#will i manage to do this every month? only time will tell but for now i am making it happen!

[ryozakidesu]

illicit affairs - l.hc

4/4 of diary of the heartbreakers

summary:➸ ♡ Infamous for being every girl's guilty pleasure, Lee Haechan strutted through his life shamelessly. But recently, the new girl caught his eye. Im Hayeon, who he believes that would finally tame his wreckless heart. He was confident he could get the girl. And when he did, he never expected her to have baggages. For example, you, Im Hayeon's best friend. Who suddenly, sparked an idea on his pretty little head. You're trouble-- and you're making Haechan commit Illicit Affairs.

“You're making me do bad things, very, bad things. But then again, I'm no stranger in being the bad guy."

GENRE: Angst, Humor, Fluff, Smut

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Drugs & Alcohol, Infidelity (Cheating), Mentions of Self-harm, Haechan and reader are assholes, nonidol!haechanxfem!reader

WC: 20k (I know, shush)

DISCLAIMER: This story is purely fanfiction. Only the names of the Idols are used, and does not reflect on them in real life. There's no way in any shape of form that they are like this in person, because I MADE IT UP. I don't personally know them. DO NOT STEAL / TRANSLATE / MODIFY. This is my work and I don't appreciate people stealing it. Thank you.

enjoy reading!!

To be fair, Lee Haechan never claimed to be the good guy.

No, matter of fact, he takes pride in being insufferable. He makes it his mission to piss everyone off when he gets in the room. He gets off knowing that even though they hate him, they still can’t get enough of him.

“Lee Haechan!” A girl screams on top of her lungs, rage evident with the way her voice scratches. “Fuck, Renjun, please open this fucking door—” He practically broke his knuckles from knocking at the door too much, but he didn’t care. He needs to get in— like, right now.

For what it feels like two decades, Renjun finally opened the door and he quickly threw his entire body in the room.

“Close it, close it, close it!” He says, struggling to close the door and just as soon as Gaeun, or whatever her name is stepped in front of the door ready to barge in, Haechan manages to close it properly.

“Lee fucking Haechan, what did you do this time?!” Renjun asks, more so yelled whilst grabbing his slippers to throw towards the heaving boy.

“Shit, put that down you crazy bitch!” He flinches everytime Renjun moves his hand with the weapon.

“What the fuck is happening—” Jaemin asks, just leaving the bathroom to witness the war that’s going on in his living room.

“A crazy girl is currently trying to break our door, again, thanks to this fucking—” Renjun finally throws the slipper, but Haechan, being in this same spot way too often, dodges it easily. “—whore!” he winces as he missed

“Okay y��all better keep it down before Jeno wakes up and I know you know he’ll fucking turn you upside down, Haechan.” Jaemin reminds the both of them that the real monster is sleeping, and if Haechan wakes him up even a minute early from his supposed alarm, Jeno would have his arm broken in two seconds.

“Fine! Injunnie, please, let’s calm down. She’s not even there anymore!” Haechan points at the door, and when they glanced at the little gap in the bottom, he was proven to be right. No one’s at the door.

“You’re gonna tell me what happened this time,” Renjun asks, this time his voice controlled but still angry.

Haechan takes a deep breath, plopping himself at the couch before slowly smirking at both of his friends in front of him.

“It’s kinda funny—”

“If you don’t tell us right now I’ll make you eat your shirt,” Jaemin says through his smile.

Haechan rolls his eyes. “Remember Gaeun? From the last party?”

Both his friends took a minute before nodding.

“Yeah so.. we had sex last night.. in her house… and uhm–” he cleared his throat. “Also remember that Spanish professor I bagged last month? Yeah… uh, that was kinda her mom.”

Five full seconds have passed but no one dares to say anything. Renjun’s jaw is on the floor and Jaemin, well.. he smiles like a freak after a few seconds of silence.

“Can’t say I’m not impressed, I mean.. if any of us will do the dumbest shit out there it would be you, but dude… that’s another level of whoreness.” Jaemin says, crossing his arms on his chest and shrugging like it’s a normal conversation.

“I swear to god, if any of those girls even try to get in my way to find you, I'll burn your entire pc set.” Renjun stated with a serious face.

Haechan smirks as he looks at him, fond of Renjun’s annoyed expression, exactly what he liked to see. He could’ve sworn Renjun looks the best when mad.

See, Haechan thrives in the thrill of it all. Girls love bad boys, and he’s really good at being exactly that. The rush of having sex feeds him, the adrenaline fuels his entire system.

He’s hard wired to be a rule breaker. And it’s not like he tries so hard to get girls, that’s not the case at all. Far from that, actually. He doesn’t try at all, which adds above the plethora of things that allures girls to him. With a face and body like his, with the way he talks sweeter than honey, and his movement flows smoother than silk, he gets girls way too easy.

And of course, he pleases girls just as good as everybody expects him to. Matter of fact, way above expectations, the very reason that girls overlook his lack of compassion, or just empathy.

He’ll take you to heaven and let you fall to hell with a smile dancing on his lips.

He’ll treat you as if you’re the most beautiful girl in bed, but act like he doesn’t know you the next morning.

And it’s not like girls doesn’t know that he doesn’t look for a serious relationship, because words travel fast, and Haechan’s reputation is well known, but then again, he’s just that good, that he got girls risking getting their fragile hearts broken in hopes that Lee Haechan will take them serious.

Pfft, even that sentence makes him laugh.

Different girls every other day, Renjun still questions how Haechan avoids diseases on how often he fucks. Jaemin calls his dick an immune titanium rod, and Jeno’s just convinced that Haechan has the most magical yet disgusting dick ever.

Meanwhile, Haechan just simplified it. He likes to fuck, and it’s just so happen he’s not bad on the eyes either, and God had blessed him with a stamina like a superbowl player and a libido of an incubus straight from hell. Not to mention, he’s big and he knows how to use it. With all of that combined, girls just fawn over him so… it all just makes sense. He doesn’t need to be nice. Lee Haechan is infamous for being every girl’s guilty pleasure.

“Who the fuck is she?!”

Haechan lets out an exasperated sigh, covering his right ear slightly as he flinches at the high pitched scream. Brushing his palm across his face, he faced the girl. Whispering an apology with the other girl on his side, he looks up.

“Look, Miyeon–”

“It’s Haru! My name doesn’t even sound like Miyeon!”

Haechan rolled his eyes. Pulling Haru on the side, “Remember how I told you we’re over?”

Although it was fun, Haechan has to admit that this part is exhausting. It’s the sex he enjoys, not the dealing with them after. He knows that they know that he’s not for the long game. It was never that serious, and with the amount of girls he had slept with, he expected them to already know how it is.

“You– you can’t just say that over text!”

“Well, I just did.” He says casually, as if there’s no crying girl in front of him.

“You said– you said you loved me, asshole!” Haru cried more, in hopes to see a glimpse of empathy in the boy.

“Must’ve been high or something,”

And right then, he felt a sting on his right cheek, and gasps from the small crowd that’s gathered. Haru walked off a crying mess, while Haechan was still trying to recover from the ringing in his ear.

“You handled that very well.” Yangyang teases when Haechan comes back to their table.

“Shut your ass up, before I knock your big ass teeth out,” He hissed, and sat by his girl that’s now looking at him shocked and angry.

“Look, baby she’s just crazy, alright? I’m done with her and I’m all about you now,” He says, disgustingly sweet as he puts his hands over her shoulders. and it sounds so fucking insane, but it worked. The girl looked up at him with hope, nodding, believing in what spell Haechan said to her.

“As I was saying,– before you got your ass handed to you– there’s this girl transferring mid semester from Sacred Heart, and apparently she’s the hottest girl from there,” Shotaro, one of his friend, says.

Haechan rolls his eyes, “I don’t care about girls, dude. I have my girl here,” He squeezes the girls arms and smirks at her, making his friends gag in disbelief.

Sacred Heart? He knew about girls from Sacred Heart. Jaemin’s girl, the same one who rejected him was from Sacred Heart. So no, he doesn’t like girls from Sacred Heart.

Besides, there’s plenty of hot girls everywhere, it’s not like he exclusively likes to fuck University girls. It’s not like this girl is that extremely hot to actually pique his curiosity.

“You’re so sweet, babe.” The girl leans on him, with a sickening smirk on Haechan’s face, he brazenly winked at his friends.

“Of course,”

His friends can’t help but to just shake their heads in amusement, seeing Haechan’s magic work first hand still amazes them sometimes.

“Holy shit,”

Haechan didn’t look behind him, even with his friend’s over dramatic reaction to something happening. Their eyes wide, pointing at the entrance of the cafeteria.

“That’s her, dude,” Yangyang says in almost an awe.

That’s what made Haechan look behind him.

And when he does… oh boy.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“No, I swear, I’m in love!” Haechan clutches on the throw pillow, looking like a lovesick puppy.

Renjun was baffled. It was strange seeing him like this, Haechan never and he meant it when he says never, says that four letter word out loud, even more so pertaining to a girl.

“What’s her name again?” Jeno asks, brows furrowed.

“Im Hayeon,” Haechan says her name in such a delicate tone, as if said out loud, butterflies and rainbows will start pouring out.

“Sacred Heart, right?” Jeno reads off his phone, in hopes to find the girl’s picture. He admits she’s pretty, no, scratch that, she’s beautiful.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Lee Jeno. As a matter of fact, it goes out to the three of you– she’s off limits, alright, fuckers?”

Jeno scoffs, Renjun rolls his eyes and Jaemin– well he’s not here. “She’s all yours man. Heard everybody wants her ever since she transferred tho,”

Haechan almost laughs at that statement. “Trust, I will get her– because damn, I think I might go crazy if I don’t.”

Renjun still couldn’t believe all of this is coming from Lee Haechan himself. He’s still suspicious, but at the same time, he hopes that his friend really tries to be serious for once.

“I need everybody to know that I’m off the market. Officially!” Lee Haechan spoke with an intention, one only a love struck person would have.

“Damn, there goes his reputation– straight down the drain.” Says Jeno, watching Haechan daydream about a girl, holding a pillow close to his chest.

“I still don’t trust this,” Renjun says, watching his friend grow heart shaped eyes, clutching his chest on just the mere thought of that Hayeon girl.

And when he heard her talk, oh, game’s over.

Voice sweet as honey.

“I’m Lee Haechan,” He stood before Hayeon, confidently offering his hand to the girl, and damn, her eyes… Her eyes might just melt Haechan in a second.

“Hi.. I’m Ha–”

“Hayeon. Im Hayeon.” Funny, Haechan who’s infamous for forgetting girls names, remembers hers– and she didn’t even say a proper word to sentence yet.

“You’re really pretty.” He doesn’t recognize his own voice.

“You’re sweet,” and when Hayeon giggles and avoided his staring eyes, he knew.

Immediately, he knew it’s so over.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“You’ve got two beds here, sweets. When’s your roommate coming?” Haechan asks in curiosity.

“Soon, hopefully. She’s from Sacred Heart too, been friends since forever,”

Haechan nods, “Aren’t they not accepting late registrants?”

“Yeah they are, but I talked to her on the phone and she says she’ll be here soon. I really hope she settles in quick, I don’t want to have a random roommate or something.” She states. Haechan finds it so cute that her face is so expressive. Every word comes with emotion, and he can just awe.

“I could be your roommate,” He snickers in.

“Don’t be silly,” Hayeon giggled, pulling a smile out of him.

“Don’t want to interrupt– but I think I’m gonna pass out if I didn’t have caffeine in the next two minutes..” Yangyang says suddenly, bursting the bubble Haechan and Hayeon were in.

“I’ll treat you guys! Dream cafe?” Hayeon claps in excitement.

Haechan shakes his head off, “Funny you think you’d pay when you’re around me, sweets. Don’t be silly,”

This isn’t like him, at all. It’s been three days, and he already can feel the lack of sex in his system. He blocked all his girl’s numbers and he can’t find it in himself to look at any other girls right now, except for of course, Hayeon.

“How long are you gonna keep up this act, man?” Yangyang whispered as the two of them walked behind Hayeon, entering the cafe.

“Shut the fuck up, what act? This is me, dude,”

“Don’t make me laugh, in about two days your dick will fall off and find a girl to fuck on its own,” Yangyang laughed but he got cut off when Haechan hits him at the back of his head.

“If she fucking hears you I’ll actually decapitate you,” He whispers, “–and no, it wouldn’t. I’ll make sure at the end of the week we’d be together and we’ll have the most mind blowing se—”

“Haechan? What’s yours?” He didn’t even realize Hayeon is already at the counter when she calls him. He quickly turns to her at a full tilt and beamed,

“Just Iced Americano,” He says, walking up to her to join her at the counter.

Once they settled in a table, Haechan just sat quietly listening to her voice, telling stories and he’s sure he’s never heard something sweeter. He felt like a creep, admiring her every feature but he can’t just help it.

He’s sure her lips would taste like honey, and god, what he would do to taste–

“What did you say your friend’s name again?” Yangyang says in between his sips.

“Y/n, why?”

“Y/n… where do I know her… shit I feel like I knew her..” Yangyang thinks harder than he does in his Biology exam, wondering why your name leaves familiarity in his tongue..

“She’s… been around. Have you perhaps… slept with her?” Hayeon winced at the end of her sentence. Haechan just furrows his brow, confused as to why they’re talking about a random person.

“Oh, fuck, Choi Seungcheol’s Y/n?!” Yangyang almost screamed. Haechan blinks thrice, very baffled about Yangyang’s reaction.

Choi Seungcheol? He knows that man.

And before he could join the conversation, Hayeon’s phone rings, and of course, her phone is pink, with a big ribbon at the back. Hmm, would she like pink flowers? Maybe–

[Shit, Hayeon, I’m not fucking pregnant!]

Yangyang spits the coffee in his mouth, and Haechan chokes on his own drink upon hearing the loud voice over Hayeon’s phone. The girl just froze, looking up at them with wide eyes, and then closing in her shoulders in embarrassment.

“H-hey, hi! I’m with friends,” She answers meekly, putting the phone off of the speaker.

Yangyang covers his grin over his coffee, Haechan acting like he heard nothing.

What a weird conversation starter.

“You’re at the campus? What? Now?” Hayeon says in panic. Haechan was alert in his seat, in case Hayeon needed him to come along.

And as expected, she now started to gather her bag, “Sorry, guys but I have to go. My friend’s somewhere the campus and I need to find her,”

“D’you need me with you?” Haechan offers, but deep inside him, he just wanted to lay down somewhere. All that heavy lifting made him tired– the caffeine getting him even more exhausted.

“No, not really, Channie.” The sudden nickname elicits a hue of pink in his cheeks, getting him flustered. No one ever calls him that.

Yangyang on his side snorts, eliciting an elbow from Haechan making him hiss. “I’ll text you, okay, sweets?”

“Alright, bye, guys!” And off she goes, with her elegant strides, she walks away.

“Channie– what the fuck was that?” Yangyang burst out laughing, but Haechan was still.

“I think I’m hard.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Three weeks.

“I’m starting to lose eyesight on my ears– and I’m fucking chafing bro!” He cries at Jeno, who’s just focused on his game, unbothered by the grown ass man crying behind him.

This has been officially, since he lost his virginity, the longest Haechan went without sex and he’s about to explode.

“But I can’t– not when it’s not her. Fuck, man, why can’t she just put out!”

Haechan pulls at his hair, frustrated and horny. He doesn’t know what to do– he wanted Hayeon, that’s for sure, but at the same time, old habits die hard, and there’s only so much his hands can do.

He knew Hayeon wants him too– that’s just obvious. However, she just doesn’t allow him to take a step further, and duh, he’ll never do anything that she doesn’t want, so it leaves him where he’s at. Delirious.

“Jeno!” He whines again, this time, tapping his friend on the shoulders.

Jeno moves his headset from his ear a bit, looking at him. “What?”

“You weren’t listening all this time?!”

Jeno, eyebrows lifted and clueless, shrugged before going back on his game.

“You fucking bitch,” Haechan murmured before walking out the room.

He was about to take a cold shower, as always, but then his phone pinged.

[11:01pm] hayeonnie: hi haechannie, wanna come over?

As if electrified, Haechan straightened up, quickly bolted out of their apartment.

There’s only one reason why she would invite him over, no? At this time, too? Haechan can feel legit excitement on his body as he drives to her apartment.

He stood outside her apartment door, inhaling deep to calm himself down, and adjusting his already hard dick struggling in his skinny jeans.

[11:12pm] haechan: im here @ ur door, sweets ;))

Taking a look at his phone camera and fixing his hair, he waits.

After a minute, she replied.

[11:13pm] hayeonnie: omg, already? im out buying our snacks but the door should be unlocked u can w8 in my room !!

He stood there a little confused, but he understood quickly, because he did sprint to get here. His sneakers didn’t even touch the ground. He’s that desperate.

He texted a simple ‘okay’ and attempted to turn the knobs, and thankfully, it was unlocked.

Her apartment was cold, but definitely lived in. The few sweaters lying around the couch and the succulents decorated on every corner made the room cozy, really different when Haechan helped her move in a couple of weeks ago.

What caught his eye was a couple extra home slippers by the door, one bedazzled pink and the other plain white, with a hotel branding on its side. Huh, maybe her roommates finally here.

Haechan sat carefully on the couch, checking his pockets for something really important.

Pulling the foil out of his front pocket, he made sure he brought not one, but three condoms.

“Okay,” He sighs and finally sinks into the sofa. He can relax now, he’s ready. He’s just waiting for his girl!

As soon as he felt comfortable, his entire body jolts when he heard one of the door open.

“The fuck?” His brows furrowed as he sees a tall man shirtless walking mindlessly to the kitchen counter.

When he got a good lighting on his face, his eyes widened.

It’s Choi Seungcheol.

It’s Choi motherfucking Seungcheol!

He never even saw this man in person, but the stories he heard about the infamous Sacred Heart Alumni was crazy. Apparently, he hosted the most wildest party that went down in history, and ever since then, he led the Carat House which rivaled NCU’s biggest frat. A quarterback that had the entire season in his palm— and because of that, NCU looked at him as an enemy.

So yeah, as an NCU home grown, he was taught that Choi Seungcheol is kind of the villain.

He didn’t realize how bad he’s staring at the man, until he looked at him in the eyes with a sour expression.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Seungcheol with his deep voice asks. Haechan blinks,

“Nothing–”

“Are you here for y/n? I hate to break it to you but she’s not seeing anyone else anymore. So I suggest get your ass out before I fucking–”

“No! N-No, I don’t even know her. I’m here for Hayeon, uh, she’s out for a bit but she’s on her way back.” Haechan defends himself, and he hated the way he spoke in panic. He’s losing his cool, damn if anyone could see him pissing himself infront of another man, he'd be ruined.

Seungcheol says nothing but nods, before grabbing his shirt which somehow, was under the table.

“Just making things clear. You don’t want to mess with me, boy.” Seungcheol says and smirks, before leaving the apartment.

When Haechan finally loosens up, that’s when he realize he’s been holding his breath the entire conversation. When the door finally closed, he shakes his head.

“Fucking bitch. I’d break his pretty little lips open if he’d said one more word but I’m– Jesus fucking christ!”

“He’s out?”

“Jesus!”

A girl peeped through the other bedroom door,as he holds his chest in surprise. What the hell is happening?!

“Oh, sorry. My bad,” The girl says, gritting her teeth.

Haechan still holding his chest, looked up at the girl. His knees almost turned jelly because holy shit, this girl is so fucking gorgeous.

And if he could only speak, the first word that would fall of his lips was–

“Damn,”

“What?”

Oh, fuck, did he say it out loud?

“Nothing– shit, yeah he’s.. uh, out.” Haechan straighten up his posture, putting his hands on his pockets and clearing his throat to gain composure back.

“Oh thank god, I don’t know how long I pretended to be asleep for his ass to get a hint,” You sigh, finally letting your entire body out the room and walk past him like he’s not standing there.

Even your voice sounded hot. It was deeper than Hayeon’s, with a slight scratch at your words as if you’d just got done singing at the karaoke for hours. It sounded so fucking hot in his ears.

You went to the kitchen, grabbed you a coke in a can and opened it with your teeth. The mere sounds of your actions was the only thing keeping the room less awkward.

“Lee Haechan, was it?”

“Yeah.. how’d you know?”

“Hayeon tells me everything. Also the fact that you’re pretty famous in this school,” You chuckle at your own words, and he can’t help but feel a little intimidated but definitely… something else.

Sure, one of the reason is because you look like you’re not wearing pants under your oversized shirt, but it’s more in how you handle yourself. You look like you don’t care about anything.

“Y-yeah but not anymore tho.. I’m straightening up.. you know, Hayeon likes good guys so,” He doesn’t even know why he’s panicking to explain.

“Sure she does. By the way, you didn’t see Seungcheol here, alright? Nothing gets out of this apartment,” You walked towards the couch where Haechan stood, and his body tensed.

He gets a whiff of a powdery scent, like some kind of delicate perfume you had on and usually he prefers fruity ones but he’s starting to like this one more.

“You know that the entirety of NCU hates him, right?” He acts nonchalant.

“I understand your lack of tolerance with him, yes. That’s exactly why,” You pause when you get near enough, “–you, Lee Haechan, won’t say anything about it. Besides, we broke up so I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.”

There’s something in the way you say his name, like it meant different. It felt strange, he’s used to hearing his name said with anger, adoration or pleasure, but with your voice, it just sounded… weird.

Before he could ponder about it further, the door opened, revealing the girl he had went here for. Right, Hayeon.

“Haechannie! I see you met y/n.” Hayeon were quick to step in between him and you.

There’s an awkward tinge in her face, as she smiles way too big, stretching her lips to appear enthusiastic. Haechan didn’t notice, but he definitely felt like him and Hayeon should just go inside her room.

“You’re right, Hayeon, he is a cutie.” You say, with the most obvious sarcasm.

“Right. Uh, we’ll go,” Hayeon gripped Haechan’s wrist, pulling him with her inside his room and before she could even close the door, his eyes found yours, and maybe he was hallucinating, but he definitely saw you look at him too.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You lied.

You don’t think Haechan is cute.

You think he’s fucking hot.

His golden skin and his perfect lips made you almost quiver in fear, that you might just have the hots for your best friend’s man. Which even for a woman like you, is a low blow. You don’t want to be the girl who fucks a man whose spoken for.

So you tossed it to you being horny. Maybe Seungcheol didn’t do enough, maybe if you’d seen a different person standing on your living room, you’d feel bothered too. It’s not Haechan– no, it can’t be him.

Because if it is him, then you’ve got a real big problem. Especially the next day, when Hayeon told you the news.

“I agreed to be his girl, and we did it.”

Normally, you’d congratulate her because she doesn’t have that many ex boyfriends and she’s the type to take a relationship seriously. After a few years of being single– she finally has a man, again.

But damn, you’ll be lying if that didn’t annoy you one bit. How’d Hayeon get to him first? Ugh.

[NCU’s like… really big. Just avoid him a little bit and it’d be fine.] Your friend, who is probably the person you trust the most, talks across the phone.

“Jurin, he’s literally my roommate’s boyfriend. I can’t even get away from him in my own fucking apartment.” You say, walking around the campus trying to find the auditorium, for one of your lectures. Jurin made a point, this campus is enormous compared to SHU.

[I don’t know what to tell ‘ya, he is fine, and it’s your fault for missing the first day and he happened to see Hayeon first.]

Finally, you seem to see the entrance to the auditorium, but you’re not sure. You try to look at your schedule, “To be fair, it’s just my first week here. Maybe there’s someone else I could obsess over–”

“That’s auditorium hall three, Prof Watson’s lecture?”

You turn to see a boy, with baggy jeans, a baggy shirt, a snapback worn backwards with a headphone barely hanging on it, a laptop on one hand, and a skateboard on the other. You wanted to scoff, this is almost a stereotypical college dude, except he actually rocks it. You’re conflicted, if you find this hot or not.

“Oh, yeah, uh– thanks?”

“Osaki Shotaro, by the way.” He offered to shake your hand, but forgets that he’s occupied with both. That’s when you actually let out a chuckle.

[Hello?? Just find somebody to fuck to get your mind off the dude,] You forget that Jurin’s still on the phone.

“Yeah, I’m gonna call you back.” You absentmindedly say before hanging up the phone.

“Y/n.” You smile at him, and with his innocent eyes, he smiled back.

୨♡୧

“That was.. Wow.” Shotaro sighed in satisfaction, combing his hand across his hair.

You smirked at him, finding it adorable how he’s reacting to what just happened about three minutes ago.

Jurin was right, fucking somebody else was distracting enough to get your mind off of Haechan, but it felt like putting a band aid on a broken glass. You knew damn well you’d be back gushing about Haechan once you see him again.

“You’re great too, you know,” You say, fixing your skirt.

“Yeah sure but you… damn.” You chuckled at him.

Shotaro is hot, and shit, did he knew how to use his body. And for the first time, you had sex with a man who moans in Japanese. That was hot as fuck.

“Y’know rumors about the hottest chick from Sacred Heart went around before you transferred, and I never expected you’d even notice me in the first place,”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Oh, that’s probably Hayeon. Not me,”

You let out a laugh. Hayeon has always been crowned the most gorgeous student in SHU, and you were always out of the spotlight. Lots of people thought that you’re in her shadow, but to be honest, you like being in the dark.

You get away from a lot of things being unnoticed.

“You’re Seungcheol’s girl, right?”

You wince after hearing your ex’s name, but you were also used to this. Seungcheol and you had a past, a very bad one at that, and people often asks you about it. He was basically a celebrity in your previous school.

“Was.” You put an emphasis on the word.

“Then you’re the girl they were talking about. And to be frank, I think you’re hotter.” Shotaro claims with his chest out.

“You’re saying that because we just fucked,”

“I’m just being honest, but yeah, that too.”

Shotaro chilled in the apartment a couple more hours when you decided to order food. Of course, he insisted that he paid, and who are you to resist free food.

“The audacity to say Game of Thrones is way too boring, and here you are gushing over Harry Potter?!” Shotaro yelled playfully.

“Hey, I like what I like. Game of Thrones puts me to sleep faster than white noise,” You slurp on your Ramen, entertained over Shotaro losing his shit.

You two continued to bicker until you heard the sound of the pin to the door being opened.

The both of you looked at who’s coming, and you mentally curse seeing Haechan’s pretty face.

You roll your eyes, breathing in his overwhelming cologne that immediately surrounds the place. His leather jacket that he somehow make it work, and his tight skinny jeans that made him look taller. Fuck, this was never your type. What is wrong with you?

“Dude!” Shotaro jumps excitedly, seeing Haechan. That’s when Hayeon followed in, smiling at Shotaro but the confusion in her eyes stayed.

“What are you doing here?” Haechan says, eyes switching from Shotaro and you.

“I invited him here,” You say, trying your best to avoid his lingering stare. You felt like a highschool girl avoiding her crush. This sucks.

“You two know each other?” Hayeon asks.

“Yeah, we’re friends.” Shotaro says proudly. Dapping up Haechan as soon as he got near him. Haechan seemed suspicious, still glinting his eyes at his friend.

“You and her?” Haechan whispered ever so slightly, in hopes to not be heard by you or Hayeon.

“Yeah, dude.” Shotaro knowingly nods in excitement, as if winning a game, dragging the word ‘Yeah’ to emphasize his exhilaration.

Haechan nods, silently commending his friend for bagging you. He never knew Shotaro had it in him, to be honest.

“Really, y/n, Haechan’s friend?” Meanwhile, Hayeon pulled you aside, scolding you as soon as you were out of earshot by the two boys.

“I didn’t know he was his friend?”

“Look, I believe you, but I want this thing with Haechan to work. And I can’t have you sleeping around with his friends and risking my relationship with my boyfriend–”

“How would that risk anything? I’m literally minding my own business.” This was one thing you hated about Hayeon. She gets too controlling, everything should be in her way. That’s how she wants it.

“I don’t know, maybe your hobby of sleeping around with his close friends then ghosting them to go back to Seungcheol– Gee, I don’t know if that’d upset Haechan and lookie here–” She points at herself animatedly, “Unfortunately, I’m friends with you so who will eventually take the blame?!”

Hayeon seemed to spit harshly with her words, and it left did kind of stung. Hayeon is nice, kind and caring, but there are times where she sure knows how to make people feel bad. Lucky for you, you’re one of the people who suffers from this side of her.

“Unfortunately– huh. Okay.” You smile bitterly at her, before grabbing your wrist back from her grip.

“Don’t worry, Hayeonnie. I’d step away from his friends, I wouldn't want to jeopardize your one week relationship with him. And I mean this from the bottom of my heart, I hope you shove Haechan so far up your ass, in that case, you’d be together forever, you psycho.”

You, on the other hand, never claimed to be nice.

As you walk away, you stare extra hard at her, and that’s when you see the familiar look in her eyes.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The difference of being in a new school compared to your old one, is that here, you had to start from scratch.

Yes, people here in NCU might’ve heard something about new students from SHU, given the famous rivalry between two schools and students who love getting dirt from each other, but you still need to build your persona from level zero.

“Word around here is that you’re apparently the hottest chick from Sacred Heart.” Juyeon, your seatmate in one of your classes.

“Apparently? Are you not sure?” You huffed.

He tilts his head to the side, “Don’t get me wrong, you are hot. But I’ve always thought you’d immediately jump on either Haechan or Jaemin once you moved here,”

You let out a chuckle. This man has no idea. You for sure would’ve jumped on Haechan. Your timing just fucked you over.

“Well, Haechan’s with my friend now so he’s out of the picture. Jaemin’s sexy, but not my type.”

“Meh, I’d give Haechan a month before he gets bored.” Juyeon shrugged.

You look back at him with intrigue, “Is he that much of a fuckboy?”

“He’s the worst out of the four of them. Haechan is infamous for fucking girls left and right. Jaemin is a close second, but Haechan? That man is a monster.”

You don’t know whats wrong with you, but your entire body suddenly turns warm over hearing Haechan’s reputation. You shift in your seat, contemplating a lot of things. Nasty things.

“Yeah? That bad, huh.” You clear your throat.

“Yep. But hey, heard he blocked all his girls for Hayeon. Made her an official girlfriend too. That got to count for something. Maybe he’s a changed man.”

Changed man your ass. “Nobody really changes, Juyeon. They just mask their true color. That isn’t changing, that’s just faking.”

The attention you received was nice at first, but as it went on, it felt irritating. Everybody just wants to talk to you and get to know you, despite the fact that you’ve made it clear that you’d rather keep to yourself.

You don’t know how Hayeon, or even Haechan does it.

They instantly became the power couple after a few more weeks of dating– and surprisingly, it seemed to be going on smoothly. They were both popular, Hayeon climbing up the status quo extra quick now that she has Haechan.

You? Oh, you tried to lie low, go back to what you had before, and at least try to stop ogling your friend’s boyfriend. It was just annoying before, but now it kind of starting to affect you.

Every time he’s in the apartment, it’s like he made it his mission to fuck Hayeon so hard that her moans sounded concerning, and in about an hour or two, you’ll see them cuddling in the couch watching a movie you’re sure they’ve seen before. Like, hell, who haven’t seen the Notebook?

“We’re ordering in, you want some?” Hayeon kindly asks, one time when you catch them on the kitchen counter.

You just woke up from your nap, and as soon as you see them making out in the kitchen, you almost want to knock yourself out.

“Nope. I’m actually craving for…” You take a look at your limited choice of cereal, “Fruit loops.”

“Hmmkay, I’ll head down stairs to get some packages, I swear they never bring my packages up here. Babe, please go with me?” The sickening baby voice she uses left you cringing, and all you can do is to fill your mouth up with a spoon full of cereal. This’ll keep you from saying shit you’d regret.

“My legs are about to give up, babe, we went for an hour of dog–”

You almost spit out your cereal, freezing over what Haechan just almost said. Are they fucking kidding you?

“–Cardio.” Haechan’s attempt at covering his sentence went unuseful, because you’re not dumb. You knew what he meant.

“Heh, okay, babe. Can you wait in my room?”

You see him furrow his brows at his girlfriend, “Can’t I wait here?”

Hayeon didn’t say anything, but her eyes said a lot more. She looks at you as if she’s seeing a problem with your presence around her boyfriend, without her in the room. She looks back at him, and sighed. “I’ll be right back,”

Once she closed the door, that’s when you chuckled. Same old Hayeon.

“That’s weird,” Haechan starts.

“That’s just how she is. Don’t worry,” You say casually, as if what she pertained to isn’t about you. Because it’s always about you.

“What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t trust me around men, she thinks I’ll jump every dick I came across to– specially you, her boyfriend,” The exaggerated tone you added to the term boyfriend was prominent. Saying it just annoyed you.

“Oh.. that’s.. that’s crazy. How’s you and Shotaro?” You didn’t want to read into his demeanor, and how fast he changes the topic, so you just grin.

“Meh, one time thing. Don’t worry tho, he’s a sport. Don’t want to break any friend dynamics you have with your circle,”

“Why would you break the dynamics?”

“Your friend Yangyang hit me up last night– and I almost gave in, but I think Hayeon is right, I don’t want to mess with your friends.” You say absent mindedly.

“I mean, they’re grown ass adults, it’s up to them if they let some girl break the friendship.” He casually blurts out, not even thinking of what he just said.

You catch a tiny bit of offense to it, “Some girl?”

He immediately raises his eyebrows in shock of his own word, blinking rapidly. “No! No, what I mean is it’s okay to do whatever you like! They have to deal with their own shit and it’s on them if they let it affect anything,”

You nod. Why does he seem nervous? This wasn’t what you expected from him at all. People says he’s over confident and cocky, but why is he stuttering in front of you now?

“Besides, your school is a lot bigger than Sacred Heart, I’m sure there's plenty of men that I can have. It’s not that hard to avoid your friend group,”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely.” He clears his throat, for what seemed to be the nth time.

