#too bad it was already too late for me to finish it on time but ye

[hoiststowline]

responses to an overworked/sleepy s/o [w/ ultra magnus, sunstreaker, & hound]

ultra magnus

Ultra Magnus knows that he’s the biggest hypocrite in this situation, but you’ve yawned four times in the past five minutes. it sends alarms across his processor, observing the way you use the back of your hand to poorly cover such an exhausted gesture. somehow, this less than gentle alert that your body was tired was not enough, yourself shuffling through a stack of papers as you carry on with little qualms. Magnus can feel his optic twitch, unable to quietly fight the urge to knock some sense into you about your health and well-being. adjusting to time and your schedule has come a little easier to him, mostly due to finding himself in your company on a daily basis. understanding what he does now, he finds self-assurance in calling you out about getting some rest, the hour far past the original time you had set to get some rest. 

“y/n?” he rumbles, slightly baffled that you don’t even offer your undivided attention, acknowledging him with a noise he can’t quite label. a thought passes him by: is this how other mechs feel when he’s drowning in paperwork? “It is very late. Perhaps you would do better to pick this up in the morning?” 

finally, your eyes tear away from the papers to meet his, and then Magnus is whacked with the realization he has to stand firm here. you must’ve been at this for hours, fatigue and enervation translating well enough from your gaze and pouring down the rest of your body. “Sorry. Run that by me again?” 

“I will do no such thing,” he’s good at being the bad guy, the one who has to play fair and look out for others. but for you? he’s willing to beg, stand firm in seeing you get some much deserved, and earned sleep. “This will be here when you awake. Rest.” 

your pout works on him, and the worst part of it all is you must know it does. “Five more minutes?” you plead, trying your best to stifle a yawn that Magnus sees far too easily. every bone in your body begs you to relent, but stubbornness finds you once more as you think of all the studying that needs to be done before tomorrow. 

“No.” he’s caged you between two massive hands, leaning forward until you’re forced to meet his stare and not the copious amounts of work spread out around the berth. “You cannot use my own tactics against me. Bed, now.”

sunstreaker

something wakes Sunstreaker up about three hours into his recharge, and with little investigation he comes to find you on the other side of the room. after you’d said three hours ago you’d join him in ten minutes, that turned out to be the biggest lie in the world. disoriented and mildly irritated, his brow furrows when he calls your name, confused as to why you jump in surprise. everything about you breathes burnout, eyes glassy as they eventually lock with his across the room. were you so consumed and entranced by that textbook that you hadn’t heard him grumble under his breath before calling out to you? how dare such a stupid object hold your attention and not him, slowly losing his already depleted patience. 

“Get over here.” Sunstreaker hums, trying once to be nice instead of brash. he’s come to take a second to mull over his words before they leave his voice box, trying his damndest to say what he means the first time. yet, this time, instead of pulling away from your study materials, you only dive deeper. 

“I’ll be right there,” you whisper, as if he was still in and out of recharge. “Just have to finish this chapter, and-” you squeak as he abruptly stands from the berth, lumbering over to where you were sitting on his desk. fumbling with the textbook, your finger saves the page before you close it over, trying your best to appear defiant and adamant, but losing miserably. “What are you doing?” 

“What am I doing?” Sunstreaker counters, expecting no reply. “You said ‘ten more minutes’ hours ago. Bed, or I throw that book.” 

you appear miserable. the happiness that normally contradicts his irritable behavior is nowhere to be found, something that concerns him greatly. you had mentioned earlier in the week about an upcoming test that was stressing you out, but now this studying venture has crossed over into territory that enrages Sunstreaker. you weren’t taking care of yourself, unworried about how a newfound weariness preoccupies you. whenever you speak ill of yourself or doubt your abilities, it seizes him so greatly that he can’t focus on anything else. don’t you know how much he loves you, and knows you’ll do great things, no matter what? 

somehow, you know he means it, sighing in defeat. “Fine, fine.” with a small smile, you close the book over with a defeated sigh. “Sorry. The test is in two days.” 

to your surprise, Sunstreaker mumbles his words, but the sincerity is overwhelming. “I’ll try to help you study tomorrow. But now, bed, and I mean it.” 

hound

you’ve certainly done a lot of typing in the past couple of hours, Hound has noticed. enough that with each hour that slips by, it’s time for him to wrap his tasks up and fully join your company, excited to hear about what you’ve been up to and relax into the evening with no issue. except, that’s mostly thrown out the window as he takes in your body language, surveying the way your palm runs over your face and rubs at your eyes, only to return to your laptop seconds later. the light from the screen illuminates your features, but all Hound can focus on is how your shoulders slump forward, a glasiness overtaking your eyes that he can’t quite decipher the reason behind. you’re clearly spent, drained of the day's responsibilities as they now carry over into time that should be spent away from the computer. 

“y/n?” he tries, using the tip of his digit to run down the length of your leg, vying for your attention, selfish as that may be to admit. “Y’alright? Busy day?” 

for a moment, you pull away from the laptop, blinking wildy before realizing it was only Hound. everything in you yearned to just shut the computer and set this aside for another time, but the idea of being ahead tomorrow entranced you far too much. “I’m good! I’d just like to finish this up, I swear I’m almost done.” famous last words. 

your slight startle at his touch and words worried him, the way you appear so disconnected from reality as you are solely focused on typing a report that didn’t need to be completed at this very moment. though your overworked and tired demeanor concerns him greatly, Hound is willing to yield if only to respect your wishes. he cares so deeply for you that perhaps just this once, he’d overlook the fact that you probably really needed some shut-eye now. it’s like overriding a code, Hound feels as if he’s programmed to look out for everyone and their health, you always residing as his top priority. always number one on his list, finding that sometimes you unintentionally neglect your wellbeing, himself guilty of similar behaviors. 

but then you don’t stick to your original plans. more time has escaped you, and Hound’s fretting has skyrocketed to the point where he isn’t ashamed to implore you to get some rest. “Yer exhausted,” he rumbles, broad shoulders drooping as you tear your eyes away from the screen to massage at your temples once more. “Don’t overwork yourself. It ain’t worth it, ah know it first hand.” 

doing what Hound asks of you is an easy feat, as forfeit finds you. with a sleepy smile, you power down the computer and set it to the side to be tomorrow's problem. this time was precious with him, sacred and not effortless to come by. “Sorry.” you stumble over your words, trying to stifle a yawn in the meantime. “I’m alright. It’s done for the evening.”

[cobbled-peach]

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ acts of non-affection

when a late-night case load threatens to derail your plans, Spencer steps in with a "strictly practical" offer

cw: sunshine!fem!reader x post-prison spencer. reader talks about wearing makeup. not much else to say, just though this was a fun dynamic. a/n: when I was writing this, I had sort of an age-gap in mind, but that doesn’t really translate. So maybe I’ll give these babies another lil story at some point and develop on that. this was just a fun, small story while I work on something bigger and get through some requests !!! w/c: 2k

Friday nights at the BAU were always a gamble.

Sometimes the team made it out before nightfall. Sometimes not at all. Tonight fell somewhere in the middle: a limbo of sorts, where the bullpen was half-empty and the overhead fluorescent lights hummed like they were ready to call it quits too. The hallway murmured with agents’ quiet goodbyes, blinds rattling softly as they were drawn shut one by one.

It had been a long week. Grueling. Not just in hours, but in weight. It was heavy; the sort of case that lodged itself deep inside and refused to be shaken loose. The aftershocks still lingered in the air – metaphorically, emotionally, and painfully literal in the form of a mountain of paperwork.

You were still at your desk. Sleeves rolled to the elbow, jacket thrown over the back of your chair. You’d wanted to look like the picture of dedication; an agent hammering through work with unwavering professionalism.

The truth? The thought of spending another few hours alone with this pile of files was enough to make you consider crying into your keyboard. Seriously. Your soul was actually aching.

It was a losing battle, and you were painfully aware of it. But hope had always been your favorite bad habit.

You stared at the stack with a sigh that originated from deep in your chest. There was no way you’d finish this and still make it to your dinner plans. And you’d really been looking forward to this one. A date – something finally outside the BAU. Easy. Normal. Just dinner. You’d picked out your outfit four days ago, perfume already set out and waiting. You’d even memorized the menu like it was part of your prep for a case.

But you weren’t one to leave work unfinished.

Especially not now. Not with the team running on fumes. There had been a quiet tension all week. Too-tight smiles. Long, exhausted looks. Even your usual optimism – "relentless," as Garcia once called it (which was saying something, coming from her) – could only stretch so far before starting to feel tone-deaf. You didn’t want to be the agent who slacked behind when everyone was struggling.

So, with a barely concealed disappointed sigh, you pulled out your phone and started typing. Another cancellation. Another “rain check?” Not the first, and definitely not the last. You hated how practiced you’d gotten at writing them. Someday, someone would look over your romantic history as a trail of sweet apologies and slowly vanishing matches. You’d lost count of the number of times you’d let potential soulmates slip away because federal work took precedence.

‘Big night?’

The familiar voice came from behind, breaking the silence.

You turned, finding Luke Alvez leaning against his desk, arms crossed. The tilt of his head suggested he already knew the answer.

‘Was supposed to be,’ you said with a wry grin. ‘Dinner plans. With an actual human. Real food, no blood spatter analysis. I was even going to wear lipstick.’

‘Must be a special guy if you’re willing to step out of the realm of FBI professionalism,’ he teased, light, but slightly strained with exhaustion.

‘I was feeling bold,’ you said with a playful shrug. ‘But alas, my hot date with bureaucratic despair wins again.’

‘Wait—this wasn’t the date with moustache guy, right?’ (You’d only offered a vague description. Garcia had given him the nickname). ‘The one who was going to take you to the Italian where they handmake the pasta in front of you?’

‘Don’t remind me,’ you said with a small groan. ‘He was literally taking me to carbohydrate heaven. I was emotionally invested.’

‘You might still make it,’ he offered, half-hopeful. He already knew the chances were unlikely. ‘Leave a few papers for tomorrow. No one will chase you down over it.’

A hesitation on your end. A tiny flicker of temptation in your chest.

But then you shook your head. ‘If I leave this many, I’ll end up rushing to get it done tomorrow. And if I rush, I’ll miss something. And then Emily will hit me with that look.’

Luke winced in sympathy. ‘The lip-press. Brutal.’

‘Exactly. So, tragically, ravioli and wine will have to wait. Paperwork is calling.’

Luke gave you a mock salute. ‘You’re stronger than me,’ he said, and you smiled more genuinely this time. ‘If I was you, I’d already be halfway to the wine and pasta.’

‘I’ll live vicariously through your freedom, then,’ you responded brightly, despite the fact your heart was sinking just a little.

As he turned to leave, you settled back into your chair, noticing the subtle hint of movement from a few desks down.

Spencer Reid.

He’d always been… bristly, for lack of a better word. Distant. Curt. Formal to a fault. It wasn’t like you’d expected warm hugs, but you hadn’t anticipated an emotional barbed wire to surround him.

He looked up from behind the shield of a computer screen, eyes flicking towards you. Just for a moment, not enough to count. Barely even a tilt of his head. He didn’t speak, but that was to be expected. He never spoke with you.

There was a strange stillness. Quiet and calculating. The pause was too long to be accidental. Like he was deciding something.

He looked away as you pushed from your desk to grab a cup of coffee – a humble ally to your late-night paperwork, something to hopefully bribe your willpower into working and getting things done.

Three minutes in the kitchenette. Water boiled. Mug filled. And then you were returning to your desk.

Except it wasn’t empty.

He was at your desk.

Spencer was at your desk.

And thumbing through your files, no less.

Your first thought was that in the two minutes it had taken for the water to boil, reality had somehow shifted and you were now in an alternate dimension. Or maybe he’d been body-snatched.

Either way, you froze mid-step. A moment of total suspension, where you blinked hard and tried to reset the scene.

But no, he remained. Dividing your files into two neat piles with a furrowed brow. Categorizing with some unknown, internal metric. Scruitinizing.

You’d never moved across the bullpen so fast, all but sprinting, skidding to a halt beside your desk and setting the thoroughly-sloshed coffee down.

‘Whoa, whoa—Reid. What are you doing?’ Breathless. Inconclusive if it was from the sprint across the room, or the panic of seeing him look through your work.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look up.

‘Dividing them,’ he responded curtly.

‘Yeah, I can see that. Why?’

‘You told Luke you wouldn’t be able to finish them all.’

‘Okay, but that doesn’t explain why you’re here.’

‘I’m taking some.’

‘Huh?’ You stared at him. Blinked once. Twice. Definitely body-snatched. ‘You’re doing what now?’

‘Half,’ he said plainly, pulling the heavier stack of paperwork towards himself.

‘Okay, what?’ You laughed. Incredulous. Bewildered. Your eyes widened a little in confusion. ‘Are you sick or something? Should I be checking for a fever?’

He gave you a deadpan look, and you raised your hands in defense.

‘Kidding,’ you said. A beat of silence. ‘You’re seriously taking half?’

‘I can finish it tonight,’ he responded with a nod.

You let out another disbelieving laugh. ‘You do remember you have your own paperwork, right? You can’t take it all on. Surely you know some statistics about burnout, or something.’

‘I've accounted for them.’

Another pause, eyes still wide and confused. You attempted a different tactic. ‘You don’t have to rescue me.’

‘I’m not.’

More silence. You stared at him, trying to understand what was happening, what had shifted. This was the same man who barely spoke to you unless it was case-related. Who responded to your warmth with indifference.

And now he was… helping?

You gawked at him. ‘Are you sure I shouldn’t be checking you for a fever?’

The look he gave you this time was withering.

‘Because this is very un-Dr. Reid of you,’ you continued. ‘Like… I would not be surprised if you had been replaced by an android while I was making coffee.’

Nothing. Not a smirk. Not a twitch.

Tone-deaf joke, or just an emotionally closed off Reid? Maybe a mix of both.

You sighed. ‘I didn’t ask you to do this.’

‘I never said that you did.’

‘And you’re sure this isn’t going to make you burn out or implode or whatever?’

‘I won’t implode.’

You stared at him. Hard. ‘And you’re sure you’re not an android?’

He ignored that. As was to be expected.

Spencer turned to walk back to his desk, but something about the exchange was nagging at you. The abruptness of it, perhaps? Your mouth opened, then closed again, reminiscent of a fish. He was halfway to is desk when you called, following behind, ‘Reid, wait—’

He paused. Barely. Turned halfway with a clenched jaw.

‘—why are you really doing this?’

He ran his tongue across his top teeth, jaw ticking slightly as he glanced down at your files, then back to you and your now crossed arms.

‘You were visibly upset,’ he said finally, tone clipped. ‘That affects accuracy. A 2.8 second emotional distraction can double the likelihood of error. This is a practical solution to your… date crisis.’

