with the game in front of you, hearing a collection of voices from your right.

“Who’s trial is this?” Jen asks as they all look around

“Agatha’s.” Rio smirks. That name. You’ve not heard that name in so long it brings a flush to your cheeks, and your face lifts up, your side profile now visible to the group.

Agatha freezes when she sees your face, she’d remember it anywhere, she had dreams about it. She doesn’t say anything, she couldn’t. How were you even here? She… Thought maybe you’d died years ago. You never approached anyone about the road, and so she assumed.. She looks at you different then when she seen Rio again, there’s no anger or malice in her gaze. Just a deep set of longing. Her feet carry her involuntarily towards you and she breathes out.

“Darling.”

Your head snaps toward the voice, sharp and familiar, dripping with a need that makes your stomach twist in ways you wish it wouldn’t. “Agatha,” you say, her name cutting through the charged silence like a blade. It comes out too soft for your liking, so you harden your voice. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Her lips twitch, almost a smile, but not quite. There’s something in her eyes that makes it clear you’re not the only one thrown off balance. “The feeling’s mutual, darling,” she says, her tone breezy, almost mocking, but there’s a crack in the façade. She’s staring at you like she’s seen a ghost.

Maybe she has.

You’ve got centuries of practice keeping your emotions in check, but something about the way she’s looking at you, the way her breath catches for just a moment, has your carefully maintained armour slipping. You clench your fists to stop them from shaking.

“What have you done now Agatha? Have you stolen someone’s broomstick?”

Her smirk comes back, sharp and self-assured, like she’s trying to regain the upper hand. “If only it were that simple,” she says lightly, but there’s a tension in her jaw. “Let’s just say I’ve been accused of... dabbling.”

“Dabbling?” you echo, incredulous. “That’s likely one way to put it.”

“Careful,” she says, her voice dropping into something silkier, more dangerous. “You might hurt my feelings.”

Your laugh comes out more bitter than you intend. “Oh, I’m sure they’re well-protected under all that... dabbling.”

The others in the group exchange uneasy glances. Rio, ever the instigator, pipes up again, clearly loving the drama. “So... you two know each other?”

Neither of you answers, too locked in a silent, electric standoff. It’s Agatha who finally breaks the moment, turning to address the group, her voice dripping with the kind of theatrical charm only she can pull off. “Let’s just say we have history.” Her eyes flick back to you, and her tone turns pointed. “Though some of us are better at leaving the past where it belongs.”

Your lips part, sharp words ready to fire back, but you stop yourself. This isn’t the time, and you won’t let her get the better of you. Not again.

Instead, you tilt your head, levelling her with a look. “So, this trial. What’s the serious charge? Not just the accusations.”

Agatha hesitates, just for a moment. “They think I stole something.” Her tone is measured, but there’s a flicker of guilt—or defiance, maybe—in her eyes. “Power. Something I didn’t earn.”

You cross your arms. “And did you?”

Her jaw tightens, and for a second, she looks like she might actually tell you the truth. Then she shrugs, her smirk slipping back into place. “Does it matter?”

“It does if you want to walk out of here alive.”

The air between you is thick with unspoken history, the weight of centuries hanging over every word. Agatha steps closer, lowering her voice so only you can hear. “You’ve always been good at seeing through me, haven’t you?”

You swallow hard, hating the way her words make your chest tighten. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you say, stepping back just enough to reestablish your ground. “I just know your type.”

She chuckles, soft and low. “Oh, sweetheart. You’ve always known me. That’s what made you dangerous.”

Her words hit a nerve, and you hate that she knows it. She’s always been good at that—finding your cracks and slipping through them like smoke. But this time, you won’t let her.

Before you can respond, Rio claps their hands, breaking the tension. “This is all very riveting, but shouldn’t we, I don’t know, do something? Trials, consequences, accusations—ringing any bells?”

Agatha’s gaze snaps to Rio, her smile vanishing in an instant. “Stay out of it,” she says sharply, her voice like ice.

But as much as you want to stay angry, to keep your walls firmly in place, there’s something in her eyes when she looks back at you—a flicker of vulnerability, of something real—that shakes you.

“Why am I here, Agatha?” you ask quietly.

She hesitates, her confidence faltering for just a moment. “I didn’t bring you here,” she says. “But... maybe the road thought I needed a reminder.”

“A reminder of what?”

Her gaze softens, and for a second, it’s like you’re back in Salem, two young witches on the brink of something extraordinary. She opens her mouth, but the words don’t come.

Instead, she steps back, her expression hardening again. “You’ll see soon enough,” she says, her tone deliberately flippant. “Just try not to get in my way, darling.”

You narrow your eyes, but there’s no time to respond.

The ground beneath your feet rumbles—a low, ominous vibration that sends chills up your spine. The witches’ road is alive, its energies twisting and pulling, urging the trial forward. Around you, the air grows thick with power, sharp and unrelenting, and the others in the group exchange uneasy glances.

Agatha stands still, her gaze fixed on you, as though the trial itself is secondary to the unfinished business crackling between you. But her expression hardens when the light around you shifts—a brilliant blue glow forming a circle in the center of the road.

"Right on cue," Agatha mutters under her breath. She turns to the group, her sharp tone carrying authority, even here. "Stay behind me. All of you."

"Why would we do that?" Rio asks with a smirk, stepping closer to the circle. "You’re the one on trial, remember?"

Before Agatha can snap back, the blue glow bursts upward, spiralling into a towering column of light. From its core, shapes begin to emerge—silhouettes, shifting and indistinct at first, but then solidifying into forms you recognise all too well. Witches, cloaked and severe, their eyes glowing with unnatural light. The Coven.

“Agatha Harkness,” one of them speaks, their voice cold and resonant. “You stand accused of theft, treachery, and the violation of sacred laws.”

Agatha lifts her chin, the picture of defiance, but you catch the way her fingers twitch at her sides, the slight clenching of her jaw. “Well, don’t hold back,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Tell me how you really feel.”

The Coven doesn’t react, their collective gaze shifting past her—to you. The intensity of their focus sends a shiver through you, but you don’t flinch. You know better than to show weakness here.

“Who dares to stand beside the accused?” another witch asks, their glowing eyes narrowing.

“She doesn’t belong here,” Agatha says quickly, stepping in front of you. “This trial has nothing to do with her.”

“Is that so?” The lead witch tilts her head, studying you with unnerving precision. “And yet, the road brought her here. Why?”

You meet the witch’s gaze, refusing to let the weight of her scrutiny drag you down. “I’d like to know that myself,” you say coolly. “But whatever this is, I’m not here to play spectator.”

Agatha casts you a sharp look, her eyes flashing with something between irritation and concern. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she hisses.

“Then enlighten me,” you snap back, your patience wearing thin. “Or is keeping secrets still your favourite game?”

“Enough,” the lead witch commands, her voice cutting through the tension. The others fall silent, their glowing eyes shifting back to Agatha. “The accused will answer for her actions.”

“Gladly,” Agatha says, folding her arms. “But let’s be clear—I didn’t steal anything. I earned that power.”

The lead witch’s gaze sharpens. “You twisted ancient magic for your own gain, defied the natural order, and corrupted forces beyond your comprehension. Not to mention murdered hundreds. You are a danger to all witches.”

“Funny,” Agatha retorts, her voice venomous. “I seem to recall you trying to kill me for simply being too powerful. Guess some things never change.”

The Coven bristles, their forms glowing brighter, but before they can respond, the road itself shifts again. The ground beneath you ripples, and for a moment, you’re weightless—floating in the charged air. When you land, the circle of light has expanded, now encompassing you, Agatha, and the Coven.

You glare at her, your frustration boiling over. “What exactly did you do, Agatha?”

Her eyes flicker to you, something almost apologetic flashing across her face before she buries it under her usual mask. “It’s complicated.”

“It always is with you,” you bite back.

Agatha opens her mouth to respond, but the lead witch cuts her off. “The accused is bound to the truth. Let us see if her lies can survive the light.”

At her words, the blue glow intensifies, and the trial begins in earnest. The road reacts violently, pulling memories and illusions from the air—scenes of Agatha’s past swirling like a storm around you. Her betrayal of the Salem Coven. Her hunger for forbidden power. Her darkest moments laid bare.

But then the images shift—scenes you recognise. A younger Agatha, laughing beside you in the moonlight. The two of you whispering secrets, planning your escape. The night she left you, her face a mask of regret as she vanished into the darkness.

Your breath catches, and Agatha’s head snaps toward you, her expression unreadable.

The Coven doesn’t miss the exchange. “Ah,” the lead witch says, a cruel smile curling her lips. “Perhaps the accused’s greatest crime is not against magic, but against the heart.”

Agatha’s face hardens, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes as she turns to you. “Don’t let them twist this,” she says, her voice low and urgent. “You know me better than anyone.”

You take a step closer, your anger warring with the pull of old, buried feelings. “Do I? Because the Agatha I knew wouldn’t have dragged me into her mess.”

“I didn’t!” she snaps, the crack in her composure widening. “But if I had... maybe I should’ve. Maybe you’re the only one who can—” She cuts herself off, looking away.

The Coven watches, their glowing eyes unrelenting. “Speak your truth, Agatha Harkness,” the lead witch commands. “If you can.”

You don’t know what’s worse—the thought that she’s hiding something from you, or the thought that she’s telling the truth and you’re still tied to her, even now. Either way, you’re not letting this end without answers.

“Start talking,” you say, your voice sharp but steady. “Because if you want me to trust you, Agatha, you’d better earn it.”

Agatha remains silent, though her eyes are pleading. The road trembles beneath you, the Coven's chanting growing louder, more insistent. The blue light twists and contorts, creating shadows that dance around you and Agatha. You’re too close to her now, her presence almost overwhelming in its familiarity. After all this time, she’s still the same—still sharp, guarded, impossible. And yet, beneath it all, she’s still her

You steal a glance at her, and for a moment, you see a crack in her defenses. The weight of the trial, the memories, the raw, unspoken tension between you—it’s all there, etched across her face. But she’s too proud to acknowledge it, even now.

“You’re scared,” you say, your voice low enough that only she can hear.

Agatha’s gaze snaps to yours, her eyes narrowing. “Of them?” she asks, gesturing toward the Coven with a sardonic smirk. “Please.”

You hold her gaze, refusing to let her deflect. “Not of them. Of me. Of us.”

Her smirk falters, just for a moment, and you know you’ve hit a nerve. She takes a step back, but you follow, unwilling to let her retreat this time.

“I’m not scared,” she says, but her voice lacks its usual bite.

“Liar,” you counter, your tone soft but unrelenting. “You’ve always been terrified of letting anyone in. Of letting me in.”

Agatha opens her mouth to respond, but the Coven’s chanting suddenly shifts, the words growing sharper, more pointed. The blue light swirls between the two of you, pulling at the air, at your magic, at your connection . The Coven has sensed it—the bond that could’ve been, the bond you once wanted more than anything.

“You thought about it,” you say, stepping closer. “All those years ago. You wanted it, too.”

“Stop,” she snaps, her voice cracking slightly, her control slipping.

“You left because you couldn’t handle it,” you press on. “Because you were too afraid to open yourself up. To share everything—your power, your heart, your soul.”

“I said stop,” she hisses, but she doesn’t move away.

The blue light flares between you, the energy shifting, bending, until it forms a thread, a thin, shimmering line connecting the two of you. The sight of it makes your breath catch in your throat. It’s the bond, raw and unfinished, still lingering after all this time.

Agatha stares at it, her face pale, her usual confidence nowhere to be found. “It’s not real,” she says, her voice almost desperate. “It’s just the trial, just a trick.”

“You don’t believe that,” you say quietly.

The thread pulses, glowing brighter, and you can feel it now- the pull of her soul, of her essence, intertwining with your own. It’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once, and you can see the same war playing out in Agatha’s eyes.

The Coven speaks again, their voices cold and cutting. “The bond remains unfinished. A betrayal of magic, a betrayal of trust. It is a wound that festers, unresolved.”

Agatha clenches her fists, her gaze snapping to the lead witch. “This has nothing to do with them,” she says, her voice shaking with anger. “You’re trying to twist this into something it’s not.”

The lead witch tilts her head, her glowing eyes boring into Agatha. “The trial reveals truth. Nothing more, nothing less.” Her gaze shifts to you, and her next words are deliberate, cruel. “Perhaps the accused should explain why she ran. Why she rejected the bond when it was freely offered.”

Agatha flinches, and you feel the thread between you tremble. For a moment, you think she’s going to lash out, to fight, but instead, she turns to you, her expression raw and unguarded in a way you’ve never seen before.

“I didn’t run because I didn’t want it,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I ran because I wanted it too much.”

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

“I knew what bonding meant,” she continues, her eyes locking onto yours. “It would’ve made us... tied in ways I couldn’t undo. And I couldn’t let myself—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “I thought I was protecting you. Protecting-“ she cuts herself off and then, “But maybe... maybe I was just protecting myself.”

The thread glows brighter, the magic between you surging, and you can feel it now—her fear, her regret, her longing. It’s all there, laid bare, and for the first time, you see her for who she truly is.

“You didn’t need to protect me,” you say, your voice steady. “I was ready, Agatha. I’ve always been ready. But you never gave us a chance.”

Her lips part, but before she can respond, the Coven’s chanting rises to a fever pitch. The thread between you stretches and trembles, the energy reaching a breaking point.

“You must choose,” the lead witch says, her voice cutting through the chaos. “Complete the bond, or sever it forever. There is no more middle ground.”

Agatha’s eyes widen, panic flashing across her face. She looks at you, her composure crumbling, and for the first time, she seems truly vulnerable.

“Don’t let them force this,” she says, her voice trembling. “Not like this.”

The glow of the thread between you pulses, trembling like a fragile lifeline. The Coven’s chanting grows louder, demanding resolution, pushing you both to a precipice. Agatha’s eyes dart between the shimmering connection and your face. You can see the fear in her eyes, the weight of her indecision pressing down like a storm.

“Choose, Agatha Harkness,” the lead witch demands. “Complete the bond, or sever it forever.”

Agatha’s hand hovers over yours, trembling. The vulnerability on her face is something you’ve never seen before, and it twists something deep inside you. For a moment, you think she might do it—reach out and let the bond fully take hold. But then her jaw sets, her gaze hardening.

“No,” she says sharply, yanking her hand back. The thread snaps violently, the energy spiralling outward like a scream. The sudden emptiness is immediate and gut-wrenching, leaving you gasping as if something vital has been ripped away.

Agatha steps back, her face pale, her hands clenched into fists. “I can’t,” she whispers, her voice brittle. “I won’t.”

The lead witch smiles coldly. “So be it.”

The thread between you vanishes, and the road trembles again, this time more violently. The energy shifts, the air growing heavy with the finality of her decision. You feel the hollow space where the bond once was, an ache that settles deep in your chest. It’s unbearable, and when you meet Agatha’s eyes, you see that she feels it too.

Her face twists with something you’ve rarely seen from her: regret.

“Wait,” she breathes, but the Coven’s chanting drowns her out. The blue light around you sharpens, cutting like a blade, and you can feel the road enforcing her choice, solidifying the severance.

“Agatha,” you say, your voice raw, stepping toward her. “Don’t do this. Don’t—”

“I already have,” she interrupts, her voice breaking as she turns away from you. “It’s done.”

But even as she says it, her steps falter. Her hand rises to her chest, where the bond once pulsed with life. Her expression crumples, the emptiness hitting her like a physical blow. She gasps, clutching at the air as if she could pull it back, undo the severance.

The lead witch tilts her head, her voice cutting like a knife. “Feeling the emptiness already, Agatha Harkness? Such is the price of fear.”

Agatha spins back to face them, her mask of confidence shattering completely. “Bring it back,” she says, her voice hoarse. “I’ll do it. I’ll—”

“Impossible,” the lead witch says coolly. “You made your choice.”

“No!” Agatha snaps, desperation lacing her words. She looks at you, her eyes wide and pleading. “I—I didn’t mean it. I can fix it. Just—” She turns back to the Coven. “Just let me fix it.”

The lead witch’s gaze is unforgiving. “The road answers only once. To sever a bond is to sever it forever. That is the law.”

Agatha shakes her head violently. “No. That’s not—no!” Her voice cracks, and for a moment, she looks like she might collapse under the weight of her mistake.

You step forward, your own pain mingling with hers. “There has to be a way,” you say, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “You can’t leave it like this.”

The Coven is silent for a long moment, their glowing eyes unreadable. Finally, the lead witch speaks. “There is one way, but it requires both souls to agree. And the cost will not be light.”

Agatha’s gaze snaps to you, her eyes searching yours. For the first time, there’s no deflection, no bravado just raw, unfiltered need. “Please,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”

You take a breath, the pain of the severed bond still fresh and raw. You should walk away. You should let her feel the consequences of her choice. But you can’t. You’ve never been able to. And now hearing her beg? You fear you’d do anything she asked.

“Fine,” you say, stepping forward. “What do we have to do?”

The lead witch smiles faintly, as if this is what she wanted all along. “Rekindling a severed bond requires sacrifice. Magic, power... a piece of the soul itself. Are you willing?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Agatha looks at you, her eyes filled with both gratitude and guilt. “You shouldn’t have to do this,” she says softly. “Not after what I—”

“Then don’t make me regret it,” you interrupt, your voice firm.

She swallows hard, nodding. “I won’t.”

The Coven begins chanting again, the air growing thick with magic. The blue light spirals around you and Agatha, pulling you closer together. This time, the bond doesn’t form gently—it crashes into you, fierce and unrelenting, flooding every part of you with her essence. You feel her fear, her regret, her longing—all of it laid bare. And she feels you, your unwavering determination, your pain, your love.

The connection is deeper than it was before, forged not just from desire but from sacrifice. When the light fades, you’re left standing face to face, your souls intertwined in a way that can never be undone.

Agatha exhales shakily, as if the bond settling between you is more weight than she expected. Her gaze flickers over your face, searching for something—maybe forgiveness, maybe reassurance. You give her neither, not yet. She’s made too many mistakes for things to be that simple. But you can’t deny the way the bond thrums, anchoring you to her in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

The road quakes beneath you again, the energy of the trial still humming in the air. The Coven watches silently, their glowing eyes unreadable, as if they’re waiting for the next move.

Agatha takes a tentative step closer, her voice low. “How does it feel?” she asks, her words almost hesitant. “Having me in your head again.”

You let the question hang for a moment, savouring the way it makes her squirm. “Heavy,” you finally say, your tone sharper than you intended. “But that’s no surprise, is it? You’ve always been a lot to handle.”

Her lips quirk into a faint smirk, the familiar spark of defiance flaring in her eyes. “And yet, here you are. Handling me.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t move away. The bond hums in agreement, pulling you closer even as you try to keep your distance. “Don’t push your luck, Agatha,” you warn. “This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.”

Her smirk fades, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable. “I know,” she says softly. “But it’s a start.”

Before you can respond, the lead witch steps forward, her presence as cold and imposing as ever. “The bond is reforged,” she announces, her voice echoing through the space. “But it does not absolve you, Agatha Harkness. This trial is far from over.”

Agatha straightens, her bravado snapping back into place like armour. “Of course it isn’t,” she says, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Wouldn’t want to make things too easy.”

The lead witch doesn’t react to the quip, her gaze sharp and unyielding. “The bond may strengthen you, but it also binds you. Your fates are now intertwined. Should one of you fall, the other will follow.”

You glance at Agatha, and for the first time, you see genuine fear flicker across her face. “What does that mean?” you ask, your voice steady but firm.

“It means,” the lead witch says, “that the bond is both your greatest power and your greatest vulnerability. Use it wisely—or perish together.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and you feel the weight of them settle into your chest. Agatha glances at you, and you can tell she’s thinking the same thing: what have we just done?

“Fine,” Agatha says finally, her voice tight. “What’s next? Another test? Another round of judgment?”

The lead witch’s lips curl into a faint smile, but there’s no warmth in it. “You think this is a game, Harkness. But the road has already given you its answer. The only question now is whether you’re strong enough to face what comes next.”

The ground beneath you shifts again, and you feel the magic of the road pulling you deeper into its grip. Agatha reaches for you instinctively, her hand brushing against yours. The bond flares at the contact, filling you with a rush of her emotions.

Fear. Regret. Determination. And something else, buried deep, that feels almost like hope.

One again the road surges to life around you, swallowing the quiet moment between you and Agatha. The blue glow deepens, swirling with flecks of violet and gold, and the air feels like it’s being pulled apart. You grip her hand tighter, instinctively bracing yourself, and she doesn’t pull away.

The lead witch raises a hand, silencing the murmuring Coven. Her gaze fixes on the two of you like a blade about to strike. “The reforged bond is only the beginning. What lies ahead will test the strength of your connection—and the truth of your intentions.”

Agatha scoffs, though the sound is weaker than usual. “Another vague warning? How original.”

The lead witch’s smile is razor-thin. “The road reveals what is hidden. It will force you to confront the past you thought buried—and the consequences of choices you’ve both made.”

You glance at Agatha, whose jaw tightens. She’s always been so good at hiding what she’s feeling, but the bond makes that impossible for her now, you wonder if she knew that.

Before you can press her, the ground beneath you crumbles. The Coven’s chanting rises into a deafening crescendo as the two of you are plunged into a swirling abyss of light and shadow. Xx

When the world solidifies again, you’re standing in a dimly lit forest. The air is heavy with the scent of earth and moss, and the moon hangs low in the sky, casting everything in an eerie silver light. The road is gone, as is the Coven. It’s just you and Agatha now.

You turn to her, your heart still racing. “Where are we?”

Agatha looks around, her expression unreadable. “This… this is Salem,” she says quietly. “But not the Salem we knew. It’s different.”

The forest feels alive, the trees whispering secrets you can’t quite make out. The bond hums in your chest, tugging at something deeper, and you know without needing to ask: this place isn’t real. It’s a manifestation. A memory.

“Why would the road bring us here?” you ask, though the answer is already forming in the back of your mind.

Agatha’s lips press into a thin line. “Because it’s cruel,” she mutters. “And it knows where to hurt.”

A sound echoes through the forest—laughter, high and clear, cutting through the silence like a blade. Your stomach twists as you recognise it.

It’s her.

Your younger self steps into the clearing, a vision pulled straight from your memories. She’s vibrant, her eyes bright with hope, her laughter filling the air. And beside her, laughing just as freely, is Agatha.

The sight punches the air from your lungs. You can feel the echoes of that time through the bond—the joy, the connection, the longing that neither of you dared to name.

Agatha stares at the scene, her face pale. “Why are they showing us this?” she whispers.

“You know why,” you say, your voice low. “Because this is where it all started.”

The memory shifts, darkening at the edges. The laughter fades, replaced by tense whispers. The younger version of you steps closer to Agatha, her expression vulnerable, open.

“I don’t want to run,” your younger self says, her voice trembling. “I want to stay. I want to bond with you, Agatha. I—”

“Stop,” the real Agatha mutters, her voice tight.

But the memory plays on. Younger Agatha’s face twists, fear flashing in her eyes. She steps back, shaking her head. “No,” she says, her voice sharp and final. “We can’t. I won’t.”

“Why?” your younger self pleads.

“Because you deserve better than me!” Memory Agatha snaps, her voice cracking, before you hear her internal voice, one that’s truly broken and screaming out in fear “Because I’ll ruin you. Don’t you see that? I ruin everything I touch.”

The words hit like a physical blow, and you see the real Agatha flinch beside you. The memory fades, leaving the clearing silent once more.

You turn to her, your chest tight with emotion. “That’s why you left?” you ask, your voice raw. “Because you thought you’d ruin me?”

Agatha doesn’t meet your eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she says quietly. “I did ruin you, didn’t I? I left, and you—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, your voice sharper than you intended. “Don’t turn this into a pity party, Agatha. You don’t get to decide what I deserved. That was my choice to make.”

Her head snaps up, her eyes flashing with something between anger and pain. “And look where your choice got us,” she spits. “Centuries apart, and now we’re tied together because of this damned road. Is that what you wanted? To be stuck with me forever?”

The bond flares at her words, the tension between you sparking like a live wire. You take a step closer, your voice steady but furious. “What I wanted,” you say, “was for you to trust me. To trust that we could’ve been something more. But you ran because you were too scared to face that.”

Agatha glares at you, but her shoulders sag, the fight draining out of her. “You think I don’t regret it?” she says, her voice breaking. “I’ve regretted it every single day. But I thought... I thought it was better this way. Safer. For both of us.”

“Safer?” you echo bitterly. “Do I look like someone who needed to be saved from you?”

The air between you crackles with magic, the bond pulling tighter as your emotions clash and collide. You can feel her guilt, her longing, her fear—and beneath it all, her love. It’s raw and messy and imperfect, but it’s there, undeniable.

