#I can watch this movement for days. I HAVE watched this movement for days
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mdni. cam-girl jinx. loser-ish reader. sex toys. squirting. based off this ask.
wc; 1,476
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you make sure to get home from work most days at precisely 5:00 PM—enough time to wash off the dirt and grime of the day in a quick shower, throw together a rushed meal, and settle in front of your computer by 6:30. your routine is second nature by now, the anticipation building as you watch the minutes tick by before jinx appears on screen.
jinx streams every other day, always at the same time, and you're careful never to be late. the moment her stream goes live, the screen fills with a warm glow. it illuminates her petite frame as she sits on her bed, poised and teasing. tonight, she wears a dark brown leather belt across her chest, cinched just enough to lift her small breasts, showing off her blue cloud tattoos. the worn leather is barely covering the soft, pink shade of her tiny nipples.
she has such a thin piece of fabric decorating her hips that you wouldn’t have even noticed it, if not for the way the black, lacy thong contrasts against her pale skin. she’s striking—utterly mesmerizing—and every movement is deliberate as she shifts, adjusting herself before flashing a sly smile at the camera.
the chat chirps with excitement when she leans in, offering a loud, enthusiastic greeting to her supporters. there’s an undeniable, mischievous confidence in the way she carries herself—a playful allure mixed with an effortless intimacy that only strokes the flames of your parasocial relationship with her.
heartseekerjinx: hi gorgeous!!!
spaceprincessjinx: you look so sexy, jinx <3
user3263288412: give us a show already.
jinx’s stream requires a hefty membership access fee, but you’d pay anything just to see her.
“hmmm,” she trails her fingers down the taut, creamy skin of stomach until they reach her panties. she toys with the lacy hem, saying, “i’ve been needing to play with my pussy all day . . . but i was waiting for you.”
you gasp. it feels like she’s speaking to you directly. you know you must stand out to her the most compared to her other subscribers, with the way you spam her with donations, flooding her chat with desperate compliments. she has to remember you.
you unbutton your jeans hurriedly, pushing your pants down your thighs and then you stuff your hand inside your underwear. you’re completely soaked already, as if jinx put a spell on you—on all her viewers. that would explain the all-consuming loyalty you feel towards her.
jinx plucks a sleek, blue vibrator from her toy basket, the one that’s directly attached to her many donations, where each contribution controls its intensity. it might be your favorite toy of hers. you enjoy the way her viewers can set the pace—how you can set the pace. of course, you love watching her stuff monstrous dildos inside her pussy too, but there’s something so intimate about being the one to force her to feel good, despite the distance between you two.
jinx plants her feet on the bed, spreading her knees. she turns the toy on, and then she hooks a finger in the crotch of her thong, pulling the thin frantic to the side so hundreds of eyes can see her glistening, pink pussy. she rubs the vibrator against her clit for a moment, groaning softly at the stimulation, and then pushes the bean-shaped toy inside her hole.
”oh fuck, look how wet i am for you,” jinx whines, staring up at the webcam. she looks tantalizing from underneath her thick lashes.
biting your lip in anticipation, you donate $20 without a second thought—just enough to speed up the vibrations of the toy slightly. jinx gasps on screen, surprised that she received a donation so quickly. she leans in to read off her computer screen, recognizing your username instantly and snickering.
purring your display-name like a cat, she says, “thank you, mydarlingjinx. you always take, ahh, such good care of me.”
you feel an immense sense of pride fill your chest. you love taking care of jinx, making her feel good, and you wish you could take things further. you often fantasize about laying her up in your bed, pulling off the skimpy clothes adorning her body, rubbing your hands all across her smooth skin, playing with her small breasts.
you know you could make her feel so good, stuffing her full of dildos and other phallic-shaped objects from her toy box, playing with every single one of her holes like you know she needs, pushing her to the brink of pleasure in ways that would leave her crying. her box of toys is filled with possibilities, each one capable of pulling the sweetest reactions from her. you can picture it so clearly; the way she'd squirm as you explore every inch of her skin—teasing, stretching, biting, filling. she craves it, you know she does—her slutty body was made for this sort of thing.
the speed of the toy is relatively fast now, but jinx keeps her composure—or at least, she tries to. she continues flirting with the camera, dedicated to keeping her supporters entertained. “unnghh—do you like watching me play with my pussy? i bet, ahh, you’re touching yourself too, huh?”
your breath hitches. it feels like a direct challenge, one you’re all too eager to accept. you type a quick response in chat, confirming her suspicions, and she giggles, her laughter raspy and sweet.
mydarlingjinx: yes you look so cute jinx!
”i knew it,” she coos. “i wish you were here—mmgh! you’d feel so much better—aghh—than this dumb toy.”
holy shit.
your pulse pounds in your ears. she wishes you were touching her, that you were the one making her feel this good. it’s almost too much for you to handle. your fingers fumble over your keyboard as you send another donation, barely registering the amount before the confirmation pops up. you're not the only one—her other viewers flood the chat with their own desperate contributions, the collective need to see her fall apart pushing the toy's vibrations even higher.
”unghh! please, ohh, slow down—i can’t t-take it, mmmf!” jinx squeals, which only entices you to send another donation.
her magenta eyes are trying to flutter closed and it seems like she can barely keep her legs open, but she has to give her viewers a show—it’s what they paid for, after all. so she hooks her elbows under her knees, forcing her legs to stay spread open so everyone can see the way her sweet pussy is gushing more and more arousal out of her little hole, trailing down to her heart-shaped ass.
her makeup is ruined—messy, dark eyeshadow running down her face, black cherry lipstick smudged around her chin, her tongue lolling out like a dumb dog. she looks completely debauched, and yet, she pushes herself further.
your fingers are moving with newfound desperation inside your underwear, awestruck by the sight of jinx unraveling. every labored breath, every twitch of her delicate frame is a testament to just how close she is to reaching her breaking point, how desperate her pussy is to finally orgasm, to release more heavenly juices from her hole—and it’s all because of you.
the realization is dizzying, a fire pooling deep in your stomach as you drink in the sight of how utterly ruined and overwhelmed your girl is.
“oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—!” jinx is repeating like a mantra, her raspy voice hitching with every syllable. “baby, ohh, i’m coming—hngggf!”
and then she goes crosseyed, nails digging into the skin of thighs hard enough to make her bleed. her back arches as she tips over the edge, pushing out her perky tits further. jinx squirts harshly from her pussy and you can see the powerful contractions of her hole as it pushes the blue toy out.
the vibrator falls onto the plush sheets of jinx’s bed with a bounce, but her orgasm continues. she’s trembling, her skin is clearly buzzing with electricity, and you think she looks like an angel.
the sight of her—shaking like a leaf and moaning whorishly—completely undoes you. heat coils tightly in your core before snapping like a rubber band all at once. a deep, shuddering wave of pleasure rolls through your entire body, your muscles tense and your fingers clenching as your breath catches in your throat. the intensity of your orgasm leaves you momentarily weightless. a full-body shiver overtakes you, every nerve alight with warmth and satisfaction.
your mind turns hazy, the world around you blurring until all that remains is her—jinx, who is sprawled out against her plush bedsheets, her chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths, and her lips parted in a lazy, drunk smile.
jinx came because of you, and you because of her. it’s irrevocably intimate and she has no idea.
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taglist; @marvelwomenarehot0, @marieeeluvsyou, @mxchi-mxxn, @el-amor-que-tu-quieres, @jinxvex, @mwahbabe, @teddybearbutch28, @stupendousbananasharkcop, @nahcala, @ellieslob, @idontwannabehereatm, @rhian88, @kyur1jinx, @vivispace, @girlbeatings
(2/11/25)
#jinx#arcane jinx#jinx arcane#jinx x reader#jinx league of legends#jinx lol#jinx smut#jinx x fem!reader#jinx x female reader smut#jinx x you#jinx x y/n#jinx arcane x reader#jinx arcane x you#jinx arcane smut#arcane jinx smut#smut#wlw#lesbian#wlw smut#arcane smut#arcane imagine#arcane x reader#arcane#sub jinx#sub jinx arcane#bottom jinx#bottom jinx arcane#fic recs ౨ৎ
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Like can we pls pls pls pls pls get a smut where Reader sees alexias new photos for nike (though she had shown to reader some they did had the edit the impact you know) reader getting all hot and bothered and jumps on alexia qhen she gets home like do it everything with me
it’s not smut because i’ve got to save some material for bitter sweet
shameless plug
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The day is, for the most part, unremarkable.
You wake up at 07:26, which is two minutes before your alarm, which is irritating because you could have had those two minutes. You stare at the ceiling for a moment, assessing your bodily functions—slight stiffness in your neck from the way you slept, residual warmth from the duvet, a faint need to pee but not urgent enough to act on. Alexia is still asleep next to you, her breathing slow and deep. There’s a dent in the pillow from where she’s been lying, a strand of hair curling across her cheek. You could stay here, watch her, but then your alarm does go off, and reality intrudes.
You shower, make coffee, scroll absentmindedly through your phone, thumb moving in automatic, practised motions. You see the photos at exactly 08:02.
And that’s when everything changes.
At first, your brain doesn’t fully register what you’re looking at. There’s a moment of lag, like a buffering screen, a stutter in your synapses. Then the full weight of it hits, and it’s like being smacked in the face with a sledgehammer. A very attractive, well-lit sledgehammer.
It’s Alexia. Obviously, it’s Alexia. But it’s Nike Alexia.
Sweaty. Flexing. Half-naked.
Her abs look like they’ve been sculpted by the gods. Her arms—veins subtly pronounced, muscles taut, defined—are a work of art. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on her skin, catching the light in a way that feels almost… obscene. Her gaze is focused, intense, fixed down the lense, like she’s contemplating the meaning of life but also potentially about to fight someone.
You stare. Then you blink. Then you stare again.
Something warm pools low in your stomach, and your grip on your phone tightens. You have seen Alexia naked. Repeatedly. You live together. You have firsthand knowledge—intimate, detailed knowledge—of every inch of her body. And yet, somehow, these photos manage to feel like a personal attack.
Your first thought is: How dare she?
Your second thought is: I need to sit down.
Which you do, heavily, onto one of the kitchen stools. Your coffee is abandoned, cooling rapidly. The world outside continues as normal—birds chirping, distant traffic noise, the faint hum of the fridge—but your internal landscape has been irrevocably altered.
You should say something. React. But words fail you, so instead, you just keep staring, swiping through the photos in what can only be described as a state of near-religious awe. You don’t even realise you’re making a noise—somewhere between a sigh and a groan—until you hear movement behind you.
Then, her voice, still thick with sleep.
“What are you looking at?”
Your soul leaves your body.
You exit out of the app too quickly, fumbling with your phone like a guilty teenager caught watching something they shouldn’t be. Which is ridiculous. You are an adult. You are in a committed relationship with this woman. There is no reason for you to be acting like this.
And yet.
“Nothing,” you say, entirely unconvincing.
Alexia pads barefoot into the kitchen, wearing one of your T-shirts, her hair slightly messy. She yawns, stretching, and your eyes immediately zero in on the movement, the flex of muscle beneath skin. It is unfair that she looks this good first thing in the morning. Unethical, even.
She squints at you, then at your phone. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve seen God.”
You take a slow, steadying breath.
“Not God,” you say. “Just Nike’s new campaign.”
She blinks. Then, the smirk starts, slow and knowing. “Ah.”
“Don’t ah me,” you say, pointing accusingly. “This is your fault.”
“My fault?” She moves to the fridge, retrieving the orange juice. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You posed.”
She laughs, pouring herself a glass. “I did.”
“You flexed.”
“I did.”
“You—” You gesture vaguely, helplessly. “You glistened.”
She tilts her head, amused. “That’s usually what happens when you’re sweating.”
“I don’t sweat like that,” you say, almost mournful. “I sweat like a normal person. You sweat like—like—” You pause, struggling to find the words. “Like a Nike advert.”
Alexia sips her juice, looking infuriatingly pleased with herself. “That’s convenient.”
You exhale sharply, dropping your head onto the counter. “I need help.”
“Probably.”
Silence stretches. You can feel her eyes on you, can hear the faint clink of her glass as she sets it down. Then, her voice, softer now, but with an unmistakable thread of amusement.
“Do you want me to sign one for you?”
Your head snaps up. “What?”
She gestures toward your phone. “A print. I can sign it for you. Make it personal.”
You gape at her, scandalised. “Do I look like the kind of person who would have a signed picture of their girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You have my old Barça jersey framed.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“It’s—” You flounder. “It’s memorabilia. Historic.”
She raises an eyebrow. “So these pictures aren’t historic?”
“Not unless I drop dead from looking at them,” you mutter.
Alexia grins. “Want me to flex for you right now?”
You make a noise that is neither dignified nor human.
Alexia laughs. It’s light, teasing, but there’s something else behind it, something knowing. She closes the small distance between you, leans in, voice low.
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m not,” you lie.
Her hand brushes your arm, slow, deliberate. “You are.”
You swallow. Your mouth is dry. Your heart rate is—scientifically speaking—fucked.
This is fine. This is manageable.
Then, she actually flexes.
And you black out.
Metaphorically.
Mostly.
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❤️🔥❤️🔥 18+ How Filthy Are You: Raw & Naked ❤️🔥❤️🔥
💌Welcome to 7 Days, 7 Posts! In honor of Valentine’s Day on February 14th, I’m releasing seven blog posts dedicated to love, intimacy, passion, and everything that ignites the flames. Join me on this journey as I share my insights on astrological placements that spark attraction, create chemistry, and merge souls.
If you enjoy my content, be sure to follow me, explore my other posts, and check out my paid services! 💌
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Aries Venus: Tongue kissing, aggressive neck grabs, smacking, biting, pulling hair, aggressive fingering, gagging on it, talking extremely dirty, throwing the other person down, standing up while the other is on their knees, spanking, and ordering the other person around.
Aries Mars: Aggressively pulling your lover closer to you, so close their breath creates steam. Not in it for your lover's pleasure, purely in it for yours. Every stroke is closer to your orgasm. You slow it down, so you can build your orgasm, then faster, faster, faster. Until the orgasm comes, then you lie down, “I’m not finished,” you utter. You catch your breath, then get back up. Now it’s all your lover's pleasure. You start off slow, building your stamina, then faster, faster, faster; every moan they give you inspires a harder and more powerful move, until they’re shaking, begging you to stop, and you do your final move and they orgasm.
Taurus Venus: Watching porn, putting on lingerie, putting on makeup, taking a shower, slow lip kisses, massaging the most intimate parts of the body, putting oil on, lighting a candle, dry humping, licking the body in a trance, eye contact until the other folds, long session of head, extending time just cuddling and kissing.
Taurus Mars: Whispering in your lover's ear, “You ready?”, teasing them, putting it in then pulling it out, licking their pussy then kissing their thighs, playing with their nipples, then back to thrusting, back to licking. Slow and steady, no rush; the more they moan louder, the less you do. You’re trying to work them to their orgasm, not get them there immediately. Thrusting more and more with your fingers on her clit, pushing your body so close to theirs that every movement is felt. At the last minute, doing that one thing that turns them on so much, then watching them orgasm as you kiss them gently while they shake.
Gemini Venus: Watching porn, masturbating and making the other watch, dressing up, using sex toys, creating a plot, feeding your ego (telling you what you want to hear), teasing you with their words, fingering you, grabbing your neck, spanking, playing porn on the TV while getting or giving head.
Gemini Mars: A mixture of slow and fast-paced. One minute you’re making out, teasing the other playfully. Pause; you have a long make-out session again, telling the other person how good they look, how good their body looks, how much you crave and want them. Then you wait until they say they want it or are begging you for it before you slowly and carefully move towards them. Every thrust and lick comes with eye contact, then back to being preoccupied with pleasing. Each movement devours the other person; their moans are like long passive screams. The Gemini Mars can’t get enough; they want to finish in the naughtiest place they can and ask how they did afterward.
Cancer Venus: Cuddling, deep eye contact, holding hands and intimate kisses, long finger strokes across the most sensitive areas of the body, telling the other how much you love them, how special they are, the amount of care you have for them, kisses in places to mark one's territory, long sessions of head, licking and sucking nipples, playful teasing.
Cancer Mars: Relaxing, scented candle in the background with warm, freshly cleaned sheets, sitting in front of a TV as the movie plays in the background, a romance movie. Not wanting to do anything because you’re nervous, but glancing at the other over and over again, seductively. Slowly taking off clothes, leaning in for kisses, and grabbing on the most intimate parts of the other’s body. Backing up, taking a break and returning to the movie, then your lover becomes insanely horny and pushes you down on the bed from behind. You like this aggression; it makes you sweat, it makes you wild. Getting closer to your lover and kissing, tongue kissing, kissing all over their body, slowly working your way to the main session. Slow strokes, caressing their body while pleasing their spot. Saying I love you, I want you, I crave you, whispering in their ear all the way until they finish. Afterwards, you lie in the bed, sleepy, while you cuddle your lover.
Leo Venus: Playful teasing, playing a sex playlist, tongue kissing, complimenting the other, making them beg for it, making the other as horny as possible, slapping their ass, biting on their nipples, staring intensely, dominating the other, praising the other, using sex toys, pole dancing, stripping, giving head like there is no tomorrow.
Leo Mars: Having a good conversation, laughing, teasing, being overall playful. Staring at the other with a smirk, knowing what’s about to go down. The other person can’t stop touching you; you push them away, you make them earn it. This is not something you’re just going to give up easily; the person has to crave you, not superficially, but crave your dominance, crave your kind of pleasure. You let their eyes wander, you let them touch you where you want. You tell them what to do, and they do it. When you say more, they give more; when you say louder, they moan louder. They follow your commands, and they make you feel powerful. When you say, "say my name," they say it. Hot, sweaty, like a workout, you do what you need to make the person fully satisfied.