The way he said those words was indecipherable. Annoying, because you were meant to be a profiler who could read micro-expressions, but he was giving nothing away. As usual.

You studied him. ‘So… damage control? Over paperwork I haven’t even started yet?’

‘Exactly.’

You raised a brow next. ‘Not because you wanted me to have a nice night?’

‘I don’t care if you have a nice evening or not,’ he responded, mechanical and flat. ‘I care about correctly filled in paperwork.’

You placed a hand over your heart, clutching it in mock betrayal. ‘Ouch. That’s seriously cold. Ruthless, even. I’m sort of devastated.’

He simply turned and walked away.

You watched him sit, pull your files closer, an start working in the meticulous way that was so Spencer Reid. Like this wasn’t strange at all. He was doing something nice. Not kind, or warm, but helpful. In a repressed and reluctant sort of way.

There was something mildly captivating about watching him work, too. He’d get into the zone with unwavering, clinical concentration that you were a little envious of. Only a little, though.

You slipped your jacket over your arms, firing a quick text to ‘Mustache’ that let him know you were actually okay for the date. He responded quickly, plans back on and in place. A much needed reprieve from the monotony of paperwork and the chaos of murderers.

You were set to go, until a thought struck. You glanced at the undrunk coffee on your desk. Still hot. Still steaming. You picked it up and walked over to him, setting it down on his desk which earned an almost horrified look.

‘I’m not going to drink it,’ you explained. ‘You can have it, if you want.’

‘I’m not touching your mug,’ he said, visibly uncomfortable. You saw his fingers twitching in distaste at the thought.

‘Germs?’ you guessed, familiar with his somewhat eclectic ways. ‘Fair enough. I can pour it into your own mug?’

‘Please—don’t.’

You smiled sheepishly. ‘I just feel like I owe you.’

‘You don’t. I’m not doing it as a favor, and I’m not doing it for you. It’s a practical solution, like I said before.’

‘Still, thanks,’ you said, softening your voice. That had him pausing mid-sentence for half a second, before he returned to writing. ‘Even if you’re not doing it for me.’

He said nothing, and you took that as the end of the conversation. Turned and walked to the elevator. In your hand, your phone was buzzing with “Mustache’s” messages; what time he’d be coming to pick you up and how he was really excited you were doing this.

You hummed thoughtfully. Spared a final glance through the glass doors into the bullpen where Spencer was seated at your desk. Knee-deep in your files, illuminated by a slightly yellow-hued lamp on his desk.

He didn’t look up. But you smiled at him anyway.

taglist: @curatedbylucy @cynbx @internallysalad @jeuj @redorquid @thoughtwriter @whitenoisewhatanawfulsound @written-in-the-stars06 please feel free to comment to be added to the taglist, or go to this post here :)

[elleaitch22]

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 9: In the Name of Love

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: Welcome back to the show! This was a little rushed, ngl. Half of it was written when I was dozing off at 5 am and the other half is from when I was dozing off after my pool day. Please live react or leave comments if you can! As always, I hope you love it!! xx Elle

Warnings: Detailed emotional abuse, psychological manipulation, disordered eating, food control, referenced date r*pe, gaslighting, flashbacks, dissociation, panic attacks, referenced murder

Word Count: 3.7k

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Paige didn’t make her talk. She didn’t make her move. She didn’t even make her eat.

Azzi had just stopped crying when Soleil padded into the living room. “I’m hungwy.” She rubbed her eyes, still sleepy. She walked to the couch and nestled herself between the two women. “I want noodles with Azzi.”

Azzi smiled softly, “Wants pho.”

Paige pulled out her phone, tapping her screen, and putting an order in quickly. “It’ll be here in 20 minutes Lei.”

“Azzi still sad?” Soleil’s big blue eyes, full of pity and sadness. When no one gave an answer, she looked to her mother expectantly. “Azzi is sad. We watching Fwozen. S’her favowite.”

Paige followed Soleil’s instructions without question. When “Love is an Open Door” played, Paige was happy to ride down to the lobby to pick up the food. When she returned, Elsa was lecturing Anna about marriage.

The three of them ate their food huddled together. When Soleil finished, she made Azzi lie back before climbing onto her stomach and laying her head on her chest. Azzi’s arms wrapped around her, hands running up and down her back slowly.

Soleil’s breath deepened, warm and soft against Azzi’s chest. She stared at the tv, not really seeing the movie playing.

The room was still. Peaceful. Safe.

“I met Grant when I was 18.” She started quietly. “My best friends, Caroline, Colleen, and I all went to this frat party. I only had a few drinks, but I blacked out.” Azzi is almost reliving it, not even hearing Paige’s sharp gasp. “I woke up at his apartment naked. He came back with waffles, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I stayed. I was so mad at myself. He was my first, and I couldn’t believe it was something I couldn’t even remember.”

Paige’s hand covered Azzi’s, breaking her out of her flashback. “That wasn’t your fault, Azzi. He drugged you, and even if he didn’t, drunk people can’t consent. This is all on him.”

Azzi nodded, not really listening to the blonde. “He was so good at first. He treated me like I hung the moon. But it was little things. He chipped away at me until I was exactly what he wanted.” She felt tears welling up in her eyes. “I didn’t even notice the manipulation until it was too late. I wasn’t allowed to eat carbs because it made my face puffy. I had to try on my outfits before I could leave the house, and if he felt like it was too tight, I had to weigh in. If I was too heavy, it was going to be a week of kid’s meals or even meal replacement shakes if it was bad enough.” She shook her head. “He wanted me to be healthy, he just didn’t know how to help me in a healthy way.”

Paige got on the floor and kneeled in front of Azzi. “He wanted to control you Azzi, that’s all. You were already healthy.”

“No, he just wanted me to be healthy. I’m not good at making choices, so he helped me. Sometimes I have trouble remembering things right. I’m probably just twisting his words and making him look bad. He said I used to do that all the time.” Paige brushed a few loose strands out of Azzi’s face, almost wanting her to snap out of it and come back to her.

Azzi’s eyes were glassy, locked on some fixed point beyond Paige. Her voice didn’t match her face — it was too calm, too quiet, like she was reading from a script she’d memorized to survive. Paige froze. She’d seen this kind of dissociation before – she’d seen it in herself. She hated that Azzi was experiencing it too.

Then she started again. “I miss Carol and Colleen. I couldn’t talk to them because they were trouble. They wanted me to wear bad outfits and drink, but Grant didn’t like going out anymore.” Tears slowly fell down her face. “I miss my mom and dad. I miss my brothers. I haven’t seen them in five years.”

She went silent again. Paige was left helpless, just watching the brunette cycle through her thoughts. She was looking at Paige, but her eyes didn’t register the blonde. She wasn’t here – not really.

“I never should’ve left him.” Azzi whispered. “He took such good care of me. He loved me so much, and now I’m all alone.”

Paige got closer, cupping Azzi’s cheeks in her hands. She brought her forehead to Azzi’s, letting it rest there and saying affirmations until she was back. Azzi, you’re safe. You’re okay. You are not alone. You don’t ever have to be alone again. You are good. You are perfect. It’s me, Paige. And Soleil. You have us. You have a family. We want you. We will always want you.

She didn’t know how long she knelt, repeating the same words. But she could tell when Azzi was out of her trance. A gasp, and then more tears. Falling faster, uncontrolled. She tried to keep her cries small and silent with Soleil laying on her.

When Paige tried to move her again, Azzi’s grip tightened once more. “I’m so sorry Paige. I should’ve kept her safe.”

“No, don’t do that, Azzi. You kept her safe. Even when I got there, you were still keeping her safe.” Paige paused, trying to think of what to say next. “You were good, Azzi. You did such a good job protecting Lei.” Azzi let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “Thank you, Azzi.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Paige didn’t move, content to stay on the floor and stroke Azzi’s hair gently. Eventually, Azzi joined Soleil in dreamland.

The blonde bolted to her bedroom. She needed to get out of this suit, and she needed to hit something. She needed to be quick though; she didn’t want Azzi to wake up by herself. After pulling on a pair of basketball shorts and a hoodie, she decided she should probably get something for Azzi to wear too.

She thought back to the pictures Azzi had sent her earlier. She looked so pretty in her yellow dress. She looked happy with Soleil. Paige had been looking forward to getting home and seeing Azzi and Soleil in their matching outfits watching a movie, or working on an artistic masterpiece, or just talking.

But he ruined that.

She didn’t know how to fix it yet, but she knew one thing: he would never control Azzi again. She’d make sure of it.

Paige was hot with anger again.

She yanked open a drawer and pulled out her favorite lilac sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. She grabbed a pair of fuzzy socks and the matching sweatshirt, wanting Azzi to be as comfortable as she wanted.

Paige’s phone flashed with a notification.

Ash 🤠: Found him. Grant Hayes.

Attachment: 1 file

P. Buckets 🏀: Thanks Ash.

When Paige clicked the PDF, she realized she made the right choice in firing Q and promoting Ashlyn. She’d pulled emails, phone records, text messages, social media history, bill information. Everything.

Ash 🤠: Morgan filled me in. Don’t crash out over this. It’s…bad.

P. Buckets 🏀: How did you find him?

Ash 🤠: He’s messy and too cocky. He’s been posting about Azzi since she left him.

Before she let herself start reading the file, Paige pulled the blanket off her bed and walked back out to the living room. She covered Azzi and Soleil and sat next to their heads.

She propped her feet up on the coffee table and got to reading.

After an hour of reading, Paige’s emotions had gone from anger to wrath to fury to rage. Her body was wound tightly with anger. Paige thought the things Azzi had said earlier were bad. But it was nothing compared to the six years of abuse she’d suffered.

He had messages with his father asking ways to make her stay. His dad told him to wake her up to talk the nights before she had class and to start a big fight right before a big exam. She found messages telling his friends what he’d done to trap her. Found messages about the drugs he used the night he met her. Paige found messages where he’d been stalking her, waiting to get a chance with her. He tricked her into getting on his phone plan, then turned her service off. He would change the WIFI password so she couldn’t use any of her apps. There was a lock on the refrigerator and pantry that he only opened when she was cooking for him. She wasn’t even allowed to eat the meals she’d prepared unless he said she could. She had to send him pictures of everything she ate; the portions looked like something a second grader would need. She found hundreds of messages sent to Caroline and Colleen, even a few sent to Azzi’s family.

Then Paige saw his messages to Azzi. Saw every name he ever called her. Said she was dumb and worthless for wanting to be a teacher. He told her she was lucky he was with her because no one else could love someone like her. She forgot to cook one night because she was studying, and he told her she’d be the shittiest wife. She got a bad grade on a child development exam after a night of fighting, and he told her she’d be a terrible mother. It would be child abuse to have a baby with her. He blamed her for all their issues. Blamed it on hormones, her indecisiveness, even her kindness. He would clean it up though. He would buy flowers and chocolate, telling her she couldn’t eat it because she’d gain too much weight. Then he’d say he only did it because he loved her and cared about her.

Paige locked her phone and stared at the blank tv screen. She was angry before. She was angry just by hearing the things Azzi had said.

But now, now she wanted to kill him. She would make what she did to Manny look like child’s play. She needed to hit something; she didn’t want to be this angry in front of Azzi.

She unlocked her phone again, going to the group chat.

God’s Favorites + Kamorea 🍫🍒

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Anybody home?

Muhl Rat 👯‍♀️🤞🏻🇭🇷: almost, but me and N have a date at 7. what’s up?

Baby GOAT 🐐🤣💃🏾: Me. Omw up now.

Jane from the Pyramids 🪡👸🏻🇪🇬: Meeeeeee! Me and Ice are working on Azzi’s spot.

Ice Princess ❄️👑🧚🏽‍♀️: we’re coming up now

Muhl Rat 👯‍♀️🤞🏻🇭🇷: WAIT FOR ME!!!!!

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Actively trying to avoid catching another body.

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Come in quietly. They’re sleeping.

She went to another group chat.

Beauties and the Bucket 👸🏻👸🏽🪣

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Just need y’all to stay with A and Lei til I get back.

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Maybe just turn on Bluey if they wake up. Don’t make her talk

Jana and Ice liked both messages, and Paige went to the last group chat.

Unholy Trinity 😇😈

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: Need to smash some shit before I get locked up

P Boogies 🌈🤰🏼🤪: stg no bull

Muhl Rat 👯‍♀️🤞🏻🇭🇷: parking now. can use staging room??

Paige heard the elevator ding, and she stood up quietly, not wanting to risk waking the two. She looked at them and got stuck.

Since she got back home, she hadn’t really taken the chance to look at them. Soleil and Azzi. Together. They looked like everything Paige wanted; something she thought she could never have. She wanted to crawl in next to them and never move again.

That’s how the girls found her. Bent over looking at the nappers with a look of awe on her face.

Nika let out a quiet cough, making Paige straighten up quickly. “You don’t look like you’re about to kill someone.”

Her face darkened again, and she stalked towards the quartet. “Nika, KK, let’s go.”

 ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The women rode the elevator down to the thirtieth floor. The apartment she chose was perfectly staged. The perfect canvas to ruin.

Paige’s body was wound tight, like a spring ready to explode. She held the door open for Nika and KK. Paige walked past them. She paced the length of the living room, fisting and releasing her hands, rubbing her face and hair with rough movements. Trying to release some of the anger without being too destructive.

Her breath got louder and quicker. She picked up one of the magazines off the coffee table. There was a dull thud when it hit the wall. She knocked a glass off the coffee table, a little tension releasing when it shattered.

Then she exploded.

Couch cushions were ripped. The fruit bowl on the counter was launched at another wall. A dining room chair was used to destroy the glass coffee table before she smashed the chair until it was broken. One of the chair legs was smashed into the oven door and induction cooktop. She used a different one to swing at the refrigerator until it was dented. Lamps were thrown and broken. The common areas destroyed.

Paige paused to look around the room. She felt a little better, but when she looked back at the kitchen, she remembered.

He told her she needed to lose weight. She was fucking perfect. She cooked for that bitch, and he didn’t even let her eat. And she thought he loved her, that she was lucky to be with him.

Her temper flared again.

She yanked the broken oven handle off the door and headed for the bathroom. The glass shower doors were her next victim. The sound of the glass showering down was cathartic. The toilet took a little longer to break, but Paige was persistent. She went to the sink, gripping the sides tightly. Her breath was ragged. She couldn’t calm down; she was so angry. She wanted to punch the mirror, but she knew it would cut her hand up, and she didn’t want to scare Azzi with her violence.

She tugged off her hoodie and wrapped her hand and struck. Her destruction started again. Mirrors, walls, doors. All of them fell victim to her fists and kicks.

Paige ended up back in the living room. Azzi didn’t deserve any of that. I have to fix it.

She fell to her knees next to the glass from the coffee table.

Nika moved first. She squatted beside Paige, making sure to miss the debris. “Come on, let’s sit.”