You’re about to say something before the forest grows darker, shadows stretching long and deep as the memory shifts again. You brace yourself, but nothing could prepare you for what the road dredges up next.

The scene crystallises around you: a small, dimly lit room with a single cracked mirror leaning against the wall. The air feels stifling, heavy with pain and desperation. It’s familiar—achingly so. This is where you went the night after Agatha left.

Agatha stands frozen beside you, her breath catching as she takes in the sight of you from centuries ago. Your younger self sits hunched on the floor, trembling, clutching a flickering ball of magic in your hands. The light glows faintly pink, pulsing in time with your heartbeat, but it’s unstable, wavering with every shaky breath you take.

“No,” Agatha whispers, stepping toward the memory as if she can change it. “No, no, no—what are you doing?”

But the memory unfolds without mercy.

Your younger self mutters under her breath, an incantation so jagged and broken it sounds like a dirge. The magic in your hands sparks violently, surging outward before collapsing back in on itself.

“Take it away,” your memory-self says, her voice cracking. “Take it all away. I don’t want it anymore.”

You remember the feeling all too well—the suffocating pain, the emptiness that threatened to swallow you whole. The bond you’d started to forge with Agatha had been severed, but not cleanly. It had left jagged edges, a wound that pulsed with every beat of your heart. You’d thought if you could rid yourself of your magic, you’d be free of her—free of the ache she left behind.

“Stop,” Agatha says aloud, her voice trembling. She reaches for the image of you, but her hand passes through it like smoke. She turns to you, her eyes wide and desperate. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you—”

“Because you weren’t there,”, the hurt in your voice cutting through the air like a blade. “You left, Agatha. I was alone.”

The younger you falters, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t do this,” she sobs, gripping the magic tighter. “I can’t feel her anymore. I can’t—”

The incantation grows louder, your magic swirling around you like a storm. It’s unstable, laced with anger and grief, threatening to implode. And for a moment, it feels like it will work—like you’ll succeed in ripping away the part of you that still clings to her.

But the spell breaks, shattering like glass, and the magic snaps back into you with a force that knocks your younger self to the ground. You cry out, curling into yourself as the bond—though faint and fractured—reasserts itself. It’s agony, the connection too stubborn to let go completely, no matter how much you tried to destroy it.

The memory fades, leaving the clearing eerily silent. Agatha stands rooted in place, her face pale and stricken. You can feel the weight of her guilt through the bond, heavier than ever, pressing into you like a physical thing.

“You tried to... take your magic away?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because of me?”

“Yes,” you say, your tone flat. “And I failed. Just like I failed to let you go.”

Her lips part, but no words come out. She looks at you like she’s seeing you for the first time, the full scope of what she did to you finally crashing down on her. “I didn’t know,” she says weakly. “I didn’t—”

“Of course you didn’t,” you cut her off. “You ran, Agatha. You made your choice, and you didn’t look back.”

Her shoulders slump, her walls crumbling entirely. “I thought I was protecting you,” she says, her voice trembling. “I thought... if I stayed, I’d only hurt you more.”

“Well, congratulations,” you say bitterly. “You hurt me anyway.”

The bond flares between you, sharp and raw with the weight of her regret and your lingering anger. Agatha flinches, her hand rising to her chest as if she can feel the ache directly.

“I was a coward,” she admits, her voice breaking. “I was so afraid of what the bond meant—what it would do to me. To us. I thought if I left, it would be easier for both of us.” She meets your eyes, and for once, there’s no deflection, no sarcasm. Just honesty. “I didn’t know it would be worse.”

You take a shaky breath, the pain of the memory still fresh. “I didn’t want it to hurt anymore,” you say quietly. “But it never stopped. Not for centuries.”

Agatha steps closer, her hand hovering near yours. “I don’t know how to make it right,” she says, her voice soft and unsteady. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll try. I’ll spend the rest of eternity trying.”

You study her face, the vulnerability in her expression. The bond hums between you, not as sharp as before, but still raw and unsteady. You don’t trust her—not completely. But for the first time in centuries, you feel something else beneath the anger: the faintest flicker of hope.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say, your voice softer than before.

Agatha’s lips quirk into a faint, rueful smile. “I won’t,” she says. “Not this time.”

You take a deep breath, and you nod as you both start to walk, looking away from her, your eyes taking in the trees around you both, the silence that is only broken by crickets and your feet on fallen leaves every now and again.

The mist clings to you both like a second skin as the silence stretches, weighted and tense. The bond hums faintly between you, but there’s a strange hollowness to it, a missing note that makes your chest ache. It takes you a while to place it, but the realisation creeps up on you slowly, like a shadow in the corner of your mind.

You glance at Agatha. She’s walking beside you, her shoulders squared in that way that screams she’s unbreakable a lie she’s always told herself. But there’s something missing. Something that isn’t just her sharp-edged confidence.

You stop walking. “Agatha,” you say, your voice cautious but firm. “Your magic.”

She freezes, her back going rigid. Slowly, she turns to face you, her expression carefully neutral, but the bond betrays her. You feel her shame and frustration ripple through it, sharp and unsteady.

“What about it?” she asks, her voice brittle.

“It’s not there,” you say, your tone softer now. “Not the way it used to be. What happened to it?”

She looks away, her jaw clenching. “It’s not important.”

“It is to me,” you counter, stepping closer. “You’ve been hiding this from me, Agatha. Why? What happened?”

Her silence stretches too long, and for a moment, you think she won’t answer. Then, finally, she exhales sharply, her eyes dark with something raw and vulnerable.

“Wanda happened,” she says bitterly. “Westview, she stripped me of everything. My magic, my power—she left me with nothing but a body and a few clever words.”

Your heart stutters. “She took everything?”

“Yes,” Agatha snaps, her voice laced with frustration. “I can’t even light a damn candle without the bond. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be this?” She gestures at herself angrily. “This hollow shell of what I used to be?”

Her words hang between you, her anger bleeding into the bond. But underneath it, you feel the deeper truth: the helplessness, the fear, the grief of losing something so integral to who she is.

“Agatha,” you start, but she cuts you off, her voice sharp and bitter.

“Don’t,” she says. “Don’t give me some speech about how I’m more than my magic or how I’ll be fine. You don’t understand what it’s like—how empty it feels.”

Your chest tightens, the weight of her pain pressing against you through the bond. And suddenly, you do understand. The absence of her magic isn’t just a loss of power—it’s a loss of self, a wound that’s been festering since Westview.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” you say quietly. “But you’re right. I don’t understand what it’s like to lose magic. I don’t understand how it feels for you. But I can feel it, Agatha. Through the bond. And it hurts.”

Her eyes snap to yours, her expression faltering.

“I feel the emptiness, the hollowness,” you continue. “And I don’t want to feel it anymore. I don’t want you to feel it anymore.”

Her laugh is short and bitter. “Well, unless you’re planning on storming Westview I don’t see what you can do about it.”

You hesitate, the reckless idea forming in your mind. The bond between you hums faintly, and you realise there might be a way to fix this—or at least try.

“I can’t get Wanda to undo it,” you say slowly. “But I can give you something else. My magic.”

Agatha freezes, her expression unreadable. “What?”

“You heard me,” you say. “I can share my magic with you. Just enough to—”

“No,” she says sharply, taking a step back. “Absolutely not. That’s reckless and stupid, even for you.”

“You need magic to be whole again, Agatha,” you argue. “And we have the bond. It’s not just a connection—it’s a tether. If anyone can do this, it’s us.”

“You don’t know that,” she snaps, her voice trembling. “You could hurt yourself. Or me. Or worse, you could sever the bond completely. Have you thought about that?”

“I have,” you say, your voice steady. “And after realising what you’re feeling through our bond I’m willing to take that risk.”

Her anger falters, replaced by something softer—something closer to fear. “Why?” she asks, her voice quieter now. “Why would you do that for me?”

You step closer, your gaze locking with hers. “Because I feel you, Agatha. I’ve felt you for centuries, even when I didn’t want to. And I can’t stand feeling you like this anymore. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and for a moment, she looks like she might argue again. But then she nods, her hands trembling at her sides.

“Fine,” she whispers. “But if this goes wrong we’re both dead…”

“It won’t,” you say firmly. “Trust me.”

You reach for her hand, your fingers brushing hers lightly. The bond flares at the contact, and Agatha inhales sharply, her magic—or what’s left of it—stirring faintly in response.

You close your eyes, focusing on the bond and the magic coursing through you. You channel it carefully, letting it flow toward her like a steady stream. It’s not painless—the act feels like giving away pieces of yourself, leaving raw edges behind. But through the bond, you feel her presence grow stronger, her magic flickering to life like an ember reignited.

Agatha gasps softly, her grip on your hand tightening as the magic flows between you. When you finally stop, your knees feel weak, and the bond hums with a new warmth—a sense of balance that wasn’t there before.

You open your eyes to find her staring at you, her expression unreadable.

“How do you feel?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

She hesitates, then says, “Stronger.”

A faint smile tugs at her lips, and before you can react, she steps closer, her cheek brushing against yours. The touch is soft, fleeting, but it sends a warmth through the bond that makes your breath catch. Her hand cups the back of your head and her other hand holds your lower back.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

You wrap your arms around her, exhaustion tugging at you. “Don’t make me regret it.”

She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, her gaze steady. “I won’t.”

[nosyp]

Crowned by Desire

Chapter 1

A/N = This was inspired by @kupidachillea, pls check out her work too🙏

Warning = dark, yandere, toxic stuff, read at ur own risk PLEASE

Pairings = Greek Gods x reader

Summary = Thrown into the realm of gods, you become the center of their dangerous intrigue. Some see you as a temptation, others as a threat... but what will you become in their immortal world?

Word count = 1.2k words

Story down below 👇 (READ AT UR OWN RISK PLEASEEEE)

You were beautiful. Your life was pretty much amazing. You had food, shelter and clothes, you pretty much had everything you needed. Oh how you wished you could go back…

It all changed when you found yourself trapped in the realm of the gods.

At first, you thought it was a dream. One minute, you were walking down the street, the sun shining on your face, a soft breeze ruffling your hair. The next, a wave of blinding light enveloped you, pulling you into a world far beyond your understanding. This place wasn’t like Earth. It was something ancient, untouchable, dark.

You took a step forward. And another, and another. One foot after the other, you gradually got closer. You could hear a cacophony of voices behind the door. And finally… using all your might, you pushed the door open… only to reveal a whole new area. 

And it was… the gods.

At first, you couldn't believe your eyes. The moment you stepped through the threshold, you were met with a huge palace, glowing with an ethereal light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Columns of gold and marble stretched high into the heavens, and the air buzzed with an unnatural energy. It was one that made you feel small, insignificant. 

The gods were real. They weren’t just stories and myths from a book. They were here, in front of you, with… their eyes trained on you like a hungry pack of wolves waiting for their prey.

Apollo, the ever-so-radiant god of the sun, was the first to approach. His golden hair shimmered with every move of his very being, and his eyes, those eyes… saw right through you, as if he could read every thought and desire in your mind. He smiled at you, slow and deliberate, his gaze never leaving yours. "Ah, a new guest," he murmured, voice smooth like honey, but with an edge of something darker beneath. "How... quaint. Who might you be?"

You opened your mouth to say something, to demand an explanation, but the words died in your throat. Then the moment you tried to open your mouth, Zeus just had to make his presence known with a thunderous clap. The room seemed to shake as he stepped forward, his large, commanding figure overshadowing everyone around him. His gaze was both terrifying and enthralling as he took you in with an almost imperceptible smirk.

"You don't belong here," he rumbled, his voice a mixture of power and amusement. "You should go, while we still let you."

Before you could even respond, another God appeared from behind you. Hades. His eyes were like two burning embers, glowing with a strange intensity. He observed you with the same cool detachment he reserved for souls, but something in his gaze made your breath hitch.

“Wait! I think we should… keep them,” he says, with a peculiar tone.

What the? Why would they want to keep you? You were practically nothing compared to them.

Eros, the god of love, smirked as he walked past, brushing a finger along your cheek. A shiver ran down your spine. "Don’t you see? She’s special," he said with a chuckle, his voice smooth but edged with cruelty. "In a world of gods, she’s a rarity. The temptation, the ultimate prize." His lips twisted into something wicked, a stark contrast to the sweetness his domain implied.

The temptation? Your heart pounded as you silently questioned his words. What did he mean?

Before you could dwell on it, a sharp voice echoed through the grand hall, shaking you to your core.

“WHO IS THAT?”

All heads turned toward the staircase. Hera stood at the top, her figure illuminated by the divine glow of the palace. Her presence was intense, her piercing gaze like a blade.

Her finger pointed directly at you, her voice dripping with venom. "Who dares bring that... thing here?"

The room tensed. You swallowed hard, heat rising to your face as Hera's fury bore down on you.

“Woah, woah! Wait a second,” Hermes interjected, stepping forward with his usual carefree grin and a mock air of surrender. “Let’s not go burning the palace down just yet, Hera.”

His attempt at humor fell flat. Hera’s sharp gaze flicked to him, silencing whatever joke he was about to follow up with.

Your mouth acted before your brain could catch up. "Y-Yeah, Hera... maybe there’s been a misunderstanding?” You winced at how small your voice sounded, but what else could you do?

Her eyes snapped back to you, fiery and unrelenting. "Silence!"

The room was silent for a moment, the air crackling with unspoken energy. Hera’s piercing glare held steady, but it was clear the others were pondering what to do with you.

Zeus stepped forward, his imposing frame radiating authority. "Enough," he commanded, his thunderous voice cutting through the tension. "This mortal is here, whether by fate or folly. The question is… what shall we do with her?"

His words sparked a ripple of murmurs among the gods. Some exchanged curious glances, while others looked at you like a puzzle to be solved—or prey to be devoured.

"Send her back," Hera snapped, her tone sharp and unyielding. "She’s a nuisance at best, a danger at worst."

"Now, now," Dionysus chimed in with a sly grin, stepping closer to you. His gaze lingered in a way that made your skin crawl. "Why waste such… potential? What if we kept her?" He tilted his head, feigning innocence, though the glint in his eye betrayed darker intentions. "As a servant... or perhaps a plaything?"

Your heart dropped. Plaything? You took an instinctive step back, your hands trembling at your sides.

Hades, who had remained silent up until now, raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Interesting suggestion," he mused, his voice low and smooth. "But a mortal in our realm... as anything more than a servant? It’s unprecedented."

Apollo leaned casually against a nearby pillar, his golden aura shimmering faintly. "Unprecedented doesn’t mean impossible," he said, his voice laced with amusement. His gaze flickered to you, a smirk playing on his lips. "She could prove... entertaining."

"Entertaining?" Hera’s voice was practically a roar, her fury reigniting. "You would reduce our divine realm to a circus for a mortal?"

Hermes cut in, raising his hands in mock surrender once more. "Relax, Hera. We’re just brainstorming here. No one’s decided anything… yet."

"But I think we all agree on one thing," Zeus interjected, his booming voice silencing the growing bickering. His eyes locked onto you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "She’s not leaving. Not yet."

The room went still. Every gaze turned to you, their collective attention making your breath hitch.

"Let’s see," Zeus continued, his tone contemplative. "Perhaps she can prove her worth. If she’s to remain here, she’ll need to serve a purpose. A servant, a messenger... or something else entirely." His smile widened, but it wasn’t comforting. "Let’s see what fate has in store for our unexpected guest."

A/N = I'm probs js gonna short-short chapters for this series... PLS FEEDBACK IF U CAN

[numberonetacostan]

hi shrimpy here ! im begging you to ramble more about the mephone telling taco about their programming because i wanna know how people like pickle and mic and mepad (lets pretend he's here ok ? ok. im coping) wpuld react to the " taco was meant to win " + " she was meant to have redemption arc " thing :3

Hiya Shrimpy!!!!!^^ Welcome back, AND THANK YOU FOR ASKING FOR MORE RAMBLES ABOUT TACO BEING BUILT TO WIN AND FINDING OUT AND AAAAAAAAAAAA (((o(≧▽≦)o)))

Before I get to how Pickle, Mic, and Mepad react to the news, one aspect I didn't mention in my previous rambles!!! Upon finding out, Taco glitches out!!! In the same way that Knife and Suitcase did while they were with Cobs. She's so shaken, distraught, angry, despondent, that it affects the core of her being enough to start glitching her. She'd probably stay a tad glitchy for quite some time. It would get better as she does, but that would take a while, and I'd imagine she's always a tad glitchy when the subject gets brought up.

We're going to start with Mepad because I love him!! And because I have two options for him- one that's uh. in line with canon and one in which he's alive!!!! So, in line with canon, he unfortunately isn't really there to help Taco through this. He's dead :(. But!! I subscribe to the train of thought that Mepad's body is kept in the Gemory Cave, as it's a place where his body will stay safe and dry, as well as being where he woke up for the first time. It's full circle and makes me want to cry because I miss him. My own yearning aside, I think Taco would go to see him. She has reconnected with Mic by now, and was working on changing and building new relationships before she found out the news (I definitely think there's... not exactly a regression from her, she doesn't go back to being villainous, but her social progress is so very stalled and her emotions are all thrown out of whack and into a meat grinder again, yeah?), but Mepad is the one she's really managed to open herself up to, yeah? She feels safe doing that with him, talking honestly to him with her walls down <3!!! So she would go to him. Even if he can't answer her, give her advice, soothe her, he's still there physically. She would spend hours ranting at him, sobbing, shouting, getting the emotional relief that she's only ever been able to get with him.

Living Mepad on the other hand? Well, his immediate attention would be on Taco and trying to help her, especially once she starts crying and/or glitching. He'd probably be the one to snap her out of her spiraling here, getting her to slow her breathing at least somewhat, but he would also respect her wish to be alone when she expresses it. He would not let Mephone get close enough to try and stop her like he did in my previous ramble, so she could simply walk off to lock herself in her room. He would definitely go after her soon after, especially after she becomes rather... loud, in her agony, but first? Mephone. We all saw Mepad in episode 17 after Mephone reveals the truth of their origins to most of the cast. Mepad was angry!!!! And to think that Mephone, knowing he had made her to be the way she was and that her programming was more or less malfunctioning, still didn't want to recover her? Was fine to leave her to her suffering? Someone so personally close to Mepad? Who he has more insight into the suffering of? Mepad would be downright furious. He's got a pretty cool temper, from what we've seen, he wouldn't be shouting at Mephone exactly, but he would firmly and immediately be asked to leave. Mepad would prioritize Taco's well-being, of course, and be so very soft with her, but on the inside he is so pissed. The second chance Mepad had given Mephone has long since been ruined, but this? Mepad and Mephone are so so so so divorced. They were never married but they are so very divorced.

Mepad would be so important in helping Taco heal, though. He's already an incredible thera-pad anyways!!! And hey, she may not have gotten the redemption arc she was supposed to, but know they know it was supposed to happen, yeah? She is undoubtably capable of being better!! And he'll be with her ever step of the way <3.

IF HE WASN'T DEAD *dissolves into wet sobbing*

Well this is getting long lol. Onto Mic!!! Uh. She would also be pissed at Mephone but prioritize Taco!!!! When Taco runs out because she needs a moment alone? Yeah, Mic already displays a habit of saying some really hurtful things when she's upset, Mephone would get kicked out a lot harsher. And then Mic would protect Taco with her life actually. I can see Taco having a pretty nasty depressive episode after finding out, but Mic would so be there to take care of her, make sure she eats, get her fresh air even if that's Mic scooping Taco up and carrying her around outdoors for a while. Mic would feel so very bad for her. This is a bit of a tangent, but I honestly don't have as much to say about Mic beyond her glomping Taco with so so much love and support, because I truly think that's her most prominent reaction. She might lay awake a few nights, thinking about how things between them could have been different had Taco gotten the life she was supposed to, but they're back together now and Taco is changing and that's that. (Also, if she realizes that losing her was the reason Taco was finally able to break from her programming, her heart would fill with so much love for real. Taco really cares so much for her, even if she can't always express it the right way.) Anyways, I think everyone would feel pretty bad for Taco. Between her reaction, her having lost pretty much everything she was supposed to have for something that wasn't really her fault, the relatable struggle they all have with going against their programming? I can see most of if not the entire cast being a lot lighter on Taco after this. It's okay for them to be too, she'd be even more fearful and cautious of backsliding than she already is post-canon, which is a lot!!!!! So, yeah, lots of forehead kisses, hugs, and warm cups of hot chocolate for Taco from Mic <3.

On to Pickle!!!! ...hoo boy. Well, for obvious reasons he isn't part of the initial Taco Support Gang, but he would still have a lot of thoughts!!! Particularly on the part in which Mephone had planned him and Taco to actually reconcile and be friends again. Because forgiving someone isn't really something you can always choose to do, yeah? You can give them grace, yeah, but there can still be a lot of hurt inside that never really goes away in a way that would really let you forgive. Even if he was supposed to forgive her, he can't. And that's okay!!!! But, as I am adamant on and have stated in the past, he wouldn't like to see Taco suffer. He! Is! Not! That! Kind! Of! Guy!!!!! He'd feel pretty bad hearing her sobbing through the walls and seeing her in a depressive episode!!!!! It brings him no joy or satisfaction!!! I think he and Taco might have a little one on one talk, in which Pickle could repeat some of the advice that Knife made to him, yeah? Can't change what happened, but dwelling on it forever and never trying to move on will just leave you stuck in your misery. And then a gut-wrenching (at least for me with the incredibly vivid scene of this i have in my mind. i think im hyperphantasic but thats not what we're talking about rn) little "I'm sorry" "I know" discussion. Augh. They part on better terms than they were before, but there's still a hollow sense of loss to it. What could have been, what should have been, will not be.

Let me know if you have any more questions!!!^^

[nanstgeorge]

NO ONE EVER DOES. NO ONE EVER LOOKED—NOT REALLY.

djklmnx / x / Gokstadt/Ganymede, Paisley Rekdal / cokegirl / My Love Mine All Mine, Mitski / You (2018–) / retroowl8 / Mariners Apartment Complex, Lana Del Rey / Castlevania (2017–2021) / Louise Gluck

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You and your kind of ex-wife

Lips smashed against yours before you could even compute what was going on.

They were still as soft as ever and you opened your own so Alexia could slip her tongue inside.

"Hi," She said, pulling away slowly.

"Hi."

You smiled at her.

She looked nearly the same as when you divorced her and left the country. The same cheeks. The same nose. The same eyes. The same awkward little smile on her face.

“I missed you,” She said,” I heard from Alba you were coming home and I couldn’t believe it. I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Ale.”

Her arms were open and you stepped into them. They were just as familiar as they were when you broke up and you melted into them now.

“Sorry,” Someone said,” What the fuck?! Alexia, you’re dating now?!”

Both you and Alexia looked at Mapi in confusion.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because you just started snogging her in front of all of us,” Lucy replied, hands shoved into her pockets casually,” I thought we were meant to be meeting the new medic but, no, I guess you were really getting acquainted.”

You laughed, shaking your head fondly as Alexia pouted, her arms tightening around you just like they did years ago when Alba teased you for being mushy.

“She’s my wife,” Alexia insisted, stamping her foot.

“Ex-wife,” You butted in quickly as the team’s mouths fell open in shock. Very few of them had been on the team the same time you and Alexia had been married, childhood sweethearts that eloped the day after you both turned eighteen.

Alexia laughed nervously and you narrowed your eyes.

You recognised that laugh. You’d heard that laugh for years when she pretended to a teacher that her homework was just in her locker and that’s why she hadn’t handed it in or when she promised Eli that she wasn’t the one that broke her favourite glass cabinet and it was really her who had kicked a football right through it.

You knew that laugh very well.

“Alexia,” You said, teeth gritted,” What did you do?”

“Now, amor,” She said,” Just remember that-“

“Alexia, confess!”

“I may have forgotten to file the papers.”

“Alexia!” You snapped before sighing. A bubble of laughter emerged from your throat until you were trapped in an almost hysterical laughing fit. “We signed them together. At the kitchen table. How did you forget?”

“I promise I was going to!” She insisted,” But I had other stuff to do and it just got buried and Mama did some cleaning and she must have shredded them on accident!”

“Alexia, that was years ago! Are you saying that we’re still married?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On which answer will get me in trouble.”

Fondly, you tugged on her ponytail. “You are so lucky I love you.”

She grinned. “Enough to stay married?”

You shrugged. “Well, it’s a hassle to file the papers and work out the separation of assets again.”

“Oh, thank god.” Alexia fished something out of her pocket and it was only when she slid it onto your finger again that you recognised it as your wedding ring. She was the one that had bought them and while you knew that hers had remained on a chain around her neck, you hadn’t ever wondered what had happened to yours after you returned it.

You just assumed it had been thrown to the bottom of her jewellery box.

“Have you been carrying that around since you found out I was coming home?”