Virgo Venus: Taking a hot, steamy shower, drinking water or tea, or an energy drink, cuddling in bed, long, deep conversations, holding hands, tracing circles on their body, massaging their body, playing with the other person's hair, playing soft music in the background, slow, soft kisses, licking all over the other's body, slow and methodical head.
Virgo Mars: Eating a hearty meal together, having a talk about the day, unwinding, making small jokes, staring at the other, being nervous, playful hits, giving compliments to your lover as you make your way to the bedroom. Washing your hands, putting on some sounds to block out noise, then getting serious, pulling out the toys, the lotion, the oil, the sweet smell of the candle that you light while teasing your lover. Building intensity, slowly and methodically starting at one point of the body, moving all over slowly, taking time, making sure to please one spot before moving on to the other. Getting intensely pleasured at how much your lover is moaning, feeling satisfied. Having the stamina and lasting a long time, even your partner begins to beg for you to stop. You give in, then push back and give more until they finish. You finish off with taking a hot, steamy shower and putting on some fresh clothes.
Libra Venus: Wine and dine, soft kisses, playing in the other's hair, words of affirmation, gazing into each other's eyes, playful teasing, creating the ambiance, passionate holding of the other's body, warm embraces, fingering, giving head, staring into the other's eyes.
Libra Mars: Gazing into your lover's eyes, surveying their entire body, small kisses, soft strokes, deep analyzing of where you want to begin and what will build the most tension. Slow, taking it all in, heavy breathing, soft moans, building up momentum slower than fast, discerning the pace based on your lover's satisfaction, different positions, using toys, intensity as the orgasm builds, and holding onto the orgasm until the person can’t do it anymore, then holding your lover afterward.
Scorpio Venus: Intense staring, whispers, moments of silence, dark settings, candlelight only, under the covers, in lingerie, sex toys, whips, chains, handcuffs, blindfolds, gags, paddles, hot wax, aggressive play, pulling on the other's hair, dominating foreplay, gagging, intense head
Scorpio Mars: Intensely staring into each other's eyes, lip biting and caressing your tongue into your lover's mouth, spitting in their mouth, then smacking them intensely, pulling on their hair while you pin them down. Once pinned down, honing in and focusing first on their most intimate and scared areas of pleasure, slow and precise, licking, teasing, caressing, kissing. Then back to kissing and pulling your lover closer, so close into your body. You want to feel every ounce of them on you, and you thrust every ounce of you onto them: long strokes, powerful blows, intense movements, consistently until your lover gives in to orgasm, only to continue afterwards—continue to thrust, hold them, bite their ear, and make sure their pleasure extends beyond the orgasm.
Sagittarius Venus: Having a good time, drinking wine or liquor, getting high, free and anywhere, outside in nature, in public in a corner, at someone else’s house, fully naked and free, wild and untamed, licking nipples, playing with balls, giving soul-sucking head, playful teasing, filming, masturbating in front of one another, eating ass, using sex toys.
Sagittarius Mars: Having a blast, hazy feelings, laughing, teasing one another, trying to dominate your lover while your lover tries to dominate you, a power play game. Starting off with full intense thrusting, rapid pounding, fast, then faster, slow it down, then back to pounding, thrusting hard. First orgasm. Moving back into giving phenomenal head, the kind that doesn’t stop lick after lick, suck after suck, non-stop, barely breathing, second orgasm. Then it's time to switch up to asshole play; the third orgasm is the knock-out. And then fall asleep.
Capricorn Venus: Intense staring, silence, reading body language, inching closer, holding hands, kissing on the cheek, then moving to the chest, then moving to the genitalia, hair pulling, nipple biting, ass smacking, hand on the other's neck, telling them you want to fuck, feeling on their body, aggressive and long session of head, tongue kissing.
Capricorn Mars: Smirking while you rip off your lover's clothing, straight into it, heavy breathing and moaning, pressing hard against them, having them feel your body parts, your wetness, your hardness. Starting from the head, finishing at the feet. Kissing, forcing your dick into your lover's mouth, sitting on their face, nipple play, biting then licking your lover's boobs, intense sessions of head staring into your lover's eyes, strong thrusts, booty recoils, digging deeper and deeper into your lover. Ultimately waiting and waiting through the moans and screams for the ultimate orgasm. Acting completely normal after an hour of being nasty.
Aquarius Venus: Threesomes, orgies, watching others have sex, masturbating in front of the other, anal play, using sex toys, golden showers, choking, vibrators, lingerie, role play, bondage, cuckold, outdoor sex, gagging during oral sex, squirting, fingering, fisting, spitting in each other's mouth, pegging.
Aquarius Mars: Dedicating an ample amount of time to your love to explore all that you desire. Restraining yourself prior so that you can be extra horny and prepared. Watching your lover masturbate while you play with yourself. Teasing your lover, you walk to them and bend them over, anal play, eating their ass, fingering their ass, fingering their pussy then their ass, using all the holes available, mouth on pussy, mouth on dick, fingers in pussy, giving the dick a handjob while sucking on the balls, getting down and dirty, filthy, clothes ripped off. Going from aggressive head to small strokes on the clit for an orgasm. Going from gagging on the dick to riding your lover's face. Mixing different moves, pulling out the sex toys, trying different positions. Restraining from orgasm, as it inches closer you pull back, then start again. Sticking it in the asshole, then in the mouth. Fingering the pussy while eating it. On and on, slowing down when the orgasm inches closer then going back to it until both you and your lover orgasm.
Pisces Venus: Romanticism, cuddles, soft kisses, long gazes, expressing feelings, tight hugs, warm embraces, tracing circles on the other’s skin, a warm bath, a soft bed, compliments, nipple sucking, slow, deep breaths, a good playlist in the background, slowly removing clothes, whispering, toe sucking.
Pisces Mars: A cosmic dance with your lover, nothing harsh, simply a merging of the two of you closer to each other. Quiet glances, looking up and down, small gestures to emphasize that you crave your lover, a hand on their thigh, gripping it, a smirk as they grab a part of your body. Staring but then looking away, your lover comes to you. Holding their hands, kissing them slowly, soft kisses on the neck, down the back, near the spine, soft moans that one cannot hear loud, but it’s there, intense breathing. Merging closer and closer, on top of each other, feeling the other's breath. Caressing their dick, massaging their pussy, licking and sucking with ease and calm, back and forth with a rhythm. Getting into your favorite position, staring at your lover in awe, moaning, looking away, taking your time, not so fast, not so slow, but sometimes faster when it feels so good. Right there, right there you say as you continue to feel the intensity of the build-up of an orgasm. Letting the orgasm build until you can’t take it anymore and orgasm, then fall over for a nap, or sleep.
#astro notes#astro observations#astroblr#astrology#astro placements#astro community#cancer#capricorn#gemini#aries#taurus#leo ♌️#virgo#libra#scorpio#saggitarius#aquarius#pisces
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Viktor with 98, 71 (public), 17 (breasts, ass and thighs) and 44 please
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What happens underwater... - Viktor x Reader
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Summary: There’s nothing quite as relaxing as a nice, quiet morning at the spa; but Viktor really enjoys making things more challenging for you.
Pairing: Viktor x Reader
Word Count: 2.6K
Warning: Explicit (PwP)
Tags: Cockwarming, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Jacuzzi Sex, Lap Sex, Dom/Sub dynamics, Viktor Has a Big Cock, Curvy!Reader
Collection: ❤️🌹Peach’s Arcane Valentine's Day 2025❤️🌹
Notes: First work of my personal Arcane Valentine's Day Event for 2025! I definitely went way overboard for a one-shot that was supposed to be around 1K max (and it will absolutely happen again 🤡), but I’ve been dreaming of writing a jacuzzi fic for Viktor for SO long, I knew exactly what I wanted to write for this. Anyway, enjoy, sweethearts 💕!!
“Ahh…” you moan wantonly when your legs enter the warm water, feeling the tension in your muscles vanish with the clouds of steam.
“Careful,” Viktor smirks, already seated in the large whirlpool. He's settled in quite comfortably, lithe arms resting on the cool, faux marble edge. “We would not want other visitors to think we are doing anything… inappropriate here.”
You throw him a mocking glare, making it a point to let out an even louder moan of satisfaction once your body is fully submerged in water, closing your eyes. It's heavenly: the closed room is equipped with low, dim lights, creating the illusion of being surrounded by dozens of candles. The smell of eucalyptus in the air is calming and familiar, filling your nostrils with a comforting herbal scent. Even the gentle wiring sound of the bubbling water jets is pleasant—a low, rhythmic rumble that echoes through you, dissolving the tension in every muscle.
“And that's why I booked a Tuesday morning spot,” you reply with a deep inhale, letting the perfume of the essential oils tickle your nose. Your eyes flutter open slowly, a lazy grin spreading across your lips as you glance over at him “There’s no one else here. Just us.”
The way his amber eyes twinkle with amusement leaves no doubt; he understands the implication very clearly.
Neither quite walking nor swimming, you drift towards him, the water guiding your movements until your legs brush softly against his. Leaning forward, you kiss him softly, leisurely, and he responds in kind, without any urge or signs of hurry. Had you known that a simple visit to the spa was all it took to dissolve his relentless need to be productive, you would have brought him here the day you met.
You pull away, just enough to let your breath ghost over his face, cocking your head impishly.
“Is there any space left for me to sit?” you wonder out loud with a playful grin.
He hums, pretending to be deep in thought as he looks around the completely empty room.
“I am not quite sure we can accommodate you. I will discuss with the rest of my large group of hydrotherapy enthusiasts, and we will come back to you with an answer in…” he pauses to look at an imaginary watch on his wrist, glancing up mockingly, “… five to ten business days.”
You snort, splashing him with some water to retaliate, and he laughs as he raises an arm to protect his face. It’s a contagious sound, that laugh—the kind that makes you feel light and bubbly, and that leaves you with a craving for more. You can't help kissing him again, this time messier, your tongues caught in a languid and drowsy battle of dominance.
Viktor always tastes sweet, the usual, intimate flavour of his morning sweet milk and jam toast lingering in his mouth. He’s addictive, and you’re insatiable. The thought that you want to indulge in him like dessert, to devour him, is roaring in the back of your mind persistently; but the warmth surrounding both of your bodies is making you too lethargic to quicken the pace. Instead, you opt for making the kiss more wet, pressing your chest against his.
He sighs in approval against your lips. Few things can weaken Viktor's steely focus, especially when he’s working, but your breasts are certainly one of them. He’s coy about it, but he never misses an opportunity to touch them, to rest his head on them after a hard day, to knead them with his fingers to feel their weight and hear you cry for him. The curves of your body never fail to unravel him.
He's slightly breathless when you pull away, his face tinted a pretty shade of red, highlighting just a hint of pale freckles on his cheeks. You'd make a sly remark about it, and the adorable boyish look they give him, but he'd blame it on the heat—prideful as he is.
“Would you look at that,” he comments, voice almost a sigh, eyes sparkling with hypnotic wit. “It would appear a special spot has opened up for you, right here.”
He nods casually to his lap, abandoning any pretence of innocence, and you don't hesitate for a second. You settle onto his thighs, your legs tucking snugly behind his back, locking you in place with effortless intimacy. Viktor has always revelled in the weightlessness of water, in how effortlessly his limbs move in its embrace. More than that, he loves how it lets him hold you in ways he never could on solid ground—the full weight of your body resting on his, your ass seated comfortably against his crotch.
“Lucky me,” you smile as you wrap your arms around him, the tip of your fingers tracing the sharp shapes of his back expertly. The valleys of faded scars, the slight hint of pedicle screws underneath his skin, the star-like clusters of moles—it’s all so familiar to you, a work of art you’ve studied with your touch dozens, no, hundreds of times. His hands find your waist with the same practiced ease, beckoning you closer.
It's so rare to have him like this, so wholly yours, without the weight of looming deadlines and the relentless pressure for success he places on himself. You want to enjoy this moment to its full extent, savour each second, sink into him like the notion of time itself has dissolved in these temperate waters.
But the need to enjoy him and his body to their full extent is greater; you start lightly grinding against him, letting the tidal motion of the jets bring you back and fort.
“I… am beginning to feel like you may not have brought me here out of the purest of intentions,” he smirks, voice low, his hands smoothly gliding under the fabric of your swimsuit. He squeezes the fat of your ass almost punishingly, sinking into your skin. “I thought this was meant to help my joint pain.”
“You're one to talk,” you raise an eyebrow challengingly. You grind down against him once, hard—and he immediately curses under his breath.
He loves to pretend that nothing ever gets to him, that he’s untouchable beneath his carefully crafted composure. But you know better. You know him. And right now, his body can’t keep up with the pretense that he’s unaffected: his already half-hard cock is poking you insistently under his swim trunks, and he’s not petty enough to try and deny it.
“And since when can't you multi-task?” you grin with satisfaction.
He scoffs, like he’s almost insulted, but the smile tugging on his lips sings a different tune.
“You are incorrigible,” he reprimands you, his fingers digging assertively into your supple flesh; you can tell you’ll find dark bruises there in the shapes of his digits tomorrow. A familiar pull, deep in your lower stomach, begins to make itself known, and you whine pitifully to encourage him to press harder.
“But…” he adds nonchalantly, “I did come here to relax, and I intend to do just that.”
He releases his grip on your cheeks, and you let out an indignant moan of protest. Yes, it's pathetic and shameless, but no one else is here to hear how easily you’re always ready to beg for him. And Viktor loves hearing you beg.
He tuts at your eagerness, one hand coming up to hold your chin, touch gentle, but firm, dominant, golden stare burning into you.
“I have never said you could not help me relax.”
Thank fucking God—because if the heat of the scalding vapour hadn’t made you implode soon, the cruel lack of his length inside you would have finished the job. Could anyone blame you? There’s hardly any other place in the world more steeped in romance and sensuality than a jacuzzi, the air thick with warmth and electricity. And with how Viktor's sharp gaze never draws far from your generously revealing bikini top, you know he wants you just as much as you want him.
The cherry on top? There's no one else here to prevent him from fucking you utterly stupid right inside the whirlpool.
You slide the bottom of your swimsuit to the side with little ceremony, giving his roaming hand easier access under the water. The first finger feels intimate and cozy as it pushes in, and you'd hump it with abandon if it wasn't for Viktor's other hand holding your thigh down decidedly. He seems to find your squirming amusing, toying with your walls as he observes every little tremor that goes through your body.
“Viktor…c'mon on…” you complain. You know he can feel the oily texture of lube inside you, that he can easily tell you've prepared yourself specifically for this, but the teasing has always been his favourite part, and he doesn't seem willing to part ways with it now.
“Why the hurry? Are we not allowed to stay here for another two hours?” he asks, irony laced in his voice as the long finger curves inside you with precision, and hits a peculiarly sensitive spot. You pressed your lips closed, refusing to give him more ammunition.
“So you can fuck me for the next two hours, that’s why,” you argue, biting, and he raises his free hand in surrender, the cockiness evident in his features.
“Well, who am I to deny you?
His finger vanishes almost instantly, leaving you with a vague, aching emptiness, but the promise of what you truly want coming next. His expectant gaze and deliberate stillness make it clear—he’s waiting for you to do all the heavy lifting while he simply enjoys the moment, in total control, without ever moving a muscle.
And you do just that, without a word of protest, because there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him when he looks at you with those honeyed eyes and that syrupy smile. Maneuvering quickly, you lower your thong with one hand and bring his cock out of his swimming shorts with the other, stroking his length with a firm grip as you align it with your warmth. He hums, pleased, his eyes fluttering close, and you take it as a sign to forgo any additional foreplay.
You moan in unison when he finally enters you, the stretch pleasantly different underwater than above, like the warmth makes you looser and easier to penetrate. When he’s fully inside you, the thickness of your ass flushed against his bony hips, there isn’t a single doubt in your mind this is a place you were always meant to be. In this city, in this spa, in this whirlpool, sitting on this man’s lap and filled with his cock.
Fuck, you want him. You really, really want him.
With a shaky breath, you place your hands on the solid edge behind him, ready to start bouncing up and down his length with abandon, when suddenly the sharp sound of knocking echoes through the room.
The both of you freeze, Viktor’s eyes shooting open.
A second knock. A third.
“Hello?” comes a man’s voice from the other side of the door. You gape at the thankfully still-closed entrance, your breath caught in your throat. Panic spikes through you as you whip your gaze to Viktor—only to find him utterly unfazed, his expression unreadable, as if the thought of being caught like this is of no concern to him at all.
Before you get a chance to move off him, Viktor’s hands grip your thighs, pointedly holding them down against him. You look at him with a mixture of confusion and apprehension, but his eyes hold yours challengingly, dark and lustful.
“Stay on my lap,” he whispers, voice deep.
“Viktor-” you begin, but he kisses the rest of the sentence away.
“Relax,” he shushes you, the word comforting, but his tone nothing short of a clear order. A steady hand guides your head into the crook of his neck, shielding your face from view. His voice dips lower, quiet but firm. “Don't move until I say you can.”
There’s no time left for debate; you close your eyes and bury your face deep against Viktor as you hear the door to the room slide open.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” resonates the loud voice of an older man from the entryway, the raspiness of cigarette smoke audible in his speech. “I didn’t think there’d be anyone this early, I can come back later.”
Viktor must sense how you've stiffened against him at the mere sound of the man’s voice, his fingers massaging the fat of your thighs reassuringly. You're paralyzed with fear, but you exactly deny the electric feeling that’s coursing through your body as you clench tightly around Viktor's cock, and chances are, he’s very aware of it. You can hear the smirk in his tone when he speaks up.
“No, no, there is no need for that,” Viktor replies smoothly, his tone as effortlessly composed as ever. “My jacuzzi partner has fallen quite deeply asleep. I would enjoy some light conversation.”
Oh, you piece of shit. You curse him mentally, your heart pounding in your throat. He’s effectively cut off any chance of escape, trapping you in this cruel, maddening game. The dim lighting, the bubbling jets, the shifting water—there’s almost no way the stranger could see anything beneath the surface. Almost. And that’s exactly the thrill Viktor is playing with.