Somehow, Paige had missed one of the armchairs and two dining room seats.

The blonde glared at her little sister, “Did you know what he did to her?”

KK’s eyes widened, “She didn’t tell us anything outside of him being too controlling. Not letting her make decisions, stuff like that. What happened?” She asked warily.

Paige didn’t know what she could have told them without it crossing boundaries. “Her ex was outside the building today. Sent her into a spiral.”

The other two women tensed. “Did he do something to her?” Nika questioned.

“Not today, but I had Ash look into him. He was awful to her.” She sighed. “No one fought for her. She was all alone. Even when she got to Chicago, she was by herself.”

KK was hesitant, but she wrapped her arm around Paige’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Yeah, but she has us now. She’s going to be okay.”

“Paige, she’s seemed okay, and I think a big part of that is you and Soleil.” Nika added. “What do you want to do? I know you wanna help her, and we can help you.”

Paige ran her hands over her face. “I want to murder him.” She breathes out harshly. “I don’t know. I know she doesn’t feel safe. She feels like she fucked up. I don’t know how to help her.”

“Maybe you can just feel her out, see what she needs and do that.” KK suggested.

Paige nodded, “Yeah. Maybe that’ll be good enough. I want her to be happy.”

Nika put a hand on Paige’s leg. “You’re showing up, P. That’s more than anyone’s done for her in a while.”

“I don’t want her to feel like she’s broken.” Paige whispered, jaw clenched.

“Well make sure she isn’t.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Azzi wakes up to a knee in her stomach and a hand in her face. Soleil.

For a second, she doesn’t remember what happened earlier. She remembered the amazing day she’d been having with Soleil, then Grant’s face popped into her head, and she stiffened.

Soleil’s head popped up from Azzi’s neck, smile already stretched across her cute little face. “Mownin’ Azzi!”

“Good morning, Princess.” Azzi smiled, voice raspy with sleep.

Jana’s face entered Azzi’s field of view. “Hey girl! Paige left some clothes out for you to wear so you don’t have to stay in that dress.” She rubbed Soleil’s head, “Come on Lei, let’s go change.”

Azzi wandered back to Paige’s bedroom. Her bedroom wasn’t dark and sleek like Azzi had expected it to be. It was neutral and calm; Ice had done a good job in here.

On the top of her dresser was a lavender sweatsuit. The fabric was soft, like it’d been worn a million times. She pulled the dress over her head, pulling the clothes on quickly.

She was enveloped in the smell of Paige Bueckers. The smell was crisp and a little citrusy with a hint of sandalwood, vanilla, and spice. It was intoxicating.

Azzi smiled at the fuzzy socks Paige had left her. The whole outfit felt like a hug.

She strolled out to the living room, pulling the blanket from before around her. It smelled like pear and white pepper; sweet and warm all at once.

She was waiting for Soleil to come back out when the elevator dings.

Azzi’s whole body froze. He was here.

She didn’t move until a blonde head peeked around the corner. Then, she was able to breathe again.

“Oh. You’re up!” Paige started, surprised. “Did you have a good nap?”

Azzi’s head tilted a bit. Was Paige mad that she slept over here? She remembered Paige saying something to her before she went to sleep. Maybe Paige really was mad about Azzi risking Soleil’s safety.

She looked at the floor, tracing the patterns in the wood with her eyes. She nodded, too afraid to see the look of disappointment or irritation on Paige’s face.

“Good. I’m happy you were able to rest.”

Azzi’s head shot up. Brows furrowed, “You wanted me to sleep?”

“Yeah,” Paige started, walking towards the couch. “You had a rough afternoon.”

The soft look in Paige’s eyes was disarming. Azzi nodded again, still a little confused. “I was gonna chill for the rest of the day. Was thinking we could talk about the school tour, then just hang out over here. Everybody else came over an hour ago, so we’d just be vibing with the family.”

Azzi was thankful for the clear direction and path the rest of the day would take. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make more decisions.

Soleil walked into the living room halfway through the conversation about Four Oaks. Her blue eyes moved between both women before she decided to sprawl out across them both: head in Azzi’s lap and legs on Paige’s.

She told her mom how much she liked the school, but how she still wanted Azzi to be her teacher.

“Would you like it if you went to school for the morning, then finished school with Azzi in the afternoon?” Paige suggested, looking to Azzi with her brows raised.

Soleil’s head popped up at the idea. “That’s pewfect! I get new fwiends, and I get to keep Azzi!”

“Is that okay with you, Azzi?” Paige questions. “It’ll give you more time to figure out what you want to do for work.”

Azzi nodded quickly. “Yes! That sounds perfect. No more money though.”

Soleil, satisfied with the outcome of the conversation, decided now would be the perfect time for a dance party. She rounded up the other ladies and made them all stand in the living room.

Paige pulled up Just Dance 2 on YouTube and smiled while Soleil and KK stole the show.

The rest of the day is light. Full of laughter and love. It was the most relaxed Azzi had been in a while.

Everyone sat in the dining nook to have pizza. Soleil claimed Azzi’s lap as her throne since they are “gluten fwee besties” and Azzi wouldn’t have it any other way.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Azzi was back on the couch wrapped in the same blanket once everyone has left and Soleil has been put to sleep.

Paige sat next to her quietly, eyes glued to the muted television.

“He makes me feel broken.” Azzi whispers. “I thought I was over it, but I’m just as weak and broken as I was the day I left him.”

Paige moves a little closer, “Why do you feel like you’re broken or weak?”

“I feel like I should be over it by now. I’ve been away from him for two years, and all he had to do was look at me and I fell apart.”

“But you got away from him, Azzi. That makes you strong. A lot of people never get out.” Paige ducked her head to make sure Azzi was listening.

Azzi pulled her knees to her chest, laying her head on them to look at Paige. “I know a lot of the stuff he said isn’t true, but I don’t know the difference anymore.”

“Well stay, don’t run. I can show you. Soleil can show you. We will all show you what love looks like. Let me help you, please.” Paige’s heart cracked a little at the tears in Azzi’s eyes.

“I’m scared. I don’t know how.” Azzi whimpered.

Paige’s heart broke a little more. And she started to plan. She would do whatever she needed to make Azzi feel like the most loved woman she knew.

Paige draped on arm around Azzi’s shoulders and let the other come up to hold her face. “I’ll teach you, Az. I’ll show you. You just have to let me.” She wiped a tear as Azzi gave a single nod. “You don’t ever have to be alone again, Azzi. You’re not alone. I got you.”

[ineedpaigebuckets]

please give us freak!azzi and paige being protective/possesive in a one shot. maybe they are like super touchy best friends so nobody says anything until it starts to be too much idk just a thought

so like yes!!!

remind you

nobody ever said anything.

not when paige walked around with her hand low on azzi’s back.

not when azzi sat curled against her side on the locker room floor, long legs draped over paige’s lap.

not even when they’d whisper during film like the rest of the world was background noise.

best friends.

super close.

always have been.

except lately, it’s been a little too close.

like the time azzi bit paige’s neck at practice. not hard—just enough for paige to squeak and swat her arm, but the look in azzi’s eyes was not friendly.

or the way paige grabbed azzi’s wrist after a game, tugged her into the locker room early like she couldn’t wait another minute to be alone with her.

someone probably should’ve said something.

but no one did.

and that made it easier to get away with more.

azzi barely had time to say anything—not that she would’ve—before paige was pressing her into the row of lockers, eyes dark, breath still heaving from the court. there were still teammates outside, fans in the stands, media waiting by the tunnel, but none of that mattered. not with the way paige looked at her. not with the way her hands were already sliding under azzi’s jersey like they belonged there.

“ten points, four steals, two threes off one foot,” paige muttered, voice low, like she was reciting scripture. “you think you can play like that and not have me all over you?”

azzi smirked, lips brushing paige’s. “guess i hoped you would.”

“yeah?” paige asked, lifting her thigh between azzi’s legs, pinning her in place. “hope harder.”

and then she kissed her—hot, greedy, claiming—and azzi melted, one hand fisting in paige’s jersey, the other braced behind her for balance. they didn’t get far. didn’t need to. just enough to breathe each other in. enough to make azzi shake.

enough to remind them both what they were really playing for.

—

it starts with azzi sitting in paige’s lap during recovery. straight-faced. calm. like it’s normal. she’s wearing just a sports bra and shorts, hair tied up, slick with sweat. paige doesn’t even flinch—just spreads her legs and lets azzi slot right in, one arm wrapping lazily around her waist like she owns her.

azzi presses an ice pack to her quad. paige presses her mouth to azzi’s shoulder.

“you’re burning up,” she mumbles, lips against skin.

“so cool me down,” azzi says. not flirty. just facts.

paige’s hand slides beneath azzi’s waistband, casual, just resting there. azzi doesn’t move. doesn’t blink.

a trainer walks in. freezes.

paige raises her eyebrows like what?

the trainer clears their throat and walks back out.

azzi leans back harder, lips twitching. “you’re so bad.”

“you started it.”

“you gonna finish it?”

azzi’s voice didn’t waver, but the challenge sat heavy between them. thick like humidity. her legs still stretched across paige’s lap, her hand still loosely holding the ice pack against her quad, but everything about her posture had shifted—shoulders pulled back just slightly, lips parted, watching paige like she was waiting to be pushed.

paige didn’t blink. didn’t smile. she leaned back on the couch just a little, spreading her legs wider beneath azzi like she had nothing but time.

“you sure you want me to?” she asked, one brow raising, voice calm in that way that made azzi’s stomach flip. “i don’t think you’re ready.”

azzi smirked, sharp and slow. “oh, i’m not?”

“mm-mm.” paige’s hand drifted—just casually—to azzi’s bare thigh, fingers tracing a lazy pattern near the hem of her shorts. “you start shit you can’t finish all the time.”

azzi’s breath caught, but she didn’t flinch. she just dropped the ice pack on the floor, heat building between her legs where paige’s fingertips hovered. “maybe i like how you finish it.”

and that made paige move.

she shifted under azzi, gripped her hips with both hands, and guided her to straddle her fully—slow and steady, like she wanted azzi to feel every inch of contact. azzi’s hands caught the back of the couch, bracketing paige’s shoulders, breath stuttering as their bodies pressed together.

paige dragged her hands up the back of azzi’s thighs, under her shorts, until her palms met skin. “you got a smart mouth tonight,” she said, low, looking up at her now.

“you like it.”

“i like reminding you.”

her thumbs dug in just a little, grounding. azzi’s breath hitched.

“go ahead then,” azzi whispered, leaning down until their noses brushed. “remind me.”

and paige did.

she grabbed a fistful of azzi’s hoodie and pulled her down into a kiss that was nothing like the ones they shared in public—this one was deeper, messier, laced with the kind of familiarity that only came from knowing someone inside and out. azzi sighed into her, body sinking down like she was giving in completely. her fingers slipped into paige’s hair, tugging gently, hips shifting until their centers met.

paige groaned against her mouth, rolled her hips up once—deliberate.

azzi gasped, eyes fluttering shut. “jesus—”

“leave jesus outta this mama,” paige muttered, lips at azzi’s throat now. “just me.”

her hand slid between them, slipping under azzi’s waistband. azzi’s whole body jolted.

“you’re soaked,” paige murmured, half a smile against her collarbone. “that from the ice pack?”

“shut up,” azzi breathed, already rocking forward into her hand.

but paige didn’t shut up.

“you sit in my lap like that. wear these tiny-ass shorts. flirt with other people. and you expect me not to make you beg?”

azzi tried to say something. anything. but all that came out was a broken sound when paige’s fingers pressed down, slow and sure.

paige pulled back, just far enough to see her face. “i asked you something.”

“yes,” azzi gasped, voice fraying. “please—just—”

“that’s better.”

she kissed azzi again, but softer this time. hand working slow between her legs, thumb circling exactly where she knew azzi needed it most. azzi clung to her, forehead pressed to paige’s as her thighs trembled and breath grew shallow.

“look at me,” paige whispered. “want you to see who’s got you like this.”

azzi looked. her eyes glassy, mouth parted, completely gone.

“mine,” paige said, barely more than a breath.

and azzi nodded. over and over.

“yours.”

and when she came, it was with paige’s name caught in her throat, body curling tight in paige’s lap, hips jerking and hands scrambling for something to hold on to. paige just held her through it, arms wrapped around her, breath steady against her cheek, riding the wave out like she’d done this a hundred times—and would do it a hundred more.

and when azzi finally collapsed against her, limp and quiet and wrecked, paige kissed her temple and whispered:

“don’t start what you can’t handle, baby.”

azzi’s voice was a whisper against her neck, dazed and smug.

“wasn’t trying to start it. just wanted to see if you still had it.”

paige grinned, tightening her grip.

"yeah don't play with me az."

—

later that night, they’re out at a party, and azzi’s wearing this tiny black top that rides up every time she lifts her arms. she’s laughing with someone else—someone tall and cocky and too close—and paige watches with her jaw tight, drink untouched in her hand.

she doesn’t say anything.

until azzi catches her eye and smirks like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

and that’s when paige moves.

she’s across the room in seconds, hand slipping beneath azzi’s shirt from behind, fingertips ghosting across her bare stomach like a warning. “you good?” she asks, voice deceptively light.

azzi tilts her head, lazy smile still in place. “i’m great.”

paige’s hand tightens. “i said are you good.”

azzi finally turns in her arms, crowding into her. “jealousy looks good on you.”

“keep talking,” paige murmurs, mouth at her jaw now, “i’ll show you what else looks good on me.”

azzi didn’t answer. she didn’t have to. the way her thighs pressed together said enough.

paige’s hand slipped around her waist, fingers splaying low on her stomach, possessive and easy, like muscle memory. “you done playing games?” she asked, quieter now. “or you want me to prove something.”

azzi looked at her then, fully—eyes dark, lips parted, that same dangerous glint paige had been trying to ignore all night. “you wouldn’t.”

“don’t test me.”

and then, without waiting, paige leaned in further—kissed her just behind the ear, barely more than a brush, but deep enough that azzi visibly shivered. her grip on her drink faltered. her mouth opened like she might say something, but nothing came out.

the guy said something awkward and wandered off.

paige smiled. didn’t even turn to watch him leave.

“you wanna flirt?” she whispered, hand slipping lower still, “flirt with me.”

and azzi did—later, in the backseat of the car, with her skirt hitched up and paige’s hand sliding slow and sure between her thighs. the city lights flickered over their skin, casting shadows that danced with every breath they stole. azzi’s back arched against paige’s palm, her head falling back as quiet moans slipped past lips still tasting of whiskey and bar chatter.

paige’s fingers moved with deliberate patience, teasing, coaxing, learning every inch of azzi’s response. she could feel the slick heat pooling beneath her touch, the way azzi’s muscles tensed and relaxed like she was trying to hold onto something—maybe control, maybe composure. but she didn’t want that. not tonight.