Like a professional, she skirted around your question. “Home! You need to move in again! The clothes you left all got put into a storage locker so we should probably swing by there after work. Your office is practically the same but kind of dusty so I’ll clean it up while you unpack.”

You nodded, mulling over the plan in your head. “You know that if I have back in then so does Mr Stinky.”

Alexia wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You still have him?”

“Yes, Ale! Just because I moved to England doesn’t mean I abandoned my cat!”

She pursed her lips before admitting. “I think there’s still a few of his toys under the sofa. I can never manage to get them all.”

“And I want the left side of the bathroom sink.”

She nodded before freezing. “Hey! Wait, no! That’s my side! That’s always been my side! You can’t just take it!”

You flashed your ring. “You want this to work? I want the left side of the sink.”

“Well…I want…I want…I want the right side of the dresser!”

“Done!”

“Done!”

“Sorry, no,” Mapi butted in. You’d almost forgotten that you were meant to be introducing yourself to the team. “Not done. Let me get this straight. You two got married, divorced but not really and now you’ve decided to get back together?!”

You shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“But you divorced!” It was clear that she was struggling to wrap her head around this.

“It wasn’t really a breakup though,” Alexia said flippantly,” We still hooked up every time she came home. We only really tried to get a divorce because she was leaving for England. I was clingy when I was younger.”

The whole team pointedly stared at Alexia’s hands on your waist and how they hadn’t moved but to put your ring back on your finger.

“Clingier,” You amended,” And I needed to leave for more money. We decided it would just be easier to get divorced but I guess that didn’t work out.”

“Oh!” Alexia said suddenly,” I need to tell Mama! She’ll be so happy! She’s always talking about you to everyone.”

“Oh, I’m glad. I’ll have to call my Mama too. She’s always telling people that her daughter-in-law is Alexia Putellas. You’ll have to come to Sunday lunch this week. My aunts and uncles will be there.”

“Next week we’ll go to mine then,” Alexia agreed,” Mama will want you to try her paella again. She tweaked the recipe.”

“Oh, great! I love Eli’s paella. My-“

“No!” Mapi said, pointing at both of you in turn,” This is moving so quickly. I’m sorry but what the hell?!”

“Oh,” You said,” I didn’t introduce myself properly. I’m y/n. I’m the new doctor on the team. Alexia’s…well I was going to say ex but apparently we’re still married so I’m Ale’s wife! I look forward to getting to know you all.”

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Second chances ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : Lucifer didn't think he would ever have the chance at love again, but then he met you and got to know you after the destruction of the Hotel.

Pairing : Lucifer x Reader

Word count : 2239 Words

Genre : Fluff, Romance

Warnings ➵ Spoilers for EP 8!!

a/n : I love him sm, he deserves the world, a big hug and a smooch to the cheek

Also legit the first part of this barely has any interactions but eh- idk where I was going with this-

Might make this into a series, idk yet.. Also definitely one of my more boring and bad works sadly..

┌───────────────────────── · · · · ♡

Coming back to the hotel from an outing in the city, you were met with chaos. Everyone was running around, Razzle and Dazzle were hanging up a banner reading > Welcome Daddy < what was happening? Ducking your head as Sir Pentious darts past you, before making your way over to Charlie.

"Sweetheart, what's happening?" Laying your hand softly on Charlie's shoulder, her hair flies around as she comes to face you. You were one of the first people to join the hotel back then, having grown close to Charlie over that time, she viewed you as a parent figure, while you viewed her like a daughter. "My dad is coming and everything has to be perfect! He has to be assured he can trust me and help me!" That explained a lot, especially why Charlie was so stressed. Pulling her into a hug now, your hand softly gliding over her head, as you mutter how she should not stress too much and that she is doing amazing. Noticing how her body was relaxing against your own, you were glad to have calmed her down at least a little bit.

After helping the others a bit more, it was finally time. Charlie swept her hands on her jacket, before opening the door. A bright choice sounding, as Lucifer pulls his daughter into a tight hug. Before saying hello to Keekee, Razzle and Dazzle. He was.. different than everyone probably though.

Watching Alastor talk to Lucifer now, they for sure could not stand the other one, this would be fun. Charlie now introduced Vaggie to him, which made you smile a little bit when Lucifer took her into his arms. The rest was quickly introduced before Charlie pulled you beside her. "And this is Y/N, Dad! They really helped me a lot already, of course like anyone else here too!" Fumbling around with her words a bit, you softly lay your hand on Charlie's shoulder. "We know what you mean dear, Charlie is an amazing girl, we are really proud of her." Your eyes were on Charlie, before greeting Lucifer correctly.

It was quiet for a second before a crash could be heard. Oh shit.. For a few minutes, the banter between Alastor and Lucifer continued on, making you sigh as you sat down beside Angel. This way going great huh? Vaggie was also at the end of her nerves right now. As they were seemingly coming to an end finally, the doors slammed open and some short blonde lady walked in as if she owned this place. Being introduced to her soon, you decide to tag along with Charlie and the others to show her dad around.

You were simply following the others, listening to Charlie nervously ramble on, only glancing over your shoulder for a second as Husker stopped Alastor, but you decided to not give it another thought.

Arriving at the balcony, you and Vaggie stand back, as Charlie and her dad talk. But too soon they were interrupted as some debris was thrown into the hotel and shook the whole building. Rushing through the portal, you guys are back in the foyer of the hotel, looking around for an answer. Mimzy the woman from before finally explained what was happening, you rolled your eyes, how amazing. Too busy with making sure you saw everyone safe, you weren't seeing the debris falling your way. Before you knew it you were swept off your feet, as Lucifer saved you from being smashed by the debris, setting you down on your feet again softly, as his wings disappear again.

"You see now Charlie what I mean? Those sinners destroy everything! They fall into your home and destroy it, they aren't grateful for anything!" Talking to Charlie now, as Alastor finally decided to step in and fight off those damned loan sharks, before telling the woman to disappear. Watching Charlie and her dad now, as you were standing beside Alastor, a frown visible on your face. She worked so hard for this, why couldn't he believe in her? Though quickly everything explained itself and both of them seemed to finally makeup, a tear slipping from your eye from how beautiful this moment was.

"All right.. I'll get you that meeting but.. once in heaven you're alone I.. can't come with you." Lucifer told Charlie, before disappearing in a red cloud.

That was now a month ago. Right now everyone was getting ready for that damned extermination. Sadly Charlie's conversation with Heaven didn't do anything, on top of that the tension in the whole group grew, with Vaggie being an old exterminator. But that was all over now, as the whole group decided to have one last drink the night before the big battle. You were talking with Husker, as Angel was with Cherri, Alastor and Niffty looking upon everyone and Charlie with Vaggie nowhere to be seen. And of course, Sir Pentious trying to strike up a conversation with Cherri. You hoped everything would go well tomorrow and that no one would die.

The morning arrived, and everyone was gathered outside to protect the hotel, to protect Charlie's dream. Everyone was ready for this.

Almost everything seemed to go down in a wink, the hotel was in shambles, Alastor was missing - assumingly dead, Sir Pentious gave his life for the group and Adam was killed. Now the rebuild of the hotel was in full swing, everyone was helping, even Cherri who wasn't even a resident of the hotel yet. Lucifer also stayed to help his daughter and somehow convinced her to let him have a room too and stay with the group.

"Have you seen Charlie? Some new shipments came." The blonde was approaching you now, his coat and hat off, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Raising to your feet from where you were kneeling to work on some nails, you swept some sweat from your forehead before turning to Lucifer. "She and Vaggie went to town real quick for some errands, but she told me where to put them, let me show you." Laying the hammer down on one of the many workbenches, you go accept the shipments, before showing Lucifer the way.

You and him had quite a few conversations over the last few days, with you being a parent figure for Charlie and him being her father, you two talked a lot about how well she is doing. What you didn't notice were the fleeting glances the king of hell threw your way every now and then.

"She told me to just put it here." Opening the door to a little cabinet now on the first floor of the hotel in the foyer. This was the first thing finished, right now the works were on the upper rooms. Putting down the box you were carrying on the shelf, Lucifer followed where you put the other box, before thanking you for helping him out. "Soo.. The hotel is coming together rather nicely huh?" Looking over to you with his red eyes now, as you close the door, a bit confused he was striking up a conversation right now. "Yeah, everyone is doing so amazingly, I'm glad we got so much help.. If we don't look at Niffty punching holes in the new floor trying to catch roaches.." At least some things were apparently not changing and stayed the same.

"Say.. when the hotel is finished would you perhaps.. you know.. maybe.. be interested in a date?" Stopping in your tracks now, you blink a few times. Did you just hear correctly? The Lucifer Morningstar, the king of hell just asked you for a date? Turning your head around now, your cheeks slowly become a crimson-red color. Looking at him, he didn't really look different, his cheeks red, as he was sheepishly playing with his sleeves. "You want to go on a date with me?" Raising his eyes to meet yours, he simply nods. "To be honest with you, you caught my eye the day I first came here but.. then all this happened and we never really got to talk and I was worried you would think I'm weird for asking, so I thought I should maybe wait a bit-" He was rambling on, probably from how nervous he was to ask you out. After his ex-wife left him, he didn't really date anyone after that, so it's been a while since he has ever asked someone for a date. "I would love to. Thank you for asking me." Laying your hand softly over his, giving it a soft reassuring squeeze to tell him not to worry too much. Sadly the moment was cut short, when Angel called for you, having someone questions about about paint.

Lucifer's eyes followed you now, the smile on his face not being able to be hidden now, fist-pumping the air happily over how he finally asked you. Charlie came back that moment and looked a little bit more than worried at her father, but overall no new behavior from him.

The hotel was soon finished, Alastor also came back, making at least Charlie relieved that he was still alive, Husker and Lucifer didn't seem so pleased with that fact, but they would get over it.

So now, it was time for your date with Lucifer. Charlie was thrilled when she heard you would be going on a date with her dad, at first you were rather worried about how she would react, but she was happy that her dad was trying to find love again. Making sure your hair was sitting right and your clothes were wrinkle-free, when a knock sounded at your door. Taking one last breath, you open it and are met with Lucifer. His hat was gone and he was wearing a white suit, similar to what he normally wore but more suitable for a fancy dinner - as fancy as a dinner in hell can be.

"You look amazing! Oh my! Look at you!" Lucifer was throwing compliments at you left and right, before he caught himself again, straightened his jacket, and then extended his arm for you to take. "Thank you, you also look amazing tonight Lucifer." Taking his arm now, he guides you two to the elevators which take you down to the foyer. Charlie was trying subtly to look at you two, but failing miserably. "Charlie is staring at us and almost crying.." Whispering to Lucifer now, he just nods, making sure to throw Vaggie a begging look to take care of Charlie, as you two leave the hotel. He decided to take you to the more finer side of Pentagram City, where rather expensive shops and restaurants were and which were less bloody.

"Here we are! It's the finest one I know around here!" Leading you inside, it was a big place. The restaurant had a fountain in the middle and had many plants all around the wide place. Marble floors, stone walls were adorned with gold elements and gold was seen all throughout the place. This was definitely an expensive place by the looks of it. A waiter leading you to a table no, you were sure was the best one in the whole restaurant. It was by a wide window, having a good look down the city, in the distance you could even see the hotel slightly, especially the big sign reading Hazbin Hotel.

"This place is beautiful but.. it looks rather expensive, are you sure this is okay?" Of course you knew who Lucifer was and he could basically afford anything in this whole city and do anything he wanted, you just wanted to make sure. Assuring you now that you shall not worry about something like that. Ordering food and enjoying the meal together, it was a nice evening. Everything goes by smoothly and you and Lucifer finally get around to know each other better. Sadly the dinner was over too quickly, Lucifer leading you back to the hotel now, while telling you a story from Charlie's childhood, which made you giggle. He truly was a gentleman and had a pure heart, he cared so much about Charlie.

"So.. would you.. repeat this another time? I mean only if you also enjoyed it! I of course did enjoy it! I mean you're amazing and-" Standing in front of your room now, you silence him with a soft kiss to the cheek, before looking at him softly fixing his suit. "I would love to Luci, I enjoyed this evening with you alot." Raising your eyes again to meet his, you can't help but let out a giggle at his expression. Eyes blown wide, mouth open and cheeks blazing red. "Great! Yeah! Woah! Me too! Especially the food, poah that was amazing! And the place was really worth it! Was it to your liking? I really hope so because-" Pulling him down by his suit now, your lips softly meeting his, eyes closed, before seperating again as you look at him. "Sorry.. You were rambling so nervously.. Please don't worry, I mean it when I say loved tonight.. Now sleep well Luci." Planting another kiss to his cheek, you enter your room, closing the door behind yourself.

You can help but smile at his little giggles as he skips down the hallway to his own room now. He was something, but you were looking forward to more dates that would follow this one.

[covenofagatha]

Nicky's mom has got it going on (Part 3)

You and Agatha have a party of your own in her bedroom.

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: smut, oral, fingering, face riding, light choking, mommy kink, marking

Her mouth opens without hesitation and her hand finds your cheek to pull you even closer. Her tongue licks up the roof of your mouth and you moan openly. 

You can’t believe you’re here, in Agatha’s bedroom, her tongue in your mouth, her hand running through your hair under your witch’s hat. 

And you only met her last week. 

And – fuck. 

You pull back, breathing heavily. Agatha’s cheeks are flushed and her lips are swollen, and you’re sure you'd be even more disheveled if you looked in a mirror. 

“What about Nicky?” you say, silently cursing yourself for interrupting possibly the hottest make-out session of your life. 

She doesn’t even seem flustered at the thought of her son and your best friend. She only leans in closer and says, “Do you want to stop?” 

You ponder this for a second. She’s letting you know that it’s okay to put Nicky first, to not do anything rash that might hurt him. But your body thrums with heat and you’re not sure you’d ever forgive yourself if you walked away from this goddess right now. 

This time, you put your hand on her cheek and trace her face with your eyes. It’s hard to read what she’s thinking, but you can see the darkness in her blue eyes and the way her chest rises and falls. She’s leaning into your touch. 

“Fuck it,” you whisper. “Nicky doesn’t have to know.”

Agatha smirks and pulls you right back in. This time, you have no reservations and you give as good as you get. You find her hand with yours and lead it so it’s around your throat. Her breath hitches and she squeezes lightly, stopping her kisses so she can see how you react. 

You whimper and her eyes flash. “Dirty girl,” she tuts and resumes kissing you, hand never leaving your throat, and you begin running your hands up and down her vest, parting it so more of her chest is exposed and you can feel her bare skin. 

You palm her breasts and she breaks the kiss with a moan. 

“Fuck,” she swears under her breath and you make it a mission to make her keep doing that. You shift over so you’re straddling her and you begin to trail kisses down the side of her neck and to her collarbones. Her hand leaves your throat, knocks the hat off your head, and tangles her fingers in your hair, a gasp emitting from your mouth. “You’re doing so good, baby.” The praise goes right through you and settles in your dripping cunt. 

Both of you scramble to take her vest off, and the moment her breasts are in view, you take her right nipple in your mouth and suck. Her head is thrown back and she lets out a loud groan. She holds you there, pulling at your hair. 

Her free hand strokes its way down your back until it settles on your hips, brushing her fingertips against your ass, and only then do you realize you’ve been slowly grinding in her lap. She must notice this too, because she lets out a throaty chuckle. 

“Look at how desperate you are,” Agatha teases, as if she’s not the one fervently keeping you in place around her nipple. You whine against her and her fingers pull you away from her. 

“But – I – I want…” your brain can barely put a sentence together, so overwhelmed by her. 

“There’ll be time for that later, I promise. But it’s my turn now,” she says, and you didn’t have a chance after that. She pulls your top over your head and throws it somewhere in the room, and then she’s biting and sucking all over your chest. You can only imagine the bruises you’ll have tomorrow. 

“Oh fuck!” you breathe sharply as she bites gently on your nipple and then moves to mark the underside of your breast. 

“You like that?” she asks and you can only moan loudly. “You like knowing who you belong to?” 

“You, Agatha, only you,” you pant and you can feel her smirk against your skin. 

“Good girl,” she says in the raspy voice you love so much, her dark eyes twinkling as she looks up at you. Without warning, she grabs your thighs and flips you over, so you’re laying on your back on the bed and she’s on top of you. 

“Agatha, please, I need you,” you whimper, raising your hips up and down without meaning to. The grin she gives you is wicked. 

She continues her path of biting and sucking down your stomach and pauses for only a moment to pull your boots and skirt off. She looks positively delighted at the purple lace underwear you’re wearing. 

“Did you wear these for me?” she asks, tracing a finger up and down the soaked fabric. “You’re so wet, baby.” 

You nod so hard it almost hurts your head. “Wanted you to see them. Want you so bad.” 

She dips her fingers into your slit through your underwear, which only makes the damp fabric get more wet. “What do you want from me?” 

“Want your fingers and your mouth and everything else, please, please, Agatha, just need you, oh–” your begging cuts off as her fingers slowly start to unpeel your underwear from your sopping cunt. She brings them to her face and runs her tongue over the wetness and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. She lets out a filthy moan before she shoves them into her pocket and spreads your legs with her hands. 

“Oh, baby, I’ll give you all of that,” she promises and leans down to suck a kiss into your upper thigh. Your hips buckle and your hands reach down to thread through her hair, but she pulls back. “No touching,” she says sternly. “Or I’ll have to tie you up.” 

The noise you make at the threat is downright salacious and she raises an eyebrow. 

“Would you like that, baby girl?” 

You can barely think straight and you fist your hands into the sheets. “I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” While the thought of her tying you up turns you on even more, you’re not sure you can wait a second more before she touches you. 

She shoots you a smirk and delves down between your legs. Her fingers slowly slide up and down your mound, collecting the wetness. 

“You’re soaking my fingers,” she says in awe, holding them up so you can see how they glisten in the light. Your tongue dips out to wet your lips, not going unnoticed by her. “Do you want a taste?” 

You nod eagerly and she slides two fingers into your mouth and moans at the feeling of your hot tongue around them. You lick the wetness off of them, not breaking eye contact. 

“Your pretty little mouth feels so good, darling. Can’t wait to see what else it can do.”

You garble around her fingers and she chuckles. A string of spit connects her fingers to your lips when she pulls her fingers out and Agatha wipes her hand across your cheek. 

“Are you ready, baby?” she asks, her hand back down between your legs. 

“Fuck, yes, please,” is all you can say and she smirks before she pushes a finger into your opening, immediately drawing a pornographic moan from your mouth. Her thumb slides against your clit and you clench around the one finger, trying to draw her in. 

“You feel so good,” she drawls. “Can you take another?” 

You can’t believe she even has to ask. You beg again and tighten around the second finger as it dips inside you. She’s stroking your walls so nicely, finding that spot with every thrust, but you need more. 

“Agatha,” you moan. She looks delighted with how undone you already are. “Please, I’m close, I need more.” 

She gives you a wink before leaning down and giving your clit a little kitten lick. You squeal, hips jumping off the bed, and your hands tighten in the sheets. 

“You’re being such a good girl for me, I think you deserve a reward,” she says, and then starts devouring your pussy with her hot mouth. You’re panting so loudly you’re almost worried that the partygoers downstairs will be able to hear you. 

“Fuck, mommy –” you clamp a hand over your mouth and Agatha freezes. “Shit, I’m so sorry, it just slipped out.”

Her eyes get darker, if that’s even possible, and she reaches up to tug your hand off your face. “Be a good girl for a mommy and let me hear you say it again.” 

Oh. My. God. “Mommy, please,” you say, your voice hoarse. “I’m so close.” 

“I know, baby. Just lay back and let mommy take care of you.” Her fingers resume their movements and her tongue lazily plays with your clit. “What would you do if my son walked in right now?”

Your breath catches and you clench around her fingers. Why is that so hot?

“If he saw his best friend being fucked like a slut by his own mother?” She punctuates the last part of the sentence with a hard thrust for each word, looking up to see how you’re reacting. 

“I’d tell you to keep going, mommy.” 

You can tell that’s the right answer. She picks up the pace of her fingers and sucks on your clit hard, and that’s it for you. 

You crash over the edge, almost yelling her name and she fucks you through your orgasm, not stopping until she makes you cum again. 

“Mommy, please, too much,” you whimper, finally reaching down to intertwine your fingers into her hair, trying to pull her away. “Want to taste you.” 

“Oh, do you?” she asks, feigning disinterest, but you can tell that your words are affecting her. Your hands are shaky as they reach down to toy with her belt. “Will you let me sit on your face?” 

All you can do is let out a loud moan at the question before you urgently sit up and help her shimmy out of her pants. You need to taste her more than you need to breathe at this point. She shoves you back down on the bed once she’s peeled her leather pants and underwear off, and slowly starts to crawl over your body. 

“Are you ready?” she asks, gently brushing sweaty strands of your hair off your face. The look in her eyes, while still smoldering, is somehow soft at the same time. 

“Yes. I want to make you feel good,” you say and she hovers her pussy right above your mouth with a groan. 

You first mouth at the skin right next to the juncture of her thighs, wanting to leave a mark on her. One of her hands tightens in your hair. 

“Be a good girl for mommy and stop teasing,” she says gruffly and you chuckle before running your tongue between her folds. Her breath hitches and you dig right in, alternating between dipping your tongue into her cunt and swirling your tongue over her clit. “Fuck, baby, you’re doing so good for me. You like me sitting on your face?” 

You reply enthusiastically with your mouth full of her cunt. She can’t understand you, but she has a good idea of what you’re trying to say. 

“God, I wish everyone at the party could see what a good slut you’re being for me,” she says and you feel the heat start to creep back into your stomach. You’re still devouring her, and she’s started to grind back and forth, taking what she needs. “They’d be so jealous that only I get to have you like this.” 

This time you take a break to say, “only you, mommy” and then you’re right back to possibly your favorite place on earth. 

“You’re such a good girl, baby, making mommy feel so good,” she says, picking up speed, just using your tongue to get off. You grab her ass and dig your nails in so you can help her. Her voice trails off and turns into broken moans and she cums all over your face. She slowly rides out the aftershocks and then gets off you, helping you sit up. 

Her eyes run all over your face, smirking at her wetness glistening on your cheeks. And then she’s pulling you into a filthy kiss, tasting herself on you while you taste yourself on her from earlier. 

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” she asks gently once she’s proficiently taken your breath away with the kiss. 

Your heart warms. “Really good,” you whisper, laughing a little in disbelief at what just happens. She joins in, stroking your cheek with a finger. “What happens now?”

Your question seems to sober both of you up a little. 

She inhales before asking, “What do you want to happen?” 

You know the right answer: never speak of this again and pretend nothing ever happened, for Nicky’s sake. Plus, what kind of future do the two of you have? 

“Can we do this again sometime?” You try to blame that as a Freudian slip or something, but deep down, you know this one time was not enough to satiate the urge you have for Agatha Harkness. 

A wide grin spreads across her face. “Want to stay over again tonight? This time though, come here once Nicky’s gone to bed.” Agatha gives you one last peck on the lips before standing up. “Oh, and you might want to fix your makeup before you head back to the party.”

She tosses you a wink, throws her clothes back on, and then she’s leaving the room, footsteps going down the stairs. 

You walk into her bathroom and gasp at the sight of you. Hair mussed up, lipstick smeared, eye makeup dark and smudged. Your chest is littered with red marks that will surely be bruises by tomorrow. You dig around and find makeup remover wipes in one of Agatha’s drawers and wipe it all off. No use in trying to salvage any of it, especially knowing that once everyone leaves, she will just ravish you again. 

You pull your costume back on. The top doesn’t completely hide all the marks she left on you, but you find the thought of walking around with them hot. 

Once downstairs, you see Agatha watching you out of the corner of your eye, but before you can walk over to her, Nicky intercepts you. 

“There you are, y/n! I’ve been looking all over for you! Dude, where have you been?” he says. You feel a bit of guilt rising in you, but you push it away and shrug. 

“It’s Halloween, Nicky. I’ve been partying.” 

Agatha appears next to you just as you finish your sentence. 

“You were ‘partying’ and just somehow got like ten hickeys on your neck?” he says accusingly and you can feel Agatha laughing next to you. Nicky lowers his voice so only you and his mother can hear, “Did you hook up with someone here? Oh my god, who was it? Was it Wanda from chem class? I’m pretty sure I saw her here.” 

“No, it wasn’t Wanda,” you shoot back. “Stop trying to guess.” 

“Whoever it was clearly did a good job,” Agatha joins in, looking amused at her love bites on your chest.

“Eh, they were alright.” The look in yours is both teasing and challenging. Agatha cocks an eyebrow. 

“Guess they’ll just have to do better next time.” 

“Guess so.” 

“Whatever. I’ll figure out who it was eventually, y/n. I’m gonna go get some more punch,” Nicky says. You break out of your heated stare with Agatha and turn to glance at him. 