“I mean, I could, technically, go for your friend– Jaemin, was it?” You don’t know why, but you lied. Mainly to get a reaction out of him, indulging into your little theory.

“What? No. Not him, he’s obsessed with the art kid from SHU. Jeonghan’s friend?” His explanation seems valid. You bit your lip. You were expecting a lot more.

“Jeonghan’s ex? The girl who slept with Sir Nakamoto?” You asks, intrigued at the sudden mention of the girl you once knew from your previous school.

“Yeah! That one!”

You smirk in amusement, “Huh. Small world.”

“Yeah so definitely not Jaemin. Or Jeno, Or Renjun. Nope. They already have their own girl.” He says in finality, shaking his head.

You chuckle at his expression. He’s so damn cute. You just want to… fuck.

“Alright, chill. I’ll step back from your friends. God, you sound just like Hayeon.”

He flinched over the mention of his own girlfriends name. He looked like he forgot about her for a second there, but you don’t let yourself believe that. You’re just feeding into your delusions.

You drink the milk that’s left in your bowl, and when you bring it back down to the counter, you see Haechan’s gaze lowering in your face, stopping right where your lips are.

“You got some, uh–”

You point at your lips, “Oh,” you lick the milk mustache above your upper lip, all while Haechan watches.

Shit, this looks like an introduction to some porn. You didn’t even mean to do it, you swear!

He clears his throat again, “B-but… would you tho?”

You raise your brow at his sudden question.

“Would I.. what?”

“J-jump.. on my… d-dick?”

Slowly, the smirk you had before shows again.

“Oh, Haechan, that’s not a nice question to ask your girlfriend’s friend, now is it?”

“I-I was just–”

“Finally! I ran up here as fast as I could, what are you two talking about?” Hayeon’s catching her breath, quickly stepping between you and Haechan, effortlessly breaking the thick tension between you two.

You, on the other hand, managed to break your eyes away from the boy and walked to the sink to wash your bowl.

“Fruit loops,” you lie.

Haechan was still standing there, trying to amuse his girlfriend, as if he didn’t just ask you if you would jump on his dick a minute ago.

“Yeah, fruit loops.” He whispers as he takes a deep breath.

Things just got way more interesting.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Haechan doesn’t know what it is. Maybe he’s just really tired, maybe the exams are slowly getting to him.

He laughs. He doesn’t give a fuck about the exams.

“I don’t like your friend, Renjun. His smile seems so fake when he smiles at me,” Hayeon says through her teeth.

“Nah, that’s how he is on everybody. He doesn’t even smile at me,” Hayeon snuggled more onto his side as they continued watching the Kissing Booth.

“I guess you know him better, but still, can you tell him to be nice?”

Haechan just nods at her. Renjun is nice, only to people who’s nice to him. However, in Hayeon’s case, Renjun is still doubting his relationship with her. Something about being way too quick, or way too forced.

And even tho Haechan doesn’t show it that much, he does value Renjun’s judgement among all of his friends. He trusts him to see through all his actions, and think of what’s best for him.

But, of course, he still insist that his relationship with Hayeon will work. Because it needs to work. He’s not gonna embarrass himself after chasing this woman for so long— only for him to break up in a month.

“Let’s go to bed?” Finally, the awful movie ended, and a sense of relief washes over him. He hated the Kissing Booth.

“I’ll do the thing that you like..” Hayeon whispered lowly in his ears, making him smirk. She knows exactly how to get his attention.

However, before they could even get walk to Hayeon’s room, the front door swung wide open, revealing a huffing figure stomping inside.

You’re angry—no, you’re actually fuming. And it all made sense when he saw whoever followed you into the apartment.

“Fuck you!” You yelled as you threw your bag on the floor.

Seungcheol brushed his hands through his hair as he strides big steps towards you. Haechan frowned at how aggressive Seungcheol was approaching you and he was about to interfere, when Hayeon tightened her grip at his wrist.

“Don’t– they do this all the time. Let’s just go in,” She says quietly.

“Get out of my fucking apartment, Choi Seungcheol.” You say, voice cut deeply, eyes closed as if trying to gather patience.

“What were you doing with that Soohyun, huh? Throwing ass like I’m not fucking in the same room?!” Seungcheol shouted, pointing at you as if you were nothing. Haechan flinched everytime he sees Seungcheol almost touch you.

“We’re over, weeks ago, you delusional fuck! You’re fucking stalking me— it’s like you have a fucking tracking device, weirdo!”

“If you think we’re over, think again, bitch. I made you. I own you. You can do whatever you want, switch schools, create a whole new personality, but the truth is, you’re still the same fucking slut for me.”

“That’s–” Haechan was supposed to get in between you and Seungcheol, but a forceful tug on his wrist made him stumble back to Hayeon’s room.

”Leave it, Haechan. It’s not our business!” Hayeon then slammed the door shut.

“That’s your friend, babe! He’s going to hurt her!”

“It’s their problem, Haechan! They’re always like this! That’s how they are! An hour from now, they’re gonna be fucking like rabbits next door, trust me.”

He doesn’t know what to feel. Did they see the same thing? Did she not see how aggressive that guy is towards you? How can Hayeon let her friend get treated that way?

Haechan was straight up dumbfounded.

Maybe it’s a Sacred Heart thing. He’s heard some of the crazies went there. Maybe you’re one of them.

But every minute that had passed, he felt like his ears was hyper alert. His eyes wandered around the thin wall separating Hayeon’s room to where you are.

Another muffled scream, followed by a thud that sounded like something being thrown across the room. It felt like a telenovela, a drama that he used to watch.

“They’ve been like that forever. Y/n always leaves, but Seungcheol always chases. It’s a cycle, and you should be used to it, because no matter how bad they get, they’ll still end up together.” Hayeon further explained.

But he still doesn’t get it. He only saw a fracture of your relationship with that man and he could already tell it’s not a very healthy relationship, a dangerous one at that, and Hayeon, who’s apparently supposed to be your friend, witnessing this for a long time— thinks this is okay?

“Don’t worry, babe, okay? It’s fine.” Hayeon’s attempt at calming him down did little to nothing. Not when the silence that followed sounded terrifying.

Turns out, Hayeon was right.

The angry curses, the yelling, and the aggression earlier was completely gone— replaced by the same words, just different way of expressing them.

Haechan hears a very different types of curses next door now. The rhythmic banging on the wall adds to it all, and all he can think of are you graphic moans filling up his brain.

Haechan was rightfully confused. However, confusion isn’t the only one swimming in his system, there was something else. Hearing you get fucked less than five feet away from him left an unnamed sensation he was scared to confront.

So, he did was he does best. He distracted himself by focusing on the girl he’s with, the girl who he should only think about.

Yet, despite his eagerness to erase whatever thought he had, Haechan was never a strong willed person. He admits that he’s mentally weak, that he’s a slave to his own body.

So when his brain was focused on Hayeon, his body reacted differently.

Because every time he hears you moan, his hips involuntarily thrust– and then everything else just happened without him thinking about anything, just desperately seeking release. He listened to every cry you made, every breath you take.

“Ah,” He moans deeply, eyes closed shut as he tried to scrape the bottom of the barrel and listen intently to your whimpering next door.

“Harder,” Your faint voice kept him going.

Not Hayeon’s, no one else but yours.

“Hm-hmm,” He bit his lip as he followed your order, thrusting with extra vigor. He kept his words vague, not letting Hayeon figure out what the fuck is in his head.

“Cum,” You muttered more incoherent words but he takes what he could understand. And as if in command, he cums. Hard.

The moment he opens his eyes,

“God, what’s with you tonight!” Hayeon giggles in satisfaction, catching her breath. Once he was back in his senses, a huge wave of guilt washed over him.

Did he… just fucked his girlfriend to the thought of you?

He shakes his head violently, as if the idea of him doing it could fall out of his memories.

Haechan was a pervert. He never denied it. But this… this just made him feel dirty. He’d admit, he isn’t the nicest, but come on, he’s a decent human being–sometimes.

“Where are you going?” Hayeon asks when she looks at him.

He grabbed his jacket, “Renjun called.” He didn’t.

“Uh, okay?”

And for the first time, Haechan didn’t bother to look at her eyes before he walked out her room.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Haechan had already heard of every insult he can imagine, and he never finds it in himself to care. Heck, sometimes, he takes pride for being called a manwhore. In his mind, that’s just another way of saying he gets so much pussy, that people felt the need to give him the title.

But this time, it’s different. He didn’t hear it, he felt it.

This was the first time he felt a tiny bit of shame. And it doesn’t feel good, like, at all.

He struggles to even admit that what people thought of him was true. That he cannot handle being in a serious relationship longer than a couple months.

He could’ve sworn that what he felt with Hayeon was true, it was intense, it was a different feeling than the girls he had before. But then you came along, and ruined everything.

Any chance of Haechan finally finding his true love crumbled upon his feet, all because of you.

That’s it, you’re a curse. A curse he needs to avoid at all costs.

“Woah, you look like shit.” Renjun sat beside him, carrying a shit-eating grin only a true friend could show.

“Shut up, I’m in a predicament.” He brushed Renjun off.

“Predicament? Big word for elmo,”

“Aish–” He hits Renjun, softly, of course, and Renjun just laughed. Seeing Haechan visibly distressed somehow intrigued him, because Haechan never worries about anything, at all.

“Is it Hayeon?” He asks casually.

Haechan sat straight, coughing– “Nope! Not at all– me and my girlfriend are very happy together.” Haechan frantically shakes his head, smiling as if a gun is pointed to his head.

“O-kay? Calm down, freak.” Renjun proceeds to take out his laptop.

Haechan rolls his eyes, but as soon as he focuses on the door of the lecture hall, his breathing hitches.

You entered, hiding under a black hoodie, head hanging low. You clutch your bag as if someone’s out to take it from you. Your steps are calculated, but rushed at the same time.

Odd, Haechan muttered deep in his breath.

However, even after being intrigued by your peculiar demeanor, Haechan didn’t approach you. Not that you care tho— this is only one of two classes he shares with you. It’d be easy to avoid you, right?

Wrong. In some shit luck, for the semester’s first project by pair, his name just had to be called after yours.

Biting his lip as he strides to reach you, he took a deep breath before actually approaching you. You had this dark aura, ever since the start of the lecture. Haechan couldn’t name it.

“W-we’re partners,” There’s the fucking stuttering again. He swears this is all your fault.

About three seconds passed before you finally acknowledge him, like you’ve been pulled out of a trance. You snap at Haechan, but the wary eyes turned soft as soon as your eyes connects with him.

“Yeah. R-right, uh– let’s just do it in the apartment, so we’d both be comfortable since you basically live with us too.” The pathetic attempt of smirking did little to nothing, to cover the puffy eyes you desperately hid.

But then again, Haechan’s not in the place to ask you whats wrong. He doesn’t want to be concerned, nor does he want to care. It’s not like you’re someone to him. Psh, you’re just his girlfriend’s best friend.

Jesus fucking christ.

“K.” He slings his bag on his shoulders, and spins around to walk away.

What you didn’t see is how tight he grips the strap of his bag until his knuckles turned white, and his breathing shakes as soon as he left.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

This won’t do.

Ever since he got to your apartment, all you said to him was ‘Hi,’ and you never talked to him again if it’s not about the project. Worst, you keep your words as minimum as possible, and your hand trembles every time you type in your laptop.

There’s no way you’re okay. You’re avoiding his stares, you’re refusing to hold a conversation even for a minute.

Haechan should be glad, you make it easier for him to avoid you, but instead of relief, Haechan is faced with worry.

You’re not acting like you. Your usual confident and carelessness was replaced by whatever this is.

He curses in his head, before slamming his laptop close.

“Let’s take a break,” He says.

You shake your head, “We’re almost done,”

“I know, so we should take a break,”

“Haechan—“

“You look like you’re gonna shatter any second now, y/n. So let’s take a fucking break.” Haechan’s stern voice was a rare occurrence, but he needed to be assertive.

You gulped and finally take off your hands off the keyboard.

“Are you okay?” Haechan carefully asked, as to not make you uncomfortable.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,”

This time, your eyes glare at him. Haechan blinks, trying to hold a stare but he couldn’t. Your bloodshot eyes was trying to suck him in.

“Seungcheol… he’s not a bad guy.” You started off and immediately, Haechan didn’t like where you were going.

“Is he why you.. look like that?”

“I look like a what?”

“Like you’re on the verge of breaking down,”

“Haechan-ah… tell me. Are you happy?” In an innocent mind, this question seems simple. In Haechan’s mind, this felt loaded.

“S-sure..”

Is he really? Pff, no. He accepted the fact that he might not really be inlove with his girlfriend and dove into a committed relationship head first way too fast and now he’s on a position that might just ruin his new found reputation of being a good guy. So, yeah, no.

“I’m glad. Cuz I’m really not.. Seungcheol was my safe choice, but when he gets like this.. it’s not fun. So I decided to leave him, for good. But I realized that no one’s on my team now that he’s gone.” You sounded so off. Like you weren’t yourself. Haechan couldn’t bear it, so he looked away.

“I’m on your team,” He softly says, hopefully sounding less cringy.

“Really? Haechan-ah?” Okay, he really doesn’t like it when you call him Haechan. It sounds so.. unfamiliar.

“Yep. Me, Hayeon, and all your friends are here for you.” He didn’t like saying his girlfriend’s name whilst talking to you, but he knew he had to draw some kind of line. Just in case you get the wrong idea, or worse, he gets the wrong idea.

You let out an awkward laugh. He doesn’t understand which part of this you find funny at all.

“Right. Hayeonnie.” This time, it sounded like you hated her name. Like it didn’t need to be in the conversation.

“So.. promise me you’ll never go back to Seungcheol again, okay? He’s a bad guy,” He exaggerated a scolding tone just to lighten up the mood but it didn’t do much.

You just nodded– looking like you just wanted to end the conversation.

Thankfully, a notification from his phone breaks the dead silence. He used it as an excuse to escape.

[7:03pm] hayeon: I’m at my sisters, babe. Aren’t u going to Yang’s party tonight?

He sighs. Right, his loving girlfriend.

He can’t just leave you all alone, can he? Not when you’re in this state, not when you’re not okay.

This isn’t even about his problem with you anymore. Any decent human being wouldn’t leave a poor girl all alone when she clearly needs someone.

“Come with us to Yangyang’s party. Take your mind off of things.”

“I–”

“It’s either you go or I’ll drag you with us.”

There was another pause, silence filled with tension you could cut through with a knife. You didn’t say anything but sighed, basically confirming to Haechan that you’ll go.

You guess you needed a little distraction.

“I’ll be there.” You softly whisper. You closed your laptop, and stood up from the coffee table straight to your room.

As soon as the door clicks, Haechan catches his breath. He doesn’t realize he’s been holding it in everytime you look at him. Thank God you didn’t notice it.

This will do him good. It’ll clear his mind, and in no time, he’ll be back in his girlfriend’s arms. You’ll be busy with other people and you’ll be out of his sight. Yeah.

[8:56pm] hayeon: Can’t go to Yang’s tonight babe :( My sister needs me to help with something. See you tomorrow?

He was about to reply, when another message popped up in his phone.

[8:57pm] yangyang: u better come to my party !! bring ur gf or wtv.. make sure she brings y/n too haha

[8:57pm] haechan: im going, but hayeon cant go. y/n will be there.

[8:58pm] yangyang: fuck yeah dude i cant w8 to see her!!!

Why is Yangyang so obsessed with you? Didn’t you say you turned him down already? Well, knowing Yangyang, he does get a bit infatuated with someone that does so much as give him the time of day, but come on. You already said no to him, right?

Haechan reminds himself to reply to Hayeon, but his mind was somewhere else.

So he never did.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“It’s been so long seeing you without your girl, dude!” Yangyang excitedly put his arms around Haechan, almost choking the guy. In return, Haechan elbowed him slightly, just to get the guy off of him.

“You’re choking me, asshole.”

“Huh, could’ve sworn you’re a little bit into that.” Yangyang joked, earning a hefty hit from Haechan.

He kinda get Yangyang tho. It has been a while since he attended some party without Hayeon by his side, and honestly, it kinda brought back a vibe in him. Only this time, he needs to be careful.

The hushed whispers of girls upon seeing him alone was noticeable, some even saying that maybe Hayeon’s out of the picture. He needed to clear things up before everybody misunderstood.

“My girlfriend, Hayeon is at her family house. She’ll be with me tomorrow.” He says very loudly, for everybody to hear.

He doesn’t know why he felt the need to prove others wrong, but one things for sure. He’s not going to mold himself to the expectations of him not being able to keep one girl for a long time.

“Alright, man, no need to yell.” Shotaro popped in his right.

“Where have you been?” Yangyang asked.

“Y/n’s over at the hallway with Soohyun. I think she’s wasted, dude.”

Haechan’s ears perked with the mention of your name. You’re here earlier than him? And you’re already wasted?

So what? Not my responsibility. Haechan says to himself. He grabs one of the shots on the counter and downed it straight. Haeving, he goes and takes another.

“Slow down, stupid!” Jeno appears beside him, chuckling a bit.

He shakes his head. No, no, no, no, no.

“Are you okay?” Renjun asks, this time more seriously. He had never seen Haechan being in distress for long periods of time, and never this conflicted. He knew Haechan like the back of his hand.

“I’ll get over it.” Voice rasp, Haechan walks away from his friends.

He rings his girlfriend one time, only to be answered by a robotic voice telling him she’s busy. He tried it again, but the result was the same.

Every shot he encountered, he drank. He can’t really handle anything without being sober, let alone think about you while being sane. He’ll go crazy.

But then the when the alcohol hits, his thoughts got more even insane. Batshit. He can fucking hear your voice now.

Your screams, when you were fighting with Seungcheol.

Your moans, when he was pounding you to oblivion.

Your tears, when you yelled profanities.

And your fucking words that made Haechan cum that night. The same fucking words that he knew wasn’t meant for him, but he took it as if you whispered in his ear.

“Fuck!” He screams out of frustration. He felt disgusted with his own thoughts.

“Haechan?”

Man these walls must be talking ‘cuz he swear he just heard yo–

He turned around to see you, and he can’t pin what his exact feeling the moment your eyes met. He was relieved for a split second, then he suddenly felt tense because it was like he manifested you to appear in front of him.

“Y/n–”

“Look who decides to show up without his pet.” Another voice popped from behind you, however, he can’t think of anyone else but your flushed face.

“Didn’t you miss me, Haechannie? Come on, I know your girl doesn’t compare..” It was a drunk Gaeun, stumbling past you, managing to nudge your shoulders.

Her hands finds Haechan’s shoulders, putting her entire weight pulling him down to her level.

He was in panic mode. You were just standing there, visibly disturbed, rightfully so, as Haechan tried to push Gaeun away as respectfully as he can.

“Gaeun, pleas–”

“Are you fucking insane?” Your voice thundered as your hand pulled the drunk girl away from him. His eyes widened, feet frozen as he sees you drag the girl away from him.

“Get your hands off me! Haechan!” Gaeun screamed for him, but he can’t really do anything, he’s still, fascinated at the scene in front of him. Are you.. jealous?

But when he notice the moment escalates and you’re now dragging Gaeun by her hair, he jumped into action and gently tried to pull your wrist away. “Let go,”

Your sharp eyes turned to him, still in attack mode, but you took one deep breath and let go of her hair. A sobbing mess, Gaeun runs away from you.

“You’re really gonna let her be all over you like that? What if I wasn’t here?!”

“Y/n–”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna let you cheat on Hayeon with a bitch like her–”

“Then who else?”

His hands aren’t on the steering wheel anymore, and any control he had– he threw it all away.

“W-what?”

The game was over. Haechan forfeits, this isn’t something he can deny any longer.

Haechan, still holding your wrist, pulled you closer to his body.

“Who would you rather me cheat on her with?”

“Hae–”

“Nope. Wrong name. Come on, say it.” He completely turned off the switch. He basically slashed the throat of the angel that gives him the conscience he’s been holding on so tight, and grabbed the devil’s hands.

This was a risky game he was playing, you could totally call him out, and tell Hayeon right away, but the other side of the spectrum is way too good to even think of the risk. You could come to him and give him a taste of what he was craving for.

“You’re drunk–”

“Were you drunk those nights when you’d stare at me when I visit Hayeon? Were you drunk when you pretend you didn’t find me hot? Or were you drunk when you moan extra louder whenever I’m around while being fucked by your boy-toy? Huh?” You couldn’t even recognize his voice at this point. He sounds so… out of it.

“That’s–”

“Being drunk has nothing to do with this, y/n. I’m gonna ask you again, you can just turn around and pretend nothing happened, and we’re just both drunk to think straight. But tell me, y/n, the truth. Didn’t you at least think about what it’s like? To be fucked properly?”

Think about it? Fuck that. You fantasized about it. Day and night. Haechan plagued your mind twenty-five-eight, and the fact that he’s inside your friend’s room instead of yours.

So yeah, you did more than thinking about it.

“This is bad..” You whimpered, lips a paperthin away from each other.

“You make me do bad things, very, very bad things. But then again, I’m not a stranger to being the bad guy.”

And just as Haechan lets the last word fall from his pretty lips, you took the bait. You shook the devil’s hand and kissed him. And from then on, you know there’s no going back.

Haechan pulled you by the waist, and your hand grips his neck to deepen the kiss. As your tongues danced to a perfect rhythm, you feel his other hand take the back of your left thigh, urging you to wrap them in his waist, signalling you to let him carry you. Which you did, you were always a good listener.

It’s crazy. You feel everything, all at once and it was so overwhelming but it felt right. Which is such a fucking lie because everything about this is wrong. It’s so wrong, but fuck it, it felt so right.

Carrying you by your ass, Haechan managed to walk inside one of the rooms, and because you’re so hyper focused on touch and what his lips are doing, you didn’t even realize that you’re already in a bed, ‘til you felt a soft texture on your back.

Haechan pulled away, and takes a second to look at you from above, “Fuck, you’re so pretty. You’ve always been prettier,”

It sounded so bad, yet so good in your ears. You can’t believe you’re hearing this from a boy who’s just a month ago, drooling over your friend.

“Shut up before we come back to our senses and realize how fucked up this is,” You murmured.

“Why do you gotta spoil the mood, baby?” He whines but still kissed you again, letting his hands roam free across your body.

His fingers stealthily pulled the hem of your shirt, letting his bare hands come in contact with your stomach which you respond with a shudder.

“Hmm, my baby’s ticklish.” He chuckled as if he just unlocked a new discovery.

He continued kissing you on your neck, you assume its to distract you from his hand slowly creeping up your bra. Which he does a bad job at because you can feel everything he’s doing. And once he came in contact with your nipple, you let out a proper moan.

“God, you even sound pretty.” You supposed you already expected him to be a talker in bed, but nobody prepared you on how good he can be at it.

“Can I take this off?” He looks at you as he tugs your shirt.

“Please,”

He smirks, “Let’s just.. take everything off, hmm?”

You eagerly nodded. You keep on thinking excuses in your head, that in some fucked up way, this is okay. That this was fine. That this is how it should be.

Before you know it, you were naked in front of him, You’re naked in front of your friend’s boyfriend.

Haechan used his arms to lift himself up, looking at your body with lust dripping from his iris, jaws slightly ajar. “Fuck.”

Not long before his hands continued roaming around your body and it felt like every single touch burned, but you loved every single sensation that came with it.

“This is bad…” You whisper, but your hands pull him closer.

“So bad,” He says, grinding his clothed member on your core, and even if the rough denim felt uncomfortable, it doesn’t compare to the pleasure that it gave you.

You see his other hand struggle to open his pants and pull ‘em down. You help him with his shirt which he gladly removed, and when you’re both exposed, that’s when he finally puts his hand to good use.

You moan at the initial contact of his fingers onto your folds. He used his free hand to get the hair out of your face, just to see every single reaction you gave him.

He deepens the contact, until you feel his long fingers sink in and thats when you curse. It felt fucking good. “Hae..chan,”

“Uh-huh,” He encourages.

His fingers went in and out, gradually going faster, and you couldn’t help but whimper. You grab his wrist when you felt like cummin, because you can’t believe he managed to make you feel this way, this quickly.

“Your hands,” He warned, so you let go. This authoritative voice he has made you feel some type of way.

He continued to move, like he knew you were in the verge. “Look at me when you cum,” He says, this time with a much softer approach.

But it was hard to open your eyes– especially when you started to feel euphoric. However, Haechan wasn’t gonna take it. He grabbed your face, forcefully making you look at him. “Open your fucking eyes, or else I’m gonna stop.”

“No, p-please.” You shake your head.

“Then look at me,” He says.

And then, you exploded. A moaning mess, you try to stop your legs from shaking but it proved to be ineffective, as they still shook from the sensation you just felt. It was different– everything felt different with him.

“Good girl,” He almost growls, “Good fucking girl,”

You were catching your breath, recovering from the mess you made. Haechan was something else. You’ve had orgasm before, but this was the first time it felt so real.

“Can I fuck you?”

There’s a shift in his voice, almost confusing you why he sounded so… whiny. You bit your lip as you look up at him and you nod.

He whispered a soft okay, guiding you to sit up. Thats when you realize he’s also naked and fuck, of course he has to be hung. There’s more to his face— that’s why girls go fucking coocoo for this man.

He sits up by the head board as he pumps his own cock in front of you, while he looks at you lustfully, as if he’s seeing his fantasy come to life. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers.

You crawl your way to him, eyes can’t help but stare at his hand desperately jerking himself off. You tap it away and he knew by then what you were trying to do. His hands instinctively go to the back of your head. He looks down at you by the tilt of his head as his jaw hangs low.

Your hand replaces his, and Haechan knew– he’s fucked. The flick of your wrist felt so good.

And then, you try and give him a tiny lick, and he could’ve sworn he almost came there and then. But he’s not a pussy– oh no, if he’s gonna come, it has to be from fucking you.

“Oh, fuck, y/n,” he moans when you finally suck him fully, gripping the remainder of his base where you can’t go even more lower. Your name falls way too familiar from his lips.

Not even a full minute of you sucking him off, he pulls you by the hair. “Need to fuck you now or I’ll come,”

“Okay,” You whisper, waiting for him to guide you what to do next.

“Ride me, baby.”

You spread your legs and straddle him. You grab his cock and line him up to your core and slowly sinks in. Both of you gasp, you from the stretch, him from the grip you had on him. It felt so right– so perfect.

“You’re made for me,” He says more to himself than you.

You gain momentum, finding a rhythm that works with the both of you. Every time you sunk down, Haechan lets out a whine– then a praise after. His words, if you’re being honest, is what kept you going besides, of course, the feeling of him being inside you.

“Baby, my god,”

“Yes,” You almost growl when you felt that you’re coming undone, again, the twist in your stomach slowly getting more intense.

“Y/n, baby, do I make you feel good?” There he goes again with his whiny voice.

“Yes,” You breathe out.

“You fuck me so good,” He moans, eyes rolling backwards. He looks so scrumptious, and you just want to ruin him.

His eyes started burning through yours, you don’t even see him blinking. Haechan does not want to miss anything on your face as he fucks you. He wants to remember every single second.

“Shit, shit,” He curses, wrapping his arm on your waist, forcing you to fall onto his chest before planting both his feet on the mattress to fuck up into you.

A high pitch moan came out of you, and you couldn’t believe you could even make that noise. Haechan takes it out of you.

“You make me– fuck, please, please– y/n,” He’s blurting out words, burying his head on your neck. You grab the headboard to balance yourself because it felt like you’re gonna fly out of the bed with the way he’s pounding onto you.

“Say my name,” He groans.

“Haecha–”

“No– Donghyuck. My name’s Donghyuck.”

“Donghyuck, please, cum in me.”

And just like a command, or a magic word, he stilled in you and you felt warm ropes painting your insides as he let out the sluttiest moan you’ve every heard from a man.

“F-fuck,”

You were shaking, but so is he.

“You’ll fucking kill me, y/n.”

Only you, him and the faint music outside these four walls are the only distraction you have as you laid beside him. And then it hit you.

“We just… fucked,”

Haechan— no, scratch that, Donghyuck, let out a snort. “Yeah we did.”

“That’s really bad,”

“It is,”

You sit up, starting to grab your clothes one by one.

After-dick clarity starts to sink in and the pleasure from before was replaced with a crashing wave of guilt.

“This is a mistake, Donghyuck.”

He brushes his hands across his face as he tried to get a hold of your wrist, to stop you.

“Then let’s keep making mistakes,” His voice was sultry. A note lower than what he usually sounds. Like when he was fuck—

No. Hayeon. Haechan and Hayeon. Fuck.

“Big ones,” He continued. You pull your hands away from him and as soon as you dressed up properly, you look at him one last time.

Half naked, he bites his lip as he matches your eyes.

“This will never happen again.” Was the last thing that you say, before slamming the door in front of his face.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Donghyuck—”

“Hmm, yeah? Feel so good, huh?”

You look at the mirror as Donghyuck pounds into you in oblivion.

Like a starved man, he locks both your arms around you back, with his hand, while his other hand is busy putting a joint in between his lips.

He hits a long drag, but not letting it affect the way he fucks into you. He’s still in so deep, and it felt euphoric. He looks at you at the mirror and smirks.

“My baby wants a hit?”

You nod, desperately at that, and he then bends over, letting his refined chest hit your back. Instantly, you felt a cool sensation from his dog-tag, but every inch of his skin was warm. Hot.

He puts the joint in between your lips, letting you drag a long one before licking the back of your ears.

“Told you it’ll double the fun when we’re high,” He whispers.

“Love it, Hyuckie, love it so much–”

“Love fucking you too, my y/n. So fucking much.”

You, also as if starving, ate all your words.

Because when you said you’ll never mess around with him, you still found him eight inches deep inside you the next week.

It happened again, and again, and again.

You know this will blow up in your face eventually– but you can’t help it when Donghyuck gives you everything you wanted. He fucks you like he owns you, like you’re the only person in his world.

And despite how many times you convince yourself that you’re a strong willed person, Donghyuck just knows how to get you. One smile, one look, and you’re on your knees for him. Your name just falls off of his lips way too smoothly, melting you into a puddle each time.

But everytime he walks out the door, an immediate wave of guilt washed over you. You hate that you can’t call him yours, even when he makes you feel like you’re his.

He was your own brand of ecstasy, taking you to places you didn’t even know existed, and even though you knew it was all in your head, pretending like it’s real for a moment, felt so addicting.

You knew not to be attached, but you also knew going into this that you’re basically setting yourself up. A suicide mission.

It doesn’t matter how perfect it felt to be with him. Give yourself an hour and you’re back to being the other woman. Because at the end of the day, you know, he’s going back to her.

“You okay, pretty?” He kisses your shoulder blade as you sat in his bed.

“Yeah,” You silently say, smiling. Hiding the fact that when he closes his eyes, you prayed he never sees her.

Because God knows that you do.

He sighs, as if he knows what you were thinking about. Of course, the elephant in the room takes up the entire space. He can’t pretend that what’s happening is normal.

“I’ll tell her soon, okay? I’ll take all the blame– just, give me time, I promise.” He gently caresses your hair.

“Hmm, okay.” Your soft smiles is why he kept coming back. You’re the most prettiest person he’d ever had, and he knows it doesn’t mean much when it comes from him, but he swears he’d never seen anyone prettier.

He just wished he had seen you first.

You don’t know when the drunken mistakes and reckless escapes turn into so much more, but you knew you were falling. Damn you for falling easily. Damn your heart for being so clumsy.

Meanwhile, Haechan knew he was in deep shit.

“Look, dude, I know I don’t usually compliment you and shit, but I’m actually proud of you for being in a relationship this long, man.” Jeno says, sincerely at that.

He liked the compliments, and this new image he had managed to create. Like he’s a great guy, like he’s finally maturing. He likes that people finally likes him, in a light he’s never been on before. But then, you just had to happen.

And Haechan just happens to like you. A lot. And now that he’s got a taste of you, he’s afraid he can’t ever get enough.

It’s so bad to the point that instead of stopping whatever is going on between you two, he’s thinking of ways how to keep you, without incriminating you. Because he’s aware that when this all blows up, it’ll be bad, not only for him, but to you too.

“Are you okay, baby?” Hayeon’s touch started to burn, it started to feel unfamiliar. And he knows he’s being a fucking douchebag, but he can’t lie to himself.

“Y-yeah, uh, Shotaro wants me to come with him to the gym.” He says some pathetic excuse to get away from her. Mostly from the guilt, that’s eating him alive.

Hayeon nods, but a glint of suspicion in her eyes lingers.

“I saw Shotaro studying at the library that day. I asked him if he was with Haechan, but he said he’d never seen him.”

That was the first time you felt the world started to shrink on you.

She was crying on your shoulder, all you could do was hold her. But your hand stung, from the blade you were willing on her back.

You weren’t always nice, but never have you imagined you could do this to her. Hayeon was your friend.

And it’s not like you didn’t avoid Donghyuck, because God knows, that you really tried to.

It was another usual Friday, where Soohyun, a senior, throws a party. It was a big deal, with him graduating this semester. He had invited you personally, and it would be strange for you to turn it down because you had never turn booze down.

But you knew he was gonna be there.

You had ignored his calls and text from last week, avoiding every instances that you might come across the Devil himself.

But hey, Soohyun’s house is big. You could probably go for a couple of hours without crossing paths with Dong— Haechan, right?

Wrong.

Because here he is, sitting across you with his hands wrapped around his girlfriend. Hayeon came in– as if a few days ago, she didn’t cry all night because of him.

They look so inlove. It was disgusting.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Soohyun popped beside you. He scootches impossibly closer, putting his arms around you.

