#I just want people to know what to expect from me because if it ain’t someone’s cup

[bxunyx]

Attention prequel

Pairing-Elijah*Smoke*Moore x BlackOC(this can be x reader also)

Summary-prequel of attention

A/N-Enjoy and comment to the anonymous person who asks for this I hope you like it lovely

Request-You don’t have to write a full fic if you don’t feel like it. But if you can, can you please do a small fic of Smoke’d reaction when his girlfriend left town all those years ago, like a prequel to Attention?

It was a rainy night. Not hard. Just steady enough to sound like regret against the roof of Smokes' place. Arna stood by the window, one hand on the window seal, the other clenching the letter she wasn't going to leave. Because this wasn’t the kind of goodbye she could write. She’ll hoped to be gone by the time he gets back from handling business with his brother.

Smoke sat in the shadows, elbows on his knees, the glow of his cigarette dimming every time he exhaled slowly. He hadn’t said a word in ten minutes. Not since she told him she was going to leave.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, but his voice came out tired. Not pleading. Just worn down to the wire.

She didn’t answer right away. She was watching him, her Smoke, the one with the voice like slow jazz and fists like iron. The one who could read a man or a woman with the same sharp, unflinching eye. Except he never quite figured out how to read her. That was always the problem.

“I got people waitin’ on me,” Arna said, voice low but steady.

He didn’t ask who. He already knew it wasn’t family. It was freedom. A chance to finally be free from her demons. Or maybe it was HIM.

“People,” he repeated, eyes not on you, but somewhere just beyond. “Or just that nigga who think he can take my place”

“That nigga dont know how to carry the weight of a woman like you,” he muttered, looking her in he eyes. “Not the way I do.”

Arna turned from the window. The air between them felt scorched. All that heat, but no light left.

“I ain’t lookin’ to be carried, Smoke. That’s the whole damn point.”

“Peace,” she said softly. “Freedom. The kind that don’t come with somebody else’s name on it.”

His jaw twitched. “You think I held you back?”

He looked at her then, really looked—eyes sharp and full of everything he wouldn’t say. And beneath it, she saw the hurt. He didn’t mask it fast enough.

She crossed the room, slow like she was walking on glass. “No. I think I held myself back, tryin’ to stay within reach of you.”

“I was tryin’ to build something here,” he said. “You and me—we had something.”

“You always needed the whole thing, huh?” she said. “Couldn’t just take what I gave.”

He stood. Slow. The way men do when they don’t know whether to beg or let pride do the walking for them.

“I never asked you to stay,” he said, voice catching like his lighter against a damp wick. “Only ever wanted you to want to.”

She crossed the room. Quiet. Careful. The dress she wore was simple, but her eyes—her big and brown eyes-were set on a horizon he couldn’t see.

“You think this is easy for me?”

“No,” he said. “That’s what makes it worse.”

He came to her then, and for a second, it almost changed. His hand caught her wrist, thumb brushing that spot just above her pulse. She didn’t pull away. Not yet.

“Every time that nigga touched you, woman—he only ever borrowed. I kept you. In every look, every word you never said. You gonna pretend that doesn’t matter?”

She closed your eyes. Just for a second. Let the pain bloom before she presses it down.

“It matters,” she said. “But it ain’t enough.”

He backed away, like her words had weight. He ran a hand down his face, paced a short line across the room. “Then what the hell is?”

“Peace,” she said softly. “Freedom. The kind that don’t come with somebody else’s name on it.”

“You walk out now, you walk out of all of it,” he murmured. “Ain’t no halfway with me. You know that.”

“Walk out that door,” he said, “don’t expect me to chase you.”

She leaned close. Close enough to breathe in the ache on him. “Ain’t no halfway with me either. That’s why I gotta go.”

His laugh was hollow. “So that’s it?”

She placed your hand over his heart. “I ain’t leavin’ ’cause I don’t love you. I’m leavin’ ’cause I do. And I’m afraid if I stay, I’ll burn us both down tryin’ to be what you need.”

Lightning split the sky outside. Lit him up for half a second. You’d never seen him look so still. Like a man bracing for a hit that never comes—but knowing it still might.

She walked to the door. Her heels didn’t click this time. The carpet soaked it all up like sorrow.

And then—right as her hand touched the knob—he said it.

“I’d’ve chased you, you know.”

She paused.

“I know,” she whispered.

“You gon be alright?” Arna asked.

“Don’t know. You’ll haunt me either way, woman,” he said

[sceletaflores]

GIVE IT TO HER LIKE A MAN!

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｡𖦹°‧➵ pair: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

｡𖦹°‧➵ wc: 5.1k

｡𖦹°‧➵ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, no outbreak au, no ellie, joel’s pov, swearing, age gap (52/23), semi-public sex (more of a semi-public ALMOST over the pants handjob?), p in v, clothed sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, hair pulling, spit kink, degradation, pussy spanking, creampie, fucking in your childhood bedroom RAAAHHH, one (1) single line about joel wanting to slap you, one (1) single use of the word daddy, erectile dysfunction? we don't know what that means in this house because that old man can fuck like he's twenty, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

｡𖦹°‧➵ nat’s note: hi babies! i'm back! did you miss me? cause i missed you and oh em gee i'm so excited to be rejoining the party. this actually wasn't what i planned on posting but the angsty joel fic is kicking my ass so hard that i had to take a break from it. i just needed to word vomit some raunchy, freak-nasty porn to cleanse my palate! i don’t normally go for the dbf trope but it's just so joel i couldn't not dip my feet in these waters. it's also more like dad's-close-but-distant-acquaintance-joel because in my head that man has little to no friends honestly. hope you love it, mwah!

dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics!

joel gives the best graduation gifts...

Joel isn’t the type to get invited to these kinds of things.

Graduation parties for Ivy League brats. Champagne in fancy crystal flutes and catered hors d'oeuvres getting passed around on silver trays. Men in loafers and pastel polos calling each other “old buddy” without any irony. It’s a far cry from his usual crowd—his mangy old t-shirt and stained blue jeans stick out in the place like a damn sore thumb.

The invitation came from a distant friend, someone he used to work with before his career took him in an entirely different, much shiner direction. He was here more as a favor than anything else. Tommy’s been worried about him, says he needs to get out more.

“Meet some new people, drink a few beers.” He’d said with his hand clasped on Joel’s shoulder. “It ain’t healthy to spend every weekend fixin’ shit around the house, Joel.”

Joel doesn’t see the problem. He’s fine the way he is. But somehow, he still got roped into going when he could have used any excuse to pull out at the last second. He could have faked sick, faked busy, faked like he had anything else to do besides sit at a fancy oak table on a back porch bigger than the whole first story of his house, decorated in Yale blue balloons and streamers. 

He regretted giving into Tommy the second he pulled up in the driveway—a too-big Craftsman style place in West Lake Hills, all clean laid brick and perfectly manicured lawns. Joel couldn’t for the life of him remember why he said yes in the first place. Maybe it was the guilt of worrying his brother. Maybe for the decent catered food and overpriced beers he knew would be there when he first got the address.

What he hadn’t expected—what hit him in the goddamn chest when the door swung open after he knocked—was you.

And Christ, did you look smug about it.

It had been months ago. The only reason Joel was even in Connecticut was to meet with a client, a big time East Coast entrepreneur who wanted a new add on to his ten car garage and was fine slinging around the money to pay for a round-trip flight and a cushy hotel room.

He hadn’t planned on going to the bar that night, but after hours of back-and-forth about permits and material costs, he needed a drink. Just one, maybe two—enough to take the edge off before heading back to the hotel.

It was a shitty little dive about ten minutes from where he was staying. The beer was cold, the lights were low, and he wasn’t supposed to be making decisions with his little head. But then he saw you across the way, right in the middle of the dancefloor.

You were in a circle with a few other girls, your dress riding up higher and higher each time you’d roll your hips to the heavy bass blaring from the overhead speakers.

Joel watched you like that for a while, leaned up against the bar lazily sipping at his beer. He hadn’t planned on doing anything about it, just sat there and enjoyed the view. But you’d caught him looking, and instead of turning away and pretending not to notice, you’d smirked.

Joel should have known right then that he was in trouble.

It wasn’t long before you left your little group and made your way over, slipping on the stool beside him like you belonged there, like you’d already made your mind up about what was going to happen next. You’d leaned in close, close enough for him to catch the scent of whatever perfume you’d rolled over your throat before heading out—something rich and heady that damn near made his head spin.

“Hey, cowboy.” You’d said with a tilt of your head, the long column of your neck dewy with a light sheen of sweat he wanted to feel under his tongue. “You’ve been watching me?”

There was no accusation in your voice, just a quiet sort of amusement, like you already knew the answer.

Joel had huffed a laugh, he didn’t see the point of denying it. He was a lot of things, but subtle wasn’t one of them. “Yeah.” He’d admitted, taking a slow sip of his beer before setting it down. “What about it?”

Your eyes dropped down the length of his body, studying him, and he’d let you. Let you take your time looking, even as heat crawled up the back of his neck.

“Buy me a drink?” You’d asked, smiling up at him like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.

That was all it took.

One drink turned into two, which turned into three, and then you were leaning into his space like you were made to be there. Your index finger teasingly tracing along the collar of his shirt as you whispered something filthy in his ear that had all the blood in his brain rushing down south.

Joel really shouldn’t have let it go any further than some goddamn footsie under the bar and a few dirty words whispered over the rims of shiny glasses, he was too old for shit like that. But you were just so damn tempting—confident and sharp and pretty as all hell.

Before Joel knew it he had you pressed up against the side of his truck, giggling into his mouth, fingers tugging at his belt like you couldn't get it off fast enough. You’d tasted like the fruity cocktails he bought you and something sweeter underneath, something distinctly you, and Joel had to have more.

You let him have it too—fisting his shirt and dragging him into the backseat without a care in the world, all eager hands and breathless laughter as you straddled his lap.

It was supposed to be just that. A reckless decision with a pretty young thing as the cherry on top of his trip. A one-night deal he’d let himself have because, fuck, it had been a long time since someone looked at him like that.

Joel tried his damndest to think how he should’ve, tried not to let some one off fuck turn him all sorts of ass backwards. He tried his damndest to boot you out of his mind the next morning when he was boarding the flight back to Austin—but you stuck anyway, like a burr in his goddamn brain. 

The way you’d looked sprawled out under him, eyes glazed over with pleasure, lips parted, or the way you’d moaned his name like it was a prayer you needed him to hear. The way you’d rode him nice and slow, dragging your nails down his chest just to watch him shudder. The way you’d kissed him after, lazy and sweet, before sneaking off into the night like a goddamn thief.

Joel could've sworn he saw God that night, a smudged silhouette in the fogged up windows of his truck.

And now you’re here, standing in the doorway of some polished, high society home, looking like sin wrapped up in tulle and pearls.

Joel wasn’t a man who spooked easy, but seeing you again, surrounded by people who had no goddamn idea what you’d let him do to you in the backseat of his truck all those months ago, knocked him on his ass harder than a sucker punch.

The recognition was damn near instant, your eyes shining just as much as the sparkly sash that read “GRAD!” in big glittery letters. The initial shock gave way to a tiny, secret smile as your gaze slid up and down his body shamelessly, like this was some kind of funny inside joke. 

Joel was seconds away from turning tail, walking back down your ridiculously long driveway and getting in his truck to get the hell out of there, but then your father was walking up behind you with a big grin on his face. He clapped Joel on the shoulder roughly and introduced his “Old buddy Joel Miller from his blue-collar days!”

You were all coy smiles and wide eyes. A sugared, “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. Thank you for coming…” passing through your glossy lips.

The same lips that left shiny red smudges along the skin of his cock when you slid him down your throat, peering up at him with glassy eyes. The memory alone was enough to get heat stirring deep in his gut, and the way you looked at him now—all demure and polished, like you were some angelic scholar fresh off a podium—only made it worse.

Joel is too damn old for this.

“Very top of her class,” your father boasts, swishing his beer bottle through the air towards you flippantly. “Can you believe it? Just think of what we were doing at her age, brother. She sure as hell didn’t get any brains from me, that’s all her mother.”

Joel tries to chuckle with him, but it sounds strained, forced. He keeps his eyes facing forward, knee bouncing restlessly under the table. You’re looking at him again, hot and persistent against the side of his face. The heavy weight of your gaze practically begging him to look back. He doesn’t.

This dinner is it’s own form of torture, because of course, you just had to sit in the empty seat next to Joel—close enough that he can feel your knee bump up against his every few minutes.

He’s done a good job avoiding you until now, always walking the other direction when you waltz into the same room, not making eye contact when your gaze would sweep over the crowd hoping to catch his, trying for once in his life to be a good man.

A good man that suffers through this damn party without doing something he'll regret, that leaves at the end of the night and never has to see you again.

“Yeah,” he says, nervously starting to pick at the label of his own beer. Some snobby, imported New England brewery, probably sixty bucks a six-pack. “Good times.”

Joel can see you lean forward out of the corner of his eye, the neckline of your dress sliding down an inch as you stare at him, attention rapt. “What were you like back then, Mr. Miller?”

Joel nearly winces, his fingers tightening around the neck of his beer hard enough to turn the skin around his knuckles white.

‘Mr. Miller’ echoes in his ears lewdly, blaring like church bells. Your voice is nothing but a honey-sweet mockery, so syrupy he can nearly feel it trickling down his throat to add to the warmth settling low in his stomach. 

Your father snorts over the lip of his bottle, answering you before Joel could open his mouth. “Joel didn’t go to college, honey. He went into the trades right after graduation,” he takes a long sip, Joel feels your knee bump against his again. “That’s how we met.”

You hum, nodding your head languidly. “You’re an architect too?”

Joel shakes his head, not looking at you as he answers. “Carpenter.”

Your father launches into some story about his old work days with Joel, about how back in the day, they were “real men” with “real jobs,” but Joel can barely process any of it. He nods along absently, lets out some half-hearted chuckles when he needs to.

Joel nearly puts his knee through the table when he feels your barefoot brush up against his ankle, hiking his jeans up ever so slightly. He shoots you a glare as subtly as he can.

It’s a look so sharp, so warning, that it should be enough to make you back the hell off from whatever game you’re playing. You’re not even looking at him anymore, eyes glued to your father as you nod along to whatever story he’s telling now. 

But there’s a knowing little smile on your lips as your hand creeps beneath the table and falls into his lap, the pads of your fingers pressing against the inside of his thigh.

Joel goes still. Rigid as his breath catches on a sharp inhale.

Christ, you’re trying to kill him.

Your father’s voice pulls him out of the silent panic and heavy arousal waging a war inside of him. “How’s business, Joel?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. “You and Tommy still running things at a hundred miles a minute?”

Joel barely registers the question as your hand inches higher and higher. He can hear his own pulse pounding in his throat, in his chest, in his cock, already half-hard in his boxers from some goddamn heavy petting like a wet behind the ears teenager. 

“Yeah, we–” Joel pauses, willing his voice to steady with a quick cough to clear his throat. “We’ve been pretty busy with Summer rollin' around.”

Your father hums in agreement, cracking open another beer. “Of course, my schedule’s been a killer too this season,” he brags shamelessly, tone heavy with understanding like he and Joel are in the same boat. Only your fathers boat is a three million dollar yacht sailing for blue-print meetings with big shot celebrities and architectural digest interviews. “It’s a miracle I even had time to fly in for the party, isn’t that right sweetheart?”

Your hand slides up the length of his cock in one slow stroke, your palm grinding roughly over the tip through the tented denim.

“Yes, daddy.”

Your voice has gone all light and airy around the edges, almost melodic as it buries itself in Joel’s ears. At first, Joel thinks you’re talking to your father, but when his eyes flick over to you, you’re looking at him—your eyes half-lidded and sparkling with something dangerous as your fingers tug at the tab of his zipper.

Joel’s hand flies to your wrist, squeezing tight enough to stop your pawing at his now fully hard cock. “Alright if I use your bathroom?” he asks sharply, his voice a little too loud. He tosses your hand away and stands abruptly from his chair before he’s got an answer.

“Of course,” your father says easily, thankfully not noticing the tension at the table, or the way Joel’s trying to subtly hold his hands over his crotch. He turns his attention towards you, “Would you show Joel where the downstairs bathroom is, honey?”

Your smile only widens as you slip your sandal on and calmly stand from your own chair. “Sure,” you say breezily, but you’re not looking at your father, dark eyes still glued to Joel’s. “Follow me.”

The flowy fabric of your dress swishes behind you as you walk through the yard, Joel hot on your heels. He waits until you're both in the house, stepping through the open sliding glass door and out of view before his hand flies to your arm and squeezes hard.

Joel hears you wince softly, but you don’t try to fight your way out of his grip. He leans down closer, his lips inches away from your ear. His voice is low and rough as he grits out, “Take me to your room, now.”

You lead him through the kitchen and up the stairs silently, but Joel can still see the smug smile on your lips as you turn the corner. The need to slap that bratty shit right off your face wracks through him like thunder, anger burning hotter in his chest with every step.

You push the door to your bedroom open and step inside, barely turning to face him before Joel slams the door shut behind him and stalks past you. His eyes are dark, filled with a mix of rage and want as he stares you down.

“Do you think this is a goddamn game?” His voice is teeming with fury, the calm facade he scarcely maintained at dinner now entirely gone. “That you can do whatever the hell you please because your Daddy’s sittin' across from you?”

You bite your bottom lip, leaning against the door with your arms crossed behind your back coyly. “You didn’t bring me a present.”

It’s a taunt if Joel’s ever heard one, and it finally breaks him.

He crosses the room in three large strides, pinning you against the door. His hands on either side of your head, caging you in. Joel cranes his neck down, his face inches away from yours. He can smell your perfume this close, it’s different than what you wore at the bar—something soft and girly and sweet that has his cock straining in his boxer.

“You’re real fuckin' proud of yourself aren’t you?” he spits roughly, watching the way your pupils dilate, eyes going glossy under his intensity. “Does your old man know how much of a tramp his precious little baby girl is? That she’s got such a greedy fuckin' pussy she can’t help herself from rubbin' his buddy Joel’s cock under the table like a desperate slut.”

“Joel,” you whisper breathlessly, all the attitude draining from you at the drop of a hat the second he gets a little mean. Your eyes are stuck on his lips and, after a beat, you start leaning in, like you’ll die if you don’t kiss him.

Joel stops you with a hand fisted in your hair, keeping you still a few centimeters away from his lips. A pitiful whine falls from your slack mouth, wide eyes flicking back up to meet his with a pleading look.

“You want me to kiss you, princess?” he asks, mean and condescending. Your breath puffs over his lips, hot and needy as you nod your head as best you can. Joel laughs, dark and cool as he shakes his head slowly. “Whores like you don’t get kissed baby, they get fucked.”

It does something to you—Joel can see it in the way your lashes flutter, in the way your thighs press together, like you can feel his words between your legs. He watches the rise and fall of your chest quicken, the way your lips part as a little breathless sound escapes them, and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

Desperate. Squirming. Ready to let him ruin you.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, low and almost reverent, but the wicked curl of his lips betrays the softness in his tone. “Bet you’re already soaked, aren’t you?”

You nod, your chest rising up to press against his with every breath.

“Words,” he demands, voice sharp as a needle. Your thighs twitch at the sound of it.

“Yes,” you breathe shakily. “I’ve been wet since you got here.”

That has Joel groaning, jaw ticking as his cock twitches heavily in his boxers, pre-come oozing into the cotton.

He doesn’t waste another second. He drops your hair to grab your shoulders, pulling and pushing until you’re tumbling onto your old bed. You let out a sharp gasp as your back hits the mattress, the force of it bouncing you a few times.

Joel looms over you, watching you, finally letting himself get a good look at the picture you make. Splayed across dainty floral sheets, chest heaving, staring up at him with need written all over your pretty face. It practically pumps off of you in waves, he can almost taste it.

Without another word, Joel reaches for his belt, his heavy gaze never leaving yours. The metal of his buckle clinks loudly in the quiet of the room, underscored by the quick pants of your breath. It snaps with how hard he yanks it out of his belt loops, the leather cracking in the air menacingly.

"You wanted this," Joel mutters, popping the button on his jeans, dragging the zipper down with a sharp hiss. "You practically fuckin’ begged for it."

You make a desperate little sound at the sight of his cock finally being freed from the confines of his jeans—thick, heavy, and leaking when it slaps against his stomach. Your legs spread wider like an offering, like you need it in you now.

Joel huffs out a laugh, grabbing your ankle and yanking you down the bed, making you squeak in surprise. He climbs on the mattress, his body completely blanketing yours so you couldn’t move if you wanted to.

His hand drags down your body, over the swell of your breasts, over your ribs, the curve of your hip, until he’s gripping the hem of your dress. Joel slips his hand under the skirt, rough palms gliding up the soft skin of your thighs before gripping the meat of them hard enough to bruise.

The thought of you finding the marks tomorrow, pretty shades of purple and yellow branding your skin as a reminder of this moment, of what Joel did to you—it makes his stomach flip with a sick thrill.

It doesn’t take much for Joel to push the bunched fabric around your hips the rest of the way up, exposing the barely-there scrap of lace covering you.

He makes a sound low in his throat when he sees the little damp spot blooming along the powder blue fabric. “So fuckin’ needy,” he mutters, tracing his middle finger along the wet seam of your pussy, featherlight, teasing. “Can’t even sit through one damn dinner without beggin’ for my attention like a two-bit truck stop whore.”

You nod frantically, lips trembling, pupils blown wide as you blink up at him.

Joel tsks mockingly, raising his palm to give your clothed pussy a sharp slap that has you crying out. “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please, Joel.”

Your voice is so soft, so wrecked. And Joel feels himself get impossibly harder, his cock throbbing where it’s pressed against your stomach, blurting pre-come onto the delicate pink tulle of your dress. He can hardly wait any longer.

Joel hooks a finger into the leg of your panties, dragging them down hard enough that he hears a rip. He can’t find it in himself to care, he just pulls them far enough that they pool around your ankles uselessly.

He finally takes himself in his hand so he can drag his cock through the wet mess of your pussy, bumping it up against your hole but not giving you a damn inch. A devastating noise falls from your lips, slow and sweet as molasses, your hips buck up off the mattress, trying to take him in. He presses one heavy hand down on your stomach, keeping you still.

“Ask me for it,” Joel whispers darkly, slapping the head over your glistening clit. “Beg for my cock.”

Your fingers curl into the sheets, frustration and desire burning in the inky black of your pupils. “Please, Joel. It’s all I can think about, can only think about you,” you ramble senseslessly, voice breathless. “About you fucking me. About your cock stretching me open. Please fuck me, please, want it so bad.”

Fuck, he loves hearing you beg.

Joel grips your hips, holding you steady as he presses inside, slow at first, just enough to make you gasp, enough to let you feel how thick he is stretching you open. He curses, head falling forward as he watches himself disappear inside you inch by inch.

Your hands scramble along the length of his back, nails scratching uselessly as you try to adjust to the sudden fullness. Joel knows he’s too big, the stretch too much all at once without prep. He knows it. He just doesn’t give a damn.

“I know, it’s a big stretch ain’t it?” Joel coos, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the skin of your hips. “You can still take it, darlin’. It’s what you wanted, wanted me to lose my goddamn mind and ruin this sweet little pussy.”

You nod desperately, a loud cry bursting from your chest as he pulls you back until his hips are flush with your ass. Your velvety heat feels scalding around him, snug and perfect, like it was made for him—made for his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he stays there for a beat, buried to the hilt—forcing you really feel the full, aching stretch before he starts to move. He drags his cock out to the tip, almost all the way, before slamming forward again, knocking the breath from your lungs. “That’s it—take it all, just like that.”

Joel sets a brutal pace, fucking you so deep he swears he must be in your goddamn guts. His grip is merciless, his fingers digging into your hips as he uses them to pull you back against him, meeting every punishing thrust. The dirty sound of skin on skin fills the room, mixing with the slick squelch of your pussy as it tries to suck him back in each time he pulls out, the pretty soft gasps and moans you’re struggling to keep quiet the cherry on top of it all.

It’s so loud, a symphony of lewd sounds bouncing off the walls enough that Joel would be worried that someone might overhear if your house wasn’t such a maze.

Joel watches you writhe beneath him, your back arching, hands grasping at his shoulders, his arms, his hair, desperate for something to hold onto as he fucks into you with ruthless precision. Every thrust sends a shockwave through your body, makes your breath hitch, your legs trembling where they’re locked tight around his waist.

“Poor thing,” he mutters, voice a low rasp in your ear. “Too dumb to talk now, huh? Just layin’ here, takin’ it like a good little whore.”

Your eyes roll back in your head when he tilts his hips, the new angle forcing his cock to rub up against your sweet spot with every thrust. “Joel–”

Joel leans over you, breath hot against your ear as he mutters, “This what you needed, baby? Needed Daddy’s friend to hike your pretty dress up and fuck you good and hard like this?” He speeds his hips up fast enough to get the bed shaking on its frame. “Actin’ like a spoiled little brat all night just so I’d drag you up here and teach you some fuckin’ manners?” 

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck—” Your words slur together, breathy and high-pitched, your fingers twisting in his hair as he keeps up that relentless pace.

Joel reaches up to snatch your jaw in a tight grip, the rhythm of his hips never faltering. “Open your mouth,” he growls, fingers digging into the meat of your cheeks meanly. When you don’t, too fucked out of your mind to listen, he shakes your head back and forth like a bad dog. “Open it.”

The command breaks through the pleasure filled haze clouding your mind, and your mouth falls open obediently. Your slick lips parting enough for Joel to see the enticing pink of your tongue. A groan claws its way out from deep in his chest, and he leans down close to spit into your mouth.

Your moan is a high, choked whine as your eyes flutter shut, your pussy squeezing around his cock impossibly tighter. 

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ swallow,” he says, fucking into your clenching heat harder. “Hold it right there.”

You open your eyes to stare up at him like he’s some kind of God, your lashes clumped together and glossy with unshed tears—gaze glazed over with a kind of bliss that makes something dark and satisfied wriggle to life in his chest.

“Good girl,” he mutters, barely above a whisper, but the words hit you like a sack of bricks. Your walls squeeze around him, and he groans low in his chest. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you even wider so he can watch the way his cock disappears into your puffy pussy, shining with your slick every time he pulls out. “Look at that. Fuckin’ made to take cock, aren’t you?”

You moan around closed lips, nails digging little crescent moons into his shoulders so hard that he can feel his shirt ripping under the force of it. Joel can tell you’re getting close, your whole body trembling violently as the coil of your orgasm winds tighter and tighter.

“Go ahead and swallow for me, baby girl.” Joel needs to hear you, needs to hear you say his name when you come on his cock. “Wanna hear that pretty voice.”

The sound of you swallowing is music to Joel’s ears, his hips stuttering as he watches your throat work.

“Please,” you gasp, fat crocodile tears rolling down your cheeks. “Need to come, need you to make me—”

“Yes,” he hisses, his thrusts turning sloppy for a beat before he regains his rhythm. “You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna soak my cock nice and good?”

His words push you right over the edge. Your entire body tenses, pleasure rolling through you in a white-hot wave as your climax crashes over you, stealing your breath. You sob Joel’s name, thighs shaking uncontrollably, body shuddering beneath him as you clench down so fucking tight he can barely move.

Joel groans, his jaw going slack as he watches you fall apart, losing himself in the feel of your pussy milking his cock. He grits his teeth, hips snapping erratically as he chases his own release. 

“Fuck—gonna fill you up, baby,” he groans, voice wrecked. “Gonna fuck you full of me, make you mine.”

With one last thrust, Joel spills inside of you. He buries himself as deep as he can go, warmth flooding your core as spurt after spurt of come paints your insides, thick and hot. His body shakes with the force of it, a deep, guttural moan falling from his lips as he rides out his orgasm.

Joel just stays there, panting, his forehead resting against yours.

For a moment, both of you are too overwhelmed to move. You just lay on the mattress tangled together in the aftermath, breaths mingling, bodies slick with sweat. Joel smooths his hands up your sides, grounding himself as you both come down from the highs of ecstasy.

When you finally stop shaking, Joel pulls back just enough to look at you, to take in the wrecked, spent look on your face. He brushes his knuckles over your sweaty cheek, softer than before. “Still think I didn’t bring you a present?”

You let out an amused huff, pushing your hands up under the back of his shirt so you can trace the column of his spine with gentle fingers. “Trust me, it’s the only present I’m getting that’ll be worth a damn. Money can’t buy this, Miller.”

Joel chuckles, low and smooth as warmth blooms in his chest. He presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder. “You earned it, baby.”

mini nat's note: thank you so much for reading! mwah.

[beasangel]

the quiet between us

⤷ Joel Miller x youngerfem!reader | age gap

💭 “I ain’t gonna be good at this,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of bad. I don’t know how to be what you need.”

summary : he’s too old for her, too haunted by the past to let himself feel, but he does anyway. She’s too young to be carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, too stubborn to stay away from the one person who makes her feel safe.

warnings: injury (stabbed), light smut, age gap.

joel masterlist main masterlist

my first time writing smut so idk how i feel about it

You were twenty-six when you first met Joel Miller.

He was… not what you expected.

You’d heard his name whispered around town like a cautionary tale. Ellie’s guardian. Tommy’s brother. The man who walked across half the country with nothing but a gun, a girl, and a mission.

He was older. Weathered. Eyes like flint and a voice that could make people flinch. And when he looked at you for the first time, it was sharp assessing. Like he was trying to figure out if you were going to be a problem.

You weren’t. You didn’t want to be. You were just tired. You’d been on the road since you were nineteen—too young to have seen what you did, too old now to pretend you hadn’t.

Tommy offered you shelter. A bed. A patrol schedule.

Joel offered you silence.

You didn’t mean to care about him. But then you started getting paired up for patrols.

He didn’t like that at first. Said you were too green, even though you'd proven otherwise a dozen times over. You didn’t argue. Just kept showing up. Bleeding, bruised, breathing.

At first, he barely spoke to you outside of missions. “Watch your six.” “Stay low.” “You good?”

No softness. Just the rhythm of someone who’d been doing this too long to waste breath.

But you noticed things anyway.

How he always walked a half-step ahead. How he double-checked your ammo count when he thought you weren’t looking. How he’d never let you take the first watch on patrol nights. It wasn’t kindness exactly. It was… guilt. Protection. Like he’d decided that if you died on his watch, it would be one too many.

You were used to people brushing you off. Too young to be listened to. Too old to be coddled. But Joel? He didn’t brush you off. He watched you. He remembered things you said.

And when he let you patch a wound on his shoulder after a firefight, his eyes never left yours.

That was the first time you thought: he feels it too.

-

The age thing was always there.

Not in the way people stared—Jackson wasn’t like that—but in the way he held it. Quiet, heavy. Like a weight he carried between you.

You weren’t a kid. You were grown, capable, had seen more than anyone should. But still, when you laughed, Joel’s expression would twist—like it made him ache. Like it reminded him of a life he lost.

It happened after a patrol gone wrong. You and Joel had been paired together, again.

This time, it was a group of raiders on the road to the old hydro station. Too many, too fast. You both fought hard, but you took a knife to the side before Joel dragged you out of there, blood soaking through your shirt, your voice cracking with pain as you half-collapsed behind an abandoned truck.

He pressed down on the wound with his jacket, his hands surprisingly gentle. “Stay with me,” he said, voice rough. “Hey, hey. Look at me.”

You looked. Not because he told you to, but because you wanted to. His eyes were wild, scared, and that scared you more than the pain.

“You’re gonna be alright,” he muttered. “Just—fuck. Don’t do that again. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I didn’t exactly plan on it,” you whispered, trying to laugh. You regretted it instantly.

“You think this is funny?” he snapped. Then softer, almost a whisper: “You can’t die. You hear me?”

You did hear him. And not just the words.

-

You woke up in the infirmary to find him still there, face drawn with days of sleepless worry.

When you tried to thank him, he just shook his head.

“You shouldn’t be this important,” he said quietly. “You’re too young. You’ve got time.”

You sat up, chest tight. “None of us have time, all this is just extra.”

He turned away. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying.”

And Joel - strong, stubborn, selfless Joel - still couldn’t look at you. “You deserve more than a man who’s got one foot in the grave.”

You laughed, wet and bitter. “You think I don’t know what this world is? We all do, I don’t care about age. I care about you. You’re the only thing that’s made me feel safe in years.”

That made him pause. Then finally, finally, he sat beside you, hand curling around yours with a gentleness that nearly undid you.

“I ain’t gonna be good at this,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of bad. I don’t know how to be what you need.”

You leaned in, eyes searching his. “You already are.”

-

He was waiting by the door when the nurse cleared her to leave days later, arms crossed tight over his chest like he was trying to hold something in. She moved slower than usual, still sore, but he stepped forward before she could reach for her things.

“I’ll take you,” he said, quiet but firm. She didn’t argue.

Outside, the cold bit through her jacket, but Joel walked close, hand hovering at the small of her back like he wanted to touch her but didn’t quite let himself. Not here. Not yet. Not when every step toward her house felt like crossing some invisible line.

 She glanced up at him once, searching, but he kept his eyes ahead, like if he looked too long, she’d see everything he was trying not to say.

When they reached her door, he opened it for her, stood in the threshold like he didn’t know if he was supposed to go in or walk away. And she just looked at him, soft and tired and still a little wrecked, and said, “You can come in.”

 So he did.

The door had barely shut behind you when Joel pressed you back against it, slow, not rushed, like he needed to make sure this wasn’t a dream. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks like he was memorizing the shape of you.

“You sure?” he murmured, voice low and rough.

“I’ve been sure,” you whispered back. “Just needed you to be.”

That was all he needed.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, more urgent. His hands slid down to your waist, drawing you in, and when your fingers tugged his flannel open, he didn’t stop you. His breath hitched when your hands touched bare skin. Scarred, solid, warm.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, tracing a long-healed mark on his ribs.

He shook his head like he didn’t believe you, but the way he looked at you said he wanted to.

You ended up in your bed, half-undressed, tangled in each other, lit only by the soft golden spill of the bedside lamp. Joel took his time. Like he didn’t know if he’d get another chance.

His fingers were careful on your skin, unbuttoning your shirt slowly, pausing only when you shivered. You weren’t nervous, just overwhelmed. His eyes never left yours, even as he leaned down to press warm, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, your stomach, the inside of your thighs.

“You tell me to stop,” he said, voice gravel and heat, “and I will.”

“I won’t,” you breathed. “I want you, Joel.”

His hands slid beneath the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down as his mouth followed. When his tongue slid between your folds, slow and deliberate, your hips bucked instinctively. He held you in place, groaning against you, and kept going, torturously slow, then faster when you whimpered his name.

He didn’t stop until you came against his mouth, panting, one hand fisted in his hair and the other gripping the sheets.

Joel crawled up your body and kissed you like he wanted you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Still with me?” he rasped, thumb brushing your lip.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I need you. Please.”

He slid a condom on, your heart caught at the way his hands trembled slightly, and lined himself up, pausing just long enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“This okay?” he asked.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in. “Better than okay.”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you just right. You gasped into his mouth, and Joel groaned low in his throat, like he was barely holding himself together.

“Fuck- you feel so good,” he murmured, “so tight, so warm…”

He moved carefully at first, like he was savouring every second. You moved with him, hips rolling, hands gripping his back. The drag of his body against yours, the quiet, desperate sounds slipping from both your lips, it was overwhelming in the best way.

“Joel,” you whimpered. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?”

“Harder. I can take it.”

He growled softly, thrusting deeper, slow and rough and just right. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, and he kissed your throat, your jaw, your mouth, whispering your name like it meant something holy.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t frenzied.

It was real.

When you came again, he followed, grinding deep inside you with a ragged groan, like the sound had been ripped out of him.

After, he held you.

Not out of obligation. Not because he didn’t know what else to do.

But because he wanted to.

His fingers traced lazy circles along your spine. Your face was tucked into the crook of his neck, his scent—sweat, smoke, skin—like something permanent.

“Was that okay?” he asked softly.

You laughed, a little breathless. “Yeah Joel. That was okay.”

He kissed the top of your head.

“Then I guess I gotta make sure it wasn’t the last time.”

[pbaz7]

FINDING PEACE IN YOU: PART 4

paige x azzi

warnings: sexual content

word count: 12k

A/N: I struggled bringing my plot to life on this one for some reason. It’s not terrible but it’s definitely not my best work😭 also it’s completely unedited because I was being harassed so be warned lol. Let me know what you think and happy game day!!!

—————————————————————————

Azzi wasn’t one to dwell too much on social media—she knew better, she barely even used it. But she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been on it a little more recently; and that the posts after Paige’s first away game in Minnesota hadn’t gotten her gears turning.

As she scrolled through her timeline there were pictures and videos of the team walking into a club to celebrate their first win of the season. Paige looked amazing—her blonde hair wavy and slightly tousled, a confident smirk on her lips, her jewelry shining from the camera flashes, her outfit fitting her perfectly. It was the kind of pictures that would’ve had Azzi playfully rolling her eyes a few months ago, when she’d just met the blonde, knowing how easily Paige could get who she wanted. But now? Now, it just made her stomach tighten.

What really caught Azzi’s attention was how many women were lingering around in the pictures.

Some were just fans Others were players from the Lynx, people Paige probably knew. But of course there were the ones who stood a little too close in the group pictures. The ones whose eyes lingered when Paige wasn’t even looking in videos.

What the hell am I doing?

Azzi knew better than this. She definitely wasn’t insecure, and Paige had given her a reason to doubt her. Still, something unsettled her. Maybe she just missed her, or maybe it was the way the past had taught her to be wary even when things seemed great.

As Azzi scrolled through the posts, her expression remained unreadable. She wasn’t upset—not really. Paige hadn’t done anything wrong. Still, that didn’t stop the small, unfamiliar feeling creeping up her spine. Something she wasn’t used to dealing with.

Jealousy.

Muttering a few words under her breath, Azzi locked her phone, then immediately unlocked it again and scrolled to Paige’s contact. She wasn’t about to sit here playing detective when she could just call her.

The phone rang three times before Paige picked up, her voice coming through with a slight, telltale sign of tipsiness. The background quieter than Azzi expected.

“Wassup, gorgeous?”

Azzi felt the tension in her shoulders ease, just slightly. “What are you up to?”

“M’ just at the hotel bar with Arike, Lyss, DiJonai, and some random stragglers,” Paige said, her words lazy, like she was comfortably slouched in a chair somewhere.

“I thought you told me you were going to be at the after-party for most of the night?”

“Yeah,” Paige sighed. “Wasn’t feeling it for real.”

That had Azzi pausing. Paige wasn’t exactly the life of the party, but Azzi knew she wasn’t one to turn down a good time, especially after a win.

“Way too many people,” Paige added, almost like she could sense Azzi’s thoughts. “Too much going on.”

Azzi hummed in understanding, letting the last of her unnecessary overthinking fade away. Paige had already left the club. She’d opted for a quiet drink instead.

“What you doing, gorgeous?” Paige asked, her voice a little playful now.

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that in less than a minute.”

“‘Cause you are,” Paige said easily.

Azzi shook her head, unable to stop the small smile tugging at her lips. “Are you drunk?”

“Prolly,” Paige admitted with a quiet chuckle.

“You’re probably drunk?” Azzi repeated.

“Mhm,” Paige hummed. “But not like bad drunk. Just a little tipsy maybe.”

Azzi leaned back against her bed, relaxing now that she’d heard Paige’s voice. “So, you ditched the after-party to sit at a hotel bar with Arike and them and be kinda drunk?”

Paige laughed. “I ain’t ditch it for real. Just…left. Like I said…too many people. Too much going on.” She paused, then added, “’Sides, I’d rather be on the phone with you. Can’t do that at the club.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the warmth that was spreading through her chest. “You’re smooth when you’re tipsy, you know that?”

“I’m smooth all the time, don’t play with me.”

“You gonna go up to your room soon?” Azzi asked.

Paige made a noise that sounded like she was stretching. “Yeah, probably. You tryna tell me to go to bed?”

Azzi smiled. “Maybe.”

Paige exhaled dramatically. “Damn. You don’t even wanna talk to me?”

Azzi bit her lip, shaking her head at Paige’s antics. “Go to bed, P.”

Paige huffed out a soft laugh. “Ight lemme just FaceTime you first.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but said, “Okay.”

Two seconds later, her phone lit up with an incoming call. She swiped to answer, and Paige’s face filled the screen, her expression already a lazy, lopsided grin. Her hair was slightly tousled, and the dim lighting of the hotel bar cast soft shadows across her features.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “What are you already grinning about?”

Paige shrugged, still smiling. “Nun.”

Azzi wasn’t convinced. “Yeah, right.”

Paige finally focused in on Azzi’s demeanor, eyes narrowing just slightly before she tilted her head and sat up slightly. “Why you look stressed? You good?”

The question caught Azzi slightly off guard. Even through a screen, even slightly drunk, Paige still noticed everything. That alone made something in Azzi's chest loosen.

Azzi exhaled softly, her lips curving into a small smile. “I’m great now.”

