#// me: huh most of his things come from summer...

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 3 | masterlist

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It’s not unusual for someone to mistake you for the baby’s mama.

How could someone not, at least for a moment? When you take the baby to the grocery store, older people gush over him babbling in his stroller, eager to shower him with compliments in baby-talk or tell you how much you resemble the little tyke. After hearing the same comment for the umpteenth time, you tire of correcting people by saying you’re the babysitter only to watch their face fall, somewhat mortified and feeling as though their comment should’ve been directed to the baby’s actual mother. Which isn’t you. 

It’s less typical for someone to mistake you for John’s wife, though that does happen from time to time.

You’ve become a fixture around the neighbourhood since John hired you at the beginning of the summer, and over the weeks, the other nannies and the stay-at-home moms have started to gradually warm up to you. Before long, you’re being invited on coffee runs and playdates with some of the other women, always careful to ask for John’s permission before bringing his baby into a stranger’s house.

“Just text me the address and their names,” he requests while you stand awkwardly in front of him, John sitting on the bed to finish buttoning up his shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. You would’ve been fine standing on the other side of the door while he finished changing, but he insisted on inviting you in.

“I will,” you promise, nodding along with his words.

“And call me if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll come get the two of you right away if you need me.”

You swallow. Nod again.

The first time you take the baby for a playdate with a couple of the moms from the park, one catches you in the act of texting John the address of the house as he requested. “Hubby wants to know where you are, huh?”

“Oh,” you choke out, face heating up. “He’s not—”

“Not a control freak, I know. They’re all like that.” Her smile is ebullient, rolling her eyes like you’re in on a joke together when you most assuredly are not. “Why don’t you share your location with him? Mine’s the same way. Here—I’ll show you how.”

She takes your phone and tap-taps something and suddenly you see it in the notifications of your conversation with John. If you bite your lip instead of correcting her assumption about the nature of your and John’s relationship, that’s for you and you alone to know. Your rationale is that any explanation will just make things tense; it’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before. 

It’s far more concerning when John doesn’t correct those assumptions. Particularly when you’re standing right next to him. 

Like at the local water park on a particularly hot weekend, wading in the kiddy pool with the baby nestled tight against your chest in his little swim trunks and floppy hat only for an employee to ask John if his wife would like something to drink. 

“Iced coffee, love?” John asks, taking your stupefied silence as a yes. “Nothing for me, mate. Cheers.” 

Your head spins like a top on that thought until a good while later. The server hands you a glass of iced coffee with condensation already dripping down the sides and John thanks him for you, taking the baby from you and pulling you to his side. You drink your coffee quietly with your thigh flush with his under the water, gripping the glass harder when his free hand squeezes around your waist, laughing at something another parent said to him.

It’s so over for you. There’s no coming back from this. 

The sight of someone of John’s size, a bulky, military man with arms of pure steel dusted with dark hairs, cradling a tiny, chubby baby with a thatch of similar dark hair on his head and big cheeks and roly poly arms unlocks something primal in you. An old, buried need. 

In the family changing room, you stand under an ice cold shower until it breaks the fever slowly consuming you. All you can do is hope it takes. 

In the evening, you sit out on the porch with John at the back of the house until the crickets swell with song, the moon a half-crescent in the sky. A cool breeze makes your shoulders lift a little, huddling into your body to keep warm. 

It’s hard to keep your eyes on the view in front of you and off the man sitting beside you when they want so badly to be running over him. He’s changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and an old threadbare shirt, the sage green fabric faded after years of being run through the washing machine. It clings to his biceps and the soft pudge of his stomach, a layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath. 

A cigarette dangles from his fingers, thick wrist perched on the arm of the adirondack chair. Every so often he lifts it to his lips for a puff, always breathing out in the opposite direction from you. Considerate of your health, at least, if not his own. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks before ashing his cigarette, and your bottom lip purses when you turn your head to look at him because you thought you were doing a good job suppressing your shivers. 

You stare at him, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at your questioning stare and deliberately glances down, waiting until you notice the way your nipples are protruding through your white tank top. You forgot that you’d taken your bra off earlier for a bit of relief and hadn’t yet had a chance to put it back on. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, crossing your arms to hide as much as possible, humiliation flooding through you. “I’m so sorry—that’s so—I-I’m so sorry.”

John makes a rough sound when he rises to his feet, knees cracking as he does. “S’alright, hun. Lemme get you something to put on.”

The screen door creaks when he goes back inside briefly to fetch something only to come back a few seconds later with a big, cotton sweater that reeks of him. It looks well loved, some remnant of his younger years, and even from a distance, you can smell the distinct smoky aroma clinging to the fabric. 

When he kneels in front of you, you nearly go cross-eyed at the realisation that even on his knees, he’s as tall as you. The bulk of his waist forces your legs to spread around him. 

“C’mon, arms up,” John commands, barely waiting until you’ve raised your arms above your head before helping guide your head and arms into the right holes. 

Dragging the sweater down the way he does forces it to rub over your nipples, sending a shock through you. If you had any less self-control, your teeth might actually chatter together. 

“There we go,” he says, fluffing out the sweater around your waist before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, the gesture coming so naturally to him that you doubt he’s even noticed the placement of his hands. “Much better. That’ll warm you up.”

He isn't wrong. You’ve already worked up a sweat. 

Late night rain.

It comes down in buckets, a dark slate rapping hard against the window pane. A bolt of lightning flickers across the horizon off in the distance. White striations across an otherwise dark sky. About thirty seconds later, thunder rumbles. 

You peek from between the blinds, chewing your lip nervously. You’ve never driven in rain this bad, but with supper done and the dishes washed, there’s no excuse for you to stay any longer. Still, the rain comes down so heavily that despite your timidity, you briefly contemplate asking John if you can stay a little longer. At least until it lets up a bit; until your headlights won’t blind you reflecting off the puddles on the drive home. 

Someone else pulls the blinds further apart.

“There’s no way in hell you’re going out in that,” John says from behind you, practically growling his words. Daring you to contradict him. 

You glance over your shoulder to find him right there at your back, staring out the window. He’s so close that you can smell the red sauce on his flannel from dinner and make out the flecks of grey in his beard that are almost masked by the darker hairs. 

“It’s not…that bad…”

“Sweetheart, don’t piss me off,” he warns.

The blinds shuttle back together with a clatter when you finally let go of them. 

“I could—I could take the couch,” you offer. 

“Sweetheart,” John sighs, looking down at you meaningfully.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“I’m not gonna take the big, comfy bed and leave you with the couch.” When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “And don’t even try arguing. I won’t hear it.”

There’s not much you can say to dissuade him after that. The furrow of his brow lets you know he’s made up his mind; no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, there’s a not-so-secret part of you that’s relieved that you don’t have to drive home in this weather. You’re an average driver on a good day. You don’t need your last moments before shuffling off this mortal coil to involve hydroplaning on the highway before ramming into the guardrail. 

John gives you a shirt of his to change into for after your shower, which you spend far too long in, scrubbing your body with his shower gel and quivering under the warm water. When you pull it on, you bring the collar up to your nose to smell. The same patent smoky scent, musky like ambergris and leather. Intoxicating. It makes the blood rush through your ear like a conch shell, the ocean swirling behind your eardrum. 

You hadn’t asked for underwear, content at first to keep on the same pair, but after your shower, you cringe at the thought of putting your day-old panties back on. Besides, his shirt is long enough to cover anything indecent. 

He sits on the edge of the bed when you come out, the concern on his brow melting away at the sight of you. 

“Practically a dress on you, isn’t it?” John says, voice a little wondrous. His eyes drag over you, tip to toe. 

You fiddle with the ends of it. “…Are you sure you want me to take the bed?” 

“Wouldn’t be fair. It’s yours for the night.” His lips quirk up at the corners when you frown. “Don’t worry about me—I’ve slept in worse places before.”

“Like where?” you ask dubiously.

“Tents. Abandoned buildings. Shacks. In the back of a moving van a few times. You wouldn’t believe half the places we used to make camp. Definitely no place for pretty girls like you.”

His condescending tone vaguely annoys you, but it’s hard to dig into your irritation when he thumbs the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and you realise that he’s just a few raised inches away from noticing that you don’t have any panties on. You should’ve just put your old ones back on, but it’s far too late now. 

You clear your throat instead. “We could…um…we could share.” 

You don’t know what possesses you to offer to share the bed, but the words are already gone, out of your mouth and in the air. John cocks an eyebrow.

“Unless you don’t want to,” you amend. 

“Don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he rasps. “…I snore like a bear.”

“That’s okay. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”

John scrutinises you a bit longer, looking for any sign of hesitancy. You know he’d squash your offer in a second if he found any wariness in your gaze. 

“Alright,” he finally concedes, letting go of your shirt and slapping his thighs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up and can’t fall back asleep because of my snoring.”

After his shower, during which you lie on your side facing away from the bathroom door, stomach fraught with nerves as you consider the fact that he’s naked in the ensuite, you hear him come out and rummage around in the dresser for a change of clothes. You lie beside him with your stomach twisted in knots, your hands shoved under the pillow and staring resolutely at the wall. 

The appropriateness of sleeping in the same bed beside your boss isn't lost on you, but you're too far into this now.

The bed dips when he settles onto the other side, and the sudden absence of light when he switches the bedside lamp off nearly makes you cheep. 

He breathes heavily, you notice, particularly when he finally falls asleep. It’s a deep, rumbling sound—not entirely unlike a bear, though you can’t really confirm that for certain seeing as how you’ve never slept beside a bear before. 

Those are the thoughts that would signal the approach of sleep if you weren’t soon to be engulfed by it. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to a rough hand stroking your back leisurely. There’s a hard chest under you, your cheek propped up on a pillowy pec that rises and falls with his breaths. Sleep bobs around in you like a toulouse decanter. You struggle to keep an eye open, certain that there’s something you need to tend to, but then his hand slides down your back again to curve over your rump and sleep drags you back down. 

You wake up again to your breath wafting back into your mouth, your face shoved into the crook of a man’s neck. Humid, hot. You’re lipping at the skin of his neck, little tongue darting out to lap up a bead of sweat, salty on your tongue. 

Your cunt pulses against his leg, toes curling when John drags his hand up your thigh and hitches it higher up around his waist. 

“Baby?” he groans, his voice still rusty from sleep. The sound is a rough burr up your spine. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Couldn’ get comfy.”

“You hot?” he asks.

The denial on the tip of your tongue slips back down your throat when he plants his foot on the bed and draws his leg up, pressing the meat of his thigh into your throbbing sex. 

“Here, lemme help you—” he groans, reaching down to ruck up your shirt, dragging it up over your breasts and helping manoeuvre your arms out of the holes. It gets tossed off the bed onto the floor. 

Now your breasts are flat on his chest, smushed against his ribcage. It registers somewhere in the back of your head as inappropriate, but sleep pushes that thought away, focusing instead on the discomfort of moving around when you just want to settle back down and go back to bed. 

It must be the heat making you act this way. 

“Shit—sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, shifting under you. “M’hot too.”

He plants a hand on your ass and heaves you up his chest, giving him enough room to wiggle out of his boxers. It pushes your breasts right into his face, your nipples mere inches from his mouth. When his tongue pokes out to wet his upper lip, it nicks your pebbled nipple. 

A hard length presses against your butt when you’re slid back down, the tip wet when it catches against your skin. 

“Jus’ ignore it, sweetie,” John mumbles, petting a hand down your back. 

You lie like that for a while, splayed over his body. Want simmering just under your skin. Flustered and exhausted all at once, sleep-drained; not a drop of strength in your muscles. 

The heat is just—

Scorching. Dizzying. You feel featherbrained, slipping in and out of sleep, biting off the whimpers that threaten to crawl up your throat when John tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs to wrench them apart, spreading them around his hips again. 

Distantly, you remember that the man under you is at least twenty years your senior. Your employer at that. A man now palming your butt, sinking his fingers into the flesh and rumbling low in his throat. 

It’s wrong—flagrantly wrong. You know that you should say something, that you should get up and tell him that you’re going to sleep on the couch instead. But your tongue is too thick for your mouth. And your thoughts are a sticky paste. The pulse between your thighs empties out all the common sense from your head. 

His palms are slick on your skin. 

Your breathing grows shallow when a hard length suddenly pushes between your thighs as well. 

When the mushroomed head nudges at your opening, you flinch, heart thumping ferociously against your chest. 

“John—John—” you breathe, panicked. As if to warn him. As if he weren’t planting both feet on the bed and lifting his hips. 

As if it wasn’t his hands, warm on your waist, dragging you down onto the shaft spearing into you. 

Your blood is molten hot in your veins. Sticky hands and sticky fingers curl into his chest hair. Your head thumps against his pecs, too weak to hold it up, lipping at the damp skin of his chest. 

“It hurts—” you bleat, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“I know, baby, I know,” John pants. He draws his hips back just to press forward again, deeper this time. Filling you up more than before. “I’m sorry, baby—I can’t, it’s just…too good. Shit.”

Resolve in tatters. Shattered like his willpower, like his determination not to fuck the girl twenty years his junior sleeping beside him in his bed. 

His hips pump up into yours, bouncing you in his lap. Each thrust plunging his cock deeper into your pussy. It’d be painful if you weren’t so wet, but you’re dripping, arousal making you leak around his shaft and slickening his way. 

Sleep still rattles around in your brain, but not even the fog of sleep can shake the ever intensifying realisation that you’re fucking your boss. No two ways around it—breasts naked against his hirsute chest; pussy wet and stuffed to the hilt with a big dick. Knocked senseless by it. 

The veins of his cock drag over the viscid walls of your cunt with every thrust. He must like the involuntary noises you make because he loses his rhythm when you cry out, growling out a string of unintelligible curses. His body feels bigger like this somehow, biceps and forearms bulging where they’re wrapped around your waist, hips forcing your legs to spread wide around him, the ache sinking deep into your muscle, into your bones.  

When you look up at him, his eyes are more hooded than usual, the blue of his irises so dark that they’re almost black. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts, big arms like steel bands around your waist, holding you tight to his chest so you have nowhere to run. “Jus’ let…jus’ let daddy come and—oh Christ, fuck, fuck…—jus’ lemme come and we’ll go back to bed, okay, sweetie?”

“I’m gonna…” you pant, trailing off when he gets a little rough, pumping harder up into you. The sound of your pussy squelching around his length makes your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah, yeah, you—you come too, baby. Jus’ need to take the edge off, both of us.”

You squeal when he reaches a hand down to dig his fingers into your butt cheek and it makes you tense up, walls tightening around his dick. One well-placed swat hard enough to make the flesh of your ass jiggle and you come, clenching up so tight that his next few thrusts are slowed by your spasming walls, forcing him to really cram his cock into your hole. 

“Christ, that’s cute,” John growls, his pupils blown out. 

It hurts to come that hard; makes your belly cramp up and everything. Whatever gibberish spills from your mouth gets lost in the aftermath. 

That’s when the temperature goes from hot to blistering. The muscles of his thighs tense, straining with his impending release. Even his grip around your waist gets tighter, his self-control steamrolled under his approaching climax, oblivious to the way you squeal and squirm when it threads the delicate needle of being too much. 

“Sorry, baby,” he apologises, voice treading gravel. “M’gonna mess your pussy up a bit—”

“Wait—wait—” you gasp, trying fruitlessly to lift yourself up, his arms keeping you pinned tight to his chest. “You’re gonna—John, you’re gonna come inside me—”

His hips thrust up hard at your words, one last rough pump that has him digging his heels into the mattress and clenching his jaw, the veins in his neck protruding. You feel it flood inside you, hot spurts of cum right up against your womb. He curses when he comes, eyelids sliding shut, lost in the sensation of emptying himself into you. 

A few last, punishing thrusts that make your teeth clack together. More heat spurting into you. A murmured oh fuck before his legs slide back down the bed, spreading out over the mattress. 

The blanket is somewhere at the foot of the bed, all scrunched up and nearly dangling off the edge. You only start to shiver when the sweat on your back finally begins to cool. 

When he pulls you off his cock, you whimper, a hot flash snaking through you. Oh Christ did he plug you up good. Stringy, viscous cum leaks from your hole, leaving a little puddle on his thigh when you slide off his chest and to the side a bit. 

“Oh baby,” he tuts softly, reaching between your legs to feel where you’re wet and a little swollen. “Sorry, sweetheart…wanna get cleaned up?”

“No…” you rasp, so dazed that you can’t even lift your cheek off his chest. 

Exhaustion has never ridden you this hard before, but considering the circumstances…—perhaps you’re lucky to be conscious at all, is all you mean. There’s not a chance of you having enough energy to do anything as rigorous as showering though. 

“Okay, baby. Little kiss?” John asks in a murmur, lifting your head up by your chin and swooping down for a kiss. Not even giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth is on yours. 

His lips glide slick against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needs a good, deep kiss to ground him. A wet twisting of tongues; a thick finger stroking up your neck. He can’t stop touching you. Running a hand up your spine and curving it back down over your ass. Featherlight touches meant to calm you down. His kisses grow sticky, lingering; each one almost the last until he pulls you in for another. 

“Go back to sleep, okay?” John says, still speaking low enough to push you back under. He smooths his hand down your back again. 

You fall back asleep with a load in your belly and your head in a tizzy. The you of tomorrow is going to have a lot to contend with from the you of tonight.

[tokkiwrites]

game show host!joel miller x contestant f! reader ▪︎summary: it's the late 1970s, and you're fresh out of college. for your graduation gift, your parents got you a special ticket to be part of your favorite game show, 'Love Jive'. They didn't know you didn't like the show itselfㅡ but it's smooth talking MC, Joel Miller. ▪︎tags: pwp, age gap (pretty hefty one), super flirty joel, shy/lovestruck reader, afab!reader, pet names galore!!, p in v (unprotected), mirror sex kind of, slight breeding kink, creampie, joel kind of has an innocence kink idk.

▪︎this has been sitting in my drafts for two months now. Hopefully, you enjoy this short and silly 2.45k words one. There is no plot for it honestly, just thought it would be a cute concept. maybe a series might come from it. Who knows? anyway!!! love ya!!

It was the summer of 1979, and the air felt heavy with possibility. You were fresh out of college, diploma in hand, and ready to take on the world—or at least that’s what you told yourself when your parents asked what came next.

Their graduation gift to you? A surprise ticket to Love Jive, the hottest game show on TV. You’d tried to hide your awkward smile when they handed it over, the envelope sparkling with glitter that matched the show’s logo. What they didn’t know was that it wasn’t the show’s ridiculous premise that had you tuning in every week.

It was him.

Joel Miller.

The man was a legend, smooth as honey and twice as sweet. The way his Texan drawl slid over those ridiculous love-related catchphrases? You swore it had ruined you for men your own age. He had to be at least twenty years older than you, but that salt-and-pepper hair, that sly smile, those broad shoulders stretching under his velvet blazer? They didn’t make men like Joel Miller anymore.

So here you were, standing nervously behind the curtain in the Love Jive studio.

“Contestants, ready?” a stagehand called.

Your stomach did a flip as the warm-up announcer's voice boomed through the speakers. The audience clapped and cheered, the excitement infectious. Before you could second-guess yourself, the curtain lifted, and the stage lights bathed you in gold.

And there he was.

Joel Miller stood center stage, microphone in hand, looking like he owned the room— and maybe he did. That million-watt smile lit up his face, his dark eyes sweeping the contestants before landing on you. He did a double take so subtle you almost missed it, but when his smile softened just a fraction, your heart skipped a beat.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” His voice rolled through the air like warm molasses, drawing chuckles from the crowd. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves some fine contestants tonight. Y’all ready to find love and maybe a little bit of fun?”

The audience erupted in cheers, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to join them. Not when Joel Miller was staring at you like you were the most interesting thing in the room.

“And what’s your name, darlin’?” Joel asked, pointing the microphone toward you.

You blinked, mouth suddenly dry. “Uh—uh, it’s—” You blurted out your name, voice cracking slightly. Joel chuckled, low and smooth, his dimples deepening as he grinned. “Well now, ain’t you just the sweetest thing. Y’all hear that? Even her name’s cute as a button.”

The crowd ooh’d and ahh’d, but Joel’s gaze stayed locked on you.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he drawled, leaning ever so slightly closer, “what brings a lovely little thing like you to Love Jive? Lookin’ for romance? Or just here for the spectacle?” Heat bloomed in your cheeks, and you prayed the lights were too bright for anyone to notice. “Um, I—I guess you could say both?”

Joel’s eyebrows lifted, and his grin turned downright wicked. “Both, huh? Well, darlin’, I can promise you this much—you’re in for one hell of a show.” The crowd roared their approval as Joel winked at you, leaving your heart thundering in your chest. You’d come to Love Jive expecting to admire Joel Miller from afar. You hadn’t counted on becoming the center of his attention.

And as the game began, one thing became crystal clear: Joel wasn’t just hosting tonight. He was playing a game of his own— and you were the prize he had his sights set on.

Fast forward to the 15-minute commercial break.

The knock on the door came firmly, pulling you out of your flustered thoughts. You glanced at the mirror, smoothing down your blouse and trying to will away the redness on your cheeks. “Come in,” you called out, voice trembling slightly.

The door creaked open, and in stepped Joel Miller, the man of all your desires.

The sight of him so close took your breath away. He leaned casually against the doorframe for a moment, his dark eyes settling on you. His smile, warm and teasing, was the kind that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. “Well, there you are,” he drawled, his voice like velvet. “Thought I’d come check on you, see how my favorite contestant’s holdin’ up.” You blinked, trying to find your voice. “Oh, uh—fine! I’m fine,” you stammered, your hands twisting nervously.

Joel stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The dressing room wasn’t large to begin with, and his presence filled it completely, making the space feel even smaller.

“Fine, huh?” he said, leaning against the vanity, his arms crossing casually over his chest. “Can’t blame you for bein’ a little flustered. All those lights, all those people… and me.” His grin turned teasing, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest moment. You laughed nervously, shaking your head. “It’s not—I mean, you’re not—”

“Sweetheart, relax,” Joel interrupted, his voice a low chuckle. “I’m just messin’ with you.” His eyes softened, and he tilted his head. “But if I’m bein’ honest, you’ve got somethin’ about you. That’s got me wonderin’ if maybe I’m the one a little flustered tonight.”

Your heart skipped at his words. “Me?” you asked, disbelief clear in your voice. Joel’s grin deepened, his dimples on full display. “Yeah, you,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. He stepped closer, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Pretty little thing like you walkin’ in here, lookin’ all sweet and innocent, got every man in the audience wishin’ he was sittin' in my shoes tonight.” You felt like your face might catch fire. “I don’t think that’s true,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel reached out, gently lifting your chin so you had no choice but to look at him. His hand was warm and firm, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Well, I do,” he said softly, his dark eyes holding yours. “And I don’t say things I don’t mean, sweet girl."

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as he leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping even lower. “I was thinkin’... maybe once this show wraps up, you and I could get outta here. Go somewhere quiet. Just you and me.” Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you felt dizzy under his gaze. “You mean… like a date?”

Joel chuckled, the sound rich and deep. “Exactly like a date,” he murmured. “What do you say, sweetheart?” You nodded before you could overthink it, your shy smile breaking free. “I’d really like that.” Joel’s grin turned downright wicked. “Good,” he drawled, his hand sliding to cradle your cheek. “’Cause I’ve been dyin’ to do this all night.”

Before you could say another word, Joel leaned in and kissed you. His lips were warm and sure, moving against yours with a perfect mix of confidence and tenderness. You felt your hands instinctively grip the vanity behind you, your knees going weak as his other hand settled lightly on your waist.

The kiss lingered, soft and sweet, but with just enough heat to leave your head all dizzy. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Damn,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, “even better than I imagined.” You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you, shy and giddy all at once. “You imagined kissing me?”

Joel grinned, pressing a quick, playful kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Oh, I imagined far more than kissing you, darlin’. Hard not to when you look at me the way you do.” Your heart felt like it might burst, but before you could respond, a sharp knock sounded at the door. “Mr. Miller, we’re back in two!”

Joel sighed dramatically, giving you a wink as he stepped back. “Guess I better get back to work,” he said, his tone light but his eyes still lingering on you. “Don’t go runnin’ off after the show, y’hear? I’m not done with you yet.” You nodded, still too flustered to form a coherent sentence. With one last smirk, Joel turned and strolled out the door, leaving you breathless.

The show had ended in a blur of applause, flashing lights, and the announcer’s booming voice thanking everyone for watching. Contestants and crew mingled briefly as everyone prepared to leave. You’d just stepped to the side of the stage when one of the other contestants, a bubbly blonde in a bright orange jumpsuit, sidled up to you with a knowing smile.

“Well, well, well,” she teased, nudging you with her elbow. “Looks like you really got Mister Smooth swooning all over ya.”

You blinked, startled. “What? No, I don’t think—”

“Oh, honey,” she interrupted with a laugh, crossing her arms. “Everyone could see the way he was devouring you with his eyes. I swear, I was worried he might forget the rest of us were even there.” Your face went hot, and you shook your head quickly. “You’re imagining things.”

“Sure,” she said with a wink, already walking away. “If by ‘imagining things,’ you mean watching him look at you like you hung the moon. Enjoy it, sweetie. A man like Joel Miller doesn’t come around every day.”

Her words echoed in your head as you made your way back to your dressing room. Closing the door behind you, you exhaled deeply, desperate for a moment to collect yourself. The quiet was a relief after the chaos of the show. You slipped out of your stage outfit and into the dress you’d brought for afterward. A soft yellow dress with bell sleeves, a cinched waist, and a flowing A-line skirt covered in a delicate floral print. It felt like something out of a sunny dream, and you hoped it might give you a touch of the confidence you sorely lacked.

You were smoothing the fabric over your hips when the door opened without warning.

“Oh, wow.” The single word made you whirl around. There he was. Joel Miller, standing in the doorway. His tie was loosened, his shirt collar slightly unbuttoned, and his dark eyes were locked on you. “You’re gorgeous,” he said, the words leaving his lips like a breath. Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you managed a shy smile. “Oh, it’s just… just a dress,” you murmured, brushing your hands nervously over the skirt.

Joel stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he approached. His gaze was unwavering, taking you in like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Just a dress, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But you could be wearin’ a paper bag, and you’d still be the most beautiful thing in the room.” You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Joel stopped in front of you, lifting a hand to gently cup your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin, his touch warm and steady.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, before closing the space between you.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. Where the earlier kiss had been soft and tentative, this one was sure, filled with hunger and intent. His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a passion that made your knees weak.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak— only feel. His touch, his warmth, the way he held you like you were something rare. “Been thinkin’ about doin’ that since the first time I saw you,” he admitted, his voice rough.

You let out a breathless laugh, your hands clutching the lapels of his jacket for balance. “You’ve kissed me twice tonight, Joel,” you teased, your voice trembling slightly. Joel grinned, his dimples making an appearance. “Yeah, I have a soft spot for sweet girls like yourself. ” he said before pausing shortly. “And if you’ll let me, darlin’, I’d be doin' a lot more than kissing you.”

Stopping him was the furthest thing from your mind.

"I'll let you.."

Without thinking, you tilt your head up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of submission and maybe a little defiance. His eyes darken, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he's won some battle. " You're a good girl," he breathes, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw. The contact sends sparks through you, and your skin burns where he touches. Without any hesitation, he spins both of you so that you are facing the large golden mirror above the counter. Joel groans, rolling his shoulders back as he bends you over the vanity, your hips snug in his grip. "God, you're so fuckin' gorgeous, angel."

you look down. "Please.." The man shakes his head and lands a hard smack on one of your asscheeks, making you yelp in the process. He takes his time pulling up your flowy dress, finally taking a look at your soaking panties, white with laced blue details. "Fuck, look at her." His calloused thumb makes contact with your clothed folds, dragging it up and down, in painfully slow circles. In mere seconds, you hear the material rip and then feel the flimsy undergarments fall on the cold tiled floor.

"What a pretty pussy." he mutters under his breath, undoing his trousers. he pulls them a bit down, enough for his manhood to spring free and slap against his covered bellybutton. you can see it all in the mirrorㅡ it's huge, to say the least. you gasp softly as you feel him drag the wet tip of it against your swollen bud, and you hide your gaze, head hanging low in embarrassment. this doesn't last long, as his rough palm grabs at your face pulling it up again. you're making eye contact with him through the lit up mirror and you see him shake his head. "No, baby. You watch while I wreck this pussy, understand?" you shake your head, agreeing, but that isn't good enough so he slaps your cheek with the back of his hand, lightly.