“You’re leaving in three months, wouldn’t miss it for the world,” You say, very casually, that it almost sounded fake. Not that it isn’t, but whatever.

Soohyun continued his advances, and you just let him. It at least helped you– although very annoying, still, you’d rather have him than be stuck looking at him with her.

Soohyun is an attractive man. He’s very muscle-y yet slim, fair skin and sharp eyes. He’s one of the guys who you can’t deny that he’s certainly a catch. He’s very tall too, so, yeah, not bad at all.

Unlike someone, who’s very different from Soohyun. Sunkissed, plump lips, soft yet toned body, and tall enough where his lips meets your forehead perfectly. Voluptuous ass, cunty little waist, and most important of it all, big fucking di–

“Soohyun-ah, get up in here!” A loud voice from the main hall called out.

“Gotta greet the boys real quick, sweetheart. If you want something– help yourself at my kitchen, okay?” Soohyun pecks at your cheek. You smiled and nodded at him and watched him walk away.

Unfortunately, your eyes doesn't have anything else to look at but him. Surprisingly, he was already looking at you. However, it wasn’t the usual sweet look he gives you. He looks pissed as he grips the can of beer.

His hand wasn’t on Hayeon anymore. He was leaning back as he eyes you from across the room. Thankfully, Hayeon was busy giggling at somebody else’s joke.

You raise your left brow at him and mouthed, “What?”

He smirks, but it’s nowhere near being enthusiastic, before he pokes his tongue on his cheeks as he shakes his head.

You just roll your eyes at him and before you could even melt from all the attention he’s giving to you, you decided to escape to the kitchen for an ounce of peace.

However, you’ve only enjoyed not even a minute of peace when you feel a presence behind you. You grunt.

“So, you’re with Soohyun now, huh?” Haechan says in his deep voice.

“Not your business,”

He let out a chuckle in disbelief, “When does it become my business? When I’m fucking you from behind?”

Your eyes widen at his sudden burst, as if you two aren’t in the same vicinity of his fucking girlfriend.

“Are you insane?! Hayeon’s right there!”

“You make me insane! You were all over that fucking assface– in front of me. When you know damn well that I–” He manages to stop himself. Haechan bit his lip, before taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

“What, Haechan? What were you gonna say?” Your eyes started to burn, but no tears yet. Not yet.

He sniffs, shaking his head and let it fall down as if to hide his eyes. “You weren’t… reading my texts, you weren’t.. answering my fucking calls. I tried following you through your classes but you’re just too fucking good in pretending that I don’t exist. I’m.. going crazy, y/n.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes and ears. His voice is shaking and he won’t look you in the eye. Is he.. crying?

“Please, don’t go with Soohyun. Please don’t sleep with him, don’t kiss him or do anything with him. I’m begging you– because I don’t think I can handle it.” He whispers, but you’ve heard everything. The frustration and sadness in his voice made it impossible for you to not hear it.

“This isn’t fair– Haecha—”

“That’s not my name, not to you.” His strict tone went back for a bit.

“Donghyuck, you’re being really unfair. I get to sit in front of you and her looking so disgustingly inlove but the second another man shows interest in me you start this shit? That’s so fucking mean.” You wanted to shout at him, to yell at him but you knew better. A party doesn’t seem to be a good place to announce you’re fucking your friend’s boyfriend.

“I know, baby, trust me I feel so fucking horrible but I won’t lie to you. Ever since that night, you’re all I think about. No, fuck that, ever since the first time I laid eyes on you I knew I made a mistake. And fuck me for denying it but I can’t lie to myself now. I wanted to end it with her–”

“You want to end it? Okay. I’ll help you,” You stare at him blankly, not even sure if what you’re about to do is the right thing. You’re beyond being reasonable right now. You can see the confusion behind his eyes, followed by shock when you shouted.

“Hayeon-ah!” You call out her name.

Haechan was terrified and panicked at the same time. Your stunt poured a bucket of ice all over him, leaving him frozen on the spot.

Not even a full thirty seconds when Hayeon showed up, completely unaware of the conversation that had just occured.

“What? Why?” her tone was unassuming, despite the painfully obvious tension that filled the room.

“Donghyuck here, wants to tell you something.” You say, once again blankly. You couldn’t show any emotions because you don’t even know what to feel in the first place.

“Donghyuck? Who’s that?”

You look at her in slight incredulousness, but now’s not the time to be baffled by that.

“Haechan, I meant. He wants to tell you something,”

He was standing there, frozen in shock as he looks at you, then to his clueless girlfriend, waiting for whatever he’s gonna say. He swore his heart beats out of his chest. Like the room started to spin and the oxygen’s suddenly not fit for the three of you.

His hands are shaking, weighing the situation that’s unfolding in front of him. Once the very confident and sure of himself Lee Haechan was standing here like a beaten puppy, couldn’t even form a proper fucking sentence.

“I-I..”

He gulps, before glancing at you one last time, “We need to go, Hayeon-ah.” He grabs her wrist and before you knew it, he’s already gone.

You don’t know why you would even expect anything. You knew he wouldn’t, you knew he treasured her still despite how many times he crawls back to you. You knew he’d never pick you, but damn, it still hurt like a motherfucker.

You knew you were in the wrong side, and deep inside you, you’re calmed by the fact that there’s two of you on the that side, but then, you were left alone wallowing in the dark. Like you always were.

To be second to her, again, you thought was the most hurtful thing you could ever feel.

But to not be chosen by him, felt way worse.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Haechan didn’t even know why he didn’t just tell Hayeon right there and then.

Was he afraid of being judged? Come on, he’d been judged his entire life! Looks from people never bothered him, in fact, it exhilarated him.

He’s sure he wants you, no one else but you, so what’s the deal?

He thinks once again, that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want you to suffer from being judged. He knew that if the truth was revealed in front of people from the campus, they’d crucify you more than him. That’s the sad reality.

He’s all to blame, yes, maybe you too, but most of it is his fault. If only he’d wait a little longer to see you first before Hayeon, if only he’d ended his shallow relationship with her right after he saw you.

If only he could see himself from a different perspective, he’d definitely slap himself across the face.

He never thought he’d scoop so low, to cheat on a girl– but it’s you. Fuck everything if it’s you he’d get after all of this.

“Are you okay?”

Of course, whenever he’s in a rough situation, Renjun just coincidentally pops out of nowhere.

“No dude, I’m really not.” There’s no use at pretending he’s the big bad Lee Haechan around Renjun. He knows him in and out.

“Is it about y/n?”

That, he didn’t know that Renjun knows.

“How’d you..”

“Saw her running out of the apartment one time.” Renjun smiles as he thinks of that one time he caught you. You never saw him tho, he was standing still in the dark kitchen stirring his coffee.

“I fucked up, man.” Haechan lets himself loose, voice breaking as he covers his face with both of his palms.

“You did, you really did. I always knew you were a..” Renjun debates if he could use the term knowing his friend’s state of mind, “… player but I never thought you would actually cheat. You hate cheaters, man, we all do.”

“Look, you need to come clean this shit up. Own up to your bullshit– tell Hayeon. She deserves to know.”

Renjun was right. He can’t keep on hurting the poor girl, and the longer he waits, the more painful it would be for Hayeon, thus, affecting you more.

He’s just scared that after all this, he still couldn’t get you. He’s afraid that he’ll lose everything.

“Hayeon-ah..” He calls for her name as soon as he enters her apartment. He knew you wouldn’t be here.

He found Hayeon on her bed, scrolling mindlessly through her phone. When her eyes found his, she quickly jumps out to greet him.

“Hi baby! I found a new movie we could wa–”

“We need to talk.”

Her expression falls rapidly, visibly confused as to why Haechan suddenly sounded serious.

“W-what’s happening?” She asks.

Haechan knew there was no stepping away from this. He needed to do this, not only for you, but for him, and her aswell.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

[11:28pm] haechan: i’ll talk to her

[11:28pm] haechan: i’ll end it

[11:29pm] haechan: please wait for me

You hate to admit it, but there was a glint of hope in your chest when you read the text. You knew not to expect anything, especially after what happened last time. But this was different. He ignites the familiar spark in your system.

However, those texts was three days ago.

Three days, you have not received any other message from him. Not a text, not a call, not a fucking letter from a fucking pigeon. Nothing. Silence.

You started making paragraphs in your head– you were overthinking every little thing. Hayeon had not messaged you either, there was totally no some sort of retaliation you were expecting from her. Did he really say it? Did he confess? He did, didn’t he?

“You don’t look good,”

Jurin has came and visited you from Sacred Heart, slightly concerned about your lack of enthusiasm in your texts. From her words, you seemed ‘not you’.

“Hayeon hasn’t yelled at me yet. She manages to get out the apartment before I even wake up. Or I don’t know– maybe she’s sleeping at his place.”

It makes no sense. There should be some sort of confrontation because you fucking slept with her boyfriend. You’d rather that than nothing, because it’s driving you insane.

“Haechan’s MIA too?” Jurin asked which you just nodded to.

She sighed, and you knew what she was gonna say next. “I told you this isn’t a good idea,” She says as she sips on her coffee.

“I didn’t say it was. I just hoped– you know, he’d fucking call me.”

“You know you sound insane, right? You’re the side chick here, you don’t make demands. You don’t have the right.”

The last sentence hit you hard. Jurin was right, you sound pathetic. You need to remind yourself that you’re the other person. You were the parasite that ruined a relationship. But hey, it takes two to tango, right?

But as the old saying goes, Be careful what you wish for.

Because that same day, all your questions was answered.

The nights you spent restless, was all worth nothing. Because you just saw him, with her. They’re walking hand in hand, as if nothing ever happened.

You almost lost the grip of your bag as you watched them walk away. Hand in hand. Hand in fucking hand, still.

“You okay?” You hear one of your friends from class asks you. That’s when you realized that there were tears forming on your eyes so you quickly wipe them away.

But you swore, that even before you look away from them, you saw Hayeon look at you with a smirk, before turning away.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

@hayeonssi__: some ppl never change. once a slut, will always be a slut. :D good morning everyone!

comments (45) likes (106)

@kk_nara: is this who i think this is lolll

@the.minho.won: she should be embarrassed haha dude thats so trashhhh

@kimsana: oh it’s definitely that bitch LOL

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That was the first shot out of the many ones she threw at your direction. This just proves that Haechan did confess– but for some unknown reason, they’re still together.

You recognize those usernames, of course you did. They were Hayeon’s friends from Sacred Heart, the same ones you had before. They didn’t need to mention your name– you already knew they were pertaining to you.

Surely, the gossip was already spread around at Sacred. Hayeon’s influence over there is still huge. If she was popular over here at NCU, then she’s a fucking celebrity back at Sacred Heart.

So, yeah, you’re probably in some groupchat by now.

You chuckle in irony. For a person that hates to be in the limelight, you sure have a weird way to stay out of it.

And then, like a plague, it started.

People on the hallways started looking at you weird, like you were naked. Like you’re being escorted at a fucking execution. You thought they probably had suspicions. Actually, no, it wasn’t a suspicion, it was a fact. You slept with someone else’s boyfriend. You out of all people in here deserved the judgemental eyes that’s following you right now.

“Is it true?” Yangyang once cornered you at the emergency staircase.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what you heard,” You say truthfully.

“You slept with Haechan? Your roommate’s boyfriend?”

That’s the confirmation you needed. It’s out in the open. Sometimes it amazes you how words spreads like a wildfire.

You just look at Yangyang blankly, as if to answer his question with your mere silence. You assume he’s smart enough to tell what you meant.

“W-why would you..”

“Yangyang, please, save me the fucking lecture because I already had one a couple minutes ago from class. You were there, remember?”

Yangyang stood there, dumbfounded by how you chose to not take these things seriously.

“You do know that Haechan has a fucking harem that would eat you alive, right? Like dude, I know most of this is that asshole’s fault but they’re gonna blame it out on you!”

You find it endearing how he shows care for you— if you’re being honest you thought Yangyang would be like the others, but you thought wrong.

“What would you suggest I do, then? Stop attending classes and hide out like a little bitch? No, Yangyang. I’ll take what’s coming from me. I know what I did,” You walk away from him, but not before you paused.

“And tell your friend that I don’t want anything to do with him. He’s a fucking pussy.”

And with that, you left. You barely even scratched the surface of the avalanche that was coming for you in the next days.

People never seemed to care that there was the two of you that did it. You’ve never head of anyone curse at Haechan— they’re all pointing at you.

Why would they? When Haechan and Hayeon seemed to be going strong. You were just a pathetic attempt at trying to tear them apart, then failing miserably.

Hurtful words thrown at you, left and right. A homewrecker, a slut, and backstabber were in your mind almost every time you went out in the hallways.

It stung, sure. But it got to a point where you let it hurt until you can’t feel anything anymore.

One thing’s clear. Haechan left you to fend for yourself.

And then, couple of days later, it suddenly got quiet.

All the shushed gossip around you was gone, all the whispers that followed you dissipates. It was so abrupt. Like everybody started to mind their own business. Miraculously.

Apparently, out of all the people you least expected to help you out, Seungcheol had something to do with it.

@iamcseungcheol: @hayeonssi__ @haechanahceah tell your fans to chill out before i bust in your shitass school and do it myself

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You didn’t want it to be him to defend you. You wished that it wasn’t his username you were reading and you hoped that Seungcheol could always remain the person who hurt you. Not the one to save you in the midst of the chaos that seemed to target you.

You didn’t want to feel the gratitude towards the one person you swore you will never associate with ever again.

Nevertheless, it was still him. In some wicked way of fate, no matter how horrible he is, he’s always been by your side. No matter what.

And perhaps, that’s how life goes. Nevermind the fact that you fell inlove with someone else.

You should always choose whoever chooses you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“How’d she look?”

Haechan frantically followed Renjun around the apartment waiting for an answer.

“What did you expect? Of course she doesn’t look okay!” Renjun says, while taking off his coat and throwing it at the couch.

“Fuck, should I call Taeyong-hyung again?” Haechan sat beside Jaemin, biting his lips. Meanwhile, Jeno on the other side just looked at Haechan, slightly concerned.

“When did you last sleep, dude?” Jeno was staring at his friend’s eyes, the dark circles under them multiplying each day.

Haechan just shakes his head, avoiding Jeno’s question. He’s got more in his plate right now and he doesn’t need to be bothered about anything else. His only concern is about you.

He combs his hair out with his fingers in frustration. “I’m gonna call Taeyong-hyung.” He decides, standing up to grab his phone. He was about to take a step before Jaemin pulled him by his wrist and made him sit down beside him again.

“You’ve been calling them non-stop since Friday. Taeyong-hyung said he’d do something about it but it doesn’t mean it’s gonna be as quick as you want it to be. Haechan-ah, word travels quick and you can’t control each and everyone who attends this campus.” Jaemin says seriously.

“I know but that’s why I called Taeyong-hyung. He controls this school, doesn’t he? What the fuck is he waiting for–”

“Not to the point where he could shut every student up overnight. Dude, you gotta calm down–” Jeno’s small intervention speech was cut off when Haechan turns to him coldly.

“She’s fucking on her own, man. Hayeon despises her, the entire school turns on her and she can’t even— even defend herself. Y/n quite literally has nobody right now,” Haechan‘s voice was trembling. “--and you’re telling me to calm the fuck down?”

Jeno didn’t like his harsh tone. He furrows his brows at Haechan as he stood up to level with him. “And why is that, genius? Because you fucking decided to be an horny asshole and fuck your girlfriend’s bestfriend.”

Haechan snaps and shoves Jeno aggressively. This marks the first time Haechan has physically tried to start a fight with one of his bestfriends. As a natural reaction, Renjun and Jaemin was alarmed.

Jaemin was the closest one between the two, so he quickly goes in between them.

“Jesus fucking– what’s happening!” Renjun yells.

“I know I fucked up– that’s why I’m doing everything I can to protect y/n from all of this. That’s why I’m going fucking crazy trying to shut everybody up. So, yeah, Jeno. I know where I went wrong. Fuck you.” Haechan spits with a tightened jaw and clenched fists.

“And this is the first fucking thing you think of?” Jeno answers, still being blocked by Jaemin.

“What else can I do, dipshit?!” Haechan yells back with Renjun on his side.

“Oh, I don’t know– break up with that fucking girlfriend of yours and protect y/n yourself, dumbass!”

“You think I haven’t tried?!”

The room went silent. The three men didn’t know what to say and the only noise that surrounds the room was the heavy breathing from Haechan.

He looks up, stretching his neck as he remembers the night when he tried to end things with Hayeon.

⋆

“I know.”

That was the first thing Haechan hears when he brought Hayeon back to her apartment.

He was caught offguard, of course. Because he knew what Hayeon meant. There was no other meaning of why she would say that without any context.

However, he wanted to make sure. “W-what do you mean?”

The left corner of Hayeon’s lip rises, her eyes remained blank. “You’ve been fucking with Y/n behind my back, weren’t you?”

Haechan was tense, in a closed off stance. He avoided her eyes, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. He didn’t say anything, and that already says everything.

“I expected this from her, you know, being who she is. But you, Haechan.. I thought you changed?” Hayeon’s voice trembled, as the first sign of emotion she showed.

“Look, Hayeon–”

“You wanted me, Haechan. Don’t you remember? You did everything to get me and now that I’m yours this is how you treat me? I should’ve never introduced you to that witch.” Her voice was rightfully harsh. But it still rang in Haechan’s ear– the insults she threw at you.

“It was entirely my fault, Hayeon. I went up to her–”

“Oh come on. She’s an expert at this, Haechan. You’ve known her for months, I knew her for years. I know what she’s capable of. That’s why I never trusted her being around you. And you know what’s annoying? You took the fucking bitch’s bait.” Hayeon wiped her eyes, even though no tears had fallen yet.

“I’m trying to make this all right and end it here–”

Hayeon slaps Haechan across the face. Haechan’s eyes are wide, and he almost curses because of the pain but he reminds himself that he deserves this.

“End it? Are you fucking kidding me? You think I’ll let you go and run over to that slut’s arms? After you fucking screwed me over?!” Hayeon yells, no, screams so loud that her voice starts to strain.

Haechan was speechless. He doesn’t know what to do– Hayeon is unconsolable. But he can’t just leave without doing anything. He remembers the texts he sent you. You’re expecting him to end it tonight with Hayeon.

Slowly, with his eyes shaking, he knelt down– one knee at a time. Hayeon gasps in disbelief as she watched him sink down.

“I’m sorry. I know this fuck ass apology won’t cut it but we both know this relationship is bound to end. And we need to end it tonight, Hayeon-ah. I’ll apologize over and over again, please, don’t make this harder for the both of us,” He begged.

If this moment was captured by some sort of camera, it’ll be legendary among the entire campus. Lee Haechan, the so-called heartbreaker, on his knees in front of a girl. Unbelievable.

Hayeon didn’t answer, but she did freeze upon looking at him. And then, half a minute has passed, before she opens her mouth again.

“She really had you fooled, huh? What makes you think she wouldn’t make the same fucking thing to you? She’s a slut, Haechan! She’ll never stick to one guy!” She says through her gritted teeth.

Funny, everybody used to say the same damn thing about him.

“That’ll suck, but what can I do? I love her,” Haechan says in defeat, shoulders slumps and his breathing turned shallow.

Another slap landed on his cheek, and he just accepted it. Another, after another, until Hayeon sank down in exhaustion. Now they’re both in their knees.

“What about me, Haechan-ah? I love you,”

And slowly, she rolls up her sleeves to show what Haechan never expected to see.

“H-hayeon..”

She smiled, “Don’t you feel sorry? You did this to me, Haechan.”

He blinks rapidly, eyes stuck at the bandages on her wrist. “P-please, Hayeon.. not over me. Don’t.. don’t do this,”

“If you break up with me, it’ll be worst.”

⋆

Haechan doesn’t remember the last time he smiled. Genuinely.

He used to be on top of the world. Nothing stopped Haechan from being unapologetically him. Cruising through his life with nothing to worry about.

Now, he just felt.. empty. All the excitement and adrenaline that fuels his system was drained, and the carefree attitude he lived with was all sucked out of his soul.

Maybe this was the karma they were talking about? Maybe, maybe not. He doesn’t have the energy to care.

The aggressive knocking on the bathroom door was getting louder, loud enough to surpass the booming bass from the music outside.

“What the fuck’s taking so long?!” He hears a random man outside.

He assumes the line to the bathroom is getting longer, but all he cares about is the lines he was doing inside. It felt freaking awesome.

Straightening his back, he sniffs to get all of it in his system. He then rubbed his nose out of the excess before shouting back. “Fuck you!”

The sudden rush gets to him, and he closes his eyes to let it sink in. Jaws slacking, he takes one deep breath. He looks at the mirror.

The person staring back at him seems familiar, but can’t tell who it is. Is it him? Is this how the great Lee Haechan looks now?

“Woah, you’re handsome,” He says to his own reflection.

If only he was sober, he’ll recognize everything that had changed. The expressive eyes he boasts on and on about before are now empty, and the smile he used to wear everyday are non-existent.

This isn’t Lee Haechan, fuck it, this isn’t even Lee Donghyuck. Standing in front of him is a man that’s gave up on everything.

The room started to spin, and only then Haechan knew he had taken too much.

All of a sudden, a loud bang depicts the door being forced open. He turns to see his friend, Jeno, heaving as he quite literally kicked the door open, followed by Jaemin and Renjun’s worried faces.

“Oh? Hello,” Haechan chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all. Did Jeno really kicked the door open?

What he also doesn’t realize is he’s now slumped on the bathroom floor, leaning at the bathtub. Weird, he didn’t remember falling down.

And then he hears it. Her voice. That fucking voice that haunts him.

“Haechan! What the hell!” She squeals as she pushes his friends away.

“Of course you’d be here,” He grunts.

Haechan tries to stand but failed, ending up on the same position as he was seconds ago. Renjun helps him up but Hayeon pushes his hands away. “I’ll take care of my boyfriend,” She hisses at him.

Haechan frowns at this and looks at her. “Don’t touch Renjun like that,” He slurs his words but its clear enough for Hayeon to roll her eyes.

“You can’t carry him home, Hayeon. We’ll take care of him.” Jaemin interferes. Hayeon thought for a second and she hates to agree with them, but they’re right. She’ll make a fool of herself if she thinks she can carry a grown ass man.

Jaemin and Jeno takes each of Haechan’s arms as they carried him off the ground. Haechan roams his eyes for a bit when it landed on Hayeon’s wrist.

Weird, the bandages are off. They fought over it just this morning, how come there’s no marks on it now?

He shakes his head off, before he turns to Renjun. “Injunnie, are you hurt?” He asks sweetly and his friend just patted him as Renjun sighs and follows them out.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Are you really gonna follow me around?” Haechan asks Jaemin as he watches his friend scroll on his phone while he walks on the hallway to his class.

“Cut the pissy attitude, I have better things to do than this, but after the shit you pulled last night, you pissed Renjun off so we gotta take turns in babysitting your dumbass.” Jaemin casually says, eyes still on the phone.

“Renjun can kiss my ass,”

“I can kiss your what, now?”

Haechan turned around to see Renjun standing with one brow lifted and his arms crossed. “Oh shit, when did you get here?”

“Shut up,” Renjun turns to Jaemin, “Jaemin-ah, Jeno says you two had a schedule at the gym.”

“Right,” Jaemin’s eyes widened, swiftly turning around and skedaddled away. Leaving Haechan and Renjun.

“Honestly, Injunnie, I can handle myself,”

Renjun looks at him as if Haechan was spitting nonsense, “So you passing out at some random party’s bathroom after doing lines, is you handling yourself?”

“I didn’t know I worry you this much, you really do love me, huh?” Haechan pokes Renjun’s sides as they walked, Renjun responding with a punch on his shoulder.

They continued play fighting until they turned a corner and hears the school’s counselor. “Ms. Y/L/N, we’re not done talking,”

The door opens and Haechan stood frozen. His breath hitches when you walk out of the office, covered with an oversized hoodie. His jaw slackens as he eyed you, this was the first time he saw you after that night at Soohyun’s party.

It felt like his blood ran cold, but his entire body started to warm up. He couldn’t do anything but stand there and see it unfold.

“Sucks to be you, because I’m done talking,” You say in a raspy voice.

Even from afar, Haechan could see your red eyes and pale lips. He also got a glimpse of sweat beads forming on your forehead. Initially, Haechan jumps to conclusion that the counselor had done something bad to you, however, two other people walked out of the office.

It was Ms. Lim, a professor and Nurse Suh.

The hallway was empty, and it would be suspicious if they had just stood there. So, Renjun, decides to grab Haechan’s wrist. Haechan didn’t move but Renjun grips him harshly. “We’re not leaving, we’re just hiding.” He says, pulling the boy with him and hiding on the corner.

Haechan takes in your posture, your aura and your entire vibe. You were still eternally beautiful, but he can sense that you’re not okay.

“Is it your boyfriend?” Ms. Lim ask softly, obviously trying to gain even the tiniest of cooperation with you.

“Seungcheol has nothing to do with this,”

Haechan flinches, eyes burning through you as he heard the name. It broke him, into a million pieces but he still manages to stand in his feet, wanting to hear the rest of it.

“We should go–” Renjun stopped talking when he saw the look in his bestfriend’s eyes.

“I need to stay,” He whispers, barely audible.

“The bruises on your neck are concerning, that’s unnatural, you can’t say its just because of your period. Somebody had to inflict force to create bruising that’s as horrible as those around your neck.” Nurse Suh explained.

Haechan can feel his own heart shattering. Mouth slowly opening in disbelief, tears threatening to escape. What he felt upon hearing that was beyond heartbreak, the pain was unbearable enough to cause him to go numb. With his hands shaking, he turned around.

He can hear Renjun calling his name but he focused on getting the hell out of there.

He finds himself outside your apartment, staring at the door not knowing what to do. He knows you’re not in here, yet he still can’t find it in himself to leave. He truly has no idea what step he should take next.

He doesn’t know how long he was standing there before the door opened, revealing the least person he wanted to see right now.

“Haechan? What’re you doing here?” Hayeon stood there, confused.

Haechan didn’t say anything, instead, looking down to confirm what's been killing him.

“Were you lying about this?” Haechan takes Hayeon’s clean wrists, and immediately, Hayeon snatched it back.

“W-why a-are you–”

“Hayeon-ah, please! J-just be honest, please,” Haechan yelled on top of his lungs, extremely tired of it all.

Hayeon knew there was no point in hiding it anymore, “Yes,”

And there it was. The truth that scared Haechan the most. He lost you, for no real reason.

The fact that he had left you suffering on your own, because of a horrible string of lies that held him from reaching out to you. All his sacrifices, for absolutely nothing.

“I knew what I did was wrong but did you have to lie about this?” His voice was now controlled, but the exhaustion was still pertinent.

“I can’t lose you to her, not her.. I’m so much better than her,” Hayeon breaks down crying, but Haechan just watches her hug her knees and sob.

“I think you never wanted me, Hayeon. You just wanted to compete with y/n, and you didn’t want to lose. This isn’t about me,”

“I hope you know that after what you did, you just stooped down to my level. We’re both fucking evil in this story, Hayeon. The only difference is that I tried making it right, but you will never stop if you wouldn’t have been caught.”

With that, Haechan walks away.

“Fine, fuck you, anyways! You both deserve each other!!” Hayeon screams, but Haechan just keeps walking.

Walking away from all the pain, from all the strings that bind him to her. He gets a whiff of freedom, and he felt relief knowing that the chapter that has him on hold has finally ended.

Haechan never expected Winter break to be this cold.

Afterall, the news said it wouldn’t even break last year’s temperature. But meh, what does the weatherman know? He might just spew bullshit to keep his job for all Hae-Donghyuck knows.

“You keep repeating the same show over and over again, Donghyuck-ah. Give up the remote!” Renjun’s girlfriend, Birdie, as everybody calls her, says as she tried to snatch the phone out of Donghyuck’s grasp.

“Remind me again why are you here?” Donghyuck jokes at her, earning a hefty slap on the wrist from Renjun.

“Renjun told me you wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah, dude, you’re ruining our valentines day!” Renjun says lightly, but Donghyuck just mocks his words like a child.

“Do you have a thirdwheel kink?” Birdie kids again, but this time Donghyuck stood up.

“Y’know what, both of you can kiss my plump ass! Besides, who celebrates Valentines day at home? Renjun, you stingy bitch,” Donghyuck says as he grabs his coat and walks towards the door.

He hears both of them yelling at him to come back, saying they were just kidding. But Donghyuck knows that he’d be disturbing their cute-sy cozy home date bullcrap and he wouldn’t want to hear any of his friend’s fucking later on the evening.

“I’ll be back before eleven so you two should fuck now,” Donghyuck says before he closes the door.

And immediately, he regrets going outside. He’s literally gonna freeze his balls off, even with the layers of clothing he has right now.

“Aw shit,” He curses as he hugs himself, all the way to his car.

He drives off the streets of Seoul, with no particular destination. He just wanted to drive mindlessly, yet carefully, of course.

This was the first Valentines day Donghyuck had to spend alone.

He now swores off doing the shit he does before. No playing with girls, no fucking rando’s, and no doing hardcore drugs. ‘Til to this day, he still cringes when he thinks of what he used to be.

If the old Haechan could see him right now, he’d probably laugh in his face.

He then takes off his gloves for comfortability while driving, and he stares lovingly at his middle finger.

There, inked deep within his ring finger, was your initial.

He read a book once, when he was snooping around Renjun’s room. Before he could even snooze off, he gets to a page where he read something intriguing.

How to know if you’ve finally found your greatest love;

And it was so strange, because every single one of them falls under you.

You, who Donghyuck still thinks of everyday.

You, who became his standard whenever Jeno introduces him to a friend.

You, who he correlates to every single sunflower he sees.

And you, who he loved so much even tho you’ve never been his to begin with.

Donghyuck was convinced you were his greatest love.

Given, he has nothing to compare you to because he has never loved somebody this much before, but he just knows.

So, on one fateful night of his drunken escapades, he got your initial tattooed on his ring finger. Something he could keep. Something that he owned.

And sure, it was a reckless decision made by a drunken man, but he never felt any hint of regret the day after.

“How corny,” He says under his breath as he watches a public engagement unfold literally in front of the bench he was sitting at.

He aggressively chomps at his bungeoppang before starting to wrap it the plastic up. He decides it’s better to eat it at his car rather than keep watching these corny couples be couple-y looking.

“Can I have one?”

Recoiling backwards, Donghyuck turns around to see who that voice belongs to. Even tho he had a hint.

What greets him first was the same set of eyes he longed for, then the lips that he dreamed of each night he went to bed. Everything else was a blur.

Mouth slightly agape, Donghyuck once again finds himself speechless in front of you. After everything that had happened, it’s kind of hilarious how he still has the same reactions whenever you’re in front of him.

After a quick inhalation of his breath, “U-uhm, I only have the ones that has red beans in it.”

He honestly don’t know what else to say.

“That’s good,” You say and lend your hands over. With trembling hands, he grabs you a piece and gave it to you. Without blinking, he watched you sit on the same bench he was sitting on before.

Despite your obvious invitation for him to sit with you, he stood there in shock. Is he starting to imagine things?

“Are you gonna leave?” You say when you notice him not moving.

He swiftly shakes his head in disagreement as he takes quick steps to sit beside you.

“Your friends are really something, y’know?” You started off.

Donghyuck had questions, but before he could even spew them out, you continued.

“Renjun calls me everyday, Jaemin bothers me in class and Jeno constantly tries to talk to me everytime he sees me. How much did you pay those bastards?” He knows, based on your tone that you were saying those lightly but Donghyuck hurriedly turns towards you.

“I swear I never asked them to bother you. I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were doing that, really–”

“They were saying the same damn thing, but I never believed them.” You say as you take a bite off of your bread. Not knowing how your words just re-open scars Donghyuck spent time healing.

“I’m so–”

“Because I want to hear it from you,”

For the second time this night, you left him speechless. With his rigid body posture and rapidly blinking eyes, his brain scattered thoughts he wanted to say to you.

“I was so ready to leave you and all these behind, you know. But everytime I try to look at other people, I just can’t help but to think of what would’ve happened if I gave you a chance to explain yourself?”

You continued, “Is it true that you called Lee Taeyong yourself to stop the rumours spreading? Is it also true that Hayeon lied about harming herself just to keep you? Is it you that reported Seungcheol to the police?” You listed all of the questions that he already has an answer to.

“All these questions, and none of them answered is the reason why I couldn’t just move on. There’s no clean slate if I still had baggage from the past, you know?”

Donghyuck feels like there’s a time ticking on him, like you’ll disappear any moment now. So he takes a deep breath before answering, “Yes, yes, and yes.”

“I’m gonna need more than that, you know?” You chuckled lightly, and he could’ve sworn it sounded like angels singing directly at his ears.

“I had connections to Taeyong-hyung and I begged him to scare off anybody who says a word about you, and I literally had to stand outside his door for hours on end just to talk to him,” He paused, because he knew he had to explain the other one more seriously. “And Hayeon did threaten me to hurt herself if I left, that’s why I couldn’t break up with her at that time. There was also a part of me that was dying of guilt, maybe that’s why I never questioned it. But the night I–” He squeezed his eyes shut, “--I down-spiralled because of d-drugs, I saw that she was faking it all along.. and that was the time I ended it with her. And yes, I did report that son of a bitch to the police.”

“After all that… you still didn’t come to find me?” You say, finally, looking at him straight in his eyes.

Just like the first time you two met, he still felt the same feeling of almost melting into putty everytime your eyes meet his. Every. single. time.

“I hurt you enough, I didn’t think I deserve you.” He says with nothing but the truth. He can’t afford to lie to you now.

“Did you regret it?”

Donghyuck nods his head. “I do, I really do. But would I do it again? Absolutely.”