You smile and the second he’s gone, Agatha’s grabbing your wrist and dragging you back upstairs. 

“I’ll show you ‘alright’,” she vows, and your heart leaps in excitement.

[powderpinkandsweeet]

Thinking about comphet Abby… specifically about how shit of a lover Owen was, and how reader can show her what love feels like

C/w: 2.7k word count, nsfw, reader is referred to with feminine pronouns and descriptors, compulsory heterosexuality, Abby’s a brute for a sec but you take over, oral (A! Receiving), fingering (A! Receiving), thigh riding.

Based solely on appearances, Abby was a top. She had a casual dominance about her that was magnetic. Upon first meeting, you were surprised at the mention of her partner, Owen. You’d chalked it up to you jumping to conclusions, making an assumption just by Abby’s appearance. The two of them had been an item for years at that point. Somehow, you weren’t surprised by the news of their breakup. Word spread quickly, especially rumors about what the end of their relationship could mean for Abby.

You were at the fringes of her social circle, admiring from afar as she laughed and smiled. You hoped to grow closer and make her smile because of you.

Abby had been around you long enough to notice your passing fancies. She heard the mutters in the locker room from girls who had briefly caught your attention. Most of the time she could tune them out, but not when they’d talked about how good you were in bed. Abby’s hands would stray from washing herself at stories of how your tongue was sinful, that your moans were like music, and that you tasted like honey wine, but all with the con that you didn’t want anything serious. They talked of a far away look in your eye when you were near the edge, as though you were seeing through them, mind elsewhere.

You’d found her sitting outside alone one night, and she ended asking how you knew you’d liked girls. Though initially caught off guard by the question, you both eased into a conversation about compulsory heterosexuality. She didn’t know you well but she didn’t feel worried of your judgment. You met her at her own level, and the questions grew more personal.

You’d grown tired of her hesitance and made the first move, rising on tip toes to press your lips softly to hers. She had been in the palm of your hand ever since. You could tell though that she had limited experience with girls. Her movements were always curious but hesitant. Owen had been her first and only for a number of years, and you could hardly call it intimacy. The max ten minute exchange was to be bent over and fucked with little prep until Owen got his nut. If she was really wound up then she could manage an orgasm, but it was truly never the goal. It’s always been a release of aggression, a way to blow off steam akin to weight lifting. Never had it been an expression of love or a show of devotion. Whether it be after a mission or an argument, it was always the same thing. A rush to the finish line where Owen would get his release.

She knew how you admired her broad, towering frame. More than once you’d made teasing comments about how you wanted to be thrown around by her. When the moment came that she was atop you, Abby found herself grasping at straws for what to do, only knowing how to pleasure a woman from how Owen had treated her.

You enjoyed the tight grips and biting kisses, but then it was going all too fast. After what felt like only a minute of kisses and heavy petting, Abby had you manhandled onto your stomach with your hips pulled high in the air. Your panties were ripped off, and you turned back to see Abby with eyebrows furrowed and a hand approaching your center. You thought you would feel her warm hands groping you, but you wince in discomfort when two dry fingers enter you.

You assumed she was just enthusiastic, skipping right to the good part. So you set your jaw and wait for the ache to subside. It doesn’t though when Abby starts pistoning her fingers into you. Her palm smacked against your pelvis as her calloused fingers rubbed your insides. Instead of pleasure, the friction felt more akin to a rugburn.

Through gasps, you attempted to call out for Abby. Singularly focused on the push and pull of her fingers, she misunderstood your calls of her name as those of bliss. She was proved otherwise when your nails bit into her wrist and your whimpers turned to sobs. Caught in your trembling grip, Abby stilled her hand. “You okay, honey?”

It took you a moment to catch your breath, still recovering from the beating your cervix had received. You strained to speak, “what’d you go so hard for?”

Abby looked puzzled, and withdrew her fingers. “Just trying to make you come,” she scratched the back of her neck with the other hand. “I didn’t think I’d be that bad at it though,” and she let out a humorless chuckle. Her face was like that of a kicked puppy, deeply apologetic despite not knowing what they did wrong.

“I mean yeah I’d like it if you made me come, but I don’t like when it hurts, Abby.” She looked back down at your legs, seeing the discomfort in your tense muscles for the first time.

“It always hurts though,” Abby responded. She’d said it as though it were common knowledge, but your wide eyes indicated otherwise.

“Always?” and you know the answer by the look on her face. “It’s not supposed to hurt if you warm up to it, y’ know. Like get me wet and stretched out and all.”

Abby felt almost like she were being scolded. She’d given you the wrong answer, and she felt a twinge of shame at her naivety. Louder than intended, Abby countered, “well with Owen it was just always like that, okay?”

Abby huffed and watched you, expecting you to laugh at her misconception. But you only shuffled to sit in front of her and hold her hands gently. “I’m sorry, Abby. I don’t want it to be like that between us, like I’m some tool to use and toss aside.” You brought her fingertips to your lips, planting a soft peck on each and every one. “Call me sappy all you like, but I don’t want us to fuck, I want us to make love.” Abby watched you in a trance.

From your perspective, Abby looked akin to a deer in headlights. She had one move in her playbook and it wasn’t the right one. You took mercy on her, gently pushing her onto her back. “Here baby, just relax. Let me take care of you instead,” you hum with a soft smile.

You straddled her sitting frame and pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead. You pressed your forehead to hers, closing your eyes in contentment as you’re immersed in her scent and can feel the heat of her breath. Your weight in her lap was comforting, like gravity keeping her grounded. You were her stability.

You trailed kisses down her neck and toyed with the hem of her shirt, “can you take this off for me, baby?” She eagerly nodded, crossing her arms to peel the fabric over her broad shoulders. She was left in a weathered white sports bra, and you cheekily snapped one of the shoulder straps, “this too please.” You watched amused as Abby wrestled out of the tight fabric.

Unsurprisingly, Abby was built like a brick house. You caressed her waist softly, attempting to soothe her nerves as you admired her. Her chest was pale, contrasting sharply with the golden, freckled skin of her biceps. On her back, Abby’s breasts lay flat on her chest with pretty pink nipples hardening in the open air. You lay your cheek on her left breast to listen to her heartbeat. You smiled, it pumped steadily and quickly, betraying Abby’s excitement. Your hands didn’t cease their wandering, groping up and down her torso. Her tense muscles were slowly releasing, “I’ve got you, honey, just relax and let me make you feel good.”

You eagerly unbuckled her belt and slipped it through the loops. Abby lifted her hips, and you were able to wriggle the cargo pants off of her thick thighs. From the inside of her knee to the crease of her thigh, you pressed wet kisses.

You lowered onto your forearms and deeply inhaled the sweet and salty scent of slick and sweat. Your tongue was inches from her soaking lips, but you couldn’t help but give into an urge you had been suppressing for a long time. Your arms wrapped around Abby’s thighs, pulling each leg in with all your might to trap yourself between them. With squished cheeks and a blissed out smile, you hummed in contentment. Once satisfied, your grip relented enough to accommodate the width of your shoulders. Abby startled and hissed through her teeth when your teeth clamped onto her thigh. You gave the bite an apologetic kiss and leaned your cheek against her inner thigh, “Abby?”

Flushed red and sweating at the vulgar display, Abby nodded for you to continue. “Can I taste you? Please?” Your hand rested on her public bone, thumb coming down to trace feather-light circles around her throbbing clit. “I can make it feel so so good, I promise.”

Almost mortified, Abby held you back with a palm to your forehead. “Wait! Baby, no, that’s dirty you don’t have to do that.” She resisted her urge to let you touch her, but her hips were twitching in response to your teasing regardless.

You were practically sticking your tongue out to try and get a taste, pressing your forehead against her palm. “Huh?” you ask incredulously, “dirty? What makes you think that?”

Abby looked unsure, eyes darting to the side to focus on formulating an answer. “Well, it’s just… gross.”

Despite knowing the answer, you ask, “you’ve never had someone give you head before, then?”

“…no” Abby grumbled.

Lips pursed, you hummed. “Well if it’s gross then I must be too, because I love to eat pussy.”

She “tsk”ed, “you know that’s not what I meant, you’re not gross.”

You looked up at her with those pleading eyes she could never say “no” to. “Please, Abby? I’m so hungry and you smell so good.” A teasing kiss was pressed to her pubic bone, inches away from where she needed you most. You scattered kisses and bites across her hips and thighs, hoping for a taste of something more. Her breath was hitching at your attention, and you could hear an almost imperceptible “okay…” over the sound of a wet smooch.

You leaned against her thigh with an excited grin, “‘okay’ what?”

Abby relented, arm across her face to cover her burning cheeks, “you can taste me.”

You eagerly sealed your mouth against her pussy in a passionate kiss. Your tongue slipped against her clit softer than her fingers ever could. It was warm and slippery against throbbing clit, coaxing it to hardness until it peeked from its hood.

Abby’s breath caught in her throat at the feeling of you placing a loud, squeaky kiss to her clit. You leaned back to lick your lips. Your eyes slipped closed at the taste, sighing contentedly. “See? Not gross. And you taste really fucking good too.” Her face burned with the compliment. She could hardly believe how blissed out you were just from your mouth on her pussy. You hummed and moaned into her like you were getting off on her taste.

A slow, firm lick up Abby’s pussy had her clenching around nothing. The tip of your tongue and her clit were linked by a string of saliva. The string snapped, and you spat crudely on her cunt to follow it. Abby flinched at the contact, hypersensitive and aching. As if pleading, her hips bucked toward your mouth.

A minor panic took Abby when she saw you sit up. You stroked her aching thighs, attempting to soothe her. “Shh, shh it’s alright, I’m not done yet, don’t worry.” Her tensing muscles released and she melted back into the mattress.

Abby puffed out a long breath at the familiar feeling of being left on the edge. It was an almost tingling numbness left by your absence.

You kissed her and laid on her side, draping one of her arms over your shoulder and slinging a leg over one of hers to trap it in place. You draped an arm over her waist and kissed her tenderly. Satisfied that you had her complete attention, you tuck your chin into her shoulder. Your lips grazed the shell of her ear as you whispered, “can I fuck you with my fingers, Abby?” The heat of your breath against her ear and your indecent proposal had a shiver running up her spine and a plea leaving her lips.

Your hand slid down Abby’s clenching stomach, nails scratching lightly through her happy trail and the thatch of hair at her center. You started slow, two fingers rubbing her clit back and forth. You eased her back into the rhythm you had reached before, desperation showing in your quickening movements. You bit and sucked an array of marks into her neck and shoulders. The press of your teeth stung, always followed by a soothing and apologetic kiss.

Your treatment to Abby’s clit had slick covering her labia and sliding down to form a puddle beneath her. From flicking back and forth over her clit, your fingers were soaked base to tip. You reached further between her toned thighs, shuffling a few inches down the bed to reach. Your middle and ring finger traced the rim of Abby’s dripping pussy, only dipping inside at the sound of her whining.

You eased Abby into the stretch, penetrating her to the first knuckle and slowly pulling out before pushing just a little deeper. Each time your fingers hilted inside her, Abby felt like she’d have the wind knocked out of her. Your fingers didn’t reach far, but it was more than enough based on the rhythmic clenching of her walls. You made a beckoning motion with your fingers, grazing a soft spot that sent Abby’s eyes rolling back in her head. Abby had whimpered and whined from your tongue, and your fingers were sure to have her screaming. She no longer had the bandwidth to feel embarrassed, guttural moans escaping from deep within her chest. Your hand jerked back and forth to repeatedly hit Abby’s soft spot. The heel of your hand slapped and ground against her clit with the motion.

Where your leg wrapped around Abby’s to keep her thighs spread, your pussy ached. You ground your hips against the firm muscle, a wet and sticky mess spreading over her. It wasn’t enough to push you to orgasm, but it was enough to tide you over as you fed off of Abby’s pleasure. She quickly approached her orgasm as you were edged on her thigh.

Her thighs trembled and her walls pulsed, so you doubled your efforts. You were desperate to see and taste her come, so you begged. Abby groaned through gritted teeth at your pleas. You begged to feel her hug your fingers, to let you lick up the slick that dripped slow and sweet like honey from her lips. You sought it out selfishly, moaning with Abby as she was overcome with heat.

Her thighs snapped closed around your hand, trapping it against her pussy. Your hand was still, but you didn’t quit the curling of your fingers or the grinding of your palm to her clit. Abby’s hips rolled into your digits, groaning shakily as she clenched around you. You felt her clit pulse in time with her throbbing pussy. The base of your fingers were wrapped with a white, foamy ring. The palm of your hand was sticky with Abby’s release. She’d made a right mess.

Abby panted, flushed and weak from all the exertion. She sighed and relaxed into the feeling of feather light kisses being traced up her neck. She was melting into the mattress as you pressed little giggly kisses all over her face. Days, maybe weeks, of tension was pulled from her shoulders. She felt blissed out, sleepy, content. Most of all she felt loved.

A/n: this was in the drafts for a long while. When I saw Abby and Owen’s “love” scene, it felt more like an act of aggression, so I wanted to explore how Abby might think she should top based on her experience.

[caramelkoo]

be still my heart — jjk [two]

the one in which Jungkook lets his imagination run wild and you confront Jimin about your past.

genre : childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, physical therapist!reader x hockey player!jungkook, slow burn, smut, fluff, angst

word count : 5.1k

chapter warnings : strong language, kissing, jungkook is again nervous around Destiny. That's it i guess lmk if i missed anything.

a/n : ohmygod the first part got so much love i just couldn't wait to post this. This one is a bit intense. I love my babiest baby jungkook so much. Please enjoy my lovely people and remember you're so loved :> feel free to send asks. kisses.

Jungkook

During Jungkook’s college days, there was a guy named Oscar who’d sit beside him in class with his round glasses resting on his face. He would bunk classes almost every day which led the ever so curious Jungkook to follow him one day in order to find out what’s so special that he’s even willing to bunk classes for? Listen, the nerdy Jungkook thought bunking classes is bad manners. Don’t come at him.

Eventually, he found himself watching Oscar playing the guitar inside the vacant auditorium and he can swear he’s heard nothing more melodic than that. He figured the guy escaped so he could do what he loves. It was his passion.

If someone were to ask him, what’s his passion? Jungkook would say, Hockey. It pumps him up, it brings him back to life. He was born to do this.

He has seen his older brother playing hockey for as long as he can remember but trying the sport for himself? That never came to him, until his brother thought handing out a hockey stick to a 15 year old would be funny.

Newsflash, it wasn’t funny and as much as he doesn’t want to, Jungkook has no option than to give him the credit for him being here. It’s only right. The moment he held that hockey stick it was like the clouds parted and angels started singing.

This life right here is something he has built with hours and hours of practice, diet, diligence and working himself out until he’s a sweaty mess.

It’s not like every other 28 year old’s life, it’s different as well as demanding but every other 28 year old is also not being thrown into the penalty box like him right?

On a good day he would even call himself a conflict-avoidant guy until it comes to his teammates. Then, he’s an animal, ready to tear down every motherfucker who dares to touch them. Dramatic? he doesn't think so.

Yes, they piss him off but they’re a team, it’s a unified responsibility that they have. You stop at nothing to protect your own. The spark of defensiveness is bound to come to the surface given he's the defenseman of the team.

This is why he’s in here, trapped behind this glass shield as he watches the guys do their worst performance till date. The forward of the opposite team tried to get a fight started making Jungkook see red. His instincts led him to act immediately. He had to do something to put an end to it and breaking the guy’s nose seemed like a nice option.

The lions are not an easy team to play with, they’re hard hitters and show no mercy. That’s what coach has been telling them ever since they landed here. Seems like nobody listened. Fuckers.

Sweat drips from his hair as he watches the game, ears filling up with screams behind him.

“Jeon Jungkook I’ll have your babies”

“Jungkook you’re so hot it makes me insane”

“Oh god this man will be my death”

“He can slap me and I’ll thank him”

God help him. The thing is, the shitshow before him is not the only reason behind him being a mess today. Destiny has been… weird lately. At the risk of sounding like a goner, she’s not acknowledging him at all, like at all.

She used to grab the seat in front of him on the plane whenever the team flew for the games but this time she didn’t so much as look at the poor guy let alone sitting before him. Is she hurt because of last time? Did he fuck up again? This proclivity of fumbling every time he’s around her needs to be checked.

“Dude, we couldn’t have held a candle to them.” says Taehyung.

Ah yes, the guys lost the game if it wasn’t predictable enough and now the coach will have their heads on a platter ready to serve. Well, he doesn't want to do that any more than Jungkook himself does.

Jungkook gets rid of his shin pads, placing them on the bench. “Try saying that in front of coach”

“He’ll understand”

Yoongi glares at him, “The fuck he will. He’s been in our faces telling us how wild it might be over there. Who listened? Because you sure not did, Tae”

Taehyung chuckles in disbelief, propping his hands on his waist. “Dude, you’re targeting me as if I was the one breaking noses and all.”

He gives Jungkook a side eye. Oh he’s so gonna get Tae later.

“You might as well have. And as for you,” he glances at Jungkook, "I'll just hope you come back in one piece."

“Alright, cut it out” Namjoon says as he slips into his practice jersey. That’s so like him. Heading straight for practice after a big game, whether or not they win.

He’s one of the most dedicated people Jungkook has ever seen and you can’t generally get a praise out of him like this.

He blocks out their bickering and focuses on getting out of his hockey pants. A sharp pain shoots up in his knee making him cringe. That’s strange. He doesn’t remember his knee getting involved in the ruckus. Anyway, he makes a mental note of letting Destiny know about it and not repeat the same douchebaggery.

“Hey bud, you doing okay?” Namjoon asks as he’s rubbing the painful spot.

He looks up, “Yeah it’s… it’s just a slight pain. Might be a cramp for all I know”

He pats Jungkook’s shoulder in support, a kind smile plastered on his face. “I hope so and hey, don’t be picking fights like that anymore. You understand?”

Jungkook is quick to defend himself. “But that asshole–”

“I know,” he nods, “Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying. Let it be your last.”

He gives up, nodding his head. “Yeah. I’ll resist”

Namjoon is right. Jungkook did not pick a fight and he knows it. He also knows that Jungkook is always ready to come at his players’ defense, however that might be.

After all, it all boils down to a nasty fight on the rink which is nothing to be surprised about. There have been plenty of fights down here, some resulting in broken limbs and some going as far as a person on a stretcher.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Nightclubs are hands down Jungkook’s least favorite spot ever. He hates the smell, he hates the crowd and he hates how loud everything gets. If it weren’t for Yoongi, he would be at home chilling or overthinking. No one can tell.

Although, he’s not sure if he can even call that four walled room his ‘home’. It’s not home, it’s just a place he was given to stay at when he joined the federation and while he’s more than grateful for it, an empty, emotionless space where he only exists in can’t be qualified as a home.

However, he can’t stop wanting a place which is only his. A place he can share with someone he loves, wakeup next to her, cook with her, make memories with her. A home overflowing with laughter and giggles only.

Clearly, that murky ass house can never live up to that expectation not when it consists of a bathroom smaller than his fist, a bedroom which can’t fit more than 3 people at once and a kitchen he, for some reason, can’t get himself to cook in. He believes someday he’ll have that albeit the wait.

“Do you think I’m joking?” Taehyung’s voice is louder than ever before because of the surroundings. Sitting beside Namjoon as his hands fist a glass of old fashioned, he acts like he just spilled the most expensive beans.

He dramatically places one hand on his chest and turns to Jungkook, “Dude, tell him. Tell him how I got my dick pierced last week”

A chuckle leaves him, “Better yet, you can lose those pants and give him a live show”

The guys break out in fits of laughter.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen my dick already, you twat. I did it for my girlfriend alright? Was this close to tattooing her name too but didn’t,” he holds up his thumb and forefinger to show how much,

“I don’t want my guy to swell and look like I accidentally got it stuck between a door or something.”

From his peripheral vision, Jungkook spots Destiny walking up to them looking like an absolute goddess. She’s wearing a shoulder strapped bodycon dress tonight with her hair curled in such a way that it makes her face look more feminine. He has seen so much of her in those scrubs that she’s doing things to him now. Hold your damn horses, Jungkook.

The poor guy can’t so much as look at her for too long or he’ll get hard. That’s something he can’t allow himself to do right here when all his friends are gathered. They’re never gonna let him live that down.

Maybe, when he’s alone he can fuck his hand with the thoughts of her taking him into that sweet mouth she’s got a bold red lipstick look going on. His cheeks turn crimson and he fights back a smile.

“Hey, guys” she greets them as she tucks a hair strand behind her ear. A gold hoop adorning her. God, she’s trying to kill him. She's like Jungkook’s own version of heaven.

The guys all smile up at her like she just asked them to give her a foot massage. Meanwhile, her eyes never land on Jungkook.

“Jimin, can I steal you for a second?” she hesitates.

“Sure” Jimin places down his drink and stands up. He walks up to her and rests his hand at the small of her back making Jungkook’s smile drop. Nice, he's getting jealous over a kind gesture now. Next thing you know, he'll be ending anyone who dares to breathe in her direction.

Namjoon shakes his head as he follows them both with his gaze. “Am I the only one who thinks they’re fucking?”

Yoongi dissolves into laughter while Taehyung spits out his drink. Almost. Jungkook? He finds nothing funny about it but refrains himself from saying something stupid in the heat of the moment.

“There’s some tension, yes. Can’t say anything about the fucking part though” says Yoongi.

“What do you think?”

“What?”

“Do you think they’re shagging?” asks Taehyung in a hushed voice.

“I think you assholes need therapy” With that he rests his own glass of drink on the table and walks away. Their voices calling out to him become more and more faint as he goes on.

He needs to find out what is it that gave rise to this sudden change in Destiny and if he’s the reason for it. His stomach churns as soon as the thought of her having something going with Jimin crosses his mind.

The guys were joking back there and given their proclivity of joking around, he takes their statements with a grain of salt. Howbeit, he can’t help but wonder the same.

The worst thing of all is he doesn’t have any right to feel this way. She’s not his and she might never be for all he knows. So maybe this is for the best, maybe if she keeps on discounting him like this, it would be slightly easier to forget her. Right?

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Destiny

“What do you think you’re doing? This is a men's bathroom?” A guy who must be in his early twenties nearly pokes his finger in Jimin’s eyes. His gaze darts over to you as he gives you a disgusted look.

Jimin levels him with an intimidating glare, “Why don’t you mind your own damn business and we’ll be good. Yeah?”

He flashes you another appalling look, his nose flaring before he walks out. For a second you might even endorse with the guy but in your own defense, the club is buzzing with commotion and there was not a single space Jimin and you found where you both could have a proper conversation without anyone bumping into you. You spent quite the money on this dress and it'd be bummer to ruin it. It’s insane how crowded it is. So, here you are.

Jimin turns to you, his fingers still laced through yours for the sake of your safety. “I’m sorry for that”

You snatch your hand back. “No it’s totally fine. I mean it’s not usual for a guy to bring a woman in here” an awkward chuckles leaves you.

“It is”

Your smile drops, “Huh?”

“They do bring women in here. Well, let’s just say they do everything except have a talk”

Of course they do. God, this is more awkward than you imagined it would to be. You could die of embarrassment right now but if you don’t clear things up with him, it would be more humiliating to simply exist around him. You roll your shoulders back, plucking up enough courage.

“Let’s discuss the elephant in the room, shall we?”

He steps closer to you, just enough to catch you off guard but not enough to knock the breath out of your chest. There is someone else who's been doing that job lately.

“What elephant Destiny? The one about us having the best time together or how you left me the next morning? Alone and pathetic” he demands.

Well, knock me down with a feather.

Your mouth parts in shock, “I left you? You sneaked out, Jimin and you know it”

You wonder if he’s gonna come clean about that. If he’s gonna stop blaming you and take accountability for once. You guys did have the best time together and as short lived as it was, you regret nothing about that night until this point.

Now that he stands in front of you, accusing you of being so cowardly that you dared to leave him, it makes you question your own integrity.

He takes another step forward, automatically making you take one back as he searches your face. “So where were you when I woke up? Where were you when I reached my hand out and didn’t find you lying next to me, huh?” his voice barely a whisper.

Enough. You wouldn’t have bothered to stop the scream that’s begging to leave you had someone pointed a gun at your head. A gal can only take so much before she snaps.

“I WAS OUT THERE SEARCHING FOR MORNING AFTER PILLS”

The vacant bathroom echoes with your own words. The words you were holding back from saying out loud.

“I went in search of those, Jimin. Apparently, that’s what you’re supposed to do when you fuck each other and not take necessary precautions”

He stills, backing off as if you had slapped him. A heavy silence hangs in the air around you.

