#this pairing gets more messed up the more i think about it

[strangunddurm]

His

Pairing: Jack Abbot x fem!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, possessive, toxic behaviour, oral! fem receiving, oral! male receiving, established relationship.

A/N: First The Pitt fic 🥰

“He was her before he saw anything else in the room”

It was you who fell in love with him first. In lust. Infatuation. He had been watching you over the rim of his glass and all it took was that look, that intensity, to have you preening for him. Presenting in heat, just like he wanted.

It didn’t take a lot for you to follow him home, to his apartment that was more clean and pristine than any apartment you had been in before.

It felt as if you had kissed his mouth before, like you had ran your hands over his body and had his cock in you a thousand times. Familiarity.

The way his fingers stroked your walls, brushing against that sweet spot inside of you was sinful. It made your toes curl, head thrown back as your spine curved, the thought of him being the last thing before your eyes fluttered closed.

It was impossible not to love him. To yearn for him every second of every day until you couldn’t imagine even the smallest fragment of anything else. You would throb for him, a need settled deep in your spine that would never truly go away. Insatiable. Impossible to satisfy. A never ending hunger that consumed you and shaped your entire being.

It had been years since then, that first time that would always be as fresh in your memory as if it happened the day before.

You had been happy since then. Nestled into your own bubble of sweet domesticity that you never wanted to end. That never would end. Just you and him until death would inevitably do you appart.

As you grew together, you learned all about him, the most prevalent one being thatJack enjoyed his privacy. You knew it was simple in his eyes. Keeping his work life separate from his private ensured less tangles, less mess, less probability of something going wrong. He didn’t want things to go wrong with you, couldn’t let it happen. So, it wasn’t that he went out of his way not to talk about you to other people. It was just that others not knowing was better than them knowing. In his eyes. He didn’t think there to be anything wrong with that. People had their quirks.

At first, Jack had been operating on a strict need-to-know basis which included only two people. You and him. And then… he didn’t really know how to get the words out to Robby or anyone that he was dating someone young enough to be anything but appropriate. But he didn’t want appropriate, didn’t care for it. Not if it meant he couldn’t be with you. And now, years later, it had become normal for him to avoid mentioning anything that could even cause people to guess his relationship status. You were so sweet on him that you didn’t mind it at all. You knew his reason for it and you loved how protective he could be of you.

And your little arrangement had been perfect, up until you went out with your friends to the same bar he was at with half the ER department after a too hectic shift that he shouldn’t even have worked. It had been natural for him to accept the last-minute invitation, wanting to unwind with a couple of beers as the weather in Pittsburgh was just a tad too cold to enjoy them stagnant on a bench. However, the last minute plans meant that he was not able to become privy of your own last-minute plans, only exchanging short I-Love-Yous over text before locking his phone and following the heard to a bar a few streets over from the hospital. And now, here he was, hours later, forced to watch some fresh-faced intern try to smooth talk his way into your panties.

Jack had spotted you the second he walked into the Irish bar. It had caused him to pause in his steps just long enough for Robby to notice. He had tapped Jack on the back and teased him about being distracted by all the “pretty ladies”. Jack had of course been distracted by you, but it wasn’t for the reason Robby was thinking. Instead of saying anything, Jack had simply laughed it off and taken his seat that was the furthest out in the booth and just so happened to be in the perfect view of you.

It was all going so well. You were enjoying your time spent with your friends and Jack was trying to appear interested in whatever his colleagues were blabbering about. Trying being the operating word.

It was a surprise that the two of you hadn’t found yourselves in this situation earlier. After all, it wasn’t like you never went out at the same time. You would usually have a system in place where one of you would redirect your separate parties to different bars. But maybe this was worth it. Just for a night. Jack loved watching you. It was his favourite way to pass time, like watching a movie he hoped would never end. And you looked so happy and carefree, not a single worry seemed to weigh you down as you threw your head back and laughed at the world.

Your happiness made Jack happy until that wasteful newbie slid into the empty space by the bar next to you. And, of course, you being ever the polite person that you were, didn’t tell him immediately to fuck off, despite the uncomfortable smile that Jack could clearly see on your face. Your friends had abandoned you for the dance floor so there was nobody to do the telling off for you, unfortunately.

He tried to control himself, he really did. He sat in his seat, hand gripping the bottle tighter and tighter until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Whitaker’s taking your girl.” Robby hadn’t meant anything with it. It was obvious to him that Jack was clearly interested in the woman by the bar, he just didn’t know the entire reason why. Robby enjoyed riling Jack up at times, found it entertaining, so it was natural that he would take this chance to do it as well. Jack would usually take it all in stride with his own sarcastic response. Robby hadn’t expected for Jack to stand up in barley concealed anger and march off toward the pair, half-full beer bottle being knocked over in his haste.

“Hey, man! I was just kidding.” Robby called after him, fumbling to get the bottle up right before the entirety of its content was all over him. Jack pretended not to hear him, not even offering a half-assed apology over his shoulder. Getting you away from the intern was his main priority at that moment. Besides, it’s not like Robby would care after Jack bought him another beer later as an apology.

He knew you saw him coming. Your eyes connected with his over the intern’s shoulder, but you continued whatever unimportant conversation you had as if it was nothing. Jack knew it wasn’t entirely your fault. It was that still-wet-behind-his-ears intern that insisted on staying and talking to you despite your obvious disinterest. Whitaker was oblivious and you were sweet. But did you enjoy playing games with him? You could’ve at least acknowledged his presence in some minor way, didn’t he deserve that at least?

"Dr. Abbot-"

“Beat it.” The worlds flew out of Jack’s mouth before he, himself, could even consciously think about what to say. The intern opened his mouth, no words came out but it was enough for Jack to level him with that typical Jack Abbot glare for him to make himself scarce.

“Didn’t you see me?”

“Hello to you, too.” The smile on your face was sweet and lovely and Jack almost caught himself smiling at you in return. It was so easy for you to make him forget whatever mood he found himself in. Being around you automatically made everything better in his opinion.

“I didn’t know you were going out.”

“Well, you never came home so I assumed you were still busy at work. I sent you a text.” Jack flinched slightly, he had read it but hadn’t had the chance to reply before he was pulled away by an incoming head injury, but he could see that you didn’t hold any resentment against him, it was merely a statement. It wasn’t unusual for Jack to get so lost in the Pitt that he would forget to phone home to you. He always tried to, of course, but minds tend to get lost in whatever overwhelming flow of information they were the recipients of every now and then. It was a quality he sometimes wished he didn’t have.

“Sorry about that, kid.” Jack looked down at you with a tight-lipped smile and a scratch on the back of his head, feeling sheepish.

“No need to apologise. I’m glad to see you enjoying yourself.” You patted his chest affectionately before glancing over his shoulder to where he had been sitting before. Robby was watching the two of you like a hawk with a glee-filled grin on his face. He sent you a wave that would’ve probably caused you to turn the other way and flee if you didn’t already know Jack.

“Your friends are watching us.”

“Are they now?” Jack was completely uninterested in the observation. “What did that guy want?”

“What guy?” You were playing stupid with him.

“Please don’t.” Now wasn’t the time for teasing in Jack’s opinion.

“He wanted to take me home and ‘treat me right’.” Whitaker was definitely more inebriated than he had first thought. You let out a soft giggle as you relayed what the guy had said to you. You hadn’t taken anything of it seriously seeing as you were very much happy with the man you were in a committed relationship with. You just entertained the guy for less than five minutes as you knew Jack had been watching you. Maybe it was an unhealthy aspect of your relationship but you enjoyed seeing Jack get a bit worked up whenever a person would hit on you.

“I hope you told him to fuck off.” Jack’s hand had slowly crept to your hip whilst you had been talking, grabbing a possessive hold of it, urging you just a bit closer to him.

“I didn’t,” If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought that Jack was half wolf at that moment from the almost animal-like growl that tore its way through his chest. “I told him that my boyfriend would tell him that.” So, you weren’t completely out to give him a heart attack.

“Good.” Jack was just about to stoop down and place a kiss on your lips when your hand on his chest and a turn of your head stopped him.

“And just what do you think you are doing?” You tilted your head toward his colleagues to hint at the fact that you were definitely being watched.

“Kissing you?”

“Are you sure you want to do that right now?”

“Definitely.” And kiss you he did. Jack always kissed you like it was the only thing that could keep him from dying, like your kiss and your lips were his saving grace in life. You kissed him back just as eagerly, letting out a delighted moan as he bit down on your bottom lip.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“Absolutely.”

You didn’t get far. It’s not like either of you could drive home in the state that you were in and calling a cab to come and pick you up would take too long. Jack was desperate to have you. Seeing another man hitting on you had awoken some animalistic urge inside of him and he was ready to rip the clothes off your back and mount you.

Jack needed to feel your sweet, silky walls wrapped around him as he came deep inside of you. He wanted to mark you up so that every single man, woman, and other in the entire state of Pennsylvania knew that you belonged to him. You were his and no one else's.

There was an alley just behind the bar where you were at. Of course, Jack thought you always deserved better than to be fucked in some back alley, but sometimes you had to do what you had to do. Plus, it was so secluded that not many people knew about it and it wasn’t exactly a place that saw a lot of foot traffic.

Jack pressed you up against one of the brick walls, looming over you as he kissed your cheek, down your neck, sucking very lightly before you delivered a smack to his chest.

“Don’t. I don’t want any visible marks.”

“Too bad.” You let out a sigh of defeat and Jack could almost hear the eye roll that you surely made. You were a stubborn person but so was he. You knew that sometimes he would only listen so much to whatever you were telling him.

The bricks were uncomfortable against your back but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were far too lost in the small ripples of pleasure that were begging to turn to waves.

“Jack...” You breathed out as he hit one of your weak spots with his lips. He nibbled at your skin softly, his moustache and beard tickling your skin in that way you loved.

“I should put a ring on your finger so everyone knows you’re taken.” You let out a laugh over his mutterings. You would love a ring on your finger, but you didn’t need a ring to feel secure in your relationship with Jack. You already knew that it would be the two of you until the very end.

“Maybe a baby in your belly, too. To make it extra clear.” Now that made you moan.

“You’d like that? You want me to fill you up until you can’t take it anymore? You want me to give you a baby?” Your drenched walls clenched around nothing as Jack drove you insane with his words.

“If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you take my cum, but you have to be good for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes! Please, Jack...” Your hips bucked, seeking any sort of friction to ease the ache in your panties. The throbbing between your legs had steadily grown and had now reached a point where you could not ignore it.

Jack rutted his own hips against yours and you couldn’t help but let out a desperate moan as he rubbed against your clit deliciously.

"You want me to fuck you, sweet girl?"

"Mhmm."

Jack loved hearing you moan for him. He loved hearing the delightful squeals you would emit as he would nip on your breasts or finger you to his knuckle. He couldn’t wait to see himself leak out of you after he came so deep inside of you and fucked you so good that you would feel him for days, if not weeks.

"How badly do you want it?." Jack wanted to hear you beg. He liked hearing it, it made him even harder than he already was when you would plead for his cock.

“So badly. I need you to make me cum on your cock. Please, Jack!” You squealed in shock as he attacked your lips, devouring yours like he was a man starving. Jack was insatiable when it came to you. Biting and pulling and pecking at your lips, trying to sate the need he had for you in any way that he could. His tongue explored your mouth with a delighted moan, and you grew wetter with every wet kiss.

Jack’s hands made quick, steady work on your dress, pushing and pulling at it until it was bunched around your waist just high enough so that he could slip his hand into your panties and finally get a feel of your wet heat.

“So wet for me already, sweetheart?” A lewd grin took over his face as he ran two fingers through your slit. “Are you that desperate?”

Jack dipped his fingers into you just enough so that you could begin to feel a hint of the stretch he could give you, but not enough to please any desire.

“What do you want first? My cock or my mouth?” Waves went straight to your core as you pulled on his dark hair as you tried to not lose yourself to the overwhelming pleasure of it all too soon. How could you possibly decide?

“Anything, I’ll take anything.” You moaned out.

Jack made the decision for you, moving quickly as he dropped to his knees in front of you, not giving a fuck about the ache in his leg after a too-long shift. Didn't care about anything else in that moment except needing to get a taste of you. He was perfectly in height with your cunt, breathing hot air onto it from how close he was. He began by leaving kisses on the inside of your thighs. They were slow kisses, those kinds of kisses that you would still feel, even after his lips left your skin.

His hands caressed every inch of you that they could reach as before trailing all the way to the edge of your panties and sliding them to the side. He focused on your clit, giving it a quick rub and flick, eliciting another soft whine from you.

“You have such a pretty pussy, honey.” Jack could admire you like this for centuries and still not get enough. He would happily stay on his knees for you until the end of time.

He, rather sweetly, brought your leg over his muscular shoulder so that he could devour your seeping cunt. The obscene sounds of his wet tongue laving through your soaked folds quickly filled the quiet alley, but you could bring yourself to care if a passer-by happened to hear you. Jack’s ministrations on your pussy felt far too good to care about anything else at that moment.

“Fuck, Jack!” Your voice came out as a half whine as the bricks of the building dug into your back while you writhed in euphoria.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. Been waiting for this all day.” Jack mumbled against your clit, sending glorious vibrations through the sensitive flesh. You could feel his tongue slipping into your clench hole, lapping up every single drop of juice that you were kind enough to give him.

“Oh, right there, don’t stop!” Your hands slipped into his hair, tugging at it as your thigh muscles twitched when he sucked on your clit.

“Who does this belong to?” Jack brought his pointer and middle finger to your lower lips, spreading them apart and exposing more of your oh so sensitive clit to his unrelenting mouth.

“You, Jack! Only you.”

Your hips bucked violently as he slid a finger into you. “Your pussy’s so greedy, sweetheart. You want my cock already?”

“I-” You didn’t know what you wanted at that moment. Didn’t care, as long as it brought you pleasure, you would be the grateful recipient of whatever he wanted to give you.

But Jack was determined. He was a man on a mission, practically driven mad by his insatiable hunger for you. Jack loved eating pussy, and it showed in every movement, every lick of his tongue, every suckle of his lips.

“I’m so close, Jack!” You squeaked, chest heaving as you glanced down. Jack’s eyes were shut, his wrist twisting and steadily pumping a finger in and out of you, curling it to graze against your g-spot with every move whilst he suckled and licked your clit.

“Mmm, not yet. One more minute, I’m not done.” Jack slid his finger out before grabbing your thigh firmly with one hand, his wet fingers digging into your flesh as he held your leg still for him. You were squirming, legs shaking as you fought your release.

“Please, Jack! I need to come!” Your whole body was burning, your back arched almost painfully as the pleasure kept building and building, his tongue endlessly flicking your swollen clit.

“Alright, honey, come. Come all over my fucking face,” he growled out. One, two, three more swipes of his tongue over your clit and you finally came. A half-scream barreled through the alley as your legs shook and your hands tightened almost painfully hard in the curls of his hair. Your muscles clench, thighs clamping around his shoulders as he continued sucking, licking, and nibbling over your sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, honey, so good. Such a good girl for me.” He hummed, delivering one last, long and slow lick from your entrance to your pubic bone. He kissed your clit before standing back up, wiping his mouth somewhat clean with the back of his hand as he watched you in bliss.

You were utterly breathless, slumping against the wall as your muscles twitched as the cool air hit your pussy.

Jack barely let you recover before he made quick work on his cargo pants, dropping them down just enough so that he could pull out his painfully hard and leaking cock.

You fell to your knees almost automatically, mouth-watering at the sight of him. You didn’t care about the uncomfortable gravel under your knees, needing to have a taste of him.

Your hands came up to rest on his thick thighs as you lurched forward, taking a hold of his thick shaft. You fisted his length, spreading the small bead of pre-cum over his tip with a thumb when you came to the top. You had always marvelled at the sight of him. He was so impossibly thick, your hand barely being able to wrap around him, but yet he fit so perfectly inside of you.

"Open your mouth."

You eagerly opened your mouth to take him in, letting your lips wrap around his shaft and eagerly took him in your mouth. You moaned at the taste of him and he groaned at the sight of you on your knees. Your eyes were wide and glossy, completely hazed with lust. Your mouth was hot around him, your soft moans slipping out around him.

Jack takes a steady hold on the back of your neck, guiding you firmly as you took him deep in your mouth. As dominant as his hold was on you, he still let you set the pace. You went slowly at first, teasing him as you took him in your mouth for several bobs of your head before increasing your pace. You forced your head down the length of his shaft, making you gag around him as he hit the back of your throat.

Jack had the most beautiful cock you had ever seen. It was long and thick with one perfect vein protruding from the base of it all the way to the tip that always seemed to be glistening with evidence of his arousal. It had just the right curve to reach the place where you needed him the most.

“You’re so fucking cock drunk, aren’t you, honey?”

You moaned in response. Moaned over the salty taste of his precum that set your tastebuds alight, humming in appreciation as you took him even further in your mouth, hand wrapped around the base of him, squeezing and twisting whatever you couldn’t fit. He grew impossibly harder with every suckle of your lips.

Slurping and sucking the way you knew he liked it; your throat welcoming him with each uncontrollable rut of his hips.

“That’s it, right there.” Obscene gulping sounds filled the evening air that surrounded you. Your jaw was aching and globs of saliva were spilling out around the edges of your mouth as Jack rutted into your mouth.

You bobbed your head back and forth, pushing bubbles of dribble farther down his shaft with each drive of your swollen lips.

The throbbing between your legs was almost painful at that point. Your hand travelled down your body to the apex between your thighs to relieve some of the pleasurable pain. But Jack stopped you before you could even slip your fingers into your panties. He grabbed ahold of your arm, pulling you up as softly as he could and swivelling you around as he tutted.

“You know the rules; no touching yourself allowed,” Of course, you knew the rules, but you were just so wet and ready for him that something had to be done. “But you’re just so fucking desperate? Aren’t you? Desperate for me to fuck you in this filthy alley.”

Jack tugged at his cock with one hand while the other pushed at your back so that you would bend over. You were more than happy to comply, hands coming out to brace yourself against the wall and jut your ass out, high up in the air.

His touch was electric as he slid his large hand over your ass, leaving a trail of burning fire in its wake. It tickled your skin as it made its way between your tender thighs, fingers gently sliding through your soaked lips.

Your walls clenched tightly over his teasing; your hips wiggling to try and get him to slip at least a finger into you. Jack knew what you were doing.

Jack dipped two fingers in between your lips, spreading more of your wetness up to your clit.

“You’re always so wet for me.” Jack praised in admiration. “Always so tight.” You could feel the tabs of his fingers dragging through your walls lazily.

Jack slid his fingers out, bringing them up and having a taste of you, suckling your juices off of them.

“Taste so fucking sweet.”

You were just about to beg him to fuck you when he finally slipped the head of his fat cock inside of you. However, he pulled out before you could savour the feeling, and you cried out over the loss.

“You want me? Want me to show you who you belong to?” He cooed before doing it again; sliding the head of his cock in just enough for you to feel the burn as he stretched you out before pulling back out again.

“Yes, please!” Jack was kind to you as he finally let you have it. He finally sheathed himself deep inside of you with one sharp and precise thrust that had you gasping and squeaking.

Jack didn’t give you any time to adjust, not that you really needed it with how wet you were for him. He pulled back before sliding himself back inside of your heat, shuddering at the feeling of your dripping pussy clinging to every inch of him. He didn’t start off slow; instead, he set a rapid pace, balls slapping against your clit with every thrust, but he still made sure that you could feel all of him.

Your pussy gripped Jack’s cock with every deep thrust he gave, missing him for the fraction of the second that he pulled back.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Jack growled behind you, fingers digging into your hips as he drove into you harder. You clamped down on him as he hit that spot that he knew so well.

“Fuck, Jack, I’m gonna come.” You breathed out, tits bouncing with each thrust.

Your words made Jack drive into you even harder and deeper, chasing your high for you.

“Not yet.” Jack knew you were just teetering on the edge of pleasure, he could feel it, but he wanted to prolong it for just a little while longer.

“N-no! Please, Jack!” You whimpered out a plea.

“Please, what?”

Thrust.

“Please, let me come, sir!”

Thrust.

Jackp hummed as if he was thinking it over, teasing you. “Wanna feel that cunt milking me as I shoot that cunt of yours full of cum.” You barely heard him over your moans, but your pussy definitely registered his words as your walls fluttered wildly. “Gonna make sure everybody knows who you belong to.”

You would surely feel him for days, with every step you took, from the force he was fucking into you with. Your mind had gone faint from his quick and sharp thrusts. A feeble whine escapes you and you were sure you would cry if he didn’t let you cum soon.

Jack delivered a quick slap to your left cheek and you hissed from the sting. The burn left behind momentarily distracts you from the building pressure in your stomach.

“You gonna cum for me now, honey?” Jack slammed into, the tip of his member repeatedly hitting that sweet spot inside of you. And you came with a whine through white flashes of euphoria when you felt the pads of his fingers drawing tight circles over your aching clit.

Your entire body convulsed in pure rapture and you could hear Jack behind you endlessly muttering fuck as your clenching walls triggered his own sweet release.

He pumped into you lazily a few more times, making sure to milk himself completely dry before withdrawing from you. Your legs were still shaking uncontrollably, toes curled as the last few waves of pleasure rolled over you. You slumped against the wall, face pressed against the cold brick as you tried to catch your breath.

“Fucking hell, Jack.” Sex with Jack was always glorious, but something about this fuck had been extra special.

“I really mean it. I’m going to have to keep fucking you until your belly’s so swollen that everybody can see who you belong to.”

Jack didn't regret a moment of that night. Not even when he saw the shit-eating grin on Robby's face when he sheepishly walked into The Pitt the next day.

"You never told me you like 'em that young."

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤFUCKED UP MISSIONㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Genderbend au – Stephen Brown x Fem Reader

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : Stephen gets blasted with Poison Ivy’s sex pollen, and you have to deal with him. It’s humiliating, it’s gross, and it’s so fucking hot you hate yourself for it.

☆⁠ WARNINGS : NSFW, sex pollen, blowjob, drooling, overstimulation, cum swallowing, public sex, not a couple, 18+ MINORS DNI.

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

The alley’s a goddamn slaughterhouse—vines thrashing like snakes, goons sprawled out cold, and the air so thick with Poison Ivy’s fucked-up perfume it’s like breathing lust.

Then it goes to shit. Ivy, that sadistic plant-fucking bitch, send a glowing pink flower your way, and Stephen—the dumbass he is—dives in front of you like a fucking martyr. The flower explodes, drenching him in glittery pink dust that clings to his suit like cum on a cheap motel sheet. He stumbles, choking, eyes bugging out as the dush burrows into his skin, and you’re already moving—chucking a batarang that slices Ivy’s arm, making her hiss and bolt with her goons scrambling after her. You’re not done, but Stephen’s fucked.

“Robin—oh shit—” he wheezes, collapsing against the grimy brick wall, legs giving out like he’s made of wet paper. You whip around, ready to rip him a new asshole, but jesus fucking christ. He’s a disaster—face red as a slapped ass, pupils blown, sweat pouring down his neck, soaking his suit. His hands claw at his crotch, and—fuck me—his dick’s so hard it’s practically ripping through the fabric, a wet patch spreading like he’s been jacking off for hours. He’s trembling, teeth chattering, trying to stand, but every move’s a pathetic whimper, his eyes glued to your bare legs like they’re his personal porn.

“Stephen, what the fuck is wrong with you?” you snarl, grabbing his arm to prop him up. Your shorts shift, flashing more thigh, and he moans—a loud sound that makes your face burn hotter than a Gotham riot. “It’s—fuckin’ Ivy,” he slurs, voice high and broken, hips twitching like he’s about to hump your leg. “It hurts—can’t think—please, Y/n, I need—fuck, your legs—” He’s drooling now, a shiny trail dripping down his chin, and his cock’s leaking so much pre-cum it’s staining his pants.

You’re livid. This is the worst fucking timing—Ivy’s getting away, her goons are circling back, and you’re stuck with this horny-ass disaster who can’t even walk. “Get your shit together, Brown!” you hiss, dragging him into the darkest corner of the alley, behind a dumpster that reeks of piss and rot. But he’s gone—eyes glassy, tongue half-out, babbling nonsense, “You’re so—fuckin’ hot, those shorts—please, I’ll do anything—” His dick’s throbbing visibly, and shit, it’s making your mouth water despite the rage boiling in your chest.

You glance at the street—goons shouting, boots stomping closer. You’ve got minutes before this mission goes to hell, and Stephen’s useless like this, a shaking, whining mess who’d rather fuck the wall than fight. Your stomach churns, a sick mix of anger and heat pooling low, because goddamn it, he’s pathetic but he’s hot—blond hair plastered to his face, lips wet and trembling, looking at you like you’re his fucking savior.

“Fuck my life,” you mutter, shoving him harder against the wall, dropping to your knees in the filthy alley like you’re about to commit a goddamn crime. The gravel bites your skin, but you don’t care, yanking his belt open with a snarl, ripping his suit down just enough to free his cock. It slaps out, heavy and obscene, so thick it makes your throat tighten, pre-cum oozing down the shaft like a fucking faucet. “Don’t you dare make this weird,” you growl, glaring up at him, but he’s already nodding, frantic, drool running down his neck.

The second your lips close around his tip, he loses it. A high-pitched squeal rips out of him, his head smacking the brick so hard you hear it crack. “F-fuck—Y/n—oh my fucking god,” he babbles, voice shattering like glass, hips jerking so fast he nearly chokes you. His cock’s salty, musky, pulsing against your tongue, and you suck hard because you’re pissed and this needs to be quick. You’re humiliated, cheeks burning, but fuck, the way he’s falling apart—tongue lolling out, eyes crossed so hard he looks brain-dead, drool dripping in thick strings down his chin—it’s got your pussy clenching, soaking your shorts despite yourself.

Stephen’s a fucking wreck, face flushed cherry-red, mouth open in a sloppy, drooling grin, eyes rolling back until you can only see whites. “S-so—hnnngh—so good, you’re—fuck,” he slurs, voice a wet, broken mess as his hips buck, shoving his cock deeper. You gag, spit slicking your chin, but you don’t stop, pinning his thighs to keep him from fucking your face raw. He’s shaking like he’s having a seizure, babbling gibberish—“Love you—fuck, please, don’t stop, I—nngh”—and it’s so pathetic you almost laugh, the vibration making him scream.

It’s messy, disgusting—spit and pre-cum dripping down your neck, pooling in the dirt—but you’re too far gone, too turned on by his desperate moans. He cums in seconds, a strangled “Y-Y/n—fuck!” as his cock explodes, thick, hot ropes of cum hitting your throat like a firehose. You swallow it all, gulping it down, because spitting’s not an option when he's keeping your head in place. He’s sobbing, shaking, but he’s still hard.

“More—please, I can’t—nngh,” he whines, hips grinding, and you’re too deep in this shit to back out now. Your pussy’s throbbing, shorts sticking to your lips, and you hate how much you love this—his pathetic, drooling face, his cock twitching like it’s begging for more. You suck harder, bobbing down until your lips kiss his base, nose pressed against his pelvis, and he cums again—a wail so loud it echoes off the walls, cum spilling so fast you choke, swallowing frantically as it leaks past your lips, dripping onto your chest. He’s convulsing, tongue hanging out, drool soaking his suit, and when you push him to a third orgasm—relentless, sucking until he’s screaming—his cum’s so thick it clogs your throat, forcing you to gulp it down while he thrashes, babbling, “Thank you—fuck, thank you—”

You pull off with a wet, sloppy pop, spit and cum smeared across your face, chest heaving as you wipe your mouth with a shaking hand. Your face is on fire, humiliation burning hotter than the slick heat between your legs. Stephen’s a corpse—slumped against the wall, cock still leaking, face a glistening mess of sweat, drool, and tears. His eyes are half-lidded, crossed, tongue dangling, a blissed-out grin plastered on his lips like he’s been fucked into another dimension. “H-holy… s-shit…” he mumbles, voice a wrecked slur, body trembling like he’s been electrocuted.

“Get your fucking ass up,” you snarl, yanking his suit back over his dick, ignoring how it’s still twitching, still leaking. “We’ve got shit to do, and I’m not babysitting you.” Your voice is venom, but you’re shaking too—embarrassed, pissed, and so turned on you can barely think. You can’t look at him, his cum still sticky on your chin, your shorts so wet they’re obscene. He stumbles, legs like jelly, muttering, “Y-you’re… fuckin’ perfect,” and you want to punch him, but his giddy, drunk smile just makes your heart lurch.

“Move, Brown, or I’ll leave you for Ivy’s goons,” you snap, storming toward the street, but he’s trailing you, wobbling, still babbling praise like a lovesick idiot.

— MASTERLIST ☆

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

[angelsuecult]

perfect places | s. crosby

warnings: none? maybe some language

summary: Sidney ends up helping you through the overwhelming world that is hockey gear what was once a shopping trip for your daughter leaves you with something more.

request: Would you be able to write a Sidney Crosby x mom!reader story? Like how she has a kid that maybe is on a little league hockey team and the Penguins go to like a practice or something to help out. Or maybe she out shopping for hockey gear for her kid because they want to do hockey and need the gear? She could maybe looking at equipment and looks a little lost and her comes over and helps.

word count: 9.3k

a/n: back with another for you guys! i hope you enjoy it and once again original requester please don't hesitate to reach out if you hate it or anything! requests remain open and i'm hoping to get a few more out this week!

—

You woke up to tiny feet climbing onto your bed. Not just climbing—launching, full-body flopping, elbow-first into your ribs like it was a wrestling match and she had a score to settle. You’d meant to wake up before her today, but apparently five-year-olds don’t care about alarms, or bones, or sleep-deprived parents.

“Mom,” she whispered, even though she was nose-to-nose with you. “Mommy. You awake?”

“I am now,” you groaned, half-laughing as you peeled one eye open. Her little curls were wild and pointing in five directions, cheeks flushed from sleep, a faint pillow line creasing one of them. She looked like a cartoon character and an angel at the same time.

“I had a dream I scored five goals.”

You blinked at her. “Oh yeah?”

“Yup. And they gave me a trophy and then—then everyone chanted my name. And guess what?”

“What?”

“They were chanting ‘the pink rocket.’”

You blinked again, slower this time. “The pink rocket?”

She nodded, dead serious. “That’s my hockey name.”

“Well,” you said, shifting to sit up and gather her into your lap, “I don’t know how many pink things they make for hockey but I guess we’re about to find out, huh?”

She gasped. “You’re going today? To get my stuff?”

You kissed her cheek, already halfway dragging both of you out from under the covers. “Yup. After I drop you off. I’ll go right after.”

She cheered and clapped, and then ran full-speed out of the bedroom with a yell of, “I gotta find my pink water bottle! I need it if I’m gonna be a rocket!”

Your apartment was small but cozy, lived-in. Art made of crayon and washable markers adorned the fridge, and a pair of tiny sneakers were tucked sideways by the door no matter how many times you straightened them. You got her dressed while she told you all about what a good hockey player does—“they skate fast and they don’t fall unless they do it on purpose”—and you helped tame her curls into two pigtails.

The morning ended up a mess of cereal crumbs, mismatched socks, and one very determined five-year-old girl who had insisted on packing her own backpack. You didn’t have the heart to repack it after she proudly zipped it up and hugged it to her chest like a treasure chest full of secrets—though you’d caught a glimpse of a doll leg, a half-used glue stick, and what looked suspiciously like the lid to your coffee thermos.

The car ride to school was full of questions you only half-knew how to answer.

“Do you think I’ll need a helmet? What if it has a visor like the cool ones? Can I pick pink tape for the stick? Do you know how to tie skates? Do you think I’ll be able to do the spinny move like the girl in the video?”

You answered what you could. 

Once you parked outside her school, she kicked her feet impatiently in the backseat while you unbuckled her. The air still had that early fall bite to it—sunny but not warm, brisk enough that you zipped your jacket up halfway as you lifted her from her booster seat. She was a little ball of energy this morning, bouncing as her sneakers hit the sidewalk, her little hand grabbing yours like always, sticky from syrup and too-warm from excitement.

“Okay, let’s go, let’s go,” she said, hopping down. You held her hand all the way up the sidewalk, her backpack bouncing behind her.

At the doors, she turned to you suddenly, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Don’t forget my hockey stuff!”

You cupped her cheeks. “I won’t, baby. I’m going straight to the store after this, I promise.”

Her whole face lit up like you'd just told her she could have candy for dinner. “You’re gonna go right now?”

“Mm-hmm. As soon as you go inside.”

“Look for pink things!” she reminded you. “Pink helmet. Pink gloves. And if they don’t have pink, purple is okay. So you can see me when I skate. ‘S important”

“Pink. Purple. Got it. Anything else?”

She thought hard. “Something that makes me go zoom.”

You smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

You bent down and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her nose, and she giggled so hard she snorted. Then she hugged you like she always did—tight and with her whole tiny body, fists balled in your jacket.

“Bye, Mommy. Love you big like the whole sky.”

Your chest ached in that soft, warm way. “I love you even bigger lovebug.”

She let go and ran into her classroom, waving once over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd of other small kids with big dreams.

You were about to turn when a familiar voice called, “Morning!”

You looked up to see Miss Lillian, the teacher’s aide, walking toward you. She was in her usual bright-colored sweater and skirt combo, clipboard in hand, warm eyes squinting in the sunlight.

“Hey, good morning,” you said, smiling.

“I just had to catch you,” she said, pausing at your side. “Your daughter has not stopped talking about hockey since yesterday. I think we’ve heard every version of her ‘pink rocket’ speech. Twice.”

You groaned playfully. “Oh no. She’s gotten to you too.”

“Oh, it’s adorable,” Lillian laughed. “She told Mr. Peters that she’s gonna be the best skater—even though she’s never been on the ice. She said it with her chest. Like a tiny little boss.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, she’s got that confidence thing down.”

“I wish I had half of it. But really—she’s just so excited. It’s really sweet to see. And you know,” Lillian nudged your arm gently, “not every parent supports that kind of dream. It’s amazing that you’re doing this with her.”

That made you pause.

“I mean… I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted. “I’ve never even watched a full game of hockey. But she lit up when she saw those kids playing on the street. Then she tried it herself and came home covered in bruises but still smiling. And then she said ice hockey would be safer,” you added, rolling your eyes, “which I’m pretty sure is a lie.”

Lillian laughed. “That’s some logic, huh?”

“I guess I figured, if it makes her this happy…” You trailed off. “Well, we’ll try it. If it’s not for her, we’ll sell the gear or donate it.”

“I think you’re doing great,” Lillian said. “She talks about you all the time, by the way. Always telling the class how her mom can do anything. That you’re like a superhero.”

That gave you pause in a way nothing else had.

You cleared your throat and smiled. “Well. Don’t tell her I can’t tie skates.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

The two of you said goodbye, and you headed back to your car, heart fuller than it had been twenty minutes ago. The day was just starting, and already you felt like you’d run an emotional marathon. Now, you just had to survive your trip to the hockey store without looking like a complete idiot.

You climbed into the car and started the engine, your mental list already forming—helmet, stick, gloves... was there padding? Skates, obviously. Was there a difference between practice gear and game gear? Did five-year-olds even have games?

After drop-off and a fresh wave of mom-guilt turned motivation, you sat in the driver’s seat of your SUV and Googled: hockey gear for five-year-old Pittsburgh. You stared at the results, rubbed your forehead, and tapped the one that had the most stars and looked the least intimidating.

It was barely 9 a.m. when you pulled into the outdoor shopping complex, the kind of place with cobblestone walkways, faux streetlamps, and fountains that tried to make you forget you were in a strip mall. It was a little too early for it to be crowded yet, and the parking lot was mostly empty except for a few other weekday wanderers—retirees, moms with strollers, maybe someone ducking out of work. When you pulled in, wedging yourself between a massive black pickup truck and what looked like a teenage boy’s first car—dented, bumper stickered, windows covered in sports decals. 

You killed the engine and sat back for a second, staring out the windshield like maybe someone was going to pop out and tell you exactly what kind of skates you needed to buy for a five-year-old who claimed her destiny was to be the pink rocket.

But no one came. Just the pigeons. One strutted past the front of your car like he owned the place.

You stepped out into the cool morning air, shouldered your bag, and told yourself: You’ve done scarier things. Like kindergarten registration. And that one ER visit when she swallowed a Barbie shoe.

Pretzel first.

The pretzel stand was exactly where you remembered it, sandwiched between the upscale candle store and a clothing store that made too-expensive clothes. You ordered a hot soft pretzel with extra salt and a small lemonade, then stood off to the side of the kiosk while you ate, people-watching like it was a competitive sport.

Then you wandered for a bit, peeking into a few small shops near the entrance. A kids’ boutique caught your eye—wall-to-wall sports-themed onesies and toddler sweatpants. You picked up a pair of fuzzy black-and-gold leggings with tiny hockey sticks on them and held them up to your chest with a grin.