"Speak, sweetheart." you breathe out. "Yes, Joel." he drags the pulsing tip up and down, up and down as if he didn't make you wait long enough. truthfully you never wanted it to end, so maybe him teasing was his way of making sure this lasts. after he thinks its sufficient, Joel starts to push inside, and godㅡ your breath gets stuck into your throat, from the feeling laden with thorns. every prick of discomfort is soon replaced by an unexpected surge of delight.

Your tears fall down onto the surface under you, little moans gripping your throat as he slips inside further. "You're alright..." he assures you, asking you to surrender.

"Take it all. Atta girl, just like that..." he praises, lifting your hips a bit to get a better angle. Joel moves gently at first, each stroke hitting deeper within your core, the pain soon converging with ecstasy right as he alerts his movements. His hips dive down with force, one of his palms snaking up and wrapping itself tightly around your throat, assuring you see how good he's destroying you.

Your head was spinning, heart pounding, as his whole weight dominated over you. "That's it, little girl, look how tight she's suckin' me in." his thrusts are rough, each hit making your body bounce, the urgency as he hit that very spot each time. your whole insides burning, too cock drunk to talk or respond, other than some pathetic whines that perfectly accompanied the wet sounds your pussy made wrapped around him.

"Oh, god, please.." You manage. pulling at your hair, he starts chuckling. "Am I your god, baby? Ya like beggin'?" While thrusting relentlessly into you, jelly like legs barely holding you up anymore, your knees buckle. Feeling you tightening, the hand that was around your throat slips down to your clit, while the other makes you spread your legs wide again for easier access, this allowed you to take in a big gulp of air before you feel him deeper in your guts.

"Want me to breed this young pussy, huh? Fill you up with my babies? let people inside this roomㅡ let them film it for the whole world to see?" the room spins around you, vision blurry with tears and brain all fuzzy. you try your best to reply. "yes, oh, p-lease, please! "

"Go ahead." the man succeeded to say, between his breathy groans. "Thank you, thank you, oh god, thank you so much, Joel!" you cry out, praying to him whilst he keeps fucking into your pulsing cunt. The man buries himself into you as you come down from your high, body almost too limp to register your surroundings. then he slaps your ass, and watches you writhe under him. You looked perfect, like a carved our porcelain doll. With a few more snaps of his hips you feel he's close, his nails digging roughly into your skin as he finally paints your velvet walls with white ropes of come. "God fuckin'ㅡ!" you know that will leave bruises.

the dressing room feels sticky, and the mirror in front of you is all fogged up, but you can just barely make out your face, all tearstained and messy. You moan as he pulls out, the sudden feeling of emptiness leaving you shivering. Joel watches intently as his seed drips out of you, your body beautifully splayed out right under him like the most beautiful piece of art.

You're both quiet for a bit, before he breaks the silence. "You're still up for that date, little lady?"

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (02)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content sexual jokes, rafe being a tease !

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 01 ¡ 02 ¡ 03

yourusername

liked by sarahcameron, rafecameron and 1,129 others

yourusername me and gf on a mermaids date  🧜‍♀️ 

view all comments

sarahcameron GF 🙈🙈🙈 most beautiful girl ive ever seen ↳ yourusername BABYYY ily

sarahcameron do you want to be my wife ↳ johnroutledge Uhm ↳ yourusername leave little boy she doesnt want you 🧏‍♀️

sarahcameron cant believe we met its been SO long ↳ yourusername still in shock could you kiss me to make sure this is real?  ↳ sarahcameron come to mama 💋 

ryanontop God your ugly ↳ yourusername you’re*… spell right you illiterate fuck ↳ ryanontop Fuck off it was a typo ↳ yourusername you know damn well!!!!

cleoanderson WAIT WHAT

kiecarrera ??? HUH

kiecarrera IM SO CONFUSED ↳ cleoanderson ME TOO ☹️ ↳ sarahcameron hey 👋  ↳ cleoanderson girl you both got some explaining to do ↳ yourusername trust me i was as shocked as you are 😓

popeheyward Insane ↳ yourusername PIPE down fella (get it ahahaha) ↳ popeheyward That wasn't funny ↳ cleoanderson be nice to my girl >:( ↳ popeheyward Baby you're supposed to defend me ↳ yourusername YEAHHH CLOCK THAT HO

jjmaybanks whats for supper  ↳ yourusername saltwater

user1 PRETTY!!!! 

user2 so lovely 🥹

user3 DRESS ATE DOWN ↳ yourusername YEAHH tryna impress the hoes ↳ ryanontop Crickets ↳ sarahcameron not cool Ryan. ↳ ryanontop Sorry Sarah Cameron.

rafecameron Hey 👋🏼👋🏼👋🏼 ↳ yourusername uhhh uhmm  ↳ rafecameron ??? What ↳ sarahcameron what are you doing here ↳ yourusername yeah get out of my comment section ↳ rafecameron I’m not even doing anything 

rafecameron Sarah looks like a duck  ↳ yourusername shes my little duckling 🐥  ↳ rafecameron Oh I didn't mean that in a cute way ↳ sarahcameron hey >:( ↳ yourusername insult my gf one more time and ill fuck you UP ↳ rafecameron Oh?  ↳ ryanontop Uhh  ↳ rafecameron Yo wsg baby ↳ yourusername flirt somewhere else please dont start sexting in my comment section ↳ rafecameron Awe man :( but it's way more fun in public ↳ yourusername pardon me! there's children in my comments, please refrain from having sex here ↳ rafecameron You're the one talking about sexting, not me...

Involving yourself with Rafe Cameron, whom you later found out was good friends with your brother, was definitely not a part of your plan. 

Spending the next two months with him meant coming to terms with your actions, perhaps take responsibility for the mess you created out of this situation. Had you further dug into his information, paid attention to the last name splattered across your screen, you would not have ended up in the bathroom, contemplating whether going downstairs was a good idea. 

Avoiding him could be an option right now, but you knew you'd have to face him one day, whether it was today, or another. And while he stayed oblivious to the incident, you couldn’t help the embarrassment that flushed your face everytime his eyes would lock with yours.

You somehow spent the afternoon together, his lingering gazes leaving you a nervous mess every time his eyes fell on you. He’d stare at you for a few seconds, letting tension heave through the air, almost as if it was the most casual thing ever, as if he’s not your brother’s best friend, someone so off limits, forbidden to the touch. 

Besides that, it was nice, you got to spend more time with Sarah, catch up with the girl and everything you missed out on in the past few hours she was gone. It distracted you from your embarrassment, eternally grateful, because you don’t think you’ll be capable of spending another minute within Rafe’s presence without exploding. 

Taking a deep breath, you mustered up the courage to head downstairs, taking each step with haste. Sarah perked up when the hardwood creaked underneath you, causing you to come to a halt. Sarah called out your name, addressing you with the hand she waved in your direction, her excitement instantly replacing the frown spread across your face with a smile. 

“What took you so long?” Her lips jut into a pout, tucking her hair behind her ear. She welcomed you with open arms, chuckling when you accepted the embrace with a content hum “You know, I missed you.” 

“You were jus’ talking to me.” You muffled out, relaxing as the blonde rocked your bodies back and forth. 

“It’s not the same!” She exclaimed, pulling away for a moment. “It’s not everyday I get to see you in real life.” 

Ryan cleared his throat, in an attempt to earn yours and Sarah’s attention. To his satisfaction, he did, causing your gaze to shift back to the latter, instantly detecting the disgusted expression he had splattered across his face. 

“Can you save this for later, and please help me out?” Ryan questioned, making you roll your eyes. “You think I called you down so you could be all over each other?” 

“Shut up.” Sarah stuck out her tongue, teasing the latter from where she stood. 

You scrunched your nose, tensing when you sensed Rafe’s burning glare from the corner of your eyes. The boy’s glances were intense, almost as if he was staring at you for the purpose of undressing you with his gaze, and that, yeah, it never failed to knock a breath out of your chest, creating a flustered mess out of you. 

Sarah returned to her old position, standing behind the counter with you following in her steps, striving to see what they were up to. Your lips formed into an ‘o’ shape, peaking with interest when you noticed the deviled eggs Ryan was plating.

“That looks good,” you hummed, turning in Ryan’s direction, who conceitedly nodded, proud of the dish they had displayed on the counter. “Don’t people usually make these for thanksgiving, though?”

“That’s what I said!” Sarah agreed, giggling when Ryan grumbled, disapproving of your statement. 

“You’re acting like you’re not gonna eat them!” He elbowed your side, acknowledging you with his chin when you hissed, faking a pained expression. “Stop complaining and grab more plates, we need them for the mash potatoes.” 

“The only thing missing is the turkey, at this point.” You scoffed, mumbling to yourself, though Ryan could still hear you. “Where’s the plates?” 

“Uhh,” Sarah started, observing the cabinets behind you. She pointed to one of them with her finger, your eyes instantly following where her digit landed. “You can find some in there.”

With a nod, you shuffled to approach the stacked cabinets, aiming for the one Sarah was referring to. A groan instantly escaped your throat, gaze trailing up to the plates positioned on the top shelf. 

“Why on earth are these cabinets so high?” You whined, standing on your tippy toes to grab the dishes, merely to end up with nothing in your grasp. “And why are you putting plates on the top shelf?! None of you could reach them!” 

You extended your arm once again, stretching out your body in an attempt to seize the plates, losing your balance when you maintained the same position for a little too long, eventually failing to achieve what you were aiming for. 

Ryan mumbled a few words of complaints, rushing you to grab the plates faster, though he noticed that you were struggling, not offering to step in and help you. You paused for a second, calculating how you were going to capture the plates without asking for help, as that was a no in your watch. 

Right, you could use a chair, and although that was quite the embarrassment, it was the only option you had, even if it meant making a fool out of yourself. 

“Here, lemme try.” 

You tensed where you stood, breath hitching when Rafe shuffled behind you, his broad chest colliding against your back. Your vision blurred as you inhaled his scent, his musky cologne intoxicating your senses. 

Your gaze trailed up his arm, where it hovered over your shoulder, the brief contact sending goosebumps down your spine. And if you weren’t aware before, you definitely are now, enjoying the sight of him towering over you a little too much for your liking. 

The latter grunted as he reached for the plates, capturing them with a little difficulty. The sound instantly echoed through your ears, blinding you whole, that you had no right being this into it. Your mind wandered with thoughts you shouldn’t even ponder about, not as the boy was innocently stepping in to help, when your own brother couldn’t. 

“There you go.” Rafe muttered, voice barely above a whisper. He placed the plates on the counter in front of you, moving to catch sight of your reaction, chuckling when he noticed how flustered you were, mouth slightly parting with an exhale. “Did I startle you? Sorry, I was jus’ tryin’ to help.” 

“Right,” you said through a breath, blinking far too many times for your liking. “Thank you, I– that was really nice.” 

“Mhm.” He leaned his arm over the counter, admiring you with a knowing smile tugging at his lips. He stood still for a moment, almost as if he was seeking something out of you, perchance a reply, if that was even appropriate in this situation.

“What?” You asked, cluelessly staring back at him, fingers clutching the plates you had in hand. 

“Could you hurry up!” Ryan interrupted, causing you to jolt from where you stood, leaving Rafe hanging as you headed in your brother’s direction. “The food’s about to run cold.”

“You could’ve helped me grab them, dickhead.” You scoffed, failing to keep your eyes to yourself as you stole a glance in Rafe’s direction, breath catching in your throat when you spotted him yet staring at you, with the same mischievous smile he had from earlier. 

He’s only helping, you’re acting like this because it caught you off guard, right? Fuck, you were totally screwed, how were you supposed to act normal when Rafe was behaving like a gentleman, doing everything in his power to make you comfortable, whether it’s him helping you grab the plates, or him offering you a drink with the scorching hot sun. 

Either way, this was bad, for your mental being, and the boundaries you created for yourself. It’s only been a day, what will happen in the next few weeks you’re spending with him? You don’t know, but what you do know is that they’ll be hell, tortuous, even.

Sarah passed you the pot of mash, politely asking you to plate it, making it hard for you to refuse the request. You did as told, doing it as neatly as physically possible, with Ryan nagging over your head, telling you to be more cautious in the process. 

You managed to get what you were asked for done, with the boy pestering you nonstop throughout it, creating a frustrated mess out of you. Rafe offered a helping hand, arranging the plates on the table, for each person they were serving. 

The elders came through the front door, having been gone for most of the time they’ve been here, excusing themselves for what you assumed was a business meeting. You embraced your mom in a hug, presenting the food to her with your free arm, snickering when she squealed, taken aback by all the food displayed on the table. 

Dinner was chaotic, filled with chatter and giggles as everyone bonded over the food, getting to catch up with each other. Ward was quite the man, and while you did dislike him, witnessing all the times he was harsh to Sarah, you couldn’t dodge his curious questions, not when everyone surrounding you thought of you as angel who wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

You kept to yourself for most of the time, amused by Sarah and Ryan arguing over who cooked each dish, fighting to claim their credit. And as for Rafe, well, he was there, sitting besides Ryan, who was across from you.

“You’re oddly quiet, Bug.” Sarah suddenly started, talking over the elders, who were chatting about business. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh, yeah!” You nodded, flashing her an endearing smile, one Sarah contently returned. 

“It’s only ‘cause there’s people around,” Ryan clicked his teeth, having heard the conversation. “Trust, she’s such a brat, don’t encourage her to keep talking, otherwise, she’ll never shut up.” 

“Can you not?” You muffled through gritted teeth, kicking his foot from underneath the table. “Could you also move? You’re all up in my space.” 

“That’s uh,” Rafe choked out, taking a sip off of the glass of water splattered across his side of the table. “That’s my leg.” 

You froze your spot, eyes widening with shock when you peaked under the table, discerning that it was Rafe’s leg you were kicking, Ryan’s far back positioned inches away from his chair. Sarah mimicked your action, chuckling when she caught sight of the ridiculous sight, entertained by the situation. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You apologized, eyebrows furrowing with concern. “I thought you were Ryan.”

“It’s okay.” He dismisses, flashing you a gentle smile. “Sorry for ruining your uh– plans.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” Ryan jutted his lips into a pout, turning to glimpse at Rafe, whose face filled with concern. “You’re supposed to defend me. Why are you taking her side?” 

“Mhm,” Rafe hummed, going along with the bit. His fingers found the curve of Ryan’s jaw, cupping his face in a teasing manner. “Did I hurt your feelings? I’m sorry, I’ll be more cautious next time. Do you want a kiss, sweetheart?” 

Ryan nodded, nuzzling into the latter’s hand, letting his eyes fall shut when Rafe leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to his forehead. The mere sight made you sick to your stomach, with Sarah just as cringed out as you were, grumbling with detest.

Looks like you had some competition. 

“Can you not?” Sarah huffed, “We’re eating.” 

“She doesn’t get it.” Ryan shook his head with disappointment, withdrawing from the touch. Rafe agreed by nodding, patting Ryan’s shoulder before he got back to eating, acting as if that was the normalest thing they’ve done over dinner. 

Fancy plating was all fun and games until you had to do the dishes, and with the little work you did tonight, it did not look good on your watch. Ryan excused himself out of the list, with Sarah following behind, informing you that they made dinner, meaning it was your turn to do the dishes. 

Which, truth be told was fair, you totally understood where they were coming from, because if that was you, you would’ve done the same thing. 

“I’ll help out.” Rafe joined in, the suggestion creating a nervous mess out of you. 

That’s how you ended up in front of the sink, watching as plates piled up with every dish Rafe brought, instantly joining your side after he tidied up the table, wiping it clean to ensure a disinfected setting. 

Your contained giggles seeped through the silence, observing as Rafe clumsily scrubbed a plate, stumbling as it almost slipped from his hands. A sigh of relief escaped his parted lips, tightening his hold around it before it could further slither through his fingers. 

“You don’t need to do it.” You uttered, catching Rafe’s attention, who turned to face you with a smug grin spread across his lips, oblivious to the teasing smile you flashed him.

“Why?” He curled one of his eyebrows with confusion, scrubbing the plate with all his might, though it was past its limit. “Do you not want my help?”

“It’s not that,” you playfully rolled your eyes, rinsing off the excess soap. “It just looks like you’re struggling.” 

“‘That so?” He shot back, mimicking your action, copying your each move to make sure he’s doing it right. 

“Mhm.” You mused, letting silence linger through the air, atmosphere heaving with tension. 

“You know,” Rafe started, eyes glued to his gloved hands. “You’re different over text.” 

You almost drop the plate in your hand, caught off guard by the latter’s statement. Rafe maintained a blank expression, continuing what he was doing while you tensed in your spot, too dumbfounded to move, or respond. 

“I–” you stammered, abandoning the dishes piled in the sink, and focusing your whole attention on Rafe. “Why are you bringing that up?” 

“Should I not?” He questioned, stealing a swift glance in your direction as he cocked his head to the side, intrigued by how the conversation was flowing. “I mean, you did text me this morning, am I supposed to pretend it didn’t happen?”

“You said it yourself,” you started, suddenly feeling your throat go dry. “Ryan’s my brother, it would be best if we didn’t discuss this.” 

“Why not?” He muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not like we’re doin’ anythin’ weird, y’know? I mean, you did leave an impression on me.”

“impression?” You repeated, jeered by his words as your mouth moved faster than your brain. “Did you know we’d be meeting here?” 

“Well,” he replied, rinsing off the soapy dishes. “I can’t say I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?” You whispered, afraid others would overhear your conversation. “Had you told me, I wouldn’t have continued speaking to you. Do you know how awkward things are now that you’re here?” 

“Why?” Rafe hushed out, pausing for a second, before he turned to face you, now leveling his face with your own. “Am I making you nervous?” 

Your throat ran dry, taken aback by the question. Was he flirting with you? And if not, why did it have such a big effect on you? Tolling you with temptation in ways you knew were impossible, out of reach, even. 

“What?” You uttered through a breath, face flushing with heat. “No– no it’s just–”

“I’m just messing.” He snickered, amused by how flustered you grew, stuttering to mutter a coherent statement out. 

“That wasn’t funny.” You grumbled out, fluttering your eyes at the latter, visibly embarrassed by the reaction the boy received from you. 

“Right.” He chuckled, not sounding convinced at all. 

The next few minutes filled with tension, as you both fell quiet, letting silence heave the air. Rafe didn’t seem as affected as you were, maintaining a blank expression the whole time you were a mess, too embarrassed to be in the boy’s presence, who seemed oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere he had created. 

You instantly excused yourself to your room afterwards, telling the boy you were sleepy, though it was too early for bed. You needed a moment to yourself, even if it meant lying through your teeth.

Besides, you weren’t the only one who was gone, as Sarah was nowhere in sight, disappearing once you were done. She was probably talking to her boyfriend, hence you know how clingy they were with each other. 

You took a quick shower, freshening up before bed, immediately followed with your skin care routine, playing soft music in the background while you did so. You dressed yourself in comfortable pajamas, instantly slipping under your covers, letting the warmness engulf your body whole. 

Your eyes droswed with sleep, after a few hours of scrolling through your phone, not noticing the time, only acknowledging how late it was when you received a notification that earned your attention. Your breath almost hitched as you opened the DM, caught off guard by who it was from. 

It was Rafe.

a/n THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT ON THIS WTH!! i wasnt expectingt it ily mwahh!! & just a little fyi this story will have more irl parts, it wont be solely sm based as i alr have stated in the beginning! it will definitely have social media, but im not abandoning the irl part of it yk 😣 that being said, feel free to lmk if you want to be removed/added to the taglist :) (in order to stay on it, you need to interact with the posts)

TAGLIST @greyswaren @slut-4-gojo @depthsofdespairr @littlelamy @lilithblackkk @cnnamongrl @mattyskies @percysley @jaklvbub @inlovewithdob @ilovefiction4lmen @theeternaloptimistt @maybejj @icaqttt @idgasb @purplerose291 @shincidios @laniirackssss @malibuhearts @adulterated-cocaine @bugg06 @murdockcastleslut @drwstarkeys @pretymads @klmaaaoooo @wearemadeofstardust0 @urbrunettebombshell @stylestarkey @riverxsq @louxmcl @totalswag @cl4uus @simpforboys @tearsfromasliverwolf-blog @bilssturns @fandomhopped @strsdoulikedem @congratsloserr @dr3wstarkey @xoxo-ada @stvrligghtt @rafeswhoooreee @kythefangirl25 @chaneydoll @blushmimi @akobx @empath-bunny @flirtism @stopnala @rafecameronswifeyy

[norikuna]

SALVATORE — jujutsu kaisen x reader minors dni

prologue. → going on summer vacations with the jjk men and things get a little...hotter?

pairings. satoru gojo x afab!reader / suguru geto x afab!reader / nanami kento x afab!reader / choso kamo x afab!reader / ryomen sukuna x afab!reader / toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings+. non-sorcerer/jujutsu au, from the back, exhíbitíonism, mild food play, ríding, máting press, creámpíe, against the wall, oral (f. receiving), fíngeríng, hey even in a cave! reader is called good girl, princess, baby, darling, my love.

word count. 4.1k! song inspiration. salvatore — lana del rey

a/n. update #1 writing this fic had me looking up shit on wikipedia pages abt cities around the world, had me checking meteorology maps...tried to choose cities i've been to but i was still racking my brains. update #2 btw whenever i write smut like this i'm filled with outstanding self awareness and minor shame but thats the fun of it 😭 this is day no.3 of me trying to rewrite this all from scratch update #3 day 4! fawkkkk i wanna go on holiday too now. lmao if i was in the sukuna one, i would have been mad as hell, istanbul is stunning <3

mp3. everything looks better from above my king, like aqua marine, ocean's blue

TOJI FUSHIGURO — all the lights in miami begin to gleam 📍 miami, america

"o-oh, fuck. think she's really tellin' me to keep going like this, don'tcha think?"

your boyfriend is mean when he's like this. sharp, jade eyes narrowed as they take in the sight of your puffy folds swallowing him up over and over as he's stuffing himself into your sticky walls. and if you turn your head away, from where you're smashed against the pillow, you can see the floor-to-wall ceilings of the high-rise penthouse that offers an uninterrupted view of miami's glittering skyline.

"how - how, did you even get this place, hah, toji?" it's a wonder you can even get a coherent sentence out right now, your guts are practically being stuffed with inches of your boyfriend's veiny cock, and it's leaving you, well, delirious.

but with humble credit and thanks to what you can assume is your own nasty grip, toji's not faring much better either. his brawny frame is practically shuddering, and while you can't see his face in this position, you're certain that a sharp canine has sunk into his lip, and his breath is coming out in hulking groans.

"heh, you're n-not meant to ask questions like that, princess? gotta, ohhh, gotta keep some business s-secrets up my sleeve, huh?" and he's practically a beast right now, handling you on all fours of this king-sized bed, draped in silk sheets the colour of red wine, "just a reward for a-, haah, a job well done."

any job well done from toji was most likely something illegal, but you can't even bring yourself to care, not when there's a bucket of chilled champagne on the glass table to your left, and certainly not when his fat cock is smearing right through you, leaving a coil in your abdomen that only he can unravel.

you whine, feeling the fat tip of his cock practically rummage and make a home in your cunt, "toji, wan' more," and you're pushing the plush of your ass against his pumping hips, and you hear his sharp intake of breath.

a rough hand has snaked underneath you, creating a small gap between you and the bunched-up fabric on the bed, and his callous fingertips are now circling sloppy, messy circles over your clit, leaving you bucking in his hold.

"n-now, stay still, princess. not done with you yet."

SUGURU GETO — ciao, amore. soft ice-creams. 📍 amalfi coast, italy

you're not sure how long you've been trembling under suguru's mouth, but it must have been an eternity under the ministrations of his tongue.

the sun has been blazing high, casting a golden glow over this part of the private beach, hidden away from the towns bustling with tourists like yourselves who had descended upon the coast for the summer.

soft waves lapped in ebbing waves, the rhythm breaking the perfect stillness of the afternoon, in this wooden cabana, separated from the terracotta villas.

and no, your mind was nowhere near admiring the turquoise waters of the ocean, but rather your lover's mouth practically exploring every inch of your cunt like this.

the tapered tip of his tongue had long been probing around your fluttering pussy, taking in every last drop of your pearlescent luster that was practically dripping over his chin.

not to mention the absolutely sticky and languid trails of melting ice-cream, each biting cream drop that fell on your hot swollen folds getting promptly cleaned up by the one who was enjoying this sweet game.

"shhh! don't wanna get kicked off this beach, do ya, pretty?"

and suguru looks positively devious, his violet eyes gleaming with crude intent. his black hair is a tangled mess, long locks falling victim to your clawing nails that tumble carelessly over his bare back, kissed by the sun and glowing with a soft, rosy pink hue.

and when he smiles, the sunlight catches onto his lips, making the slick on his mouth sparkle and wink up at you.

"been - it's been an entire hour by now, can't you just let me cum," you huff, closing the plush of your thighs around his ears, boxing him in.

geto flashes you a mischievous grin, running a slow finger through your sopping folds, and lightly brushing over your entrance as you mewl again.

"where would the fun in that be, pretty?" he murmurs, "love seeing how wet this cunt gets for me, need to let me have my fun."

what a devil. clearly, getting under your skin is a sport for him.

you're hardly given a moment to breathe before he's jostling two thick digits right into the thick of it once more, in and out, in and then out, as his thumb find its home on the slope of your bare mound again.

"besides, we can take it slow for 'nother hour, can't we?" and now suguru's toying with your clit, and his teeth lean down to graze the swollen, throbbing bud, "gotta see just how much you can beg for me."

NANAMI KENTO — catch me if you can, working on my tan 📍 gold coast, australia

"w-wait, darling," nanami shudders under your touch, under your fresh set of nails raking small patterns over his neck, "anyone could just walk past here, y'know."

you curl your lip, before pressing your mouth in an open mouthed kiss to his stretched neck, warm and flushed.

you can feel the galloping thrum of his pulse beneath your lips, the heat almost intoxicating, mingling with the faint tang of the pool water's chlorine, and the scent of banksia and frangipanis in the air.

you can also feel his thick cock dragging through your walls, as you ram the weight of your hips over and over again. it seems like the shimmering skyline of surfer's paradise was just what nanami needed, after months of work, and you're determined to make the most of your time here.

he's got you bouncing practically like a ragdoll, heavy balls swinging up and smacking your skin in what little space remains between the two of you, and he's panting into your chest, "whatd'ya gonna do if someone sees?"

"mhm, don' care, no-one's here, nanami."

his broad arms loop around you in the pool chair, as you straddle the sizeable bulge that's making a tent in his briefs, "nasty, sometimes, aren'tcha?"

you smile, as your husband's large hands roam over your back, making you arch your back into his touch — as he deftly pulls at the tight knot holding your damp bikini top together.

"ah, don't get shy now. let me see these," and you can only nod hazily as he lets your tits spill out, and press up against his bare, chiselled torso, "wanted this so bad, just a minute ago, yeah?"

"s-still want this," and for good measure, you grind your hips down over his cock with even more pressure, feeling him jolt with a quiet 'fuck!' underneath you.

"haah, that's not fair, darling," and he's crashing his weeping, curved tip so far into you, that you're certain you're seeing stars on the saltwater horizon, "what happened to playing nice?"

you know you should be weary of the flicker of challenge that glints in his stern brown eyes, softened by the haze of your squelching cunt, "do y-your worst, otherwise what? can't keep up?"

a cocky smile curves over his mouth, and that's the wave of satisfaction you were looking for, hoping that he'd take the bait.

he leans further back in the pool chair, now with an arm wrapped lazily around your gyrating hips, but you can feel his grip tighten, stealing the humid air right out from under you, "we'll see who can't play nice when you're begging for my cock to fill you up."

CHOSO KAMO — all the lights are sparkling for you, it seems 📍santorini, greece

"hey, shh, shhh..."

choso's voice is a low rumble as he glides his thick, leaking tip down your slick core, and you shiver as the cool ocean breeze mixes with the warm slick gathering between your bodies, "w-wow, you're doing so good, handling it so well, my love."

you must have made a good choice, choosing this suite. one carved seamlessly into the tan-rock of one of the island's famous caves. and well, your sweet boyfriend has been fucking you so incredibly that you feel your eyes start to water, blear away from the pretty blue and terracotta accents on the mantelpiece.

his girthy cock sinking into you send shivers to your pussy that leave you fluttering and squeezing around him tighter, clenching around the veins as he sinks even deeper, so the thickened head is practically kissing your cervix, and filling you in ways you didn’t know were possible.