It’s not about certainty; it’s about the maybe—the razor-thin chance that you could get caught if you so much as shift, if you make even the faintest sound. And that knowledge, the unbearable tension of it, is exactly what he’s savouring. You feel him throb against your walls, clearly pleased with the way the situation is unfolding as you hear the stranger’s footsteps draw closer to the whirlpool. You hear the faint splash of movement, then feel it—the ripple of the water shifting around you as the man steps in. Your breath stills, every nerve in your body on high alert, yet Viktor stays maddeningly still, as if he’s about to engage in a friendly little chat and not balls deep inside you right underneath the surface.
He's effortlessly turned you into a glorified cockwarmer, a pretty cocksleeve who can do nothing, but take him silently as he begins casually chatting with the older man. He’s a fucking evil genius.
“Nothin’ better to relax than this, that’s what I always say,” the stranger boasts. “I can stay hours without moving a muscle.”
Viktor hums, thoughtful, his grip just a little firmer, as if you needed any more reminders that he’s completely in control of you right now. “Actually, that sounds like a nice idea,” he muses, his voice smooth, lazy. “I think I will try doing that myself.”
You can’t see the expression on his face, but really you don’t need to. You can feel the amusement radiating from him, the twitching of his rock-hard cock deeply nestled into you. And as the stranger settles in, oblivious, you realize that Viktor has absolutely no intention of letting you move anytime soon.
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#viktor x reader#viktor x reader smut#arcane viktor x reader smut#arcane viktor x reader#viktor arcane#arcane viktor#arcane smut#arcane#viktor arcane x reader#valentines day#Arcane Valentine's Day 2025#viktor x you#my asks#mine#my requests#my writing
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That was scary(LucyBronzeXCatleyReader)
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Summary: you have a medical emergency(Appendix) and your girlfriend is freaked out.
You have felt sick all day and had some pain in your stomach. It was just one sided though. The pain was just terrible and that said something cause you have a very high pain tolerance.
You were in the changing room with the team. Trying to tie the laces of your football boots, but the movement almost makes you vomit. Your girlfriend is watching you with worry in her eyes. But doesn't say anything cause you have told her multiple times today that you were fine.
"period cramps?" Keira whispered into lucys ear. Lucy shook her head no. Knowing it wasn't time for that yet.
"i don't know. She keeps telling me how good things are and that she is fine!" Lucy stated and sighed softly.
You could tell that you started to develop a fever, the pain was also getting worse by the Minute but when you tried to walk it off, you didn't go far. Beding over in pain. Groaning softly before going down, hitting the floor, crying out in pain.
"Babe!" Lucy kneeled down in front of you, checking you over. She was panicking but tried to appear calm for your sake.
"what hurts?" She asked.
"stomach." You cry out. She picked you up and carried you to the medics. Who checked you over quickly before putting you into the ambulance that was there for the Game and you got a Ride to the hospital. Lucy never leaving your side. Keira was calling Leah so she could inform your sister Steph about what had just happened.
You were brought into surgery right away. Cause your Appendix had ruptured. Lucy was in the waiting room, pacing around. Sending Updates about you into the Team Chat. Then her Phone went off. It was your sister.
"Lucy, how bad is it?" Your sister asked right away. it was evident in her voice that she had been crying.
"her appendix had ruptured. She is in surgery right now!" Lucy explained. Trying not to tear up. Truth was she felt guilty for not dragging you to a doctor cause you claimed to be fine.
"we will be there in an hour or so. Traffic is crazy! Kyra is driving!" She replied rambling on. It was clear how worried your sister was about you. So was Kyra, who was not just Stephs little pest, but also yours.
"Drive Safe Guys. We don't need another one in the Hospital!" Lucy told them. She probably has never been so scared in her Life.
Kyra and Steph arrived just in time for the doctor to explain to Lucy how the surgery went.
"the surgrey went without any complications. We would like to keep her over night and if things are okay by tomorrow she can leave. But she has to rest. So is there someone that can take care of her?" The doctor looked around.
Lucy, Steph & Kyra all said yes at the same time.
"she has lots of people that can help her!" Lucy stated.
It was around 2 hours later and you were fully awake now.
"well this was an experience i could have done without." You replied tiredly. Your sister looked at you.
"us too, y/n! Us too! I mean you scared the crap out of me!" Steph replied and i wasn't even there when you collapsed!" She stated. Sighing softly.
"You scared me too, weirdo!" Kyra answered.
"i was there and honestly it was the scariest Moment of my Life!" Lucy told you and kissed your forehead. You frowned softly.
"i am sorry for scaring you! Wasn't my Intention!" You said and took Lucys Hand in yours. "Honestly i didn't know it was that bad!" You admitted. Squeezing your girlfriends hand gently. She squeezed it back just as gently.
"maybe next time someone ask you If you are okay, answer honestly and don't play it down!" Lucy let you know her thoughts.
"i agree with Lucy. Seriously y/n, it's okay to be honest! You don't have to be strong all the time." Steph said and looked at you with worry in her eyes.
"this was warning enough in hope!" Kyra answered. And you nodded your head softly.
"yes it was! I promise i will ask for help and don't always try to tough it out anymore!" You let them know. Offering them a small smile.
Lucy stayed with you through the night and you got to leave the hospital to go home the next day but had to rest. Lucy made sure you did. But she wasn't alone. No Kyra and Steph also stayed for a few days before going back to Training.
The Team came to visit you for the next two weeks. Then you were allowed to start with doing some light workouts.
It took you a little over a month for you to be fully back on your feet but as soon as you were you proposed to Lucy and she said yes.
So now the two of you had a Wedding to plan.
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I’ve never seen someone write Jackie and Rhiannon like you do! They’re such complex characters and you do an amazing job capturing that, even in just a one shot. Just wanted to tell you that I love your blog!
If you’re still taking requests, would you mind writing a Jackie one where her and the reader come out as a couple at Doomcoming like Tai and Van did? Maybe they’ve been together for awhile but Jackie wasn’t ready to come out until then? I think a plane crash would really put things into perspective lol!
-🦈
── MEET ME IN THE WOODS TONIGHT
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— summary: doomcoming with jackie taylor.
— warnings: fluff. implied internalized homophobia. secret relationship. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni.
the makeshift decorations sway in the breeze, the clearing glows with warm lantern light and, despite everything, despite the crash, the wilderness, and the gnawing hunger, there’s laughter.
for the first time in weeks, the mood is light, almost joyful in a way that’s more genuine than anything any of you have experienced since the plane went down.
you stand near jackie, your shoulder brushing hers just so as you watch the others dance. she looks beautiful tonight, as she always does: her crown of wildflowers slightly askew, her cheeks flushed from the drinks misty’s been passing around. she’s smiling, but you know her too well to think she’s as carefree as she looks: jackie has always been good at pretending.
you’ve been together for months now, sneaking touches and stealing kisses when no one is looking your way. she had made one thing clear from the start: no one could know. she’d framed it as self-preservation. “it’s not that i don’t care about you,” jackie had said one night, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. “i just…i don’t want to make things harder for us out here”
so, you learned to love the mask she wears just as much as the girl jackie is beneath all her pretense.
you’d understood, or tried to; her fears weren’t all baseless. she was used to control, to the certainty of her old world where she’d been whs’ golden girl, the one everyone admired. out here, though, her carefully constructed image had been crumbling from the start. the others had turned on her in subtle ways; side glances, muttered comments, the slow loss of respect. she couldn’t risk giving them more fuel.
now, as you’re watching taissa and van kiss in front of everyone, something seems to shift.
it’s not a grand declaration; they just kiss, laughing against each other’s lips like they’re the only two people in the world. the group doesn’t stop them. some cheer, but no one judges. it’s all…normal. contrary to the events of the past weeks, but normal.
you glance sideways at jackie, expecting her to look away or maybe make a comment to cover her discomfort. but she’s watching them, just as everyone else is, her eyes wide, her expression both soft and unreadable. there’s no jealousy there, either, no scorn. just a quiet longing that makes your chest ache.
“jackie?” you ask gently, leaning closer so only she can hear.
she blinks, pulling herself back to reality, and gives you a shaky smile. “it’s nothing,” she assures quickly.
“are you sure?” you press, keeping your voice soft. “you can talk to me, you know?”
jackie’s smile falters. for a split second, she looks like she might say something. but then she shakes her head, looking away. “come on! let’s dance!”
you follow her to the makeshift dance floor, letting her spin you around with surprising enthusiasm. the two of you laugh, swaying surrounded by the other girls. for this short while, it’s easy to forget everything that comes with the looming uncertainty these days. but then jackie slows, her movements faltering as her gaze locks on yours.
“what?” you ask, unable to brush it off this time.
she hesitates, her hand tightening around yours. “i just…” she glances over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the crowd. no one’s looking at you, their attention scattered all across the clearing. jackie takes a shaky breath. “i don’t want to hide anymore,”
“jackie, you don’t have to-“
she cuts you off by cupping your face and pressing her lips to yours, as easy as it would only ever come to her behind closed doors and the comfort of knowing you’re unseen. the kiss starts tentative, like the very first time jackie had kissed you, with her hands trembling against your cheeks. when you don’t pull away, when you lean into her, your own hands finding her waist, she deepens it. it’s soft and warm and open, jackie’s lips moving with a kind of desperation that you feel all the way to your core.
the entire world around you fades, you don’t hear the murmured conversations and laughter that surround you. all you can feel is jackie, her hands moving to your shoulders, her thumbs brushing your jawline. when she finally pulls back, her cheeks are tinted in the softest shade of pink.
“jackie,” you whisper, breathless, your forehead resting against hers still, hesitant to withdraw.
“i mean it,” she murmurs, the side of her nose nudging yours. “i don’t want to hide anymore. not with you!”
her gaze flickers shyly to the other yellowjackets around you.
there’s a moment of quiet as the others catch on, realizing what they’ve just seen. it’s van’s loud whoop that breaks the silence. when jackie looks back at you, there’s something new in her eyes. relief, maybe, or pride.
you smile at her, your fingers squeezing her waist through the fabric of her dress. “i guess the plane crash really did put things into perspective, huh?”
jackie laughs softly. “yeah. something like that.”
she doesn’t step back. if anything, she moves closer, her hands sliding down to rest on your hips as you rest your chin atop her head and pull her into your embrace.
“come with me,” she murmurs eventually.
your heart skips. “where?”
jackie’s smile turns coy. she doesn’t answer, instead she takes your hand and leads you away from the group. the warmth of the fire gives way to the cool darkness of the woods, and then, once you reach it, the cabin door creaks behind you.
inside, the room is dim, for once completely empty with the team still celebrating outside. jackie turns to face you, her eyes catching yours in the low light. she doesn’t say anything, but the way she steps closer, her free hand reaching for the back of your neck, speaks volumes.
when her mouth finds yours this time, it’s slower, deeper, her movements no longer tentative. it’s not just about showing something to the others now. it’s about you, and her, and everything that had been unspoken until now.
jackie steps closer then, backing you up until you hit the wall. her hands move to your neck, fingers sliding into your hair. the full length of her body presses against yours, caging you in as the kiss deepens.
for months, she had to hide her desire for you. now that it’s all out in the open, it’s like a dam has broken. jackie kisses you desperately, all the pent-up longing of the last poured into the collision of your mouths.
you can’t help but gasp, struggling to keep up with the demanding motion of jackie‘s lips. they trail from your mouth, down the side of your neck, nipping and kissing hungrily as her hands tug impatiently on the fabric of your clothes.
“jackie” you pant with your head tossed back against the wall. “we- we’re still-”
she pins you harder to the door, one of her legs slipping between yours. for a moment you allow yourself to get lost in the friction against your center, your hips rutting back and forth instinctively.
then, finally, you repeat, “jackie!”, breathless when she breaks away from you. her hazel eyes are dark, her chest heaving with the force of breath.
“did i do something wrong?” she asks, her voice quieter now, a hint of insecurity threading through the haze that’s come over you both. “i’m sorry, we don’t have to-“
you cut her off before jackie can overthink it.
your hand finds hers, squeezing just enough to ground her. the others could come in at any second, loud and stumbling, forcing you back to your new ‘normality’. you don’t want to forget this, don’t want to let the moment pass.
“attic. now”
you’re on top of her. chest to chest with a bare body that arches up against yours to meet you halfway.
jackie’s arms are draped over your neck, her ankles locked around your waist, pulling you in close. impossibly close, because you don’t think it’s possible to be any nearer unless you merged into her completely, lost yourself in the press of her skin, the curves of her body against yours. maybe that’s exactly what she wants. maybe that’s what you both need.
to forget where one ends and the other begins.
your clothes are scattered all around the makeshift bed you’re sharing. her dress, neat and beautiful, crumpled up on the dusty attic floor alongside your own.
it’s the most intimate you’ve ever been together: in all the months you’ve spent dating in secrecy, you never got jackie like this. you’ve imagined it, sure, pictured her at the absolute crack of dawn after making sure the other girls were definitely asleep, with a hand shoved down your pants. but even your poor attempts at masturbation in this absolute hellscape could never compare to having her underneath you.
you know, from the occasional stories she’d tell you -secrets, exchanged in hushed whispers- that jeff hasn’t either. that she was never quite ready to go all the way with him, never felt comfortable enough to.
with you, that has changed. jackie seems very comfortable now. she’s reassured you at every shy check-in between layers of clothing slipping away: “are you sure?” you’d asked when your fingers pushed up the hem of her dress. “is this still okay?” as you struggled with the clasps of her bra.
now, with the restrictive clothes gone, her lips are everywhere; against your own, the side of your neck, wandering as low as they’ll go in your current position, never getting past the swell of your breasts. jackie pulls you in absentmindedly and traces soft lines up your naked spine as her lips move down your throat. one of her hands finds yours, threading your fingers together.
this is different from all the stolen moments and careful touches you’ve shared so far. there’s no fear of being heard, no risk of being interrupted. jackie is different, every soft sound raw in a way she’s never been capable of before.
her hands roam with purpose, memorizing every single inch of your skin. her mouth traces a path from your collarbones to your shoulder as she whispers “i need you” with both her eyes closed. you can’t stop your hips from grinding into her all over again, bare skin sliding together.
you break away, blinking down at where jackie is sprawled out. “are you sure?” you manage. she bites her lip, but nods determinedly.
for months, she’s been so focused on what she should need -the validation, the approval, the status- that she’s almost forgotten how the simple act of being wanted feels like.
“okay...okay”
jackie strokes over your bare shoulders, her thumbs digging into the skin there. “can i-“ she begins, blushing under your attentive gaze. “can i touch you?”
when you nod, she brings both of her hands up to your chest. you exhale shakily. this is all so new, so sweet, even in the mess that you’re in. it’s a blur of shy touches and breathy murmurs of approval, and, for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re happy. truly, undeniably happy. happy that it’s jackie. happy that she’s the one you get to share this with.
her thumb brushes over your nipple and you arch your back forward, a quiet moan drawn from your lips. the floorboard creaks under the weight shift and you laugh into each other’s mouths.
“you like that?”
your eyes flutter shut and you manage another nod. as if to test it, jackie repeats the motion, applying just the right amount of pressure.
“oh-“ you gasp, your full body shuddering.
jackie smiles, satisfied. she leans up again, her hips jerking against your leg as she moves to press kisses to the hollow of your throat while simultaneously playing with your nipples. only when she lets out a soft noise of her own, do you realize that your thigh is pressing right between hers with the way your bodies have moved together.
momentarily caught off guard, you breathe out and jackie opens her eyes to look up at you. eager to get a similar reaction out of her, you experimentally flex the muscles against jackie’s cunt, grinding carefully. her hands grasp the thin sheets beneath her body instantly, her fingers curling up in the fabric tightly. her head falls back as she gasps: “oh my god”
“does that feel good?” you drop one hand to hold her hip.
jackie nods, her jaw slack when she gives her hips a couple of gentle rolls, dragging her wetness over the length of your leg. you watch in awe when the first actual moans spill from her lips, her voice unusually high-pitched.
you press your forehead against jackie's again, anchoring yourself to her like you're afraid of losing this moment the second there's space between you. her breath is warm but uneven, ghosting over your lips as she tilts her head, her fingers threading through your hair to pull you closer.
her open mouth brushes yours, barely, just enough to make you dizzy and press your lips to hers.
the temperature around you is rising steadily as jackie moves against your body, your breathing tangling together.
this is better than anything you’ve ever imagined already, but it is not enough.
“jackie,” you whisper. immediately, she stops the movements altogether, her brows raising in concern.
“are you okay?”
her attentiveness makes you smile. “more than okay, i just-“ you bite your lip. “i want more,”
“oh”
“is that okay?”
jackie smiles in response, shifting backwards and maneuvering you both into a new position. after some more rustling movement on the blankets, you find yourself kneeling face to face with her. the way jackie’s eyes fall to your bare chest doesn’t go unnoticed: they widen as if she’s still struggling to believe that any of this is really happening.
she takes your hand in hers, gently pressing it against the valley between l own breasts so you feel the racing of her heart against your palm.
“touch me,” jackie instructs. “and let me touch you too?”
suddenly, your position makes a lot more sense. you don’t have to be told twice. instead, you bite your lip and nod. “please”
both of you reposition your knees so your legs are spread wider, and jackie’s delicate fingers trace down your front. when they reach the hemline of your underwear, you watch her, catch the way her mouth falls open as her fingers brush over the wet patch on the fabric.
“you’re so wet” jackie murmurs in awe.
hearing those words from her is enough to set you into motion too. first, your jaw drops and you feel yourself clenching around nothing, painfully aware of the emptiness where you want to feel jackie the most. then, after a soft cry of “touch me,” you drop a hand between her thighs. jackie’s arousal is damp, soaking through the lace of her panties as you cup her carefully.
she moans your name, and her head falls against your shoulder while she simultaneously fumbles with your underwear and pushes it aside. you copy jackie’s motions, panting as you look down the little space that’s left between your bodies.
you don’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed about the moan that falls from your lips when she finds your clit and starts circling it with her index finger.