Paige licked her lips, the intent in her gaze changing. “What, I made you feel good huh?”

Azzi wanted to roll her eyes, to deny it, but she didn’t just raised her eyebrows.

Paige sighed dramatically as she sant further into the booth she was sitting in, her voice a little softer now. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

Before she could say anything else, Paige glanced up at someone offscreen. A second later, Azzi heard a voice in the background. “Who you talking to?”

Paige’s grin was huge when she said, “My girl.”

Azzi froze.

Her girl?

They hadn’t made anything official, hadn’t even had that conversation yet. But Paige said it so casually, like it was already a fact, like there was no doubt in her mind that Azzi would be hers eventually. Azzi’s stomach did a ridiculous flip, her heart picking up speed, but before she could even process it, Rickea suddenly appeared on the screen, taking the phone out of Paige’s hands.

Rickea was definitely drunker than Paige, her expression exaggerated as she pointed a finger at Azzi. “You stole my wingwoman.”

Azzi blinked. “Hm?”

Rickea groaned, waving a hand in the air. “You got her pussy whipped. She wouldn’t even look at nobody else tonight, let alone talk to them so I could get with their friend. Awful night for me. Zero outta ten.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, clearly amused. “I’m… sorry?” The words came out more like a question than an actual apology.

Rickea shook her head, then leaned in closer to the screen, lowering her voice to a supposed whisper that wasn’t even close to quiet. “Imma tell you a secret.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, already bracing herself.

Rickea glanced around then whispered loudly, “Paige needs to get laid. That girl been tense for weeks.”

Azzi’s mouth fell open slightly, caught between shock and stifling a laugh. Paige, on the other hand, was immediately reaching for the phone with an exasperated, “Alright, bro.”

There was a brief shuffle before the screen shifted, and Paige was back. “Ignore her.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, a teasing cadence in her tone. “So, you don’t need to, quote-unquote, ‘get laid’?”

Paige squinted at her through the screen, lips pressing together like she was trying to figure out how to respond. “I ain’t say allat,” she admitted, shifting in her seat. “I’m just saying I’m not tense or nothing, you know?”

Azzi hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Mhm.”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “Why you say that like you don’t believe me?”

“Cause I don’t.”

Paige let out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. “Man, y’all love painting me as this sex deprived, miserable person.”

Azzi laughed at this. “I mean… Rickea said you’ve been tense for weeks. Weeks, P.”

Paige scoffed. “Rickea don’t know what she’s talking about.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “So you haven’t been tense? What you don’t want me?”

Paige huffed, shifting in her seat. “Nah like, obviously, I want—” She stopped, shook her head, and started again. “I mean, if you was here, then yeah, maybe—” She groaned, running a hand down her face. “Nah, what I’m trying to say is—”

Azzi bit her lip, amused. “Go ahead. Take your time.”

Paige shot her a glare through the screen. “You’re annoying.”

Azzi grinned. “And you’re deflecting.”

Paige exhaled. “Man, shut up.”

“I’m just saying, you sounded real confident telling people I’m your girl, but now all of a sudden you don’t have anything to say?”

Paige groaned again, running a hand through her hair. “Why you gotta bring that up?”

“Because I liked how it sounded,” Azzi admitted.

Paige paused, her expression shifting. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah.”

Paige let out a breath, her lips curling into a slow smile before she said, “Bet.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she changed the subject. “You need to rest and drink some water before your flight tomorrow.”

Paige frowned. “I’m tryna keep talkin’ to you, though.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You can talk to me in your room.”

Paige squinted. “Why you keep tryna send me to bed?”

“I’m not,” Azzi said–she definitely was, she could tell Paige was tired and would crash within 10 minutes of being in her room. “You’re just in public, and I don’t wanna filter what I say.”

Paige stilled for a second, like she was processing what that meant, then Azzi watched her scramble up from her seat so fast it was almost impressive.

Azzi smirked. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Paige, already halfway out the bar, just said, “Hold that thought,” before the screen went a little dark.

Azzi heard the shuffle of movement, followed by Paige’s voice calling out to her teammates, “I’m goin’ to bed.”

In the background, Rickea and Dijonai immediately started booing. Paige just laughed, the sound a little muffled, and then Azzi saw her moving toward what looked like the elevators.

Azzi was about to say something when she heard a voice—someone stopping Paige. “Hey, can I get a picture real quick?” the person asked. “We were at the club with y’all earlier.”

Paige sighed quietly but stopped, clearly obliging. “Yeah, yeah, for sure.”

Azzi watched as Paige posed, the flash going off before Paige mumbled, “No problem.” With that, she finally stepped into the elevator, the doors shutting behind her.

The call cut in and out until Paige stepped off the elevator and into her room, shutting the door behind her. She looked down at her phone, her lips curling into a small smirk. “Wassup.”

Azzi smiled at her saying, “Hi again.”

Paige chuckled as she kicked off her shoes, her movements a little sluggish but still controlled. “How was work today?”

Azzi leaned back against her pillows, watching Paige through the screen. “It was good. Just scheduled appointments and check-ins, nothing too unexpected.”

Paige smiled at that. “That’s good. You eat?”

Azzi hummed, nodding. “Yeah.”

Paige propped up her phone, adjusting the angle before stretching her arms over her head with a small groan. “Good, what’d you have?”

Azzi smirked at the domesticity of it all. “You checking up on me now?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Man, just answer the question.”

Azzi hummed. “I had some salmon, rice, and veggies earlier. Happy?”

Paige grinned. “Very. Proud of you for eating real food.”

Azzi scoffed. “What does that mean?”

“You be playin around sometimes, acting like coffee is a meal.”

Azzi shrugged. “Sometimes it’s all I need to get through the day.”

Paige gave her a pointed look. “If I said that, you’d give me a whole lecture about what my body needs for like twenty minutes.”

“That’s different.”

Paige scoffed. “It’s not.”

Azzi crossed her arms, leaning back against her pillows. “It is, though. You’re an athlete, you burn way more calories than me. Your body literally needs more fuel.”

“Doesn’t mean you can just run on caffeine and sheer will?”

Azzi smiled. “It’s been working so far.”

Paige gave her a pointed look. “Mmhm. Until one day, you just randomly fall out.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Alright, that's dramatic.”

Paige shrugged. “I’m just saying, don’t let me catch you slipping. Imma absolutely pull the ‘I told you so’ card.”

“Noted.”

Paige grinned, satisfied. “Good. Now, did you drink water too, or am I about to be disappointed?”

Azzi sighed dramatically. “Yes, Paige, I drank water.”

Paige grinned. “Damn, look at that—sexy, responsible woman over there. Drinkin water and shit.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

Paige just laughed, grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head before walking out of frame.

Azzi immediately frowned. “Where’d you go?”

A few seconds later, Paige reappeared on the screen, now wearing a pair of shorts and a sports bra. She smirked as she sat down. “What, you tryna get a show?”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, eyes flickering over Paige’s toned frame before humming. “Maybe.”

Paige let out a low chuckle. “You gotta pay for allat.”

Azzi played into the joke, as she bit her lip. “What’s the going rate these days?”

Paige’s jaw dropped dramatically. “Wowww. That’s crazy.”

Azzi smiled. “I’m just trying to be an informed customer.”

Paige leaned closer to the camera. “Ahh, so you tryna make a purchase?”

Azzi tilted her head, pretending to think about it. “Depends on what’s all included in the package.”

Paige let out a low laugh, licking her lips. “Premium service. Real exclusive type service.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “How exclusive we talking?”

Paige’s grin grew, her tipsiness making her bolder. “Like… only available for one person, kinda exclusive.”

Azzi hummed, playing along. “And what if I want a trial run before committing?”

Paige sucked her teeth, shaking her head. “Nah, this ain’t no free sample situation. You either all in or not at all.”

Azzi’s voice is a little softer when she says, “I tried to remember? You stopped me.”

That brought a shift in Paige’s expression. Her smirk faltered, turning gentle as her eyes searched Azzi’s face. She nodded slowly.

“I did,” Paige said softly. “I was just tryna respect you gorgeous.”

Azzi’s features softened in return, her voice sincere. “And I appreciate that.”

Paige smiled at her, eyes growing heavier. “Tell me about your day?”

Azzi settled further into her bed, adjusting her phone as she watched Paige’s face relax. “You sure you’re not going to fall asleep on me?” she teased.

Paige let out a soft chuckle, already nestling into her pillow. “Nah, I wanna hear you talk.” Her voice was quieter now, more at ease. “Just tell me about your day.”

Azzi smiled at that, something warm settling in her chest. “Alright.” She thought for a moment before starting. “Well work was good—mostly just check-ins and scheduled appointments like I said, nothing too crazy. I had this one client who swore they were dying over a minor sprain, though.”

Paige let out a sleepy laugh. “Mmm. You saving lives out here, huh?”

Azzi smirked. “Always.”

Paige hummed in response, eyes slipping closed but her lips still curved in a small smile. Azzi kept talking, telling her about little moments from her day—her workout that morning, grabbing coffee, the book she’d started reading. Paige would mumble something here and there, making it clear she was still listening, even as her responses got slower.

Eventually, Azzi heard Paige’s breathing even out, her face peaceful on the screen. Azzi just watched her for a moment, the sight of Paige so relaxed making her chest tighten in a way she wasn’t ready to unpack.

Softly, she whispered, “Goodnight, Paige.”

Paige stirred just enough to murmur back, “Night, Az,” before fully drifting off.

Azzi smiled to herself, shaking her head fondly before ending the call, letting herself relax into bed as well.

…

The next time Paige and Azzi saw each other was the day Paige returned to Dallas. She had just picked up Lukas from her mothers house, the little boy practically bouncing in his seat in the back, a bright grin on his face as he was excited to see his mom after being apart for so long.

As they drove down the familiar Dallas streets, Lukas chatted about everything from starting school in the fall to the new toy he wanted that his uncle showed him.

Paige pulled up outside Azzi’s clinic, shifting the car into park as she glanced at Lukas through the rearview mirror. The little boy was peering out the window, his small brows furrowed in curiosity.

“Where are we?”

Paige unbuckled her seatbelt, stretching her arm over the passenger seat as she turned to look at him. “We’re picking up Azzi.”

At the mention of her name, Lukas immediately went quiet, mumbling out a quiet, “Oh.” His tiny fingers messed with the strings of his hoodie, and a faint pink dusted his cheeks.

Paige caught the reaction instantly, smirking as she tilted her head. “Oh?” she teased, dragging the word out.

Lukas shifted in his car seat, suddenly hyper focused on the straps across his chest. “Nothin’,” he mumbled, eyes darting away.

Paige chuckled. “You excited to see Azzi?”

There was a pause before Lukas gave a quick, almost shy nod. “She’s nice,” he admitted quietly.

Paige’s smirk softened into a smile. “Yeah, she is.”

She unlatched her door and turned back to him. “You gonna come inside with me or just sit there looking shy?”

Lukas hesitated, his little legs swinging. “I’ll go.”

After helping Lukas out of the car, Paige took his hand and led him up to Azzi’s clinic. When they got off the elevator the same receptionist from last time looked up, offering a polite smile. Paige returned it with a small nod.

Azzi was waiting for them just past the desk, standing with her hands in her pockets. Paige gave her a quick once over taking note of the white button up that was slightly undone and the heels Azzi had on.

Maybe it was the fact that they hadn’t seen each other in days, or maybe it was something else entirely, but the moment Azzi stepped toward Paige, the hug that followed felt different.

To anyone watching, it would seem like nothing more than a warm embrace—Azzi’s arms wrapping around Paige’s shoulders, Paige’s arms circling her waist. But to them, it felt like something else entirely.

Azzi melted into it just a little too much, the weight of her body pressing against Paige’s completely as she let out the smallest sigh against her hoodie. Paige felt the way Azzi’s fingers curled slightly against her back, how the warmth of her breath tickled her neck.

Paige, in turn, held on just a second longer than necessary, her lips brushing the curve of Azzi’s jaw as she whispered, “Wassup, beautiful?”

Azzi stiffened for half a second, just enough for Paige to notice, before she pulled back, keeping her expression neutral.

Their eyes met.

Lingering.

Reading each other.

Their eye contact lasted long enough that the receptionist cleared her throat softly, a subtle reminder that they weren’t alone.

Paige smirked as she shifted her weight, finally glancing away. Azzi, on the other hand, bit the inside of her cheek, schooling her expression before turning her attention down to Lukas, who had been watching the interaction with his wide, curious eyes.

Azzi crouched slightly, offering the boy a warm smile. “Hey, buddy,” she greeted, her voice softer now.

Lukas, still flustered from before, rocked on his heels before shyly mumbling, “Hi.”

Paige watched the exchange with amusement, her heart beating a little faster than it probably should have been.

Azzi stood up, her gaze flickering to the small bowl of candy on the receptionist’s desk. She grabbed a piece, then turned to Paige with a silent question in her eyes, lifting the candy slightly in Lukas’s direction.

Paige let out a quiet laugh, nodding. “Yeah, he can have it.”

Azzi grinned and crouched again, holding the candy out to Lukas. “This is for you.”

Lukas’s eyes widened slightly, his shyness momentarily replaced with excitement as he reached for it. “Thank you.”

Azzi chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

Paige watched the exchange shaking her head. “You tryna win him over with candy already?”

Azzi smirked, glancing at her. “Is it working?”

Paige looked down at Lukas, who was now inspecting the candy like it was a prized possession, his tiny fingers gripping it tightly. “Yeah… definitely.”

Azzi turned back toward the receptionist, giving her a small wave. “Goodnight, Kelly,” she said with a smile.

“Goodnight, Dr. Fudd. Paige,” Kelly replied, her tone slightly teasing as she subtly glanced between Azzi and Paige.

Azzi rolled her eyes but smiled before following Paige and Lukas toward the elevator. As the doors closed, the three of them stood in comfortable silence, Lukas still clutching his candy while sneaking glances at Azzi.

When they got outside, Paige immediately reached for Lukas’s hand, keeping him close as they walked to her car. Azzi attempted to open the passenger door but Paige stopped her and with her free hand, she pulled open the passenger door for Azzi.

Azzi arched her eyebrow but smirked as she slid into the seat. “A real gentle woman,” she teased.

Paige snorted. “You’re welcome.”

Once Azzi was settled Paige shut the door for her and turned her attention to Lukas, opening the back door and lifting him up into his car seat. She stepped back, watching as he carefully buckled himself in, his small hands fumbling with the straps.

“You got it?” Paige asked.

Lukas nodded, determined. “Mhm.”

Satisfied, Paige shut his door and made her way around to the driver’s side, sliding in behind the wheel.

For the most part, the car ride was quiet as they drove to Paige’s house. She wanted to give Azzi time to wind down, having heard how draining her days can be sometimes. Azzi didn’t seem exhausted, but she wasn’t rushing to fill the silence either. She simply gazed out the window, her body relaxed in the passenger seat.

In the backseat, Lukas had talked himself out for a bit. He stared out the window, occasionally kicking his feet as he took in the sights passing by. Every now and then, he’d say something random—commenting on a car, a dog he saw on the sidewalk, or just mumbling a thought that popped into his head.

Paige, of course, always responded, laughing at his little observations or answering his occasional questions. One hand was lazily gripping the wheel, the other resting on the gear stick, fingers drumming lightly against it.

Eventually Azzi glanced down, noticing the movement before subtly reaching over. She slid her hand over Paige’s, fingers curling around her wrist for a second before tugging it toward her lap. Paige let her, exhaling a quiet chuckle as Azzi interlaced their fingers, resting their joined hands on her thigh.

Neither of them said anything. Paige’s thumb brushed against Azzi’s skin absentmindedly, and Azzi just let herself enjoy the warmth of Paige’s touch. It was simple, but there was something grounding about it. Something comforting.

A few minutes later, Paige pulled into a spot near a small café, glancing in the rearview mirror. “You hungry, little man?”

Lukas perked up immediately, nodding. “Yes!”

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head. “Didn’t even hesitate.”

Paige smirked, already knowing the answer before she asked. “Figured I’d stop now so he’s not up too late.”

Paige ran inside and ordered some grilled chicken wraps for all of them, and a fruit cup for Lukas. As she pulled back onto the road, the smell of the food quickly filled the car, and Lukas hummed in satisfaction from the backseat.

“That smells so good,” he mumbled, his voice sleepy but happy.

Paige grinned, glancing over at Azzi. “See? Man’s got priorities.”

Azzi smiled, giving Paige’s hand a small squeeze. “Can’t argue with that.”

As Paige pulled into the garage, the car had barely come to a complete stop before Lukas was already unbuckling himself. The second the lock clicked, he swung the door open and bolted inside, his small feet pattering against the floor as he rushed to reunite with the toys he had been separated from while staying at his grandmother’s house.

Paige chuckled, watching him disappear into the house. “Big head didn’t even say bye,” she mumbled.

Azzi laughed as she stepped out of the car, stretching her arms above her head before following Paige inside.

As soon as Paige set the food down on the island, she turned to Azzi and pulled her in by her waist. Azzi barely had time to adjust before Paige’s lips were on her neck, pressing slow kisses against her skin.

Azzi exhaled softly, her arms winding around Paige’s shoulders as she tilted her head, offering more access. Paige hummed against her skin, trailing her lips lower, taking her time as if she was reacquainting herself with the feeling of having Azzi this close again.

Azzi sighed at the sensation, her fingers threading through the hairs at the nape of Paige’s neck, nails scratching lightly. “Missed me, huh?” she teased, though her voice came out softer than intended, reflecting just how much she was feeling it too.

Paige smirked against her skin, pressing one last open mouthed kiss beneath Azzi’s jaw before whispering, “Maybe a lil.”

Azzi pulled Paige toward her lips, her voice a soft whisper against the small space between them. “Liar,” she whispered before closing the distance, pressing their lips together.

Paige melted into it, her hands tightening around Azzi’s waist as she let herself sink into the warmth of Azzi’s mouth. It had only been a few days, but it felt like forever. She could feel Azzi smiling against her lips, could feel the way her fingers curled into her hair.

Just as the kiss was about to deepen, Paige heard the sound of small, hurried footsteps making their way toward the kitchen. Her instincts kicked in and with a quiet sigh, she tugged playfully on Azzi’s bottom lip before pulling back, smirking when she saw the way Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, a little dazed.

Azzi exhaled, blinking as if she was snapping herself out of it. “You’re evil,” she whispered.

Paige grinned, stepping away just in time for Lukas to come sprinting into the kitchen, completely oblivious to what he had just interrupted.

Paige glanced over at Lukas, who was bouncing on his feet, eager to eat dinner. “Go wash your hands so you can eat.”

Lukas nodded and dashed toward the sink, stepping onto his little stool that was positioned for him to reach the faucet. He hummed quietly to himself as he scrubbed his hands, focusing intently on the task at hand. Paige smiled at him before turning her attention back to the food, moving everything to the table,

As Lukas finished washing his hands, he hopped off the stool and walked over to the table, his eyes scanning the seats. “Ma, can I sit there?” he asked, pointing to the seat next to Azzi.

Paige laughed, raising her eyebrows at Lukas's sudden preference for the seat next to Azzi. "Go ahead," she said. She pushed his food over toward that spot, smiling as Lukas happily scooted into the chair beside Azzi and began to dig into his food.

Paige handed Azzi her food before sitting across from her, offering a small smile. Azzi’s lips quirked into a smile of her own as she murmured, “Thank you.”

The dinner started with easy conversation between Paige and Azzi, filled with them talking about the past few days and plans for the upcoming weekend. Lukas chimed in here and there, his voice cutting through the conversation with random, innocent comments or questions. It felt effortless—comfortable, even—until Lukas suddenly stopped, looking up at Paige with a serious expression on his face.

Paige was in the middle of talking to Azzi about her game on Sunday when Lukas suddenly cut in, his voice serious. "Ma, I got a question," he said, pausing with his kids-wrap halfway to his mouth.

Paige looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Wassup?"

Lukas set his wrap down. "Can I have a girlfriend yet?"

Paige’s mind raced, her face briefly going blank before she recovered. She was prepared for a lot of things, but not that—certainly not from her freshly four-year-old. She glanced at Azzi, who was struggling to suppress her laugh.

Paige cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice steady. "No, buddy," she said, simply.

Lukas looked a little bummed, his small brows furrowing. "When can I have a girlfriend?"

Paige nearly choked on her own laughter at the sheer seriousness in his voice, but she composed herself, trying to act like it wasn’t the most absurd thing she'd ever heard. "Dude, why are you asking? You're, like, four."

Lukas just shrugged, his cheeks turning a little pink as he looked down at his plate. Paige couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head. "16, maybe," she said, figuring that might be a reasonable answer for when he'd actually be ready for a girlfriend.

Lukas looked up at that, trying to do the math with his fingers, clearly confused. After a few moments, he looked back at Paige. "How many years is that?" he asked earnestly.

Paige took another bite of her food, smiling despite herself. "Twelve," she answered casually.

Lukas stared at her for a moment, his small brows furrowing in thought. Then, in his innocent, matter-of-fact way, he turned to Azzi and asked, “Excuse me. How old will you be in 12 years?”

Paige froze for a second, her wrap halfway to her mouth. She glanced at Azzi, whose eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected question.

Lukas stared up at Azzi, his blue eyes wide and serious, still waiting for an answer. Paige squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to come up with a way to explain this to her four-year-old. She put her food down and let out a quiet sigh, then looked at Lukas. "Lukas, buddy..." she trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Lukas looked at her expectantly, waiting for a response from one of them. Paige gave up trying to come up with a more tactful response and just went with the straightforward answer. "You can't date Azzi, buddy."

Lukas blinked a few times, then scrunched up his face. "Why not?"

Paige sighed, glancing over at Azzi, who could see how much Paige was struggling. With a soft smile, Azzi finally spoke up. "I'm a little too old, Luke.”

Lukas looked between the two of them as he tried to make sense of it all. “Even in twelve years?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, her eyes crinkling as she smiled at him. “Yes, even in twelve years.”

Lukas let out a thoughtful “Oh,” and nodded slowly, accepting the answer as fact. But he wasn’t done yet. He then looked at Paige. “Ma, do you like Azzi? She’s not too old for you right?”

Paige blinked, once again caught slightly off guard by the abrupt shift, “Yeah, I do,” she said with a soft smile.

Lukas tilted his head side to side. “Like… like like?”

Paige chuckled again, reaching for her glass of water. “Yes, Lukas. Like like like.”

Lukas hummed thoughtfully, his spoon full of fruit paused in midair as he mulled it over. Paige watched him for a beat, a small hint of nervousness in her smile. “Is that okay with you?”

He shrugged, already turning his attention back to his plate like the weight of the conversation hadn’t even touched him. “Yeah,” he said casually, scooping up another bite of fruit. “She’s pretty.”

Paige blinked, then burst into quiet laughter, glancing across the table at Azzi—who was doing a terrible job of hiding her smirk behind her water glass.

“Well,” Azzi said playfully, leaning an elbow on the table, “guess I’ve got son approval now, huh?”

Even though Azzi was addressing Paige, Lukas nodded through a mouthful of food. “Mhm. You can stay.”

After that, the rest of dinner was pretty uneventful—filled mostly with Lukas’s nonstop chatter, bouncing from one random topic to the next now that he had food in his stomach. Paige and Azzi let him lead the conversation, throwing in playful questions to keep him going.

But even as they talked, Paige couldn’t help but notice the way Azzi’s foot kept brushing against her leg under the table.

Once dinner was cleared and Lukas had finished the last of his water, Paige stood and stretched. “Alright, time for bath and pajamas,” she said, nodding for Lukas to follow her.

He grumbled in protest but still grabbed his toy car and trudged after her toward his room.

Azzi smiled at them before catching Paige’s eye. “I’ll hop in the shower while you do that,” she said softly.

“Sounds good.”

…

When Azzi finished her shower, she oiled and detangled her hair before pulling it into a messy bun on top of her head. She slipped into one of Paige’s old college shirts—the UConn logo stretched across the front with the number 5 on the back.

She padded downstairs, the sound of laughter greeting her before she even reached the bottom step. As she rounded the corner, she paused in the archway, smiling at the sight in front of her—Paige and Lukas were tangled up on the living room floor, both laughing like crazy.

Lukas was squirming beneath Paige’s hands, squealing through fits of laughter. “Ma! Stop, stop! That tickles! I gotta breathe!”

Paige grinned, completely unbothered by his protests as she continued to tickle him. “Nah that’s what you get for splashing me in the tub!”

Azzi leaned against the wall, her heart softening at the sight.

Lukas finally managed to roll on top of Paige—she let him, of course—and he immediately launched his counterattack, his tiny hands moving clumsily as he tried to tickle her sides.

“Ha I got you now!” he declared, his grin huge.

Paige exaggerated her reaction, squirming under him as she laughed. “Ahh! No, not the tickle monster!”

Through her playful flailing, she caught sight of Azzi standing there, leaning against the archway. Her smile softened the moment she saw her, eyes flicking to the UConn shirt hanging comfortably on Azzi’s frame. It was an old one—faded lettering and all—but it looked ridiculously good on her. Paige smirked, eyes trailing over Azzi for way too long before she scooped Lukas up with a grunt and stood.

“Alright, go play with your toys for a bit. I gotta go shower.”

Lukas nodded, already halfway to his favorite corner of the living room, which was packed with cars, a mini ball and hoop, and a table with art supplies all over it.

As soon as his back was turned, Paige crossed the room toward Azzi. Without saying anything, she grabbed her hand and tugged her around the corner and out of sight. Azzi let herself be pulled, curiosity dancing in her face—until her back met the wall gently and Paige stepped into her space, hands on both sides of her waist.

Paige mumbled, “You look good in my shirt.”

Azzi tilted her head, smirking now. “Do I?”

Paige nodded, eyes flicking down her body briefly before meeting Azzi’s again. “Yeah… too good, honestly.”

Azzi bit back a smile, her hands sliding up Paige’s arms. “Maybe you should let me borrow your clothes more often.”

Instead of responding Paige just leaned in, pulling her into a kiss that was deeper than usual, her lips lingering longer as she gently pressed Azzi against the wall again.

Azzi melted into it for a moment before murmuring against Paige’s lips, “Thought you were going to shower.”

Paige smirked, lips brushing over hers again. “Five more seconds won’t kill me.”

Azzi grinned. “You gonna be thinking about this the whole time you’re in there aren’t you?”

Paige’s thumb dragged lazily across her side. “Absolutely.” With that Paige smiled at Azzi and gave her one more quick kiss before she went upstairs to shower.

Azzi’s stomach was still warm from Paige’s kiss as she wandered into the living room, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of the shirt. She sank into the couch, exhaling softly into the quiet. Lukas was still off in his corner, mumbling to himself as he attempted a spin move, and for a moment, Azzi let herself get lost in everything—how comfortable this all felt, how unexpected it was, how easy it had become to want this.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Lukas approaching until he was standing in front of her, holding out a picture book with his hands. “Can you read this to me please?”

Azzi smiled as she took the book from him. “Of course I can.”

He didn’t say anything as he climbed up beside her, settling close. Azzi waited for him to get comfortable, letting him wiggle around until he was satisfied with his spot. Then she opened the book across both their laps and began to read, her voice smooth as she brought the story to life.

Every so often, she’d pause to point something out—“What do you think that is?” or “Look at that face, silly, huh?”—and Lukas would grin, nod, or offer a quiet answer. His responses were soft, but they came quicker with each page, his comfort growing right alongside his curiosity.

By the fifth or sixth page, Lukas was fully leaned into her, his head gently resting against her chest. Azzi didn’t say anything about it. She just shifted the book slightly, adjusting to his weight as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

When Paige came back downstairs in her usual shorts and a sports bra, she froze just before she entered the room. Her eyes locked onto the couch—and for a second, she genuinely felt like she couldn’t move.

Lukas was curled into Azzi’s chest, his small body tucked against her like he belonged there. Azzi’s arm was wrapped loosely around him, the book still open in her hand as she read in a quiet voice. Lukas’s blue eyes fluttered, heavy with sleep, but still trying to hold on to her words.

Paige felt her throat tighten, breath catching as something sharp and soft cracked open in her chest. The sight hit her so hard she had to press her lips together to keep them from trembling. Her eyes stung, but she blinked quickly, swallowing the emotion down before it could rise too far.

She took a steady breath and stepped into view, her voice softer than usual as she asked, “What’s going on in here?”

Lukas didn’t even look up, just waved her off with a sleepy hand. “Sssh, ma… she’s reading to me.”

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a laugh, while Paige chuckled under her breath. She crossed the room and sank onto the couch next to Azzi, her arm naturally stretching along the back behind her shoulders.

Azzi glanced sideways at Paige for a second, and they shared a look. Once again a blink longer than it needed to be.

Then Lukas shifted and looked up at Azzi expectantly. “You stopped.”

Azzi smiled, eyes still lingering on Paige before turning back to the book. “Right. Where were we?”

Lukas says easily, “The elephant.”

“Right the elephant, thank you.”

Azzi finished the story and Paige sat quietly beside her the whole time—fingers tracing absentminded patterns along the back of Azzi’s neck. It started out casual, innocent even, but as the pages turned and Lukas leaned heavier into Azzi’s side, Paige's touch grew more purposeful, more tender.

When she noticed that Lukas had fully fallen asleep, his little breaths even, Paige leaned in closer. She pressed an open-mouthed kiss just beneath Azzi’s jaw, then another along the curve of her neck, her voice barely a whisper as she murmured, “You’re really something, you know that?”

Azzi exhaled softly, her eyes fluttering closed for a second. Paige smiled against her skin and whispered again, lower this time, “You keep doing shit that makes me wanna give you whatever you ask for..”

Azzi turned her head just slightly, enough for their noses to brush. “You’re not making it easy to stay still right now.”

“Good,” Paige whispered, her lips grazing Azzi’s. “Wasn’t trying to.”

Paige pulled Azzi into a soft kiss, her hand slipping gently along Azzi’s jaw as their mouths moved together slowly. Their tongues met and lingered, tracing one another’s with a quiet kind of desperation. When Paige finally pulled back, her smile was laced with something fuller—adoration, maybe.

“You’re amazing,” she whispered against Azzi’s lips, still close enough to feel her breath.

Azzi blinked, eyes searching Paige’s for a moment before replying just as softly, “You’re amazing.”

Paige exhaled, a content sigh leaving her as she rested her forehead briefly against Azzi’s, not wanting to move. She finally pulled back, eyes flicking to Lukas. “Alright,” she murmured, “Imma take him to bed.”

Azzi nodded. “I’ll meet you in your room.”

Paige stood up and scooped Lukas into her arms, the little boy still sound asleep, head resting against her shoulder. She carried him upstairs, her steps quiet and practiced. Once she reached his room, she gently laid him down, tucking his blanket around him before turning on his night light by the bed, and the one in the bathroom connected to his room—just like always. She stood there for a moment, watching him, brushing a hand through his blonde hair before quietly stepping out and closing the door behind her.

Paige walked into her room and found Azzi sitting on the bed, eyes focused on her phone. The moment Azzi looked up and saw Paige, she set it aside without hesitation. After shutting and locking the door Paige moved toward the bed, standing between Azzi’s legs, looking down at her with a soft smile.

"Thank you for reading to him," Paige said, her voice sincere. "You didn't have to do that."

"You don't need to thank me for being a decent human," Assi teased.

Paige smiled at her, her heart softening. Before she could say anything else, Azzi reached for Paige's hand, tugging her gently onto the bed so she was hovering over her. Paige smirked down at her. “Wassup?”

Azzi’s gaze remained steady as she looked up at Paige, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “Did you sleep with anyone while you were gone?”

Paige looked a little shocked at the question causing a slight pause before she answered. “Um..no…?”

“Why not?”

Paige shifted slightly, her eyes searching Azzi’s face to figure out where her mind was. Eventually Paige let out a small sigh saying, “Look I like you Azzi. A lot. And I realized that pretty early on. So I guess I just didn’t wanna disrespect you, your time, or the energy you’ve given me. It didn’t feel right.”

There was a quiet weight to her words, and Azzi felt a warmth stir inside her as she processed what Paige had said. The honesty between them always seemed to draw them closer.

Azzi answered back, “It sounds childish to say, but...I like you a lot too,” she admitted, a small but genuine smile forming on her lips. “And I’m probably going to regret saying this, but I can’t get you out of my head most days.”

Paige smirked, just as Azzi knew she would, but Azzi wasn’t done yet. “I just—I really can’t get hurt again, Paige,” she said, the vulnerability in her voice cutting through the small space between them.

Paige’s expression softened, her blue eyes warm as she gazed down at Azzi. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Azzi.”

Azzi’s eyes searched hers. “You don’t know that,” she replied quietly, her heart still a little heavy with the weight of past experiences.

Paige’s smile was gentle as she leaned in closer. “I do,” she said with quiet conviction. “Azzi, I have a son. This is about to be my 7th year in the league. I’m ready to slow down, have consistency in my life... in Lukas’ life.” Paige paused for a second before adding, “And I’m not about to lie to you, maybe four months ago I couldn’t say all this, but this past week away from you kinda showed me where I’m at mentally. So I'm telling you, you don’t need to worry about allat. I got you.”

Paige's words washed over Azzi, and for the first time in a while, she let herself feel hopeful that maybe, just maybe, this was something different. Something real. With a small smile Azzi connected their lips gently.

It deepened as Azzi pulled Paige closer, her hands wrapping around Paige's shoulders, urging her down, wanting to feel her weight on top of her. Paige hovered over her, their chests pressing together, the heat of their closeness growing as they kissed with a quiet urgency. It was slow, but every kiss seemed to carry the weight of the last few days they'd spent apart, the longing finally being given room to breathe.

For a few moments, they lost themselves in each other, their kisses messy yet perfect. Their lips moved against each other in a rhythm that somehow felt new and familiar at the same time. Occasionally, one of them would sigh softly, a breathless sound that only seemed to deepen the connection between them. Each touch, each shift of their bodies, felt like a reaffirmation of something they haven’t said yet.

Paige’s hands had drifted to Azzi’s neck, gently pulling her in closer, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath her fingertips. Every so often, one of them would pull back slightly, just enough to catch their breath, their foreheads resting together, eyes fluttering open to gaze at one another.

Paige’s breath hitched when she heard Azzi slightly moan into the kiss causing her to slowly move her lips to Azzi’s neck, pressing a soft kiss there before returning to her mouth. “I missed this,” Paige whispered between kisses.

Azzi smiled against Paige’s lips, her hands tracing the outline of Paige’s jaw before pulling her back in for another kiss. “Me too,” she murmured, her lips capturing Paige’s with a different intensity.

As the kiss grew heavier, Paige slowly broke from Azzi’s lips, her mouth trailing down the curve of her jaw, pressing wet open mouth kisses until she found that spot on her neck that she knew Azzi liked. She attached her lips there, sucking gently before soothing it with her tongue, her breath hot against Azzi’s skin.

Azzi let out a quiet, involuntary sound—half sigh, half moan—as her fingers curled into Paige’s shoulders. “That feels good,” she mumbled, her head falling back to give Paige more access.

Paige smiled against her neck, lips brushing over the spot she’d just kissed. “Yeah?” she whispered, her voice low, full of quiet satisfaction at Azzi’s comment. “Swear I been thinking about this—about you all week.”

She nipped gently again, her hands smoothing up and down Azzi’s side. “Missed you so much,” she murmured into the warm skin of her neck, letting the words linger as she started to suck gently on Azzi’s neck again..

Azzi’s breath hitched, and she whispered, “Paige…”

Paige immediately paused, pulling back as her eyes searched Azzi’s. “You okay?” she asked softly, already easing off her, assuming they needed to slow down.

But Azzi shook her head and reached for her, fingers curling around the back of Paige’s neck as she tugged her back down, closer. “No, don’t…I didn’t mean stop,” she said, her voice breathless. “I just—God, I just wanted to say your name. It felt good.”

Paige smirked, her lips brushing against Azzi’s jaw as she leaned in again. “Mmm ok,” she murmured before kissing down her neck again, slower this time. Her hands slipped beneath Azzi’s shirt fingertips dragging along her warm stomach, tracing the lines of her sides.

Azzi’s fingers tightened slightly around Paige’s shoulders as she whispered, “Take it off.”

Paige once again paused, pulling back just enough to see her face, her hands still resting on Azzi’s ribs. Her voice was gentle, steady. “You sure?” she asked, blue eyes locked on Azzi’s brown ones, no pressure in her tone—just a quiet promise to Azzi that they could wait if she needed.

“Yes,” Azzi said, barely above a whisper. “I want this.”

Paige nodded and slowly lifted herself off of Azzi, her hands gliding down her sides as she moved. Azzi shifted fully onto the bed, her back resting against the pillows. She peeled off the UConn shirt—the one that smelled like Paige, the one she secretly didn’t want to give back.

Paige's gaze swept over Azzi’s bare chest, quiet and steady. Her blue eyes had dilated so they appeared darker, but the look she gave Azzi was soft, almost reverent. Like she was seeing something sacred.

Climbing back over her, Paige leaned down and whispered, “You’re so beautiful, Azzi.”

Azzi smiled up at her, a little breathless already. “Thank you.”

Paige shook her head, her voice even softer now. “I’m for real… I’ve never seen anyone like you.”

Azzi didn’t say anything this time. She just smiled and pulled Paige into another kiss, her fingers threading into the back of her hair. The kiss was slower now, full of everything that had been simmering between them for months. Azzi pulled back slightly, her lips brushing against Paige’s as she murmured, “Did you lock the door?”

Paige smiled. “Course I did.”

Paige lifted herself slightly, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s as she reached for her sports bra and tugged it over her head, tossing it aside. Warm light from the bedside lamp caught the lines of her body, casting soft shadows across her toned muscles. Azzi’s breath hitched, her eyes flickering over Paige—seeing her for the first time.

Paige dipped back down, her lips brushing over Azzi’s jaw before trailing lower—pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, and then to the top of her chest. Her hands stayed on Azzi’s sides, thumbs moving in gentle, slow circles as she explored the new territory.

Azzi exhaled sharply, her fingers flexing against Paige’s back as her body arched into the touch. “Paige please…” she whispered, breathless and quiet, her voice catching on the edge of a moan.

Paige smiled softly against her skin, not saying anything—just letting her lips speak for her as she sucked along the curve of Azzi’s chest, her skin warm and flush against hers now. Every shift of Paige’s body, every lingering kiss, the way her tongue swirled around her chest, made Azzi whisper her name again and again, like she was afraid the moment would disappear if she didn’t hold onto the fact that it was Paige.

Paige’s mouth moved with purpose now, nipping and sucking gently at Azzi’s skin, leaving behind little pink-ish purple trails like a map of where she’d been. Her hands slid down Azzi’s sides, fingers curling and squeezing every so often—grounding them both in the moment. Each time she dipped lower, she let her tongue soothe where her teeth had marked.

Azzi’s breath caught again when Paige’s tongue traced her nipple, her back arching into the feeling.

“You sound so beautiful,” Paige whispered, her voice horse. She kissed the words into her just below her ribs, trailing them with her lips.

Azzi’s fingers found Paige’s hair, gently tugging as her eyes fluttered closed. Her heart was racing in her chest—not just from the way Paige was touching her—it was the way she was seeing her.

Paige looked up at her, her lips stilling for a moment as she whispered, “You okay?”

Azzi nodded, lips parted, her fingers tightening just slightly in Paige’s hair. Paige held her gaze for a moment longer, then slowly trailed down a little lower. Her mouth moved with care—pressing open-mouthed kisses, leaving behind soft marks that only Azzi would be able to see.

When Paige glanced back up, Azzi was already looking down at her—her brown eyes vulnerable, but filled with admiration. Paige paused, brushing her lips against her skin one more time before quietly asking, “Is this okay?”

Azzi nodded again, but Paige didn’t move. “I need you to say it’s okay for me baby.”

Azzi let out a quiet sigh, swallowing down the emotion that bubbled up. “Yes… yes, it’s okay,” she whispered, her fingers still in Paige’s hair. “It’s good. You’re good.”

Paige kissed her way slowly back up Azzi’s body, taking her time—savoring every inch, every sigh she pulled from her. When their lips met again, it was slow as Paige coaxed Azzi into relaxing, her hand sliding into the boxers she slipped on.

Her hand found Azzi’s clit, fingers brushing lightly as she began to trace slow circles against her wet center. The touch was soft, but the effect was immediate—Azzi’s breath catching, her body tensing slightly beneath Paige’s.

It had been a while so her senses felt heightened, her body already teetering between wanting more and struggling to keep up.

Paige felt it too—the way Azzi arched into her touch, the way her tongue pushed further into her mouth but her lips faltered at the edges. She pulled back slightly, just enough to rest her forehead against Azzi’s, her fingers still moving in gentle circles.

“Too much?” Paige whispered.

Azzi shook her head, her eyes half-lidded. “No,” she whispered. “It’s just…it’s been a long time.”

Paige nodded as she continued her movements. She watched Azzi closely—the way her chest rose and fell, the way her lips parted with each quiet breath. Paige leaned in and pressed a kiss to the edge of Azzi’s jaw, her voice warm.