"d-does it feel good for you too, cho?” you gasp, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, fingers playing with the soft choppy strands that fall around his shoulders, "this...this is what you wanted, right, baby?"

the pale mauve of his lips curves into a faint smile, and despite the sharpness of his thrusts making a home in your gummy walls, there's a tenderness in his shadowed, hazel eyes as his palm glides down your torso, cupping your tits gently, "w-would go anywhere in the world, if it was with you."

and he's looking at you with such love that you just cannot help but believe him when he says, no, shudders out a "you're so beautiful."

the sound of the water lapping against the rocks below fills the room, mixing with your soft whimpers, as the slow roll of choso's hips leave your puffy folds weeping. the thick, throbbing head of his cock brushes against your g-spot, right there, and you moan, lost in the sensation.

"god, y-you’re so good at this," he breathes into your ear, his voice hoarse and strained, and suddenly far more shaky, "ah - could do this forever."

"w-will you?" you whisper, eyes fluttering as you lose yourself in what is surely ropes of stringy white cum painting you lovingly inside, "wan' feel you all the time, cho."

choso's misty, flushed gaze locks onto yours, filled with a heat that makes your heart race, and fireworks shoot through your abdomen, "think you're g-gonna be my wife someday, yeah?"

you bite your lip, a shy smile painting your face despite the way that he's practically jostling inch after inch into your pussy, pressing into you like a vice, "really mean t-that, cho?"

"ahh, 'course i do," he shudders, brushing a thumb down the swan-arch of your neck, "now, hold onto me."

RYOMEN SUKUNA — dying by the hand of a foreign man, happily 📍istanbul, turkey

"huhh, oh my god! you're an animal," you huff at your fiancé, who's currently sprawled on the plush bed underneath your straddling thighs, under the sheer curtains that billow softly in the warm breeze from the open latticework windows.

and right now, sukuna looks like a mess.

and it brings you a great deal of satisfaction to see your usually composed and aloof fiancé so undone and disheveled, as he grins up at you — the black markings on his face creasing with the movement.

his rosy-pink hair is a tangled heap, but you can't resist running your fingers through the short, tousled spikes.

and his lips, which have been marking you up consistently for the past ten minutes, gleam glossy and full, as his crimson eyes lock onto yours with the smug satisfaction of a cat who's gotten its way.

he'd barely waited a mere minute after the two of you had arrived back to your hostel's room, from a whirlwind tour of the sultanahmet district, before he had pounced on you, and had practically tore your long skirt off.

you don't quite think it's worth mentioning that you've been pawing equally at your boyfriend in the same time as well, pulling his thick and lengthy shaft out of the confines of his boxers, and swiping a thumb over the angrily-gleaming tip.

"d-didn't even take a second to think about all the places we just saw? the history lessons, and - sukuna, were you even listening?"

by now, you're fighting back heaving shivers at the way the pads of his calloused fingers run under your top.

"hah! yeah, yeah. history and all that," he murmurs, low and amused, but his focus is clearly elsewhere, his lips now resuming their previous task of snapping at your torso, letting pretty berry-red marks beam.

you roll your eyes, though a smile tugs at the corners of your own glossy mouth, "y-you're impossible," and you try not to squirm as his forefinger and thumb on each hand pinch at a nipple under your top, "don' even know why i bothered bring this...this camera around. the guide said that these sights were o-once, oh fuck, sukuna, get a grip, said the sights were once-in-a-lifetime b-breathtaking."

"breathtaking, huh?" sukuna shifts closer to you, scooting you further over his wide lap, and his voice has dropped to a low and sultry whisper that sends a shiver down your spine, and leaves you aching, "i think you're breathtaking. wan' explore this," and here, he snaps at the elastic band of your lace panties, "instead."

"and besides, i was listening," and now, he's patting his sculpted, exposed thighs behind the plush of your ass on him, "the guide said that this city straddles two continents."

he's emphasising his words with a deliberate tap, clearly hoping you'd catch the awful word-play.

"say something like that again, and i'm booking the next flight home."

"hah, so now you hate it when i am cultured."

by now, his two rough hands kneading at you has left you...airless. thick heat has been pooling in your core, and you just can't help but let out a soft whimper, "sukuna…only wanted y-you to focus."

he shakes his messy head, laughter rumbling deep in his chest, under thick pectoral muscles, "no can do, brat. you’re my focus now. done enough sightseeing outside today, wanna do something inside."

"you’re impossible!" but you gasp as he skims a thumb over your cloying, dewy clit, making you jolt.

you know he must be in a rare, mellowed mood because he breathes, "impossibly in love with you," and it's quiet, teasing as the heat of his breath ghosts over your skin, "now tell me how much you want this, and maybe i'll think about giving you a different type of lesson."

franky, by now you want nothing more than to be filled with heavy, hot inches that curl into you, sloshing their way to the most sensitive spot of all, and sukuna must see that on your face.

"i -," you begin, but the words falter as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, and the weeping tip of his cock taps against the wet pool staining your underwear darkly translucent.

"just say it, brat. tell me how bad you want it, i'll even be nice this time," he urges, his voice a sultry purr, "just gon' give it to you as you ask, yeah?"

"wan' you in me, 'kuna," you finally admit, breathless, "i want you so much it hurts."

"good girl," he mutters, his eyes darkening with desire. "now you're getting the right idea."

you sigh, content, but then still your rocking hips suddenly, "but after this, we're still going out to the bazaar for dinner."

"for fuck's sake."

GOJO SATORU — like a boss, you sang jazz and blues 📍paris, france

you're not quite sure where exactly you should be training your ears, whether you should be listening to the sultry notes of a saxophone that wrap around the plush velvet booth where you and gojo are seated.

or the thick, clingy swish of his fingers practically bullying themselves in and out of your pussy. the air is thick with the scent of expensive cigars that make you wrinkle your nose, and fine whiskey (that makes gojo wrinkle his nose) and the sweet tang of your own slick, privately, just for the two of you.

your boyfriend sits close to you, his left hand tight on your waist, and the other working a fine instrument, bunching up underneath your ysl silk dress.

"baby, look at how your perfect cunt's talkin' to me," he's whispering, and you can hear the sheer glee in his voice, his breath hot against your ear.

meanwhile, your jaw is slack and you're doing your best to not meet his touch with a sultry, rhythmic grind of your own hips, but the knot is quickening and tightening within you.

but gojo just smiles, and you can see the blue in his eyes darken underneath his sunglasses that have slipped slightly down the slope of his nose, "but can't have everyone hearing this melody, can we? might think you were the main fuckin' attraction for the night and not -" he cocks his head to the quartet serenading the paris night sky, and the other patrons of this filthy wealthy club.

you just sink your teeth into your painted lip, suppressing a whine as he curls three fingers within you, reeling you entirely pliant and having you lean against his broad chest under his jacket, "b-but satoru, 'm getting close."

he's being awful, you think. and when he had pulled his hand out earlier, it had been entirely coated in a ribbon of your arousal, the slow syrup beginning to run down his slender digit, but he had parted his lips and let not a drop go to waste on his tongue.

the music is swelling, it's a jazzy crescendo that fills the air, and your gaze hazes and wonders, focusing on the open window where the eiffel tower stands ablaze in lights. soft gasps are escaping your lips, when gojo starts slamming his fingers up and up further, right up to his glossy knuckle, clearly searching for your g-spot.

and you are so glad that this booth is turned away from the rest of the club's patrons, for if they saw you, it would be no secret as to what exactly was going on underneath your gown.

"focus on me, love. just focus on how you're soaking me."

he's pressing his fingers impossibly deeper, stroking your walls in a way that make it impossible to think of anything else but him.

"gojo, please…" you breathed, struggling to keep your voice low, "what if someone sees?"

he laughs, pressing his mouth to your neck, and you know he's inhaling the new scent that you had picked up at the luxury flagship stores earlier, his treat.

"let them. paid good enough money to get in here," and now he's getting more insistent, practically ravishing your aching pussy now, "besides, they wanna say anything about it? i'll cut out their tongue."

"p-pretty sure that's, mmph, i'm sure that's i-illegal, 'toru."

"don't want your pretty head thinking about anything else right now, 'kay?" and god, it's one of life's greatest works, how he just knows how to work his magic like this, and the way that he's pinching, rolling and twirling his fingers has you convinced that the holy six-eyes technique, passed down in the sacred tradition of the gojo clan, is being put to nasty work.

sure enough, a little spark! there, and a bigger zap! against your clit practically confirms your suspicions, as does the unearthly glow you catch in gojo's wide eyes, and you can feel yourself hurtling towards a precipice, panting open-mouthed against him.

"dirty girl, you don’t want to make a scene, do you?" he says this like he was not the one who pulled you into this booth, and palmed his way up your slip-dress. like he's not the one who tore into your lace panties, and shoved them into his pocket.

"it feels so good, satoru,” you babble, barely able to contain yourself, as he scissors his fingers wide, nudging your walls apart, "i can’t — "

"then don't," he interrupted, his voice low and commanding, "just let it happen. i want to hear you, i wanna hear her too, but only if you can keep it down."

you nodded, breathless, watching as waiters in impeccable black-and-white attire glide between the tables, carrying trays of delicate hors d'oeuvres and glasses of dom pérignon.

"good girl," he murmured, his fingers curling just right, pushing you closer to that exquisite precipice, "now, be quiet and enjoy the moment."

just as he pinches your clit, you feel everything around fall away in shattering starfall. bolts of lightning shoot and splash through your lungs, stilling your heart, leaving your cunt pulsing with a life of its own, fluttering against satoru's fingers which still haven't stopped.

it's only then you realise that the band has stopped playing, and the other patrons of the clubs are leaning out of their seats, slapping their hands together in fervount applause.

but you can only stare, dazed and boneless from the remnants of an excellent fucking orgasm, as gojo leans in, just over the shell of your ear.

"how about we go back to the hotel room? wanna see an encore?"

[realcube]

PERFORMANCE ENHANCER (18+)

synopsis : while in paris for the 2024 summer olympics, ushijima is advised that ejaculation releases stress and hence boosts athleticism. so, the night before his match, he asks for your help.

tws/tags : ts! ushiwaka, cursing, vaginal, riding, size kink, creampie, oral (giving), rough sex, slight hair pulling, petnames, praise — minors dni!

note : this is for the summer olympics collab by @tetzoro. tysm for allowing me to join <3 fyi studies differ but it is mostly shown that sex has no significant impact on athleticism. also smut is labelled if you want to cut to it lol — wc: 6k

it was never a question as to whether or not ushijima would qualify for the olympics; you knew for certain he was going to be on that team, so the only query that ever crossed your mind was when should you start packing?

usually that kind of mindset leads to disaster and disappoint, but in this case you were right to make that assumption because next thing you knew, you and ushijima were on a chartered flight straight to france, along with the rest of the japanese volleyball team.

you were excited to explore paris — the city of love — with your husband. although you were well aware that this was far from your honeymoon, and in fact more like a business trip for ushijima. hence, training will occupy most of his schedule, and any downtime he may have, he'll likely spend with his long-distance best friend tendou, who you both haven't seen since your wedding two years ago.

having made peace with this fact, you hung around on the main street, poking around in some luxury stores while ushijima visited the chocolaterie tendou works at. his friend was aware that he qualified for the olypmics and would be coming to paris, but it was still astounding to see ushijima walk through the front door of his shop, in the flesh.

with a massive grin, they hug and catch up with each other, discussing all the new things that have happened in their lives since they last saw other. well, tendou did most of the talking, but ushijima did make a couple of brief contributions about his thriving marriage and volleyball career.

"so," tendou hums with his elbow propped up on the table and his chin resting on his knuckles, "how are you feeling about your match against argentina?" he quirks a brow.

"good."

despite his curt response and dry demeanour, tendou can tell simply by ushijima's subtle mannerisms that there is something weighing on his mind. "oh, c'mon, mr perfect. let's get deep!" he urges, and ushijima knits his brows in thought.

what he's experiencing is so complex and foreign, he can't quite put a finger on it. he needs a couple of moments to find a way to describe it. "stressed. representing japan in an international tournament is a lot of pressure." he's been under pressure before though and prospered, so he doesn't understand why this is any different.

"huh, who would've thought? the almighty super ace of the century is finally feelin' the heat?" tendou exaggerates his syllables and narrows his eyes to look at ushiwaka with an amused expression, but all he gets is blank stare in return, so he continues, "well, you've got no chance of winning if you're nervous, that's for sure."

he says it so nonchalantly, it causes ushijima to falter, "what?" of course, that's not his desired outcome, and tendou seems to know what he is talking about, so wakatoshi asks, "what can i do to win?"

"not lose." tendou titters to himself, but ushijima's piercing stare persists. "you need to release the stress! free yourself of all your worldly doubts. luckily for you, my good friend, i know how you can do that."

"how?" ushijima is quick to respond.

tendou smirks and leans across the table until his face is inches away from ushijima's. "you need to beat it."

"beat what?"

"masturbate!" tendou yells, accompanied with an exasperated sigh, as he falls back into his chair. despite how they were having this conversation in the back of the store, tendou exclaimed that word loud enough to cause some customers browsing in the front to tilt their heads. "when you finish, not only does it it release sperm, but it also lets out all your pent-up fears and worries."

ushijima raises an eyebrow in doubt, which prompts tendou to elaborate, "also, when you orgasm, hormones pump through your body that kill all the stress chemicals. that's why it feels so good!"

seeing that ushijima is still suspicious, tendou throws his arms up in defeat, "fine! don't believe me if you want, but just know this information was told to me by a reliable and knowledgeable source: shirabu."

"shirabu kenjirō?"

when tendou hums in agreement, ushijima takes a moment to reflect. last he heard, shirabu is a medical student, studying to become a doctor, and they don't let just anyone into med school. additionally, biology and health is in shirabu's realm of expertise, so it would make sense for ushijima to take his advice.

with a nod of resounding certainty, ushijima declares proudly, "okay. i will masturbate."

"great. glad i could help." tendou grins, leaning his cheek onto his hand, "but you don't have to do it yourself. that was just an example. you should do whatever will make you finish—..."

tendou's voice trails off as he searches for the right word, "hardest. so in your case, that might not be masturbating. i mean, you've got a real pretty wife."

though he wasn't keen on tendou calling you 'real pretty' in that suggestive tone, ushijima kept that comment inside, and instead said, "i think i know what you meant."

tendou wishes he could just leave the conversation at that and move on, but knowing his thick-skulled friend, he had to confirm, "what do i mean?"

"my wife should masturbate on my behalf."

"no!"

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

eventually, ushijima may have understood what tendou was talking about. he was still sceptical about the whole thing but as the game grew closer and closer, he found himself becoming desperate for any solution to cure his volleyball nerves.

so, once the night before his match arrived, he figured there was no harm in trying.

you had just come out of the bathroom with your hair down and dripping, and your salacious body clad only in a short towel that didn't leave very much to the imagination; as your tits were threatening to escape with every movement you made, and the bottom of your perky ass was just peeking out. he watches intently from the bed. it's as though you knew what he had planned.

and perhaps you did, considering how he urged you to get in the shower as soon as the two of you got home from your excursions. due to the fact that he has a very strict sleeping schedule and needs to be in bed by 22 at the latest, which means you guys need to start having sex by 21. he lasts a while.

"(y/n)." the simple act of uttering your name in his husky voice already has you scrambling over to him, kneeling beside him on the covers.

"yes?" you respond with a cute twinkle in your eyes. ever doting and caring: one of the many things he loves about you.

"i am stressed for the game against argentina tomorrow."

you frown, already had the inkling that something was bothering him. "i'm sorry, toshi." you rest your head on his shoulder, nuzzling into him as you stroke his muscular chest, "it's completely normal to feel that way, especially since you'll be competing against your archenemy: tōru oikawa."

he isn't sure what you mean by that — him and oikawa are on decent terms — but he enjoys your comforting words so he allows you to witter on without interruption.

"i'm also sorry that you felt as though you couldn't tell me this sooner; we could've done something about it. still, if there's anything i can do to help now, just say the word."

"sex." he responds plainly, taking your request literally.

"huh?" you stutter, unsure if you heard him correctly.

naturally, ushijima misinterprets your confusion and takes the opportunity to explain what he was told, "tendou and shirabu said that ejaculation let outs tension, so i would like your help with that. tendou mentioned that i could do it on my own, but i would prefer to do it with you."

your jaw hung open and your eyes darted across your husband's face, unsure of what to address first: his sweet desire to make love to you on such a special night, or his impressive use of the word 'ejaculation'.

clutching the fabric of his shirt, you pressed a long kiss to his lips, tasting his minty breath, before squealing, "yes, of course we can!" you throw one leg around him so you are now straddling his lap. he smiles at your sweet reaction and places a strong hand your waist to hold you in place.

while running your hands reassuringly over his arms and admiring his toned biceps, you pout, "oh but toshi, we can't have you waking up all sore in the morning." you point out, however it's as though a solution to your problem occurs to you instantly as you blurt out, with wide eyes and a cheery smile, "but that's okay! i can just ride you, yeah?" you eagerly tease him by grinding your hips against his already throbbing erection.

using his grip on you, he puts a swift end to your antics, and your whole body is no match for the strength in his right arm alone. "that sounds like a lot of effort." ushijima was aware of how long he can go for, and it left him exhausted most of the time, so he can't imagine how you would feel after doing all the work for such an extended period of time. you were just his precious wife after all, deserving of being spoiled and catered for — in bed or otherwise — so riding wasn't an act he ever expected from you.

"it will be, but it's only for one night and i'd do anything for you." he reassure him while laying against his chest, as his hand stroked your back. with your ear pressed against him, you could hear the faint drumming of his heartbeat.

so selfless too, another thing he loved about you. he smiled when you leaned into his embrace, carefully running his hand up and down your spine, as though you were the most fragile thing he's ever touched and may shatter at any moment.

"thank you, my angel."

oh, this man is horny. typically he only calls you nicknames when he is fucked out. even then, they were mostly limited to 'dear' or 'honey'. not that you minded, hearing him call you by your real name was hot, also the scarcity made the times when he did call you petnames all the more sweet.

so to hear him call you 'angel' before you've even started is very telling as to how badly he needs you. more than he lets on, that's for sure. such a stoic man; even after years of being together, you still find it difficult to read him sometimes, but the way he hardens underneath you is unmistakable.

[NSFW]

wearing nothing underneath the robe, you grind down against his clothed cock and he almost winces at the warmth of your bare pussy. so sensitive that he can feel every curve and dip of your needy cunt, and he revels at how your folds kiss his firm length.

in order to supress his bubbling moans, he hurriedly locks lips with you, fixing his hand onto your back so he can pull you closer. the passion from your lips against his is addicting and the heat of your body against his just feels so right. he wants nothing more than for you to melt into him so you can become one.

though he doesn't like how he can't feel your pretty tits pressed against him, only the fluffy fabric of your robe. his hands find their way to your shoulders, where he roughly tugs off your robe in one swift motion, casting it to the side.

the fiery kiss only ends when you gasp at the sudden chilliness that washes over you. the cold is combatted by ushijima's strong embrace as he holds your delicate figure against his own. it's nice to be his strong arms, it makes you feel so secure and you fit into him perfectly.

meanwhile, ushijima is focused on the lewd sensation of your tits squished against him. being able to feel your hard nipples poke him through the thin fabric of his shirt made it difficult to resist flipping you over and fucking you from behind, with one hand messily tangled in your hair while it hits it raw. like he usually does.

his kisses trail from your cheeks, across your jaw and down your neck. naturally, at that point you pull away from his embrace so he can continue lower, until he had your bud locked between his teeth. sucking and flicking it with his tongue while his hand worked at fondling your other tit, slowly falling so he was caressing your waist.

now that you've retracted, you take this opportunity to tug at the elastic of his shorts, pulling at it just enough for his aching erection to spring free. you've experienced ushijima's size before, but it's still baffling every time you see it. how a nice girl like you could take a monster like him.

drool pricked at the corner of your lips at the sight of girth, admiring the beast in your hands. ushijima stopped sucking on your tits when he realised you had let out his cock, and he couldn't help but smirk as he watched you idly toy with it while staring intently.

his poor angel. he knew how nervous you could get sometimes before taking him and he wasn't one to rush you, so he sat in comfortable silence, admiring your gorgeous figure and stroking your hip with his thumb. though the more he looked at you, the more he longed to dive right back into your tits and have another taste. or push you onto your back and explore between your thighs with his mouth.

though his raging fantasies were interrupted as you finally take his cock. not into your pussy, but rather, your mouth. that wasn't what ushijima was expecting, but he'd never complain. not when it comes to your head. how the warmth of your mouth consumed him, and your tongue licked seductively down his shaft. of course, you were never able to take his whole length but that's not your fault; most amateurs couldn't. and he preferred it like this, actually. he liked seeing you with your cheeks puffed out — his coarse fingers brushing your stray hair away from your face so he could witness every lewd detail — and watching you struggle to deepthroat him, coughing and spluttering whenever you'd try. just a reminder of how diligent you are when it comes to pleasuring him.

a layer of your spit shines on his cock, coating him so nicely, as you continue to suck him off. your movements are slow but thorough, gripping him with his lips as tightly as you can when you drag upwards, and ensuring your tongue rubs properly against the underside of his shaft. you were doing so well, as a reward you received the occasional hushed grunt from your husband.

usually this gentle approach would be the correct one, as ushijima prefers a moderate pace to begin with, that gradually builds up into a frantic, hasty one. however, today there was just something so tempting about you that he couldn't resist. maybe it was the obscene way your plump lips wrapped around his girth. or maybe it was how your glossy eyes looked to him for approval after every frivolous attempt to deepthroat. at which, he'd always flash you a brief yet kind smile, sometimes even mutter something along the lines of 'you're so cute' or 'good job, baby.'

regardless, there was an allure about you that he couldn't quite explain, but it is what triggered him to abruptly grab you by the hair and yank you off his cock and into a rough kiss. he just couldn't get enough of those gorgeous lips, and he utilised his grip on the back of your head to pull you in as close as physically possible. he wanted to feel every inch of your nude body against him.

after your initial shock to his actions, you soon melt into the kiss and move your lips rhythmically against his, allowing his tongue to slip past your defences and into your mouth. and while all your senses were saturated by the intoxicating kiss, you almost didn't notice when ushijima's other hand — that was previously groping your ass — sneaked down between your wet folds and teased the entrance of your pussy.

you moaned into the kiss at the stimulation of your needy hole, but despite your longing, you knew it wasn't right. you exit the kiss only partly, and say, virtually still upon his lips, "toshi.. don't. you need to save the energy in your arms."

"i always have energy for you." he counters, as his finger threatens to penetrate you.

"let's not risk it." you smile, pushing yourself back so you are sat upright on his lap with each leg on either side of him. aligning his cock with your hole, you notice he's still slightly damp with your spit, but not enough to make for sufficient lubricant, so you run his dick between your lips, allowing him to soak up your wetness.

he grunted at how your wet folds stroked his length, as his hand wandered up from your shoulder to your face so he could cup your cheek. "can you handle it, (y/n)? it's okay if you can't." of course he's been in you before but in the past, extensive prep is required before you can even fathom the idea of taking him. and on this occasion, you've not undergone any preparation at all. "i don't want to hurt you."

he doesn't mean to sound patronising; that's just how he expresses concern. well, maybe he does mean it a little, but that is only because the bedroom is the place where he gets to be the smart one, considering how quickly you get fucked dumb by his massive dick, unable to speak right or think straight.

"i can and i will, toshi! i was made to fit you." you whine, and you were quick to try and prove it by letting yourself relax onto his cock. however, you reacted by jolting, as the tip alone had your walls stretching and sore. you bit your bottom lip to try cope with discomfort, as your legs trembled at the strain.

"made to fit me?" he smirked, amused by your proclamation and how it was immediately followed by proof of his doubts. the way your body writhed said more than enough. "it's too much for you, sweetheart."

using the back of your hand to cover your tense expression, you shook your head, "no.. it's not." you squeak and mewl as you lower yourself on his cock, the wetness caused by the congestive sensation being just enough to make the descent bearable.

"mmph— too big, toshi." you moaned, and hearing his name fall from your lips in such a dirty manner send all his blood rushing straight to his cock. a part of him wanted to grasp your shoulders and push you all the way down to his base. but the other part knew that he'd destroy your insides if he did that. he'll have to learn to be patient; the burden of having a wife with such a tight little cunt.

your sopping pussy clamping down on him caused a lustful haze to cloud his mind, so he was barely able to choke out, "hurts?"

you nod meekly.

a shaky sigh huffs out of his nose, as he tries to deal with your gummy walls swallow the head of his cock. his eyes were fixated on where you two connect, your hips were quivering yet you had barely covered half of him. slick from your moist cunt seeped down the rest of his shaft that you had yet to take. "you don't have to." he reassured you, a big hand grazing over the silky skin of your stomach, then resting to the side of your tit while he idly thumbed your sensitive nipples.

"but i wanna." you whine, sinking down on his cock ever so slightly, but even taking a couple additional inches caused an intense abdominal pain, resulting in quiet sobs hiccupping from you. it burned and stained your body in such a delicious way. your hungry pussy gnawing at his cock was addicting, and even when it poked you in the most personal and irregular places you still couldn't get enough. in fact, it made you want to fit his whole length even more, because seeing stars is always the goal with wakatoshi.

ushijima swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat while he was admiring your pretty pussy graciously accepting more of his cock. "my beautiful girl.." he cooed at you, paying close attention to the way your face twisted in pain as you sunk further down, fighting to reach the base, although you were getting closer.

more lubricant would've been useful, perhaps it would've got you started quicker like it usually does but a small part of him enjoyed you watching you struggle a bit; it's a display of how devoted you are. "do it." he grunted.

motivated by his firm command, you keep pushing down on his cock, no matter how tough it may be. your eyes are squeezed shut and your husband's strong hand cradles your ass just as you finally made it down to his base. your breathing is already heavy so you pause for catch your breath and marinate in the sensation of his cock brushing your cervix and visibly protruding from your lower stomach.

during this time, ushijima's clutch slipping from your ass, over your folds until he was rigorously palming your throbbing clit. you recoil a bit from his arousing touch, and grumble, "arms.." referring to preserving strength for tomorrow's match.

begrudgingly, he took his hand away. a whole night of sex without putting effort into pleasuring you didn't feel right to ushijima. the way he showed affection and that he cares about you is by rubbing that puffy clit, or letting you lie down while he stood at the end of the bed and ramming into you from behind, not stopping until he had you creaming all over his fat cock. so refraining from pleasing you didn't come naturally to him.

but he must not realise the effect his dick alone has you, especially without much lube — the friction of him dragging against your clammy insides was enough to have you teetering on your first orgasm already.

once you were ready, you braced yourself by placing your hands on his chest and used your knees and arms to supports you while you slid up his length. your insides freeing from his congestion was a relief yet simultaneously so empty, it's as though you craved it as soon as each inch withdrew from you.

"gah!— toshi, feels.." your words get lost in a chorus of your own staggered moans, "s' good."

wakatoshi normally wasn't very vocal in bed at all, so it was very telling that the combination of your tight pussy and unintentional dirty-talk already had him grunting and moaning shallowly under his breath.

as he watched you lift yourself up, he pet your leg soothingly, "that's right, princess— hnn—" he caught himself and clenched his jaw before an unwelcome noise left him, "keep going."

soon you were able to build momentum and start riding him properly. it took a moment to develop a suitable rhythm and to stop your yourself from wincing every time you sunk down on him, but once your hole built more slicker and wetter, it became easier.

it's not long before you're able to glide up and down his shaft with relative ease, whimpers bubbling in your throat from the luxurious satisfaction. at first you went steady, purposefully to savour each and every delicious inch of your well endowed husband.

going at your own rate and slowly bobbing on his cock was practical for you — enough stimulation to have your knees weak already. but your unrushed method wasn't doing it for him. not to say he wasn't entirely entranced by the way your pussy devours him and rubs against his raw flesh, but he need more of you in order to cum. he wants you to be bouncing on his dick until he's completely fucked your brains out and you've milked him dry.

"(y/n)." he states, while you were leaned forward, with your arms holding yourself upright on his chest while your hips got to work in rocking against him. your head hung low because you were concentrated on riding him, and your hair partially fell into your face.

but upon hearing his stern voice, you garner enough strength to lift your head to meet his molten brown eyes. he smiles at the lewd expression painted on your face; it served as a nice reminder that even a dribble of his cock was enough to drive you mad with bliss. he could tell by your watery eyes and your flickering grin that you fucking loved it.