“god, you’re mine,” paige murmured against azzi’s neck, voice thick with promise. her other hand tangled in azzi’s hair, tilting her head to expose more skin, more vulnerable places to claim.

azzi whimpered, arching harder, hips grinding forward even though paige held her steady. “you don’t even know,” she breathed.

paige smiled against her skin, lips trailing a slow path down azzi’s collarbone, her breath warm and steady. “i’m gonna remind you,” she promised. “every single day.”

the car rocked gently with the city’s pulse, their world shrinking to the small space between them—where nothing else existed but soft sighs, tangled limbs, and the fierce claim of two bodies finally coming home.

and azzi gave in.

to the heat, the need, the way paige’s touch erased every lonely second she’d felt tonight, every doubt or hesitation. here, wrapped in paige’s hands and voice, she was exactly where she belonged.

safe.

wanted.

finally hers.

she just leaned back into paige’s chest and whispered, “yours.”

and paige kissed her shoulder, grinning.

“that’s what i thought.”

—

later, when azzi’s shirt is somewhere on the kitchen floor and her thighs are still shaking and her voice is gone, she turns her head and breathes out, “you get like this every time i talk to someone else?”

paige, still hovering over her, flush and smug, brushes sweaty curls from azzi’s cheek. “only when you forget who you’re coming home to.”

azzi hums. “wasn’t trying to forget.”

paige kisses her slow, then leans down again, whispering right into her mouth.

“then don’t make me remind you so hard next time.”

azzi grins, throat sore, body wrecked, and already aching again.

“who said i didn’t like being reminded?”

[sour-cherryyy]

im ovulating rn pls pls pls can you write about perv niki

18+ (Minors do not interact) YES, YES, YES, OF COURSE! Also you're my first ask I'm so excited!!!

perv!niki who plays it so cool around his friends. 

But beneath that casual exterior? He’s hard. Full-on, can’t-think-straight, cock-pressing-against-his-jeans hard. 

It starts as a lazy Saturday hangout in their living room- blankets thrown around, PS5 whirring, drinks half-finished. You’re all crammed on the sofa, Niki pulling you onto his lap with a little smirk. You think it’s cute, think he just wants to cuddle. 

Wrong. 

His voice is in your ear, low and smug.  "Sit still, baby. You’re doing me a favour right now."  You blink, shifting innocently- until you feel it. The pressure. The way his thigh flexes. His hand curls around your hip tighter.  "Seriously, don’t move," he mutters through clenched teeth. "Unless you want everyone to see how much I want you." 

The knowledge makes your heart stutter. Your thighs squeeze together reflexively, and that only makes it worse. His palm sneaks up under the hem of your hoodie, fingers splaying across your stomach- teasing, grounding. 

"You’re gonna keep me hidden, right?"  You nod, cheeks hot. He smiles. He knows he’s won. 

perv!niki who’s caught, hand wrapped tight around his cock. 

You weren’t supposed to be there yet. He thought he had time. Just a quick one before your date- something to take the edge off. 

But the door opens. You freeze. 

"Niki?"  He scrambles, but it’s too late. You see it all: the screen paused on a photo of you in red lingerie, the way he’s panting, sweat-slicked, flushed all the way down to his chest. 

You blink. He swears.  "Fuck- I thought you weren't gonna be here ‘til five-" 

You cross your arms.  "You couldn’t wait?" 

And he’s shameless now, all the panic melting into that signature grin.  "Why would I, when I’ve got the real thing right here?" 

He reaches for you, cock still hard and leaking, and you roll your eyes- but your knees go weak when he tugs you into his lap. 

"Wanna help me finish?" he breathes against your jaw.  You don’t say no. 

You ride him right there on the couch, his hand between your legs, his mouth in your ear- "I think about this every time I’m alone. Can’t even jerk off without picturing how wet you get for me." 

You clench around him. He groans.  "Fuck- yeah, just like that- show me how bad you missed it, baby." 

perv!niki who steals your panties when he sleeps over. 

You don’t notice at first- until your favourite black lace pair disappears after a steamy night. 

And then another. 

Until one day, you find them in his gym bag. 

He’s not even sorry.  "Insurance," he shrugs. "Helps me focus." 

You’re stunned.  "Niki, what the fuck-" 

He pushes you up against the wall, grin wicked.  "You Wana punish me?"  You do. 

You ride his face that night, make him earn every inch of forgiveness. He eats you out like he’s starving, moaning like he’s the one being touched. 

You come twice before he’s even allowed to touch himself. And then you watch. Arms crossed. Cold stare. 

"You gonna ask nicely?"  He nods.  "Please- please let me fuck you- I need it- I need you-" 

You let him have it. Eventually. 

But the next morning? Another pair goes missing.  This time, you leave it out on purpose. 

perv!niki who surprises you with silk pyjamas clearly bought with bad intentions.

You find the box at your front door- wrapped in black ribbon, a little note tucked under the bow.

"Wear this for me tonight."

Your stomach flips. You already know it’s trouble. And when you peel the lid open? Oh, it’s worse than you imagined. Thin, wine-red silk that clings to your fingers like water. A top that barely covers your nipples, and matching shorts that wouldn’t hide a thing.

You’re blushing before you even put it on.

By the time he gets to your place, you’re already in bed, blanket wrapped tight around your legs. But Niki doesn’t knock- just walks in like he owns the place, grin wide when he sees you.

"You wore it," he murmurs, eyes dragging over every inch of exposed skin.

"You told me to."

He’s on you in seconds- hands warm on your thighs, lips finding your neck. The fabric slides against you with every movement, like it’s made to tease.

"Fuck, you look unreal," he groans, pulling the top down just enough to mouth at your chest. "Could come just from this- just from how good you look in it."

You whimper when his fingers dip between your legs, already soaked.

"Shit, baby," he breathes, rubbing slow circles against your clit. "You like dressing up for me?"

Your hips twitch. He smirks.

"I’m gonna fuck you in this. Just like this. Silk on, legs open."

And he does- slow, deep, deliberate. The pyjamas cling to your sweat-slicked body, shifting every time he thrusts, and he watches every second like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

perv!niki who can’t keep his hands off you. Ever.  In public? He pulls you into empty stairwells just to kiss you until you’re dizzy.  At your apartment? He won’t let you leave the bed without at least three orgasms between you.  In the shower? He loves bending you over the tile, hot water and hotter skin, grunting in your ear as you pant his name. 

"Can’t help it," he always says. "You’re mine. Every inch of you." 

And God, he proves it. Over and over. Until you're spent, dripping, and absolutely ruined. 

And still- still- he wants more. 

perv!niki who isn’t sorry for any of it.  Who thinks your moans are the sweetest soundtrack.  Who saves your nudes like treasures.  Who’d rather cancel plans than miss the chance to make you fall apart on his tongue. 

He’s a menace. A sex-crazed, love-struck, absolutely whipped menace. 

And you wouldn’t change a thing. 

I hope this didn't disappoint :) Thank you so so much for this request anon, -Elena.

[justladders]

ARE YOU READY?

ARE YOU READY?

🪜 • reblogs help a ton <3 • commissions • youtube • bluesky

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Why is the red underline missing underline missing under LWJ's and XL's names in the mario kart comic? /gen q /love your stuff /have a nice day

Truthful Answer: I forgot to ink it and didn't want to rescan the comic.

Funny Answer: They never finished the course.

(post for context)

[warm-mangoes-with-chai]

Just found something after 3 years,,,, life is with living still,,,,🥹

Bottom line? NEVER give up, my fellow yuri soldiers 🧡🤍🩷

[aizawashuichi]

hate hate hate that I am no longer used to write on my phone.

[homosexualcitron]

i want to do art trades with moots so badly but i want to finish the current chapter i'm working on before arrgg

[tonycries]

BUTTER

Synopsis. First time cúmming inside = first time losing his mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, creampíes, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, breéding, cúmplay, men whímpering, virgínity loss (Choso), overstím, ínnapropriate use of jujutsu, GOJO’S POWERS, proposals, full nélson, true form Sukuna, dp, spítting, p slápping, p talking, limitless, oraI (fem rec.), pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Earned it.

“I-is she really tellin’ me to hah- f-fill her up inside, doll?” Toji breathes, dazed eyes locked down at your stuffed entrance. And he can barely focus his gaze - barely even try to sound like himself right now. “I-is this real?”

Ragged rasps just about half as ruined as he feels, lilting up in pitch. In strain. Sharp intakes of breath becoming so labored when his entire hulking body wracks with a heaving shiver. 

And Toji’s scrambling his thick fingers to latch roughly onto your face, your waist - anywhere and everywhere that might help him keep an ounce of his sanity.

But it was too late.

“Heh, did I hngh- fuck the rationality outta ya? You really want me t-to-” Head throwing back, he can’t even think of finishing his sentence. Of doing anything other than curling one set of fingers around your throat. Biceps flexing when he shoves you even harder onto all fours on the silken sheets, he cranes over to place a line of pretty pecks down your teary cheeks, panting, “Well…wh-whatever my girl wants- she gets, right?”

And he meant it.

Oh, he couldn’t even believe it. Toji had your pretty pussy overfilled with all of his thick, thorough inches - slamming his hips drunkenly against yours when you’d babbled to cum inside. Fuck, it’s so real.

And that’s all it takes for him to clamor up one of his staggeringly muscular thighs up onto the plushy bed. To messily slip and slide across the saturated puddle of your sweet, sweet dripping juices and press his foot down shamelessly on your head. Like he couldn’t get enough.

The new angle nestles his hefty cock disruptively, dredges of his sweltering hot precum splat! against every inch of your clingy cunt.

“Oh yeah- th-this is the stuff.” His dark, dewy eyes veer to the very back of his head, hissing when his achy cock expands open your gummy walls. Throbbing head swelling plumper to curve even deeper, “Let me- l-let me hear ya, ma-”

Your trembly fingers rake a reddened line down his calf. Gasping for air at the way the rotund end of his angry, strawberry-pink tip kisses against your g-spot so snugly. “W-wan’ it so badly- please.”

“Want what?” Toji’s teasing tone rumbles from behind, and he’s gyrating his hips ever-so-slightly slower. Making sure to draw out those wet, translucent glides down your tight channel, “Can’t- can’t hear you-”

Honestly, he had absolutely no idea whether it was because of your honeyed tone breaking out into the cutest of whimpers, or because Toji’s ears were popping. Swatting a wet smack! at your beading clit to get you to yelp, his drawling mouth moves all by itself. “Already asked- t-tell me now unless ya want me to cum outside-”

“No! No no no-” And that was all the threat it took to have you careening unsteadily onto your elbows, fully forgetting the mean restraint of Toji’s foot on top of you. “Please- need you to cum inside please-”

“Louder.”

You’re sneakily shivering your hips down every one of his rummaging inches. “Toji-”

“Ohhhh- my bad.” With a slight snicker, his tongue glissades a wet gloss down the very edges of his scar. Leaving rounded circular bruises at your bobbing throat just how harshly Toji was jostling you with the vice-like embrace, and you can only manage out a few sniffles when he drags by one strong arm to crash the recoil into his ruthless hips. Dangerously stopping you in your tracks. Humming, “Stop fuckin’ running, I w-was talkin’ to ya pretty pussy.”

Your bleary eyes snap open, “What–”

“Shhh, doll- stop whining so much–” he’s cooing in a syrupy slow cadence. “Jus’ needa- needa hear it from her.”

Slapping down his leaky cockhead along your sloppy hole every few strokes, having you drooling a glossy sheen down his thick shaft like you were painting him. So much of it that the dripping wet noises were resounding in Toji’s ears, dancing around his melty mind like his new favorite song. 

Oh, he loved to hear it. Over and over and-

“S-so soaked.” he’s groaning out like a mantra, darkened eyes grifting together. Mouth can all but lift his drunken maw slack open at every tightening clamp of your syrupy pussy, “You want me to cum inside this badly, doll?” 

And you feel your puffed-up pussy lips get even more soaked at the utter pussydrunk look on Toji’s usually smug-features. “Because I’ve been thinking about this e-ever since the day I met ya-” He’s craning over - hunching, more like.  Baring you with his most crazed gaze, “To breed ya- to fill you up ‘ntil you think you’re gonna hah burst. To make ya a pretty momma so-” Back muscles flexing, abs aching with fatigue, lips dragging a sopping wet kiss. “-please let me cum inside.”

Ah, who was Toji Fushiguro against you?

Because as soon as your head even dares to move within the inch of that half-delirious nod you send his way, Toji’s sopping your insides sloshing wet with his cum. For the first time. In awe. Load after load being fucked up into you - white flashes behind your eyes when you feel it knock against your womb, trickling down over your cervix.

And there’s so much of it.

“Gonna have yer g-gorgeous eyes-” he slurs, crushing you with his full body weight. “-n’ your smile fuck- my love for ya-” It won’t’ stop - Toji can’t stop, can’t reel back the weepy curving divot of his head. “M’thinking four- no- five.” Still oozing out a milky gloss even when he’s dragging his fat cock out of your hole. 

Still cumming. Smearing every nook and cranny of the sheet below white as he flips you around and plants a sudden smack! on your overspilling pussy, gushing out obscenely when Toji’s urgently bringing his face down, down, down.

“Oh. Fuckin’ delicious.” His eyes droop half-lidded at the heavenly sight - shit, he could get used to this. Mouth watering, his feverish breath wafts all over your sensitive pussy. “I earned this, didn’t I, ma?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Happy wife, happy life

“Ken-”

“...”

“Ken.”

But oh, Nanami Kento can’t even hear his pretty wife right about now. Can’t do anything but shove his greedy tongue down the ends of your sopping wet slit, pooling your syrupy juices all the way down to his throat.

In fact, the only response you’re being gifted with is a furious pull on his dangling work tie - barely even bothering to change out of it - to be able to swipe his nose down more freely in a long kiss down your puffy clit. More, more, more-

Keening, your fingers tangle into Nanami’s blond strands - tugging, dragging, but shit, he couldn’t - wont. It hurt for him to even think of pulling away. Roughened palms scissor past your folds, and he pants, “P-please- fuck- just a bit- more-”

He was addicted. Gone. 

“B-but Ken-” Couldn’t register anything past the way your voice was dipping into a whiny territory right now that made him twitch dangerously. That is, until- “Wan’ to cum w-with you- to have you ah- cum inside-”

Oh.

If you thought that Nanami was drunk on you before then you were completely unprepared for the way that singular babbling plea make him still. 

It makes him gasp, honeyed eyes widening, feverish breaths spilling out in heaving puffs of condensation - once, twice. Before your back is suddenly slamming down on the counter, legs splayed out shamefully by Nanami’s sturdy forearms, and your cunt-

Fuck, in a few split-seconds, you were being stuffed so thoroughly open. Nanami’s reddish cockhead springing down to gift a wet thwack! thwack! thwack! on your puffed-up clit, he’s swiping down the ends of your drooling lips. 