“You look so beautiful right now,” she whispered. “So, so pretty.”

Azzi’s fingers curled in the sheets for a moment, her body shifting beneath Paige’s as she exhaled a shaky breath before saying, “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true,” Paige said with a faint smile, nipping lightly at Azzi’s neck before soothing it with her lips. “And you sound even prettier. You don’t even know what you’re doing to me right now.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh at that, but it faded into a soft moan when Paige’s fingers dipped down towards her entrance slightly before moving back up. “You’re making it really hard to think straight,” Azzi whispered.

Paige grinned against her skin. “Good. Lemme just make you feel good then.”

Azzi looked at her, eyes warm—she reached for Paige’s face, her fingers brushing her cheek. “I missed you while you were gone”.

Paige smiled and leaned into her touch, kissing her palm softly before whispering, “I missed you too. So much.”

With that, Paige dipped her head again, her lips starting to trail lower.

She continued to move slowly against Azzi’s clit, her fingers tracing delicate circles, as she felt the way Azzi’s body began to shift beneath her. Azzi’s breaths grew shorter, her soft noises turning into quiet whimpers that were harder to hold back.

Her hips shifted, chasing the warmth of Paige’s touch, and Paige felt it. Paige glanced up through her lashes, a small smile on her face. “That feel good, baby?”

Azzi nodded, her brows knit together as she exhaled shakily. “Yeah… yeah,” she whispered, almost breathless. “Fuck—Paige, I…” Her voice trailed off into another soft sound as Paige’s fingers dipped just a bit lower—not quite sliding in yet, but close.

Paige’s lips curled into a soft smile, brushing another kiss along Azzi’s stomach as she whispered, “You’re so responsive…I love how your body’s talkin to me.” She slid her fingers near her entrance again, grounding Azzi with her palm against her side.

Azzi’s fingers found Paige’s hair again, tugging gently as her back arched into her. “You’re driving me crazy,” she whispered.

“I haven’t even started,” Paige chuckled. “I been thinking about this—about you—every night.”

Azzi let out a breath that was almost a moan, her head tilting back against the pillow. “Please stop teasing me,” she whispered.

Paige smiled curling her fingers in the boxers Azzi had on, her eyes meeting hers in a silent question. Azzi answered by lifting her hips slightly, giving her the go-ahead. Paige peeled the fabric down Azzi’s legs, tossing it aside before her gaze dropped—and lingered.

All Paige could muster was a quiet, “Damn,” her eyes taking Azzi in completely—the way she was already dripping for her.

Azzi blushed under the attention, a small smirk tugging at her lips, but she didn’t look away. Paige pulled back just long enough to tug her shorts and boxers off, letting them fall beside Azzi’s so she wouldn’t be the only one bare.

Then she leaned down towards Azzi’s center, her eyes soft as they scanned Azzi’s face. “This okay?” she asked, her voice quieter now, more serious.

Azzi nodded without hesitation. “It’s more than okay,” she said, her voice reflecting her excitement slightly.

Paige nodded giving Azzi one last lingering look before she dipped her head down and pressed a soft open mouthed kiss to Azzi’s center. The warmth of her mouth made Azzi’s breath hitch and her stomach flutter. Her fingers tightened around the sheets.

Paige felt it—heard it—and looked up at her again, her expression gentle but searching. “You good?” she asked softly.

Azzi nodded again, this time slower, her hand brushing against Paige’s shoulder. “I’m good,” she whispered. “Amazing.”

Paige nodded gently, her hand’s brushing along Azzi’s thighs as she leaned back down, mouth returning to Azzi’s center. She kissed there slowly—once, then again—each movement tender and slow, letting Azzi melt into the rhythm.

Then Paige shifted her position slightly, hooking Azzi’s legs with her arms. She dragged her tongue up and down slowly a few times causing Azzi’s breath to hitch, her fingers tightening in Paige’s hair. It wasn’t desperate, she just needed to hold onto something to stop herself from making unnecessary noises.

Paige smiled into Azzi softly. “You’re doing so good,” she whispered. “Taste so good baby.”

Azzi let out a soft sound at that, her cheeks flushed, eyes fluttering open to look down at Paige. There was so much emotion in Azzi’s chest, it felt like it would spill over.

After hearing Azzi’s reaction, Paige started to lick at her with a little less reservation now, circling her tongue at any part of Azzi she could reach. “Been wanting to take care of you like this for a long time.”

Azzi’s hand slid into Paige’s hair again, pushing her closer. Whispering “Mmm–then don’t stop. Keep going just like that.”

Paige dipped back down, her lips and tongue moving in tandem, like she was committing every inch of Azzi to memory. Paige would’ve thought she was the one losing herself in it, completely undone, if it weren’t for the continuous sounds slipping off of Azzi’s lips.

Tiny gasps when Paige would dip her tongue into her entrance. Whispered sighs. Her name falling out in a broken moan, now and then, said so softly it made Paige’s heart ache in the best way.

The warmth in Paige’s stomach bloomed, rising into her chest and pressing against her ribs. She hadn’t expected to feel this full—like she could float away from how much she felt in this moment. She glanced up at Azzi, her wet lips still brushing softly against Azzi as she whispered, “You sound so beautiful, baby…”

Azzi’s eyes were hooded now—couldn’t open them further if she wanted to. “Oh fuck baby—feels so good,” Azzi whimpered, voice barely there. “You feel so good Paige…”

Paige’s lips curved into the softest smile. “You don’t even know what you doing to me right now,” she murmured. “Never wanted to take my time like this. Could stay in here forever.”

Paige kept moving, her tongue and lips still working in perfect rhythm, like she knew exactly what Azzi needed—like her mind had already memorized every little response, every sigh and plea that Azzi gave her. She stayed patient, even as Azzi’s body started to arch, her hips shifting restlessly, trying to push Paige closer.

Azzi’s fingers tightened in Paige’s hair, her breathing ragged as her body started to tremble beneath her. Paige looked up, her mouth still attached to Azzi as their eyes met.

For a moment, they just held the gaze—Paige’s blue eyes dark, full of awe, and Azzi’s low and hazy with everything she was feeling. Azzi’s lips parted, as if she was about to say something but a soft sound slipped out that wasn’t quite a word, but Paige understood it anyway.

Azzi’s voice cracked as she whimpered out, “I’m so close…”

Paige didn’t speak—she just gave a soft nod, never breaking eye contact as she dipped her tongue fully into Azzi’s entrance, letting out her own sigh at the contact.

Azzi’s breathing caught again, her lashes fluttering, but she didn’t look away. Even as her body moved desperately into Paige’s mouth, she kept her gaze on blue eyes, like Paige’s eyes alone was the only thing steadying her.

Paige moved her thumb gently across Azzi’s ribcage, a silent kind of comfort as she worked her tongue into her.

Even though barely a word had been said, everything about the way Azzi reacted for Paige, the way she breathed her name like it was sacred, told Paige more than words ever could.

Azzi’s lips parted on a shaky breath, her fingers gripping at the sheets now, trying to hold herself together. The feeling was overwhelming—Paige’s mouth, her hands, her presence. Her body was humming, too warm, too full, and instinctively, her head tilted back slightly, eyes fluttering shut to escape how much she felt.

But Paige’s hand slid gently up her side, squeezing gently.

Azzi opened her eyes to see Paige shaking her head no, barely a motion.

Don’t look away.

Azzi let out a soft, broken noise, her gaze locking back onto Paige’s. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard, her expression completely undone.

Paige never broke her rhythm, her own heart thundering at the way Azzi was starting to fall apart beneath her. But she didn’t rush—didn’t chase the end. She moved like she had all the time in the world, like every second mattered. Like Azzi deserved to be worshiped, not just fucked.

And Azzi—God, Azzi—she was unraveling. Her breath got stuck every few seconds, broken gasps and whimpers slipping out as Paige continued her path, eyes never leaving hers for long. Her hands had found their way to Paige’s now, interlacing them as she squeezed periodically.

Another lick. Another gentle stroke of her tongue. And still, Paige watched her without looking away.

Azzi’s eyes were glassy, lips parted, completely breathless until she was a trembling puddle beneath Paige, her body taut with feeling, unraveling as she cried out quietly. The pleas slipped from her as Paige helped her ride out her orgasm, the soft sounds of Azzi's lips echoing through the room and settling in Paige’s chest like a heartbeat.

Azzi’s hands gripped Paige’s shoulders now, her voice cracking with the way she whispered her name—over and over, like she didn’t know what else to cling to. And Paige, eyes still watching Azzi come undone, felt something bloom and break inside her all at once.

She’d never seen someone so beautiful. Never heard anything that made her feel like this.

Azzi was flushed and breathless, her eyes glassy and full of something that went beyond pleasure.

Paige kissed up Azzi’s body slowly, whispering quiet praises until she reached just beneath Azzi’s ear. “God, you’re so perfect.”

Azzi let out a small, broken sound in response, her hands sliding down to cup Paige’s face—pulling her into a kiss.

Their mouths moved in sync, like neither of them wanted to let go of the moment—like they were trying to memorize each other completely with just their lips. Azzi’s hands stayed on Paige’s face, thumbs softly stroking her cheeks and Paige melted into it, one hand pressed to Azzi’s side, the other tangled in her hair that was no longer pulled into the bun.

Between kisses, they whispered—barely-there words, soft sighs of names and praises that faded into the warmth between them. Nothing loud. Just the kind of quiet that held weight, the kind that wrapped around them.

As their foreheads touched, breaths mixing, chests still rising and falling in uneven rhythm, something settled in both of them.

This was different. This was home.

They didn’t say it out loud. Not wanting to put too much pressure on the other, but they both felt it. In the way Paige looked at Azzi—like she was the only thing that existed—and in the way Azzi held onto Paige—like she never wanted to let her go.

The two of them stayed like that for a few hours that night, wrapped in the quiet comfort of one another. As the night stretched on, they took their time to learn the rhythm of one another, the way their hearts beat when they were close, the little sounds and touches that made them both want more. The world outside seemed distant, like it didn’t matter anymore.

Every kiss, every whisper, every laugh when Paige said something that rolled off her tongue a little too easily felt like a tiny piece of something beautiful being woven into the fabric of their connection.

…

When Azzi woke up the next morning in Paige’s large bed to the sound of her alarm, the first thing she did was smile. Her brown eyes glowed with contentment, her gaze light as she was met the pillows beneath her. The sun streamed gently into Paige’s room, casting warm light across the space. She could slightly hear Paige and Lukas downstairs, though their voices were muffled, not able to travel far enough in the large house.

Azzi reached for her phone, checking her schedule for the day. After taking a moment to stretch, she pulled herself from the comfort of the bed, her body still warm from the night before.

She made her way to Paige’s closet, grabbing some clothes she had left here the last time she stayed over. When she walked into the bathroom she smiled to herself, thinking back to when she had playfully joked about how tangled her hair always was whenever she left Paige’s place. To her surprise, the next time she came over, Paige had bought her the exact hair products Azzi had in her own bathroom, a thoughtful gesture that had made Azzi laugh and tease Paige for a few days despite the blonde refusing to believe she was a “simp.” The memory brought a lightness to her chest, and she shook her head, feeling a warmth in her heart that she didn’t quite know how to put into words.

Azzi was looking at herself in the mirror when she heard what sounded like Lukas letting out a screech of laughter and she felt a strange sense of peace settle over her. It was a good morning. And, despite the busy day ahead, for once, Azzi didn’t mind. Everything felt a little lighter today.

Once Azzi had gotten ready for her day, she grabbed her heels from Paige’s closet and carried them downstairs with her. As she stepped into the living room, she expected to see Paige, but instead, she only saw Lukas. He was lying on the floor on his stomach, his head propped up with his hands as he stared at the TV screen. His blue eyes were wide, not blinking as he watched Bluey.

Azzi couldn't help but laugh softly, the concentration on his face was too much. She stood there for a moment, attempting to see if the little boy would finally blink, before quietly walking toward the kitchen.

She found Paige in there, humming softly to herself as she made coffee, the early morning light catching the edges of her blonde hair. Paige’s back was to her, so Azzi leaned against the doorframe for a moment just watching her.

There was something about these moments, something about the simplicity of it all, that made her feel at home.

“Good morning,” Azzi said softly.

Paige turned around, a smile instantly forming on her face. “Good morning,” she replied, the sun making her squint a little. Paige motioned with her head for Azzi to sit at the island.

Azzi smiled as she walked over and sat down. Paige was quick to follow, placing a plate in front of her with turkey bacon, avocado toast, and eggs.

Paige leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “Eat.”

Azzi laughed, her fingers brushing against Paige’s as she took the coffee, the warmth of the drink and Paige’s attention filling her with a sense of contentment. Paige grabbed her own plate before sitting down next to Azzi.

Azzi couldn’t help but notice how similar their portions were. With a small grin, she picked up one of her pieces of avocado toast and a few strips of turkey bacon, transferring them onto Paige’s plate.

Paige raised an eyebrow at her. “You need to eat, Azzi,” her voice was teasing and gentle as she said it.

Azzi smiled as she crossed her arms on the counter. “I am eating, but you need to eat more,” she replied with a playful grin knowing how much it annoyed Paige.

Paige rolled her eyes but she still had a smile on her face as she picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite. “You’re annoying.”

Azzi just laughed, watching Paige for a moment before grabbing a bite of her own food. “I know.”

Once they were finished eating, Paige cleared their plates and set them in the sink. “You need me to take you to the office?”

Azzi grinned as she stood from the counter, moving toward Paige and pulling her into a kiss without answering the question. Their bodies pressed against the cool granite of the countertop as the kiss deepened for a brief moment before Azzi gently pulled away. “It’s okay, Ben’s outside,” she whispered.

Paige nodded. She reached for Azzi’s hand, helping her balance as she carefully stepped into her heels. Paige’s eyes lingered on Azzi, her heart fluttering a little as she took in the sight of her. “You look too good,” she mumbled, shaking her head in disbelief.

Azzi couldn’t do anything but laugh at this. “You say that every time you see me before work…anytime you see me period actually.”

Paige licked her lips and smirked at Azzi. “Cause what you tryna look good for if I’m not there?”

Azzi just rolled her eyes playfully, adding, “Whatever.”

The two of them made their way toward the front door. Paige opened it, revealing Azzi’s driver waiting in the grey natural stone driveway. Azzi was about to lean in for a kiss goodbye when suddenly, the sound of little feet pattering against the floor rushed toward them.

Lukas came running up, his small arms wrapping around Azzi’s waist in a quick hug. “Bye, Azzi!” he said with a big grin.

Azzi was surprised but grinned at him. She gently squeezed his face with one hand, causing him to make a face. “Bye, Lukas,” her voice filled with affection.

Lukas released her and bolted back toward the living room, calling out as he ran, “Back to Bluey!”

Azzi laughed as she watched him disappear back around the corner. When she turned her gaze to Paige, she caught the soft, awestruck look on her face. Azzi didn’t point it out. She just let Paige have the moment.

Instead, she stepped closer, wrapping her arms loosely around Paige’s shoulders, brushing their noses together as she leaned in. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I have to go gorgeous.”

Paige’s smile spread slowly, her hands slipping around Azzi’s waist. “I got practice in a lil bit, but I’ll text you after, okay?”

Azzi nodded, resting her forehead against Paige’s for just a second longer before they shared a quick kiss.

Then Azzi pulled away, walking toward the car with a small smile still on her face as Paige stood in the doorway, watching her go.

[chvoswxtch]

teach me

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you want frank to teach you self defense, but it doesn't quite go the way you expected.

warnings: swearing, some angst, mentions of guns, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 8.3k

a/n: what better way to end this year and start the new one than with our favorite hot bodyguard. don't ask me how many times I watched that scene with him and amy. it was for science. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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“You’re being a dick.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to learn.”

“You’re still being a dick.”

“Yeah yeah, you ain’t gettin’ no sympathy from me, sweetheart. Now c’mon, try again.”

It was a good thing the cabin was isolated in the middle of the woods, because if anyone had been looking in the living room window at that very moment, they would’ve definitely called the police in horror. Frank had a gun in his right hand that was trained on you, and while he wore a neutral expression on his face, your brows were furrowed in pure annoyance and there was a faint scowl on your lips.

Letting out a huff of irritation, you kept your eyes focused on the gun in Frank’s hand, getting back into somewhat of a fighting stance again. Clenching your hands open and closed a few times, your teeth sank down into your bottom lip before you suddenly rushed forward in an endeavor to take the gun out of his hand. 

But just like he had done the past seven times you tried this, Frank easily managed to block your attempt. He grabbed your wrist in his free hand and spun you around swiftly, pulling you back firmly against his chest while a deep chuckle sounded right next to your ear.

“That was real cute.”

Letting go of you, Frank took a step back and lightly pressed at the back of your knee with the heel of his boot, sending you down to your knees below him. He decided to take it a step further and used the toe of his boot to gently shove at your ass, causing your hands to fly out to catch yourself, rendering you on all fours in front of him. Turning to narrow your eyes at him over your shoulder, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth let you know that was very intentional.

“You know, if you wanted me on my knees, all you had to do was ask.”

“That right?”

Grumbling a string of curses under your breath, you pushed yourself back up onto your feet and turned around to shoot a death glare in Frank’s direction. His plush lips instantly parted into a crooked grin while he looked at you, cocking his head to the side slightly while his eyes twinkled in amusement.

“Aw, what’s wrong baby, hm?”

“I already told you, you’re being a dick. You’re supposed to be teaching me-”

“Then why don’t you quit actin’ like you know everythin’ and start askin’ questions, yeah?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what questions to ask? I asked you to teach me. Teach me means tell me what to do.”

“And when have you ever done what I told ya to?”

As you opened your mouth to protest, Frank arched one of his thick brows and shot you a pointed look, and your rebuttal quickly died on your tongue. You did have a history of ignoring his instructions completely and doing whatever you wanted anyway. With that in mind, you let out a deep exhale through your nose and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Okay, that’s…fair. But this is completely out of my area of expertise. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never even held a gun until four days ago. And for the record, when it comes to something serious, I do listen to you. This is serious, and I’m listening.”

Originally when you asked Frank to teach you self defense with a gun, he was completely against it. He made the argument that with him around, you wouldn’t have to worry about that, to which you reminded him of the incident where two people tried to kill you in your own home where you had nothing to protect yourself with and no knowledge of how to in the first place. 

The two of you went back and forth about it for at least an hour. He made the case that it was a one time incident that would never happen again, and argued that nothing was ever going to happen to you in the first place anyway because he showed up to take care of it. You argued back that Frank wouldn’t be by your side twenty-four seven anymore and would eventually be assigned to someone else, possibly taking him far away for extended periods of time.

In the end, you wore him down like you usually did until he gave in and you got your way.

Frank took in the impatient and stubborn expression covering your features, the one he had become all too familiar with and grown to adore. You were a force to be reckoned with when you wanted something, just as much as he was. Even though he didn’t want you to ever have a reason to use a gun, he would rather know you were safe and could handle yourself in his absence if it came down to it. 

“Alright, alright. Wipe that pout off your face and c’mere.”

Doing your best to conceal your tiny smile of victory, you went to stand in front of Frank, but he held his large hand out to stop you and motioned for you to move back a little.

“Keep your distance, okay? You don’t wanna be too close. Now, step one.”

Frank reached out to grab your wrist and brought your hand up towards the barrel of the gun, placing his large hand on top of your own and squeezing gently to signal for you to grab onto it. Once he felt your tight grip on the barrel, he slid his hand over to grab onto your forearm and pushed against it, which caused the gun in his right hand to shift directions. It was no longer aimed at you, but pointed at the wall to your left.

“You wanna take the gun offline, yeah? Look.”

Glancing up at him briefly, you nodded to show him that you were paying attention. When he pulled your arm back in the position it was before, aiming the gun at you once again, you quickly redirected your focus back to his large hands. To reiterate what he was trying to explain to you, Frank repeated his demonstration two more times to make sure you understood.

“Offline, right? Offline, right? And push hard, as hard as you can.”

While Frank’s eyes were locked on you as he demonstrated the first step, you were studying his movements, committing every detail to memory. It seemed simple enough in theory so far. Keep your distance, grab the barrel of the gun, and push it away from yourself hard. When he let go of your arm, you let go of the gun, and you looked up to see that Frank was already watching you.

“Show me.”

Without hesitating, you swiftly reached out to grab the barrel of the gun and forcefully pushed it to the left. Frank let you redirect it to a certain point, and then pushed back to hold the gun in place. His strength was something you couldn’t combat, and as you kept pushing at the barrel, his resistance  made the gun almost wobble in your hands. 

“Attagirl. Easy, easy. Relax.”

Frank reached out with his left hand and grabbed onto your wrist, gently squeezing it to steady your hand.

“Alright, now step two, you go for that wrist, yeah? You get control. Go.”

Immediately you reached out with your right hand to wrap your fingers around Frank’s wrist to grab onto it tightly. Giving a slight shake of his head, Frank pulled your hand off of his wrist and guided it underneath his wrist instead.

“Look, underneath, yeah? Underneath. Go for the joint. Joints are weakest.”

Everything Frank was showing you seemed so simple that it filled you with a false sense of confidence. With your right hand under his right wrist, you gripped onto the barrel tightly with your left hand and took a step back as you tried to tug it away, thinking it would spring loose. Frank let out a grunt of disapproval and pulled his right arm back, easily slipping the gun out of your grasp completely and causing you to stumble forward a bit. He had a somewhat stern look on his face as he wagged the gun in your direction twice.

“Easy, bang bang. Don’t ever pull a gun towards you. You push it away.”

Letting out a huff of annoyance as your previous overzealous confidence fizzled out, you looked up at Frank as he held his left hand out towards you to signal for you to stay in place. He wasn’t teasing you anymore like he had been earlier. This wasn't Frank that had made you strawberry pancakes and caressed your legs while they sat in his lap as the two of you shared breakfast this morning. This was Frank that nearly sent your ex to the morgue instead of prison. He was back in full protective bodyguard mode.

“Listen to me. Use your legs, get underneath, and twist. Don’t pull, twist. Yeah? C’mon, show me.”

Taking a deep breath, you gave a slight nod and went over the steps in your head. Grab the barrel of the gun, shove it away from yourself, slip your other hand under the wrist joint, and twist the gun away. Your lips faintly twitched as you silently recited the steps to yourself three times for good measure. Frank didn’t make a move to rush you. He kept his eyes on you and waited patiently until you were ready to give it a try. 

Sucking in one more deep breath, your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and you sprung into action. Taking a quick step forward, you reached out to tightly grab the barrel of the gun with your left hand, and while you pushed it away to the left, you simultaneously slipped your right hand under Frank’s wrist. Twisting the barrel of the gun forcefully to the right caused Frank’s wrist to twist with it until he was forced to let go, and in that short window of weakness you were able to pull the gun out of his hand with a hard step backwards.

Glancing down at the gun in your hands, your eyes went wide with surprise and your mouth hung open as you let out an incredulous laugh. 

“Holy shit, that actually worked!”

Frank held his hands up like you had just made a touchdown, and he started to clap as a proud tooth bearing grin stretched over his lips.

“Look at that, huh? Who got a gun, huh?”

Looking up at Frank, your lips parted into a huge grin of your own while you held it up like a trophy and spoke in a proud voice.

“I have a gun.”

“Attagirl. You’re goddamn right you do. You did good, sweetheart. Real good. Feels good, yeah?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you let out a soft laugh while admiring the gun in your hands. Well, more so admiring the fact that you were able to actually take it from Frank. The only reason you felt comfortable holding the gun right now was because Frank had shown you the clip was empty before he started demonstrating the basics earlier. 

Pointing a loaded gun at Steven had been different. You were blinded in a fit of rage, not thinking clearly, but deep down you knew there was no way you would have actually pulled the trigger. However if you had been level headed, you probably wouldn’t have taken it from Billy, even if he offered. 

“Yeah…yeah it does.”

And it did feel good. It made you feel strong…less helpless. Frank was giving you back a sense of safety and security that had been stolen from you when you were first threatened by the Defenders of Freedom. Even if you never used this lesson, and you genuinely hoped you wouldn’t have to, you felt a surge of confidence knowing that you were at least capable of protecting yourself in some capacity. 

“Okay, step three.”

A pinch of confusion settled between your brows as you looked up at Frank when he mentioned a third step, and you noticed that he wasn’t smiling anymore. A grim look had settled over his features that sent a chill of unease down your spine.

“You just took a gun off someone that wanted to use it on you. What d’you do.”

The delight of pride had disappeared from his face and was swiftly replaced by a shadow of severity that was now coveting his sharp features, and the elated grin that was on your own lips had slowly fallen from grace. It was a rhetorical question you both knew the answer to, but you hadn’t factored in a third step. It hadn’t even crossed your mind, and Frank could see that in your eyes.

“You use it on them. Don’t matter who they are, you do not hesitate. You got that?”

Looking down at the gun in your hands, the weight of it was suddenly too heavy in your palms. Step three was a reminder that step one and two weren’t just to boost your confidence in protecting yourself; they were steps to defend yourself. Swallowing thickly, you nodded your head in silent understanding.

“Good. Show me.”

Frank’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a command, but it wasn’t a suggestion either. Placing both of your hands on the gun the way he had shown you to properly hold it, you took a deep breath, slowly raising it to aim in Frank’s direction. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that he knew the clip was empty, or that this most likely wasn’t the first time he had stared down the barrel of a gun, but he looked completely unphased. The canvas of his face was expressionless, but his eyes were what you had learned to read. Only right now, you couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell you. 

The gun trembled slightly in your grasp, as if every cell in your body knew exactly how wrong it felt to point a gun at Frank, loaded or not. The self defense lesson you wanted for a possible yet highly improbable scenario had quickly become too heavy and realistic, and you were quickly regretting even asking for it.

“Show me.”

“I’m not doing that-”

“It ain’t loaded-”

“Frank, I don’t want to-”

“What’d I say, huh? I don’t care who it is, you do not hesitate. Ever. Now, show me you understand.”

Frank’s tone was a little more forceful, but the volume of it was still even and somewhat soft. You knew there were no repercussions if you didn’t pull the trigger. He had learned early on that he couldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to, and you trusted him enough to know that he would never try to force you. Frank never demanded anything of you, he always asked.

But you had asked for this, and he wanted you to follow through with it.

Clenching your jaw, you let out a shaky exhale through your nose, and you slowly squeezed the trigger like he had taught you to yesterday when you were out in the woods using cans as target practice. The click that sounded caused you to flinch, and it seemed to echo loudly in the living room. Frank on the other hand didn’t visibly react to it at all.

Without another word, you placed the gun down onto the coffee table a little too forcefully and headed towards the back door, wanting to put as much distance between it and yourself as possible. Frank caught your wrist before you could get too far and gently tugged you back towards himself.

“Hey-”

“I’m going for a walk.”

“No, you ain’t. You ain’t runnin’ away, you’re gonna stay here and talk to me. We ain’t doin’ that not communicatin’ shit. Why are you upset?”

“I told you I didn’t want to do that-”

“You asked me to teach you. I said no, but you kept on beggin’. What did you think this was gonna be, huh? You think you get a gun off someone, and it ends there? No. As soon as you get control and take it, you use it. No negotiatin’, no questionin’ it, you do it-”

“And what if I can’t, Frank?”

The distress in your voice made him pause and clench his jaw. He could see that you were visibly upset, and for a moment he wondered if he was being too hard on you. You said it yourself, this was not your area of expertise. It was his. Frank had years of professional training under his belt. Pulling a trigger was something he didn’t even have to think twice about. It was an automatic response. The aftermath of what followed didn’t even make him bat an eye. There were always casualties in war. 

But you weren’t a soldier, and having to actually pull the trigger on someone would be something that haunted you for the rest of your life if it came down to it.

Letting out a deep exhale through his large nose, Frank stepped forward and wrapped one of his arms around your waist to pull you into his embrace while using his other hand to slip his fingers gently into your hair to brush it back before cradling your face in his right hand.

“Listen to me. If it comes down to you, or someone else, you do whatever you gotta do to save yourself, you got that?”

The rational part of your brain knew that Frank was right. If you had taken a gun from Cavella or Walker, you would’ve had to shoot them. There’s no way they wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to kill you if they had it. But the emotional part of your brain was struggling to figure out if you could handle the consequences of taking someone’s life, justified or not. Frank could see the internal conflict in your eyes, and he lightly brushed the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheekbone as the rough timbre of his voice broke the tense silence.

“Hey, no one’s sayin’ you gotta shoot ‘em point blank, alright? I’ve seen your aim, and it ain’t all that great anyway. You’d be lucky to scare ‘em off with firin’ a terrible shot just so you could get away.”

Rolling your eyes at his comment, you let out a dry laugh. As much as you wanted to be annoyed, he was right. You were terrible. You didn’t hit a single can yesterday, even at close range. You did manage to scare the shit out of some crows in a tree though.

“You are such an ass.”

The edge of Frank’s mouth twitched up into a light smirk while giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

“And you’re cute thinkin’ you could actually do some damage. I know a blind guy that can hit targets better than you. Look, you gotta stop gettin’ upset ‘bout things that might not even happen, alright? If it ever comes down to it, remember that you’re the one controllin’ the gun, yeah? It ain’t controllin’ you. Wherever you aim, the bullet’s gonna go. You can shoot ‘em in the leg, foot, shoulder, hell shoot ‘em in the dick for all I care. That’ll keep ‘em down for a while. You just promise me you’ll pull that trigger. You get ‘em down however you want, and then you get the hell outta there. That’s all you gotta do, yeah?”

Frank dipped his head to catch your eyes, staring intently into them. Letting out a deep breath, you bit down on your bottom lip and nodded while placing your hands on Frank’s biceps. You could do that. Injuring someone just to get away was a lot more manageable for your conscience. Frank lightly grasped your jaw in his large hand, his bottom three fingers wrapping around your throat while his index finger and thumb held your jaw. He tipped your head back so that you had no choice but to look up at him.

“Lemme hear you say it.”

Staring up into his warm brown eyes, you gazed up at him silently for a moment before speaking.

“No hesitating. I promise.”

“Attagirl. C’mere.”

Frank leaned in to capture your lips in a soft and sweet kiss. Sometimes it amazed you how easily he was able to talk you down from the ledge. Frank was a man of few words, but he somehow always knew exactly which ones to say to ease whatever anxieties were weighing on your mind. And the distraction of his plush lips against yours also certainly helped.

Ever since the other night by the fireplace, every kiss between the two of you that started out soft and sweet had a way of evolving into something more passionate and insatiable. Maybe it was the months of denying your feelings for one another, or maybe there was just some magnetic pull between your souls, but whatever it was, neither of you could get enough.

Before you could even register that you were moving, Frank was lifting you up by your hips and setting you down on the dining table, his hungry kisses leaving a searing path along your jawline and down the column of your neck.

“Did good today, sweetheart. Did real goddamn good, made me so proud.”

Frank’s gravely songs of praise in your ear only further ignited the flame of desire that was burning in your lower belly. Despite the warmth of his large palm touching your bare skin as he slipped it underneath your shirt to caress your lower back, a shiver teasingly tumbled down your spine from the contact.

“I had a good teacher.”

“Nah, I think you’re just a natural, baby.”

“I thought I had terrible aim?”

“Didn’t say you were perfect. Everybody’s got their strengths and weaknesses.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you could feel the rumble of Frank’s deep chuckle vibrating in his chest that was pressed against yours.

“Wow, you really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, Castle.”

Frank pulled back slightly to look down at you, his eyes traveling over your figure to drink in the sight of you sitting on the edge of the dining table before they slowly wandered back up to meet your gaze. He arched one of his thick brows as a smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yours are currently danglin’, sweetheart.”

Before you could retort with a smartass comment of your own, Frank’s mouth was back on your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin. Feeling his tongue gliding along your collarbone and giving it a delectable love bite, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back, granting Frank all the access he wanted to your skin.

The feeling of his lips on your neck was so heavenly you almost didn’t notice that he had popped the button on your jeans and tugged down your zipper until he was lifting you up slightly with one arm around your waist and pulling the denim down your hips with his free hand. As soon as your jeans were completely off, your own hands were reaching for Frank’s belt buckle, but he grasped your wrists and halted your attempt. A soft noise of protest quickly slipped past your lips.

“Frank-”

“Shh shh shh. Spread your legs for me, baby.”

A rush of heat pooled in your cheeks at his request, but you obliged immediately. Frank leaned in to kiss you deeply, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip and nipping at it softly while his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your panties and slipped them off too slowly for your liking. The sudden contact of the crisp autumn air coming in through the open windows hitting your slicked folds had you gasping, and Frank used that to his advantage by slipping his tongue into your mouth to caress your own sensually. 

“Spread ‘em wider for me, sweetheart. C’mon.”

Frank’s deep voice was quiet, but it nestled in your ears as comfortably as it did between your thighs. He pulled you a little more towards the edge of the dining table, and when you spread your legs further for him, he sank down to his knees in front of you and let out a low groan of appreciation at the sight waiting for him. 

“Attagirl, that’s it. God, look at you. You should see how fuckin’ pretty you look right now, baby.”

His large hands gripped onto your soft thighs, kneading and squeezing your flesh with his thick fingers. Frank didn’t waste a second before diving into your cunt face first. As soon as his warm and wet tongue began to strum your clit like chords to his favorite song, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head. He brought your legs over his broad shoulders, burying his face so deep into your core, you weren’t sure how he was breathing.

Your hand quickly found a fistful of his slightly grown out hair that you gripped onto to steady yourself, and when you gave it an experimental tug, the vibration of his groan against your clit had your thighs trembling more than any toy you had ever gotten for yourself before.

“Fuck…Frank…”

Frank let out a loud grunt as he pulled back for just a moment to stare at your glistening pussy almost in awe, his hooded eyes briefly meeting your own for a second before focusing back on the display of your desire for him.

“Taste so good sweetheart, so fuckin’ good. You got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

He dove right back in, this time slipping his tongue inside of you to explore while using his large nose to bump against your clit repeatedly. The stimulation had your back arching off the dining table and a loud moan echoed throughout the cabin. Tugging harder at his dark roots, you pushed your hips up against his face, desperately and greedily searching for more. None of your exes had ever eaten you out like this before. Most of them didn’t even know what the fuck they were doing, and the rest gave up after a few minutes because it “took too long”, but still expected you to suck them off until your jaw ached.

But Frank…God, Frank knew what he was doing. His thick fingers were digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, following your hips wherever they went. The groans that continued to vibrate against your clit not only turned you on because of their stimulation, but because you could tell that Frank was genuinely enjoying eating your pussy. The fact that he was getting just as much pleasure out of it as you were had you on the brink of an orgasm alone. Frank had a way of making every experience feel brand new, and it made you realize just how much you had been missing out on in your previous relationships.

That familiar bubbly feeling was building up inside of you, cresting slowly like a tidal wave ready to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting beach. Your breaths were coming out in short staccato variations, and at this point you were roughy tugging at Frank’s hair with both hands while essentially fucking his face. Not that he seemed to mind at all. If anything, it just seemed to make him more feral.

“Yesyesyesyes…please-fuck, Frank…I…I…”

Frank pulled you even closer towards the edge of the dining table to where your ass was basically hanging off of it, and the jolt of his large palm smacking against your ass was the only indication you got that he understood what you were trying to tell him.

You thought you had more time, but your climax suddenly crashed into you without further warning, and your hips were stuttering as Frank continued his incessant assault on your pussy with his tongue. It seemed like he didn’t want to let a drop of your essence go to waste, and while you appreciated his enthusiasm, the way he was flicking his tongue rapidly against your overstimulated clit was riding that very thin line between pain and pleasure, and you were weakly shoving at his broad shoulders.

“Okay okay okay…Frank…fuck, please! Just…give me a second, God-”

Frank dragged his tongue up your entire pussy from your entrance to your clit one last time before granting you mercy with a low growl. While you panted heavily laying back against the dining room table, he was pressing featherlight kisses to each of your inner thighs, but due to your body feeling like a live wire, they felt like faint shocks that had your body jolting every time his wet lips met your heated skin. He chuckled deeply watching you respond to his touch.

“You alright there, sweetheart?”

Lifting your hand, you gave him a weak thumbs up, and Frank just laughed even louder in amusement at that. The sound of his laughter combined with your own blissed out post orgasm state had a lazy grin stretching over your lips. You felt his large and rough hands slipping underneath your shirt, gently caressing your bare skin and grabbing your waist while he leaned over you, kissing your lips deeply. The taste of your own sweet tang on Frank’s tongue had your head spinning, and a soft hum sounded in the back of your throat.  Even though you were still recovering from your first ever oral orgasm, the feeling of Frank’s hard cock straining against his jeans and rubbing against your inner thigh reignited your greed.

Brushing your hand slowly down his chest, you palmed him firmly through his jeans, and Frank let out a grunt while pushing himself further against your hand. He broke the kiss momentarily to nuzzle his large nose against your throat.

“If ya need a minute-”

“No. Now.”

While you unfastened his belt in record time, Frank placed his hands on the table on either side of your head and pulled back to look down at you with a soft chuckle at your impatience. He lightly cocked his head to the side, his brown eyes darkened with lust as they roamed over you shamelessly. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and a crooked smirk caressed his mouth.

“Anybody ever tell you what an impatient lil thing you are?”

A smirk of your own tugged across your lips while you slipped your hand into his jeans, stroking his thick cock through his briefs, earning a quiet grunt from Frank.

“Apart from you every day since we met? Maybe a few other people. Is my lack of patience really what you wanna talk about right now, big guy?”

The sultry tone of your voice did not go unnoticed by Frank, and in fact, it only made his cock swell even more in your welcoming hand. He slowly moved his hips back and forth as you teasingly stroked him and leaned down closer towards you, nuzzling his nose along your throat before whispering huskily into your ear.

“Got somethin’ better in mind.”

By the time Frank had carried you down the hall to the master bedroom, the two of you had left a trail of forgotten items of clothing strewn like breadcrumbs along the path from the kitchen. He let you push him back against the mattress and grabbed your hips to pull you on top of him, his lips moving in sync with your own, but when you felt the swollen head of his cock bump against your clit, you suddenly pressed your palms firmly against his chest and pulled back while breaking the kiss.

“Wait.”

Frank immediately paused, loosening his grip on your hips, his lust clouded eyes clearing a bit while searching your own and wandering over your figure for the source of the problem.

“What? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The concern in his rough timbre combined with the worry in his soft brown eyes made your heart melt. A gentle smile covered your lips while you reached out to delicately hold his strong jaw in your hands, and you leaned in to kiss his lips softly.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t think it’s fair you get to have all the fun.”

Frank’s apprehension morphed into confusion, and a few creases nestled between his thick brows. 

“Huh?”

Letting out a soft laugh at how adorable he looked when he was confused, you decided to explain with actions instead of words. When you moved backwards off his lap to settle between his legs, Frank raised himself up on his elbows, following you with his eyes as he watched you intently. 

“What are you-holy shit.”

Frank’s jaw went slack the second you leaned in and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it once before beginning to take a few inches into your mouth. Placing one of your hands on his left hip, you teasingly moved your lips up his length until he was out of your mouth with a satisfying pop. Pursing your lips, you let a string of glistening saliva slowly drop onto his tip and used your free hand to spread it down the rest of his thick cock for lubrication, and after wrapping your fingers around his girth, you began to twist your wrist up and down slowly. 

You could feel how tense he was through your hold on his hip. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you noticed that he was staring directly at you, completely mesmerized, and was gripping onto the sheets so tightly you thought he might rip them. Moving your hand from his hip, you reached out to caress his hand, and he slowly loosened his grip, his knuckles no longer stark white. His plush lips were parted, and he was breathing hard, his thick brows knit in complete focus. You allowed him to slip out of your mouth for just a moment to smile softly up at Frank.

“Just relax.”

The sweet sound of your voice seemed to reach his ears, and after a few more moments of hesitation, Frank finally laid back against the mattress and let his head rest on the pillows. He moved the hand that was underneath yours to grab your wrist, turning your hand over so he could slot his fingers between yours to hold it. His other hand slowly came over to card his fingers through your hair before cradling the back of your head. Giving his hand that you were holding a light squeeze, you continued to hold eye contact with Frank while slowly sucking him off, using your hand that was around his base to work over what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

The sound of his quiet grunts and low moans sent a thrill through you, and you wanted to know just how vocal he could get. Letting go of his hand, you placed both of your palms firmly on his hips and relaxed your jaw completely, taking his entire cock into your mouth until his tip hit the back of your throat. A guttural groan ripped from the depth of his chest and his lower abdomen instantly tensed up as he gripped onto your hair.

“Goddamn-fuck…fuck, sweetheart. Do…do that again. Please…please baby, do it again.”

Taking in a deep inhale through your nose, you prepared yourself to deepthroat Frank’s thick cock again, and this time you held him there until your eyes started to water. He let out a louder moan of your name, and that caused the throbbing between your thighs to evolve from dull to downright unbearable. You thought about sneaking your hand downwards to get a little relief, but Frank had been so unselfish when he ate you out, only focused on your pleasure, and he deserved that same treatment. 