"(y/n)." he repeats your name, though it's more breathy this time and he glances at the place where the two of you connect when he says it then, before he looks back at you expectantly. and of course, you know exactly what to you do.

you let out a deep sigh, drop your head and hope for the best — using your knees and hips to push yourself upwards so you can drop back down onto him at a heightened pace. every time his dick pierced into you, there was a meaty stretch of your walls — a salacious ache that you never could comprehend because as soon as you experienced it, you'd immediately shoot off his cock, then sink back down onto it, over and over again.

you didn't understand what you were feeling down there but you knew for certain was good. your back arched into the filthy euphoria and moans were spilling from you like a flood. "ngh— fuck! stop.." you whine, despite how you were responsible for the sharp jolts of electricity shooting through you; and you were the one hungrily bouncing on his cock like a desperate slut. impaling yourself with his length until your legs were shuddering beneath you.

when it got so fast, the riding became sloppy, you'd hardly touch the base before you'd pull yourself up. likewise, you'd rarely reach the tip before sinking down again. but you were just too eager to pay attention to these small details. alas your movements are no longer deliberate and every buck of your hips is senseless and fuelled by pure lust and hedonism.

it got harder when you could feel your orgasm impending. the pulsing in your abdomen wracking through your entire body, tingling and making it difficult for you to keep bobbing on his cock when your stomach was on the verge of exploding and your legs were ready to give out under you.

but ushijima's intense glare on your exposed, shaking figure brought you motivation to persevere. as well as his protective hands that stroked your trembling thighs, while gazing at you with adoration and desire. he wasn't a man of many words but the way he looked at you spoke a thousand.

and these sappy eyes only faltered when your walls clenching around his dick eventually led to him being knocked over the edge and spilling his first orgasm all into your homey cunt. a raspy groan was torn out of him and his eyes flutter close while his seed pump through your insides; the thick warmth spreading through your core caused your eyes to twist shut, and force of his load pushed you off his cock.

he had made a vulgar mess of his precious girl, your little hole was dripping with cum. to be stuffed with your husband's fluid love was so filling yet comforting — and you were truly stuffed, the volume of his load replacing the mass of his cock. "thank you, babe.." you pant, head still spinning from your frantic bouncing.

"thank you." he corrected, eyes trained on you still sitting atop his flaccid cock, but it hardened with every passing second, at the sight of your pert nipples teasing him as your chest rose and fell, or your pretty lips he longed to kiss passionately. "two rounds is hard-work, dear. i'm impressed."

perhaps you were just to fucked out to count. still, you gulp to clear your dry throat and splutter, "two?"

"yes." ushijima confirmed. though strand of his hair still clung to his shining cheeks and forehead, he seemed to have overcome the post-orgasmic exhaustion already. "so there's one more left."

you groan. you should've expected this considering usually ushijima can go for upwards of four rounds, but it's different when you are doing all the work. "but 'm tired!"

"two ejaculations are recommended to get rid of all the stress." he explains, but from how you wearily hang your head and you're quick breaths, he could tell you weren't listening.

"one more, (y/n)."

"but toshi!.." you whine in retaliation.

"yes, my angel?"

you narrow your eyes at him and although he wears that big, dumb look on his face you tell he knows what he is doing. he is aware of the effect those cute nicknames have on you, especially in his deep, husky voice. how can you refuse? plus a small part of you wants to keep going anyway, and not stop until you forget your own name,

you huff out your nose and lift your hips over his tip once more — which has already fully stiffened — then abruptly drop them, taking his big length in one swift gulp. one that caused you to recoil and squeal, and even wakatoshi to gasp slightly at being enveloped by your tight insides again so fast.

it's easier to fit him this time because your hole is already drenched with his cum and your own, but his dick was still as big as it was a minute ago, and it still strained your walls— having to contort beyond their means to accommodate his girth. " toshi, shhuh.. shit— too big!" you whimper.

"not for my girl." he grunts, a firm grip on the fat of your thigh while you frantically ride him, "make it fit."

"mph, mkay.." your knuckles white as you hold onto his shirt for dear life, mustering every ounce of energy you have to keep thrusting yourself up and down on your husband's mighty cock, but every part of you gave away your exhaustion: beads of sweat budding on your forehead, shaking muscles and rapid breaths.

ushijima could tell you were struggling and that only egged him even closer orgasm. though he was kind enough to offer you some grunts of reassurance between moans. "my perfect girl, go on.."

there were moments when then the bursts of pleasure were drowned out by the futility of repeatedly bouncing on his stubborn erection but you persisted, even when your legs had virtually gone numb and your sore pussy was still being rammed into.

"can't.." you whimper, your knees now beginning to wobble with each bounce, making your position unstable until wakatoshi steadied you by the ass.

"so tight, princess. i need you to." he grits, grabbing your ass to aid you in your staggered movements, guiding you up and down on his soiled length but even then, your aching legs prevented you from riding with any real vigour, "i'm close."

despite his encouragement, you couldn't find the strength to continue and your hips gradually decreased in ferocity until you lay dejected against his chest, feebly bucking your hips while his cock stirred inside your sticky walls.

you mutters all sorts of slurred gibberish that resembled 'sorry', with your face pressed against his chest as he rubbed comforting circles on your back.

"don't be sorry." he says, hands fixing themselves to your hips, "you're still going to help me, angel."

with his tight grip on your hips, he lifts you as though you're weightless and pushes you back down his length, all the way to base which makes you shiver as his tip intrudes your cervix. initially shocked, you gape at the determines look on your husband's face as he uses your weak body as his own little fucktoy, slamming you down on his cock over and over. but it doesn't take long for you to melt into the atmosphere and get turned on by the way he manhandles you, treating you like his personal property.

the power his strong hands hold over you is indescribable. his dick ploughs into your sopping hole at an ungodly pace — so fast and rough your tits shook and it left your limb neck nodding along with each bounce. yet all you could focus on his cock stretching out your insides, hitting all the right spots on your sensitive walls.

your hair thrashed about too, with every violent snap of ushijima's arms, and it wasn't long before the heat pooling at your core came gushing out. "tosh— hhn— 'm comi—" the words couldn't even form on your tongue completely before they were crushed and swept away in a flood of melodious moans and sobs.

as you climaxed, your back arched into him and your coated walls began to convulse around his brimming cock, which served as the catalyst to him shooting his second load into your already filthy pussy.

your tight cunt wrung him dry for every last drop, and even through his high, he held you through yours, as you twitched and screamed with pleasure in his arms from the most overwhelming and satisfying orgasm of your life. he kept you close, wrestling against his own muffled moans — they were hard to suppress when your hole clamped down on him like it never wanted to let go.

soon, the intensity had faded, and you were left lying on his chest, enjoying each other's embrace and listening to each other's heartbeat while he was buried inside you. once you both found your bearings, he looked to you for approval before easing you off his cock.

you hissed at first; the feeling of emptiness had become so oddly foreign to you. and it stung a little but it was so unbelievably worth it.

"thank you, (y/n)." wakatoshi mutters against your forehead, tickling you a bit, "i'm proud of you, and grateful to have you as my wife."

"i'm grateful for you too, wakatoshi." you muse, mind still a bit hazy, "proud of me for what?"

"for lasting so long. that must have been a lot of effort."

you scoff, idly tracing hearts on his chest with your finger, "yeah, right. i didn't even make it through the whole thing, you literally had to carry me at the end."

"that's because you're not used to it." he explains kindly, as he shifts his hand to take yours, stroking the back of it with his thumb, "but it's okay. you will receive plenty of training when we go home."

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

BONUS

tw// oral (receiving)

the whole arena erupted into cheers when japan scored the final point against argentina and won the match! the audience were screaming and the players were all doing celebrations of their own — the atmosphere was simply electric and joyus.

from the stands, you looked at your boyfriend who was standing on the court, staring back at you with a cute little smile on his face. or at least, that's what it looked like from where you were sitting, so you blew him a kiss.

you later realised that it was probably a devious smirk, as that was the moment when the ejacultion hypothesis was confirmed, and he was probably thinking about the new pre-game ritual that had been established.

it's useful though. think of it like this: whenever he has a match, you also get some training!

but of course, you would only agree to take part in this 'pre-game ritual' if certain criteria were met. meaning that after every game, ushijima has to dick you down good and bury his head between your legs, eating you out for minimum ten minutes (twenty if he wins).

[hhughes]

jack x wife!reader?? I just know that when he’s fr locked in with someone, he would love them ENDLESSLY

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ you did not put husband!jack in my inbox. omgggg . . .

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ I agree nonnie , once jack meets someone he wants to go all the way with he’s 100% locked in and he’s soo devoted, soo committed, soo in love 😩 some husband!jack for you I guess😽

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ jack loves saying “my wife” every chance he gets. It doesn’t matter if it’s been years since the wedding; he’s still obsessed.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ he’s the type of guy that once he knows you’re the one, he knows and he’s not shy about making it known. he’d be jokingly calling you ‘wifey’ up until he proposes

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ his friends invite him somewhere? it’s “yeah, the wife and I will be there.” and they never care, they know you and jack come as a package deal. it’s been like that since day one.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ jack loves talking about you. he’ll find any moment to talk about you. mentioning you in interviews. “my wife actually got me into that” or “the mrs. and I are headed to michigan for the summer” etc.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ even the little things — ordering coffee, talking to fans, casual conversations — he’s constantly name dropping you like it’s second nature.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ like I said once jack knows, he just knows, and he’s 100% committed to you. he’s got your anniversary memorized down to the minute and makes a huge deal out of it every year. he’ll plan trips, romantic surprises, and thoughtful little gestures just because. if you have a bad day? he’s on his way home with your favorite snacks and a long hug waiting.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ domestic husband!jack is just something else. it doesn’t matter if he’s been at practice all day or just got home from a road trip—he wants to be wherever you are. he just wants to be close to you all the time. he’s the type to cuddle up next to you while you’re working or cooking, resting his chin on your shoulder and watching you with a lovesick grin.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ will do the cheesiest things—slow dances in the kitchen, forehead kisses, and pulling you into his lap during movie nights. you’re the type of couple that’s still sickeningly in love even years after your wedding.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ loves when you wear his clothes, especially his jerseys— he’ll smirk and say, “damn, mrs. hughes looks good.” or “I’ve got hot wife huh?”

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ jack loves taking you to events, dinners, and hanging out with friends because to him, everything’s better when you’re there. he introduces you to literally everyone and beams with pride while doing it. at team events, he’s constantly checking in on you, making sure you’re comfortable and having fun. if you’re at a party and he loses you for even a second, he’s scanning the room until he finds you again.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ he loves lazy sunday mornings with you—making breakfast together, lounging in bed, and just enjoying the little things. tries to cook sometimes, but ends up burning things, so he settles for being your “official taste tester.”

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ jack trusts you completely, and he knows you can handle yourself but if anyone disrespects you, he’s immediately stepping in. in the same way if someone makes you uncomfortable in public, he’s the first to pull you closer and give them a warning glare. even if it’s some times his own friends/teammates doing it intentionally or unintentionally. he’ll always mutter a little “watch it” or “careful” in their direction before checking on you.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ he’s just the most devoted, committed and attentive husband for sure 🥺

[itneverendshere]

Could you please write btchy!pogue where shes the one whos jealous this time and rafe savors the moment.

don't like the way she's looking - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x raf

the cut had a party tonight, like most summer nights.

the music was loud enough to shake the ground, beer kegs were getting drained faster than anyone could fill them, and people packed into the yard like sardines. 

it wasn’t fancy, but that was the point, pogue parties weren’t about appearances, you showed up, you drank, you made some bad decisions under the string lights, and you went home.

it wasn’t your favorite kind of night, but rafe had convinced you to come out, promising it’d just be a chill hangout. he lied.

instead of spending the night with you, he’s currently perched by his truck, surrounded by a rotating cast of pogues. you’re leaning against a beat-up picnic table, a half-warm beer in your hand, keeping one eye on rafe while he did his thing. 

by “his thing,” you mean selling weed to every pogue with a crumpled-up twenty and a dream.

to his credit, this is probably his best hustle yet.

rafe cameron, reformed asshole, and your probationary boyfriend, has somehow turned himself into the cut’s go-to dealer. it’s a whole thing, people like him now, which is fine. 

good for him, whatever, but some people like him a little too much. 

case in point? the girl currently throwing herself at him like a damn frisbee. you clocked her the second she strutted over. 

she wasn’t subtle about it, either—crop top hanging so low she might as well not have bothered, denim shorts so short they were illegal in some states. she’s leaning against his truck, like she’s in some fuck ass music video, her body language loud and clear. it’s the hand on his arm that does it for you. 

that, and her laugh. 

jesus, her laugh. high-pitched and fake, like a dying bird trying to flirt.

you’ve been rolling your eyes from the second she started talking, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. 

“you’re really good at this whole business thing, huh? bet you’re good at lots of things.”

you gag audibly from your spot, but of course, she doesn’t hear you. 

rafe, for his part, looks mildly amused but doesn’t say anything. still, you stay put, you’re not here to play babysitter. he’s not that stupid—he’ll shut her down. 

he better.

her next move is placing her hand on his arm. on. his. arm.

like she isn’t aware that his girlfriend is sitting fifteen feet away, the audacity. she’s batting her lashes and laughing at something he says like he’s the funniest guy alive, and you can see his shoulders stiffen, the slight step back he takes when she puts her hands on him.

“so, like,” she giggles, twirling a piece of hair around her finger, “what if i can’t, you know... pay in cash? ’m sure we could work something else out?”

rafe’s reaction is immediate, “i have a girlfriend.”

“oh,” her pout deepens. “that’s fine. she doesn’t have to know.”

at that, he laughs—an incredulous, slightly panicked laugh, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “yeah, see, that’s not gonna work for me.”

she doesn’t take the hint. 

instead, she tilts her head, giving him what you’re sure she thinks it’s a seductive look. “c'mon, rafe. it’s just a little fun, bet she wouldn’t even care.”

you freeze mid-sip of your beer, brain short-circuiting.

you slam it down on the table so hard it splashes everywhere, your vision zeroing in on her like a predator spotting prey. you’re halfway across the yard before you realize you’re moving.

oh, you care, you care a lot.

rafe’s already holding his hands up like he’s trying to ward her off. “don’t know what you think is happening here, but it’s not. i’m not interested.”

“not interested in me?” she asks, like the idea is physically painful.

“correct,” you announce loudly, “he’s not interested. crazy, right?”

she squares her shoulders and glares at you. “who are you?”

“hi, i’m the girlfriend” you shoot back, “just wondering if you’re planning on embarrassing yourself any more tonight or if that’s it?”

rafe rubs the back of his neck, looking between amused and mildly terrified, “baby—”

“don’t ‘baby’ me, cameron,” you snap, shooting him a glare before turning your attention back to the girl. she’s still standing there, trying to figure out if she should fight or flight.

smart money would’ve been on flight, but apparently, she’s the stubborn type.

she smirks, seemingly not the least bit fazed by you. “pogues share.”

“how about i share this fist with your face? that sound good to you?”

she whips around, her fake-confident expression faltering “uh, excuse me?”

“you heard me,” you only stop a foot from her. your hands are on your hips, ready to pounce if she even thinks about mouthing off one more time. “can’t you take a fucking hint, or are you just dumb?”

“i didn’t know he had a girlfriend,” she rolls her eyes.

“everyone here knows he’s with me, you just thought you’d try it anyway, didn’t you?”

“it’s not that deep,” she shrugs, her voice going fake casual. “it’s just rafe. pogues share—what’s the big deal? you’re overreacting.”

rafe winces, stepping back as if to give you space to handle it. good, he knew better than to get in your way.

“you wanna find out how much more i can react? i’m feeling real generous tonight.”

her mouth opens to say something even dumber, but you’re already pouncing , not even thinking—your body just reacts.

“whoa, whoa, whoa!” rafe’s arms are suddenly around you, yanking you before you can do any real damage “okay, we’re going home.”

“i’ll punch you too,” you hiss, squirming in his grip. “let me hit her.”

he only holds you tighter against his chest when you try to kick out at her. “baby, come on.”

“this bitch said pogues share!’” you cram your neck to glare at her over rafe’s shoulder. “i just wanna share some sense with her.”

she’s already backing away, her hands up in surrender, “okay, whatever, no dick is worth dealing with a crazy bitch. ’m leaving!” she snaps, turning on her heel.

rafe’s grip lightens up slightly, thinking this is enough to calm you down, but unfortunately for him, you take it as a chance to get what you want. as soon as he lets you lose, you take one giant step forward and grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her back just as she tries to escape.

"get your ass back here," you growl, tugging her head back.

“jesus christ,” rafe’s eyes widen and he’s there, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind once again, pulling you back. “baby, let her go!”

she lets out a surprised squeal, trying to pull away, but you’ve got a grip on her so tight she can’t. “what the hell is wrong with you?!” she screeches, hands desperately trying to pry your fingers from her hair.

“okay, you’ve made your point,” he chuckles despite the situation, “let go of her hair.”

you release her, but not without one last, satisfying shove to her back. she stumbles, glaring at you over her shoulder with her hand pressed to her scalp.

“keep your hands to yourself next time,” you warn with a sneer.

she glares at you, and opens her mouth like she’s about to start some more shit—but then she seems to think better of it. with a huff, she turns on her heel and stalks off, her footsteps retreating into the crowd.

rafe stands there, rubbing his neck nervously as he watches her go. “you’re gonna get arrested one day, y’know that, right?”

you look up at him, eyebrow raised, a smirk curling at the corner of your lips. “and you’re gonna get your balls ripped off and be single for the rest of your life. how’s that sound?”

his mouth falls open as he stares at you.

“what? i’m innocent! i didn’t do shit. you just went wwe smackdown on her. i was standing there, minding my business.”

“minding your business while she was all over you?” you challenge, “she was practically trying to crawl inside your skin.”

“told her i wasn’t interested!” he defends, throwing his hands up. “even used the line— i have a girlfriend! that’s...the ultimate force field!”

you snort, crossing your arms. “she walked right through it like it wasn’t even there.”

rafe sighs dramatically, stepping closer, his voice dropping, that little smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “gotta admit, that was kinda hot.”

you narrow your eyes at him, trying not to let his charm sway you. “hot?”

“yeah,” he grins, “watching you go full psycho really does something for me.”

you can feel your lips twitching upward despite yourself. “you’re such a fuckin’ loser.”

“am i wrong, though?” he teases, slipping his arms around you, his lips tickling your ear as he adds, “never felt more horny—or scared—in my life.”

you huff a laugh, shoving at his chest playfully, “stop trying to make me laugh, i’m mad at you.”

“you’re mad at me?” he leans in impossibly closer, pulling you flush against him.

“rafe—” you start, but he’s already tilting his head, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck.

“mm, y’know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “i like you mad. all fired up, it’s sexy.”

“don’t even,” you warn, hoping you sound firm, but it’s hard to when he’s trailing slow kisses down your neck, the press of his mouth sending shivers straight to your toes.

he doesn’t stop, of course. his kisses get sloppier, his lips parting so his tongue can flick against the sensitive spot just below your ear. 

“can’t help it,” he groans in between his work, nipping at your skin. “my girl’s too fucking hot.”

your hands come up to push at his chest, but they end up curling into his shirt instead. “i’m so fucking serious. you can’t sweet-talk your way out of this.”

“m’not sweet-talking,” he slurs, teeth grazing your skin, followed by the soothing heat of his tongue, and you gasp despite yourself. “just... appreciating you. can’t a guy admire his girlfriend after she defended his honor?” he bites down and then sucks at the spot until you’re squirming in his arms. “got me so gone for you, shit, it’s embarrassing.”

“good,” you mutter stubbornly, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.

he practically purrs at the contact, his lips dragging down to your collarbone. “you’ve ruined me, y’know that? can’t even look at another girl.”

you laugh, your grip tightening in his hair. “keep talking, cameron. see how far that gets you.”

he grins against your skin, his teeth scraping lightly before he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. his hands slide down to your thighs, lifting you up like you weigh nothing and setting you on the edge of the picnic table.

“guess i’ll just have to show you instead.”

"rafe cameron," you start, intending to scold him, but your words stop in your throat as he steps between your legs.

“now you’re quiet,” he’s leaning in so close his nose brushes against yours. “where’d all that fire go, mm?”

your glare is half-hearted at best. “don’t push your luck, you’re still on probation, asshole.”

he hums thoughtfully, his hands sliding up your legs, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. “not luck, baby. skill.”

“you’re so fucking insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, slipping under the hem of his shirt to splay across his warm skin.

his abs tense under your touch, and you relish the reaction, how his breath hitches as you dig your nails in just a little.

“irresistible,” he counters, his voice rough. his lips hover over yours, daring you to close the gap, but he doesn’t make the first move.

he waits, his eyes locked on yours, the faintest flicker of a challenge in his pretty blue eyes. two can play that game, matter of fact, you know you’ll win.

you pull back, smirking as you trace your fingers over the waistband of his jeans, “that’s pushing it, don’t you think?”

he exhales a chuckle through his nose, his hands moving to your waist, tugging you closer. “you’re so fucking stubborn.”

“me?” you scoff, your fingers dipping beneath the fabric of his jeans, making his tighten, his smirk faltering enough to make you feel victorious.

“yeah,” he repeats, though his voice is strained now. “practically begging me to fuck you here.”

“please.” you tilt your head, your lips grazing his jaw, “you’re the one begging.”

rafe’s laugh is low and throaty, a sound that sends a thrill to your core. his control visibly slips as you trail your lips down the line of his jaw, peppering kisses that grow increasingly slower, more deliberate.

his sharp exhale and the way his grip on your hips drops for half a second tell you everything you need to know.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, his forehead dropping against your shoulder for a moment.

you grin, pleased with yourself, sliding your hands up his chest, feeling the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

“don’t sound too surprised.”

he shakes his head slightly, trying to clear it, but he can’t seem to stop staring at you. “god, i hate you sometimes,” he breathes out, his lips quirking up into a smirk that betrays his words.

“funny,” you retort, fingers sliding back into his hair to tug lightly. “don’t believe you.”

his jaw tightens at the sensation, a groan slipping past his lips before he catches it.

 “you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says again, but his mouth is already back on you, a bruising kiss that steals every smart-ass remark you had locked and loaded.

your mouths move together with instinct, and when his tongue flicks against your lower lip, you don’t hesitate, opening up for him. he groans low in his throat as his tongue sweeps into your mouth, curling against yours, slick and overwhelming in the best way.

it’s messy and unrestrained, the kind of kiss that leaves you dizzy and drenched. 

rafe’s lips leave yours only for a second, his teeth tugging lightly at your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. he pulls back just enough to let it drag between his teeth, his eyes locked on yours, all dark with something feral.

you don’t let him stay in control for long, your hands tighten in his hair, tugging him back to you, and this time it’s your tongue that takes over, sliding against his in a way that has him moaning like a bitch in heat into your mouth. he sucks on it lightly, the sensation only making your panties stick harder to you, and you press closer to him, your legs tightening around his waist, looking for some kind of friction.

when he pulls back, both of you gasping for air, his lips are swollen and glistening, his eyes glazed over with that unmistakable lust.

a string of spit still connects your mouths, and you watch, entranced, as he swipes his tongue across his lips, catching it before smirking at you.

“you kiss me like that again,” he murmurs, “’m not responsible for what happens next.”

[seventeenpins]

⁵⁾ pressing the pads of their fingers into their lips in the aftermath, like they’re either trying to capture the feeling or banish it from memory

with x1!Logan pretty plssssss 😏

YES Ozzie omg thank you I love this ❤️

Forbidden Fruit

pairing: dbf!Logan x neighbor!reader word count: 3.4k summary: You’re a little obsessed with your attractive new neighbor. Unfortunately, he’s quite a bit older than you... And your dad's new best friend. content/warnings: non-mutant AU, unspecified age gap, written as x1 Logan, Scott is your dad (sorry), silence of the lambs spoilers???, yearning, tbh yall are as bad as each other, smut a/n: lmao this was supposed to be a drabble 🤷 ty to @ozarkthedog, the most perfect human 🩷

There’s a party roaring outside. As a general rule, your dad doesn’t like to throw parties often, but when he meets the man who’s moving in next door, he announces to you his plan. “Hosting a new neighbor helps to establish a good relationship!” he insists, and that’s that.

You’re sat in the living room, the space dimly lit, nursing a Pabst Blue Ribbon as the glow of your latest Blockbuster rental illuminates your face.

"You even old enough to drink?" comes a voice just outside the door frame. 

You jump, beer sloshing gracelessly down your front. You turn to him, glowering. He’s silhouetted from the hallway and you can’t make out his face. “Yep,” you tell him, “I just have an immaculate skincare routine. Keeps me youthful.”

“So you’re hiding inside… because?”

You shrug. “Just like time to myself.”

He nods, and then strides over. He takes a seat beside you.

“Who are you, exactly?” you frown, looking him up and down.

“You mind?” he asks, smirking as he wiggles the beer you didn’t realize he was holding and nods towards the bottle opener. The audacity.

You glare and grab the bottle opener. He holds his hand out for it, but you withdraw. 

“Logan,” he laughs, “Logan Howlett. I just moved in next door.”

“Oh,” you drop the bottle opener into his hand, remembering your dad’s words. Establish a good relationship. “Oh, yeah, my dad was really excited about the party. Hope you’re enjoying it.”

His eyebrows raise. “Your dad?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Scott Summers.”

“No shit,” he frowns, “That guy sends a lot of emails.”

“That he does.”

Logan pops his bottle open. “Mind some company?”

“Long as you don’t mind watching Silence of the Lambs starting part way through.”

“Ohhhhh yeah, has he asked for a quid pro quo yet?”

“Aahh, a connoisseur,” you grin, “Yeah, just got past that part. I can rewind–”

“Nah,” he shrugs, “Let it play.”

You watch for a while in silence, but then start chatting again, swapping mundane questions. 

“So, Scott’s your dad, huh?” he asks, after a while.

“He sure is.”

“When he said he had a daughter, I guess I assumed someone younger.”

“Same skincare routine,” you deadpan.

He closes his eyes, holding back a laugh as he shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay,” you laugh, “Yeah, he was still pretty young when I was born.”

“And what about…” he trails off, suddenly realizing tact may be appreciated.

“Dad’s a widower,” you explain simply.

Logan nods. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

You sit in silence for a moment, watching as Lecter is revealed to be wearing the guard’s face.

“How about you?” you ask, “You got a wife? Husband? Girlfriend? Partner?--”

He turns to look at you and you peter off. “Nope.” 

There’s something in the way he’s looking at you. You’re not sure if he’s being suggestive, or if you’re reading into things. Maybe it’s just the reflecting light making his eyes look more provocative than he intends.

Either way, you feel your heartbeat surge and your stomach flip.

You turn away and try to affect nonchalance, try not to be suddenly mesmerized by this unexpected plot twist that is Logan. The movie is wrapping up, Clarice taking Lecter’s call as he pursues Chilton. You try to focus on it, the score, the costumes– but instead you notice the way he smells, musky and a little sweaty. It’s nice. A little dizzying.

“What about you?” you ask.

“Hmm?”

"You have any kids?" you ask, and immediately wonder if you waited too long to carry on the conversation.

"Shit," he snorts and shakes his head, "I hope not."

It takes you off guard. You burst out laughing.

He huffs, lifting the beer to his lips to hide a smile.

The credits begin to roll over the ending scene. 

With the bottle drained, he pats his thighs and stands up. "Alright, kid," he says, "I probably shouldn’t hide in here any longer.”

“My dad appreciates it,” you tell him, “Don’t wanna give him a heart attack when his guest of honor is nowhere to be found, soon to be discovered with his delinquent daughter.”

He picks up his empty and shakes his head, heading back outside. He calls back, “Oh, you’re trouble.”

Now that you’ve met him, you can’t get him out of your mind. 

When you see him again, a couple days later in daylight this time, you have to pick your jaw up off the ground. He’s taller than you realize, and he’s fucking built. And fuck, he’s handsome too. When he sees you, he waves a hand. “Hey Trouble,” he calls, “Keepin’ your nose clean?”

Weeks pass, and, much to your delight (and, admittedly, despair), your dad and Logan become close. 

Sundays become your favorite day. Sunday, you discover, is the day you can see Logan through your window, chopping a seemingly endless stack of firewood. 

One time, he catches you watching. To your utter shock, he winks at you. Knowing your eyes are on him, he lifts the hem of his beater to wipe his brow, and shoots you a shit-eating grin.

You had plans but that doesn’t matter now. All you can do is shove your hand into your panties and rub circles around your throbbing little clit until you cum with a muffled sigh, knowing he’s outside. Knowing there’s not more than a fence and a few feet between you.