“god, jackie-“
“it’s okay,” jackie promises, her free hand cradling the back of your head. “you- oh!”
whatever she was going to say is cut short when you press your fingertips against her clit, rubbing it the same way you know you like. judging by the sharp intake of breath through her nose, it seems to be working for jackie too.
she’s the one to pick up the pace first, rubbing quicker circles. you can feel your thighs trembling already, struggling to support the weight of your body as you try to focus on touching jackie too. her wetness glides against your fingertips, practically dripping from her. occasionally, you dip lower, where her arousal pools, so you can gather it and bring it up to jackie’s stiff clit.
when she feels you there, she leans back, her pupils dilated as she looks at you in the dim light of the attic. her fingers press against your entrance. “can i?” she breathes, sounding surprisingly pleading for someone who’s just asking to touch rather than be touched. in response, you do the same for her: a singular finger toying at her throbbing hole.
when jackie pushes two of her own into you, you immediately follow suit, shuddering as she slides in with ease. your moans mingle together in the thick air, only half aware that, if any of the others come back inside now, they will definitely hear you through the floorboards.
“more,” you whine.
jackie pulls her fingers out slowly at your request, until only their tips are still inside, then pushes them back as far as they’ll go, tearing a soft cry from the back of your throat. “oh, jackie!”
her own walls throb around your still finger -which you have almost forgotten about until you feel her squeeze it. weakly, you curl it forward against jackie’s g-spot, trying to make up for your lack of movement. her eyes roll back in her head instantly.
"oh-“ she whines softly. “oh my god-“
you manage some gentle thrusts into her before you slide in a second one. jackie easily takes it.
regardless of your efforts, she doesn’t stop moving and her thrusts don’t falter. jackie, unlike you, keeps up with ease, her fingers reaching deeper than your own ever did. when she curls them in a come hither motion, you reach for her and jackie pulls you in closer, pressing her lips against yours to stifle your sounds.
it doesn’t take long at all until you feel a knot forming in your abdomen, tightening with every press and thrust.
when you part from her to catch her eyes, there's a string of spit connecting your mouths. the sight, the sensations, the knowledge that you’re hers in a way not even the wilderness can undo is all so much, and enough to have you on the edge of the first orgasm in months.
you know exactly what it’ll take for her to finally make you cum. and, even though her touch feels too good for you to string together coherent sentences, you manage a quiet: “jackie, god, i’m close!”
jackie, bless her, seems to understand: she finds your clit with her thumb while still pumping her other two fingers into you, and rubs it just like she did before, studying your face for a reaction.
"right there!“ your head lulls back, each breath coming high-pitched and every muscle tense. your hips rock against her hand and she starts circling your clit faster, adding just the right amount of pressure.
that, and her other hand sneaking up your body to roll your nipple between two of her fingers, is all it takes.
“jackie-“ you never get to finish what you were going to say. instead, you feel your orgasm washing over you in pulsing waves. a breathless moan dies in your throat when the world around you shifts out of focus and your thighs shake violently around her wrist.
just like that, you come, coating her fingers in your release as your legs give out beneath you. somewhere through the sensations, you hear jackie’s whine when your fingers slip from her, but you’re still too caught in the pleasure to really care.
finally, when it fades, you open your eyes to look up at her. jackie is panting and removes her hand from between your legs. she’s still kneeling over you but is quick to settle down in your lap now that you’re no longer holding your weight on your knees.
“here,” she pants, wrapping one arm around your shoulders as the other guides you back between her thighs. you know what to do without any more instructions: you give yourself to her, letting her use your fingers to get herself off too.
jackie slides down onto you, jaw going slack as you slip into her with ease. you hold her by the waist to support the gentle rocking motions that make the floorboards creak.
her nails dig into your skin, leaving half-moon shapes on your shoulder blades, and she cries out quietly. you watch the scene through heavy-lidded eyes while jackie rides your fingers, getting closer and closer to the sounds of skin slapping against skin. she picks up her pace until she’s practically bouncing on top of you, her chest heaving erratically.
jackie is beautiful, you knew this about her already, but -as you watch her cum- you doubt anything else could ever compare to this sight: she pulls you closer so that her mouth is right by your ear and her face is buried in the crook of your neck, repeating your name like a prayer, not stopping even as her body tenses.
her fingers clutch at you desperately, as if you're the only thing that's keeping her grounded, but she doesn't stop. doesn't let up until she's all spent and collapses into your arms. you hold jackie through it, pressing your lips to her temple, your hands steady where she needs them most.
it takes long until you’ve both fully recovered. neither of you recalls how you ended up lying in the messy sheets, with jackie’s head resting on your chest and your fingers combing through her hair. she has her arm draped over your waist, gently stroking across your side. you don’t speak.
eventually, she shifts, pressing her face further into your chest. “we should probably go back down,” jackie murmurs, though she makes no effort to move.
you hum. “do you want to?”
she’s quiet for a moment before shaking her head. “not yet,”
you smile, letting your hand settle on her back. “then we won’t,”
#˙💌 ̟ !! ─ my works#˙🔞 ̟ !! mdni#jackie taylor#jackie taylor x reader#jackie taylor x female reader#jackie taylor x fem!reader#jackie taylor x you#yellowjackets#yellowjackets x reader#yellowjackets x you#🦈 anon
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“𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣' 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙨“
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𝑃𝑙𝑜𝑡: 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐 𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛!
𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠: 𝑎𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔,𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑔𝑒,𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛,ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛
The baby monitor cast a dim glow on your nightstand, the soft static filling the silence of your empty bed. You had just put your daughter down for the night, her tiny body finally relaxing after hours of fussing. Your body ached, exhaustion creeping into every limb, but sleep was the last thing on your mind.
Not when Armin still wasn’t home.
You sat at the edge of the bed, fingers curled around your phone, staring at the unanswered texts. Where are you? Are you coming home? Armin, answer me.
Nothing. Just like the last few nights.
Your stomach twisted as the familiar wave of resentment crawled up your spine. This wasn’t new—him disappearing for hours, showing up in the middle of the night with vague excuses. You used to believe him when he said it was work. Used to tell yourself that being the provider, the one out handling things, put pressure on him.
But you weren’t stupid. You knew what a man smelled like when he’d been around another woman.
The sound of the front door opening downstairs made you stand, heart pounding. Heavy footsteps echoed through the quiet house, his movements unhurried, like he had no reason to hide anything.
That only pissed you off more.
By the time he reached the top of the stairs, you were already there, standing in his path with your arms crossed. His blue eyes met yours, and for a split second, something flashed across his face—guilt? Annoyance? He covered it quickly, running a hand through his messy blond hair.
“You’re up?” His voice was calm, like you weren’t standing there ready to rip him apart.
You scoffed. “Yeah, I’m up. Because unlike you, I’ve been home taking care of our daughter all fucking day.”
Armin exhaled, rolling his shoulders like he was already tired of the conversation. “(ఌ)don’t start with this right now. I told you, I had things to—”
“Things to handle?” You took a step closer, fists clenched. “You mean someone to handle?”
His jaw tightened. “Watch yourself.”
You ignored the warning. “No, you watch yourself,” you snapped. “You come home smelling like another bitch, after leaving me here alone again—”
Armin’s eyes darkened. “I told you, it’s work.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Your chest heaved, your breath sharp, but Armin just stared at you, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t even trying to deny it anymore, and that shattered something inside you.
Your vision blurred with tears as rage bubbled up, making your hands shake. Without thinking, you grabbed the first thing in reach—a picture frame from the hallway table—and hurled it at him.
“Fuck you, Armin!”
He dodged it easily, the glass shattering against the wall. His lips pressed into a tight line, but he still wasn’t raising his voice.
That only made you angrier.
“You think you can just do whatever you want?” Your voice cracked, frustration choking you. “Leave me here to raise our baby alone while you go fuck around? Do you even give a shit about us?”
Armin’s calm façade snapped.
In a flash, he had you pinned against the wall, his hands gripping your wrists. His breath was hot against your face
“Say that shit again,” he growled.
You struggled against him, but he didn’t budge. “Let me go.”
Armin let out a low, humorless laugh. "You know nothing," he muttered, shaking his head."You sit in this house and assume shit about me, but you have no fucking clue what I do when I'm out."
His eyes were dark, tired, but there was that usual mocking glint behind them, like he found this whole thing entertaining.
Your jaw clenched so tight it hurt. "You-"
"Lower your fucking voice," he hissed.
His free hand pointed toward the nursery door down the hall. "She is sleeping."
Before you could get another word in, he picked you up completely, his veiny arms manhandling you so quickly made you wince before he dropped you onto the couch, your body bouncing against the cushions as he ripped his shirt over his head. The glow from the streetlights outside cast harsh shadows over his toned chest, the dark ink of his tattoos.
You didn't get a chance to admire him before he was on you again, his hands yanking your thighs apart, his weight pressing you down into the couch.
Your hips rolled up into his, your nails digging into his biceps as you dared to push back.
"You think you can just come home smelling like another bitch and I'll just-"
Armin cut you off with a bruising kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, swallowing your words, stealing your air. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling hard enough to make your scalp burn.
"You think I touched her like this?" he taunted, lips brushing against yours, his hands roaming, gripping, possessive. "Think I let her talk back to me the way you do?"
His rough hands spread your thighs, gripping the tan inner skin so hard you could cry before rubbing his fingers beneath the soft fabric. He moved your panties to the side
Feeling how soaked you already were, how easy it was for his fingers to slip through your folds, teasing, taunting.
shoving two fingers inside you without warning, making you cry out. "You were just screaming at me, now you're dripping down my fucking hand?"
Your head turned to the side refusing to look at how pathetic you really were
"That's my girl," he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. "Always talking shit, but always taking everything I fucking give you."
You didn't even have time to respond before he was ripping your panties off, shoving his jeans down just enough to free his cock, his tip red and angry already leaking, aching to be inside you.
He spread your folds, fucking into you, his hips snapped into yours. He was so mean, one hand gripping your throat while the other pinned your wrists above your head.
"This what you wanted?" he taunted, his hips snapping against yours, knocking the breath from your lungs. "Wanted me to come home and put you in your fucking place?"
You whined, back arching, your body overwhelmed by the way he was owning you.
"Look at you," Armin sneered
“F-fuuck you armin!” You could cry at how good this felt, you let out a choked out whine while his grip was tightening around your throat, forcing you to meet his eyes.
the way your legs twitched with every deep thrust. "All you do is bitch and whine, but look at you now-taking this dick"
You glared up at him, tears burning in your eyes, but your body betrayed you. Your walls clenched around him, your thighs tightening as if to keep him from pulling away.
Armin chuckled, shaking his head. his free hand grabbing your jaw, squeezing your cheeks. "You were just throwing shit at me ten minutes ago, now you can't even think straight, can you?"
he sneered, picking up his pace again, slamming into you now, dragging a scream from your lips. "Think you get to tell me what the fuck to do? You don't run a fucking thing"
Your head was spinning, your hands twisting in his grip. "I hate you," you choked out, voice shaking.
"Yeah?" He pulled out completely before slamming back inside, knocking the breath from your lungs. "Then why's this pussy sucking me in, huh?"
You sobbed, nails digging into his arms, body shaking with every brutal thrust.
"You don't get to hate me," he murmured, voice dark, low. "You belong to me, baby. This pussy?" He grabbed your thigh, spreading you wider, fucking deeper. "Mine. That little attitude?" He dragged his lips against your ear, his breath hot. "Mine. You can scream, throw shit, slap me all you want, but at the end of the day?"
His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur.
"You're still gonna let me fuck you like this."
Your body was on fire, your pride crumbling with every rough snap of his hips, with every filthy word he spat down at you.
"You gonna cry, baby?" Armin taunted, watching the way your lashes fluttered, the way your thighs trembled. "Go on. Cry for me”
Your lips parted, a choked, desperate moan escaping before you could stop it.
Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body still trembling from the force of everything. His body was still pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling with every breath.
Armin stayed there for a moment, his hands lightly gripping your waist as if to keep you in place, as if he needed to keep you there.
But then, his voice cut through the tension, low and a little rough, like he'd been holding something back the entire time.
“I didn’t sleep with anyone else”
You froze, your chest still heaving as you slowly turned your head to look at him, unsure if you'd heard him correctly.
His eyes met yours, unwavering, dark with an intensity that matched the rawness of the moment.
"You think l'd do that to you?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, but the question hung in the air like an accusation.
"I've been working late," he continued, his tone softer now, almost coaxing, as if trying to ease the tension between you. "But it's been work. Nothing else. I swear."
"You sure?" you murmured, still unsure, your voice shaky.
"Yeah, baby, I'm sure."
𝑈𝑔ℎ 𝑖 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑏𝑎𝑔 𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛 <3
#jjk fanfic#jjk x you#aot smut#aot x reader#armin arlert oneshot#armin smut#armin x reader#attack on titan armin#armin x you#armin arlert smut
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—- he knows. ft schlatt. ᝰ
summary: after a bizarre discovery about your favourite streamer, you continue to fall down the rabbit hole of his other content. you were pleasantly surprised to find he also done audio's, and couldn't resist listening to his latest post.
— tags: smut, lunch club!schlatt, mutual masturbation.. technically?, schlatt does porn (duh), dirty talk, open ending again
authors note: helloo, part 2 has been served!! appreciate the love towards my first post, so i had to get this one out to you guys asap. once again, this wouldn't be possible without the lovely @fanficfox and her lovely mind! hope you all enjoy, and don't forget to lmk your thoughts!! ♡
it had been a few weeks since the day you had found schlatt featuring in fucking twitter porn of all places
you'd be lying if you said you hadn't looked again
of course you had
and not just at the original video. you had found a mix of older and newer videos
some were solo, some were with another girl
and either way, you watched them
something you had also found however, was a link to his other content. it was hosted on a website to soundgasm
interesting name, you thought, but alright
and boy were you glad you clicked
you were met with a profile— schlatt's profile— but it was under a completely different alias
but there were tons of audios on the site, dating back to even last year
you felt almost overwhelmed with how much content there, the audios having a wide variety of themes, and the lengths being short, small instances to long played out scenes
you had your night set for you, and you didn't know which one to choose
until you seen one had recently been uploaded, in fact it was posted just an hour before you had found the site
intrigued, you clicked onto the link and got yourself into bed, snuggled under the covers as you pressed play on the audio
the second you pressed play, you were instantly met with heavy breathing— low, deep almost needy-like breaths were being let out, as if he had been holding back for too long
there's a faint shuffle, slight movement before a small exhale escapes his mouth
and he's finally starting
the slick, slow slide of his hand can be heard, and the wet noises begin to fill your ears
you hear how quickly his breathing gets uneven, as he shifts between low grunts and muffled curses
it's not long before he starts talking into the mic, his low and raspy voice sending a shiver through your body, your thighs squeezing instinctively
"fuck, been thinking about this all day,"
"i've just been— shit— so fucking hard, waiting to do this. been wanting it so bad,"
the way he speaks, his voice switches from steady to uneven interchangeably, and it somehow turns you on even more
"bet you'd love watching me, huh? bet you'd fucking get off to it,"
he chuckles to himself lowly for a moment, before he continues, "fuck, who am i kidding. i bet you already are. or at the very least, you're already soaked for me, sweetheart,"
a small whine escapes you from his words because fuck, he was so cocky, and yet so right. the slick was coating between your thighs, there was a pool of warmth sitting in your core that wasn't leaving anytime soon
the audio continued on, schlatt continuing to jerk off and talk you through as he did. giving you visuals through groaned explanations, telling you when he was stroking or squeezing
you had slipped your hand under your pyjama bottoms, allowing your fingers to graze over your underwear as you pressed against your core, rubbing gently along with schlatt
it was nearing the end of the audio, when schlatt's breaths got more erratic and his talking became more frequent
"fuck— getting close.. 'm not gonna last,"
what could only be described as a whine escaped him, before he coughed and cut himself off with a low chuckle
"but i know you— you, sweetheart— i know you're listening in,"
you were sure this was another bit to entice the viewer in and make it more personal, and you weren't complaining. you sped your fingers up, rubbing the fabric against you faster, creating a nice friction
"and i know you'll be getting off to this, cause you seem fuckin' filthy. but let me— shit, let me ask you one thing," he started again, voice shaking more than ever
you knew he was close, and so were you
he groaned deeply, leaning closer to the mic before speaking up, "i know you asked whether i've been told i talk too much, but i know you like it, like it enough to tease me about it live,"
your mouth dropped and your fingers froze momentarily, as if edging yourself for a few seconds, but they sped up again when you heard schlatt moan loudly through the audio
his chair creaked and the moans came spilling out of his mouth, little fuck's along the way as he eased himself through the orgasm. the sounds were even wetter than before, mixing in with his stuttered breath was all you needed to hear to send yourself over the edge
you came just after schlatt, the wetness soaking and staining your underwear as you rode out the orgasm, practically humping your fingers as you whined to yourself, revelling in his breathy groans
there was no outro to the audio, just a simple "see you next time, fuckin' slut," before it cut out, and you were left in a haze
nevermind from just the orgasm, but the fact he had referred to you during the audio, you had been on his mind all day from your teasing
you didn't know how to feel, or what exactly to do. but one thing was for certain
you were going to be back in his next stream, making sure to mention tonight.
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#jschlatt x reader#jschlatt x you#jschlatt x yn#jschlatt headcanons#jschlatt hcs#jschlatt smut#jschlatt fanfic
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Kitten's Valentine
Sylus x reader (can be MC, but doesn't have to be, but is a Hunter)
Summary: Somehow, you were set to spend Valentine’s Day with Sylus.
Words: 1k
Notes: For the Valentine’s Week event. This is my first time posting for LADS, but I recently started playing and quickly got hooked.