All of a sudden, Frank roughly tugged at your hair, and that made you moan around his cock. You heard him let out a quiet fuck under his breath in response. He gave your hair another tug to get your attention, and his cock slipped from your lips as you licked them and tried to catch your breath while staring at him, noticing that he had sat up.

“C’mere.”

He didn’t give you a chance to protest before he grabbed your throat and pulled you in close to kiss you fervently. Frank’s large and rough hands grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap again, and you let out a soft whine against his lips when the head of his cock rubbed against your sensitive clit. 

“Frank, I didn’t get to finish-”

“As much as I’d love to come down that pretty throat, I need ya baby. Need ya now.”

Grabbing the base of his cock, Frank positioned himself perfectly with your entrance and pulled you down slowly, letting you feel every single inch of him. Your mouth hung open at the sensation, and your body instantly tensed up. You thought Frank had been deep the other night, but he was reaching an even greater depth inside of you right now if that was possible. There was a slight burn as your walls stretched to accommodate his size, but your brain barely even registered it, because Frank was slipping his tongue into your mouth and kissing you sensually as if he wanted to steal the very essence of life from your lungs. 

Once he was fully nestled deep inside of you, a high pitched cry left your mouth, and he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly.

“Shh…s’alright. Just relax for me, sweetheart.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you clung to Frank as he wrapped both of his strong arms around your waist and held you tightly against his chest. Both of you sat there for a moment, your foreheads pressed together as you panted. He rubbed his large calloused hand up and down your spine soothingly, his teeth grazing along your ear lobe and biting down gently to distract you from any discomfort. Slowly, the tension in your body melted, and you gave an experimental roll of your hips that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“That’s it…attagirl. Take your time, sweetheart. M’right here. I got you.”

This felt right. It felt…perfect. Those three little words almost slipped out right there. Grabbing onto the back of his neck, you pulled Frank in for a passionate kiss, trying to pour every ounce of emotion you felt into it. He groaned quietly against your lips when your nails lightly scratched at the back of his head where his hair was shaved closely to his scalp. Moving your hips in slow circles, you grinded down onto Frank’s cock, and he flexed his hips upwards to match your rhythm. The other night by the fireplace had been the best experience of your life, but this…this was something you couldn’t put into words.

Placing your palms against Frank’s firm chest, you pressed lightly and he followed your silent instructions, allowing you to push him onto his back. His large hands gripped firmly onto your hips as he gazed up at you, and you kept your palms flat on his chest while slowly riding his cock. Neither of you could tear your eyes away from each other. The feeling of his warm hands leisurely moving up your bare skin made you shiver, and a soft gasp left your lips when he groped your breasts and squeezed gently. The calloused pad of his thumb gingerly brushing over your peaked nipple had you arching your back, pressing your chest further into his eager hands.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

The sincerity in Frank’s vulnerable whisper nearly brought tears to your eyes. He wasn’t saying it because he thought it was what you wanted to hear, he was saying it because he felt it, and he was making you feel it too. The way he was staring up at you like you were the only thing that mattered had your heart swelling inside your ribcage like a balloon about to burst. It had been a long time since you mattered to someone, and you felt lucky it was Frank. The look in his eyes was almost too much to handle.

Letting your head fall back, you closed your eyes for a moment as you writhed on top of Frank, getting completely lost in how good it felt to be connected to him in such a raw and intimate way. One of his hands traveled up from your breast towards your throat, and he wrapped his fingers tightly around it almost entirely, forcing you to face him again. He pulled you down over him so that your forehead was pressed to his, and the two of you stared deeply into each other's eyes. 

“Frank-”

“I wanna see you. Wanna see those pretty eyes when you come for me. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Being this close to him, you noticed for the first time that there were scattered flecks of honey in his deep brown eyes. They looked so warm and inviting, like two melted pools of chocolate you wanted to drown in. The eyes that could say so much with a single look. You thought you could see it…that flicker that he felt it too. You wanted to tell him so fucking badly, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment, and the way he was hitting that spongy spot inside of you that could cause supernovas to appear behind your eyelids was making it hard for you to speak at all.

Holding his face in your hand, your eyes drifted back and forth between his own as you stared down at him in complete devotion, your lips parted as you nodded your head frantically while short and breathy moans escaped you. Frank’s eyes were focused solely on you, one of his hands holding the back of your head while his other remained around your throat. It was getting harder and harder for you to keep your eyes open, but you didn’t want to miss a single second of this moment.

It was also getting harder and harder to not voice the sentiment that was overflowing from your ribcage.

“Frank…I…I-”

Frank cut off your words by capturing your lips in a heated kiss. The softness of his lips against yours, the heat of his bare skin pressed to your own, his thick fingers wrapped around your neck and tangled in your hair, his pubic bone rubbing just right against your clit…it was all too much. Breaking the kiss, you buried your face into the crook of his neck and let out a sharp cry of his name. Your nails raked harshly down his chest when your climax finally peaked, and a white hot cloud of hedonistic desire blinded your vision. 

Your entire body seized up, and you could faintly hear Frank whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he gripped your hips and repeatedly thrust up into you, fucking you through your orgasm while barreling towards his own. The sensation of that alone was enough to nearly send you free falling into another. The intensity of your orgasm had rendered you an incoherent and moaning mess. Frank dug his fingers roughly into the flesh of your hips and came with a deep grunt that nearly sounded like a growl, letting out a loud groan of your name.

The room felt like a sauna. Your face felt overheated, and your hair was stuck to your cheeks and the back of your neck with sweat. Frank had his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, hugging you against his chest. The feeling of his strong heartbeat thundering against your own chest kept you anchored to the moment while your body trembled with aftershocks. You couldn’t move, and you didn’t want to.

As soon as Frank made a move to sit up and pull out of you, a desperate and high pitched whine of protest fell from your lips while you gripped onto his shoulder and dug your nails into the muscle.

“No no no no no, please…don’t move.”

Frank instantly stilled, bringing one of his hands up to brush the sweaty hair stuck to your forehead and neck away. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and gave your body a gentle squeeze in his strong arms.

“Okay, we don’t gotta move yet.”

Letting out a soft sigh of relief, you buried your face further into Frank’s neck, letting the comforting scent of his cologne calm you. He gently carded his thick fingers through your hair and kept holding you tightly to his chest while resting his head against your own.

“I just wanna stay like this for a while.”

“We can stay like this as long as you want, sweetheart.”

When you started to regain your senses, you started to wonder just how true that statement was. 

How long could you and Frank stay like this before reality came knocking?

Your home wouldn’t always be a crime scene. Eventually the two of you would have to go back to work. Now that everything had changed between the two of you, what would a new normal look like? Frank’s job required him to be with someone constantly. What happens when he gets assigned to someone else? What if it’s another woman? Even though Frank was broody and unapproachable initially, you had still found him attractive, and all the time you spent together over the past few months led you right here to this moment.

What if that happened with someone else? What if the next woman he was assigned to found him just as attractive? What if she wanted him? You and Frank hadn’t really established what this was between the two of you. Were you together? Did he want to be together? Would he still want to be together if the next woman was prettier and less stubborn and actually-

“Quit it.”

The sound of his deep voice breaking through the silence interrupted your spiraling. 

“What?”

“Whatever you’re overthinkin’ right now, let it go.”

Removing your face from the crook of Frank’s neck, you pulled back slightly to peer down at him in pure curiosity.

“How do you even-”

“I can practically hear the gears turnin’ in your head, sweetheart. You keep thinkin’ so hard, smoke’s gonna start comin’ out of your ears.”

Giving him a pointed look expressing you weren’t amused, he let out a quiet chuckle and gently brushed the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheekbone.

“C’mon, you ain’t got nothin’ to worry ‘bout right now. Just relax, yeah?”

Letting out a soft sigh, you nodded and laid your head back against Frank’s shoulder, nuzzling your nose against his neck as he hugged onto you tightly. For a while, you two laid there wrapped up in one another, and you were able to let some of your anxieties go. The afterglow of your shared euphoria was peaceful, and you could’ve even fallen asleep at that moment, but something Frank said earlier suddenly popped back into your head. 

“Hey Frank?”

“Hm?”

“Do you really know a blind guy that has a good aim with guns?”

Frank let out a quiet snicker at your question.

“He don’t use guns. He’s too…Catholic.”

That did nothing to answer your question and only fueled you with more inquiries.

“But…you said he could hit targets better than I could.”

Frank simply grunted in response. You stayed silent waiting for further explanation, but when one didn’t come, you continued your questions.

“How?”

“Hell if I know.”

Sitting up a little bit again, you stared down at Frank in complete puzzlement.

“But…he’s blind. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No it don’t.”

“So…he’s-”

“An asshole. Go to sleep.”

Letting out a soft laugh, your eyes widened slightly as you gently smacked his chest.

“Frank!”

“What? Cause he’s blind he can’t be an asshole?”

“Well…no. But…how does he do it?”

“You’ll have to ask ‘em yourself.”

“I thought Billy was your only friend.”

Frank pulled a look of faux offense at that, his thick brows knit as he let out a puff of air through his lips.

“Ouch. I got other friends, smartass. And I never said he was one. He’s more of a pain in my ass.”

Frank gently pinched your ass which made you squeal before erupting into a fit of laughter.

“Hey!”

A huge grin split across your lips as he suddenly flipped you both over, managing to keep himself nestled inside of you while he pinned you beneath his large body. As he leaned in to kiss your lips, you brought your index finger up and pressed it against his mouth.

“I’m not done. I have more questions.”

“Course you do.”

“I wanna know who this mystery blind man is with good aim, and your other friends that you suddenly have that you’ve kept from me. While you’re at it, is there anything else you’re hiding, Castle?”

While your question was intended to be teasing, a dark look flashed across Frank’s eyes, and it made your breath hitch in your throat. He stared down at you silently for a moment, and it made you wonder just how much more there was to Frank that you hadn’t uncovered yet. As soon as you removed your finger from his lips, Frank leaned in closer, caging you in with his large hands on either side of your head. As he loomed over you, he slowly thrust his hips against your own, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. His breath was warm against your lips while he nuzzled his large nose along your own, his rough voice coming out in a husky whisper.

“Think I liked you better when the only thing you could say was my name, sweetheart.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[xxsinisterbunniexx]

Dating/ Relationship headcannons for eyeless jack? For female reader, please! Thank you!

Haha so like believe it or not I’ve started writing dating headcanons shortly after posting my general NSFW headcanons…. And then I got distracted

Also um so like me when I said I was gonna answer a bunch of requests over spring break and then proceeded to not answer a single one after that…. SO YEAH IM WORKING ON IT

Anyways…

𓆩♡𓆪 Creepypasta boys dating headcanons 𓆩♡𓆪

+love languages as a bonus

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, BEN drowned, X Virus, Tim/Masky, Brian/Hoodie

Jeff the Killer

☠︎︎ physical touch, he’s very used to touch being used in a negative way, towards him or by him so soft touches would make him melt

☠︎︎ likes to have you in his lap

☠︎︎ like wdym you need a chair he’s right here???

☠︎︎ he flirts with you by being sarcastic and snarky ☠︎︎ so like you might think he hates you at first before you realize he has a crush on you

☠︎︎ not great with his words/expressing his feelings

☠︎︎ you’d need to have thick skin to be with him, because he will definitely say things he doesn’t mean during an argument

☠︎︎ and he LIKES to argue, so if you hate conflict he’s probably not for you

☠︎︎ jealous and a bit possessive too, so you’d have to be careful about how you talk to other people and how often you do so

☠︎︎ he needs a LOT of reassurance and attention but he won’t ask for it directly, he’ll just get snappy and mean without an explanation

☠︎︎ it’s not always obvious why he’s upset so he’d need to be with someone who is both perceptive and patient

☠︎︎ he’s not the best at figuring out why you’re upset, so direct communication is best for him

☠︎︎ ride or die tbh, he doesn’t like very many people so if you’ve somehow wooed him you ain’t ever getting away

Ticci Toby

✘ touchtouchtouch

✘ he can’t feel pain or temperature so he values the things he can feel

✘ his hands are always on you in some capacity

✘ he’ll have his arm around you, he’ll hold your hand, and he LOVES it when you hold his arm

✘ he’ll also bear hug you and pick you up whenever he sees you (and he expects you to run into his arms)

✘ kinda OBNOXIOUS lol, like he’s the type of bf who does shit to annoy you just because he likes to see you get all riled up

✘ pokes your nose, licks your face, bites you, anything to get your attention

✘ no press is bad press

✘ the way he expresses love and affection is… unconventional

✘ like will sometimes just be so over the top and cannot read the situation

✘ he’d be very blunt in how he feels about you and generally is uninhibited when speaking about his feelings

✘ This can sometimes lead to issues so would need thick skin if you’re gonna date him

✘ he’s spontaneous and super energetic so you either need to be someone who can match that energy or super go with the flow

✘ has trouble seeing things from your perspective sometimes, but in an argument he doesn’t get all heated he just shuts down

✘ so he’d definitely do better with someone who’s not very temperamental

✘He’s a wild ride but if you can be down with all he’s got going on, he’ll stay in a long term relationship

Eyeless Jack

𖤐 gifts! He would definitely be bringing you back little trinkets

𖤐 it could be fun and pretty things he’s found while he’s out or little snacks/your favorite drink, etc

𖤐 just anything he can bring you to show you he was thinking of you

𖤐 treats you like you are dainty because he’s scared of breaking you

𖤐 he loves so gently

𖤐 makes sure you know you are valued by him

𖤐 regularly tells you he loves you, that you’re beautiful, he appreciates you

𖤐 plans the cutest dates and really likes to take you out

𖤐 the dates would be super tailored to what you’re into

𖤐 arguments are more like open discussions and he genuinely wants to help you change and grow as a person

𖤐 he’s a bit protective and only slightly jealous, no more than anyone else really

𖤐 he doesn’t want to hold you back in anyway really so he doesn’t often tell you what to do

𖤐 he would do best with someone who’s softer and less judgmental, he has a lot of shame around his eating habits and feeling like a monster

𖤐 he tends to give more than he takes so he’d do better with someone who’s also very generous that way there’d be equal dynamics between you two

BEN drowned

⚠︎ quality time, but not so much in the way of just liking to be around, he likes if you actually make plans to see him, even if it’s just to hang out

⚠︎ loves to play video games with you and he gets competitive

⚠︎ somewhat like Toby he is a little shit!

⚠︎ like he just LOVES to annoy the fuck out of you

⚠︎ he just thinks you’re wayyyy too cute when you’re angry

⚠︎ really likes to show off who he’s with

⚠︎ will buy you clothes, makeup, etc really anything to doll you up and show you off

⚠︎ once you are official he will be telling everyone in the existence of ever

⚠︎ especially because…

⚠︎ he’s SUPER POSSESSIVE like oh god HE’S SICK

⚠︎ like if someone LOOKS at you a little too long he’s got a problem

⚠︎ god forbid someone hits on you

⚠︎ but rather than taking it up with you, he just secretly ruins their life

⚠︎ he may not always be the best partner, he can lack empathy at times and arguments with him are a nightmare because he will twist your words and may manipulate you lightly

⚠︎ will randomly come through when it really matters

⚠︎ would do better with someone who’s (and forgive me here for my choice of word) a bit tsundere-like

⚠︎ he likes someone who takes effort to win over because he loves the chase

⚠︎ he also likes if you’re easy to embarrass or get a reaction out of

⚠︎ your relationship will feel like constant push and pull

X Virus

☣︎ acts of service

☣︎ Cody is a problem solver and will do what he can to make you happy and help you when there’s things troubling you

☣︎ at the same time, he has periods where he gets really invested into what he’s studying and may not pay attention to you for days

☣︎ so if you’re caring and will support him while he gets like that >>>>

☣︎ like bringing him food, helping with his laundry, etc (daily tasks he would need to do but he’s too hyper focused to take care of himself)

☣︎ you may have to convince him to shower during these periods

☣︎ would likely be pretty inexperienced in romance

☣︎ would defo be one of those guys that gets exponentially hotter after getting a girlfriend because she teaches him how to dress and be presentable

☣︎ rambles on about his experiments so you would ideally be a good listener and someone who will engage with him even if you have no idea what he’s talking about

☣︎ not super jealous but has CRAZY accurate senses when it comes to someone actually liking you and subtly flirting with you

☣︎ it’s like a siren goes off in his brain and then he’s like “not that person”

☣︎ pussy whippedddddd like once he’s into you you’ve got him on his KNEES

☣︎ got him opening doors and carrying heavy stuff like shittttttt

Tim/Masky

꩜ acts of service

꩜ Tim is not always the best with his words and can be kind of awkward so he’d rather just do things to show he cares

꩜ protective almost in like a dad way, like would make sure your car had all the fluids and maintenance it needs (can u tell I know nothing about cars)

꩜ or you’d randomly mention something you want and it’ll magically appear

꩜ he’s very practical, so dates and anniversaries are not too over the top, he keeps it simple

꩜ he’d do best with someone who’s more chill and laid back

꩜ he’s slow to open up and not the best at discussing his feelings so someone who is patient & perceptive is better for him

꩜ if it’s cold he always wants you to take his jacket (also loves to see you in it)

꩜Chivalry ain’t dead while he’s around

꩜ doesn’t get jealous often, he’s pretty mature

꩜ he’s very closed off and secretive about the parts of his life that he’s not proud of, so he’d need to be with someone who’s comfortable with not knowing everything

꩜ this also means it would take you a while to meet Masky

☆ Masky isn’t around all that often so you won’t get a ton of attention from him

☆ he views you as more of a pet than a girlfriend

☆ will give you the occasional head pat or say something flirtatious which often borders on sexual harassment

Brian/Hoodie

𖣐 words of affirmation

𖣐 he likes to be told that he is valued!

𖣐 but also loves to compliment you, and he is quite charming

𖣐 LOVES to tease

𖣐 he’s constantly taking pictures of you or recording you

𖣐has a picture of you in his wallet

𖣐 writes you little love notes and hides them in places you’ll find them easily

𖣐 he’s really perceptive so you can’t easily hide your feelings around him

𖣐 he will call bullshit if you try to say “no, I’m not mad” because he KNOWS

𖣐 not really jealous at all tbh

𖣐 if someone hits on you he takes it as a compliment

𖣐 like yeah he knows you’re hot

☹ You don’t see Hoodie for a while

☹ because lowkey he acts like a stalker at first even though you’re dating Brian and therefore also him

☹ he wouldn’t just come up and approach you, he has to be a weirdo and watch you from the shadows

☹ like just come talk to me you freak

☹ he will also leave you letters but they’re a little more sinister than Brian’s and in places that are off putting

☹ eventually he’d approach you, but like Masky he more so sees you as something to toy with rather than a girlfriend (even though his affection for you is definitely deep in there somewhere)

Hope you enjoyed :3

[gutsby]

Mouthful

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller thinks he’s strong enough to quit it, but something in the way you suck him says he isn’t.

Warnings: 18+. A man with a big, bad oral fixation + lots of love for a sneaky succ. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Age gap. Blowing Joel under the table at dad’s birthday dinner.

Snippet of Hating Game

He knows better than to let a moan slip at a time like this. Not when he’s sitting at the dinner table; not when he’s surrounded by the people he knows and loves the most. Not when he’s celebrating his best friend’s 51st birthday, and certainly not when that man’s daughter is perched between his thighs, out of sight from every eye but his.

Joel lifts the tablecloth. He almost unloads on the spot.

Seeing your mouth open wide and your lips curled tight around his hot, throbbing member, Joel can’t help but ache for a split-second lapse of judgment—one where he forgets all sense of decorum and simply goes to town on that pretty little face. But, as it is, the rest of the party is totally oblivious to your absence, and he doesn’t want to draw attention to it, or him, by roughfucking your mouth.

That’ll come later.

No, now he’ll let you glide your mouth gently over his shaft, leaving trails of thick spit and hints of a shiny pink lip gloss in its wake. He’ll let you bob your head softly—self-assured in a pace you get to set—and he won’t lay a finger on your face or let a thrust of his get in the way, because this was all about you giving him the pleasure.

That doesn’t mean he can’t steal a glimpse every now and then and pin you with an expectant look when he wants something done a certain way. The room is dimly lit and everyone in it drunk; Joel will gladly take the risk.

‘You can go deeper than that, sweet pea.’

‘Nope, three-fourths ain’t enough, I need your mouth around me whole.’

‘You did wanna make daddy feel good, didn’t ya, sugar?’

He doesn’t have to speak a word of it for you to know what he means. What he needs. You loosen your jaw and stretch your lips even wider, whining just a little when the head of his cock grazes your tonsils.

“Fuck that feels nice,” Joel says aloud.

You freeze.

Then, without missing a beat, you hear him continue just as comfortably, speaking to the people around him,

“Y’all feel that breeze comin’ in?”

Sick fuck. You continue to suck him anyway.

One hand braces tight against Joel’s leg and the other flits shamelessly between your own, and you try not to moan, but the sound escapes anyway. No one hears it, but Joel feels it reverberate down his shaft, and he grips his glass of Merlot like a vice. Your dad shoots him a curious look from across the table but says nothing.

“Can’t get enough’a her, huh?” Tommy grins beside him.

“What?” Joel falters. Sets his drink aside carefully.

Down below, you drag your mouth just far enough to take his tip between your lips and suckle. Joel grunts.

“The wine,” Tommy says, still smiling, “You must love it.”

Joel lets out another strangled breath that he tries to pass off as a chuckle and nods.

“Got me on my fuckin’ knees,” he admits.

And that’s the truth. Starved for air and blinking through tears as you kneel down to blow him, it’s still you with the chokehold on Joel, and both of you know it.

Try as you might to convince yourselves otherwise, the man is enrapt. It’s just that small matter of you being his best friend’s daughter that makes Joel loath to admit it. At any rate, he has your tongue licking stripes up his cock and feels a sudden, sharp clench in his stomach.

He knows he won’t last much longer. Neither will you.

Joel can’t see it now, but you’ve practically soaked your own hand from how hard you’ve been rubbing your clit—and how turned on you are from just sucking his dick, keeping your mouth wide open for a fucking whenever he wants it. While Joel reaches for another draught of wine, you bring one hand to his balls and keep the other at your cunt, triple-tasking like the efficient little slut he needs you to be: sucking, cupping, and rubbing all at once to get the two of you off in one minute or less.

You guide him down to the furthest place in your throat, then push him even deeper. You gag, just slightly, and feel a hand reach down for your cheek. A thumb starts to rub at the tears welled up at the corners of your eyes.

‘Sweet thing hasn’t felt a man this deep before, huh? Wanna swallow some more?’

You nod that you do. Can’t actually hear him now, or see much else besides the soft tufts of hair on his belly, but you can feel a light, heady warmth seep into your brain.

You rut your hips and hope no one drops a fork nearby. Buck desperately into your hand and feel the heat start to swell to a whole new feeling, and suddenly you’re whimpering, whining on Joel’s cock from under the shade of the table and cumming all over your fingers.

Joel returns a quick smile from your father and cracks a joke about the Super Bowl. Raises his hips just the slightest bit and wipes one of your tear-soaked cheeks.

‘Almost there, hon, keep that throat open for daddy.’

All you can do is cry and try your best. Wild feelings from both the slow, deep facefuck he’s giving you and the flurry of euphoric aftershocks coursing all throughout your body make it almost impossible to bear, but you obey your sweet and strong and steady-handed Joel and sense a blossoming desire crop up for something else.

You want to taste him as he blows his load in your mouth, floods your tongue with his spend, and paints every inch of your insides with that hot, sticky stuff.

You need him whole

Your Joel.

In tune with your thoughts—or perhaps just overcome with a need to see you before he reaches his peak—Joel raises the tablecloth when Tommy isn’t looking. His gaze locks on yours and his tongue darts quick between his lips. He cocks a brow. Brushes his thumb up again.

‘Ya want this, darlin’? Want all of me?’

You give one soft, wide-eyed nod, and that’s all he needs.

No sooner do you give him the green light than his cum goes pulsing out in ropes, coating your whole throat and eventually your mouth as you hold still and take it all.

There’s so much more than you thought. So much of Joel that’s been waiting to giving your mouth a proper fucking glaze that once he’s started he just can’t stop. Above the table, your dad shoots a pointed look in his direction—‘You good, man?’—and it takes every ounce of strength in Joel’s body to grit his teeth tight and nod.

He’s filled so much of your mouth it’s spilling out now.

You try to hold steady, keep your movements extra slow. You’d heard your dad’s voice and just know there’d be a lot more on the line than Joel’s dribbling seed if either one of you fuck up now. Your breath catches in your chest, and you feel too afraid to even swallow.

“I just…came,” Joel starts, and your head almost cracks on the wood surface from how abruptly you flinch back,

“—to the realization. That you are so…fuckin’ old, man.”

Your father’s laugh is the first thing you hear, followed by Tommy, your friends, and a dozen other party guests.

The next thing you feel, to your complete and utter shock, is Joel’s cock brushing your cheek. Then your lips. Then your tongue. He slides his still-hard member through the ‘o’ your mouth has made in awe and starts to move in gentle motions back and forth, like a man all but desperate to get a feel for your wet, sodden walls.

A man who can’t risk a glimpse at you now, but wants more than anything to see the mouth he’s just filled.

Your father’s words haven’t even cooled in the air.

Joel Miller, you sneaky, freaky fuck.

As the laughter subsides and Tommy scoots back in his chair, taking leave of your table, you feel a spark ignite. Whether it’s yours or Joel’s or both your perverted minds suddenly alight and insane, you can’t be sure, but you can make out a tablecloth flipping back up above you.

Joel slips his dick out of your mouth and grins. Takes a firm hold of your face under the table so his fingers are practically coaxing your jaw to unhinge before him.

It’s the lowest, slowest, menacing sort of sound you’d ever heard from him before, but it was his all the same.

Speaking to you now, softly, “Show daddy, darlin’.”

Your Joel.

[2knightt]

HII!! could you write the gang with a reader that has an rbf and seems really intimidating/unapproachable but is a sweetheart? they arent very talkative and seem very cold but their love language is acts of service/gift giving & sorta quality time?? <33

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ pretty as a vine, sweet as a grape. ⋄ 𓍯

…REQUESTED: you never judge a book by it’s cover. especially when it comes to y/n!

tags/warnings: people being judgy asf/spreading rumours, gang defending reader with their soul, reader is a softie i fear, reader is kinda shy, probably stupid:3c, steve threatening a manLMFAO

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ READER IS SO ME CODED HELLO also if two-bits part sounds stupid it ‘s because i’m high rn and even if can admit it’s a little iffy

—

dallas winston

thought of you as someone to be threatened by at first ngl

he heard of this scary, mean mugged, tuff looking girl and went ‘mh. an enemy🐺😒’

he went up to you one day, acting all tuff and shit just for you to look him up and down and nervously wave

look, he may not be the smartest cookie but he can see someone shy a mile away. and when he seen you wave, he felt like such an ass LMFAO

did he show it? no. obviously.

this is dallas. he’s an asshole.

“little miss tough girl, huh?”

“��pardon?”

that teasing from him DID continue until you walked away because dallas is the type to never back down, even when he’s wrong

expect for the next time you met him!!!!

he was actually asking you your name, where you’re from, etc, etc!!!

turning a new leaf dare i say…

and everything after that was history! cutest scary looking couple ever!

HE THINKS IT’S SOOO FUNNY THAT PEOPLE ARE SCARED OF YOU LMFAOOO

he plays into it sm if someone brings it up bro

“y/n? like..scary y/n?”

“yeah, like scary y/n. and i’ll get ‘er on ya if you keep talkin’ ‘bout her.”

“oh!😰”

he thinks it’s so silly to see you look really pissed off when he isn’t around just to greet you and see your whole demeanour change!!

dallas thinks it’s so cute😭 it’s like one of his favourite things about you!

“😠😒”

“hey, baby.”

“oh! hi, dal!<3”

LMFAO IMAGINE SOMEONE SEEING YOU, A MEAN LOOKING GIRL, SHOPPING FOR MENS LEATHER JACKETS

yuppp spoil that dickhead!😫 he lovelovelovesss getting gifts, ESPECIALLY from u!!!

if you’re clingy, i feel like he wouldn’t mind it. he teases THE FUCK out of u tho!😊

“big tough girl wants to hold hands, eh?”

“…yea😞.”

“awh, look at ya. come ‘ere.”

johnny cade

you might think he’d be scared and intimidated, right? but NO! he’s literally bff’s with ponyboy, he knows damn well what rbf is!

you two are sooo cute together

little kicked, scared puppy with his feral doberman!!!

tells people to stfu whenever they try and spread rumours that you’re scary, mean, and rude.

“you’re dating y/n? don’t you know she-“

“i don’t care, shut up. ‘s not like you know her😒.”

sometimes refuses your gifts.

johnny’s not used to them :( but all u gotta do is say please and flutter your lashes and u got em!!!!

“i can’t take it.”

“please?😞”

“…okay😣.”

and he DOES NOT regret it! he might fight you at first, but he cherishes those gifts with his life<3!

loveloveloveLOVESSS having u around constantly!! since your love language is quality time, you two are always hanging out together.

and, with your scary looks, you often keep the socs away from him!

hip-hip, hooray‼️‼️

the gang was like…worried for johnny at first.

THEY DIDN’T KNOW U WERE COOL THO😭😭💔💔💔

they were all like, “??seriously, johnny?? you pick the meanest girl?? ever???” and johnny was QUICK to defend. “y’all ain’t even meet her, and you’re already sayin’ she’s bad for me?”

when they did though, they were like ‘ohhhh….she really isn’t rude…..oh….’

HE’S SO PROUD TO DATE U THO LMFAOOO

and to know the real you?? treats it like an HONOUR

ponyboy curtis

was intimidated by you.

forgot he was also like you and accidentally glares at people who walk past him LMFAOOOO

You two are like two peas in a pod istg!!

“you look mean from far away,”

“???so do you, pony??”

“…no??”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘NO’?”

mean looking couple who are truly just a bunch of nerds deep down to their soul<3

the gang was a little protective of ponyboy until they realized ur just like him LMFAO

They get having an rbf<3

pony loves spending time with you!

gift him a book and he’ll love you forever!!! (maybe even read it to you when you two are finally alone to help you fall asleep🤍)

he’s such a cutie…..

stays close to you in public because he thinks you’re scarier looking than anyone he’s ever met😊😊.

“cm’ere,”

“why?🤨”

“BECAUSE🙄!”

SCARY DOG Y/N IS REAL.

glares at anyone who goes around telling people that you’re mean and rude.

if looks could kill, they’d be dead already!!!

ponyboy does not fuck around with u i fear.

Sodapop Curtis

LMFAOOO GREEK GOD OF A MAN WITH HIS PISSED OFF GF WHO IS NERVOUSLY HOLDING HIS HAND !!!

he was NOT afraid of you!! in fact, he thought the rumours of you being an asshole were all fake

“you talkin’ about y/n?”

“yes, bro! they’re so rude-“

“how do you know?”

“well, i don’t-“

“so, shut up?😒”

cuz like??? did they not bother to understand you???

soda literally made it his mission to prove that you weren’t a dick!!😭😭

and GODDAMN HE WAS SO RIGHT

you’re such a sweetheart to soda! he lovesss telling people about how cute you are around him since it’s his own way to squash the rumours.

“my y/n is so sweet, you wouldn’t get it.”

“isn’t she the same girl who beat the soc to a pulp?”

“she can barely kill a fly.”

you don’t need to do much to scare off the girls that flirt with him at the DX, just a nice little glare every now and then and they’re already gone!

(soda doesn’t have to know that you play into the rumours sometimes. it’s our little secret.)

steve randle

HATES EVERYONE WHO TALKS ABOUT YOU

he’s petty AS FUCK LMFAOOO

they can’t handle the randle😜💯

“ew, y/n-“

“MAN, GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY FACE WITH THAT WHAT DO YOUUU KNOW ABOUT Y/N🗣️‼️”

that was an over exaggeration but you get the point.

gets very defensive when people try and ‘warn’ him about you lmfao

gift him a tool box and he’ll use it until it’s literally falling apart at the bolts<3

no seriously. it could be holding on by one screw and he’ll still use it. he doesn’t gaf. steve will use anything u give him.

he accepts ur rbf cause he thinks it’s SO FUNNY?? like he’ll see you far away with your friends looking all angry before one of them says a really funny joke and just watches your expression change so quickly

one of his fav things ever<3!

two-bit mathews

he makes so much jokes about it LMFAOOO

“jesus, y/n! you sure yer glare ain’t the thing that killed the dinosaurs?”

—

“swear i see the devil in yours eyes sometimes. it looks soooo good on you, though🤭🤭”

HE THINKS ITS SO ATTRACTIVE

and he lovesss your sweetheart side sm it’s like he gets best of both worlds

RAHH GIFT TWO-BIT MICKEY PLUSHIE OR ELSE

He’d totally have it on his bed 24/7. his sister has tried to steal it before to scare him btw.

skmetimes just to spend time together with him—you just go walking around town with him while he has an arm around your shoulder the whole time<3

[darnell-la]

𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗟𝗬 𝗠𝗜𝗫

pairing: dark!dom!Logan Howlett x non-mutant!fem!reader

warning: drugging, head butting, oral (fem receiving), nightmare fuck, woken from sleep, rough fuck, multiple orgasms, obsession, etc.

note: we can’t stop writing about this man. he’s everything we need.

please like, COMMENT, follow, reblog, and REQUEST us!

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits and memes of the people we write about!

————————————————————————

𝟯𝗥𝗗 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗣𝗢𝗩

“Maybe you’re just no one’s type anymore, sugar. That attitude doesn’t sit well on women like you,” Logan said across the bar after hearing y/n complain to Storm that it’s hard to find a person she’s interested in.

“Or maybe you can mind your business!?” Y/n turned to look his way with a yell. Storm slightly touched her back to calm her now. “No! — I’m tired of him talking. It’s not like you’re so sweet yourself!” Y/n said.

Logan looked at the frustrated young lady with a grin as he placed his cigar in his mouth. “Ain’t like your dick could stand up still either,” she said, making the people who were listening, laugh.

“Ahh, wouldn’t you like to know,” Logan said, unfazed by the small words she tried to use to hurt his feelings. “Actually, I wouldn’t, because even Jean didn’t want a piece of you. And that was when you were younger,” she said.

People were shocked at her words, still laughing but watching out how much. They knew mentioning Jane was a topic he hated hearing.

“Watch what you say. Just because you ain’t a mutant, don’t mean I won’t handle you,” Logan said. Of course, her heart rate raised, but she stood her ground as she got up from the bar seat.

“Try me,” she said, making the metal-boned man laugh as he approached her. He could see her chest rise, knowing she wanted nothing she challenged him to do.

Logan looked back at Storm who was shaking her head as she pointed at the shit glasses y/n had downed. A whole tray that hold at least fifteen was insane for a human.

Logan looked back at y/n understanding why she felt so much emotion tonight. Her eyes were glossy and she slightly swayed back and forth. She was definitely halfway to passing out.

Logan leaned forward, mouth slightly grazing Y/n’s ear. “Go to bed, sweet cheeks,” Logan said as his hot breath hit the side of her face before heading to his room.

It’s been a few weeks since the incident at the bar with Logan. Y/n decided to keep it cool for a while until no one expected anything.

“Logan, can you please get my phone from the living room while I cook, please?” Y/n asked. He sighed loudly, always grumpy about something as he got up and walked out of the kitchen.

Y/n quickly pulled two pills out of her pocket and dropped them into his full glass of liquor. She had gone through the pharmacy they had for mutants downstairs, and searched for something that would make him rethink what he said to her.

Y/n went to walk away until she stopped and thought of his constant bullying since she got here.

Y/n pulled two boxes from her other pocket, took every pill from their wrapper, and dumped them in his drink. “One for your lazy dick, and the other energy since I should go to sleep early,”

Y/n quickly through the trash in the bin before running back to continue cooking. “Almost done,” she smiled as he placed her phone down with a fake smile back.

“For a mutant, you sure do get tired walkin’ room to room,” y/n snickered as he downed his drink. If he looked at the glass, he would’ve noticed something off, but he didn’t think of it.

“Does liquor get old these days? Fuckin’ hell,” Logan spoke with a few coughs. Y/n did her best, to keep her laughing. He had no clue.

“Logan, relax!” Y/n heard Scott yell somewhere in the mansion. At first, she thought they were arguing again until something broke and Jane screamed. What the hell is going on?

Y/n quickly got up from her bed and ran out of her room, toward where ever they were. “Logan, relax! Y-You’re safe!” Jane spoke. She’s told y/n she had to use those words whenever he got out of control.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n asked as she stepped around the corner. Logan’s head instantly snapped towards her. “No,” Scott said, having a feeling what Logan was going to do.

“Y/n, stay back. H-He’s not doing well right-“ Jean spoke but got knocked out of the way by Logan running towards y/n. As well as Scott.

Y/n tried to run, but before she could turn all the way around, he grabbed her, quickly throwing her over his shoulders before running away.

“Hey! — Let me go, Logan! Stop it!” She yelled as he ran towards the front door. Where was he taking her? Why was he taking her? He almost made it out of the mansion with her in hand until Storm used the wind to drag y/n back.

Logan stumbled, realizing she wasn’t in his hold anymore. He turned around stepped forward followed after y/n was dragged back until he looked up to see the whole crew staring right back at him.

Logan let out a loud growl before running off and out into the darkness of night.

“What the fuck!” Y/n shouted as Storm lifted her up and Jean checked her for any bruises. “What the hell is his problem?” Y/n asked as Scott ran out of the house to see where Logan had run off.

“Motherfucker’s taking my bike!” Scott shouted. “We don’t know. He was sitting on the couch, eatin’ the rest of the food you cooked, as always, then — then he started switching,” Jean said.

“At first it was mild, but I noticed it first. He then asked where you were and if we thought you’d be asleep yet,” Storm said. “We said we didn’t know, and he instantly grew angry,” Jean said.

“Motherfucker got up to go to your room and I stopped him before he could,” Scott said as he ran back into the mansion. It was late and y/n was confused. What was happening?

Y/n’s currently in her room as the crew took the yet to go find Logan. Xavier came with them. He said, maybe if he got closer to Logan, he could ease into his mind.

The school has been out for a couple of weeks, so the kids are either with their parents or in buddy groups somewhere in instate.

This means y/n has the whole mansion to herself on one of the worst days possible. While an animal is loose. A wild animal.

Y/n thought if she closed her eyes and went to sleep, she wouldn’t stress as much, so that’s what she did. Now she’s deep in her sleep, dreaming about what she was trying to distract herself from. Logan.

Logan was chasing her through the long halls. Every door being locked and the hall getting longer was the most terrifying part of the nightmare.

He chased her for what felt like hours. Each time he spoke, it felt like he was closer.

“Don’t run” “Stay still” “Mhm — That’s it” “All that shit talkin’ and you’re cryin’. Pathetic,” he said with a chuckle following behind his voice.

“Please, someone help!” She yelled in her dreams as she felt his breath on her neck. She was caught. Logan grabbed y/n and dragged her to a room that would’ve been locked for her.

“You’re a fast one, but I’ve gotcha,” he growled low as he hovered over the girl, lips inches from hers. “Smellin’ so good for me. You’re such a tease,” Logan ripped her clothes off. They disappear into dust. She knew she had to be dreaming.

“Runnin’ from me, but you’re soaked. You’re a lair, baby,” he said as he slipped her panties off, sniffing them before placing them in his back pocket. “Now how about ya cum for me?”

Y/n woke up slowly, hearing a voice in her room. “Now how about ya cum for me?” She heard for the second time, but in between her legs. Y/n whined as she looked down, not knowing what was happening until she saw him.

Logan was in between her legs, sucking on her pussy like a starved man. “Logan!” She screamed, scared at first until her back arched from the full effect of his tongue all over and between her folds.

Logan watched her reaction as he ducked on her hard, eating her out rougher than before. He’s been at this for. Good thirsty minutes and still couldn’t get enough.

“Gimme another,” he said. “What? — I-I don’t- Fuck,” y/n’s eyes rolled back. He was working her just right. He knew he was. He’s been waiting all night. From when he was eating the rest of dinner, to when he hid in the woods, waiting for the crew to leave, to sneaking in her room, hoping not to wake her up too early.

“Give me a 6th one, heh? Then I’ll fill ya up,” Logan said as he slipped two fingers into her cunt, curling and pumping into her to force another one he so desperately wanted.

The instant pressure of his fingers sent y/n over the edge with a loud cry and shake. She came all over his face, wetting him like a waterpark.

“Fuuuck,” Logan groaned, feeling in heaven. “Can never get tired of that, princess,” Logan said as he crawled up and over her until he attacked his lips onto her, softly.

Y/n kissed back for a second, feeling too deep into the mood. She only lasted for a little bit after she woke up, but she was sure this was the best orgasm she’s ever had.

“Logan- Logan!” Y/n pushed at his chest, making him lean back. “W-We can’t. They’re looking for you and you’re — You’re here eating me out and making out with me and-“ y/n’s mind ran everywhere until he cut her off with a short kiss.