“She’d love these,” you murmured aloud, imagining her in them with her pink boots and that crooked little smile she gave when she felt cute.

You took your time. That was part of the luxury of the day: no schedule, no appointments, no other human being asking you to wipe something sticky. Just this.

“Okay,” you said out loud as you stepped back onto the walkway and stared down the main stretch of stores. “Let’s do this.”

The gear shop was tucked at the end of the row, right before a smoothie place. It didn’t look intimidating from the outside—just a wide front with a logo in clean, white lettering. But the second you stepped inside, it was clear: this place meant business.

You gave yourself a pep talk as you zipped your jacket higher. You’re a mom. You birthed a whole child. You’ve survived teething. You can survive shopping for hockey gear.

It was big. Bigger than you expected. Ceiling fans turned slowly above rows of merchandise. Hockey sticks were stacked upright like rows of bamboo, lining one side of the shop. Helmets, skates, and pads were displayed like military gear. You let your eyes drift over the walls, which were covered in team memorabilia. Penguins jerseys in every variation, from current players to legends. You recognized Crosby’s #87 and Malkin’s #71 without even needing to check the names. Your kid had already pointed them out on YouTube clips. There was a whole display in the corner dedicated to Mario Lemieux, complete with a signed photo and a stick in a glass case.

You made a noise in your throat. “Okay… wow.”

There were two adults behind the front counter, both looking mid-thirties—one was chatting with the other, who was scrolling something on a tablet. Nearby, two teenagers stood kind of awkwardly by a wall of gloves and elbow pads, looking like they didn’t quite know what to do with themselves.

First, you took a lap around the store. Not straight to the gear. That felt too overwhelming. Instead, you let yourself drift through the aisles, fingers brushing along soft sweatshirts and team scarves, scanning everything slowly. A few shoppers milled around, mostly adults—probably parents or weekend league players. A couple of them wore Penguins jackets like they were uniforms, heads down, hyper-focused.

You wandered through the adult section, noting sizes and prices, grateful you weren’t here for full pads or whatever gear adult men needed. Some of the gloves looked like medieval armor.

You passed the stick wall—intimidating and enormous—and casually avoided the skates. Not yet. Not today. You weren’t emotionally stable enough for that.

Okay. Helmet, skates, pads... stick. Gloves? Socks? What the hell do kids wear under this stuff? Pink. Sparkly. Maybe a bag? Definitely a water bottle? Did kids her age even wear mouthguards?

Eventually, you made your way to the kids’ section, tucked just beyond the display of goalie masks. You stopped short when you saw it.

Little jerseys. So many of them.

Little shirts, toddler-sized jerseys, beanies so small they could fit a doll. You stopped and ran your fingers over one of the sweatshirts on a low rack—it was gray with a soft fleece lining and a Penguins logo in a bubbly font across the front. You thumbed through them slowly, smiling to yourself as you passed Crosby, Malkin, Rust. And then—

“Oh my god,” you whispered, pulling out a Letang #58.

Your daughter had randomly pointed to Letang’s photo once and declared him her favorite because “his hair is like a princess.” The jersey was youth small. A little big, maybe, but she could grow into it.

You added it to your arm. Then picked up a black Penguins t-shirt with a glittery logo. Then a matching beanie, soft and warm and clearly made for kids who’d lose it within a week. She’d probably lose it too. You’d buy another. That was the cycle.

You stood there, your arm full of black and gold and fleece and tiny dreams, and just… took a breath.

You could picture her wearing this stuff. Picture her squealing when she saw it. Picture her running around the apartment pretending to be “the pink rocket,” yelling “GOAL!” at full volume and slapping invisible high-fives.

With the clothes over your arm you wandered deeper into the section, avoiding the gear wall for now. You weren't ready for shin guards and blade sizes. Not yet. First, let your brain ease into it. Maybe find something pink. Maybe a miracle.

A teenager behind you coughed into his elbow and said—loud enough to clearly be meant for your ears—“Uh, the youth sticks are along that back wall… if you need help with sizes or anything.”

You turned slightly, caught off guard, and smiled. “Thanks.”

He nodded like he’d done his part and resumed awkwardly re-aligning a row of mouthguards.

You wandered back toward the front counter. The older man looked up and offered a quick nod as you approached. “You find everything okay?”

You gave him a sheepish little smile. “Sort of. I was wondering if someone could help me with... the actual gear part?” You adjusted your grip on the sweatshirt and jersey. “My daughter’s attempting to start playing hockey. She’s five. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

That got a chuckle out of the person beside him. “We get that a lot,” she said, friendly enough. “You’re gonna want to check out the back left corner—youth gear section. We’ve got starter kits, different levels, and some sizing charts posted on the wall. One of the kids can help you if you need it.”

You glanced over your shoulder toward the two teenagers. One of them now had a helmet on sideways and was quoting something that sounded like a bad sports movie. You turned back. “Cool. I’ll... go take a look first.”

“Yell if you need us,” the man added, already turning back to the computer in front of him.

So you headed toward the corner of the store they’d mentioned.

And when you got there...

You stared.

Oh god.

It was just... a wall of black and white. Rows of identical looking gear—tiny shoulder pads that looked like robot armor, pants with layers of foam and plastic, shelves stacked with helmets that all looked vaguely like something you’d see in a futuristic prison. Not a speck of pink or sparkle in sight. Not even a pop of color.

Where were the pink things?

You hovered by the start of the wall for a moment, scanning everything. It felt a bit like wandering into an IKEA when you only needed batteries. You were overwhelmed already, and you hadn’t even touched a stick yet.

You picked up one of the smallest helmets, turning it over in your hands. Inside it was lined with foam, and there were sizing stickers all around the rim. You read one out loud under your breath. “Youth small. Fits 19 to 20.25 inches... okay.”

You had no idea what your daughter’s head circumference was.

You set it back down. Picked up a different one. Looked almost identical. Set it back down.

There were starter kits in bags, sure—some marked. You couldn’t remember what brand your friend had told you to look for when your daughter first brought up the idea of playing hockey. Something with an animal name? Maybe a bird? 

You spent the next twenty minutes slowly picking up items, flipping them over, putting them down, walking in small circles around the same display. At some point you realized you’d been holding a single elbow pad for five full minutes, just sort of rubbing your thumb over the seam like it would give you answers.

You picked things up, tried to guess sizes based on your daughter’s height and width (which wasn’t much of either), and gently put things back down when you realized you had no clue what the difference was between “youth small” and “toddler medium.” Every few minutes, you’d pull out your phone to look something up—How tight should youth hockey skates fit? What’s a cage versus a shield?—but the answers just made you more confused.

You found a pair of pink laces and held them like a victory trophy. One point for Mom.

You were squatting awkwardly by the gloves, holding one up to your own hand and trying to eyeball it, when someone walked past you and reached for a goalie mask off the rack above.

It took you a second to register how silly that was.

Because he was, like... a full-grown man. And that was a tiny-ass goalie mask.

You blinked, looked down at the mask in his hands, then back at him.

You turned your head slightly, curiosity piqued, and said without much thought, “I don’t know that that’ll fit you... but I’m definitely not an expert.”

The man turned, just a little, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. His voice was low, a little gravelly but warm. “Not for me. One of my teammate’s kids. I’m just the delivery guy today.”

“Ah,” you nodded, feeling your cheeks go warm. “I figured. Unless you were shrinking, and no one told us.”

He chuckled, glancing down at the tiny mask again. “Not yet, but never say never.”

He glanced at the gloves in your hand. “You doing gear shopping too?”

You nodded, eyes scanning the mask in his hand before flicking back to him. “Yeah. Trying. I’ve been here almost an hour and all I’ve really figured out is that everything is black and white and confusing as hell.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. It’s a lot when you’re just starting.”

You smiled, shifting the items in your arms, the jersey slipping and nearly falling. You caught it against your side.

He nodded toward it. “Good choice. That’s a popular one.”

You looked at the name again. “Yeah? Honestly, I heard her mention him once and it was because she liked his hair, so.”

He smiled again—this time with something a little more amused behind it. “Well, you’re in Pittsburgh, so yeah. Letang’s kind of a big deal. And he’s got great hair,” then offered his hand. “Sid, by the way.”

You reached out to shake his hand, your brain stuttering for half a second. Sid. Sid. Unassuming dark blue tee with faded black jeans. Penguins cap. Goalie mask for a teammate’s kid.

Wait a second.

“I’m... Y/N,” you said, still shaking his hand.

His smile lingered, and there was a subtle, almost imperceptible flicker of recognition in your eyes as the dots started connecting.

You didn’t say anything though. You didn’t blurt it out or ask for a picture or grill him with questions.

You just smiled.

“Well,” you said softly, “If you have any rookie shopping tips, I’m all ears. Because right now, I think I’m buying two left gloves and possibly an elbow pad meant for a squirrel.”

Sid chuckled, stepping a little closer, a comfortable distance, easy and unpressured. “Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got so far,” eyeing the pile in your arms like it was an unsolvable riddle, “why don’t we start from the top—literally. Helmet, shoulder pads, gloves, all that. Then work our way down.”

You shifted your items to one arm, then gave him a helpless glance. “Lead the way, Captain.”

That earned you another one of his quiet laughs. You followed him a few steps to the wall lined with youth helmets, most of them black, though a couple had red or blue detailing. The sizes were printed along the shelf edge—Youth Small, Youth Medium—and behind each, a row of boxed helmets waiting for homes.

“She’s how old?” he asked, already crouching to one of the lower shelves.

“Just turned five in March. She’s about... say, three-foot-eight? Thirty-eight pounds. She’s got this mess of curly hair, so the helmet can’t be too tight. But also—safety.”

He chuckled, glancing up at you. “Right, no decapitations. Got it.”

You snorted. “I’d like to keep her head attached, yeah.”

Sid picked up a small helmet and turned it over in his hands, fingers checking the inside padding. He handed it to you. “This one’s a good brand. Solid protection. Comes with the cage too, which is what she’ll need. Some of them don’t, so make sure it’s included if you go with a different one.”

You nodded slowly, already overwhelmed again. “Okay, yeah, that looks... safe?”

He grinned. “Very safe. Want to write it down?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You know,” he said, standing up and dusting his palms off like this was an outdoor project. “In your notes app. Like an old person. ‘One helmet, small, comes with cage.’”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow. Are you always this charming, or is it just for flustered moms trying to buy sports gear?”

“Flustered moms are my specialty,” he said dryly, but his smile gave him away.

Still, you pulled out your phone and opened the notes app, muttering under your breath. “Helmet, small, with a cage, don’t let Sid pick on you.”

He leaned over, trying to peek at your screen. “Did you really just write that?”

You snapped the phone shut. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You moved on together, stopping at the shoulder pads next. He pulled a small pair off the rack and held it up in front of you.

“These’ll probably fit,” he said. “She’s little, but these are adjustable. You want the shoulder cups to line up obviously, but the important part is the chest plate—it should sit flat, not hanging off her.”

You nodded slowly, inspecting the pads like they were alien technology.

“And this is—what? For... falling?”

“Contact,” he said, grinning. “And yeah, falling too. Shoulder bumps, accidental checks. It keeps her chest protected if she takes a puck or a stick. Not that five-year-olds are slinging clappers yet.”

You blinked. “Slinging what now?”

He clarified. “Slapshots.”

You stared.

“Hard shots,” he clarified.

“Oh. See, you should just say that,” you said, squinting at the pads. “Why does everything in this sport sound like a 1950s insult?”

He laughed—this one louder than the others, deep and honest—and you found yourself smiling just from the sound of it.

“Okay, what’s next, smartass?” you asked.

He guided you through gloves next, letting you try a pair on so you could get a feel for the stiffness. “New ones are tough to move in,” he explained, “but they’ll break in after a few practices. You want her fingers to reach the tips, not swimming in there. And if you’re stuck between two sizes, go up. You can’t grow into small gear.”

You made another note in your phone and then paused. “Is this the part where I have to pick a stick?”

Sid turned to the bin of youth sticks and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s the fun one.”

“Oh god.”

“No pressure,” he said. “It’s only the most important part.”

You gave him a look. “Really?”

He grinned. “No. Kind of. Sort of. But not at five.”

You sighed dramatically. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”

He stepped up beside you as you both peered down into the barrel of sticks, most of them barely reaching your waist.

“Does she shoot left or right?”

You frowned. “She writes with her right hand, brushes her teeth with it. But she kicks soccer balls with her left foot sometimes. Does that help?”

He winced. “Only a little.”

You watched him pick up one, then two different sticks, holding them out and comparing them against each other like a bartender choosing between bottles of wine.

“This one’s left,” he said, handing it to you. “More kids start left, even if they’re right-handed. It’s weird.”

You turned the stick over, testing the grip.

“Let her try both when you get home,” he added. “Don’t cut it until you know which one she prefers.”

“Cut it?”

He nodded. “You’ll probably need to trim a few inches. It should hit between her chin and nose when she’s in skates. Too long and she won’t be able to handle it.”

Your head was spinning again. “I’m writing that down.”

“Good call, Old Lady Notes.”

You flipped him off lightly without looking up from your phone.

You followed Sid over to the youth skates, where he walked you through sizing—tight but not painful, with room to wiggle toes—and pointed out which brands had better ankle support.

“This is a lot,” you said eventually, “Like... a lot.”

He smiled softly. “It is. But it gets easier.”

You nodded, watching him now more than the skates. “Did your parents do this for you?”

He leaned against the shelf beside you. “Yeah. My dad mostly. But my mom did her fair share of sitting in freezing rinks with coffee and a blanket.”

You smiled. “I should probably start investing in hand warmers now.”

“Oh, definitely.”

You let the silence sit for a moment before he glanced at the stuff in your arms again and pointed at the Letang jersey.

“Good pick,” he said. “But if you want your daughter to win games…”

You looked up at him, catching the little smirk on his face.

“Oh no.”

He shrugged, not even pretending to be modest. “I dunno. She might have better luck with a Crosby jersey. Not like I’m a professional or anything.”

You stared at him. “Cocky much?”

He chuckled. “What? I’m just saying.”

“You’re just saying you’re better than Letang?”

He tilted his head. “Tanger’s great.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just better.”

You laughed, full and loud, startling one of the teenagers walking past. “Okay, alright. I guess if I had to pick a role model, the guy personally helping me fit elbow pads isn’t the worst choice.”

“I do what I can,” he said with a wink.

You gave him a half-playful sigh and picked up the Letang jersey again. Then slowly, without looking at him, added a Crosby one to the pile. Two jerseys, she’ll be excited regardless. 

He didn’t say anything, just smiled a little to himself and helped you find the right size.

“You’re either really prepared,” he said, lips twitching, “or she’s about to be the best-dressed five-year-old in the entire league.”

You grinned. “Look, if she’s gonna throw elbows, she may as well look cute doing it.”

“Bulked up in pink elbow pads,” he said thoughtfully. “Terrifying.”

“Exactly.”

You made your way toward the checkout counter, arms full, the jerseys, sweatshirt, t-shirt, a beanie—and the mini stick Sidney insisted every hockey kid needed, sat on top like a cherry on a very expensive sundae, mentally ticking off the grocery list you still had to tackle after this. Apples, chicken, string cheese, enough pasta to keep your tiny enforcer fueled or pre-fueled. 

Sid followed a few steps behind, still holding the youth goalie mask you’d caught him with earlier. You glanced at it again now, curiosity tugging.

You smiled and nodded toward the youth goalie mask he was still holding, white and pristine and blank. “So, mystery solved yet? What’s that for?”

He held it up a little, letting it catch the light. “It’s for my godson. His birthday’s next month. He’s obsessed with goalies. Gonna get it customized—mask, pads, the whole nine yards.”

You raised an eyebrow, impressed. “That’s a pretty cool gift.”

Sid shrugged like it was nothing. “He’s a good kid. Deserves something cool.”

“You getting his name painted on it or something?” you asked, genuinely curious now.

“Thinking about it. His favorite goalie was Lundqvist, but he keeps pretending to be Fleury when he plays in the driveway. So maybe something between the two. We’ll see.”

You grinned at that, setting your items down gently on the counter as the clerk started scanning. “That’s sweet.”

He gave a small, sheepish shrug. “Trying. He’s already better in net than I am, so I gotta keep my rep somehow.”

You laughed. The older man behind the counter gave you a friendly nod as he started ringing up the items.

He hesitated for a second like he might say more, then cleared his throat. “Hey—have you ever heard of the Little Penguins program?”

You paused. “The what?”

“Little Penguins,” he repeated. “It’s this thing we run through the team. We usually do Winters but we added Fall on there too. Kids can sign up and get a full set of gear for free—well, technically a deposit, but you get it back—and they do learn-to-skate stuff, drills, scrimmages. They get to practice on the ice, even skate with a couple of us players.”

Your mouth parted slightly. “Wait—like with the Penguins Penguins?”

He nodded. “Yeah, the big guys. Usually a few of us show up. Just for fun, nothing formal. But it’s a good way for the kids to dip their toes in without it being overwhelming. Especially for parents who are still learning the ropes.”

You blinked. “That… actually sounds amazing. Why is this the first time I’m hearing about it?”

“Marketing’s not our strong suit,” he said with a crooked smile. “I think the sign-ups start late summer. July-ish.”

You imagined your daughter, pink helmet and jersey, oversized gloves bouncing at her sides, skating across the ice next to Penguins players like it was a totally normal Tuesday. “Okay, yeah. That’s... wow. I’ll definitely think about that.”

He smiled again, and it hit you that he was genuinely pleased you seemed interested. “You should. It’s fun. And your daughter sounds like the kind of kid who’d love it.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “It actually does sound like something she’d love. I mean, if there’s juice boxes involved, I’m sold.”

He grinned. “I’ll make sure they have the pink ones.”

“You better,” you said. “But yeah. She would lose her mind.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he said, lightly bumping your elbow with his.

“Just the apparel today?” The cashier asked.

“Yeah,” you said, glancing at Sid. “Apparently I need to go home and take measurements. Like an adult.”

Sid turned to the cashier with a grin. “She’s doing her homework. Proud of her.”

You swatted his arm lightly, but he just laughed and leaned casually against the edge of the counter.

As the man scanned the Crosby jersey—Sid gave a soft, smug hmm at the sound—as if he hadn’t practically forced you to grab it.

The cashier handed you a long receipt and bagged up your stuff, folding the jerseys carefully. You thanked them, then turned back to Sid one last time, tucking your phone back into your coat pocket.

“Well. I should let you get back to your godfatherly duties. And I’ve got to go buy protein-rich snacks for a child who thinks hockey is a personality trait now.”

He laughed. “You’ve got a good one on your hands.”

“I do,” you said, feeling your chest warm a little. “Thanks again, by the way. For the help. Seriously. You saved me from panic-buying a full adult-size goalie kit.”

“Glad to be of service,” he said, then added, “Hey—if you end up signing her up for Little Penguins, I’ll probably be there. Come say hi.”

Your hand tightened slightly on the bag handles. “Yeah. I just might.”

He gave you a little nod, “Keep me posted. If she joins the Little Pens, I wanna know.”

“I will,” you said, turning toward the door. “If she scores her first goal, I’ll even make her point to the sky and say it’s for you.”

Sid smiled, shifting the goalie mask to his other hand. “Hey, if she ends up falling in love with the game, I’d say this was a good use of a Saturday.”

You nodded.

You watched him for a second—just a second���then shook your head to yourself with a soft laugh and headed out into the parking lot, the automatic doors sliding shut behind you with a whoosh.

You had groceries to buy. You had gear to organize. You had a daughter to tell about “this thing called Little Penguins.”

A Few Months Later…

The rink was loud with the echo of blades scraping over ice, muffled thumps from little bodies falling down, and the hum of excited chatter from proud parents in the stands. The bleachers were fuller than you expected them to be this early on a Saturday morning—coffee cups cradled like precious gems, toddlers bundled in puffer coats and fleece hats, a chorus of “that’s my baby!” and “get up, you got it!” rippling through the space like music.

You sat midway up the stands, leaned forward with your elbows on your knees and your hands clasped under your chin, barely blinking as you tracked your little girl zooming across the ice in her baby pink skates—the ones you’d debated splurging on, only to be guilted into by her lip-quivering pout and an impassioned speech about how “pink skates make you faster.”

Apparently, she wasn’t wrong.

She was a blur of movement and energy, her tiny helmet bouncing slightly with every stride. Her white jersey was too big on her, practically swallowing her whole, with “Crosby” emblazoned across the back—his number 87 stitched proudly under it. Pink tape spiraled down the length of her stick, the edges fraying just a little from the constant use. It was a vision, the kind that made your chest squeeze so tightly it felt like your heart might burst from sheer joy.

You were smiling like an idiot as she collided softly with another kid, both of them toppling over like penguin-shaped dominoes.

A dad sitting nearby chuckled, following your line of sight. “Yours in the pink skates?”

You nodded, still smiling. “Yep. That’s my maniac.”

“She’s got good instincts. Keeps her head up, even when she’s down,” he said with a grin, nudging his own daughter, who was munching Goldfish crackers next to him.

“She’s obsessed,” you said with a little laugh, eyes never leaving the ice. “This morning she woke me up at 6:10—on the dot—in full gear. Elbow pads over her pajamas. Helmet on backwards.”

The dad laughed. “They don’t just fall in love. They jump in head first.”

“Tell me about it. I think I have about twelve hours of footage just from driveway practices,” you said, tapping your phone like proof.

Down on the ice, your daughter had popped back up, brushing the snow off of herself with those padded gloves that made her hands look like marshmallows. She took a wobbly step forward, then another. A coach—tall, in full gear himself—skated past and gave her an encouraging tap on the helmet. She giggled and tried to chase him, only to crash into the boards.

You winced a little, but she scrambled back up, laughing. Unfazed. Just like always.

“Did you grow up around hockey?” the dad asked, sipping from his thermos.

You shook your head. “No, not even a little. This whole world is new to me. First time I walked into a gear shop, I almost cried. It was like IKEA, but colder and meaner.”

“Ah. One of those,” he said knowingly. “So how’d she get into it?”

You smiled a little to yourself, watching her now attempt to scoop a puck with the toe of her stick like she was playing field hockey.

“It started with street hockey,” you said softly. “Some neighborhood kids were playing, and she just... joined in. She didn’t even ask. Just ran over and jumped into the game like she was born for it.”

“I know the type,” he said with a grin. “Future captain.”

You smiled at that—because part of you believed it. Knew it, even.

“Yeah,” you said. “Future something.”

A cheer erupted from the crowd as one of the kids—somehow—managed to score on one of the adult coaches in net. The coach fell dramatically backward, arms spread wide like he’d been defeated in battle. 

It was cold and it smelled like coffee and the unmistakable sweetness of childhood. The coaches were endlessly patient, calling out encouragement and clapping for every kid, no matter how awkward or uncoordinated they were. One coach—Sid, you realized—was crouched low near the boards now, tying the laces of a tiny skater who looked like she was upset or tired.

You watched him a moment, that same calm energy radiating off him that he’d had in the shop months ago. No helmet, just a cap pulled low over his hair. Still recognizable, though—especially to the row of moms sitting a little too upright on the lower bleachers, their giggles loud enough to rise above the noise of the rink.

You’d never said anything to your daughter about who he was. You liked keeping it simple. To her, he was just Coach. Of course, she knows him. But here he's just a nice guy who high-fived her when she got her skates on the right feet and always knew when she needed an extra push on the back.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you checked it quickly. A message from your best friend:

“How’s my niece doing?? Any goals?? Any falls??”

You snapped a quick picture—her mid-laugh, head thrown back—and sent it back with a caption:

“Living her best life.”

You tucked your phone away and leaned forward again, watching as your daughter bent her knees the way they’d shown her, arms stiff out in front, tongue sticking out in concentration. She was taking it all in—every second of it. From the cool air on her cheeks to the slap of the puck to the roar of imaginary crowds in her head.

There was something sacred in watching your kid find the thing they loved. Like watching a door open inside them you didn’t even know was there. Every spill, every grin, every wild, uncoordinated movement across the ice—each one carved that love deeper into her bones.

You clapped and cheered when she completed a clumsy turn, just barely staying upright. She turned toward your seat in the stands and grinned, giving you two very exaggerated thumbs up. Then she fell on her ass again.

You laughed, hand to your heart.

The mom next to you leaned over. “First season?”

“Yeah,” you said. “First everything.”

“Well, you’re in for it now,” she said, sipping from her thermos with a knowing smile. “There’s no going back once they get a taste of the ice.”

You looked down at your daughter—scraping her way back to her feet, cheeks flushed, still smiling—and you knew it was true.

There was no going back.

And you didn’t want to.

After nearly three hours of watching your daughter, it was over. The hallway just outside the locker room was chaos in a very specific, beautiful way—kids peeling off helmets and elbow pads, trailing behind coaches or sprinting toward waiting parents, little voices bouncing off the walls, squealing about scoring, or falling, or “that time Coach tripped on his own skate.” Everyone was coach apparently.

You’d waited in the designated spot outside until one of the assistants—some fresh-faced guy in a Penguins jacket—gave the okay for parents to head in.

“Y’all can head in now,” he said, stepping aside and trying not to get knocked over by a tornado of five-year-olds dragging their gear bags behind them.

Inside, the locker room was warm and bright, lined with benches and low cubbies that were already stuffed with half-shed gloves, little skates, jackets, and about seven different water bottles. The buzz of post-practice chatter filled the air instantly, like someone had turned the volume knob all the way up.

You barely had time to take it in before a flash of pink barreled toward you.

“MOMMMYYYYY!”

There she was. Wild curls matted from the helmet, cheeks flushed with effort, teeth bared in a wide grin as she ran, half-hopping in her skates, arms wide.

You bent down just in time to catch her.

“There you are, Speed Racer,” you grinned, crouching down and opening your arms as she barrelled into you. Her gear clunked against your chest—chest protector and all—but you didn’t care. You hugged her like you hadn’t just been watching her be wild on the ice.

“I FELL SIX TIMES!” she squealed, voice muffled against your shirt.

You ran a hand over her head, feeling the heat radiating from her scalp. “You fell six times and you still have that big ol’ smile on your face? Must’ve been a good time.”

“It was the funnest ever,” she said seriously, stepping back and immediately beginning to unfasten her chest protector with a kind of frenzied determination. “And guess what! Owen and me were on the same team, and I touched the puck with my stick! Like for real this time! I didn’t miss!”

You helped peel the Velcro from her shoulders, gently tugging the damp, slightly stinky gear off while she babbled on.

“Toootally touched it. Owen saw. Right, Owen?!”

A little boy with dark hair and dark eyes, Owen, turned toward you, a toothy grin spread across his face. His front teeth were at war—one was missing, the other wobbly and hanging on for dear life.

“Hi,” he said confidently.

“Hi, Owen,” you greeted, giving him a warm smile. “I hear you two had fun today.”

“We’re on the same team,” he said proudly, pointing to his white practice jersey. “White team’s faster than the black one.”

Your daughter nodded vigorously. “We’re the fastest. Way faster.”

“I believe it,” you nodded solemnly, ruffling her sweat-damp curls as you zipped the top layer of her jacket. “You guys looked awesome out there.”

“They were, weren’t they?” a voice chimed in to your right. Owen’s mom, dressed in a puffer vest over a Penguins hoodie, smiled as she peeled her son’s gloves off one by one. “Owen hasn’t stopped talking about it since he got off the ice.”

You smiled back, instantly comforted by the friendliness in her tone. “Mine either. I’m pretty sure she’s still skating in her head.”

“She’s adorable,” the mom said. “Pink skates and pink tape? That’s iconic.”

“She had to be pink,” you said, laughing softly. “Apparently, pink makes you faster.”

Owen's mom grinned. “Hey, she might be onto something.”

You all shared a laugh as the room buzzed louder—parents helping their kids wriggle out of gear, skate guards being snapped on, water bottles getting passed around. Owen sat down next to your daughter on the bench, pulling a juice box out of his small backpack. “We made up a game,” he told you while trying to stab the straw through the plastic film.

Your girl nodded. “You pretend the puck is a bumblebee and you gotta squash it with your stick before it stings someone.”

“That sounds very advanced,” you said seriously.

“We’re gonna play it next time too,” she added. “Owen said he’s really good at squashing bees.”

Owen nodded matter-of-factly, still struggling with the straw.

Owen’s mom bent down to help him, chuckling as she did. “He’s been trying to squash bees with sticks since he was three. I’m just glad he’s finally doing it on the ice and not in our backyard.”

You grinned and reached into your own bag to grab your daughter’s snack. She immediately tore into the applesauce pouch like she’d been starved for days, then leaned against your side, still warm from all her movement.

“They looked so cute skating next to each other,” Owen’s mom added with a soft smile. “I was telling my husband—it almost looked like a little date out there.”

You laughed at that. “I think they’ve bonded over their mutual chaos.”

She leaned in a little and lowered her voice. “He told me in the tunnel that he thinks your daughter’s hair is ‘like gold spaghetti.’”

You choked on your sip of coffee, covering your mouth. “Gold spaghetti?”

She nodded, snickering. “Crush territory. I’m calling it.”

You smiled, heart melting a little, and pulled your phone out from your coat pocket. “Alright, if they’re officially best friends-slash-future-spouses, we need a picture.”

Both kids were now on their snacks, Owen with his juice box and your girl halfway through a granola bar, crumbs smeared around her mouth. You lined them up on the bench—gear still half-on, cheeks still flushed—and snapped a picture.

It was absurdly cute.

“Alright, say cheese,” you said. “Or… say Penguins!”

“PENGUINS!” they both shouted.

Click.

You took a few more, some with funny faces, some with your daughter attempting to put her arm around Owen’s shoulders and nearly knocking his juice out of his hand. You were pretty sure your camera roll had hit triple digits by now, but you didn’t care.

Eventually, your daughter leaned into you again, resting her sticky hand on your leg. “Mama,” she said quietly. “I’m thirsty.”

You glanced down. “Didn’t you bring your water bottle?”

She blinked up at you sheepishly. “I left it on the bench. Where I sit. I think.”

“Oh no,” you said, sighing gently. “You silly goose.”

“I forgot!” she insisted, holding her hands up like that’d fix it. “Thirst to death mama.”

You reached up and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Alright, okay. I’ll go grab it. Can you hang here for a sec?”

She nodded. “I’ll stay with Owen.”

You turned toward his mom. “Mind keeping an eye on her real quick? I’ll be back in like a minute.”

“Of course,” she said warmly. “Take your time. These two are thick as thieves already.”

You smiled and stood, patting your daughter’s helmet-less head. “Be good,” you said.

“Always,” she grinned, already halfway through a whispered joke with Owen that involved a fart noise and something about the Zamboni.

You made your way out of the locker room, weaving around kids and parents and piles of equipment. The hallway was quieter. You passed by a few of the coaching staff and volunteers still lingering around, one of them wheeling a cart of extra equipment back toward storage.

You shifted your weight awkwardly near the tunnel toward the bench, one arm wrapped around yourself for warmth. You weren’t totally sure if you were allowed to just stroll out there in regular shoes. Like—was that frowned upon? A total rookie parent move?

Your eyes scanned the hallway for someone official-looking. After a few seconds, a man in a staff jacket with a clipboard walked past. You stepped forward quickly.

“Hi! Sorry—excuse me?”

He stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“Um, I was wondering—my daughter left her water bottle out there on the bench,” you explained, nodding toward the rink. “It’s pink and glittery—shocking, I know—and it has a little flower keychain on the handle. Would it be possible for someone to grab it for me? I don’t wanna like... destroy the sanctity of the bench in my street shoes.”

The guy smiled, already turning to wave someone down. “Yeah, no problem. Hang tight. I’ll send one of the volunteers out.”

“Thank you, seriously.”

You leaned back against the wall, tugging your sweater sleeves down over your hands as you watched the lingering players on the ice, most of them part of the older age group now, finishing their drills. Some were still skating slow laps while a couple of the younger assistant coaches stood near the blue line laughing about something. You weren’t really paying attention—your mind was still back in the locker room with your daughter’s flushed cheeks and dramatics about “thirsting to death.”

Then you heard it.

“Called it. I thought that was your daughter out there.”

The voice, familiar in a way that shouldn’t have made your stomach do what it just did, made your head turn to the right.

Sidney.

You blinked once. Then again.

He was walking toward you casually, jersey still on but his skates had been swapped out for black Adidas slides and socks. His hair was damp, curls starting to appear at the ends, and he looked warm—flushed in the cheeks, a little sweaty, and way too comfortable for how good he looked.

You exhaled in something that bordered on a scoff. “What gave it away?”

He leaned a shoulder against the wall next to you, arms crossed as his eyes swept over the rink like he was still mentally coaching. “Let’s see... pink skates, pink laces, pink tape on the stick… Don’t think I forgot, Y/N.”

You grinned. “Wow, real detective work there.”

He smirked, slow and knowing, and turned to look at you instead. “Also? She’s got your eyes. It was game over after that.”

You looked away briefly, caught off guard by the way he said it—not teasing, not in passing. Just simple. Honest. The words made your chest tighten a little, in that soft, fluttery kind of way.

“She had the best time,” you said, your voice softening. “She’s been buzzing since we walked in this morning. Like... shaking with excitement.”

He smiled again, this time a little wider. “That’s what we want. Fun first.”

“She even made a friend,” you added. “Owen. They’re practically a duo now. He’s five. Missing a front tooth. Very committed to calling the puck ‘zoomy.’”

He chuckled under his breath, glancing down like he was picturing it. “Owen’s a good kid. He’s one of my favorites.”

“Wow. Already playing favorites?”

Sid shrugged. “Perks of being Coach Sidney. I can pretend I don’t, but come on—kid called me ‘Sir Puck’ once. I’m only human.”

You snorted.

There was a small lull between you, just a beat or two where you stood side-by-side, both facing the ice as the zamboni started circling again. His arm brushed yours once when he shifted his stance, just barely. The warmth of him so close made your skin feel hyper-aware, like it was begging for more contact.

“She, uh...” you started, glancing at him. “She left her water bottle on the bench. Swears she’s going to ‘thirst to death’ if I don’t bring it back.”

Sid raised an eyebrow. “Thirst to death? That serious, huh?”

You nodded solemnly. “She’s dramatic. I don’t know where she gets it from.”

“I’m shocked,” he deadpanned.

You shot him a side-eye, lips twitching. “Anyway, I asked one of the staff to grab it, but I think they forgot about me. Been standing here like a total newbie.”

“You want me to grab it?”

You blinked. “Wait—seriously?”

He was already pushing off the wall, waving a hand dismissively. “Yeah. I’ll be back in a sec. Pink glitter, right? With a flower keychain?”

“Yeah,” you said, still a little surprised. “That’s the one. Can’t miss it.”

He gave you a quick smirk. “Got it. I’m trained in the art of spotting glitter.”

You laughed, watching as he jogged down the short corridor, and stepped onto the bench in his slides like it was nothing. You bit your lip, just a little, arms crossed again as you watched him scan the bench, crouch, and retrieve the bottle from where it had rolled a few inches under one of the seats.

He came jogging back a minute later, bottle in hand, holding it up like a trophy.

“Coach of the Year,” he said with a grin, handing it over.

You took it gratefully. “Seriously. If there was a trophy, you’d be winning it.”

“You’re gonna make her think I’m her favorite now,” he said, mock-conspiratorial.

“She already called you ‘the guy with the funny whistle,’” you said, twisting the cap to check the water level. “So you’re basically a celebrity.”

“She’s not wrong,” he said, leaning back against the wall again. “It’s a very specific whistle. I’ve trained myself.”

You looked at him—really looked—and shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “You’re such a dork.”

“You keep saying that,” he said, tone low, amused. “But you’re smiling.”

There was a small pause after that—comfortable, but charged. A beat where neither of you spoke, but you could feel the static in the air, the unspoken familiarity that had somehow built over a single strange meeting. The gear shop.

“I’m guessing those notes I made you take all those months ago at the gear shop came in handy, huh?”

You groaned dramatically, rolling your eyes but smiling anyway. “Don’t remind me. I think I have PTSD from that trip. But yeah—God, they helped so much. I never would’ve figured out which stick flex to get her without your help. Or those elbow pads that didn’t slide down every two seconds.”

“You were so overwhelmed,” he teased. “Like I was speaking another language.”

“Because you were,” you fired back. “Half of it was just acronyms. I still don’t know what CCM stands for.”

“Honestly?” he leaned closer, voice dropping conspiratorially, “I don’t think anyone does. We just pretend.”

You laughed again, head tipping back. His eyes lingered on your face for a second longer than necessary, like he was cataloguing every shift in your expression, every laugh line he could coax out of you.

“How’d the goalie mask go?” you asked, shifting gears, “for your godson?”

“Great,” he said, and you noticed how his whole face softened when he talked about the kid. “He loved it. Said it made him look like a Transformer. His words, not mine.”

“That’s basically the highest praise possible.”

“Exactly,” he agreed. “He even slept with it beside his bed the first night. His mom texted me a picture.”