“I think.. I think I’ve heard enough. B-but.. It’s gonna be hard to go back to what we were before.”

Donghyuck, with all of his strength, dared to touch your hand. Although it was cold, the spark he felt was enough to bring warmth.

“I don’t want to go back.” He says.

You furrowed your brows, “Uhm, oka–”

“I want to start over, I want to get you right, this time.” He says while it takes all of him to match your eyes.

“I want a fair shot, to a chance I never got before. I want to make you mine, but I hope you know that I’ve always been yours. Then, now, and forever.”

You smiled at him as you let a tear drop from your eye.

“Start over?” You ask.

Donghyuck nods again, this time as he smiled back at you. The first time in a long time, he smiled genuinely.

At you, the person that made him love his real name again.

At you, that turned him to a better man for himself.

At you, whom he’d never forget for the rest of his life.

And at you, who reminds him that after all, Lee Haechan, the heartbreaker, also has a heart.

He lets go of you hand and offers you a handshake.

“Hi, I’m Lee Donghyuck of NCU. Do you want to go on a date before Valentines day?”

He smiles goofily.

“Hi, Lee Donghyuck, I would absolutely love to.”

To be fair, Lee Donghyuck never claimed to be a good guy.

But for you? He’d die trying.

A/N: It’s finally finished! Aaah this series really tested me as an author. It’s amazing how a fanfiction can make you feel, moreso when you make one! A series at that! I realize that writing is a commitment, to both the readers and characters themselves. This was my first major project for myself— and although it took a looooong time, I am so glad that I finally finished it. One thing I can say tho, is that every story was straight out of my brain. I never rushed it, and I was never afraid to redo it all over again if I didn’t satisfy myself. That’s why it took a long time. Thank you all for supporting this series and please do support me by interacting with this post! And yep, you’ll be seeing more stories from me soon.

Again, Thank you so much for the support. Sincerely.

Na Jaemin, Lee Jeno, Huang Renjun and Lee Haechan from The Diary of the Heartbreakers now signing off.

© ryozakidesu, 2025

[iamhereforfunnzies]

Chapter 1: I see you

Bruce overlooking his paperwork and plans of capturing crimminals and crime rates, he felt his stomach grumble. Seeing the grandfather clock tick a 11:15 p.m. he smiled “Just in time for Lunch.” He felt a bit sad knowing he is eating alone today, Dick being Bludhaven, Jason never really visiting, Tim out somewhere with Conner, and Damian out doing voluntary work in a animal shelter. What a lonely time to be in the manor.

    Scratch   

              Heavy breathing was on the otherside of the door he saw you , (Name) how different you were usually … out? But it’s better than eating alone and it would be nice to converse with you , he called you but why do you look at him like that. You arm is bleeding from your intensive scratching , eyes forcing itself not to cry what happened? Why do you look like you died?  “(Name), what are you doing?” you turn to him. “OH- um… Just anxious that’s all” Bruce narrowed his eyes as you look down slowing down on the scratching. “About what?” He sat next to you ,why is he so tall?!

              “Just…I had a nightmare.” GREAT (NAME) (MIDDLENAME) WAYNE , he’s gonna think you’re a huge incompetent baby. Nice going , idiot your mind screams at you. Bruce blinks he feels so amused , how adorable he just wants to pinch your cheeks and coax you to sleep. He chuckled lightly “What happened in your nightmare?” he can’t believe he is having a normal parent to child conversation.  Honestly, your not sure if you can tell him , since it wasn’t a dream you died and then you just time travel back 2 weeks before your death. “ I was walking back to the manor after work.” Bruce hid his shock as you mentioned having a job. “There was a man …” your head throbbed as you try to see your memory clear. “He touched , choke, then…No, No it was choke , someone else touched me, then  a gun was shoved in my mouth.” Your head throbbed harder as your heart was trying to break out your ribs. “Something happened , c’mon remember” you hit your stupid head trying to make your death clear as you start mumbling curse words.

                Bruce stood still not knowing how to respond , he held your hands. “Don’t . Stop. Just don’t think about it.” He was comforting you , now that he had a good look at you. When did you get so tall? Weren’t you just a seedling a month ago? (Name) when did you get your nails done? Why are your eyes so tired? Weren’t you trailing Dick and Tim to play with you? When did your hair changed? Alfred eyes widen as he see’s Bruce hugging you with what looks like a panic attack.  “Lunch is here”

What is wrong with you? Why the hell did you cry infront of him! Never once did Bruce took the time with you. He always seemed so occupied with his little only boys squad doing who know’s what! It’s so weird they are always fighting at the gym with Dick , Tim , and Damian (Rarely Jason), they are so secretive that you just stopped asking questions. Pacing in your quaint room with all this awards from last place to gold , you stare at them how much you lost and won over the years. Yet, you held every lost with pride because you tried well that’s what Alfred tells you.

              A sudden text came in your phone as you see your manager asking you if your free in 2 weeks in Tuesday. You stared at your phone , you died at Tuesday. A normal Tuesday nothing special about the date but you died. You died, you left the message seen.  Staring at yourself in the mirror you said to the mirror. “Am I doing enough to worth living?” Years , hours , days and seconds of awards in your room but not one moment of them stood out. All of this rewards weren’t for you , they were for them.

                             You look at the photo stand of your family I the gala, you were always the one who they claim to protect you but they never tell you anything . Laughing among their little group never explaining to you or care to want you to join in. Even in movie nights it feels like your watching them instead of the movie. Game nights were just you being some extra player they never needed. You grimace as you hid the photo frame of your table. Your childhood was dedicated to appease their eyes , your life to make interesting so they can be interested in your welbecoming but you died. Dead with nothing to remember.

                            A robin in a tree chirping in the trees as the gotham sky in a rare moment glows gold  like heavens gate, the sun shinning, the air crisp and fresh . The robin turns it’s head to you tilting it’s head but flies away with the other birds in the sky. “Fucking heavens , God if this a sign I am not gonna take this second chance for granted.” You muster a trembling smile. “I am gonna lived.” You took your phone.

(Name), are you free the week after this at Tuesday 8:00 a.m.?

Today 12:05 p.m.

                                                                                                                        

   I quit. Thank you for the experience.

                                                                                                                                    Today 12:15 p.m.

I genuinely hope this is readable

[measuredingold]

with you, anywhere will be my home

author’s note: hiiiiiiiii. it’s been a minute, huh ? i’ve honestly been sitting on this for 2 weeks 😅 but happy i’m able to finally get this out for yall ! think of it as a v-day treat 🥰 i love this universe i built with folio and reader and have so many ideas for them lol as always, please enjoy and feedback is appreciated ! and requests are open btw, i’m in a rut and am not sure what people wanna read :) title a translated lyric from bts’ song home

pairing: nick folio x reader

word count: 2.2k

cross posted on ao3

cw/tw: miscommunication 🤥, fluff fluff fluffffff, first time saying i love you, nick is so smitten with reader it makes me sick, 18+ minors do not interact

It's almost a no brainer when Nick decides to ask you to move in.

It makes perfect sense. You're always together when he's home, switching between one place or the other, and it just makes a lot more sense than having your own separate spaces. He doesn't want to be separate anymore. He wants to know that when he's coming back from tour he's coming home to you, in a space you both share and make your own.

There's only one hiccup to this no brainer decision - he hasn’t even said I love you yet. Neither have you.

It's only been 9 months. Not a full year yet, but Nick thinks by month one he was fully in love with you. He might've been from the jump. You were the only person he thought about, the only person he yearned for. Which is crazy to think, because Nick's sure he's never yearned for a single person a day in his life. But it's different when it comes to you.

You're who he sees when he thinks about the future. When he plans out the rest of his life, coming up with every single possibility that could happen between now and then, you somehow manage to be in every single scenario. At first it was jarring, you popping up into his future daydreams, but now it's comforting.

If you asked him right now to spend the rest of his life with you, he'd say yes before you even finished your sentence.

So why hasn't he said it yet? Hell if he knows.

It's not that he doesn't think you love him because deep down he knows you do. Can see it in the way you look at him, in the way you smile, in the small gestures that you make. He stares at you just the same, smile way too big that it hurts his fucking face, and those same small gestures.

You love him the way he loves you.

Which is why he's decided that when he asks you to move in with him, he's just going to say it. No more silent looks and shared smiles when saying goodbye. Nick doesn't think he can go another day without telling you that he loves you. It's corny, but he needs you and just about everyone in a hundred mile radius to know immediately.

So, he'll tell you tomorrow. Easy.

...

Not easy.

Nick never thought he was much of the anxious type, yet here he was pacing outside your front door. He felt hot, hands clammy as he stared at the only thing separating the two of you. He has a key. He can let himself in. Yet, he can't seem to get himself to do it.

Because he knows once he goes in, there's no going back.

He isn't scared of your rejection because he knows that's not the likely outcome. He knows you love him. He thinks he may be a bit scared of what comes next. This is probably the most serious relationship he's ever been in, and he doesn't want to fuck that up. He doesn't think that he would, intentionally at least, but the what if of a hypothetical fuck up has been eating at him for hours.

His eyes flutter shut as he takes in a long deep breath before he finally braves unlocking your door.

His hand shakes as he twists the handle and he mentally swears at himself to fucking calm down, it’s just you, everything’s fine, but when he finally sees you, it’s like the world stops for just a moment. You look up at Nick from your couch, book in your lap, and the smile that spreads across your face makes Nick relax for maybe a split second.

"Hey baby."

"Hi."

He doesn't move, just stares at you from where he's standing, and your expression turns from happy to amused, arms crossing over your chest.

"Babe?"

He blinks. "Yeah?"

"...Whatcha' doin?"

"Um." His face burns at the sound of your giggle at his unusual behavior, but truthfully he doesn't know how to act right now. "Standin'."

"Oh yeah?" You arch a brow at him, more laughter escaping. "Why don't you quit standin' and come sit with me? I missed you."

He'd been gone a few days, out in California to put down some tracks for the new album. He'd just gotten home the day before when he decided he was going to ask you to move in with him because he couldn't stand coming back to an empty home. Nick blinks at you again before he smiles, warmth spreading across his chest as he looks at you seated on the couch.

This is what he wanted to come home to. He wanted to come home after a tour, or after a few weeks in California laying down some drums, to you reading your book on the couch.

"It was only a few days." He hums out and makes his way towards you, flopping himself down beside you.

"I always miss you when you're gone." You shrug before pouting at him. "Did you not miss me?"

His heart speeds up, pounding against his chest and he immediately shakes his head. "I wasn't saying that I didn't-"

"I was just messing with you," You cut him off with a laugh, face softening as you looked at him. "What's goin' on? You're acting weird."

Nick chews on his bottom lip before moving his gaze to the muted television, shoulders going up into a shrug. " 'm not acting weird."

"Yes, you are."

Okay. He is. He knows it and he knows you know it, but he just isn't sure what to say. How do people bring this up? Hey, I'm in love with you. Let's live together. It seems easy enough to say in his head but the second he gazes at you again, his words fall short.

So much for easy.

"I..." Nick starts and then sighs, sliding a hand down his face. "You ever have something to say, but just don't know how to say it? In my head it's so easy but every time I try to get the words out, I lose everything I even wanted to say."

Your face softens. "What happened?"

"What?"

"Something happened when you were gone." Your eyes narrow. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened." He mumbles out, eyeing you for a moment. "I just... realized something, but I don't know how to tell you."

"Oh."

For some reason, the detached tone in your voice makes his stomach turn. You shift on the couch, moving your eyes away from him as you look to the side. It's silent between the two of you now and Nick hates it. It's never felt this awkward before. Uncomfortable. He fucking hates it.

"Babe-"

You cut him off. "...Did I do something?"

"No." He's quick with his response, shaking his head quickly. "Fuck. No, you didn't do anything."

His stomach turns at the way you don't respond and wrap your arms around yourself, your arms being some form of protection. From him. Fuck. That's definitely not what he wanted to do. He shakes his head again, eyes pleading as he reaches out for you.

"You didn't do anything."

"Well, it sure feels like I did." You laugh, strained, and Nick swallows down whatever lump was building in his throat. "This feels awfully like a break-up, Nick."

"What?" His voice comes out a lot louder than he expected, and he hates the way his heart breaks beneath his chest at the sad look you finally give him. "I am not breaking up with you. That is not what's happening."

"Then what's happening, Nick?" You whine out, lips dipping into a frown. "You're being weird and saying you have something to tell me but don't know how to tell me. That sounds a lot like I want to break up with you, but I don't know how to tell you."

Nick pauses for a moment, eyes scanning over your face before he breathes out a quiet "Fuck," and shuts his eyes.

He messed up - majorly.

All he had to do was just fucking tell you that he loved you and this would've been all avoided, but instead he had to go and do whatever the fuck this was.

"Babe, listen to me." His eyes open to find you still staring at him, your frown somehow much deeper than it was moments ago. He hesitantly reaches out, silently asking if it was alright to touch you. You nod. He's gentle when he slips your arms away from yourself, finally able to slide his fingers in between yours. "This... I'm not breaking up with you, okay? I'd be fucking crazy to do that."

You don't say anything, just stare at him with that same sad look. He sighs.

"What I realized is that like," He pauses, searching his brain for the right words. "I like coming home to you. After a short tour, or a long one, it feels... good to know that once I'm off that plane, I'm coming back to you."

Your eyes soften momentarily. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He smiles, small and a bit timid, and continues. "Then it made me realize that I'd really love to have a place to call home, you know? Instead of doing all this back and forth. It's fine if that's what you want to keep doing, but I think I'd really like to have a home... with you."

The silence ringing between you two makes his stomach turn. You stare at him, wide eyed and mouth open and the nerves from before come back because he thinks he may have fucked up, but then your hand squeezes his. He can see the tears welling in your eyes now and he watches you blink them away.

"...With me?"

"Yeah?" He's nervous, not sure how to take your response. "If that's okay? Like I said, we can keep doing what we've been doing. Back and forth between here and my place if that's what you want, I don't mind-"

His words are cut off by your lips, a bruising kiss suffocating whatever he wanted to say. His eyes widen for a moment before they flutter shut and he finally kisses back, before chuckling softly against your lips. You sniffle.

"Are you telling me you want to move-in together?"

Nick notices the first tear that falls when he pulls back, reaching a hand up and brushing it away with his thumb. His timid smile grows at the feeling of you nuzzling into his touch.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm telling you."

"Are you sure?" You actually sound nervous, staring at him with wide eyes as you asked.

"Of course I'm sure," He doesn't have to think twice, words falling from his lips with ease, "I love you. I want this, if you do."

It takes him a second to realize he had said it, and feels slightly embarrassed at the butterflies filling his stomach at how easy it was to say. His face flushes as your eyes widen more, lips parting as the weight of his words dawn on you.

"...You love me?"

His stomach turns again, and he nods slowly. "Yeah?"

"How long?"

"I think I loved you from the start." He replies sheepishly, cheeks burning at the wide smile you give him.

You blink away your tears again, leaning more into his palm that's still rested against your cheek. "I think I have, too."

Your words are soft, almost inaudible, but he hears it. His stomach turns and he can feel his heart pounding against his chest. His entire face burns and his ears are probably red, too, but fuck it. He doesn't care.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." Your wide smile falls into something softer, much smaller, and he swears your eyes twinkle as you hum out, "I love you."

Nick doesn't know what to say besides smile at you, cheeks immediately hurting at how wide it's stretched across his face. "I love you, too."

"And I really want to live with you." You rush out. "I've been thinking about that too but I was worried I was moving too fast. Didn't want to scare you."

"Honey," He starts with a chuckle, "I think you could've asked me two weeks in and I would've straight up said you know what? Hell yeah."

You laugh, all thick with emotion and fucking beautiful that Nick can't help but lean in and press his lips against yours again. Your arms raise to wrap around your shoulders to bring him closer to you and he can't help but make a noise, a happy sound, and deepen the kiss. You pull away first this time, forehead resting against his.

"So, we're doing this?"

"Yeah. I think we are."

The two of you smile at each other in silence and Nick wishes nothing more than to bask in this moment a little longer. He doesn't know if he's ever felt happier. Knowing that you love him right back makes him feel things he wasn't sure he's ever felt before. It's in that moment, with the way you're staring at him like he hangs up the fucking moon and the stars, that he's going to ask you to marry him someday.

And it makes him feel damn good knowing that you'll say yes.

[iamquiantrelle]

GOLDEN BOY (chapter 6) ────── iamquaintrelle

⌗ pairing : trent alexander arnold x black oc

⌗ summary : trent is having a quarter life crisis but will a smart-mouthed girl whip him into shape?

⌗ warnings : 18+ only!! (☁️☔️💕)

⌗taglist: @trentswrld, @trentpov @judesvirtual @sailurmewn @eriks-girl @preetykookie @4ngryssgf @endlessmuse @noturbabe22, @sucredreamer @bbgkoo @hollablkgrl @notzara @chrisoppar @letmeapologise @amrx1

Focus. Compartmentalize. Breathe.

April's training methods weren't actually that different from what they'd taught him in the Academy. Breaking everything down into manageable pieces, keeping your mind where it needed to be. He'd been good at it back then - the local lad making good, hungry for every minute on the pitch.

Somewhere along the way he'd lost that. Started feeling like he was sleepwalking through life, going through motions without really feeling them. Even football had become... routine. Just another thing expected of him.

His mum had noticed first. "You seem lost love," she'd said over Sunday dinner a few months back. Some of the lads had mentioned it too - that spark missing from his game. Even Ty had suggested talking to someone professional about it all.

Maybe they had a point. Carrying everyone's expectations was heavy sometimes. Being TAA, Liverpool's golden boy, the next Stevie G... dead weight all of it. But how do you tell people you don't feel good enough when on paper you've got everything?

That was for later. Right now he had apologies to make.

"Look who's early," Virgil said as Trent walked into training ahead of schedule for once.

"Need to say sorry about Sunday."

"We won didn't we?"

"Yeah but..." Trent adjusted his boots. "I wasn't there properly was I? Team deserves better."

Virgil studied him for a moment. "You know we've all been worried about you lately yeah? Before all this..." he gestured vaguely, probably meaning April and the marks that came with her. "You seemed gone."

"Been feeling a bit lost," Trent admitted. First time he'd said it out loud to anyone but family.

"And now?"

He thought about April's lessons in focus, in accepting what you need. About finally feeling seen for who he was, not who everyone wanted him to be.

"Getting found maybe."

Virgil just nodded, that captain's understanding in his eyes. "Good. Now let's see this newfound focus in action yeah?"

Focus. Compartmentalize. Breathe.

Time to prove he could be better. For his team, for April, but mostly for himself.

Training started intense - Slot had them running complicated patterns, the kind that required complete concentration. Each movement of his was deliberate, each thought focused solely on the task at hand.

"Much better," Slot called out as Trent's cross found Darwin perfectly. "That's what we need."

The marks under his training kit tingled with each sprint, little reminders of his lessons in control. But instead of distracting him like before, they centered him. Grounded him in the present moment.

"Back to yourself," Mo said during a water break. "Whatever you sorted out this weekend, it worked."

If only they knew exactly what that sorting out had involved. Though the way Ibou was eyeing the edge of a mark peeking above his collar, maybe some of them had an idea.

"Just needed to get my head right," Trent replied, adjusting his shirt.

The tactical session that followed was exactly what April had prepared him for. As Slot broke down their approach, Trent's mind stayed sharp, focused. No wandering thoughts, no distractions.

"Questions?" Slot asked after laying out their press strategy.

Trent actually had several - good ones, tactical ones, the kind he used to ask before everything got complicated. The kind that made him who he was before he started trying to be someone else.

"Looking more like yourself," Virgil said as they headed back out to the pitch. "The real you, not that London version you were trying to be."

The real him. Maybe that's what April had been training all along - not just submission, but authenticity. Permission to be exactly who he was, marks and all.

"Right," Slot gathered them for set piece practice. "Show me that focus."

Set piece practice was where he used to shine, before everything got muddled. Today felt different - each free kick finding its target with precision that would have made April proud. His mind clear, focused solely on the curve of the ball, the weight behind each strike.

"Now that's more like it," Darwin called after heading in another perfect cross. "Our Trent's back!"

The phrase hit differently now. Their Trent. Not Sophie's polished version, not the media's golden boy. Just him, exactly as he was meant to be.

During the practice match, he found himself using April's lessons in unexpected ways. When to hold back, when to release. When to maintain control, when to let instinct take over. The same principles that had him kneeling in her bedroom were making him a better player on the pitch.

"Whatever you're doing differently," Slot pulled him aside as they wrapped up, "keep doing it. This is the focus we need."

If only his manager knew exactly what that "different" thing was. Though the way the mark on his neck was starting to peek above his collar again, maybe some hints were showing.

"Gaffer's right," Robbo said as they headed for the changing rooms. "You've got your edge back. That fire."

Fire. That's what it felt like - everything burning brighter, clearer. Even the ache of April's marks felt like fuel now, driving him to be better, sharper, more focused.

"Just needed the right motivation," he replied, carefully peeling off his training kit.

"That what we're calling it now?" Ibou gestured at the fresh marks across his shoulders. "Motivation?"

"When do we get to meet her properly then?" Mo asked, eyes following the trail of marks too. "The woman responsible for all... that."

"She's a very nice girl," Virgil said in that cool, collected captain's voice of his.

"Nice girl?" Danns snorted, gesturing at Trent's neck. "Nice girls don't leave marks like that mate. No way."

"Maybe Trent just likes it rough..." Dom added with a grin.

The changing room erupted, but Trent's face burning red and his desperate attempt to hide it only made them howl louder.

"Oh my days, look at his face!"

"Proper caught out!"

"Our Trent's got a thing for pain?"

"Who knew he had it in him?"

Questions flew from every direction, each one making Trent sink further into his locker. And there was Virgil, their captain, literally belly-laughing instead of helping.

"Virg!" Someone called out. "You're captain mate, do something!"

Virgil held up his hands in surrender. "Who am I to get in the way of a man's pleasure?" But then his expression turned serious as he looked at Trent. "You're not in danger though? Unsafe? Need a doctor?"

"Fuck no," Trent said firmly, rolling his eyes.

Virgil turned back to the group. "If he's happy, I'm happy. And if he plays like this against Tottenham, we should all mind our business."

"But she's literally marking–"

"And he likes it," Virgil cut in smoothly. "So let's mind our business. Besides, like I said, April is a very nice girl."

That was that - captain's orders. But watching Virgil leave, Trent couldn't help wondering. One brief meeting outside Anfield and Virgil was proper rating April. Almost like he... understood.

Trent squinted at his captain's retreating back. Come to think of it, Virgil and his wife did have all those kids back to back. Maybe they weren't as vanilla as everyone assumed.

The thought made him choke on his water, earning another round of teasing from the lads.

Some things were better left unknown about your teammates. Especially your captain.

"For real though," Mo said, watching Trent pull a towel around him. "We should all get together."

Several heads popped up around the changing room, suddenly interested. Trent focused on stuffing his boots into his duffle bag, thinking about that contract sitting in his email. Six social meetings with friends maximum and they hadn't even used the Virgil and Ibou encounter as one of them.

"Maybe after Tottenham," he said carefully, knowing full well he'd have to earn any social outings. April had been clear about that — everything was a reward now, even letting him show her off to his teammates.

"Could do that new spot in town," Darwin suggested. "The one with the private rooms."

"Nah, somewhere proper nice," Curtis cut in. "Show her we're not all savages like Trent here."

More laughter, more jokes about his marks. But Trent just shouldered it all, grinning. Let them joke - they had no idea that every social interaction was carefully negotiated, every meeting a prize to be earned.

"After Tottenham," he repeated. If he played well enough, showed enough focus, maybe April would agree. Another test, another chance to prove himself.

"Promise?" Mo pressed as Trent headed to the showers.

"We'll see."

Because that's all he could say really. Everything was in April's hands now - the when, the where, even the if.

And somehow, that felt exactly right.

*************************************************

The drive home felt longer without any messages from April lighting up his phone. She'd mentioned being busy - some athlete photoshoot that would take most of her day. Hadn't said who though. Probably some footballer trying their luck, thinking they could charm her with their Premier League status.

The thought made his hands tighten on the steering wheel.

Wait.

Since when did he get jealous about April's work? She literally had him signing contracts and wearing rings and kneeling for her. Not like some random athlete could compete with that.

Could they?

But she told him that he was enough for her–

No. Focus. Compartmentalize.

She'd proper trained that into him for a reason.

Still.

His mind wandered to her studio setup, how she'd had him strip down to nothing, positioning him just so. Was she doing that with someone else right now? Having them follow her commands, praising them when they got it right?

The Range Rover nearly missed his exit because his brain was too busy imagining April with some other footballer. Mental how fast she'd gotten under his skin. One minute he's signing a contract about their "arrangement," next he's getting possessive about her professional shoots.

Maybe this is what she meant about him being needy.

His phone stayed silent the whole way home. No commands, no praise, no teasing messages about his training performance. Just quiet.

Right then. Time to practice what she'd taught him. Focus on what he could control. Like making sure he earned that weekend in Liverpool with her. Show her he could be good, be focused.

Even if right now his brain was doing mental gymnastics about whoever she was photographing.

Proper pathetic that.

His house felt empty after a night at April's. No spiced vanilla scent, no judgy cat watching his every move, no commands keeping him focused. Just him and his thoughts about whatever athlete was currently in her studio.

Probably some tennis player. They were always doing artistic shoots. Or maybe a rugby lad - she'd mentioned photographing one before. Though the way she'd laughed about him flexing made Trent feel slightly better.

Focus. Compartmentalize. Stop obsessing.

He tried distracting himself with FIFA, but his mind kept wandering. Wonder if she makes them sign NDAs too? Or was that just for her... special projects?

His phone finally buzzed around dinner time. But it was just Tyler sending through more brand requests. Alexander Wang was proper keen apparently and wanted him now. Bunch of other fashion houses wanted him for their campaigns too.

All because of April's photos. The ones where she'd had him exactly where she wanted him, following her every command.

Like she probably had someone else doing right now.

For fuck's sake.

This wasn't him. He didn't do jealous boyfriend - especially when 'boyfriend' wasn't even the right word for whatever he was to April. Sub? Toy? Contract-bound pleasure object?

The marks on his shoulders tingled, reminding him of his place. Of who he belonged to.

Time for a distraction. Maybe hit the gym, work off some of this mental energy. Practice that control she'd been teaching him.

His phone stayed quiet all evening.

Proper violation how much that bothered him.

His alarm hadn't even gone off yet when his phone lit up. April's name on the screen had him properly awake in seconds.

April: Sorry about yesterday. Shoot ran late.

April: Glad you had good training though.

April: FaceTime?

He actually sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes to make sure he'd read that right. April never FaceTimed. Said it was too intimate for their arrangement — something about maintaining professional distance even during their not-so-professional moments.

His thumb hovered over the response box. Was this a test? Some new way of training his control?

April: Don't overthink it.

April: Just answer.

His phone started ringing before he could reply. FaceTime request from April Goodplenty.

Fuck.

His reflection in the corner of the screen looked rough - waves a mess, marks from their session still visible on his shoulders. Not exactly how he'd planned to first FaceTime his... whatever she was.

Deep breath.

Accept call.

Maybe this was part of his reward for staying focused during training. Or maybe she just wanted to see exactly how needy he'd gotten without her messages yesterday.

Either way, his heart was racing as he hit that green button.

He propped the phone against his bedside lamp, adjusting the angle. "So you were busy with shoots yesterday?"

"I was." Something flashed across her face. "Jealous?"

"No." Too quick. Too defensive.

"Liar." But she was smiling. "Tell me about training."

"Used your focus techniques. Worked proper well."

"Show me this weekend. After Tottenham."

"That a promise?"

"That's a challenge." She leaned closer to her camera. "Now, about your plans today..."

He caught her smile as he outlined his schedule - groceries, a visit to his personal shopper, meeting Tyler, getting a trim. That smile that meant she was plotting something.

"Keep me on the phone."

"The whole day? Why?"

"Because I want to." Her voice shifted into that tone that made his stomach flip. "Any questions?"

"No ma'am."

Something warm spread in his chest though. April wanting to watch him do mundane things? Cute really, even if she was commanding it.

He went through his morning routine while she watched from the screen — showering, brushing his teeth, throwing on clothes — everything and it didn’t bother him at all.

Trent connected his phone to his Range Rover's system, her voice filling the car as he headed to Tesco. Once inside, he popped in his AirPods, pushing his trolley down the aisles.

"Not those ones," she said as he reached for some protein bars. "The sugar content's ridiculous. Get the ones two shelves down."

He leaned on the trolley, grinning. "Controlling my shopping now?"

"I control what I want." But he caught her smile. "Including what goes into my toy's body."

He nearly dropped a packet of chicken.

"Speaking of control..." He lowered his voice. "The lads were asking about meeting you. Dinner after Tottenham."

"Have you earned that?"

"Not yet." He moved to the veg aisle. "But I will."

"Maybe." She watched him select peppers. "If you play well against Spurs. And if you're very, very good until then."

The way she said 'good' had him properly hot under his collar. Thank fuck for self-checkout - no way he could ever face a cashier if she kept on like this.

He was leaning against his trolley in the pasta aisle when the question that had been nagging him finally burst out.

"What do I call you? Like, to other people?"

Through his AirPods, he heard her shift in her chair. "What do you want to call me, given everything?"

"Girlfriend?" The word tumbled out before his brain could stop it. "If you want- I mean-"

"Interesting." He could hear that smile in her voice. "That's fine."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm. Guess I'll have to call you something else besides good boy then."

"I like good boy though." His face heated as an elderly couple passed by, giving him odd looks.

"I know you do." That tone that made his stomach flip. "But if you're really going to be good and beat Spurs, I can't exactly call you that in public, can I? I'll keep it simple - baby or babes?"

Shit. All of it. Either. Both.

Didn't matter what she called him as long as she kept using that voice.

"Cat got your tongue?" She was properly enjoying this. "Or just thinking about hearing me call you baby in front of your teammates?"

His grip on the trolley tightened. "You're doing this on purpose."

"Always." She paused. "Baby."

The pasta sauce he was holding nearly ended up on the floor.

Proper violation, making him feel like this in the middle of Tesco. But now she was his girlfriend. Who was also his dom. Who was about to make him lose his mind in the pasta aisle.

Life was mental sometimes.

"Your personal shopper next, right?" April asked as he loaded groceries into his Range Rover. "The one who got you that turtleneck for family dinner?"

"Yeah, got some new stuff to try on." He connected his phone back to the car system. "You going to direct that too?"

"Obviously." Her voice filled the car. "Can't have my boyfriend looking anything less than perfect. Even if I prefer you in much less clothing."

The way she said 'boyfriend' made his chest do weird things. Like she was claiming him all over again, but publicly this time.

His personal shopper's eyes went wide when he walked in on FaceTime. Probably never had a client's girlfriend directing their fitting before. But April was specific - which shirts brought out his eyes, which jeans showed off what she called her "property."

"Turn around," she commanded as he tried on some designer jacket. "Slower. Yes, that one works."

The fitting room mirror showed his face going red. Even through FaceTime, she had him following her every command.

"Getting shy, baby?"

Fuck. That word again. Making him feel proper twisted up inside.

"No ma'am." Low enough that only she could hear.

"Good boy." Even lower. "Now try the black one."

His personal shopper definitely heard that one, based on how quickly she disappeared to "check stock."

But April just laughed, the sound making his stomach flip. She was enjoying this - having him on display, calling him pet names that meant something very different to them, watching him try to keep his composure.

"Meeting Tyler next?" she asked as he paid for his selections. "Want me to stay on the line for that too?"

The thought of Tyler seeing him this wrapped around April's finger...

"Maybe not for that part."

"Scared I'll expose how needy you are?"

"More like scared you'll make me proper lose it in front of my brother."

Her laugh echoed through his AirPods. "Fair enough. Call me after?"

"Yes ma- babe."

"Good save." He could hear her smirking. "And Trent?"

"Yeah?"

"I like being your girlfriend. Even if you'll always be my good boy first."

His hands actually shook as he ended the call.

Girlfriend. Dom. Everything in between.

He was so properly fucked.

**************************************************

Tyler's office at PLG took up half the top floor, all glass walls and views of Liverpool's skyline. The Alpine F1 model car on his desk was new - proper flashy reminder of his latest investment.

"They want you at a few races," Tyler said, following his gaze to the model. "Monaco definitely. Maybe Silverstone too."

"Sounds good."

"Now," his brother slid over Liverpool's latest proposal. "What are we thinking about this?"

Trent stared at the numbers. Not bad, but not even close to what Mo was currently getting. "Counter it."

"Arsenal's still interested." Tyler watched his face carefully. "Arteta keeps asking about summer plans."

London. Where April was. Where he could see her without planning train journeys and overnight bags. But that was mental wasn't it? Making career decisions based on a one-year arrangement that might not even...

No. Don't think about that.

"Keep the door open with Arsenal," he said finally. "But let's push Liverpool first. See how serious they are."

"Real Madrid called again too."

"Course they did."

Tyler pulled up some emails on his massive screen. "Got some brand stuff as well. Google wants you for their Pixel campaign. Nike wants you in another ad."

"Yeah, sound."

"And April's team reached out about scheduling that second shoot."

His face must've done something because Tyler's eyebrows shot up.

"Speaking of April..." His brother leaned back in his fancy office chair. "What's actually going on there? Just fucking or..."

Trent focused very intently on the Alpine model. The marks under his shirt tingled, reminding him of exactly what was going on there.

"Come on," Tyler pressed. "Give me something. There's been talking about marks–"

"We're good." Trent cut him off. "That's all you need to know."

"Wow." Tyler studied him across the desk. "Marcel was right. You really like this one."

The model was suddenly fascinating once again.