English is not my first language
Masterlist
You couldn't believe it. Somehow, you were supposed to spend Valentine’s Day with Sylus.
It had started with a simple text:
“Any plans on Friday, sweetie?”
“I have work in the morning.”
“And in the evening?”
“Nothing, why?”
“Great. I'll see you then, kitten”
That should have been your first warning.
When you returned to your apartment on that day, the sight that greeted you was… absurd. The door barely closed behind you when your eyes fell on the mountain of packages stacked neatly in your living room. They were everywhere—colorful, extravagant, and so over the top. There were flowers, too, blooming in full force as if they were made to fit some grand, romantic scene straight out of a movie.
You walked closer, your heart sinking as you began to open the boxes. Inside, you found clothes that were beyond your wildest dreams—silk, velvet, and lace, all in shades that would flatter you perfectly. Jewelry that sparkled just a bit too brightly, shoes that you could only dream about.
Nestled among them was a single card:
“Pick whatever you like the most, kitten.”
You scoffed. The whole thing was over the top, but what grated at you the most wasn’t the lavish gifts, but the fact that Sylus had chosen things you actually liked. Not only did they reflect your taste, but they seemed… personal.
You sifted through the mountain of luxurious clothing and selected an outfit that, for all its extravagance, did seem to suit you best. With a huff, you slipped it on, the fabric smooth and unfamiliar against your skin. You didn’t want to admit it, but you looked damn good.
Just as you were about to leave, your watch went off—Wanderers. You couldn’t ignore it. A flare up, something out of the ordinary. You'd have to investigate.
You grabbed your jacket and bolted toward the door, but before you could even step into the hallway, your phone buzzed. You paused, irritated, and glanced at the message. It was from Sylus.
“Don’t get blood on your outfit, we have reservations at seven.”
You froze. How did he know?
Your heart skipped a beat, part of you irritated, the other part—unreasonably—flattered. He always seemed to be one step ahead of you. Frustrated, you pushed the thought away. No time for distractions. There was work to do.
You rounded the corner, ready to face the threat head-on, but instead, you came face to face with a sight you didn’t expect.
Sylus.
Leaning casually against the alley wall, his arms crossed, his signature smirk dancing at the edges of his lips.
“What are you doing here?” you asked.
“Making sure you're not late for our date, kitten.” he replied, that infuriatingly smooth tone of his laced with a hint of amusement.
Annoying. Infuriating. Predictable.
Still, there was no time to argue. You both knew what came next. The fight was swift and efficient. You barely needed to exchange words, your movements synchronized, like two people who’d done this far too many times together. The Wanderer didn’t stand a chance.
When the creature finally crumpled to the ground, defeated, Sylus turned to you with that same smirk, as if nothing unusual had happened.
“Excellent. Now we can focus on ourselves. Shall we, sweetie?”
You tried to hold back a sigh, but it escaped anyway. He was impossible.
The ride was fast, the city lights flashing by in a blur, a streak of neon and streetlamps blending together like some surreal dream. You barely had time to collect your thoughts before the car came to a halt. When you stepped out and saw the restaurant, you stopped dead in your tracks.
It was empty. Entirely. Not a single soul in sight, save for the staff standing by, waiting for your arrival.
“Did you rent the entire place?” you asked, one eyebrow arching in disbelief.
Sylus smiled that signature, knowing smile, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”
You felt your annoyance flare just slightly, though the sight of the empty restaurant was… well, it was impressive, if not a little intimidating. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Maybe so,” he said, leaning in just a bit closer, his tone turning playful. “But I could. Is that a problem, kitten?”
You sighed, the sharpness in your breath betraying the fact that you were undeniably touched by the gesture, despite your best efforts to stay aloof. “No,” you muttered, conceding.
“Then relax,” he said, his voice softening just enough to disarm you.
And eventually, you did.
Dinner was… nice. Unnervingly nice. It was hard not to, with the soft glow of candles on the table, the intimate, quiet atmosphere. His usual teasing remarks were still there, of course—his words light, but there was an undeniable tenderness behind them that kept you on edge.
The meal came to a natural end, and Sylus escorted you back to your apartment with the same effortless charm he always had.
“Well, kitten, thank you for a lovely night.”
For a brief moment, you just stood there, unsure of how to respond. But then—something reckless, something you hadn’t expected, took over. Without thinking, you leaned in.
The soft brush of your lips against his was all it took for Sylus to freeze, the familiar confidence slipping for just a second. For once, Sylus seemed caught off guard, his breath hitching before he kissed you back—slow, deliberate, as if he couldn’t believe this moment was real.
When you pulled away, your pulse racing, he looked at you with pure admiration.
“Does that mean you enjoyed yourself, sweetie?”
You rolled your eyes.
“As if you don’t know the answer.”
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Hold me tight
@bucktommyfluffebruary - Day 10 prompt ‘sleepy cuddles’
Notes: established relationship, domestic fluff | rated: G | words: 629
[Read on A03]
——-
As soon as Tommy stepped through the door Buck knew he needed some looking after. Their messages had been superficial during Tommy’s 24 hour, mostly letting Buck know when he was in and out of the station, which had been often. His own shift had been long, but not as strenuous.
So, when Tommy had text him to let him know that he was on his way home, three hours later than scheduled, Buck had put a casserole into the oven to heat up. It was quick, easy and safe, something he thought Tommy would need after such a long, active shift.
There’s no sound of movement after the door clicks shut so Buck goes out into the hallway. He finds Tommy sat on the hallway bench with his head resting against the wall, eyes shut. Buck goes over to him and runs a hand through his damp hair, he must have had a shower at the station before heading home.
Tommys eyes flicker open and he gives Buck a tired smile. He leans forward and rests his head on Buck’s thigh, a small contented noise slipping out as Buck’s fingers keep carding through his hair.
“-m gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that.” He mumbles into the fabric of Buck’s jeans. Buck chuckles,
“We can’t have that, at least not before you’ve eaten something.”
Tommy sits for a moment longer, trying to summon the energy to stand. As much as he would love to fall asleep immediately, he can’t deny that he is hungry.
“Smells good.”
“Casserole, I thought something easy would be good. Come on, I need to take it out the oven.” Buck slips an arm around Tommy’s waist and helps him to stand, they go into the kitchen together. Tommy lets out a yawn as Buck deposits him in a chair at the table and goes to serve dinner. He puts down a steaming bowl in each of their places and sits.
“Thank you.”
“No problem darling, eat up and then we can get you to bed okay?”
They eat in companionable quiet, only broken as Buck fills Tommy in on the day’s calls. Finally their plates are cleared and Tommy heads upstairs to change while Buck loads the dishwasher.
He digs out a fresh sleep shirt and boxers, changes quickly and brushes his teeth. It’s earlier than he would normally go to bed, but he is exhausted. Although he feels bad for ditching so early in the evening, staying downstairs will only mean a half nap and a sore neck.
He almost runs straight into Buck as he leaves the bathroom. Fortunately Buck is awake enough to catch them both before they go crashing into the nearest wall.
“Sorry, I didn’t expect you to be coming up.” Buck frowns a little as they make their way over to the bed.
“Why not?”
“You wanted to watch that documentary tonight, didn’t you?
“Yeah, but we’ve got the next 48 hours off, I’m sure I can watch it another time. Besides-” he slides into the bed next to Tommy, pulling him over until his head is resting on Buck’s chest, one arm draped across his waist. “-I wouldn’t miss my Tommy time for any documentary.” He feels Tommy smile against his skin, the soft tickle of his eyelashes getting slower and slower as he starts to drift off.
“-m glad you came up.” His voice so soft that Buck almost misses it, the quiet sincerity pulls at his heart. Buck lifts one hand to thread their fingers together and traces the other in gentle lines up and down Tommy’s back.
“Me too.” He presses a kiss to the top of Tommy’s head.
“Now go to sleep love, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Tagging some beloveds (as always let me know if you want to be added or removed):
@livelaughlou @leashybebes @dark-alice-lilith @mmso-notlikethat @laundryandtaxesworld @hippolotamus @bucksaiga @littlepaws9 @sad-girl-hours23 @evansbuck-ley @typicalopposite
@moonydanny @teenmaximoff @bi-bi-buckleys @rubydaiquiri @hellion-child @aringofsalt @sweaters-and-silly @theotherbuckley @comfortingevanbuckley @epiphainie @wikiangela
@sunnywithachanceofbi @blitzynatural @big-urchin-energy @fyrehose @buckleyskinards @owlgirl495 @honeyloulou @setmeatopthepyre @salty-autistic-writer @thecarrott
#sleepy boy my beloved#bucktommy#911#fanfic#bucktommy fluffebruary#prompt: sleepy cuddles#had to make a conscious effort not to re-write Take me home 🤧#hold me tight#my writing#evan buckley#tommy kinard#domestic fluff
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Hello sweet Aspen!
Just saw your reblog of the match alpha trope post, and I was wondering - and desperately hoping - that we might get to see more with Alpha Steve who accidentally triggered your heat? 🥺 Doesn’t have to be the same premise, I I just miss him and would love to hear more ❤️
Maybe their first real date? Maybe the coffee shop they always go to when they’ve been dating for a while? Maybe something both soft and smutty and delicious? Just like the first one 😌❤️
This isn't quite what you were describing, but... I think hopefully you'll still like this little glimpse of them again!
Not What I Planned At All
Characters/Pairings: Alpha!Avenger!Steve x curvy female!Agent Omega!Reader Word Count: 950
Content/Warnings: omegaverse dynamics; nudity
Notes: Sequel to Not Meant to Be Like This from my little blitz of Alpha April drabbles last spring. Part of my Valentine Storygrams.
↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
Five days later, the smell of tomatoes and basil and garlic pulls you from sleep, and your stomach growls happily. There’s also a lingering smell of alpha on you, in your room, in your nest.
If only said alpha were still here.
But you’ll think about that later. You don’t have enough brain capacity to devote to it right now. Coming out of heat, it’s always baseline needs first. Hunger. That’s what you need to address first.
Blessings and curses to whichever neighbor in your building was cooking Italian food because now you at least know what you want to eat. Usually when you came out of your heat, you were too voraciously hungry to figure out what to eat so you ate whatever you could scavenge - it’s why you usually stock your fridge and freezer with food before your heat, but you’d not properly prepared for this heat since you thought you’d be able to do that one quick mission and get home before your heat, only to have it triggered by being so close to Alpha Steve Rogers during said mission.
The alpha who'd gotten you through your heat, at least, even if he'd left after you were finally sated.
As you pad to the kitchen, you think - you hope - you do still have the pasta and pasta sauce in your pantry that you think are there.
And then you chirp in surprise, eyes widening as you take in the sight before you. Steve Rogers is standing in your kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants and an apron. He's stirring a pot on the stove, the muscles in his back rippling with each movement. Next to it, a pan of rich, red tomato sauce simmers gently, filling the air with the mouthwatering aroma that woke you. The oven light is on, and you can see a tray of garlic bread warming inside.
Steve turns at your chirp of surprise, his blue eyes lighting up as they land on you. It's only then that you realize you're completely naked, your heat-addled brain having forgotten to put on clothes before leaving your bedroom. With a squeak of embarrassment, you dive for the soft blanket draped over the back of your couch, wrapping it around yourself like a cocoon.
A warm, tender laugh fills the kitchen as Steve watches your flustered attempt at modesty. "Good afternoon, Omega," he says, his voice amused but with no trace of meanness. "You know, after the past five days, I think we're well past the point of modesty, don't you think?"
You neck and face flush with heat, but you still clutch the blanket tighter around yourself. "I - I didn't expect you to still be here," you stammer, trying to gather your thoughts.
Steve frowns. "Where else would I be? I told you I wanted all your heats, remember?"
The memory of his words, whispered urgently in that cramped supply closet, floods back to you. Your knees go weak, and you have to lean against the doorframe for support.
"I thought maybe that was just the heat talking," you admit quietly.
Steve turns off the stove and crosses the kitchen in three long strides. He cups your face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm. "It wasn't just the heat, Omega. I meant every word."
Your breath catches in your throat as you gaze up at Steve, his intense blue eyes boring into yours. The blanket slips from your grasp, pooling at your feet, but you barely notice. All you can focus on is the warmth of his hands on your face and the sincerity in his expression.
"I've wanted you for a long time," Steve confesses, his voice low and husky. "That mission... being in such close quarters with you... it just brought everything to the surface. I couldn't hold back anymore."
You swallow hard, your mind reeling. "But... why didn't you say anything before?"
Steve's thumbs caress your cheeks gently. "I wanted to do things right. Court you properly, like I said before. But then your heat hit, and all my plans went out the window." He chuckles softly. "Not that I'm complaining about how things turned out."
You can't help but smile, warmth blooming in your chest. "I'm not complaining either," you admit softly.
Steve's eyes darken with desire, and he leans in, his lips brushing against yours. "Good," he murmurs, before capturing your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.
You melt into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls you flush against his body. The kiss is different from the frenzied, heat-driven ones you shared over the past few days. This one is slow, tender, full of promise.
When you finally break apart, both breathless, Steve rests his forehead against yours. "I meant what I said about wanting all your heats," he says softly. "But I want more than that. I want all of you, Omega. Every day, not just during your heats."
Your heart soars at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest that has nothing to do with your recent heat. "I want that too, Alpha," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.
Steve's answering smile is radiant, lighting up his entire face. He leans in to kiss you again, but just as his lips are about to meet yours, your stomach lets out a loud, insistent growl.
You both freeze for a moment, then burst into laughter. Steve pulls back, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I think that's our cue to eat," he says, chuckling. "Come on, let's get some food in you."
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↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!
#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#marvel omegaverse#alpha steve rogers#aspen wrote something#female reader#aspen's valentine storygrams
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DOES ANYONE ELSE GET MUNCH VIBES FROM JUN..... NOT JUST BECAUSE OF EFT BUT HEAR ME OUTTTTTTTT DOES HE NOT SEEM LIKE. PROUD MUNCH. congrats to mrs wen (me)🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉
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Notes: hes so a munch god he’d be so skilled dont even!
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.
You're on your knees in front of Jun, his strong hands gripping your hips as he pushes you down onto the bed. He looks at you with a mix of hunger and adoration, his eyes dark with desire.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, running his hands up your thighs. "I've been thinking about this all day." He pushes your legs apart, exposing you to him completely. He leans in, his breath hot against your skin as he begins to kiss and bite your inner thighs.
"I'm going to make you feel so good," he promises, his voice low and sultry. Jun continues to kiss and nibble your thighs, his lips leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses in their wake. He moves closer and closer to your core, his tongue occasionally flicking out to taste you.
"You're so wet for me," he groans, his eyes locked on your face. "I can smell how badly you want me." He finally reaches your core, his tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up your slit. He moans at the taste of you, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as he starts to devour you.
"You taste amazing," he growls, his tongue swirling around your clit. "I could do this all day."
"Oh god, Jun," you moan, your hands fisting in the sheets. "Don't stop, please don't stop." Jun smirks against you, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. He pushes his tongue inside you, his nose rubbing against your clit as he starts to eat you out in earnest. Jun is skilled indeed, his tongue working magic on your sensitive flesh. He knows just where to touch, just how to flick his tongue to drive you crazy with pleasure. He looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes burning with intensity as he watches you fall apart under his ministrations. Jun continues to eat you out, his pace relentless. He adds a finger to the mix, pumping it in and out of you in time with the movements of his tongue.
"You're so tight," he murmurs against your skin. "I can't wait to feel you cum on my face." Jun groans as you pull his hair, the sound sending vibrations through your body. He looks up at you again, his eyes dark with desire and his lips slick with your juices.
"Pull harder," he demands, his voice rough with need. "I want you to use me." You oblige, tugging harder on his hair and grinding your hips against his face. Jun responds by doubling his efforts, his tongue working your clit faster and harder as he adds another finger to stretch you out.
"You're so needy," he growls, his fingers curling inside you. "You're going to come for me, aren't you? You're going to come all over my face like a good girl." You can feel your orgasm building, your body trembling with the force of it. Jun senses that you're close and redoubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth and pushing his fingers deeper inside you.
"That's it," he urges. "Let go for me. I want to taste you." You come hard, your body arching off the bed as you cry out Jun's name. He keeps his mouth on you, lapping up every drop of your release as you ride out your orgasm. When you finally come down from your high, he pulls back and looks up at you with a satisfied grin. "Good girl," he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You taste so sweet." Jun crawls up your body, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you deeply, his hands roaming over your skin.
"I need you," he murmurs against your lips. "I need to be inside you."
#kpop fanfic#kpop smut#seventeen fanfic#seventeen smut#seventeen#svt smut#woozinhos#svt reactions#svt jun fluff#jun svt#svt jun#wen junhui smut#seventeen jun fluff#seventeen jun smut#jun seventeen#jun smut#seventeen jun#wen junhui#Jun svt smut#Jun seventeen smut
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I think it just makes sense for a little blurb about crash out queen going to the lakers game supporting her hubby
I can def see her going super early to watch him warm up (wearing his new jersey obv) and the cameras follow her the whole time, she talks to jj, LeBron, and the rest of the team bc obv they all love her (LeBron brings up her finals logo 3 ofc) and the whole time luka is playing she’s just smiling so hard and being so supportive (but cursing in Slovenian when luka misses a shot hehe)
anyways ilysm my sweetheart superstar
omg this is such a cute way for the debut!!! here ya go, baby, i hope yall enjoy!!
You get to the arena stupidly early.
Like, beat-the-security-checks, lights-aren’t-even-fully-on-yet early.
But there’s no way in hell you’re missing a second of Luka’s Lakers debut—not the warmups, not the pre-game handshakes, not even the way he walks into this new era of his career.
And judging by the cameras that are already tracking your every move, the rest of the world is just as interested.
It’s been like this all day—your arrival getting broadcasted like you’re the one about to drop a 40-point triple-double. Social media’s having a field day with it. Clips of you stepping into Crypto.com Arena in Luka’s brand-new Lakers jersey (custom-fitted, cropped just enough to sit right on your waist) have already gone viral.