“I-inside?” he breathes, a few octaves higher than usual.

You’re nodding, your fingers twirling around his haphazard tie. “Inside.”

“Anything…” Nanami breathes, and he sounds like he doesn’t even know that he’s saying the words. Barely ripping his gaze from you to scramble for your left hand - before placing a sweet, sweet peck on that cool wedding band on your ring finger. “Anything f-for you, my love.”

You’re almost crying at that ruthless stretch of his globular tip poking at your insides, he’s caving in a way open - and even after so many years, you’ve never gotten used to how staggeringly big Nanami’s girth was. How his curved divot was steaming out a thick wad of precum that already made you feel so full.

Now, you two had discussed kids - but never acted upon it like this. This needy. This frenzied-

“Wh-whatever you want, y’know-” He’s humming depravedly into your mouth like a mantra,  thumbing past your pouty lips to spit into your mouth. And that very sight of those translucent splatters makes his hips stutter mindlessly, “Anything for you- anything for the future momma of my kids-”

Shit, you throw your head back as soon as he’s grazing two digits down the very hood of your neglected clit - only for Nanami to jostle your head over his hands.

“C-careful-” he murmurs, hand dipping down to massage your neck. Your shoulders - all while his fat cock was rummaging every nook and cranny of your insides. “-don’t wan’ you to hurt your- hah-self, darling. S’not good f-for the-”

Baby.

Nanami doesn’t think he can even bear to say that simple word right about now. 

Risking losing whatever’s left of his sanity, he’s wrapping one beefy arm around your middle to crush your body to his. And before you know it, you’re being hastily jostled off of the counter and dangled midair - all while your gentle husband barely even breaks a sweat. Utilizing the lewd properties of gravity to let you bounce down onto his long length and back upwards. His voice cracks, “-baby.”

“Ah-” your trembly hands wrap their way around his neck, giving Nanami the perfect angle to pepper peck after sultry peck onto your bouncing tits. “D-don’t hah- drop me, Ken, m’kay?”

Drop you?

Drop you?

God, he lets out a slight chuckle at the very thought. Angling to rut his inches even deeper upwards, every tiny massage of your elastic walls around his painful cock makes Nanami nod. So fervently that stray strands stick to his prespired forehead. Such a pretty mess of your sensible husband. “Mhm- w-won’t drop you, I swear- I swear-”

Hips speeding up in such a sloppy way now, but even how you’re tightening his tie won’t make Nanami stop - slow down.

“Promise?”

Slowly, his dribbling cock gushes out even in even more velvety ribbons, you’re watching in such delirious awe at the way those delicate strings of slick and spit stretch all down his pinkish shaft. 

“Promise-” he groans, feeling light-headed. Heavy balls thwacking in a sticky staccato against your ass. Fingers gliding up, up, up to where he was nudging your sensitive g-spot, bruising out his circumference on all your sensitive areas. Kiss after French kiss into your gooey heaven. He presses down. “-gonna f-fill you up right here- won’t miss. Swear I won’t m-miss-”

And he doesn’t.

God, he grows sullenly quiet to hear all those delicious squelches the very moment Nanami’s steaming hot cum is spilling into you. Warming you from the very insides- and your own orgasm has you seeing stars. 

Sloshing around in his favorite little swivels, he can’t help but let his hips gyrate slowly to feel it coat a creamy gloss down his sensitive cock. To feel your tiny whimpers and whines when his seed dredges down your womb. Drip! drip! dripping onto the kitchen tile in an echoing splatter from your slobbery slit. 

You leave a wet peck at the ends of his curled lips, “W-wan’ keep it all inside, Ken- all of it-”

God, you were going to be the death of him.

“M’gonna marry you all over again- s-swear and- and…” And just then, he shudders so violently that you fear for a split-second, legs around his toned waist tightening. “-o-oh, my love- m’gonna cum again.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “U-use me.”

“I-I’m so close-”  Geto finds it in himself to grit his teeth, to force his jittery fingers up to pinch your plump clit. “-gonna cum- fuck, s-stop riding me, honey- unless ya want me to fill you up heh-”

It’s said so low and sultry and even through your hazy mind, you know that it’s a simple tease coming from your boyfriend. You know that he didn’t mean anything by it - but that certainly doesn’t stop the way that your hands grasp around his shoulders, knocking your heads into a messy French kiss. “But, I want you to, Sugu.”

Oh. 

Geto Suguru can’t hide the way his chest heaves with a choked-up moan, how his head throws to the very back of his silken pillowcases when his hips rut upwards into you like a fucking animal.

It’s like he was out of control. Ears ringing with the words, it takes the cult leader below you every shred of will in his entire body to groan out, “D-don’t joke like that- fuck- gonna give me a heart attack, y’know-”

“M’not joking.”

Shit, his eyes widen. Straying down to where your puffy pussy lips were bulging around his fat girth, swallowing up every greedy inch that you were being drilled with. Throat dry, every sound that comes out of him now is painfully raspy, “Y-you fuckin’ mean it? Better not be fuck- talking outta this naughty-” Swat! Coming down to kiss a punishing smack against the edges of your drooling cunt. “-pussy.”

You couldn’t fake the way that makes you glissadingingly drenched even if you wanted to. Nails raking down Geto’s curvaceous pecs to steady your stuttering hips, your bounces grow frantic. 

“Please- c-cum inside-” begging. Maybe you were cockdrunk already, pouting in a way that has his hefty, cum-filled balls squeezing. “Jus’ want you all inside-”

And when Geto thinks back to this situation, he doesn’t know how he was ever supposed to stand a chance. Because with a gasping ricochet of his fat, curved cock onto your most precious g-spot, he’s surging stringy wads of seeds that trickles down your inner thigh. Cumming and cumming so hard - it’s never felt this good - that he almost forgets it’s too early.

That is, until you’re gasping a soft “Baby, did you-”

“Sh-shut up-” And you swear your big, strong boyfriend whimpers. He’s furiously blinking away those glittery globular tears at the ends of his eyes. A tiny pout smeared across his rosy pink lips when you’re being flipped.

One hand around your throat, the other plugging back creamy dredge after dredge into your drooling cunt. Almost as if it was offensive to him to catch that syrupy drizzle, he’s making such a fucking mess. 

“Such a filthy girl- n’ a filthy cunt-” He sputters out, and Geto felt like he was burning a bright red blush all down his pretty features. Matching the angry way your hips were being slammed into his, “Think you s-sooo fuckin’ fuck- fuck fuck fuck-”

And shit, he can’t even finish his sentence before those moans are petering out into speechlessness. A singular tight squeeze of your gummy walls encircles his hot girth. And it’s enough to make him whine, “Please- fuck, how are you doing this-”

Sounding so genuinely in disbelief, you watch as Geto’s mouth drops lewdly at the way every pearlescent bead of his cum was directed towards your cunt. Seeping out through the edges of your sopping lips.

You’re giggling in a drunken way that makes him flinch, “S-something wrong, Sugu?”

“Don’t-” he bares you with a feral grin. Heavy limbs throwing apart your limp legs to jostle his hips into you even harder, and it’s like Geto was spearheading into your lungs. Swiping up translucent wet splatters of his fat head in delicious drags down your spongy cervix. Hissing that even the slightest bit of recoil had him parting from the melty depths of your pussy. “-don’t call m that ‘nless you want me to- oh-” His dewy eyes roll to the back of his head, leaving another unapologetic smack! on your peaked clit. “-t-too late. M’gonna cum- fuck fuck fuck- n’ s’all your fault-”

“Awww–” Teasingly, your fingers drag through his long curtain of hair, scratching lightly at Geto’s scalp in a way that makes him purr. “-how can I hah- make it up to you, Sugu?”

The only thing he wanted right now was to cum inside you again. Once more. Twice. Thrice. Again and again and-

“Use me-” Geto gasps, and he’s careening his head down for what you assumed would be one of his favorite messy kisses - only to wrap those pinkish lips around your tongue and suck. “Use me use me- ohh please, use me- honey- make me a daddy. D-don’t even care anymore-”

And when he cums, Geto’s filling your already sloshingly drenched cunt with heavy loads of his seed. Sticky and honeyed enough that it’s next to impossible for him to pull out and sheath his rock-hard dick unforgivingly into your pussy. 

One of the biggest threats to jujutsu society - whimpering when he spews out a stream of wet swears into your open-mouth, shivering at every one of your milking clamps to drag out something delicious from him. 

He’s curling his hulking body into yours, dripping fingers glistening all the way down to Geto’s wrist with just how much of his loads he’d shoveled all the way back inside your cunt. Giving your sloppy hole a languid circle around the diameter with his slender fingers, before popping them into his mouth. 

And Geto can only see stars behind his eyes, he can only moan at the taste, “I think…” Peaking out a hazy eye at your squirming figure - where the hell did you think you were going? He’s hypnotized, dragging you back into his clutches with a hand curled prettily around your throat. “-that w-we’re not done until m’cumming b-blanks, honey.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Marry you…

One swipe - just one swipe of Choso’s fattened, blushing red tip down your slit is all that it takes for his stupidly pussydrunken eyes to run to the back of his head. For his drooling mouth to slack open with all the utter need of a virgin, “Please-”

You’re humming through your moans, arching your body just right for him to feed you more and more of his half-flaccid inches. “Tell me what you want, baby-”

Fuck, he’s winking open his eyes to peer down at you. Hands traveling their way to roughly jostle your pliant body into one of the meanest mating presses you’d never thought your dear inexperienced best friend possible.

“N-noo–” Choso’s whining, pressing wet pecks down your lips. “Don’t call me that, baby- or else m’gonna…”

Choso’s handsome cheeks burn a shameful red when his eyes drift down to the gooey splatters of cum smeared along your stomach from not too long ago. Just the prospect of being able to put it in too much for his fried brain to handle.

And you’re finding your fingers darting across the glossy sheen sticking to your skin, bringing those drippingly wet digits up, up, up for Choso to gladly wrap his lips around. Sucking. 

“But I want you to, Cho–” Watching as his eyes widen, mouth dropping into a soft oh! Your voice drops into such a hum that makes his swollen tip twitch startlingly. “Want you to c-cum inside m-”

Shit, he doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence - and he doesn’t want to. 

Not unless Choso wants to make an even bigger fool of himself in front of his pretty best friend that oh-so-kindly suggested taking away his virginity. Not like there’s anyone else he’d even dream of giving it to.

Thick, sculpted thigh hiking up, he’s slamming his hefty cockhead down until your swollen folds were kissing up in a sweet, sweet pucker against his thick hilt. Grinding in slow, sultry gyrations upwards like he still wanted to stuff you with more, more, more- 

“I-I can can cum inside?” Forehead beading with sweat, lower lip wobbling with the sheer effort that it took to merely hold back the way that his achingly hard cock was straining for release once more. Hissing at the almost sizzling drag of precum down your bulging g-spot. “For my first time? Inside? R-really inside?”

And despite the way that he was so patiently waiting for your answer, Choso couldn’t help the way the greedy curve of his thumb swipes down your peaked clit. Rolling in lazy circles - low, and slow to make your gummy walls clench in that particular way he’s slowly gotten addicted to. 

You’re nodding with a smug smile at how pretty he looked all fucked-out like this. Darkened eyes all droopy and half-lidded like he was blinking through syrup, muscles twitching mouth-wateringly, hair browner than usual with his sweat-dampened streaks. You can’t help but wring your fingers through his locks and tug, in a way that makes him hiss. In a way that makes him gasp. 

In a way that has him spurting out a thicker stream of precum into your gooey cunt - close. So close. “Mhm– let it a-all out inside, baby.”

Oh god, and then he does-

He does and Choso’s sure he sees the pearly gates of heaven right then and there, and he knows you’re his very own angel.

“Move your pretty fingers, baby– I wan’ you to t-take it all-” It’s not even mean the way he swats away one of your hands subconsciously cupping your split pussy - it’s just desperate. So that he can place pound after filthy pound to fuck you into the soaked sheets. 

Whining out, “Yeah please- fuck-”  Snapping his flexible body down until you were folded helplessly in half, every languid second is spent with such velvety ropes of cum being stuffed down to the bottom of your pussy. “Wan’ this forever- forever please-” Thick, stringy wads that stick and slide down your walls - that overspills when it’s too much for your snug channel to take. “W-want this…”

And just one look of his greedy gazy downwards And Choso’s gasping like he couldn’t even believe he could cum this much - couldn’t even believe he could stop at this point.

“Marry me-” he’s sputtering, eyes clearer with the sudden idea. As if he’s imagining it already. Hips shifting to lazy down his sloppy staccato into something more thorough. “B-be my wife- have my kids- please-” Something that has your toes curling with pleasure, branding every ridge and thumping vein down his shaft into your walls contorting around him. Hiccuping - little sobs curling at the back of his throat, “Please- please I need you to marry me-” 

It’s overspilling - adding to that little milky pool from below. He’s barely even thinking before swiping a hand through some of those creamy remnants of cum. Sucking. Taking your own - popping that ring finger of yours into his mouth.

Drool drips down the side of his sodden lips, moving to mewl softly. “D-did that really just happen?”

The words come out nothing but a whisper, strangled and strained from the very depths of his rumbling chest. And Choso’s peering down at you like you were everything - his softening cock sending sparks down his spine with every slight rub down your sopping wet folds. 

“Mhm–” your hands make their way down his pecs, rubbing over pert, pink nipples. Something that makes him let out a low shudder, reddened divot bursting in a few more wispy strings of seed. “N’ you did so hngh- good, Cho.”

“D-did I? Was I your oh- good boy?” he stutters, before letting out a keening pout. “B-but I need to have you cum, too, baby- need to have you cum-” And you’re so at his ravenous mercy when Choso swipes a wet thumb over and over down your throbbing clit. “-and then- then can we get married?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - MESS!

“What the fuck-” The king of curses breathes - he heaves - like never before, even in that human form of his right now. “Wh-what the fuck have you done to me, woman-”

And all the foes in the world had nothing against your honeyed whines. Absolutely no match for the way your elastic walls were clinging around his throbbing cock so tight. No match for your cockdrunk babbling that drove him insane.

“Such a filthy mouth you h-have-” he groans, leering over his inhumanly powerful body to bend over yours. You’re gaping when one of his big, beefy arms jostle you upwards into a headlock. Even shapeshifted from his true form, he was still so strong. Spitting, “Do you dare to- fuck- move those pretty lips of yours n’ repeat those words back to me, brat.”

As if you could do anything else. 

“I-I said-” you’re choking out, panting in feverish gasps of the heady air. “-said I want you to c-cum inside-”

Oh. 

In a split-second, you’re feeling your tautly stretched walls expand to limits you weren’t even sure were possible. The very bottom of your pussy being ravaged with two circular brandings - two. Two matching rock-hard cocks jostling around you. 