"Never seen you this private about a girl before." Tyler was grinning now. "Usually can't shut you up about them."

Because usually they were just for show. PR relationships and carefully managed appearances. This thing with April was... different. Real. Even with all its contracts and commands. Maybe especially because of those.

"Google wants an answer by Friday," Tyler said finally, accepting that he wasn't getting any gossip today. "And April's team needs shoot dates."

"Sort Google." Trent stood up, ready to escape this conversation and this too-revealing glass office. "I'll handle April."

Tyler's knowing look followed him to the elevator.

Let them think what they wanted. Some things - like exactly how he handled April, or rather how she handled him - were better kept private.

Even if the marks on his neck told their own story.

The drive home from PLG had his mind spinning. Arsenal's offer hanging there like some kind of escape route. London. April. Regular morning coffees instead of FaceTime calls. But that was mad wasn't it? Making career moves based on a woman who literally had him sign a contract limiting their time together.

His phone lit up at a red light.

April: How was the meeting?

April: Tyler text saying you're being secretive about us.

April: Good boy.

His stomach flipped. Even through text she had this effect on him.

Trent: Contracts and brand stuff.

Trent: And Alpine wants me at some races.

Trent: Monaco. Silverstone.

April: Monaco could be fun.

April: If you earn it.

There it was again. Everything a reward to be earned. Even spending time with his... girlfriend? Dom? Both?

April: You're overthinking again.

April: I can feel it through the phone.

April: Focus on Spurs first.

April: Then we'll discuss rewards.

Right. Focus. Compartmentalize. One thing at a time.

His phone buzzed again.

April: Whatever you're thinking about

April: Stop.

April: You belong to me right now.

April: That's all that matters.

She was right. Like always.

Career decisions could wait. Right now he just needed to focus on Spurs. On earning whatever rewards April had planned. But part of him was already looking up London postcodes.

*********************************************

His house felt different after a day of April in his ear. Even the massive TV playing Match of the Day couldn't fill the quiet. His mind kept spinning like he'd just done dizzy penalties - Arsenal offers and London postcodes and April fucking Goodplenty having him wrapped around her finger.

Two months ago he was trying to be Sophie's perfect posh boyfriend, hosting dinner parties and practicing his wine chat. Now he was letting a photographer put a collar on him and tell him what to buy at Tesco.

The marks under his shirt still tingled every time he shifted on the sofa. Each one a reminder of how fast things had changed. Like his body was keeping score of every moment she'd claimed him.

Girlfriend. That word still felt mental. Like calling a lioness your pet cat. But something about it fit, didn't it? Even with all the contracts and commands and carefully negotiated terms.

His mind wandered to the Arsenal offer again. To London apartments and morning coffees instead of FaceTime calls. To seeing April whenever he wanted, not just when he'd earned it.

Was he really considering making career decisions based on a woman who literally had him sign paperwork about how often she'd attend his matches? But here he was, already thinking about which London neighborhood she'd like best.

He wasn't trying to be that guy anymore though — the one who changed everything about himself to fit someone else's life. April wouldn't want that anyway. She wanted him exactly as he was. Even if who he was happened to look best on his knees.

Marcel appeared in the doorway like he'd materialized from thin air, proper startling Trent off the sofa. "Oh shit, didn't know you were here."

"I live here, bruv." Trent gave him a look. "This is literally my house."

"Yeah but when are you ever actually in it?" Marcel dropped onto the other end of the sofa. "Between matches and your freaky ass girlfriend–"

"Shut up."

"Just saying." But his brother was grinning. "Want to hit the cinema? New horror film's out."

"We've got a whole cinema room downstairs."

"Yeah but they're not showing the new stuff yet are they?" Marcel was already reaching for his keys. "Come on, you're just sitting here looking proper tragic anyway."

He wasn't wrong. Trent had been staring at the same highlights for twenty minutes, mind somewhere between postcodes and punishments.

"Fine." He stood up, wincing as his shirt caught on one of April's marks. "But none of that jump scare shit."

"Can't promise that." Marcel's eyes caught the movement. "Though looks like you've got enough marks already."

The cushion Trent threw missed his brother's head by inches.

"Your aim's as bad as your crosses were Sunday!"

"Get in the car before I actually hit you."

The Range Rover purred to life, and the drive to the cinema was quick - perks of living in the posh end. Marcel kept trying to sell him on this horror film about some demon nun, but Trent wasn't having it.

"Not trying to have nightmares before Spurs."

"Soft lad." Marcel studied the listings. "Oh look, new Mark Wahlberg. Some crime thing."

"Better than demon nuns innit?"

Something about catching a serial killer seemed safer than supernatural horror. Plus, April would probably take the piss if she found out he'd bottled watching a scary film.

The cinema was dead for a weeknight - just them and a few couples scattered about. Marcel insisted on the back row like they were teenagers again, loaded up with enough snacks to feed the whole squad.

"So," Marcel started as the trailers played, mouth full of popcorn. "Arsenal yeah?"

Trent nearly choked on his Coke. "Tyler's got a big mouth."

"Nah, saw the speculation online. Plus you've been proper obvious, looking up London stuff on your phone."

"Just keeping options open."

"Nothing to do with a certain photographer then?"

The screen lit up with some horror film trailer, saving Trent from answering. But his mind was already there - April's flat in East London, those massive windows, that mental cat judging his every move.

"You're doing it again," Marcel laughed. "Getting that dopey look whenever you think about her."

"Watch the film."

"Can't yet, still adverts innit?" His brother turned in his seat. "For real though, you'd leave Liverpool for a girl?"

"It's not like that."

But wasn't it? Here he was, actually considering Arsenal because being closer to April felt more important than... well, everything.

"Sure it's not." Marcel threw popcorn at his head. "Just remember - if you sign for Arsenal, mum will actually kill you. Girlfriend or not."

The Mark Wahlberg film finally started, saving Trent from more interrogation. But his phone felt heavy in his pocket, April's presence lingering even here.

Crazy how one woman could have him reconsidering his whole life. Even more crazy how right it felt.

Anfield was buzzing hours before kick-off. Something about Spurs always brought out that extra edge in the crowd. Trent could feel it as soon as he pulled into his parking spot - that big match energy already building.

He'd woken up feeling different. Properly confident, not just faking it. Maybe it was the week of solid training, maybe it was April's influence, maybe it was just time to remind everyone who he was.

The home dressing room was alive with energy - Darwin practicing his English with Robbo, Mo and Virgil in their usual pre-match zone. Trent's phone lit up as he changed into his kit.

April had sent a photo of herself in his Liverpool jersey. No caption, no commands, just that. Proper girlfriend thing to do really. Almost normal, if you ignored all the marks hidden under his match shirt.

"Someone's in a good mood," Virgil noted, watching Trent tape up his socks with unusual precision.

"Just feeling it today."

And he was. This wasn't about earning rewards or following commands. This was about showing everyone - including himself - what he could do when his head was right.

The gaffer's team talk was straight forward. Control the game, press their weaknesses, make it count. Simple really, when you weren't overthinking everything.

"Ready?" Mo asked as they lined up in the tunnel, You'll Never Walk Alone already shaking the walls.

More than ready.

The first tackle set the tone - Son trying to cut inside, Trent sending him and the ball into touch. Anfield erupted. This wasn't Bournemouth Trent, bottling simple passes. This was Liverpool's golden boy remembering exactly who he was.

Ten minutes in, his cross found Darwin's head. 1-0. The Kop went mental, and Trent felt that familiar surge - the one he'd been missing lately. Pure confidence, no overthinking.

"Loving life!" Robbo shouted as they jogged back to position.

Son tried him again on the quarter hour. Same result - Trent proper bodying him off the ball. No hesitation, no doubt. Just instinct and ability and everything clicking into place.

Half time came at 2-0, Mo adding another from Trent's corner. The dressing room was bouncing, but Trent stayed calm. Job wasn't done yet.

"Keep this energy," Slot said, but his eyes were on Trent.

Spurs came out fighting second half. Didn't matter though - Trent was in that zone where everything felt possible. Every pass finding feet, every defensive read spot on. Even managed a cheeky nutmeg on Richarlison that had the Kop singing his name.

When the final whistle blew at 3-0, Virgil pulled him into a hug. "That's what we've been missing."

His phone was lighting up in his bag - probably Tyler with brand stuff, his mum being proud, April with... whatever April had planned. But right now there was just this. Just Anfield singing and his teammates buzzing and that feeling of being exactly where he belonged.

Though part of him was already wondering what reward he'd earned.

Priorities and that.

The TNT crew had him cornered before he could escape to the dressing room. Rio Ferdinand proper beaming about his performance like a proud uncle.

"Back to your best there," Rio started. "Two assists, dominant defensively. What's changed?"

"Just focused innit? Team needed a performance."

"There's been speculation about your future, Arsenal apparently interested–"

"Focused on Liverpool right now."

"And the photos of you and April Goodplenty–"

"Just focusing on football mate."

Rio's eyes caught the edge of a mark peeking above his collar. "Clearly something's got you motivated..."

"No comment." But he couldn't help grinning.

The rest of the interview circus was the same - everyone trying to connect his form to April, to Arsenal rumors, to anything but him just playing proper football again.

"Your girlfriend coming to celebrate?" Some reporter called out as he tried to leave.

"He said no comment," Virgil appeared, captain's arm around his shoulder. "Football questions only."

In the dressing room, his phone was blowing up. His mum, Tyler, the lads' group chat going mental. But he was looking for one message in particular.

April: Proud of you baby.

April: Now come collect your reward.

His hands actually shook packing his bag.

"Someone's in a rush," Darwin laughed, catching his expression.

Let them joke. They didn't need to know what those rewards involved.

Though based on the knowing looks, they had some ideas.

**************************************************

Trent barely had the door shut before April was on him, her hands in his hair, her lips against his like she was starving for him. His bag dropped to the floor with a thud, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was her.

"You earned your reward, baby," she murmured against his mouth, her fingers dragging down his chest, nails scraping lightly over the fabric of his hoodie. "Strip."

He obeyed immediately, kicking off his trainers, pulling his hoodie and shirt over his head in one go. April watched him with a slow, satisfied smirk, stepping back just enough to let the silk robe slip from her shoulders, revealing nothing but smooth, bare skin underneath.

His breath caught. "Fuck."

"Come to bed."

They ended up exactly where she wanted — her back pressed against his chest, both of them facing the full-length mirror in front of her bed. Trent’s hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into soft flesh as he guided her down onto his dick, the stretch making her moan.

"Look at you," she purred, her gaze locked onto their reflection. "Taking me so well. My good boy."

Trent groaned, his hips flexing up as he started to fuck her slow, deliberate, dragging out every inch before pushing back in deep.

"Shit, April—"

"Eyes on the mirror," she warned, her hand reaching back to wrap around the nape of his neck, fingers curling, keeping him in place. "I want you to watch."

He swallowed hard, his dark eyes blown wide as he stared at their bodies moving together. April was fucking art — the way her tits bounced with each thrust, the way her thighs clenched as she grounded against him, the way her free hand pinched and rolled her nipple just to drive him crazy.

"Christ," he muttered, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his pace steady, but she was too much — too warm, too tight, too fucking perfect.

"Harder," she demanded, her nails pressing into the back of his neck.

He obeyed without question, his thrusts turning rougher, faster, his fingers digging harder into her skin as he lost himself in the feel of her. The slick sounds of their bodies colliding, the way she moaned every time he bottomed out — it was fucking intoxicating.

"See how pretty you look taking me?" she taunted, tilting her head slightly to kiss him, biting his lower lip before soothing it with her tongue. "You love this, don’t you? Love being inside me, love how I let you fuck me like this?"

"Yes ma’am..fuck…yes," he groaned, his head falling forward and onto her shoulder, but she yanked his face back up.

"Watch," she ordered, her grip tightening. "Don’t take your eyes off us."

He had no choice but to obey, his gaze locked onto the mirror, watching the way she fucked herself on him, the way he filled her, the way her lips parted in pleasure. His stomach tightened, that familiar heat coiling low.

"I’m close," he panted, his breath hot against her skin.

"Not yet," she teased, tightening around him deliberately, making him curse. "You hold it, baby. I want you to last for me."

His hands tightened on her hips, his entire body trembling with restraint, but he did as he was told. Because this? This was his reward. And he’d do anything to please her.

April smirked at his reflection, loving the way his jaw clenched, his muscles taut with the effort of holding himself back. He was trembling, his hands gripping her hips so hard she was sure there’d be bruises tomorrow — but she didn’t care. She wanted him to mark her just as much as she marked him.

"You’re so fucking deep," she moaned, rolling her hips slowly, teasing him. "Feel how perfect you fit inside me?"

"April," he groaned, barely holding on, his fingers digging deeper.

Her lips grazed the shell of his ear. "I know you want to let go, baby. I can feel it." She clenched around him, grinding down hard, making him choke out another curse. "You’ve been such a good boy for me. Think you deserve to cum now?"

"Yes," he gasped, his grip on her tightening even more. "Please."

She smiled, dragging her nails down his arm before lifting her hand to cup his jaw. "Then give it to me."

That was all he needed. Trent’s restraint snapped, his hips slamming up into her, his thrusts rough and desperate. His hands slid from her hips to her thighs, spreading her open wider so he could fuck her deeper, harder.

"Oh, fuck–yes," she moaned, her head falling back against his shoulder, her hand tightening on his neck. "Just like that, baby. Give it to me."

His breath was ragged, his body shaking, his face buried in her hair as he lost himself in her. She could feel it — the way he tensed, the way his thrusts stuttered as he buried himself deep one last time, a low, broken groan spilling from his lips as he came hard inside her.

April let herself go then, her own orgasm crashing over her, her body pulsing around him as she moaned his name. She barely registered the way his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight as they both came down, their bodies still locked together, their breath mingling in the quiet aftermath.

When she finally opened her eyes, she met his gaze in the mirror. He looked wrecked, his curls damp with sweat, his lips swollen from her kisses.

"You looked so pretty cumming for me," she murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw.

His chest rumbled with a tired chuckle. "Gonna kill me one day."

She smirked. "Not today, though."

Trent huffed a breathless laugh, his arms still wrapped tight around her waist. "No, not today."

April moved slightly, relishing the way his body was still pressed against hers, the weight of him grounding her. His dick was still inside her, softening but not quite ready to part. She smirked, shifting her hips just enough to make him groan.

"Fuck, April—" His hands flexed on her thighs, the aftershocks of his orgasm making him overly sensitive.

"What?" she teased, tilting her head back against his shoulder, lips ghosting over his jaw again. "Too much for you?"

Trent exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing into her neck. "I swear, you’re tryin’ to ruin me."

"Mm.” She rolled her hips again, just because she could. “Maybe."

He gritted his teeth, but she could see it — the way his body twitched, like he wanted to move but didn’t quite have the strength yet.

April smirked at his reflection, pressing a kiss to his temple before finally easing off him. He hissed at the loss, his hands falling away as she climbed off the bed.

"Where you goin’?" His voice was rough, tinged with exhaustion.

She stretched her arms above her head, fully aware of the way his gaze dropped to the way her body moved. "Shower."

Trent groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You’re actually tryin’ to kill me."

April just laughed, tossing a smirk over her shoulder as she made her way to the bathroom. "Come join me if you think you can keep up."

She barely made it to the shower before she heard the bed shift, the rustling of sheets, and the sound of his feet hitting the floor.

Trent might have been exhausted, yet he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

The water was hot, nearly scalding, but Trent barely noticed. His skin was already burning from how April touched him as soon as he got in, how her hands splayed over his chest as she backed him against the cool tile.

Her gaze flicked down to where he was already half-hard again, his dick twitching as she dragged her nails lightly down his stomach before dropping to her knees.

Fuck.

She licked a broad stripe up his shaft, swirling her tongue around the tip before taking him into her mouth. His head thudded back against the tile, a low groan escaping as she hollowed her cheeks and took him deeper.

"Goddamn,” he rasped, his hips jerking involuntarily.

April smirked around him, letting her spit drip down to coat him before pulling off with a soft pop. "Relax, baby,” she cooed, stroking him lazily. “Or I won’t let you cum."

His breath stuttered as one of her hands dipped lower, rolling his balls gently in her palm, massaging them as she took him back into her mouth. She alternated between sucking and licking, her other hand pressing against his tense thigh to keep him from moving too much.

Trent clenched his jaw, fingers grasping against the cold tile. The urge to grab her hair, to thrust into that warm, wet heat — it nearly fucking killed him. But he knew better. Knew April was in control here.

And she was taking her time.

His thighs tensed as her mouth continued to work the head, tongue flicking, teasing just enough to make his knees threaten to buckle.

"Shit—"

She hummed, the vibration shooting straight through him. His breath caught, his stomach tightening. He was close, teetering on the edge, but she already knew that. Knew exactly how to pull him apart.

"April, I’m—"

His warning broke off into a strangled groan as he came, pleasure ripping through him so hard his vision blurred. April swallowed every drop, her throat flexing around him before she pulled off with a filthy little moan, licking her lips like she’d just tasted something sweet.

Trent was still catching his breath when she rose to her feet, gripping his jaw, kissing him deep. He tried to resist for half a second, still wrecked from his orgasm, but April didn’t allow it. She licked into his mouth, letting him taste himself on her tongue.

Trent groaned, his whole body practically on fire. It was fucking filthy, the taste of his cum still lingering on her tastebuds. It should’ve made him hesitate, but instead, it made his dick twitch again, made him kiss her harder, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth before he even realized what he was doing.

April smirked against his mouth, her fingers curling in his damp hair. "Don’t you taste so good, baby?"

Trent exhaled sharply, eyes heavy-lidded as he looked down at her. His pulse was still erratic, his body wrung out, but he could already feel himself stirring again.

"Yeah," he muttered, voice rough. "But I think I need another taste of you."

Three days since Spurs and Trent was still buzzing. Not just from the match — though that had been proper perfect — but from what came after. The rewards April had given him still had him grinning like an idiot in training.

But this weekend was the big one. April coming to Liverpool, staying at his, meeting the lads properly before the Plymouth match. Even agreed to dinner with some of the team, though he had to properly earn that one.

Now he just had one problem: Marcel.

"You what?" His brother looked up from FIFA. "Get out of my own house?"

"Technically my house," Trent started, then caught Marcel's expression. "Just... make yourself scarce when she's here?"

"Nah bruv. I live here. Your dominatrix girlfriend doesn't."

He had a point. Fuck.

"Fine, just... don't be weird yeah? No jokes about the marks–"

"You mean the ones you come home covered in every time–"

"Marcel."

"The ones that look like you've been mauled by a tiger–"

"I swear to God–"

His phone buzzed.

April: Outside baby.

April: Come get my bags.

His heart actually skipped.

"You're proper whipped mate!" Marcel called after him as he headed for the door.

Trent stopped, took a breath. Centered himself like April had taught him. Then opened the door to see her stepping out of that red Ferrari looking like every fantasy he'd ever had - leather pants, cropped jumper, those boots that made her legs look endless.

Then he saw the bags. Proper luggage setup - carry-on sized case and a massive duffle. Like she was planning on staying way past Monday.

He wouldn't mind that. Not one bit.

Though Marcel might have something to say about it.

"Someone's been practicing their manners," April smirked as he grabbed her bags. "Good boy."

The way she said it, right there in his driveway... Christ.

"This is..." she paused as they entered, taking in the massive foyer with its spiral staircase and floor-to-ceiling windows. "Quite something. Very footballer."

"Too much?"

"Just very you." She wandered into the living room, running her fingers along his expensive furniture. "All that Liverpool money put to good use."

"Wait till you see it from the stands Monday." He couldn't help grinning. "Got you proper good seats."

"Earned those, didn't you?" But she was smiling too. "Though dinner with the team tonight... you might need to earn that again."

His whole body went hot. But before he could respond, Marcel appeared.

"So you're the one leaving all those marks then?"

"Marcel!" Trent wanted to die.

But April just laughed - that proper genuine laugh she rarely showed anyone. "Guilty. Though your brother seems to enjoy them."

"Too much information!" Marcel headed for the kitchen. "I'm ordering takeaway later. Try to keep the noise down yeah?"

Trent watched April explore his space - looking at family photos, examining his trophy cabinet, taking everything in. Mental seeing her here, in his massive footballer mansion, looking like she belonged somehow.

Even with his annoying brother trying to violate him.

"Nice setup you've got here," she said finally, turning back to him. "Lots of surfaces to... make use of."

Fucking hell.

Maybe he should've tried harder to get Marcel out after all.

"Show me your room then," April said, that look in her eyes that meant trouble. "Since I'll be spending so much time there this weekend."

Trent nearly tripped over his own feet leading her upstairs. Her heels clicked against his marble steps, each sound making his stomach flip.

"En suite's through there," he gestured, watching her take in his massive bedroom with its view over Liverpool. "Dressing room's that door."

"Of course you have a dressing room." She ran her fingers along his silk sheets. "Very nice. Though these will need changing after I'm done with you."

"I can hear you!" Marcel's voice carried up from somewhere below. "These walls aren't that thick!"

April actually giggled — proper girlish sound he'd never heard from her before. Made her seem younger somehow. More normal. Until she turned those eyes on him again.

"So," she started unpacking her bag. "Dinner with the team at eight. That gives us..." she checked her watch, "three hours to properly christen this room."

"Marcel–"

"Better be quiet then."

His head actually spun. This was different April - playful, almost soft, but still with that edge that drove him mental. Having her here, in his space, going through his drawers like she owned them...

"You're thinking too hard again." She was suddenly right there, fingers at his collar. "Want me to help you focus?"

From downstairs, the sound of Marcel very deliberately turning the TV volume up.

"Yes ma'am."

"Good boy." She pushed him toward the bed. "Now let's see how quiet you can be."

***********************************************

Two hours later, April was going through his wardrobe like it was her personal styling session. His skin still tingled from whatever she'd done to him - not that he'd been able to keep track after the first hour.

"Wear this." She tossed him a black shirt that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. "And these jeans. Want you looking good for when I show you off to your teammates.”

Show him off. Like he was some prize she'd won. Crazy how much he liked that.

"You weren't very quiet by the way," she added, smirking as she pulled out her own outfit. "Good thing we locked that door."

"You did that on purpose."

"Maybe." She disappeared into his en suite. "Wanted to make sure you remembered who you belong to."

Christ.

April emerged from the bathroom looking proper incredible - something that managed to be classy but still had him thinking about getting her out of it later.

"Ready to face your teammates?" She adjusted his collar, covering some of her latest marks. "Show them what their TAA's become?"

Their TAA. Her good boy. Both somehow, now.

"Yeah," he managed. "Ready."

Her smile turned wicked. "Good. Because after dinner..." She leaned close, whispered something that made his knees weak.

They walked down the stairs arm-in-arm and Trent easily caught the look of disgust on his younger brother’s face. He told him to make himself scarce, didn’t he? Now he really had to use those noise-canceling headphones he’d bought last week.

Too bad, not sad.

The Ferrari keys dangled from April's fingers as they left the house. "I'm driving."

"It's my city though." But he was already following her to the car like the good boy he was.

"And I'm the one who decides how fast we get back after dinner." That smile again. "Unless you'd rather take the Range Rover?"

Fucking hell.

She looked so good behind the wheel, driving around his city, like she belonged in his world. Hard to believe this was the same woman who'd slammed a door in his face on New Year's Day.

"Where we meeting them?" She pulled out of his drive, engine purring.

"That new spot in town. Dead fancy. Darwin’s choice."

"Of course it was." Her hand found his thigh. "Nervous about introducing me properly?"

"More nervous about what you might say about those marks they keep asking about."

"Don't worry." That devilish grin. "I'll be a perfect girlfriend. Save the dom stuff for after.”

The way she said 'girlfriend' still made his stomach flip. Like she was claiming him all over again, but publicly this time.

"Though..." her hand slid higher. "Maybe I'll have a little fun. See how well you can keep your composure."

He actually whimpered.

"That's not very composed, baby."

It was going to be a long weekend ahead.

And he couldn't wait for every second of it.

The restaurant was one of those posh spots that was slowing finding its way into Liverpool. The Ferrari's engine turning off had heads turning before they even got out. April, of course, was in her element - that photographer's confidence of hers making every head turn.

She took Trent's hand as they walked in, all professional poise now. Different from the April who'd had him begging in his bedroom two hours ago.

Virgil and his wife were already there with Mo and his family at one end of the massive table, Darwin and his girlfriend chatting with Ibou near the bar.

"Look who finally made it!" Ibou called out, grinning like he hadn't been taking the piss about her and Trent since that day outside Anfield.

"About time we get to meet you," Virgil's wife pulled her into a hug. "You’re so beautiful."

Mo's wife, usually shy around new people, was already waving April over to their end of the table. Like April just had that effect on people – when she wanted to, anyway.

"Told you she'd fit right in," Virgil said quietly as they sat.

Watching her work the room was something else. The perfect mix of charm and privacy, redirecting personal questions into football chat or something else entirely. Even when Darwin tried fishing about the marks, she kept it professional. Proper different from how she'd wind up Marcel.

But Trent caught those little looks she kept giving him across the table. The ones that promised later wouldn't be nearly as professional.

The conversation flowed easier than Trent expected. April talking photography with Mo's wife, who apparently had a thing for art. Darwin's girlfriend fascinated by April's stories about shooting athletes in different countries.

"So what made you choose our Trent for your latest shoot?" Darwin's girlfriend asked, innocent like.

"His agent's persistence," April smiled, still professional as ever. "Tyler can be very convincing."

Virgil caught Trent's eye across the table, that knowing look again. Like he understood exactly why April had really chosen him.

"Looking forward to the match Monday?" Mo asked April, saving her from more personal questions.

"First time at Plymouth." She squeezed Trent's thigh under the table. "Should be interesting."

"Better score for her," Ibou grinned. "Show off a bit."

The way April's fingers tightened on his leg told him exactly what kind of showing off she expected.

Dinner arrived, yet Trent was more focused on April's hand still on his thigh, how she managed to look completely engaged in conversation while driving him mental under the table.

"You two should come over for dinner next week," Virgil's wife was saying. "Once the Plymouth match is done."

April smiled that professional smile again. "We'll see how he performs first."

Only Trent caught the double meaning in that.

Proper violation, this woman.

"Sorry I'm late!" Dom's voice boomed across the restaurant. "Traffic was crazy – oh, this must be April."

April's hand slid higher on Trent's thigh as she smiled at Dom. "Nice to meet you."

"Heard a lot about you," Dom grinned, dropping into the empty chair. "Well, what little Trent will actually say."

"Professional discretion," April said smoothly, but her fingers were anything but professional under the table.

The dessert menus arrived just in time to distract everyone from Dom's attempt at twenty questions. But April wasn't done torturing him - her hand wandering places that had him nearly dropping his spoon.

"We should probably head out after this," she said innocently. "Early start tomorrow."

Virgil actually chuckled - a knowing laugh that made Trent's face heat up. What was his captain playing at? Like he understood exactly what April meant by "early start."

Actually, no. He didn't want to know why Virgil seemed to get it. Some things about your captain were better left mysterious.

April's fingers traced patterns that had him properly squirming now.

"Right," Trent managed, voice slightly strained. "Should get going."

Another low laugh from Virgil. Proper violation that.

They made their goodbyes quick - April all polite smiles and proper handshakes while her other hand stayed busy making Trent lose his mind.

The Ferrari couldn't come fast enough.

Though based on April's smile, fast wasn't what she had planned for later.

***************************************************

April's heels echoed through the foyer as they got in, her confidence from dinner shifting into something else entirely as she headed for the stairs.

"Strip out of those clothes and wait for me on the bed," she called over her shoulder, voice pure command now.

"Yes ma–" he started, then properly panicked. Trent caught movement in his peripheral vision - Marcel on the sofa, spoon frozen halfway to his mouth, South Park playing quietly in the background.

"Properly address me when you–" April turned, following his startled expression. Her voice cut off as she spotted Marcel. The switch was instant - dom mode vanishing as she smiled. "Hey Marcel, what's up?"

The sudden change gave Trent proper whiplash. Like watching someone change languages mid-sentence. Made his head spin how she could do that — go from commands to casual in half a second.

Marcel just blinked, cereal forgotten, looking between them like he was watching some mental tennis match.

"Okay good talk." April's eyes found Trent again, that dangerous glint returning. "Five minutes, baby." Then she was gone, heels clicking up the stairs until his bedroom door closed.

"Bruv." Marcel finally unfroze. "You know what you're getting into?"

"I–"

"Like does she ever just... chill? One minute she's all proper nice next she's giving orders like a drill sergeant–"

"Marcel–"

"And what was that 'properly address me' shit? You two are proper mental–"

"Can we not–"

"Though got to say..." His brother looked thoughtful. "She's actually good for you."

That made Trent properly stop. "What?"

"You heard me." Marcel turned back to his cereal. "She's freaky as fuck but... you're different with her. Better different."

Coming from Marcel, who'd been taking the piss since day one... that meant something.

"Now go on," his brother waved toward the stairs. "Don't want to keep her waiting. I'm turning the TV up."

Trent's head was still spinning as he headed upstairs. His brother's approval somehow meaning more than the whole team's combined. The sound of South Park's volume increasing followed him up. Marcel was proper taking the piss, but at least he was being... supportive? In his own weird way.

April was perched on the edge of his bed when he walked in, still in that short ass dress that had been driving him mental all night. Her heels were off though, making her look smaller somehow. More normal.

Until she looked up.

"Lock the door."

The command in her voice was back - no trace of that casual girl who'd just chatted with his brother.

"Your family's interesting," she said as he turned the lock. "Marcel especially."

"Sorry about–"

"Don't apologize." She stood, all fluid grace. "Though we should probably be more careful about commands in common areas."

The way she said 'commands' had his stomach flipping.

"Now then," she moved closer, that dangerous smile back. "I believe you were about to address me properly downstairs?"

His brain short-circuited as she reached for his collar.

From downstairs, Marcel turned the TV up even louder.

Proper long night ahead.

At least his brother approved. Even if he was never going to let Trent live this down.

***************************************************

Hours later, they were tangled in his silk sheets, April's head on his chest like she belonged there. Different April now - softer, almost gentle. Mental how she could switch between dominatrix and this.

"Your brother's funny," she murmured, tracing patterns on his skin. "Protective too."

"More like nosy."

"Reminds me of my cousin in Virginia. Always taking the piss but means well."

This was new - April actually sharing something personal. Usually it was all commands and contracts, not family chat.

"Tell me about Virginia," he found himself saying.

"Hmm." Her fingers found a mark she'd left earlier. "Not much to tell. Military bases aren't exactly exciting. Though watching my dad try to teach the Americans to understand scouse was pretty entertaining."

He could picture it - little April caught between cultures, probably giving everyone that same look she gave him when he tried to push boundaries.

"My dad would like you," she said suddenly. "He appreciates people who know what they want."

Coming from April, that was proper high praise.

The TV downstairs had finally gone quiet. Marcel must've given up waiting for them to finish and went to bed.

He definitely needed to soundproof his room. Maybe better insulation for the whole house then if this was becoming an ongoing situation.

"Sleep," she commanded softly. "A lot of travel tomorrow then big match on Monday."

Even gentle, she couldn't help giving orders.

And he couldn't help wanting to follow them.

Home Park was properly packed for an FA Cup match, but Trent's eyes kept drifting to one spot in particular. April in the family section, looking proper editorial in Prada sunglasses and his jersey, her hair swept up in some complicated bun thing.

And that fucking lollipop.

The way she was working it had his mind going places it shouldn't before a match. Though maybe that was because twenty minutes ago those lips had been... right. Football. Focus.

But she knew exactly what she was doing, didn't she? Even from up there, he could see that little smirk as she proper performed with that sweet. Every movement calculated to drive him mental, like she was still training his control even from the stands.

His warm-up routine was suffering. Passes going slightly off, stretches not quite reaching far enough. All because he couldn't stop looking up there, watching her turn a simple sweet into something that should be illegal in public.

"You're proper gone mate," Robbo appeared at his shoulder. "Should blow her a kiss."

"Nah." Trent tried focusing on his stretches. "She won't do it back."

"Oi Ibou!" Robbo called. "Tell this melt he should blow April a kiss!"

"Do it!" Ibou bounced over, grinning like Christmas had come early. "Is romantic!"

"She's not that type," Trent tried explaining. The idea of April doing cutesy public displays was mental. This was a woman who had him signing contracts about their relationship, who turned eating sweets into psychological warfare. More chance of Marcel keeping quiet about what he'd witnessed.

"Look at him," Robbo stage-whispered to Ibou. "Proper scared of his girl."

"Not scared–"

"Chicken!" Ibou made clucking noises. "Big man Trent, afraid of little kiss!"

Their pestering wouldn't stop, both of them proper taking the piss now. Even Darwin had wandered over to join in, making exaggerated kissing faces.

Fine.

He did it - exaggerated kiss blown up to the stands, already bracing for April to either ignore it or give him that "you'll pay for this later" look she'd perfected.

What happened next actually made him stumble.

April pulled the lollipop out with a pop, caught his kiss with her free hand, pressed it to her heart... and blew one back. The movement so graceful it looked choreographed, like she'd been waiting for him to try it.

"Oh fuck." The cameras. He'd forgotten about the fucking cameras.

Robbo and Ibou were proper losing it, jumping around making kissy noises like year seven kids. Darwin had actually fallen over laughing. Tomorrow's papers would have a field day with this one - Liverpool's right back and his photographer girlfriend doing lovey-dovey shit during warm-ups.

But the look April was giving him over those sunglasses... that mix of public sweetness and private promise that had his stomach doing flips.

Worth it. So fucking worth it.

"Now who's the romantic one?" Robbo was still cackling. "Proper Mills and Boon stuff that!"