Jimin’s eyes flash with barely contained astonishment as he looks around trying to find words. When he doesn’t say anything, you take it as an opportunity to continue.

“You weren’t lying about us having a great time together. I accept that, we did have fun and I don’t regret it which honestly, I’m not so sure of now.”

A quick look of hurt passes through his face before he recovers.

“I was planning on staying back too oh… how badly I wanted to stay back but you have to understand that I was also at the prime of my career as a professional physical therapist. I couldn’t afford having a child, Jimin. Back then even the thought scared me. So, I left for a while, mentally promising you to come back. You were sleeping so soundly and you looked so beautiful and I didn’t want to disturb you—”

Your words come to an abrupt halt as he takes a long step towards you, backing you up against the white wall behind.

It’s not the same, your chest is not rising and falling rapidly like it did back then. Gosh, you couldn’t even speak in front of him. This time you’re immune to his eyes, his closeness and his warmth. Is this what they call healing?

“You should have” his brown eyes flash with hunger, “You should have disturbed me, Destiny. I would have woken up, ate you out, maybe fucked you again while wearing a condom, cuddled you and then accompanied you to the medical store.”

Oh fuck no, this is not happening. You’re not getting yourself back into this situation where he charms you with his mere words and leaves you cold. You deserve better than that.

You push him back with your palms on his chest, “Maybe, but I think I wouldn't have it any other way,”

You look straight into his eyes and nowhere else to make him feel how serious you are, leaving no room for uncertainty.

“Bella, my assistant, keeps saying that everything happens for a reason. It’s written up there," you point your forefinger up, "I feel the same about what went down with us. There was a reason why you left, there was a reason behind me not bothering to wake you up."

A bitter chuckle slips through your mouth, “Although, I can’t seem to grasp why the hell are you here?”

The way your heart is beating inside your chest, you might end up on a ventilator. It’s because you haven’t had much control of anything in your life, this feels particularly massive. This is one way for you to take back control, because it’s your choice and yours alone.

You try not to let the tears spill, “I asked you to spare me a few minutes just so I could talk to you about it but this isn’t how I imagined this conversation to go, Jimin. Regardless of that, I need you to do me a favor”

He holds your gaze. “What favor?”

You clear your burning throat, “I’m requesting you to please not initiate any conversation about our past with any of the guys. That could pretty much cost me my job and yours.”

He offers you a stern nod, “You have my word”

With that you turn and walk around just like you always do and always should when it’s time. Only this time, you don’t feel victorious. Instead, the feeling of utter shock rushes through your body because standing outside is the only person you had been avoiding to say the least.

You flinch. “Jungkook?”

He’s leaning back against the cold wall with his hands inside his front pockets, head hanging low. You can’t make his face out because of the darkness.

He frantically lifts up his head when he hears you calling, looking as surprised as you, “Hey, I— wait, why are you coming out of the men’s room?”

You shift on your feet, folding your hands in front of you. “What? OH !! Well, I had some business with Jimin and this felt like a nice place to.. you know”

You can’t talk for the life of you. How do you explain yourself to him without word vomiting? But then you think better of it and just shake your head.

“You know what? Never mind that. What about you? Why are you standing here like someone just broke your heart?”

No fucking way did you just say that. What is this? A bollywood movie? You immediately feel like you hit a nerve when his face falls, causing you to curse yourself.

He’s silent for a moment before he stands up straight. “You could say that”

“Wait, really?”

Yet again you’re struggling to breathe, a spark of curiosity threatening to rise up. Why do you care about his heart? He’s been all but rude to you every day since you’ve begun working by his side so why would you care if someone put his bloody heart in a blender? You have been assigned to take care of his body, what happens unrelated to that is none of your business.

Except, you do. There is a teeny tiny part of you that cares. Though, you can’t say if it’s the doctor inside of you or something else. Something which could ruin you and save you all at once.

“Who is it?” you ask in a small voice.

His eyes rank behind you and he pulls you close to him by grabbing your arm. You see a man passing by, faltering on his own under the influence of probably the sheer amount of alcohol inside him.

When you look up, you have to swallow a gasp. Jungkook’s face is so close to you, you can almost count his moles. The one under his lips is begging to be kissed and you hold yourself back from grabbing him by his jacket as you kiss the hell out of him.

Wait what?!

He looks down at you, his eyes burning with something you can’t pinpoint. It’s like a mixture of anger and adoration. Soft lips brush your temples as your heart beats out of your chest.

“It’s not safe here. Why don’t you go join Bella? If I break another nose it’ll cost me good”

You lean back, still in his arms. It would be nice if you get out of his hold. You should shove him away too exactly like you did with Jimin but for some reason, you can’t. His hold is safe, cozy. It reminds you of your grandmas cookie recipe. Warm and lovely.

“Another nose? Did you get into a fight?”

He breaks away, turning his back to you but you clutch his forearm as you hold him back before he can bolt.

“You know the PR is gonna make your life a living hell. What did you do?”

His jaw sets instinctively as he looks at you for a moment before speaking.

“Destiny, if you don’t want me kissing that sweet mouth of yours and imprint my name on it for once and for all, get the fuck out of here.” he rasps.

That's it. Flashbacks of that night and that fucking dream consume you. It doesn't help at all that he looks so dashing tonight in all black. Black leather jacket, black pants and his black boots. You're having visions you shouldn't have. They're nice. Farfetched but nice, nonetheless.

You release his hand like it will set you have you combust if you keep holding onto it for even a moment longer. You turn around, with the intent of getting out of his proximity when his voice stops you.

“Destiny”

You don’t turn around because something is telling you if you do, you will never be the same.

“My life turned into a living hell the moment you stopped looking at me”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook

Jungkook is dying. 

Figuratively, of course.

He should have taken Destiny seriously when she said that the PR is going to make his life miserable once he gets to know about the mess he had made. His phone is buzzing on the kitchen counter. He knows who it is but he doesn’t pick up.

Instead, he just waits until it stops ringing. Jungkook can see it all playing out in his head. He will be called to the PR’s office as soon as he enters the academy and the PR is gonna ask him why he did what he did, Jungkook will then tell him that he's a a man of virtue, he will ask him to repent and tell him to fuck off. Very classic. Been there, done that. 

He drops his head low, palms splayed in front of him. Calling last night chaotic would be an understatement. He said things he shouldn’t have and heard things he hoped he wouldn’t. It was not deliberate, of course. He would like to call it a spur of the moment.

Alright, he was fucking jealous. There he said it. He was jealous of Park Jimin because that man was touching who Jungkook had been longing for, he was talking to the women Jungkook had been begging to look at him once and allow him to breathe. 

When he reaches the academy, he quickly asks about Destiny’s whereabouts and goes on to find her. He thinks his knee needs to be discussed because he can’t risk not playing the next game.

He's not sure if he's prepared for the uneasiness that's about to welcome itself but– god if you’re listening, help him, he prepares himself as much as he possibly can. 

Raising his hand to make a fist, he knocks on her office door. This would be his first time inside, if she would even let him in.

“Come in” her voice reaches Jungkook. 

He takes a long deep breath and pushes the door wide open. Stepping inside he looks at her sitting in her chair with glasses resting on top of her button nose. She looks so adorable. He doesn’t think he has ever seen her with glasses on but he approves. 

“Jungkook? Is everything okay?” 

Is it? Why is she acting like everything about last night was a dream? Did I imagine it all? Jungkook wonders.

He slips his hands inside his front pockets and nods, “My knee is acting a bit weird. I wanted to get it checked. See if there’s anything serious.” 

She takes her glasses off and rises to her feet. Pointing to one of the chairs, she says, “Sit down and let me have a look”

He does what she asked as he leans back to make himself comfortable. An eerie silence surrounds them, making every inch of Jungkook's body stiff as he grips the armrests of the chair a bit tighter. He doesn’t let it appear that way of course. He’d rather die. 

When she’s satisfied, she gets down on her knees and looks up at him. The visual is lethal but not something which he hasn’t already imagined.

He's not entirely proud to say that he has had the privilege of seeing her on her knees in his dreams, in the darkness of his bathroom, in his fantasies. He's seen it all but the real sight nearly makes him blow his load.

What do you think happens to a man who witnesses a queen getting down on her knees for him? Ask Jungkook. Mentally thanking himself for not wearing the sweatpants, he prepares to answer any of her questions.

“Do you wanna tell me what caused this?” 

“There um, there was a fight back at the game. I felt a slight pain in the changing room but didn’t think much of it. Thought I’d let you know about it.” 

She smiles, “Well I’m proud of you for that minus the fighting part. I’m sure you’ll be discussing that in the PR’s office” 

As she’s examining any possible pulls or cracks, he thinks about apologizing to her about last night. To be very honest, he's tired of this awkward silence every time he's around her. Not talking is one thing, walking on eggshells around each other is another. He wants her to behave the same way she does with the rest of the boys. 

“Destiny, I needed to talk to you about something” 

She looks up again, her eyes filled with curiosity. 

“Sure. Was something else hurt during the fight?” 

“What? No. I wanted to talk about last night” 

She stiffens as her mouth forms an ‘O’ shape. Fuck, why is his heart beating so fast? Wait, is he sweating? 

Then she shrugs, talking in a casual tone. “I don’t think it’s worth talking about” 

“Why?” Jungkook can’t help but ask.

“Well,” she smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes, “You and I both were drunk and people do stupid stuff when they’re drunk so.”

“There was not a single drop of alcohol in my system. However, whatever I said was in the spur of the moment.” he says wording his previous thoughts, “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I’m sorry” 

She’s quiet for a moment before she lowers her head and mumbles something. 

“WellIhadasexdreamaboutyousoweareeveniguess”

He lowers down his own head, trying to listen clearly, ‘What was that?”

“I said I had a sex dream about you so we’re even” as soon as the words slip out of her, she claps a hand over her mouth. Her eyes wide as saucers. Meanwhile, he just sits there wondering if he heard her right or his brain is as fucked as his knee. 

His mouth goes dry as he keeps looking at her. He feels like someone just dumped a bucket full of ice water on his head. She had a sex dream about him? When? How was it? 

“It was uh okay” 

Kill him, kill him now because he said that out loud. See, this is what he means when he says he messes up every time he's in front of her. That’s exactly what the last thought that crosses his head before he pulls her by the back of her neck and smashes his lips on hers. Fuck it, he can’t take it anymore.

When she kisses him with the same amount of passion and hunger, he resists himself from hoisting her up on the table and eating her sweet cunt. She matches every movement of his lips. Hers suck his before his take her pink and pillowy ones. 

Within seconds, he has her caged in his arms. A low moan slips past her lips as she clutches onto Jungkook's shoulders for support, his fingers digging into the sides of her waist. Is this what feels like to kiss Kim Destiny? Is he actually touching and tasting her?

She tastes like cherries and bubblegum and he swears he's tasted nothing sweeter. He wants to have this taste every day on his tongue, and wants to remember it till the day he takes his last breath. Maybe, even longer than that. 

He pulls back and cups her cheek, running his thumb along her lower lip as she catches her breath. She’s got her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling against his. Jungkook can feel her hard nipples through her scrubs.

Someone shakes him by the shoulders and he snaps out, blinking rapidly. He looks around and finds himself sitting on the very chair Destiny asked him to but when a feminine voice calls out his name, it's not hers.

“Well, watching my best friend on her knees in front of my step brother was not the visual I thought I needed”

Turns out, it takes a lot to make that someone up there 'happy' because standing in front of him is his only step sister. It's hilarious how unpredictable life happens to be. After all, not only did he imagine kissing Destiny after she told him about her little sex dream but will now have to figure out how to face his sister without wanting to hurl himself out the window.

Can he catch a break?

Taglist - @keylime4eva @xumyboo @jash719 @dmstoyangyang @pitchblack0309 @withluvjm @chaelvrx @httpjeonlicious @lovingkoalaface @rpwprpwprpwprw (ilusm and thank you for reading <3)

[cowboybeepboop]

Addicted

"But you're different. You've got me on my damn knees here, and I don't even care."

“On your knees? Now that's something I’d like to see.”

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut, romantic

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: A one night stand with Hangman leaves him desperate and begging for more.

Warnings: Public sex, making Jake beg, p in v sex, riding him, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex.

a/n: Not really much to say other than I hope you enjoy <3 Also send any requests my way, could be for anything :)

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the airstrip as the jets roared by, their engines a deafening symphony that seemed to shake the very earth beneath your feet. You had always loved this time of day, the way the light painted everything in hues of gold and red, making even the most mundane tasks feel like a scene from a Hollywood blockbuster. But today, the sight of the planes brought with it a feeling of anxiety rather than excitement. Training with Maverick was intense, and as one of the few women in the program, you knew you had to be twice as good to be considered half as good.

The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place where pilots went to unwind after a long day of pushing the limits of gravity. You scanned the room, spotting the familiar faces of your colleagues, all of them men. The only other woman present was Nat, known as Phoenix, a fellow Top Gun graduate who had become your closest ally in this male-dominated world. She sat at the bar, her eyes lighting up as she saw you, offering a nod that seemed to say, "You can handle this."

Bob, with his boyish grin and easy-going demeanor, was the first to stand up and greet you. He pulled out a chair, offering it with a gallant flourish. "You're looking as sharp as ever, Y/N," he said, his voice carrying a hint of admiration that made your cheeks warm. You sat down, grateful for the respite from the catcalls and lewd comments that had been thrown your way since you walked in.

As you chatted with Bob and Phoenix, you couldn't help but notice the blond man across the room, his eyes locked on you like a homing missile. You had heard rumors about him—Hangman, they called him—a cocky pilot with a reputation for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. His stare was unnerving, a silent challenge that seemed to say, "I'm going to make you mine." You ignored him, focusing on the conversation and the cold beer in your hand, but the heat of his gaze was impossible to ignore.

As you’re sitting with the two, talking, the man starts walking over towards you, coming to a stop next to Phoenix with a smirk on his handsome face. You look up at him curiously while Nat gives him a stern glare. “What do you want, Bagman?” she questions him with an accusatory tone.

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, standing beside her, leaning his hip against the bar. "Can't a guy say hello without getting into trouble?" He joked, his eyes flickering over to you.

He looked you up and down slowly, a cocky grin on his lips. "I don't think we've met before." He muses, extending his hand out. "I'm Hangman, but you can call me Jake."

“I’m Y/N.” you ignore his extended hand, leaning closer to Bob to add distance between you and Hangman.

He raised an eyebrow as you ignored his hand, a smirk playing at his lips. "Playing hard to get, huh?" He teased, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's cute."

He glanced over at Bob for a moment, taking his hand back and stuffing it in his pocket. "You two a thing?" He asked casually, his eyes flickering over to you again.

Bob opens his mouth to deny being with you. “Actually, yes we are.” you grin, taking Bob’s hand in your own. Right now you were relying on him to take the hint and play along with you.

Hangman's smirk faded slightly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you and Bob holding hands. He couldn't deny that he was a little surprised, he assumed you were friends. He tried to brush it off, but a hint of jealousy stirred inside him.

Unfortunately your plan to get Hangman to back off by pretending to date Bob, was going less than swimmingly. It seems he doesn’t care whether you're already spoken for or not. The evening drags on with him still sending heated glances full of desire your way.

Eventually, you decide to call it a night, as you say your goodbyes and start to head out of the bar, Hangman's attention is immediately caught by your departure. He watches you exit, his eyes following you as you make your way to your jeep.

He debates for a moment, contemplating whether or not to follow you. His desire wins out, and he makes up his mind to follow you. He says his own goodbyes to the group and discreetly follows you outside, keeping a couple of paces behind you.

“Are you going to say something? Or are you just planning to keep following me like some creep?” you lean against the hood of your car, arms crossing under your chest, eyes narrowing at him.

Hangman freezes as you turn around and call him out. He hadn't expected you to notice him so quickly.

He smirks and steps closer, closing the distance between you both. "Just admiring the view," he drawls, his eyes roaming over your form shamelessly.

“Oh is that so?” you hum, gazing up at him with an unreadable expression.

"Absolutely." He nods and leans against the jeep beside you, standing so close that your bodies nearly touch.

He looks down at you, his eyes darkening slightly. "You and Bob, huh?" He comments casually, a hint of a taunt in his tone.

“Are you jealous?” you reply with a teasing smile.

He lets out a scoff, pretending not to be affected. "Me? Jealous? Please." He rolls his eyes, but there's a flicker of something in his gaze that gives him away.

He turns to face you fully, his arm resting on the jeep behind you, trapping you in. "I just don’t get why you're settling for Bob." He says, lowering his voice. "What's so special about him, hm?"

“I’m not *settling* for Bob,” you hop up on the car, sitting on the hood with your legs crossed. “He’s a gentleman, very sweet, and damn cute.”

Hangman's eyes flicker over your body for a moment, watching as you hop onto the hood and cross your legs.

He grumbles under his breath, slightly annoyed that you didn’t seem to get his point.

"Yeah, Yeah, he’s sweet and cute, whatever. I can be sweet and cute too, you know. Sometimes." He counters, trying to sound casual and nonchalant.

“So you are jealous.” you giggle, leaning back on your palms, uncrossing your legs. “And what makes you so special?”

He glares at you, his jealousy bubbling to the surface. "I'm Hangman, sweetheart. I’m the best, hottest, and most talented pilot there is." He says confidently, his ego on full display.

He steps even closer to you, his body slotting between your legs now. He gazes down at you, his hand resting near your hip. "I could show you a good time, unlike Bob."

You flick your tongue out, licking your bottom lip. “A good time hm?” you wrap your legs around his hips pulling him against you.

A small gasp leaves Hangman's lips as you pull him closer, his body automatically responding to your touch. He places his hands on your hips, his grip firm but not rough. He looks at you through hooded eyes, his gaze dark and full of desire.

"You have no idea." He practically growls, his body pressed against yours.

“Sounds inviting,” you murmur, with a small smirk. “But I don’t make a habit of sleeping with coworkers… especially when I have a boyfriend.” your tone is teasing.

Hangman's eyes narrow as you remind him of your supposed relationship with Bob. He leans closer, his nose nearly touching yours.

"Please," he retorts, his breath lightly tickling your skin. "We both know you're not actually dating him. I saw the way he looked at Phoenix earlier. He's got it bad for her, not you."

“While that may be true,” you let go of his waist, pushing his chest with your hand. “My point still stands. I don’t sleep with my coworkers.”

Hangman stumbles back a step, a mix of disappointment and frustration on his face. "Oh come on," he runs a hand through his hair, "We're both adults here. Don't tell me you don't feel the chemistry between us."

He steps closer to you again, his hand reaching out to gently grip your chin, tilting your head up towards him. "One night, no strings attached. It can be our little secret."

“A one night stand..” you bite down on your bottom lip, “Are you sure you’ll be able to walk away after one night?”

He chuckles, his hand moving from your chin to cup your cheek. "Sweetheart, one night with me and you'll be the one struggling to walk." He says with a cocky smirk, his tone confident and full of male arrogance.

He leans in closer, his lips hovering just above yours. "I guarantee you'll be begging for more."

“I guarantee you’ll be the one doing the begging.” your hand goes to the back of his head, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. Hangman's smug expression quickly vanishes as you pull him in, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss filled with fire and desire.

He lets out a low growl, his hands grabbing your hips and pressing you even tighter against him. He devours the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive fervor. As he finally breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy, he looks at you with feral eyes. "Don't underestimate me, sweetheart. I never beg."

“Get in the car,” you brush your hand down his chest, fingers ghosting over his erection. “Let’s go somewhere a little more comfortable.” Hangman's breath hitches as your fingers brush against his bulge, the touch sending a shiver through his body. He nods eagerly, a mix of impatience and anticipation on his face.

"Alright, alright. You lead the way." He steps back, letting you get off the hood and move around to the driver's side. He opens the passenger door and gets in, his eyes on you watching your every move.

The drive to the apartment is filled with tension, Hangman's hands occasionally drifting to your thigh or hip, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

As you enter the apartment and make your way towards the bedroom, Hangman's hands remain on your waist, his grip firm and possessive. He's practically glued to your back, the scent of his cologne filling your nose.

"You're driving me crazy, you know that?" He mutters into your ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. You turn around in his grasp, pressing a heated kiss to his lips, your own hands sliding down his body.

He groans into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you as close as possible. He returns the kiss with equal fervor, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive intensity.

His hands roam over your body, sliding down your curves and gripping your hips. His touch is almost bruising, his need for you evident in every move he makes. He walks you backwards towards the bed, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving small kisses and bites in their wake.

The back of your legs hit the edge of the bed, and Hangman guides you to sit down, his hands never leaving your body. He stands between your legs, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes.

Hangman's hands, strong and insistent, began to pull away the fabric that separated your bodies, his movements quick and sure. Your shirt was the first to go, lifted over your head and tossed aside with the ease of a man used to getting what he wanted.

His eyes roamed over your bare torso, drinking in the sight of your firm breasts, the peaks of your nipples pebbled with desire. He reached for the clasp of your bra, his fingers deftly unhooking it before sliding the straps down your arms, leaving it to fall away and expose you fully to his heated gaze.

With a smirk, he went for the button of your jeans, his eyes never leaving yours. As the zipper lowered, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and tugged, pulling them down your hips and over your thighs. You helped him, lifting your legs one by one, allowing him to remove your shoes and socks as well, leaving you in only your underwear.

His own clothes followed suit, the sound of fabric rustling and buttons popping filling the room as he stripped away his shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his chest and abs. His jeans were next, the leather belt unbuckling with a snap before the denim hit the floor, leaving him in his boxers.

He stepped closer, his hands sliding up your bare legs to the band of your underwear. With a single, fluid motion, he hooked his fingers in the fabric and dragged it down, leaving you completely bare before him.

You felt a rush of cool air against your skin as he stepped back to appreciate the view, his eyes dark with lust as they traveled over your body. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him as he removed his own boxers, his erection springing free and bobbing slightly with his every movement.

Your heart raced in your chest, the anticipation of what was to come making your stomach flip-flop. His hand reached for yours, pulling you to stand and bringing your bodies flush together. His erection pressed against your stomach, hot and demanding.

You felt his breath on your neck as he kissed along your collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Your hand found its way to the back of his neck, holding him closer as he continued to kiss and nibble his way down your body.

The feel of his bare chest against yours was electric, sending waves of heat through you. His hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You felt his thumbs brush over your hardened nipples, and a moan escaped your lips as he rolled them gently, teasing and pinching just enough to make you arch into his touch.

He was methodical in his exploration, as if he were memorizing every inch of your body. With a sudden surge of confidence, you pushed him against the mattress, surprising him with your strength.

He chuckled, his eyes flashing with excitement as you slid on top of him, straddling his hips. You lined his hardness up with your wet heat, feeling the tip of him nudge against your entrance. The sensation made you gasp, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment.

Opening them again, you stared down at him, a challenge in your gaze. Without a word, you began to ride him, your hips moving in a rhythm that was both agonizingly slow and incredibly sensual.

He watched you, his eyes hooded with desire as he felt your wetness envelop him. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he held on for dear life, letting you set the pace.

His breath was ragged in your ear, his voice a low murmur of encouragement as you rocked against him. You felt him swell inside you, his length filling you completely, and you knew he was close to the edge.

You leaned forward, pressing your chest to his, your breasts smashing against his skin. The friction was maddening, and you couldn’t help but increase your pace, chasing your own release.

His hands slid up your back, gripping your shoulders as he pulled you down for a deep, claiming kiss. His tongue danced with yours as his hips began to meet your movements, the two of you moving in perfect sync.

The bed creaked beneath you, the only sound in the room aside from the ragged breaths and soft moans that filled the space. The tension grew, a coil tightening in your stomach, signaling the approaching climax.

You felt his muscles tense underneath you, his grip on your hips tightening, and you knew he was close. You leaned back, letting him take over, his hands guiding your hips as he drove into you with a ferocity that had you seeing stars.

Each thrust was a declaration of dominance, a claim of what was his. You threw your head back, crying out his name as the orgasm washed over you, your body convulsing with pleasure.

The world around you faded away, leaving only the feeling of his skin against yours, the sound of your mingled breaths, and the exquisite sensation of his cock buried deep inside you. As the waves of pleasure subsided, you collapsed against him, your chest heaving with exertion.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as your bodies remained connected, both of you lost in the aftermath of the passionate encounter. For a moment, there was only silence, only the sound of your hearts beating in sync.

Then, with a soft chuckle, Hangman leaned his forehead against yours. "You're something else, Y/N." He whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and satisfaction.

You couldn’t help but smile, your breath still coming in short gasps. "I aim to please," you murmured, before pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

He rolled you over onto your back, his body still inside of yours, and began to move again, slower this time, more deliberate. He wanted to savor this moment, to make it last as long as possible. He kissed along your collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he thrust into you, his eyes never leaving yours.