“It’s okay, sugar. I need them out of the house for what I’m about to do to you,” Logan said, confusing her. “Logan — You’re feeling this way because I drugged you,” y/n blurted out.

Logan forced over her as she slapped her hands over her face in embarrassment. “Saying that out loud makes me feel bad, but, yes. I put a whole box of energy pills and Viagra on your drink when you went and grabbed my phone — I-I’m sorry,” y/n genuinely apologizes.

She thought he was going to lash out before she heard him chuckle. That chuckle turned into a laugh as he leaned up off of the bed.

“Baby, I pieced that together when I was in the living room, eatin,” Logan said as y/n backed up against her headboard. “My plan was to go up to your room and confront you before fucking you into your mattress, but Scott stopped me,”

“Then I saw you come around the corner and thought I could fuck you into the dirty in the woods like the low and pathetic slut you are, but Scott stopped me again,”

“So I ran — I knew they’d come looking for me. I waited in the woods for nearly an hour. Cock throbbing. Balls waiting to empty. I wanted to jack one off right then, but I knew it wouldn’t have been enough,”

“Besides — I’d rather fill every whole you’ve got to satisfy my needs,” Logan said before lunging at y/n. Y/n screamed and fought, trying to get from under him, but there was no use. He was stronger and wild. He needed her now.

“Keep fightin, baby. Always seemed hot knowing you couldn’t overpower me, even if you tried,” he mocked as he ripped his jeans off of him, as well as his boxers.

“N-No, no, no! Logan, I-I’m not doing this. I’m not doing — That!” Y/n said after seeing his length. He was long. He was huge. Veins nearly covered the whole thing. His balls looked stiff and in need of release.

“You’re gonna take it. You brought this on yourself, princess,” Logan said as he ripped his shirt off. Y/n had just noticed she was fully naked. He had stripped her from her nightgown when she was sleeping.

“I-It was a mistake!” Y/n tried pushing back as he came in between her legs. “Was it though? I smell how wet you get around me every day. All that anger is just an excuse because you’re too bitchy to ask for my cock,” Logan looked directly into her eyes, just a few inches away.

“Well, you won’t have to ask anymore. I’ve got the picture from now on,” Logan forced his huge length inside of y/n, stretching her walls in an instant. She cried at the pain but moaned at the pleasure.

“Yeah,” he growled, teeth stuck together. “Gonna fuck you all fuckin’ night,” Logan’s hips began to move at an ungodly pace. The huge man leaned over y/n like an inhuman form. Deep down he was.

He placed her legs on his shoulders and pushed down into her like some duck doll he had ready in his room for him.

Her lower back was slightly in the air. She could him thrust into her fully. She was forced to watch him use her cunt like some movie.

“L-Logan,” y/n threw her head back as she came unexpectedly from the angle he had her in. “Look at that waterfall. So fuckin’ pretty,” Logan wished he could slurp her up, but he was too busy digging in her guts for more.

“You know — That comment about Jean back at the bar — It was unnecessary,” Logan began a conversation with y/n. She was so confused about how because she was struggling to keep her mind straight. Her head already seemed light.

“I should’ve dragged you to my room then, but I was calm. Noticed you had a few drinks. Drinks always make sluts act out,” he spat.

“Anyway — About Jean. Yeah, I lost feelings a while ago. You wanna know when? When you came along,” he admitted. “Those sexy jeans and top that hugged your body set me off, quick. Jean was outta there,”

“Then your personality. Sweet and precious but evil to people like me. People who’re assholes,” he leaned closer to her face. “But, you know what, baby? I think you like assholes. Just look at the way you take my cock. I’m basically bullying myself into you,”

He wasn’t wrong. Before y/n signed up to teach at the school slash mansion, she was always caught up with some deuce. She wouldn’t be lying if she said she felt a type of way around Logan after realizing how grumpy and mean he can get.

She didn’t realize at the time, but when he felt the need to let some steam loose earlier today, he asked, looking for y/n. Not Jean. His mind was all on y/n.

“Such a slut — You’re squeezing me,” he teased as he felt himself grow close. “Keep goin’ — I know you like this,” he said as y/n’s mouth parted. The groan leaving Logan’s mouth as he watched y/n cum on his cock for the second time tonight, sent him over the edge.

The man had no words. All he could do was groan and growl loudly as he pounded into her, watching the light leave her eyes. She was definitely done for tonight.

“Fuck!” He yelled, cum spilling into her throbbing cunt. Logan thrust slowly, watching their cum coat his cock. He knew after tonight, that he’d need her every night. He was going to make that happen whether her attitude matched his or not.

[finniestoncrane]

Pleaseeeee can I have a softer Cooper who worries a lot about his girlfriend having to deal with people looking at them weird all the time, but who would be happy to yell "THIS IS MY MAN!" to anyone who would listen?

Willingly

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.5k i am already on the soft cooper train oh no lmaooooo just a little bit of soft boyfriend cooper, or as soft as i imagine he can get, being defended by his partner 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: guns, blood, violence, good old fashioned trope fic!

Cooper struggled against your gentle grip, his gloved hand pulling away from yours, fingers no longer entwined with yours. You looked to him, noticing he was avoiding your inquisitive gaze, and then noticed the crudely painted sign on the wall ahead of you. The gates to the nearest settlement were just ahead of you. Your last stop before you headed on to the next job.

“What? Are you embarrassed to walk in here holding my hand, Coop?”

His easy, charming smile seemed a little off as he spoke to you, still looking straight ahead.

“You kiddin’? Darlin’, this is for your benefit. Not many settlements are alright with folks like me at the best of times, but with you on my arm? We’d both be in danger, and I can’t keep spendin’ all my time savin’ you.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“I can hold my own. You know that.”

There was no response, but you knew better than to keep fighting your corner in this particular arena. So instead, you sighed, placing your hands which now felt so incredibly cold and empty, back into your pockets to keep them from mindedly grabbing Cooper’s hands again. You couldn’t be too annoyed. For someone as stoic and cold as he could be, the fact he tolerated holding your hand at all was a pleasant enough gesture. But his willingness to offer up any form of physical affection dwindled completed when there was a risk of running into people. He became reserved, quiet, well-behaved almost. It was something you hadn’t expected from him, to be shy or to allow someone else’s opinions to hold him back. And admittedly, a lot of the time, you had worried that it was because he didn’t want to be seen with you. But you knew it was the other way around in his mind. He was afraid of how people would look at you.

As though he could hear your thoughts, knowing you well enough after all this time together, Cooper spoke finally as you sidled up to the gates.

“You wake up to this face smiling. You call me handsome. You say I’m charming. Good lookin’ I might be in your books, but there ain’t a lot of charm left in these old bones, sweetheart. I couldn’t talk my way out of an argument, and since you keep remindin’ me that I’m not allowed to cause problems everywhere we go…”

He tapped his thumb against the barrel of his holstered gun.

“… Then I just better not give anyone any more reason not to like me.”

“Well, I like you, Coop.”

“And I will forever question your judgement on that, kid.”

Smiling, you both passed through the open gate of the settlement and separated with a nod to get the supplies you needed. Quicker, and safer, to go separately. But still, you kept your head down, Cooper with his ragged mask up and his hat brim tipped to cover as much of his face as possible. Quiet, subtle, nondescript.

It didn’t stop them though, three of them. Pointing towards you, setting their beer bottles down on the stained and rusting bar top as they rushed to follow you.

“Hey! Hello there, pretty lady! You all alone?”

Turning, you spotted the colour of the uniform first, immediately recognising that you had made a mistake in even acknowledging them. That telltale burnt orange jumpsuit. The arrogance in their smug smiles. The Brother of Steel.

“No. I’m not alone.”

“Sure looks like you are… you know, maybe you could come on over and we’ll by you a cola?”

They laughed amongst themselves as you walked on. That one answer and a quick disappearing act was all you were willing to give them, turning quickly back and trying to lose them in the crowd as they slapped each other’s backs and spat to the ground.

And you thought you had been successful. You found a trader with everything you needed on your list before you returned to wait just beyond the gate for Cooper, no further interruptions to your day from the louts at the bar. But the entire interaction had out you on edge, so much so that when Cooper appeared behind you, leaning in without you noticing to whisper in your ear, you jumped out of your skin. Luckily, he was quick, and managed to grab your wrist before your fist struck the side of his face.

“Jumpy, aren’t you? Maybe you don’t think I’m so handsome after all.”

His wink made you blush, it always did, and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning like a fool.

“You surprised me is all, smartass.”

Cooper smiled, tightening the grip on your wrist and pulling you closer to him. You feigned some resistance, pretending to put up a fight against his grin, his charms, his strength. But you were following his pull, your lips almost touching his before the blow was landed.

Cooper’s body was knocked completely off balance, his body falling to the ground in a cloud of dust. Turning in the direction he was hit from, you found yourself staring down the three members of the Brotherhood from the market. Holding back some of the choice words you had for them, you managed to narrow it down to one question simple enough for even them to answer.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Shocked by your ungrateful attitude, one of the men, the largest of the three, stepped forward and pushing your shoulder with his finger.

“We’re saving you from assault, lady! This monster had its hands all over you, but don’t worry, we’ll take care of it. And you’re welcome.”

You scoffed, face going red with rage as you knelt to help Cooper up.

“You’re not saving me, asshole! You’re ruining the fucking vibe, you dweebs.”

Again, a far more polite term than you had wanted to use, but that didn’t seem to make the men any less aggressive towards either Cooper or now you. The largest of the men grabbed your arm, pulling you back up and away from the hand that Cooper had held out to you.

“Oh… you’re one of those freaks! No wonder you turned down some good old-fashioned heroes like us then.”

One of the others nudged you to the side, the other pushing Cooper back down to the ground with a kick, turning around as all of them converged on you until your back was against the wall. Nowhere to go. Trapped by them as they made their disgusting comments.

“Why would you waste your time on some abomination like that, huh? You into freaky stuff? Cos I could sure show you a thing or two. What’s he got? Like two cocks or something weird like that?”

You spat out your retort, well aware of the repercussions, but not caring.

“He could be feral and I’d still let him touch me before I even thought about letting any of you near me.”

Bracing for impact, you squeezed your eyelids shut, opening them again moments later when you realised you hadn’t been hit yet. Instead, all three of the Knights were on the ground, Cooper kneeling over them as he tightened the lasso and added the long length around their wrists for measure.

“Oughta keep ‘em long enough for us to make our escape, hm?”

You nodded, smiling, surprised still at how effective he was at handling anything the Wasteland threw at him.

“And I did it all without too much violence and noise, like you asked.”

“My hero.”

You swooned playfully, watching him as he made his way to stand beside you, both of you looking down without an ounce of pity at the men who writhed before you in the dirt.

“And look at you, shouting all those kind words about me for anyone to hear.”

“I keep telling you, Coop. I can hold my own, and I don’t care what people think.”

“You sure about that, darlin’? The likes of these fellas don’t put you off none?”

His eyes darted towards the Knights, now trussed up and struggling against each other on the ground, straining their necks to move their heads out of the line of Cooper’s gun.

“What? You think I’m put off by the Brotherhood? Yeah… and the rads put me off stuffing tin after tin of delicious cram down my throat.”

Cooper grabbed your hand in his, initiating the contact for the first time, and pulled you away back onto the cracked road. He knew he’d let go before you hit the next settlement, but he felt a little bit better about the risks associated. Especially since he had to admit, you could hold your own. And you were determined to do so when it came to him. It was nice to feel like he could let the affection be reciprocated.

[peachversace]

fashion killa

chapter two ; and fall into you

[nsfw] — smut (18+) ; bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 20,014 — read on ao3 — read part one on tumblr

tags: strangers to lovers, friends with benefits, pro hero bakugou katsuki, explicit language & sexual content, aged-up characters, porn with plot, model!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, bakugou is a soft yearning idiot who i want to eat up, kirishima eijirou is a good friend, not beta read!

summary:

Fashion Week was supposed to be simple-walk the runway, collect your check, and, if all went according to plan, spend the night with Pro Hero Dynamight. Just a little fun. Nothing more. But getting rid of Bakugou Katsuki proves to be harder than slipping out of a too-tight sample size.

Or, in which a one-night stand with one of Japan's most famous men turns into a relentless game of cat and mouse-and the worst part? You don't hate it.

notes:

the final chapter is here! thank you so much for all the love on the first chapter—it really means a lot to me. this was supposed to go up on sunday, but i didn’t like the ending, so i changed it last minute lol. i hope you guys like it and that it lives up to your expectations. thank you in advance, and happy reading!

enjoy! :D

Things get stranger after that night, but not in a way you could have anticipated. 

You and Katsuki seem to grow closer, slipping into each other’s lives with an ease that feels both natural and unsettling. It's not what you expected. You thought things would stay casual. But there’s a shift now—something in the way you reach for your phone more often, his name lighting up the screen with more frequency.

It starts with simple things. He calls you more, which surprises you because Katsuki’s never been one for chit-chat, but his voice on the other end of the line feels steady, grounding. You catch yourself waiting for those calls, anticipating the sound of his gruff voice grumbling about some villain he had to deal with or asking how your day went. It's not just calls either. Texts come in, pictures too. You send him photos of you in a photoshoot, all glammed up in haute couture, and he replies with short, dry comments, ‘Looking good,’ or ‘Too fancy.’ But you can tell he's looking, really looking. You send pictures from the gym, hair tied back, sweat glistening on your skin. And in return, Katsuki sends you his own pictures. They’re blurry sometimes, like he doesn’t know how to properly frame a shot, and he always scowls in them, half his face obscured. 

He grumbles, “Ain’t good at this photo crap,” but you can see the effort. It’s adorable, especially when he sends you pictures from bed, messy hair and bare chest, a hint of vulnerability in the way the camera captures him. You wonder if he realizes how soft he looks.

You start spending more time together too—more than you’d planned for. It’s not always about the sex now, though that’s still a big part of it. But there’s a sweetness in how you share space. Sometimes, it’s cooking together, and he’ll stand beside you, watching your every move with that sharp focus he has for everything. Other times, it’s movies, the two of you sprawled out on the couch, his arm slung lazily over your shoulders. Katsuki’s not great with words, not in the way some people are, but he doesn’t need to be. His actions speak for him—whether it’s making sure you’re comfortable or tossing a blanket over you when you doze off mid-movie.

The softness between you is unexpected. You’ve seen his gruff, explosive exterior, the way the media paints him as some sort of untouchable force. But here, with you, he’s different. He’s cuddly, something you never would’ve expected from him. He pulls you close without hesitation, his arms firm and warm, always keeping you near. You don’t question it, but it throws you off. This wasn’t what you signed up for—this quiet intimacy that feels more like a relationship than something casual. He’s not supposed to be so sweet, so soft.

One thing that surprises you most is how much he enjoys taking pictures with you. 

You’d never have guessed the gruff, no-nonsense Pro Hero would indulge in such a thing, especially when he’s always grumbling about media shoots and press. But when you’re in one of his hoodies, and you tug him down to take a selfie, your hand gently curling around his jaw, he leans in without protest. There’s this small, content smile that tugs at his lips—subtle but real, and it lights up his face in a way that makes your heart skip. You snap the picture, and he’ll grumble, “Didn’t ask for this,” but you catch him later, zooming in on the photo, his thumb lingering over the screen. There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks at the two of you together.

He’s not one for skincare, either, but when you do face masks or anything remotely involving pampering, he sits there and lets you do it, his face a picture of calm contentment. His quirk may have blessed him with great skin, but he indulges you, letting you push his wild hair back with a fluffy headband, revealing his sharp features. You prep his face, and he just watches you with half-lidded eyes, relaxed in a way you’ve never seen before. He doesn’t even protest when you lean down and kiss him in the middle of it, his lips curving into a small, lazy smile. It’s cute how unbothered he is, how he lets you do whatever you want to him.

You’ve gotten more comfortable with each other in general.

More touching, more kissing, and sex has become something deeper. It’s no longer just an outlet, no longer just physical. It’s a way for the two of you to connect, to be closer. There’s a vulnerability in how he touches you, how his hands roam your body with a quiet reverence. When he presses against you, his skin flush against yours, you feel it—the way his guard drops, the way he lets himself need you in those moments. Your head will fall back, and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, his mouth warm and insistent, before his firm hand finds your face, guiding you back to him for another kiss. You feel like you’re floating in those moments, lost in the press of his body, the sound of his voice, and the way he holds you as if you’re something precious.

One night, after several rounds of unraveling each other, Katsuki does something he’s never done before—he opens up. His voice is quiet, almost hesitant, as he starts to talk about the Final War. You weren’t prepared for the weight of it. He tells you about being sent to the frontlines as a child soldier, about how his heart ruptured, the physical agony and the fear that came with it. His right arm, crushed beyond recognition, left him scarred—inside and out. He talks about rehab, about how long it took him to get his arm functioning again. 

And then, in a softer tone, he admits something that surprises you: “I still wanna be number one... but I’m content, y’know? With where I’m at right now.”

You’re lying beside him, his hand heavy on your waist, and you look up at him. His face is dimly lit, and there’s a vulnerability in his expression that makes your heart twist. “I think you’re amazing,” you whisper, your voice soft but sure, your fingers reaching up to gently curl around his jaw, pulling him down for a kiss. It’s slow and sweet, and when you pull away, his cheeks are flushed, a faint pink creeping across his skin.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, embarrassed, but you can see the small, content smile tugging at his lips again, the same one he gives you in those quiet moments when his guard is down.

You smile back, your heart swelling in your chest as you kiss him again. There’s a softness to this moment, to him, and it feels like something has shifted between you. Something you can’t quite put into words yet, but it’s there, lingering in the air, unspoken but undeniable. 

But then there’s a pause, a hesitation. Katsuki’s expression changes, and when he speaks again, it’s quieter. "You’re the one that’s amazin'," he repeats, his voice low, almost like he’s afraid to say it too loudly. The way his words hang between you makes your heart do a strange little flip. You can feel the weight of them. 

You tilt your head slightly, giving him a teasing smile to ease the tension. "What, for walking in 120 mm heels or for letting you do facemasks with me?" you whisper, fingers brushing the scar on his cheek, tracing the jagged line that’s become so familiar to you now. 

He huffs, but there’s a flicker of something more behind his eyes. "Nah," he says, shaking his head. "For bein’ you. For workin’ hard as hell, doin’ all this stuff, and still bein’ able to… to put up with me."

The words hit you harder than you expect. You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You hadn’t realized he saw it that way—like he was a burden, like being with him was something difficult to endure. There’s a vulnerability in the way he avoids your gaze, his usual cocky demeanor gone, leaving just Katsuki—raw and exposed in front of you.

"You’re making it sound like I’m putting up with someone from hell," you say, your voice softer now, trying to coax his eyes back to yours.

He grumbles again, that same frustrated sound, but he still doesn’t look at you, and that’s when you realize just how much he doubts himself. How much he carries with him—his past, his insecurities, the weight of being a Pro Hero. And for the first time, you see how deeply it cuts him, how much he worries that he’s too much for anyone to handle.

"Hey," you whisper, your hand gently guiding his face back to you. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and his eyes, reluctant at first, finally meet yours. "I like putting up with you. You always think so bad about yourself. Stop doing that. Sometimes people just want to be around you, to spend time with you. It’s not weird, and I like spending time with you."

Katsuki’s cheeks flare up with a faint blush, his ears turning a little red at your words. He scoffs again, the sound almost automatic, like he’s trying to shake off the embarrassment. "You’re fuckin’ clingy," he mutters, but the bite in his tone is weak. His eyes flicker with something softer, something grateful.

You grin at him, laughter bubbling up in your chest. "Says the man that’s clinging to me like glue." You lean up on your elbow a little, your smile widening. "I have the pictures to prove it, by the way."

Before you can react, he’s turning his head and biting lightly at your fingers where they rest on his jaw, his teeth just grazing your skin in a teasing nip. It sends a small jolt through you, and you laugh softly, falling back into the pillows, your chest rising and falling with quiet giggles as you look up at him.

Katsuki’s grinning now, a real grin that lights up his face, his usual intensity tempered with affection. He leans down closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you can feel the way his body relaxes against yours. There’s no distance between you—no walls, no masks. Just you and him, sharing the space in a way that feels... real.

"What?" you whisper, still smiling as you reach up to smooth a hand through his messy hair. "Is my skin glowing or something?"

Katsuki scoffs lightly at your teasing, though there’s a small tug of a smile at the corner of his lips. His crimson eyes stay locked on yours, searching your face with an intensity that always makes your heart race. The heat of his body radiates against you, and even though you’re joking, there’s a flicker of something deeper in the way he holds your gaze, something vulnerable he’s still not used to sharing. 

"Yeah, sure, your skin’s glowin’," he mutters, his voice rough but soft, leaning down closer. "From all those dumb facemasks you make me do." His lips brush your temple, but the grin on his face betrays his usual gruffness.

You laugh, a light sound that melts between the two of you in the dimly lit room. "Dumb facemasks that you enjoy way too much," you fire back, playfully nudging him. "Don’t think I don’t notice how relaxed you get."

He grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, but there’s no real bite behind it. His hand, rough from years of hero work, trails absentmindedly along your side, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin, sending tiny shivers down your spine. His touch is softer than you ever expected when you first got involved with him, but now it’s familiar—comforting in its warmth and weight.

His eyes soften as he looks down at you, the usual fire in them dimmed into something warmer, more intimate. "Maybe," he mutters, his voice low. "But I like you better without all that makeup anyway."

The simplicity of the statement, the raw honesty of it, makes your heart squeeze. You let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking your head slightly as you press a kiss to his lips, slow and lingering. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling away, his forehead resting against yours.

There’s a stillness in the room now, a sense of peace that settles between the two of you. It feels like the world outside doesn’t exist, like all the noise and chaos of your lives as pro heroes and public figures has melted away. In this moment, it’s just you and Katsuki—no expectations, no pressure. Just the quiet, simple warmth of being together. 

"You're an idiot," you whisper playfully, breaking the silence as you tap his chest lightly, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. 

"Yeah," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your skin as he presses another soft kiss to your forehead. "Guess I am for you."

Katsuki's words make your heart skip a beat, and you have to bite your lip to stop the smile threatening to break through. The way he says it—so casually yet so earnestly—makes warmth bloom in your chest. You’re not used to this side of him, this softness that he reserves just for you.

“What are your plans tomorrow?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid to disturb the peace between you.

You think for a moment before replying, "Well… I have Pilates in the morning, and then I’m getting my nails done. Do you have any suggestions?" You stretch your arms lazily above your head, watching him with a playful glint in your eye.

Katsuki shrugs, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck. His hair tickles your skin, and you can’t help but let out a soft sigh as your fingers instinctively move to scratch his scalp. The sound he makes in response—a low, content rumble—reminds you of a cat purring, and it makes you smile. He presses a kiss to your cheek, his lips warm against your skin, before mumbling, “Dunno. Whatever makes you feel good.”

You grin, already knowing what will get a reaction out of him. “So if it’s an ugly purple color, you’ll be okay with it?”

As expected, he makes a face, his brows furrowing in clear disapproval. The corner of your mouth twitches in amusement as you roll your eyes. "Don’t worry, I’ll probably go for a nude pink," you murmur, leaning in to nuzzle your nose against his. The closeness between you feels so natural now, like a second skin. "And then I have a meeting with my agent about being a brand ambassador for an upcoming label, but I’m still thinking about it. That’s all."

He hums, a low sound of acknowledgment vibrating through his chest, and then you return the question. "What about you?"

"Got the day off," he says after a beat, his voice a little hesitant as if he’s testing the waters. "Thought… thought maybe I’d cook for ya or somethin’." His fingers brush against your lower back, the warmth of his touch drawing you even closer. It’s so subtle, the way he pulls you in, but it feels like he’s trying to close any remaining distance between your bodies. "Make ya those sushi rolls you liked. The ones you had in the US."

The way he remembers something so small, something you mentioned offhandedly during a trip, makes your breath hitch slightly. It’s not just the gesture itself—it’s the meaning behind it. How vulnerable and open he’s become with you, how he always wants to do things for you, to make sure you’re comfortable. His actions say what his words sometimes struggle to—how much he cares, even if he’s not always good at expressing it.

You swallow, the emotions swirling inside you making your chest feel tight in the best way possible. "You don’t have to do all that, Katsuki," you say softly, your fingers tracing small circles along his shoulder, feeling the strength and warmth beneath his skin. "But I’d love it. You know I’d never say no to your cooking."

He grumbles, his usual tough exterior showing through even in moments like this. "Yeah, well, don’t expect it all the time," he mutters, but the way his fingers tighten slightly on your back tells you he’s already looking forward to it. He likes taking care of you, even if he’ll never admit it outright.

You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering there for a moment. His skin is warm, and the simple act of affection makes him relax even more against you, like he’s letting go of something heavy he’s been holding on to. 

"I’m looking forward to it," you whisper, and the sincerity in your voice seems to catch him off guard. He looks up at you, his usual sharp gaze softened by the quiet intimacy of the moment. There’s something vulnerable in his eyes, something that makes your heart ache in a way that’s both beautiful and terrifying. 

"Yeah," he says, his voice rough but tender. "Me too."

And in that moment, with the quiet warmth of the room surrounding you, it feels like everything is exactly as it should be. The casual arrangement you once had has blurred into something deeper, something more profound. You can feel it in the way he holds you, in the way he speaks to you, in the way he cares for you. 

You never expected this to happen, but now that it has, you’re not sure you want it to stop. Katsuki has wormed his way into your life in a way you hadn’t anticipated, and it scares you, just a little. 

But when he’s this close, when his touch is this gentle, and when his words are this soft, it’s hard to imagine ever wanting to let him go.

It’s like stepping into a high-end restaurant when you walk into Katsuki’s apartment the next day, after finishing up your schedule. 

The moment you enter, the smell of freshly prepared food hits your senses, and the sight of the spread on the dining table takes your breath away. He’s really gone all out—sashimi platters laid out beautifully, with slices of the freshest fish you’ve ever seen; multiple types of sushi from nigiri to uramaki and temaki, each piece looking meticulously crafted. The fried dishes, like ebi furai and karaage, are golden and crisp, making your mouth water at the sight of them.

It’s a lot. More than you ever expected from him, especially after how shy he seemed about cooking this for you. 

But what really catches your attention isn’t the food—it’s the bouquet of flowers sitting at your usual seat.

Your breath hitches as you step closer, reaching out to touch the delicate petals. The bouquet is a stunning mix of roses, lilies, orchids, and carnations, all in varying shades of pink. The arrangement is soft but vibrant, delicate yet full of life, and you can’t help but be completely charmed by the gesture. You pick it up carefully, the scent of the flowers filling the air as you lift the bouquet closer to your face. The blend of colors is beautiful, and it makes your heart flutter.

With the bouquet in hand, you turn to look at him, your expression softening into a teasing but warm smile. "Flowers, huh?" you murmur, your voice light with affection, though there’s an underlying sense of surprise too. You’d never thought Katsuki would go this far, to do something so thoughtful and gentle.

Katsuki stands a few feet away, looking a bit out of his element, his usual confidence slightly faltering. He’s rubbing the back of his neck, a telltale sign of his discomfort with this kind of vulnerable gesture. His eyes flick to the flowers in your hands, and then back to you. His mouth twitches like he’s about to say something, and after a beat, he murmurs, almost bashfully, “It’s the same color as your nails.”

You blink, and then you realize—he’s right. The delicate pink flowers are nearly an exact match for the nude-pink shade you’d mentioned getting done at the nail salon earlier that morning. It’s such a small detail, something you didn’t even think he’d remember, let alone match. It’s thoughtful in a way that makes your chest tighten and your heart swell.

You think you might just melt right there. He’s always been sweet in his own gruff, awkward way, but this? This feels different. This feels like he’s trying to show you something more, to express something he doesn’t have the words for.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, your voice a little breathless as you take a step toward him, the bouquet still in your hands. You want to say something else, to tease him maybe, but the lump in your throat won’t let you. Instead, you just stare at him, feeling the warmth in your chest grow, spreading like wildfire.

He looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the attention, his lips curling into a small scowl. But there’s no bite behind it. If anything, he just looks a little embarrassed. “Don’t make a big deal outta it,” he grumbles, though the way his eyes flicker back to yours betrays his nerves.

But you can’t help it. How can you not make a big deal out of it? He went through all this trouble just to match a detail as small as your nails with the flowers he picked. He cooked an entire feast for you, filled with dishes you love. And all of it—all of it—is done with the kind of care and thoughtfulness that makes your heart ache in the best way.

You set the flowers down gently on the table and step closer to him, your hands reaching for his. You feel the callouses on his fingers as you intertwine them with yours, and he stiffens slightly before relaxing, allowing you to pull him closer. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you whisper, your voice soft and tender. “But I love it. I love everything. Thank you.”

Katsuki’s gaze flickers down to your hands, then back up to your face, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure out how to respond. He shifts his weight, looking uncharacteristically shy. “S’nothin’. Just wanted to do somethin’ nice.”

Your smile grows, and you can’t resist the urge to stand on your tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his cheek. His skin flushes under your touch, and you feel the way he holds his breath for a second before he relaxes. “Well, it means a lot to me,” you murmur against his skin, your lips lingering just a little longer than necessary.

When you pull back, his gaze locks onto yours, and there’s a softness in his eyes you don’t often get to see. For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the world feeling a little smaller, a little more intimate. The bouquet, the dinner, the way he remembered something as small as the color of your nails—it all feels like more than just casual affection. It feels like he’s slowly, hesitantly opening himself up to you in ways he’s never done before.

And it makes your heart race.

“Now, come on,” you say, breaking the silence with a grin as you tug him toward the table. “Let’s eat before this masterpiece gets cold.”

He huffs, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Sit down already.”

As you take your seat, you can’t help but feel a little giddy. Katsuki takes his seat across from you, and for a moment, the two of you just sit there, surrounded by the feast he’s prepared. There’s a warmth in the air, a sense of quiet happiness that lingers between you.

And as you pick up your chopsticks and dig into the meal he made just for you, you realize that whatever this is between the two of you, it’s something more than you ever could have imagined. Something real. Something that’s growing in ways neither of you expected.

That night feels like a memory already etched into your soul, a moment you know you’ll never forget. 

The signs were all there from the start—the flowers, the dinner, the shy glances exchanged between the two of you over the table. There was a softness in the way you spoke to each other, a quiet warmth that lingered in the air, charged with something more than just affection. 

It was inevitable, the way the night would unfold.

Now, the room is filled with nothing but the quiet creaking of the bed, the sound of skin meeting skin, and the breathless, intimate sounds you and Katsuki make together. Your hands grip the pillow beneath your head as his strong hands hold your thighs, keeping them folded around his hips. He moves with a steady, deliberate rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. There’s something deeper in the way he touches you tonight—something tender and almost reverent.

Through the haze of pleasure, your eyes blink up at him, catching the intensity of his gaze. It’s overwhelming, the way his molten eyes lock onto yours, filled with an emotion so raw it almost makes your chest ache. You can’t help but tug him closer, wanting to feel his warmth, his skin against yours. He obliges, his forearms coming to rest on either side of your head, bracketing you in. Your legs instinctively tighten around his waist, your ankles crossing at the small of his back, pulling him even closer.

“Katsuki,” you gasp, the word slipping from your lips in a whisper. It’s a plea, a confession, everything wrapped in one. He answers you not with words but with a kiss—soft, slow, and wet. His lips press against yours with a tenderness that belies the strength of his body, and it makes you shiver with how gentle he’s being. There’s something different in the way he’s moving, like he’s trying to tell you something he can’t quite put into words.

Then, his voice breaks the silence, low and vulnerable. “Say my name,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck.

The need in his voice makes your heart stutter. You feel his vulnerability, the rawness of him asking for something so simple, yet so important. So you do—you say his name over and over, like a mantra. “Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki…” Each word is punctuated by a kiss, your lips brushing against his in fleeting touches. His name feels sacred on your tongue, like it’s the only thing that matters in this moment.

His eyes darken, flecks of gold and violet swirling in the molten depths of his gaze. It’s like he’s seeing straight through you, into the deepest parts of you, and it makes you feel bare, exposed. But in the best way. You’re not just giving yourself to him; you’re sharing something far more intimate, something unspoken but understood. The two of you are drowning in each other—in the kisses, the warmth of your skin pressed together, the way he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

He’s exploded you, just like his quirk, and in his touch, you feel like fireworks—bright, burning, alive. Every time he moves, you feel like you’re breaking apart in the best way, only to come back together, more whole than before.

And then, Katsuki slows his movements, like he’s trying to savor every second of this. His thrusts become deep, deliberate, each one dragging out the moment as if he never wants it to end. There’s something reverent about it, like he’s worshipping you, wanting to memorize the way you feel, the way your body responds to him. It’s so intense, so real, that it almost overwhelms you. 

You can’t help but moan softly, your body arching into his as he moves within you. The sensation is slow, building like a crescendo, and you feel like you’re on the edge of something greater than either of you. You’re not just feeling pleasure—this is something deeper. His touch, his kiss, the way he holds you, it all makes you feel like you’ve become something otherworldly, like a star burning brightly in the night sky.

His lips brush against your ear, and in the quiet between breaths, you hear him whisper, “You’re incredible.” The words are hushed, almost like a secret, but they hit you hard, sinking deep into your heart. He’s never been great with words, but in this moment, he doesn’t need to be. The way he touches you, the way he holds you, speaks volumes.

And just like that, you feel yourself slipping, falling into that blissful oblivion, with Katsuki right there with you. The world outside disappears, and all that exists is this—the two of you, tangled together, lost in the feeling of each other. Time slows, the space between each breath stretches, and for a moment, it feels like you’re not just two people anymore. You’ve become something greater, something inseparable, something you never want to let go of. 

As the two of you finally find release, together, it feels like the stars themselves have exploded inside of you, leaving you breathless, weightless, and utterly content.

It’s close to dawn, and the first hints of light peek through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the room. 

You’re completely spent, bodies tangled together, exhausted after countless rounds of pleasure, yet it’s not just the physicality that keeps you close. It’s the warmth of his touch, the familiarity of it, the way his body instinctively presses against yours. Katsuki is holding you like you’re something precious, his lips brushing over your skin—your jaw, your neck, your shoulders—leaving behind tender kisses in his wake. His hands glide over your hips, your stomach, your thighs, tracing your curves with a gentle reverence that makes your breath hitch. There’s something so intimate in the way he touches you now, not just as a lover, but as someone who’s cherishing every moment.

You nuzzle closer, your head resting against his muscular bicep, pressing a soft kiss to it with a smile. His warmth surrounds you, and you can feel his chest rise and fall with every breath he takes. The silence between you is comfortable, peaceful, only filled with the sound of your shared breaths and the occasional rustling of the sheets.

In a teasing, hushed tone, you break the stillness, “You never told me what you think of my nails.” 

Katsuki huffs a quiet laugh against your cheek, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Idiot,” he mumbles, the insult carrying no real bite. His teeth sink into your skin teasingly, making you let out a startled squeak, but you laugh when you feel his lips press a soft kiss in the same spot. His voice is a little rough, but warm as he admits, “They look good.”

You smile at his response, feeling the warmth of his approval as it spreads through you. “Good,” you whisper back, your voice soft in the quiet room. You let the moment drift into comfortable silence once again, enjoying the simple pleasure of being close to him, his body still pressed to yours. The bed shifts slightly as you both move, adjusting your positions to be closer, your limbs lazily draped over each other.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, cutting through the silence, and you instinctively reach for it. You scroll through a few messages before opening the camera, catching your reflection on the screen. There’s a faint flush to your cheeks, and you can see the small marks he left on your skin—little love bites trailing down to your collarbone, proof of the night’s passion. You look at yourself, and you can’t help but smile.

You’re glowing.

Before you can dwell on it, Katsuki shifts beside you, slowly leaning in to rest his head against yours, his weight a comforting presence. Your smile softens as you press the button on the camera, capturing the two of you in the frame. He doesn’t protest—he never really does when you take pictures anymore—and there’s a softness in his eyes, a quiet contentment that’s so different from the sharp, hardened persona he shows the world. Here, with you, he’s just Katsuki, sleepy-eyed and tender, his face relaxed in a way that makes your heart swell.

You click on the video option, and still, he says nothing, just watches as you record. He leans further into you, his body language loose and easy, completely at peace in your presence. You lift your hand to his jaw, gently scratching at the stubble growing there, and he blinks lazily, his eyes half-lidded as he leans into your touch. His vulnerability is on full display, and it’s something so personal, so special, that it makes your chest tighten with affection.

Without thinking, you turn your head and press a soft kiss to his lips. He lets you, meeting your kiss with a slow, sleepy response, his lips warm and slightly chapped. The kiss is tender, and when you pull away, it leaves behind a small, wet sound that makes you smile. You press another, quicker kiss to his lips before glancing back at the camera, capturing the quiet intimacy of the moment. 

On the screen, you see him with that small, almost shy smile curling at the corners of his lips. It’s a rare expression, one that he only seems to show when he’s with you, and it makes your heart flutter. There’s no mask here, no front, just him—content, soft, and utterly at ease with you.

And in that moment, you realize how deeply you’ve both fallen into this. How much you’ve come to mean to one another. His presence feels like home, like something you’ve been missing all along. 

There’s something deeper here, something you didn’t expect, and now it feels terrifyingly real.

And that thought scares the hell out of you.

You avoid him after that night.

It’s dumb; it’s stupid; it’s insane, but after that night, the intimacy had shaken you to your core, and you’re not ready to deal with the weight of what that means. The soft way he touched you, the vulnerability in his voice when he asked you to call him by his name—those aren’t things that fit into your neat little box labeled casual. And you don’t want to face the fact that whatever this thing is between you and Katsuki, it stopped being casual a long time ago.

So, you pull away. You don’t call him, don’t text back as often, and when he tries to reach out, you tell him you’re busy. It’s not entirely a lie. Work is busy. You’ve been booked back-to-back with photoshoots for Vogue China, campaigns for Kintsugi and Chanel, and appearances for Tsukiyo. Haute Couture Week is just around the corner, and you’re drowning in preparations. 

But the truth is, it’s easier to hide behind your schedule than face the reality of what’s happening between you and Katsuki. You bury yourself in work, hoping the distance will clear your head, will give you time to sort out your feelings. Because you’re not sure what you want anymore. Do you still want something casual? Or has it become something more? You’re not ready to answer that question, not ready to confront the feelings that have begun to creep up on you.

And then, late one night, the consequences of your actions come knocking—literally.

It’s around one in the morning when there’s a knock at your door. The sound startles you, breaking the quiet of your apartment, and you instantly know who it is. You hesitate for a second, your heart racing as you walk over and pull the door open.

Katsuki stands there, still in his hero gear, covered in soot and sweat, fresh from patrol. His eyes are sharp, but there’s a softness in the way he looks at you—something like confusion, or maybe even hurt. He doesn’t waste any time.

“You avoidin’ me or somethin’?” His voice is gruff, but there’s a vulnerability in it, the kind that makes your chest tighten.

“No!” you blurt out, too quickly. Your voice sounds high, and you can’t even convince yourself. “No, I’ve just been... busy. You know how it is.”

He narrows his eyes, his expression hardening. “Busy, huh?”

You nod, trying to hold his gaze, but your heart is pounding in your ears. “Yeah. Work’s been crazy lately.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at you with that intense, unreadable look of his, and you feel the guilt crawling up your throat. You expect him to yell, to snap at you, but when he finally speaks, his voice is low, hesitant.

“Did I... do somethin’ wrong?”

The question hits you harder than you expect. You see the hurt in his eyes now, the way his jaw tightens, like he’s bracing for something. Your chest tightens, and you want to reach out, to reassure him, but you hesitate. You shake your head quickly. “No, Katsuki, you didn’t do anything. It’s... it’s not you, it’s me.”

His entire body tenses at your words, his eyes narrowing. “What the hell’s that s’posed to mean?”

You take a step back, rubbing your arms nervously. “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” you say quietly, almost like you’re hoping he won’t hear you.

He takes a step closer, his voice firm, almost demanding. “Do what?”

You swallow, trying to find the right words, but they stick in your throat. “This... us. I wanted things to stay casual, you know? Casual but serious? But now... everything feels different… and I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship.”

He’s silent for a beat, his jaw clenching, his fists tightening at his sides. “So avoidin’ me was your solution?” His voice is sharp now, tinged with frustration and hurt. He’s not yelling, but his tone cuts through you.

“No, it’s not like that. I just didn’t know how to—”

“Didn’t know how to what?” He interrupts, his voice rising slightly, his eyes flashing. “Didn’t know how to tell me I’m just some fuckin’ fling to you?”

“No!” you shake your head desperately, stepping forward, but the words feel stuck, like no explanation is good enough. “It’s not like that, I just—”

“Then what?” His voice cracks, and for a moment, you see something raw in his expression. He lets out a shaky breath and takes a step back, his shoulders slumping as he runs a hand through his messy hair. The usual fire in his eyes dims, replaced with exhaustion—emotional exhaustion. He looks tired. Tired of fighting for you. “Y’know what? Whatever. Do whatever the hell you want.”