"She's got you wrapped," Ibou added, wiping tears from his eyes. "Never seen anything like it!"

They weren't wrong though, were they? Here he was, making soppy gestures in front of thousands, just because she looked too good in his jersey. The same woman who'd had him properly begging this morning was now catching kisses like some rom-com heroine.

And the maddest part? He didn't even care who saw it. Let them take their photos, write their articles. April had him exactly where she wanted him - in public and in private.

Though based on that smile she was giving him, public April was just as dangerous as private April.

Proper violation, this woman. But she was his violation now.

Even if the whole world was about to know it.

From the stands, April's lips moved silently: "Focus."

Even from this distance, he could read it perfectly - the same word she'd whispered against his ear this morning as she straightened his collar. The word had different meaning now - less about control and more about proving something.

Plymouth came at them hard from kickoff, but Trent was in that zone where everything felt possible. Each touch perfect, each pass finding feet. Like that kiss from April had charged him up somehow. Even Slot was nodding approvingly from the touchline.

"Someone's showing off," Virgil grinned after Trent skinned their winger with a nutmeg.

The free kick came in the 34th minute - proper perfect position, just outside the box. As he placed the ball, his eyes found April in the stands. No lollipop now, just that intense photographer's focus of hers, like she was already composing the shot in her head. Some of the other WAGs had migrated to sit near her, but she kept that cool distance. Professional as ever in public.

The wall lined up. The whistle blew.

Top bins. No chance for their keeper. The kind of free kick that reminded everyone why they called him the best right back in the world.

His body moved before his brain caught up, hands forming an 'A' above his head. He'd been doing it for ages - for little Aura who loved seeing her uncle on TV. But based on the commentators losing their minds and the cameras cutting straight to April, everyone had their own ideas about which 'A' he meant now.

"Romantic today!" Darwin shouted as they celebrated, making kissy faces again.

April's face gave nothing away behind those sunglasses, but he caught that little smirk playing at her lips. The one that promised rewards later.

Mo added another just before half time, making it 2-0. The second half was just control - keeping possession, staying focused. Though his eyes kept drifting to the stands, to his jersey hanging off April's shoulders like it belonged there. Mental how something so simple could be so distracting.

Even the Plymouth fans were watching her now, probably trying to figure out what kind of woman had Liverpool's right back blowing kisses and making letter celebrations.

If they only knew.

When the final whistle blew, the cameras found her again. Still cool as anything behind those shades, but he saw her hand move to her heart – where she'd placed his kiss earlier.

Proper soppy that. But he couldn't stop grinning.

And neither could she.

……………..tbd

[gyuyoungg]

DARK PARADISE

Read part one here

wc: 513 𑂴⠀ ֺ  noeul x fem!reader ៶ 𠈔

ׄ︶⊹︶⏝ׄ ㅤ second chance , crappy writing 🪼𓈒𓏸

You chose to ignore No-eul throughout the concert, stealing only a few glances here and there. Song after song was performed, and the end of your set drew closer. Now, you were performing the last song, reluctant to let go of the moment.

“And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody…

it won’t leave my head.”

You relished the moment, watching the audience sing along with you. They had no clue that, for the first time in months, you were singing for someone… for her. She was watching your every move, and you knew she missed it all. But you weren’t going to forgive her if she didn’t apologize first.

“Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine,

But I wish I was dead.”

As the song neared its end, you began to make your way down to the crowd for the barricade walk. You took a few selfies and accepted a few roses, but one interaction stood out to you. A small note was slipped into your back pocket during the chaos, and you hadn’t managed to see who it was from, but that didn’t matter. You knew it was her.

After waving goodbye to the crowd and blowing a kiss, you hesitantly pulled the note from your pocket and unfolded it. “You can’t avoid me forever,” it read, and you sighed in defeat. She was right; you couldn't.

You grabbed your phone and dialed her number. Each key you pressed felt like a warning to turn back, but, as always, your heavy heartbeat drowned out all noise in your head. You pressed call, and the phone picked up immediately. “So, you’ve finally come to your senses?” she asked in an amused voice.

“You’re enjoying this too much for your own good, No-eul.” You sarcastically chuckled, “where are you anyway…”

“Turn around.” You followed her orders and looked behind you, only to be faced with a smirking No-eul. “You know, when you were performing out there, I couldn’t help but think that you were singing to me…” she mused. You pivoted on your heel and started walking away from her, but a hand caught your wrist to stop you.

“How long are you going to pretend that you don’t miss me? Because I’m not buying your crap.” She pulled you by the wrist, forcing you to look at her. “And I’ve sent you so many gifts and letters; what more do you need from me?”

“I want you to say sorry.” You looked up at her, a bit nervous since she was towering over you. Your request for her to apologize seemed like a joke to her; she had said sorry multiple times. “What—?” She laughed before you cut her off with your own voice, “I want to hear you say it. No crappy letters.”

She kept chuckling to herself before smiling at you. “If that’s what you want, then I’m really sorry. From the bottom of my heart,” she said seriously, while maintaining her soft smile.

“Alright,” you said, eyeing her before turning to leave. “I’ll text you later.” You walked away, leaving a grinning No-eul behind.

a/n: omg news flash!!! I suck at plot building chat help a girlie outttttt!!! Not me completely ruining the story this SUCKS.

[ashton-ryder]

Despite it all, the pain, the chains, the shitty position he found himself in, Ruth was here, and he should've never doubted her even for a second that she wouldn't be, that she would've let him rot here alone. As much as he was curious to know how she ended up by Sada's side, it would do nothing but ruin the little comfort they carved out for right now from the night of just silly conversations, maybe later. "I would never," the words may have been weak but they still held a certain strong steadiness in the promise. If nothing else but to make up for the months he's let her down. "But if you do kiss someone, don't forget to tell me," Ash joked as he pushed himself to sit back up properly, resting against the wall, giving her better access to his ankle. He'd simply be curious to know and cared for her, but she'd probably be the only person he'd be comfortable with for them to talk about both their love lives. And he'd want to make sure whoever it was was good enough for her, apocalypse or not, doesn't change those standards she deserved.

This felt like the literal shittiest place to have this conversation, even if Ash was the one to start it through his currently foggy mind. This was meant to be a gossipy conversation over tea or at a sleepover yapping session. But what else could distract from the pangs of pain every time Ruth tightened the wrap and splint? On the roof that morning, she had already clocked the inherent shift between the two men, and seemed only right to come clean, a best friend deserves that. He only held back confiding to her because he didn't even know what was happening between them himself.

Ashton could only shrug his good shoulder, gaze almost bashfully averting hers from her similar surprise like he had earlier, nothing to backtrack it into a joke like hers. He manages a laugh through a breath, remembering the day he moved here fondly, he still had reservations back then but in time, Ruth was right, New York was good for him, "I didn't even know back then." He wouldn't have a clear answer anyways of when he knew, it crept up silently, unknowingly, until it simply became true, and he did nothing about it all that time.

There was a brief respite in the jostling of his leg as Ruth reached away for her bag, focusing more on the question, "well- he.. kissed me, but I said something first and we just-" he sighed not really sure of a comprehensive way to convey what happened, and would struggle even if he's not in pain and had a clear mind right now, "does it matter?" it was a genuine question for her honest opinion in asking for that specifics, rather than trying to brush it off. "I don't even really know what.. we are yet, if we're even anything," Ash murmured, gaze focused on her hands as they moved in the way to fix his ankle. It had been laid out realistically from the start that this was never going to be a simple confession and a kiss and a dedication of commitment to one another forever. And so much- too much has happened around them for them to even attempt to broach the subject in peace and privacy. "You can tell me I'm being stupid."

for a moment his expression is so clear, the audacity she would have to create such a lie , conjured from nothing but their best guesses about the other's feelings. and when he says he can't trust her, the tone is so achingly familiar that it soothes her motions into a confident pattern of wrapping and splinting. she didn't bring the materials for casting with her, she's not even sure she could have if she had between the conditions and the lighting.

"sorry," and she is apologetic, perhaps dramatically so for just a moment when it seems like he's transcended the dark space that she'd found him in, if only for the duration of a conversation. "you're not getting rid of me just yet." but it seems that she's hit on just the topic that they wanted to address all along, through the clumsy psychic bonds of knowing him best in the universe.

she looks up from her work, brow creased for just a moment as she tries to fit his own words into the puzzle that's become the building. "wait— what?" she can tell from the weight of the sentence, from the way that he lets it hang heavy in the air without cutting it at the knees like she had that it's the truth. but it's missing crucial details of where and why, and how if that was the case that they were here of all places.

she wavers, but ultimately she cannot do anything to endanger what her friend feels for this moment. if it's a break in the clouds, then let it be something to hold onto. "i should have known when he rescued you on the first day here." how perfect it had been, that the first names mentioned in the wexley were the ones that he brought up again and again. though perhaps she'd missed the real signs, the important ones that said something like: this person will be in your life, watch out. "so you kissed him," she pulls her bag closer, searching out ice packs and pain killers, looking away as she asks, "not the other way around?"

[fastcardotmp3]

🌻august bookshelf🌻

july recs | recs tag

I really enjoyed putting together a little fic rec list at the end of last month and decided to do it again!

🌻driving in your car by @kkpwnall - when I say the ultimate pining Steddie fic I MEAN IT. the use of the car as this sort of central, grounding force within Steve's world and the way the testing of his tether to Hawkins and the people in it plays out here is stunning, not to mention the HANDS and the ronance going on stage left and the complete and utter tenderness lying just beneath the surface. perfection I am swallowing it whole

🌻clueless by @gothbat99 - such a lovely short & sweet slice of life in the summer after they win the war, it feels SO important in its simplicity that Nancy and Robin are getting to behave like young people, all free and hopeful and discovering how to want/ be wanted. made my heart so big and warm in only 1k words like THAT !!! is so impressive, so worth your time, will make your day better guaranteed

🌻Faces Freedom with a Little Fear by @fragilecapric0rnn - literally Steve family-centric character study of all time, come swoon over big sister JJ Harrington and watch as her presence in his life creates a fullness and richness of growth and self-realization LIKE. I could bask in this world for the rest of forever and never get tired of its sincerity and depth and siblingisms, what a heart-squeezing delight from start to finish

🌻haunted hawkins by @hellsfireclub - starts with the brilliant premise of "what if it's not just Hawkins?" and RUNS with it, giving not just beautiful ruminations on both Nancy and Robin as they start a journey towards figuring out just how far the paranormal spreads and also a journey towards mutual self discovery and (: lesbianism (: READ THIS FIC.

🌻then I see you, you're walking 'cross the campus by stellarpoint (@heybluechild) - a lovely little peek at Steve and Nancy's friendship coming back together after they've come into their own a little bit and Nancy being so, so brave in coming out to him. truly this made my heart so big and full and warm i am carrying them gently in the palms of my hands

🌻this must be the place by @judasofsuburbia - JARGYLE CAMPING. the tenderness of this, the peace offered to Jonathan when he hasn't ever really known such a thing, the way they just sort of slot together and find and choose and become each other?? it's got me all soft in the heart and THAT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. illegal actually. I'm weak in the knees :((

🌻Young, Scrappy, & Hungry by @fragilecapric0rnn - politics ronance rivals to lovers WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?? perfect dynamics already and I can't wait to see where these girls go. the characterizations of them is so REAL despite the very different world of Washington they've been dropped into and my lesbian, TWW-loving ass is feeling soooo normal about them SO normal don't worry about it

🌻The Warmth Pulls by TheDeathsWish - I'm not fully caught up on this one yet, but it is genuinely one of the most unique AUs I've come across so I have to mention it here. It's still 1986 and it's still Hawkins, but the sci-fi overlay is switched out for more purely fantasy elements, including some very cool and beautifully revealed eccentricities and abilities of the characters. Steddie but also so hugely dependent on the ensemble of it all, which you know I eat up, I'm excited to keep working my way through this one!

P.S. if you read and enjoy any of these, please remember to tip your writers in kudos and comments!💛

[skunkes]

if life is categorized by Before Loss and After Loss then I exist in the before but with a countdown to the after. and the countdown is always always present and debilitating. the loss will be debilitating too but i cant help myself. i will always suffer twice.

[aprillikesthings]

I'M GONNA TOOT MY OWN HORN FOR A MINUTE

I am super proud of the text of the actual letter itself, even though it's not very long.

If you haven't read the fic, she writes it just a few months after the events of the last episode. Their relationship is still new, and they're still both hella traumatized and struggling.

What Catra sat down to do, and thought she did at the time: pushed herself to write out her genuine feelings for Adora despite the fact that doing so was utterly terrifying.

What Catra actually did: insulted herself nearly immediately, couched multiple compliments in joking insults because it was still difficult not to (though she does manage not to call Adora herself an idiot or a dummy, even in jest), gave away how much guilt and shame she was dealing with (to the point of Melog harassing her into crossing out a couple of particularly egregious things), made it obvious that she doesn't feel like she deserves Adora's love and worries that Adora will one day wise up and change her mind without ever openly saying that.

Even in the paragraph where she's openly horny for Adora, she's mostly humorous about it, and only barely manages to mention that she likes when Adora does the same for her.

There's also moments where she really does push through all of it and lays out her heart--even if at least one of those times she immediately gets angry at herself for finding it so difficult.

But the poor girl is trying so hard and you can tell, and in the end it's enough for Adora to keep the letter for the rest of her life and cry every single time she reads it, even though years later her tears are mostly compassion for their younger selves.

Also I cried while writing it, which I'm not sure has ever happened before? Surely I've made myself cry at least once before now?

Also I managed to sneak the word "promise" into the last sentence of it because c'mon, Catra would.

I did try to figure out a way to indicate when a bit of Catra's handwriting got noticeably shakier, but it was too awkward so I left that out.

Catra loves Adora.

Once upon a time, it was a shameful secret Catra couldn’t even admit to herself. Now half of Etheria knows.

But professing your feelings when you both might die is one thing. Doing it day after day is another.

Vulnerability is terrifying.

Catra learns how to push past her fear and express her feelings to Adora.

(Rated mature because sex is one way to show your feelings for someone.)

Just over 1600 words.

[butterflygemini]

bruh idek what i'm supposed to do at this point. like the only way i could physically make enough money to pay all of my bills including making a payment of $250 on my credit card (which would have me making payments for the next four years btw), my student loans, and my current rent, and be able to reasonably afford to eat i'd have to make like $2500 after tax, so basically 21/hr. i have no fucking clue how to make that much money

[just-a-cinnamon-bun]

Guess who’s struggling mentally because of their parents? :D

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 18th. mattheo — hate fucking / enemies.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: “at least her favourite form of foreplay isn’t an argument…” “or being a bitch her kink..”

warnings: 18+ MDNI, dubcon(meh), ex bf/gf trope, toxic behaviour, mutual manipulation, these two are chaotic as fuck, mentions of blood, gagging, degradation, rough sex PIV, hate fucking, spitting, spanking, uhhh i think that covers it. this one is a ride. can you tell this is my fav trope?

"I'm so fucking sick of you.”

"Get well soon, princess."

"Get fucked, Riddle."

Three sentences, three venomous insults that cut the room in half—heavy enough in their intensity to make you want to tear through dungeon walls, splintering stone and mortar with bare hands if it means sparing yourself another second in this blasted room, with him.

Detention at midnight—on a Friday, no fucking less—is unheard of. But leave it to your dickhead ex to make the impossible a reality. His fault, of course. Like always.

Snape had turned a blind eye for months. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. An hour unsupervised was as good as you'll get.

Sulking defeat, you sink back in your chair, rough wood digging into your spine as you eye Mattheo with a glare that could rival a bullet. He looks like hell, and it's infuriating how even in that state he manages to look so nonchalant, so maddeningly unbothered—like even exhaustion makes a home on him and he's comfortable with it. Bags under his eyes, scar cutting across the bridge of his nose, those dark curls falling messily over his forehead, white dress shirt wrinkled and open at the collar.

You roll your eyes, a gesture that feels like your only act of rebellion left.

And he notices. Of course he does.

"You haven't changed a bit," he spits, and you know it's an insult. You scowl as he swipes the blood off his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. "Always a bitch to me over something."

Bitch. The name strikes you, but you won't let him see it, won't let him know that it lands. You've bled too many times at his feet for him to draw blood again tonight.

"Am I not allowed to be pissed off that you dragged us into detention? We should be at the party, Mattheo. We should be anywhere but here." You hear the frustration rising in your voice, like it's boiling up from somewhere deep, somewhere you can't quite reach. It's hard not to let it slip, especially when he looks at you like that. "This is so fucking typical of you. You mess up, and somehow I'm the one who pays for it."

For a moment, there's silence, and it almost feels like a victory until you realize he's only biding his time, waiting to strike back.

"You really want to get back there? To that party?" He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You long for the chair to break from under him. "After what your new man was caught doing with Lovegood?"

You snort before you can stop yourself, the sound slipping out like a reflex. You hadn't expected that. And quite frankly, it's amusing—no, downright hilarious—that he's clearly been keeping tabs on you and "new man", and now here he is, trying to play it off like he doesn't care. Like it's nothing.

"I'll spare you the insults this once," you mutter, fingers loosening the tie around your neck with a tug. "Because, clearly, you're ignorant to the truth, even if you think you know every goddamn thing." You pause, ripping out your earrings. "He's not my man, so I don't give a shit what he does with who. He ended it last week. Good fuck, sure—but other than that..."

You trail off, making a mocking noise with your lips, a derisive puff of air, as if you could blow away the memory of him as easily as dust off an old book. A Ravenclaw. Brilliant in all the wrong ways—sharp mind, yes, but utterly thrill-less, like he saw you as just another page to flip through, a textbook he was annotating.

It is what it is.

A moment passes and then Mattheo grins—slow at first, but spreading across his face like fire, destructive in its consummation. It unsettles you. He looks more intrigued than he's been in months.

"A good fuck, huh?"

"That's what I said," you reply, clipped, your tone offering no room for him to crawl inside.

"And why didn't it work out? Too good for you?" He says, twisting the knife just because he can. "Too clean, maybe?"

Your eyes scan the room, searching for something within reach to throw at him, anything to break this unbearable tension. Insufferable. Every inch of him, insufferable.

You find nothing, so you throw words instead. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

He nods, as if that's the truest thing either of you have said all night. Of course he knows.

You barely suppress a dry laugh at his idiocy. "Like I told you—he ended it. If you're so fucking interested in why it didn't work out, then why don't you go ask him?"

There's a pause—he's chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares at you. You imagine chewing his head off as you stare at him.

"I'm sure you gave that bookworm the ride of his life," he says, voice half-dry, half-sarcastic, as if he's already bored of the conversation. As if he knew all of this information already. "Everyone knew that was temporary. Your first rebound, congrats."

And just like that, your blood is boiling. He knows how to needle you, how to get under your skin with the slightest flick of his stupid fucking tongue. Your eyes trace the cold stone of the dungeon walls, desperately trying to find something—anything—to distract yourself.

But it's no use. Mattheo's an asshole. He's always been an asshole. That's why you left. All the two of you did was fight and fuck, a chaotic spiral that was as thrilling as it was destructive. Now, he's easily your enemy—dragging you into his messes, never letting you get too far without ruining your life somehow.

And yet—

If you said you didn't miss the sex sometimes, that'd be a lie. Or at least a half-truth. The kind that slips out when you've had one too many glasses of firewhiskey, the kind you'd regret in the morning.

"What about you, dickhead?" You cut through the silence, ignoring his obvious attempt to rile you up. "That Hufflepuff you were seeing—why'd I see her all over Theo tonight?"

He answers far too fast. "They're friends."

You snort, disbelieving. "Right."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room to the bookcase as if it's the most natural thing in the world. The books feel safer somehow, less volatile.

"You're bored of her, aren't you?" You don't care to look at him. You can imagine the way his jaw tenses at the question.

The silence is telling. He doesn't answer right away. You know him well enough to understand what that means. Then, finally, he speaks, a half-answer that doesn't really answer the fucking question at all.

"At least her favourite form of foreplay isn't a fucking argument." He stands, slow, pushing his hair back from his forehead with one battered hand. You glance at him, pulse quickening. "Or being a bitch her kink."

"Does she even have kinks?" It slips out, a knife thrown without aiming. "Sounds like you're bored, Matty."

You watch as he blinks, his eyes darken. That nickname—you know you don't have the right to say it anymore, and that's exactly why you do. It's an insult wrapped in familiarity, and it hits its mark by the way his shoulders tense, jaw tight.

He steps toward you, one calculated step, and you feel it—that chaotic pull, the gravity that's always drawn you both in, no matter how far you try to stay away. A smile pulls at your lips, a cruel thing.

"How cute." He tilts his head just enough to inspect you, eyes dragging over you like he's searching for something to confirm what he already suspects. "Looks like you're jealous."

Your hand grips the bookshelf, eyes locked on him over your shoulder. Jealous? There's not a soul on this planet who could make you jealous. She may be the hero of this story, the girl that gets the guy, might even be everything you're not—

"Looks like you're learning the hard way," you're inspecting him now, too. Every piece of him you once touched. "When it comes too easy it's never gonna' hit as hard, babe."

Another pause from him—something dancing in his eyes. Anger? Maybe. Or something more, something twisted that you don't care to name. You've already lit the match, and now you're just watching him burn.

"You're so clever, huh? So full of advice," he sneers, ripping off his tie and chucking it on a desk. "Go on then, tell me more about how I feel, professor. Since you know everything about me."

You can't help the smirk that curls on your lips. Oh, he's pissed. And that means you're winning.

"What? You don't like hearing the truth? Too much for your delicate ego?" You take a step toward him, savouring every second of this. He hurt you, over and over, the scars from those days still fresh, still bleeding beneath your skin. This has been a long time coming. "You think I care about your new girl, Matty? The one you let your boys fawn over in the common room?...she kissed Theo tonight." You pause, letting that linger. "You think you're doing something, but I see right through you. You don't give a fuck about her. If you did, no one would dare touch her like that. So don't sit here, accusing me of jealousy, like I'm the one hung up on you. You're projecting. And it's pathetic."

He doesn't waste a goddamn beat—his laugh is bitter, sickeningly so—and he advances again, his shadow moving behind him, the space between you now barely there.

"That's amazing, truly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a goddamn oracle. All-knowing, all-seeing." His voice is infuriating. The look on his face more-so. "What's your verdict then, my lord? You think this is all an act? That everything I'm doing is just to spite you?"

Your heart races, breath catching in your throat as he steps closer. This is a dance you both know too well, the kind where neither of you win.

"I know how you operate." Your chest heaves, anger rising with every breath. "It's all a game to you, Matt. A sick, twisted game to keep yourself entertained."

"That's rich, coming from someone who played it just as well." He takes another step forward. You could reach out and touch him now he's that close. His grin grows. "Too bad your Ravenclaw figured it out before you could sink your teeth in too deep. Next time you see him, make sure to tell him I said you're welcome."

Your brows pinch—the blood in your veins screeching to a halt, backing up like New York traffic at a standstill. You feel it, hot and furious, rushing toward a place it can't go, clogged behind the wall of rage building up inside you—

"You're welcome?" You spit, a sharp snarl caught between clenched teeth. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He's watching you, his eyes darting over your shoulder, fingers brushing over his lips like he's trying to dull that familiar smirk, that cruel little game he's always played.

Your stomach sinks, drops to your feet.

"Mattheo—" you snap, cutting him off just as he opens his mouth, before he can throw another snide word. "Spare me the cryptic bullshit for once in your life—“

His eyebrows lift at that, but there's a nod, a hint of something deeper in it. You taste the smugness in the air between you, can almost feel it slithering through his silence.

"Looks like you don't know everything after all. Isn't that ironic?" He straightens up, letting the moment breathe before his face hardens into something almost serious. "Your rebound came to me in the courtyard about two weeks ago. Had some questions about you."

"What?" Your nerves are vibrating, every cell in your body on edge. Your blood is so clogged, you swear you're seeing red. "What questions?"

"The usual sort of normal stuff. Your birthday. Your favorite colour. Childhood traumas. Our downfall. You know."

The casualty in the way he says it makes you sick, bile rising in your throat, a bitter burn at the back of your mouth. It's all starting to come together now. This stupid motherfucker—

"You're lying." The words feel weak, frail. He wouldn't—no, he couldn't. "You're fucking lying."

"Am I?" His fingers brush your cheek, but your skin's gone numb, your blood too frozen to feel anything but the cold burn of your fury. "Or, is the truth just…too much for your delicate ego to handle?"

Oh, fuck off—

Your wand is in your hand before you even realize you've grabbed it, instinct, pure reflex. There's barely a second of rational thought before you're casting, the spell hitting him square in the chest, sending him flying back into the chair he once sat in. His eyes flash, anger igniting there, and he scrambles for his wand—but you're faster.

"Expelliarmus."

One word and you're across the room before you even know you've moved, chest tight as you slam the tip of your wand against his throat. There's a cut on his lip, blood trickling down his chin for a second time tonight, but that stupid fucking smirk is still there, showcasing rubies for teeth and carved into his face like it belongs.

"Tell me what you did." Your voice cracks, but not from fear—it's fury, burgling through you, burning hot enough to make your whole body shake. You half want to cut him open just to bury your rage inside him, let him feel it. "If what you're saying is true, he ended things just days later. Tell me what the fuck you said to him."

Mattheo’s leaning back, hands raised in mock surrender, eyes glinting with the same smug amusement that's always haunted him. He's daring you, taunting you. He knows you never cared about that guy, not really.

You both know it. He was boring, easy.

This—this is something else.

His tongue swipes at the blood on his lip. "He didn't tell you—"

"Don't." Your wand digs deeper into his skin, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The pressure makes his breath hitch, but not enough. Not nearly enough. "I said tell me."

"Merlin—okay—I told him nothing, nothing really," his voice makes your grip tighten on your wand. He stares at you for a long, hard minute before he adds; "except that he should show me some fucking gratitude."

Your jaw slips, confusion rushing in like a flood. But before you can even question him—

"I told him he should be thanking me." Another pause. "When he's fucking you."

He laps at the blood seeping from the cut on his lip for the second time in only a minute and you barely notice the movement—the words hit you like a brick, but it's deeper than that, something visceral that crawls under your skin and settles in your bones. It's sharp, raw, cutting through the wall of rage so fast it leaves you breathless. You don't know how to explain it, this feeling that twists through you, something far too complicated to be named.

And then, you become aware of everything at once.

His legs, spread wide on either side of yours, the space between you so small, your chest just close enough to his face that his breath feels like it's fogging your skin. You're towering over him, wand pressed hard into his throat, your heart hammering in your chest like you're ready to ruin him—but his eyes, the way he looks up at you, says he'd let you.

"I may have even added that although you're with him, you'll always think of me. Both you and him know it’s true.“ That stupid smirk is gone, replaced with something you've never quite seen before. He pauses, before he continues. "You miss it. Us." Another pause. There’s something victorious in his tone, something that's almost breaking you. "And no matter how many times you try to forget, you never do, do you?"

Salazar save you—you should hex him. You should fucking hex him. Every nerve in your body is screaming for it, begging for it, but you can't. You can't fucking move. Your wand is still pressed to his skin, but it feels like you're the one pinned down.

"Shut up," you finally manage, but your voice is meek, thin, nothing like the fury you want to feel. "You...you're being—"

"I'll shut up," his hand finds your wrist, pressing your wand tip against his neck with more force—enough to make himself wince. "If you make me."

You blink, stunned, and you can feel your anger slipping, slipping faster than you can catch it. You don't know what's happening to you—it’s just him—his sick twisted insanity that disarms you. Time and time again. An endless fucking cycle.

"I could ruin you," you whisper, but it sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself than him. You press the wand deeper, just enough to draw a grunt from him, but the look on his face—he's not afraid. No, he's enjoying it. "I have more reasons than most to leave you here bloodied for Snape to find in the morning."

You say the words but the conviction is gone, swept away in the flood of heat between you—the dizzying proximity, the way his lips curl, almost smiling but not quite—

"What are you so afraid of?" He whispers, and there's something fragile in his voice now. "That you might actually want this?"

"I don't want this." You force the words out immediately, hoping they will make it real. Hoping they'll stop this spiral. "I regret ever wanting this."

He’s silent for a moment as he lowers his hands, dark eyes falling to trace your lips—

"I know you hate me, the feelings mutual...but I know. I know I'll always be your favourite regret," those chocolate curls shift, his head tilts closer, too close. Not close enough. "You're still my weapon of choosing."

Merlin. Merlin bloody forgive you—

"…to hurt yourself with?” It's half a question, but you already know the answer.

He nods, and that does it.

Your lips are on his, fast and hard and bruising—and the reaction is immediate, visceral. All that backed-up blood—all that rage frozen in your veins rushes forward in a single, scorching wave. It crashes low, between your thighs, a heat so sharp it aches. The shame comes with it. So does the disgust. A sick knot of self-hatred pulsing through you as you taste his blood on your tongue while his hands are under your skirt, grabbing you like he owns you, pulling you into him. It's only a moment before your wand clatters to the ground, and your hands are tangled in his hair, yanking hard, hard enough to hurt.

You want it to hurt. God, you want it to hurt.

He growls at the sting on his scalp—and then, everything flips.

His fingers tug at something, and you realize it's his own wand, the one you tucked into the back of your skirt—and before you can even think, he's got it, casting a spell that sends you flying back onto the desk behind you. You groan—the world spins, but you don't even have a second to gather yourself before he's advancing toward you, casting another spell on his tie.

Within seconds it's slithering across your lips and tying itself around your head, gagging you.

He steps between your legs, parts them with the ease of someone who's done it a thousand times before—rough hands gliding up your thighs, eyes wild. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, through your slit, and you try to hold on to any shred of control, but it's gone. You can feel it. The way you forget everything except the way he leans down, breath hot in your ear.

"Look how fucking wet you are," he spits through a sneering grin. "You're goddamn shameless, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, but your thoughts scatter the moment his fingers shove inside you, curling hard—so hard you gasp into the tie, your back arching violently off the desk.

"He ever get you this wet?" His voice is like gravel, each word grinding into your bones. "Nod your head if he did."

Your body reacts before your mind does, arching against him, but you don't move your head. As much as it hurts your pride to give him that win. You dig your fingers into his hair and pull—hard enough to make him grunt, hard enough to hurt.

His hand comes down hard on your thigh in response, a sharp smack that stings, a warning. You squeal, and his fingers start pumping faster, deeper.

He huffs. "That's what I thought."

His fingers make quick work of you, relentless, and his thumb presses to your clit, rolling circles in a rhythm that has your blood on fire, shame licking at the edges of your vision, but it only makes you burn hotter. This is all wrong. Everything about this is wrong, something you'll regret with every fiber of your being tomorrow, but right now, it's an ache you need.

It's the wound you keep reopening, the pain you crave because it's the only thing that ever feels real.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you?" He sounds almost shocked, like he can't believe how easily your body betrays you, but you feel it too, the disbelief crashing through you as fast as the pleasure does. Too fast. Far too fast. "Did he ever make you cum? Huh? When's the last time you fucking came?"

You can't answer, just groan, yanking at his hair again. His response is immediate, another stinging slap to your inner thigh, sharp enough to make fluid prick your eyes. Your orgasm is right there, teetering on the edge, ready to tip over—but then he slows his pace, dragging it out, torturing you.

You whine. A pitiful, desperate sound you hate yourself for.

"Look at me." His voice cuts through the haze, and begrudgingly, you do. "He didn't make you cum, did he?"

Your face burns, not from his breath or his fingers or even the astronomical amount of shame you feel—but from the truth of it. You shake your head.

"How long?" His voice shatters the air between you. "A week?"

You shake your head again, biting into the fabric of his tie as his fingers curl deeper inside you.

"Two weeks?"

Another shake. He curses under his breath.

"You poor little thing." His words are venom, but the second they spill from his lips, he pumps his fingers into you again, massaging at your walls, and your vision goes white. "Can't even cum without me."

You would've slapped him if you could, would've torn him apart, but the orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through you with violent force. You clench around his digits, thighs trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure, convulsing, moaning into the tie as he watches you like he's won.

"So fucking easy." He withdraws his fingers, and immediately, his hands go to his belt. "We'll make up for lost time."

Everything about this feels like a rerun. The same scene playing out on loop, again and again—a cycle of self-destruction you know too well, like running headfirst into a burning building, certain you can handle the smoke only to choke on it.

He's taking off his belt, ready to fuck you stupid, and by morning you'll be back to the same familiar hatred, tearing each other apart in new, inventive ways. Your hands move sluggishly to rip the tie from your mouth, but you're slow, too slow, still dizzy from the release that blindsided you, one that you haven't felt in so long—the fabric barely grazes your fingers before Mattheo catches your wrists, yanking them back, dragging you to your feet in one rough motion.

The spin disorients you—arms pinned behind your back, his cock sliding between your thighs.

"You've done enough talking today," he hisses at your ear as he drags along your slit. "You want this, don't you?"

Your mind screams for you to shake your head, to end this here and now. You know he'd stop—he's an asshole, but not that kind of an asshole. You know it. You almost do it, almost say the word that would shatter this madness. But then he drags his tip against your clit and you moan before you can stop yourself.

Your head nods with a wanton moan, and it's so full of shame your eyes sting with tears.

"Yeah, I know, baby." He's taunting you, every syllable smug, condescending. "This pussy missed me so much, huh?" His hand tightens on your wrists until your skin burns, the other hand finding its way around your thigh, pulling you closer to him. "Fuckin' lost without me. S'all it's good for, isn't it? Taking my cock."

You groan, shaking your head in defiance, but even that feels like a lie. You hate him. You want him. You hate yourself for wanting him.

"No?" His fingers inch toward your clit, ghosting over it—you squeal, hips jerking for more. "Maybe we should call this off then?"