“That’s adorable.”

He glanced toward the rink doors, then back at you. “So… did you have fun?”

You lifted a shoulder, smiling again. “Oh yeah. Nothing more fun than watching my kid wipe out every five minutes while I try to pretend I’m not dying inside.”

His head tilted, a laugh bubbling up from him. “You looked like you were holding it together okay.”

“I was faking it,” you said. “But thanks.”

“Pretty well, I’d say.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back toward the hallway leading to the locker room. “Only ‘cause you saved me from a water bottle emergency.”

“I’ll see you around?” he asked, but there was something tentative in the way he said it, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to hope.

You slowly turned to face him once again. “Yeah. You will.”

He smiled, something softer than before—less teasing, more sincere.

And then his voice came again. A little more certain. A little bolder.

“Actually—hold on.”

You stopped.

He was standing straighter now, hands in his pockets, one foot shifting over the other like even he wasn’t sure he was really doing this until the words were already coming out of his mouth.

“Would you wanna get a coffee sometime?” he asked. “Or... whatever. Something not surrounded by five-year-olds and hockey tape.”

You stared at him for a second, surprised—though you weren’t sure why. Maybe because he said it so... sincerely. Not flirty. Not presumptuous. Just... hopeful.

You found yourself smiling again.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice low. “I’d like that.”

—

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight - Part 24

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 23 | Series Masterlist | Part 25

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.8k

Chapter Summary: You're ready for some answers so you can move forward.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of violence and death, threats, tension, talk of assault, obsession, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight, and thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby and @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Natasha didn't say a word after wrapping up the phone call with her sister. Neither did you. What was there to say? Both of you knew Zemo was outside of the club.  As much as you wanted to confront him, it wouldn't be a smart move. Not alone at least. You needed Bucky. 

How would he react knowing you needed him once again?

“You really should try to rest,” Natasha finally spoke. 

“I can’t,” you whispered. It was too overwhelming, your mind too frantic.

“I know it won't be easy to do so and you rightfully want answers, but just try to relax as best as you can.”

It took a moment, but you curled up on the sofa and tried to quiet your mind. Your eyes drifted to the dahlia painting, remembering Bucky’s words. The man was all about loyalty, and he expected you to be loyal to him. You’d give him that. What choice was there?

“May I ask you something crazy?” you asked.

“The question may be more normal than you think, so shoot,” she answered.

“Do you think I could love Bucky?”

Love was about acceptance and understanding, but your situation wasn’t normal. Would it ever be love or a form of Stockholm Syndrome? Were you doomed to accept it at face value, or could you smooth out the path for both of you?

Natasha considered your question. “I think if anyone could grow to love him, it’s you,” she answered, leaning into the cushion herself. “But it should be on your terms, not his.”

Neither of you spoke again after that.

You weren’t sure how much time passed when the office door slowly opened. Natasha moved when you sat up, placing herself in front of you. Was she protecting you because of Bucky or was she looking out for you because she wanted to?

“It’s just me. Well, Ray and Steve are here, too,” Bucky announced, stepping further into the room. Ray and Steve hung back by the door, but both of them looked at you with concern.

Was everyone going to treat you like a porcelain doll ready to break? To be fair, it wasn’t that long ago since your attack. You would’ve looked at anyone else the same way. 

You took in the sight of Bucky once Natasha moved completely out of the way. Gone was his jacket, his hair a mess. Had he changed his shirt? Your eyes searched his and you found lingering darkness lurking. The tension in his shoulders didn’t bode well either. 

He either didn’t get the answers he was looking for or something was still wrong.

“You didn’t sleep, did you?” he asked.

“No,” you answered, giving him room so he could sit beside you. “Did you lose yourself?”

“Not completely. I told you I had you to come back to,” he replied, brushing a kiss to your forehead before looking over his shoulder. “Give us a minute.”

Natasha hesitated. “Zemo is-”

“Outside, I know,” Bucky interrupted, a slight edge to his voice. “Just give us a minute.”

Ray held the door open, silently ordering Natasha to leave. You managed a small smile for her before she left, the shutting of the door sealing more of your fate. “Bucky, what-”

His arms nearly crushed you when he pulled you in for a hug, his face buried in your neck to inhale your scent. Just as quickly as he grabbed you, he released you, like he suddenly remembered what you had gone through earlier and that the sudden touch may have frightened you. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“What?” you asked, telling yourself to relax. He wasn’t going to hurt you.

“He wanted to take you away from me. From your home,” he whispered. You took his hand to inspect it, half expecting to see blood. “You don’t have to worry about me. I cleaned myself up a bit, and I’m fine,” he added.

You hummed, thankful for that as your fingers touched his knuckles. Seeing blood on him may have fried your emotions once again. “What do you mean he wanted to take me from my home?”

Bucky gripped your hand when you tried to pull away and explained what Clark told him- How Clark was involved with Zemo and your instinct regarding the drugging of your friends was correct. How Clark intended to take you to Gotham, giving you a way to start over again away from Bucky. It would’ve put you in another cage. 

Steel blue eyes watched you process the information, a featherlight touch on the top of your hand willing you to take a breath. “He was really going to take me away?”

The thought of being ripped away from your friends, your stability, it made your heart ache. As much as the turn of events in your life terrified you, the city was still your home. If anyone would decide when and if you left, it would be you. Except now you didn’t really have a choice since Bucky would dictate when and if you ever left. 

Bucky’s jaw clenched before he nodded. “He was. He thought he’d be your hero,” he said, practically spitting out the last word.

Clark wasn’t a hero. No hero would’ve done what he did. “But my friends are okay? And Lois, she’s okay?” you asked.

The smile on Bucky’s face stretched to his eyes. “How are you so good?” he asked, rhetorically. “I still need the info on what the driver put in the drinks, but it was likely diluted and they should be okay. Lois…” He took a breath. “She isn’t in great shape, but she’s going to get the best care possible.”

You sighed in relief for your friends and Lois, though it hurt to hear that she wasn’t in the best shape, since she didn’t deserve whatever happened to her. “Thank you, Bucky,” you whispered. Lois wasn’t his responsibility, but it meant a lot to you that he wanted to help her heal. Maybe you could meet her, if only to see for yourself that she would be safe and sound. “What about Cl-”

“Don’t say his name, please.,” he gently ordered. “Whatever happens to him after tonight is still his fault.”

You shuddered. So Clark was still alive. For now. “And Zemo? I want to talk to him.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said softly. You were doing your best to control your temper since you knew he was trying to protect you. “You’ve been through a lot, especially tonight.”

“Partially thanks to you,” you reminded him, making him wince. You didn’t mean it as a jab, but he had to keep that in mind. “And this is my life they tried to mess with. I think I’m owed some answers.”

He sighed. “Kotyonok…”

Maybe it was a dirty tactic, but you ran a hand through his hair and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Nothing too extraordinary or forward, but you heard the swift intake of breath. “Please,” you whispered, needing him on your side for this.

“Fine,” he conceded, turning his head to give you a proper kiss. As much as you knew he wanted to deepen it, he stopped himself. “But you’re staying right by my side, and we’ll speak to him in the VIP area. I don’t want him in my office.”

“If that’s what you want.” It was his club, his rules, but it was a small victory that he gave in.

And once the conversation took place, you could finally try to get some sleep.

“Wait,” he said, stopping you from standing. He didn’t hide the vulnerability in his expression when he uttered, “I’m going to earn your love, and I’m not giving up until I have it. Even when I have it, I won’t stop earning it. Or your trust.”

Your mouth fell open. Where had that come from? Had Clark said or done something to get under his skin? 

“I haven’t earned yours,” you said, needing to say something. You saved his mother, sure, and he felt a connection after seeing and hearing you at his club, but that shouldn’t mean that his love and trust should be given so freely.

“You earned it a long time ago, but I haven’t earned yours,” he said easily, helping you to your feet. “I’ll start tonight once we’re home.”

You fell in step beside Bucky, ignoring the gazes of the group in the hall. “Ray, bring Zemo to the VIP area. Have Ari and Jax behind him. Steve, I want you there with us.”

“And what about me? I’m not leaving her,” Natasha said as she followed.

“This isn’t your concern,” Bucky said, tightening his grip on you.

“You made it my concern when you called me. She made it my concern when she asked me to be here,” the redhead argued. “And my sister is the one who followed him, so I think I have a right to stick around.”

“I think she should stay,” you said. Natasha had gone out of her way to be there for you. It only felt right that she knew what was going on. 

Bucky swore under his breath. “Hang back with Ari and Jax and keep your sister from shooting him.”

“I make no promises that she won’t shoot him,” she half teased before Bucky glared over his shoulder. “But she won’t kill him.”

You tried not to tremble once Bucky brought you to the VIP area. It was strange seeing the place lit up, but with no music or a crowd. You could almost picture Addison and your friends there with you, laughing and having a good time. 

Briefly closing your eyes, you allowed Bucky’s touch on your arm to soothe you. “This is where you were sitting when I saw you on camera,” he said. 

“It’s come full circle,” you said. The area would become another place fully tied back to Bucky. Not because he owned it, but because you would talk to Zemo there and it would be a reminder of what happened to you.

“And soon you’ll be with me in my office, keeping me company, making memories together,” he said, happy in spite of the circumstances. 

Steve placed a bottle of water in front of you. How was it that a man as dark as Bucky looked so kind? “Buck thought you’d want bottled water instead of a glass,” he said, giving you a small smile. 

You nodded in understanding. If anyone had brought you a glass, you wouldn’t have seen them pour it and you may have questioned what was in it. It was… thoughtful. “Thanks.”

Your heart beat too loud when you heard footsteps, your next breath ragged when Zemo walked toward you like he owned the place. Though he looked put together and at ease, you detected the slightest bit of discomfort when he looked your way. You took small satisfaction in that.

Bucky held up a hand before Zemo could take a seat or speak to you. “If you have any weapons on you, I suggest you set them on the table,” he said, skipping the pleasantries. 

Gesturing to Ari and Jax, he sighed. “Ms. Belova relieved me of my weapons, and your men did another search themselves,” he said. You couldn’t see Natasha or her sister with the men blocking your view, but you sensed them watching. “Now may I please sit?”

Bucky waited until Ray stood by your side and Steve on his. “As much as I’d like to beat the ever loving shit out of you, we do need to talk, so sit.”

“As much as I know you’d enjoy that, I’m not here to speak to you.” Zemo turned his attention to you once he sat down and carefully removed his gloves. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

You placed a hand on Bucky’s thigh, hoping your touch would keep him grounded. “So, you’re aware of what happened to me?”

“I do not know the details, but I knew something must have happened since I hadn't heard from Clark or the driver. And I thought if I hadn't heard from them that James either figured out my involvement or would find out soon enough,” he explained, relaxing in his seat. “Better to show up and explain my side than wait to be dragged in for questioning.”

It surprised you how easily he gave up that information. “I was attacked,” you stated, avoiding Bucky's gaze.

You didn't expect to see sorrow on Zemo’s face. “Where is he?” he whispered.

“Where do you think?” Bucky asked.

The man nodded. “Though I’m not the one who laid hands on you, I am sorry for encouraging Clark.” He shook his head wearily. “I warned him not to lay a hand on you in harm, but he was not one of my usual men, and I must admit I miscalculated this plan.”

“What was your plan exactly?” you asked. Did it align with Clark's plan?

“I wanted James to lose you,” he replied, stating the obvious. “James knows most of my men and he would've caught on if I sent one of them to spirit you away. I thought Clark was enough of an outsider to stay under the radar and convince you to somehow, some way, walk away from your new boyfriend.”

Of course, it all led back to Bucky. “He broke into my home when I refused to go with him and he attacked me,” you said, proud that your voice didn't crack. 

“He was going to rape her,” Bucky said through his teeth. The rage in his eyes was frightening, so you squeezed his thigh. He had to stay calm. 

If Zemo looked sorrowful moments ago, now he looked sick. He recovered quickly. “You must believe me when I say my intention was never for anyone to attack you.”

“But you still knowingly or unknowingly sent some sort of predator to woo me? That's supposed to make me feel better?” you asked. Did he have any shame?

Zemo sighed. “I fear nothing I say will make you feel better.”

“No, it won’t. Everything that happened is going to stick with me, and your apologies aren’t going to alleviate any of the pain,” you said, breathing a bit easier when Bucky put his hand over yours. “Not to mention, it still doesn’t make any sense to me. He came into the shop once a month and until recently he had a girlfriend. Now he stalks and attacks me? Why?”

Zemo tilted his head, amused by the question. “Why did James stalk you?”

Bucky stiffened under your touch before he began, “That’s not-”

“Clark likes to believe that he isn’t like James or I or any of the other men here, but he isn’t a good man either. He has darkness like so many of us and he didn't need much of a push to go after you.” Zemo shrugged. “Your rejection may have been the final push to bring out his darkness.”

Bucky reached for something in his pocket. “If you’re blaming my girl-”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Zemo promised, his hands raised in surrender.

Bile rose to your throat anyway. “Really? Because it sounds like you’re saying that my rejection drove him to this.” How could he blame you for Clark’s actions?

“Your rejection was a tipping point, but it wasn’t your fault,” he assured you. It didn't make you feel any better. “His facade slipped and he showed you who he really is. It is troublesome that I did not notice how far he would go before you were put in harm's way.”

“Because you let whatever hatred you have for Bucky blind you,” you accused. What other explanation was there?

“Perhaps you are right.” Zemo swallowed, but didn’t spare the man beside you a glance. “But as much as I hate him, I still did not intend for you to get hurt.”

“Why does it matter if I'm hurt?” you asked. It wasn't like any of them cared for your opinion regarding your own life. 

“Because it wasn’t about harming you. I just wanted James to be without you,” he admitted without shame. “I wanted him to lose the thing he cherished the most, that’s all.”

You exhaled. He wanted to destroy Bucky. Not through his club, his money, or anything of that sort. Zemo wanted to destroy him by removing you from the equation. 

“It wouldn't have been enough if I took you myself,” he continued. “No, I wanted him to see you thrive with someone outside of our circle. To show him money and power can't buy him what he so desperately desires. I wanted him to suffer knowing how happy you were without him.”

Bucky audibly exhaled, anger rising in both of you. “That's insane,” you whispered. Another puppet master trying to control the strings of your life. “And you really think that Bucky would have allowed that?!”

Zemo finally looked at the club owner with a blank expression. “I’d like to think James would give you anything that would make you happy. That if you truly found happiness with another man, he would let you go. Even if it killed him.”

You almost crawled into Bucky’s lap when you thought he’d stand up. “There will never be another man,” he gritted.

“He won't let me go. You have to know that,” you said, uncaring of who nearby heard it since they knew the truth anyway. “My freedom is the only thing he won't give me.”

“Is it really love if he won’t let you go?” Zemo asked. 

Bucky made a sound like he got punched. “I love her,” he stated, turning toward you. “I love you.”

“I know,” you whispered. He believed so desperately that he did. “Zemo, even if Bucky let me go, do you really think I could give my heart to someone else knowing he will always watch over me?”

If there was even the slightest chance that you’d ever leave him, you’d forever look over your shoulder and wait for him to drag you back. 

“Bruce Wayne wouldn't let the likes of James into his city,” he said. 

Bucky had mentioned the name Bruce to you in his office. You hoped you never met him. “And if he went to Gotham anyway?”

“I wanted to believe that he would start off watching. That if there was a moment where he could swoop in and take you back he would, but would ultimately resist. That over time, it would hurt him too much to keep his eye on you and he would have eventually let you go.” The smile on his face unnerved you. “Your rejection of Bucky and choosing someone else would destroy him from the inside out. He would fall, and his empire would fall with him because why would he want to rule without you by his side?”

“She isn't rejecting me, and I’m not letting her go. Ever,” Bucky spoke for you, that stark possession shining through. “Our souls are entwined. She’s meant to be with me forever.”

A scowl crossed Zemo’s face. “I loved someone like that once.”

“And you lost her,” you said. He lost his wife, and his child. “If revenge was something you wanted, why not just kill me? An eye for an eye.”

He sighed, picking at one of his gloves. “I thought about killing you with my bare hands. To watch the life leave your eyes,” he said, dispassionately. 

Your eyes widened when Bucky got to his feet and took out a knife. Ray tried to shield you when you jumped up, but you grabbed Bucky’s arm before he could move. “Bucky, please, don’t,” you begged. Hearing that Zemo had wanted to kill you scared you, but he was unarmed and you didn't want more blood shed because of you. 

“Listen to her, Buck,” Steve urged. 

“I’m done talking and listening, and I’m going to slit his fucking throat for even thinking about killing her,” he growled. He was going to kill him if you didn’t stop him. And Zemo… He didn’t move. He didn’t flinch or try to move away. Did he want to die?

“Boss?” Ray questioned. If Bucky ordered it, they would kill him. You had no doubt in your mind.

“Please,” you whispered, putting your hand over his so he’d lower the knife. “He could’ve killed me, but he didn’t. He didn’t even want Clark to put a hand on me,” you pointed out. Zemo’s thoughts shifted at some point. That had to mean something. 

“Because the more I thought about it, I realized that you’re a victim, too. Innocent. Another soul tainted by the Barnes family,” Zemo said, making you think of his family again. They were victims. “Death may set you free from his grasp, but I suspect death is not what you're looking for or what you deserve. Killing you wouldn't have brought me peace either.”

It was clear that he was in a lot of pain and projecting it onto others, but killing you wouldn't have filled the void in his heart. “What happened with your family?” you asked. It wasn’t just collateral damage. It was enough to drive him to this.

“Oh, James didn’t tell you?” The scowl was back on Zemo’s face. 

“She doesn't know the whole story,” Bucky said after a moment. 

Your nails dug into his hand. “You said he blamed some of the men you worked with for what happened.”

“Oh, I do blame them and James because it was their fault. They heard about a deal that I made with some dangerous people that would’ve made us all a lot of money. James didn’t like that, so he tipped off the police.” You could see Bucky and Steve hang their heads briefly out of the corner of your eye and Ray blinked a few times, but their shame didn’t lessen the fury in Zemo’s eyes. “For retaliation, these men took something priceless from me- my wife and child. And they didn't just take them. They made them suffer before they died.”

Tears filled your eyes. You couldn’t help it. It was an innocent woman and child. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are.” He looked touched, but it didn't outweigh his anger. “But you see, if James didn't call in that tip and his men hadn't informed him of the deal in the first place, my family would still be alive.”

You glanced around through your tears. No one spoke, but you saw the guilt. And it made sense why Bucky said they were lost in a deal gone wrong, but he left his part in it out of the story. Was it to protect you or himself? “They didn't deserve what happened to them,” you said. No one deserved that. 

Zemo blinked, erasing the ghosts behind his eyes. “No, they didn’t. And I can’t change the past or bring them back.”

“Neither can I,” Bucky said, touching your cheek. He looked hesitant, like you’d hate him for this. “I should’ve told you the whole story. I’m sorry for that.”

But Bucky hadn’t. He hadn't lied, but he hadn't told you everything. It was another hurdle to get across. “So, where do we go from here?” you asked. You weren’t going to continue to be a pawn in their game. 

Bucky still had his knife out. “I want to kill him, but I can’t,” he said, grinding his teeth. You raised an eyebrow. That would be another conversation for later, but you suspected it had to do with their shady politics or whatever they dealt in. “But I also can’t let this go.”

“You want to retaliate,” Zemo said. 

“Yes,” Bucky said. He wanted blood. You could practically smell it. 

“No. No retaliation,” you said, looking at all of the men. “I mean it.”

Bucky’s nostrils flared, but one more glance at you and he nodded. “No retaliation for now.”

“I’m in your debt,” Zemo said not to Bucky, but to you. It surprised you to say the least. “Name your price.”

All eyes were on you and it made you feel faint. You couldn’t be weak since you were in this world now. “You paid the driver to turn on Bucky?” you asked, waiting for him to nod. “Whatever you paid him, I want you to double the amount and donate it to the hospital. The wing that Winifired Barnes stayed in.”

Bucky inhaled, gazing at you like he fell in love all over again. “Kotyonok,” he said thickly.

“And Lois, Clark’s ex-girlfriend. I want you to cover her medical expenses, and throw in a little extra so she can recover in peace once she’s out,” you said. It was the least the woman deserved. 

“Done,” Zemo agreed, a smile touching his lips. “Is there anything else? Perhaps your own flower shop? The things you asked for aren’t for you, but for others.”

“Because that’s the kind of person she is,” Bucky proudly said, slipping an arm around you. “And if anyone’s going to get her her own shop, it’s me.”

“Please, stop with the dick measuring contest,” you said. Even when it was about you, they made it about themselves. Regardless, the truth was you didn’t want anything from Zemo, except for him to leave you be. “Just leave Bucky and me alone, and anyone close to me. If you two have to work together, fine, but don’t interfere with our lives,” you said. 

“And that’s it?” he asked. 

“That’s it,” you replied. You didn't need much, but you deserve a bit of peace from one of Bucky’s enemies. 

“You have my word.” Zemo slipped his gloves back on and stood up. If he didn't keep his word, you were sure Bucky would make him pay. “But I still owe you a debt. When you’re ready to cash in, James can tell you how to get in touch with me.”

Bucky finally put his knife away. “I still want to kill you and I still have questions for you,” he said. You should’ve known he wouldn’t be satisfied, but at least no blood was shed in front of you. “Because you had no right to go after my girl.”

“Be thankful she’s still alive and beside you,” he said with subtle longing. “Truce? Perhaps we can talk next week and bury the hatchet for good? No retaliation. You agreed.”

Bucky didn't offer his hand. Just a smile without any semblance of warmth. “Next week,” he said, his fist flying before you could blink. You gasped when Zemo stumbled back and clutched his jaw. It took him a moment to straighten up, a mark already forming on his face as he lowered his hand. He didn't look at all surprised by the punch, and he was lucky his jaw wasn't broken. “Now get the fuck out of my club.”

“I appreciate your compassion, and I look forward to your call one day,” Zemo smiled at you through the pain. “I truly am sorry for what transpired,” he added in a sincere tone. 

You nodded, not accepting or rejecting the apology, and slowly exhaled while Jax and Ari led him away. He hadn't gotten his revenge, but at least it was over. You had answers. Maybe you’d sleep easier. 

Maybe not. 

You finally spotted Natasha in the distance standing beside a blonde woman. That must be Yelena. And neither of them looked impressed as they stared after the man who put Clark in your path. 

“You sure I can't kill him?” Yelena asked. 

“I appreciate the offer, Yelena, but not today,” Bucky said, turning toward you. Why did he look nervous? Was he expecting you to scream? Hit him? “Are you okay?”

You buried your face in his chest before you could stop yourself, and he took the opportunity to hold you against him. Were you okay? No. But you’d heal. You had to. “I will be.”

But was it really the end of Zemo? What kind of favor would he do for you? Would you take him up on any sort of offer after everything?

“I’m sorry, too. For all of this,” he whispered low enough for only you to hear. “But now we can move forward together.”

Bucky sounded like he wanted to close this chapter and move on, but it wasn't up to him to turn the page. It was your decision. “I might stumble along the way.”

“I'll catch you,” he promised, pulling away and taking your hand. “Are you ready to go home?”

You weren't sure if you’d ever be ready, but you had to believe this chapter of your life was over. Zemo would leave you alone. Clark wouldn't hurt anyone else. It had to be enough for today. 

You could figure out the next step tomorrow. 

“Sure,” you whispered, letting Bucky lead you away. “Let’s go home.”

A moment to breathe. Maybe? I view this as an ending (not the story, I wouldn't do that to you lovelies) and a beginning. Eager to hear what you think will happen going forward! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[cherrynpink]

still yours

pairing: ex!mingyu x f!reader

genre: exes to lovers, second chance romance, fluff, angst, smut MDNI!

warnings: jeongcheol is the side ship hehe, bsf cheol, very angsty, bickering, down bad oc n gyu, alcohol consumption, mentions of drugs, yearning, there is a hot tub involved, if even 1 of u get the yeh jawani hai diwani reference it's worth it, flirting, mentions of threesome, making out, oral sex (f. recieving), softdom!gyu, clitoral stimulation, fingering, soft sex, emotional talks here and there, unprotected sex, creampie, happy ending!!!, lmk if I missed anything!

w.c.: 9.7k

playlist: still yours

note: this is slightly inspired by the movie yeh jawani hai diwani if any one of u get it thank u so much I love you. that specific part of party 4 u by charli xcx was playing in my head the entire time i was writing and I've been writing this for a week 😭 alsooo woke up last morning to see a 100 followers, thank u so much ☹️

p.s. can confirm the texts between oc n cheol are derivative of how me n my guy bsf text

u can message me here or comment if u wanna be part of my taglist, my requests are open if u have something u wanna read or just talk. feedback is highly appreciated hope u like this one :3

cheol🖕🏻: did u land yet?

you: at the baggage claim rn

still NOT talking to u

kys

cheol🖕🏻: very rude of u to talk to ur dear friend (who paid for ur ticket btw) like that

you: i will throw cash at u the second I see u, still not talking to you

cheol🖕🏻: DID YOU JUST WANT ME TO NOT INVITE HIM I CAN’T DO THAT Y/N

you: WOULD HAVE APPRECIATED IT IF U HAD TOLD ME BEFORE I BOARDED

cheol🖕🏻: did not want to give u the chance to run off

also tf

r u saying u wouldn’t have come to my wedding :(

you: never said that but i would be more prepared

would’ve snuck cocaine up my ass and had a few drinks at the lounge if I knew

cheol🖕🏻: they would arrest u for the cocaine babe

you: it’s ok ur lawyer fiancé can bail me out

cheol🖕🏻: he is very talented :)

you: stop thinking about dick for a second u sick freak

cheol🖕🏻: stop slut shaming me :(

did u find a cab yet?

you: yeah

will be there in 40 minutes

still NOT talking to u

sick liar

cheol🖕🏻: I WAS NOT LYING HE DID SAY HE WASN’T COMING UNTIL LIKE A WEEK AGO

you: SO YOU HAD A WEEK TO TELL ME AND YET U DIDN’T

wow

they were right

cheol🖕🏻: who’s they

you: all men do is lie

#sigh

#allmenarethesame

cheol🖕🏻: :(

you: can see u pouting through the screen

you are NOT the victim here dawg

cheol🖕🏻: y/n

it will be okay

you: it’s been 5 years. It won’t.

cheol🖕🏻: it’s not just him yk, we all are there too

it’s been literally years since we all were together and I want u to see that putting this mingyu thing aside

I put a week aside for us all to spend some time like we did  

and I hope u and mingyu sort it out because it’s been ages since we were all in the room and I miss us

you: yeah ur right

i’ll behave

promise

n talk to him

cheol🖕🏻: thank you.

you: unless he decides to be a bitch

cheol🖕🏻: STOP

you: hehe :3

see u in a bit

read

Okay. Deep breathes. You can do this. You’ve spent the entire duration of your flight preparing for what to say, what to do, how to act, how to breathe (a typical one in one out would do you assumed). Spent all of the hours imagining innumerable scenarios of how meeting him again could go. How bad could it be right? You’re just meeting your ex you broke up with 5 years ago, you’ll be fine. It’s not like your break up left you an emotional mess for months and mingyu shaped hole in your heart that still remains untouched by any man that’s come in your life the past few years.

How will he react? Has he been looking forward to it? Oh my god, what if he has another girlfriend? You’re going insane. It doesn’t help that you’ll have to spend an ENTIRE week around him. He was already so good looking in college; you can only imagine how handsome he’s grown now he’s a man. Despite of still being in the same friend group, you’ve managed to barely see him since your break up because well, life. No matter how tight knit you were with your friends, people grow apart due to circumstance; whether it be due to higher priorities in life or simply distance, that’s what happened to all of you. Everyone got too busy keeping up with growing careers, and bills, and relationships- all moving away to different parts of the country.

That’s why Seungcheol organized this for all of you, right before his wedding weekend. He met Jeonghan through you, believe it or not. You were dating a guy you met on a dating app, who worked with Jeonghan. Once while you and Seungcheol had gone to a club together, you bumped into them. You and Vernon broke up, but Seungcheol and Jeonghan kept seeing each other, and the rest is history.

As you’re lost in your thoughts of your past and all your old memories, you hear the cab driver halt to a stop in front of the resort and you’re brought back to reality. And the resort is honestly gorgeous. And oh, in between Jeonghan and Cheol, they are absolutely LOADED. Because not only have they booked rooms for all their guests at the resort, but they’re getting married right on the private beach of the resort. You could imagine Cheol quitting his job in a few years and just becoming a trophy wife.

You take your luggage out of the trunk of the car and walk into the lobby of the hotel and who do you see but Seungcheol, laughing with Jeonghan as he slowly turns back to you and you see him giving you a wide smile; but Seungcheol’s eyes are still on Jeonghan- and it warms your heart. When you see them together, you get it; they make sense. You see how easy it’s supposed to be- loving someone. How so in love someone can be, that their entire world disappears, and the person they want is the center of their universe.

Finally, Jeonghan nudges his shoulder as he begins to walk to you, open armed embracing you in a hug as you can’t help but smile. As you pull away from him, right behind you is Seungcheol, wasting no time before he is absolutely squeezing you, leaving you out of breath. No matter how many times you see him, he still hugs you the same way he did 8 years ago when you first met. You don’t think you’ll actually ever love anyone as much as you love your best friend.

“Hey, leave her, she literally can’t breathe!” Jeonghan says giggling.

“You’re getting married!” you say against Seungcheol’s shoulder, still in his tight grip.

“I’m getting married” he says with a smile as he finally lets you go, his hand still wrapped around your shoulder.

“You literally saw me a week ago, what’s with all the touchiness?”

“God forbid a man be happy and love his best friend.”

“Let’s take your luggage up, everyone is already up in our room.” Jeonghan says. “Cheol, carry it.”

“Everyone’s up? Mingyu’s reached too?” you say hesitantly. There is a nervousness in your voice that neither Jeonghan nor Cheol miss.

“There’s no need to be anxious y/n.” Jeonghan says as you walk towards their room.

“Just- you know, say hi to him, hug him, smile and it’ll be over. Doesn’t have to be awkward.” Seungcheol says, as if completing Jeonghan’s thought. God. They were so annoying and perfect.

“Oh, didn’t realise I lacked basic human interactive skills guys! Yeah, thanks a lot for that.” You say in annoyance as you roll your eyes, finally reaching their room; and you can already hear the sound of laughing and someone singing from the outside.

“Y/n, literally. Chill.” Seungcheol says as he opens the door. And there they are. The people you love so much, all rushing to crowd around you. you hear multiple iterations of your name being shouted as Seungkwan becomes the first to hug you, followed by Joshua and Dokyeom. You feel so full of love and happiness your heart might just burst, because it’s been just so long since you all saw each other together. Even though they’ve all grown up so much, you can’t help but picture the moment you first saw each of them, eyes so innocent and full of wonder; and how none of your 8 years ago versions would believe how far you’ve come. It truly makes you teary.

As they all swarm you with hi-s and how are you-s, they look so excited to welcome you- sitting you down, taking your bags from you, bringing you room service they ordered; and through it all you see him walk in. Ice bucket in hand, bright smile, hair all fluffy and messy like that of a puppy, eyes sparkling; but a maturity in them that he lacked when you met him years ago. His neck shines with sweat, as your travels down to see him wearing a tight tank top with low waist baggy jeans. God, he looks better than ever. And he has gotten so much buffer than before, did he just live at the gym now? As soon as your eyes meet his, there’s a twinkle in them- as if his head is filtering through a montage of flashbacks of the 3 years you spent together.

You both realise you’ve been staring at each other far too long as an uncomfortable silence settles in the room, the rest of the group giving each other awkward glances. You see him place the ice bucket on the table as he smiles and picks you up, hugging you, spinning you around in his arms, flashbacks flooding your head. As he sets you down, your hands still on the back of his neck, his hand reaches to tuck your curtain bangs behind your ear so that he can see all of you, no piece of hair obstructing the sight in front of you.

“Hi”. he says, his thumb on your cheek. You’re panicking in your head, because all this is going way too fast, way too soon. But he’s always been like this; it’s Mingyu. Your Mingyu.

“Hi.” you reply, a soft smile on your face as your hand drops to his chest, beginning to pull away.

And the realization hits you: this week is about to be so much harder for you that you anticipated.

They all send you to your room to freshen up, because it has been a long travel and you look like hell. You’ve got the whole week to catch up; they can wait for a while to let you catch a breath.

You finish unpacking and take a long shower to rid your body of the sweat that just doesn’t stop because of the southeast asian heat and till you’re finished, it’s already evening; the sun hasn’t set yet but it adorns the horizon in a yellowish-orange hue. You’re in the middle of drying your hair, when you hear a knock on your door.

“Y/n, it’s Joshua!” you hear him call out as you open the door in the hotel room.

“We’re leaving for the beach in a bit, so get dressed.” He says casually, hand in the pocket of his loose swim shorts.

“But I just took a shower! And blow dried by hair too! they’re gonna get ruined.” You whine with a pout on your face.

“Don’t make that face it’s literally never worked on me, come on, get dressed.”

“Fine, but I’m not getting in the water.” You say accepting defeat as he leaves your room.

Knowing your resort had a private beach, you had packed tons of cute bikini sets that you couldn’t wear at home. You pick out a white floral set with a matching sarong, choosing to wear a pair of denim shorts over it till you reached the beach. And you set out the room, floral clip in hair, tote bag and light island girl makeup that you had learned on tiktok the previous day.

Your room is right next to the one Joshua and Dokyeom are sharing, so you knock on their door as Dokyeom opens it, him too wearing the same hotel robe.

“Oh y/n you look great, there are lots of hot lifeguards here.” He says teasing you.

“Why are you still in your robe after asking me to get dressed! I rushed through my makeup.” You say entering their room, and boy did it look like a mess- suitcases wide open in the middle, clothes scattered all over, empty beer bottles placed randomly around the room.

“Oh it’s my bad, I feel asleep.” He says running his hand through his hair giving you a smile.

“Damn bro you live like this?” you say scrunching you nose pointing to the mess in his room.

“Here comes miss superiority complex type A personality. You were worse in uni.”

“Yes it’s called improving yourself dokyeom, I-”

“Okay stop with the bullshit and ignoring the elephant in the room.” He says cutting you off.

“First of all, very rude- never interrupt me. Second of all, there is no elephant in the room.” You say acting innocent.

“You and Mingyu. What was that earlier.”

“Oh my god I have no idea as well! As soon as I got into my room, I was like what the fuck was that!” you say like it’s all you’ve been waiting him to bring up.

“Don’t fuck him.”

“What- I wasn’t going to do that!” you say denying these heinous allegations.

“You were thinking it the second you saw him. I know that the break up was hard for you, but you have to know it was equally if not harder for him too.”

“Well, of course I know that I mean it was mutual so-”

“I know that. Just, be careful, okay? Be friends again, we all want that. But be careful.”

“Why wasn’t he going to come until a week ago?” you ask.

“He thought you would be uncomfortable. But then me and shua convinced him to come because it was about Cheol. And it was important for as all to be here with him.”

"By the way, does he have a girlfriend?" You ask trying to act nonchalant, and he sees right through you, but decides against teasing you because you already look miserable enough.

"No he's been single for months now." He says while brushing his hair.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can get through this vacation sober.” You say as you fall back on the bed, your face in your hand.

“There are minis in the refrigerator you know.”

“Aren’t they like super expensive.”

“Cheol will pay for them.” He says handing you a mini bottle of vodka, and you down it in an instant.

“Are we going to bankrupt him this week?” you whisper feeling the liquid burn down your throat.

“Eh, he’ll earn it back. C’mon let’s go.” He says grabbing a baseball cap as he’s finally dressed and ready to leave.

On the other end of the hallway, Mingyu is absolutely panicking his room, screaming at Joshua and Seungkwan for reasons even he doesn’t understand.

“Why did I lift her up?” he screamed in frustration. “I’ve literally never done that! My plan was to give her a handshake as to not make it awkward and-”

“Yeah, because a handshake is totally not weird at all.” Seungkwan says interrupting Mingyu’s very stressful rant.

“Anything you did would be awkward when you haven’t met in years, it’s natural. Don’t worry about it too much.” Joshua says nonchalantly, as if Mingyu is not having a complete breakdown right in front of him.

He almost wants to correct Joshua that you did in fact meet once a year after the breakup, even though it ended in empty bottles of soju scattered on his side table and you wrapped around him in his bed, but he stops himself from telling his friends because you made him promise not to.

“You’re overthinking this, let’s go now, dokyeom says they’re all waiting for us.” Joshua says holding up his phone to show his texts. His friends are useless in giving advice, he thinks. He’s asking Jeonghan next time.