The kisses grew more intense, his teeth sinking into your skin, leaving small marks. You didn’t protest, instead, you arched into the pain, your nails digging into his back as he claimed you once again.

This time, the passion was more intense, more raw, as if the first time was just the beginning of something much more powerful.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, casting shadows across the wall as your bodies moved together. The bed rocked beneath you, the headboard thumping rhythmically against the wall, a silent testament to the passion that had overtaken you both.

As the second climax approached, you felt yourself tighten around him, your body begging for release. He groaned, his movements growing erratic, his need for you consuming him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he reached his peak, filling you with his warmth.

Finally, with one last, powerful thrust, he stilled, his body collapsing next to yours. You both lay there, panting and trembling, the sweat from your bodies mingling on the cool sheets. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.

__________

The next few weeks are filled with tension between you and Jake. Where you are seemingly unaffected by the night you shared, Jake can't shake the memory of the night he shared with you.

He replays every moment in his head, relishing every touch, every kiss, every sound you made. He tries to ignore the way his heart skips a beat whenever he sees you, the way his eyes keep finding you in a room, and the way his body responds to your mere presence.

You’re back at the bar, hanging out with the other pilots while playing pool. Jake can't tear his eyes away from you as you lean over the pool table, lining up your shot. He watches intently as your body moves, the way your hips sway, and the way the pool cue rests in your grasp.

He takes a sip of his drink, attempting to appear nonchalant, but his eyes never leave you, drinking in your every movement.

You notice his lingering gaze and shoot him a questioning look, feeling Bob’s hand snake around your waist as he pulls you into a hug. You lean into his embrace as he whispers a soft goodnight before he leaves.

Jake's jaw clenches at the sight of Bob's arm around you, a flash of anger and jealousy passing through his eyes. It takes all his self-control not to stride over and pull you away from the hug.

He watches as Bob leans in, whispers something in your ear, and then leaves. Jake's hands ball into fist, his knuckles turning white as he forces himself to stay seated. You walk over to Hangman, arms crossed.

“Jake, we need to talk.” your tone is firm. You’ve been noticing his lingering stares, the way he seeks out your touch and attention. It’s been a frustrating couple weeks.

Hangman looks up at you as you approach, his expression guarded. He knows exactly what you're talking about. The tension between the two of you since that night has been unbearable, and he knows he can't keep up the act much longer.

He tries to feign nonchalance as he responds, a cocky smirk on his face. "What's there to talk about? We had our fun, right?"

“Come on, outside.” you practically demand, glaring at him before leaving the bar. Hangman's cocky smile falters a little under your demanding tone, but he quickly recovers, grabbing his jacket and following after you.

Once outside, he turns to face you, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Alright, we're out here. What do you want to talk about?" His voice is casual, but there's a hint of wariness in his eyes. He knows this conversation is not going to go the way he wants it to.

“What’s your deal?” the two of you are off in a dark corner, hidden behind the bar. “You’re the one who said *just* one night, yet you can't seem to stay away.”

Hangman's jaw clenches, his carefree demeanor slipping for a moment. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

"I don't know, alright?" He snaps, his voice carrying a hint of defensiveness. "I didn't think it would be so damn hard to just walk away from you."

He starts pacing back and forth in the small corner, his body tense, like a caged animal ready to pounce.

You scoff, “You’re not the commitment type, so what exactly is this all about?” your gaze is hardened as you lean against the wall.

Hangman stops pacing, his back to you as he takes a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

"It's not about commitment, alright?" He says, turning back around to face you, his eyes meeting yours. "It's about you. I can't get you out of my goddamn head." His voice is hoarse, and there's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that you've never seen before.

You look at him, eyebrows furrowed, expression full of confusion. Hangman steps closer to you, eyes searching your face.

"Don't look at me like that," he mutters, his voice gruff. "I...I don't know what I'm doing. I don't do this. I don't get attached, I don't get possessive. But I can't stop thinking about you, I can't stop wanting *you*..."

He reaches for you, taking a strand of your hair between his fingers, his touch gentle. "Please..." His voice is barely above a whisper, a plea. "Please don't make me stop." your gaze softens as he moves closer, desperate for you.

Hangman's plea hangs in the air, his voice revealing more vulnerability than he's ever shown before. He's practically shaking from the effort of resisting his growing desire for you.

He leans in, mere inches from your face, his breath hot on your skin. His eyes lock with yours, a mix of need and desperation swirling in their depths.

"I *need* you, Y/N," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I've never *needed* anyone like this before. You're driving me damn crazy."

“And here I thought you weren't the begging type.” You hum, hands going to his muscular waist. Hangman's breath hitches at your touch, his body responding immediately to your proximity. His hands find your hips, pulling you closer to him.

"I'm not. Usually." He answers, his voice a low rumble. "But you're different. You've got me on my damn knees here, and I don't even care." His body presses against yours, his grip on your hips tightening as if he’s afraid you'll pull away.

“On your knees? Now that's something I’d like to see.” you tease, enjoying the feel of his body against yours.

Hangman's eyes widen for a moment as he registers your words, then his smirk returns, a challenge in his gaze.

“Is that right?” He drops to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs. He runs his fingers up and down your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

“I’d do just about anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips hovering just above your hip. You gasp, legs spreading for him.

“Yeah?” you guide his hand under your skirt, back pressing against the wall. Hangman's eyes darken as his hand moves underneath your skirt, his touch sending shivers up your spine. His breathing is ragged, his gaze hungry as he looks up at you.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Anything, sweetheart. Just tell me what you want." His hand moves higher, his fingers tracing the hem of your underwear. His tongue slips out, running along his lower lip as he watches your reaction.

“Jake,” you whine his name, “I need you,” your fingers move to his hair, pulling him close. Hangman lets out a low moan as you pull on his hair, your words making his chest tighten with desire.

"Yeah, that's it. Say my name," he practically growls, his nose brushing against your inner thigh as he presses closer to you.

"I'm goin' crazy here, darling. Tell me what you want." His hands grip your thighs, his mouth trailing soft kisses along your skin, moving higher and higher until he reaches the edge of your underwear.

“I want you..” you gasp. Hangman's lips move against you, his breath hot against your clothed skin. He pulls you closer, his grip tight on your ass, as if he can't get close enough to you.

"Do you taste as sweet as you look, sweetheart?" He murmurs, his teeth nibbling at the fabric separated you, you gasp in response desperate for more. "I'm dyin' to find out." The bulge in his jeans is now apparent, his desire for you straining against the fabric.

Hangman looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes filled with a combination of need and heat. He pulls gently on the fabric of your underwear, his voice rough as he speaks.

"Can I take these off, sweetheart?" His hand moves up your thigh, his touch gentle. "I need to taste you, every inch of you."

Jake's gaze is intense, his eyes locked on yours as he slides your underwear down, revealing your glistening core. You nod the cool night air that kisses your exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your legs.

He kisses your thighs, working his way closer to your center, his breath hot and his mouth watering. As he licks you, you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming out in pleasure.

His tongue moves in a slow, deliberate circle around your clit, teasing and taunting you until you can't help but whimper. He smirks, knowing he has you on the edge, and continues his sweet torture, his hands gripping your hips to keep you in place.

You lean back against the wall, supporting yourself as his mouth works magic on your body. Your legs tremble, and your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer as you feel the orgasm building deep within you.

His tongue slides into you, stroking you deep and slow, and you can't hold back anymore. You moan out his name, your body convulsing as the climax crashes over you like a tidal wave.

Hangman doesn't stop, even as your legs give out and you slide down the wall. He holds you up with one hand, his mouth still working tirelessly. You're lost in the sensation, your mind a whirlwind of pleasure as he devours you.

Finally, you manage to push him away, gasping for air. "Jake, enough," you murmur, your voice shaky. He chuckles, standing up and pulling you into a standing position.

"I'm not done with you yet," he says, his voice low and full of promise. He kisses you deeply, his tongue tasting the sweetness of your orgasm on his lips. You melt into the kiss, your body craving more of him.

Hangman's hands move to the button of his jeans, fumbling slightly with the zipper. His desperation is palpable, his breathing heavy as he works to free his erection. He pulls out his cock, thick and hard, the moonlight casting shadows over it.

You moan into his mouth as he lifts you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist. He presses you against the wall, your hands holding onto his shoulders for balance. His tip teases your entrance, coated in your juices from earlier.

With a gentle nudge, he slides into you, filling you up. Your walls clench around him, trying to keep him inside. He groans into your mouth, his hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm that has your toes curling in your boots.

You're both lost in the moment, the cool night air surrounding you as he fucks you in the alleyway. His movements are deliberate, each thrust a declaration of his need for you.

Your hands move from his shoulders to his face, your fingers tracing the contours of his jaw, feeling the stubble that's grown in since the morning. You break the kiss, panting for air as you stare into his eyes.

"I need you," you whisper, your voice filled with passion. Hangman's eyes flare with desire, his hips moving faster, his strokes deeper.

The bricks of the alleyway press into your back, but you don't care. All that matters is the feeling of him inside you, the way your bodies move together in a dance as old as time.

You can feel the tension building in his body, his muscles tensing as he fights for control. But you want more, need more. You rock your hips against him, urging him to go harder.

He obliges, his thrusts becoming more forceful, his hands gripping your ass tightly. You throw your head back, your moans echoing through the deserted alley as you reach for your own release.

Your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, your body spasming around his cock. Hangman groans, his own climax following quickly behind, filling you with his warmth.

He holds you there, his body shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of the moment etched into every line of his face.

Slowly, he lowers you to the ground, his cock slipping out of you with a wet sound. You lean against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

He tucks himself back into his pants, his gaze never leaving yours. "I can't get enough of you," he says, his voice gruff.

You laugh, the sound a little shaky from the intensity of the encounter. "Is that so?"

Hangman's eyes never leave your face, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. His hands grip your hips, his touch both possessive and gentle at the same time. He leans in, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Damn right it is," he murmurs, his voice low. "I'm addicted to you, sweetheart. Can't get enough." he kisses your shoulder, pulling your waist as he presses you to him.

[bucks-babe]

Heated Punishment

Pairing: Omega!Bucky x Alpha!reader

Summary: Omega Bucky goes into heat, but his alpha isn’t too happy with him when he tries to hide from her

Warnings: Smut, mommy kink, omega!Bucky, sub!Bucky, soft!dom reader, also mean!dom reader, Bucky gets a boner fighting Natasha, handjob, edging, cock slapping, exhibitionism?, dirty talk, masturbation (Bucky), handcuffs, sex toys (cock ring), overstimulation, turns into free use?, begging, crying during sex (I have a problem), subspace, way too much cum but I couldn’t help myself, aftercare, worried Bucky

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Written with the amazing @buckys-wintersoldier and this was her idea so go give her some love! She really helped me so much with the direction of this fic. I can say that's the best a/b/o story i have ever read. And I'm in love with that! You should definitely give it a try because your panties will be destroyed with so much arousal — you didn't know you have such an amount down there!

Bucky grunts, dodging another punch thrown at him by Natasha. They had been going at it for hours, pinning each other down, punching and kicking. Even though he was a super soldier, he was an omega. His natural instinct was to submit to the alpha in front of him. If he was any other omega he would have, but the years of training kept his mind clear. 

“C’mon, Buck, that all you got?” He growls at her taunt, throwing his next punch into her side, too fast for her to move out of the way. She gasps, leaning over to catch her breath before flinging her head back up. “You hit like a girl.” Natasha’s words pissed him off, not wanting to be shown up by the alpha in front of him, but it was getting hard for him to resist submitting to her. 

He’s never struggled this much. He had his own alpha that took care of him, but right now, the unmated alpha before him was stirring something inside of him. Natasha stopped for a second, sniffing the air before her eyes darkened. She could smell his heat. About to call off the match, not wanting to be near her best friend’s omega right before his heat, she lets her guard down, only for Bucky to pin her to the ground, straddling her.

Natasha gasps at the sudden impact on her back, even more surprised when Bucky whines, high pitched and needy. His hips buck into her stomach unconsciously, jerking back when he realizes his cock is hard and throbbing. A whimper leaves his lips, he got hard for another alpha. He didn’t want Natasha, but he couldn’t help the way his body reacted.

“I-I’m sorry, alpha, I didn’t mean to-” Shame fills his body. How could he betray his alpha like this? The only person to take care of him in 80 years. 

“Bucky, it’s not your fault. You’re about to go into heat.” His head shoots up. Bucky didn’t even realize he was going into heat. Now he feels even worse. Another alpha was near him when he was about to go into heat. 

Without stopping, Bucky gets up and runs straight past your room and straight into his. Not wasting a second to jump into the shower and wash away his disgust. His cock is still hard, precum steadily leaking from his tip. He wants to touch himself so bad, to give himself some sort of relief, but he can’t. He didn’t get this erection from you, not deserving to pleasure himself. 

The longer he is in the shower, however, the harder his cock begs for friction, balls heavy with cum, desperate to relieve the pressure building up. One touch won’t hurt, right? His hand sneaks down his slick body slowly inching his way to his cock. He barely touches himself when the door to the bathroom shoots open. Without a second thought, Bucky pulls his hand away, turning to see you enter the bathroom, and you are pissed.

“Omega!” Bucky felt his cock pulse at your anger, finding it sexy. He whimpers, balls filling up with more cum. “You think you could get away with the stunt you pulled earlier? Think Natasha wouldn’t tell me how your dick got hard, humping her like a dirty slut? You think your alpha wouldn’t want to know you were in heat? What? Did you not want your alpha to take care of you?” Even through his lust filled haze, he can hear the hurt in your voice. 

“No! I didn’t know I was in heat! Would have came to you, alpha. I was ashamed. Didn’t want you to be mad at me.” Bucky gulps, even through his fear, his cock still pulses, hot and heavy, ready for his alpha to take him. 

You growl, the sound sending shivers down his spine, making his hips buck into the air and he moans. “You think this is funny, Omega?” You storm over to the shower, turning the water off and pulling Bucky out, not bothering to dry him off. 

“Get on the fucking bed.” He has never seen you so mad, not at him anyway. The omega in him was bouncing around, trying to decide if he thought this was hot, or if he just wanted to be a good boy for you. Both, he wanted both. You sat him down on the edge of the bed, straddling his lap.

“Wanna be a dirty whore? Then you’re going to be treated like one.” Your hand wraps around his cock, jerking it hard and fast, not easing him into it at all. 

“Fuck, alpha, so fucking good. So hard for you.” You pull your hand away but before Bucky can complain, your hand comes back down, slapping his cock, making it jolt around. “SHIT! Why did you do that?” You don’t answer him, only hitting him again, harder this time. “PLEASE.” You give him one more slap before pulling your hand away.

“You know why you got your dick slapped, Omega?” Bucky shakes his head. “Because you’re a liar. You’re not hard for me, are you? No, you got hard for another alpha.” 

“Only hard for you, promise.” You don’t say anything back, only jerking his cock harder and faster than before. “Alpha, gonna cum, gonna cum, please.” And just like that, you pull away and stand, turning around and about to head to the bathroom to shower. “Alpha! Where are you going? Please! Cock so hard. Hurts. Need you to help, balls are so fucking full.”

Turning back to him, you tilt your head. “You think you deserve to cum when you’re acting like a little whore, just because you’re in heat?” You stalk over to him, like he was your prey. You grab his jaw, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Get dressed, we’re going to movie night.” Letting go of his jaw with more force than necessary, you turn and walk away. “And don’t you dare think about touching your cock.”

Bucky scrambles to get dressed, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that was inside out, not caring that he was still soaking wet from his shower. He follows you, sneaking into the bathroom only to be caught when a heady moan slips from him. Cock pulsing with every beat of his heart. “You wanna watch your alpha shower, but you better not touch your cock. That is only for me. You hear me?” Bucky frantically nods his head, agreeing to anything you say.

He pants as he watches you strip, each piece of clothing you remove making his balls heavier. Without a glance back to him, you get in the shower, not bothering to close the curtain. With so much blood rushing to his dick, Bucky feels lightheaded, needing to sit down on the bathroom floor, looking up at his alpha, pupils completely blown.

He swears he could cum just at the sight of you, body soaking wet, soap suds making your body slick. His hand moves to his dick unconsciously, needing some relief. His cock was starting to become too painful, balls needing to be drained. “You’re getting yourself into more and more trouble, omega.” That knocks Bucky out of his stupor, pulling his hand away, still left unsatisfied. 

The rest of your shower is uneventful, Bucky finally listening, even though you don’t give in to his whines about his cock and balls. Scenting him before you leave, he follows you like a lost puppy, the bulge in his pants extremely noticeable.

The two of you are there first and you walk Bucky to the most secluded area in the room, where no one could see the two of you. You cover the both of you up with a blanket, making sure that the others won’t be able to see his cock about to burst. The others arrive not too long after and you can see the other alphas take a deep breath faintly smelling the scent of Bucky’s heat, only hidden by your scent.

Bucky tries to hide himself behind you, the omega in him desperate to get away from the other alphas, only wanting to be surrounded by you. The further he crawls into you, the harder it is to resist dragging him back to your room and fucking him until he passes out.

You have to be the strong one now, making Bucky wait until he physically can’t anymore. Eventually, the other alphas settle down and everyone is watching the movie. Well everyone except for you and Bucky. Your omega is curled up into you like he was trying to live inside your skin. Usually, you would think it’s cute, but right now he is testing your will. 

He finds the small crack in your disposition and you sneak your hand over, resting it on his thigh under the blanket. His entire body tenses, desperate for any type of release. You slowly move your hand up his thigh, feeling how impossibly hard your mate is. He has to bite your shoulder to stop the pornographic moan that leaves him, lucky that an action scene is unfolding on screen. 

You only get a few strokes of your hand before you stop, pulling your hand away, knowing that he was about to cum. The look Bucky gives you is wild; like he was a feral animal, caged and ready to pounce at any given moment. It makes you smirk and the rest of your restraint leaves your body.

Grabbing his wrist, you pull the both of you up and leave the room, not saying a word to anyone. As soon as you get inside your room you push Bucky down on the bed, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at your display of dominance. “Strip, omega.” It was a simple order, one that Bucky had no problem following. While he was frantically throwing his clothes across the room, you head over to the dresser, pulling out one of your favorite toys - a cock ring. 

When Bucky sees what you’re holding, he whines, giving you his best puppy dog eyes, hoping that you won't use it on him, at least not tonight. Not when his balls are so heavy, so full of cum that it is painful. He needs to cum in you, he can’t wait, but you’re not playing fair. 

“Ah, ah, none of that now. You know why I’m using this right?” Bucky doesn’t know how it happened, but you’re naked, slowly walking over to him.

“Because I was bad, alpha.” Heat rises to his cheeks, never wanting to disappoint his alpha. 

You sigh, dropping to the bed to grab his cock. You don’t even need to use any lube to work the ring down his cock. He’s been leaking precum all day. If you looked at the front of his sweatpants you would see the huge wet stain on the front. His entire cock was slick, precum still steadily dripping from his tip.

He hisses at your bare hand touching him, attempting to buck his hips up to get more friction. You just pull your hand off and slap his thigh. After he calms down you work the ring to the base of his cock. You purposefully chose a size that was just too small for him, wanting to make sure he wouldn’t cum without permission.

“No, omega, that’s not why you have to wear the ring. You have to wear the ring because you act like a bitch in heat as soon as you’re in my pussy.” Bucky’s toes curl, hips jerk, and he lets out a shameless moan making you glad Tony had soundproofed the walls. 

“Please, alpha, promise I won’t cum until you tell me. My balls are so fucking heavy, need to fuck you, please.” Tears well up in Bucky’s eyes, needing some type of release. You aren’t fairing much better, cunt throbbing to be filled with his cock.

You straddle his waist, grabbing his cock and sitting down without preamble, not wasting a second to start bouncing on him. “ALPHA, FUCK M’GONNA CUM.” He could feel it, could feel the cum trying to make its way out of his balls and up his cock, but it couldn’t, the cock ring too tight around him, not letting anything get past.

“Gonna cum already? Barely been inside me.” The moans Bucky lets out completely drown out yours. 

“Please, please, take it off, let me cum. Will be so good to you, please. Need it so bad. Cock hurts, alpha, please make it stop.” There was a constant stream of tears running down your pretty omega’s face, too lost in pleasure to form a coherent sentence, only able to beg you to drain his sack for him.

His hands fly to your hips, feet planting on the bed so he can thrust up into you harder and harder. The feeling of his cum filled sack slapping against your ass almost makes you cum; however, your omega knows better, he knows not to try and take control when you haven’t told him to. No matter how good it felt to be pounded into like his own personal fleshlight, you have to punish your omega for breaking the rules.

Pushing his arms off of you, you pull yourself off his cock. “Alpha, nonono, come back, need to feel your pussy, can’t be outside of it, need my cock back in, please!” There wasn’t a single thought in his brain, only the carnal need to fuck your pussy until his balls were empty and his cock was too sensitive to keep going.

Instead of listening to his begging, you get off the bed once again, heading back to the dresser to get out three pairs of handcuffs. Before you even turn around you hear the shlickshlickshlick of Bucky fucking his fist as fast as he can, trying and failing to coax an orgasm out of himself. Shaking your head, you turn around, Bucky’s eyes rake over your body, not stopping the assault on his cock until you get to the bed and grab them, placing them over his head. 

“You wanna be bad? Then you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.” Bucky can’t even find the strength to protest, letting you move his hands to the headboard, cuffing one hand and passing the cuff through a bedpost before cuffing the other.

You look him in the eyes, red and puffy, yet still blown. He knows what you want. “Not too tight, feels good.” With a nod you move down to his left leg, pulling in diagonal to the post at the bottom, handcuffing it. You look up at him, only moving to the next leg when he nods. You do the same to his right leg, but this time he shakes his head. “Little too tight, alpha.” When you go to loosen the cuff Bucky frantically shakes his head. “It’s okay alpha, you don’t have to loosen it.”

You narrow your eyes at him, knowing that he’s only saying that because he’s in subspace, not wanting to disappoint you, willing to be uncomfortable just to make you happy. “Omega, you know better than that. You know that your alpha doesn’t like when you lie to her.” Bucky hangs his head in shame as you loosen the handcuff and put it on again. As you crawl back on his lap you grab his face, forcing him to look at you. “You know not to lie to your alpha, but since you’re so pussy drunk, I’ll let you get away with it this one time.”

When he looks back into your eyes, you slam yourself down again, riding him with renewed vigor. You could hear the clink of the handcuffs as he tries to pull against them, desperate to thrust up into you, or even touch any part of you. “Oh, fuck mommy, please let me cum, feel like my balls are going to burst, they’re so heavy.” With all his whining, Bucky was pushing you closer to the edge. He was slipping further and further into subspace, bringing out the most submissive side of him. The little jerks of his hips making your pussy leak more. 

“Are you gonna wait for your mommy to cum, huh? Don’t you want to feel her milk you cock dry?”

A desperate whine leaves his mouth, eyes locked into your tits, just watching them bounce, mouth slackjaw. “Yesyesyes, wanna make you cum, wanna feel you around me.” 

With every bounce, you grind your hips down, the coarse curls at the base of him rubbing your clit. You can feel your orgasm bubbling up, tightening a knot in your belly. “Yeah, Omega? Gonna make your mommy cum? Gonna make her cream all over your dick?” 

Bucky can only nod, puff of air leaving his lips in between salacious groans. He can feel his cock swell, his knot growing at the base of him, increasing the pressure from the ring, making it painful. “Mommy, think-think I’m gonna blow.”

“Hold it baby, mommy’s almost there.” You speed up your hips, feeling the size of his cock get bigger and bigger. “My little clit is fucking pulsing, baby, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum. Gonna make your mommy so proud of you.”

It all happens at once. The swell of his cock too much and the ring holding his orgasm in place breaks, flying onto the bed somewhere. At that exact moment, his cock practically explodes with cum. “MOMMY, OH FUCK. OHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT. TOO MUCH.” Bucky was screaming, the soundproofed walls doing nothing to hide the sounds of his orgasm. “Fuck, so much cum. Mommy, why won’t it stop, can’t stop cumming, fuuucckk.”

Your pussy clenches around his cock, cumming just as hard as him, cunt trying desperately to keep his load inside even though it is futile. You can’t even make a sound, eyes rolling back, body convulsing around his, you fall onto his chest, feeling the shake of his whole body.

“Mhmmmmm, mommy, leaking so much, getting my cum all over, fuck, my balls are still so fucking heavy, need to fill you again, can I mommy? Please want to keep fucking you.” You can’t even feel your fucking toes and his cock is still rock hard inside of you.

Mustering up all the strength left in your body, you get up and undo his handcuffs from his hands and feet. As soon as his hands are free, they fly down to his cock, one hand wildly stroking his cock, his other hand fondling his balls, trying to tempt another load out of himself. When his feet are free, he plants them on the bed, bucking his hip uncontrollably, moaning so hysterically almost thought he was in pain.