Almost every night, his fire pit is alight and you see him reading, or strumming his guitar, or fucking whittling, serene in the smouldering glow, till the fire burns out and the night turns too cool to enjoy.

As the weeks pass, he’s at your house more and more. You wish your heart would stop doing flips whenever you see him on the sofa next to your dad, beer in hand, laughing at some story that’s being recounted.

He says hello to you each time he sees you, and always asks after you when you’re out.

“Oh, Logan says hi,” your dad will say over his morning toast, “Why does he call you Trouble? Tell me you haven’t been besmirching the Summers name?”

“Nah,” you grin, “Just the littlest besmirchment, at worst.”

His eyes narrow.

“C’mon, now, we want to-”

“Establish a good relationship!” you finish, grinning at the way he scowls.

“Smartass.”

“Hey, Trouble,” he’ll greet you, whenever you find him at your home.

“Hey neighbor.”

“You bein’ good?” he’ll ask.

“‘Course not,” you’ll wink, “Where’s the fun in that?”

You love that he calls you Trouble. That he has a name, just for you. It feels like it could almost be something, and so it’s almost enough. 

Before long, what you’d once feared was a one-sided attraction begins to morph into something different. 

It’s a Saturday, and you decide to wear a cute little dress. It’s a flowy thing that hugs all your curves in the very best way, hem barely falling past the curve of your ass.

Your dad just popped out for another six-pack, and you’re in the kitchen, making pasta salad. With your father gone, Logan isn’t subtle in the way he looks at you. You delight in how his eyes linger at the curve of your hip, the swell of your chest. It feels like a victory, the way he grits his jaw a little when you lean forward, cleavage on full display.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ wearing a naughty little dress like that?” Logan asks, scowling.

You raise an eyebrow and try not to let the way your heart starts to flutter affect you. “Thought you’d figured it out on day one – I’m trouble.”

He looks you up and down, his gaze lascivious. It’s the boldness of it. The two of you are alone, and you both know it.

“I think you like it,” you narrow your eyes.

He’s silent for a long moment. Then he lets out a deep breath. 

“God help me, I do.”

“Why don’t you do something about it?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but then you both hear the latch, and the front door swings open.

Logan sits back, pretending as though nothing just happened.

You turn back to your salad.

You can see Logan in the sitting room, right in your line of sight. Your dad sits across from him, his back towards you. 

If you’re honest, you’re not sure exactly what compels you. 

You turn to face Logan, wave for him to catch your eye. He does, quickly, immediately attuned to you. Your dad doesn’t notice the way his eyes follow you. You hold a finger to your lips. His eyes dart between you and your dad, and he tries to focus on whatever his friend is saying to him. 

Slowly, you slip one strap down, and then the other. You can hear Logan’s breath hitch, which he covers almost believably with a gulp of his beer. Shimmying the bodice just a little, you expose your cleavage to near-dangerous depths. He’s grinding his teeth now, and it feels like victory.

Quickly, silently, you slip your top all the way down, exposing your breasts to the cool kitchen air. Your nipples, already hard, tighten. Logan is holding his can so tightly he’s crushing it in his fist. 

“You okay, buddy?” you hear your dad say, and you can practically hear the frown in his voice. In a couple of quick movements, you slip your top back up and turn back to your salad.

“Huh?” Logan asks quickly, and then looks at his beer. “Oh, shit–!” he grumbles, relaxing his grip gingerly.

It’s not till an hour later that your dad stands up and announces, “I’ll be right back, gonna hit the head.”

When he’s gone, Logan bolts up and marches over to you.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” he demands.

You shrug and, not so subtly, glance down at his crotch. You smirk at the way the front is tenting. Logan stares daggers as he adjusts himself, better hiding his hard-on.

“Some of you seems to like it,” you point out.

“Out here? With him here? You want your daddy to kill me?”

“No,” you promise, “No, I just want you to fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ you’re trouble–”

You both hear a toilet flush, and, moments later, footsteps descend on the stairs.

Logan adjusts himself again, and you blow him a kiss as he tromps back to his seat.

It’s a week before you see Logan again. He’s working late this week, apparently. Or maybe he’s just keeping his distance from you.

On Friday night, you debate going out. It’s been a while, and you could use a chance to unwind. But drinks are expensive, and– and you see a fire out your window. Logan sits out by his fire pit.

Without thinking, you put on your shoes.

It’s late, but not too late. Your dad’s on his recliner, game on TV, newspaper in hand.

“You headin’ out, kiddo?” he asks.

“Yep,” you lie, “Meeting a couple friends downtown. They’re picking me up!”

“Stay safe,” he calls after you, “Call me if you need a ride.”

“I will,” you tell him. “Don’t know if I’ll be home tonight. Don’t wait up for me!”

You head out of the house and through your neighbor’s gate. 

Logan is golden, illuminated in the glow of the flames. He’s whittling something, angrily.

You realize then that your entrance has been near-silent on the soft grass. “Uh,” you clear you throat and knock on his fence as you approach him. “Hey, there, neighbor!”

Logan looks up and frowns when he sees you.

“You are makin’ me crazy, Trouble.” he huffs.

“Like, in a good way?” you ask.

He glares at you.

You come closer. “Can I sit?”

Logan budges up, putting down his whittling tools.

“So…” you venture “Am I more trouble than I’m worth?”

Logan scoffs.

“Nah.” he concedes, “I just don’t wanna make things complicated.”

You shrug. “They’re already complicated. You’ve seen my tits.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Goddammit, Trouble. I can’t get you out of my head.”

“They’re great tits,” you shrug.

“They are great tits.” Logan agrees.

The fire is crackling and the night is clear, stars hanging above you. You've been sitting side by side, quiet.

You don’t know what to say. Maybe there isn't anything to say. You’ve been patient, dammit. You just need to leap.

You pull him towards you and he moves without resistance.

He growls into your mouth, a needy animal sound. The scruff of his beard feels nice against your chin and you’re dizzy with his proximity, with his lips on yours.

After an eternity in the space of a single moment, you pull apart.

Logan stares at you, overwhelmed. His eyes are dark, his kiss-glistened lips catching the light as the fire dances. 

He presses the pads of his fingertips against his lips in the aftermath, as though either trying to capture the feeling, or banish it from memory.

Then, after a long moment, he’s on you. His hands grip you, grasp you, trace the shape of your body as though memorizing it by touch alone. 

“Inside. Now.” he growls, “Out here you’re askin’ for your daddy to catch us.”

You’re barely through the door before Logan is tugging at your clothes. You help him pull your top above your head, and you fumble with the button of your jeans as he unhooks his belt and yanks off his beater.

In a matter of moments, you’re both fully bare. His skin is hot against yours as he holds you to him, caging you against the door as he drags his teeth along your shoulder. His hard cock hangs against your thigh, heavy and thick and leaking.

Your clothes trail from the front door to his sofa. You don’t make it any further than that.

You’re a ticking time bomb, a siren, pulling him in, driving him wild. He wants and wants and wants, more than he ever knew he could. So much could be ruined; his friendship with your dad, the scrap of reputation he’s been building, his new life in this new place—

But now his want has turned into a need, and feeling you soft and pliant and oh so willing against him, he’d be a fool to turn back now.

Logan’s gropes at you, fingernails digging into the swell of your ass before cupping your pussy in one large palm. Rubbing up and down your cunt, he smears your wetness around.

“You’re fucking dripping,” he gasps. “Prettiest pussy I’ve seen.” 

Then he dips a finger into you and you groan and clench around it. He fucks you with it, deep, gentle strokes. He wasn’t wrong. As he fucks you with his finger, you feel how unbelievably wet you are. When he pulls back for a moment, you can see his hand is glistening with you, drips going all the way to his wrist.

“I can take more,” you promise, and he growls. 

“Can’t say shit like that,” he pants, “You’re sure you can take more. Can you take me? Don’t wanna hurt–”

“I can take you,” you assure him. If you’re honest, you don’t know if you can. What you do know is that you’re sure as fuck gonna try.

“How do you want me?” he asks, fighting to maintain the last shreds of his self-control.

Ever the masochist, “Want you on top of me, my ankles round your shoulders. Need you deep.”

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

You lay back as he positions himself between your thighs. He presses a kiss to your left thigh before he hikes it over his right shoulder, and a kiss to your right calf, folding you in half.

He strokes the dripping head of his cock against your folds.

“You ready?” he asks, and you whine in desperation, nodding a yes.

He presses in, notching the tip inside. You groan at the sensation, relaxing into it as he rocks his hips gently.

“Doin’ so good,” he praises, “I know, baby, it’s a lot.”

You writhe and moan. It is a lot, but you still want more. More of his cock, of his hands on your body, of his praise.

“Taking it so well,” he soothes, letting his cock slide that little bit deeper inside, pulling most of the way out and driving back in, pressing whispers in your ear as he fucks into you.

When his pelvis is pressed flush against you, he lets out a sigh. 

“Look at that,” he huffs, “Takin’ all of me.”

You look down and watch enraptured as he pulls out and presses back in, deeper than you ever imagined, and rolls his hips, coarse hair grinding against your clit and making you howl.

”Keep making those pretty noises for me, honey.”

”Need more-“ you beg.

He starts rocking his hips, building a solid rhythm. His strokes are deep and devastating, and with every thrust you can feel your wetness start to flood down your thighs and cream around the base of his cock.

The wetter you get, the harder he fucks into you, each plunge punctuated with your cries, of “Yes!”, “More—“, “Please, Logan, please—“

Generous to a fault, he gives you everything you beg for.

The frustration of these longing, pent-up weeks is almost a forgotten memory. As you build towards the peak of your pleasure, the man above you is an animal. He grunts and pants and fucks you deeper than you knew possible. Your whines and cries and demands taper off, replaced by soft moans that start to swell as he litters your collarbone with kisses and rubs a calloused thumb against your clit.

”I’m—“ you warn, struggling to form words, “I’m gonna—“

 “‘M close too,” he grunts, “Give it to me, baby, need to feel you— Please, baby—“

With his words and a firm press to your clit, you come with a sob, cunt squeezing around him in pulsing contractions.

He fucks you through it, muttering a steady stream of filth the whole time. “That’s it, that’s it, fuck you’re gushing, soaking this cock. You feel so fucking good, tight little thing stretched so nice around me, taking it all like you’re made for it—”

Before you can even get over the first climax, the second starts to build. Logan can feel the way your pussy twitches for him, the way your breath shudders as he drives into you with staggering thrusts.

”Gonna cum again, aren’t you?” He growls. “Good-“ a thrust, “fucking—“, thrust, “girl—“ thrust, “Just can’t get enough of this cock, can you?”

You try to answer, but all that comes out is a cry as another orgasm overtakes you.

"That’s it,” the praises, still punctuating every word with a thrust, “That’s it! Let yourself feel it, let yourself feel good—"

You do, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. It’s overwhelming, the way it tears through you with no end in sight.

When he finally pulls out of you, you start to come back to yourself, your life-changing orgasm starting to wane.

He’s beautiful above you, covered in sweat, your wetness dripping down his thighs as he strokes his creamy cock.

With a groan, he comes on your stomach. You wrap your hand around his, stroking him gently till every drop is spent.

You make room for him on the sofa, uncaring that both of you are covered in sweat and fluids, and pull him down to rest in your arms.

"Fuck—" he exhales, and finally turns to face you again.

You stroke your fingers through your mussed hair.

"I knew you were trouble,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your sternum.

There are so many things you’ll need to talk about, to work through. You are neighbors, after all, and you can’t do something like this without there being an aftermath.

But whatever is next can wait till morning.

Gently, he pulls himself up, and you with him. Holding each other close, you head to his bedroom. Without a word, you lay together, curled up in one another’s embrace.

He’s silent a long moment before speaking. "Is your daddy expecting you home tonight?” He asks. Neither of you want to think about that.

But thankfully, “No,” you tell him. “Told him not to wait up.”

"Oh, optimistic, were we?” He teases, and you look him up and down. His broad shoulders, sculpted chest, dark eyes, rumpled hair. This man you’ve grown so very fond of. 

“Yes,” you smile. “Yes, we are.”

Scott finds out, like, a day later and declares Logan his sworn enemy

[luveline]

omg i loved the loopy wisdom teeth one w peter 😭😭 can i get that with hotch, and reader, who's usually more reserved starts flirting with him and stuff while she's loopy

ty!! and ty for ur request ♡ fem, 1.2k

"Most people have their wisdom teeth out in their teens," Aaron had said before you went in, a Spencer Reid tidbit if there ever were one. 

"I'm a special case," you'd said, accepting his kiss on the cheek but denying his half hug. "See you in a bit." 

People often lament that Aaron's ended up with a  woman so much like himself. You must make each other miserable, one ill-advised chancellor had said, to your amusement. 

We're desperately unhappy, you'd said back. 

The opposite is true. You and Aaron, or Aaron alone, at the very least, is as happy as he's ever been. Work is hard but manageable, Jack is well-tempered, growing smarter and kinder each day, and you're his sweetheart. You're reserved, a little solemn, but you understand him better than anyone ever has. It's a relief like no other to be known so well. 

And so he has zero qualms looking after you for the rest of your lives. He waits patiently for you to come out of surgery, arms behind his head in the empty waiting room. He's worried about you. This isn't a painless procedure. 

Footsteps echo down the hallway, but you announce yourself anyways in the doorway. "Handsome!" you say, a lisp to your happy sing-song, "I'm back." 

Aaron doesn't know what to say. He giggles like a kid at your sudden demeanour and sits up properly. "Honey." 

You wobble with the nurse at your back, prompting him onto his feet to take over. "You should remove the gauze in about half an hour when the bleeding has completely stopped. Clean daily with saline, there are instructions in the bag," the nurse says, offering Aaron a white prescription bag. "Okay?" 

"That's perfect. Thank you so much," he says, taking your hand. 

"You're perfect," you say, looking up at Aaron with stars in your eyes. 

The nurse laughs softly as she leaves. Aaron doesn't bother hiding his amusement, grinning at you as he puts his hand between your shoulders to guide you to the front of the building. 

It's busier here. Reception is hectic. Aaron puts his arm more firmly around you to stop people from bumping into you and you again look at him with your starry eyed gaze. "You're very tall," you say. 

"I am," he says. "Though you joke occasionally that I'm shrinking." 

"The only thing getting smaller is your waist," you say, poking at his abdomen, "my champion." 

You're referring to his recent third triathlon success. He's no record setter, but it keeps him active and happy in the summer months, and he can't pretend you don't appreciate the additional definition of his muscle during this time. You like him every month of the year, of course, but with his trim waist comes a certain amount of energy you also appreciate. 

"Completely inappropriate behaviour," he says lightly, waving a short goodbye to the receptionists as he holds open the door for you to pass by. "Next you'll be enacting PDA." 

"You'd like that, huh?" 

Hard to take any notice of you with gauze fluffing your words, and again, he laughs at you. "I'd love that." 

"Well, wait, I'll do it right here–" 

Aaron catches your hands mildly. "In the car first. Kiss after." Your downtrodden expression requires urgent care. "What, that's not okay? You're upset?" 

"No," you lie obviously, glaring down at your feet as you wobble forward. 

"Maybe we can wait until later, then." 

"What?" You gawp. "You just said in the car." 

"I'm teasing you," he says, taking your elbow. "We've been known to do that with one another on occasion. You know I'd happily kiss you anywhere you wanted to be kissed, honey, now watch your step on this curb. Watch your step. Good job." 

You're extremely pleased by his praise, leaning into his arm with your head tipped back. "You're so handsome. Can you kiss me now?" You soften your eyes. 

Alright, you have a little bit of bloody dribble on your bottom lip, and yes, there's this dazed look about you like you've had a mean shock, but you never look at him like this day to day. Perhaps in your more intimate moments, your arms around him when the lights are low, or early, early in the morning when you haven't yet remembered your more timid temperament. But it's so rare. It catches him off guard, how pretty and wanting you look. 

Aaron leans down for a careful kiss, the barest of pressure. 

"And a good kisser," you murmur, turning into his chest for a hug. "I love you, I want you to carry me to the car." 

"Sweetheart, I don't think I can," he says. He's mostly kidding in the depth of his apology, but there are real threads of remorse in his voice, hot as a flame. "Come on. We'll go home, okay?" 

"But you always do everything for me. Everything I ask for." You talk into his chest, likely leaving pink spit on the grey of his quarter zip. He couldn't care less, his arm around you, looking down with equal measures of fondness and surprise. "I had to stop saying I liked things because you kept buying me stuff. I love stuff." 

"Then why did you stop?" he asks quietly. 

"'Cos I know I don't deserve it. Don't deserve you, Aaron, you're the best man I've ever met. Can't believe it."

He savours your mumbling, and begins to walk forward slowly, encouraging you out of his chest as he formulates an answer for your confession with the same gravity. "You can't believe it?" 

"You're a tall glass of water." 

He actually sighs aloud. My girl, he thinks, rubbing your lax shoulder. "Alright. What if I thought the same of you? What then?" 

You giggle infectiously, a stickying sound like you know he's trying to trip you up. "Nice," you say. "We should always be like this." 

When he brings it up later, the extreme effects of your anaesthesia dissipated and your pain revamped, you can't think of anything worse. "I'm mortified," you whisper, your ice pack chilling the top of his arm where you've wedged it, your hand tucked between his thighs in an attempt to stay warm. 

"I quite liked it." 

"You would. You used to flirt with me so aggressively–" 

"Aggressively," he repeats, grinning. 

"–you're lucky I survived it." You sniffle, rubbing your nose into his sleeve. "Was I as intimidating as you are?" 

He presses his lips to the top of your head, not kissing, just there. "No," he says into your skin, "you weren't intimidating at all. Just lovely. It made my day." 

"I'll have to have my teeth taken out more often." 

He snorts. "If you'd rather have more teeth pulled than flirt with me unaided, things are worse than I thought." 

"Don't be like that..." Much quieter, "Will you rub my back again, please?"

Just like that, he's reminded of how much he likes your regular reserved attitude. "Sure, honey. Lean forward."

[blvdheart]

TIARAS AND TEACUPS

→ just some fluffy drabbles and headcanons on leon being a girl dad

NOTE: listen i don’t even want kids in the future but for this man?? if he was real and mine then trust i would change my mind real quick ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

this is pretty short, less than 1k words hehe

i.

Leon would never hear the end of it from his coworkers if they saw him like this. There was a plastic tiara with fake pink jewels resting atop his hair. He was sitting criss cross applesauce, for he was a little too big to sit on the tiny chairs his daughter had placed her plushies on.

“Daddy, here’s your cup!” She chimed happily, placing a small toy teacup right in front of him.

“Thank you princess, it’s a pretty set.” His hand could easily cover the entire cup, but to be graceful, he held the handle with his thumb and forefinger. “What’s on the menu?”

“Brownies and…and cookies.” She had a small container of them, having gotten some from the batch you baked the other night. “I’m gonna go get mommy, make sure Mrs. Teddy doesn’t drop her tea!”

Leon looked so out of place, but he was happy, watching with a smile as his daughter ran out of the room to go get you. And surely enough, you joined the tea party a couple minutes later, a matching headpiece on your head and your daughter giggling as she tugged you by the hand and took you to where she wanted you to sit.

You couldn’t help but stifle back a laugh when you saw Leon, and he seemed to catch on, grinning at you. “Look who’s late.”

“Fashionably late.” You corrected him as you pointed at your crown, taking a seat on the floor.

“Yay all my guests are here! I’ll hand out the food but don’t eat without me, okay?”

Leon was always emotional when he was in the same room as the two people he treasured the most.

He could still remember when his daughter was just a newborn baby. He almost broke down that day as soon as he heard her first cries, he never thought he’d get the blessing of parenthood.

ii.

If there’s one thing about Leon as a dad, it’s that he really has no backbone when it comes to his adorable daughter. Lecturing wasn’t his strong suit, he just wanted to spoil her. Thankfully, she didn’t have a knack for finding trouble so he didn’t have to worry all that much.

Here Leon was opening the letter he had gotten from his daughter’s elementary school, skimming through it only to see all the positive commentary the homeroom teacher had left. He was a proud father, and he took her on a trip to the store so she could pick out something nice.

“Don’t worry your little head about the price, okay? You deserve something special, you’re doing so well at school.” He gave her head a gentle pat, staying close behind her energetic form as she scanned the aisle for toys.

Toys. Great. Leon was sure he would sob when his little girl started asking for electronics and cosmetics. God, how he wished these years didn’t fly by so quickly. He had to make the most of them.

“Anything? Even a scooter?”

“Uh huh, even a scooter. Want one?”

“Yeah they’re awesome! Can we go look at them? I wanted to ask for one last Christmas but it was really cold so I wouldn’t have even been able to play outside much to use it. But it’s almost summer now so it would be nice and…”

She continued rambling on and on while Leon smiled happily. He held her hand and walked her over to where the scooters and bikes were.

Though he was a little concerned. What if she fell one day and scraped her knee? Or what if she hit her ankle with the scooter? Worst pain ever. Either way, he’d have to buy her a helmet and some knee pads.

Being a dad was kinda stressful.

iii.

Leon would try to be there for major milestones as much as possible. Yeah, sometimes he couldn’t be there because of the spontaneity of his demanding job, but he made sure to make everything worthwhile when he was present.

Whenever her birthday came up, he’d let Sherry babysit her for a few hours so she wouldn’t be at the house while you and him were decorating the place.

“Our little girl is growing up so fast. She’s already wanting to sit in the passenger seat, can you believe that?”

“You big ol’ softie.” You laughed a bit at his sulking, but you felt the same way, going over to hug him and comfort him. He held your hips, nuzzling against the crook of you neck. He loved you so much, he’d know nothing about happiness without you.

“I think I finally understand what the adults in my life would say when I was younger.”

“And what’s that?”

“That when you’re a parent, your children don’t really get older in your eyes. Yeah she’s about to turn ten but…she’s still our baby girl. I feel like she’s still three.”

HEADCANONS

𐙚 Leon would definitely be the type to look up some tutorials on YouTube so he could learn how to do his daughter’s hair. Doesn’t matter if it’s straight, wavy, or really curly. He’ll get all the products and get as much practice as possible

𐙚 For bedtime stories he’d just make up child friendly versions of his missions. B.O.W’s would become dragons, he’d be some sort of knight, and the setting would be a magical forest instead of some isolated and creepy location. And of course there’d be a happily ever after. In a way, this also helps him cope with his experiences

𐙚 Even in a modern world where cards are used more than cash (much to his dismay), he carries around lots of quarters just in case his daughter wants to get something out of a sticker or candy vending machine

[darlingdaisyfarm]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

⸝⸝ 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍, 𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 ⸝⸝

a/n: i was thinking about this for a while and just HAD to write it!! Bill's a little freaky but ok. everyone kisses differently and i love how much that says about them :) maybe i'll do a part two tho idk if it'll be smth nsfw or no. also sorry if photos are random i just think it suits gravity falls aesthetic plus i was out of ideas (i want summer)

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚

Stan’s got a thing for forehead kisses, always has, always will. they’re effortless and easy. a quick press of his lips when he passes by, a habit more than anything. he’s a busy man, always moving, always going somewhere, but that doesn’t mean he won’t grab you, tilt your head up and press a warm kiss right to your forehead

it's a way of saying “i gotcha” without actually saying it. doesn’t matter if he’s in a rush, grumbling about tourists, wiping down the counter. he’ll keep you safe. he swears it.

big, warm hands cupping your face. his lips are warm, his stubble scratches against your skin but the moment you start to melt he’s gone.

he pulls back, smirks, winking at you

“gotta give the tourists their money’s worth, sweetheart.” you hear his voice through the walls of the Mystery Shack, always so confident as he launches into his usual con. “step right up, folks! come see the eighth wonder of the world!”

but, oh, don’t let that fool you. he’s a tease, and he knows it.

he’s got another favorite, too

your neck

he makes a game of it. a teasing peck when he leans in to tell you something. a slow, tender kiss at the curve of your throat when he’s feeling particularly smug, when he’s got you pinned between him and the kitchen counter, when he knows you’re hanging on to every little touch.

“heh. what’s that face for, baby? didn’t think id be so smooth, huh?”

he’s a biter, too, making you shiver. he needs to feel the way you react beneath his hands. he likes knowing he can fluster you. likes leaving you breathless, just for him.

and if he’s feeling real bold, his lips might stray lower, making a slow, lazy path along your collarbone. “what? somethin’ wrong? i think I’m right where i wanna be.”

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅

Ford kisses like a man who’s spent most of his life not kissing anyone, like someone who’s read about it, thought about it, imagined it, but never quite gotten the chance. but when he feels the warmth, the closeness, how intimate it is he can’t stop.

he kisses your hands first, always. fingertips, knuckles, the inside of your wrist where your pulse flutters

your shoulders come next. he’ll press his lips there absently while he’s working, when you’re standing beside him reading over his notes. sometimes, he forgets himself, murmuring a distracted “mm, love you” against your skin before his smart brain catches up with his mouth. and oh the way his ears burn when you point it out

also when he’s overwhelmed, when the world is too much, when his mind is too loud, he rests his forehead there, brushing his lips against the curve of your shoulder. he just wants to feel you close

but when he’s really feeling it, when he’s past overthinking and just wants you, it's your calves. he kneels. Ford takes his time, hands so big, shaking a little as he presses his thumb into muscle while tracing a slow path from your ankle up, up, up with his lips

“you never let me appreciate you properly.” he worships you. lets you feel it in every single careful, thorough kiss.

𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓

Bill isn’t bound by flesh, but he's bound by desire

he loves mirrors. loves floating there behind you, his golden triangle form looming over you, all-seeing eye staring right into your soul. oh he loves the way you shudder when you see yourself in the reflection, when you see him, wrapping around you

thousands of long, dark limbs curl around your waist, a hand-like thing at your jaw, tilting your head to the side, exposing your skin to him. Bill's mouth appears where his eye should be and oh, that tongue. . .

“nervous, sweet thing? don’t be. i’ll take real good care of ya.”

his tongue is long. obscenely so. it drags over your throat, a slow, hot stroke that sends a jolt straight through you. you hear him laugh delightfully against your skin, because he knows exactly what he’s doing

“aww who’s my favorite little human, huh? who’s my delicious little slab of meat?”

kiss after kiss, mark after mark, he makes you watch. makes you see the way he devours you.

and he doesn’t stop at your neck, oh no, no, no. he follows your spine. mouth pressing open. dragging his long tongue against the curve of your back, your chest, your stomach

“every inch of you is mine. dont you forget that.”

𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒎𝒄𝒈𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕

Fidds kisses every part of you that makes him smile.

“well, ain’t you the cutest lil’ thing!”

your cheeks. he just can’t help himself, he sees your face and boom! instant smooch. one cheek, then the other, peppering you with quick, excited little kisses

he giggles into kisses. always, always grinning. pecks to your cheek when he’s working, smooches to your temple when you bring him a snack, laughter between every single kiss because he can’t believe his luck.

“gotcha! hehehe, ya oughta see the look on yer face!”

your nose is next. he thinks it’s adorable. boop. peck. boop. peck

“who’s the cutest thing in the whole dang world? ohhhh, that’s right, it’s you!”

sometimes he’s so excited he forgets to aim and accidentally bumps his nose against yours, which only makes him laugh more

but the most special place, the sweetest is your eyelids.

he does it when you’re falling asleep, when you’re curling against him, feeling safe and warm. a press of lips to your closed eyes, so feather-light

“rest easy, darlin’. im right here.” and if he wakes up before you, if the morning sun is spilling golden across your skin, he does it again

because he loves you. because he just can’t help it

[belovedcloud]

Kiss Me Thru The Phone

pairing: leon kennedy x fem! reader

✎ synopsis: leon's missions really come in the way between you both. the distance creates a wave of worry for you, leon however longs for you. memories of you and him flood his brain and he can't help but call you for a little help.

✎ notes: phone sex with leon is a need, i crafted this up at work so i hope you enjoy! hope everyone is having a good summer too! :)

➤ WC: 3K

➤ CW: phone sex, fingering (yourself), pet names: babe, baby, leon thinking about you as his pretty girl, description of leon's dick a little bit.

MINORS DNI!

This was his life.

He could cope with it most of the time. However, knowing that you always worried for him made him believe that he was unworthy of your time. Unworthy of the love you blessed him with. Here he was, slinging his gear on the armchair in the corner of the hotel room. This mission wasn't all that bad - minus the bioweapons wanting to kill him it was alright. That's what he would tell himself. He couldn't afford to be emotional in the moment where he would murder the countless experiments that umbrella threw at him. The failed products of tests haunting his mind 24/7, not allowing him a moments rest.