When he gets out of his room, he sees you laughing with the rest of the group, and he thinks he’s going to have a heart attack after seeing you in the prettiest bikini he’s ever seen; or maybe it’s just pretty because you’re the one wearing it- he doesn’t really care, but he’s not sure he’ll be alive if you take off the denim shorts on the beach and prays to god you don’t want to get into water because the only thing worse for him than you in that bikini would be you wet in the bikini.

“No but why is it that I have to share a room but Seungkwan isn’t sharing with gyu!” he hears Dokyeom complain as he approaches them.

“Because Seungkwan’s girlfriend is coming for the weekend and mingyu booked the room himself and you are alone Dokyeom.” Seungcheol says as Dokyeom pouts at the rather harsh yet true comment.

“Hey, if you have that much of an issue to share with me get a room alone.” Joshua suggests, a bit of anger in his voice hearing his friend complain.

“Okay let’s go now if you both are done.”

Once you’re all on the beach, you lay down the sheets you got from the hotel, setting down your tote bag as the rest of the guys run to the water, watching Joshua tackle Dokyeom to the ground- a payback for complaining earlier, as you laugh from a distance, left alone with mingyu. You’ve never been good at starting conversations, and it’s really easy for you to get awkward. You hope to god mingyu remembers that about you and starts the conversation. Finally you hear his voice from behind as you turn to face him.

“You’re not gonna go with them?”

“I just did my hair, didn’t want to ruin it.” You say shrugging your shoulders. “I could ask the same to you, you know?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” he says softly, and god does he look beautiful- golden honey skin shining as the sun hits just the right spot on his cheekbones, hair curling on his forehead as the wind blew them and pleading eyes that stared at you asking questions you don’t know the answers to.

“We’re going to need something to drink.” You say as you sit besides, opening one for you and him you both from the multiple six packs Seungcheol had carried because you “needed it” in his words.

“I don’t think us and alcohol is a good idea.” He says with a slight smirk as you remember what happened when you were drunk around him the last time. But there is also no way you can talk to him sober without it ending it tears or sex, no in-between. You hope that you being in a public setting near your friends would help you avoid that.

“For old time’s sake mingyu. C’mon you’re going to refuse a drink from me? It’s just a beer anyway.” You say as you forward your hand towards him, offering him the bottle and that is apparently all you needed to say to convince him.

Once you’re both a bottle or two (you can’t tell at this point) in, it’s honestly much easier. It just feels like you and mingyu. Like nothing has changed in the past few years, and it’s just you and him again like it was 8 years ago as you catch up. The conversation flows from “oh how are you” to telling each wild stories, to reminiscing about college life and every small thing you haven’t talked about since forever. You’re both so immersed in talking that you don’t even notice the guys have moved on to playing beach volleyball now, horrible beach volleyball you must say; considering you were the team captain throughout school and college- and the watching them play is torture for you.

“why’d you leave that job then?”

“because I was stagnant. It was a great job honestly, but I wanted to progress and I wanted something new.” You said and Mingyu totally got it, because that has always been you. You’ve always went with what you felt was right for you in your gut and you weren’t afraid to take risks, something he’s always admired and wished he had the courage to do. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t have to leave you years ago. But he pushes that thought out of his mind. He’s spent years thinking about maybe-s and what if-s, so he tries to focus on you again.

“After I left, I took a vacation back home for like a month and then I got a new offer.”

“No wait I’m confused again, you left it last year and visited home, so where are you now?”

“Where I wanted to be in college.” You say with a sly smile.

“No way.” he says, covering his mouth with his hand dramatically.

“Started at Regalia a few months ago.” you say with a smirk, leaning back on one hand as you take a sip of your beer.

Suddenly you see mingyu move from the corner of your eye as he jumps onto you, hugging you from the side.

“Y/n, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you mingyu.” You say as your hand reaches to caress his shoulder.

“I really mean it.” He says as he separates from you. “I know it was all you ever dreamed of.”

“it wasn’t all I dreamed of.” You say, finally addressing the elephant in the room you both had been dancing around for the past hour.

“Y/n, I never meant to-” mingyu starts but is interrupted as he feels the ball hit him straight in his face, leaving sand in his mouth as you fall back, bursting into laughter, the beer almost coming out of your nose.

“Mingyu, Y/n how long are you going to sit! You have to come play now!” Seungkwan screamed at you.

“Only if you promise not to cheat!” you shout back.

After a screaming exchange between both of you for a while you finally give in, running over to them.

You and mingyu don’t complete your conversation later, blame your avoidant personality but you have the a few more days to finish it, right?

Once you’re all absolutely worn out by the very one-sided volleyball match (which your team won btw) you immediately all head back to your rooms to get some rest before dinner, but you have no time for rest because not only do you have to shower again because Seungcheol absolutely shoved you into the sand “accidently” because he doesn’t realise his own strength, but you now have to get dressed all over again.  As you're already tired from the jet lag and the volleyball, you decide to keep it simple for dinner with a baby blue A-line dress and light makeup since you know your face is going to get red because of the alcohol anyways.

When you reach for dinner, you can see that you are the last one to arrive, yet again and hear half-hearted complains from the group for being late, but you know they don’t mean it. It’s good you and Mingyu talked for a bit even though you didn’t really clear the entire air around you because it’s easier for you all to just talk and catch up and drink like crazy. Seriously, after you spend more than an hour joking around and making fun of each other you realise how drunk you all are: Dokyeom is singing with the live band, going to them and literally taking the mic from them, Seungkwan is being really emotional with you and Joshua telling you and him how much he loves you both while Joshua is totally zoned out mumbling something about how difficult dating is today, and Seungcheol and Mingyu are screaming at each other for some reason. You think you’re the only one being normal, but from Jeonghan’s seat he can see you giggling like crazy and everything Joshua says for no reason and he regrets being the only one who’s not as drunk as the rest of you, and pities himself for being the one who’s going to have to take each one of you personally to your respective beds and tuck you in, otherwise there's no telling where you'd run off to.

When you wake the next morning, you have no idea how you got into your bed, your head is killing you and as your eyes hurt from the bright sunshine in your eyes and you see a blob like figure blurry in front of your eyes and a ringing sound in your head.

“You should never drink again for the benefit of society.” Is what you hear the blurry figure say to you, until you blink a few more times and see Seungcheol and Mingyu standing in front of you.

“Leave me aloneeee.” you whine as you pull the sheets over you again, before they are once again pulling it off of you.

“Y/n you sent me a detailed itinerary of everything you wanted to do with timestamps and what not. And you said you quote, would kill me and ruin my wedding if you missed any of it. So according to it, you need to absolutely need to leave in an hour.”

“Noooo! I don’t wanna do anything I was lying.” You say, still in a nasty hangover, your pillow on your face.

“You will blame me 3 hours later if I don’t do this. Now, our caterer has cancelled on us last minute so me and han need to figure it out, and you have to go with Mingyu since he’s the only one free. Be a good girl and behave, okay?”

“Never call me that again I almost puked.” you reply as you finally sit up.

“I think you almost puked because you’re still in a hangover y/n.” Mingyu interrupts as you groan into the pillow.

Finally, after a lot of arguing they succeed in getting you out of bed as you get ready and have breakfast, ready to leave to travel around the city for the day with 1000 bags in Mingyu’s opinion, which are all “essential” in your opinion. The whole day you drag him everywhere in the city, from a café to a shopping center, to touristy places, to souvenir shops; and he complies throughout it all- because if anyone can make a travelling plan it’s you. He had forgotten how much he truly missed exploring places with you and listening to you tell him about it as if you were a travel guide. You ask him to a million pictures and he does each time, because he does remember all your good angles after all. He watches you collect absolutely ridiculous memorabilia for each place, “so that I remember and have a piece of the place” you say to him; watches you shove a few napkins from the 100-year-old café, pamphlets from wherever you can find, collect beer bottle caps, tags from clothes, bills- basically everything in your sight.

You find a hidden beach with just the perfect sunset view, you and mingyu sitting on big rocks next to each other eating ice-cream. As the evening approaches you, there is just one spot left on your list, an art gallery; but as soon as you notice the time you panic, because it’s about to close in half an hour.

“Mingyu, if we don’t do the art gallery, it won’t open for another week, and we won’t be here then!” you say anxiously.

“Y/n, you’ll see many art galleries, but this sunset, if you miss it, you won’t catch it again.” He says calmly. “You can’t go about everything according to your checklist. We didn’t expect we’d find this beach, but we did and we would be stupid to leave. You can't go about life based on a to-do list, because then you miss out on experiences like this. Let’s enjoy this sunset in the moment and think about what to do next later.”

And that’s hard to argue with, so you don’t protest more, and just end up leaning your head on his shoulder. Maybe this is why you didn’t work out, you’re just too different; different mindsets, different ideology, different goals. You’re so contradicting it makes you wonder how you stayed together for 3 years. You both stay silent, staring at the waves crashing; and this time the silence isn’t uncomfortable- it’s comforting, it’s easy, it’s just you and him and the sound of the sea as you watch the sun set on the horizon together, an orange-yellow hue in the summer and a cool breeze on your face.

“Gyu” you call him softly, looking straight at him. “Why weren’t you going to come?”

“It doesn’t matter y/n, I’m here now, right?” he says as he looks at you.

“Answer me please.” You mean for it to come out a demand, but it ends up sounding like a plea.

“I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” He says looking down, avoiding your gaze.

“I could never be uncomfortable around you.” you say as you take his hand in yours. “Gyu I- I never blamed you for the break up. Never.”

“I know you didn’t, but I shouldn’t have left even when you asked me to, because you were hoping I would choose you, and I regret that I didn’t.” he says rubbing your thumb with his as he holds your hand tighter.

“Look at you gyu, look at where you are in life right now. You’ve grown so beautifully. At that moment, it was important for your career to move to-”

“I could’ve worked for my dad and stayed home y/n, and I-” he tries to argue, but you cut him off yet again, resting your head on your shoulder.

“Of course a small selfish part of me wanted you to stay, but I don’t think we would have grown as individuals if you did. You would’ve resented me for never chasing that great opportunity and I would always feel guilty for holding you back.”

“I could never resent you.” he says softly.

“I don’t blame you for leaving, because I encouraged you to; but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt me. But we were in different phases of life, we had different goals. And look at us now gyu” you say as you lift your head from your shoulder to meet his eyes. “We’ve become all that we wanted to be.”

“I wanted to do it with you beside me.” He says.

“I wanted to too, but we don’t have control in what’s written for us. At the time, it might’ve been the right call for us. When you left, I thought you didn’t care enough to stay and that left me a mess for days, but later I realised you left because you did care. No one can replace the love I have for you, and no one ever will. It just took me too long to realise that sometimes it doesn’t work out.”

“When you asked me to leave, you broke me y/n, because I felt like you didn’t love me as much; but I recognize my fault in that too. Maybe it just wasn’t the right time for us. But if with someone like you, it wasn’t the right time, then how could it ever be the right time with anyone?”

And for the first time, you don’t know what to say. So you just stay silent. And the silence doesn’t feel awkward, it feels good. It feels like you’ve both finally let years of heaviness and burden off your shoulders. There’s a lightness in the air around you as you continue to rub his thumb, the silence comforting you.

You don’t know how long you both sit there, just staring at the water but before you know it you’re getting a text from Joshua asking where you are.

“The guys are asking for us, we should leave.” You tell Mingyu. Once you’re both off the rock and you begin to walk away, Mingyu grabs you by your hand, stopping you.

“Y/n, we’re good?” he asks, eyes still nervous, an uncertain expression on his face looking for answers in yours. You imagine words won't do as good of a job as actions will, so you walk back to stand in front on him, taking his face in your hand and pressing a soft kiss on his cheek on your tiptoes.

“We’re good Gyu, let’s go now.” You say with a smile as you drag him by his hand.

After another night of excessive drinking that night and almost getting kicked out due to the noise complaints from everyone in the resort because of the midnight karaoke competition, you wake up the third day yet again with a killer hangover, somehow worse than the previous night and don’t even the energy to dress up for breakfast as you hear dokyeom banging on your door while you’re still in bed.

“Do you have like any pills?” he asks, rubbing his eyes as he sees you a mess, opening the door.

“I didn’t bring drugs dokyeom.”

“Shut up, now is not time.” He says as he enters the room uninvited. “I meant for the hangover.”

“Jeonghan gave me one yesterday, works like magic. Go bang on his door and get one for me too. I’m gonna go to breakfast.”

“Babe it is 12:15 in the afternoon there is no breakfast.”

Great. So now not only are you hungover, but hungry as well. Thank god for room service and Cheol’s card as well, you eat better than ever in your pajamas. He did give you the card for emergencies only, but this was an emergency, you were starving and it was on him for not waking you up earlier. Little do you on the other side of the hallway he is absolutely obliterating his intestines as he pukes into the toilet, Jeonghan holding his hair up while Mingyu and Seungkwan stays asleep in their room and not in their own for some reason. You all spent the afternoon in your rooms, just resting for once since getting there. You had initially planned to go to the club in the night; but after the state you were all in, you just chose to go to the pool in the evening and a simple dinner in one of the many restaurants of the hotel.

When you return from dinner, it’s fairly early because this night, for once, none of you drank like crazy, only some wine as you had a lot planned the next day between snorkeling and going to the club later. You’re getting ready for bed, just finishing brushing your teeth as you begin to wear your comfy pajamas as you hear your phone buzz.

mingyu: if u must know

you: i really really must

mingyu: you looked really pretty at dinner

in that yellow dress

also at the beach

you: we didn’t go to the beach today tho

mingyu: first day

when u wore that white bikini

floral

looked so pretty

you: r u drunk

mingyu: had like 2 sips at dinner

not drunk

you: u looked really pretty too

mingyu: saw u staring

you: saw some other girls staring too

mingyu: no need to be jealous baby :)

you: shut up

hate u

ur not asleep yet?

cheol was very strict on us getting up early tmrw

need to get up at fuckass dawn

mingyu: can’t sleep

Now, you have had the talk with mingyu. and unlike him, you did have a bit more to drink so you're not totally in your senses and can't be held completely responsible for your future actions. And yes, you did promise Dokyeom you wouldn't do anything like this. But also, you're just a girl who has tried so so hard to control yourself around the aphrodite of a man and simply can't take it any longer. After all how bad could it turn out, right?

you: typing

he sees you typing for a while. The little bubble appearing and then vanishing repeatedly, but then you finally say fuck it and send the message.

you: i have a hot tub

in my room

mingyu: oh

Oh. He knows where this is going, and he knows very well what game you're playing. Well, two can play at a game.

you: wanna come over?

might as well use it since cheol paid for it

mingyu: coming

You hear a soft knock on your door, as if he doesn’t want to let anyone know he’s sneaking over to your room at midnight.

“Hi” he says leaning on the doorframe as soon as you open the door, lips pursed together- a smile on his face.

You grab him by his arm and pull him in, closing the door behind him shut.

“Cheol is rich as fuck, why did he give you a hot tub.” He says pouting.

“I’m his favorite.” You say as you giggle, leading him to the tub.

“Nepotism” he loudly whispers behind you, making you laugh.

As you finally reach the hot tub, you slowly take off your short silk robe, revealing the same white bikini he liked so much on the first day as you put your hair up as to not get them wet, front strands falling on your face. You hear him suck a sharp breath in as he takes in your figure.

“You wore it for me?” he questions, struggling to get words out of his mouth.

You bend down making sure his eyes are on you, turning on the jets.

“you said you liked it.” You say, your back still facing him, but looking at him over your shoulder.

You start to get in, swaying your hips with each step you take in slowly as his eyes are transfixed on you.

“Get in gyu.” You say, your voice turning sultry, the one he remembers so well, the one you used when you begged him to eat you out, the one he’s been desperate to hear since he last saw you.

He takes off his shirt slowly, knowing your size difference always turns you on, and steps in following your lead as he sits in front of you in the small tub. You can stretch your legs fully to rest on his thighs, but poor mingyu has his knees bent in an uncomfortable position, making you laugh.

“Sit next to me.”

“Mhm but then I won’t be able to keep my legs on you.” you respond, but still get up to sit beside him.

“Do you want something to drink?” you ask innocently, hoping he catches onto what you’re implying.

“Oh I don’t think having alcohol at night with you would be a very good idea.” He says as he spreads his arms behind him as they rest on the edge of the tub.

“What? You’re scared of me?” you tease because if anything doesn’t work, you know his competitive streak and how much he loves to prove someone wrong in a challenge, but he is holding onto dear life to not be provoked by you and have some self-control even though he was the one that texted you first.

“No, but do you need to be drunk to talk to me? Am I that bad?” he says with a laugh as you accept defeat.

“I know you had fun last time.” You softly sing as you smirk and your nails trace the veins on his arm.

“I’ve had better.” He says as he smiles wide. Oh, now he is absolutely asking for it you think as your hand is quick to smack the same arm you were drawing patterns on as you hear him say “ow” and laugh.

“Shut up, you’ve never been a good liar. I know it was the best you ever had. For me though, I’ve had better.” You say as you adjust your bikini top while looking straight at him.

“Oh? Please do enlighten.” He says as he cocks his eyebrow, testing how far you’re willing to go.

“When I was working out of the states for a few months, I had a threesome.” You confess as you giggle.

In a sudden move taking you by surprise, mingyu is using his strength to scope your waist in his hands and maneuvering you to sit on his lap, legs on either side of him making contact with his half hard cock through the layers of your thin bikini bottom and his shorts which makes you gasp out loud. His hand reach to toy with the string of your bottom while the other massages your thighs.

“That’s okay y/n.” he murmurs, his eyes focused on your chest spilling out of your top before he’s bringing his eyes to look at yours- full of curiosity and shock.

“It doesn’t matter how many guys you slept with, or who you were with the past years.” He says as he gets closer and closer to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear as he whispers, “Because I was the first one.” making you shiver. And that’s your final straw as you grab his face and crash your lips into his as an act of desperation. The kiss is tense, and wet, and messy. It seems like neither of is willing to pull away as the kiss deepens, as if to make up for the lost time. You missed this. Missed him. his lips, his eyes, his hands, his everything. You had tried so hard to forget everything about him that you loved but it all comes rushing back to you as you run your wet hands through his wavy hair. His lips are as soft as they always were despite of how roughly he kisses you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“I was the first one to make you scream baby.” he says as he pulls away, eyes hungry with desire as if he’s unleashed. “And I’ll always be the only one to make you feel that good.” He says as he thrusts his hips up lightly, making you gasp as you feel him getting bigger in size. His hands reach down to push your bikini bottoms to the side, a sorry excuse of material barely covering your pussy in the first place.

“Oh? Is it just water or are you wet y/n?” he says as his finger runs up and down your slit, as you clench at his touch.

“Remember when I first took you baby?” he chuckles. “you were so scared, holding my hand in tears begging me to be gentle. Look at you now, made you into the slut you are.” And all you can do is moan in agreement as he finds your clit, rubbing the small nub.

“Gyu, please fuck me!” you whine.

“As much as I’d love to fuck you in a hot tub y/n, I’m just too hungry baby. Wanna taste you.” he says as he pats your hips softly, pressing a kiss to your lips signaling you to get up.

As you get out with him following you behind, he reaches your claw clip and lets your hair down, your curtain bangs falling to your face as he grabs your waist from behind, leaning in to push your hair to one side as he whispers, his body pressing against yours, “you still like to be slapped around baby?” a slight playfulness in his voice, and you can practically feel him smirk against your ears before you’re turning to face and pulling him in once again into a kiss. His hands reach down to cup your ass as you continue to make out.

“I’ve missed you so bad.” You whimper in between kisses.

“Fuck, missed you too baby, not gonna make you wait again.” He says as he parts his lips slightly to let your tongue in, his grip tight on your waist. He licks and bites and sucks on your lips and tongue, making you moan into him. it’s as act of desperation, the way you hold onto him. A way of making up what you lacked and craved for so long, because no matter how hard you tried, no one ever made you cum as hard as he did, and no one made you scream louder than he did.

You waste no time in making your way to your bed, falling back as soon as the back of your legs hit the edge. he eyes you from top as you spread your legs for him easily, because you know you don’t have to do anything to get him down on his knees for you; after all old habits die hard. Before you know it, there he is, on his knees at the edge of the bed as he watches you toy with your clothed pussy like a hawk, just waiting to pounce on you. You continue to play with your soaked bottom as you see him running out of patience, eyes transfixed on you.

“Gyu, touch me please…” you whine and that was all the permission he needs to dive right in as he swats your hand away and tears off your bikini bottom in one go making you gasp.

“hey! I liked that one.” You say as he looks up to you, a cute pout on your face.

“I’ll buy you another one baby.” you hear him say faintly, because right now he’s not really listening to what you’re saying, but busy looking at what he’s been kept away for so long. You undo your top and let your tits fall and within seconds, he’s going right in, licking a long strip along your entrance, making you moan out loud and clench around his mouth as your hand reaches immediately to hold onto his hair.

“What do you want, Y/n?” he says as he peppers soft kisses on your inner thigh, intentionally avoiding the place where you needed attention the most as it dripped with your essence.

No matter how much sexual experience you’ve had, in his hands, in front of him, you turn into the same 19-year-old that was on his couch while he made you say what you wanted as you begged him for more.

“Please don’t make me say it.” You beg him with your face red with embarrassment as you hid it in your hands.

“But I taught you so well? You forgot it baby? What happened to the good girl I met?” he says as he tsks in disappointment.

“I hate you!” you cry out. “Fuck please, need your mouth gyu! Missed it so much.” You whine hoping it will do the job for him. he hands finally makes contact with your clit and he drags your wetness to it and draws soft patterns on it making you falter.

“Mhm, you used to beg better but it’s okay, you’ve been out of practice.” He says as he fakes his sympathy and finally gives you what you want, going right in. He licks and nibbles around your folds, as his hands old your thighs apart because he remembers your habit of closing your legs around his head, cutting off his oxygen; not that he’d mind dying buried in your pussy. He makes out with your cunt with no regard for your sensitiveness as you play with your nipples with one hand as the other pulls on his hair. You’re honestly too horny and needy for foreplay, but Mingyu seems to be enjoying himself too much down there, eating you out like a man starved. As he pushes his tongue in and out, the tip of his nose hits your clit rhythmically with just the right pressure and oh you’re seeing stars. He pulls away for a second as you see him swallow of a second and then spit on your center, making you gasp out loud.

“Sweetest cunt ever baby.” He says. “Can’t believe you kept her away from me. See, she misses me too!” he says as he watches you clench once again over nothing, diving in once again.

While he eats you out, you’re mumbling nonsense. “Fuck gyu! You’re- you’re the only one that makes me feel so good! I- missed you so bad! So bad, fuck!”

Hearing your praises, he inserts two fingers in without a struggle in your tight cunt, taking you by surprise. Your cheeks are red and there’s a thumping noise in your head, your forehead covered with sweat. His fingers drill into you not too slow as to bore you, but not fast enough to drive you over the edge as he sucks on your clit, but with just the right pace to keep you on the edge. there were multiple nights in the past when he would be between your thighs for hours as you were left shaking and shivering, begging him to stop because you just couldn’t cum anymore. He would eat you out for hours, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you and making you count, and if you lost the count, he’d start from 1 all over again until he was satisfied with your poor sensitive cunt and until you had forgotten your own name, in sweat and exhaustion. You hope to god this is not one of those nights because you honestly are so close to coming, and too needy to have his cock in you.

He still remembers the little signs you give him without knowing, your little mannerism that tell him you’re close; he has your body memorized after all, every inch of it. And he can you see you unfolding in front of him; your hand that toyed with your tits is beginning to falter in it’s movement, your grip on his hair has tightened just slightly and he can see your lips slightly parted, eyes closed and nose crunched. If this was the last sight he saw before dying, he’d die a happy man. He increases the pace of his fingers just slightly, as squelching noises fill the room along with your soft moans as he talks you through it.

“Can feel you getting close. Are you close love?” he says as he looks up to you nodding frantically, eyes still closed and chuckles.

“Wanted to edge you a little more, but you’ve already waited so long, I’ll show a little mercy baby.” He says as leans down again to lick your clit and increases the pace of his fingers just slightly.

“You can come baby, let go for me.” He whispers. And that’s all the permission you need before you’re screaming his name and arching your back as you coat his fingers with your white liquid, bucking your hips ahead as to keep his fingers inside you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as everything in front of you goes dark, your legs jelly coming down from the intense orgasm as mingyu slowly keeps moving your fingers in throughout it all.

Once you seem to have calmed down from your high, you look down to see him pull his fingers out and engulf them in his mouth, licking your cum off them clean as you see him swallow. He finally climbs onto the bed, grabbing you by your waist to manhandle you up and away from the edge as he comes down to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and this is probably the hottest thing he’s ever done.

“Was going to make you cum a few more times on my tongue, but I’m too impatient baby, need to be inside you.” he mumbles as he takes off his swim shorts, his cock standing proudly in front of you, tip slightly red, veiny and angry. Oh you had forgotten how big he was, and how insane the stretch was each time, no matter how many times he fucked you. You see him spit on his hand and pump his length up and down.

“Can you still take it baby?” he says as he smirks, teasing you. “When you had that threesome did they fuck you together? At the same time? Because that’s the only way you’re gonna be able to one of me.” He says as his smile gets wider is pride. You did not know this was going to bite you in the ass later.

“Shut up gyuuu!” you whine. “You’ve been talking for so long, just fuck me!” you say in frustration as he laughs at you.

“Condom, baby?” he asks as he’s finally fully hard, looking around your room.

“I’m on the pill, no condom.” You whisper just loud enough for him to hear you.

“fuck, she is my girl after all.” He says, referring to your pussy as he taps in tip against your tip, “Wanna feel all of her.”

And with that, he finally pushes in slowly, just the tip so far but the stretch is far too big even after he’s opened you up. But he knows you, knows you can take it, you always do. He gives you a second to adjust to his tip before he’s bottoming out in one swift move, reaching you deep in your guts as you scream his name. he leans down to kiss you as you open your eyes to his doe eyes staring at you with the same love he had for you all this time because oh he has missed this. Missed feeling your warmth wrapped around him.

You hook your hand around his neck, pulling him in deeper. He holds your hips as you wrap your legs around him, not willing to let go. You walls seem to suck him in more and more as you clench around his length making him groan into the kiss. He pulls out slowly, making you whine at the loss of contact, only his tip left in you before he’s slamming back into you making you both moan in the pleasure. He does this a few times so that you’re comfortable with his length before speeding his pace up a bit, thrusts still slow yet so deep. His hand reaches up to hold yours and it’s a moment of intimacy which is much more than sex. This is more than sex for you, and this action of his reminds you of that as your pleading eyes look up to him and he kisses you once again while maintaining his agonizing pace. You look at each with gaze full of words unspoken, full of I miss you-s and I love you-s, full of longing and desire as his cock hits just the right spots, kissing your walls in a snug fit.

Any other day, he would go fast, making you scream his name, make you beg and plead, and you know it well from past experience. But today, he fucks you the same way he did when he took you first. Slow and gentle, full of love and care. His slow yet sharp thrusts combined with his hand in yours are getting you close every passing second. His moans mix with yours as the sounds of your wet pussy fill the room. The feeling of your arousal around him feels like heaven as it drips down on the sheets and his balls making a mess. His slender hands reach down where your bodies connect to slowly rub your clit, the pleasure overwhelming for you; not just physically but emotionally.

You feel the heat building up in your core as your senses are in overload, hips bucking up to meet him and he knows you’re getting there.

“Can feel you getting close baby.” He says, and it amazes you how well he knows and remembers your own body even after all this time. “Need you to let go with me, cum around me cock, know how tight you get, fuck!” he says as he tries to maintain the pace he’s set for you, his hand down speeding up, drawing an orgasm for you. With a particular sharp thrust and a pinch on your clit from his fingers, you whine, feeling the knot in your stomach building up to a point you can’t bear anymore as you let go for the second time in the night with a moan of his name as complete darkness surrounds you, your hand on his back digging in deeper and you’re sure the nails will leave marks. As soon he feels you clench around his cock, he follows you, his pace turning erratic as he once again brings his lips down to moan into your mouth, hips stuttering as he paints your insides white, his grip on your hand tightening.

You feel completely worn out and in bliss as his hand never stops to stimulate you poor sensitive clit, making a warm feeling run throughout your chest as he barely holds himself up on you from one arm to avoid crushing you under his weight. He kisses your cheek softly before resting his forehead on yours trying to catch his breathe. In front of him, you couldn’t look any happier; a glow on your face, your eyes shining bright at him, cheeks flushed crimson at the feeling of his warm cum filled to the brim inside you.

As he pulls out, he falls to your side as an old feeling pops up inside you as you feel the cum drip out of you. you see him sitting up, pulling you up to lean back against his chests as he pulls the sheets over you as his hand is still holding onto yours while the other runs up and down your arms. “You’re the greatest woman I’ve ever met.” He whispers into your ear, making you giggle as you swat his hand away, but pulling it back in an instant because you love his touch.

You both lay there for a moment in silence, enjoying the feeling of being close to each other again, before the sinking feeling hits you: this is not a happy ending. You’ll go back to different cities, different people, different lives and your eyes are quick to fill with tears before you hear Mingyu’s voice again.

“Y/n, I’m moving back home.” He says softly and for a second you can’t believe you’re not in a dream right now because there is no way mingyu, your mingyu, is coming back to you.

“What?” you ask in disbelief as you turn to face him.

“Decided it 2 months ago. Dad’s retiring so I’m gonna take over the business.” He says as he holds you in his arms tighter.

“So-” you start but are quickly interrupted by him as if he’s read your mind.

“So, us again?” he asks with a cheeky smile as he leans forward to look at the wildered expression on your face.

“Mhm, but we never know when you could leave again.” You say as you reach him to catch him in a kiss and lift your hand up, the back of it facing him. “You’re gonna have to put a ring on it someday to lock it down.” making him laugh.

“How many carats baby?”

[ha-rinrin]

Little Brat

summary: She blew up your kitchen. Time to make her pay.

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!reader

Wordcount: 3k

Note:

WELCOME BACK I missed all of you so much, hope you guys didn't forget about me. I'm sorry for disappearing — I was focused on my academic comeback. I think I might be able to post more often (but no promises).

I noticed there's been a shortage in the Jinx x Reader tag, and a lot of you asked me to come back — and who am I to say no?

Anyway, I'm really happy to be back, even if I don't post daily like before. I hope you enjoy this new fic, which, by the way, was HARD to write. I'm really bad at writing smut, but I did my best.

TW: NSFW, overstimulation, strap-on, orgasm denial and control, top!reader x sub!Jinx, light degradation, teasing, and I think thats all, if I forgot something, im sorry

The fire alarm’s going off when you unlock the door. Again.

You don’t even flinch this time, just toss your keys onto the hallway table and step into the smoke.

It’s coming from the kitchen. Of course it is.

You walk in and see it: your custom-built, voice-controlled, top-of-the-line Piltover microwave blown wide open. The front panel’s cracked, the inside is scorched, and something definitely exploded.

Jinx is sitting on the counter like nothing happened—legs swinging like a child, soot on her cheek, a little too proud of herself.

“Hi, babe,” she says sweetly, waving a tiny screwdriver at you.

You blink. “What. Did you do.”

“Okay, so–” she starts, already smiling, “I was trying to make popcorn.”

You just stare at her.

“But then I thought… what if I gave it a boost? Just a little chemtech.”

She lifts a small, still-glowing power cell––clearly modified. “Y’know. To speed it up.”

The fire alarm shrieks again. A soft pop comes from the microwave.

“You blew up my microwave,” you say.

She shrugs. “I improved it. Technically.”

You don’t laugh. You don’t even blink.

You take one step closer, and Jinx’s smirk falters just slightly.

“Do you think I’m impressed?” you ask.

She leans back on her hands, still trying to play it cool. “Thought it might at least make you look at me.”

You glance at the mess, then back at her. “Oh, I’m looking.”

She quiets.

You place a hand on the counter beside her thigh, lean in just enough to make her press back against the cabinets.

“This what you wanted?” you ask, voice low. “To blow up my kitchen just so I’d come home and deal with you?”

Her eyes flicker. “Maybe.”

Another step and your knee’s between hers.

“You���re going to clean this up,” you say. “After.”

Her breath catches.

“Now get off the counter.”

She moves fast. Obedient. Like she’s been waiting for that tone all day.

She hops off the counter, but doesn’t move. Just stands there with that smug little tilt to her head, eyes flicking up and down like she’s deciding whether to listen to you at all.

You don’t give her the chance.

Your fingers close around her jaw–– not hard, but enough to stop her in her tracks. “Try me again, and you’ll be on your knees before you make it to the bedroom.”

She grins, breath hitching just a little. “Kinky threat. You sure you’re not the one who blew up the microwave?”

You don’t flinch.

“Keep running your mouth,” you murmur, “and I’ll make sure you’re too sore to use it later.”

That wipes the grin off her face. Almost.

Then she shrugs, deliberately slow. “Guess I better make it worth it, huh?”

You let go of her jaw.

“Bedroom. Now.”

She turns around with a smirk, strutting like she owns the place. “God, finally. I was starting to think you’d just let me get away with it.”

You follow, watching her every step.

“Not a chance.”

The bedroom door barely clicks shut before you’ve got her on the bed.

You don’t give her time to settle. You grab her wrist and push her downing the bed and onto her back, climbing over her like she’s already yours.

“Hands up,” you say––low, firm.

She obeys, too quickly, too eagerly, eyes flicking up to yours with that defiant spark still burning.

You drag your fingers slowly up her stomach, just under her shirt, and she shivers.

“You wanted attention,” you murmur, leaning in close. “Now you’ve got it. Let’s see how much of it you can take.”

Her breath catches, and she swallows hard, but she doesn’t look away. Doesn’t dare.

“Try anything bratty,” you add, hand sliding higher, “and I’ll make sure you don’t get to come tonight.”

And just like that, she’s quiet.

Not behaving––but quiet.

You don’t bother with slow.

Clothes come off in quick, practiced movements––yours first, then hers––until she’s bare beneath you, except for her panties. You leave those on.

On purpose.

She arches slightly, like she expects more, like she wants more, but you don’t give it to her.

Not yet.

Instead, you slide your hand down, press your palm flat over the soaked fabric, just enough for her to feel it––your heat, your control––without giving her what she really wants.

She squirms, breath shaky. “You’re doing it on purpose.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Of course I am.”

Your fingers move slow, dragging along the thin fabric, teasing the wet spot already blooming there. You circle her clit with maddening precision, just enough to make her whine.

She bucks her hips up, impatient.

You pin them down with your free hand. “Uh-uh. You don’t get to be greedy.”

Her hands tighten in the sheets above her head, body tense beneath yours.

“You blew up my kitchen,” you murmur, mouth brushing her jaw. “You’re lucky I’m even touching you.”

Your fingers press harder against her clit, slow and controlled. But you’re not done.

You tug her shirt up with the hand that was previously pinning her hips down, exposing her chest. She shivers, nipples already hard.

Her hands leave the sheets––one flying up to grab the pillow beside her head, the other fisting the blanket like she needs to hold on to something, anything, just to stay grounded.

You lean down, tongue dragging across her right nipple before wrapping your lips around it and sucking deep.

She gasps––loud, unrestrained––her hips jerking as your fingers rub tight, wet circles against her clit while your mouth teases her chest.

Your tongue flicks over the sensitive bud, then you bite––just a little. Just enough to make her cry out.

“F-fuck––” she moans, her body arching up into your mouth, down into your hand. Caught between both.

Her free hand flutters for a second, unsure, then lands shakily on your shoulder––digging in, nails pressing hard.

Your fingers don’t stop. Your mouth doesn’t either.

“Still squirming,” you murmur against her chest. “But you’re not telling me to stop.”

She doesn’t––can’t. Her breath’s a mess. Whimpers leave her mouth with every stroke and suck.

Then––just as her breathing stutters––you pull your mouth away.

And slow your hand.

She lets out a broken sound, high and needy.

She’s already dripping through the fabric.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of her panties and peel them down slow––just to watch her squirm. She lifts her hips to help, breath stuttering as the cool air hits her soaked skin.

You toss them aside.

Then, without warning, you slide one finger into her pussy.

She gasps, sharp and breathless. Wet. So wet, you barely have to try.

You move slow. Intentionally slow. Just enough to make her ache, slick already coating your knuckles.

“Please,” she whispers, almost desperate.

You add a second finger.

Her thighs jerk, twitching hard, hips rocking before you press her back down with your free hand.

“Still so impatient,” you murmur.

She whines, eyes wide and glassy, her breath catching every time your fingers curl inside her.

You lean over her, lips brushing her jaw. “What happened to all that attitude, Jinx?”

She doesn’t answer, just bites her lip, thighs trembling as you pump your fingers a little deeper, a little rougher.

Then you add a third.

She gasps like she wasn’t ready for it, body tensing all over again, then melting into the mattress, legs shaking under your grip.

The slick sound of it fills the room––hot, messy, desperate.

You lean in closer, voice low and wicked against her ear.

“Next time you want attention,” you whisper, “just ask.”