“Please, come back, mommy. Want to cum in your pussy.” You flop down on the bed, laying on your stomach, for you being the alpha out of the two of you, sometimes you just couldn’t keep up with him.

“Use your mommy how you want, omega, make yourself feel good.” The poor thing was practically sobbing at this point, so needy to fuck you. Bucky doesn’t waste any time, hastily straddling your ass, slipping his dick back into its rightful home. 

“Yesyesyes, s’goods’good, can’t stop, mommy, needed this so bad.” Without warning Bucky squats over you, slamming his hips into yours. The clap of your ass against his hips causes your ass to bounce. He watches with rapt attention, almost wailing at the sight, another load about to leave his cock. “Mommy, your ass is so fucking hot. How does it move like that, oh shit. Bout to cum again, can’t fucking stop it.”

Bucky can’t stop fucking you, not even when his knot swells, just rutting against you as much as he can until it goes down, letting him pull his cock out almost all the way before slamming right back in.

His cock dragging against your walls over and over again, stretching you in the most delicious way, is almost too much. You can’t help but moan anyway, fighting with yourself if you want to push him away or beg for more. His thrusts only get more and more frantic, desperately searching for another orgasm.

“Mommy, want you to cum for me again. Please give it to me.” He rolls his hips, each stroke hitting your sweet spot without fail.

“Can’t, omega, just want you to make yourself feel good, just want you to fill me up until you’re satisfied.” This only makes Bucky thrust even harder and a loud keen leaves your lips.

“I need you to cum, mommy. Just one more, please, just give me one more, I swear, s’all I want.” You couldn’t deny your sweet omega when he was begging so beautifully. There was no way your body wouldn’t listen to the pleas of your mate.

His hips slap against yours even faster, the coil in your belly getting tighter, feeling like it was about to break. “Fuck, ‘mega, gonna cum for you.” The only sound Bucky can get out is a breathy Uh huh.

You can feel the swell of his knot, the friction doing nothing to slow Bucky’s movements. “Yeah, mommy, I want your cum, need your cum, please.” His begging was the final straw, your orgasm washing over you. Blinding white pleasure thrums throughout your body, pussy clenching so hard that Bucky’s knot pops, locking him to you as he pumps his cum in your welcoming hole. “Mommy, you’re making my cock feel so fucking good, giving you so much cum, can’t stop it.”

You can’t even hear Bucky’s whines and groans as he rides out his final orgasm of the night, too lost in your own pleasure, blood rushing through your ears, barely feeling Bucky collapse on your back, legs no longer able to hold himself up. You don’t know how long it takes for the both of you to come down, but by the time you do his knot has deflated, yet his cock stays buried in the warmth of your cunt.

The weight of his body is soothing, helping to ground yourself after such an intense session, but your omega is pure muscle and soon you’re struggling to breath. “Can’t breathe, ‘mega, need you to roll over.” Bucky whines and rolls the both of you over on your sides, keeping his cock nestled inside of you. 

You know that Bucky needs to be held and taken care of no matter how much you just want to lay down and sleep with him. Bucky whines when you leave his arms, cock slipping out of you. “It’s okay, omega, let your alpha take care of you, just gotta get you cleaned up.” The pout on his face makes it almost impossible for you to leave him, but you have to in order to clean him up.

As quickly as you can, you head to the bathroom, trying to ignore the copious amount of cum leaking down your legs. After peeing and cleaning yourself up, you grab the softest washcloth and wet it with warm water and walk back to the bed to find Bucky still pouting and waiting for you.

A small giggle leaves your lips as you climb back into bed. Before you move to clean him up you look at him, silently asking him for permission to touch his spent cock. Of course he does, nodding his head in confirmation, just wanting his alpha to take care of him. He tries not to wiggle too much when you bring the cloth to his sensitive skin. You move as fast as you can while still being cautious of overstimulating him even further, not wanting to draw it out, throwing the rag somewhere across the room so you could pull him to your chest after getting under the covers.

“Alpha?” Bucky’s voice is soft and timid, slightly muffled by his face in the crook of your neck.

“Yes, omega.” Your voice is welcoming, trying to ease his worry.

“Were you really mad at me earlier? With what happened with Natasha.” You could feel his whole body tense, worried that he was a bad omega.

Pulling him up to look him in the eyes you can’t help but to feel your heart break at the uncertainty that covers his face. “Of course not, omega, I know that it was just your body’s response and you didn’t actually want her. I would never blame you for something you can’t control. But I would like it if you came to me to help you, not hiding away from me. But if I did anything to make you feel less than I need you to tell me. Did you not like it when I talked to you like that?”

Bucky frantically shakes his head no. “No, alpha, I loved it, I just-” His eyes break off from yours, heat creeping up his face.

“Oh, ‘mega, is your brain feeling fuzzy right now?” He gets this way sometimes, when he is so deep in subspace that nothing makes sense except for his alpha, knowing how much he was loved and cared for.

Bucky only nods, not having the energy to speak. “That’s okay. Just lay down with me and get some rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Could I have a kiss, please.” A small smile crosses your face, eyes scrunching up. How could you say not to your perfect omega. Leaning up, you give Bucky a gentle kiss, conveying all the love you feel for him, all the love that you can’t put into words. That was all Bucky needed to lay his head down on your chest, wrapping his arms around you, cuddling you like a teddy bear knowing that he was safe from everything and everyone when he was in your arms. 

[klausysworld]

Very closed off reader who kinda clings to Klaus because they relate to him in the fact that he has family troubles :( she sees that he clearley does the things he does because of trauma or whatever and so does everything in her power to show him that he's got someone to fall back on.

Every time he shouts at her or retaleates because he's upset and dosent understand how soemone could be so nice to him she simply gives him a hug or a gift or just sits some distance away to show he isn't alone.

She deals with all his meanness quite well because she's used to it from her family and has learned to block it out :( one day he really has enough of her and after something goes wrong with Elena or Salvatore he really doesn't want reader around him. She tells him quite confidently that he needs soemone to help him and she would never leave him alone at which point he smirks and says something snarky before proving that he doesn't need her. He reaches into her chest and grips her heart and kinda realises he is in the wrong when she looks kinda shocked and sad so he gently takes his hand out and feeds her his blood to help with the damage he left behind. Afterwards reader is less affectionate with him and only sits with him when he is in a state, now afraid to touch him incase he lashes out but still wanting to support him cuz she cares about him :(

Thanks for reading, love your stories!

The Betrayed Becomes The Betrayer.

Growing up on an aggressive household desensitised me to a lot of things; yelling and smashing objects especially. My parents were a mess, I'm not sure if they didn't know how to love or just didn't want to.

Eventually I realised that they were the same thing and that I wasn't wanted at home, so I left and found Hayley.

Which was how I wound up finding Klaus.

He was a broken man, I could tell. Elijah confirmed that their parents had been cruel and abusive almost as soon as we met him which I assumed they also must've become desensitised over it after a thousand years.

However when I actually met Klaus, it was obvious that he was still deeply affected by it. I could understand him, his feelings and his thoughts. I got why he wanted to be so strategic, to have the control that was taken form him. I knew why he wanted to make people hurt the way he hurt and why he was as aggressive as the the people that raised him.

I wasn't violent, or an angry person. I had learnt to be quiet and keep things to myself so that I didn't get in the way but I would think about it. How it would feel to hurt someone, to make them feel worthless and then leave them. Could it really feel good enough to do over and over?

In my head I assumed it must do but I could never bring myself to actually torment someone the way I had been.

But I could tell that Klaus was still haunted by the past and it affected his every move. I couldn't blame him, or fault him for acting upon the images that swirled in my own mind.

Often he got frustrated, angry and inevitably lash out against someone. Something would be thrown, smashed. Someone would be yelling, screaming.

But I never wanted to be mad at him, to me he didn't deserve to be ranted at for what he'd done. They were riling him up further and it was obvious, it was like they wanted him to explode and hurt someone.

So instead of pushing him off that edge, I tried to help him back up.

To begin with I would just be the only one in the room not glaring at him with hatred. I just wanted him to know that there was someone on his side. He didn't notice for a little while but after a couple arguments I think he started to feel my presence. Sometimes he would get snappy, ask what I was looking at but when I'd just tell him that I understood why he did what he did, Klaus would get less defensive.

I wasn't a touchy person, ever, but the time his mother had been back and she hurt him so bad that he cried in his room, I didn't know what else to do but hug him.

After that it seemed like I was hugging him all the time. He calmed so much easier with some touch.

Sometimes he accepted it without complaint but sometimes he didn't want anyone near him so I would go away and come back later. He knew I was there when he needed me and I learnt to be a patient person.

I also learnt not to react so when he screamed in my face I didn't yell back. He had been so stressed lately and a lot of people had died yesterday the day before. I left him alone for the night before coming back in the morning to try and be there, he didn't want to talk so I went away and came back in the afternoon. To begin with he was fine but he got angry so fast, I barely said anything before he was yelling.

I tried not to react, not to talk back or get defensive but then he pushed me. Both hands on my shoulders, shoving me backward toward the wall and I tensed and something stirred in me.

I told him he was being ridiculous, pathetic and he didn't know what he needed.

"What? You think I need you? You think I like your desperate little cuddles. I'm not the one craving touch and love. I've been fine for centuries and I don't need a clingy little thing following me around." He snapped at me and I felt my frown deepen and the hurt biting at me.

"I'm not being clingy...I'm just trying to be helpful." I whispered and he scoffed.

Klaus got close, too close and it frightened me a little. I took a few steps back and he chuckled, trapping me to the wall.

"What is it, love? No more snuggles? You don't want to tell me it's okay? You gonna tell me I should paint a picture?" He mocked, his breath hot on my face. "You think I'm pathetic sweetheart? Think I need you? All I need is for you to disappear." His voice was low but clear, eyes cold and I felt the adrenaline hit and screaming for me to run but I froze just like I used to when I was little.

The smallest sound left me when I felt something agonising within my chest. My mouth opened but no noise would come out and I struggled to breath at all. I looked down, watching my own blood seep through my clothes and drip down his wrist. My eyes were stinging and I could feel my heart close to exploding as his grip tightened. I wasn't sure if I was stood there for hours or seconds before my body reacted and my arms shot up, both my hands latching onto his wrist so he couldn't pull the organ out.

My eyes shot up to look into his, seeing them soften after a second before his hand let go around my heart. A loud cry left me when he tore his fist out of my chest, leaving a gaping hole. I panted and a strong metallic taste filled my mouth as blood dripped past my lips.

His voice sounded blurry when he tried to tell me something, nothing felt real as my legs went weak and his hands touched my sides. The touch made me cry again and I felt him hesitate before something gross was pressed to my mouth and I couldn't tell if I was choking on my blood or his.

After a moment I could feel my body healing from the inside out, physically I felt better but now my mind was spinning. I looked up at him again, I could feel the fear pulsing through my veins when he reached his hand toward me.

This time I didn't freeze.

I was up and out of the room as fast as my legs could move.

I avoided him for a few days, part of me knew he wasn't going to do anything again and that he felt bad about it but the other part of me couldn't help but worry.

It was only when he was attacked again that I willingly sat in the same room as him.

"You okay?" I asked and he looked over to me, he was splattered with blood but at least it wasn’t mine.

"Yeah...I'm okay." He whispered, nodding.

I shifted in my place and he shuffled over on the couch so I could sit on the other end to him. The silence was awkward for a while, actually the entire time.

It was for quite a lot of the times I was near him. I wanted to be there for him, show him I understood but I was still scared and I didn't want to be close enough that he could kill me or hurt me just incase he did.

It was when he was carried in my Elijah, Papa Tunde’s blade in his chest causing him to be immobile and in agonising pain, when I got close again.

Elijah dropped him to the bed with a soft thud and was moving fast. He turned, looking right at me before talking.

“I need you to feed him your blood. It’s laced with vervain, he’ll heal slow. You need to keep him here or he is going to kill Rebekah. I don’t want to burden you, Y/N, but I’m afraid you’re the only who’s even a possibility.” He directed quickly, whilst dragging the blade from his brother’s chest.

“A possibility for what?” I asked, confused and afraid. I didn’t want to give him my blood. It was like asking him to kill me.

“You’re the only person he might listen to.” He explained as he headed for the door. “He won’t hurt you.” He told me and it sounded like a promise before he left.

Klaus let out a groan and I turned, hesitantly walking over to the edge of his bed. I silently dammed myself for being concerned enough to follow Elijah when he carried him in here.

I looked down at him, wincing at the cut that hadn’t healed down the length of his bare chest.

“What…what happened?” I whispered, wanting to reach out to touch but willing myself not to.

“Elijah-“ Klaus grunted, his teeth grinding as he forced words out. “He stabbed me for her.” It was clear that rage was all he felt in that moment as he tried to push himself up, only to let out a cry of pain.

“Rebekah?” I wondered and he seethed.

“She betrayed me. Called Mikael. She wanted me dead!” He yelled, his aggression growing as I felt my hairs stand on edge.

I was quiet, watching him struggle desperately.

I understand why he was so mad, betrayal was a huge thing for him. Abandonment, paranoia. It made him this way and Rebekah used it and ruined all of their lives but I had no doubt she had her reasons…not that I’d tell him that.

“She doesn’t now” I whispered and his had snapped to me. “She loved you now, she’s here now-“

“Only months ago did she stand beside Marcellus and watch as his vampires tried to kill me. She has always wanted me gone. She’s so desperate for Marcel that she’d kill her own brother-“ he snapped and I flinched.

His voice died off when I stepped back and he grunted softly. He was taking fast but deep breaths, trying to gather some stability and I could feel Elijah’s words echoing through me. That I had to let Klaus feed from me.

Reluctantly I shifted closer again, he was quiet as I sat down on the edge of his bed. His body was laid so close to me and his chest moved with each pain-filled breath.

My entire arm shook as I held it out, right infront of his face and it made his skin dance with veins. “Love…” he muttered, his jaw clenching as he inhaled through his nose. “I’m not going to hurt you” he uttered, I could feel his eyes on my but I couldn’t look back at his. “Not again. Just…there’s blood bags downstairs”

“Elijah said I have to use mine, the vervain makes it slower or something? I don’t know…I can’t do it wrong” I pushed my wrist closer, glancing at the fangs that were pushing past his gums.

“He won’t be mad.”

“He’s trusting me.” I whispered, finally looking up to klaus’s eyes and he sighed before slowly nodding.

I almost tugged my arm back when I felt his teeth pierce the skin, the sting making me move but his hand lifted to keep me in place. His eyes stayed locked on mine as he fed, it was such a strange sensation; much less painful than a needle.

As I felt myself weaken, I noticed the wound across his body fixing itself. My eyes started to go and for a second I faltered, my head beginning to drop but his other hand caught my chin and held me up. His fangs retreated back up and something warm and wet slid across my wrist before I was leaned up against him.

“I’m so sorry, love.” He whispered into my ear. “I have to finish what they’ve started.” He told me and I knew he wanted to murder Rebekah and I wanted to talk to him but he’d taken so much blood. His eyes stared straight into mine, reaching into my mind. “You’re going to fall asleep, you’ll wake tomorrow morning and you will feel no pain from this bite. I will heal you when I return. I promise I didn’t take enough to kill you, just to empty you of vervain.”

I wanted to argue, yell or anything but my mind shut down and my eyes wouldn’t stay open. I sunk into myself completely and lay, somehow conscious and unconscious as I tried to wake myself up.

I woke the next morning like he instructed my body to do, I glanced at my wrist to find it wrapped in bandages. My head lifted to see a glass of water, tinted pink by what I assumed was blood beside a small teddybear.

Hesitantly I sipped the drink, feeling instantly better before picking up the toy.

“I thought you’d like it” a voice sounded from the doorway, I glanced to see Klaus. Both his hands were behind his back and a guilty look painted his face.

I pushed myself up, it felt strange being in someone else’s bed; especially Klaus’s.

I didn’t answer him as I got up and pushed past him, shoving the teddy into his chest and going straight to my own room.

For a man who hated betrayal, he sure knew how to commit it.

He knew I was already afraid of him, that I didn’t want to be that close again and he took advantage of the ounce of trust I still had.

I understood him, but I couldn’t do this again. I’d been in this situation too many times.

[princesscait26]

Sweet Profanities

WARNING ⚠️ NSFW: MINORS DNI

Alastor x Reader

Summary: y/n never curses. Not exactly.

(This is my very first smut writing)

In the lounge of the hotel, the atmosphere was relaxed, with soft music playing in the background. Angel Dust lounged comfortably in a plush armchair, playing on his phone, a playful grin on his face. Alastor, ever the enigmatic presence, sat across from him, sipping a drink, reading a book with a subtle air of amusement.

“You know,” Angel said with a laugh, “y/n never cusses. She’s like this perfect little angel, always so polite and proper.”

Alastor’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “That’s not entirely true.”

Angel’s curiosity was piqued, and he leaned forward eagerly. “Oh? Really? When does she cuss? I’ve got to hear this!”

Alastor’s smile broadened, a hint of slyness in his voice. “Well, let’s just say that the only time I hear her use such colorful language is during our more... private moments.”

Angel’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, so what you’re saying is that y/n cusses when y’all fuck?!”

Alastor nodded, enjoying the look of astonishment on Angel’s face. “Indeed. The sweet sound of her cussing is something that’s reserved just for me.” He says with a smirk.

Angel’s mouth fell open in disbelief, shaking his head, laughing in amazement. “Who knew tall, dark and creepy here turns hells little angel into a freak in the sheets”

—————————————

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes, Alastor” a string of profanities was thrown. Y/n and Alastor tangled in the sheets.

“Oh, darling, your language,” Alastor teased breathlessly in her ear, a playful smirk on his lips. “How delightfully vulgar.”

Y/n brain was not functioning. Alastors cock deep in her walls, the slick filling the room with obscenities, ramming into her sweet spot. All she could think about was Alastors scent and the chasing of her release. Her nails running down his back.

“Shit. Just like that” she begged Alastor to continue. “Please, please, please. Fuck, I’m going to cum” she whined for more

Alastor bringing his nimble fingers to her clit, circling at the rhythm matching his thrusts. Y/n moans his name, gasping as she nears her release her walls clenching around Alastor’s member.

Alastor moans at the feeling, his own hips becoming erratic nearing his peak. “Cum for me, my love. Show me how good I make you feel” with his words y/n cums. The feeling of her orgasm, bringing Alastor to his release spilling his seed deep inside her.

“I love you so much” she says so sweetly, as she catches her breath.

“I love you too, y/n,” Alastor murmured as he pulled out of her, pulling her close against his chest. “You’re such a wonderfully vulgar thing, saving those sweet, profane words just for me.”

[barleyo]

Build-A-Bride.

Enji Todoroki X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: i can't stop writing broken enji... he's so depressed and lonely i LOVE it ^_^ isn't he just so dreamy? all downtrodden and sad? anyways this is so half-assed, sorry!

Tags: dub-con, forced/arranged marriage (sort of), age gap, mostly plot tbh (minimal smut), brief mentions of dehumanization, breeding, creampie, p in v, size difference, language barrier

Wordcount: 1.8k

Women don't like divorcés. It's a mark of failure. It brings down one's stock value. Enji's mistakes with Rei were numerous. He knew it was for the best, that he had nothing to fight for when she had the papers mailed to him. Why would he argue with her about it? The kids had all grown up and moved out. Their assets were easily separable. She did not ask for much in the split, and even if she did Enji would have given it up without pushing back. 

He was a man defeated. What point would there be in chasing after Rei again? He did not love her; not truly, at least, and she certainly did not love him. They had been living stagnantly ever since she was released from the hospital. It would be a feat for them to even speak to each other over breakfast. Idle chat about the weather or what their adult children were doing was a rare treat. 

Enji's life had slowed significantly. No children to fill his too-big-for-one-man house and no woman to be kept company by. Work had slowed down. Younger heroes took the top spots, slowly but surely. Even his own son was predicted to soon surpass him. Old timers, or "Golden-Age Heroes", as the media titled them, were losing fame and fortune alike. No longer the hot commodity, old was out, new was in.

He expected it, really. His goal was to be the number one hero, and he was for a while. Was it his dream to remain number one? He didn't have time to think about it before he got knocked down to a measly third place in the ranks. 

He had thrown so much of himself into the hero life. It crossed his mind a few times, it all ending, but he never realized that it would come crashing down so soon. What friends he had, using the term very lightly, were less than helpful in his condition. 

None less so than Hawks, of course. That damned fool.

Keigo had been dragging Enji out to these annoyingly quaint cafés for a while now. He'd force piles of biscotti and scones onto Enji's plate while blabbing on about some new excursion of his or the other, taking up the prime hours of Enji's day in the name of socializing. 

Seldom it was that Enji left the impromptu meet-ups with anything but slight annoyance at best and utter exhaustion at worst. He could hardly pay attention to the meaningless drivel Keigo threw his way. Sometimes it was talk of the current hero ranks, which Enji immediately tuned out. Other times it was about a concert or movie Keigo was going to. 

Lately, though, Keigo had an interest in trying to play matchmaker for Enji. 

"You should really get out there," he said, smug little smile plastered on his cheeky face while he sipped his espresso. "You aren't getting younger."

Enji's response was the same as always, in that he was too busy and too old to be worrying about such things. "I do not have time to woo a woman like a schoolboy. I'm fine where I am," he responded with his arms resting on the café's comparably small table. 

Keigo chuckled, curling his lips upwards. "You can only spend so many nights with your right hand, Endeavor."

"Shut your damned mouth."

"If you won't let me set you up with someone," Keigo said, not taking Enji's gruff tone seriously, as usual, "there is another option."

Enji pressed his mouth closed tightly, eyes narrowing into a judgmental squint. "It had better not be online dating."

Defensive hands flew up. "No, no. You've made that pretty clear, man. I'm talking about getting, like, a mail-order bride or whatever they're called."

"You do realize how much that sounds like human trafficking, right?"

"It does not! They still do it, you know. There are websites and everything." 

Enji sighed and leaned his head back to look up at the ceiling. The idea sounded horrible. God only knew how sketchy something like that would be, and besides, how horrible were the moral implications of that? Some old bastard like himself purchasing a young girl like a farm animal. 

It wasn't completely unheard of. Plenty colleagues of his had foreign brides ordered for them. Even his own cousins had done similar things. Hell, he wasn't far off from trying it out to get the perfect quirk marriage before he found Rei. 

But now? It sounded cruel. Unnecessary. He already resented himself for how he treated his family— he didn't need to ruin the life of some other woman too.

"I am not going to order a wife," he said, voice strained, "like a spare part off of eBay. Do you not see how horrible that would look on me?"

Keigo waved his hand dismissively, unbothered. “It’s not like that. These women are looking for a chance at a better life," he explained before teasingly adding, "just like the lonely men who send for them." 

Enji stared at him, trying to decipher if he was serious. “You really think I'm desperate enough to buy some random woman?"

"Don't think of it like 'buying.' Think of it as rescuing. How will the press feel about that, hm? Imagine the headline: ‘Endeavor, the hero with a heart, saves a foreign damsel in distress by bringing her to Japan to live a new life of riches and mind-blowing sex!'"

"You disgust sometimes, you little brat."

Keigo leaned over the table, teeth flashing briefly as he spoke. "Just think about it, okay? I'll send you some links tonight." He got up and pushed his chair in with his foot. "Besides, I'm tired of being your only friend. These little 'dates' of ours are cutting majorly into my work." 

Keigo had compiled a ridiculously long list of websites and companies that specialized in international marriage deals. He had definitely committed to the bit too much or he had researched this topic heavily before presenting it to Enji via text.

Either way, Enji peered at his cell phone screen in distaste. Link after link, scrolling through the masterlist Hawks compiled, he just felt more unsure of the idea. The names of the sites left a strange feeling in his gut. 

GoldenBride, Rose Brides, Latidate. For fuck's sake, UkraineBride4You dot com? "Legitimate & Cheapest Mail Order Bride Sites! Click here for more!" 

He clicked his phone off. The light from the vibrant ads and taglines disappeared from his face as quickly as they appeared, leaving him in the dark of his bedroom. He didn't speak, he just stayed in his bed, leaning on the headboard in silence. 

He had gotten used to his house being quiet. It was never especially loud, but at least when the kids still lived at home, he could hear the sounds of life. Of Shoto's feet padding through the halls. The sound of Fuyumi's books opening and closing. Natsuo's grumbling under his breath. Proof that he had gotten them all this far— that he had done something right for them. 

No. He couldn't stay this way, living in the dark silence, figuratively and literally. He turned his phone back on and clicked the highlighted link with the least concerning name. 