“Crash Out Queen in the building.”
“She’s rocking the 77 like she’s about to check in.”
“Nah, she came earlier than the entire Lakers roster, she is SO real for that.”
And honestly?
They’re right.
You step onto the court before most of the team even arrives, your sneakers squeaking against the polished hardwood. The arena is still quiet—just the faint thump of a ball hitting the floor, the occasional echo of voices carrying from the tunnels.
And in the middle of it, getting shots up like he’s the only person in the world, is Luka.
You slow for a second, watching.
He looks good in purple and gold—still unfamiliar, still something you’ll have to get used to, but good. His movements are sharp, effortless, the kind of locked-in you’ve seen a million times before. But there’s something else tonight, something extra in the way he follows through on his shots, in the way his jaw stays tight even when he swishes three after three.
You know that look.
He’s ready—but he’s antsy.
So, naturally, you fix that.
You walk straight onto the court—ignoring the cameras that immediately start flashing, the Lakers staff who pause mid-conversation, the social media team that’s definitely about to clip this—and step right into Luka’s space.
He barely gets the next shot off before you tug at the bottom of his jersey.
“Damn,” you tease, looking up at him. “They actually got you in Lakers colors. Thought you’d combust before putting that on.”
Luka huffs out a laugh, finally breaking focus. His eyes sweep over you, from the cropped version of his jersey to the smug grin you’re throwing at him.
“You really came this early?”
You scoff. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”
He smirks, reaching out to hook a finger in your waistband, tugging you just a little closer.
The cameras are eating this up.
Before you can fire back, a familiar voice cuts through.
“Man, she really beat us here?”
You turn just in time to see JJ jogging onto the court, shaking his head in amusement.
You grin. “What can I say? I like to be punctual.”
“Punctual,” JJ repeats, giving Luka a pointed look. “You mean obsessed.”
Luka just shrugs like he doesn’t mind at all, like he’s actually very fine with you showing up before half the damn team.
And speaking of—
“Well, well, well,” a deep voice drawls from the tunnel.
You don’t even have to turn around.
“Here we go,” you mutter under your breath, just as LeBron himself strolls onto the court.
He’s already shaking his head, grinning, like he’s been waiting for this moment. “New York’s finest in the house.”
You cross your arms, smirking. “Gotta check out the new scenery. Make sure my man’s in good hands.”
LeBron laughs. “I know you’re not worried about that.”
You roll your eyes, but before you can respond, he leans in slightly, voice dipping just low enough for the cameras not to catch it.
“So,” he says, a knowing glint in his eyes. “We gonna talk about that finals logo three or what?”
A groan rips out of you before you can stop it. “You too?”
JJ and Luka are already laughing.
LeBron grins. “I mean, I got my fair share of wild shots, but that one?” He shakes his head. “Crazy.”
You point a warning finger at him. “I swear, if you bring that up in a press conference—”
He holds his hands up, all innocence. “Hey, I’m just sayin’. Big time players make big time shots.”
You narrow your eyes. “I will start slandering your free throw percentage.”
LeBron loses it.
JJ has to walk away to keep from doubling over.
And Luka?
Luka’s just watching you—like he’s seeing all of this, the way you move so easily through his world, the way you fit into it like you’ve always been here, the way his teammates are your teammates—and like it’s doing something to him.
Like it’s settling something in him.
Like maybe, just maybe, all of this change doesn’t feel so scary when you’re here.
And yeah, the cameras are catching every second of it.
--
From the moment the game tips off, you are in your element.
Sitting courtside, front and center in your custom Luka Dončić Lakers jersey—the one that’s cropped just right, snug at the waist, with your own number stitched in tiny embroidery on the sleeve—you are a menace.
And not the quiet kind.
Luka’s locked in from the start, but so are you.
Every shot he takes? You’re on your feet before the ball even swishes through the net. Every time he gets downhill, carving through defenders like they’re nothing, you’re clapping, nodding, talking your talk because of course he’s doing this—of course he’s out here dominating in his Lakers debut like he was built for this.
And when he hits his first step-back three in that gold and purple uniform?
Oh, it’s over.
You’re out of your seat, yelling “That’s my man!” so damn loud that even the bench turns to look at you. The cameras catch everything—you pointing at Luka like you just hit the shot, like you knew it was cash the second he released it.
JJ is dying on the bench.
LeBron, walking back up the court, is shaking his head and laughing because he knew exactly what kind of energy you were bringing tonight.
And Luka?
Luka hears all of it.
His grin is instant, dimples deep, and he can’t help himself—he looks right at you as he backpedals on defense, giving you that smug, knowing look.
Like he loves this.
Like he loves you.
The whole game, you’re in it.
Every whistle, every foul—especially when Luka gets knocked around a little too hard—you’re making your feelings very clear.
At one point, he takes some contact on a drive, hits the floor hard, and you’re already up before the whistle even blows.
“Where’s the call?!” You throw your hands up, eyes locked on the ref like you might actually fight him.
And listen—some people might call it over the top, but you don’t care.
Not when Luka’s out there, playing his ass off.
Not when this is his first game in a new jersey, in a city that’s expecting everything from him.
And when the game gets tight in the fourth quarter, when every possession starts mattering a little more, you’re right there, standing, clapping, yelling encouragement between plays, telling Luka to take over—and he does.
Of course he does.
He lives for this.
And when that final buzzer sounds?
The Lakers win.
Luka’s brilliant—because of course he is.
And you?
You’re beaming.
You’re still clapping when Luka makes his way over, chest heaving from the last few minutes of high-intensity play, sweat dripping, eyes locked on you like you’re the only person in the arena.
Before you can say anything, he reaches out, grabs your face—big hands cradling your jaw—and kisses you, hard.
The crowd goes nuts.
The cameras catch every second.
And you?
You just smile against his lips, because yeah, this is the perfect way to end his first night in LA.
--
Hand-in-hand, you and Luka make your way through the tunnels, still riding that post-win high.
Everywhere you go, people are dapping him up, clapping him on the back, congratulating him. The energy is electric, and you can feel it in him—the way his fingers squeeze yours a little tighter, the way his whole body is buzzing with adrenaline.
He looks so damn good like this—sweaty, still in his game gear, the jersey a little untucked, his chain glinting under the bright hallway lights.
“You killed it tonight,” you say, bumping into his side as you walk.
He smirks, glancing down at you. “You think?”
You scoff. “Please. Like I wasn’t screaming about it all game.”
Luka grins, shaking his head. “You were crazy.”
“You love it.”
He doesn’t even try to deny it.
As you step outside, the LA night air hits you, warm and thick with energy, fans still gathered outside, cameras flashing.
Luka tugs you in, arm wrapping around your shoulders, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple before muttering, just for you—
“Best part of tonight was having you there.”
And damn, if that doesn’t make your whole heart melt.
You get to the arena stupidly early.
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𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 | kang dae-ho ( player 388) × fem!reader
summary | you form an unexpected bond with daeho. amid growing danger, his quiet strength and subtle affection offer a fleeting sense of safety
warnings | violence, death, survival themes, psychological tension
word count | 2.0 k
author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩
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The sound of the guards' boots echoing against the polished floor fills the enormous dormitory. It’s a constant reminder of where you are, of what’s at stake. You try to ignore it as you settle against the wall, arms crossed over your chest, eyes fixed on the floor.
Tonight’s dinner was scarce. A piece of hard bread and a bottle of water. You know what that means: another long and dangerous night.
The air is heavy with anxiety, hunger, and fear. You can feel it in every breath, in every movement of the players around you. Some have learned to move silently, like shadows between the rows of beds. Others, too exhausted or desperate, have stopped caring about noise.
In the distance, a tense murmur fills the room. You can’t make out the words, but the tone is clear—whispers of discussions, improvised strategies, veiled threats. Some players have already realized that this place is not just a test of physical endurance but also a psychological battle.
Poor fools.
"Don't fall asleep too early."
Dae-ho’s deep voice pulls you from your thoughts.
You lift your gaze and see him sitting in front of you, one arm resting on his bent knee. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes never stop scanning the room. You don’t know him well, but you’ve noticed he moves as if he’s always on alert, measuring everyone around him.
"I wasn’t planning to," you murmur.
He nods, as if he already knew the answer.
From the first night here, you've learned that alliances form quickly, and those without one become easy targets. Not that you and Dae-ho are officially allies, but something about his presence makes you feel a little less vulnerable.
"How long do you think this will last?" you ask.
Dae-ho runs a hand through his dark hair before answering.
"I don’t know. But the food is running low, and the nights are getting more violent. I wouldn’t be surprised if they try to reduce our numbers before the next announcement."
You press your lips together. It’s what you feared.
It’s only been three days since you arrived, and you’ve already seen more deaths than you can count. Most not even in the games, but here, in this dormitory, where the lights never fully go out, and improvised knives slip through the shadows.
You're not sure what terrifies you more—the games or the people you share this room with.
A dense silence settles between you two. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not comforting either.
"Were you always this pessimistic?" you joke, trying to lighten the mood.
Dae-ho lets out a short laugh, void of humor.
"I'm not pessimistic. I just like to be prepared."
"For what?"
"For the worst."
You can’t help but notice that his answer isn’t just about this game.
In the distance, a group of players is arguing in hushed voices. You recognize a few: Kang, a burly man who has already proven he has no qualms about killing; Jisoo, a sharp-featured woman who is always watching, waiting for the right moment.
You feel Jisoo’s gaze on you for a moment before she looks away.
"They’re going to do something tonight," you say, not taking your eyes off the group.
Dae-ho follows your gaze and nods.
"I know."
"Are we going to do something about it?"
"No."
You frown.
"Why not?"
"Because it’s not our problem yet."
His tone is calm, but something about his words irritates you.
"And when will it be? When it’s too late?"
Dae-ho turns his head and studies you carefully.
"Listen," he says quietly. "We can’t save everyone. We can’t stop what’s going to happen here. We can only make sure it doesn’t happen to us."
Your instinct tells you that you should agree with him. Empathy is a luxury you can’t afford.
But you haven’t learned to turn it off completely.
The night drags on. A constant murmur fills the room, along with the occasional sound of someone moving between beds. You know violence could erupt at any moment.
Dae-ho remains by your side, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the crowd. He hasn’t said anything in a while.
"Are you forcing yourself to stay awake for me?" you ask quietly.
He doesn’t answer immediately.
"Maybe."
You frown.
"You don’t have to."
"I know."
But he doesn’t move.
You don’t know what to think of him. From the start, he’s kept his distance from everyone, but there are moments when you feel like he lowers his guard with you, even if only for a few seconds.
You’d like to ask him more about himself, why he’s here, what he thinks about all this. But in this place, talking too much can be dangerous.
So you stay silent.
Hours later, the neon light flickers above, casting shadows on the walls. Most players are lying down, though no one is truly asleep.
Dae-ho and you are still in the same spot.
"Were you always this quiet?" you ask suddenly.
He shrugs.
"Only when there’s not much to say."
"There has to be something." You look at him with curiosity. "What did you do before this?"
Dae-ho shoots you a warning look but then sighs.
"I was a marine."
Your eyebrow arches.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"And what happened?"
"Life happened."
That answer could mean many things, but you don’t press him.
However, he continues on his own.
"I thought I could handle everything. That I had control." He runs a hand over his face. "But the truth is, I never did."
His confession catches you off guard. It’s not something you expected to hear from him.
"Why are you telling me this?" you ask.
Dae-ho remains silent for a moment.
"Because you’re the first person here who doesn’t ask expecting a lie."
You don’t know what to say.
In this place, people only care about others when they can gain something in return.
But you don’t want anything from him.
And maybe that’s why he feels comfortable talking.
Before you can say anything else, a scream cuts through the air.
Both of you turn your heads in the same direction.
The fight has begun.
Dae-ho grabs your arm and pulls you against him, shielding you with his body when someone stumbles too close.
His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers,
"Stay with me."
His closeness makes your heart pound faster, not just from the danger but from something else.
Before you can think too much about it, he tilts his head toward you and brushes his lips against your forehead.
It’s a brief gesture, almost imperceptible, but you feel it in every part of your body.
After that, there’s no time to think.
#squid game#squid game 2#squid game x reader#dae ho x reader#dae ho squid game#dae ho#kang daeho#dae ho x you#daeho x reader
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Hawks x Reader - Waking Up the Winged Hero
A/N: I took some time to myself because I was feeling stressed about what was going on in Tumblr and in my life. Thankfully I am a little better and ready to get back into writing again. Please keep in mind that requests are still closed because I need to finish the requested fics from before I went on break. Thank you and I hope you like it
Summary: Hawks is determined to sleep in, but you have a secret weapon: gentle tickling
Lee: Hawks
Ler: Reader
Words: 1,070
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Golden sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting a warm glow across the room and illuminating the soft tangle of feathers and blond hair scattered on the bed.
Balancing a steaming mug of coffee in your hand, you stood by the edge of the bed, watching stretched lazily over the mattress, their edges catching the morning light, while his face was half-hidden in the pillow. He looked so tranquil that you almost hated to disturb him.
Seeing him so serene sent a flutter through your heart and set the mug down on the bed. You couldn’t help but reach out and gently ran your hand up and down his bare back. Hawks’ head shifted at the movement, his eyes flickering open just a crack to peer up at you. A low, sleepy grumble escaped him, and his arms tightened around the pillow.
“Good morning, sleepy bird,” you murmured, your voice tender and warm as your fingers traced gentle, soothing circles on his lower back.
Hawks’ eyes closed again and he let out a low groan, shifting as he stretched his body. “Too early…” he muttered, his voice muffled through his pillow. But you could see the corner of his mouth turn up in a faint smile as your hand continued to rub his back.
You chuckled softly and kept rubbing his back. “It’s almost 10:30, Keigo. I know it’s your day off but you need to get up.”
Hawks made another low, disgruntled noise but slowly lifted his head from the pillow to glare at you with one eye. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction, and his eyes were still heavy with sleep.
“It is my day off, I can sleep in as late as I want,” he mumbled, his voice still a bit gravelly from sleep.
“I know and I’m sorry. But the more you sleep in, the more you’ll be tired later in the day and you won't be able to sleep at a decent time at night,” you said as you started wiggling your fingers down his spine.
Hawks let out a soft gasp as your fingers traced up and down his spine. “Hey… that’s not fair…” he protested weakly, his wings twitching as your fingers found a particularly sensitive spot.
A smirk slowly formed on your lips. “Are you… sensitive right here?” you wiggled your fingers around the same spot on his back.
Hawks let out a soft involuntary laugh as you continued to tease him, his wings rustling anxiously. “No, no, stop it, it tickles!” he protested, a hint of defensiveness in his voice as he tried to squirm away from your touch.
“Oh, it does tickle? Does it tickle right here?” you used both hands to lightly tickle his sides, using your nails to spider across his skin.
He bursted out giggling, his wings flailing and his back twisting in an attempt to fend off your tickling fingers. “Hey, hey, hey, stohohohop it, you ahahahahaha you know I’m tihihihicklish, you- AH!” he tried in vain to speak between gasps and giggles while burying his face in the pillow.
“I know you’re ticklish and you’re so cute when you’re laughing and squirming.” you skittered up to his ribs and below his wings.
He squirmed and twisted, his laughter growing even harder as your fingers danced up and down his sensitive ribs. His wings spread out on either side of him, jerked and twitched as he wriggled to escape your relentless tickling.
“Ahahahahahahahaha, plehehehease, p-please! Nahahahaha no, stohohohop it! Ahahahahaha! Mehehercy!”
You smirked as you watched him wiggle and tried to stop your hands. “Hmm, I don’t know. You’re too cute for me to stop.”
“Nohohohohot f-fahahahair! Ahahahahahahahahahahaha!” he protested in between fits of giggles. His eyes were squeezed shut in mirth as he tried to twist away from your teasing fingers, his wings quivering with each touch and flapping in a futile attempt to fend off your hands. He tried to reach his hands around his back to try to grab your wrists.
“Aww, are you trying to stop me? You know that’s not going to work, darling.” with one last spot in mind to tickle, you fluttered your fingers to his armpits and gently dug in the hollows of his pits.
Hawks let out a screech of laughter, his eyes widening in surprise and horror as he realized what spots you were targeting. He tried to curl his arms in to protect himself, but he was too tangled up in the sheets and your unrelenting tickle assault. His wings shook and fluttered, creating a flurry of feathers.
“Nohohohohoho! Not the armpihihihihits! Stohohohohohop!” he begged between gasps and helpless giggles.
“What’s that? You want me to stop?” you teased, a mischievous grin spread across your face. “Are your armpits super ticklish?” you leaned in closer, your breath brushing his ear.
His face flushed an even darker shade of red as your breath tickled into his ear and your fingers dug deeply into his sensitive armpits. He squirmed and tried to twist away, but he was completely trapped beneath you and your incessant tickling.
“Yes, yehehehehehes! They’re ticklihihihihish, plehehehehease! Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!” he managed to gasp out between bouts of laughter.
“I don’t hear you saying you’re getting up though. Should I stop?”
Hawks let out another helpless peal of laughter as your fingers continued their relentless assault on his armpits, and he shook his head desperately.
“Nohohohohoho, plehehehehease! I’ll get-get up, ahahahahaha, just stop tickling mehehehehe!” he gasped out, his wings twitching weakly.
As you finally pulled away, you sat back and watched Hawks catch his breath, his laughter subsiding into occasional giggles and gasps.
“You’re evil, you know that?” he groaned as he rolled on his side to face you and his eyes narrowing playfully. “That’s a low blow, going for the armpits like that.”
You smirked, amused by his reaction, and shrugged innocently. “What can I say? I know your weak spots, babe. It’s not my fault they’re so much fun to exploit.”
Hawks grumbled but couldn’t keep a smile from spreading across his face. He sat up, rubbing his ribcage and stretching his wings behind him.