Despite that, meeting you was the best thing that happened to him.

He found solace with you. Leon could be himself with you instead of a ruthless government agent he trained to be. Going from rookie cop to agent was a big step in his life. A step that he never thought he would have to take. Nonetheless, he did take it. To save Sherry. To save others from another nightmarish hell like Raccoon City. Beneath his cold gaze, was a man who just wanted peace. Peace in the world and tranquillity in his life. Leon's life was like a movie. A video game. The genre being horror and gore all year around.

Did he deserve this? No. Did he have to live with it? Yes. And that's what he did. He lives with the nightmares, the panic, the anxiety of not saving everyone. The world on his shoulders.

At least he had you. Memories of you and him always flooded his brain when he was off on missions. Your beautiful smile, the plumpness of your lips after a make out session. The meals you ate together, the movie nights, game nights. Countless things between the two of you kept him sane. Being your boyfriend was a gift granted from God. He was happy to be your loyal servant. He would allow you to do anything with him as long as it brought a smile to your face. Your joy was his joy. That's all that mattered.

Walking into the ensuite bathroom of the hotel room, the pads of his fingers flicking on the dim light to allow him to see. Shower, sink, towel. The usual.

His eyes followed to the full body mirror in front of him. Fuck. He looked like shit. A mess, covered in unknown liquid and blood. The clothes he wore stained with the smell of gunpowder. Gross. A groan left his lips as he pulled the clothes off him. Undressing himself shakily - adrenaline still flowing in his body from the events prior a few hours ago. New cuts and bruises littered his body, great. Unwanted scars now multiplied whilst he examined himself.

"Seriously?" He mumbled to himself, seeing the new additions to his body. Leon was already self conscious about his body beforehand. These missions didn't help at all with his self confidence.

But you didn't mind - you didn't care for the scars.

To you, it had shown how strong he was. The resilience to the abhorrent nature of the world. His handsome face could be tarnished with scratches and cuts, he was still the one you would truly love.

Twisting the handle, the water started to run out of the showerhead. Dirty blonde strands of hair gradually turned into a deep brown as the water washed away the oils. His calloused hands squeezed the shampoo bottle, the scent of something fruity flooding into his nostrils. Huh... raspberry shampoo? Whatever, at least he would be clean. Frothing it up in his hands, he slapped it onto his head. An almost whiny moan left his lips whilst Leon scrubbed his head clean. The soapy solution travelled down his body, plastering itself on his muscles.

Leon was proud of his physique. That was the one thing he liked about himself. His biceps being his favourite. The way the light veins protruded out even when he wasn't flexing gave him a small ego boost. The light coloured hair feathered across his body, alongside the multiple moles he had too. Flexing slightly in the shower - he watched as the water trickled down. Glistening his skin and really showing how muscular he was. Leon's eyes averted to his chest, his pecs being as big as tits and the imprint of abs shining clear. A sight for sore eyes for sure. A smug smile tugged on his lips when he remembered how you look at his body.

Oh how you loved his arms. His chest, thighs, ass... quite literally everything you adored. He could put you in a chokehold between his bicep and forearm and you would be ecstatic. You and Leon would engage in little play fights that would lead into something less violent and more sensual when it came to you admiring his body. You can't help it. He's too pretty for his own good.

After what it seems like hours, Leon gets out of the shower. The once grimy skin now squeaky clean. Drying himself off softly to not aggravate the gashes and marks. A fresh linen clean towel hung on his waist whilst he walked to the sink. The same full body mirror watching his movements. Grabbing his little care bag that you made him bring, he took out his exfoliator.

Ever since getting with you, his skin became better than ever.

Yes, the acne scars from when he was younger still remained but he had the softest skin ever. Your little recommendations after pointing out he had sensitive skin allowed for you to make him grab some skincare.

Before you, he thought skincare was stupid. A quick rinse of his face was enough. After you, he followed his little routine like a good boy.

Squeezing the exfoliator out of the tube, he gently massaged the grime and dirt that lingered in his pores. His four fingers on each hand rubbing in circular motions whilst he chuckled. Leon remembered the day you shown him what to do, your fingers on his face demonstrating the importance of exfoliating and how he would benefit from it. God. He loved you so much, more than you could ever know.

Next he pulled out the moisturizer, lathering it on his fingers. Daubing it on his forehead, cheeks and chin. Rubbing it in thoroughly into his skin, making his face a little pink due to the amount of touch. Shaking his head, Leon looked at himself. A small smile on his lips as he switched off the light, slouching over to the bed.

Snatching his phone, he wondered how you were. But checking the time made him think it was a bad idea to call you. 2:12 AM shined bright and clear on his phone. Leon's eyes squinting ever so slightly whilst he turned the brightness down. Scrolling on random apps to try pass time. Sleep wasn't an option, he wasn't all that tired - he had to be up and ready for 5AM to fly back home anyways.

Back at home, you worried about Leon. You weren't asleep like how he thought you would be. How could you sleep when he was out of town? He told you the mission was going to be a long one. Maybe even a week or so, but for it to go past the deadline he gave you made you panic. Is he okay? Would the government inform you if he died or not? Overthinking was a bad habit of yours, not being able to control your thoughts about Leon made it all the worst. Especially when his job was extremely dangerous.

Scrolling aimlessly on your phone, your fingers tapping the back of your phone case nervously - you find yourself swiping on pictures of you and Leon in your camera roll.

Some of them cute, including you both in dinner dates, picnics and whatnot. Others of them just silly pictures of him that you took when he was sleeping, his hand always under one pillow and the other spread across his chest.

Other photos were more explicit, ones of him taking a few mirror selfies shirtless. Or him having a loose towel wrapped around his waist after showering in the gym. Shit. It wasn't the time to be getting horny. Could you even be aroused and worried at the same time? Your mind raced a thousand miles a minute, thoughts of him being dead scared you but memories of him dicking you down corrupted you the next second. Time passed, your body getting needier as time went on - would he even pick up your call? If he was still out in a mission then you'd have to make an excuse asap to why you called him. You couldn't fathom knowing you could mess him up mid mission and risk him practically killing himself because he picked up the phone.

Before your thumb could continue scrolling, the loud ring from both ends of your speakers erupted the silent room. Your eyes fixated on the name that appeared on your screen. Leon. Oh fuck. The ideas that once corrupted your mind went blank, nimble fingers tapping the green button.

A moment of silence is present as it connects you in, your ears perking up to the shuffling sound over the phone. Leon's voice soon interrupts your train of thought, a slight rasp enlaced in it.

"Hey baby, have you been okay?" His voice made your stomach flip a whole 180 as you recalled what he said. Right, he asked a question. Get it together. All that could come from you was "Yeah.. m'okay lee." You were way too flustered. Too worried. Too horny.

Of course it didn't go unnoticed by him. Your vague response was enough for him to question if you were actually okay. Something was plaguing your mind. Or even someone. Leon tapped against his leg, a shiver trespassing his body, envisioning your touch on him. "Yeah? Just okay?" Christ, someone help him please.

That sultry tone you knew and loved made a pathway through your body. Creating a second heartbeat in your core. A murmur leaving your lips, a small 'mhm' confirmed Leon's suspicions. You were just as needy as him. His hand trailed down his body, his abs flexing at the touch. Trying to mimic the feel of your fingers on him. There was no use; his calloused fingers couldn't imitate yours.

Leon longed for you here.

But that's impossible as the distance from you to him separated you both so despicably. Damn this mission.

Looking down, he saw the evident tent in his pants that needed dealing with. Leon didn't have you so he had to make deal with the second best thing. His hand. Squeezing the bulge, a low groan erupting from him. The blue eyes of his squeeze shut, hips bucking into the makeshift hole he created.

"Babe... can we do something?" Leon moaned out, still rubbing on his clothed tent. The blankets beneath him ruffling whilst he shuffled his body. The sounds of him moving and whining made the blood rush up to your cheeks. Crap, you were getting hot - wet too. Sliding your hand down, index and middle finger pressing against the fabric, now soaked with your arousal. A quiet whine leaving your lips, breathlessly responding to your boyfriend over the phone.

"W-what? What do you want?" There's a pause, and Leon lets out a deep sigh. "Oh, you know what I want." He keeps his voice low, quiet, as if he's worried someone will hear him. "I keep thinking about you baby. Thought about you this whole time y'know?" You gulp, hearing his words - a sharp intake of breath trying to steady yourself as you respond back with a whisper.

"Really?" A hoarse response from you elicits a chuckle from Leon. No longer being subtle, he pulls out his dick from his boxers. The boxers he just changed into 10 minutes ago. Seems like after this he would need to clean himself again...

A soft hum of affirmation, and there's a hint of a groan in his tone. Demonstrating how needy he is. "I miss you so bad, babe. We haven't been able to see each other in forever. Fuck, I've been so on edge." Pumping himself slowly, looking at the precum coating down his length. Wet, sloppy sounds filling the room. The phone picked up every bit of it.

Your breathing became ragged, trying to muffle yourself had no use so whines and moans left your throat whilst you touched your slick clit. The bundle of nerves craving for Leon's fingers other than your own. A clear glistening liquid coating the tips as you played for yourself. You let out a long shaky exhale, followed by a soft, strangled moan only for him.

"Oh, babe... God I need your hands right now. Shit... Your mouth would be even better." Leon spurs out - he keeps speaking. His words have quieted down, trying to concentrate on the thought of you. The memories of you riding him, your pretty lips enveloping his cock. Mind fuzzy and hands shaky, Leon's voice becomes a little stifled. It's like he's trying to be quiet; he's struggling. Soft, shaky moans escape him.

He can't get you out of his head, the thought of you kept floating through his mind; of how your touch felt on his skin. The way your voice resonated in his ear whilst he thrusted deep inside of you. Sights of your puffy, pretty pussy sucking him in. You were a sight to behold, so beautiful for him.

Liquid covered your ring and middle finger whilst you pushed them in. Squelching noises apparent in the four walls you were boxed in. A mellow moan kindled out from you, travelling through the phone to Leon's ears. You couldn't speak, the struggle was too much, waves of sensation coursing through your body. "Leon I, I can't," the pads of your fingers hit that precious spot inside. It felt so good imagining what he would be doing to you.

Perhaps he would have his face buried in your cunt, nuzzling his nose on your clit whilst he tongue-fucked your entrance.

Even better, his veined dick would be driving into you - your body fucked out as Leon would release orgasms from you at alarming rates. His girl deserved everything from him.

Leon was no better. His hand tightened around himself, pumping the precum that leaked out - a mess all over the base. An overwhelming feeling of bliss so close but so far whilst he went faster - hand motions swirling. The rim of his hand bumping the flushed dark pink tip, twitching his cock slightly. Moans of need and desire leaving him in a constant stream. Leon's ears perking up when he heard you reciprocate the longing urge to cum. He had to make you cum first. Even when you both were distance due to unfortunate circumstances, his baby was his top priority. You deserved to cum, he needed to hear the scream that he's heard so many times. The mantra of his name.

Leon desired it all.

He's panting now, struggling against the urge to let himself go. Leon whines desperately - his hand not stopping the pace to help himself. It felt too good. Uncontrollably shaking in the fresh white hotel sheets with the effort to hold back. You could feel yourself becoming feral with need, every fibre in your being is screaming to let yourself go. The pressure building up to a near-painful breaking point.

"You gonna cum f'me babe? Oh god... Make a mess on our sheets?"

Leon managed to sputter out, every inch of his body taut like a bow string. He's holding on as best as he can - he's reaching his limit, fast. "Mhm, gonna... fuck! Lee, m'gonna cum," was the last thing you said before your mind went blank. Completely past the point of being able to speak coherently. Every word that left you is a whine, a whimper for him. Consuming you in a state of neediness and pleasure.

"Good girl, such a good girl f'me." Leon himself is a mess as he praises you. Every muscle in his body tensed. Words and whimpers from him are intertwined with unadulterated, unrestrained need. He can barely control his own breathing - gasps and panting coming in short waves. A hoarse voice broken into pleading, desperate pants. The sound of your heavy breathing, shuddering through his ears nearly pushing him off the edge.

"Baby, fuck m'gonna cum.. Oh fuck-." His body bucks involuntarily. His cock spurts out cum in pure ecstasy. Losing himself completely, he can't even speak - nor think. His own voice no longer in his possession anymore. All that leaves Leon is a strangled series of gasps, and his body trembles; thrashing helplessly when he finally lets go. Entirely lost in a world of euphoric pleasure.

The both of you share heavy breathing, trying to calm down as the two of you share the same sticky feeling hovering on your skin. Sweat and cum being the two substances that bring you both together.

A few minutes pass, Leon breaks the 'silence'.

"You okay? Was that okay with you babe?" A worried tone is laced within the questions he asked you. To you, it was silly. Of course you were okay with it, knowing he was safe but also bringing you to immense pleasure. You genuinely felt reborn.

"Yeah m'okay." A giggle leaves you, causing Leon to smile. He lets out a sigh of relief he didn't know he was keeping in. You were okay. That's all that mattered.

"Y'know, I did the skincare you put in my bag." The change of topic brings you to giggle again. What a way to rejuvenate you both. "Really?" Your questioning received a fake scoff from Leon, jokingly hurt from what you said.

"Yes really."

"Okay, okay!" A smile tugs at your lips - he was still the silly guy you fell in love with. His attitude to you never changed. He loved you, and you loved him.

"Since... you're okay with this. How about we do it every time I'm gone?"

likes, comments and reblogs are really appreciated! thank u for reading!

-> masterlist

[vampiriito]

Summer was my first love (JJ Maybank x shy! kook! reader)

A/N: Hi loves! this is my first fic and i just wanna let you know that I'm open to any criticism, but i want you to be able to nice at the same time. This is inspired by my favorite author on here the lovely @featherandferns, her fic daylight was so good and i read all the parts in less than 2 hours. With that being said the plot is completely different but i recommend checking out her works too because she's very talented! this might be a bit long, i wanted to write a slow-burn. Let me know if i managed to do that (┬┬﹏┬┬)

Summary: After getting locked into a closet with a kook girl, JJ Maybank comes to the realization that his animosity towards the spoilt people living on Figure Eight doesn't have to apply to every single one of them.

"Fuck! Seriously?" JJ Maybank's blue eyes meet yours through the frame of your glasses as he sneers at the door which was now shut. Leaving you both stuck together in this small cramped closet. If you weren't panicked cause of the claustrophobic tendencies of your stupid brain, you definitely were now.

You were alone with your 3rd grade crush, and he had no idea, you were a kook, (which he hated,) and one hell of a wallflower person. You've been watching him from a far since you were 9, and it got a little weirder once you could walk around freely and just... take pictures with your camera as your hobby flourished. You were now, glancing shyly between the door and his face, 'he's probably feeling weird being stuck in here with a complete stranger.' you thought to your self, making sure to stick to your corner of the closet.

"What’s your name?" He demanded, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against the wall, his eyes flicking over you, studying you. Of course, he would ask that right away, JJ could be direct and kind of an ass most days. And he felt like if he wasn't gonna ask, you weren't gonna speak up first.

Of course he didn't know your name, he wasn't bordering on creepy stalker most days like you were in your free time. Across these years you managed to gather a lot on JJ surprisingly, being quiet and so reserved got you very far, going almost invisible when you went out. It didn't help you were a shutterbug, always taking pictures and people watching, "Y/n.." you responded softly and weakly, adjusting your glasses.

He raised an eyebrow, studying your face for a moment. That name sounded familiar, he could swear he'd heard it before somewhere, the only question was where.

"You're a kook, huh? I should have known." He grumbles, running a hand through his messy dirty blonde hair. You looked so.... soft, and it somehow made him scoff. He hated your kind more often than not, and here he was, stuck in a closet with one.

You nodded, frowning gently. You were aware of his hate and animosity towards the people living on figure 8, but you weren't exactly the picture perfect image of a snarky preppy kook girl. Or so you liked to think anyway.. He looked even more beautiful up close, more defined than what you usually saw through your camera lenses when photographing him. 'Suddenly i feel like a creep being here..' you thought, playing with the hem of your baggy sweater.

His eyes flicked down to your hands as you fidgeted with your sweater, his lips curling up into a subtle smirk. 'How can someone be so shy?' he thought to himself, wondering why you were so nervous.

"You look like you've never talked to a human before." He comments, letting out a soft scoff, and you flinch gently, your eyes snapping up to meet his. He noticed this and his smirk grew a little wider, enjoying that he was able to fluster you.

That's the most JJ thing he could say to someone like you. "i.. well, i don't talk usually." you face palmed internally at the way your words came out. You had the chance to come off as something you weren't given he didn't know you, and you weren't doing a very good job at it. You could've faked being confident and charm him, yet here you were talking like you never had anything to eat in your life.

He lets out a soft scoff as he watches you stumble over your words. There was something he found so weird about you, you were so… different from everyone he encountered on a daily basis. You were shy, quiet, and awkward, not like the sarcastic and arrogant persona that most kooks had. But, he tried to shake the thoughts away, he didn't need to be thinking about you this way, of all people.

"I can tell.." he responds, his accent ringing through slightly as his smirk turned into a slight frown.

There was an awkward silence that fell over the two of you in the cramped closet, the music that played throughout the party muffled by the thick walls. JJ glanced around for a moment, almost bored before his gaze settled back on you. His blue eyes studying you intently, trying to figure you out. The frown on his face remained, 'Why are you so shy?' he thought to himself, biting his tongue before he continued.

"What are you even doing here anyway? You don't seem like the type to be at a party.."

'Got dragged against my will by my very loud and obnoxious best friend here...' you thought to your self, the thought amusing you but of course not letting that mirror on your expression, "I'm sorry?" 'what? dumbass..' you scolded your self mentally. The question was loud and clear.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked you up and down for a moment, wondering if you always spoke in a quiet and awkward way, or if it was just because you were in a small, dark, and very cramped closet with a stranger.

"You heard me. I doubt you'd normally come to a party like this." He repeated, his frown returning to a small smirk as he pushed off the wall to take a hesitant step towards you.

Again, such a JJ thing to say. Your stomach jumped as he took a small step towards you, suppressing the urge to shift awkwardly. All you needed now was to look more awkward than you already were, you acted and sounded like a pathetic dumbass, in front of your childhood crush nonetheless. "i just ended up here.."

He took a few more steps until he stood a few feet away from you. He was towering over you, his 6’1 height compared to your, what he could only guess, 5.2 or 5.3 height. He had to admit, in some weird way, it was amusing being able to fluster you so easily. That was until he noticed there was nowhere really for you to go. The walls of the small closet caged you in, he was blocking your way out of the closet, unless you tried to push him out of the way.

He was quiet for a moment, just studying you as a small smirk returned to his face.

"There's nowhere for you to go.." he teased, taking another step closer, closing the gap between the two of you even more. He noticed you shiver gently and took note of it.

"Are you usually this weird with strangers?" you found yourself asking, surprising even yourself after the words left your mouth. 'caging me in like this wouldn't create a good first impression... he's just lucky I've been in love with him since i was 9.' you thought.

This time it was his turn to be surprised. He was definitely not expecting you to say something so blunt, you were full of surprises. He chuckled softly, taking another small step forward, effectively caging you against the wall. His smirk grew into a wide smile, his eyes studying you intently as he spoke.

"Only when I get stuck in a small crowded closet with them." He was now only a few inches away from you, his eyes studying your face. He was so close, you could take in some of his scent, which somehow matched perfectly with his personality. A mix of weed and the smell of the ocean and sunscreen. You could also now see little details in his face, like his freckled cheeks, and his jawline that looked hard enough to cut glass.

Being able to smell him was a pleasant feeling as weird as that sounded, his scent matching with the way he was completely. The small freckles scattered over his soft skin made you want to be able to take mental photographs. He looked breathtaking up close, even in the dim light of the closet. Like he was some kind of modern day demigod or some bullshit. You hummed gently, turning your body towards the door to try the door weakly, your hand wrapping around the door handle and shaking it with little to no force to actually get it open.

He chuckled at the sad attempt you made of trying to open the door, "It ain't going to open, believe me, I've already tried that." He said, his voice almost a murmur as he leaned against one of the walls of the closet, watching you struggle with the door. His eyes slowly traveled down from your face, down to your hips and to your beat up vans. Strange, he thought. He'd expect someone of your social status to have more expensive looking threads and shoes. Not like a librarian on vacation.

You side glanced up at him, adjusting your glasses. You felt absolutely wrecked, nerves and claustrophobia tugging at your sensitive stomach, it didn't help this closet was dimly lit and smelled like mold. 'What a great setting to interact in for the first time..' you thought bitterly, leaning your back against the wall opposite him.

He kept his eyes on your hips, letting his gaze rake over your body. He felt a weird and small pang of sympathy for you. You looked so small against the wall, and you looked like you were ready to jump out of your skin any moment now. It was different than when he usually had the unfortunate chance of speaking with a kook kid.

"Are you scared of small spaces or somethin' ?" He asked, his voice softer than usual as he spoke.

You nodded mutely in response, your expression probably resembling that of a deer in front of a truck. Sometimes you forgot JJ's voice carried a southern drawl to it, given he never spoke to you. You would hear him when he'd pass you in the school halls while talking to his friends animatedly or when he'd say something snarky in class to the teacher, his voice never directed towards you.

When you nodded, he mentally groaned. That was his luck. He ended up being stuck in here with a kook that was also terrified of small spaces. He let out a sigh, he would have to try and find a way to calm you down, since he was now stuck in this closet with you until whenever someone decided to let them out.

"How in the hell did you even manage to get yourself into a situation like this..?" He questioned, running a hand through his messy blonde hair.

You were asking yourself that question too, but i guess being so easy to push around wasn't really helping your case here. Truth was you were just a collateral victim of a prank which was meant for JJ, getting pushed into the small closet by mistake or just to make it worse for him by locking him up with a complete stranger.

You shook your head shrugging, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. You knew you had to say something, actual words at one point but your mind came up blank. Or your mouth wasn't able to say them out loud.

He let out another soft scoff, knowing deep down this was no accident. Some of his pogue buddies probably set this up just to screw around with him. Although, you didn't seem to know that. You looked genuinely clueless.

"My friends probably did this on purpose..."

He muttered, leaning against the opposite wall to you. He wasn't happy about this situation, especially not being locked in here with a girl for what could be hours. Which he would usually be elated about. But seeing you barely talked or moved, seemingly scared of loud sounds and sudden movements like a small animal, he was aware you weren't gonna makeout any time soon.

He looked you over again, his eyes roaming over your small and fidgety figure. In some weird way, he kind of felt bad for you. You looked so nervous and uncomfortable being stuffed in this dumb closet, and you looked like you didn't belong at this party in the first place.

"What were you even doing here anyway?... this ain't exactly a place a shy girl like you would go on your own free will..." he echoed the question once again, the curiosity and desire to fill the silence stronger than the fact that you were strangers.

"That's because it wasn't my own free will.." you spoke up in minutes of being almost completely silent, your voice small and weak.

He was both surprised and not surprised at your answer. He was surprised that you answered so quickly, but he could have guessed this wasn't your idea.

"Let me guess... one of your loud and obnoxious friends dragged you out here to try and get you to 'have fun'?"

Bingo! You nodded silently again, your eyes darting around his face taking in every detail, hopefully being able to recall every single one of them to draw or paint later.

He grumbled something under his breath. He knew it. From his experience, kooks were always so loud and overbearing. It was what he hated most about them, and yet, you didn't seem like that kind of girl at all... you were quiet and soft spoken, something he hadn't seen in a kook girl since... well, never really. "Figures.. can you not say no to them or somethin’ ?"

You stared at him silently, blinking as you raked your brain for what to say, your eyes narrowed just a hint. You were aware he usually spoke a lot but not this much. Or you were too quiet. You were also way too nervous to speak or think properly, having your lifetime crush speaking to you, like actually.

He was watching you intently, taking note of the expressions that flashed on your face as you tried to come up with an answer. You were obviously nervous, he didn't need to be a mind reader to know that. And there was something else about you... something he couldn't place his finger on. It was weird.

"You look like you're gonna pass out or something..." He commented, watching you closely.

You shook your head 'no', reaching to try the door again. You suddenly didn't feel so lucky you got this rare chance to speak and admire JJ shamelessly given you were stuck in a closet together. You were anxious and feeling like he could see right through you, see all the weird tendencies you had and judge you for being so pathetically in love with him for so long.

He chuckled softly as you tried to open the door, again and again. It honestly reminded him of a small animal trapped in a cage, frantically looking for a way out. Something about the way you were acting amused him. "There ain't no point trying to open it again, trust me, it's stuck good..."

JJ could tell you were anxious, and it was easy to guess why. It was probably terrifying being stuck in a small, dark, cramped closet with him of all people. And judging by how quiet and shy you were, this was probably one of the hardest social interactions you ever had.

"Jesus... can you even speak a full sentence?" He piped up after another few seconds of silence, his smirk returning to his face as he watched you struggle against the door.

You looked to the side, a small frown making its way on your face at his question. 'Not when you're so close to me that i can smell the sea salt water in your hair.' you groaned internally, still silent. You kept your eyes locked with his in the almost dark closet, scolding yourself for not being able to handle social interactions like normal people.

JJ's smirk widened at your expression, you looked like a kicked puppy, it was almost cute. He stood up straight, lazily pushing himself off the wall and slowly making his way towards you. When he was a few steps away from you, he stopped, looking you up and down with a hint of mockery.

"You're a real quiet thing, ain't ya?"

With a few more confident steps, he was now standing just in front of you, leaning his shoulder against the wall. He looked down at you again, his smirk still present on his face. You could almost feel the heat radiating off his body, him being so close. His ocean like scent mixed with the weed smell, filling the closet and making it even harder to breathe than it already was in here.

"You afraid of me or somethin'? "

"No.." your voice rung out without missing a beat this time, a soft and gentle sound as you frowned to your self. You were probably one of the few people who wasn't afraid of JJ. Years of following him from a distance and watching him closely took away the fear factor. If anything he'd probably be afraid of you.

JJ let out a quiet scoff at your answer, an odd response. He had expected you to be as afraid of him given the way you were acting. You were clearly nervous being in a small, dark, and cramped space with a man, yet you weren't afraid of him or his presence.

"You're an odd one then.." He said, his eyes roaming over you again, taking in your small, timid figure.

He was a few inches away from you, towering over your small frame. Being this close to you, he could see more details in your face. How your eyes were framed with small dark eyelashes behind your glasses, how your skin was unnaturally smooth and soft looking, and how your lips looked almost velvety, almost as if they were made of silk. In addition to that, your scent filled his nose now, mixing with his own and the smell of the closet. You actually smelled very good... which definitely wasn't something weird to be thinking. JJ found himself lost in thought the more he looked at you. You looked so... tender and yet the way you were acting, so nervous and small, you looked like a spooked stray dog. It didn't add up in his head, you were probably the first kook girl he had ever met that acted this way, it was making him curious. Just as he opened his mouth to ask something, a loud banging noise echoed from the other side of the door, making you jump slightly, surprised by the sudden sound.

The whole silent staring contest you both had going on was interrupted by a loud sound from the other side of the closet door, almost startling you to death given you were so focused on how beautiful JJ's eyes looked while he studied you intently. You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut for a second, adjusting your glasses and grimacing to yourself.

The sudden sound made JJ roll his eyes, whoever was on the other side of the door was clearly trying to be annoying.

"Oh come on..."

he grumbled, annoyed already by the person who was trying to interrupt. Before he could say anything else, the banging continued once again, this time twice as loud as before, making him grumble another curse underneath his breath. He was beyond annoyed now, a small scowl forming on his face at the constant knocking. He turned around, staring at the small closet door, his hands on his hips as he waited for the knocking again. He was about to say something, but just then, the door was suddenly swung open, making him nearly jump out of his skin.

He let out a surprised noise as he stumbled forward, nearly collapsing to the ground, but he managed to catch himself just at the last moment by grabbing the nearest thing which happened to be the closet wall, next to your head. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest, he was breathing heavily, the unexpected event nearly giving him a heart attack. After a few moments he slowly looked up, turning his head to see who had opened the door.

To say he looked surprised would be an understatement. Standing in front of him was none other than one of his pogue buddies, John B, who was smiling and laughing like this was the most fun he had in forever as he looked down at JJ. JJ quickly managed to regain his composure, standing up straight before speaking up:

"Are you tryin' to give me a damn heart attack, John B?"

You were just as startled as JJ was, for a second time in less than 2 minutes nonetheless. Your gaze shifted from looking up at JJ's side profile to the boy standing in the door way of the closet. John B, JJ's best friend since forever, someone you also saw on a daily basis while doing your... usual checking up on JJ. John B also probably didn't know who you were, and you wouldn't be surprised even in the slightest.