And the stretch of Sukuna’s devilishly true form opening your cunt to its very limits is so maddening that it takes you a second to realize that the rest of him had shapeshifted, too. 

Suddenly bigger, suddenly more towering, suddenly the king of curses. 

His strong forearm curls even tighter around your throat, knocking the remaining gasps out of your lungs. “Seriously? L-look where talking outta ya slutty pussy hah- got me-” Sukuna chuckles. Deep and rumbling from his bulging pecs, “-c-can’t even hold a n-normal form- you made me do this- fuck-”

He was fucking you like it was your fault.

Solid inches upon inches that were bruising. And if you thought that Sukuna’s size was staggering in whatever human form he’d conjured up for the safety of your poor pussy - it was absolutely incredible with both his twin girthy cocks. Bigger, thicker. The slightest ruts and grinds into your gushing cunt having him knocking into your lungs, painting down a hefty load of steamy precum. 

Messy.

“Messy-” you hear a primal rumble from above you. Shit, did you say that out loud? Condensed breath heady and hot against your ear, “Heheh- you think this is m-messy, lil’ human? Wait until I-I- hah-”

“Y-you’re really gonna cum inside, Kuna?” you’re batting your teary lashes up at your king, a delirious smile smearing itself all over your face. 

Wobbling when his snapping hips purposefully slow down to mere gyrating squelches, every push and pull feeding your slobbery pussy languidly. You have him hypnotized, maw slacking open with every lazy drag of his heavy cocks back and forth back and forth back and- “Mhm- gonna fill ya up. Breed ya u-until you’re begging that ya can’t take it. Until y-you’re all round n’ glowing with my heirs.”

God. He was out of control.

“I-I can take it-” Your nails rake airily down his ever-tightening forearm - nothing but mere kitten scratches to Sukuna. “Promise Kuna- I can-”

“Tch- this damn naughty m-mouth of yours.” he smirks in a sleazy way - just about all that Sukuna can do to not let his voice break out in whimpers right now. All he can do to hold back his building high, curvaceous tips of his thickened cocks spazzing out tight, voluminous globs of wispy white. He’s covering your prattling mouth with one hand, “Take it then- take it- but ya better make an equal mess f’me. Heh-”

Even through your bleary mind, you already knew what he wanted - to have you squirt all down Sukuna’s weepy cocks. To make a mess. 

Always his favorite.

“Th-think ya can do that?” He snarls down at you, twiddling a few sopping wet digits to toy with your pulsing clit. Third and fourth arms snaking around your waist to keep from your pathetic scrambling. To stop your escape when his hips jackhammer away harder. “Can you- my queen?”

Oh, he cuts himself off with a whimper.

Because all of a sudden your gushing cunt is surging out in waves of translucent slick. It sticks to his rubbing cocks - and all the way to his washboard abs -like a gloss, stars behind your eyes when Sukuna’s fucking you through your high. Praises slipping out in a way that would’ve tarnished the king’s reputation if anyone found out.

But right now, he didn’t care. 

Not when he’s all but bursting from his bawling tips - such thick rivers of cum that knock mercilessly into your gummy spots. The force of both his fat heads streaming out relentlessly is enough to leave your forbidden sweet spots all bruised and battered. 

Inflating your snug channel until Sukuna only had to slide a hand down to about halfway down your abdomen, pressing down at that nudge. “Heh, s’right at h-home-” 

And now that he’s filled your pretty pussy with seed, Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t think it’s possible to cum anywhere else. With a shuddering hiss, he’s dragging his cocks out, spying down with hooded eyes at the way your sloppy entrance was molding and constrictign around him - like you were trying to milk the fucking soul out of him.

But Sukuna had other plans - plans that included letting his second tongue loll out, rough tastebuds sweeping a long lick down your leaky slit. Creamy cum trickling down the pinkish muscle, and he could feel his mouth grinning. Something he’s been wanting to do since he moment he fucking saw you.

“H-hey-” you’re turning your head to huff back at him. 

Smack!

“Ahh, stop yer whining-” Sukuna’s smoothing one hand down over the raised bumps of all five digits on your ass, another one of his hands guiding his fat bases to drive up your sopping crease. Pooling the milky remnants on his rotund tips. “-because m’not done breeding this cunt properly yet, my queen.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Limit(less)

“This time-” Gojo’s heaving out a dragging shudder, his face burying hotly within the tender crook of your neck. Spitting - panting, “This time this time- this- time-”

Oh, it’s been just about the same thing that he’s been babbling for the past few hours now. All that he can utter after so long of his sensitively overworked cock stuffing in and out over your overspilling cunt, flickers of jujutsu bolting with every sodden drag down your melty walls.

Truly, the strongest didn’t expect to be addicted the first time he filled your drooling pussy with thick globs of his seed - it was an accident, the first trial of trying to use limitless for its…unintended purposes. 

But right now, Gojo had absolutely no clue if this was the nth trial or whether he was simply addicted to breeding your pretty cunt.

“T-Toru–” Your fingers scramble backwards to bury in his snow locks - difficult, with the way that your boyfriend was wrangling you into a tight full nelson. Feeling the push and pull of thick cursed technique in the air - inside you. “-s’not gonna work.”

God, just the sear of your grip on his scalp is enough to have Gojo’s hips rutting up in a perfect curve off the plush king-size mattress. Fucking up into your cunt so thoroughly that you gasp at the syrupy slosh of his cum from before inside you. 

His hiccups, voice cracking into a whine at the very end. “D-do you hate me, sweetheart?”

“No?” you’re breathing out in exasperation. But shit, you underestimate just how crazed this tiniest sentiment would drive him, choking back a strangled cry of your name when he’s sending a buzzing smack! down to the hood of your plump cunt. “Fuck- why would you think-”

“Th-then let me use limitless as a- hah- condom, pretty girl-” he’s whining. And you jolt at the wet splatters of a few stimulated, pearlescent tears slipping their way out of Gojo’s eyes. “It’ll work- this time- m’the strongest- s’gonna hah- w-work- a-and if not m’jus’ breedin’ my girl’s cute cunt, r-right?”

But even as he’s prattling on and on about this, you’re feeling the flickering falter of jujutsu around Gojo’s hefty girth. Molding your gummy walls taut around his fat circumference, your spine arches with electricity. 

“Heheh-” Goosebumps prickle down your spine at the high, humorless bout of laughter at your ear - and you crane your head to look at Gojo. Sure that he’s lost it. Already wondering just how high the kill count would be. “-didn’t think th-this pretty pussy of yours would have me so ruined, sweetheart.”

And truly - he sounded like it. 

He looked like it, with his rosy lips ajar, those cerulean eyes watery and half-lidded. Glowing with power and tiny shivers of lighting at every sodden kiss to the bullseye of your g-spot. Clashing over and over in a wet push and pull, Gojo thinks that he could almost feel the rotund indentations of his curved tip right on your sweetest spots. 

“Looks like y-you’re the one ruining me- Toru-” you whine. “Just look-”

Drunkenly, Gojo’s lolling his head to the sound of your voice. Not even looking, barely even thinking - that is, until he sees.

And Gojo can’t help but let out a slew of honeyed, pathetically cracking profanities at the heavenly sight below. Pale forearms stretching out your trembly thighs even more shamefully wide to get an even closer look. 

Of your quivering hole winking up at him glisteningly, coating his fat hilt a creamy ring of white from so many of his failed attempts. Your saturatedly wet pussy lips were practically gulping up all of his heavy inches, slobbering a slow trail of drool down the side of his strawberry pink shaft and onto his twitchy balls. Needy. 

And if Gojo’s limitless protection was unsteady before then-

“Shit-” Gojo takes in a shuddering gasp, slender digits falling down to plant a wet smack! on the very middle of your bulging slit - as if all of this was your fault. “Shit shit shit shit- I-I can’t- oh-” Sharp canines sinking down so hard into your skin that you think he might break through. Just about all that’s keeping Gojo tethered to reality when his limitless shatters. “Oh god. Th-think s’gonna be another b-baby…”

All the way into a zillion pieces of nothingness and-

And then he’s cumming. 

Cumming so hard that the dim lamps by the side of your bed flickers. Then explodes. 

Pouring out such steaming hot piles of his cum - once. Twice. Before his swollen, overwhelmed balls are clenching and then he’s shooting nothing but pathetic blanks. 

It takes you a second to register the sudden darkness - all across Tokyo, in fact. You’re gasping, “O-oh, Toru did you-”

“Run out-” he’s giggling. Giggling. “Fuck you m-made me- hah- really milked me dry, didn’t ya- Spread those pretty legs a bit more, pretty girl. Let me see.” All five rounded pads of his fingers are bruising on your thigh when Gojo’s splaying them out to confirm the sputtering way his cock was driving into you. “Can’t- can’t believe- no way, baby m’supposed t-to fill you up-”

Shit, he was babbling out his true intentions so stupidly. But luck was on his side, because with a final, jujutsu-sheened swat at your cunt, the buzzing power finally sends you over the edge. 

Crashing headfirst into waves upon waves of white-hot pleasure, the engulfing goodness made you squeal. And it made Gojo grit his teeth with a low whimper at the way the simple clenching convulse of your gripping walls wrapped around his cock made him twitch in another dry orgasm. Another. And another. 

God, his first - well, not quite first - time cumming inside you and he’s already so fucked out.

Yet, despite it all, Gojo could almost count it a success…almost. 

“S-sweetheart, y’know Yaga always taught us that science experiments have hah- twenty-five trials, right?”

“...”

A/N. Gojo’s so annoying I love him.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[modpoppy]

its actually worse bc im using my paint pens which i did not remember

have horrendous color range, this is a gorgeous reference photo with all this sunlit water and i have. 3 intermediate colors

do NOT mix like i remember, i think i mixed em up mentally with my alcohol based paint pens so i expected the colors to be easier to connect

the paper is not as resilient as i was lead to believe so its curling in on itself, i can press it flat later but still

i also didnt realize this paper isnt the same aspect ratio as the photo until after i started filling in the colors and noticed how far apart the different colors are

I DONT HAVE THE RIGHT GOLDEN BROWN FOR THE FUCKING SAND

soooooo i think ill have to just. hope i find something different at the store tomorrow and apologize for not having a better thing :’]

[jackass-jones]

Hnnnghhhh finally finally made it to act 4 in isat it only took 50 years and all my bones heres a few disorganized thoughts

I liked when siffrin gets their ass so betrayed by the king like all this work to understand him and even getting him to stop fighting and share his backstory a bit only for it to end soooo fucked up my god that shit was brutal. Evil! And i cackled evilly while also freaking out

Getting new friendship shit was nice, I was starting to forget that this game can be sweet and not infuriating and I may have reared up a bit when mirabelle combed siffrins hair and "allies" changed to "family". But also knowing full well that this wasn’t gonna be the end is very sad and yeah I can see how this is gonna turn into siffrin getting meaner cuz with the king attempts and the friends attempts it’s like. Very specifically trying to be the kindest person he can be, trusting that everyone is capable of good, believing in the power of friendship. And then all of that was useless and no one will ever remember it. And he’s back to having no clue again

Siffrin is starting to get a little too relatable and it’s like uh oh. Shit like not remembering your past or even things that have just happened that you’ve experienced over and over, or shit like siffrin being able to see that isa loves them and having a panic attack thinking that they must’ve manipulated isa into loving them because how else can something like that be explained, it’s like. Ooof stop I’m in this photo and don’t like it :(

Odile is still the best character

[bvrnesher]

❝ 𝒫ull 𝒪ut 𝒢ame ! ❞ ― marvel !

summary: just what I think of each of these characters when it comes to pull out 🗣

— 𝒮teve ℛogers ;; He likes to think he’s good at it. And honestly? He is. Respectful, controlled, painfully self-aware. The second he feels himself getting close, he speeds up, grits his teeth, and pulls out right on time—usually on your stomach or chest. Gentleman. HOWEVER—deep, deep down? He does have a breeding kink. He just won’t admit it. The day you whisper “it’s okay, I’m on the pill”? He hesitates just long enough to ruin his perfect record.

Rating: 10/10. Practically flawless. Just a little too responsible.

— 𝒯ony 𝒮tark ;; This man cums like he’s paying rent. He could pull out. He knows how. Won’t. He’s like, “You knew the risk,” and just lets go. Finishes inside you with a smirk, kisses your temple like he didn’t just pump you full, and asks for another round like nothing happened.

Rating: 7/10. Could pull out. Ignores it. Still makes it hot.

— ℬucky ℬarnes ;; NO WAY this man is risking it, but for the sake of the game, let’s say he tries. He means to pull out. He really does. But the second you tighten around his cock when he’s close? Too late. He’s already twitching, already filling you up. Feels guilty after, mutters apologies, but ask him for another round and he forgets all about it.

Rating: 5/10. Tries. Fails. Feels bad. Does it again.

— 𝒯hor 𝒪dinson ;; Sweetheart himbo with the pull-out instincts of a golden retriever. You tell him “pull out,” and he’s like, “But why, beloved?” while thrusting deeper. His idea of affection is cumming in you until it’s leaking down your thighs and calling it “a gift from the gods.”

Rating: 0/10. He means well. That’s the problem.

— ℒoki ℒaufeyson ;; Oh, he can pull out. He just won’t—unless it’s to tease you. Otherwise? He stays buried until the very end, groaning in your ear about how good you feel while he fills you up. He wants to watch it drip out. It’s about power. Ownership. Ruin. You say “pull out”? He says “make me.”

Rating: 0/10. Wicked.

— 𝒫eter 𝒫arker ;; He’s studied the theory. He wants to pull out. He really does. But the second things start getting too good? He’s whimpering, cock twitching, finishing inside you before he even realizes it. Apologizes mid-orgasm and offers to run to the pharmacy still inside you.

Rating: 3/10. He tries. He panics. He fails.

— ℰrik 𝒦illmonger ;; Pull out? Babe, he hears you say it and smirks. Doesn’t even pretend to listen. Holds your hips down, grinds in deeper, and finishes inside like he means it. Tells you “You better take all that,” like it’s a challenge and a threat. Might pull out once—just to finish on your face and call it a reward. But most nights? He’s filling you up like it’s his personal mission.

Rating: -100/10. He’s doing it on purpose. You’re not walking right tomorrow.

[bunnis-monsters]

Late night thoughts about incubus husband…

He’s such a flirt. Every time you go out he dons a different human disguise. It’s always annoying seeing him flit about the bar, changing himself to cater to whichever person he’s talking to.

Really, your husband just wants to make you jealous. He’s a bit of an attention whore, and usually you’d just tug him away and ride his cock until he’s sensitive and crying, begging to fill your cunt with his cum but being denied because of how bad he was.

But he went a bit too far tonight.