“You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered, feigning annoyance while secretly enjoying the attention you gave him.
You chuckled and leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I know, I’m the luckiest. Now get up and get dressed, you big baby.”
#mha tickle#mha tickle fanfic#mha tickle fanfiction#mha tickle fic#mha requested fic#mha hawks#mha takami#mha takami keigo#hawks x reader#lee!hawks#ticklish!hawks
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𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 ⸙ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎
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𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: abby anderson x f!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: PTSD, nightmares, character death mention, angst, fluff 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: abby has a nightmare, literal sleeping together, owen and manny being good friends 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: no use of y/n or any reader descriptions 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 7646k
𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: The one where Abby has a nightmare, and you go for your evaluation.
: ̗̀➛ masterpost
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ link to fic on ao3 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
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𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙸: XII
DECEMBER
You wake up to screaming.
It startles you, heart lurching and blood thrumming between your ears, making you feel impossibly dizzy and sick. Your hand snaps to your side as you sit up, patting the ground as you frantically search for your rifle.
The air around you is hot, stifling, the covers constricting you and squeezing the strength from your muscles.
“No--!”
Your eyes, still crusted with sleep and brain barely catching up, flick to your side, the body occupying the space next to you vibrating out of its skin.
Abby is pale, sweat shining across her brow and lip as she shivers and shakes, sobs wracking her entire chest. She lays curled on her side, covers kicked off her body from her convulsions.
You stare at her, your own chest rapidly rising and falling as you try and make sense of where you are, what’s happening.
“Dad—no, Dad--!”
Fuck.
She’s having a nightmare.
“Abby… Baby,” you call out softly, sleepily, placing a worried hand along her damp back.
You know from experience, from countless nights woken by Mel, that touching anyone while they’re in this deep just makes things worse. Stolen away by their terrors like this, people struggle to identify good touch from bad. You should give her space, not touch her.
But that instinctual part of you, the one that wants to hold and comfort and bundle Abby away, to hide her from everything that’s ever hurt her wins in this moment—taking advantage of your sleep addled brain.
She flinches, a whole-body movement, the elbow of the arm wrapped around her middle shoving back. You manage to dodge it, shuffling back before it can hit you in the chest, but it snaps the remnants of sleep from your foggy brain.
“Shit,” you breathe, swearing as you sit back and watch her, watch Abby whimper and sob.
You’ve never seen her like this, never seen so much as a tear in her eye.
It feels wrong. Not in the way that Abby can’t cry, that she shouldn’t be allowed to-- but in the way that you feel like a voyeur. The way people perceive her, what they think of Abby Anderson, is important to her. She would never want anyone to see her the way she is now.
And she doesn’t, normally. Doesn’t even allude to it if she can help it.
How many nights has she spent like this, waking up choking on her nightmares, to then go about her day and pretend like nothing has happened?
You swear you can feel your heart breaking just thinking about it.
You inch closer, careful not to touch or startle her more than you already have as you lay behind her, speaking as calmy and softly as you can. You can barely think, the words tumbling from your lips as you try so hard to focus on her, and not the cries that are ripped from her chest.
“Abby… You’re okay, baby.”
“You’re safe, I promise.”
“I’m so sorry… Wake up, Abs.”
Tears cool on your cheeks as you talk her down, watching as her tremors soften into occasional twitches, her sobs quieting into painful whimpers as she holds herself.
She looks so impossibly small; the world so big and scary around her.
When you deem it safe enough, you slowly slide yourself to fit along her back, bundling her up into your arms as best as you can.
She wakes up with gasping breaths, jolting as you caress her, shushing and whispering against her shoulder as she shivers.
“Hey, you’re okay. It’s just me.” You lean up, pressing a soft kiss to the damp skin of her temple, running a hand through her hair to smooth it back from where it sticks to her forehead. “Just a bad dream, baby.”
Your name is the first thing she says, voice croaking with use and so, so confused. She sniffles, hiccupping breaths rattling her chest as she slowly wakes up, body just as tense as it was in sleep.
“Fuck—I’m sorry this is—I can’t—”
Abby tries to leave. Her movements are stiff, almost robotic, hands grasping your wrists as she shuffles in your grip to sit up. You stay close to her, not caging her in or holding her back, but keeping your hands pressed to her chest and shoulder, following her as she sits up.
“It’s okay, you can stay. I want you to stay.”
A sharp breath catches in her throat, and she pauses, half sitting up and you pressed to her back. The tiniest whimper-- a sound so small you probably wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t right here-- leaves her lips, and she angles her face away from you as she begins to cry once more. It’s silent, her cries leaving as heavy, shuddering breaths.
“Come back,” you whisper, pulling on her gently to lay back down. She listens, resting her body back against yours, letting you curl up around her.
Abby’s hands seek your own, intertwining your fingers and gripping so tight, like she’s scared you’ll leave.
It takes a while for her to calm down, for only the occasional sniffle and stuttering breath to fill the silence of the room. You stay close the entire time, pressing soothing kisses across her shoulders, up her temple and down her cheek. Her fingers flex in your own every now and again, almost checking for if you’re still here, and you squeeze back in response every time.
You feel Abby sigh through her nose, the heave of her back against your chest, the click of her throat as she swallows. Her body remains just as tense, muscles wound tight under her skin.
“My dad,” Abby says, voice hoarse and distant. “I was dreaming about my dad.”
You press a kiss to her shoulder, burying your head in against her. She seems like she wants to say more, but the words die on her tongue before she can speak them.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” you murmur, squeezing her hands gently.
Abby lays there for a moment, silent as she blinks off into the distance of the room, thumb moving in small sweeps across the back of one of your hands. “It’s just hard to talk about him.”
You say nothing, not wanting her to feel pressured to respond in a certain way. As much as you want her to open up to you, you’re not going to push her. Not now.
Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper. But in that whisper holds so much, it almost feels like she’s screaming. “He died four years ago… Someone killed him.”
Oh, Abby.
“I’m sorry.”
And you are. You weren’t all that close to your own parents, and while their deaths hit you hard, you can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must be for Abby. Abby who clearly loves her dad so, so much. Who wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, traumatised and scared all these years later.
“Hey,” you cut through the silence that follows, unhooking your hands from her own. “Come here.”
You gently push on her shoulder, shuffling back to give her room to turn around. She listens, following the movement sluggishly— exhausted. You hold your arms open for her and she slides right into them, face pressed to the soft swell of your chest, trembling hands sliding up under your shirt to feel your skin; to feel that you’re alive and here with her.
Your lips press softly to the crown of her head, hands sliding up to gently massage at her shoulders, an attempt to loosen the muscles. It works, only a little bit, the tension seeping out from under your fingers.
“Do you want to try going back to sleep?”
“No.” The answer is immediate, muffled into your shirt.
You hum, soft and low as you bury your nose into her hair. “Want to watch a movie?”
“Can you talk to me?” she cuts you off, pressing herself closer to your chest. Her legs shuffle against your own, intertwining them together like you always do. “Just… need to hear you.”
Your heart squeezes in your chest, the pressure cracking it even further.
“Of course.” A kiss to her temple, your hands still smoothing across her back and shoulders.
It’s a whole lot of nothing, the things you talk about— what you’ve been doing at work, some drama you overheard in the mess hall, the betting pool you and a couple of other medics have on when Vicky and Amelia are going to get together.
Abby’s breathing events out after a while, muscles relaxing as she buries closer, slowly giving in to sleep. She twitches every now and again, soft whines clogging the back of her throat, but nothing like before.
You stay up the rest of the night, battling sleep to watch over her. You’d be exhausted in the morning, but you needed to make sure she was okay.
It wasn’t fair for her to do this alone.
⸙
For the second time in twenty-four hours, you wake up with a start.
“—you doing?”
Your eyes snap open, body jolting and rattling the cot you’re curled up on. Blinking, you hold a hand up to your eyes to block the lamp light that buzzes on the cieling, blinding you. When the dark shapes leave you vision, you see Mel standing over you, arms crossed over her chest, chart tucked under her arm. One of her eyebrows is slightly raised as she looks you over.
You groan, hitting your head back on the mattress. “What time is it?”
Mel checks the clock on the wall, “Just after four.”
Shit. You went on your fifteen nearly an hour ago.
“You need to be careful,” she says, sounding just a little bit like she’s scolding a forgetful child. “I have to submit your evaluation to Isaac on Friday.”
Right. Your evaluation.
By the end of the week, you’ll have been a medic-in-training for six months. Mel, over the last few weeks, has been working on a report-- an evaluation of everything from your conduct to your demonstrated skills to give to Isaac. He’ll go through it at the end of the week and will either approve or deny the request to recognise you as a fulltime medic.
It won’t be that much different to what you’re doing now, but you’ll get to work without needing a supervisor around and won’t have to run things like medication dosages by someone higher up than you before you administer them. So, nothing crazy, but you’ve worked so hard to get to this point that it’d be mortifying to get denied.
You haul yourself up, body still half asleep and head pounding with the lack of it. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t have anyone, so I went on my break. I just wanted to shut my eyes for a second.”
Mel gives you room to swing your legs to dangle over the side of the cot, watching as you right your clothes and scrub at your face. “What time did you get to sleep last night?”
“Uh, ten? But I woke up around midnight and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I’m running on fumes,” you yawn, covering your mouth with your hand.
“You alright?” Mel reaches a out, placing a hand on your upper arm. Her head is ducked to look at you, gaze flicking over your tired face, frowning at whatever she sees.
“Yeah! Yeah, just… y’know.” You shrug, offering her a small smile. “Nightmares.”
It feels bad lying to her, especially after your talk a couple of weeks back, but you’d much rather do this than air out Abby’s personal struggles, especially to Mel. It feels wrong to consider otherwise.
Mel squeezes your arm softly, commiserating. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, nothing I can’t handle.”
Mel lets you go, stepping back to give you space to hop off the cot— to get your bearings and wake up. “I know.” She pauses. “I’m not going to write this in your report, by the way. But if it keeps happening, I’ll have to mention something. Not because I want to, but just in case he asks for other opinions.”
You let out a breath, relieved. “Thanks, Mel. I owe you.” You lean in to kiss her cheek, pulling the chart from her crossed arms. “What’ve you got?”
“Ankle sprain. I came back here to get some bandages but found you snoring away. She’s already got it on ice in the other room.”
You scowl at her, flicking through the file. “I don’t snore.”
“Uh huh.” She nods down at the chart. “You want it?”
“Sure, I can take it.” You let the paper flip back to the front page, placing the whole clipboard on the cot so you can get what you need from the cupboards. You have to get low to the ground for the one you need, and you feel your calf protesting the further down you sink.
“How was your time off? You go to the aquarium?”
Mel leans a hip against the metal frame of the cot, watching you work. “We did. It was… It was nice.” There’s something girlish in her tone, sweet and reminiscent. You look back at her from where you’re shuffling through the cupboard to raise an eyebrow, watching the way she chews on her cheek to keep herself from smiling.
“Just nice?”
Mel breaks. “Okay, so maybe it was terribly romantic and cheesy and stupid. Sue me.”
You laugh, turning back and locating the bandages. “He’s so whipped,” you say, muffled as you reach all the way in the back for the right type. “And so are you.”
“You don’t get it,” she sighs, leaning her head back to look at the ceiling. “He took me to that department store he told me about months ago and let me pick out Christmas decorations. Then we went back, and it was just three days of decorating and listening to these stupid CDs he found and…” she trails off, smiling softly to herself, voice quiet. “It was perfect.”
“You guys make me want to throw up.” You grip a nearby counter to lever yourself back up, wincing at the pull you feel along your muscles. “In a positive way, obviously,” you tack on, throwing a teasing grin over your shoulder at her.
Her nose wrinkles. “Gross.”
“Hey, not my fault.” You throw you hands up, bandages held tight in one of them. You make your way over to the cot, picking up the chart off the thin mattress. “Tell Owen to stop getting his date ideas from the romance novels in the library and then maybe I won’t feel the need to barf all the time.”
“Alright, get back to work before I start adding ‘harasses coworkers’ to your report.” Mel chides playfully, pushing you away from her and towards the door.
You spin on your heels, giving Mel a mock salute as you walk backwards towards the main tent. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her light laughter follows you out.
⸙
Abby makes herself scarce.
It was like something shifted, and the Abby you went to bed with that night woke up the next morning more subdued, restrained. She wasn’t cold, or mean, or outright avoiding you; but she was different. Off.
And you understood. Whatever she dreamt of that night sounded horrific, and you would never expect anyone to come out of that perfectly fine the next day. If anything, you’re a little relieved that she’s not shrugging you off and pretending like everything is fine like she normally does.
But you still worry. You want nothing more than to reach out and comfort her, but you know any attempt will just make her shut you out more. She won’t let herself have that; not just yet.
She throws herself at her training, long sessions at the gym, even volunteering for extra patrols. Desperate to always be doing something. It makes it hard to see her, to check in on her.
It doesn’t help that you’re also busy, flitting around and making sure all your assessments have been completed and the list of requirements for Isaac’s approval have all been ticked off. Mel leaves to give your eval to him on Friday, and you’re beginning to feel the pressure.
You’ve managed to catch Abby a couple of times, thankfully, spotting her on your way to work or her taking the long way home from the gym on the off chance she’ll see you. Even when she wants space, feels like she has to do everything she can to distract herself, she still needs to see you—feel you.
You hold her hand and kiss her knuckles in greeting, let her nose against your neck as she pulls you off to the side just to hold you. You only get a few minutes here and there, and you soak up as much of each other’s attention as you can.
Each time, you want to ask her about it, convince her to let you in on how she’s feeling-- what’s making her work so hard. But you can’t bring yourself to grill her about her emotional state when she’s like this, allowing herself the vulnerability of seeking out your presence.
It’s after one of these moments with Abby that you run into Owen.
Your skin is still warm from the shower Abby had pulled you into, stealing you away in one of the private cubicles for an incredibly indulgent thirty minutes. You can still feel her hands on your hips, the soft ache of her between your legs. The small smile you’ve been sporting since you left the showers won’t leave your swollen lips, knowing she’s feeling the exact same thing.
You pause in the hallway when you spot Owen, shower caddy pressed to your chest as you watch him exit your room. He rummages around in his back pocket for his copy of the key, going to lock the door behind him.
“Hey, Owen. You can keep that open.”
He perks up, looking up and down the hallway until he sees you. Smiling, he pockets his key. “Hey! Sorry, just dropping something off for Mel.”
“She’s not home?”
“Nah.” He nods back to the door. “She left her spare boots at mine and wanted me to drop them off. Something about the sole of her current ones falling off?”
A light laugh leaves you as you approach. “Yeah, she’s walking around with it all taped up. I tried offering her mine, but her feet are tiny.”
Owen laughs in the doorway, and you politely stand and wait for him to move so you can enter. He doesn’t, even after he stops laughing, and you can’t help but raise an eyebrow at him. He catches on quickly, eyes widening.
“Right! Sorry, I’m in the way.” He moves, laughing to himself as you dig around in your pocket for the key.
“Actually…” He pauses, catching your attention. You put the key in the lock and turn, tilting your head back to look at him. “Can I actually talk to you for a second?”
“In private, or…?” You ask, gesturing to the room.
“Out here’s fine. It’s nothing serious. I just wanted to apologise.”
Your brows furrow and you turn around, leaving the key in the lock. Owen’s looking away from you, down at his boots, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.
You lean against the closed door, adjusting your caddy in your grip. “For what?”
“Lunch, the other day. I didn’t mean to upset anyone or make things difficult.”
You sigh, leaning down to lay the caddy at your feet. “You’re fine, Owen. You didn’t upset me, and Abby’s just… She’s been stressed lately. A lot has been going on, so no hard feelings. You didn’t know.”
It’s Owen’s turn to sigh, digging one of his boots into the faded carpet. “Yeah… I uh— I talked to Mel about it afterwards. She filled me in on everything.”
You blink. “Oh.”
He looks up at you, a soft smile on his face. It’s genuine. Warm. “I’m glad that you have each other.”
Heat prickles the back of your neck as you open your mouth, not sure whether to protest, agree, or ask for clarification on what the hell he means, but Owen beats you to it.
“Sorry—I didn’t mean to imply anything.” He brings his hands up, palms facing you, that same smile still on his face. You don’t believe him. “Just, it’s good for Abby to have people like you. Friends’ outside of us, I mean-- detached from everything that happened. She’s lucky to have you.”
That heat crawls across your skin, up your neck and over your cheeks. “Owen… If you’re saying all this to embarrass me then you’ve done your job--”
“Look,” he says, stepping slightly closer. “Mel told me you two were fighting.” He pauses, and so do you. “I don’t… I don’t necessarily agree with what she said to you,” he confesses, voice low.
Huh.
“… Why not?”
“Don’t— Don’t tell her I said any of this.” Owen glances down the hallway, checking before continuing. “Her heart is in the right place, and I think she’s doing what she thinks is best, but she just... she refuses to see the difference in Abby.”
Your arms fold over your chest, and you find yourself leaning in to hear him. “What do you mean?”
“During lunch, the way she changed when you sat down with us. The way you two talked; it felt like I was sitting with the Abby from when we were teenagers. Before…”
“Before her dad died?” The words leave your lips before you can stop them, filling in the gap, soft and tentative.
“She told you?”
You shake your head. “Just that he was killed. I don’t know anything else.”
Owen sighs, a resigned sound, scratching a hand through his beard. “It hit everyone really hard, Abby the most, obviously. She changed after that. She’s still Abby, but also… not.” He pauses, looking back down at his boots. “It’s why we broke up. We wanted different things, and I couldn’t be the person she needed. I knew she was grieving, but there’s only so much you can do for someone, you know?”
You’re listening, you really are, but you’re also trying to process this new information you’ve just been given.
They broke up because of what happened with her dad?
“Anyway.” Owen clears his throat, looking back to you. “All this to say; don’t let Mel make you second guess yourself. You and Abby are clearly close, and she wouldn’t have let that happen if she didn’t really care for you.”