John B looked between you and JJ, a smirk slowly forming on his face as his eyes landed on the proximity between the two of them. John B leaned against the door frame, his arms folded over his chest as he spoke up, a hint of mockery in his tone. "Seems like you got yourself into a situation, huh JJ?"

JJ's eyes narrowed at his best friends tone, he immediately knew what he was implying. He shot him a small glare before speaking up, a hint of annoyance in his voice

"Can it, John B... it ain't what it looks like."

John B chuckled at his response, he clearly didn't believe JJ given the awkward and somewhat embarrassing situation the two of you were in. "It sure looks like it though. Locked up in a closet together, all alone. You two got up to anything in here?"

Your eyes darted between the 2 best friends, adjusting your glasses as your gaze landed on John B, his teasing words making your face heat up. The implication of getting up to anything with JJ was enough to probably give 9 year old you a aneurysm, "Excuse me?" you spoke up, trying to sound irritated at his words although you sounded so weak and shy you regretted speaking instantly.

John B chuckled again at your response, clearly enjoying making you both uncomfortable. The way you spoke was so quiet and awkward, it was almost laughable. JJ continued to glare at him, trying to non-verbally tell his friend to shut his damn mouth, but it obviously wasn't working.

"Oh... I see, there's a voice under there, huh? You sound like a damn mouse, girl.. can you speak louder than a whisper?"

He continued to smirk at you, now mocking the softness of your voice. JJ grimaced at what John B had just told you, a pang of guilt suddenly shooting through his chest. He didn't like the way John B was talking to you, in fact, he was getting a little mad that he was being so rude.

"She ain't gotta speak louder. Leave her alone." JJ spoke up, glaring at his friend once again, finding himself defending this stranger.

You looked down, scowling to yourself at his question, now definitely not speaking another word for the rest of the conversation, knowing you'd just slip away once they were distracted. Your finger pushed the frame of your glasses up and down, your eyes fixed on your beat up sneakers. This was certainly one hell of a first impression.

John B held his hands up in mock surrender, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting both you and JJ annoyed. "Relax man, I was just messing with the poor mouse."

He joked, his eyes still on you, now watching your fiddling. JJ just scowled at him again, silently debating punching his friend square in the nose. The fact that he was making fun of you was bothering him more than it should. He was used to his friend making stupid jokes and being a dick, but he couldn't stand the thought of him mocking you, especially since you were acting nothing but polite and shy.

Mouse? you could see the resemblance i guess, with the small one word answers which sounded like small squeaks from the anxiety. Still, John B was being kind of a dick at the moment which caused your frown to deepen as you debated just making a run for it and disappearing.

John B chuckled quietly, not taking his eyes off you as you fiddled with your glasses. He knew he was being a dick, but he was just enjoying it too much. He suddenly had an idea in his mind, a way to further piss off JJ. With a sly smirk on his face, he spoke again, this time, directed solely at you, ignoring JJ completely. "So, mouse, what's your name?"

'Seriously? neither of them know my name?' you groaned internally, looking up to lock eyes with John B nervously. In moments like these you wished you had at least a bit of semblance of a back bone, and not just clam up like a dumbass, "Y/n.." you answered simply, your expression twitching slightly from having to repeat your name once again. You wanted to roll your eyes in annoyance so badly.

There was something about the way you said your name that made JJ's heart stutter in a way it never had before. It sounded almost magical coming out of your small lips, it was so... mellow, and yet so beautiful. John B's smile widened at your answer, obviously not expecting to get an actual answer and a name at that.

"Huh... nice name. Suits you." He said, his eyes roaming over you again, studying your face to figure out if he knew you or not. He came up blank, probably due to being tipsy.

JJ continued to stay silent, watching the interaction between his best friend and you. He was feeling a weird mix of anger and curiosity as he watched. You looked so much more fragile and unthreatening than he had thought. You were like a small cat, a cute but easily spooked cat. Or maybe a mouse, he wasn't sure which.

You felt awkward suddenly, the 3 of you going silent save from the music coming from downstairs after John B's comment about your name. You looked between them momentarily before stepping forward shyly to signal John B to move out the way so you could escape this weird and sufficiently awkward situation at once.

John B chuckled again as you stepped forward, his eyes following your every move. But just as you were about to slip out of the closet, he suddenly reached a hand out, blocking your way.

"Where do you think you're going, mouse?"

JJ furrowed his eyebrows at his friend's behaviour, he knew exactly what he was trying to do. He was trying to annoy both of you, as well as prevent you from getting away. JJ had had just about enough

"Okay, that's enough John B. Don't you think you've teased the poor girl enough?"

John B sighed dramatically, pouting at JJ's annoyed response. He took a small step back, opening up the doorway once again "You're no fun. I was just having a little fun. Don't take it so seriously, JJ."

As much you enjoyed being in JJ's presence you hated social interactions and you wanted to just find your best friend to tell her that this was a bad idea and you should just skate home. So you took a final glance at JJ, before stepping out of the small cramped closet when John B removed his arm which was blocking your way hesitantly. But stepping out wasn't any better cause you were met with the party, still in full throttle, the music making your head feel weird, weirder than being stuck in a moldy closet with your childhood crush. There were less people on the floor you were on, but it was still crowded enough by drunken couples and some rowdy friend groups to make you feel anxious. This was most definitely a bad idea.

JJ watched you step out of the closet, a small pang of guilt shooting through his chest from knowing you were uncomfortable but now having no way to help the situation. He shot a glare at John B for the 10th time in the last 5 minutes through the doorway, silently warning his friend once again.

"You're a damn dick man. Why did you feel the need to be so rude to her?"

John B just shrugged, looking back at JJ with a sly smile as he replied "Because I thought it would be funny. Besides, I didn't think she'd answer me. I thought she was mute or something."

JJ grimaced, of course John B would find making fun of the shyest person he had ever met, fun. He pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning quietly. He took a deep breath before speaking up again:

"You really can be an annoying bastard, you know that? Sometimes i wonder how you even manage to speak with girls.."

You weaved through the mass of people at the house party, bumping into couples getting busy and grimacing in apology, trying not to stumble over your feet in the cramped space on the staircase. You quickly descended down the stairs, looking for your friend Maisy, to scold her for bringing you here in the first place. Suddenly, a hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks. A hand that you recognized, and yet dreaded at the same time. JJ had followed you, and was now stood next to you at the bottom of the stairs.

He gently grabbed your hand, stopping you from walking away. His hand was calloused and rough from years of surfing, yet warm. He spoke up, trying to get your attention over the loud R&B music blaring from the speakers. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

You tensed up from the sudden contact and because well, you thought someone else was grabbing you to pull yet another dumb prank on you, not expecting JJ to follow you and try to talk to you. You shook your head 'no' because as much as you wanted to spend time with him, you knew you'd just clam up and make it weird because this was JJ and you were you.

He noticed how tense you suddenly became once his hand touched you, he couldn't help but silently worry in his head. He wanted to sigh at your immediate response of shaking your head no, but he decided to persist a little more despite not having any reason to:

"Please? I promise I won't make fun of you or anything. I just wanna talk."

"Well, i need to find my friend." you find yourself speaking, although you weren't sure if he heard you over the music or the myriad of sounds and things going on in this house. Really, it was surprising how the neighbors hadn't called the police yet.

JJ leaned closer to you, trying to hear your soft spoken words. He could just barely make out what you had said, but he heard it enough. He looked around for a moment, searching for your friend but not seeing them anywhere in the crowd. But it was a given, since he didn't even know who he was looking for. "Where is your friend? I'll help you look for them."

You shrugged, because you had the same question. Where the hell was Maisy anyway? she disappeared and expected you to what? have fun and party? as if you could do that. Your eyes were fixed on JJ's face, the one you knew and loved through the years, anxiously shifting on your feet at the feel of his big hand still wrapped around your wrist, stopping you from scurrying away.

JJ could sense your anxiousness, he could practically feel the anxious energy coming off your small frame. He subconsciously let his thumb slowly and gently caress your wrist, an attempt to somehow soothe you, even if only slightly. He didn’t like seeing you so anxious.

He suddenly realized that he was still holding your arm, gently keeping you by his side and preventing you from slipping away in the chaos of the house party. He had forgotten in the moment. He looked down at his hand on your arm, "Maybe they went outside.."

You could call her! yeah, you could do that... but what if big mouth Maisy actually showed up and saw JJ Maybank, the dude you had been crushing on since you were a 3rd grader, holding your wrist and actually speaking to you? She'll make this awkward and run her mouth, possibly getting you rejected at the same time. So, you thought it was best to just let him speak to you and then leave you to look for her alone. "What do you wanna talk about with me?" you asked, still quietly, hoping and praying he'd hear you and that you didn't come off as rude.

JJ was a little surprised at the fact that you still stayed by his side after he suggested looking for your friend. He honestly thought you would run off. He mentally shrugged, taking the opportunity to talk to you even more. He turned slightly to look down at you as you spoke, leaning forward to hear you better.

His heart skipped a beat as he heard your quiet voice. That same feeling of both guilt and curiosity ran through him again. How could one voice be so soft and quiet, yet so beautiful at the same time? The thought confused and intrigued him.

He took a moment to register that you had asked him a question, the shock of you actually talking to him making his brain fry for a second or two. He quickly brought himself back to reality, realising that he had to reply.

"I just wanted to apologize. About John B i mean, he's a massive dick, no doubt about that. I told him off.."

"It's okay.." you mumbled smiling slightly, adjusting your glasses with the hand that wasn't in JJ's grip. You actually managed to hold the conversation normally, albeit you were still squeaking out your words.

JJ's eyebrows raised at your smile, his eyes widening slightly. He wasn't expecting you to smile as an answer to his apology, it was the last reaction he had expected. And yet, it was a welcome one. It made him feel better, deep down he felt guilty for his friend's behavior.

He stared at you for another moment, the hand he was using to hold your wrist moving once again, his thumb still slowly caressing your skin. He hadn't even noticed he was doing it this time.

JJ quickly snapped out of the little trance and cleared his throat, speaking up again. He didn’t want to make things weird and freak you out. He could feel John B’s eyes on him, he knew the bastard was watching him from the top of the stairs and silently giggling about the whole thing. He pushed down his annoyance, his eyes moving away from your face and around the room, looking at the other people gathered around them. "You said this party was your friend’s idea, right?"

You nodded silently, glancing around the room for your stupid best friend. You were gonna kill Maisy for disappearing on you like this, especially at a party of this calibre. You tried to ignore how JJ was still holding onto your wrist, now rubbing his thumb over your skin to probably soothe you. It made you feel more nervous and anxious, the urge to bolt even more strong now. You didn't wanna mess it up and make it awkward or worse come off as a creep by staring at him or saying something stupid, although the last part was impossible given you barely spoke.

JJ bit the inside of his cheek as you silently nodded back to his question. He was starting to realize how hard you were to talk to, how shy you were. It made him feel bad. He found himself wishing that he could just hear your voice just a little louder. It was so gentle. It made him want to hear more of it, but he had no idea how to get you to speak more without making you uncomfortable.

He quickly stopped himself from thinking any further, realizing that he was starting to sound like a creep in his own head.

They stood there silently for a couple more seconds, as JJ desperately tried to think of something to say to break the silence without making things weird. He could still feel John B’s eyes on him, silently watching the whole situation and probably having the time of his life.

"So...how come I've never seen you around at school before? "

He tried, even though he knew the answer. He just needed to get you talking.

Ouch. You saw him at school all the time, even took routes around the school just to get to pass by him in the halls and hear him talk so loudly to his friends and laugh. So the question stung a little. You looked up at him, shrugging your shoulders, narrowing your eyes and blinking a couple of times, your brain desperately trying to just block out the sound of the music which was making your lungs feel like they were being shaken up.

JJ mentally cringed as he saw the slightly hurt look in your eyes, he regretted his choice of question immediately. Stupid. Of course you were at school, he saw you at school, he just never seen you with anyone.

He winced as he heard that music change to something even louder. The constant music was starting to grate his nerves.

"Can we go outside for a second? I can't even freaking hear myself think in here."

Your brows furrowed, considering his suggestion. It was a good idea, you could call Maisy, maybe have a cigarette too and let your ears get a break from this loud music blaring in them. So you nodded hesitantly, glancing around one last time in case you magically spotted your best friend.

JJ let out a breath of relief when you nodded your head in agreement. He was glad he didn’t have to try and shout over the music anymore. He turned, pulling gently on your wrist to lead you toward the front door. He weaved through people, avoiding getting into conversations. He was determined to get you alone outside so he could talk to you.

Finally, they made it outside. JJ released your wrist as they reached the front door. He took a deep breath, enjoying the sudden lack of music and the relative quiet (well, aside from the still loud music coming from inside). JJ took a step away from you as he turned to face you.

"Thank god, I thought my ears were gonna bleed with that damn music in there."

'Yeah..' you agreed mentally once again, nodding with a small smile and adjusting your glasses as you stood on the porch, finally able to breathe fresh air, a stark contrast from the muted and sweaty smelling air inside. You needed to start saying words out loud, instead of just answering in your mind.

JJ leaned against the porch railing, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The air was much cooler outside, compared to the stuffy heat that was present inside.

He took a few seconds to study you as you stood across from him. The light from the porch made you look even more softer, if that was even possible. You looked so small in that moment, it made him wonder how you had managed to make it to high school.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, clearing his throat before speaking up again. He couldn’t believe that he was actually talking to you, and the fact that he hadn’t messed it up yet was a surprise to him. He didn’t want to think about how bad he would screw it up in the future.

"So uh...wanna explain why you were hiding in a closet? "

There. A question to get the conversation going. He mentally cursed himself in his head, realizing how stupid the question sounded.

"I got pushed in at the same time as you." You found the courage to speak yay! and not so shaky and quiet either. Maybe it was the fact that he thought you were just hiding in the moldy closet, like an actual mouse, which made you wanna defend yourself. That's what was missing from this situation, for him to think you were an actual dumbass who was hiding in a closet because she was afraid of party sounds.

JJ found himself chuckling, raising an eyebrow at your answer. He didn’t expect that particular answer, he was expecting you to say that you just decided to hide in the closest instead of socializing. But pushed in? He could actually believe that. "Damn. Got pushed into a closet with me? That’s gotta be some pretty shitty luck."

'I'd like to think it was kinda lucky of me to get pushed in with you, of all people...' you laughed internally. You glanced at him, tearing your eyes from the street in front of the house, narrowing your eyes at his words, but deciding to just stay silent. It was better than saying something to counter it or even worse.. to try and be funny and fail.

JJ’s eyebrows nearly raised at the sound of your small, quiet laugh. He hadn’t expected you to laugh at his joke, he was actually surprised that you had responded at all. That laugh was definitely enough to make him keep going to get that sweet, soft sound to come back.

“You know, you have a really pretty laugh..“ The sentence was out of his mouth before he could even realize it. He internally winced, hoping he hadn’t just made things weird by complimenting you. Not that he didn't compliment girls usually. If anything, that's how he managed to score in the first place. But in your case he wasn't trying to flatter you to get in your pants. He simply found you interesting.

You could feel yourself blush at his compliment, not realizing you actually laughed out-loud instead of just thinking about it in your head. You scolded yourself internally for reacting to such a casual sentence, he was just being nice after all, not asking you to marry him. "Thanks." you managed to mutter out quietly, hoping it sounded at least a tad bit grateful, and not rude and clipped.

JJ’s heart skipped a beat when he saw that adorable blush on your face. He had never seen you so expressive yet quiet at the same time since he'd met you less than an hour ago. He silently smirked to himself, now he knew how to make you blush. He mentally noted that fact down for later. The fact that you had mumbled out a simple “thanks” in response, just made everything even better for him. He would take anything you responded with, just so he could get you to keep talking and hear that angelic voice.

He shifted against the railing, his hand moving to his back pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He quickly took one out, putting it between his lips. He glanced down at you as he pulled out a lighter to light the cigarette.

He held the pack out to you, silently offering you a cigarette as well. Which as he did, he realized that it wasn't really the epitome of smooth or romantic. But he already had his hand out stretched. JJ was becoming annoyed at himself for overthinking his every move, feeling like he was losing his footing on a ground he'd navigated countless times.

A small amused grimace made its way on your face despite trying to stop it, silently debating if you should take a cigarette. You pulled out your own lighter, stepping a little closer, not too much to look weird, lighting his cigarette before taking one for yourself. 'Wow.. so confident, lighting his cigarette for him.' you quipped sardonically in your head as you lit the cigarette for your self and took a long drag from it.

JJ’s eyes widened a little in surprise when you stepped closer to him, so close that you could reach out and touch him, if you wanted to. He watched you flick your lighter on, a small wave of excitement rushing through him as you held the light to his cigarette. He leaned his head forward slightly, putting the other end of the cigarette to his mouth and taking a drag. He exhaled the smoke as he watched you light your own cigarette.

He almost laughed when he saw the small grimace that came across your face.

He took another drag of the cigarette, his eyes studying the features of your face. You looked so beautiful like this, in the soft light of the porch with a cigarette between your lips. It was enough for him to realize that he wanted to see you like this more - not just tonight but anytime he could.

He turned away slightly as he exhaled the smoke, trying to calm his thoughts once again. He didn’t know you and yet here he was, already getting addicted to being close to you and hearing you talk.

The cigarette was a welcome relief given the fact that you were on edge since you came to the stupid party, leaning on the railing and taking long drags to fill your lungs with the smoke, the nicotine swirling around in your brain. Here you were, smoking a cigarette casually with the guy you were pinning after for years. 3rd grade you would probably faint and break her glasses in 2 if she knew.

JJ silently watched how you exhaled the smoke that was going into your lungs. It was hypnotizing watching you do this, something about it just made him want to keep watching. It was just so oddly satisfying to watch you smoke. He knew it probably wasn’t, but he didn’t care in that moment. It was oddly pleasing in a way he couldn’t explain.

He took another drag, letting the cigarette sit between his lips as he spoke. "You smoke often?"

"Yeah.. helps with the whole social anxiety thing.." you nodded your words followed by a small dry chuckle as you side glanced at him, exhaling the smoke to the side to avoid blowing it directly in his face.

JJ couldn’t help but notice the little side glance at him. That action, for some reason, made his stomach flip and flutter like it had a mind of its own, the way your eyes fixed on him momentarily making him nervous for some reason. A small smirk formed on his face as he blew out his own puff of smoke.

"Social anxiety, huh?"

He took another drag of the cigarette, his eyes looking straight at you as he did. He chuckled slightly, he never thought you would be the type to suffer from social anxiety, mostly because of his prejudice towards your social status. You had always seemed so quiet and reserved, but he never assumed it was because of that. But, as he looked at you now, taking a puff of your cigarette and shyly glancing at him every so often, he was starting to realize that maybe social anxiety made sense. The thought made him realize that he really didn’t know you at all, and that he desperately wanted to change that.

He leaned against the railing once again, taking another drag from the cigarette as he decided on what to say next.

Before he had the chance to do so, none other than your best friend Maisy, burst through the front door, her eyes fixed on you and probably not noticing JJ at first, "Y/n/n! where have you been, girl? You just missed the whole ordeal with Maybank getting locked in a closet with some random girl. It was so crazy.. I looked for you so i could tell you all about it!" she gasped excitedly as she clasped her hands on your shoulders, her loud voice and sudden appearance startling you and JJ. She could not, for the life of her read the room. Ever.

JJ’s eyes immediately went from you to Maisy, he was going to attempt to make more conversation until your best friend burst through the door.

He stiffened at hearing his last name, instantly tensing at what Maisy had said, now staring at the strawberry blonde mess of hair when she stepped in front of him to grab your shoulders.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, glancing over Maisy's shoulder to signal JJ's presence, glaring at her subtly. You didn't want her to say something stupid and reveal your feelings by mistake and embarrass you in front of him. Maisy’s eyes suddenly widened as she realized that she had walked out in the middle of a conversation you having with someone. She followed your gaze and looked over her shoulder, noticing JJ for the first time.

She gasped as her eyes widened even more, her look of surprise quickly turning into a smirk as she glanced back and forth from JJ to you.

You shook your head as if to say, 'don't, i'll kill you.

Maisy, the best friend she was, completely forgot about the look you had given her and the silent threat you were trying to convey in seconds upon receiving it. She had suddenly realized that you were standing beside JJ by yourself, and she was about to take full advantage of the situation. She smirked at you and wiggled her eyebrows dramatically, silently teasing you in her own way.

"Maisy. Please." you widened your eyes, silently scolding her and desperately suppressing the urge to groan out loud. Maisy was well aware of your MASSIVE years long crush on JJ, and you knew she was happy about this, in her own way, of course.

Maisy’s smirk grew as she saw how you widened your eyes and silently begged her not to say anything. She knew how big of a crush you had on JJ and how long you had wanted a moment like this. She was going to make the most of this.

She feigned innocence, silently raising an eyebrow at you as if to say "what".

JJ glanced back and forth between the two of you, picking up on the tension that he couldn’t fully understand. He glanced at you, noticing the look in your eyes as you looked at your friend. He could almost feel the pleading in your eyes, silently begging her not to say anything.

He looked at your friend, catching the smirk that was on her face. He silently tried to figure out what was going on. What was going through the mind of your bratty friend in that moment?

Mimsy glanced at JJ, noticing the curious look he had on his face. She couldn’t help but tease her friend, this was a once lifetime chance and she wasn’t going to pass up on the opportunity to tease her just a little.

She continued her innocent look as she turned back to you. She smirked as she leaned her head in your direction, acting as if she was going to whisper something into your ear. But instead, she spoke loudly, making sure JJ could hear her too. She loved tormenting you just a bit too much.

"You're alone with JJ Maybank of all people. How does it feel?"

Maisy said, a sly grin on her face as she watched your reaction. She was enjoying messing with you and making a fool of you in front of the guy that you liked a little too much for her liking. She didn't care, she loved embarrassing you. It was a friend’s right to tease their other friend in front of a potential love interest, right?

"Embarrassing, given you're here now." you glared at her, probably the most expressive JJ had seen you since you started speaking in the closet. A small sigh escaped your lips and you barely contained the urge to face-palm dramatically.

Maisy let out a loud gasp, acting as if she was offended by your words. She put her hand over her heart, a dramatic look crossing her face as she spoke. She was really enjoying this just so she could get a reaction out of you, which in turn would get a reaction out of JJ.

“Oh, wow. You’re being a bit rude, aren’t you? I can’t believe you’d say that in front of JJ. So insulting.”

JJ let out a stifled laugh as your friend dramatically pretended to be offended. He couldn’t help but find her antics amusing as he watched the whole scene unfold in front of his eyes. But he really couldn’t help but notice the glare you gave to your friend. It was the most expressive facial expression he had seen you wear so far, and he had to admit that he rather liked it. There was something about you standing up for yourself that he found attractive, even if it was just in a small way.

"And also I'm gonna kill you for ditching me like that.. " you added quietly, slapping Maisy's shoulder teasingly even though you were still glaring at her.

Misy let out another gasp as you slapped her shoulder. She feigned a look of pain on her face as she dramatically winced and rubbed the spot where you had slapped her in a playful way. She let out a loud melodramatic "ow". Clearly she was just messing with you at this point.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ditch you. I just had to do something REALLLLYYY important." she countered, her words dripping with suggestive undertones rather than genuine apology.

"Like?" you raised one brow, feigning annoyance.

Maisy shrugged her shoulders slightly, trying her best to look innocent. It was all an act, and she was enjoying it so much. She loved getting a rise out of you just so she could see the way you reacted and how you acted in front of JJ. In another world, she would’ve been a professional drama actor with the way she was able to act so well.

"Just something..., you know. The usual. Important, fun, necessary stuff."

"You need to drive me home. I hate this stupid party." you put out your cigarette, sighing and groaning out loud this time as you adjusted your glasses, leaning away from the railing.

Your best friend laughed at your irritation. She knew that you hated parties and that you dreaded them, that’s why she’d convinced you to come to this one in the first place. It was just her way of being a good friend.

"Alright, alright. Stop being such a prude. I’ll take you home, you baby. Just let me say 'bye' to a few people first. You’re such a buzzkill, you know that?"

"Ugh Maisy.. you're just gonna take forever." you groaned once again at the thought of having to follow her around while she bid her never-ending goodbyes.

"I'll just skate home. Where's your car? i left my board in there." at that point, given how quiet JJ was you forgot momentarily that he was there, speaking freely and more expressively.

Misy raised her eyebrows dramatically as you mentioned skating home. If there was one thing she hated more than parties, it was your habit of skating everywhere. It was like you were allergic to cars. She let out a fake gasp and dramatically put her hand on her chest like she had been wounded.

“Skate home this late!? Alone!? You’re joking right?”

"Unlock the car. I can see it from here." you deadpanned, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, nodding towards her car parked a bit messily on the lawn of the house.

Maisy scoffed and turned towards where her car was parked. She pulled out her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the car.

“Ugh. Fine. But if you get kidnapped or murdered, I’m not taking the blame. You’re such a pain, you know that right?”

"Bye... I'll see you tomorrow when you're hung over." you waved a hand in her face dramatically, the gesture sarcastic.

Maisy rolled her eyes at your sarcastic wave. She couldn’t help but smirk at how much of a pain you were being. She put a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow at you in a sarcastic way.

“Ugh, thanks for that. I look forward to your sarcastic and overly annoying comments in the morning. See you, baby.”

With that she turned on her heel and walked back into the house, heading back into the party with a smirk still on her face. She was beyond satisfied with herself. She had pushed your buttons enough for you to be a bit more expressive in front of JJ and get a reaction from both you and him. It was one of her favorite pastimes to see you flustered and a bit irritated just at her presence.

The moment she disappeared inside, the only person left outside on the porch was you and JJ.

After Maisy had gone back inside, the porch suddenly felt much quieter than before. The only sounds heard were the crickets in the background and the muffled noise from the party inside. JJ glanced over at you, his eyes studying your face once again. He couldn’t help but notice the change in your demeanor the moment your annoying friend left.

As soon as your best friend left you were aware that you were alone with JJ again. You glanced at him adjusting your glasses nervously, "sorry about that.."

JJ couldn’t help but chuckle slightly as you nervously adjusted your glasses the moment you realised you were alone with him. He raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the railing of the porch once again, his gaze fixed on you.

"No need to apologize. Your friend is… something else.”

Back to clamming up like a dumbass you go. You nodded silently, a small apologetic smile tugging at your lips. You were going to skate home, but you weren't sure how to.. end the conversation with JJ? should you just leave? wave at him? no... that's too casual, he doesn't even know you. Saying bye felt pathetic.

JJ chuckled again as you fell back into your shy, nervous demeanor. He could tell that you were overthinking the entire situation in the moment, trying to find the right way to leave. He thought that you looked so awkward and nervous. It was almost cute how unsure of yourself you were.

He pushed himself off the railing and took a step towards you.

"You’re still gonna skate home?"

You hummed faintly and nodded, looking out to Maisy's car. You didn't hate the idea of skating home, given you had your earphones with you and you could just take a shortcut to your house from here.

He couldn't help but smirk slightly as you hummed weakly and nodded. He took a couple more steps towards you, closing the gap between the two of you completely. He stood right in front of you, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. "Not afraid of being kidnapped or murdered like your friend said?"

"I skate at night pretty often." you stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, your voice back to its quiet and soft tone again.

JJ smirked even more as you stated your regular night time skating routine as if it was natural. He let out an amused chuckle, his eyebrows raising at the idea of you skating home alone in the dark so often.

"You skate at night often? You must have a death wish, doll."

You furrowed your brows at his nickname, whipping your head to look up at him with an expression resembling confusion. It was mostly to hide how flustered it made you, a small frown forming on your face, which wasn't supposed to be rude in any way, you were just... thrown off.

He smirked as you whipped your head up to look at him, your face showing a look of confusion mixed with… dare he say it, was that a hint of blush on your cheeks? He let out a small chuckle as he noticed your small, almost pouty frown. "What's with that look for, doll? You got a problem with the new nickname?"

You pursed your lips, as if mulling over the nickname in your head and dissecting it. He had no reason to call you that, but you knew JJ even though he didn't know you. You knew he was carefree and casual with everyone, so it wasn't hard for him to say certain things or make jokes. A part of you had always been envious of that, ever since you started liking him. Maybe that's why you liked him. He was the opposite of you, and in some ways you wished you could be like him, or like the girls you knew he usually went for.