You freeze as he turns, his back to you, and walks toward the door. Your mouth opens to stop him, but no words come out. You watch helplessly as he reaches for the door handle, his movements slow and heavy, like he’s waiting for you to say something—anything. 

But you don’t. 

The door clicks shut behind him, and the silence that follows is deafening. 

You stand there, your heart pounding, staring at the empty space where he just stood. The weight of the conversation, of everything you didn’t say, settles in the pit of your stomach, and for the first time, you realize just how badly you’ve messed up. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to feel this way. But it does. And now, you’re left standing in the aftermath of your own avoidance, the silence of the room echoing with the absence of him.

And for the first time, you wonder if it’s too late to fix things.

────────────────────────

The weeks after your... breakup? Was it even that? You still don’t know how to label it, but whatever it was, it’s hard. It hurts more than you thought it would, more than you ever expected it could. You don’t cry easily, you’ve never been the type to fall apart over someone, but Katsuki—Bakugou—was different. His absence feels like a missing piece of your life, a hole that you can’t seem to fill no matter how much you try.

You find yourself crying at night, tears slipping down your cheeks as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s a quiet kind of crying, the kind where your chest aches and your throat tightens, but you don’t make a sound. It’s unexpected, this grief, this sense of loss. You hadn’t realized how much he meant to you until he wasn’t there anymore. Until the warmth of his presence, his gruff voice, his touch was gone, leaving you cold and hollow.

But you push through it. You force yourself to keep going, to focus on your work, because that’s what you do. You’ve always been good at throwing yourself into your career when things get hard, and this time is no different. Even if your heart feels like it’s been ripped out. Even if you feel like you’re walking around with this empty, aching space inside you. 

Even if it feels like... love.

But you don’t let yourself dwell on that thought. You shove it down, deep inside, where you don’t have to deal with it. Instead, you work. You focus on your job, on the constant demands of your schedule. Haute Couture Week in Paris comes quickly, and you’re on a plane before you even realize it, throwing yourself into the chaos of the fashion world.

Paris is as hectic and glamorous as always. You’re swept into a whirlwind of fittings, castings, and shows. You walk down runways draped in the most luxurious fabrics, you pose for countless photoshoots, you attend brand events where everyone looks perfect, where everyone seems to have it all together. On the surface, you look the part—you’re poised, composed, radiant. But inside, your thoughts are consumed with him.

Every time you stand still for more than a second, your mind drifts back to Katsuki. To the way he looked that night at your door, the hurt in his eyes, the way he walked away. You think about the nights you spent with him, about the softness in his touch that you hadn’t expected, about the way he kissed you with such intensity that it made you feel like you were the only person in the world. 

You miss the way he would scowl when he was embarrassed, the way he’d flick your forehead when you teased him, the way he’d grumble but still pull you closer when you were lying in bed together. You miss him, and no matter how much work you bury yourself in, that feeling doesn’t go away. 

And you do bury yourself in work. 

You walk runway after runway, your legs aching from the hours spent in heels. You attend fittings, standing perfectly still as designers adjust fabric on your body, their hands moving with practiced precision. You barely eat, following the strict diet that keeps you in shape for the shows, even when your stomach growls in protest. You push through photoshoot after photoshoot, your face a mask of calm professionalism even when your head feels like it’s going to burst from exhaustion.

By the time Haute Couture Week ends, you’re exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. But there’s no time to rest, no time to stop and process the whirlwind of emotions that have been swirling inside you since that night with Katsuki. September is coming fast, and with it, the next fashion month. Castings have already started, and of course, you’re booked solid. Tsukiyo, Ryūmon, Dsquared2, Dior—they all want you, and you don’t have the luxury of slowing down.

You tell yourself that this is what you need. That keeping busy is good, that focusing on your career will help you forget. But late at night, when the city around you is quiet and your hotel room feels too big, too empty, you can’t stop your thoughts from drifting back to him. To the way he said your name, his voice rough but soft at the edges. To the way he held you close after everything, his hands gentle on your skin. To the way he looked at you, like you were more than just some casual fling, like you were something that mattered.

And that’s what scares you the most.

Because deep down, you know it was never just casual for him. You saw it in the way he touched you, in the way he let you call him by his first name, in the way he always made sure you were comfortable, that you were okay. You could feel it in the way he held you close, even when he didn’t say the words. Katsuki was serious about you, and that terrified you because you hadn’t let yourself believe that you could be serious about him too. 

But now, lying in your hotel bed, staring at the ceiling in the dim light, you wonder if maybe... maybe you were serious about him too. Maybe this wasn’t just some casual thing for you either. Maybe you let your fear get the best of you. Maybe you pushed him away because you were scared of what it meant to feel this way about someone.

Maybe... it’s too late to fix it.

You first meet Kirishima Eijirou at the brand event for Yūgen, a high-end luxury brand that’s slowly carving its name into the industry. 

The event is bathed in understated elegance, the kind that makes everything feel weightless, like an ethereal dream. The fragrance of Yūgen lingers in the air, soft but pervasive, the scent weaving in and out of your senses. It’s a haunting aroma—woody, floral, with a touch of something mysterious that stays with you long after you leave the room. The brand’s aesthetic mirrors that feeling, subtle craftsmanship and poetic beauty all wrapped in quiet luxury.

You’re wearing one of Yūgen’s finest designs: The Moonlit Silk Gown, a floor-length masterpiece in pearlescent ivory that moves like liquid moonlight against your skin. The cherry blossom embroidery is so delicate, it looks as though it might dissolve at any moment. The backless design leaves a trail of silk down your spine, each movement making you feel like a walking work of art, fragile but powerful. You look flawless—because you have to—but inside, you’re far from it. 

It’s been a long week. A long month, really. 

Physically, you’re exhausted. Every photoshoot, every runway, every campaign pulls energy from you in a way that leaves you hollow by the end of the day. But emotionally? That’s where the real toll is. It’s been weeks since you and Katsuki—Bakugou, you remind yourself, like a bad habit you need to kick—had your falling out, and despite throwing yourself into work, the ache hasn’t dulled. 

A vacation sounds tempting, but the thought of having time—time to rest, time to think—is too much. You don’t want to think. Not about what happened, not about the way you avoided him, not about the hurt in his eyes that still haunts you late at night. So you bury yourself in everything else—work, events, anything that keeps you moving forward without looking back.

The event is in full swing, and you’ve spent hours mingling, moving through the crowd like a ghost, smiling, nodding, talking to people whose faces blur together after a while. Celebrities, designers, businessmen, all wanting a piece of your attention. You’re good at it—the small talk, the easy charm, the graceful way you handle yourself. But by the time you finally find a moment to sit down, you feel like you’re about to collapse.

Your feet ache from the heels you’ve been wearing all night, sharp pains shooting through your legs with each step. Your head pounds from the constant hum of conversation, lights, and the weight of it all. You take a deep breath, trying to center yourself, to focus on anything other than the discomfort coursing through you. You consider finding an excuse to leave early, to escape the noise and the pressure, but before you can even act on it, a voice cuts through the noise around you.

“Hi, may I sit here for a moment?”

You blink, looking up, surprised to find a tall figure standing over you, smiling. It takes you a second to place him—Kirishima Eijirou, also known as Pro Hero Red Riot. 

He’s famous, one of the top heroes in the country, known for his kindness as much as his strength. You’ve heard about him before, mostly from Katsuki. Despite Bakugou’s endless grumbling about Shitty Hair this, Shitty Hair that, you could always tell there was a lot of affection there. Kirishima is one of Bakugou’s closest friends, a bond that goes back to their high school days. 

It’s odd, meeting one of Bakugou’s friends now, after everything that’s happened between you two. You’ve only met Kaminari and Ashido briefly, and that was back when things with Katsuki were... different. Now, you don’t know where you stand with him, let alone the people in his life. 

But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Not after how things ended.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you say, forcing a polite smile. Your voice is steady, though inside, you feel the familiar tension creeping back up your spine. You watch as Kirishima sits down beside you, his broad frame filling the space with a kind of easy warmth. He’s dressed in a sleek black suit, the fabric perfectly tailored to his muscular form. A golden chain hangs around his neck, catching the soft light of the room. 

He doesn’t feel overwhelming, though. Despite his large frame and the unmistakable air of strength he carries, Kirishima exudes a kind of gentleness that puts you at ease almost immediately. His presence is the complete opposite of the tension that’s been gnawing at you all night. 

“Long event, huh?” Kirishima says, his voice light, but there’s a genuine empathy in his tone. It’s the kind of voice that invites you to relax, to drop the mask you’ve been wearing all night.

You nod, offering him a tired smile. “Yeah. It’s been a long week, actually.”

He chuckles softly. “I bet. These things can be exhausting, even for someone like you.” His eyes flicker down to your gown, admiration clear in his gaze. “You look incredible, by the way. That dress... it’s something else.”

You let a tired smile curl around your lips. “Thanks,” you say softly, though the compliment feels weightless. You’ve been hearing it all evening, and the words don’t really touch you anymore. 

Kirishima smiles back, but his expression carries a hint of concern now. His easygoing demeanor is still there, but there’s something more perceptive in his gaze. 

There’s a pause, a moment of silence between the two of you, as the murmur of the event continues around you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to mind the quiet. “You seem overworked,” he says after a moment, his voice gentle but probing.

You shrug, taking a sip from the champagne in your hand. The bubbles fizzle, but even the sharp taste of alcohol does little to break through the numbness you’ve been carrying all night. “I am,” you admit.

He raises a brow, clearly concerned. “Why don’t you take a break then?”

The answer comes to you immediately, almost on instinct. “I don’t want to,” you say flatly. “Taking a break means having time for myself, and that’s the last thing I need right now. Plus, I can’t.” You gesture vaguely, feeling the weight of your schedule already pressing down on you. “Fashion Week is in two months, and my calendar’s already packed. There’s no time.”

Kirishima hums in understanding, but there’s something unsaid in the air between you. His gaze softens as he looks at you, clearly mulling over his next words. The silence stretches, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he knows about you and Bakugou—if Katsuki ever mentioned you to his friends. Did he talk about you? Did they know you were… something, once? The thought makes your heart flutter, but it’s quickly followed by the familiar ache. You feel a lump rise in your throat as you try to push it all down.

Before you can dwell on it further, Kirishima finally speaks. “You know, I have a friend,” he says, his tone casual but laced with something deeper. “He kind of reminds me of what you’re going through. Recently, he went through something… rough, and it’s been hard on him. He’s been burying himself in work, and honestly, he’s not the same as he used to be. Not as happy, not as... alive. Like, something’s missing, you know?”

Your breath hitches. You know where this is going, but you can’t stop yourself from listening, from feeling every word sink deeper.

“The funny thing is,” Kirishima continues, his voice softening, “he never really told us about it. We found out by accident, actually—one of our friends snooped through his phone and found a picture.” He chuckles lightly, but it’s a sad sound. “He was pissed, obviously, but he didn’t stay mad for long. I think it’s because back then, he was still happy. Whatever he had, it made him content. But then… things happened.”

He turns to look at you, and his smile is sympathetic, almost knowing. “I think you understand.”

Yeah. He definitely knows. 

The weight of his words settles in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You feel the guilt rise up, thick and choking, but you force yourself to keep your expression neutral. You don’t want to show just how much it’s affecting you. “I hope your friend is doing okay,” you manage, though your voice comes out quieter than you intended.

Kirishima shrugs, his eyes flickering with a sadness of their own. “He says he is, but… I know him. He’s not.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. It’s all your fault. You can feel it—deep down, you know it. You’ve hurt him, and now he’s suffering because of it. The thought makes your chest tighten painfully. “I bet that… something he had misses him, too,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe they didn’t realize how important he was until it was too late.”

Kirishima smiles, but it’s tinged with that same sadness. “Yeah. That’s usually how it goes, isn’t it? We don’t realize what we’ve lost until it’s gone.”

You let out a small, bitter chuckle, nodding in agreement. The weight of the truth in his words is almost unbearable. You didn’t realize. Not until it was too late. And now, you’re left with nothing but the hollow ache of what used to be.

Kirishima watches you carefully, as if weighing his next words. “But, you know,” he says after a pause, “my friend, for all his gruffness… he’s pretty forgiving. He’s changed a lot since we were kids. He’s softened, in his own way.”

Your heart stutters at his words. You feel the lump in your throat grow bigger, making it hard to breathe. “Do you…” You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Do you think he’d forgive that something? If they tried to make things right?”

Kirishima shrugs, but there’s a softness in his gaze as he looks at you. “I think he would. He misses them more than they probably realize. But… they won’t know unless they try.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, and before you can say anything else, Kirishima stands up, offering you a kind smile. “It was nice talking to you. And hey, think about that vacation. It might be exactly what you need.”

You nod, too overwhelmed to say much in response, and watch as he walks away, his presence fading into the crowd.

The second he’s gone, your mind spins in a thousand directions. You sit still, your thoughts a jumbled mess of guilt, regret, and longing. You think about what Kirishima said—about Katsuki, about how he misses you, about how he might forgive you if you reached out.

Is it possible? Could he really forgive you? After everything?

Your heart races as you play the conversation over and over in your head, and slowly, a realization starts to settle in. You’ve been running from your feelings for weeks, but now… maybe it’s time to stop. 

Maybe it’s time to try. 

That’s when you make your decision. 

You’re done hiding; done avoiding the truth.

The commute to his apartment is hell. 

Everything that could go wrong, does. There’s an accident on the highway, forcing your driver to navigate the congested streets of Musutafu. The city is thick with humidity, and a summer storm has turned the streets into rivers. The rain pounds against the car windows relentlessly, and every drop seems to mock you, making you feel like the world itself is pushing back against this decision.

A few blocks from Katsuki’s apartment, the road is blocked by construction. Of course it is. Because, why wouldn’t it be? You’re so close, and the frustration bubbles up inside you until it spills over. Without thinking, you throw the door open and leap out of the car, pulling off your heels and clutching them in your hand. The rain immediately drenches you, soaking through the silk of your gown. 

But you run. Barefoot through the city streets, you run.

By the time you reach his building, you’re a sight—your silk dress clings to your skin, the once-elegant fabric now heavy and dripping, your hair plastered to your face. Your heels, still in your hand, are soaked through, and your feet slap against the slick pavement as you take the final steps to his door.

You knock, and it only takes a few moments before the door swings open. Katsuki stands in the doorway, his body immediately tensing as his gaze sweeps over you. His eyes go wide, and you can see the confusion—maybe even concern—flicker in them as he takes you in. 

You probably look like a drowned rat, soaking wet and panting from your sprint, but that’s not what gets to you. It’s him. It’s the way he looks. He’s tired. So tired. His eyes are shadowed with exhaustion, and the bags under them make it clear he hasn’t been sleeping. His broad shoulders are hunched, his usual fire subdued, and that alone breaks something inside of you. 

You did this to him.

“What the fuck—” he starts, his voice rough, but you cut him off before he can get any further.

“No. You listen to me.” You step forward, your heart hammering in your chest, your breath coming in shallow gasps from your run. “I want to talk. I couldn’t do that last time.”

His mouth snaps shut, and he blinks, clearly thrown by the intensity in your voice. He nods, just slightly, a gesture so small that most people wouldn’t even notice it—but you do. He’s listening.

You take a breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions swirling inside you, and then you begin. “I never meant to avoid you,” you say, voice shaky but determined. “I just… wasn’t ready to deal with the weight of what happened. I wasn’t ready to confront the feelings that you—” You swallow hard. “—the feelings you gave me.”

Katsuki’s eyes stay locked on yours, and you can see the tension in his jaw, the way he’s trying to keep himself calm, to hear you out.

“I always thought I wasn’t ready for a relationship,” you continue, feeling the words start to spill out faster, as if you need to get them out before you lose your nerve. “I thought I wanted something casual. But you… you changed that. You made me realize how wrong I was.” Your voice cracks slightly, and you force yourself to keep going. “I miss you. I miss you all the time. I miss your warmth, your kisses, the way you hold me close, the way you always make sure I’m comfortable, the way you’re grumpy but always so sweet… I miss everything about you.”

His breathing picks up, a faint hitch in his chest, and you notice the way his hands flex at his sides, like he’s trying to keep himself grounded.

“You were never just a fling to me,” you say, your throat tightening with emotion. “And I’m sorry I made you feel like you were. I’m sorry for everything. I was scared, and I didn’t know what I wanted, but now I do. I want you.”

You see him stiffen at those words, his expression shifting, but you press on. You have to say it all, everything.

“Today… today made me realize just how stupid I’ve been,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know what I had until I lost you. And I’m—” You choke slightly on the words, but push through them. “I’m in love with you.”

He inhales sharply, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet hallway, but he doesn’t move. His eyes widen slightly, but you can’t stop now.

“I think about you all the time,” you continue, your voice shaking with every word. “I feel like such an idiot, because I had everything—you—and I screwed it up. I was scared, and I—I let you walk away, but I don’t want to make that mistake again. I want you, Katsuki. I’m choosing you.”

The words hang heavy in the air between you, each one carrying the weight of everything you've been too scared to admit, too scared to confront. The hallway is quiet, save for the sound of your uneven breathing and the faint drumming of rain against the building outside. Katsuki is still standing there, his broad frame taking up the entire doorway, but he's utterly still. His eyes are locked on yours, wide and unblinking, as if he's trying to process every single word you’ve just thrown at him. 

And you know Katsuki. 

You know him in ways most people don’t. He’s strong, stubborn, and often explosive, but beneath that tough exterior is a vulnerability that he hides from the world. He doesn’t let people in easily, not really. His sharp edges and brash attitude are a shield, a way to protect himself from the constant pressure, the overwhelming expectations. He’s used to people seeing him as a weapon, a force of nature. But never as something to be chosen—never as someone who could be the safe place for someone else.

So when you stand here, drenched in rain and raw emotion, telling him that you do choose him, that you’re in love with him, it shakes him to his core. You can see it in the way his breath catches, in the way his body tenses like he’s bracing for impact. His eyes, usually so full of fire, are now filled with disbelief, as if he’s trying to convince himself that this is real, that you're real.

His lips part slightly, but no words come out. It’s like he’s frozen, caught between wanting to say something and not knowing how to. Bakugou Katsuki, the man who always has something to say, who always knows how to react, is speechless. 

The silence stretches on, and with each passing second, your heart feels like it’s being squeezed tighter and tighter. You’ve laid everything out—your heart, your soul, your fears—and the silence in return feels like a weight pressing down on your chest. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and your throat tightens, making it hard to breathe.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the tears finally start to spill over. You can’t stop them anymore. They fall freely now, mixing with the rain still dripping from your soaked hair and clinging to your skin. “Please.”

Katsuki’s eyes flicker, his jaw tightening as if he’s fighting some internal battle. He’s never been good with words—he’s never been good with feelings—and you can see how much he’s struggling right now. The vulnerability on his face is something you’ve only seen a handful of times, and it cuts through you like a knife. 

Finally, he exhales sharply, a sound that’s more like a growl than a breath, and he takes a step forward. His hand reaches out, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before he cups your face, his palm warm against your cold, rain-soaked skin. His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek, the gesture so uncharacteristically gentle for him that it makes your heart ache even more.

“You… fuckin’ idiot,” he mutters, his voice rough and thick with emotion. There’s no anger in his words, though—just a kind of raw frustration and something deeper, something more vulnerable. His crimson eyes are locked on yours, searching your face as if he’s trying to make sure this is real, that you’re not going to disappear on him again. “You think… you think I didn’t fuckin’ want this? That I didn’t want you?”

You blink up at him, the tears still blurring your vision. His voice is cracking in a way you’ve never heard before, and it hits you just how much this means to him. 

“I wanted you,” he says, his hand still cradling your face as he leans in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “Fuck… I still want you.” His voice is raw, the vulnerability bleeding through with every word. “But you…” He swallows hard, his other hand coming up to grip your waist, pulling you just a little bit closer. “You pushed me away. You made me think… I wasn’t enough. Like I wasn’t worth shit to you.”

The pain in his voice is palpable, and it makes your chest ache in a way that feels almost unbearable. You shake your head, your own voice cracking as you try to get the words out. “No. No, Katsuki, that’s not—”

He cuts you off, his grip tightening just slightly, but not in a way that hurts. It’s like he’s holding on to you for dear life, afraid that if he lets go, you’ll disappear again. “You don’t get it,” he mutters, his breath hot against your skin. “No one… no one ever fuckin’ chooses me. Not like this. You think I didn’t want you to come after me? You think I didn’t want you to fight for me?”

His words hit you like a freight train, and you can’t stop the sob that escapes your lips. He’s right. You did push him away. You made him feel like he wasn’t worth it, like he didn’t matter as much as he should have. And now, seeing the pain in his eyes, hearing the hurt in his voice, it feels like a knife twisting in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Katsuki. I was scared, and I didn’t know how to handle it, but I… I love you. I love you so much, and I don’t want to lose you again.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to find the truth in your words. Then, slowly, his expression softens, the hardness in his gaze melting away as he exhales a shaky breath. His thumb brushes over your cheek again, wiping away the fresh tears. 

“Shitty timing,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. In fact, there’s something almost tender in the way he says it, like he’s trying to hold on to his usual roughness, but it’s slipping through his fingers. 

You let out a shaky laugh, your tears still flowing, but now there’s a warmth building in your chest—hope, maybe. You can feel it in the way he’s holding you, in the way his body is slowly relaxing against yours. He still wants you. He still cares.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I know.”

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The rain continues to fall outside, the world around you moving on without care, but in this small space, it’s just the two of you. Just Katsuki and you, standing in the doorway of his apartment, soaked to the bone and hearts laid bare.

Finally, he pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace that leaves no space between you. His chin rests on top of your head, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his heart beats against yours. 

“Don’t run from me again,” he murmurs, his voice gruff but laced with something soft, something tender. “I won’t fuckin’ let you.” 

You nod against his chest, your arms wrapping around him as tightly as you can. “I won’t. I promise.” 

He’s warm and so familiar, and you pull away from the embrace slowly, your fingertips grazing the sharp edge of his jaw as if grounding yourself in the solidity of him. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and there’s a slight tremor in his breath, a vulnerability that only you get to see. With your hands framing his face, you look up into his eyes—those deep, crimson eyes that burn like embers in the dim light of the hallway—and you murmur, “I love you.”

The words are soft but sure, slipping from your lips like a secret, and they hang in the air between you, filling the space with something fragile yet undeniably real. Katsuki’s breath hitches, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that betrays the storm brewing inside him. His hands, which have always been rough, steady, and unyielding, now grip your waist gently, like he's afraid you might vanish if he holds too tightly.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he closes his eyes for the briefest moment, letting the weight of your confession settle inside him, and when he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that you rarely get to see. It’s raw, unguarded, and it steals the air from your lungs. His head dips, and with a shuddering breath, he captures your lips with his own.

The kiss is tender, a slow unfolding of everything unsaid. It’s not rushed or frantic—it’s a return, a homecoming. It feels like stepping back onto familiar shores after being adrift for too long. His lips, warm and firm, taste of all the things you missed, of safety and fire, of passion restrained but not diminished. His kiss is like the first light of dawn breaking across the horizon, soft yet full of promise. It’s the summer sun that melts the tension from your bones, the serene hush of winter’s first snow, the gentle bloom of spring flowers, and the quiet fall of autumn leaves—all of it wrapped into one. A constant rhythm, pure and right, grounding you in the moment.

Before you realize it, he’s pulling you into his apartment, the door shutting behind you with a soft click. Your heels clatter to the floor in the genkan, forgotten as his strong arms wrap around you, lifting you with effortless grace. Your hands find their place again, cradling his jaw, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips seek yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless. You’re weightless in his arms, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he guides you down the familiar hallway, each step measured and deliberate, leading you toward the sanctuary of his bedroom.

The scent of him surrounds you, filling your senses—sharp and smoky, like burning embers, mixed with something inherently Katsuki. You missed this. You missed the way he feels against you, the steady pulse of his heartbeat as it thunders beneath his skin, the way his presence alone fills every corner of the space with warmth.

He lays you gently on the bed, the mattress sinking beneath your weight, and for a moment, he pulls back. The loss of his warmth is brief, but you feel it keenly until he’s tugging his shirt over his head, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, every scar etched into his skin like a map of battles won and lost. His body tells stories—of strength, of endurance, of survival—but all you see is the man who holds you now, the man who wears his heart hidden beneath layers of gruffness and fire.

Your hands move instinctively, tracing the familiar lines of his chest and shoulders. Your fingertips ghost over each scar, each ridge, as if memorizing him all over again. His skin is hot beneath your touch, and your hands curl around the back of his neck, pulling him back to you. His mouth meets yours once more, but this time the kiss is deeper, more urgent, the heat between you building with each passing second.

He welcomes you back like the dawn welcomes the night—slowly, but with an inevitability that feels like fate. His touch is reverent, as if you’re something sacred, something to be cherished. His hands, rough and calloused from years of combat, move with a surprising gentleness as they begin to peel the wet fabric of your dress away from your body. It clings to your skin, soaked through from the rain, but he is patient, his fingers working carefully, unwrapping you from the silk like a gift.

His touch is molten, a slow burn that spreads through you, lighting up every nerve. It’s like molasses—thick, slow, and deliberate—filling the space between you, pulling you deeper into the moment. Katsuki is fire, fierce and untamed, and in his hands, you feel like molten gold, soft and pliable, shaping yourself to the heat of his touch. He moves with purpose, his gaze never leaving yours as he strips away the last barrier between you, leaving you bare beneath him.

When he finally presses his body against yours, skin to skin, it feels like everything you’ve been missing. His warmth envelops you, his presence grounding you in a way that nothing else can. His hands roam over you, tracing every curve, every line, his fingers mapping out the soft planes of your body with a tenderness that contrasts with the fire that burns in his eyes.

There’s something unspoken between you now, something that doesn’t need words. His touch is a silent claim, his fingers skimming over the dips of your waist, the arch of your spine, the softness of your thighs. He knows every inch of you, and yet it feels new all over again, like he’s discovering you for the first time. His hands are steady, but there’s a quiet desperation in the way he holds you, like he’s afraid this moment might slip away if he lets go.

Katsuki’s breath is hot against your skin as he lowers himself down, pressing kisses along your collarbone, down to the hollow of your throat, each one a promise, a vow. His touch is deliberate, a slow, deliberate worship of your body, as if he’s reminding you of everything you are, everything you mean to him. His hands glide over your hips, his fingers brushing the tender skin of your inner thighs, and you arch into him, your breath hitching as you feel the weight of his love in every movement, every touch.

In his arms, you are safe. In his arms, you are whole.

He is fire and strength, and you are his, claimed by the fierce heat that only he can bring. You are molten gold, shaped and refined in the crucible of his love, and together, you burn brighter than the stars.

His lips press against yours, fueled by a newfound hunger, a kind of urgency that pulls a gasp from your throat, a soft whimper that escapes into the space between you. His hands roam your body with a heated reverence, fingers tracing the curves of your waist, the swell of your hips, until one hand dips lower, slipping between your legs. When his finger slides inside you, the sensation is immediate, raw—a sharp intake of breath echoes through him as he feels you clench around him. You’re so warm, so wet, and it sends a shudder down his spine.

You can feel the tremor in him, the restraint, the overwhelming desire bubbling beneath the surface as his forehead presses against yours, breath mingling with yours in the stillness of the room. Another deep pant leaves him as he moves his finger inside you, the motion making you arch into him, your body responding to him as if you were always meant to. But before you can even catch your breath, he pulls away, eyes burning with a fire that ignites something deep inside you, and in one swift motion, he’s pressing his hips against you, rutting the length of his cock against your slick heat.

His body trembles with restraint as he teases you, but soon enough, he can’t hold back. His hand grips your thigh, pulling you closer as he lines himself up, and then he slips inside you—slowly at first, the feeling of him stretching you, filling you, taking you inch by inch until he’s seated fully within you. The world stills, and for a brief moment, it’s just him and you—joined together as one, moving in a rhythm older than time itself.

It feels like floating—weightless, untethered, as if you’re both suspended in the space between worlds. He rolls his hips, a slow, rhythmic tide, and you meet him, each thrust a push and pull, the two of you locked in a quiet dance. It’s like the meeting of the sea and the bioluminescent sands, glowing with heat and light, each touch sparking something deep and primal within you.

You murmur his name, “Katsuki…” your voice breathless and needy, and he responds with a kiss, his lips soft but insistent as they claim yours. He thrusts into you, achingly gentle, his movements precise but tender, each one filled with care. His hips move steadily, his hands cradling your body as though you’re something delicate, something priceless. To him, you’re precious—a masterpiece he’s lucky enough to hold, a delicate thing that he handles with reverence. Every time he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are filled with something deeper than desire—something raw and unspoken, something that ties the two of you together in ways words never could. 

Your hands drift over the hard planes of his chest, tracing the scars that mark his skin—testaments to battles fought and won, to the life he’s lived. Your fingers explore the rough edges of his body, skimming over the taut muscles that ripple beneath his skin, and the stubble along his jaw that scratches lightly against your fingertips. Each touch is full of reverence, because to you, Katsuki isn’t just a work of art; he’s a force of nature. He’s beauty in its rawest form, an Adonis sculpted from lava and tempered by explosions. He’s the embodiment of power, but beneath it, you feel the vulnerability he only ever reveals to you.

Your hands continue to explore his body, memorizing every part of him. You thumb the scars along his shoulders, fingers dancing along the ridges of his abs, and as you do, you marvel at how someone so strong, so unyielding, can be so gentle, so loving. He moves inside you with reverence, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot and heavy against your lips. His body presses down against yours, the heat of him sinking into your bones as he thrusts deeper, driving you further into the mattress. His movements are unhurried but deliberate, each one building on the last until the tension in your body coils tight. 

And then it snaps, the pleasure washing over you in waves, pulling you under as you come undone beneath him. His name is the only thing you can manage, whispered over and over like a mantra, like a promise, your hands clutching at him as though he’s the only thing anchoring you to this moment. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes, not from sadness but from the overwhelming emotion of it all—of being with him like this, of feeling loved, cherished.

Katsuki follows you into that blissful fall, his own body trembling as he reaches his release. A broken moan escapes him, raw and guttural, his forehead pressing into the crook of your neck as he holds you close, his thrusts slowing to a stop. His breath is warm against your skin as he cups your cheeks, tilting your face toward him for a kiss that’s softer now, full of unspoken words and emotions too heavy to name.

When he pulls back, his forehead resting gently against yours, his eyes flicker open, and you see everything in them—gold, violet, amber, the brightest and most precious colors shimmering in the depths of his gaze. It’s as though he holds the universe within him, and all of it is focused on you. His lips brush against yours, the softest of touches, and he whispers in that deep, gravelly voice, “I love you too.”

The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, but they’re happy tears, and you blink them away as you smile. You press another kiss to his lips, your heart full, knowing that whatever happens next, you’ve found your way back to him. 

And that’s all that matters.

The aftermath is a world all its own—silent, untouched by the chaos that exists beyond the walls of his bedroom. 

Here, in the quiet glow of the moonlight, everything feels simple. The unspoken tension and complicated emotions that usually color the spaces between you seem to fade, leaving only this moment. It’s just you and Katsuki, wrapped up in each other, connected by something deeper than words could ever capture.

You’re cradled against him, his body solid and warm beneath you. His fingers trace slow, languid lines up and down your side, a repetitive, soothing motion that makes you feel grounded. Your own fingers mirror his, lazily drawing circles over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths under your touch. The scent of him—burnt caramel, cloves, sandalwood—wraps around you like a familiar blanket. It’s intoxicating and comforting, a part of him that feels so deeply etched into you now, as permanent as carvings on an ancient tree.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The stillness is sacred. But then, as if the weight of everything unsaid finds its way to your lips, you break the silence. "You know," you whisper, your voice soft as it brushes against the darkness, “today I realized that I deserve to take a break. To stop running away from everything.”

Katsuki’s fingers still for a moment on your skin, but then he leans down slightly, a silent acknowledgment that he’s listening. His hand rests at your hip, grounding you both.

“And… and you do too,” you continue, your voice growing a little stronger, though still fragile. "Your mom’s always on you about taking a vacation, right?" You feel his chest rise sharply beneath your head, his body stiffening just slightly. You take a shaky breath, pushing forward with the thought that’s been growing in your mind. “So… I booked two tickets. In the car. On my way here. To Indonesia. A luxury vacation. The plane leaves tomorrow morning.”

For a second, the world pauses. Katsuki freezes, his hand stopping mid-motion, his entire body going still as if he’s trying to process the words. Slowly, he leans up, propping himself on his elbows, his gaze searching your face with a mix of disbelief and confusion. His fingers find your chin, tipping your face toward him so your eyes meet. “You did what?” His voice is low, rough, not quite angry but edged with a bewilderment that you rarely see from him.

You lean into his touch, your heart swelling at the feel of his calloused fingers against your skin. “I want to go away with you,” you say, your voice steady and honest. “I’m tired, and you’re tired, and I just… I want to be with the man I love. To take time for us. Away from everything.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of his breathing. His chest rises and falls beneath you, each breath coming in measured, as if he’s trying to contain the flood of emotions threatening to break through. His jaw tightens, muscles clenching as he looks at you, something raw and vulnerable flickering in his gaze.

It’s like he can’t believe it. Like he’s struggling to understand that you, here in this moment, are choosing him. That you’ve made this grand, impulsive decision for him—for both of you. His eyes dart away, unable to hold your gaze, his throat bobbing as he swallows thickly. You watch the way his emotions twist inside him, how they tangle up in his mind like a storm that he can’t quite put into words. You can see it all—the disbelief, the hesitation, the way this feels too good to be real for him.

He doesn’t speak, but the weight of his silence says everything. For someone like Katsuki, someone who’s spent his whole life being told he’s too much, too harsh, too aggressive—it’s hard to let himself be wanted like this. To be chosen. And it breaks your heart a little, knowing that this is how deep his vulnerability runs, how much he’s carried on his own without ever asking for anything.

Gently, you reach up, brushing your thumb along his jaw, guiding his face back toward yours. “You deserve this too, Katsuki,” you whisper. “You deserve to take a break. To just… be with someone who loves you.” Your voice softens, a faint crack in the quiet. “Let me love you.”

His breath stutters at those words, his eyes meeting yours again, this time filled with something deeper—something fragile. His hands tighten on your body, and for a moment, you think he might say something. But then, he just exhales shakily, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

You can feel the tension slowly leaving his body, the weight of his resistance melting away as he allows himself to accept what you’re offering. He doesn’t speak, not yet, but his lips brush against yours in the softest of kisses, and you know he’s heard you.

It’s a moment of surrender, not just to you but to the idea that he can have this—that he’s allowed to be loved like this. And as you both lay there, tangled in each other, you realize that this is the start of something new. 

Something real. 

Something that, for once, feels like it’s yours to keep.

There has to be someone sabotaging Tsukiyo, you think. There’s no way this could happen two Fashion Weeks in a row—the final outfits not fitting again.

It’s déjà vu. Minase looks like she’s on the verge of a breakdown. The tension in the room is thick as assistants, stylists, and tailors dart around like bees in a hive, scrambling to fix the chaos unfolding before them. You’re sitting in the same spot you were last time, watching the chaos but strangely calm, Amanai seated beside you. The familiarity of it all is almost comical.

“This can’t just be bad luck, right? Someone has to be sabotaging the brand,” you muse aloud, watching Amanai get her hair touched up while your own makeup artist carefully layers shimmer onto your eyelids. 

Amanai snorts, tilting her head slightly as the stylist adjusts a stray curl. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But at this point, I’m almost used to it. Minase will just do what she always does. Cut some outfits and make sure the important ones fit. These are summer pieces anyway—more skin showing means less fabric to worry about.”

You chuckle, a tired sound that mingles with the hum of panic around you. The Spring/Summer collection is about fluidity and celestial romance, staying true to Tsukiyo’s ethereal identity. You’re supposed to embody that dreamlike essence, but right now it feels more like a fever dream than a romantic one.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. She always manages to pull something off.”

Like clockwork, Minase’s voice cuts through the frenzy. “We’re cutting some outfits!” she announces, her voice laced with an edge of barely-contained frustration. “We’ll focus on the most important pieces. It’ll shorten the show, but it’s all we can do.” She turns to one of the stylists, rubbing her temples with a groan. “At least The Celestial Ripple Dress still fits,” she mutters under her breath, almost as if she's trying to convince herself that this won't be a complete disaster.

You exhale, grateful that your outfit isn’t one of the ones causing trouble. 

With hair and makeup done, you’re hurried to the fitting room, where the assistants and tailors usher you into your first outfit of the night: The Sakura Veil Jumpsuit. It’s an airy, pastel pink piece, with floral appliqués floating on a sheer overlay. The deep V-neckline glimmers with crystal embellishments, catching the light as you move. You feel the soft iridescent embroidery brush against your skin, mimicking the delicate movement of petals in the wind.

It’s snug, but the tailors make some quick adjustments, and soon enough, you’re able to walk comfortably in it. With one final touch-up to your hair and makeup, you prepare yourself for the runway, the whirlwind of activity swirling around you like an unseen storm.

Amanai and Hanari are already at the curtains, peeking out at the venue. Amanai is dressed in The Moonlit Nomad Ensemble, a layered kimono-inspired blazer in misty gray, paired with fluid silk palazzo trousers that make her look like she’s gliding. Embroidered constellations shimmer faintly on the blazer, cinched at the waist with a metallic indigo belt, adding a regal structure to the otherwise ethereal look. 

Hanari is draped in The Ocean Mirage Dress, a sky-blue gown made of sheer layers of chiffon that ripple like water. The bodice is structured with wave-like 3D elements, flowing seamlessly into a skirt of cascading ruffles edged with micro-crystals that glitter with every movement.

Amanai turns to you, her expression calm despite the chaos. “So? Ready?”

You smile wryly, adjusting your boots. “I think so. Just hope I don’t face-plant. These boots are a little slippery, and I don’t think I can handle the embarrassment of falling in front of everyone.”

Hanari snorts, barely suppressing her laughter. “Just make sure to fall gracefully, then. That’ll still fit the theme, right?”

You all share a brief moment of amusement, but soon enough, it’s time to get serious. The smirks and giggles are quickly replaced with the practiced poise of professionals. 

Time to focus.

One by one, you step onto the runway. Hanari goes first, her gown flowing like liquid, followed by Amanai, whose ensemble glints subtly in the soft lighting. Finally, it’s your turn.

The second your foot touches the glossy floor of the runway, the world condenses into a singular moment. The backstage chaos falls away like a distant memory, and all that remains is the rhythmic click of your boots against the floor and the steady pulse of your own breath. The lights are blinding, but you keep your gaze forward, your body moving with effortless grace. You’ve done this a hundred times, but tonight, there’s something sharper about your focus, something more intense.

The audience fades into the background, their murmurs barely registering in your mind. Each step feels deliberate, every movement controlled. You feel the fabric of your jumpsuit shift against your skin, the weight of the crystals on your chest catching the light as you move. The shimmering appliqués float as if alive, and you become a part of Tsukiyo’s dreamscape—an ethereal figure, moving through a world of starlight and fluid beauty.

As you near the end of the runway, you pause, turning slowly to give the audience a full view of the outfit. You hold your head high, projecting an aura of quiet confidence. 

You turn on your heel, making your way back down the runway with steady, deliberate steps, the sound of your boots echo with each click, vibrating deep in your chest. There’s a practiced grace to your movement, but every step feels charged with a weight that goes beyond the runway. You remind yourself to stay poised, to let the outfit speak through your body, through your calm. The audience’s eyes are still on you, but their murmurs barely pierce your bubble of focus.

When you finally step off the runway, a quiet exhale of relief escapes your lips. You feel your muscles relax, but only slightly. There’s still one more outfit to showcase—the most important one of the night. As you slip into the organized frenzy of backstage, assistants swarm you with quick, precise hands, ushering you toward the fitting area for the final look: The Celestial Ripple Dress.

The jumpsuit slides off with ease, and in its place, the assistants fit the silk of the Celestial Ripple Dress against your skin. The fabric feels like liquid, molding to you as though it’s alive. The iridescence of the material shifts between hues of lavender and warm peach, flickering like the first light of dawn. The architectural collar frames your neck and shoulders, delicate patterns flowing from it like lacework, lending you a regal air. The beaded obi-style belt cinches your waist, and as you glance down, you admire the laser-cut lace at the hem, each detail a testament to the craftsmanship of the design.

It’s a vision, a dream, and as you catch your reflection, you feel like a celestial being. But the reality of what’s about to come slams back into you with the controlled chaos around you—stylists pulling at your hair, makeup artists adding touches of shimmer to your already glowing skin. You still carry a faint tan from your trip to Indonesia two months ago, and the subtle golden tone contrasts beautifully against the soft tones of the dress.

Before you can fully immerse yourself in the calm before the storm, Minase appears at your side, her energy frantic but precise. She adjusts a few last details on the dress, her fingers working quickly.