Well, you were just the perfect little thing, weren't you? Young, pretty, doe-eyed, and sweet. After perusing a website that looked less criminal than he thought it would, Enji decided on you. He had to have you. 

You stood out immediately from the pages of other women. All of them were, of course, gorgeous. They would not be advertised if they weren't. You, though. There was something about you. You were small—Enji liked that—but not frail. Built for carrying children was what you were, he decided, with your soft curves and buxom build. 

Your profile did not give much away. Basic information and a little greeting. It intrigued him enough, so clearly it worked. 

The two of you chatted for a few weeks, if you could call it that. There was little getting to know each other and more plane tickets being purchased and pick up times being arranged. To say that you had him hooked was an understatement, especially considering the only tools you had to connect with him were shitty translations of your language to his from Google and emojis. 

Everything about you read as gentle. Docile. Probably the only personality Enji was equipped to deal with. He would just die if married to a combative woman. His enemies would love to see him nestled up with a loud, abrasive one with a temper to match his own. 

No, you would do quite nicely, with your limited speaking and non-provoking nature. You were the perfect escape, a blank canvas onto which he could project his hopes for a new life onto. He could start a family over again. He could fix his mistakes and move on. Maybe, just maybe, he could forgive himself.

The flood of ideas filled him each time his phone buzzed with your messages, even if they were often short and punctuated by misunderstandings and screwy sentences due to poor translations. He found himself counting the days until your plane would take off to bring you to him, to his home. He had plans for you.

Things moved quickly with your new husband. Just last week your flight landed. Then you were  saying "I do," and now he had you bent in positions unimaginable. 

He worked fast. His hands were large and rough, but God, they were efficient. Thick fingers rubbed at your clit. A thicker cock  prodded at your entrance. You wriggled beneath him a bit, eyes widening at the stretch. 

You didn't have the words to tell him you were a virgin, but you didn't have the desire to stop him either. 

"Hold still, you," he said, voice gentle in comparison to how rough his strokes were. "You've got to let it adjust." 

Even if you could understand his words, the heat burning your ears drowned out any sound completely. Fullness filled you everywhere. Like a missing piece you never knew you didn't have. 

"Ah, you still aren't broken in yet for me," he muttered to himself. He watched as your struggles to swallow him into your walls. "Virgin, yeah?"

You mumbled incoherently to yourself, feeling his words cast over your face. More or less, you understood the tone of his words and hummed in agreement, hands playing with your tits absent mindedly. 

Pain tinted moans escaped you. Enji felt good, sure, but a warmth of discomfort passed through you with every inch of him. Your mind told you yes, but your body tried to reject him. He was simply too big, and too much. 

Not that it would stop him. 

He spat on his length to ease the friction. A steady hand stayed over your clit, abusing it to the point of overstimulation. He wanted this to be pleasurable for you, but he had a goal in mind. 

The load or two he had pumped into you earlier wasn't enough. He wouldn't dare give up yet, especially not with the adrenaline rush hearing you whine gave him. 

Besides, your plane ticket was expensive. He planned on getting paid back in spades.

[sneezypeasy]

The Lightning Scene, How Azula Targeted Katara (of All People), and the Doylist Reason Why That Matters

Mention Zuko's sacrifice for Katara in Sozin's Comet Part 3 as part of a pro-Zutara talking point, and invariably you'll get a Pavlovian response of:

"But Zuko would have taken the lightning for anyone."

(Not to be confused with the similar-sounding Pavlovan response, which is "Zuko's sacrifice ain't shit compared to a mouth-watering, strawberry-topped meringue dessert"*, which is actually the only valid counter-argument to how the lightning scene is a bona fide Zutara treasure, but I digress.)

Now, I've talked in depth about how the lightning scene is framed far more romantically than it had any right to be, regardless of how you might interpret the subject on paper; this is an argument which I still stand by 100%. That Zuko would have gotten barbecued for anyone, and that he was at the stage of his arc where his royal kebab-ness represented his final act of redemption, doesn't change the fact that the animators/soundtrack artists decided to pull out all the stops with making this scene hit romantic film tropes bingo by the time it played out on screen.

(I mean, we stan.)

There's also a deeper level to this conundrum, a layer which creeps up on you when you're standing in your kitchen at night, the fridge door open in front of you, your hungry, sleep-deprived brain trying to decide on what to grab for a midnight snack, and quite inexcusably you're struck with the question: Okay, Zuko may indeed have taken the lightning for just anyone, but would Azula have shot the lightning at just anyone?

But there's yet a deeper layer to this question, that I don't recall ever seeing anyone discuss (though if somebody has, mea culpa). And that is: would you have written Zuko taking the lightning for anyone else?

Or in other words, who Zuko would have taken the lightning for is the wrong question to be asking; the question we ought to be asking is who Zuko should have taken the lightning for, instead.

Get your pens out, your Doylist hats on, and turn to page 394. It's time to think like an author for a hot minute.

(If you don't know what I mean by Watsonian vs. Doylist analyses, and/or if you need a refresher course, go have a skim of the first section of this 'ere post and then scoot your ass back to this one.)

So. You're the author. You've written almost the entirety of an animated series (look at you!!) and now you're at the climax, which you've decided is going to be an epic, hero-villain showdown. Classic. Unlike previous battles between these two characters, your hero is going to have a significant advantage in this fight - partly due to his own development as a hero at the height of his strength and moral conviction, and partly because your villain has gone through a bit of a Britney Spears 2007 fiasco, and isn't quite at the top of her game here. If things keep going at this pace, your hero is going to win the fight fairly easily - actually, maybe even too easily. That's okay though, you're a talented writer and you know just what will raise the stakes and give the audience a well-timed "oh shit" moment: you're going to have the villain suddenly switch targets and aim for somebody else. The hero will be thrown off his groove, the villain will gain the upper hand, the turns will have indubitably tabled. Villains playing dirty is the number 1 rule in every villain handbook after all, and each of the last two times your hero's braved this sort of fight he's faced an opponent who ended up fighting dishonourably, so you've got a lovely Rule of Three perfectly lined up for the taking. Impeccable. The warm glow of triumph shines upon you, cherubs sing, your English teachers clap and shed tears of pride. (Except for that one teacher you had in year 8 who hated everybody, but she's a right bitch and we're not talking about her today.)

Now here's the thing: your hero is a hero. Maybe he wasn't always a hero, but he certainly is one now. If the villain goes after an innocent third party, there's basically no-one your hero wouldn't sacrifice himself for. He's a hero! Heroes do be like that, it's kind of their thing. The villain could shoot a bolt of lightning at Bildad the Shuhite, and the only thing that'd stop our boy Redeemed Paladin Bravesoul McGee from shielding his foxy ass is the fact that Bildad the Shuhite has the audacity to exist in a totally different show (disgusten.)

But. You're holding the writer's pen. Minus crossover shenanigans you don't have the licensing or time-travel technology to achieve, you have full control over how this scene plays out. You get to decide which character to target to deliver the greatest emotional impact, the juiciest angst, the most powerful cinematic suspense. You get to decide whose life you'll put at risk, to make this scene the most intense spine-chilling heart-stopper it can possibly be.

This is the climax we're talking about, after all - now is not the time to go easy on the drama.

So.

Do you make the villain target just anyone?

Or do you make the villain target someone the hero cares about?

Perhaps, someone he cares about... a lot?

Maybe even, someone he cares about... more than anybody else?

You are the author. You are the God of this universe. You get to choose.

What would deliver the strongest punch?

If you happen to make the inadvisable decision of browsing through these tropes on TV tropes, aside from wasting the rest of your afternoon (you're welcome), you'll find that the examples listed are littered with threatened and dead love interests, and, well, there's a reason for that. For better or worse, romantic love is often portrayed by authors, and perceived by audiences, as a "true" form of love (often even, "the" true form of love). Which is responsible for the other is a chicken/egg situation, one I'm not going to go into for this post - and while I'm certainly not here to defend this perspective as objectively good, I do think it's worth acknowledging that it not only exists but is culturally rather ubiquitous. (If you're playing the love interest in a story with a hero v. a villain, you might wanna watch your back, is what I'm saying.)

Regardless of whether the vibe you're aiming for is romantic or platonic however, one thing is for certain: if you want maximum oomph, the way to achieve that is by making the villain go after the player whose death would hit the hero the hardest.

And like I said, this doesn't have to be played romantically (although it so often is). There are platonic examples in those trope pages, though it's also important to note that many of the platonic ones do show up in stories where a love interest isn't depicted/available/there's a strong "bromance" element/the hero is low-key ace - and keep in mind too that going that route sometimes runs a related risk of falling into queer-bait territory *coughJohnLockcough*

That said, if there is a canon love-interest available, one who's confessed her love for the hero, one who has since been imprisoned by the villain, one who can easily be written as being at the villain's disposal, and who could quite conveniently be whipped out for a mid-battle surprise round - you might find you have some explaining to do if you choose to wield your authorly powers to have the villain go after... idk, some other sheila instead.

(The fact that this ends up taking the hero out of the fight, and the person he sacrifices himself for subsequently throws herself into the arena risking life and limb to defeat the villain and rescue her saviour, also means the most satisfying way this plays out, narratively speaking, is if both of these characters happen to be the most important person in each other's lives - at least, as of that moment, anyway - but I think this post has gone on long enough, lol)

This is, by and large, a rebuttal post more than anything else, but the tl;dr here is - regardless of whether you want to read the scene as shippy or not, to downplay Zuko's sacrifice for Katara specifically as "not that deep™" because "Zuko would have taken the lightning for anyone anyway", suggests either that a) nobody should be reading into the implications of Katara being chosen as the person nearest and dearest to Zuko, so that putting her life in jeopardy can deliver the most powerful impact possible for an audience you'd bloody well hope are on the edge of their seats during the climax of your story or b) the writers made the inexplicable decision of having the villain threaten the life of... literally who the fuck ever, and ultimately landed on someone who's actually not all that important to the hero in the grand scheme of things - which is a cardinal writing sin if I ever saw one (even disregarding the Choice to then season it with mood lighting and sad violin music, on top of it all), and altogether something I'd be legitimately pissed about if my Zuko-OTP ship paired him with Mai, Sokka, or just about anybody else 😂

Most importantly c) I'm hungry, and I want snacks.

*The Aussies in the fandom will get this one. Everyone else can suffer in united confusion.

[mapis-putellas]

[ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴇᴀᴛꜱ ]

Summary: You never intended to meet the love of your life on a random Friday at work, and you definitely never thought she’d be world famous footballer Alexia Putellas.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

Your date with Alexia ends up lasting the entire day. After getting ice cream -the second activity Alexia had planned- you'd ended up taking a small road trip to the nearest beach just a few miles away. Due to the time of day it was still relatively crowded, but you'd managed to find a small unoccupied area near the water where Alexia had promptly laid out the hoodie she'd brought from the car for you to sit on.

She'd sat herself opposite, cross legged, just like you, with her knees flush against your own. It was kind of perfect honestly, just sitting with her talking about anything and everything. She even teaches you a few more Spanish words, high-fiving you and intertwining her hands with your own whenever you got something right.

Had it been just an excuse to touch you? Maybe? But you certainly hadn't minded.

You'd then spent at least an hour walking hand in hand down the shoreline, comfortable conversation still flowing smoothly between you. It was only when the sun had started to set did you make the joint decision to call it a day, the car ride back feeling a lot quicker than the initial journey there. She'd pulled up outside of your apartment just as the clock strikes nine pm, leaving the car running as she unbuckles her seatbelt and steps out. You watch her round the vehicle before reaching to your open door, not hesitating to take the hand she offers you and allowing her to help you out of the car.

You'd stared at one another for a few moments before you had step forward to loop your arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug, Alexia responding almost immediately by securing her arms around your waist and lifting you slightly off of your feet.

You cup the back of her head, effectively bringing her with you when she sets you back down and pressing your lips softly against her own. A few murmured assurances about a second date had briefly filled the silence, and then you'd both bid one another a rather reluctant goodbye, you waving her off from your place on the sidewalk.

You had entered your apartment feeling both ecstatic and sad. Ecstatic because this was officially the best date you'd ever been on and sad because it was over. That continues as you get ready for bed, but a text from Alexia sweetly bidding you a good night immediately cheers you up.

Throughout the remainder of the week, you and Alexia text pretty frequently. It's mostly in the evenings when she was free and the conversation was mostly pretty friendly with the occasional i hope to see you soon thrown in. It bums you a little that nothing had been brought up about a second date; especially when you'd asked her to let you know when she was free so you didn't plan something when she was busy. But it could simply be the fact that she had no free time and was waiting for a day to be available. That's what you've been telling yourself anyway, so not to drive yourself insane with the what ifs.

About three days after your first date is when she FaceTimes you for the first time. It was a little after eight at night, so you were in the bathroom getting ready for bed when your phone buzzes softly against the counter. You pick it up, blinking a little in surprise when you see the name on your screen but not hesitating to press accept.

"Hey." You smile, propping her up against the back of the sink as you continue wiping off your makeup.

She was in her car, you think, though it didn't seem as though she was driving. It was slightly dark, but you could make out the fact that she was wearing the same football kit she'd been wearing the day you'd met. Man, she really liked football huh?

"Hola, amor." She greets, reclining her seat back slightly so she could get more comfortable. She props her elbow up on the door, resting her head in her hand. "How has your day been?" She wonders.

You shrug slightly as you wet your face before uncapping your face wash, pouring some out onto your hand and rubbing it onto your skin. "It's been alright," you shrug. "work was long but productive. I ate some dinner and read my book and now I'm getting ready for bed. How was your day?" You quickly rinse off your face before drying it off with a clean towel.

Alexia sighs softly. "My day was good, gracias, amor." She offers you a tentative smile, one you don't hesitate to return. You bend down a little, resting your elbows against the counter and resting your face in your hands. Alexia tilts her head to the side, looking inquisitive as you stare at her.

"What is it?" She whispers after a few silent moments, and you sigh softly as you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"Is it weird to say that I missed you?" You admit a little more bashfully than you would have liked, your cheeks flushing a light shade of red.

Alexia's features soften as she holds her phone a little closer to her face. "No," she shakes her head. "It is not weird. I missed you too. I have been trying to find a free day for our second date but I have been..."

"Busy," you nod, letting out a soft sigh as you pick up your moisturiser. "I know, I understand. I just wanted to tell you."

She nods. "Actually, I call because I have a question...for you."

"Ask away." You assure.

"I have training tomorrow, and I want to ask if...you could, wanted, to go with me?"

"Football training?" You ask, turning off the bathroom light and making your way into your bedroom.

"Sí." Alexia nods.

"You want me to go with you to training?"

"Yes. If you want to. Of course you do not have to, it will be boring, just sitting in the stands but..."

"I'll never turn down an opportunity to see you Alexia. Of course I'll come with you." You were quick to say as you settle against her headboard of your bed, propping your phone up with a pillow in front of you. "Just know I have no idea how any of it works." You warn somewhat seriously.

Alexia laughs. "That is okay. I will explain it to you." She assures.

"You will, huh?" You grin, reaching back to pull your hair back into a ponytail. Your tank top slips up your body at the action, slightly exposing your torso, and you pretend you don't notice the way her eyes not so subtly flicker down to get a look. She clears her throat softly just a few seconds later, a sheepish smile slipping onto her lips when she realises you'd caught her in the act.

"Promesa." She says after a few seconds, and you hum softly as lean back against the headboard of your bed.

"Wait," you abruptly sit back up. "does training count as a second date?"

"Uhhh..." she sends you a guilty smile.

"Alexia! I was supposed to plan the second date!"

*

It was only when Alexia pulls up outside of a large looking stadium the next day do you realise that maybe this whole football thing was a lot more serious than she'd been letting on.

You look around as you exit the car, seeing many others in matching football kits as Alexia grabs a large duffel bag out of the trunk. Some look right at to with a look of confusion on their faces, making you wonder if Alexia really had permission to bring you here after all.

You turn, ready to question her, but Alexia subtly shakes her head as she gestures you towards the entrance of the stadium. Though your confusion deepens, you comply and follow her inside, your eyes widening when you take note of people with cameras and phones filming everyone who passes as Alexia grasps your hand and pulls you out of the way of everyone.

"Alexia, what's going on? You said this was football training-"

"Sí," she cuts you off, squeezing your hand. "It is football training. I...I play for Barça."

"I-okay? I don't know what that means. Why are there people taking pictures? Why are there cameras?" You whisper the last part, not wanting anyone to overhear.

Alexia sighs lightly. "Vale. I...I am Alexia Putellas."

You raise an eyebrow as you lean back against the wall, shoving your hands into your pockets. "I know your name, dummy."

"No," she shakes her head. "I do not know how to explain in English. I do not know the right words. You have your phone, sí?"

You nod, your eyebrows furrowing.

She swallows heavily as she gestures for you to pull it out, and you comply. "Google my name. That will explain and I will answer the questions you have."

"I am so confused." You mutter, unlocking your phone and typing Alexia's name into google. Your eyes widen in disbelief at the results that greet you, lips parting in silent surprise as your body becomes entirely still. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the fog of bewilderment that had clouded your vision.

Alexia Putellas didn't just like football like you had assumed. She was a famous footballer.

You jump reflexively when you feel her hand gently come to rest on your arm, wincing a little when Alexia rips her hand away a though she'd been scolded.

"I..." you have absolutely no idea what to say.

"I know," Alexia murmurs. "I am sorry, I should have-"

You shake your head, holding a hand up to stop her from talking. She complies, but grows more antsy the longer you remain silent. You swallow heavily as you lock your phone, stuffing it back onto your pocket with a little more force than was maybe necessary.

"You're...famous. You're a famous footballer and you didn't think to tell me before bringing me here?" You didn't sound mad, just...confused, and maybe a little hurt too.

Alexia adjusts her kitbag on her shoulder before softly clearing her throat. "I wanted to," she promises. "but, I did not know how to say it. So I thought-"

"That bringing me here would tell me for you." You cut in, and Alexia visibly winces.

"Sí." She murmurs. "I am sorry."

You sigh lightly. "It's okay. I have...more questions, but you apparently have training and I don't want you to be late."

Alexia nods. "Are you still..."

You nod. "I'll still watch." You say, smiling a little at the breath of relief that slips from Alexia's lips as she tentatively holds out her hand. You take it, feeling the way she squeezes tightly as she leads you outside and towards the stands.

She offers you any of the seats, and you decide on one that was close enough to be able to see what was going on but far enough away where you wouldn't be too easily noticed. The last thing you wanted, or needed, right now, was questions. Questions you had no idea how to answer. You sit down with your bag on the seat next to you, expecting Alexia to head off to training but blinking in surprise when instead she crouches down before you and rests her hands on your knees.

"I am sorry, again," she murmurs, still evidently feeling bad. "I did lot mean to lie to you. I was just-"

"I know," you assure. "Like I said I'm not mad at you. Just confused. But you'll explain everything to me later, right?"

"Sí. Yes. Promesa," Alexia nods, "but I still-"

"Ale." You gently cup her cheeks, trailing the pads of your thumbs over the warm skin. Brown eyes flicker up and meet your own, lips quirking up into a hesitant smile. "we've only known each other a week. Been on one date. It's a big thing, telling someone this. I understand, truly."

Alexia shifts softly as she leans into your touch. "But you seemed upset," she whispers. "You jump when I touch you." 

"Because I wasn't expecting it," you admit with a soft smile. "I didn't flinch because I was upset. I flinched because it genuinely made me jump."

"Oh," Alexia mumbles, "vale. That is good then. I-"

"Alexia!" Someone calls her name.

You both turn your heads, spotting Mapi's familiar face staring right back at you. You wave, genuinely happy to see her again and Mapi grins widely as she returns it before she once again gestures for Alexia to come over.

Alexia nods in acknowledgment before turning back to face you. "I have to go now, you have food yes? And drinks?"

"Sí." You nod, taking the hands on your knees and giving them a soft squeeze. "I have entertainment too. I have a book, my iPad. I'll be fine. Go do what you gotta do."

Alexia nods, leaning forward to kiss your cheek before standing up. She goes to walk away before abruptly stopping and unzipping her bag before rummaging through it, turning back to face you just a few seconds late with a hoodie in her grasp.

You shake your head softly. "Ale, it's hot. I don't nee-”

"Just in case, amor," She folds it up before placing it on your lap. "I do not want you to get cold."

You know full well you wouldn't get cold, but the thought of Alexia worrying that you would and offering you her hoodie fills your stomach with butterflies.

"Okay," you accept. "Thank you."

Alexia nods, sending you one last smile before hurrying down to the large field. She was immediately greeted with Mapi's knowing smile, Alexia rolling her eyes playfully as the rest of her teammates approach her. Someone says something promoting every single pair of eyes down there to meet your own, and you stare wide eyed for a second before bravely bringing your hand up for a cautious wave.

Some wave back. Some smile. One in particular; a brunette with her hair tied back into a ponytail slips away from the group, a wide grin on her face as she makes her way towards you. You wince internally when neither Alexia or Mapi seem to notice, hoping to god your terror wasn't noticeable as she makes it to the seat next to you and sits down.

"Hola," the brunette grins. "Soy Aitana. Eres la novia de Alexia?"

You stare at her blankly.

She frowns. "No hablas español?"

You somehow manage to understand this and promptly shake your head.

"Ahh," she nods before pointing to herself. "I am Aitana." She says slowly, accent thick, before pointing to you. "You are?"

"I'm Y/n."

"Ahh. And you are Alexia's girlfriend, sí?"

"Aitana! Vuelve aquí!" A voice you don't recognise calls out, but Aitana ignores it as she looks at you expectantly.

You swallow heavily before shaking her head. "Um, no. I'm not her girlfriend."

"You are not?" She frowns, and you shake your head again.

"We've only been on one date. This is the second." You explain.

Her frown deepens. "El entrenamiento de fútbol fur su gran idea para una segunda cita? Idiota, Alexia." She grumbles to herself.

You didn't understand the first part of her sentence, but you sure did understand the second. She thought Alexia was an idiot.

"Aitana! Ahora!" Calls that voice again, and Aitana waves them off as she sighs heavily and turns in her seat a little to face you.

"I will talk to her." She reaches her hand out to pat your leg in what you assumed was an action of reassurance, and though you didn't quite know what she planned to talk to Alexia about, you find yourself nodding your head in hopes it'd get her to head back to training before she got you both in trouble.

"Aitana!"

"I am going now, but we will talk later, yes?" She questions as she rises to her feet, and you nod somewhat dumbly as she turns makes her way back down to the field. She skips right over to Alexia who was in the middle of talking to someone, tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention. The second she has it, she begins talking, waving her hands about animatedly as she gestures from you to the field around you placing her hands on her hips.

Alexia watches on in mild concern and confusion before her eyes flicker over to you. Her eyebrow raises in silent question, and you nod assuringly, not at all affected by Aitana despite how enthusiastic she'd been.

Her other brow raises, almost as though she was asking if you were sure, and you nod again, this time throwing her a double thumbs up for good measure.

Alexia nods, turning back to face Aitana. As she begins to talk, you rummage through the small bag you brought and pull out your iPad. You'd download a few new books this morning that you knew would occupy you for the entirety of the time you were here, and as you select one, you lean back a little in your seat in hopes of getting a little more comfortable.

*

Alexia's training ends up lasting a little over four hours, and you surprisingly manage to keep yourself appropriately occupied for little over three of them. You read your book, play a few games and even make a good dent in the snacks you'd brought. It was part way through the fourth hour that you start becoming a little restless.

In an attempt at distracting yourself, you try and follow along the little scrimmage match that Alexia and her teammates were having, but it ultimately proves ineffective when you have absolutely no idea who was winning or what was even going on.

Eventually, you're forced to stand, shrugging on the hoodie that had been on your lap ever since Alexia had put it there before beginning to pace, subconsciously bringing the sleeve to your face to take in her scent. It smelt just as you remember.

You manage a total of five laps before your name was called, your eye's immediately flickering towards the direction it had come from. It was Alexia. She was stood at the edge of the field, gesturing you over with a smile on her face, and you hesitate for only a second before grabbing your things and making your way down.

She immediately throws an arm over your shoulder the second you were close enough, pressing a rather sweaty kiss to your forehead in which you just about manage to refrain from wiping away. You completely miss the smirk that graces her features at the sight of you in her hoodie.

"They want to meet you. Is that okay?" She murmurs quietly, gesturing to her teammates who were talking amongst themselves just a few feet away. You glance between them and Alexia as you lean slightly into her side, a rather hesitant look on your face. Alexia's facial expression was much the same, almost as though she'd tried to talk them out of it but had ultimately failed to to do.

"You can say no, amor. I will not be mad, and they will not either.” she assures softly, and you let out a quiet exhale through your nose before nodding your head. Getting it over and some with would be the easiest option, right?

"Vale, come on then."

**

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