You blink once and his fingers are gone—wrenching a whine out of you, pathetic as you push your ass back against him, shame burning through you as you shake your head. Fuck him. Curse him. But you need him inside you, need him to fill the aching void that gnaws at you.

"That's my slut," he growls, and before you can process the words, he's inside you—one long, brutal thrust that spears you open, the stretch burning deep. The sting mixes with shock of his fingers returning to your clit, rubbing circles that make your knees buckle. "You know you're the only girl I've fucked raw? This pussy will always be mine."

He's fucking insane. Completely insane. And the worst part is, you're just as insane for wanting him. For needing him. You can't fight it. You don't even want to. Not now. Not when his voice drips like poison and he's tearing you apart in the only way you understand.

"Mmmf—" you groan into the tie and he's matching you, his teeth grazing your shoulder, marking you in ways that will last for days.

"I hope it hurts," he grumbles against your skin, his breath ragged. He's lying, you can feel it in the way his fingers are moving, coaxing you to cum, even as he pretends to wish you pain. "I hope it fucking stings."

Your hands ball into fists, trapped in his grip, and you imagine clawing at his back until you draw blood, sinking your nails in until he feels every ounce of your anger.

"I want you to feel it—fuck—I want you to remember this," he pants, his voice barely more than a growl as your climax crashes toward you, unstoppable now. "Remember how weak I make you. How much of a slut you are for me."

Another harsh thrust and then, you're there—falling into the void—pleasure is so strong it bleeds out of you, forcing your cunt to clamp tight around him, legs trembling, barely able to support you through it. Mattheo’s curses slip through clenched teeth, but this only fuels him—his rhythm picks up, brutal, hips slamming against your ass with a pace that borders on unhinged.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." The words are barely audible, grunted against the shell of your ear. You're whining, still twitching with aftershocks, but he doesn't care. His hands are on your hips now, fingers digging deep as he thrusts you forward, slamming you over the desk. The wood bites into your palms as you try to brace yourself, but his anger is palpable, drilling into you— "you wanna bitch at me now?"

The moan you release is automatic, instinctual. You can't stop it. Can't control it. His fingers curl around your throat, shifting the tie down to shove two into your mouth.

"Hhhhh—" you're trying to form words around his fingers, but it's impossible. The garbled sound is pathetic, but he knows exactly what you're trying to say.

"You hate me. I know." It’s smug, punctuated by a sharp smack to your ass, the sting of it making you yelp. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, wiping the spit across your cheek before he grips your jaw, forcing your head to turn, to meet his eyes. "Open your mouth."

There's no time to process the demand. His eyes are molten, crazed, filled with something raw and uncontainable. His next thrust is punishing, slamming into your cervix, making you sob—your mouth parting just enough—

He leans in close, and then he spits into your mouth.

"Swallow it." His fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing the order into your bones. "Be a good girl for once."

You choke out a laugh, even as you're panting, even as he's splitting you stupid.

"Never." The word barely leaves your lips before you’re spitting back at him—your entwined saliva landing across his chin and lips.

For a second, you expect the worst—you brace yourself for the retaliation—the slap, the insult, the way he'll tighten his grip and take back control. But to your surprise, instead of anger, there's a grin—wide and feral, big and crazed enough to reach his eyes.

You smile back. His cock twitches inside you.

"Fuck me," he mutters, then crashes his mouth to yours.

You taste the salt and bitterness of mingled spit, a mess of his and yours, and it pulls a moan from somewhere deep inside you. He devours it, greedy, his hips growing erratic, sloppy as his high nears.

His hand drops to your clit, fingers pressing with a precision that obliterates every last shred of sanity—and it takes only moments before the pressure builds again, fast and furious. Your third orgasm rips you apart, your body clenching tight, muscles seizing as you're lost in it. You're not sure where you end and he begins—your breath congealing with his, your moans swallowed in the space between you.

His release follows right after, crashing over him as he buries himself deep, spilling into you with a groan that reverberates through your bones. You hate the way it feels. You hate the way he fills you. But you also can't deny the twisted satisfaction of it—the way you sought this punishment, needed it. The shame consumes you, but it's comforting in its familiarity.

He pulls out, and the silence between you is easy, broken only by your ragged breathing. The room feels impossibly small now, your body still thrumming with the aftermath, but the moment is over. You both start to move—piecing yourselves back together, pulling clothes into place, avoiding the weight of what just happened.

You don't understand how it came to this, how it always does, but you're not surprised. Not anymore.

After a long, silent moment, he looks at you. “I don’t regret what I did.”

You know he doesn’t.

“I know.”

He blinks. “I won’t apologize for it.”

You know he won’t.

“I know.”

He nods, now, a smirk on his lips as he watches you fix your skirt. You note the hair sticking to his forehead, how he’s still catching his breath even though he’s pretending he isn’t.

“You aren’t mad.” An observation.

“I’m not.” You reply. You know you should be, but the relief you felt when that Ravenclaw ended things tells you everything you need to know. “Just, never do it again.”

He nods again. “Sure.”

You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean that—but, at least now, as you glance over at him, there's a small comfort in knowing you no longer want to kill him.

[wandaslovey]

ᴍʀꜱ. ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏꜰꜰ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏᴡ

➺ dom!wandanat x sub!fem!reader

word count ~ 7k

authors note: i’m so excited to share this with you guys - this was so much fun to write! i’m planning on writing the first few parts as chapters where one will pick up right after the other and then once i get to a certain point i’ll do random time skips within the same au. oh also! i’m starting a tag list, so comment below if you’d like to be included on the next chapter! enjoy loves! 💕 as usual, this is not proofread.

content warning(s): legal age gap (w=30, n=33, r=23), natasha and wanda being two hot intimidating lawyers (except natasha kinda steals this show in this part, especially in the beginning. don’t worry though, wanda will have her time to shine!), conversation about kinkery and reader knows very little

if you’d like to read the drabble that inspired this series, click here

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you stand in front of the mirror, adjusting your white button-up blouse for the 10th time. you huff, frustrated that your wardrobe just wouldn’t cooperate with you this morning. as you look yourself over in the mirror—the rest of your outfit consisting of a mid-thigh black pencil skirt, some black nylons and black combat boots—you couldn’t help but wonder if your attire was okay for the interview.

the interview…you can’t believe you landed an interview at thee M.R. law firm. you knew how unqualified you were for the position, so you felt extra pressure to compensate somehow with your appearance.

you turn to the side in the mirror, first left and then right, scrutinizing yourself at every angle. you readjust the pieces of hair framing your face that you pulled out of your bun, before deciding you’d done all you could to look your best.

you glance at the clock on your nightstand in the reflection of the mirror, seeing it was time to go. you grab your knock-off brand purse and slip out of your apartment. when you walk down the stairs and open the door to the outside, the noise from the city fills your ears. the sounds of cars, horns, sirens, music and people all blended together, creating a sort of hum all new-yorkers were familiar with. you step out onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding some tourists that were taking a picture in front of the trendy restaurant you lived by. you hail a cab, quickly sliding into the backseat and telling the driver your destination.

now that you were settled in your seat with only the taxi drivers quiet music to distract you, the nerves you’d been attempting to snub out suddenly hit you full force. there was no way you could do this. you were sure you were just wasting your own time and the poor person who had to interview you. you knew your 6 months working as a receptionist at a dentist office nowhere near qualified you to manage things at M.R. law. you mentally curse yourself, thinking you must’ve been half asleep and entirely too desperate when you sent in your application at this place. you needed a job though—urgently. with your roommate moving back home, and no one else taking her place, you were stuck with paying the rent on your own. on top of that, you were still paying back loans for school. you knew you should cut your losses, leave new york and transfer to a much more affordable school, but you really wanted to stay as much as you could help it.

every stoplight you hit along the 20 minute drive only makes you more nervous. the fluttery feeling in your stomach turns into full blown pterodactyls by the time the driver has pulled up to the very tall M.R. building. you pass some folded up cash to the driver, mumbling out a quiet ‘thank you,’ and then step out of the car. you stare up at the intimidating building, the lettering of “maximoff-romanoff law” taunting you—daring you to step inside. you let out a stubborn exhale, squaring your shoulders and walking in with a confidence as fake as grape flavored candy.

you stride over to the front desk, noticing that the only employees in sight are all women.

“hi, i’m here for an 11 o’clock interview,” you tell one of the women behind the desk. she offers you a polite smile, giving you instructions to head into the elevator and up to the 8th floor. you nod your head, thanking her and make your way to your doomsday interview.

as the elevator doors shut behind you, you find yourself all alone in the small space. there was no background music to distract you now. you stare at the floor, noticing a slight glint to the black tiles you were standing on. you listen to the beeps counting up each floor, your eyes dragging up the stainless steel panel when the number reads 8 and the final beep sounds. the doors open and you’re immediately greeted with the sight of more women pacing around the place. some seemed to be in a rush while others were leisurely walking across the floor while chatting with a co-worker. you walk over to the front desk again, repeating what you had told the other kind lady downstairs. she gestures for you to take a seat on the couch in the waiting area, letting you know someone will grab you in a few minutes.

you take a seat on the black leather couch, figuring this piece of furniture probably costed more than the rent for your apartment. you cross your legs, interlocking your fingers together at your knee. you glance around the office, taking in the decor. it was very tasteful, some touches of greenery that went nicely with the black and dark woodsy vibe this floor was going for. you try your best to ignore the bile rising in your throat and the pterodactyls still swarming in your stomach. it was a good thing you didn’t eat breakfast this morning.

as two minutes turns into ten, and then fifteen, you can’t help but feel the urge to just get up and leave. you felt so out of place here; you couldn’t imagine working at this place with all these women who were so obviously out of your league.

just as you were settling on the idea of ditching this interview, you hear clacking footsteps making their way over to you. you didn’t dare look up yet, pretending to be very interested in the tiny hole in your pantyhose just above your knee.

“miss (y/l/n)?” the most heavenly, sultry voice calls out to you. your eyes slowly trail along the tile, up the woman’s legs covered in black slacks, her blouse and matching black suit jacket, and then finally her face. it was her.

thee mrs. romanoff.

mrs. romanoff was the person who was going to interview you? you couldn’t believe your eyes, or the situation. you clear your throat, realizing you had yet to acknowledge her calling out to you.

“yeah, that’s me,” you reply, standing on slightly wobbly legs. you watch as mrs. romanoff’s eyes slowly take in your appearance, her eyes lingering on your frame. you feel a little scrutinized, wondering if you really did mess up with what you were wearing.

“follow me.” she turns and leads the way. you stumble a bit as you follow behind her, not expecting her to have as long of a stride as she does.

“you’ll have to forgive me for the wait—we had a couple meetings run over this morning,” she talks to you over her shoulder, slowing her walk a little when she notices you’re not directly behind her like she thought.

“oh, no worries. i didn’t mind the wait.” that was technically a lie, but it wasn’t the wait that bothered you as much as the fact that you were left alone with your thoughts a little too long.

she rounds a corner at the end of the hall, pausing and gesturing for you to enter in one of the two doors that were side by side on the wall to the right. you walk through the doorframe, stepping into what you assumed was her personal office.

“have a seat, miss (y/l/n),” she says in a low voice, walking from behind you and around her desk to sit in her chair. you sit in one of the two chairs across from her, your heart thudding violently in your chest from being in such close proximity to her.

you adjust your seating position three times before finally settling in place, forcing yourself to sit still. mrs. romanoff humors you, remaining silent and patient through your nervous fidgeting.

“so, i have to say i was a little surprised to see your application come through to my desk,” she starts and you immediately feel your cheeks grow hot, the feeling of being in a place you don’t belong filling your whole body with dread.

she pauses, and you realize she was waiting for you to respond. right. this was supposed to be where you attempt to prove yourself adequate to work in this position.

“yes, um… well, admittedly i myself did think it was a stretch to apply here, but then i figured, i’m a fast learner, i’m very thorough in all i do and i enjoy learning new things. i thought i’d try my hand at something i haven’t done before.” you rattle off an answer that while it was true, it was also something you rehearsed 20 times in the mirror while getting ready before you got here. you were almost positive the slight robotic edge in your voice was noticeable.

mrs. romanoff hums in acknowledgment, nodding slightly at your rehearsed answer. “how well can you handle multi-tasking in a fast paced environment?” her lack of acknowledging your first answer puts a damper on your already fake confidence. you shift in your seat again, finding it harder to maintain eye contact with the sea of green that was her eyes.

“i would say i fare pretty well. i’m usually very good at managing stressful situations.” that was a complete lie—but most people bullshit their way through interviews, don’t they?

“usually?” she echoes, tilting her head to the side. she purses her lips, half attempting to hide a small smirk. she easily picked up on all your nervous antics the moment she saw you. you averting her gaze, walking unsteadily, fidgeting in your seat and the cute rose-y blush currently coloring your cheeks.

you clear your throat, interlocking your hands together in your lap. you notice they’ve already started to feel damp with sweat. “yeah, yeah most of the time i’d say so.”

“well, miss…” she glances down at what appeared to be your application and resume sitting in front of her on the desk. “(y/n)..you don’t sound very sure of yourself.” she sits upright in her chair, crossing her arms and leaning over the desk. your heart beats impossibly faster, the feeling of intimidation settling deep into your bones.

“no, i mean, i am sure—totally 100%.” you try to laugh, but it comes out sounding as nervous as you feel.

“okay, if that’s how you’d like to proceed…” she trails off, looking down at the papers in front of her again. you didn’t know what she meant, but your eyes fall desperately to the same papers she was looking at, as if they could provide some sort of answer to you. “what are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?”

you internally breath a sigh of relief. this was another answer you’d rehearsed in the mirror, it just needed to sound less robotic this time. “i’d say my greatest strengths are, i’m very punctual—i’m always on time if not early—um, i do all things thoroughly, as i mentioned before…i’m very reliable—hardly sick or need time off for family things, and i enjoy a good challenge. my greatest weakness is that i like to be very organized and sometimes i can spend a little too much time completing a certain project before moving onto the next.” you exhale after you finish talking, your eyes flicking across her face to try and get a sense of how she’s taking in your answer.

as you speak, you can’t help but notice that she was watching you so meticulously. it seemed that she was taking in not only your words, but your facial expressions, hand gestures and body language.

she looks at you for a moment as if she’s thinking hard on something. without taking her eyes off of you, she presses a button on her desk, the small ding from an intercom sounding. “joan, please track down mrs. maximoff and have her come into my office right away.”

your heartbeat now thrums loudly in your ears, your breath picking up its pace. you were not only going to be in the presence of mrs. romanoff but now mrs. maximoff too? never in your life had you seen such a powerful couple—and that was only in photos and billboards you’d seen around the city!

“is everything okay?” you ask nervously, feeling the permanent blush on your cheeks travel to the tips of your ears.

“everything’s fine, (y/n),” she gives you a smile but it was anything but reassuring. in fact, there was something about the expression that felt more intimidating with how devastatingly beautiful she was.

she grabs a pen and starts writing something on the paper. whatever it was was brief, but you couldn’t see clearly from your seat.

a quiet knock comes from the door and your posture becomes rigid as you hear who you assume to be mrs. maximoff entering the room.

“you called for me?” mrs. maximoff asks as she walks the length from the door to mrs. romanoff’s side. she walks around your chair and stands next to her wife, placing her palm flat against the desktop and leaning some of her weight on it.

“yes, i wanted you to meet our new interviewee,” she smiles with her lips and gestures to you in your seat. you look between the two beautiful, impeccably dressed women, feeling extremely small and insignificant. mrs. maximoff turns to look at you for the first time, a warm smile gracing her features.

“hi,” she offers simply, extending her hand to shake yours. you sit forward, reaching your arm out to shake her hand across the desk. her hand was incredibly soft and a little cold to the touch, but you wouldn’t expect anything less since the office was kept at such a cool temperature.

“mrs. maximoff is going to sit in on the rest of our interview. is that okay with you?” mrs. romanoff asks, her eyes daring you to object.

you quickly shake your head from side to side, shifting once again in your chair. “no, no that’s perfectly fine,” you reply easily, though you were feeling anything but fine. you notice mrs. maximoff giving her wife a curious glance but she doesn’t otherwise question it.

“let’s move over to the couches so we’re a little more comfortable,” mrs. romanoff stands up and heads over to the long olive green velvet sofa. you follow suit, except you take a seat in the smaller sofa, designed for only one person. mrs. maximoff sits closest to you on the long couch, brushing some of her pretty brown hair behind her shoulder. you watch as she glances back at her wife, mrs. romanoff giving her a certain look that you weren’t sure what it meant.

“so, (y/n), tells us what your career goals are,” mrs. romanoff proceeds with the interview as if the interruption never happened. you find yourself even more nervous to respond now that there were two, hot, older women sitting before you.

“umm…for now i really just need something steady that will simultaneously be giving me good work and life experience.. long term though, i’d like to become a therapist once i finish my masters program.” you bite your tongue once you finish your sentence, realizing this is not the sort of job where you tell your interviewers you’d like to pursue something that has nothing to do with their company.

“what appeals to you about becoming a therapist?” mrs. maximoff chimes in, tilting her head to the side curiously, just like mrs. romanoff had done earlier in the interview.

you lean back in your chair, a little surprised at her interest in your reply. “well, it’s a cliche answer, but i’m very passionate about helping people. it’s impossible to go through this life without getting seriously hurt and dealing with trauma. the vast majority of us have no idea how to cope or process through our experiences, so just knowing what i know, i’d like to try and be of some help for those who need it.”

the two lawyers look at you thoughtfully, mrs. maximoff nodding her head as you speak.

“that’s a very admirable passion. are you currently enrolled in a masters program?” she asks, crossing one of her legs over the other as she gets more comfortable in her seat.

“i am,” you reply with a shy smile. you never wanted to come across as bragging about your education, so you always sought to speak about it in the most humble way.

“you like school?” mrs. romanoff chimes in, leaning forward as she speaks.

your smile turns a bit rueful as you reply. “yes..i do. i know so many young people my age loathe school and all the hard work that needs to be put in, but…i love everything about it. i love taking notes, making flashcards, studying, taking tests, everything about it, i just love. i know it sounds a little crazy.” you laugh once, suddenly feeling more relaxed as you speak about something so genuinely. you feel a little more surprise again as you hear mrs. romanoff chuckle with you, nodding her head towards her brunette wife.

“sounds like somebody i know. this one here was a school addict. i had to practically pry textbooks out her hands just so we could do anything other than study,” she chuckles again, mrs. maximoff joining in with her.

“i won’t apologize for being so pointed about my studies. we both got straight A’s, didn’t we?” she jokes light-heartedly and you find yourself smiling warmly at their light banter.

mrs. maximoff turns back to face you, a smile still touching her lips. “what else do you do aside from school?” her question makes your face fall slightly as you now had to admit you were technically unemployed. you knew that didn’t look good for potential employers.

“right now, not a whole lot. just keeping busy with my studies,” you respond vaguely to which they both hum in response.

the pair of them continue asking you questions, except they become progressively more personal until they don’t attain to work or working at this position at all.

“do you like living alone? or do you prefer living with others?” was one of the questions mrs. romanoff asks you after you had explained you were currently without a roommate.

even though it was strange, you find that the more you talk about yourself, the more relaxed you feel. mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff both noticed it too. they could see more of your personality showing through as the nerves slowly but surely dissipated.

it had been near 40 minutes by the time mrs. romanoff checked her watch and noticed the time. she looked at her wife, mrs. maximoff seeming to sense her eyes on her as she automatically looked to the side. they shared a look, one of them nodding to the other before turning back to face you.

“well, we’ve kept you here much longer than was intended—i apologize for that.” mrs. romanoff says as she stands, mrs. maximoff following suit. you stand also, smoothing your skirt back over your legs. as you stand so closely to them now, you notice how they were both taller than you by a few inches, making you feel small again like you had earlier.

“it’s no big deal. i’m in no rush,” you smile shyly as you look up at the two of them. you extend your arm out, shaking both of their hands before getting ready to leave. they both give your hand a gentle squeeze and when mrs. romanoff shakes your hand, she grasps on longer than her wife, holding your gaze with a certain intensity.

“we’ll be in touch, miss (y/n),” she says smoothly, calling you out by your first name, and for some reason the combination between her voice and her eye contact made your knees feel weak.

you swallow thickly, nodding your head and thanking them both for the interview before turning away. mrs. maximoff leads you to the door to exit and walks you all the way out to the elevators. you pace the short distance in somewhat comfortable silence. when you turn to face her to say your final goodbye, your surprised to see mrs. romanoff behind her. she was following so quietly that you didn’t notice her presence.

“bye! thank you again,” you smile, stepping into the elevator once the doors open. the two women stand side by side of each other, giving you a near identical smile which portrayed some sort of knowing behind it, almost like they were expecting something.

“it was a pleasure meeting you miss (y/l/n),” mrs. maximoff calls out to you as the elevator doors slide closed.

you exhale a breath you didn’t now you were holding, slumping back against the elevator walls.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

that evening, you cook up a box of mac n cheese, too lazy to try and find the ingredients to make anything else. not to mention, your mind was still a little bit jumbled after your interview with thee lesbian power couple.

mrs. romanoff’s words kept echoing in your head.

”we’ll be in touch” she’d said. but didn’t your interview totally blow? especially at the end. it wasn’t so much an interview but rather more like a conversation where people try to get to know each other better. maybe they were looking for a personality hire? you really doubted that though.

you eat your mac n cheese while staring blankly at the wall, thinking over the whole exchange with mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff. as you mindlessly feed yourself spoonfuls of your dinner, you realize you didn’t even know their first names. you remembered you had once seen them on a billboard somewhere but didn’t remember exactly what they were. mrs. romanoff’s first name was natalie or something similar? you were at a loss with mrs. maximoff. you decide to google them to put your curiosities to rest.

pulling out your phone, you google their names and the law firm. after doing just a little bit of digging, you see their full names: natasha romanoff and wanda maximoff. ah, so you were close with mrs. romanoff’s name. you wonder if they only go by their last names at the office. it definitely seemed like their vibe to have things be so professional.

as you go throughout the rest of your evening, showering and getting ready for bed, you continue thinking about them. the longer your mind lingers on them, the less “professionally” you think about them. you couldn’t help but notice how utterly beautiful they both were. they both carried themselves with a confidence that anyone would find intimidating. there was something so forceful about their presences, but not necessarily in a bad way. it seemed like natasha—mrs.romanoff—was a little more rough around the edges, but you could see she easily held a soft spot for her wife and life partner. mrs. maximoff gave off a much more approachable vibe, but she was still intimidating in her own way.

as your mind continues wandering, you find yourself becoming more tired before you finally drift off to sleep, your brain fatigued from all your analytical thinking.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

the first thing you notice when you wake up is the light shining through your thin curtains. you blink a few times, slowly adjusting to the light. you blindly reach over to your nightstand, unplugging your phone from the charger. as you unlock your phone, you notice a missed call from an unknown number nearly two hours ago. you shoot up into a sitting position in your bed, suddenly feeling much more awake. it was just passed 10 am. was the unknown number a call back about your interview?

your fingers furiously swipe on your phone, quickly googling the number for M.R. law. you breath a sigh of relief when you cross reference the digits in your phone and the number online, realizing it was just a random unknown caller. you let your body fall back limply on the bed, your leg dangling off the side as you clutch your phone to your chest. that would’ve been humiliating if they called offering you the job and you didn’t pick up the phone.

as you go about your morning leisurely—not having any classes this day—you try to push the two hot lawyers out of your mind. there was no point in dwelling on them if you’d never hear from them again.

you leave your face bare of makeup, not intending on leaving the apartment and you opt for wearing comfy clothes—or “frumpy” clothes as you called them—instead of something nice.

you head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a bowl of frosted flakes cereal. you let it sit there for a few minutes to soak up the milk, as soggy cereal was your favorite. you’d argue with anyone who claimed crunchy cereal was best. as you wait, you power up your laptop, intent on working on some homework.

you’re munching on your cereal, blue-light filtered glasses adorning your nose as you work on your computer screen. you were mid-bite when you hear your phone buzzing on the counter next to you. you glance down at your phone and frown slightly when you notice it looks to be the same unknown number from earlier.

you continue chewing your bite, raising the phone to your ear as you accept the call.

“hello?” you ask, your voice mumbled a bit as you still had some food in your mouth.

“good morning, miss (y/n),” you hear a warm, velvety voice greet you. after almost an hour interview with her yesterday, you’d recognize this distinct voice anywhere.

“mrs. romanoff?” you just about choke on your food as you swallow, your body tensing slightly as you feel much more alert.

“that would be correct.” you hear her chuckle softly into the phone, your tone laced with obvious surprise she must have found endearing.

“i’m so sorry! i think i missed your call earlier? i didn’t recognize the number- i had no idea it was you, i’m sorry!” you apologize quickly, thinking that if she was actually calling to offer you the job, you might have just ruined it.

“don’t worry about it. i would be surprised if you recognized it given that this is my personal number,” her voice was low and warm. it was entirely too enticing.

“oh.. umm, right. well, good morning,” you stumble slightly over your words, unsure what else to say to her.

“are you normally a late riser?” she asks with humor in her voice.

“what? oh no, not normally no. i just don’t have classes today,” you explain, a little embarrassed at her having called you out on your sleeping habits.

“i see. well, we just wanted to call and ask if you’d meet us for a coffee,” her question came out as more of a statement and you were left wondering why on earth she would want to go out for coffee with you and…wait.. did she say we?

“we?” the words echo aloud from your mind.

“yes. my wife and i,” she reiterates calmly. you look around your small excuse for a kitchen as if the reasoning behind her posing this question was written on the walls.

“like today?” you ask stupidly. of course she meant today.

“yes - today. can you meet us in 15? we’re going on lunch break. i’ll text you the address.” your eyes zip to the digital numbers plastered on the microwave. you only had 15 minutes to try and look presentable, get a cab and meet them.

“ummm..yeah. yeah sure,” you nod your head as if she could see you through the phone. you quickly hop off the stool you were sitting on, walking briskly to the bathroom with the phone still held firmly to your ear.

“perfect. we’ll see you soon.” she hangs up and you all but toss your phone on the bathroom counter, staring down at the device as if it’s offended you. you quickly snap out of it, only having 5 or so minutes to un-hobo yourself. you quickly apply some concealer on your dark spots, powder on a little blush and brush on a coat of mascara in record time. in your haste, you stumble from the bathroom to your closet, trying to find something to quickly throw on. you grab a simple white baby tee, putting it on and then aggressively stepping into some loose light wash jeans. grabbing your belongings, you half jog out the door, nearly slipping down the last two stairs of your apartment.

you quickly get a cab, thanking whatever higher power there is in your head that there was very little delay in one driving by. as the taxi driver takes you to the address you gave him, you sit forward in your seat, gathering your hair in a pony tail near the top of your head. you secure it with an elastic you always keep around your wrist and pull some pieces out to frame your face. you glance in the cab rear view mirror, seeing you looked fairly presentable. you exhale shakily, sitting back in your seat as the same nerves you felt yesterday on the way to your interview were coming back now.

what was this about? i mean, you knew it wasn’t normal to meet with potential employees for coffee. it was especially suspicious because it was mrs. romanoff *and* her wife.

your thoughts are interrupted as the taxi slows to a crawl and he pulls up to the coffee shop. you’d never been to this one before, granted there were hundreds of shops all over the city so there were probably many you hadn’t gone to. your heart leaps in your chest as you see both mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff waiting outside for you.

you pass the driver the money, thank him and slip out of the car. as you step onto the sidewalk, mrs. maximoff greets you with the same warm smile she’d given you when you first met. mrs. romanoff smiles too, though it’s not as wide as her wife’s.

“hello again, (y/n).” your heart skips a beat as you hear mrs. maximoff use your first name for the first time. mrs. romanoff had been calling you by your first name since you’d stepped foot into her office. you liked the way your name fell from both of their tongues.

“hi, good to see you both again,” you smile despite your nerves, making eye contact with both of them in a polite manner.

“shall we?” mrs. romanoff suggests as she opens the door for you, her wife placing a gentle hand on the small of your back to usher you inside. you inhale shakily, the unexpected contact surprising you in a pleasant way.

as the three of you file in behind the small line of people waiting to order, your eyes skim the menu, even though you already knew exactly what you wanted.

“cute outfit,” mrs. romanoff murmurs from behind you. you could hear what sounded to be amusement in her tone but you weren’t sure.

you turn to the side to face her, her being on your left and mrs. maximoff on your right just a half-step behind you. “thank you. i threw it on—literally. i was wearing something a lot less presentable when you first called.” you glance down at both of their outfits. the duality between yours and their outfits was almost laughable. they looked impeccably fashionable and you were just in street clothes.

wanda chuckles lightly at your comment. “what were you wearing before?” she asks.

“just an oversized tee and some biker shorts,” you shrug, crossing your arms casually over your chest. you always felt more comfortable when you had your arms wrapped around yourself.

as the line moves and you’re next, mrs. romanoff quickly stands in front of you, her body moving between you and the counter. “what’ll you have?” she gives you an expectant look, ready to give your order.

“an iced mocha?” you ask a little shyly, her show of putting herself between you and the cash register did something to you for some reason.

she nods, and turns to the barista, repeating your order along with hers and her wife’s. you’re about to protest, wanting to tell her she doesn’t have to pay for you, but you feel mrs. maximoff’s hand return to the small of your back, swiftly maneuvering you away from the line and over to the small cluster of tables.

you sit down in a chair she pulled out for you and you scoot yourself in as mrs. maximoff settles in her own seat across from you.

“you really don’t have to pay for me, you know,” you pipe gently, glancing over at mrs. romanoff who was standing at the counter waiting for the drinks before you turn back to mrs. maximoff.

“of course not, we want to. plus, neither her nor i would ever allow you to pay for yourself even if you insisted,” she smiles winsomely, her eyes gleaming with something warm and bright.

mrs. romanoff returns with all three coffees, somehow handling all three and setting them down in a graceful manner.

“thank you,” you give mrs. romanoff a gentle smile as your fingers interlock around the cup and you drag it closer to you.

they both take a sip from their coffees—which were both hot—before mrs. romanoff clears her throat, her eyes narrowing in on you as she leans forward on the table.

“so, i imagine you’re wondering why we asked you here.” she throws a glance at her wife who was already looking at her speak.

“it may have been on my mind…” you trail off, sounding as innocent as possible.

mrs. romanoff smiles knowingly, her eyes appraising you in a way that made you squirm slightly in your seat.

“it’s not about the job, as i’m sure you might have figured, but rather about offering a different type of position,” she begins. your brow furrows in confusion. what did she mean?

“a different position? like a cleaning job or something?” you immediately go to thinking about jobs that require little to no experience, figuring that might be all they’d have to offer given your background.

they both laugh at your guess, mrs. romanoff being the one to shake her head no.

“no, not a cleaning job,” she pauses, seeming to measure your expression before continuing. “(y/n), have you ever heard the term bdsm?”

your face goes blank and you look from mrs. romanoff to her wife who appeared to be watching you just as carefully.

“um…i think so? i’ve heard the term a few times before.” your legs feel like they’ve turned to jelly, an unfamiliar pit settling into your lower tummy at the abrupt shift in the topic of conversation.

“what do you know about it?” mrs. maximoff chimes in, tilting her head to the side which causes some of her neatly curled hair to fall forward.

you look between the two of them, unconsciously shrinking further down into your seat. this was such a taboo subject to talk about it public; you found yourself already growing warm from just the thought of this discussion.

“well, it’s..sex stuff…right? like being tied down and whipped?” you speak hesitantly in a small voice, throwing quick glances at the strangers littered across the coffee shop.

“those things can be a part of it, yes—if all parties discuss that’s something they like to participate in” mrs. romanoff explains and then continues. “what else have you heard about it? or is that the gist of what you know?”

you shrug, your shoulders slumped forward and your head bowed slightly to try and obscure your flushed cheeks. you suck your bottom lip into your mouth—your nervous habit.

mrs. maximoff pipes in again after noticing your bashfulness. “a lot of people have that imagery in mind when they hear the term ‘bdsm,’ so it’s understandable that that’s your impression. there is so much more to it though. really, bdsm is about exploring people’s sexual interests in a safe space. you learn about your limits, what you like, what you didn’t expect to like, and so much more.” you listen to her explanation intently, your mind immediately wandering and wondering where this conversation was going to go.

mrs. romanoff picks up off her wife’s words. “some people simply dabble in certain aspects of bdsm while others treat it more as a lifestyle—and for my wife and i, it is a lifestyle.”

you nod hesitantly as they both pause for a second, watching you digest this information. you’re unsure how to respond, feeling progressively more restless in your seat.

they both give each other a look before mrs romanoff nods and mrs. maximoff speaks.

“normally, for people who live this lifestyle, they draw up contracts between themselves and the person they want as their submissive.. now we know this is all very forward, but there’s just no other way to put it. we’d like to have you as our new submissive.”

your face turns bright red for reasons you’re not fully aware of. you weren’t quite sure what being a “submissive” all entailed, but you couldn’t wipe the imagery of being helplessly tied down and whipped from your mind. you’re silent as your brain flits through one imaginary scenario to the next. you were so clueless though, you weren’t sure if the things you were thinking up were things people actually did or if they were just shown in porn.

“me…? i just..well it’s just that..i’m-i don’t know if i would be your ideal candidate,” you stumble out, your eyes glued to the table as you avoid looking at either of them at all costs.

“on the contrary, (y/n), i singled you out almost immediately at our interview. i knew i wanted you. that’s why i had wanda join us.” her face softens as she notices your slight uneasiness. being a bit of a sadist though, she couldn’t help but find your innocence and embarrassment so incredibly gratifying. it only made her want you more.

your teeth worry into your bottom lip again as you look between one set of green eyes and then the other. “do you guys normally.. share, uhm..submissives?”