She moans, helpless and breathless and already so close.

And you don’t stop.

You drag your thumb up and press it firmly against her clit, circling it slowly while your fingers move inside her––deep and deliberate.

She moans the second your thumb finds its rhythm––high and shaky, like she’s trying to hold it back but can’t.

Her thighs twitch with every stroke, already slick and trembling. You keep going, curling your fingers just right, then pulling back before she can get too close.

“Ah––god,” she gasps, hips bucking up. “Don’t––don’t stop––”

But you do.

You slow down, just slightly. Just enough to make her whine.

“No,” she breathes, voice cracking. “Please, don’t do that.”

You hum like you’re thinking about it, but your fingers are still moving––just barely, just enough to keep her strung out and desperate.

Every sound she makes now is a mess.

Tiny whimpers.

Breathless gasps.

The occasional broken “fuck” when your fingers hit just the right spot––then pull away again, cruel and calculated.

“Still think blowing up my kitchen was a good idea?” you murmur.

She shakes her head fast, eyes glassy, thighs clenching around your wrist.

“Then why,” you whisper, mouth brushing her ear, “should I let you come?”

She groans––loud and wrecked. “Please,” she begs, hips rolling, trying to chase your hand. “I’ll clean it––I’ll fix it––just please––”

You smirk, watching her fall apart.

“Not yet.”

And you keep going. Slow, deep pumps, curling just right so that they touch that spongy spot inside her that makes her see stars––then pulling back again.

Your thumb flicks her clit harder now, tight little circles that make her whimper.

But it’s not enough.

You lean down, catching one of her nipples between your teeth, biting gently as your fingers start slamming into her.

She yelps––loud and raw––back arching off the bed as the sudden overload of sensation hits her hard.

“F-fuck!”

Her whole body jolts.

You suck hard on her nipple, tongue dragging over the bud as your fingers pound into her and your thumb teases her clit in tight, wet circles.

Her back arches off the bed, hands clutching the sheets like she’s about to tear them. You don’t let up––your mouth, your fingers, your thumb––all working in rhythm.

“God––oh my god––” she cries, voice rising in pitch. “Wait––wait––”

You don’t.

Her thighs are shaking now, soaked and twitching, her head thrown back against the pillows.

She’s falling apart. Fast.

The shift from teasing to ruthless ruins her. Her hips jerk without rhythm, no control left in her body at all.

“Too much––” she gasps, voice cracking. “It’s too––”

“You can take it,” you growl, curling your fingers again. “You’re gonna take it.”

She sobs––loud and wrecked and completely undone.

And you keep going.

Fast. Deep. Merciless.

Exactly how she likes it.

She cums around your fingers.

No warning––just a broken cry and her entire body seizing up beneath you. Her back arches, mouth open in a silent scream before the moans finally catch up––loud, raw, and completely helpless.

You feel it the second it hits––her walls clenching tight, fluttering, pulsing around your fingers, squirting.

But you don’t stop.

Your mouth is still on her nipple, tongue dragging, sucking, teasing while your fingers keep going.

She gasps––sharp and panicked. “N-no––wait––”

You keep going.

Her hips jerk away from your hand, but there’s nowhere to go. You hold her there, pinned and trembling, pumping into her over and over while her legs shake and her voice breaks.

“Too much––too much––” she whines, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. Her hands claw at the sheets, one arm flinging up to grip your wrist, not pulling you away––just holding on.

Like she’s drowning.

Like she can’t take it, but she doesn’t want it to stop.

The overstimulation hits hard––her cries turn to sobs, every breath hitching, every sound wrecked and slurred and ruined.

You lean close, lips brushing her ear.

“Still think you can act like a brat in my kitchen?”

She shakes her head frantically, breathless.

“I didn’t hear you,” you murmur, fingers never slowing.

“N-no––no, I’m sorry––fuck––I’m sorry––”

You smile against her skin.

But you keep going. Just a little more.

Just until she breaks again.

Her moans and whimpers fill the room as she cums, but you’re not near finishing, as Jinx’s going down her hight ––thighs covered in her own juices–– you’re already moving, grabbing the bright blue strap-on, 4 cm of girth and 18cm long. 

Jinx’s a small girl, you're probably about to break the poor little thing in half.

She's still recovering when you hover over her, she's already so wet you don't even need any lub, she doesn't have time to register what is going on till she feels the tip of your blue cock already pressing at her entrance.

Her eyes widen, she has been dying to try the new toy, but now she's just so sensitive she isn't sure she can handle it.

“Wait–– I cant–– Too sensitive––” 

You don’t hesitate “You should’ve thought about that before blowing up my kitchen”

She lets out a soft, broken sound as the tip circles her entrance, slow, relentless. Not pushing in––just dragging, spreading the slick around, rubbing right where she’s sensitive. Rubbing your cook between her pink puffy folds, rubbing her clit a few times. 

You chuckle, taking your time. Running the shaft up and down her slit. Not pushing in. Not giving her what she wants.

Just watching her squirm.

Her hips twitch up, trying to take it, but you move just out of reach.

She groans in frustration, tears welling up in her lashes. “Please––fuck, just––”

You finally lean in, lips brushing her ear.

“You want this?” you whisper, dragging the head back to her entrance. “Beg for it.”

She moans––half pain, half pleasure, everything too much. “Please, please––I want it, I need it, just fuck me––”

And that’s when you push in.

Not gently.

Your cock slips past her slick entrance in one smooth, firm thrust, making her scream.

“Ah––too much––I can’t––”

“Oh, you can,” you growl, holding her hips tight. “And you will.”

She gasps, her body tensing, arching, trying to take the stretch as her walls clench around the thick toy. Her thighs are twitching again, eyes closed shut with overwhelmed pleasure.

You don’t move just yet.

You stay buried inside her.

Letting her feel the fullness.

Letting her realize just how deep you are.

She whimpers, completely wrecked already. “F-fuck, you’re gonna break me––”

You smirk.

And then you start moving.

Slow, deep thrusts at first––dragging your hips back just enough to make her feel it before slamming back in, harder, deeper each time.

Her body moves with it, pushed up the bed with every stroke. Her moans spill out helplessly, one after another, breathless and sweet.

A melody you never get tired of.

Jinx can feel the faux veins of your cock dragging against her walls, touching all the spots that make her dumb, the tip hitting her cervix. 

You can see the bulge of your cock inside her.

And then you start pounding.

Fast. Deep. Ruthless.

Her moans turn to cries.

High-pitched and broken.

The slap of skin against skin fills the room, echoing with every sharp thrust. Her whole body jolts with each one, pushed into the mattress like she weighs nothing.

You’re relentless now.

No mercy. No pause.

Just the thick strap-on slamming into her, deep and fast, grinding her deeper into the sheets.

She’s gasping for air, nails digging into the bed, her mouth open in a silent scream that only catches up a second later.

“F-fuck––too deep––too fast––”

You just growl, thrusting harder. “That’s the point.”

Her hands claw at the sheets. Her body can’t keep up. Every nerve in her is on fire, pleasure rippling through her in waves so intense they border on pain.

She’s soaked––completely, impossibly wet––slick pooling beneath her, dripping down your thighs, smearing between her legs with every thrust.

You grab one of her legs and throw it over your shoulder, angling deeper.

Her scream is immediate.

“God––oh god––please––”

You lean over her, one hand gripping her throat, thumb pressing just enough to make her whimper.

“You wanted this,” you growl against her ear, your cock still driving into her, hard and deep. “So take it.”

She sobs, overwhelmed, shaking, but she doesn’t tell you to stop.

Her hips meet yours on instinct now, trying to keep up, trying to take everything you give her.

Jinx a mess beneath you, mascara staining her face, lipstick smudge, tongue out like a dumb dog while her hands grab the pillow where her head is laying like a lifeline. 

Her clit’s begging for attention––swollen and flushed, untouched but throbbing.

You reach down between her legs and rub your thumb over it.

She screams.

The second you touch her, her body goes rigid, her back arching so hard it lifts her off the mattress. Her moans twist into helpless, choked sobs.

Her eyes roll back.

She’s so far gone.

You don’t stop.

Not with your cock, not with your thumb.

Circling her clit fast and tight, keeping the rhythm of your thrusts brutal and deep.

“Gonna come again?” you murmur darkly. “Already?”

She nods frantically, tears streaking her cheeks.

“Y-yes––please––please––I can’t––”

“You can,” you snarl, voice low and rough. “Come on my cock, Jinx.”

And she does.

She cums with a scream, her whole body convulsing. The orgasm rips through her like a shockwave––intense and shattering. Her thighs clamp around you, walls fluttering violently around the strap-on, soaking it all over again.

But you don’t stop.

Not even for a second.

You keep fucking her through it––deep, brutal thrusts that don’t let her catch her breath.

She sobs, completely gone, babbling your name between cries. “N-no––too much––’s too much––”

You grab her hips, slamming in harder. “I said you’d take it. So take it.”

She screams again––half-cry, half-moan–and comes again, barely a minute later.

A second orgasm, sharper than the first.

This one wrecks her, more than the three ones you already gave her.

Her whole body goes limp beneath you, twitching, broken.

And still––you don’t stop.

Just a few more thrusts, slow now, grinding in deep with every roll of your hips. Letting her feel it. Letting her drown in it.

By the time you finally pull out, she’s shaking.

Covered in sweat, lips parted, tears dried on her cheeks, body completely ruined.

You toss the toy aside and lean down, brushing her cheek with the back of your hand.

She’s barely conscious––blissed out and wrecked, blinking slowly as she looks up at you.

“Still think blowing up my kitchen was worth it?” you whisper.

She doesn’t answer.

She just moans softly––wrecked and dazed––and nods.

Like the little brat she is.

[sapphicswph]

i don’t think you’ve written for shauna yet sooo….I had to change that!!!!!! shauna with a reader who babies her all the time and calls her sweet nicknames which she isn’t used to because everyone is usually so intimidated by her and cold to her, just tooth rotting fluff 💗 get to it when you can babes

ugh yesss, i love this request 😣😣

pairing: fratboy!shauna x reader

warnings: so so much fluff, slight mentions of a fight and black eye, mentions of a small cut nothing bad, light cussing

shauna finds herself waking up in your arms every morning, buried under blankets you insisted on piling on her on a cold winter night. she's used to sleeping alone, but now she wakes up to your warm embrace and whispers of "baby, you're freezing" before you pull her closer and wrap her in more blankets.

you fuss over her breakfast every morning, even cutting her pancakes for her!! always adding extra syrup because "you need to eat more, baby". she's used to grabbing whatever she can find, but now she has a personal chef who cares more about her eating than anything else, sigh... "you're gonna make me fat," she grumbles.

shauna never thought she'd be the type to plan dates. as a former frat boy, her relationships were usually casual and brief. but with you, she finds herself putting in effort - surprising you with flowers, taking you to fancy restaurants she normally avoids, and even planning cheesy date nights just because she knows you'll love them. as the weeks go by, shauna realizes she actually enjoys these dates - something that's completely new to her.

shauna who stands awkwardly in the middle of the room as you flutter around her, fluffing pillows and adjusting blankets. she's not used to being fussed over like this - she finds herself being coddled and cared for in ways she never thought she'd like... but secretly does. "i can do that myself, you know," she grumbles, trying to hide the small smile on her face.

and you notice her trying to suppress a smile as you gently brush her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "i know you can, sweetheart," you say softly, leaning in to give her a quick peck on the cheek. "but let me do it anyway. you deserve to be taken care of." shauna who rolls her eyes playfully but doesn't stop you. she's not used to this level of tenderness, and it weirdly makes her heart flutter. she just loves you a lot!!!

"you're literally worse than a mom," shauna laughs as you force feed her medicine with juice. she's used to taking care of herself - a red bull for lunch and ramen noodles for dinner. now she has someone who makes sure she eats healthy, takes her vitamins, and gets enough sleep. "you baby me too much," she whines softly, hiding her face to hide her small smile. you laugh, "someone has to take care of my sweet girl." you ruffle her hair softly.

shauna getting into a fight outside of the school, you having to practically drag her away to her car. the car ride home is tense. shauna grips the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white as she glances over at you in the passenger seat. you're quiet, your arms crossed over your chest, and your expression says it all - you're disappointed. shauna knows she messed up. she's used to handling fights on her own, but this time, you were there to see it.

as soon as you both get inside the small apartment you share, you spin around to face her, your hands on your hips. "what the hell were you thinking??" you scold with a big frown on your face, your voice firm but clearly disappointed. shauna hangs her head, listening to you lecture her. she knows you're right, but she hates seeing you upset. suddenly, you notice a small black eye forming under her eye, and you’re immediately at her duty - just wanting to hold her, baby her, take care of her.

"stop fussing..." shauna mumble and tries to back away, but you firmly grab her shoulders, turning her face to get a better look at the bruise. "oh hush, let me take care of my baby," you coo softly, already reaching for a pack of frozen peas in the freezer. she's used to suffering through injuries alone, but now she's got you - her sweet, nurturing girlfriend who won't let her be a tough guy for one second. "sit," you boss, gently pushing her onto the couch and straddle her to take proper care of her.

you carefully place the frozen peas on her black eye, making her wince slightly. you baby her like this - tsking softly, checking for other injuries, unconsciously tucking her hair behind her ears like she's a child. "did you hit back?" you ask softly, your voice concerned. shauna hums non-committally. you smack her chest lightly, "answer the question, tough girl. did you hit back hard?" shauna laughs softly, "yes mom."she tease with that smirk, which makes you roll your eyes and hum in response. “good. but never again.” you gently scold with a small smirk on your face.

for weeks, you've been calling her "baby," "sweetheart," and "love," but shauna has yet to reciprocate with any pet names. she's not used to the intimacy, and it takes her a while to warm up to the idea. one evening, as you both cuddle on the couch watching a movie, shauna suddenly blurts out, "baby, can you pass me the popcorn?” before quickly adding, "i mean-" her face turns bright red as soon as the words leave her mouth.

you stare at her for a moment, shocked and delighted. she's never called you anything but your name since you two started dating. you can't help but grin widely as you realize this is the first time she's used a pet name on you. "aww!" you squeal happily, peppering her face with kisses. "you called me baby!" you say excitedly, making her laugh and blush even harder. "stop it," she whines playfully, swatting you away.

you can't help but tease her a little, wanting to hear her say it again and again. "say it again," you whisper, nuzzling her neck. "pleaseeeee baby," shauna groans softly, burying her face in your shoulder to hide her blush. "shut up," she mumbles, but you can hear the smile in her voice. "come on, say it," you pester, tickling her sides with the biggest smile on your face. and she does say it again, again and… again. every day, all the time.

shauna might be tough and intimidating to others, but with you, she tries her best to be soft and sweet. she plans dates - not the big, flashy ones, but small, meaningful ones that she thinks you'll like. like surprising you with your favorite ice cream after a long day, or setting up a blanket in the park with snacks for a picnic date. she even tries to cook dinner sometimes, although you end up helping her because she's not very good at it, but you love her efforts and make sure to praise her lots for it.

shauna tries to make dinner on her own as a surprise. she follows a recipe she found in one of your cooking books, determined to impress you. you come home to the smell of burnt garlic and see shauna standing at the stove, looking frustrated and a frown on her face. "baby, what's burning?" you ask softly, trying not to laugh at the disaster in the kitchen. shauna turns around, looking defeated, "it's supposed to be pasta," she grumbles.

every time shauna manages to get a tiny cut, you're there with band-aids and antibacterial cream, fussing over her like she's porcelain. "baby, stop being such a klutz," you scold softly, gently wrapping her finger. she rolls her eyes but secretly loves your nurturing side. you fuss over her like no one else does. if her hair is messy, you fix it. if her shirt is wrinkly, you straighten it out for her and fixing the collars, earning a groan from her, especially if you were in public. if she has a tiny stain on her jeans, you tut softly and try to remove it by licking your thumb and scrubbing it off. you baby her like this - unconsciously tucking her hair behind her ears when it falls in her face, zipping up her jacket when it's cold, making sure she's eating enough food.

after shauna's soccer team wins a match, you're there in the stands, cheering loudly and proudly, wearing her jersey. as soon as she runs off the field towards you, you pull her into a big, congratulatory hug and kiss. her teammates always teased her for it. you buy her ice cream, taking pictures of her with the trophy, shauna reluctantly smiling in the picture and you just gently scold her, telling her to “smile properly” with furrowed brows.

just you whispering sweet nothings to her, telling her you love her after someone hurt her feelings 😣😣 she’d never show it affected her but she always let her guard down around you because she just loves how you take care of her, ugh.

sighhh, i need her.

[sillylilsquid]

better with a girl

pairing - hyun-ju x reader summary - it started with a match on a dating app and the belief that you were straight. but hyun-ju—with her soft hands, patient smile, and every kiss that left you needing more—teaches you what it really means to want. warnings - au!hyun-ju, no squid game, afab!reader, sexuality exploration, explicit sexual content, 18+, minors dni!! 9.7k words - your text is bold, hyunnie's is italics!

Honestly, you weren’t looking for anything serious.

Not after the last guy cheated on you with someone from his gym–and the one before that who ghosted you after you told him you like to cook for the people you love, like it was some kind of red flag. You weren’t bitter exactly. Just…tired.

Tired of being the one who cared. Tired of begging for affection like it was some kind of reward. Tired of holding your breath around people who never really saw you.

So, no. You weren’t looking for anything. And definitely not anyone. But your friends wouldn’t let it go.

“You’re too wound tight,” one of them told you over drinks. “You need to get laid, babe. Or fall in love. Preferably both.”

“You say that like they’re easy to find,” you muttered, half into your wine glass.

“You’re not even trying. When’s the last night you went on a date?”

You didn’t answer. 

So a week later, tipsy and half daring yourself, you downloaded the app.

You hesitated when it asked about your preferences. Men. Women. Both. 

You hovered over ‘men’ like always. But then your thumb slid over to ‘both.’ Just for balance, you told yourself. Just in case. You weren’t gay or anything. You were just…curious. And exhausted. And maybe a little too bored.

The app was chaos. A blur of overly filtered selfies and bio quotes like “CEO of making you smile” and “looking for my player 2.”

Her pictures weren’t trying too hard. One of her at a bookstore with glasses on, one lounging on a couch in a leather jacket and bare-faced confidence. Her profile said: “Better in person. Or worse, depending on your taste.”

You swiped right before you could overthink it. 

And then–match. Your stomach dropped a little. And then she messaged you first.

so you’re the one with the pretty eyes and nervous smile?

You read it five times before you replied.

pretty bold opening line

i’m just observant. bold would’ve been asking if you taste as sweet as you look.

Your breath caught, your pulse picking up.

(kidding. mostly)

you can tell me to chill and i will

i don’t want you to chill. just maybe…don’t go full chaos on the first message?

deal. half chaos. full charm 😉

you always this hesitant or am i just special?

maybe both.

i’ve never really talked to…a girl on here before.

There was a pause before she replied. Not long. Just enough to make you worry she’d vanished.

hey, that’s okay.

no pressure. no expectations. i’m just here to get to know you.

unless you want pressure. but like, the fun kind

lol.

are you always like this?

a little. 

but i’m also respectful, attentive, and excellent at ordering takeout.

if you ever wanted to find out.

You hesitate before replying. Your stomach already in knots and you couldn’t stop smiling.

i mean…coffee might be safer than takeout. for now.

for now🤭

send me your schedule. i’ll pick the spot. first date’s on me

first date?

you think i’m this charming just for small talk?

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. It was just coffee. Just a date. Just…with a girl.

A really pretty girl with perfect eyeliner and flirty texts and a voice you could practically hear through the screen. But still. Just a date.

Nothing worth getting nervous over.

You stood in the mirror, staring at the mess of clothes scattered on your bed, muttering to yourself like a lunatic. “Why are you freaking out? She’s just a girl.”

You tugged off your third shirt and grabbed another. “She’s a girl, not a rockstar.”

But your hands were shaking. And your heart was pounding. And the lipstick you picked–soft, not too bold, not too try hard–was already smudged from the way you kept pressing your lips together.

You reapplied it, again. And stared at yourself. “She’s just a girl,” you repeated, whispering this time. “You’re straight.”

But the way your stomach twisted said otherwise.

The coffee shop was one of those cozy, indie spots tucked on a quiet street–exposed brick walls, hanging plants, and warm lighting. You spotted Hyun-ju immediately.

She was already sitting by the window, one leg crossed over the other, black turtleneck, jacket slung over the back of her chair. Her hair was pinned back loosely, a few strands falling to frame her face.

She looked up just as you stepped in–and smiled. And your brain short circuited. She stood as you approached, standing much taller than you thought she’d be, and you hated how much your pulse jumped when she reached out and touched your arm gently, just a soft brush of her fingers.

“Hey,” she said, voice like honey. “You look good.”

You laughed, breathless. “Thanks. You too.”

“You nervous?”

“Terrified.”

She grinned. “Good. Me too.”

The date was easy. Infuriatingly so.

She made you laugh. She asked questions and actually listened to the answers. She tilted her head when she talked, smiled at you like you were the only person in the room, and touched your hand once–just to make a point about something dumb–but it lingered. Just a little too long.

And when it was over, and you both stepped outside, the sky soft and fading into gold, she looked at you like she was deciding whether to kiss you.

She didn’t.

She just walked you to your car, winked, and said, “Text me when you get home safe, yeah?”

You nodded. You couldn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

Your phone buzzed ten minutes later.

so… that was better than a date with a guy, huh?😉

Your heart plummeted. Because it was.

You didn’t tell your friends much. Just that you went on a date. Just that it was…nice. You dodged every follow up question like your life depended on it.

“Who was it?” “No one you know.”

“What’s he do?” “He’s–uh. They. Work in creative stuff.”

“Are you seeing him again?” “Maybe.”

They knew you were hiding something, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud. Not yet. You weren’t ready to open that box. Because once you did, it was real. And it already felt too real.

Hyun-ju didn’t text you all day the next day. Not in a mean way. Just gave you space. It made you restless. Until, just before bed, your phone buzzed.

you didn’t forget about me already, did you?

Attached was a mirror selfie–no makeup, oversized tee, hair tied back, and still somehow so beautiful it made your stomach flip. You stared at it way too long before answering.

not yet. you checking in on your competition?

nah. i just wanted to be the face in your head before you fell asleep😇

You didn’t answer that one. But you stared at the photo again before bed. And again when you woke up.

The texting got easier after that. Casual. Fun. But there were moments where her charm slipped into something sharper–playful, but deliberate.

what are you doing friday?

nothing. why?

you’re coming to dinner with me. i want to see how you look in candlelight.

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard.

you always this smooth?

no. just with you.

Friday comes faster than you expect. 

You spend over an hour getting ready, yelling at your closet, changing your outfit over and over again and regretting every choice.

When you arrive at the restaurant, she’s already there. It’s upscale, the kind of place you need a reservation for. The kind where soft jazz hums under the clatter of silverware.

And fuck. She’s wearing a sleek dark blouse tucked into tailored trousers, gold rings on her fingers, and just a touch of mascara. Her hair is down, brushing elegantly over her shoulders.

She stands when you approach. Her eyes trail over you slowly. “Wow,” she says, soft and sincere. “You’re stunning.”

You don’t know what to say, so you laugh, awkward and shy. “You clean up okay too.”

She grins. “Flattery and a compliment? Careful, you’ll make me fall for you.”

You sit across from her, trying to slow your heartbeat. She pours you a glass of wine. Her fingers brush yours.

And as the night unfolds, between courses and soft laughter and the brush of her knee against yours under the table, that voice inside you starts whispering again.

You’re not into women, right?

Then why can’t you stop looking at her mouth? Why do you keep leaning in when she speaks? Why do you want her to reach for your hand and not let go?

You reached for the check the second the waiter dropped it off. “I’ve got it,” you said quickly, already pulling out your card.

But Hyun-ju was faster. She slid the black booklet toward her without even glancing down. “Nope.”

You blinked. “What? Why not?”

“Because I asked you out,” she said simply, pulling her wallet from her coat. “And because I want to.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t–”

“Don’t make me fight you over this in front of everyone,” she warned, but her tone was playful. Her eyes sparkled as she handed over her card.

You sat back in your seat, flustered. “You’re very stubborn.”

She smirked. “And you’re very cute when you’re trying to be polite.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you said nothing. Just stared at your wine glass while your pulse thundered in your ears.

The walk back to your car was quiet–but not awkward. The kind of quiet that buzzes with unspoken things. 

You walked side by side down the cobbled sidewalk, streetlights washing the pavement in pale gold. Her hand brushes yours once. Then again. You didn’t pull away.

When you reached your car, you hesitated with your keys in hand. She leaned against the door, watching you. “Well?” she said softly. “Was I worth dressing up for?”

You laughed, breathless. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” She raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Do I need to convince you?”

You didn’t back away–but your chest was tight and your stomach was tangled in knots. 

Hyun-ju leaned in, slow and deliberate, her lips just inches from yours. And then…she stopped. Her breath was warm against your cheek, her voice a murmur. “I want to kiss you.”

Your mouth parted. You couldn’t speak. “But I won’t,” she spoke softer now. “Not until you want me to.”

You felt your heart split clean down the middle. Because part of you was begging for her to do it. And part of you still didn’t know who you were if you let her.

She stepped back. “Drive safe, pretty girl,” she murmured, and turned to walk away. 

You sat in your car for ten minutes before starting it, heart pounding, throat thigh, and eyes burning. Because you wanted her. And you didn’t know what that made you.

You lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The room was dark, quiet–except for the loud, humiliating echo of your thoughts. 

You hadn’t even kissed her. And yet here you were, chest tight, legs tangled in your sheets, your mouth still tingling from the ghost of a kiss that never happened.

You groaned and rolled over, unlocking your phone.

Twitter: no.

Instagram: worse.

Messages: 3 unread. None from her.

Google:...maybe 

You opened the browser. Then, with a subtle grace of a woman having a minor identity crisis, you typed: “am i gay if i like one girl”

Delete. Too desperate.

“signs you’re into women”

Delete. Too obvious.

“can straight girls like girls sometime”

You stared at the screen, jaw clenched, heart racing. Then you opened Notes and started typing to yourself, because texting your friends would mean explaining, and you weren’t ready for that.

okay but it’s not like i want to marry her or anything.

i just like her smile

and her voice

and her hands

and the way she looks at me

and the way she almost kissed me

okay 

maybe it’s something

maybe i like her

maybe i want her to kiss me

fuck 

You slammed your phone face down and groaned into your pillow. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But all you could think about was her voice in your ear, her mouth inches from yours, saying: “Not until you want me to.”

And the worst part? You already did.

The next morning, you were trying to act normal. Just a little grocery shopping. Laundry. Scrolling aimlessly on your phone and definitely not thinking about almost being kissed again in your car.

That’s when she texted.

morning💪

Attached: a gym mirror selfie. She was in a black sports bra and high waisted leggings, headphones around her neck, a smirk tugging at her lips. Hair pulled into a mess pony. Skin glowing. Abs unfair.

You dropped your phone on your chest and let out a noise that can only be described as internal combustion.

you okay?

literally no

that bad, huh?

you’re annoying

and hot

stop this

😌

come over tonight. i’ll feed you and put on a movie. sweatpants encouraged

what are we watching?

something gay. obviosuly.

  😐

bring wine or your nervous energy. whichever is easier to carry

You showed up two hours later with both.

Hyun-ju opened the door in a t-shirt and sweatpants, glasses on, makeup free and still somehow hotter than anyone had a right to be.

Her place was warm and inviting–soft lighting, a lived-in couch, scented candles burning something vanilla and cozy. You sat side by side under a throw blanket, legs touching. She let you pick the movie.

Twenty minutes later, you weren’t even watching it.

You were hyper aware of her every breath. Every time her hand moved. Every shift of her thigh against yours. And when she leaned over to grab the remote from the coffee table, her body brushing yours–

“I don’t know how to do it,” you blurted out.

She paused. “Do what?”

“I mean–any of it. With a woman. Like…” You stared at the screen, horrified at yourself but too far gone now. “Kissing. Touching. Sex. I don’t know how to have sex with a woman. I don’t even know what that looks like. Is it, like–scissoring? Is that even real? And what if I mess it up? What if you want me to touch you and I just, like, poke something wrong and kill the vibe?”

You finally turned to look at her. She was just sitting there. Silent and smiling. Her chin in her hand. Eyes soft and so amused.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

She tilted her head. “Because I’ve never seen anyone talk themselves into a meltdown this adorably before.”

You groaned, burning your face in the blanket. “I’m gonna die.”

“No you’re not.”

I might! I’m a straight girl who got wine drunk and accidently fell into a queer panic spiral in your living room.”

“Baby,” she murmured, reaching out to gently tug the blanket down and uncover your face. “You’re not straight.” You blinked up at her, lips parted. She smiled–soft and certain. “But you’re very cute when you’re trying to fight it.”

You’re still half under the blanket, your face burning, staring at Hyun-ju like she’d just uncovered every secret you’d been hiding.

She hadn’t stopped smiling. Her eyes glittered with something between affection and straight up amusement.

“I’m serious,” you muttered, barely able to hold eye contact. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t even know what it looks like. I’ve only ever—like, watched–guy stuff.”

Hyun-ju leaned back on the couch, one arm slung lazily over the cushion behind your shoulders. “You know there’s porn, right?”

Your entire body locked up. “I–what?” 

“There’s porn. Lesbian porn. Gay porn. Real stuff, ethical stuff. It’s pretty easy to find.”

“I’m not gonna watch porn just to figure out how to sleep with you!”

She raised a brow. “Is that what you’re worried about? Sleeping with me?”

“I didn’t mean–I’m not planning to–not like that–I don’t know what I meant–” You were spiraling. Full meltdown mode.

Hyun-ju let you go on for a few more seconds, just watching you with that infuriating calm like she was thoroughly enjoying this.

And then, gently, “Hey.”

You froze. She leaned in just a little closer, her voice low. “You don’t have to learn anything for me. I’m not expecting you to show up with a skill set.”

You blinked at her, breathing hard.

“I don’t care if you’ve never kissed a girl,” she said. “Or touched one. Or even thought about it before me.”

You stared. “But I have thought about it.”

“I know,” she said, smiling again. “That’s why you’re sitting on my couch, clutching a throw blanket and looking like your brain is on fire.”

You let out a noise between a laugh and a sob. “This is so embarrassing.”

“It’s not,” she assured. “It’s honest. And kind of hot, if I’m being honest.”

You whipped your head toward her. “Hot?!” 

“Baby,” she said, barely biting back a grin, “you rambling about how clueless and flustered you are? While blushing and squirming next to me like that?” She shrugged. “Kind of ridiculously hot.”

You let out a broken, strangled sound and buried your face again. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

You stayed hidden under the blanket, your voice muffled. “I can’t believe you said porn.”

She laughed–low, rich, teasing. “What? It’s educational!” You were still hiding under the blanket when Hyun-ju tilted her head and said, casual as ever, “We can watch some together, if you want.”

You froze. “What.”

She blinked. “Porn. You said you’ve never seen–”

“I know what you said,” you hissed, peeking out from behind the blanket with your entire face on fire. “And excuse me, I can watch porn by myself, thank you very much.”

Hyun-ju just smirked, like that was the answer she’d been hoping for. “I’m just saying,” she murmured, “sometimes it’s more fun to learn with supervision.”

You launched a throw pillow at her face.

You didn’t say much after that. You put on another movie. Something safe. Something very not gay. 

But Hyun-ju kept brushing her fingers against yours under the blanket. And you kept pretending not to notice. And your brain kept looping back to what she’d said.

Porn. Together. Supervision.

You weren’t sleeping tonight.

Hours later, back in your own apartment, you lay on your stomach in bed, phone glowing too bright in the dark, anxiety buzzing in your fingertips.

You stared at the search bar. You typed slowly.

“lesbian sex real”

Delete. You weren’t a serial killer.

“lesbian porn”

Okay. You clicked one of the links. The first few thumbnails made your stomach twist. Not because it was gross–because it was…a lot.

But then you clicked on one that looked softer. Realer. Two women kissing slowly, their hands tentative and warm.

Your breath caught. You watched. They touched like they meant it. They kissed like they'd missed each other. You felt heat rush between your legs before you even realized it.

And then–one of them moaned. And it hit you. Sharp and low. You clamped your thighs together, heart pounding, and slammed your laptop shut. You laid there in the dark, breathless, your pulse racing, your whole body tingling.

“Holy shit.”

Because you liked it. You really, really liked it. And suddenly, it wasn’t just about Hyun-ju anymore.

It was a Saturday night, and your phone buzzed just as you were debating whether to eat dinner or cry under a blanket for the rest of the weekend.

going to a club with a friend. you should come

no pressure btw. just vibes

i don’t club

i don’t either. but i do wear tight clothes and look hot under colored lights.

and i think you’d enjoy that

You stared at the phone for a full minute. Then you threw on the best outfit you could pull together in under ten minutes.

The club wasn’t a packed, sweaty disaster like you’d feared. It was dark and moody and glowy–neon reds and blues painting every surface, bass pulsing low in your chest.

Hyun-ju spotted you at the door and waved you over. You nearly choked. She was in black slacks and a cropped mesh top layered over a strappy bralette, all gold jewelry and smoky eyes and smug smiles. Her nails were painted wine red, one hand around a soda glass, the other casually resting on her hip.

“I didn’t know what to wear,” you mumbled when she pulled you into a hug.

Her arms wrapped around your waist. “You wore this,” she murmured, eyes raking over you. “And that’s all I care about.”

You didn’t drink. Neither did she. But it didn’t matter. The music was loud, the lights were low, and her hand stayed on the small of your back whenever you moved. You couldn’t stop thinking about it. The video. The way those women had touched each other. The sounds. The want. And now Hyun-ju was right here–pressed close to your body, her breath warm against your ear every time she leaned in to talk.

You were sober. And still, you felt drunk.

It was almost 1am when the crowd thinned and the music dulled into background haze. You were standing beside her near the exit, blinking slowly, heart crawling up your neck form how close she was.

“You look tired,” she said softly, brushing a hair out of your face.

You nodded barely.

“You don’t have to Uber back, you know.”

You looked up. She shrugged one shoulder. “You can crash at my place. It’s closer. And I’ve got extra clothes.”

You swallowed. “Oh.”

“Unless you’d rather go home.”

“No,” you said quickly. “I mean–I can come over. That’s fine. If it’s okay.”

She smiled. “It’s more than okay.”

The car ride to her place was quiet. Her music low. Her hand rested casually on the gearshift, fingers tapping, rings glinting under the streetlights.

You stared out the window, but your brain wouldn’t shut up.

She’s so close. Her hands. That mouth. What would she sound like?

By the time she parked and let you inside, you were a silent, shaky mess. And the night was just beginning.

Like before, her apartment was warm and quiet, a contrast to the thumping bass still echoing faintly in your chest. She kicked her shoes off by the door and flicked on a lamp–low, amber light casting soft shadows across the room.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, tugging her jacket off and hanging it neatly. “You want water or anything?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m good.”

You stood awkwardly by the couch while she padded off to her bedroom, calling back, “I’ll grab you something to sleep in.”

Your heart was pounding. You stared at the record player tucked in the corner. The plant by the window. The jacket slung over the back of the armchair. It all smelled like her–clean and woodsy, warm and sharp.

She returned a moment later and handed you a fold shirt and some loose cotton shorts. “Bathroom’s down the hall. Take your time.”

You muttered a thanks and practically sprinted out of the room.

By the time you emerged, changed and clean faced, your nerves had officially gone nuclear. 

Hyun-ju was sitting cross legged on the couch, scrolling through her phone, now in sleep shorts and a sweatshirt, her hair loose on her shoulders. She looked…unfairly good. Comfortable. Effortless.

You hesitated in the doorway. Her eyes flickered up, slow and soft. And then she smiled. “You look cute.”

You fiddled with the hem of the oversized shirt she gave you. “It’s literally yours.”

“Exactly.”

You crossed the room slowly and sat behind her, tucking your legs under you. She turned the TV on, scrolled half heartedly through the options.

Neither of you were really watching. Your arm brushed hers. You could feel the heat of her skin. Her thigh close to yours. The hum of tension that had been building since you walked through the door.

She glanced over. “You okay?”

You nodded too fast. “Yeah. just–tired. Long day. Loud music. You know. I’m not really a club person. You could probably tell. Not that I hated it. It was actually kind of fun. Mostly because you were there. Which I guess makes sense. Since I like being around you.”

You were spiraling again. Hyun-ju didn’t say anything.

You hesitated.

Your heart pounded in your throat. You looked at her mouth. Then back to the screen. Then to her eyes. And then you chickened out.

“Anyway,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket over your lap. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

She leaned her head back on the couch, still watching you. Her voice was teasingly low. “Was that supposed to be a kiss?”

Your eyes went wide. “What?! No!”

Her smile grew. “Are you sure?”