“Listen,” she starts, her voice low but urgent. “Remember what I told you. Confidence. You need to own this moment. Make sure every single person in that room sees you—sees the dress. And that final pose?” She gives you a meaningful look, her eyes wide with intensity. “It has to be perfect. You need to look like you’ve stepped straight out of the stars. When the lights dim, and you see those white LEDs flicker, that’s your cue. Got it?”

You nod, giving her a reassuring smile despite the nerves twisting in your stomach. “Don’t worry, I got this.”

Minase’s eyes flicker with a mix of tension and trust, and she nods before stepping back to allow the final touch-ups. The makeup artists dab a bit more highlighter on your cheekbones, and the hair stylists smooth out the last few tendrils framing your face, ensuring everything is in place.

As you take a deep breath, steadying yourself, the assistants guide you toward the runway entrance. Your pulse races, but the adrenaline is steadying, sharpening your focus. Around you, the backstage murmurs grow softer, almost muted against the steady beat of your own heart. Several people wish you luck as you pass, but their words blur into the background as your mind narrows into a singular focus: the final walk. Amanai and Hanari catch your eye from the side, their reassuring smiles grounding you in the moment. You return the smile, grateful for their support, but you know that no amount of encouragement can ease the pressure bearing down on you.

The runway lights begin to dim, casting the space into an ethereal shadow. The energy in the room shifts—hushed but charged with anticipation. A shiver of excitement runs through you as the white LED lights flicker, signaling the start of your walk. 

Here we go.

You step onto the runway, and the moment your heels hit the floor, every pair of eyes in the room locks onto you. The dress catches the dim light, shimmering like a pool of liquid starlight, and with each step, the fabric shifts between hues, casting soft reflections across the room. The collar frames your face, a delicate extension of your own elegance, and the beaded belt accentuates your silhouette, guiding every movement with a subtle grace.

The world seems to fall away again. It’s just you, the runway, and the audience. You walk with the kind of confidence Minase drilled into you—a confidence that commands attention, yet exudes an effortless air. The hem of the dress whispers against your legs as you move, the intricate lace catching the softest hints of light with every step.

You hear the faint click of cameras, the subtle murmurs of awe from the audience, but it all blends into the background. In this moment, you are no longer just a model walking the runway; you are the embodiment of Tsukiyo’s celestial dream, a being that belongs to the stars.

As you approach the end of the runway, you pause, turning gracefully to give the audience one last view of the dress. The delicate collar flares slightly as you move, and you hold your final pose—a celestial queen, untouchable yet mesmerizing. You feel the weight of the moment, the pressure, but also the thrill of it. The audience is enraptured, their eyes drinking in every detail, and for a heartbeat, the world seems to hold its breath with you.

And then you turn, gliding back down the runway with the same deliberate grace. The energy in the room hums, and you can feel the attention still on you, as if the entire space is caught in the glow of your presence. 

As you step off the runway, the weight of the night slowly lifts from your shoulders, and you release a deep sigh of relief. The adrenaline that had been pumping through your veins starts to ease, leaving you with a calm satisfaction. “Good job!” echoes from all around you, stylists and assistants offering you quick words of praise as you make your way further backstage. 

Minase rushes toward you, her arms enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug, squeezing tightly. You return the hug, a wide smile spreading across your face. You know you did good tonight—really good. 

The look on Minase’s face is proof of it. 

You’ve done it again. 

The afterparty is in full swing by the time you arrive. 

The warm hum of low conversation and soft jazz mixes with the gentle clink of glasses. Dim lighting washes the room in an intimate glow, as glittering gowns and sleek tuxedos fill the luxurious space. The familiar click of your heels echoes against the polished marble floor, blending into the cadence of the night. Your eyes sweep the crowd, taking in the lavish surroundings, but you're instantly drawn to Amanai and Hanari, who are comfortably seated near the bar, their faces bright with laughter.

You’re dressed in a liquid gold slip dress that shimmers like molten metal with every movement. The delicate spaghetti straps highlight your shoulders, and the draped cowl neckline adds a touch of sensuality, balancing elegance and allure perfectly. The fabric clings to your body just enough to accentuate your figure before pooling subtly at your feet in a way that feels ethereal, otherworldly. Every step you take makes the high-shine metallic fabric catch the soft lighting, creating a fluid, rippling effect as though you’re a goddess dipped in gold. Paired with minimalist strappy heels, you feel the kind of confidence that only comes with wearing something that makes you feel utterly captivating.

But before you can reach Amanai and Hanari, you feel the familiar warmth of a hand sliding against your back. You already know who it is before you even turn around. There’s no mistaking the touch, the possessive yet gentle slide of a palm against your spine, the electric tension that runs through your body when he’s near.

A slow smile curls onto your lips before you even look over your shoulder, and when you finally glance back, your heart gives a small flutter as you meet Katsuki’s gaze. His expression is amused, eyes glinting with that familiar intensity you know so well. The edges of his mouth are curved slightly upward, a rare smirk tugging at his lips as if he’s just as aware of the magnetic pull between the two of you.

“Hi,” you breathe, the word barely a whisper as you turn fully toward him.

Without a second thought, your hand comes up, fingers curling lightly around his strong jaw, guiding his face down to yours. The kiss that follows is soft, slow, and searing. There’s something intoxicating about the way his lips move against yours, the way he holds back, teasing, yet still letting you feel the depth of his affection. When you pull away, you press another quick kiss to his lips, something playful. His eyes are half-lidded, lazy but brimming with affection, a softness in his expression that only you ever get to see.

Katsuki presses a kiss to your thumb, his lips warm against your skin. You wipe the smudge of lip gloss from his lips with your thumb, a soft chuckle escaping you. “You didn’t answer my texts,” you say quietly, your voice carrying a playful edge. “I didn’t know if you’d already arrived or not.”

He lets out a tch, glancing over his shoulder toward the back of the room where his friends are lounging. “Came with Shitty Hair and the others,” he mutters, nodding toward Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina. They’re grinning and waving at you like a bunch of excited kids. You smile and wave back, but your focus quickly returns to Katsuki.

“You did good out there,” he says, his voice almost too soft for him, but it’s laced with pride. It sends warmth flooding through your chest.

“You think so?” you ask, searching his face, feeling your heart swell when you see the genuine admiration in his eyes.

He hums, nodding slightly. “Yeah.” His tone is gruff, but the sincerity is clear.

You tease him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “So, I looked good then?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes in that familiar way of his, but the corner of his mouth quirks up. “You always do,” he mutters, his hands slipping down to rest on your hips, his thumb brushing the fabric of your dress. There’s an understated affection in his touch, like he’s always more comfortable showing his feelings through actions rather than words.

Your fingers smooth over the fabric of his blazer, admiring the sharp, tailored fit of his all-black ensemble. He looks effortlessly handsome, dressed in a sleek black blazer with subtle metallic details that add an edge to the classic silhouette. The buttoned-up dress shirt underneath enhances his sharp jawline, and the wide-leg pleated trousers give him a sense of casual elegance. He looks sophisticated, polished, but still undeniably him. 

Your Katsuki.

“Well, you look pretty good yourself,” you say, your smile widening as you take in his appearance, your hands lingering on his chest. “Real handsome.”

He scoffs again, but you catch the faint blush dusting his cheeks, and it makes you smile even more. He always does this—acts tough, but you know how much your words affect him. His fingers flex against your waist, a small tell that he’s pleased.

He still has a faint tan from your trip to Indonesia, and the memory stirs a warm ache in your chest. It's hard to believe it's been two months since that whirlwind adventure. You can still picture the lush rice fields, ancient temples, breathtaking sunsets, traditional villages, and those perfect beaches.

Indonesia had been like a dream. 

It was everything you both needed. The two of you sat down and talked, really talked, about your feelings. Katsuki had opened up in his own gruff way, admitting how he felt after walking out of your apartment that day—how he wasn’t sure if he was just a fling or something more. You shared your own fears, how you’d been too scared to admit to yourself how much he meant to you.

And in that moment, everything felt right. 

The rest of the vacation was a dream—relaxing on the beach, hiking through the jungles, trying local food, and, of course, spending every night tangled in each other’s arms. You hadn’t realized how much you missed his touch, his voice, until you had it again. Every morning and night spent wrapped in him felt like a piece of you had been restored.

And now, you’re dating. Officially; something you hadn’t dared to hope for before the trip, and the thought still makes your heart race sometimes.

“So, I look good now as well?” you tease, a playful glint in your eyes as you step closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body.

Katsuki raises a brow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His thumb brushes over the golden necklace around your neck—the one with the first kanji of his name as the pendant, a gift he gave you after the trip. His other hand remains firm against your back, his touch grounding you.

“‘Course you do,” he mumbles, voice low and steady, filled with that quiet, unspoken affection only he can give.

“Sweet talker,” you tease softly, your lips quirking into a smile as you gently smooth a hand down Katsuki’s chest. His warmth seeps through the fabric of his sleek black blazer, grounding you in this moment of intimacy. 

He raises a brow but doesn’t refute it, letting your words settle with that usual gruffness, though you can see the faint trace of a smirk playing at the edge of his lips. “Let me say hi to the girls, then I’ll join you at your table, okay?” 

He nods and leans in, pressing a soft, quick kiss to your lips, and you can feel the possessiveness in the way he lingers for just a second longer than needed. His lips brush against yours with a tenderness that feels almost out of character, but you know it’s him—Katsuki showing affection in his own way. You pull away and pat his chest, turning to make your way toward Amanai and Hanari at the bar. 

You glide through the room, feeling the eyes on you once more—not from the runway this time, but from the afterparty’s crowd. Your golden slip dress catches the ambient light, shimmering like liquid gold with every step. You’re in your element, but your heart is still wrapped up in Katsuki’s touch, in the way he looks at you like you're the center of his world, even in a room filled with people.

Greeting Amanai and Hanari doesn’t take long—just a quick exchange of hugs and a few words of praise for your performance on the runway. You laugh softly as they gush over your dress, the compliments filling you with warmth, but there’s an eagerness to get back to Katsuki. 

By the time you return to his table, he already has a drink waiting for you, of course. He always pays attention to the details, even when he pretends not to. As you approach, you quickly go around the group, greeting everyone with hugs and smiles. Kirishima gives you a bear hug, Kaminari’s enthusiasm is infectious, and Mina’s wide grin feels like a mirror to your own.

“You looked so cool!” Kaminari practically bounces in his seat, his eyes wide with admiration. 

Sero, his usual laid-back self, nods in approval while toying with an unlit cigarette between his lips. He smirks. “Yeah, you killed it out there. Not surprised, though.”

You settle into your spot beside Katsuki, his arm naturally wrapping around your waist as you lean into his solid frame. His presence is comforting—like a rock in the midst of the swirling energy around you. You smile and shrug modestly. “Thanks, guys. I’m just glad that starting tomorrow, I have a few days off. A mini vacation before the real work starts.”

It feels good to let that thought settle in—time to recharge before diving back into the hectic world of photoshoots and campaigns. You’ve been looking forward to this breather for weeks now.

Kirishima, always the supportive one, grins at you. “Good for you! You should take all the time you need.” His warm, encouraging tone is typical of him, and it only adds to the sense of relief that washes over you.

Mina hums in agreement, her bright eyes twinkling as she takes a sip from her drink. “Yeah, you deserve it. Fashion Week looked intense this year.”

You nod, feeling the tiredness start to creep in, but it’s a good kind of exhaustion—the kind that comes after you’ve given it your all. “It was, but honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s just… fulfilling, you know?”

Katsuki’s hand tightens slightly around your waist at your words, his quiet approval always there even when he doesn’t voice it. His presence beside you, even in these small moments, is grounding. He’s never one to shower you with compliments in public, but his actions—the way he holds you close, the way he’s always there when you need him—speak volumes.

Mina leans in, her smile mischievous. “So, what’s the plan for your mini vacation? You and Bakugou jetting off somewhere?”

Katsuki scoffs, his eyes flicking toward her with mild annoyance, but you catch the subtle way his hand remains on your back, protective and reassuring. You laugh softly. “We haven’t decided yet. Maybe something low-key. Relaxing.”

Kaminari nudges Sero with a grin. “Bet it’ll involve lots of… relaxing.”

You roll your eyes, chuckling at the innuendo, while Katsuki gives Kaminari a warning glare that shuts him up quickly. “Keep talkin’, Sparky, and you’ll regret it.”

“Jeez, I’m just kidding, man,” Kaminari holds his hands up in surrender, laughing nervously. 

You smile and lean your head against Katsuki’s shoulder, feeling his body relax under your touch. “Honestly, I’m just excited to spend some time with this guy. We don’t get enough of that these days.”

At that, Katsuki glances down at you, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “We’ll figure something out.” His voice is low, private, as though the two of you are the only ones in the room.

You smile softly, leaning up to kiss Katsuki’s cheek. The subtle gesture of affection makes his face flush slightly, but he keeps his composure by pretending to sip on his drink, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone. It’s a small, rare show of his vulnerability, the way his cool façade slips just for you. Even though he’s trying to play it off, you can feel the warmth in his posture, the way his arm tenses slightly as if to pull you closer. 

His friends, however, are far from oblivious. Kaminari and Mina are practically glowing with grins as they exchange glances, amused by the way Katsuki tries so hard to act nonchalant. Kirishima's grin is wide and genuine, clearly happy for his best friend. They know this side of him, the softer side he shows only to you, and it’s a sight they cherish—though they’d never dare tease him about it, not seriously anyway.

“I just want somewhere with a beach,” you continue, keeping the conversation flowing as you sip your drink. “Maybe Okinawa. Maybe the Caribbean. I’m still figuring it out with our schedules, too.” Your voice is light, relaxed, but the longing for a break is evident in the way you speak. The whirlwind of fashion shows and shoots, though thrilling, has left you craving some time away—a place where you can unwind and just be.

Katsuki’s thumb absentmindedly strokes your waist as you speak, his subtle way of showing that he’s listening, even if he doesn’t say much.

“But I do know that I need a break,” you laugh softly, the exhaustion creeping into your tone, though it’s balanced with a sense of excitement for whatever comes next. “Something relaxing, somewhere far away from all of this chaos.”

Kaminari nods in understanding, his carefree grin softening into something a bit more thoughtful. “No, I get it. This whole thing is a lot, and you’ve been working hard. You gotta enjoy some time off.” His words are simple, but there’s an appreciation in his tone for the effort you’ve been putting in. Hero work, modeling, it’s all a lot, and sometimes people forget how much goes on behind the scenes.

You nod in agreement, grateful for his words, and the conversation begins to shift. Soon enough, they start talking about their hero work—patrols, training sessions, recent missions. You find yourself listening more than speaking, content to let the conversation flow around you. Your hand rests on Katsuki’s thigh, the soft fabric of his trousers warm under your palm. Absentmindedly, you run your fingers up and down, feeling the solid muscle beneath your touch. It’s a comforting gesture, one that feels natural between the two of you now, and you notice how it subtly relaxes him.

Katsuki, who usually has a sharp edge in his voice when he talks, is different tonight. His gruff tone is still there—because that’s just him—but it’s not harsh. He doesn’t bark his words or throw in as many biting remarks. When he speaks, it’s with measured authority, chiming in with his own thoughts on their hero work without dominating the conversation. He’s relaxed, at ease with you at his side.

You catch snippets of the conversation: Kaminari rambling about a recent mission that went awry, Sero and Mina debating the best techniques for urban rescue, Kirishima enthusiastically talking about new training regimens. Katsuki listens, occasionally grumbling an opinion or a sarcastic comment, but you can feel the quiet respect between him and his friends. They look up to him, even when they joke around, and he, in his own way, values their friendship deeply.

Every now and then, Katsuki’s hand moves to your back, brushing against your skin as if to remind himself that you’re still here, grounding him. It’s a small gesture, but it makes your heart flutter every time.

You gaze at him—really look at him—and it hits you: your boyfriend is like a supernova. His eyes, red but gleaming gold in the light, his messy blonde hair somehow still effortlessly handsome, and the way he fills out that sleek black blazer and those perfectly tailored pants. He looks absolutely irresistible.

And then, an idea starts to take shape in your mind.

You can’t help but grin mischievously, leaning further into Katsuki's side. You press a quick, feather-light kiss against the corner of his jaw when no one's looking, letting your fingers lazily trace patterns on his thigh. Your foot slides up and down along his ankle, a slow, deliberate tease that makes him stiffen slightly, his breath catching in his throat. For just a moment, his usual composure falters, and you feel the way his muscles tense under your touch.

A wicked grin spreads across your face as you lean in close to whisper, your breath warm against his ear, "Meet me in the bathroom from last time."

Katsuki’s sharp inhale is barely audible, but you hear it, and it only makes your grin widen. His reaction is perfect—a mixture of shock and anticipation. He tries to maintain his cool, but you can feel the tension radiating off of him, his grip on the glass in his hand tightening just slightly.

You pull back as if nothing happened, your expression innocent as you stand up. "I’m just heading to the bathroom," you tell the group with a casual smile, and no one bats an eye. But Katsuki knows better. His gaze follows you, smoldering, even as he tries to act unaffected.

With a teasing sway of your hips, you walk away, knowing full well that he's watching. The sounds of the party fade as you make your way to the more secluded part of the venue, the quiet settling around you. There’s a pleasant thrum in your body, the buzz of alcohol adding to the heady anticipation that builds with each step. You move through the hallways with ease, your heart pounding just a bit faster as you turn the familiar corners.

Slipping inside the private bathroom, you take a moment to check your reflection. The liquid gold of your dress shimmers under the soft lighting, clinging perfectly to your curves. You snap a few mirror selfies, the excitement bubbling up inside you, and even take a moment to fix your makeup. 

A few minutes pass before you hear the door creak open behind you. Katsuki slips inside, his presence filling the small room immediately. His face is flushed, his usual scowl more pronounced, but you can tell he’s fighting it—his embarrassment, his frustration at how easily you get to him. It makes you laugh, a soft, teasing sound that fills the space.

"Don't look so grumpy," you tease, turning to face him fully. "You're about to get the best head ever, honey."

His ears turn an even deeper shade of red, the blush spreading across his neck, but all he can manage is a low, unintelligible grumble. He looks almost flustered, which is rare for him, and it only makes you smile wider. Before you can say anything else, he steps forward, wrapping his arms around your waist, his body pressing against yours from behind. His breath is warm against your skin as he buries his nose in the crook of your shoulder, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss there.

The warmth of his mouth on your skin sends a shiver down your spine. His lips linger for a moment, soft and deliberate, before he pulls back, resting his head against yours. He’s relaxed now, his earlier tension melting away as his eyes become heavy-lidded, the earlier scowl gone. His hands stay firmly on your waist, holding you close, and you can feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest behind you.

You smile at both of your reflections in the mirror—Katsuki looking uncharacteristically soft, his gaze half-lidded and affectionate, while you’re practically glowing with warmth. It’s moments like this that remind you of why you love him so much. Despite the brash exterior, the sharp words, and the gruff demeanor, he’s always so gentle with you. He’s always so careful, so loving, in a way that makes you feel treasured.

"I love you," you say softly, turning your head to press a kiss on his cheek. He lets you, his lips curving into a faint smile before he tilts his head to capture your lips in a soft, whispery kiss. It’s slow, tender, and full of unspoken affection, his way of saying what he’s never been good at putting into words. 

"Love you too," he mumbles against your lips, the words barely audible but sincere.

The simple exchange fills you with a sense of warmth, but you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face next. "Now, let’s get down to business," you say, your voice light with amusement.

Katsuki snorts, rolling his eyes, but there’s a trace of a smirk on his lips. "Yeah," he grumbles, his tone playful, "let’s get down to business."

You laugh softly, your heart swelling as you realize—this is your life now. Moments like this, the quiet intimacy, the teasing, the shared affection—it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of it. 

With Katsuki, it’s always exciting, always a perfect blend of passion and tenderness. 

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

final notes:

thanks for sticking around and for reading! this was such a fun story to write, and i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did.

here is my ko-fi :) as some of you may know, i’ve been sick and haven’t been able to work as much, so any support would mean a lot. no pressure, of course!

again, thank you so much, and until next time!

[devildomditzy]

You’re late for your date.

Like, Late late.

And of course, if the situation were switched, you wouldn’t have minded.

In fact, you would have expected it.

But you are you and Mammon is Mammon.

So of course, his leniency for being ignored is next to zero.

He leans against the front door inside the common room of the House of Lamentation. And he looks at his watch.

4:00

4:00

You’re an hour late.

And of course, Mammon tried to play it cool at first, swiping through his D.D.D with an unimpressed look on his face. He’s cool. Nonchalant. His brothers can’t know he’s internally freaking out;

Because he’s totally not.

Of course not. No way. Not over you of all people.

But he can’t hide the jitters so graciously given to him by his nervous system.

“Are you being stood up?”, Satan calls from a nearby armchair in the room, not bothering to look up from what he’s reading.

“I ain’t being stood up! They’ll be here, they’re just…busy. Yeah, that’s it. They’re busy.”

Asmo lays upside down on the couch, scrolling on his own D.D.D.

“Of course they stood him up, they’d much rather go on a date with mwah”, he gloats from his position.

“Oi! Shut up will ya?!”, Mammon screams back, now standing rigidly, hands balled up at his side in anger, leaning into the conversation, ready to make it an argument.

As he takes another breath to get a word out, Satan cuts him off.

“Where were you going anyway?”

“Yeah, where?”, Asmo brightly echos back.

Mammon sighs, body relaxing as he slouches back into his leaning position.

“We were supposed to go to Devil Coast ‘bout an hour ago. But of course MC ain’t got a bone of urgency in their body.”

He grunts, frustratingly looking down at his D.D.D. Twenty-five messages. No replies. What was up with ya?

Asmo cackles wildly, “Maybe they forgot about you, hm?”

Mammon’s face begins to heat up with anger.

“Listen here you little-”

Satan once again cuts him off. “We all know there’s no way they’d forget about Mammon. He’s much too loud”, he says, turning his page.

“Would y’all shuddup? Jeez”, Mammon’s tone becomes lethal in a way his brothers know they should stop pushing, so they do, shooting each other concerned glances.

“Have they texted you back at all?”, questions Satan.

Mammon sighs, “No, not yet.”

He looks down at his phone, scrolling through your message thread.

2:50 PM

Mammon: Yo! Ready to go?

Mammon: I’m by the front door, I’ll be waitin’ for ya.

Mammon: Remember to bring your coat ya dummy, cause I ain’t letting’ you borrow mine this time!

Mammon: Okay

Mammon: Maybe I would let ya borrow it if you really needed it and were shivering and stuff and needed The Great Mammon’s help to warm ya up.

Mammon: But you gotta say please 😜

2:57 PM

Mammon: Alright, where are ya?

Mammon: Thought we agreed on 3:00

Mammon: Do ya need more time gettin’ ready?

Mammon: Tryin’ to look good for your first, huh?

Mammon: I’ll wait a little longer for ya.

3:10 PM

Mammon: Hurry it up, will ya?

Mammon: I understand wantin’ to look nice, but it’s ten after! Ten!

Mammon: Ya know, you’re the only human that keeps me waitin’ like this!

3:30 PM

Mammon: Okay, yer bein’ kinda ridiculous right now.

Mammon: I mean come on, ya gotta date with Mammon. THE Mammon. Ya know how lucky you are?

Mammon: Alotta people would kill to be in your position.

3:35 PM

Mammon: But of course I wouldn’t go with them. I wouldn’t go on a date with anyone but you, okay?

Mammon: That’s why you need to get yer ass down here!

3:40 PM

Mammon: You’ve got some nerve makin’ THE Mammon wait around for ya!

3:45 PM

Mammon: Whatever, isn’t like I wanted to go out with ya anyway.

Mammon: I was doin’ this for you, ya know.

Mammon: Why would I wanna be see around with some lousy human?

Mammon: What am I, yer babysitter?

3:55 PM

Mammon: Look, I didn’t mean that, alright?

Mammon: Please come down.

“Are you sure they’re not asleep?”, Satan ponders curiously.

“Nah, I don’t think so. We’ve been talkin’ about this for weeks”, Mammon says defeatedly, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“Are you sure they’re okay?”, Asmo asks, voice laced with concern.

“Okay?!”, Mammon shoots his attention to the avatar of lust. “Wah- what- why wouldn’t they be okay?”

Asmo looks around sheepishly, bringing his nails up to his lips to bite them, something he never does unless he’s either A) super stressed or B) covering something up.

Mammon steps towards his brother, anger beginning to boil, knowing what his mannerisms mean. “Whadda you know that I don’t?! C’mon, spill it!”

The urgency in his voice compels Asmo to speak, knowing how sensitive his brother is when it comes to you.

“Well… I promised them I wouldn’t tell you…”

“Tell me what?!”

His brother remains quiet for a moment.

“Asmo…”, Mammon threatens dangerously.

“Ugh, okay I’ll tell you”, Asmo sighs, mumbling quickly under his breath, “MC, please forgive me!”

Mammon stares at his brother impatiently as he starts,

“Well, MC came to me the other day after class. I knew something was wrong because there were tears in their beautiful eyes”, Asmo lays his hand across his forehead as if he were faint.

“Skip the dramatics and keep talkin’!”

“Okay, sheesh. So MC came to me and told me they haven’t been feeling very good lately.”

“What, are they sick or somthin’?”

“No no, nothing like that. More like, their brain feels sick? They said they don’t really know why, but they’ve been feeling bad about themselves lately - which I told them was totally ridiculous! AND I offered them a full makeover WITH facial and they denied it, but that always makes ME feel better.”

Asmo pouts before continuing, “Plus, with all the extra work Lucifer and Lord Diavolo have been giving them with the student council, they said they feel like they’re under so much pressure, they’re gonna crack soon.”

“Why ain’t they tellin’ me any of this!?”

“Because,” Asmo says annoyed, “they don’t want to upset you!”

“What? That’s ridiculous!”, exclaims Mammon.

Asmo matches his volume, “I know right?! That’s what I told them! But they said you were so excited about your date that they didn’t wanna ruin it- hey, where are you going!?”, Asmo yells as Mammon walks out of the room.

“Where’d ya think! I’m gonna go talk to MC!”, Mammon yells back.

So that’s why you weren’t there? You’ve been hurting? For awhile it seems, and you didn’t tell him?

He’s gotta admit, he’s a little hurt. But he knows this isn’t about him right now.

It’s about you.

Mammon didn’t know he would be nervous to see you until he was standing in front of your door. What if says the wrong thing and makes it worse? What if he can’t help you at all? What if he made you feel this way?

Okay. He realizes with that last one that he’s spiraling. Time to fix this.

He lifts a shaky hand to your door, knocking three times rhythmically - the one you know is his knock. And only his.

He cringes when he hears your weak voice choke out a small “come in”.

The room is dark; All the lights are out and it’d be pitch black save for the window next to your bed, illuminating your form, a shivering lump hiding under your blanket.

He lets out a sigh as he walks further in. He should have known about this. He should have been able to pick up on this. Boyfriend of the year, huh?

You sniffle as you pop your head out from under your hiding place.

“H-hey Mams”, you hiccup, giving away the tears that still stream down your face. “I-I’m sorry I ruined our date. I should have texted you, I-I just…”

Mammon walks till he’s leaning right over you, hands on his hips. “Uh-uh, I don’t care about that right now. What I do care about is you, mainly why didn’t ya tell me you were feelin’ like this before our date?”

The tone is his voice gives way to his own hurt, and you can’t help but start to cry again at the sound of it, knowing it’s your fault.

“Shh, shhh,” he quickly sits down on the bed next to you and puts an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. “I ain’t mad at ya or anything, I just wanna know why.”

He knows why; Asmo told him. But, he wants to hear it from you.

You pull your arm out from under the blanket (and Mammon’s hold) to wipe your face. “I’m fine really, it’s just”, you sniffle, but Mammon cuts you off.

“Ya clearly not, c’mon MC”, he says, oceanic eyes meeting yours and - it’s hard not to crack under that gaze. “Tell me what’s the matter, please.”

Mammon stares at you in silence, signaling that it’s your turn to talk, and he would quietly listen. As long as you trust him, he’d always listen to whatever it is you have to say, no matter what.

You sit up a little straighter, pulling your arm out from under the comforter to wipe your tears. Composing yourself, you look into his eyes. His face softens at the sight.

Clearing your throat you start, “I don’t know. I’ve just been so overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed with what? All that work Lucifer and Lord Diavolo keep pushin’ on you? Tell ‘em to shove it!”

You shoot him a dangerous look. “We both know I can’t do that.”

“Sure ya can, I do it all the time!”, Mammon proudly declares, making you smile brightly and chuckle.

“And you always end up hanging from the rafters”, you laugh.

“I never said I got away with it”, he replies, smiling just as brightly back.

Your giggle peters out as you begin to speak again. “I’ve got so much more work to do and so little time to do it”, you frown. “And I’ve been pushing myself really hard! And- I dunno. I guess it’s taking a toll on me.”

“Yeah, Asmo said you were havin’ it pretty rough.”

At the mention of Asmo’s name, you shoot upwards in shock.

“He told you?!”

“Course he did. Did ya forget which ones of us you can trust with secrets?”.

You grumble in anger. “That little - UGH! I’m gonna kill him.”

“Let’s put murder on the back burner,” Mammon says, pushing your shoulder to lay you back down in your slouching position. “How’s ‘bout ya tell me what’s really bothering’ ya and I’ll help ya threaten the primadonna later, yeah?”.

You give him the side eye, but collapse under his gaze. Curse those eyes! You swear he can put you under some kind of truth spell with those things.

“Fine. I guess… it’s just… I…”

“Any day now, Treasure.”

You make an exasperated noise and glare at him. “You know it’s not fair to use that word on me when I’m upset.”

“When you’re upset at me. And yer not upset at me right now, right? Please say right”, he finishes his sentence with a sense of urgency, now worried that he could be the cause.

He’s wracking his brain for anything he could have said or done recently that made you upset. Are you mad at him cause he teased you the other day when you did your makeup differently. He told ya he only did it cause he liked it. Are you mad because he cheated off of you in potions class? Well, he’s your first, dammit! You should be helping him anyways. That’s what a loyal subject does.

“No, no it’s not you. I just haven’t been feeling very good about myself lately.”

“What! That’s ridiculous!”, he shouts and - he’s trying to be helpful in his own way, but his raising voice makes you wince. He notices, quickly shifting his tone. “I mean, what’s there not to like, doll.”

You smile to yourself at the nickname. He’s trying his hardest to be sweet. You should try your hardest to let him in on your thoughts a bit too.

“I don’t like the way I look. I’m not pretty, I’m not cool, I don’t even know what you see in me.”

“Don’t be dumb, MC!”

“Mammon, look at you! You’re you. You’re one of the seven demon lords of hell, you’re a whole model, and you’re one of the coolest guys I’ve ever met - Devildom, Human Realm, or celestial! You know you’re hot, so I’m worried…”, you trail off quietly.

“Worried bout what, MC?”, he asks at your hesitance, worry evident in his eyes. He places his hand on top of yours on the bed without breaking eye contact.

“…I’m worried that one day you’ll realize you’re too good for me and leave.”

“Leave? Whaddaya talkin’ about? How would I leave? I live here too ya know”, he says, poking your nose.

“You know what I mean, Mammon”, you say swiping his hand away from your face. “You’ll leave me.”

Mammon rolls his eyes, waving a hand towards your direction dismissively. “Oh yeah, I’ll leave you alright. That’s exactly why I was waitin’ for ya at the door for an hour to take ya on a date. Cause I wanna leave ya soooo bad. Do ya see how ridiculous you sound?”.

You sigh, eyes looking towards the bedsheets as you play with his hand that has found its way back to yours. You don’t look up as you speak. “See, I didn’t even come down for our date. Or text you. I just moped around up here. Im a terrible partner. And I’m sure you’re gonna realize it soon.”

Mammon makes a ‘tch’ noise with his tongue, before grabbing you by the chin and making you look into his eyes, making you gasp in surprise.

“And ya think I’m such a great boyfriend, huh? I’m just the best? The guy who spends his free time at the casino runnin’ up scams? The guy who used ta blame his screw ups on ya to get outta trouble? Yeah MC, I’m a real peach. Cream of the crop if ya ask me”, he lectures, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“What are you trying to say”, you question, grabbing his wrist to take his hand off your chin, to which he carefully obliges.

“I’m sayin’ that I’m not so great myself. But you still love me, right?

“Yeah, and?”

“Exactly. I’ve got flaws, we’ve all got flaws, even father had flaws, clearly”, he mumbles the last part under his breath.

“I wouldn’t stop lovin’ ya over any dumb thing like looks or status. In fact, I can’t think of a single reason why I’d stop lovin’ ya, ya dumb human. Sorry ‘boutcha luck, but yer stuck with The Great Mammon forever”, he jokes, ruffling your hair.

“What about when I die? I’m human, you’ll outlive me by a long shot. Don’t you want to be with someone, I don’t know, with the same…life span as you?”

“Nah, I’ll still love your dumbass skeleton when you’re a stupid ghost.”

“How romantic.”

“Listen. My point is I’m yours and you’re mine. That ain’t changin’, alright? And I’m not mad ‘bout our date, we’ll reschedule it. Just next time, ya could let me know before I stand by the front door for over an hour like a jackass. My brothers got enough to make fun of me over already.”

He pulls a little smile out of you with that last one.

“And about all that student council junk Lucifer and Lord Diavolo keep thrown’ on ya, I’ll talk to them. Maybe they’ll let you divide it up between all of us, alright?”.

You sniffle, wiping your face once more and shaking your head in an affirmative nod. “Sounds good. Thank you, Mams. I’m sorry.”

“C’mon now, quit yer apologizin’. It’s fine. You apologize for somethin’ like that again, I’m tellin’ Beel you ate his pudding from Madam Screams.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I’ll dare alright, ‘n then some”, he jokes, tackling you to the bed. “Why don’t we watch a movie or somethin’. You gotta make up the lost date time you owe me.”

You laugh at his antics, agreeing. “Okay, okay. I’m on it.”

As you sit in front of your shared DVD collection to pick tonight’s selection, you throw your voice over your shoulder.

“Hey Mams?”

“Yeah?”, he asks from his spot on your bed, scrolling on his D.D.D.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, Treasure.”

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 8)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves. SOTR SPOILERS

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 7

“I’m tellin’ you somethin’s goin’ on with Y/N. The way she’s actin’.” The footage they’re showing of that little girl mentoring the games, makes it look like she’s having the time of her life. “That ain’t her.”

“You need to leave now.” Y/N’s father insists, attempting to close the front door between them.

“Valor, please.” Cherry presses her hand against it. “She’s your daughter.”

The mayor’s eyes narrow, full of rage. “Do you think I’ve forgotten that? Don’t you think I’ve tried to buy her way out? Barter and plead her way out? She’s my daughter, for god’s sake!”

“So what then? You just give up?” Tucker places his boot between the door and its frame.

“My daughter will be home from the Capitol any minute.” Valor reminds them. “After which time, I have one year to come up with a solution that doesn’t end with my entire family dead. I advise you to do the same.”

Tucker yanks his boot free of the slamming door. “Prick.”

“What do we do now?” Haymitch doesn’t have any family left. No real friends. Just that girl and him, exiled in Victors’ Village.

“There is someone who might know something, but it’s a long shot.” Burdock hasn’t spoken to Haymitch in years. Not since Haymitch started pelting him and his girl with rocks.

Doesn’t matter who it is. “It’s the only shot we’ve got.”

————————————————————————

Burdock and Asterid are not expecting visitors. So when there is a knock at the door after supper, Burdock answers, warily.

Waiting at the stoop is their neighbors from a few blocks down. Cherry and Tucker Carell, lost their oldest in the games a few years back.

“We need to speak with you about Haymitch Abernathy.”

Burdock steps out onto his porch, floorboards creaking beneath him. “What about him?”

“I remember you were close as kids.”

“We’re not kids anymore.”

“Please,” Cherry cuts in. “It’s Y/N. I know you don’t know her, but we do…we did.”

“The laryngitis girl?” Haymitch’s wife.

“Yes,” Cherry snaps her fingers. “She said she lost her voice because she didn’t want them usin’ her words to glorify somethin’ she didn’t believe in.”

Burdock sighs, “I am very sorry for your loss.”

Their loss. They’ve lost that girl.

“We want to get her back.” Tucker explains.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you can’t. Once a person belongs to them, there’s no turning back. Whatever is happening to her…cannot be undone.”

“That’s not true.” It can’t be.

“Haymitch was my best friend.” Burdock presses on. “He changed, and I don’t blame him. For all he lost…the things he’s seen…”

“Did it happen all at once? The change in em?” Cherry asks.

“No.” Burdock admits, “it took time.” The drinking didn’t help.

“This happened in a week.” Tucker points out.

“Are you sure it is her?” Burdock mutters.

“Who else would it be?”

“I don’t know how true this is,” Burdock clenches his jaw, “the person who told me was…indisposed at the time. But there was a tribute from twelve, reaped for the Quarter Quell who was killed in the parade. They replaced her with a girl who looked enough like her…”

“A body double?” Cherry’s brows pull together.

“She had something in her ear to control her. They could speak into it and even pump some kind of medicine through it.”

“Some kind of bug.”

“Must’ve been.” Burdock nods. “Haymitch said it would bleed.”

“Haymitch told you this?”

“Like I said, I don’t know how true it is. He wasn’t well. But Wyatt Callow died before her,” or so the story goes. “Louella’s casket smelled a lot worse than his when we buried them.”

The silence hangs heavy between them. 

“You seem like good people,” Burdock says, “and I am truly sorry you’re wrapped up in all this. Please be careful, or people are gonna start dropping like flies again.”

Tucker tosses an arm around his wife, leading her away. “Thank you for your time.”

Burdock watches them go, with a heavy heart. To the victor go the spoils.

Cherry and Tucker make their way back home, leaning into each other as they walk.

“We gotta do it.” Run. This could be their last chance.

“We can’t take her.” Not like they wanted to. Not the way they planned it before.

Tucker hangs his head, staring down at the ground. “I know.”

Can’t even tell her goodbye.

“This is what she would want.” He reminds his wife. “The little girl who showed up on our doorstep with flowers for our boy and a gift for each of his siblings. She would’ve wanted us to go.”

“We could leave her somethin’ at least.” Cherry suggests, “a letter.”

————————————————————————

“We’re packin’ just a couple things, like we talked about.” Cherry reminds her children.

“When are we leaving?” Micah, her second oldest son, asks.

“After dinner.” Tucker tells him.

“Can I take my bear?” Peach, their youngest, newly six, holds up her favorite stuffed animal.

“Of course,” Cherry taps her nose. They’ve already packed up everything the little ones would need.

Interdistrict travel is strictly prohibited, but Cherry’s mother was always telling stories about when she was a girl. ‘Free as birds, we were. There’s life outside these districts, Cherry. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.’

District thirteen was said to be destroyed by the Capitol, turns out that isn’t true. A couple of their friends have trickled out to test the waters, sending signs that the coast is clear. They were only waiting for Y/N to get home.

Cherry sits down at the table, paper and pen in hand.

‘My dearest, Y/N.

I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans. I once suffered from some delusion that Tyson’s memories are tied to the walls of this house. That some part of him resides in the bones, buried outback. But I was wrong. My son is not trapped in a place, or a body or even this earth. We are.

Trapped in a district the president has no love for. Where children are starved and slaughtered for entertainment. There’s got to be more than this. We’re going to find it, for our boy, for all of our children, for you.

We tried waiting for you, couldn’t bear leaving you behind. I can hardly bring myself to do it now, but you belong to them. And they will never let you leave.

I know, in my heart, that if the girl we opened our home to and love like our own is still inside you; she’ll understand. I hope we find each other again, somehow, someway, in a new, free world. But for now we’ve gotta go and you’ve gotta stay. We’re still rooting for you, little girl.

Love always,

Ma, Pa, Tyson, Micah, Hudson, Rixi, Adelaide, Hoytt, Valley, Iverson, Olivette, Harvest, Fauna, Wells and Peach.’

When she is finished, Tucker raises the letter to eye level. Resting a hand on her shoulder as he reads it over, then folds it in eighths. Taking the pen in his own hand to jot down, ‘burn after reading.’

“I’m going to sit with Ty for a while before we go.” Cherry tells him, leaving the note and their simmering stew, in his care.

“Alright, baby.” Tucker presses a kiss to her cheek as she passes.

Cherry treks through the house and out the back door. Tyson’s headstone is decorated by a beautiful arrangement of wild flowers. Each picked by hand. She all but collapses onto the ground beside him.

“Tyson, I need a sign.” She murmurs into the evening breeze. “Tell me I’m doing the right thing.”

Nothing.

Even the electric fence beyond the yard is silent. Silent because it’s off.

Knocking from the front door carries through the house. Cherry rises, brushing dried grass and dirt from her dress. “Tucker, who is that?” She closes the back door behind her, watching her husband peer through the peek hole.

“It’s Y/N.”

————————————————————————

When Y/N is finally permitted to leave, Cherry and Tucker are left with a truth much more devastating than any hypothetical they’d considered.

Y/N is still herself.

Fully aware; in her own body.

What controls her now is the fear of losing people she loves.