“not always, but we do like to when it’s possible,” wanda shares, a reassuring smile on her face. you purse your lips, chewing on the inside of your cheek as more questions arise in your head.

“how does that work? sharing i mean.” you knew there were people who participated in polyamorous relationships, and you had no issue with it, you just had trouble visualizing the dynamic.

natasha grins wickedly to herself, realizing now how truly innocent and unknowing you were. she suspected a little yesterday at the interview, but had no idea the true scope of your innocence. wanda also found herself undeniably more attracted to you after this conversation. her hands twitch in her lap, thinking of all the things she could do to you that you probably haven’t ever dreamed of.

“it works (y/n), trust me…” mrs. romanoff says seductively.

“we know this is all very foreign to you, sweetheart. you don’t have to say yes today, just think about it?” mrs. maximoff reaches across the table and affectionately holds onto your wrist. your stomach does a little flip-flop at the term of endearment paired with the affection.

there were so many thoughts and feelings swirling around you, but one thing stuck out above the rest. you wanted to learn more. you didn’t want to say no and close a door on something that you might enjoy.

“i want to.. i mean, um, i will think about it,” you clear your throat for the umpteenth time that day, pulling your hand back from mrs. maximoff’s light grasp. it was suddenly feeling like her hand was searing your skin.

“you want to what?” mrs. romanoff presses, her eyes looking at you with intensity again.

“i just meant that i want to learn more..about this,” you reply quietly, peeking at mrs. romanoff through your lashes. you notice her clench her jaw and flex her fingers that were resting on the table, but you weren’t sure what it meant.

“well, there’s a lot to learn, but luckily i’d say we’re both pretty good teachers,” mrs. maximoff grins more wickedly this time, her expression giving you a new glimpse into something you hadn’t seen in her until this point.

“why don’t we meet up again sometime this weekend? we can answer any questions you have—help you learn more about what we’re asking from you,” she adds, to which you surprisingly feel eager to agree to the idea. you find yourself already wanting to learn more, especially if the people who were going to educate you were two of the hottest women alive.

“yeah…let’s do that,” you nod once, your blush slowly creeping off your cheeks though a slight honey glow was still present.

you all begin to gather your things, mrs. maximoff noticing their lunch break was just about up. the three of you hardly touched your coffees, the conversation too intense to take swigs of the drinks.

the two of them walk you out of the shop, mrs. romanoff hailing down a cab for you. you turn to say goodbye to mrs. maximoff and find that she’s standing closer to you than expected.

“i look forward to seeing you again so soon, dragotsennaya veshch’,” she murmurs, reaching to give your arm an affectionate squeeze. you smile at her, unsure what she said but not caring much to know now.

you step closer to the cab after mrs. romanoff opens the door for you. before you can slip inside the car, mrs. romanoff leans down, murmuring in your ear.

“if you have any questions before the weekend that simply can’t wait, don’t hesitate to text me. you have my number.” her voice was a little rough which makes you shiver.

you nod slowly, sucking on your bottom lip again. you give mrs. maximoff a shy hand wave which she mimics with an amused grin. you sink down into the car seat, mrs. romanoff shutting the door behind you.

as the taxi drives away, you can’t help but look behind you as the two women grow smaller and smaller on the sidewalk. as the car turns a corner, the couple remain standing there until you disappear. you sigh and turn back around in your seat, resting heavily against the cushion behind you.

what just happened?

——————————

tag list:

@poppyshuman @wandamaximoffsbadgirl @xenaizogie @ashadash0904 @kittnii @hayeeonn @gh0sstss @beggingonmykneesforher @natashalover3000 @msvenablesbitch @ihartnat @leesromanova @alwaysgoodnight @lowlifejuliett @azaleavolkova @caramelcat123 @daretodream1307-blog @ctrlaltedits @sweetmissnothing @gecko1 @karmasgxrl @marvelwomenarehot0 @elle161989 @waaayoutofline @snazzysprig @simpforlizzie @just4natasha

[fungateshortcakes]

Pornstar!Logan NSFW

This work is inspired by @bpmiranda and their own pornstar!Logan smut, which you can find here. Please go and check it out, it's so yummy and i hope I am doing this idea justice.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: Up until now, filming a porn video was only something you joked about. But after your job failed you, this simple 'joke' brought you to a whole new carreer path that you would love to explore further, especially if your co-worker was this handsome man that ruined your pussy for everyone else.

Wordcount: 2.3k -ish

Warnings/tags: pornstar!Logan, pornstar!reader, porn with plot, first porn recording, filmed sex, best friends dad porn, squirting, unprotected penis in vagina sex, pussy pronouns, implied blowjob, basically sex with a stranger, dirty talk, doggy style, Logan is older than reader, cumming on pussy, perverted director, mention of threesome (F/F/M), english isn't my first languange (lmk if i missed something!)

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It had always been a joke. All of this - you just joked about it. But now as you stood in front of this building, the filming location, that's when you truly knew that it was in fact not a joke anymore.

You were about to cast in your first professional porn video.

For years you had been telling your friends, if your degree didn't work out, you'd start selling nsfw art. If your job applications would keep getting rejected, you would become a stripper. It was always something you and your friends could laugh about greatly, but it was never really taken serious in the end. That was about to change.

Throughout the last months, you had taken this career path more and more into your field of interest. Your hated your job, the salary, the people there and your boss. You needed a quick change. So you read about becoming a porn actress, watched interviews with stars of this industry, stating how they got into it, what they had to do, how they coped with everything at the start and much more. You felt ready, but you also didn't really, not when you stood in front of this building and knew that in just an hour, you would be having a stranger pounding his cock into your pussy while everyone around watched.

You took a deep breath as you entered and upon stating your name at the reception desk, you were brought to the second floor where you were greeted by the director.

"Ah, there you are! You're (Y/N), right?" he said and shook your hand with a firm grip. He was the manager of all of this. He had been in this industry for years and sounded very nice from the very start. You felt comfortable as you stood in front of him. You nodded your head. "Yeah, that's me. I hope I am not too late?" you asked nervously, biting your lip. You really didn't need to leave a bad expression right on the first day.

He laughed and shook his head "No, don't worry. You're just in time to meet the guy you're gonna work with today. You're gonna like him." he said and winked at you. You had already heard a bit about the man that would, to put it as is, fuck you today. They praised him highly, told you that you should be happy to have the opportunity with him because he gets so many requests from porn actresses every day.

Richie shoved you through a crowd of working people to a cozy break corner for the actors. There he stood. And wow. He already wore his outfit for the upcoming video. It was a plain black shirt, a thick belt and rugged jeans, but damn. He looked good.

Upon seeing you, a smirk spread across his lips and he stood up, hands in his pockets. "That's Mr. Howlett. Your lover for today" Richie chuckled as he introduced you to him.

"Call me Logan, sweets. Nice to meet you, heard a lot about ya" Logan said and his voice alone made your pussy throb. You both shook hands and you told him your name as well. It would be a lie if you said you weren't anxious. Your heart was beating out of your throat. You were intimidated by your work partners looks and the fact that he was a lot more experienced in this field than you. He looked very charming and handsome, picture perfect like some famous hollywood actor. And you were just, well, you. You felt like you couldn't compete with that in the slightest.

The time you had to speak to him, get to know him at least a little bit before his cock was in your mouth, was limited, because you were pulled to different stations by different people left and right, getting you into costume, fixing your make-up and hair, even checking if you had shaved down there properly. It was all so much at once, but Logan was always watching over you, weirdly enough, reassuring you. Truth be told, he saw himself when he looked at you. He was pretty confident by nature, but when he first started out in this business, he was overwhelmed and unsure at first as well. So he felt deep sympathy with you, even if you didn't know that.

Now you stood at the set with your two co-stars, Logan and some other woman who you didn't know the name of because she was so minor to the scene. She was only there to play your best friend from college. Your best friend with a smoking hot single father.

Your nerves were killing you as you stood in the pre-build bedroom with your co-star. You took a deep breath and decided to go with the flow. You knew the script, you knew the movements and looks, so there wasn't really anything that could go wrong. Right? "Okay, cameras, lights, action!" Richie yelled over the set. Now there was no going back.

You flopped down on your friends bed with a sigh. "This assigment is killing me. We've been working on it for days now and we aren't getting anywhere" you scoffed. Your on screen friend agreed with you, voicing her anger towards the professor as well.

You started acting like you were starting to unpack your bag when you heard a car engine. Your co-star groaned. "Perfect, now my dad's here. He normally works longer than that" she said. You had never met her dad, he was always at work when you were over. "Lindsay, I'm home!" Logan called before he stepped into the room, stopping in his tracks as he saw you. The camera zoomed in on your slightly shocked face, taking in your agape mouth and how your eyes clouded over. You crossed your leg over the other as warmth spread through your core.

Logan smirked at you, leaning against the doorframe. "So, you are the girl my daughter has been doing that assigment with, I assume? Nice to meet you, I'm her old man." he spoke in his deep voice, extending a warm, strong hand out for you to shake, a knowing look being shared between you as he eyed you up and down, pratically undressing you with his gaze only.

The director yelled cut. You let out a nervous sigh. This worked out way better than you had imagined, but that was just the easy part of this whole thing.

Though, the second Logan pushed the tip of his cock into your sopping pussy with a relieved smile on his lips that wasn't part of the script, you couldn't care less about your insecurities or worries. The words you were supposed to say just came naturally with the way he fucked you open. "Such a greedy little cunt, she is practically sucking me in" he groaned, one hand pushing your head into the pillows of his daughters bed.

"You really needed this, huh? Needed a big fucking cock to pound your pussy. The boys in college just don't cut it, am I right?" He groaned, enjoying the way your pussy tightened around his throbbing shaft. How could a cock feel this good? Logan could ask you the same thing - how could a fucking pussy be this tight and warm and just sopping wet?

Logan watched your face being squished against the pillows, slurring your words while you drooled. He smirked. You were made for this, the camera was eating you up like this. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about using this video when he was at home to get off. He leaned down to your ear, his plush lips kissing and biting at the shell before he whispered something only for you to hear "What a natural you are. Gotta have to request you as my partner more often from now on, don't I?" he was whispering in such a hot, breathless voice, it almost made you cum before you even should. He could feel that. And oh boy did it feed his ego.

"Does it turn you on? Being fucked on your best friends bed? By her dad?" Logan rumbled in character, kneading your tits. It took you a while to get a hold of your thoughts and the script, so Logan used that silence to keep whispering in your ear how fucking pretty your tits were. "Y-yes! I...I love it" you slurred, your voice raw from the moans you couldn't hold back for the life of you.

Logan hummed pleased. "Oh I bet you do, baby. Already so cockdrunk for me"

Your pussy felt so good with the way he was dragging his cock in and out, reaching places inside you you didn't knew existed. It was funny to you - you were supposed to fake moan and falsely contort your face in pleasure - but you didn't have to do any of that. If anything, you needed to shut up. You were moaning so loud and so prettily for Logan, it was almost excessive. You just couldn't help yourself. Every time you tried to shut your mouth, Logan would notice and pound into your sweet spot. He couldn't have you denying him of your cute sounds.

Not long and the scene ended with you squirting all over his cock and the sheets. That wasn't initially meant to happen, but with the way Logan was fucking you, you lost control as your orgasm hit. Logan tried to mask his surprise by going off script, continuing to circle your clit "Yes, such a good girl. Keep making a mess for me, baby" he groaned into your neck. You squirmed in his grasp, the overstimulation too much as you felt him cumming over your pussy. He hadn't expected you squirting, but it served perfectly to make him cum like he hadn't in a while.

Richie yelled cut again and Logan let go of your hips, making you fall flat onto the drenched sheets, completely boneless. You could hear faint applause and a warm hand on your back. As Richie approached the bed, Logan was quick to bring you his fluffy robe and wrapped it around you aftwr helping your shaken form to sit up, shielding you from prying eyes. The crew was highly professional for the most part, but there were some creeps shamelessly goggling at the actresses, especially newcomers. Sometimes Richie was one of them...

So Logan had a protective hand around your back, sprawled over your waist to keep you pressed into his side while you regained your composure. You were tired and worn out, but in a very very good way. Your core buzzed with warmth and so did the rest of your body. Without realising, you leaned your head onto Logans shoulders, softly closing your eyes for a moment. It made his heart skip a beat.

"Jesus Christ, you two were really going at it, huh?" Richie grinned and clapped his hands together. "I am deeply impressed with you, rookie. The camera loved you. Didn't even have to correct you at all. Can't believe you haven't done this before" the middle aged man chuckled and tried to discreetly pear down your cleavage to which Logan covered your upper body a bit more, staring Richie down. You didn't feel all too safe now, especially in your slight dazed state. But Logan was there and somehow being able to nuzzle into him for protection eased your mind greatly. "You two can go and take a break. I have Mirinda, Mandy and Josh for the next sesh. But after that, I'd like to see you both in action again. Maybe with another woman as well, how would you like that?"

Logan declined for you with a slight bite to his voice, excusing you and himself after he had wrapped a towel around his hips and brought you to his dressing room. Richie wasn't a bad man. But he was far from being appropriate at times. It happened rarely and mostly only to actresses who had been in this industry for years, but they knew how to treat directors like him for rude staring not to happen. But you were still so young and inexperienced with everything, so anxious and nervous. Logan wanted to protect that. Protect you. The industry was tough and he didn't want you to break under all of this like he did in the beginning himself.

"Thank you for uhm...getting me out of there" you mumbled as you began to dress yourself again with the clothes you had arrived in. You chuckled to yourself as Logan turned around when you put on your bra and underwear as if he hadn't just conpletely seen you bare and ruined you for every other man.

He scoffed. "Not for that. It was the least I could do. Sometimes he gets a bit creepy, but he his decent. He doesn't do more than stare, fortunately. Still, I'm sorry you had to endure that on your first day. But that's, sadly, how it is" he answered, pulling his shirt over his head and you shamelessly watched his muscles dip and contract from his movements.

You buttoned up your blouse and shrugged. "I expected it, honestly. But you were my knight in shining armor, or lack there of-" you laughed and Logan couldn't help but chuckle alongside you. "- so it wasn’t that bad. At least the sex was good"

Logan smirked. "It was?" he asked with a cocky undertone. He knew that it was, but hearing it from you directly made his chest flutter. Not that he would ever admit that. You nodded with a hum, slightly chewing on your bottom lip.

"I have to say the same. You have a great pussy" he blurts out, making both of you laugh. "There is more where that came from, lover boy" it was very easy to be comfortable around Logan and it made you feel a little less lost. It made you feel like you had a guiding hand and you were so grateful that he was there. It wasn’t his job to be your caretaker, he wasn't getting paid to tell you how to do things or protect you from backhanded nasty comments from filming crew members. But you were glad he instantly took you under his wing like this.

You couldn't wait to shoot with him again

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I had so much fun writing this! Let me hear your thoughts, do you want a part two?

And don't be scared, there is also going to be more sub!Logan soon and a few fluff drabbles as well. Stay tuned!

[tuiccim]

We're Gonna Burn

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Non/DubCon (because sex pollen), enemies to lovers.

Summary: When an exposure to a strange powder makes you feel as if you're burning to death, your only relief is in the person you hate the most.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby

We're Gonna Burn Masterlist

“What the hell was that, Barnes?” You practically yell as you push open the front door of the safe house you’d been directed to. 

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen anything like it. God, the smell!” He shakes his head.

“It’s burned into my nostrils. All I can smell is that sweet flower smell. You’ve never seen that pink powder?” You throw your things to the floor, looking around the small, remote house. 

“No, I’d tell you if I did, damnit! Why do you keep asking?” Bucky growls. 

“You’re not the most forthcoming person! Shit, I think you’ve spoken more in the last two minutes than in the three months I’ve known you! Jesus, fuck, I’ve gotta get rid of this smell. I’m so fucking hot,” your voice gets smaller as you speak. You can’t think straight but head towards the bathroom, unzipping your tac suit and pulling it from your arms as you go. You slam the door and lock it. You turn the cold water on full blast and nearly fall over in your haste to get your suit off. The frigid spray helps for a few moments and you revel in it, but soon another type of heat begins to take over. Your clit throbs and when you place your hand between your legs, your wetness coats your fingers. The shower stops bringing relief and instead, the water coursing down your body seems to only make you hornier. You give in to the need that takes hold and circle your clit. It feels amazing and it takes only a couple of minutes for your orgasm to break over you. You  bite your lip to hold in the moans, not wanting the asshat on the other side of the door to hear you. 

Your body has a moment of relief but then the heat builds again, even quicker this time. You dip your fingers inside of you in a desperate attempt to stop it. The second orgasm you managed to pull did little to help your body and your fingers keep working furiously to bring another in hope of relief. Your moans are spilling from your lips without a care now. You just need to get this to stop. You’re disturbed when the door rattles and a fist bangs loudly. 

“Open the door! I need to get in there,” Bucky bellows. 

You wanted to scream at him to go away but you could barely form words. You hated the stupid supersoldier from the moment you met him. He questioned your every turn. Whether it was about your skill, experience, or motives. He never lets you get through a single conversation without making you feel like a lesser part of the team. 

“Goddamnit, let me in!” He yells more loudly. 

Nothing your hand was doing was helping any longer. You couldn’t think straight and, before you can make a move or form a thought, the door splinters open from a kick. A very naked Bucky comes through the door and your eyes widen as you see his cock standing at attention. He steps into the spray of the cold shower and growls. His hand works his cock furiously while his other rests on the tiles. His head falls forward as he lets the cold water fall down his back. You stand behind him, your hand still between your legs. 

“Fuck, what’s happening to us?” you whimper as you lean your feverish forehead onto his back. The cool water does nothing to help but where your skin touches his tingles with relief. Abandoning all pride, you press your entire body to his and the fever seems to cool wherever you touch but your clit throbs even harder. Your cunt weeps, begging for attention.You rub yourself against him, your nipples pebbling at the contact with his back. 

With a growl, Bucky turns around and you quickly back up to press your back against the wall of the shower. He stares at you, breathing hard. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble in your haze, “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m so hot and-” 

You gasp as Bucky bends down, grabs your legs, and drags you up the tiles. You squeal and reach for any handhold as he puts your legs over his shoulders and attacks your clit with his tongue. 

“Oh, fuck!” You scream as one hand lands on the ceiling to help you balance and the other buries in his hair. His tongue swirls over your clit expertly. His hands squeeze your ass as he gorges himself on you. It doesn’t take long for you to buck your hips as you come all over his face. As he sets you down, you squeeze your thighs together but your body simply screams that it wants more. You stare at each other, breathing heavily. “It’s not working. Nothing helps,” you whimper, tears forming. It’s obvious by watching him that this is affecting him almost as much as you. His supersoldier serum must be helping him but he was burning just the same. 

Bucky sighs as he steps closer to you. He presses his forehead to yours with his eyes closed and whispers, “I think there’s only one thing that’s going to help.”

You put your arms around his neck, “Just do it!” You wrap a leg around his to encourage him and he lifts you up. He presses your back into the wall as he lines himself up with your entrance. He paused there for a second as if he was fighting himself. “Please, Barnes, please! I need it!” You can’t believe you’re begging the man you hate to fuck you but your body was demanding it and if he didn’t you were sure you would burn to death. If you had been thinking straight, you would probably prefer to burn but, at this moment, you wanted nothing more than to be filled. 

“Goddamnit,” he whispers as he presses in. Your body bows with pleasure. 

“Yes! Yes!” Your voice reverberates off the tile walls as you shout with relief. He begins to pump and your body trembles with each motion of his cock. He grabs your ass as he pounds into you and you know he’s as lost in the meeting of your bodies as you are. Your cunt flutters around him, pulling him in, begging for him to come inside of you. Your rational mind has gone completely silent and you are filled with only carnal lust. Every motion of his hips takes you higher and it’s all you want. “Don’t stop,” you grip his shoulders harder. 

“Fuck,” Bucky grunts. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to and, truth was, this was the best thing he’d felt in a long time.

“Oh, God, oh, God, I’m- yes!” You release a long, high-pitched moan as you come. Your pussy grips his cock as his hips stutter. He comes with a long moan that makes you clench around him more firmly. You stay there for a few moments, catching your breath, and blessedly your body finally starts to cool. You release your legs from around his waist and he gently sets you down. You can’t look at him and instead maneuver yourself back under the cold spray. You rinse off quickly and step out of the shower. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you exit the bathroom to find your pack and some clothes. While you rifle through your pack, you feel your temperature creeping up again and then you double over from the intense wave that rolls over you. “No, no, not again,” you whisper to yourself. You look over to the broken bathroom door where Bucky still is and consider your options. Sex had given you the relief you needed but it was short lived. Your mind runs amuck with questions. What the hell was that powder? What was it doing to you? How long would this last? How many times would it take to stop this heat from trying to burn you alive? Was sex really the only relief you would find? Another pang hit and knocked the breath from your body. You were gasping in pain when an arm picked you up around your middle. 

He was still wet from the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry off. The pains had hit him and he went to the only place he knew he could find relief. He carried you to the small bed in the house and set you down on your hands and knees. He grips your hips tightly and pauses for a moment as another rush of heat spreads over him, “I need-”

“Just do it,” your words come out in a rush, pressing back into him. 

He enters you without preamble. Pulling you back to meet each motion of his hips, his moans give evidence of the pleasure and relief that the connection brings. You reach under you to play with your clit, trying to bring your orgasm on more quickly. Each of Bucky’s swift thrusts has you crying out with pleasure and he moves your hand away to bring you to orgasm himself. He wanted to feel you clench around him as you had before. 

“Oh, fuck, just like that,” you whine, “Just like that, don’t- don’t stop, oh, fuck.”

Bucky moans as he feels your cunt flutter around his cock with your orgasm. The sounds you release are a hit straight to his cock and he comes hard, thrusting with each spurt into you. Breathing heavily, you both collapse on the bed. You lay on your side facing away from him while taking stock of your body. The relief you felt with your orgasm was short lived as heat began to build again after only a few minutes. 

You feel like crying as your body radiates waves of heat. You turn over to face Bucky. He is lying on his back, his metal arm slung over his eyes, and his right hand fisting his hard cock. You make your decision quickly. Pulling his hand away, you straddle him and guide his cock inside of you. You move your hips slowly, hoping that perhaps if you stretched out the sex, it would keep the pain at bay longer. His hands grip your thighs as you rock slowly, his head is thrown back with eyes tightly closed. You looked at him for a moment and still couldn't believe that of all the teammates this could happen with, it had to be this asshole. When you first met him, you thought he was hot as fuck but as his personality (or lack there of) reared it’s ugly head you found him less and less attractive. Your anger at the situation grew as you rode him and you found yourself leaning forward, chasing your orgasm to just get this over with. 

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky bucks up into you, causing you to cry out. He repeats the motion over and over again until your body spasms around him. He comes with a grunt as he watches your face contort with pleasure. You collapse on his chest without looking at him. You wondered if keeping your bodies connected would keep the heat from returning. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks softly. 

You sigh weakly as you felt the now familiar warmth beginning to spread, “I was hoping…” You let out a frustrated grunt, “I was hoping if we stayed touching it would be enough. But it’s starting again.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Bucky acknowledges his own heat building. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that,” you grouse.

“I think… I think this might be a pheromone or something Hydra created to force procreation. I heard of the experiments but they abandoned it when it didn’t produce the results they wanted.”

“Which was?” You ask as your hips make slow circles. You can feel his cock quickly hardening inside of you. 

“Naturally born supersoldiers,” Bucky strains out the words. 

“So, we’re gonna have sex until we die or what?”

“Usually wore off in a few hours but until then…” he trails off as he gots lost in the sensations. 

“Fuck,” you groan, partially out of frustration, partially from the pleasure his thick cock was producing. 

“Basically,” Bucky says and you surprise yourself by laughing at the droll comment. You are even more surprised a second later when Bucky rolls you under him. He buries his face in your neck as he pulls your leg up higher and thrusts. You throw your head back as the pleasure begins to build again. 

“Harder,” you whimper. 

Bucky complies immediately and you whimper with each stroke. Grabbing onto him, you get lost in the feeling of his cock pounding into you sharply. You were glad that he at least was decent at this. Or was it that whatever the damn contaminant was made everything feel amazing? You were getting close with the steady way he fucked you and words started to pour out of your mouth. You were usually quite vocal in bed but hadn’t wanted to give Bucky the satisfaction. Now, you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“Oh, god, it’s so good. Don’t stop, right there. It’s so fucking good. Oh, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna- fuck!” You let out a loud moan as you come hard and Bucky’s hips work even faster as he nears his own end. When he comes on a broken cry, your body revels in the feeling of him emptying himself in you.

The rational side of your brain sounded far away but was still screaming at the situation. In a moment of it managing to take hold, you push Bucky off of you and roll away from him. Breathing heavily, you pray that this is over. Surely, this was enough to satisfy anything. You will yourself to stay cool, to not allow the heat to return, to hold onto any shred of sanity you can find, but despite it all, the heat built again. You felt like screaming but you knew that nothing you did would help. You turn back to Bucky and say frustratedly, “Ready for another round?” You can’t meet his eyes but you knew neither of you could handle the pain and heat. You needed each other. 

Bucky turns to you, “Hey.” He waits, wanting you to look him in the eyes but you just stare at his chest. “Hey.”

“What?” You say waspishly, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“Never mind,” he says as he grabs you and pulls your back against his chest. His cock nudges you from behind and you maneuver your hips to allow him entry. His thrusts are quick and sharp but his fingers on your clit are pure magic. He’s learned your body quickly but instead of leading you straight to orgasm this time, he works you to the precipice and then backs off repeatedly. You understood what he was trying to do. He was trying to prolong the sex in hopes of not having to come inside you any more than he already had but it was as if your body only got angrier with each denial. 

“It’s not working! Just let me come!” You finally cry out, your frustration having reached its breaking point.

“Say it,” Bucky growls.

You wrack your muddled brain trying to grasp what he wants and latch on to the only word you can find, “Please!”

“No, say my name.”

You would normally reel angrily at a command from him but the effects this powder had on you makes you compliant from need. You stutter as your tongue tries to cooperate, “B- Barnes.”

“No,” he says darkly, “Say it.”

“Bucky,” you grind the word out through your teeth. You had never once called him that. It had always been some variant of his last name. You felt even more vulnerable now.

Bucky doesn’t utter a word but he moves his hips faster and his fingers do their job. When you finally come, your whole body spasms and you scream. The sound was foreign to your ears but the orgasm just kept going. You fluttered around Bucky’s cock, milking him of cum. You stay in that position for the next two rounds of sex. Then you got on top again to give Bucky a break but this time you faced away from him. You couldn’t look at him. When you had rode him to two orgasms and yourself to utter exhaustion, he turned you on your stomach to fuck you again. You lost count of the number of times you had sex. More orgasms than you’d ever had in your life were accomplished and you didn’t have any clue how many times he came. You fucked until you both passed out. 

Waking up fourteen hours later, you felt as if you had the worst hangover you’d ever experienced. You glance at the spot Bucky had been in but he was gone. On the table by the bed was a couple of bottles of water, a protein bar, and a bottle of pain reliever. You raised your eyebrow at the items but just shrugged as you tore into all of them. You notice your pack is by the bed and you get up to put clothes on. The first thing you notice is the soreness between your legs but really your whole body hurts. You listen for a moment but don’t hear anything in the house. Peeking out the door, you see the empty living room and slip into the bathroom. You shower quickly, trying not to remember what happened in the small space just yesterday. 

You jump when a knock sounds while you are dressing. You call out, “Yes?”

“Exfil will be here in five minutes,” Bucky says through the broken door. 

“I’ll be right out,” you say. Your stomach is in knots. You can’t imagine facing him after everything. Would he act like nothing happened or gloat like the asshole he is? You wonder if you will ever be able to look him in the face again. You look at yourself, surprised that you still look the same as you did yesterday because you know you’ll never be the same again. But you didn’t have time to dwell on that. Now, you had a jet to catch.

Part 2

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[timmydraker]

During a patrol in Gotham one night, Red Robin comes across a strange sight.

A young woman stands over a crumpled body with a sling shot primed and ready, aimed a man with a rather large hand gun. It’s clear she’s protecting the woman who looks like she’s been hit over the head and had her bag nabbed, as it’s ripped and contents are spilled everywhere.

The girl sits shaking, she isn’t scared at all, standing strong with a shard of glass aimed at the man’s crotch.

Tim jumps down and disarms the man smoothly before turning to the young girl, who upon closer inspection seems to be around thirteen years old.

“Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head and stares at him for a moment with awe in his eyes before her eyes widen and she turns to the person behind her, “But she is! That guy was cornering her and I tried to help but he hit her and-“

“Alright, I understand. Would you like to help me get her to the ER a few blocks away?”

The girl nods with a determination Tim remembers seeing in Dick and Jason in their Robin days and he smiles.

He doesn’t ask her what her name is because side he knows he’ll follow up and find something to feel guilty about, but the girl seems to have her own plans.

She shows up a couple of days later, standing on a tall building with a cheap Robin outfit on.

Tim is confused before he drops down and she gives a big grin and mock salute, “How can I help?”

Tim smiled a little before shaking his head, “Taking the title of Robin, are you?”

She nods, now more bashful, “Well, I want to help people. I don’t want to fight exactly, but… well, sometimes you bats are too busy with the villains to notice the little guy and- bro to say you’re a bad hero-“

“You’re right, it’s okay. We can only do so much and sometimes preventing more damage being done saves more lives, but there will always be a cost.”

She smiles, bright orange, and impressively curly, hair getting in her eyes and sticking to the poor quality glue of her fake domino.

“I want to help. I… can help, please.”

Tim answers after a solid minute of silence, “What is your name?”

She frowns, “Aren’t I supposed to have a secret identity?”

He smiles in answer, “Yes, but I know what you look like and I can find out, I’m asking out of politeness.”

The girl looks like she could pout and Tim feels strangely old at the sight, even if he’s still got a few months before he can even legally drink.

“Carrie. Caroline to be specific.”

Tim smiles, “Well, Carrie, here’s the deal. I will meet you here or somewhere like here every night and until, and only until, you can land a hit on me will I agree to let you help.”

While Carrie doesn’t look pleased she nods, a clear sense of hope in her eyes even as she looks nervous.

She looses the first fight, and the second and third and fourth, but she gets better and better.

Tim doesn’t tell anyone about Carrie Kelly, nor does he tell her that he does end up doing a back ground check and finds two dead beat parents more focused on weed than their incredibly skilled daughter.

When she proves to be relentless in her desire to save lives he sends her to a teacher to help her stay hidden and safe. He’s not like Bruce, he doesn’t send her overseas to some dangerous people, but close by and to someone he trust to not hurt her nor tell anyone else about the strange young girl whose managed to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Selina Kyle is more than happy to take in the girl when she watches her sling shot fire crackers at muggers.

When Carrie comes back and meets Tim on a rooftop, she not only manages to hit him but knocks him off his feet.

Tim grins at her, pride filling his mind and making him understand Bruce just a little more.

But unlike Bruce, he isn’t throwing her into the fight at all.

Tim Drake is the one who pays for her school pills while her yippie parents refuse to work or spend money on her, and sends her real time footage of medical lectures in various collages across the country.

Carrie doesn’t become Robin, nor did she even wear that suit after the second night and he gave her a basic training outfit that properly covered her eyes and hair, but she does become something else.

She becomes Cardinal, the vigilante that swoops in to save civilians and provide the medical care that saves hundreds of people and allows the ambulances and hospitals to have a chance.

When she makes her debut the other bats worry about a new kid making bad choices, probably inspired by them, but Tim ignores it if only because he’s actually proud of her and trust her in a way he hasn’t trusted teammates in years.

After a year of this, a young girl asks for a meeting with Mister Tim Drake at his company and, purely so he wouldn’t have to do more pointless numbers, he lets her in after she passes the security check.

The girl who comes into his office is barely ten, cute little clips in her dark bob hair and a big book bag almost half her size behind her.

Tim recognised her instantly once he sees the bright yellow shoes she’s wearing.

This little girl, name Mia Mizoguchi, has been stalking him and Carrie for a few months now.

After he enrolled Carrie at Gotham Academy, the young girl nicknamed ‘Maps’ had been asking Carrie a lot of questions. Carrie had been good at avoiding incriminating answers, but had fallen for the younger girls clever trap as she casually spoke out infomation that could help with cases and Carrie delivered it back to Tim.

As soon as he realised that Maps had done exactly what he had done and figured out who Carrie was he was impressed. Because even if Carrie was new to the game, she had a skill for tricking people into looking away from her and had done well to stay low.

Maps had made the connection back to Tim, apparently.

Luckily, unlike Bruce, he wasn’t ignorant to their little stalker and actually knew her family from a few galas and charities. To be fair, Tim also wasn’t clouded by grief, but as he lets the girl explain how she totally doesn’t know who Red Robin is but if she did know who he was she would want him to know that a new drug trade route was actually being covered by a cotton candy company and she has over sixty pages worth of proof.

When he shows up to The Nest (named by Carrie) with Maps behind him, he finds Cardinal waiting with an excited gleam in her eyes.

Due to her being so young, Tim doesn’t allow Maps to go into the field until she’s the same age as both he and Carrie were, but she’s quick to show her worth taking over coms and doing an insanely detailed level of detective work that Tim can’t help but be a little jealous of.

Just like Carrie, who has been trying with Selina about only becoming Catgirl if Catwoman stops being a criminal for a few weeks now, he sends her to someone else for mentor ship.

Maps is a sweet girl, but she loves to talk and has a lot of friends who have most of the same interest, so he sends her to the one bat member he trust most.

Cassandra Cain immediately tells Tim that he has to adopt both of them and can’t quite understand why them both having living parents matters.

It’s Cass who gives Maps her vigilante name, Sparrow.