You flushed all the way to your ears. “I wasn’t–I mean, I thought maybe–but then I didn’t–I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Hyun-ju tilted her head, her voice softening. “Baby,” she said gently, “you don’t have to know what you’re doing. You just have to want it.”

You didn’t answer. But you didn’t move away either. You were frozen. Her words echoed in your chest: ‘you just have to want it.’ And god, you did.

You just didn’t know how to ask. 

She shifted beside you, slow and smooth, like she was giving you time to back away. You didn’t. Her hand came up to your cheek, gentle and grounding. Her thumb brushed softly under your eye, then down to the curve of your jaw.

“You’ve kissed guys before, right?” she asked, voice low.

You nodded nervously. “Yeah.”

She smiled. “It’s the same idea…just way better when it’s another girl.”

Your breath caught. She leaned in slowly, her voice like velvet. “It’s not about technique. Or pressure. Or anything you’ve seen in movies.”

Her nose brushed yours, barely there contact that made your stomach twist. “It’s about attention,” she whispered. “Letting it build. Following what feels good.”

Her lips touched yours–just once. A soft press. A question. You exhaled like you’d been holding your breath for hours.

She kissed you again–slightly deeper now, slow and sure. Her lips warm. Soft. She let you feel the shape of her mouth, the gentle tug and press. No rush. No demand. “Just like that,” she whispered against your lips. “You’re doing perfect.”

You whimpered without meaning to. She pulled back just enough to look at you. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly. “Can I… can we do that again?”

That smile. That smile.

“I was hoping you’d ask.” And then she kissed you again–longer, guiding her lips with hers, her hand still cradling your cheek. You followed her lead–tentative, shy, but hungry. Your hands found her waist. She let out a soft hum of approval.

“There you go,” she murmured, lips brushing yours between words. “See? You’re already learning.”

She kissed you again–slightly deeper, a bit slower. “You’re a natural, baby,” she whispered.

You gasped softly, dizzy from praise, from the heart blooming in your chest. “I didn’t think–kissing a girl would feel like–”

Her fingers threaded gently through your hair. “Like that?”

“Like…this.”

Hyun-ju smiled, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Like something you want to do again?” You nodded. “Good.” She kissed your jaw. “Because I’m not done showing you.”

You didn’t go any further that night. Just kissing. Soft, slow, and gentle. When it got too much–when your hands trembled or your breath caught in that panicky way–Hyun-ju pulled back, tucked your hair behind your ear, and whispered, “that’s enough for tonight, baby. You did so good.” And you melted.

A few days later, she picked you up in the late afternoon with a picnic basket and a blanket thrown in the back seat like it was nothing. “You’re so domestic,” you teased as she opened the passenger door for you.

She just smirked. “Only for girls who wear nervous smiles and make me drive across town for the good strawberries.”

She took you to a quiet park, a little hill shaded with trees, far enough from anyone else to feel like it was just the two of you.

You helped her lay out the blanket. She unpacked sandwiches, fruit, two glass bottles of soda, and a pack of cookies she’d clearly bought last minute.

You both sat down, sunlight streaking through the trees, laughter soft and easy between bites. And you couldn’t stop looking at her. The way her hair caught in the light. The stretch of her legs where she lounged beside you. The little smirk she gave you when she caught you staring and didn’t say a word.

Your stomach flipped. You’d been thinking about kissing her again for days. The memory of it was still warm in your chest–her mouth, her hands, the way she’d held you like you were something fragile and precious.

And now, sitting beside her on a blanket in the fading sun, you wanted it again. You ached for it. But you didn’t know how to say it. Instead you said, “This is nice.”

She glanced at you, one brow lifted softly. “Yeah?”

You nodded, heart in your throat. “I like spending time with you.”

Hyun-ju leaned back on one arm, eyes gentle. “I like spending time with you too.”

You hesitated. Then leaned over, just a little. Her gaze flickered to your mouth, then back to your eyes. She didn’t move. Didn’t rush you. “Can I kiss you?” you whispered.

And god, the way she looked at you then–like you’d just handed her the sun. “You don’t ever have to ask,” she said softly. “But I love it when you do.”

You leaned in, hands shaking just a little, and kissed her. Slow. Lingering. Sunlight on your skin, her fingers brushing your knee like a promise. And for the first time, you didn’t feel like you had to explain yourself. You just felt.

That evening after the picnic, she brought you back to her place. You didn’t want to go home–not yet. Not when everything inside you was still buzzing. Not when the quiet between you felt so full.

You both curled up on her couch under a blanket, a random movie playing low in the background. You were tucked into her side, your head on her shoulder, her arm around you like it had always belonged there.

You didn’t speak for a while. But eventually, you whispered, “I still don’t know what I am.”

Hyun-ju didn’t flinch. Didn’t shift. Just kept stroking her fingers through your hair like your words didn’t scare you.

You swallowed hard. “I mean, I like you. I really like you. But I still get scared sometimes. Like, I think about kissing you and I get excited and nervous at the same time. I don’t know what that means. If I’m…gay. Or bi. Or just confused. I feel like I should know.”

Her hand paused for a second–just long enough for you to notice. Then it moved again. “You don’t have to label it right now,” she said quietly. “Or ever, if you don’t want to.”

You pressed your cheek into her chest, listening to the slow thud of her heartbeat.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” you whispered. “You’ve been so good to me.”

“You’re not going to mess anything up,” she murmured, her voice low and certain. “You’re allowed to be figuring things out.”

You blinked hard, your throat felt thick. “And what if I just…stay confused?”

Her hand slid under your chin, tilting your face up gently. Her eyes met yours–steady, warm, so full. “Then we stay confused together,” she said. “As long as you want me around.”

You let out a breath tha felt like a release. And she leaned in, kissing your forehead, and whispered: “I’m not going anywhere.” 

A few weeks later things have changed, in soft, quiet ways.

You and hyun-ju were still texting every day–little things at first: good morning, good night, updates about your day. But somewhere along the way, your texts got…flirtier. Playful and teasing.

She started sending mirror selfies when she got dressed for work. You started sending emojis you wouldn’t have dared to use before. And sometimes, late at  night, the conversation drifted into gentle, breathless places.

Still, nothing more than kissing. But everything building. One night you invited her over. Not because she offered. Not because she insisted. Because you wanted to.

you’ve never been to my place

you should come over sometime

tell me when, baby. i’ll be there

And just like that, she was.

You had tried to clean. Really tried. But you still felt a flush of embarrassment when she stepped inside, eyes sweeping the cluttered counter, the unfolded laundry on a chair, the half dead plant in the window.

“It’s not–sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” you said quickly, tossing a sock into your bedroom.

But she just smiled, slow and fond. “It looks like you live here. I like that.”

You gave her a look. “You would say that.”

“I meant it.”

She toed off her boots and padded toward the couch like she’d been there a hundred times. You followed, still a little flustered, and sat beside her with a sigh. You’d picked up chocolate from that corner store she liked, and she grinned when you brought it out.

“I love that you remembered this,” she said, unwrapping one and popping it into her mouth.

You shrugged, smiling. “You said it was your favorite.”

She leaned back on the couch, ankles crossed. “You’re learning me.”

“Trying to,” you responded. Your voice came out smaller than you meant. Her eyes shifted to you, something softer behind them now. And your heart picked up. There was something you’d been meaning to ask. You just didn’t know how. You fiddled with the corner of the chocolate wrapper. “Can I ask you something?”

Hyun-ju nodded. “Anything.”

You hesitated. “I’ve been thinking about…us,” you started slowly. “And about going further. Eventually.”

Her expression didn’t change–still calm, open, listening.

You took a breath. “I just–I don’t really know how anything works. With two women. Like, really works. And I know I could Google it, and I have a little, but it’s not the same as talking to someone who…” Your cheeks were burning now. “Who knows. Who had done things.”

Hyun-ju didn’t laugh. She didn’t tease. She leaned in, her voice quiet but full of warmth. “You can ask me anything, baby. I’ll tell you the truth.”

You were blushing so hard you thought you might catch fire. But Hyun-ju didn’t look surprised. Or uncomfortable. Just soft and steady. She turned on the couch, facing you fully now, her knee brushing yours. “Okay,” she said quietly. “What do you want to know?”

You hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Everything?”

That made her smile. Not teasing–fond. “Alright, let’s start simple.”

She reached for your hand, lacing her fingers gently through yours, her thumb brushing the top of your knuckles. It grounded you. Slowed your breath.

“There’s no one right way,” she started. “Some women like fingers. Some like mouths. Some like toys. Some don’t want penetration at all.” You nodded slowly. “And all of that’s okay. What matters is listening. To your partner, to yourself. Asking what feels good. Paying attention.”

Then she asked, “Have you had sex with guys before?”

You nodded. “Yeah. A few.”

Her head tilted. “Did you like it?”

You opened your mouth then closed it. Hyun-ju just waited. You shifted, cheeks burning. “I thought I did? Or I thought I was supposed to? I don’t know. It always just kind of felt…like it was happening at me.”

She hummed softly. “Did you even cum?”

You blinked at her. Didn’t say a word. Her brows lifted, and the tiniest smirk tugged at the edge of her mouth. “Ah.”

You groaned and dropped your head into your hands. “This is so humiliating.”

“Baby,” she said, tugging your hand gently down so she could see your face again. “No, it’s not. It’s not. It’s honest. And it makes me want to take my time with you even more.”

You looked at her–really looked at her–and your chest squeezed. “I want to try,” you whispered. “Not tonight. But sometime. With you.”

“I’d love that, whenever you’re ready.”

You swallowed hard. “Would you…show me? What it’s supposed to feel like?”

Her hand slid gently up your arm, fingers brushing your jaw, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ll show you everything,” she said. “Exactly how good it gets. And I’ll go slow. We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. But when you are–I want to ruin you for anything else.”

Your breath caught. And then–so quiet you almost didn’t hear yourself say it: “Do you want to stay over?” 

Her smile was instant. And so, so soft. “I thought you’d never ask.”

It had taken you weeks to work up to it, but you finally told someone. One of your closest friends, mid coffee run and panic spill, when you blurted out, “I’ve been seeing someone…kind of. A girl.”

They didn’t even blink. “Is she hot?”

You nearly dropped your drink. “Yes?! That’s not the point!”

They laughed. “It’s very much the point.”

And after that, it got a little easier. You started doing research. Quietly. Privately. Watching videos, reading articles, letting yourself imagine. You even bought a toy–nothing major, just something small and safe to test the waters. And after all that…you still wanted her. No confusion. No doubt. Just want.

So when one of your friends invited you and Hyun-ju out to a club, you said yes. You texted her first.

i wanna go out with you tonight. like properly…dancing and all

that sounds dangerously like a date

maybe it is

i’ll wear something slutty

You nearly combusted. The club was loud, neon-lit, crowded–but it didn’t matter. Because she was there. In a cropped top and tailored pants, hair sleek, skin glowing under the lights. Your friends met her, exchanged looks you pretended not to notice, and she handled it like she always did–cool, calm, absolutely magnetic.

You stuck close to her the entire night. And for the first time, you didn’t hide it. You let your fingers trail down her arm when you leaned in to talk. You pressed your hand to her waist when the bass got too loud and the crowd swelled. You even kissed her cheek once, lingering longer than you ever had before.

Her hand found yours and squeezed. Adn when you pulled her onto the dance floor, she came willingly–one hand on your hip, the other sliding low, slow, possessive. You couldn’t stop touching her. You didn’t want to.

Back at your apartment, the air was different. Charged and quiet. You let her in and closed the door behind you with a shaky breath. Hyun-ju turned to face you, eyes dark, searching. “You okay?”

You nodded. “I want to,” you said. “Tonight.”

She stepped closer. “You sure?”

You nodded again, heart pounding. “I’ve thought about it. A lot. And I’m scared, but I…I want it. With you.”

She crossed the room slowly, closing the space between you. “Okay,” she murmured. “Then I’m going to take care of you. And you’re going to tell me everything you like. If you want me to stop, I stop. If anything doesn’t feel good, you say the word.”

You nodded again, eyes wide. “Okay.”

Her hand slid up your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. “You ready?”

“Yes…” you whispered. 

She smiled. “Good girl.”

She kissed you slowly–no rush, no hunger, just warmth. Gentle lips and the slow slide of her hands around your waist like she was holding something sacred. When she deepened the kiss, you gasped softly, and she took it like a promise.

You let her guide you to the bed, her mouth never leaving yours. “You nervous?” she whispered against your lips. You nodded. “Do you want to stop?”

“No.”

Her hand stroked down your back. “Okay.” 

Hyun-ju helped you out of your clothes piece by piece, pausing between every step. “You’re doing so good,” she whispered, pressing kisses to your shoulder, the curve of your collarbone. “So beautiful, baby. You’re okay.”

When you were bare in front of her, you instinctively went to cover your chest with your arms–but she caught your wrists, softly. “Don’t hide,” she said. “You’re perfect. I want to see all of you.”

And god, the way she looked at you–like you were art, like you were something holy–made you want to cry.

She undressed too, letting you see her at her own pace, and kissed you again as she gently guided you onto the bed.

She started with her hands. Slow strokes along your thighs, your stomach, your chest–never rushing, never groping. Just learning you. Letting you feel how much she wanted to be there.

“Tell me if anything feels weird, okay?” she said as her fingers slid between your legs, featherlight. “I’m going to start slow.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. Her fingers dipped lower, circling your clit in the softest, slowest motion. Your hips twitched, and she immediately paused.

“Too much?”

You shook your head quickly. “No–just surprised.”

“That’s okay.” She smiled. “We’re not in a hurry.”

When she found the right rhythm–gentle, steady, maddening–you couldn’t stop the sound that left you. A gasp. A whimper. 

“Just like that,” she murmured. “Let go. Don’t think. Let it feel good.”

Her lips found your neck, warm kisses as her fingers coaxed you further, deeper into the feeling. You were panting now. Hands tangled in the sheets. Her name on your lips. “I’m gonna–” you gasped. “I think I’m–”

“That’s it,” she whispered, mouth brushing your ear. “Let me see you, pretty girl. Cum for me.”

And you did. With her name caught in your throat, your body arching into her hand, you unraveled completely. And when it was over–when your body went soft and trembling beneath her–she kissed your cheek, then your shoulder, and pulled the blanket up over you both. “You okay?” she whispered, brushing your hair from your face.

You nodded, breath still catching. “I’ve never…nothing’s ever felt like that before.” 

She kissed your forehead. “That’s because no one’s ever taken the time to learn you.”

You laughed, breathless. “So that’s what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Hyun-ju smirked, tucking you into her arms. “Mhm. told you it was better with a girl.”

You buried your face in her neck, smiling. “Stay?”

She wrapped her arms around you like she already belonged there. “Always.”

The room was quiet, warm, lit only by the soft glow from your hallway light. You were curled in Hyun-ju’s side, tangled under your blanket, your body still humming from what she’d just done to you. Your fingers played lazily along her stomach, tracing the hem of her tank top. 

She had one arm behind her head, hair a little messy, face flushed but smug. “You still breathing?” she teased.

“Barely,” you mumbled into her shoulder.

“Good.”

You laughed, and tilted your face up toward hers. Then kissed her. Softly. Slowly. A little longer than before. Her lips curved against yours. “Hey,” she warned between kisses. “You keep doing that and you’re gonna turn me on again.”

You smiled sweetly. “That’s the plan.”

Her eyes darkened instantly. “Oh, really?”

You nodded, blushing. “I feel…braver now.”

She pulled you into her lap, her hands sliding to your waist. “Mm. That so?”

You nodded again, but there was still a flicker of nerves in your eyes. She saw it–of course she did. But instead of pushing, she leaned forward and kissed your collarbone. “Then let me return the favor,” she whispered. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She took her time with you again–slower, even, than before. This time, you were laid out completely, her lips trailing kisses down your stomach, her hands spreading your thighs like they were hers to keep. “Let me show you what my mouth can do,” she murmured as she kissed the soft skin of your inner thigh. 

You whimpered. And then–oh god. Her tongue was gentle at first. Careful. Drawing slow circles around your clit without ever quite pressing into it. She flicked, teased, tasted you like she was starving–and you couldn’t stop moving. “H-hyun-ju–”

“Shh, I know,” she said between kisses. “You’re doing so good. You taste so fucking sweet.”

When you started getting close, her tongue would slow. Pull back. Kiss along your thighs again until you were gasping. “Please,” you whimpered. “Don’t stop.”

She smirked against your skin. “Not yet.”

“Hyun–” You tried to move your hips, chase her mouth, but her hands pinned your thighs open with gentle strength.

“You’ll cum when I say,” she murmured. “And not a second before.”

You were panting now, eyes glassy, voice cracking. “But–what about you?” you asked, nearly sobbing. “You said I was turning you on. Don’t you want–”

She looked up at you from between your thighs, mouth wet, eyes half lidded with hunger. “Oh, I do, baby. But tonight’s for you. And I’m not stopping until you cum so hard you forget your own name.” 

You moaned, legs trembling, body arching off the bed. And this time, when she sucked your clit between her lips and moaned into you…you broke. You came with a cry, your whole body trembling, hands gripping the sheets, hips stuttering as she licked you through it, slower now, softer, until your body collapsed back into the mattress.

She crawled up beside you, kissed your forehead, and whispered, “that’s two.”

You blinked, still catching your breath. “You’re keeping score?”

She grinned. “Of course.”

You didn’t fall asleep right away. Your body was too full of warmth. Your chest still fluttering from what she’d just done to you. You were curled up in her arms, your face tucked into the space where her neck met her shoulder, her hand brushing slow circles across your back.

Hyun-ju kissed the top of your head and exhaled softly. “That was really special to me,” she said. You blinked up at her. “Tonight,” she added. “You. Trusting me. Wanting me.”

Your heart tightened. “Of course I trust you.”

“I know. But…still. You didn’t have to let me in like that. And I know it wasn’t just about sex for you.”

You nodded, quietly. Her hand kept moving across your back. “I’ve had hookups,” she continued. “Casual stuff. Things that didn’t mean anything. But tonight–this meant something. Because it was you. And because I know how hard it is to be brave when your whole body’s screaming that you’re new to this.”

You pressed your lips to her shoulder. “You make it feel easy.”

She kissed your hair in return. “That’s the goal.”

You didn’t say anything for a long time after that. Just stayed there, tangled together, your hand resting over her heart.

It didn’t stop after that. If anything, it became impossible to stay away. You craved her. Her mouth. Her hands. Her laugh. Her steadiness. You started spending more time with her than without her–half your clothes in her closet, a toothbrush at her sink, a mug she kept just for you in her cabinet.

When you had to work, you texted her all day. About everything and nothing. About how bored you were. About how hot she looked in the selfie she sent at lunch. About how badly you wanted to crawl into her lap when she called you baby in a voice memo.

And Hyun-ju? She was insatiable. Not in a demanding way–but in that way where all it took was a look. One look from you and she was on her knees. On the floor. Behind the door. Wherever she could have you.

Once, she had her mouth on you in the backseat of her car. Thirty minutes before you were due to meet her friends for dinner. She made you cum twice, then fixed your hair like nothing happened, kissed your flushed cheek, and said, “You look even prettier like this.”

And you let her. Every time.

But lately, something had been tugging at your chest. A kind of guilt. A kind of ache. You loved the way she touched you. The way she cared for you, praised you, took you apart like it was her favorite thing.

But she hadn’t asked for anything. She never even hinted. And you wanted to give her something back.

So one night–warm lights, soft music, your body tangled with hers on the couch–you kissed her. Not tentative. Not testing. Just…wanting.

She kissed you back, gentle but a little surprised at how eager you were. You straddled her lap, fingers curling into the hem of her shirt. She pulled back slightly. “Baby–”

“I want to,” you whispered. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

Her eyes ghosted over your face, searching. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Please. I want to learn. I want you.”

Seh let you tug off her shirt, your hands shaking slightly. You kissed down her neck, fingertips brushing her ribs. You slid off her pants next, leaving her in just her bra and panties–so beautiful you forgot to breathe.

But then–you froze. Not because you didn’t want her. Because you did. So much it scared you.

Hyun-ju noticed instantly. Her hands came to rest gently on your hips. “Hey,” she whispered. “Look at me.”

You did. She was calm. Beautiful. Patient. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

You shook your head quickly. “No–I want to. I just…I don’t want to do it wrong.”

Her hand slid up to cup your face. “You won’t,” she said softly. “I’ll help you. I’ll tell you what feels good. We go slow. We go together.”

You swallowed. “Okay.”

And when she kissed you again, it was like falling into warmth you already knew by heart.

The kiss is deeper now. Slow, lingering kisses that tasted like trust and nerves and something more. Smoothing warm blooming between your ribs. Her hands stayed on your hips, grounding you. You pulled back just enough to whisper, “Tell me what to do.”

Hyun-ju smiled softly. “Start with touching. Explore. You don’t have to rush.”

Your fingers drifted down her sides, mesmerizing the curve of her waist, the slope of her thigh, the softness of skin beneath cotton. She was laid out beneath you, eyes never leaving yours.

Your fingers hit a spot on her stomach that made her jump slightly and giggle, your eyes snapped up but she just assured you it was because you tickled her.

So you continue.. Your hand hovered near the waistband of her underwear. Your mouth was on her neck now, and you sucked on her skin briefly. But then you stopped moving, pulling away so you could sit up. Breath shallow. Pulse fluttering in your throat.

Hyun-ju cupped the back of your head, voice warm and low. “You’re doing so good, baby,” she whispered. “Don’t overthink it.”

“I’m not–I just…” you swallowed. “I’ve never–”

“I know. I know you haven’t.” She kissed the side of your face. “Let me help, yeah?”

You nodded, and she gently took your hand, guiding it over the soft skin of her stomach, down– “You don’t have to go inside,” she murmured, “unless you want to. Just touch me the way you like being touched.”

Your fingers brushed the front of her panties and she sighed, hips shifting slightly beneath you. The sound shot straight through you, a bolt of nervous desire sparking low in your belly. You pressed more firmly, rubbing gentle, clumsy circles.

She gasped softly. “Yes. Just like that.”

You looked up at her, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Really,” she said, breathless now. “Feels so fucking good, baby.”

Your face flushed. You kept going. Tentative at first. Still unsure. But the more she moaned for you, the more her hips lifted to meet your hand, the more your nerves twisted into something bold.

You kissed her chest, her collarbone. Nuzzled into the space above her bra, lips brushing the swell of one breast. 

She arched into your touch. “I love watching you learn,” she murmured. “You’re so careful. So sweet.”

You whimpered. “I want to be good for you.”

“You are,” she said. “You already are.”

Her praise made your head spin. You slipped your hand into her panties, heart hammering as you finally touched her. She was wet. So wet. And warm. And soft. “Fuck,” she moaned, clenching around nothing. “You’re making me crazy.”

Your fingers moved slowly, spreading her open, rubbing gentle circles around her clit. “Like that?” you whispered. 

“Exactly like that,” she breathed. You couldn’t stop looking at her. Her mouth slightly open. Her eyes fluttering. Her thighs tensing under your body as you moved. She was so responsive. So vocal. And still, so focused on you.

“You’re doing everything right,” she said. “I want you to feel how much I want you.”

“I do,” you whispered. “I want to make you cum.”

She groaned. “Keep going, baby. You’re almost there.”

And when her body finally shook–when she moaned your name and clenched around your fingers and pulled you down for a kiss–you felt more powerful and wanted than you ever had in your life.

You held her until her breathing slowed, until her hands relaxed against your spine. You whispered, “Did I really do okay?”

She smiled, eyes half lidded. “You didn’t just do okay. You wrecked me.”

You giggled, your face buried in her neck. “I want to do it again. Soon.”

“Then we’ll do it again. As many times as you want.”

Time passed. Not in a loud, dramatic way. But in soft little shifts. In the quiet turning of pages. In the way your heart stopped feeling like a question every time you looked at her.

You started holding her hand in public. At first, it was small. Just pinkies brushing on the subway, or you knuckles resting against hers in a cafe line. But then it was real. Linking your arms when walking through the park. Reaching for her hand across a dinner table. Sitting her lap during a game night at a friend’s place without flinching when someone raised an eyebrow.

She noticed every time. Not with a smirk, not with a joke–but with a quiet squeeze of your hand. A kiss to your temple. The smallest smile that said I see you. I know how far you’ve come.

You told your parents. You practice in the mirror for three days. Rehearsed every line. Anticipated every question. And when you finally said the words out loud–”I’m dating a woman. Her name is Hyun-ju.”–your mom just blinked.

Then said, “Is she nice?” 

And when you brought her home for dinner, she was more than nice. She helped wash dishes after. Told your dad his bad jokes were genuinely funny. Complemented the food like it was five-star dining. Your mom said she hoped Hyun-ju would come back soon.

You nearly cried in the bathroom after. Hyun-ju waited until you were curled in bed that night to kiss your forehead and whisper, “You did that. I’m proud of you.”

She introduced you to her brother next. He greeted you with a skeptical squint and a sarcastic, “So you’re the reason she’s been smiling like a Disney princess lately.”

You wanted to crawl into the floor. But by the end of the night, you were all laughing over drinks, and he sent Hyun-ju a selfie of the two of you with the caption: she’s way too sweet for your scary ass.

She grumbled, but you caught her saving the photo anyway.

And behind closed doors, you kept learning. You kept asking. And Hyun-ju kept giving.

You ate her out for the first time–nervous, shaking, trying to remember everything she’d taught you. She guided you with soft sighs and patient praise. Held your hair back. Moaned your name. “Just like that,” she whispered. “You’re making me fall apart.”

You learned her body in pieces. The curve of her hips. The sounds she made when you kissed her inner thigh. The way her voice dropped when she was close.

Eventually, she let you use toys–slowly at first, testing sizes and shapes, her hands always on your wrists, her eyes always watching yours. You’d never felt so trusted. So empowered. So wanted. And every time you touched her, every time you made her gasp or cry out or come undone, you couldn’t help but think–this is what love feels like.

The first time you said I love you…wasn’t when you meant to.

It wasn’t after a grand romantic gesture. It wasn’t in the middle of sex, or during an anniversary dinner, or while watching a sunset hand-in-hand.

It was on a Tuesday. You’d both had a long day. Work had sucked. The trains were late. You were grumpy, cold, and tired, and all you wanted was food and warmth and her.

You got to her apartment half an hour late, kicking your shoes off with a groan and dropping your bag like it had offended you personally.

“I bought dumplings,” you muttered, voice flat, “but they’re probably lukewarm at best and if I don’t sit down in the next five seconds I’m going to cry.”

Hyun-ju didn’t say anything. She just walked over, took your coat off for you, cupped your face in her hands, and kissed your forehead. And that was it. That was the moment. That moment you realized it had already happened. 

You were already in love with her. You had been for a while. You just hadn’t said it yet. So you stood there, with your arms still half in your sleeves, heart wide open and raw, and blurted it, “I love you.”

The air stopped. Hyun-ju blinked. You blinked. Your stomach dropped. “Oh my god,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean–wait, no, I did mean it, I just–fuck.”

She smiled. Not big. Not dramatic. Just soft. Quiet. Like the words had been sitting on the tip of her own tongue too. “Good,” she said. “Because I love you too.” You stared at her, wide-eyed and overwhelmed. She kissed you again. Slower this time. With the kind of love that said I’ve been waiting for you to say it. Then she grabbed the bag of dumplings, pulled you toward the couch, and said, “Now sit down before you.”

author's note - hope you all enjoy! this was so special for me to write, and so much fun. i hope you love it as much as I do!!

[dissociativewriter]

It’s just a game, right?

Pairing: Reader x LADS Boys

wc: 3.6k

cw: this is a crack fic, tension, bickering, dramatics, proposed murder, mentions of prostitution, you can tell my Sylus bias; not proofread

Synopsis: You invited your five close friends over for a game of Clue. Sure, you were nervous, but how bad could it be?

author’s note: inspired by @alynnia ‘s reblog on this post! Kinda went off the rails but i still think it’s funny. When Sylus was talking about his job as a fruit vendor and mentions how popular the pomegranates are, i almost had him say it was dragonfruit instead, but i wanted to lean into his (albeit minor) pomegranate symbolism. Also im sorry but there’s not much Xavier :( I wasn’t sure how to write him so he’s asleep a lot

tag list: @p4r4dx

Boxes shifted precariously as you carefully pulled Clue from the very middle of the pile. Board games swayed threateningly as you halted your movements, Clue half-out in this impromptu game of jenga. Holding the box triumphantly in both hands, you used your hip to shut the cabinet door, moving forward into the living room.

You dropped it on the coffee table before leaving to get more snacks from the kitchen. Stopping to check the time, you made a mental checklist as you noted you had only thirty minutes until your guests would arrive (if they were on time, that is). You had to put the snacks out, make everything cozy for game night, and shove the growing laundry pile into the closet, hidden away from sight, along with other unsightly or embarrassing things you’d removed from your home.

Of course, you wouldn’t put it past your guests to snoop around anyway.

You set out small bowls of chips, crackers, popcorn, cookies, and chocolates. You only hoped they wouldn’t run out in the first ten minutes. Centering the game’s board in the center with the various bowls around it, you set out all of the little things. The pile of cards (un-shuffled right now. Knowing your guests, they’d want to see you deal them to know you didn’t cheat) off to the side, the small character pieces in their rightful places, and the tiny revolver, rope, lead pipe, wrench, knife, and candlestick placed in various rooms on the board. You grinned proudly at you work, enjoying the aesthetic placement of everything on the table.

Swiftly picking up your laundry as you entered the bedroom, you unceremoniously dumped the pile in your closet along with any other skeletons you didn’t want them seeing. Next, you grabbed a couple fluffy blankets and plucked six plushies off your bed: Pinecone Bear, Bunbun, Happy Snowman, Artsy Birb, Grumpy Crow, and Sunny Apple. You arranged them in a neat pile on the table next to your front door, making sure each was visible.

You took one final look at your living room, tossing a blanket here, fluffing a pillow there. Overall, it had all the coziness you’d wanted. You dimmed the lights, keeping only a couple lamps around the coffee table. Moving the box away from the setup, you jolted as you realized the detective notebooks had been forgotten. You quickly grabbed six, tossing them onto the table, as you rushed to the kitchen, digging through your aptly named ‘junk drawer’ for six pens, pencils, hell, even chalk would do.

Grasping the sixth pencil (luckily, you hadn’t had to resort to chalk), you nearly dropped it as knock sounded on your front door. You tossed the pencils on the coffee table before smoothing out your shirt. You had one last look on the mirror, trying to make sure you looked casual but still put together, and opened the door.

Immediately craning your neck to meet piercing crimson eyes, you grinned as you welcomed him in.

He merely raised an eyebrow. “Eager, much?”

“And a bit nervous,” you sighed as you ran a hand through your hair. “I don’t know if everyone’s going to get along. I’m just hoping the night doesn’t end with me cleaning blood out of my carpet.”

He huffed out a laugh. “As if I would leave a mess for you to clean. You should know I work neatly and efficiently, sweetie.” He took a step forward, intending to move from your entryway to your living room before you placed a hand on his chest. He looked down at you expectantly.

“Before you go,” you pointed to the entryway table, “pick a plushie.”

He chuckled. “Truly, you know how to give your guests a… luxurious experience.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Just pick one, Sylus.” He grinned at you before turning to the plushies.

You watched expectantly as attentive eyes scanned over each plushie. You had an idea, of course, which one he’d pick, but now it was just a matter of seeing if you were right. You internally pumped your fist as Sylus picked up Grumpy Crow, a similar expression on his face.

“I suppose this one will suffice.”

“You sound so grumpy about it, but I see the way you’re holding him close.” You smiled knowingly before turning to walk into the living room. He followed close behind, turning Grumpy Crow over in his hands.

“It’s a he?” Sylus looked between you and the crow incredulously.

“Well, it’s not a she,” you said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You motioned to what you had set up for the game, a grin of pride on your face. “Here, you can sit wherever. I have snacks here and there’s drinks in the fridge.”

Sylus looked around. “It’s very… cozy. I take it I’m the first to arrive?” He looked back to you.

“You were ten minutes early,” you shrugged.

“It’s more polite to show up a few minutes early than late.”

As if on cue, a practiced knock met the door.

You quickly went to answer the door, leaving Sylus to his own devices. Opening the door, his eyes met yours briefly before beginning a methodical sweep over your apartment.

“I apologize,” he began, “if I’ve caught you in the middle of something. I wanted to make sure I was on time—” His eyes landed on Sylus looking increasingly out of place amidst fluffy blankets and fairy lights. Sylus met his gaze with a wolfish grin. “I see you already have a guest.” He eyed Sylus up and down.

Sylus rose, taking quick strides towards the door. “Yes, I’m Sylus. I assume you’re Doctor Zayne?”

Zayne swiftly adjusted his glasses before offering his hand to Sylus to shake. “Good evening, Sylus. Just Zayne will do, though. No need for honorifics outside of the office.” He offered a polite smile.

You watched, shifting on your feet, as the men stood in your entryway, sizing each other up. Though you were relieved things seemed to be going smoothly right now, you knew it could only go downhill from here given the three remaining guests. “Oh, Zayne!” He tore his gaze away from Sylus to meet your excited expression. “Before we go sit down, pick a plushie.” You motioned with a flourish to the small table beside you.

Zayne only stared at you blankly. “That’s childish,” he said bluntly.

“Now, now, doctor. If our hostess requires us to pick a plushie, I don’t see why we should deny her.” Sylus hadn’t lost his grin as he tapped his finger against his temple.

Zayne glanced between you and Sylus before sighing and grabbing Happy Snowman. He raised an eyebrow. “Satisfied?”

You nodded in approval. “Very.”

The men took seats opposite each other, and an almost-comfortable silence took over. You sat on the edge of your couch, ready to open the door.

“I understand you have a very impressive resume, Zayne,” Sylus said as he crossed his legs.

“I try.” He nodded curtly.

“So humble.” Sylus raised an eyebrow.

“I see no point in focusing on past accomplishments,” Zayne explained icily, “When there is still much to do.”

“I’m surprised you were able to make it, Zayne,” you interrupted, nervous of the rising tensions. You wanted to stop before Sylus goaded Zayne into losing his composure. It was hard enough to get Zayne to agree to join this game night, you weren’t about to let him leave before it even started. “I feel like I haven’t been able to see you much lately.”

“Greyson and Yvonne informed me I needed to ‘interact with more people outside of work.’ When you proposed a game of Clue with your friends, I felt compelled to agree.”

“Well, I know I’m quite honored that you can find the time to entertain an evening with the likes of our dear hostess’s friends and I.” Crimson eyes bore into hazel ones.

Before you could redirect the conversation, there was another knock.

“Hey, pip-squeak!” Sylus didn’t miss the doctor’s rigid posture as the recognition of the nickname, or his white knuckles as he clutched Happy Snowman tighter.

Sylus shifted closer to Zayne. “I take it you don’t like this next guest,” he whispered.

“It’s a childish prejudice,” Zayne dismissed quickly, though his eyes were trained on you as you welcomed Caleb inside.

“You seem to think a lot of things childish,” Sylus murmured. “That doesn’t render them meaningless, though.”

Zayne stared at Sylus before they both turned as Caleb entered, Sunny Apple in hand. His smile tightened as he recognized Zayne, his eyes lingering before sparing a glance to Sylus who was now sprawled across a portion of the couch.

“Sylus, Zayne, this is Caleb.” You weakly motioned to Caleb, already wincing at the thick tension. Sylus raised his chin, crimson eyes glinting with mischief.

“Ah, if it isn’t the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet. Tell me, how does one become a Colonel so young?” His head dipped down slightly as a smirk played on his lips.

At the mention of the Fleet, Caleb’s posture straightened, his smile dropping as he observed the leader of Onychinus. “Strength, precision, and loyalty,” he listed off firmly. “My various accomplishments helped me to achieve my rank in the Fleet.”

“Oh? Are you certain it wasn’t higher powers coming into play?” He cocked his head.

As Caleb took a step forward, you suddenly jumped in. “Sylus, why don’t you help me bring some drinks in? What does everyone want?” Ignoring Caleb’s glare towards Sylus and quickly noting everyone’s requests, you dragged Sylus behind you into the kitchen, noticing he was all too eager to receive your inevitable scolding.

“What is your problem?” you hissed as you pulled glasses out of your cabinet.

Sylus leaned leisurely against the counter, taking the glasses as you handed them to him. “I was merely making conversation. I’m just trying to get to know your friends, sweetie.” His smirk grew wide.

“You’re goading them on and you know it.” You narrowed your eyes at him before sighing. “Why can’t you just behave?”

“I’m only trying to make out what kind of people you make friends with,” he explained. “Since I’m one of them, I think I have at least some reason to be concerned. But if it really is that important to you,” his voice softened, “I’ll play nice, kitten.”

Your shoulders relaxed. “Thank goodness.”

“So long as they do, too,” he added as he followed you out of the kitchen, drinks in hand.