You were finishing off your drink when you spotted him across the bar, his fingers twirling a woman’s hair. Already this was a bit much for you, and you stood to stop him.

But you froze in place when his eyes glanced towards you before he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Looks like I’m taking home a pretty lady tonight. Don’t worry, my wife won’t mind.”

He glanced back to gauge your reaction, excited to face some kind of kinky punishment for being a flirty brat… but instead he was met with your teary eyes.

Instantly the woman was forgotten as he followed you out. “W-wait, please, you know I wasn’t being serious, right? I was just-“

You turned on your heels, pointing a finger into his chest. “Maybe to someone like you marriage is just some kind of fun game, but it actually means something to me! I don’t exactly enjoy you treating my love for you like a joke!”

His eyes went wide with shock and hurt, his disguise disappearing as he reverted back to his original form. The sight of his tail twitching nervously almost made you soften… almost.

“My love… that’s not-“

You swatted his hand away, storming off. “… find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I… need to rethink some things.”

Your husband stared at your back as you left, his chest aching in a way it never had before. Could this really be the end of your marriage? No, no of course not. You loved him, and he would do anything for you. There’s no way such a small issue could divide the two of you that easy… right?

Oh how wrong he was.

When he attempted to come home the next night, his clothes and personal items were packed up on the porch, and the locks were changed.

This wasn’t something he could just smooth over with a few kisses and a good fuck. You were genuinely upset, something he could barely comprehend.

Upset? Why, because he was being a bit of a brat? His view only changed when he was complaining to a friend through tears and a glass of wine.

“Well, what would you do if she did the same?”

The glass shattered in his hand, his pupils turning into slits. The image of you walking up to a man, cooing and attempting to seduce him right in front of your husband made his heart boil in a jealous rage.

So that’s how you felt…

“I’m an idiot…” he murmured, looking at your picture. When he married you, he swore off ever having sex with another person. You were his sole source of sustenance and love, his only reason to breathe and live.

If he lost you, what would he even do besides sob until his heart stopped?

If he wanted to keep his beloved, he’d have to win you back…

Fortunately, the incubus knew just what to do.

Part 2? And should I go the yandere route or normal route?

—————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

[chahnniesroom]

night again

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in hindsight, visiting chan's studio right before a comeback isn't one of your best ideas. what was supposed to be a pleasant surprise leaves you spiraling into self-doubt, wondering if chan even wants to be in a relationship with you at all.

word count: 6.4k

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, insecurities, reader not eating due to stress

a/n: the long awaited 'he calls you clingy' fic! title is from the english translation of 또 다시 밤 (twilight)

read it on ao3 | masterlist

You love your job. It's challenging for sure and the expectations from upper management are often unforgiving, but you’re proud of how hard you've worked and everything that you've accomplished in the past few years at your company. 

As you've gained experience, you've slowly been given more and more responsibility. You've grown out of your junior role and though you're thrilled by the pay raise and prospect of being a team lead rather than being led by one, it's also daunting.

When you and your new team are assigned an important project with tight deadlines, you're determined to prove yourself. It's implied that you're going to have to have to dedicate a significant amount of time to finish it and while you're no stranger to long hours, it means that any plans you have of seeing your boyfriend, Chan, are out the window.

The timing is not terrible, Stray Kids has a comeback scheduled in about a week so you didn't think that you would be able to spend that much time with Chan anyway, but you usually try to surprise the boys at one of the music shows with a cake and some home cooked food.

Luckily, you've already been planning for this. Although nothing had been confirmed, you had expected that this project would be awarded to your company and you've already been trying to spend more time with Chan than usual in preparation for the busy season ahead for both of you.

Still, you can't help but agree with your best friend at work after she complains how little she's going to see her partner this month. Jinjoo doesn't know who your boyfriend is, but the two of you are close enough that you’ve shared that you have one and that work takes up a lot of his time. You've gushed to her about the sweet things that Chan has done for you and you've admitted that you think he's the one.

“You should bring him dinner sometime!” she exclaims when you mention you're not sure when the next time you'll be able to see Chan will be.

“Well, he’s really busy-” you start to say.

“That’s the beauty of it. I’m sure he would appreciate if you brought him food at work, especially if he’s anything like my partner and gets so caught up with work that they forget to eat sometimes,” she insists.

“That’s true.”

“Just trust me, Y/n. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t sure that it’d work. My partner loves when I do this. It’s literally the perfect way to take some time for each other before you’re both too busy. Even if he's super busy, his work can't be bad enough that he’s not allowed to eat, right?”

You agree somewhat reluctantly. You're still unsure about whether or not Chan would appreciate you barging in unannounced, but it is a cute idea and Jinjoo's confidence is enough to convince you.

The next day after work, you head to the company and order takeout for a late dinner for you and Chan, picking it up along the way. It reminds you of earlier in your relationship before you had gotten your current position and when Stray Kids were just gaining popularity. Both of you enjoyed having more casual date nights that provided more privacy as opposed to going out to fancy places and it makes you even more excited to see his reaction.

About a year after you started dating Chan, he insisted that you get a pass to get into JYP Entertainment without having to fill out a visitor's form and have someone pick you up. It has definitely come in handy more than a few times, although you try to limit the number of visits you make. Even though you're allowed to be there, it still feels intimidating to be in the building, like someone is going to recognize that you're not an employee and accuse you of being a sasaeng.

Luckily the late hour means that you make it to Chan's studio without having to interact with anybody except the security at the door, who had waved you through without a second thought. You had double checked with Felix earlier in the day to make sure that Chan didn't have any schedules or dinner plans, so you directly knock on his door without texting or calling him beforehand. 

“Y/n?” he asks, a bit baffled when he sees you. “Did we- Did I forget that we had plans tonight?”

“No,” you say, a little nervous for some reason. It's just Chan, you tell yourself, but it doesn't make you feel any better. “I didn't think that you had dinner yet and wanted to see you.”

“Oh, I see. Come in,” Chan responds slowly, still processing your sudden appearance. “I just have something that I need to finish up-”

“It's fine! You can work,” you assure him quickly. “I don't want to interrupt you too much, I just wanted to drop by since I don't have plans and wanted to make sure that you're eating well.”

Chan’s studio isn’t messy at all, but he still gets up to clear some space on a side table for you, before returning back to where he has Cubase opened up. You pass over his food and feel relieved when he immediately digs in, but your appetite seems to have vanished, you can only get yourself to pick at your meal.

Chan is short with his responses all evening and continues to work on his laptop, even while eating. It throws you off a bit, you thought that he would be able to get to a stopping point and at least make a bit of time for you, but you did tell him that he could. Even so, you're determined to make the most of the last time that you’re going to see them for a while. You know they’ve been super busy the past few days, or more like the past few weeks, but still you had thought he would be a little bit more engaged or at the very least seem happy to see you.

Finally, after half an hour of eating with minimal conversation, you decide to broach the subject that’s been on your mind this entire time. Chan’s finished his food and you know that you won’t be able to get yourself to eat anymore, so you shuffle everything off to the side and inch closer to Chan. 

“You know that client we’ve been trying to work with for a while?” you start tentatively.

Chan hums noncommittally, continuing to type on his computer. Not quite the reaction that you're hoping for, but you forge on anyway.

“We got awarded the job! It’s a great opportunity for the company and everyone is really excited, but-”

“Y/n,” he interrupts. “I’m sorry, that’s amazing and all, but you know that it’s not a good time for me right now. I have something I really need to work on and now that you’ve finished eating, can we please not bother with the small talk?”

“Oh,” you say, a bit caught off guard. Chan has never been the type to cut you off when you're speaking. “No, yeah, I get it. Uhm. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, just-” he sighs, sounding frustrated. “Next time can you please ask me when you want to visit in advance so this doesn’t happen again? You chose the worst timing to come by. I just need some space, from all of… this,” he says, waving a hand between the two of you.

“Sorry, I know it’s a busy time, but I just wanted to see-”

At that moment, an alarm on Chan's phone goes off, interrupting you. When he turns it off and notices the time, he swears lowly, unlocking his phone and typing out a message to somebody. You’re scared to break the silence. Less than a minute later, someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Chan calls. When Changbin and Jisung step into the room, they eye you curiously. You keep your head down and try to prevent your hands from shaking as you stand and start to haphazardly shove away all your belongings and the garbage from your dinner into bags. 

“Noona, it's good to see you!” Jisung says brightly, although his smile dims when you make eye contact and can only manage to weakly return the smile. “Sorry for interrupting you two.”

“Hi Hannie,” you reply quietly, not wanting to make conversation, but not wanting to be rude.

“It’s okay, Y/n was just leaving,” Chan says, his obvious annoyance making things even more awkward.

You say bye to the boys quietly and apologise as you shuffle past them to the door.

The handles of the bag from your dinner are digging into your hand painfully and your purse can’t close with the way that you’ve thrown everything into it. You only take a few steps before you have to stop for a moment to save a container from falling and decide to put down everything and reorganise it all.

When you crouch down, you take a second to mentally berate yourself. Everything you had worried about had come true. Instead of being a pleasant surprise, you had come across as a nuisance.

In your rush, you hadn't fully closed the studio door behind you and you're close enough that you can just barely pick up the conversation that happens inside.

“Sorry,” you hear Chan say faintly. “I don't know what's been going on, but Y/n has been… really clingy these days. She just showed up today without asking and I hate-”

You leave before he has the chance to say anything else. You look like a mess for sure, you had just grabbed all the empty containers without bothering to put them back into the plastic bag, your jacket is partially dragging on the ground, and your purse is hanging off your elbow, having slipped off your shoulder. You're pretty sure you hear an empty drink bottle clatter to the floor behind you, but you don't look back to check.

You don't have it in you to care, you just need to leave.

Even waiting for the elevator feels humiliating, so you bypass it and stumble down the stairs. You dump the garbage into a bin on the first floor, not bothering to sort it properly, and step out onto the street, bee-lining to the nearest subway station.

The ride home passes by in a blur.

It hurts, of course it hurts. 

Honestly the reason that your relationship had worked out so far was because you weren’t the kind of person that needed a lot of attention. You understood that both of you were busy and were content to just exchange messages every couple of days because you knew how important Stray Kids was to Chan. Of course you did, they were just as important to you.

If Chan wanted space, well. You were more than capable of giving it to him.

In fact, your upcoming schedule had been the reason that you had wanted to meet up in the first place, the source of your so-called clinginess. You’d never been called that before. You were hyper-independent and tended to get lost in your own mind, easily distracted by different thoughts. It had gotten to a point that most of your exes had complained at least once about you being distant or inattentive.

With Chan, you had been determined not to be the same. It had been difficult at first, to make the effort to send messages throughout the day. You had to convince yourself not to spend too long drafting replies in your head and try not to worry that you were bothering him, especially if you knew that he had schedules at the same time that you were texting.

By the time that you make it to your apartment, your pain has faded into a mixture of resignation and numbness. You don't want to talk to Chan about how you feel, it's your clinginess that he didn't like in the first place, and you don't think you'll have time or the energy for a long, emotional conversation in the next few weeks anyway. If you keep your distance for a while, it just benefits both of you, you tell yourself. You won’t be a distraction to Chan as Stray Kids has their comeback and he won’t be one to you as you take on this new project. 

As much as you want to spend the rest of your night overthinking- something you’ve done more than you’d like to admit- you know that you have a busy day at work tomorrow. Feeling a bit like a zombie, you force yourself to shuffle through your usual nighttime routine, swallowing a melatonin pill before climbing into bed.

Normally, you would send Chan a good night message. Actually, normally you would have sent him a message the second that you arrived home. It was something that he was insistent on starting from early on in your relationship, wanting to make sure that you were safe.

Tonight, you just turn off your phone, plug it into its charger, and sleep.

—

In the morning, you allow yourself to wallow in bed for 5 minutes, before you get ready for work. You’ve never been good at eating breakfast and today’s no exception. Your stomach turns uneasily at the thought of food so you only force yourself to drink some water before you leave.

Your team at work has agreed to get to work earlier than usual just to get a headstart on everything. Though you’re more of a night owl, you’re grateful to find that deviating from your usual routine means that the subway is empty enough that you can find an empty seat, a luxury that you’ve rarely experienced.

It feels eerie to walk through the streets of Seoul when the sun has just started to rise and you’re relieved when you finally make it to your office.

Unsurprisingly, you’re one of the first to arrive. You’re grateful for the time that you have to unpack your things and make a much needed coffee before the rest of your team shows up.

“How did it go last night?” Jinjoo asks you excitedly when she comes in.

“Uhm, it was okay,” you reply noncommittally. “He was definitely surprised.”

“Oh,” Jinjoo pouts at your lack of enthusiasm.

“I mean, it wasn’t bad,” you backtrack, hating to see her disappointed. “It was just so short, he was kind of… busy. But that’s what I expected anyway so that's fine I guess. Thanks for suggesting it to me though! I really appreciate it.”

“That’s good,” Jinjoo brightens. “At least you got to see him one last time.”

“Oh yeah for sure! I think that after seeing him yesterday, it’ll be easier to deal with how busy we’re going to be for the next few weeks,” you say truthfully. 

It’s not a lie, you justify. For the first time since you started dating, you’re not looking forward to the next time that you’re going to see Chan.

You know that your communication is about to reduce to an all time low for the next few weeks, and while you had originally been worried about how Chan would react, now you’re thinking that he’s just going to be relieved not to hear from you. You’ve never thought yourself to have been overly chatty with Chan during the day though, preferring in-person conversation over texting and knowing that he’s generally not available to read your messages anyway, much less send you a reply. It seemed that you were wrong. 

Luckily your team now has to use a shared box that you’re required to put your personal phones into during working hours and only have a little bit of time during lunch and dinner breaks, if you take them, to fish them out. It’s a policy that your company enforces when teams are working on confidential projects and you can’t blame them due to past litigation that they’ve been involved in after a former employee leaked sensitive information.

For once, you're glad for this excuse to not look at your phone, even if you feel a little bit naked to look at the side of your desk or reach into your pocket and not have your phone there. You’re relieved to bury yourself in your work and forget all about your personal life. Even though your project is just starting, you feel like you're already behind. 

When you're finished work for the day and take back your phone, you find yourself reluctant to check your notifications. It's only when you're waiting for the subway to arrive at your station that you finally force yourself to take a look.

No new messages or calls from Chan.

You’re not sure what you expected, but somehow you’re still disappointed.

You get back to your apartment late, you had wanted to finish a couple of things before you left the office and it had led to you being one of the last to leave. You had also stopped by the convenience store closest to your place, not having the energy to cook anything for yourself.

You pick at your dinner half-heartedly. You're used to eating alone, Chan often had his meals at odd times due to his schedules, but tonight the silence feels more oppressive. 

It haunts you, the tail end of the overheard conversation. You have no idea how Chan was going to complete the sentence, but your mind unhelpfully fills in the blanks with worse and worse suggestions.