He observed your facial expressions closely as you seemed to be deep in thought. He could practically hear the gears turning in your head as you thought about the nickname he had given you. He didn’t know why he called you "doll", it just came out naturally in the moment. He had a habit of nicknaming people, especially pretty ones, without even thinking about it. But for some reason, he was more interested in your reaction to it this time. It was the first nickname he had given you, and he wondered how you would react to it.

He chuckled softly to himself as he watched you purse your lips slightly, your facial expression almost looking like you were analyzing and dissecting the nickname he had given you. He couldn’t help but feel amused at the way you were acting. You were so quiet and soft-spoken, so different from anything he was used to. It was almost endearing in a way. He found your shyness refreshing and cute.

You decided you had enough of just standing there awkwardly and you looked up at him, nodding in greeting and walking towards the steps off the porch, your feet moving slowly, as if you were hesitating, afraid not to create a hole through the wood or something. You didn't wanna leave obviously, but you were awkward and weird and flustered easily and he was... well, JJ. You decided that you liked pining after him from afar from your camera lenses and behind corners rather than embarrassing yourself by talking to him face to face.

JJ watched as you nodded in greeting and began to walk down the steps of the porch. He let out a small chuckle as he noticed the slow and hesitant way you moved, as if you were afraid to break something on the way. He found your nervous mannerisms to be endearing, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in your head at that moment.

As you started walking away, he couldn’t help but step forward and speak up before you got too far.

"Hey, wait."

He took a few steps towards you, closing the distance between the two of you again as he spoke up, his voice low and gentle. "You’re just gonna leave like that, doll?"

"Well.. yeah?" you grimaced hesitantly, curious as to why he seemed so adamant on speaking with you even though you were silent most of the time.

He raised an eyebrow at your hesitancy and grimace. He couldn’t help but feel a mix of annoyance and interest at the fact that you were just going to leave without a second thought. He had wanted to talk to you more, and he wasn’t about to give up just yet.

"You can’t just leave after you’ve barely said anything at this party. You’re too quiet, it’s a little weird."

Ouch again. He probably didn't mean to make another stingy comment, but you still felt the sting a little. You didn't let it show though, raising your brows and adjusting your glasses, looking at him as if expecting him to continue, despite the obvious figurative period at the end of his sentence.

He noticed the subtle flash of hurt in your eyes at his comment, but he didn’t apologize for it. He had a reputation to maintain after all. He raised an eyebrow in return at your raised brows and expression, expecting you to say something. When you didn’t, his eyes narrowed slightly as if he was annoyed that you weren’t responding. "Is that all you’re gonna do, just stare at me?"

You looked to the side as if considering his question, nodding slowly and silently. You knew he probably didn't like it, you weren't the kind of person that would hang around JJ Maybank after all. But you couldn't help it, your brain just didn't wanna speak sometimes, it was like it was selectively mute, which was very asshole-ish of it.

He let out a low sigh at your nod and silent response. He found it both annoying and endearing at the same time how reticent you were. He wasn’t used to someone being this quiet and reserved around him. Usually girls would cling to him or talk endlessly, never shutting up.

He took a small step closer to you, his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked down at you. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and gruff as he spoke. "You can at least say something, doll."

"Something." you spoke without realizing, the word soft and quiet even though it was more sarcastic than anything.

A surprised laugh escaped his lips at your unexpected sarcastic response. He didn’t expect you to actually say something, let alone something sarcastic.

"Clever."

He said dryly as a smirk formed on his face, his eyebrows raising slightly. He was enjoying this more than he cared to admit, he wasn’t used to people being sarcastic back to him, not someone as quiet as you anyway.

He leaned in slightly closer, his smirk slowly morphing into a small, amused smile. He liked how blunt and sarcastic you could be, and the fact that you were being sarcastic with him was almost funny. "You sure know how to make conversation, doll."

You raised your brows and nodded looking to the side once again as if to say 'i know right?', a small scoff leaving your lips.

He chuckled softly at your raised brows and subtle scoff. It was like you were trying to match his confidence and snarky attitude but by being quiet at the same time, and he couldn’t help but find it amusing. He took another small step forward, getting even closer to you. "You sure are a sassy one, doll. Most people would be a stuttering mess in front of me right now."

'I am stuttering... mentally.' you thought, fixing him with your gaze. You were sure you were plenty nervous in front him anyway, stuttering would just make you explode probably. You were sure that would actually happen if it came down to it.

He could see the hint of nervousness in your eyes as you fixed him with a steady gaze. He knew that you were probably feeling very nervous and intimidated by his presence, but you were doing a good job at not letting it show. It was refreshing to him that you weren’t falling all over yourself in front of him like most girls did.

"You’re awfully quiet though. How come you’re not all over me like most girls are?" He asked, his voice laced with sarcasm and subtle curiosity.

'Oh, how i would love to-..' you stopped that thought before it actually finished in your mind, shaking it out of your brain quickly. Your version of being all over him was stalking him around and taking pretty artsy and stalkerish pictures of him from afar. Of course that was embarrassing to think about, especially when he was standing right in front of you, talking and giving you casual nicknames like 'doll and mouse.'

He noticed the brief second when you seemed to zone out for a moment before snapping yourself out of it. He couldn’t help but be intrigued by the look that had crossed your face, if only for a split second. He raised an eyebrow at your sudden change in demeanor and wondered what had just gone through your head.

"You sure love zoning out, doll. You alright in that head of yours?"

You nodded swiftly, looking back up at him. Still, you couldn't seem to get a word out, which was becoming annoying for you. You can talk to him, he's not gonna bite.

He could sense your frustration at your inability to speak, even though he could also tell that you were trying to remain calm and collected in front of him. He found your struggle both endearing and irritating at the same time.

He chuckled softly before speaking again, his voice soft and casual. "You know you can talk to me, right? Like, actually say something out loud."

"I'm a girl of few words." you spoke up, pursing your lips gently as you looked up at him, nodding in a self-assured way.

He chuckled again at your response, his eyes fixed on your pursed lips. There was something strangely intriguing about the way you looked at him, even with your glasses in the way. "I can tell, doll. You’re practically mute." like an actual doll, that was even more funnier to think about in JJ's mind.

He found himself moving closer to you again, a smirk playing on his lips. He was enjoying the fact that you were struggling to speak, and secretly found it cute how shy and awkward you were around him.

"You’re a little mouse, aren’t ya? Too shy to talk?"

You hated that word when it was used to describe your quietness by others, but when it came out of his mouth and it rolled off his lips you found it almost... sweet. The way he seemed to weigh his words and keep his rowdy and loud behavior in check made you feel.. special? but also pitied, like he was scared of scaring you away. You raised your brows, adjusting your glasses and smiling slightly at him, nodding again after a few seconds.

He could see the hint of annoyance in your eyes when he called you a mouse, but it was gone as soon as he saw you smile slightly.

"Awww, look at that, she finally smiled. I didn’t think it was possible with you being so quiet."

He mocked your silence once more, just to tease you a bit more. He found your reactions and facial expressions entertaining, even if you were silent most of the time.

Somehow you found the courage to reach up and smack his shoulder playfully, glaring at him half heartedly. The action surprised even yourself, retracting your hand fast in fear that you might've made him uncomfortable.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise when you reached up and smacked his shoulder, the action catching him off guard. It was the first time you had physically touched him, and he couldn’t help but feel a small spark of electricity at the contact. He also noticed the way you retracted your hand quickly, as if you were afraid of what he might do.

He laughed softly at the look on your face, his smirk widening.

"Did you just SMACK me, mouse?"

"Sorry.." you stuttered out, stepping back a little nervously. It was supposed to be a casual teasing smack but as per usual, you made things awkward and weird. Just like you always did.

He chuckled again at your stuttered apology, the sound low and gruff. He found your nervous mannerisms and stuttering quite endearing. It was an odd thing, being intrigued by someone who hardly talked and was very awkward. He took a step closer to you, closing the distance between you again. "Don’t apologize, doll. I’m not mad." He said lowly, his smirk fading into a soft smile.

You nodded quickly, turning away suddenly and walking towards Maisy's car to retrieve your board and skate home. God, you had spoken to him more than you ever did in these 8 years of pining after him. And it was so nerve wrecking, having someone have some much control over you without even knowing.

As you walked away, JJ couldn't help but feel a bit of disappointment that you were leaving already. He watched you walk towards Maisy's car, and a part of him wanted to call out to you to stay, but he didn't.

He couldn't quite understand why, but there was something about you that he found strangely captivating. Despite the fact that you were very shy and awkward around him, he felt strangely drawn to you. He didn’t want the conversation to end just yet.

He thought about calling out to you to wait, but something stopped him. He wasn't sure what it was, but he couldn't bring himself to speak up. Instead, he just watched as you walked away, his eyes fixed on your retreating form.

Maybe it was the way you had looked at him with those shy, behind-the-glasses eyes, or the soft, almost sarcastic responses you had given him despite your quiet nature. Something just made him want to keep talking to you, even if all you did was just nod and stay silent most of the time. Maybe that's what JJ needed, someone quiet enough to help him ground his loudness. But that thought was shaken away when he realized you were a stranger and the 2 of you might not even interact ever again.

JJ was still standing there at base of the porch steps, watching as you opened the back seat of Maisy's car. He raised an eyebrow at the state of the car, thinking to himself about how messy it was. As you retrieved your board from under the pile of clothes and Gatorade bottles, he watched your every movement intently.

When you suddenly turned around and waved at him, JJ couldn’t help but feel a fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t quite understand why, but he found the gesture strangely adorable.

He raised his hand in response, waving back at you.

"Night, mouse. Don't get lost on the way home."

He called out, his smirk returning to his face. He couldn't help but tease you a little before you left, it was too hard not to poke at your shy demeanor.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of the nickname again, placing your board on the sidewalk and glancing at him one last time before finally forcing yourself to skate away down the sidewalk, the sound of the party becoming distant as you skated down the street.

JJ watched as you placed your board on the sidewalk and started skating away. He couldn’t help but notice the small smile that had appeared on your face when he had called you 'mouse' again. He felt a small twinge of satisfaction being the cause of the smile, even if it was a small one.

—♡‧

A/n: Okay so... what do we think about the first interaction? I decided mid-way that I'm making this multiple parts..☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ if this does well I'll post part 2.. JJ is such a yapper, and the reader is.. not. I'll take this down if people don't read it but i have an entire story about these 2 :( I'm just curious if this was too long

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

| Next*:･ﾟ✧

[ofstarsandvibranium]

He's A Pretty One

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: You're visiting your cousin in Hawkins for the summer and you meet his very pretty and very rebellious friend and bandmate.

You're mindlessly perusing through the aisles of Family Video. Your younger cousin, Gareth dragged you along so you could help him decide on what movie to pick.

He approaches you with two in hand, "Halloween or Texas Chainsaw Massacre?"

You grimace and look at him with a confused look, "Gare, it's the summer time. Why the hell do you want to watch horror movies?" It was summer time. You were one hundred percent sure there were better movies to pick than either of those two.

Your cousin rolls his eyes at you, "You can watch scary movies any time of the year, Y/N." His statement makes it seem like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"It feels wrong watching it during the summer," you try to reason with Gareth.

He smirks, "Do you not want to watch it because it 'feels wrong'," he says using air quotations, "or is it cause you're a scaredy cat?" He's looking at you with the most annoying look on his face that you kind of want to punch him.

You narrow your eyes at him, "Shut the fuck up, Gareth. I'm not the one who refused to swim in the pool three summers ago after watching Poltergeist."

You hear a snort around the corner, causing you and Gareth to turn. A guy who looks around to be your age comes into view. His arms are crossed over his chest and he's smirking at Gareth, "You refused to go swimming after Poltergeist?"

Gareth rolls his eyes, "You never know if the pool you're swimming in was built over dead bodies that hadn't been relocated!"

The guy snorts and looks at you, sticking his hand out, "I'm Eddie-"

"Munson. Yeah, Gare's mentioned you before. I'm Y/N," you grasp his hand and give it a quick shake.

"Huh. Funny. Gareth never mentioned he had a girlfriend," he looks you up and down with no shame.

Both you and Gareth gag.

"We're cousins!"

"That's so fucking gross."

Eddie chuckles and holds his hands up, "Sorry. Didn't mean to assume," he then grabs the two movies from Gareth's hands. He looks at both and then shoves Texas Chainsaw Massacre to his chest, "Chainsaw Massacre is better."

He smirks and looks you up and down one last time, "Hope to see ya around Y/N," he gives you a wink and heads to the counter to pay.

Gareth looks at you and then Eddie and then back at you, "Please, don't," he says with a pleading face of desperation.

"What? I didn't say anything!"

"Please don't tell me you like Eddie."

"I don't....I just think he's...pretty."

Gareth gags again and you smack him on the head, "Oh quit it! Besides, I can have a summer fling if I want! You said there's nothing fun to do in this town, so why can't I create some fun for myself?"

"That's gross," your cousin shudders and goes to the counter to pay.

___________________________

The next time you see Eddie is at band practice. Eddie as well as the rest of Corroded Coffin arrive at Gareth's ready to practice their new set.

Eddie gives you a nod while the rest of the guys are fairly awkward around you. While they're warming up and tuning their instruments, you go up to Eddie, putting an extra sway to your hips.

"Is it okay if I'm here?"

He nonchalantly shrugs with a grin on his face, "Why wouldn't it be okay?"

You nod towards Jeff and Doug behind him, "I think I make them uncomfortable."

Eddie looks over his shoulder and snorts, "It's just 'cause they've never been in the presence of a hot girl before."

You smirk at him, "You think I'm hot?"

He looks you up and down like he did at the video store, "I think you know the answer, sweetheart."

"CAN WE PLEASE START PRACTICE NOW?!" Gareth yells, breaking the tension that started to build between you and Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes and slips his guitar strap over his shoulder, "Yeah, alright." He slowly backs away but shoots you a wink as he gets into position.

You plop yourself onto the couch ready to watch what your cousin and his friends got.

__________________

You thought Eddie was hot before but holy fuck was he sexy as hell now after you've watched him perform. The way he plays and sings his heart out is just...it leaves you speechless...and a little hot.

After practice was over, Gareth goes up to you, sweaty but with a proud look on his face, "So? Whaddaya think?"

"You guys sound pretty good, Gare. And you guys are performing this weekend right?"

"Yup! You're coming right?"

You snort, "I have nothing else better to do, plus, I gotta support your annoying ass," you shove his shoulder and your cousin rolls his eyes.

You try to shove him again but Gareth dodges you and steps away. You chuckle and then glance at Eddie, who's had his eyes on you the entire time.

You walk up to him with a smirk, "Not bad, Van Halen."

"Thanks," Eddie puffs up his chest in pride, "Gonna be our first groupie, hm?"

You scoff and wave off his comment, "Oh please, I'm just supporting my cousin."

Eddie licks his lips and leans closer to you, "Come on. Once we get big, you can have bragging rights that you were our first fan and that you knew us before we blew up."

You cross your arms over your chest and tilt your head to the side, "That all I get for seeing you guys perform? Bragging rights?"

He looks at you with a smirk, "Why? You want something more?"

You snort and take a step closer to Eddie, your face very close to his, "Think you have something I'd want, Pretty Boy?"

He's smiling wide at you now, "You think I'm pretty?"

You look him up and down just like how he did earlier. To repeat his words back to him, "I think you know the answer, sweetheart." You then turn on your heel and head back inside Gareth's house leaving him feeling equally as hot as he made you feel.

Part 2

[pedriache]

hector fort who loves teasing reader over anything and everything! they can b already dating or just friends ^_^

Lucky for you — Héctor Fort.

Pairing: Héctor Fort x Fem!Reader

Summary: An ice cream hang out with your best friend that turns into something much more, with a side of teasing.

Word count: 900

Disclaimer/s: fluff + teasing via Héctor!

A/N: i don’t even want to talk abt how i’ve had this in my drafts since August..

The summer heat wrapped around your body comfortably. You wore a pink summer dress that gave you just enough cover without making you sweat uncontrollably. A bonus was the ice cream that kept your mouth and hands cold, further lessening your body temperature.

Across the table from you sat Héctor, your best friend. He had the day off and you two hadn’t seen each other a lot recently, so he figured it’d be a good day to take you out in the city.

You met at your favorite ice cream parlor that had a balcony overlooking the ocean. Héctor was in the middle of telling you something Lamine had told him at practice, adorning a wide smile that reached his eyes as he laughed.

You could hardly comprehend what he was telling you, if you were being completely honest. Somehow, your attention span had disappeared, your soul focus being on Héctor’s smile.

The teen noticed the second you’d fallen into a daze. You’d went from complete sentences, to simple hums, nods, and two worded responses. His lips pull into a teasing smile, “and then I bought an elephant and rode it off into the sunset.”

You hum, nodding your head slowly, then you blink. Wait, huh? “What?” Your spoon clangs into the near empty bowl of ice cream.

“Am I that handsome you just opt out of listening to a very interesting story?” He quirks an eyebrow. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I do not mind at all.”

Exhaling slowly, you roll your eyes. “Shut up. I was just thinking.” Wow! Very convincing. Even you didn’t believe that would throw him off.

“About me, obviously.” Héctor grins. “Or, what else could you possibly be thinking about? Hm?”

Your tongue darts out to chase your lips, tasting the excess ice cream on it. “No. I was thinking about…” You trail off, brain suddenly blank of excuses. “Why don’t you go ahead and shove your mouth full of ice cream and leave me alone, sound good?”

Héctor tsk’s, his tongue clicking against the top of his mouth. “Nuh-uh! Come on, admit it, you were admiring how good I look.”

Suddenly, the heat of the summer sun was getting to you. Your face flushes red, your hands grow clammy. Definitely the sun, not what your best friend had just said. It was totally the suns fault. “You’re insufferable. Remind me why i’m friends with you?”

The curly haired boy cocks his head to the side, “i’ve been wondering the same thing.” He is quick to add, “why we’re just friends, that is.”

Ohhhh…

Oh that got you.

“Very funny.” You stutter out, “so! Ice cream? How is it?” That had to be the most pathetic attempt at saving yourself.

Héctor’s face grows a bit more serious, though it was still full of humor. “Quit deflecting. I’m serious! Why are we friends, just friends?”

In that moment, your ice cream became the most interesting thing in the world. You play with the melting ice cream nervously. “Héctor…” You sigh, “don’t say things like that.”

Héctor leans back on the cushioned seat, “why not? Are you trying to say you don’t like me?” He knew you did. It’s not like you weren’t (unfortunately) very obvious.

“That’s not—“ Your lips pull into a thin line, “are you teasing me again?”

“I’m dead serious! I wouldn’t tease you about this.. well, I would, but i’m not right now.” He swears, holding one hand to his heart and one in the air, “on my whole football career.”

Your gaze finally flickers back up to the boy, eyebrows lifting curiously. “You’re serious about this?”

“Very.” He nods, “so?”

You take a deep breath, pushing the glass ice cream bowl away from your hands so you could clasp them together. “Fine. Sure, Héctor. There is like, a possibility that it’s true. Of course, that is if there’s also a possibility—“

“Oh, I do. No questioning.” He was straight forward, eyes flickering across your face as his lips twitch into a smirk.

Suppressing a smile, you laugh lightly. “Okay, straight to the point… well, now what?” You lean toward the table, head rolling to the side with a lifted eyebrow.

“Well, I propose the next time we go out for ice cream, we label it a date. Not just a.. what do we call this?” His forehead creases as he motions between the two of you.

You tap your chin, thinking for a moment. “Well, a hang out, idiot.” You laugh, “as friend’s usually do.”

“And we aren’t friends anymore, so next time it’s a date.” He smiles, sitting up straight in his seat. “We could always go somewhere nicer, if you want.”

“I like our simplicity.” You shrug, “so I prefer it that way. No big things, wait—“ You point a finger up, “don’t believe that’s how i’m going to feel when we’re dating. I expect big things from you, Mr.Fort.”

Héctor chuckles, his head shaking as the laughter flows from his lips. You were so glad you could enjoy that sound without having to attempt to hide it. “I would never imagine doing anything but big things for you.”

Your knees felt weak. He was making you so giddy, you couldn’t help the wide smile that lifted your entire face. “Good.” That’s all you could even say, you were in such a happy daze.

“Good.” He hums, nodding his head with a smile that matched yours, if not bigger.

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. Feel free to ask for tags in any of my future posts, all or specific ones <3

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[deterioratingpisces]

Daniel Molloy, marriage councillor from hell.

He’s got a 98% divorce rate. The other 2%? They’re probably staying together out of sheer spite—or fear of returning to his office.

Instead of fixing his clients’ problems, he digs up some more. Forget “working on communication.” He’s a master at uncovering your worst secrets and weaponizing them like a teenager in a text fight.

He gets a little spark in his eyes whenever he finds something new to grill his clients about. It’s the closest he gets to joy: that glint that says, “Oh, you thought that wasn’t going to come up?”

Don’t worry about him playing favourites; he’s being a little shit to everyone equally. Even the mildest disagreements become battlefields under his gaze. You’ll go in debating how to load the dishwasher and come out wondering if love is even real.

Also, don’t be gleeful when your partner is on the receiving end of his judgement. Your turn is just around the corner. The moment he catches a whiff of smugness, he redirects like a hawk zeroing in on fresh prey.

Passive-aggressiveness just gasses him up more. Every eye roll, every groan, every passive-aggressive “are we done here?”—it’s all fuel for the fire. You think you’re breaking him down, but really, you’re just feeding the beast.

The only way of coming out of his therapy still married is through fraternizing against him. But good luck. Before you can say “teamwork,” he’s found the one thing you can’t agree on and driven a wedge so deep, you’ll forget you were ever on the same side.

Probably one of the biggest mistakes you could make is trying to weaponize his own two failed marriages against him. Oh, sweet summer child. You think that’s a trump card? He’ll shrug it off like lint on his blazer and hit you with, “That’s adorable, but let’s talk about why you brought this up.” Cue emotional bloodbath.

Thinking you can charm him by mentioning you’ve read his work and thought it was brilliant? Big mistake. He doesn’t take compliments; he takes ammunition. “Oh, you read my book? Fascinating. Let’s talk about why you felt the need to bring that up. Seeking validation, perhaps?” Now you’re defending yourself for being polite.

He’s written exactly one book, and it’s the kind of thing only masochists or grad students read. Titled “Irreconcilable: Why Most Marriages Were Doomed Before They Began,” it’s a scathing 600-page manifesto on why love is an illusion and compromise is a scam.

He’ll be going off on you for one hour, and the second the time is up he’s his perfectly composed self. Nothing like hearing, “Same time next week? We’re really cracking this open!” after you’ve spent an hour sobbing and accusing your spouse of crimes you didn’t even know you cared about.

He’s immensely motionless and visibly dissatisfied every time a couple does make it out of his counseling still together. No congratulations. No “job well done.” Just a flat, “Wow. Guess miracles do happen.” The closest thing to an endorsement you’ll ever get.

If you somehow survive his sessions intact, you’ll leave with a list of issues you didn’t even know you had. Trust issues? Check. Miscommunication? Check. A sudden, inexplicable need to google “how to file a restraining order”? Double check.

His office décor is clinically neutral—beige walls, minimal art—because the real carnage happens in your emotional landscape. There’s no place for comfort here. Just two chairs, a box of tissues, and the sharp glare of his judgment.

He’s the kind of counselor who will literally pause a heated argument to correct your grammar. “Actually, it’s ‘my partner and I,’ not ‘me and my partner.’ But please, go on about how they never support you.”

He’s got a poker face so strong, even the most unhinged confession barely raises an eyebrow. You could admit to orchestrating a fake kidnapping to test your partner’s loyalty, and he’d just scribble something in his notebook with a bored, “Huh. Interesting.”

Somehow, he remembers everything. That tiny detail you offhandedly mentioned in week one? He’ll bring it back 15 sessions later, weaponized and sharper than your spouse’s passive-aggressive tone during your last fight.

His motto? “Honesty isn’t always the best policy—it’s just the most fun for me.” Because nothing says therapy like watching couples tear each other apart under the guise of “truth.”

Every session is like playing emotional Minesweeper. You think you’re navigating safely until—BOOM—he hits you with a “So when are you planning to tell them about the credit card debt?”

He’s probably got a closet full of tissue boxes because he goes through multiple ones a day. Not that he’s offering comfort, mind you. He’s just emotionally eviscerating people left and right, leaving them to weep into piles of Kleenex while he sits there scribbling in his notebook like “Another one bites the dust.”

On the rare occasion he does favour one client over their partner, he’ll join in with them to gaslight the other. If you thought your gaslighting was bad, wait until he tags in. “Honestly, that’s a perfectly normal thing to do. I don’t know why your partner’s making such a big deal about it.” Next thing you know, you’re doubting your grip on reality.

You know he’s in a good mood when he starts with, ‘So, let’s revisit that thing you were hoping I’d forget.’ His version of ‘good vibes’ is a merciless callback to the worst fight you’ve ever had. Bonus points if it involves a completely trivial topic like a burnt casserole.

He once accidentally helped save/improve a marriage, and he still brings it up as his greatest failure. “It wasn’t my fault. They blindsided me by… actually communicating. Ugh.”

He doesn’t just break you down emotionally; he’ll dismantle your hobbies too. “So you knit to ‘relax’? Interesting. Is that why your partner feels neglected every time you pick up the needles?”

Every now and then, he’ll throw in a “fun” hypothetical just to spice things up. “So, if your spouse did start an affair with their coworker, how do you think you’d react? No, seriously, let’s explore that.” And just like that, he’s set your relationship on fire.

If you’re brave enough to call him out for being biased, he’ll hit you with a “Why do you think you feel that way?” Congratulations, you just fell into his trap. Now you’re the one who needs to “explore your insecurities.”

He’s got a way of twisting even the smallest compliment into a passive-aggressive critique. “So you think they’re a good parent? Interesting that you don’t mention them being a good partner.”

No argument is off-limits to him, no matter how petty. You could be fighting over the remote, and he’ll somehow turn it into a deep dive on your inability to compromise. “Is it really about the TV? Or is it about the control you feel you’re losing in this relationship?”

He has the audacity to send you home with homework. Nothing says fun date night like sitting down to answer questions like, “What’s the worst thing your partner’s ever said to you, and why do you think they meant it?”

He signs off every session with, ‘It’s not my job to fix you. It’s my job to show you what’s broken.’ Thanks, Daniel. Really uplifting. Can’t wait for next week.

He keeps a tally on how many digs it takes for both of his clients to start sobbing. He’s like an emotional sniper, except instead of bullets, it’s a well-placed “So, how did your mother influence your relationship dynamic?”

He also keeps a separate count of how many clients had a full-on mental breakdown that week. At the end of the week, he probably leans back in his chair, reviewing the numbers with a satisfied, “Another record-breaking performance. Good job, me.”

He gets a twisted sense of joy from the whole thing. Every time someone cries, he casually slides the tissue box closer with a little smirk, like “That’s the spirit.”

He claims he doesn’t enjoy making people cry, but the smug look on his face says otherwise. You swear you caught him jotting “two-for-one cry deal” in the corner of his notebook after both you and your partner lost it in the same session.

If you call him out on the tally, he’ll act surprised. “Tally? Oh no, that’s just... uh... my grocery list. Don’t mind that.” Meanwhile, you can see “MENTY B TOTAL: 12” written in huge letters.

He has a "Hall of Fame" in his mind for the fastest emotional breakdowns. “Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Impressive, really. Most people hold out until the ten-minute mark.”

His biggest letdown of the week is a session where nobody cries. He’ll sigh heavily, jot something in his notebook, and mutter, “Well, we all have off days.”The week his tally hits zero? He might as well shut the whole office down. He’d sit at his desk, staring out the window, whispering, “Have I lost my touch? No... it’s them. They’re just repressing better.”

The reason his Google ratings are still up? It’s either fear—because who wants Daniel Molloy coming after them in a vengeful Yelp tirade—or gratitude, but of the gaslit variety. His clients walk away thinking, “Wow, our marriage was doomed from the start. Thank you, Mr. Molloy, for showing us the truth.”

There’s a rumor that he has a celebratory bell he rings in his private office for every milestone. After every couple that leaves his office divorced. Ding-ding-ding! “Another happy ending.”

Sometimes he drops subtle hints about the bell mid-session. “You know, not every couple makes it through therapy. But that’s okay. There’s… closure in accepting the truth.” And you know he’s thinking about that bell.

If he had his way, the bell would be a centerpiece of his practice. Displayed proudly behind his desk, polished to a shine, with an engraving: “In honor of irreconcilable differences.”

Please feel free to add anything I have missed. 💀