Back in the living room, Caleb and Zayne were sat in chairs opposite each other, a tense silence filling in the air. You set the drinks down on the table, Sylus close behind, as you frantically searched for something to say.

Luckily, you were spared the pain as the fourth knock of the night sounded.

As you turned to the door, Caleb asked, “Pip-squeak, how many people did you say would be comin’ over?”

“Five altogether,” you answered. “So after this, there will only be one left.”

With your back to the men, Zayne’s face broke into a small grin at Caleb’s grimace. “Are you alright, Caleb?” he asked, his brows drawing together in faux concern. “You look ill.”

“Perhaps that’s just how he looks,” Sylus drawled.

Shooting Sylus (another) glare, Caleb answered through gritted teeth, “I’m fine.”

As the group listened to the “Hey there, cutie. Did you miss me?” coming from the door, Zayne ducked his head to hide his smile as Caleb’s jaw clenched tightly.

The men observed the mop of purple hair following behind you, evidently unamused. “Zayne, Sylus, Caleb.” You pointed each of them out. “This is Rafayel.” Rafayel greeted them noticeably less excitedly than he’d greeted you, though his charm was still undeniable. He put more of his focus onto Artsy Birb as you left to get him a drink.

“So, Rafayel. What is it that you do?” Sylus asked.

Rafayel shrugged. “I guess I’m what you call an artist.”

Sylus nodded, opening his mouth to speak again when Caleb broke in. “Sylus,” he turned his head to meet crimson eyes, hands clenched to fists on his thighs. “You’re interrogating everyone else, but haven’t said anything about yourself. What is it that you do?”

Sylus waved his hand carelessly as if he were waving off the question. “I suppose you could say I’m a fruit vendor.”

“Oh? Are you very successful?” Zayne asked carefully.

“Somewhat. Our pomegranates are specifically quite popular.” He smirked.

Caleb muttered, “I never cared for pomegranate.”

Sylus eyes landed on the plushie in Caleb’s lap. “Yes, well, I never cared for apples.”

You watched from the sidelines with arms crossed as Caleb stiffened, shifting in his seat like he was about to storm over to Sylus. As if sensing your impending panic, Rafayel spoke up.

“Cutie, where’s your last guest? If he takes any longer, he’ll be late, jellyfishes will be walkin’ naked, sea turtles will be climbing trees, sharks will be eating grass for free!”

You shook your head as a grin made its way onto your face, Rafayel’s own expression mirroring your own once he caught sight of it.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon, Raf, but…” You pulled out your phone. “Maybe I should call him. Just to make sure everything’s alright.”

Caleb stood then, putting his hand on your back to push you towards the couch. “He’ll be fine on his own, pips. We could just get started without him.” In Caleb’s mind, the less men there, the better.

Much to his chagrin, however, the fifth and final knock on the door of the night happened just as you were about to take your seat. You quickly stood, rushing to the door, leaving Caleb to mourn the loss of your warmth next to him.

The artist’s eyes focused on the Colonel, sharp, cold, and calculating now that his source of light had left for the door. “Eager, much?” He offered a charming smile that contrasted his eyes.

Violet eyes met his own. “What do you mean?”

The smile dropped, just slightly. “I understand a Colonel being territorial, but she isn’t yours.”

Sylus sighed. “As much as I hate to admit it, I agree.” He looked around at the men gathered around the coffee table, with a quick glance towards the final man still at the door. “As far as I can tell, we’re all protective over her. It’s not our place to dictate what she can or can’t do, no matter how we feel about it. This evening is clearly important to her, so I propose we all do our best to tolerate each other. At least so her night isn’t ruined.” Sylus leaned back in his chair.

Zayne nodded. “Nicely put. I will be polite so long as the rest of you are as well.” He observed each man, his gaze lingering on Caleb just a beat longer.

“Alright, alright,” Rafayel sighed. “I wouldn��t want to make her sad.”

Caleb scoffed. “How noble, Sylus. Telling us to play nice when you’re the one that’s been egging us on.”

“Surely you can understand sizing up a stranger, Colonel.” Sylus shrugged.

“Hello,” a soft voice broke through, “care to introduce me to everyone?”

The group looked up as you introduced Xavier, each man equally untrusting of his saccharine blue eyes. He moved to sit next to Sylus as you sat between Zayne and Rafayel.

You clapped your hands together. “So, are you guys ready to play?”

After mutual nods and agreements, Sylus began to lean forward. “I can shuffle the cards, if you’d like.”

“No!” You said, a little too fast. Laughing nervously, you picked up the deck of cards. “Zayne, why don’t you shuffle instead?”

He raised an eyebrow, but took the deck from your hands with no complaints. As he dealt the cards, the rest took the opportunity to stake their claims on the characters.

Sylus wordlessly took the red game piece, holding it tightly as he lounged back against his armchair.

“Wait. Did you just take Miss Scarlett?” Rafayel looked between Sylus and the board with widened eyes. Sylus only offered a nod. “No, no, no, no. I play Miss Scarlett. Not you. Me. Hand her over.” Rafayel held his hand out expectantly, bearing a striking resemblance to a petulant child.

Sylus hummed, pretending to turn the matter over. “No.”

Rafayel shot up out of his seat. “Why not? Why should it matter? Can’t you just let me have this?”

“Somethin’ tells me this is about more than a game piece,” Caleb chuckled.

“Oh, aren’t you one to talk!” Rafayel whirled on him. “Weren’t you just—”

“Raf, why don’t you just pick another character?” Your soft voice interrupted him, and all his fire was put out as he met your pleading eyes.

He sat down quietly, picking up Mrs Peacock. “Fine. I guess I don’t need to play as Miss Scarlett,” he grumbled.

Sylus remained silent, with only an amused smile on his face. Caleb reached forward, plucking Colonel Mustard from the table.

“I’m a Colonel, so I’ll play the Colonel,” he explained simply.

Zayne took Professor Plum. “I was not aware we were aiming for realism.”

Sylus barked out a laugh. “I can supply a dead body for realism,” his eyes landed on Caleb, “but then we’ll be down a player.”

Jolted awake from the ongoing shenanigans, Xavier glanced up around the group, silently grabbing Mrs White before sinking back into the couch with Bunbun held close to his chest.

Caleb met Sylus’s taunting look with his own hard gaze. “You do realize that if we’re keeping with realism, it implies that you’d be a prostitute?”

When met with silence, a triumphant smile made its way onto Caleb’s face, only to be washed away with Sylus’s noncommittal shrug. “I could do it.”

You shook your head as Caleb scoffed. “Let’s just fill in the notes from our cards,” you sighed, taking the remaining Mr Green into your hand.

Silence filled the room with only the rustling of paper and scratching of pencils.

“Sylus,” Zayne’s calculated voice suddenly broke through the silence. “Stop looking at Xavier’s cards while he’s practically falling asleep.”

Sylus smirked. “So attentive, doctor.”

Zayne was the one to sigh again, rubbing his temples as if he were already tired of this group. “Xavier, switch places with Caleb.”

Both men listened to the doctor and wordlessly switched positions.

Finally, the group settled into a comfortable rhythm as the game progressed.

You smiled to yourself as you noticed each of their guards lowering throughout the evening. The conversation became easy, banter filling the silence.

Nearly a half hour later, tension, albeit playful, filled the room as Sylus took his turn, guessing, “Mrs Peacock with the knife in the ballroom.”

For the second time that evening, Rafayel shot up out of his seat. “You think it’s me? You’ve barely even written anything down!” He motioned wildly as his voice rose in pitch. “Now you’re accusing me? Why don’t you trust me?”

Sylus ignored him as he asked each person if they could tell him he was wrong, only to be met with no’s all across the board. Not that he was surprised, of course.

He smugly picked up the ‘confidential’ file from the center of the board, pulling each card out with a flourish.

Mrs Peacock.

Knife.

Ballroom.

Rafayel shrieked, moving to the corner to hug his knees to his chest.

Caleb tossed his cards down on the table. “Damn! I was so close, I just didn’t have the room.”

“I was going to guess that on my next turn,” Zayne said.

Xavier rubbed his eyes, nearly falling asleep again when he realized it wasn’t his turn. “Oh…” he said softly. “The game’s over?”

After the outrage died down, and a few more playful (or what you wanted to believe was playful) jabs were made, the men filtered out of your apartment. United only by their truce to behave for you, they’d managed to get along without any bloodshed.

Sylus was the final one to leave, lingering in the doorway as the two of you made idle chatter.

“See? The night has ended and you aren’t left to clean any blood from your carpet.” He smirked down at you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered. “You kept your promise. Don’t think I didn’t notice you purposefully annoying each of them, though.” You narrowed your eyes.

His smile grew fond. “Well, it seems you’ve caught me,” he said softly. “Perhaps we could do this again. The evening was… tolerable.”

Your eyes light up. “So you did enjoy yourself!”

Sylus glanced away from you, avoiding eye contact. “I dislike the Colonel. The doctor was nice. The hunter and the artist were a bit unusual, but tolerable nonetheless,” he said swiftly. He looked into your eyes again, curiously flitting through them. “One question, sweetie. Why the plushies?”

“Just an experiment.” You waved a hand. “I just wanted to see something.”

Sylus raised an eyebrow. “Did we satisfy your curiosity?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “You all picked the ones I thought you would. It makes sense, really.”

He chuckled. “Are you implying I bear a resemblance to Grumpy Crow?”

You cocked your head. “Are you really trying to see you don’t?”

Sylus paused for a moment, contemplating. “Touché.” An alert on his phone brought you both out of your banter. Checking it, he sighed. “Sorry, kitten. Looks like I’ve got a meeting to get to. See you later.” He gave a brief wave goodbye as he ducked out the door.

“Bye, Sy,” you said, shutting the door behind him. Though your relief for the end of the night was tangible, it really wasn’t so bad.

Maybe another game night wasn’t a bad idea.

comments and reblogs appreciated! <3

masterlist

[pedrettilov3r]

Darling

Pairing: Remmick x Female!Reader

Warnings: violence, language, vampires, blood sucking, smut, death.

Part two

a/n: I haven’t written in so long but Remmick has reawakened something in me and I had to write for him. Jack O’Connell I love you please keep playing horny characters 🙏 Thank you for everyone reading this I promise there will be a part two with the good stuff (smut smut smut) let me know if you wanted to be added to the tag list and feel free to send me prompts for Remmick fics!

Tonight was the night.

The Smoke Stack twins were opening up their juke joint. Stack had approached you that morning with their little cousin Sammie.

Money landed in front of you on the diner table you were wiping down. You sigh, and look up to the familiar face of Stack. “What the hell is you sorry ass doing back here?” You chuckle. “Good to see you too Y/N” he grins, his gold teeth shining the in the diner lights. You hadn’t seen his face since he left for Chicago, the memories of growing up with the boys flooding your mind and you found yourself engulfing the tough man in a tight hug. You hadn’t seen heard of their successes down in Chicago and you had been glad they made it out of this place, away from the awful memories that were impossible for them to escape here. “Is Smoke here too?” You ask as you continue cleaning the dishes off the table and the two boys follow you. “Yeah he’s just taking care of some..business.” He smirks in reply. “Business?” You eye the man, knowing how many illegal activities “business” could entail. “You better not let Mary know you’re here. She’s been heartbroken since you left and didn’t come back. She waited for so long and I don’t care if you’re my friend if you do anything to hurt her again I will beat your ass.” You laugh but the threat is truthful and Stack knows it too. Pain flashes across his face for a short moment before he covers it with his grin. “I heard about your mom Y/N.” Your eyes meet his and you try to hide the pain that fills them at the mention of your mother. “I’m sorry we weren’t here, trust me we wanted to be. I miss her but it was just too hard and anyways we had business. Understanding flashes across your face “Trust me she knew you loved her, even if you showed it in your own, messed up way.” You smirk “She loved you boys lie you were her own.” You knew how hard it must have been for them to come back here, but you were glad they did. Stack coughed the change the topic quickly, “about Mary..she knows.” You almost choke on your surprise, “and you’re still alive?” You question. “Apparently she knew we were coming home, she cornered me at the train station.” You shake your head, “I’m gonna kill her, she didn’t even tell me she was coming home.” Smoke chuckles, “Alright you guys are free to figure that out AFTER our grand opening, I need you alive tonight.” You look at Stack suspiciously “what is it you boys need?” He smiles at you “I knew I could count on you.” You roll your eyes at his antics, “We need you to make the place look real nice and welcoming so our guests can enjoy themselves and party.” He eyes you and pulls out his wad of cash from his coat pocket. “AND we will have blues music, see little Sammie here is the best blues man around. We were thinking that maybe you could some songs with him.” He bribes you by waving the money in the air. “You know I don’t sing no more.” You haven’t sang anything since your mom go sick, she was the one who taught you and you just couldn’t bear to do it without her anymore. You shake your head at the man’s request. “Y/N, you know you have the best voice around, there’s no one that can bring music to life and get people on their feet better than you. That’s exactly what our joint needs.” He eyes you as you still look unsure. “C’mon. For old time’s sake? “ He can tell what your problem is by the look on your face “Your mom would want you to sing.” You know he was right. “Fine. I’ll do it” You sigh taking the money from the man.

“Well I’d say I outdid myself,” you say taking in the beautiful decorations you put out at the mill. “I do say I think we will have a mighty fine time tonight boys.” You smirk at the twins. “Oooh this will be the best grand opening this side of Mississippi has ever seen. Thank you for your help Y/N. It looks great.” Stack puts him arm around you “They aren’t ready” Smoke says, he looks at his watch “We open in 30 minutes, let’s do this.” Him and Stack do they handshake and hug each other. You make your way to the extra room “I’m gonna change out of these disgusting clothes now.” You yell to the boys.

By the time you get done changing and doing last minute touch ups to the decorations people begin to file in. The mill fills up pretty quickly as people begin to mingle and grab drinks. You admire all the hard work you guys put in and finally feel yourself relax a bit when Grace slides a drink in your hand. You send her a grateful smile “Thanks doll” you wink. You see Mary walk in and scan the room. You can only assume she’s looking for Stack, that poor girl. Sammie stops her a you chuckle interested to see how this goes. “Boy if you don’t get the fuck out of my face” Mary shoots at Sammie. You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips and they both snap their heads in your direction. “Damn Sammie you gonna let my little sis talk to you like that?” You give him a pat on the back, “Mary you remember little Sammie don’t you? You better be careful with your language his dad’s a preacher, remember?” Surprise takes over her expression “Little preacher boy Sammie?” She gasps and Sammie rolls his eyes at the two of you. You shove her “I can’t believe the twins knew you were here before your own sister!” You exclaim. She rolls her eyes at you but ignores the remark and turns her attention back to Sammie, “Sammie? Like little Sammie? You old enough to drink now?…cmon let me buy you a drink.” She pulls him to the bar as you make your way to the dance floor and you let the music take over your body. You find yourself forgetting where you are and getting swept up in the sweet sounds of Slim’s song.

Slim finishes his set and introduces you and Sammie to join him. You’re excited to play with the boy you’ve heard so much about. You start playing the music and immediately you feel it overtake you. The song explodes from your lips and your voices begin to intertwine together. Every person in the joint is on their feet and dancing as the energy of the music flows through them all. The building almost feels like it’s in flames from how alive it is. Sammie and your voice blend together like sweet honey and for a moment you think there could be some possibility of you making a career of this. Singing is what you loved to do, it tells a story and brings people together. You thought you had long let go of your desire for this but doing it tonight reignited that spark that you know will never really leave you. You and Sammie perform quite well together and you hope to yourself that this isn’t the last time you get to sing together. He has a passion for music that is rare and infectious and you just want to surround yourself with it. You finish the song and you are sweating the high of the song still lingering on your skin like a buzz. You and Sammie thank the audience together and you look at Sammie, who is quite distracted by Pearline’s gaze. “Why don’t you go make a move on her preacher boy, she’s giving you the eyes.” You wink at him. “You really think so?” He smirks at you. You laugh “Oh yeah. Go get her.” You pat him on the back and leave him to it chuckling. You go to grab a drink, you look around at everyone enjoying themselves, you knew the twins could throw a successful party but this was something else. Your eye stops when it sees Stack, standing by a closed door and covering his smirk. “What the hell are you doing?” You ask walking up behind the man. He shushes you and pulls you toward the door. “Preacher boy’s gettin some lickin,” he whispers with a smirk. You have to cover your mouth at the sound you are hearing through the door “damn he works fast,” you chuckle “good for him” you nod your head In approval. Stack laughs and leaves to find Mary you assume and you go to check on Cornbread since you have nothing better to do. You regret coming to this party without a date.

You walk up behind Cornbread and see three white folks walking up to the door. “What the hell” You whisper concerned to Cornbread. “Get the twins he says to Slim as the white folks begin to get closer. “Hey there!” He looks at you and smiles “Darlin” he winks in your direction. The man is attractive, you don’t know what it is about him that is pulling you in. His gaze is locked on yours intensely and you have to hide the blush that tries to creep up on your face at his forwardness. Of course this doesn’t go unnoticed by him and you can see the smirk that creeps onto his face. But when your eyes drift to his companions you are filled with anxiousness, they are eerily quiet and something about them makes you uneasy. “Good evening. How may I help you folks?” Cornbread asks politely but you can see the suspicious look on his face, you don’t like the looks of this at all and you hope the twins hurry their asses up and get her. The man chuckles at Cornbread’s question, “We heard tale of a party. Drink, food, blues music and the like.” Cornbread looks at you with concern and then back to the group “You did?” You ask suspiciously. The man nods “We like to drink Darlin, we happen to be musicians and we walked here so we hungry as dogs.” The man behind him chimes in “Woof woof” in a joking manner and the girl laughs at this but their mannerisms are seriously creeping you out. “You wouldn’t mind us coming in now would you?” Cornbread stops them “Uh I think y’all in the wrong place.” The woman chuckles “What makes you say that?” She questions.

Finally you see the twins coming to handle this situation and you let out a sigh. “You fellas must be the owners of this establishment.” The twins look at him suspiciously and Smoke speaks up “That’s right, and you are?” The man quickly responds “name’s Remmick, this here is Joan and Burt” he gestures to his companions. Sammie joins the group that has gathered at the entrance “Hey Stack y’all alright?” But before Stack can offer a reply to the boy Remmick is interrupting “ Oh you, you must be that voice I heard from out here. Oh it was beautiful.” The woman chimes in from behind him “Goddamn beautiful voice.” and the man adds “even through these walls.” God they are really starting to creep you out. “And who was the lovely lady singin with you?” Remmick asks. “That was me” You speak up but eye the man suspiciously. His gaze locks back to yours, your gaze doesn’t intimidate him, instead he just smirks “Oh of course Darlin, with a face like that you gotta have a beautiful voice to go with it. I could have listened to you all night long.” You don’t miss the suggestive tone he sends with the remark and your face heats up, but you bite your lip to hide your reaction. Smoke interrupts sending a threatening glare towards the man, “Where y’all from?” He asks suspiciously. The woman chimes in “Just down the road.” Something about their story doesn’t add up and everyone can sense it. “And how far is that?” Stack adds. “North Carolina,” Remmick replies. You and Smoke make eye contact, and he continues to question the white folk “Y’all klan?” He says taking a drag from his cigarette. Remmick snaps his head up in surprise at the question and shakes his head, “Sir, we believe in equality. And music, just came here to play, spend some money, have a good time.” He stutters at the question a bit but for some reason you believe that part of his story. You just can’t figure out what they are actually here for. “Here I’ll show you,” he continues and the they pull out their instruments and start playing. They aren’t bad at all Stack even starts dancing a bit to the song but you are still suspicious and you can see that Stack is too. “Hold on,” Stack cuts off their song and Remmick seems a bit unhappy with that “Wha- It was just about to get good.” Smoke replies “I believe you. But this here a Juke Joint.” and Stack chimes in from beside him “Blues Music.” The man from behind Remmick speaks up “We have money and we ready to spend it with you.” And Remmick adds annoyed at the twins “We sounded damn near perfect and you saying we ain’t welcome?” Smoke cuts the man off “No I’m saying you get down that road and you get back into town. Plenty of white barrel houses down there.” Remmick scoffs at the man “Oh this is cause we’re” he gestures to the color of his skin “alright.” You see Remmick look towards Mary and then towards you, you swallow nervously, knowing how this looks to him. “How’d they get in?” He questions pointing towards you and Mary. You’re about to spit a remark back at the man when Annie interrupts “They here cause they family.” Remmick looks suspiciously at you, “family?” He doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer. “Can’t we just, for one night, just all be family.” You’re standing in the doorway and he inches dangerously close to you as he says this. In the corner of your eye you see Smoke reach for his gun and the man backs up from you, “You don’t need to do that Sir, We’ll be on our way.” He slowly starts backing up and then speaks up again, looking directly at you this time. “But we’re gonna walk real slow, just in case y’all change your mind.” He winks at you and then turns his back. “Y’all have a nice night.” Stack calls to the group.

“They gave me the willies.” Annie says with an anxious look on her face. You chime in “Yeah something about them just wasn’t right” You smirk and then continue “That Remmick guy was kind of charming though.” Mary scoffs at your comment “Y/N you just think that because he was totally giving you the eyes.” She shoves you playfully. “No he wasn’t..was he.” Stack laughs at you “Definitely, but don’t do anything stupid Y/N, he’s not good enough for you.” You roll your eyes at the man always acting like your protective brother. Smoke brings the conversation back to topic, “You think they brought company?” You shake your head “I doubt it.” And Stack adds “We got enough pepper on us if they did.” Smoke replies “Shit we forgot the trunk” and the boys begin arguing about who was supposed to remember it. You break up their argument “Y’all don’t need the trunk, there was just three of them.” And Stack adds “Now listen to me, what if they just came to sing.” Smoke argues back “And what if somebody spilled something on em, step on they shoes, look at they woman a bit too long. We gonna have a bigger problem than just a fight.” You know he’s right. “Don’t let them in” He adds to Cornbread.

After that the party went back to being normal, the three white folks didn’t pose a big enough threat to ruin the night and you knew the twins could easily take them. You couldn’t get that man out of your head though. His intense gaze and the way it lingered on you, the suggestive comment he made to you, something about him was intoxicating to you. You looked out the window and saw the three folks still playing music outside, he intrigued you and you wanted to know more, but you also didn’t trust him. What were they doing out here at this time of night and how did they hear about the Juke Joint anyways, it was all suspicious to you. But you had to know. You saw stack from across the joint and made your way to him “Give me your gun,” you demanded with your hand out. He looked at you surprised by the demand, “What the hell do you need that for Y/N?” You roll your eyes at his arguing, “I’m gonna go out there and see what those folks really want, and find out how much money they have.” You say persistent. “Hell nah.” He scoffs at you and you are getting irritated at his resistance. “Listen Stack, you and I both know that you need money cause you ain’t got a lot left to spend.” His stone look changes to one of surprise, “yeah it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, and lets be honest those folks aren’t gonna tell you you anything but I think I can get him to talk for me.” You say smirking and Stack knows exactly what you mean, he shakes his head. “Ain’t no way I’m letting you go out there and do that.” You roll your eyes “I’m not gonna have sex with him, I’m just gonna seduce him a little until I get the information I need from him. And also I don’t need your approval I’m going out there whether I have your gun or not.” He looks at you and knows you wont budge, the two of you are both stubborn but he knows he will always lose the fight. He pulls out his gun and places it in your palm, you slide it under your dress and attach it to your undergarments. “Thanks.” You turn and walk away. “Be careful.” He calls to you and you roll your eyes at his concern.

[ratatoilett]

episode title: the one where cooking happens (and everything burns)

nylu's note : thinking yall will see the other boys soon....

tags : @toniiiiiireads @cuntyji @nakiich @rriwyu @your-mum3000 @lulunx @heiejdhdh @oracle014 @sukubusss @noooo-onee @sanestsanstan @minasuniverse @muli-wam @bearchermer @younjunie @kunasthiast

series masterlist

INT. SUKUNA’S KITCHEN – SATURDAY – 6:47 PM

sukuna knows something’s wrong the moment he opens his front door and smells hope.

that is—something sweet, something spicy, something vaguely resembling effort and almost definitely not coming from him.

“don’t panic,” you call from the kitchen, clattering pans in the least comforting way imaginable. “i’m cooking.”

he drops his keys. “panic.”

“have a little faith.”

“last time you said that, my microwave caught on fire.”

“okay, technically, that was your fault. who leaves a fork in a burrito wrapper?”

he walks in, already resigned, and finds you standing in his kitchen like you own the lease. there’s flour on your cheek. there’s pasta boiling like it owes you money. and there's something very concerning happening in the oven that smells like melted ambition.

“what is this,” he asks, staring at the chaos.

you gesture proudly. “homemade dinner. because you eat like a frat boy who lost a bet.”

he opens the fridge. it’s empty. suspiciously empty.

“where’s all my food?”

you pause. “…in the pot. and/or the trash. depending on how you define ‘edible.’”

he closes the fridge slowly. “you used all my eggs?”

“yes.”

“all my cheese?”

“also yes.”

“my last box of instant ramen?”

you look away. “it died a noble death.”

he pinches the bridge of his nose. “if this is about the pink boxers again—”

“this is not revenge! this is an act of service!” you snap, jabbing a wooden spoon in his direction.

the spoon promptly flings a suspicious blob of sauce across the wall.

you both stare at it.

“interpretive art,” you say quickly.

“crime scene,” he replies.

eventually, he sighs, rolls up his sleeves, and mutters, “move. i’m taking over before you burn down my only sanctuary.”

“too late,” you sing, spinning away like a culinary tornado. “i already preheated the oven with the plastic tray still inside.”

his eye twitches. “get. out.”

“you love me,” you wink, stealing a slice of half-chopped pepper.

he glares. “you’re the reason my blood pressure is one parking ticket away from a stroke.”

“aw,” you smile sweetly. “that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

you hover beside him anyway, unhelpfully taste-testing everything and offering unsolicited critiques like you’re on MasterChef: Domestic Menace Edition.

“that needs more salt.”

“you need less mouth.”

“this would pair well with wine.”

“this would pair well with silence.”

somehow—miraculously—the kitchen doesn’t explode. the sauce simmers. the garlic bread crisps. you steal the first bite before the plates even hit the table.

“okay,” you say around a mouthful, “so you cooked most of it. minor details.”

he sits beside you, exhausted but vaguely amused. “remind me to install a lock.”

“on your heart?” you grin.

“on my fridge,” he deadpans. “you’re a plague.”

“a loveable plague.”

he says nothing. just chews, slow and steady. and then—

“…this is actually good.”

you beam. “you’re welcome.”

he glances over, barely fighting a smile. “still banning you from the stove.”

you toast your glass of sparkling water to his. “to chaos, carbs, and cohabitating without admitting it.”

he doesn’t toast back.

but he doesn’t stop you from refilling his plate, either.

and when you fall asleep on his couch after dinner—flour still smudged on your cheek, surrounded by dirty dishes and warmth—he lets you stay.

because maybe, just maybe, this kind of mess is the kind worth keeping.

[bettelaboure]

⊹The Art of The First Time⊹ | Choi Seung-Hyun

fourth part in series "Course in Chemistry"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ Pairing: Choi Seung-Hyun x Reader

⊹ Warnings: sexual tension, explicit sexual exploration, embarrassment, mature language, peer pressure, and high school dynamics involving gossip and judgment

⊹ Summary: the reader reluctantly agrees to be tutored by awkward and quiet Seung-Hyun, she fullfil her side of the deal to be the one teaching him life’s more intimate lessons

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

​​It was Thursday and you needed to blow off some steam.

"Come onnnn!" you groaned under your breath. "Just do it!" Your fingers moved faster, desperation tingling under your skin. "Please... please, God, let me."

Your eyes stared up at the ceiling, your other hand gripping the sheets. You were so close. So needy. So—

Knock, knock.

"Y/N?" your mom's voice rang through the door. "Is everything okay in there?"

For fuck's sake.

"Yeah! Everything's fine, Mom!" you called out, scrambling to pull the hoodie down over your legs.

"Okay. Your dad and I are leaving now. We won’t be back till late."

"Tell everyone I said hi," you muttered as you heard her footsteps fade.

You got out of bed, your legs still trembling slightly, frustration boiling just under the surface. You walked over to the mirror and looked at yourself—just a hoodie and your underwear. Your tanned skin stood out against the creamy white cotton.

"Why can't you just do it?" you whispered, cheeks flushed, hair a tangled mess. The irony wasn’t lost on you—here you were, tutoring Choi Seung-Hyun about sex, and you couldn't even finish yourself off.

Shit. Seung-Hyun.

You glanced at the clock. Less than thirty minutes to get to his place, and it was a twenty-five-minute walk if you didn’t stop.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you cursed as you scrambled to find pants. Where the hell were they?!

Tripping over your own feet while pulling them on, you barely made it into the bathroom. As you brushed your hair and splashed water on your face, your mind raced.

What the hell were you going to teach Seung-Hyun today? You'd covered kissing. You'd made out. Was it time for... fingering?

Did you even want his fingers inside you?

You shook the thought off. It was too soon. Probably.

When you arrived, only a couple minutes late, he didn’t mention the time. Instead, Seung-Hyun opened the door and let you in, his usual soft-spoken manner putting you at ease.

It was another Past-tense session. You went through the basics. Another test sheet. A five this time. Better than a two.

"Do you even attend English class?" he asked as he handed back your paper.

You shrugged, eyes averted. It was a clear 'no'.

He sighed. "Y/N, you'd improve a lot faster if you went to class. One tutoring session a week isn't a miracle cure."

"Yeah, but you're supposed to be the best tutor, right?"

"Did you even watch the documentary I sent you? The one on the History site?"

You didn’t need to respond. Your face answered for you.

"I'm not Superman. You gotta meet me halfway."

You knew he was right, but it was hard to admit. School felt like a void you were floating in, each class draining more energy than the last. Most of your teachers gave up on you last year. So what was the point?

"Have you ever dry-humped before?" you blurted, the words flying from your lips before your brain could catch up.

What. The. Fuck.

Seung-Hyun looked completely stunned. "What?"

"Never mind," you muttered, pretending to be absorbed in your test paper.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way he kissed you. The feel of his lips, the scent of spearmint gum and apple juice. He was surprisingly good at it. Better than you expected.

"What is it?" he asked, still watching you.

You looked up and took a breath. "I can show you. If you want."

He hesitated, nerves warring with curiosity in his eyes. But then he nodded.

You led him to the living room and gestured for him to sit. He did, cautiously, like he was stepping into unknown territory.

"Shit," you muttered, checking your phone. "Two percent battery."

"I got it." He handed you his phone. A playlist started streaming through the speakers.

The Blackstreet.

"You like them?" you asked, surprised.

"Yeah. They're cool. You?"

"Never listened much, but Jae-mi says they have the best sex songs."

You walked back over to him and asked, "Is it okay if I... get on you?"

His nod was small but clear. You straddled his lap, adjusting your legs to fit over his tall frame. It was intimate, awkwardly so.

"Okay," you said, steadying yourself. "Kiss me."

His eyes widened. "I thought you were—"

"Are you or are you not trying to knock Se-mi’s socks off with your sexy skills?" you raised a brow.

He knew you were right. Again. He straightened up, lifted a trembling hand. He was so nervous.

You touched his cheek. "Look in my eyes. If you're gonna kiss a girl, start there."

He met your gaze. A storm of blue and gray, with silver specks flickering near the center.

"Now look at my lips," you whispered. He did. You could see his throat bob.

"Ask to kiss me."

"Huh?"

"Consent is sexy. Ask."

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered.

"Yes."

He kissed you, and this time, he meant it. His lips were soft but eager, his hands cradling your face. As your mouths opened and tongues explored, something shifted. The kiss grew desperate. Messy.

You shifted your hips, rising slightly before settling your core directly against his.

He gasped and pulled back, eyes wide. You met his gaze. "Is this okay?"

He took a shaky breath. "Yes."

You began moving your hips, slowly, letting the friction build. His breath caught.

"What... w-what are you doing?"

"Follow me. Move with me."

His hands found your lower back, tentative at first. Then he moved, hips pressing up into yours, matching your rhythm.

"Like this?"

You nodded, breathless. "Yeah. Like that."

The friction increased. Your lips returned to his, tasting each soft groan he let slip. The tension built. Your thighs trembled.

He bucked up harder. You gasped as you felt it—the pressure against your core. He was hard. Really hard.

Holy hell.

You cursed under your breath as a sharp jolt of pleasure pulsed through you.

His breath hitched. He moved faster. Desperation took over.

Until—

"Holy shit," Seung-Hyun grunted suddenly, voice strained. "Fuck."

He pushed you off him. You fell to the rug with a soft thud.

He bolted.

You sat there, dazed, staring after him as he fled into the kitchen.

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered to himself.

You stood, smoothing your hoodie as you followed him.

"Seung-Hyun? You okay?"

He looked pale. Terrified.

And then you saw it. The dark stain across his jeans.

Oh.

You tried to keep your expression calm. "Hey. It’s okay. This happens. Especially the first time. Let me—"

"No!" he backed away like you’d just tried to slap him. "C-Can you leave, please?"

You wanted to laugh, but held it in. Poor guy.

He wasn’t just embarrassed. He was humiliated. Like it was something shameful.

Unless...

Wait. Was that... his first orgasm?

You blinked.

Holy shit. You just gave Choi Seung-Hyun his first orgasm.

Damn, girl.

“Soooo…” Jae-mi slammed her lunch tray onto the table with the kind of dramatic flair only she could get away with. She plopped down beside you, her eyes glinting like she’d been waiting hours to say what came next.

“What does Choi Seung-Hyun’s cum-face look like?”

You choked—full-on spluttered—your water going down the wrong pipe as your face turned red. You coughed into your sleeve, struggling to recover while she looked on like she'd just asked what you thought of his shoes.

“What?!” you wheezed, clutching your chest like she’d personally tried to kill you.

She just shrugged innocently. “Haven’t you guys even... y’know?”

“We didn’t.” Your voice was flat, immediate, automatic.

But your stomach twisted because it wasn’t entirely true. He had, but the way Seung-Hyun had reacted afterward—embarrassed, fragile, wide-eyed like he’d broken something inside himself—had left you reeling. Talking about it felt like betrayal. He was new to all of this, and you couldn’t throw that sacred little moment into the lunchtime gossip pile like a used napkin.

“You didn’t?” Jae-mi tilted her head, her voice slow and disbelieving. “Then what did you do?”

“Nothing,” you lied, fiddling with your spoon.

She stared at you.

You sighed. “We just kissed again.”

Still staring.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, feeling cornered. “You have no idea how innocent he is.”

She raised an eyebrow. You dropped your voice lower, almost whispering.

“He’s never had an orgasm before. Like... ever.”

Jae-mi paused, processing. “Wait. He’s eighteen. That’s, like, against nature.”

“I know! Every guy in ninth grade was obsessed with dick jokes and watching porn behind the bleachers. But Seung-Hyun? He’s like... a virgin Buddhist monk reborn as a K-pop visual.”

“But he must’ve gotten hard before. I mean, he’s still human, right?”

“Oh, he definitely has. Yesterday, actually. And girl, let me just say—he’s packing.”

Jae-mi almost dropped her fries. “Y/N!”

You fanned your face dramatically. “Don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t trying to see it. But the boy’s got a nuclear weapon tucked in his pants, and it went off—without warning.”

She let out a wheezing laugh.

“But he skipped tutoring today,” you added, growing more serious. “I think he’s embarrassed. Do you think he even knows how normal all this is? I mean, he’s obsessed with science books. How can someone who studies biology not understand how his own body works?”

Jae-mi’s smile softened. “It’s not about knowledge. It’s about experience. Textbooks can’t teach you what sex feels like.”

You bit your lip and looked around. Soo-ah was definitely glancing over.

“It’s like he’s never done anything,” you whispered.

“When you say ‘anything’...”

You just gave her a look.

“Well, damn.” She leaned back. “Bathroom?”

“Bathroom.”

Everyone knew what ‘bathroom’ meant. Not ‘I have to pee’ bathroom—but the ‘I need to whisper secrets where the walls are tiled’ bathroom.

The echo of your boots hit the floor as the two of you entered the empty space. No stalling girls. Just quiet and the low hum of flickering lights. Jae-mi leaned on the sink. You paced.

“I seriously don’t know what to do,” you confessed. “I can handle that he hasn’t kissed many girls—or any. But how do I teach him without making him feel like a science experiment? It’s not like I can hand him a manual.”

Jae-mi started applying lip gloss like this was just another day in her guidance counselor fantasy. “Maybe you should show him.”

“You mean jerk him off?” you deadpanned.

She paused. “I mean—yeah, eventually—but start by showing him what he’s missing. Get him used to the idea of sex. The idea of women.”

You slumped against the tiled wall. “So... a porn movie night?”

Jae-mi chuckled. “I’m serious. He’s going to drown if you throw him straight into the deep end. You need to get him comfortable with the water first.”