He hates the timing of your visit.

He hates that you visited at all.

He hates that he has such a clingy girlfriend.

He hates that you are his clingy, annoying, bothersome girlfriend.

He hates you.

In moments of clarity, you can recognize that it's not true. That's not the Chan that you know and he would never say something like that about anybody, least of all you. It's just hard when a small part of you has never really been able to believe that someone as talented and amazing as Chan would want to date someone as unremarkable as you.

You find yourself falling into a new routine, waking early, working overtime, and trying not to cry yourself to sleep. You succeed most of the time, you keep yourself occupied by thinking about work and you're so physically exhausted by your long hours that you fall asleep the second that you get into bed. Luckily, your coworkers are just as overworked as you are and it’s easy to blame your declining condition on the project. Weekends don't help you rest at all, you've committed to your manager that you can work on Saturdays and Sundays are spent completing the chores that you've neglected during the week.

You still talk to Chan sometimes, either right when you wake up or on the way home after work. The conversation is stilted though, both because of the long delays between messages when you text and the limited time that you have when you call. It's enough of a difference that Chan asks you multiple times if everything is okay. Even though you try your best to assure him that you're fine, just busy, you're sure he knows that something is off, although he doesn't question you further.

Most exciting is the day that the new Stray Kids album releases. You've already heard most of the songs for this comeback, perks of dating the member that's the most involved in the writing and production of the album, but it's different now that they're available to the public too. You make sure to organise your schedule so that you're on break when the music video drops and you send a number of messages in the group chat that you have with the group cheering them on. Usually, you try to take a day off to deliver some food to them at the music shows, but you've had to settle for arranging with one of their managers to treat them to a meal.

You can tell when they get breaks because when you check your phone after work, notifications from the members are all in the same blocks of time. It's mostly them thanking you, taking pictures of the food you sent, flowers that they've been gifted, and letters from fans. They have a short promotion period this comeback, but it's packed with different interviews, performances, and fanmeets. At one point, Felix even sends you a picture of Chan sleeping slumped over on one of the waiting room couches. As much as you're relieved to see that he's able to get some rest, the picture has your stomach twisting uncomfortably.

You're proud of Chan, of all of the boys. They've worked so hard and each comeback seems to be more and more successful. Even if you're not confident in what's going to happen with you and Chan in the future, you want to celebrate with them while you still can.

—

After almost four weeks, your project is nearing completion and you've never been more grateful to have a deadline arrive.

You only have a couple more days left until your last submittal is due and after getting off work, you want nothing more than to collapse into bed even though your stomach has been growling the whole walk from the bus to your building. You had caught a significant mistake in a document right before it was going to be sent to a client and the whole afternoon had been spent trying to fix it in time. Your team had just barely managed it, but your head has been pounding for hours and your whole body is tight with stress.

You’re not quite sure how you make it to your apartment, your exhaustion has made you clumsy. You struggle a couple times to enter in the code to unlock your door and trip over a pair of shoes that are scattered in the entryway.

You manage to catch yourself before you fall, then squint back. Yes, you haven’t had the chance to tidy your apartment in a couple weeks, but you’ve never been the type to leave your shoes on the walking path.

A light is on, further in your apartment. You know for a fact it wasn’t like that when you left this morning, it would have been obvious since you've been leaving before the sun rises. Someone else is here.

You stare at the light for a few seconds in disbelief, then slowly reach to grab something, anything that you might be able to use to defend yourself. Your shaking hands close around a full sized umbrella that you keep beside your closet. 

You’ve already made enough commotion that there’s no way the intruder didn’t hear, but you try to keep your footsteps light as you creep down the hall to where your kitchen is. It’s stupid to try and confront them, but the idea of someone in your space, potentially taking your things, is enough to inspire a sudden bout of bravery.

You hold your breath as you turn the corner, launching forward to attack the second that you see someone. You recognise the figure halfway through your swing, and though it’s too late to fully stop, you manage to pull back enough that they’re able to easily catch the umbrella before it hits them.

Chan wraps his arms around you then eases the umbrella out of your hands, resting it against the wall. You sag into his embrace, adrenaline draining away, leaving you exhausted again. 

“Chan?”

You've missed this. His warmth, his comforting scent, the reassuring steadiness that he always provides. You can almost pretend that everything is fine.

“Sorry for scaring you,” he says, sounding more amused than apologetic.

“You should be,” you grumble into his shirt. “I could have seriously injured you if I didn't realise it was you!”

“I don't think that was going to be a problem.” Even though you can't see Chan, you can hear the grin in his voice.

“Hey!” You lightly smack his arm. “You take that back!”

“Fine, fine,” Chan acquiesces, holding up both his hands in surrender. “I'm very glad that I didn't have to experience the full power of your self defence.”

“Yeah yeah,” you huff. “What are you doing here anyway? Other than trying to give me a heart attack, that is.”

“I made you dinner,” Chan says shyly, turning pink.

“For what?” you ask suspiciously. It's easy to fall back into the banter that you typically exchange with Chan, but you can't help but be a bit wary these days.

“No reason. I uh, just haven't seen you in a while,” Chan says sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck where it’s now flushed red. “We had so much preparation to do and then all our schedules… Anyway, I wanted to surprise you, so I thought I could cook for us.”

Now that he's mentioned it, you can see that he's set your tiny kitchen table and that there's a couple of pots on the stove. Chan doesn’t cook often, but he’s expressed a desire to learn before and you’ve taught him how to make a few of your favourite recipes.

You stare at him for a moment, lost for words.

It's only been a few weeks, but you feel like you've forgotten how to act around Chan. Instead of a comfortable silence, it's almost awkward, neither of you knowing what to say.

“Oh,” you say finally, touched and still a little shocked that he's actually here. “That's- that's so nice, I just- is it okay if I wash up a bit quickly first?”

“No, yeah, of course. I'm sure you had a long day,” Chan says. “Go ahead, I’ll- the food should be reheated anyway so I’ll get on that. Take your time.”

You skirt around him to go to the bathroom, taking a moment to splash yourself with water. This feels like a bizarre dream and you wonder for a moment if you’re making this all up. But when you leave to go to your bedroom, Chan’s still there, puttering around in front of your kitchenette. You change your clothes slowly, mind racing as you try to puzzle together why Chan has decided to visit all of a sudden.

You eventually settle on the most logical reason that you can think of.

He’s finally decided to break up with you.

You’ve figured that this was coming for weeks by now, but somehow it still hurts. Instead of feeling resigned, it feels like you’re shattering into little pieces. You twist your work blouse into a tiny ball as you try not to cry, even though you know the fabric is going to wrinkle terribly. You finish cleaning up in a daze, already drafting what you're going to have to message your manager later. There's no way that you're going to be in any shape to work tomorrow if you’re right.

“Y/n?” Chan calls eventually. You know you're procrastinating leaving your room, but you want to put this off for as long as possible even though you know it’s just delaying the inevitable. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply with a heavy heart. “I’m fine. I'll just be another second.”

You can tell that Chan doesn’t quite believe you. He hovers around you when you emerge from your bedroom, knocking away your hand when you try to pull out your own chair from the table.

He's set the table, going so far as to fold little napkins under your utensils. There's even a tiny vase with your favourite flowers as a centrepiece. All this effort just hurts more.

“You look exhausted. You got home so late. Where were you?” he asks.

“I was at work,” you reply stiffly. You know that if you try and say any more, your emotions are going to spill over and you're either going to scream or cry. Maybe both.

“So late?” Chan's forehead creases with some sort of emotion. You can't quite tell if it's concern or scepticism.

“You're not the only one that has a demanding job.”

“Y/n, you know that's not what I meant-”

“Sure,” you say. “Whatever, let's just eat. Thank you for the food.”

You don't want to deal with this. You're so tired.

You have no idea why Chan’s dragging this out longer than it needs to be. Why he’s forcing you to sit through a meal with him like he’s not about to break your heart. Chan is one of the kindest people you know, he’s probably trying to make this easier for you, giving you one last nice memory, but it just feels cruel.

Chan reaches out, stopping you before you can pick up your chopsticks. He stares at the way his fingers overlap each other around your wrist.

“You’ve lost weight,” he says quietly. You look away, watching steam curl from the bowl of rice that has been set in front of you instead of returning eye contact.

“I’ve been busy.” Is all you can say in response. 

You don’t want to tell him that you’ve been basically subsisting on iced americanos and various convenience store meals in part because of your work schedule, but mostly because of your lack of appetite. Every time you thought of Chan, it made your stomach turn and well, everything reminded you of him. You hadn’t realised how much it had actually affected your physical condition until now though.

“You're not taking care of yourself,” he scolds you. You can feel yourself bristle at his comment even though you know it’s true. “I haven't been around to take care of you either. I'm sorry.”

“Chan,” you protest. It has been weeks since you last saw him in person and you’ve spent more time that you’d like to admit micro analysing your relationship, but you still can’t make sense of his behaviour, especially how he keeps switching between criticism and tenderness.

“What?” he asks in genuine confusion.

“Why are you here?”

“I missed you,” Chan says, sounding hurt and confused. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“I just- I don’t understand what you want from me!” You run your hands through your hair in frustration. “One day you don’t want me around, we go weeks without seeing each other, then you’re at my place cooking me dinner? You said you needed space, I gave you space."

“Woah woah woah, what do you mean I don’t want you around?” Chan asks, alarmed. “When have I ever said that?”

“You made it pretty clear that you didn’t appreciate it when I went to bring you dinner that day,” you start.

“No, baby!” Chan stands up abruptly before you can say anything else. He falters when the loud scrape of his chair causes you to flinch back. He slowly walks towards you and kneels in front of you, reaching out to hold your hands in his. His eyes are wide with earnestness. “Of course I wanted to spend time with you. I always want to be with you.”

“So why did you call me clingy?” you ask in a small voice. Gone is your anger, replaced with a self-consciousness that you can’t hide. You look away as tears prickle your eyes.

Gently, Chan lets go of your hands and cups your cheeks instead, turning your face so that he can see you better. His thumbs swipe under your eyes, brushing away the tears that have managed to escape.

“Baby,” he says, sounding even more upset and angry than you feel. “I'm sorry. Did someone tell you I said that?”

“Nobody had to tell me, I heard you say it myself!” you burst out, pushing Chan away. You know that you’re being dramatic, that you keep oscillating between different emotions, but you don’t care. “That day, in your studio, you told Han and Changbin that I was really clingy.”

“You heard me talking to Binnie and Hannie?” Chan asks slowly.

“I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you sniffle. One of Chan's hands shifts and he carefully tucks behind a lock of hair that has fallen in front of your face. The gentleness makes even more tears well up.

“It's okay, I think I know what you overheard now. It must have hurt, right?”

You can't muster up a response, choosing instead to just nod slightly.

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry,” he soothes you. “Can I explain myself?”

You pause for a moment, then slowly nod again.

“I don't mind that you're clingy, actually, I like it. I shouldn't have used that word. I like that you want to spend time with me, Y/n,” Chan says carefully. “I like that you take time to visit me, even though I know that your work is busy too. I think that it's cute and thoughtful that you think of me and try to take care of me by bringing me food. I know that you intentionally take the time out of your day to text me because you know that I like hearing from you, even though I might not see it or respond right away.”

Chan pauses for a second and you use it as an opportunity to pull away slightly. His hands tighten briefly, before he lets them fall away, giving you the space to process.

It's not that you don't like what Chan is saying, it's just hard to reconcile it with the thoughts that have been eating away at you for the past few weeks. You still don't understand what you overheard though, how it fits into all of this. When you voice your concerns to Chan, he sighs, before continuing to speak.

“I don't know what I did to have someone as caring and thoughtful as you in my life.” You want to protest, but Chan carries on before you can say anything. “It's just that- you visited me without notice and were the sweetest person in the world. I wanted to spend time with you, believe me, I did, but I can't just ignore my deadlines when the rest of the members are relying on me. It makes me feel like garbage when I can’t give you all my attention. That's the thing I hate the most. That I can't be the boyfriend that you deserve. That I can't show you how much you mean to me the way that I want to.”

It makes sense, in some sort of twisted way. You know that similarly to you, Chan often feels insecure. It had taken a while before you had been able to convince him that you really did want to be in a relationship with him even with all of the difficulties that were associated with being an idol. You hadn't realised that your visit had fed into his worries that he wasn’t enough.

“I didn't know,” you say quietly. “I'm sorry.”

“Hey, I didn't tell you how I was feeling and that's on me. I’m the one that’s sorry, you have no reason to be. I should have been clearer about what was going through my mind and it wasn't any excuse for the way that spoke to you. Even if I wasn't at my best, I can't believe that I made you feel like I didn't want you to be around.” Chan shakes his head and you can tell that he's beating himself up about it. This time, you're the one that reaches out to him, grabbing one of his hands in both of yours.

“I am sorry that I put you into that position, though. I got caught up in the idea of how fun and romantic it might be, that I didn't give enough consideration to your schedule. Even though I wanted to surprise you, it would have been better to check with you beforehand. I don't ever want you to have to feel like you have to choose between me and work.”

“It was a really nice surprise,” Chan agrees. “I wish that I hadn't been so wrapped up that I wasn't able to enjoy spending time with you. I really hated not being able to see you these past few weeks.”

“It was really hard for me too,” you admit.

“I missed you so much. I missed your beautiful voice, hearing your laugh, seeing your smile. I missed all the texts that you usually send, they make me feel like I'm not as far away, that I'm a part of your day too. You kept saying that everything was fine and- I know it's hard for you, especially during comeback periods when I'm not as responsive. I didn't want to pressure you into messaging me more often if I'm not able to do the same.”

“No, it's not that. It doesn't bother me. Work was, is still really busy for me,” you explain. “I was trying to tell you that day, but-”

“But I basically shut you down,” Chan realises. He laughs bitterly. “I’m just the worst, aren't I? No wonder you were so confused by why I was here.”

“I thought you were going to break up with me tonight,” you whisper. Chan looks devastated by your statement.

 “No- you know I wouldn't-” Chan stumbles on his words in his haste to correct you.

“I don't think that anymore,” you reassure him. “I understand everything now, it was just that we didn't communicate well and I assumed… It's okay, we're together now, this won't happen again.”

“I promise that I will make it up to you. I love you and I will prove it to you in every way possible. And I'm going to start right now. You still haven't eaten yet, please go ahead.” Chan moves back to his abandoned chair and doles out a portion of the stew from the pot that's on the table. 

“I am really hungry,” you confess. Your stomach chooses that exact moment to growl loudly and the two of you can’t help but burst into laughter. 

Just like that, it feels like things are back to normal.

You know that there's still more that you and Chan have to talk about. The two of you have only scratched the surface on your insecurities, communication, and how those things led to such a significant misunderstanding.

But tonight, it's enough that you get to share a meal with the man that you love.

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