The way he says it… He knows more than he’s letting on. You can tell.
“Thanks, Owen. I really appreciate it. It hasn’t been… y’know. It’s been tough balancing it all,” you confess, feeling a slight weight on your chest being lifted as the words leave your mouth.
“Of course. I know we don’t see each other often, but I care about you— all three of you. I’m always here if you need to talk.” He smiles, reassuringly. “And look, I was serious about the not telling Mel thing… I don’t want to be sleeping in the kennel with Alice,” he jokes, but you and him both know there’s some seriousness to his words.
You snort, a sharp laugh. “I won’t. I promise.”
He lets out a relieved sigh, hand against his heart as she slumps a bit. “Okay, good. Thank you.” Running a hand through his blonde hair, he looks back down the hallway. “Alright, I better run.” He flashes you a smile, the one you know makes Mel weak in the knees. “Don’t be a stranger,” he winks, stepping back.
You roll your eyes, turning back to the door. “Bye, Owen.”
⸙
Friday has you on edge.
You have the day off, Mel having to leave base to make a trip to the FOB, hand delivering your evaluation to Isaac. She’s been there all day, helping out at medical while Isaac combs over the report.
It’s been killing you, having to wait. At the end of the day, the decision is down to Isaac, and that worries you just a bit. Not that you don’t trust his judgement, but he hasn’t seen you work. He’s going solely off the evaluation that Mel has given him, and if he sees something he doesn’t like, he could easily deny the request and have you do another six months of training.
There’s also the possibility that he thinks you’re entirely unfit, in which case he’ll assign you to another job.
You don’t think it’ll come to that, but the fear is still there.
You’re sitting on the sofa in the room when Mel finally gets home, an older coat of Abby’s in your lap, fixing it up for winter. You’ve just finished sewing up a rip along the seam, using a small pair of sewing scissors to clip the thread when Mel unlocks the door.
You silently stand when she enters, placing the coat on the armrest, watching with uncertain eyes as she approaches you, your evaluation in hand. She says nothing as she rounds the sofa, holding out the file for you to take.
You grab it with shaky hands, looking up to Mel quickly before holding it close, reading the top page that’s been pinned in place by an old paperclip.
Your name is written at the top in Mel’s delicate but messy handwriting.
I, Melanie Jacobs, having acted as teacher and guide for the entire six-month training period for Medic #0473, believe that all required assessments have been met at a beyond satisfactory level. In my personal and professional opinion, Medic #0473 has exceeded expectations, and is more than capable of providing medical aid and care to patients without guidance or supervision.
Secondary report by Nora Harris is enclosed to support this statement.
It has been requested that Medic #0473, upon approval by Isaac Dixon, will begin work as an individual from this moment onwards.
Mel prints her name at the bottom, just underneath her sprawling signature.
Over the words, in a bold red stamp, is the word APPROVED.
“Holy shit…” you breathe, taking it in.
Your head whips up to Mel’s, eyes wide as she grins at you. “Holy shit!” You jump up, launching yourself at the woman across from you.
She laughs, light and breathless, wrapping her arms around you and hugging you tightly. “Congratulations, Medic.”
You pull back, grinning at her. “Thank you, Melanie,” you tease, laughing at her answering groan.
“Don’t make this a thing, please. I almost forgot to write the full thing; I never use it.”
Snickering, you bring her back in for a hug. “Okay, okay.”
You both stand there, arms wrapped tightly around each other and rocking side to side, your heart beating wildly in your chest. You did it. All that hard work, all that worrying that you wouldn’t be able to find your place here after your accident. It feels fucking amazing.
Abby’s going to be so excited when you tell her.
You pull back slightly, bringing your arm back around to stare down at the paperwork. “When do I start?”
“Tomorrow,” Mel says, stepping back to give you room. “I have a patrol shift I have to do, so I won’t be around.”
You take a breath, sharp and cool, anxiety curling in your gut. “That’s so soon…”
“Hey, you’ll be fine. Nora will be around for a few more days before going back to the FOB, so she’ll be there if you really need it.” Her hands come up, gripping your biceps. “But try your best, okay? I know you can do it.” She shakes you lightly in place. “Believe in yourself. You’re great at what you do.”
A smile works its way onto your lips as you let yourself be jostled around. “Okay… Thank you, Mel, for all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“A lot of things,” she says, pulling you back in for another hug, holding you close. “I know things have been less than ideal, that this wasn’t where you wanted to be, but you worked you ass off for this. Don’t let anyone make you think that this wasn’t all you.” She squeezes you, and you hear her sniffle. “I’m so proud of you.”
“You’re gonna make me cry,” you whine, burying your face into her shoulder. She laughs; throat tight with tears.
Mel pulls back after a while, once you’re both dry-eyed and all hugged out.
“As much as I would love to celebrate properly, I need to be up before dawn for patrol.” Mel frowns, lips twisting to the side. “You also probably shouldn’t drink, either. Turning up hungover the second you’re out of training isn’t a good look.”
You chuckle, shaking your head. “No, I imagine it wouldn’t be.”
“Rain check?” She asks, hopeful.
“Rain check.” You smile.
You look back down at the report still clutched in your hands as Mel moves through the room, gathering up everything she needs for patrol the next day. Fingers run over the red stamp in the centre of the page, ink spidering out and running through the creases in the paper.
Abby’s coat, folded over the arm of the couch, brings your focus behind the paperwork, lowering it to stare at the article.
You want to tell her so bad.
Eyes flick over to the front door, then back down to the coat. You chew on your lip.
“You can go, if you want.”
Your head snaps up, finding Mel already looking at you from her bunk a few feet away. “Huh?”
“You can go find Abby, tell her the news.”
That familiar heat burns your cheeks, embarrassment, a little bit of shame. “I didn’t—”
Her eyes roll, and while you know that it’s playful, you can’t help but see the hint of annoyance behind it. Nothing malicious, more exasperated than anything. “You didn’t have to.” She looks over to the door. “I just know I’d want to tell Owen if I got news like this.”
“… Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Mel says, nodding when she looks back to you. “Like I said, we can’t exactly celebrate properly until we have some time off, anyway. So go.”
You blink at her, studying her face to make sure she’s being earnest. That this isn’t one of those ‘I’m being polite by offering but really don’t want you to do it’ situations.
Seeing none of that in her expression, you reach down to grab Abby’s coat from the sofa, replacing it with your evaluation. You cross the couple of feet to Mel’s bunk, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, Mel.”
You retreat, chuckling at the way her lips scrunch as she tries to not smile. “Just, leave already,” she calls out, turning to face away from you.
“I love you!” You call out behind you, slinging Abby’s coat over one of your arms.
“Love you too,” Mel replies, just as the door closes behind you.
⸙
Abby and Manny’s room is only a short distance from your own, through a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. You’re not even certain she’ll be there, or if she’s even on base, but it’s the best place to start.
It doesn’t take long, only a few minutes for you to arrive at their door. You shuffle Abby’s coat in your arms, giving you room to reach up and knock on the wood of room 203.
Muffled arguing from inside makes you hesitate, arm paused mid-knock.
“—keeping you up at night. You need rest.” Manny says, tone sharp.
“I need information,” Abby bites back. “Answers.”
“Abs, you can’t do all that if you get yourself killed because you’re exhausted.” Manny’s voice lowers, and you need to press your ear up to the wood to be able to hear him. “You know I want this. We all want this. And when we find him, I will be right there next to you.”
“Then what’s your problem?” Abby cuts in, interrupting.
The sound of boots on carpet, the rustling of fabric.
“You have to take care of yourself, before you do something you regret. Again.” A pause. “Think of what is important.”
Her answer is immediate. “Finding him is important.”
Manny sighs, frustrated. “But is it everything?”
There’s silence, long and tense. It feels like it’ll stretch on forever if they’re not interrupted, so you step back and knock on the door.
Abby grunts from inside, a frustrated growl. Boots stomp to the other side of the room.
“Yes, Abby, of course I will answer the door,” Manny huffs, voice getting louder as he approaches.
When the door swings open, Manny fills the frame. Immediately, you can tell something is wrong-- you wouldn’t have had to of overheard their conversation to know that. His strong brows are drawn together, lips turned down in a scowl. You almost step back, stunned by seeing him like this, stressed and clearly upset.
But the moment his eyes find yours, his face smooths out, that usual confident smile that makes you feel like you can do anything overtaking his face.
He holds out a hand, pulling you to his chest when you clap it with your own. “Hey, doc. You here to see Abby?”
You nod against him, pulling back to smile up at the man. “Yeah, just wanted to come by and drop this off.” You gesture to the coat, holding up your arm. “Maybe see if she was free to talk? I won’t be long.”
Manny waves you off, stepping back to straighten his coat. “I’m on my way out, actually. Take all the time you need,” he winks, making the back of your neck heat up despite your scowl. He just laughs, looking back to call over his shoulder.
“Abs, tu mujer is here.”
“What did you just call me?” You ask at the same time as Abby’s “Fuck off” drifts from the other side of the room.
Manny turns back to you, shrugging as he smiles. “Ask Abby.”
He opens the door wider, stepping through to leave. “I’ve got to go, but it’s good seeing you.” Manny pulls you in for another hug, pressing his lips close to your ear as he does.
“Stay, if you can. I think she needs it.”
You nod at him when he pulls back, and he squeezes your shoulders gently before letting go, mouthing a quick ‘gracias’. You swap places with him in the doorway, placing a hand on the doorhandle as Manny double checks his pockets.
“Abs, I’m going now. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He calls out, pulling out his key before shoving it back in his coat.
“Sure.”
Manny rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath before giving you a warm smile. “Good luck.”
You laugh, short and soft as you wave him off, watching him slip through the doors at the end of the hall.
Abby’s silent in the room, even when you close the door behind you, latch catching. She’s all the way by the window, looking out across the stadium. You can just barely make out her reflection, see the way her arms are crossed over her chest, the way her lips are twisted in a scowl. Her shoulders are tense, drawn up high and close to her ears.
You toe off your boots at the door, placing them neatly next to the TV cabinet. Your socks are soft against the carpet, footsteps muffled as you pad your way over. You drape her coat over the banister as you pass, taking the steps one by one until you reach her.
Abby tenses as you place your hands along her back, slipping them around her front to rest just under her own. You press yourself close, your front to her back, nuzzling your face between her shoulder blades. The muscles under you shift as she does, tension slowly unwinding from them as she relaxes back into your grip.
You press a soft kiss to her shoulder, tilting your head up to hook your chin over it, cheek pressed to her own. Abby let’s out a quiet sigh, letting herself lean back into your grip, the both of you looking out into the stadium.
“Hi.”
“Hey.” Her voice is softer than before but still clipped. Frustrated. Angry.
“You okay?” You ask, question quiet in the air between you.
“Yeah.” Abby shuts her eyes, pausing to let out a long breath, one she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. “I’m just exhausted. Can’t sleep.” Her head tilts to the side, pressing against your own. “I’ve missed you.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” You squeeze her gently, hands splayed across her stomach. “We’ve both been so busy. I can stay tonight, if you’d like?”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” You kiss her shoulder, cutting off her protests. “I haven’t been sleeping too well, either. It’ll be good for us.”
Abby’s jaw works, you can feel the muscles moving against your cheek. “If you’re sure.”
“Of course I am.” You turn your head, nosing at the freckled skin of her cheek, pressing a kiss to the swell of it. “As long as we go to bed a bit earlier, tonight. I have my first shift as a medic tomorrow.”
Her eyes flutter open, and you can practically hear the cogs turning in Abby’s head.
“You’re already a medic,” she says, voice low and full of confusion.
“Medic-in-training,” you correct her, smiling against her cheek. “I got my evaluation approved by Isaac today.”
Abby straightens up in your arms, taking her bodyweight off your chest to turn as much as she can, peering at you. “You did?”
You nod, squeezing her gently, smile widening as she blinks at you. “Mmhm. I start working solo tomorrow.”
Abby turns the rest of the way, working herself so she’s facing you, chest to chest. It’s the first good look you’ve gotten of her face today, and she really does look exhausted. Dark shadows hang under her eyes, dulling the colour of her blue irises with lack of sleep.
The smile curling her plush lips is enough to brighten her face back up, add an extra ten hours sleep back onto her features.
Her hands come up to cup your face, thumbs running over your smiling cheeks. “That’s—I’m so proud of you, honey.”
You can’t help the giggle that leaves you lips as she leans in, capturing you in a sweet kiss. She quickly strays, peppering kisses across your cheeks as her hands slide down your body. You’re too distracted by her lips, head tilted to the side and eyes pressed closed to realise what she’s doing until it’s too late. She’s already got her forearms locked around the backs of your thighs, and you feel her press you tight to her chest.
“Abby--!” You cry out as she picks you up, hoisting you up into her arms to spin you in place. You scrabble, grabbing purchase on her shoulders, gripping the green long sleeve in your fists as you laugh. “Don’t do that!”
She just huffs a laugh, face still pressed against your cheek. Her lips work their way over your skin, making you squirm with breathless giggles the closer she gets to your neck.
“Abby,” you whine, arms coming around to lock behind her neck, holding her as close as possible. “Stop spinning, you know I get dizzy.”
She listens, eventually comes to a stop, standing in the middle of the room with you still in her arms. Her forearms shift, large hands moving to grab the backs of your thighs. She guides your legs to wrap around her, thighs settling around her hips, hands supporting you. Her face pulls from your neck, and the way she looks at you has your heart beating fast; eyes softer than you’ve seen in days, brimming with pride and affection as she looks right at you.
“I knew you could do it.” She presses up, placing another kiss to your lips.
You can’t help but smile wider, hands weaving into her hair as your lips work against one another’s. Abby hums softly, keeping your lips locked as she begins to walk over to the bed, carefully laying you down against her sheets.
You can’t stand the idea of being parted from her for too long, tugging her down to lay atop of you the moment your back hits the mattress. She hovers, propping herself up on her forearms as she licks along the seam of your lips, deepening the slow kiss.
Hands roam, one of yours slipping to press against the muscles of her back, one of hers cradling the back of your head. Touching. Feeling. Needing to be close.
There’s nothing hurried about this kiss, no snapping tension fuelling the need for more, more, more. It’s warm and simmering, blanketing you in a pleasant calm as you take the other in, allowing yourself to be kissed into the mattress.
“Mm—” you hum as you pull away, remembering. “What did Manny call me before?”
“Hm?” Abby shifts, kissing down your cheek and jaw, not stopping.
You sigh, shaky and soft as you close your eyes, melting in her grip. “Manny, before he left, he called me something.” You try your hardest to think, but the light presses of Abby’s lips to your neck makes things a bit more difficult. “Tu… Tu m—”
Abby nips lightly at the skin just beneath your ear, making you gasp. “Just ignore him, he’s being stupid,” she murmurs, trying her hardest to distract you.
It’s somewhat working, though your curiosity wins out over her hot breaths and lips against your throat.
“C’mon… I still want to know. Is it something bad?” You’d never want to think that Manny would be rude to you, or really anyone else for that matter, but Abby’s unwillingness to explain makes that twinge of anxiety stir within you.
“No,” Abby sighs, unlatching from your neck and pulling back to sit up slightly, looking down at you. “Nothing bad, I promise.” She pauses, gaze running over your face, flicking down to your parted lips every now and again.
You open your eyes, watching her from your position below her.
“So…?”
She wets her lips, hesitating for a moment.
“Tu mujer,” she says, murmuring it between you. Colour darkens her cheeks, not even the shadows of the bunk above you being able to hide it. “It means ‘your wife’.”
A jolt sparks through you, a tingling that extends from your scalp all the way to the tips of your toes. A warm buzz, something stirring in your gut. The corners of your mouth tick up into a smile. “Wife, huh?”
Abby— your girlfriend, you think giddily-- groans, turning her head to look away, but you bring your hands up to cup her cheeks, holding her head in place.
“You know, I thought we talked about having to ask the girls you like before you call them these things,” you tease, laughing as she tries to hide away.
“I don’t call you that. Manny does. He thinks it’s funny.”
You pull her in closer, kissing her softly. “And what do you think about it?”
Abby tenses, face darkening in colour the longer she looks at your teasing smile, the way you pull your lip between your teeth. She huffs, embarrassed, eyes flicking away and to the side. “Stop ganging up on me.”
You laugh, moving your arms up to lock around the back of her neck. “Okay, I’m sorry.” You kiss her cheek, pulling her down on you more. She hums, gradually looking back to you, lips pouting.
You can’t help but kiss her, needing to feel her lips against your own. The two of you drift back into that softness, the exchange of slow, deep kisses; your actions speaking louder than any words you could string together in this moment.
There’s just you and her— her and you.
When you begin to lose your breath, Abby shifts the two of you so you’re on your sides, pulling you to curl up in her arms. Her chest rises and falls with deep breaths, slow but heavy.
“Are you sure you want to stay tonight?”
You look up at her, setting your chin on her sternum, watching her lashes flutter against her cheeks. “Yeah, of course I do.”
Her eyes move behind her lids. Thinking.
“Don’t want to keep you up.”
“Nightmares?” You ask, quiet against her chest. You hear her throat work, see her swallowing down her emotions.
“Yeah.”
Her hands, splayed across your back, pull you in ever so closer. The tips of her fingers dig into the muscles, a light pressure to remind herself that you’re real and here with her.
“That’s alright,” you say, scratching lightly at the base of her skull. “Do you want me to talk to you again? While you fall asleep?”
Abby sighs, blinking her eyes open to stare at the wall over your head. “You shouldn’t have to.”
“But it’s okay that I do.” You kiss just under her jaw, making her look at you. “Okay?”
She’s quiet, jaw working as she runs through everything she could say, all her rebuttals. Reasons as to why she doesn’t need it, how she can deal with this herself. How you shouldn’t be the one taking care of her.
But she doesn’t.
Abby, eyes drifting down to your face, softening at the way you look up at her so lovingly, just says, “Okay.”
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