“We can’t leave her. Not now, not like this.” Cherry whispers.

Tucker covers his mouth. “Cherry, I put the note in her pocket.”

“What? Why?”

“Because nothing changed,” he takes her face in hand. “All we’re doing by staying here is giving Snow more leverage against her. Are you willing to put the blood of every name you signed in that letter on Y/N’s hands?”

“No,” Cherry shakes her head.

“Neither am I.” Tucker huffs, “we have to do this now. Like we planned, the fence is off. It’s now or never.” He doesn’t want to do this, he has to do this.

————————————————————————

Valor is still pacing in the foyer, after his unexpected visit from the Carells. Given their status, they’re not being watched by the Capitol very closely, if at all. They may be able to help Y/N in ways he can’t.

Donning his coat and shoes, Mayor Undersee sets out to visit the seam. The stares he receives from those who reside there are not the kindest. Still he waves and offers a quiet, “hello.”

There’s some commotion, near the far end, the very house he’s headed for. Smoke and screams greet him as he rounds the bend. The Carell house is on fire.

“Get up! Everyone, out of your houses. There’s an active fire. We need water.”

————————————————————————

Y/N is still holding the letter when Haymitch wakes the next afternoon. She’s so far gone that she doesn’t even realize he’s behind her, until a pair of arms encircle her waist.

“They’re gone.”

“I’m so sorry, angel.”

“They left,” Y/N waves the proof at him. “The fire was a distraction.”

Haymitch inspects it carefully, reading over the letter twice, before clearing his throat. “Gotta get rid of it.” Too damning all around.

“I know.” Her fingers clutch the corner.

“Come ‘ere.” Haymitch turns her away from the fireplace. Slowly working the parchment free from her hand. “Hold onto me instead.”

She does, desperately fisting his shirt in her hands.

Haymitch tosses the evidence into the fire, watching flames eat away at the words, until there is nothing left. He keeps her close, shuffling backwards toward the sofa.

“Don’t go anywhere, Haymitch.” Y/N says, softly.

Haymitch mulls it over for a moment. Hoping that some great words of comfort and encouragement will flood his brain. But there is no divine intervention, just the weight of her head against his shoulder. “I won’t.”

“Hold onto me instead.”

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[bettystonewell]

TO YOU I BELONG: CHAPTER 3

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn't looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain't real. He still has free will, and saving you is just another part of the job. Except, monsters aren't the only things you need saving from... 18+ only MDNI

Chapter Word Count: 5k words

Chapter Warnings: canon typical violence, language, referenced physical abuse, referenced sexual assault, injuries to reader

A/N: The first two chapters I uploaded were partially rewritten from the original version I have elsewhere, but it’s not feasible for me to keep doing that, especially if I’m ever going to write new stuff; so from now on I’ll be uploading this story as is. Chapters 3 to 14 predate both, Another Notch On His Belt and Snickerdoodles & Special Sauce While I’d do some things differently, they’re all part of the journey. Enjoy! ✌️❤️

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

“Dick?” Sam gave a half-assed chuckle.

Dean’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Her mate.”

Oh, the mother fucking irony. He wasn’t just a dick, his name was Dick. Or Richard, to be more concise. Dean had passed over that insignificant detail and Ritchie, as you’d called him, to go with what he found to be the most fitting of the three.

While Ritchie suggested a plain loser, Richard sounded like a pompous jackass, which Dean figured didn’t fall far from the tree. But Dick? Dick narrated a scumbag he could work with.

He remembered Dick Roman and his crass grin all too well, and with his face in mind, Dean had run through all the satisfying things he wanted to do to your mate since the moment he’d found you in the park. Whatever manifested, or not, was for later Dean’s enjoyment, but everything his genius had concocted so far suited Dick to a tee.

Sammy, however, saw the bigger picture.

A tsk left his mouth. Followed by an eye roll and the shaking of his mop-hair through a downward glance. It was a wonder he could do both at the same time. “Don’t you think you should be worrying about her, not her ex?”

Dean’s head flicked over his shoulder to the door on the other side of the car park, where he presumed you were still fast asleep. The heel of his left boot even shifted backwards a fraction. All he had to do was fling his other leg towards the room, and your scent and stimulating curves would soon surround him again.

Was it possible for a heart to skip a beat? Because that action, with that very organ popping out of someone like Scooby Doo’s chest, sure described the way Dean felt at the mention of Dick’s finality in your life.

“I’m really getting soft,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair. “She’s still sleeping. With any luck, I’ll be back before she wakes up.”

“Dean.”

“Don’t Dean me.”

Sam could argue, meddle, and question all he wanted. Dean wouldn’t sway from his plans, no matter how stupid his method was. “I ain’t letting him get away with it.”

“I’m not saying you should. Just take a minute to calm down and focus on her, not him.”

“What part of he raped her, don’t you understand?” He sighed and drew his thumb and forefinger across his eyes. His voice, while not the loudest he’d ever produced, had been enough to make even Dean anxious.

He cared little about anyone else in the vicinity, but as with every other motel they frequented, the walls were paper thin, and the door you were behind was a mere thirty yards away. Yes. His guilt fueled conscience had him going stir crazy.

Him needing to be long gone before you woke up wasn’t for your benefit. It was for his own sanity. Sam’s too.

“I understand you want revenge. But she still went back to him yesterday.”

“Because I let—”

“You didn’t do anything!” Sam snapped, then shook his head. “They’re bonded. Chances are she loves him. That won’t change overnight.”

“I know that.” Of course he did. Dean wasn’t that unattuned with the world around him, as people always suggested. He got social cues and had feelings like any other guy. He simply chose not to wear his deepest ones on his sleeve out of survival.

Everyone else could still suck it. Sam could too.

“So why are you so set on doing this right now? Do you really wanna risk pushing her away by beating up the alpha she cares about?”

“It ain’t about him or me.”

“Yeah.” Sam scoffed. “Like I said, revenge.”

“No. Alright? Just, no.” Dean’s arm swooped through the air, as if shoving Sam’s statement off an imaginary table.

This wasn’t about Dean seeking retribution, although he’d never deny there wasn’t a small piece of him that found the concept enticing.

Okay, a large slice.

He had to find some fun in his shitty existence, especially after being careful for so long.

Ever since Sam had lost Jess, they both had been. Aware there were plenty of other fuckers out there besides the likes of yellow eyes. Crowley, for starters, even Cas and the other angels, Roman, the Steins, Chuck. And not wanting to risk history repeating itself, they turned to suppressants.

Though it took a single instance of him going feral and a stern warning from Bobby and his own shotgun pointed at his extremities, for Dean to see sense and allow his rut to occur once a year.

“One cycle with one of them fake dolls ain’t gonna kill ya, idjit,” he had said. And while that was a fond memory of Dean’s now, it had scared the crap out of him.

So, “If I let him walk, she’s a target. With my claim or not,” he said.

Sam should’ve known that, but his eyes grew wide and a grin made them lift even higher. “Are you going to?”

“I just met her!” And that was still the scariest thing in all this.

He and you were soulmates. Fated to be. Chosen for each other by who even knew? Someone who didn’t know you and expected you both to do what? Commit to each other at the drop of a hat?

Dean couldn’t bring himself to think, let alone say the L word. He’d avoided it on purpose when Sam had mentioned you loving Dick, and that was plain dumb. It was four fucking letters. He wasn’t a child, though he had done some crazy, adultly stigmatised shit on your behalf.

Taking you back to the motel as he had and cleaning your wounds. Sleeping close by and letting you take his jacket to nest with. Ordinarily, these things were tame, but law enforcement would say otherwise if Dick decided to press charges against him even before he did what he planned to do.

It was way too much, not because of the illicit nature, but because it was too soon. Too easy to fall. Too easy to be trapped into something more, and yet, he’d been thriving on every second of it so far.

As usual, Sam knew it, too.

“You’re thinking about it,” he said. “You should ask her to come with us.”

But he didn’t respond with how Sam wanted him to. “Keep an eye on her, would ya?” He patted him on the shoulder, once to steady himself, the second to reassure. “Call me if anything happens.” And with that, he strode ‘round to Baby’s driver’s side and got in. It was now or never.

When he reached your street, Dean parked Baby around the corner. Close enough for a quick exit, but further away from your building to avoid arousing suspicions. Not that there was anyone around to question him or his motives.

Just as it had been during the night, the neighbourhood was quiet and restful. Still early enough on a Sunday for most people to be in bed.

Not him, of course. But regular people. Civilians.

Someone like you, included in his picture of suburbia and the apple pie life he’d always admired from a safe distance. It was a shame that the bubble had burst when he found you in the park.

It looked different in the daylight hours as he moved towards the entrance. All that he’d witnessed tainted the luscious leaves, turning the hues dim. It didn’t help that the clouds overhead were already bleak with grey.

They made the white rendered walls of your apartment block appear worse than his original critique of the place. Even though this was your home, it was a home you shared with Dick. A place Dean would find no comfort in.

He entered the building and made quick work of the steps, bounding up them two at a time, guided by his nose. And the letterbox he’d read at the bottom that had your surname on it.

As he honed in on your front door, his ears perked for any movement besides his own, but all was clear, and he was able to thump on the wood without interruption.

Once.

Twice.

But by the third time, his patience had worn thin, and he resorted to his usual methods.

He wrapped his fingers around the ivory grip of his 1911 and drew it out of his waistband, cocking it in readiness. The cool metal, the perfect fit as always, satisfied his hand and the hunter within.

Was the gun overkill? Eh. That was up to interpretation. Just as he still knew little about you, he knew less about Dick, besides the name and what he had done. The weapon was a precaution. A scare tactic at best.

And with that in mind, the sole of his boot raised and collided with the door of the small apartment, sounding a loud crunch as the wood gave way. It made his bow leg twang from the force, but damn, was the rush of adrenaline worth it.

Fuck! He was pumped.

Ready for a fight or a match of words, though the former was far more enticing. Revenge would be sweet, no matter what Sam said. Which was such a shame because his grand entrance hadn’t paid off.

Dick was nowhere in sight, and Dean begrudgingly returned his firearm to its usual resting place. The fucker must’ve been out looking for you.

As Dean stepped over the threshold and past the now broken door, your familiar scent hit his nostrils. That, and the musk he’d caught in your hair. It was the smell you’d find labelled pine or forest in a gas station’s air freshener selection. Pungent, overpowering and something he’d never allow Baby to be exposed to, let alone his own skin, anymore.

Of course, anything that belonged to Dick was repulsive. The recliner Dean stared at had to be his. What with the high back, built-in cup holders that were the perfect size for a cold one or a Dean-sized arm holding a scotch, and a remote in the other hand.

The chair would be awesome in the bunker. Maybe he could… no. No, no. He’d get himself a new one. Along with the flat screen, comfortable-looking three-seater sofa, and the fluffy blanket that had to be yours.

His feet carried him over to the item and brought it to his nose. It was yours alright. The touch of cinnamon he’d savoured during the night had soaked into the colourful fibres and worn thread, and he could just picture you curled under it, cosy and warm. You would look even better with the one he’d buy you, on his bed, nesting, with his pup safe inside your belly.

God, he was being delusional. Conceited too. You nesting on his bed? His pup? The second you discovered the true extent of his meaningless existence, you would change whatever mind you had about him. As you should.

This window into your personality he wandered through reminded him of what he knew, though, and your world was far different from his. Soulmate or no, it would be selfish of him to ask you to give this lifestyle up to be in his where monsters and gore were a constant.

As for pups. Little versions of him mixed with you? The idea took over his body with warm fuzzies, but it was a pipe dream fueled by his instinct to mate and breed.

He knew that.

‘What the hell, man? You don’t even want a family.’ Not like that, anyway.

Fuck no. He’d already dipped his toe in that pool and found it too cold. Being a dad wasn’t for him. Not with the target on his back. And this infinite loop of yearning, then backtracking? It certainly wasn’t, either.

Was this what they meant by a mid-life crisis?

Or maybe it was Dick’s pheromones making him go awol? With notes that belonged in a can of axe body spray Dean had used as a teen before he presented.

His snort was comical.

At least he could put whatever this was to good use. That and the rest of his self worth and a smidgen of hate. They were the perfect recipe for a strong uppercut and Dean was lucky Dick didn’t keep him waiting long.

The unmistakable jangle of keys looking for their lock was the first thing that alerted Dean to his presence.

“Who’re you?” was the second.

Dean spun around on his heels, oozing confidence with his cocksure grin. He didn’t feel the slightest bit intimidated as Dick puffed his chest out. Nor when his gaze travelled the length of his body, top to toe. And rather than answering the other alpha before him, he thought it best to show him how badly he’d fucked up.

Dean’s language was action, after all, and he was finally about to have some fun.

His right hand moved to hover behind his back as the other’s fingers locked around the edging of his shirt collar, pulling it down in slow motion for added effect. He was an expert in gaining attention, even if it was purposeful to piss someone off.

The haughty laugh Dick produced was better than any reaction he could’ve hoped for, and it urged him on.

“Somethin’ funny?” Dean said.

“Guess I was looking in the wrong places. She swore you didn’t want her.” Dick stepped forward, slinking further into the room, unaware of what Dean could achieve.

Mistake number one.

On the outside, Dean was relaxed, too. Both arms returned to his side, keeping his distance with his front positioned towards the other alpha.

Inside, Dick’s every movement was under his scrutiny. He wanted him to fuck up. To say or do something stupid. That way, Dean had probable cause. It would make whatever he ended up dishing out sit better on his conscience if he heard Dick admit it himself.

So Dean poked the bear. Outright asking him, “Did she say that while you were raping her?”

“I marked her as mine.”

Those words were Dick’s second mistake. He’d just given Dean the chopping block.

“And I suppose she didn’t ask you to stop when you hit her, huh? When you tried to scratch my initials out of her skin?” Dean’s voice remained void of all emotion, even as the anger bubbled in his gut. If he held a mirror to his soul, Dick’s face would have been its reflection.

“The little slut is obviously yours now. What do you want?”

Other than using your name, there was nothing Dick could’ve called you that wouldn’t have resulted in him handing over the axe and a third strike.

“I came here to give you a taste of your own medicine. But I don’t swing that way,” Dean said as he withdrew his gun and held it in the air. “Then I thought I’d use this.”

Dick’s whole body flinched. A Mexican wave of nerves twitching all over if you had watched closely, as Dean, of course, had. “You’re fucking crazy!”

Dean was still casual, his smirk devilish. “Oh buddy, you’ve got no idea. If we’d have met last night, well, let’s just say you wouldn’t be here.”

It was all talk. Dean would never go that extreme, not now that he’d had some time to think. He’d meant that bit about being calm. But he loved watching Dick squirm.

His face was hilarious. Dick’s not Dean’s. Dean looked down for business, whereas Dick may as well have been down on his knees. “You want me to apologise? Never see her again? Done. She’s all yours.”

“You think I was waiting for your permission or something? Nah. But I’d appreciate it if you come at me first.”

“Why?” Dick scowled.

“So I can claim self defence.”

To Dean’s exhilarated surprise, his jaunts worked and Dick lunged forward, colliding his fist into his cheek. The muscle below throbbed, and the broken skin stung, but the blood that swirled through his mouth was worth it.

Dick was too dumb to realise Dean was playing with him.

He took blow after blow, waiting for the moment Dick wore himself down to absolute exhaustion.

A punch to the gut. Another to his ribs. With each new strike, more of Dean’s stock appeared on the other alpha’s knuckles. If it weren’t for the colour, he may have confused the patterns and added chunky bits with strawberry jelly, seeds and all, smeared over his pasty white skin.

“Is this what you did to her?” Dean taunted. As much as the truth would anger him, he wanted to know. The more he heard, the easier beating Dick to a pulp would be.

But Dick was too busy concentrating on his workout. Huffing and puffing, with zero energy to answer, or blow the house down.

“That all you got?” Dean made him work a little harder. He’d started dodging, adding some defensive blocks amongst the steps he took backwards. His goal, further from the door, knowing full well that by bringing Dick into a different room, there would be no chance of any witnesses.

It proved more difficult, what with his centre of gravity slightly off because of the punch he’d allowed Dick to land on his right ear. But now in the kitchen, with counters he could lean and bounce off of, Dean decided it was time. His defence turned into offence, and in a matter of seconds, his fist had shaped its way into Dick’s face twice, the butt of his gun another, satisfying every part of his being.

Dean delivered more, all to the fleshiest parts of Dick. His stomach, his thighs, colliding with both boots, and his namesake, which met Dean’s very forceful left knee.

Both men winced. Both groaned, too. Only Dick was in pain, Dean out of mock sympathy.

His hand grabbed the back of Dick’s shirt next, lifting his body upright to send him flying, much like his front door. He landed head first into the lower cabinet with a thump and a flop onto the floor, where he received more of Dean’s wrath.

Looming over your mate, he used his boot to roll him to the side, further toeing his chin to make sure he had the bloodied face’s attention. “Being someone’s bitch ain’t so fun, huh, Dick?”

“Who wants breakfast?” Dean did his best to act casual and ignore the two pairs of eyes that followed him as he walked back into the room. His body ached all over.

He’d been gone a little under three hours now, but he knew that wasn’t what either of you had an issue with.

His brother’s gaze forever judged, while yours appeared concerned, possibly frightened, and neither surprised him, having received similar stares from strangers the entire way back to the motel. A swollen face and bloody knuckles just did that to people, and Dean accepted it.

“What happened?” Sam asked from behind his laptop. Though it should’ve been obvious “I thought—“

“Nothin’.” Dean wasn’t gonna talk about his confrontation with Dick. Not anytime soon, least of all when you were in the room. He needed to gauge your feelings on the matter first, then he’d play into them.

Would you be upset he’d beaten the guy into a pulp or were you concerned with his injuries at all? Because while the latter sure sounded appealing, it wouldn’t help his latest penchant towards you.

He moved to the table and unburdened his hands of everything he carried, starting one by one with the two trays of drinks he’d been balancing. “We got, ah, black, milk, mocha, red-eye, iced, breakfast tea? With, huh, milk? Hot chocolate, and,” he lifted a steaming cup to his chin and inspected the scrawl written on the lid, “the lady said this had Thai in it? I dunno. It’s popular with the locals.”

Impressed, Sam stood up and reached over to pick out a coffee Dean had labelled, only to be smacked away by an overtly aggressive hand.

“Ladies first.” Dean shot you a glance.

You were sitting on the bed he’d left you sleeping on, but had since been remade. As had his Sam’s, with his jacket folded at the end. “I also bought some sandwiches, donuts. Pie.” Both brows raised on that last part, and his grin, although stained with blood, was rather proud.

He had no idea what you liked, but he was confident you would find something to your tastes among this lot. He may have been intent on pushing you away, but he could still protect and act chivalrous towards his soulmate.

If you decided you wanted nothing, it wouldn’t go to waste because he was salivating over the aroma alone since he’d picked it all out. He could always have another coffee, too.

While he didn’t hesitate to pull up a chair and slump into it, he did second guess himself when he addressed you. “C’mon Omega. You must be hungry.”

The term slipped off his tongue with ease, and one thing he was suddenly certain about was his sack being empty. He’d dropped his balls somewhere between dealing with Dick and now, and this uncertainty and stilted behaviour needed to stop.

Even after seeing your apartment, being surrounded by your things and having his inadequacies resurface again. He wasn’t what you needed in your life, and he had to remind himself of that, though it drove him crazy.

This constant mystification around you would surely end with your reflection in Baby’s rearview once more, wouldn’t it?

Yes. It had to because he was Dean frigging Winchester. Never confused by anyone, male or female.

But you and your hesitant steps, observing him as you made your way to join them, were an enigma. Beautiful even with your still stiff gait and bruising on your face and neck that had darkened again. The two of you could almost be a matching pair. Dick sure favoured a hook.

“What’ll you have?” he asked as you sat down, eyes focused in and around his.

The plastic against your pelvis must’ve been uncomfortable. Dean paid particular attention to the way your expression tightened, then relaxed as your body did.

“Coffee? Tea?” He ignored his anguish, pointing to each cup as he listed them, waiting for your response, then passing you your selection when you did.

Your grip was gentle. Your bites and movements were just as soft as how you held your drink when you ate, and through Dean’s constant glimpsing, he found himself less and less interested in his own food.

“You sleep alright?” he said, and your lip twitched into a soft smile when you nodded. Your continued stare had him pulling at his collar.

Sam watched the entire exchange with interest. Here was Dean, someone so hellbent on never entering another relationship after whatever it was he’d had with Lisa and Ben, now infatuated with you. Sure you were soulmates, but it was simple and refreshing.

He saw the way Dean grappled with his instincts, trying to pretend you were no one special, even though all these sweet gestures showed otherwise. The food, the coffee, the bag he’d packed with as many things of yours as he could after leaving your apartment.

You may not have realised what the duffle below your feet was just yet, but Sam sure did. The scent of your belongings oozed off of it, blending with his brother’s own.

Cinnamon, apple, a touch of vanilla, and other spices that collected under those which Dean surrounded himself with. It fit that his palate, in its purest form, would work so well with that of his soulmates.

Almost the same as Sam and Jess’ own mix…

Sam understood Dean’s reluctance, not just with you, but with everyone. He appreciated that his own misery had shielded Dean from heartbreak so far. He wished the transformation he saw in his brother would open himself up more to find what he had lost.

Until then, though, Dean was going to receive a world of shit when they were alone again. Sam owed him for the morning’s wake up call. No doubt for other instances he still didn’t know about, too.

The clothes Dean had picked for you from your wardrobe before leaving the apartment, while fitting as they should, left him disappointed. As crazy as he knew the notion was, he enjoyed seeing you wearing his things, even though temporarily. There was something about the way his shirt flowed over your breasts and hips.

It had engulfed your figure. How it hung below your rear, revealing your thighs when you stretched, and the edging of what he presumed to be a cute pair of lacy panties hugging the curve of that sweet ass he’d pictured as he took care of himself.

Yup. He was going to hell. Again.

He’d been over this and it couldn’t happen.

‘She was just fucking assaulted, man,’ his brain rerouted. ‘Not even a day ago. She doesn’t need this shit from anyone, least of all her soulmate. Or her alpha.’

There it was, that primal side of him coming out. It had been there at your apartment too, but it, like the more sane part of him, was more interested in screwing with Dick at the time.

Now that it was all over, he needed to do his utmost best to reel it in. There was still one last thing that had to be addressed, and neither lusting nor pussyfooting around was going to get it done.

He had to cut ties with you. He had to. His life wasn’t for you, not after seeing the life you could have, with or without Dick. So as he helped you clean up from breakfast, sorting out scraps from leftovers and recycling from trash, he decided there was no time like the present. The sooner the better.

Dammit. He had to do this, now, and he listened to make sure the shower was still on and Sam, in it. Then, running his fingers over his hair, flinging each bristle forward, he cleared his throat.

“So, now that our case is over, me and Sammy will head home to Kansas.” He was smooth. In control, and confident in his delivery. It showed a little too well.

“Right,” you whispered. Your head, delaying by a second, gave a quick shake.

Was that pulling your teeth over your lip nerves? Disappointment?

Scrap that part about confidence. There was that powerful beat in his heart again. The one that felt like it had escaped his chest, pumping back and forth for the world to see.

“I ah. The good news is he won’t bother you anymore.”

Your body froze on the spot. “You—”

There was no need for you to say anything further because he could tell by your horrified expression alone you thought the worst.

“No. No, no. I mean, he looks worse than I do.” He chuckled awkwardly. “But I didn’t murder the guy. As much as I wanted to.”

He shouldn’t have said that.

“I might’ve hustled him a little first, but he’s gonna recover. Just like you will.” He paused and raised himself, pulling his muscles taut. He’d forgotten all about the medicated cream he’d bought you.

His hands touched his hips, then his thighs, searching his pockets, though he didn’t know why. The tube, still in its box, wouldn’t fit anywhere on his person.

He scanned the table and the ground below it before reaching down to pick up the small paper bag. “I got ya this at the pharmacy near the diner. They said it’d help with the infection. Might have to borrow some myself before we leave.” He grinned.

But you didn’t return it. Your brow furrowed as he stepped closer to hand it to you, fingers playing with the package the second they touched. “What’re you trying to say, Dean?” you said, and damn. Using his name stung.

You really were intuitive. He should’ve bargained for it. And what choice did he have but to rip the bandaid off? “Look. What I said about wanting you was true. But my life is dangerous, and I can’t bring anyone into it. Especially you.”

Though his words were every bit rejecting, the way your chest rose below the outline of his chin and your lashes batting against your cheek had him taken, and his concentration proved difficult to maintain.

There was a touch of spice in the air that hadn’t been there before. Something familiar, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on where it came from. It was addicting, and while he knew it was wrong to let it engulf his senses, he didn’t stop himself.

“So,” he shuddered, using the slight tremor as a final plight to clear his head, “if there’s some place you can go, family or friends, I’m happy to take you there. Anywhere at all. I think it’s best you do that, and you know, forget about Ritchie, and—“

“And you.” Your lips were so plump and enticing. His eyes could only focus’s on their shine, moving under the light as you spoke.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his stomach pulling a one-eighty.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Nope. But what could he do? Your safety was far more important than his need to have you around. His life wasn’t for you. Hell, it wasn’t a life for anyone, and when he stuttered and your mouth pursed in an understanding smile, he was further reminded that what he was doing was right.

“It’s okay. I understand,” you said as your hand came up to touch his and your face lifted to graze a simple peck on the other.

The softness he felt against his skin covered his body in a blanket of goosebumps, igniting a fire within that made his blood thrum, and his ears pop and pulse along with his gut, churning once again. And before you could retract, before you could step away or even turn, his arm had wrapped around your waist, tight, and he commandeered a kiss of his own.

Was he stupid? Damn straight he was, but the genius that lay dormant would pull him through. His inner alpha would always be there to protect his omega. He just needed to figure out how.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

How awesome was that gif at the top? Gave me goosebumps when I was going back and forth, formatting.

I wish I could say that’s the last we’ll see of Dick, but unfortunately, memories live on, and we’ll delve into them more in the future. Did Dean beat him up enough, though? I’ve killed some characters off in the past, not going to lie, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it with him.

We have a cyclone causing trouble here - yay - and my kids are already driving me insane. If you don’t hear from me, it’s because I’ve either lost power/internet, or I’m huddled in the foetal position of my living room, with my wine stash, gone… That’s far more likely. Enjoy your weekend wherever you are in the world!

Chapter 4: Familiarising - 14/03

Dean rolled off to the side, bringing you with him to rest your head against his chest instead. He pulled the covers with you to drape them across your shoulder. Close and cosy, but away from his clear arousal, choosing it best to leave the pressure in his pants over putting it on you.

“I, ah, just need a sec,” he breathed through the grin plastered over his face.

If only you’d give him one.

Your hand patted his sternum, but your leg wrapped over his, bringing your knee close to his semi.

“Not that I’m complaining, sweetheart, but you’re making it hard for me here.”

“Pun intended?” You asked, earning yourself a light smack on your rear.

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@smut02

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[callme-holly]

Heyooo I love ur writing! I saw your inbox was open I was wondering if you could do a johnny cade x soc fem reader who's shy and anti social but a chatterbox when they get close,maybe they can have their first meeting at school?

𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐬𝐡𝐲!𝐬𝐨𝐜

a/n: i've been really enjoying writing headcanons and then an imagine. lmk if y'all like it too bc i might carry this style on. tysm for the request!!

You might be a soc, but to Johnny you’re incredibly different from the others—you’re not loudmouthed, you don’t brag about your privileges and you just tend to keep to yourself, which he respects. You tend to just stay in the back of the classroom, following along with whatever you have to do.

A lot of people assume you’re snobbish (especially greasers) and won’t really talk to you because you’re so quiet. If you don’t make an effort, why should they? However, if anyone was to dig any deeper, they’d realise that you are, in fact, just shy and incredibly bad at striking up conversation with new people.

  Johnny always noticed you in class, mainly because you were the only one who never really spoke up, much like him. You were just this quiet, comforting presence amongst the chaos, and he found himself drawn to that. You noticed him too, and while you thought he was you, you never really made the move to talk to him. Not only was he a greaser and you were a soc, but your anxiety also held you back immediately.

The first time y’all actually talk is when you’re both paired up for a project. You’re absolutely mortified at first and stumble over your words, but Johnny is just as awkward, and you both find yourself laughing about it, which brings you two close.

You tend to ramble when you’re nervous, but Johnny never minds; he just sits there with an encouraging smile. The moment you realise he isn’t there to laugh at you or judge you, you really open up.

He loves how comfortable you feel around him, and you two slowly begin to hang out more and more, and your classmates definitely notice the change, especially since they’re seeing you actually talk and interact with someone.

You stared blankly down at the paper that had been placed on your desk, chest tight, and as much as you tried to school your anxiety, you couldn’t help the nerves that slowly began to churn in your stomach.

The print was clear— Partner Project: Assigned Pairs.

Your name, and scrawled next to it, Johnny Cade.

You glanced up, scanning the room quickly, watching as everyone were slowly starting to shuffle to join their partners. And then your eyes landed on him, still sitting in his seat, watching you with a polite, expectant smile. 

You two had never spoken; sure, you’d met each other’s gaze before, and there was silent, mutual respect that had risen between you both, but you’d never engaged in any true interaction other than that. 

Holding your books close to your chest and taking a deep breath, you pushed your way through the throng of people moving between desks, standing awkwardly before him, shuffling like you weren't sure what to do with yourself.

“Uh.. Hey.” His voice was soft, quieter than you’d expect from a greaser, and the smile he gave you was gentle and genuine.

You opened your mouth to respond and promptly forgot how to speak, not a single sound leaving your mouth. You just blinked at him, and Johnny gave a soft chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

“Guess we’re partners, huh?”

“Yeah… Yeah.” You stammered, sitting down across from him, setting yor books down in front of you clumsily and offering him an apologetic look.

“It’s fine,” he shrugged, and you couldn’t help but jolt in surprise. “You haven’t gotta be nervous. I ain’t gonna judge ya.”

And something shifted in you then, some small part of you relaxing in a way you’d never relaxed around strangers. 

“Im not the best at this type of things---like talking, i mean. Especially with people I dont know and group projects make me super nervous because I dont want to mess it up for somebody else, but i also dont wanna do bad and... oh im sorry im rambling.”

Johnny laughed inr response, shaking his head and waving you off with a casualness that made your heart flutter.

“It’s okay, really. I like listenin’ to ya talk.” 

And, yeah… Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad at all. 

[brenwritesss]

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

⋆˚࿔KK Arnold x reader ❀˖°

Summary: KK gets jealous of you and Paige always getting shipped together when on livestreams, so you show her why she shouldn't be jealous.

Based on this request

Warnings: smut and language

a/n: this is my first smut story that I'm posting so I'm lowkey a bit nervous for this one.

“Ayo, let me get some of those,” Paige asks, holding her hand out as you drop a few chick-fil-a fries in her hand. Paige was currently on live with you, KK, and Ice in her dorm room. You and KK had been “secretly” dating for a few months now. And by “secretly” that meant that only the team and your close friends and family knew. When you and KK had first started dating, you had both mutually decided to keep it private to the public, with KK knowing how crazy some of her fans would get.

This resulted in you and KK trying not to interact as much when either of you or a teammate was live to keep fans from speculating about your relationship. However, the more lives you showed up in, the more people speculated about you and Paige, KK’s teammate. At first, it wasn’t that noticeable as it would be small things like you two sitting next to each other, or laughing at one another’s jokes. And to you and Paige, it was never anything more than two friends interacting with each other. But to the public, it seemed like the start of a future relationship. And when you first started noticing the comments, the first thing you did was talk to KK about it and she had assured you that it didn’t bother her since she knew you were hers.

But that was before the ship edits started.

You and Paige were talking to the live while KK was sitting with Ice on another couch, watching the two of you. You were busy eating Chick-fil-a and reading comments, oblivious to the stares you were getting from your girlfriend. As you read another comment, Paige stole another one of your fries. You turned to Paige, “Paige, they wanna know about the braids.”

Paige’s face instantly dropped as she turned to the live. “Never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

As you let out a laugh, the two of you can hear a small scoff coming from KK, who crossed her arms and looked away from you the second the two of you made eye contact. This earned you and Paige giving each other a look before turning back to the live. You then looked over at Ice, shrugging your shoulders at her and she returned the gesture, shaking her phone at you to let you know she was going to text you.

“She’s in a mood”

“Why is she mad?” you text back.

“You and Paige, Ima assume”

“What? Why?”

You could hear Ice laugh at your response before she texted you back. “Pretty sure she’s jealous.”

“Oh lord.”

You set your phone down and looked over at your girlfriend. “KK, you want a waffle fry? I’ve got a few left.”

KK didn’t even bother to make eye contact with you, shaking her head and saying no.

Paige noticed this and turned to her. “Yo, if you don’t take it I will.”

That seemed to set KK off because she looked at the two of you for the first time in a few minutes, more specifically at Paige. Her arms still crossed and a frown on her face. “Go ahead, since you seem to like stealing everything of mine, I might as well not even stop you at this point.”

You widen your eyes at her sudden outburst and you could tell by Paige’s jaw dropping that she didn’t expect it either. “What?” Paige asked quietly.

KK stood up, walking a bit closer to the two of you. “Mute the live.” Paige grabbed her phone and muted the live, setting her phone back on the table. KK sighed before she spoke again, anger bubbling inside her. “You know damn well what I’m talkin’ bout Paige.”

Paige shook her head. “No I don’t.”

“Girl boo,” she scoffed. “You’re stealing my girlfriend.”

Paige put her hands up defensively, looking at KK as if she was crazy. “WHAT? When the hell did I ever steal Y/n? I ain’t doing you like that.”

You stood up, walking closer to your girlfriend. “KK, Paige and I are just friends. We talked about this and you said you were completely fine.”

KK rolled her eyes. “So are you both just gonna sit here and act like you’re not reading all those damn comments and watching all those edits of you two?”

Paige shook her head. “KK, I’d never go after your girl. Like ever. I know that people ship us but they also ship me with tons of other people. It’s not that deep.”

You nod. “Yeah, and KK, at the end of the day it doesn’t matter what they think. They don’t dictate what happens in our relationship and those comments sure as hell don’t determine or change how I feel about you.”

KK doesn’t say anything more and walks off to her bedroom, slamming the door shut. You and Paige stay standing in your spots, shocked expressions written on both of your faces. Ice stayed sitting on the couch, jaw slightly open as she didn’t understand what just occurred either. Paige slowly grabs her phone and ends the live. “Didn’t seem appropriate to keep going.”

“Good idea,” you mutter before walking in the direction of KK’s room. You approach the closed door quietly, trying to see if you could hear anything before you knock on the door. But as you stood in front of her room, you didn’t hear anything. You sigh gently, raising your hand to knock on the door. “Baby?”

You earn no response from her. You knock again. “KK? Can I come in?”

Again, no response. “Can we talk about what just happened please?”

No fucking response. You took a deep breath, trying not to get angry. “Just let me talk to you.”

After a few seconds, you heard shuffling on the other side of the door which resulted in the door opening slowly. KK walks back over to her bed and you walk in, shutting the door behind you. You move closer to her, as she laid on her bed, burying her head in a pillow.

You speak softly, “you should have told me the comments and the edits were getting to you.”

“How can I do it without seeming like I’m controlling?” she muttered from the pillow.

You sit down on the bed beside her, gently rubbing her back. “You’re not controlling at all and even if you came to me and told me you didn’t feel comfortable with me and Paige, I never would think you’re controlling.”

“Why does it have to be Paige?”

“What do you mean?” you ask her, confused by what she meant.

KK finally lifted her face up from her pillow, turning slightly to look at you. “Paige is probably one of the most popular girls on social media right now. And she’s perfect and gorgeous and now people think you guys are dating.”

You look at her. “Who cares what these people think. I love you, not her.”

“Well what happens when people find out we’re dating instead of you two.”

You shake your head as you respond, “it doesn’t matter. I could care less and you should too.”

“Maybe I’m just not good enough for you and you should be with someone like Paige,” she says quietly.

“What?” you ask her, shocked she could even say something like that. “No, no, no, don’t ever say that. You’re more than good enough, do you hear me?”

There’s something that changes in her eyes when she looks at you this time. Her eyes darken and she gazes at you with a hint of lust in her eyes. The type of look that sends a shiver down your spine. “How good?” she asks you.

You return the look she was giving you. “I can show you.”

She gives you a small smirk, pulling you on top of her in one swift motion, her hands running up and down your sides. “Paige can’t do this.”

“You’re right,” you quietly say, looking into her eyes as your hands traveled up toward the nape of her neck. The look in her eyes that she gave you sent a wave of heat all the way to your core, igniting small throbs that made you close your eyes in response to the feeling.

“Hey.” KK rests her fingers on your chin, tilting your head towards hers. “Eyes on me.”

You open your eyes as you feel her fingers start rubbing circles on your waist, each rub shooting a new electrifying shiver through your body. You waste no time in crashing your lips against hers with KK’s body instantly responding to you, a low moan coming from her lips. Her hands roamed the small of your back, fingertips beginning to travel up your spine. You let your hands move from the back of her neck to her jawline.

Her tongue brushes against your bottom lip causing you to slightly gasp, allowing her to slide her tongue into your mouth. The feeling of her tongue in your mouth made you release short whimpers into her own, resulting in her grip on you becoming tighter.

KK begins trailing soft and hot kisses down your jawline to your neck as you tilt your head in order to give her more access to you. You buck your hips against her in order to try to release some of the tension your body had been building up. KK’s hands instantly fly to your hips and push you down harder on her, making you moan. She guided your hips into a grinding motion against hers as she kissed you down to your collarbone.

“Fuck, KK,” you whispered, almost breathless. You tried to speed up the motion in an attempt to feel some sort of friction between the two of you.

Sensing your urgency, KK pulls off your shirt and flips you onto your back in one move, hovering over you as she continues the assault on your neck. She whispers into your ear, “you like that baby?”

Losing the ability to speak as her knee moves between your legs, all you can do is give her a small nod. She pushes her knee harder against your clit, eliciting a moan from your mouth right next to her ear. She let out a raspy laugh, “I know you can do better than that.”

Her mouth moved lower now, hovering over your bra-covered tits. She reached a hand underneath your back, making you arch in response to make it easier for her to unclasp your bra. After successfully removing the fabric, she began to work on your nipples, her tongue swirling around one while one of her hands toyed with the other, giving you light pinches. Your moans grow louder and her knee pushes harder against your core as you feel the wetness grow more with every second that passes.

She gently holds your nipple between her teeth, sucking it softly while she looks directly at you, making you roll your head back. “Oh god,” you breathe out.

Your moans only fuel her more. She moves her leg away from you, causing you to whimper at the loss. She leans up, inching farther down your body as her fingers find the zipper to your shorts. In a matter of seconds, your shorts and underwear are now balled up on the floor as she positions herself in between your legs, pulling your legs up and hooking her arms around your thighs.

The anticipation built up inside you had you shaking to the touch, wanting nothing more than to feel her mouth on you. Just to feel her deep inside you. 

She runs a finger through your slick folds, her eyes in awe of how wet you are. The touch alone is enough to stimulate a breathless moan from you which only makes her crave you more. She looks up at you, a smile on her face. “Proud of this. That only I can make you this wet.”

You nod fervently. “Yes, only you,” you say as best you can without feeling out of breath. “No one else.”

She swipes her tongue through your folds a few times before circling your clit. Her fingers dug into your thighs, which would no doubt leave a mark later. You buck your hips up in response, the feeling of her tongue on you almost too much to handle. The increase in heaviness of your breath makes her speed up, just craving to hear you. The moans and whimpers for you are enough to make her latch her mouth right over your clit, sucking it. 

“Oh my…fuck,” you moan and that only makes her speed up more. And if that wasn’t enough, one of her fingers outlined the edge of your entrance before curling deep inside you, making you arch your back at the feeling. Thrusting her fingers in and out of you building up a pressure in your core that leaves you gripping the bed sheets.

KK lifts her head up so that she can see you. “You can take it.”

The feeling in your core caused by her mouth and fingers travels through your stomach and deep into your throat. You feel as if you could explode any second.  “I don’t know how much,” you pause, letting out another moan before continuing, “I can hold on.”

“Cum for me,” KK whispers directly onto your clit and that was enough to make your knuckles turn white and your orgasm to finally take over. KK keeps her pace with her fingers as you cum straight into her mouth. You feel as if your body has snapped, your breath hitching and your body shaking to her touch. As she helps you ride out your orgasm, her fingers begin to slow down as she detaches her mouth from you. “Did so good for me, baby.”

Your breaths were uneven and heavy as she finally stopped her movements and let you go. “Shit,” you breathed out. “KK, that was…”

KK let out a low laugh, moving to lie beside you. “Just know the next time you and Paige piss me off, I’m gonna have to break out the strap.”

Still catching your breath, you nod. “Noted.”

You and KK laid in bed, tangled in each other as you both enjoyed being in each other’s company. Your head was on KK’s chest when you both heard a knock on the door followed by Paige’s voice. “Love you guys but a little warning would have been nice.”