You crossed your arms. “Most porn is terrible. It’s all fake moans, bad lighting, and men who act like jackhammers. If he learns from that, he’s going to think choking someone is foreplay.”

“That’s why you have me,” she said, tapping the gloss to your chest like a fairy godmother. “I know the sites for women. I know the books. We’re talking detailed, healthy, educational... and hot.”

You blinked. “You think this’ll actually work?”

“I promise. That boy will be rubbing one out daily by next week.”

You snorted. “Just don’t give him any of that BDSM crap you’re into. I don’t want him asking me to tie him up before he’s even seen a naked woman.”

Jae-mi turned scarlet. “I do not—”

You cut her off, grinning. “You literally have books with whips on the cover. And don’t think I didn’t see the ‘leather harness tutorial’ tab you left open last week.”

“Okay!” she shouted, flailing her hands. “Okay! I’ll pick the right ones!”

“Perfect.” You kissed her cheek and strutted out of the bathroom.

Behind you, her voice echoed, “And stay out of my sex life!”

You laughed. “Never! As long as your short ass is still my best friend!”

Later, after school, the mall practically called your name.

Jae-mi had gone home to study like the responsible gremlin she was, leaving you to wander Victoria’s Secret on your own.

You stood in front of a wall of thongs, debating.

Dark green? Mysterious seductress. Light blue? Virgin who says "oops" after moaning your name. There was also one in blush pink that made you feel like a cupcake with a secret.

Back when you were with Jun-ho, it was always babydolls. He liked them. You didn’t. They were itchy, got in the way, and made you feel like you were trying too hard.

But the yellow lace set the salesgirl handed you? That was a whole different vibe. You stood in the dressing room mirror, staring at yourself.

Curves highlighted. Chest lifted. Ass? Glorious.

“Damn, girl,” you muttered, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips.

You bought it. And a plum set too. Because why the hell not?

At the register, just as you were feeling peak hot-girl energy, fate decided to spice things up.

“Se-mi?” you asked, spotting the petite girl a few feet over, clutching a pack of neon booty shorts.

She turned, wide-eyed. “Um... yes?”

She hadn’t expected you to talk to her. You were enemies. Most girls like her thought girls like you only existed to ruin their GPA or date their crushes.

“I didn’t peg you as the booty shorts type,” you said with an easy smile.

Her face flushed. “I... Kim Jong-in said they were sexy.”

Of course. Of course it was Jong-in. High school’s answer to a walking STI.

“You should never listen to that idiot,” you said. “He thinks Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are the same characters.”

She blinked. “They’re not?”

You sighed. “Never mind. Point is—impress someone who wants more than ass. Someone who sees you.”

Like Seung-Hyun.

“He’s not that dumb,” she defended weakly.

“The guy thinks Catcher in the Rye is a baseball drama.”

Her face fell as she stared at the booty shorts like they’d just cheated on her.

“Oh.”

Then she looked up, smiled—genuinely. “Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot.”

You shrugged. “Us girls gotta stick together, right?”

She nodded, paid, and left.

You didn’t love her. But you’d be damned if Seung-Hyun ever thought she was better than you.

He owed you. Big time.

Taglist: @petersasteria @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @kuinnoa @juliskopf @maskedcrawford @szonyix6277@ldydeath

[hotteokyu]

dumb puppy

Synopsis ~ You come home to a broken pot and two guilty hybrids. When your dumb puppies just won't listen, you need to punish them. Though, it never works when they love punishments so much.

Pairings ~ puppy!yunho x owner!reader x puppy!yeosang

word count ~ 3.2k

Genre / warnings ~ EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MDNI!! porn without plot, degrading, punishments, puppy hybrids, choking, cum eating, messy

a/n ~ hardly read over at all ~ happy finals weeks.

     You don’t like calling him a dumb puppy, or anything of that nature. But sometimes Yunho just… He just- 

     Sometimes you just can’t with him. 

     So when you come home to a mess in the living room, two dogs sitting frozen on the couch, one pointing at the other, the words just slip from your mouth. Yunho lowers his head, even if your voice isn’t loud. You stand in the doorway with a deep sigh. 

     “Yunho,” you say quietly. “What happened?” Yunho gets spooked easily, so you speak peacefully.  They both do. Maybe you cottle them too much. He doesn’t answer, though. “Yunho,” you warn, stepping closer, and he raises his head quickly. 

     “Yeosangie and I were-” 

     “I wasn’t playing with him!” Yeosang interrupts, shaking his head quickly. His ears flop cutely in his brown frills. “He was playing with his new ball, and he threw it too hard against the plant, and it broke,” he explains quickly. Yunho shoots him a pouting glare, but Yeosang doesn’t look. 

     “Okay,” you sigh. “Yunho. What did I say about playing with the ball inside?”

     “You said,” he starts, pausing. “You said no.” 

     You nod. “You didn’t listen, did you?”

     It’s hard for puppy hybrids to think hard. You know it’s not entirely Yuyu’s fault. It must’ve been instinct to play with it. But even dogs learn to listen to their owner. 

     “Dumb puppy,” you sigh, rubbing your temple as you walk toward the kitchen. “I have to clean it up, so stay on the couch.”

     You hear Yunho’s whine, but you pay it no mind. You don’t say a word as you thoroughly clean the floor until you can’t spot a single shard anywhere. They watch you silently the whole time, heads down in shame. 

      “Yunho,” you say as you walk back into the room from putting the broom away. He doesn’t answer, his eyes glossy as they eye you cautiously. Fuck, this is so frustrating. “Yunho!” you say angrily, and he whimpers, his eyes shaking slightly as he trembles. You scrunch your brows as a small wet spot appears on his pants. You scowl, stepping to him and grabbing his chin. “Bad dog!” you spit. “You like it when I’m angry? Does it make you feel good?!” He shakes his head hesitantly. “Is my puppy a liar, too?” He tries to shake his head again, but you grip his chin tighter and hold him still. “Show me.”

     His hands are quick to grab his pants and pull them down. His cock is covered in his cum, sticky, wet, and painfully hard. You scoff, pushing his head to the side as you let him go. His hair falls in front of his eyes, but he doesn't move it. He doesn’t deserve to. 

     You lean over to Sangie with a soft smile, gently stroking the back of his fluffy brown hair. “My sweet Sangie,” you coo, and his tail starts to wag slowly. “How are you, baby? Did you have fun today?” He nods eagerly, and you place a soft kiss on his cheek. “Does Yeosangie want to play with me for a little?” 

     “Yes, please,” he says, shifting on the couch as he starts to get excited. 

     You smile, cupping his cheek as you press a soft kiss to his lips. You straddle his lap, sitting on his arousal and grinding slowly. His head falls back to the cushion, his lips parted slightly as he groans.

     “Yunho is a bad puppy for playing recklessly inside, huh, Sangie?” you say, leaning down and nibbling lightly at his neck. 

     “Yeah,” he whispers, his breath trembling slightly. 

     “We have to punish him. He’s not allowed to play with us. But he’s gonna clean up our big mess, okay?” He sighs, presenting more of his neck for you to mouth at as his cock grinds against your sensitive clit. Yunho whines next to you, but you don’t pay him any mind, just feeling good with your behaving puppy.

     You reach down and slide down Yeosang’s pants, his cock thick and wet with arousal as you slowly stroke it. He whimpers, his hips bucking into your hand, and you let him. The goal isn't to play for too long. The goal is to punish your bad dog. 

     He’s panting, fucking his cock into your tight hand as you meet his thrusts with your tight pumps. Yunho is whimpering, his cock hard and twitching as he watches Yeosang feel good. 

     “Yeosangie~” you coo. “Does it feel good, baby?” He nods, his brain too fuzzy to answer with words. Yeosang always gets like this so quickly. His fucked out expression as if you’ve been going for hours is your favorite sight. He’s practically drooling as his cock leaks and your pumps sound wetter and wetter. “Do you want to cum?” He nods even faster, whimpering at the thought. You stroke his hair with your free hand, scratching behind his ear, and his eyes roll back. 

     “M-Miss- I-!” 

     “No, you can say my name, Sangie,” you coo, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. “Good puppies get to say my name.” He forces himself to look into your eyes through his tears. “Can you say it for me?” 

     “Y/n,” he sobs. “C-cumm-!”

     But you stop your hand immediately, and he gasps, his high falling away when it was so close. 

     “N-no, please, Miss, I’m so close. I-” You press your lips to his, pulling you pants off and hovering over his leaking cock. 

     “Shh, it’s okay, Sangie. Can you just put it here instead?” you ask, and he eyes between your thighs as his tip touches your entrance. This has always been off limits. His eyes are wide in pure shock. “Just like this,” you whisper, slowly stroking him again. He frowns, whining as the wet feeling rubs his head. You don’t sink down, just let his mess smear against you. As you stroke him faster and faster, he grips your hips, fighting the urge to pull you down. He whimpers and pants before he lets out a long moan as he creams all over your pussy. You shiver, sliding his head through your lips, feeling it catch against your clit. 

     “Good puppy,” you coo, stroking his hair as he leans back against the couch in satisfaction. He’s completely overtaken by the moment, his eyes hazy and lost. You enjoy his expression for a moment longer before you turn reluctantly toward your bad puppy. He’s sitting completely still a foot or two away, his cock painfully hard, eyes glued to the mess Sangie had made between your thighs. 

     “Get on the ground,” you mutter, and he scrambles to the floor. 

     You lean onto Yeosang, arching your back to put his mess on display. You can hear Yunho’s breath pick up as you wrap your arms around Sangie’s neck, resting your head on his shoulder. 

     “Since I cleaned up your mess, clean up mine,” you say. 

     He doesn’t move, and you swear you’re going to really yell at this dumb dog. You bring one hand back and motion for him to come closer. He scoots across the floor until his hair is in your grasp, and you grab his locks, pulling him harshly against your pussy. He yelps in surprise, but his tail wags like crazy as a low groan vibrates against you. He’s quick to understand for once, lapping at your folds. You let go, sinking back into Sangie. Fuck, this is what you needed. You grind down on his tongue as he licks from your hole to your clit. 

     “Fuck, what a good puppy,” you moan, scratching at Yeosang’s hair. “Just like that, baby.” His tongue teases your hole, and you want nothing more than you push back and fuck yourself on it, but he needs to thoroughly clean you like a good puppy. But it’s itching at you so persistently, the need to be fucked into your pretty puppy. 

     “Do a…” You whimper, “Good job, Yunho.” 

     He just groans in response, the vibrations to your clit making you shiver. His tongue is delicious, slick and big, and, oh… You squeeze Sangie’s head tighter, moaning out as your eyes roll back. It’s so loong too, plunging into your needy, soaked hole. But this… this feels so~ good. This… isn’t… Fuck. You reach back and grab his hair, pulling him off. This isn’t about you. This is about teaching him a lesson. 

     You reach down and pull Yeosang’s hardness in front of your pussy. “Clean up Sangie now,” you breathe, and Yeosang whimpers into your ear. You turn your head to watch as Yunho eagerly licks from Yeosang’s base to his tip, Sangie’s body trembling in pleasure and overstimulation. You whisper sweet praises in his ear as his hips twitch toward Yunho’s mouth. 

     Yunho licks every inch, swallowing every bit of cum until the only messy thing is Sangie’s leaking tip. But Yunho takes it between his lips and sucks, and it’s clear Yeosang cums instantly, Yunho’s brows furrowing and eyes rolling as a new mess appears, only now leaking from his lips as he tries to take it all. 

     You groan at the sight. “Good boy, Sangie.” You sigh a laugh, but Yeosang is too fucked out to hear.

     Yunho’s lips and chin are covered in cum when you turn around. You take him by the chin and open his mouth. It’s sticky with cum, but he definitely is trying to swallow it all. Maybe he can be obedient sometimes. 

     “You’re being so good for me, puppy,” you praise, and he whines, scooting closer. “I guess I should give you a reward.” You push his back to the floor, crawling on top of his lap. “This is only for today because I feel bad for being mean,” you sigh. And because you need your hole filled NOW. “Do you understand? Don’t expect this again.” He nods immediately, but you know he isn’t even listening. 

     But it doesn’t matter. You’re too far gone to have any rational thought about why you shouldn’t give your troublesome puppies a taste of your warm, slick hole. You know you’ll regret it, but you slip down his thick cock anyway. Yunho’s jaw drops, his hands flying to your shirt, pulling at it as he panics. Poor puppy. He’s always so sensitive. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when he feels this good. 

     You place a hand on his stomach to keep your balance, breathing deeply as you sit completely on him. Fuck, he’s so big. You could cum just feelimg him inside, but it looks like Yunho wants to ravage the warmth surrounding him. You could never let him go at his own pace. He’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk for days. Fuck, you need to get him under control. 

     “Puppy, keep your hands to yourself,” you say, removing his grip from your shirt before he rips it off. He shakes his head, panting and whining as he scratches at the carpet. “I’ll move if you’re good,” you say softly, and he nods. 

     He doesn’t hear you, does he? He keeps squirming, attempting to move you with his hips. You just stay still until he settles down. When he finally does, though, his lips twitch as he slowly bares his teeth, and a low growl escapes him before he grabs your hips, lifts them, and slams them back down. 

     “Fuck!” you choke out, your chest slamming against his. You try to sit back up, but his movements force you back down each time, your arms going limp. He fucks up into your soaked hole as he slams your hips back down, whimpering and panting into your ear. “Bad dog,” you mutter, your voice breaking with each word. “Bad… ngh~” Your eyes roll back as he changes his angle, thrusting fast and continuously against that perfect spot in you. Your eyes roll back, your mouth practically drooling as you go limp in his hold. “S-Sangie,” you moan. “Sangie, c-come here, puppy.” 

     He’s by your side in an instant, eyes worried as he can’t tear them away from Yunho’s huge cock plunging into your hole at an alarming rate.

     “Sangie, help me up,” you whimper, and he helps you sit up, your body bouncing on Yunho’s lap now, and you cry out at the change, your head falling back in a series of uncontrollable moans. But you manage to lean forward, and you wrap a tight hand around Yunho’s neck, panting hard. “Don’t you ever fucking listen?!” you growl, and his hips slow to a stop. “I said you don’t get a reward unless you’re good.” You tighten your grip on him, and he whimpers. You reach back with one hand and pull his leaking cock out. He panics, shaking his head dramatically.

     “No, no, I’m so sorry,” he cries. “I didn’t mean to! I don’t know what came over me! I-!”

     “Sangie,” you breathe, pulling the good puppy closer. “Will you fuck me and show this stupid dog how to be a good boy?” Yeosang whimpers in excitement, nodding as he moves behind you. You guide him inside, holding Yunho’s neck tightly as Yeosang stuffs you full. He’s gentle as he hardly moves, and you have to coax him into fucking you a bit harder. 

     “See how well he listens?” you ask Yunho, and he’s pouting, the only friction he gets being the slight rub of your skin against his cock each time Yeosang thrusts inside. You can tell Yeosang is starting to feel really good, overstimulation turning to pure pleasure. He’s panting, his grip getting harder, a bit bruising even. He’s never held you so hard, never used your body for his pleasure, even just a bit. But he’s meeting your hips, grunting as he thrusts hard. 

     “Good boy, Yeosang,” you moan, and he moves faster with the praise. 

     “I’m a good puppy,” he breathes. 

     “You’re so big, baby,” you moan.

     “Does it feel good?” he asks between moans. “I feel so good, ngh~” He’s talking nonsense, his lisp fighting against his words as his breath speeds up. “Feels so good. So tight. Why is Miss so tight? She takes good care of us, but she’s so small.” He thrusts harder and harder. 

     And a small growl escapes his lips, and your eyes open from their fucked-out trance.

     “Does anyone else get to feel here? Or is it just us, Miss?” he asks, whimpering a growling softly. “I don’t want anyone else feeling this. They might take you away.”

     “No one will- ah~! Sangie, c-calm down a bit!”

     “I want it to be mine,” he groans. “I’m a bad dog. I can’t listen. Fuck, Y/n..ngh~ Please, please,” he repeats his pleas as his thrusts slam you against Yunho’s chest. “Please be mine. Please don’t go to anyone else. W-We can take care of you..hh~ Y-Yunho and I will make you feel good.”

     Yeosang’s never talked this much, but now he can’t seem to stop. His hips only seem to slow when he spots Yunho’s aching erection. 

      “B-both of us,” he breathes, “will make you feel so good.” You feel your hole stretch impossibly wider and Yunho’s cock is pressed inside. You cry out, your nails digging into Yunho’s shoulder as the puppy lets out a low growl. 

     “Please say it,” Yeosang whines. “Please promise, a-and we’ll be good.” You can hardly think, your mind blanking at their cocks press against every crevice within you. Yunho gets as deep as he can, his lips trailing your neck. 

     “Y/n.” Yunho’s sharp words take you out of your trance, your eyes shooting to his. “Say it.” 

     “S-say… say what?” you mumble. “Say your pussy is ours. Say you’re ours.” 

      They don’t move, and it’s impossible to think at all with them stuffing you so full. You try to push back against them, but Yunho holds your hips in place. 

     “Only good girls get a reward,” he says in a low voice. You feel Yeosang’s breath against your neck, a whimper meeting your ears. 

     “Please say it,” he breathes, his teeth grazing against your neck. 

     “F-fuck,” you cry. “I’m yours. Please, just fuck m-!” 

     Your face drops to Yunho’s shoulder as both cocks thrust in and out, plunging deeper and deeper each time. Tears stream down your cheeks, your breath mixing with your moans as they squish you between them. Yeosang’s teeth sink into your neck, and you arch your back, trembling as your clit rubs against Yunho’s crotch. You move again, feeling the friction bring you closer and closer. 

     “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you squeal, your movements frantic as their thrusts pick up. “Fuck me,” you breathe. “Sangie, puppy, God you’re so bi~g.” You cup Yunho’s cheeks, hardly able to lift your head as you smash your lips to his. His tongue tastes like sex as you frantically move your mouth against his. 

      “Yunho,” you pant. “C-cum for me? You deserve it, puppy,” you whimper. “Cum in me and make a mess? Please? Please, fuck ngh~ fuck, fuck!” You spasm as you cream on their cocks, your arousal squirting and making a mess of Yeosang’s front. It drips to the floor and puddles there, but you’re too busy trembling and moaning to care about the mess. You fuck yourself back on them as you orgasm. Even as it dies down, it’s clear it’s not enough. You keep going. You reach behind you and grab Yeosang’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss, biting his lip as he fucks you into Yunho’s trembling figure. Yunho isn’t even moving anymore, Yeosang fucking the both of you to your next highs. 

     “Gonna cum,” Yunho whimpers. “Fuck, you’ll really be mine then,” he pants. You nod frantically.

     “Inside,” you beg. “Fuck me full ngh~ Please~”

     Your eyes roll back as you feel Yunho unload inside, your walls squelching as you cum again, squeezing the both of them. 

     “Fuck it’s so tight,” Yeosang whimpers. “There’s no more room. You’re so greedy, taking all of Yunho’s cum. Can you even take mine?” You nod quickly. 

     “Yes, God, yes, Sangie, Sangie please~!” 

     Yeosang��s harsh thrusts stop, and he pumps you even fuller. You’re leaking, his slow grinds pushing out your mixed arousal. It’s so lewd. You feel so full. 

     “Fuck, I’m….” you mumble, limo against Yunho’s chest. You shouldn’t have done this. But you’ve never felt so satisfied in your life. 

     “It’s okay, Y/n,” Yeosang sighs, gently brushing your hair behind your ear. “We’ll clean this mess up.”

-

     And you were right to hesitate and regret. You knew your disobedient puppies wouldn’t stop with just once. 

     You’ll wake up to Yunho rutting against your back, and as soon as you wake up, he’ll press his dick against you and beg for you to let him inside. 

     Or you’ll be reading in the living room when Yeosang comes between your legs, his cheek resting on your thigh until you take the hint and let him eat you out. 

     It’s not like you ever say no. You love them too much. It’s just… they get so obsessed with you. They’re so stupid. You can never train them, no matter what you try.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n~ i might go back and read/edit this later when summer starts. for now i hope you enjoyed this quickie ;P lmk what you thought

mwa~

[wandanatsgf]

Paint Me Like One of Your French Girls

Pairing: Artist!Wanda x Reader

Summary: what starts as you helping a friend with an art project quickly turns into something more

Warning this contains: a little bit of brattiness, praise kink, strap on use

You’re lying on your side, using your left arm to support yourself. A cream colored cloth drapes your figure, forming to your curves. It almost looks like a dress from the way it’s laid across you.

You’re on Wanda’s couch while she stands in front of you, easel and canvas off to the side. She’s covered in white, beige, brown, and black paint. It splatters her body and clothes, leaving her a mess. But that is the life of an artist, at least that’s what she tells you.

“Paint me like one of your French girls, Wanda.” A fake sultry tone laces your voice. You wiggle your eyebrows and bite your lip, making Wanda laugh.

“You know you’re the only girl I paint.” She laughs at your silly antics and shakes her head. Wanda was always doing that, saying pretty words that make your head spin. Words that make you question your friendship, but you were too scared to make any moves. Too scared to lose her.

“Now hold still. I need to get this shape right.” She dips her paintbrush in the paint and makes gentle strokes across the canvas. Her eyes flick back up to you every so often, making sure she’s capturing your likeness just right.

“Move your head up a little bit love,” she says. Love. That’s a nickname shes never called you before. The two of you always playfully flirted with each other, you even teased her sometimes, but she had never called you love. You’re not even sure if she noticed. But you don’t mind the nickname, you rather like it.

“Love huh?”

“I-what?!?” Wanda’s confusion is evident in her voice.

“You called me love.”

“Oh just slipped out. Habit I guess,” she tries to dismiss your question.

“Just slipped out? So you call someone love often?” You try not to let your jealousy be obvious. It’s not like Wanda is your girlfriend. You have no reason to be jealous. You know this, yet you’re jealous anyway.

“You jealous?” Wanda ignores your question entirely.

“I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?”

“You know why. We both know you like me.” Wanda’s words send a shock through you. You always thought your feelings were hidden well, but clearly they weren’t.

“You have no reason to be jealous baby. I like you too,” Wanda whispers like it’s a secret.

This time you’re the one that’s speechless.

“Surprised?” she sets down her brush and walks over to you.

You nod yes, words escaping you at this moment.

“You shouldn’t be. I’ve liked you for a while.” She smiles at you, it’s a teasing sort of smile. The kind that makes you nervous about what’s to come. “Can I kiss you?”

Yoy nods yes and that’s all it takes for her to get up and kiss you. You’re still grasping the cloth that has been covering you like it’s a lifeline. It’s grounding you, making sure you know this is real.

The kiss is fiery and passionate. It’s full of pent up feelings and years of pining.

Wanda sits down on the couch, pulling you on top of her. She takes the cloth from your grip and let’s go, letting the cloth fall down.

“You’re so beautiful,” she says. You blush and try to look away, but Wanda won’t allow that.

“Don’t hide baby. I wanna see you.”

You do as she says, embracing her attention. Your legs are on either side of her hips. You grind down against her and the two of you moan into each others mouths.

Wanda’s lips detach from yours and move down your neck, sucking and biting wherever she can. Her paint covered hands are on either side of your waist, leaving white marks in their wake.

Your hands are wrapped in her hair, pulling her even more against you.

“Is that the best you can do Wands?” Your voice is breathless as you speak. You think she’s doing an amazing job already, but you just can’t help it. You want to tease her. To push her buttons and see what she does.

“Are you always such a teasing little brat?”

“Just for you.” You’re still teasing her, you just can’t help yourself. Even before this you loved teasing her, even if it was in a more safe for work way, why would you stop now?

You grind down against her again, a vulgar moan leaving your mouth.

“Wands,” you pant out.

“What do you want baby? Use your words and tell me.”

“I want you Wanda. Please touch me.”

“I am touching you honey.” To make her point more evident she drags her hands up your sides.

“You know what I mean Wanda.”

“Do I?” Her eyebrow turns up.

“Look who’s being a brat now,” you say under your breath.

Wanda’s right hand immediately leaves your side and wraps around your neck, just resting there.

“You want to say that again baby?” You can feel yourself getting even wetter than you already are at Wanda’s display of dominance. You’re dripping all over her leg.

“No.”

“Good girl.”

“Now what do you want me to do baby?”

“Please touch my pussy.”

“You’re such a good girl. Using your words for me.” Her praise goes straight to your head, making you feel foggy.

Her hand makes its way to your pussy, cupping you. Her middle finger grazes your clit, making you jump.

“That feel good?” She rubs your clit in circles making your hips buck and moans fall from your lips.

You nod, but that’s not good enough for Wanda. She pinches your thigh in reprimand.

“Yes Wanda that feels good.” Your body moves like it has a mind of its own, like someone else is controlling it. But you guess that’s true because Wanda is controlling it, controlling you.

Wanda continues to rub circles on your clit, and you’re sure she’s leaving some paint marks along the way, but you could truly care less.

The harder she rubs the closer you get. The pleasure her fingers are giving you is too good. It makes you wonder if shes this good with her fingers, how good is she with her mouth?

“Oh god,” you say as your orgasm approaches. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me baby,” she says, rubbing you even faster. You cum all over Wanda’s hand, making a mess on her and her pants.

As you settle down you notice the position you’re in and the mess you just made.

“Sorry Wands,” you say, apologizing for the mess.

“Don’t be sorry baby.” She brings her own fingers to her mouth and licks your wetness off them. The sight makes you horny all over again.

“Wanda,” you whine.

“What is it? You need more baby?” her words are full of fake sympathy and you know it, but you could truly care less. You need her in ways that you can’t describe.

“Yes please,” you say.

“Bend over the couch. I’ll be right back,” she says. You bend over the couch and wait for her. She quickly returns with a scarlet red strap on around her hips. It sways as she walks over to you.

“Good girl,” she says once she sees that you’re in position.

She walks behind you and grips the shaft of the strap. She rubs the tip up and down your slit, teasing you.

“Wands stop teasing.” You wiggle your hips to try and get more action from her, but it doesn’t work.

“I can’t tease you but you can tease me? That doesn’t seem fair baby.” She continues to tease you even more, driving you mad.

“Please Wanda. Fuck me,” you yell out.

Wanda slides into you in one single thrust, bottoming out. You moan out, the feeling of her inside you is just too good. Her hands rest on your hips, pulling you back to meet her thrusts.

“Wanda,” you moan.

“I know baby,” she says. She thrusts into you at a lightning fast pace, also chasing her own orgasm. The base of the dildo runs against her clit perfectly, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

She continues to fuck into you. Her left hand moves to hold on to your hip while the other tangles itself in your hair, pulling you back.

“Oh god,” you scream out, your orgasm approaching. Your body moves back and forth as she thrusts into you, moving to Wanda’s whims.

“Come on baby. Cum with me,” she says while she continues to thrust into you.

A few more thrusts is all it takes for you to see stars. Your body trembles as your orgasm rolls through you. Wanda’s body trembles too, a powerful orgasm rolling through her.

Once the two of you settle down Wanda carefully slides out of you.

“There you go baby,” she says gently. You slump against the couch, too tired to move so Wanda moves you herself.

She pulls you up to sit next to her on the couch, holding you. The two of you just sit there in silence until you finally break it.

“I’m covered in paint,” you pout, finally noticing the mess Wanda left all over you.

“It’s ok baby. We can just go wash it off together.” Her eyebrows wiggle suggestively.

You agree, more than excited for what’s to come.

[sooohunnie]

Baby Blues

Paring: RE2!Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!reader

summary: God makes an example out of you and now you don't know what to do.

tags: fluff, established relationship, friends with benefits, f/m relationship, drabble, RE2! Leon, reader has commitment issues, comfort

CW!!: mention of unprotected sex, pregnancy, mention of abortion, OOC?

------------------------

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This cannot be happening.

You look down at the positive pregnancy test in your hands. There's no way.

Your luck seemed to turn in a new direction, good or bad depending on a lot of things…and you couldn’t quite decide which way it fell with this specifically.

You sigh, placing the test back down on the counter.

You wouldn’t call yourself irresponsible, not ever. You were as straight laced as a pair of officer boots down at the precinct.

The one time you let yourself do something risky and this is what pops out.

God really wants to make an example of you huh?

“How am I gonna break this to Leon?”

You can already imagine the poor rookies reaction, he’d probably faint on the spot.

…maybe you should have at least a little faith in him.

This was partly his fault! It takes two to tango.

Even if you were the one who suggested no protection…and told him not to pull out…

He’s the one who obliged your insanity.

You two had been “messing around” for the better half of a year now- It was casual…or so you wanted to keep it. It’s not like you had some sort of deep rooted commitment issues and Leon was too much of a doormat to do anything about it. That’d be ridiculous.

…

You felt bad for even insinuating that.

Deep down you knew he was keeping up this casual relationship because he wanted what you wanted. Even if he did want more. He was sweet like that- he’s so considerate and…

And this is what you give in return.

You can sulk about this later…you had to tell him.

You owe him that much.

—--------

The phone placed next to your ear rings…

How do you break news like this? Guess what? We’re pregnant?

That’d probably work…if you two were together in any way with substance.

“Hello?”

SHIT.

“Heyy Leon.” You say cooley.

“Hi.” He repeats, more warmth in his tone now.

“I was calling to…” You start, not prepared for this one bit, “Well- first I wanna make sure you're not busy..”

“Uh-”

“Cause if this is a bad time you can just hang up on me- It’d be completely fine.”

No it wouldn't??? What are you even saying???

“Uh- no- not at all.” He laughs, “I’m at home- why?”

You take a breath. Why are you nervous? That's probably a dumb question considering the weight of this all.

“So- ahem…” Why is your throat squeezing, “Leon…”

“Woah…what's wrong?” He can immediately tell your tone is off.

“I’m fine-” You start, “I guess I’m just nervous…”

You are resilient- you didn't think something like this would make you shaky…but here you are.

“You can tell me anything- you know this.” He says softly

“I'm pregnant.”

There’s a pregnant pause (lol)

“Where are you right now?” He asks, his voice shaky.

“I’m at home-”

“Do you want me to stay on the phone or can I hang up while I’m driving?” He cuts her off.

“Leon what-”

“Which one??’ He says, “Or- maybe that's too much right now- It wouldn’t be horrible to drive while on the phone right..?” You can hear the roar of his engine in the background.

Click.

Yeah you’re not risking him getting into an accident. Heightening his chance from 99% to 99.99%

—-----------

Not even nine minutes later you hear a knock on your door.

Concerning considering his place is a solid fifteen from yours…

You open it up to see, of course, Leon. He’s shaking.

“Leon-”

You start but are cut off as you're engulfed by a hug.

“I’m gonna be a dad.” He says, his voice full of love. He clears his throat, pulling away to look at you, “Ahem- if that's what you want-”

He seems a bit embarrassed about jumping right into that assumption.

“I haven’t even asked you how you feel..”

You blink, looking up at him with confusion. Why is he so happy? Why hasn’t he ghosted you already? Why doesn’t he hate you for making him put up with your casual relationship.

God why are you tearing up.

“I’m sorry.” you sniff as tears start falling down your cheeks.

“Woah…” he says moving to comfort you, “I guess that's a no on the dad thing?” He jokes.

You laugh at that, wiping your own tears.

“No..well I don’t know.” You say softly, “Look Leon, I’m sorry for dragging you through this- I know you didn’t ask for someone like me to- I don't know..I know you’ve wanted to take this whole thing further and I’ve been scared to- not because I never wanted to…”

You look down at yourself for a moment before looking back up at him, “I guess this is karma for that huh? Trading one commitment for another…massive one.”

Leon looks at you with amused confusion, “What are you on about? Are you apologizing for getting pregnant? Cause that’s a two way street.”

You sigh, “I’m apologizing for well- Holding you at arms length. I…care about you so much. I can tell that you’ve been wanting to take this further…but you never said anything for my sake.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says gently, “sure I’ve had my grievances- you don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to call you my girlfriend or brag about you…but you have to realize that I wouldn’t stay unless I felt you were worth it.”

“Leon-”

“You are something to me that I can’t describe…you make me feel happy. I would’ve waited forever if I had to.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to.”

“I know.” He says softly, “But that’s just how I am.”

You sigh moving to hug him tighter.

He holds you just the same. It lasts a moment before pulling away to look at you.

“Now- how about we discuss what matters, hm?” He says, “Figure out what we’re doing with this one right here.” He says before patting your stomach.

You swat his hand gently, causing him to laugh.

[sabrinajenre96]

Title: A Day with the Bradfords

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Detective!Reader (Y/N) Word Count: ~5,000

Warning: none

---

7:04 AM – Bradford Residence

You were halfway into your vest, hair still damp from a rushed shower, when the phone buzzed again on the kitchen counter.

“Y/N,” Tim grumbled from the hallway, “Your phone’s losing its mind.”

“It’s a double homicide,” you said, already moving toward the door. “Nyla’s already en route. They want me on scene with Shay.”

At the sound of his name, the sleek Belgian Malinois padded into the kitchen, alert and ready. Unlike the bulldog mix currently snoring on the couch—Kojo, the mistake Lucy Chen had learned from and Tim had inherited.

“Have I mentioned I hate when you get called in before coffee?” Tim muttered.

You smirked and kissed him. “You’ll live. You’ve got Lilah and Kojo all day.”

Tim groaned. “That’s not comforting.”

From down the hall came the unmistakable sound of your five-year-old daughter stomping in her light-up unicorn slippers and singing off-key about pancakes.

Lilah appeared, clutching a tiara in one hand and dragging a feather boa behind her.

“Morning, Daddy! Kojo and I are going on a super-secret mission after breakfast. He said he’s ready.”

Kojo sneezed. Lilah interpreted that as agreement.

“I love you both. Be strong,” you said dramatically, ruffling Tim’s hair.

By the time the door closed behind you, Tim stared at Lilah and Kojo like a man entering a warzone with no backup.

“Alright, Lilah,” he said, “Let’s make pancakes.”

“Great!” she shouted, clambering onto a chair and grabbing flour. “I’m in charge. Kojo’s our chef. He made eggs last week.”

Tim narrowed his eyes at the dog. “We’ll discuss that later.”

---

8:42 AM – Kitchen, Mostly Flour-Coated

Kojo had white paws now. Not from age, but from the bag of flour Lilah had knocked over during an overly enthusiastic whisking session. The bulldog mix didn’t seem to mind; he licked at the floor and trailed a line of white paw prints across the tile.

“Daddy, the pancakes look like clouds!” Lilah beamed.

“Because you dumped half the box of baking powder in,” he muttered, flipping a lumpy disc of batter.

Kojo barked once.

“No, you don’t get any unless you sit. That goes for you too, Kojo.”

Kojo wagged his tail, did a spin, and promptly leapt onto the bench at the table.

---

10:15 AM – Neighborhood Walk (A.K.A. Disaster Recon)

Lilah insisted on wearing a tutu, fairy wings, and sunglasses. Kojo wore his vest labeled "Security," a gift from Angela that Tim regretted every time Lilah took it literally.

They made it three blocks before the mud puddle incident. Lilah squealed. Kojo launched himself into it.

Tim stood frozen, holding two leashes and questioning every decision he’d made in life.

---

11:30 AM – Bath Time (Again)

He bathed Kojo. Then Lilah. Then himself after Kojo shook off all over him.

He texted Lucy a picture of Kojo in a towel with the caption: "Still think he was better off with you?"

Lucy responded: *"You’re the one who said 'dogs build character.' Enjoy your development."

---

1:03 PM – Living Room Obstacle Course

Lilah had dragged every pillow, blanket, and hula hoop into the living room.

“Kojo needs training! He can’t be in security if he can’t jump over things!”

Kojo was napping.

“Wake him up, Daddy! He has drills!”

“You wake him up. I value my limbs.”

---

3:14 PM – Detective Lilah’s Mystery Mission

Tim was in toy handcuffs. Again.

“You’re under arrest for hiding the last cookie,” she declared. “Kojo saw you do it.”

Kojo woofed.

“Traitor,” Tim muttered.

---

5:45 PM – Dinner & a Truce

Mac and cheese. Apples. A juice box and one tired bulldog.

Lilah was quieter now, cuddled beside Tim with her stuffed unicorn.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, peanut?”

“I love you more than pancakes. Even fluffy ones.”

“I love you too, kiddo.”

---

9:00 PM – Bradford Residence, Peace At Last

You pushed the front door open, kicking off your boots. Shay trotted in beside you, already sniffing out Kojo’s messes.

The house was quiet.

You found them in the living room.

Tim was half-sitting, half-reclining on the couch, TV volume low, a football game playing. Lilah was asleep on his chest, Kojo curled up at their feet.

You smiled, heart full, and snapped a picture with your phone.

“You survived,” you whispered, kissing his cheek.

Tim gave a tired, contented grin. “She broke me. But yeah.”

You sat beside them, one hand on his knee, the other brushing your daughter’s wild curls.

Chaos and all—this was home.