#I was like wait a minute I don’t need all this
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hoshifighting · 1 day ago
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Hiiii !! First of all tysm for all the fics you’ve put out! I honestly don’t know how you write them so fast 😭 secondly, I’ve been thinking about this so much so when I saw your requests were open again I got so excited to see if you had any opinions! How do you think the Svt members would react if you told them to say “please”/ ask nicely before they could cum?
I know you have so many requests coming in so I hope you’re taking care of yourself and having fun writing these!
svt reaction to you telling them to say “please”/ask nicely before they could cum
WARNINGS: smut, begging, svt desperate to cum ❤️🩹🗣
seungcheol: his pride is imediatelly gone and its almost funny. he’s groaning “please, please, I’ll do anything, baby, just let me cum.” gripping the sheets, thrusting up into your hand, so fucking close that he’s almost whining. if you tease him a little more, he’ll actually beg louder “fuck, I’m begging you—please let me.”
jeonghan: at first, he’s trying to smirk through it, pretending he’s unaffected: “oh, you think I’ll beg for you?” (he will). the minute you slow down or stop, he’s groaning and grinding against you like, “fine, fuck, please—please let me cum, baby.”
joshua: he wants to keep his composure, but his body’s backstabbing him. he’s thrusting into your hand, breathing hard through his nose, trying to hold back, until he’s finally gasping “fine, fine, please, I’ll beg if that’s what you want—just let me cum.”
jun: he’s squirming like crazy, trying to resist. but you can see the moment he breaks—his whole body’s trembling, and he finally whispers “please, baby, I need it—please.”
hoshi: instant panic. he’s gasping out, “please, I’ll be so good, I’ll do anything you want—just let me.” he’s holding onto you for dear life, all wide-eyed and desperate. if you don’t let him right away, he’ll legit cry, moaning your name in between pleases like he’s praying to you.
wonwoo: the silent sufferer. he’s biting his lip so hard it might bleed, glaring at you like he’s daring you to make him beg. but when you edge him for the third time, his voice cracks “fuck, please—please just let me finish.”
woozi: this man is STUBBORN. at first, he’s glaring at you, biting his lip like he can hold out forever. but when you keep teasing him, he’s growling under his breath ��haah—! fuck, okay—please, just let me finish, I can’t take it anymore.”
minghao: you’re testing his patience, and he hates losing. he’s shaking his head at first, lips tight, but when you keep teasing him, he’s hissing “you’re so cruel. fine—please, just let me cum.”
soekmin: likes it when you’re mean to him. he’s smiling through his whines, “please, baby, I know you wanna hear me beg—just let me cum, I’ll be so good for you.” if you keep teasing him, he’s GIGGLING because he lowkey loves it.
mingyu: he’s too whipped for you to pretend he wouldn’t enjoy being edged and begging for permission. he’d say please a hundred times if it meant you’d let him finish.
seungkwan: this man can talk, and it’s all spilling out at once. “please, I’m begging, I’ll be so good—fuck, I’ll never do anything to piss you off again, I promise, just let me cum, PLEASE.” he’s pulling out all the stops, saying whatever he thinks will convince you. 10/10, most affected.
vernon: he’s so conflicted. you can see the internal battle written all over his face. he starts off quiet, breathing hard, refusing to speak—until you slow down and he panics “wait, wait, okay—please, I’ll say whatever you want, just don’t stop.”
chan: his pride lasts for like… ten seconds. he’s trying to play it cool, but when he feels you tighten or slow down, he’s crying. bonus: if you’re extra mean, he’ll choke out an apology for being so stubborn.
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lemonlover1110 · 2 days ago
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𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬
Satoru Gojo
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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader
Summary: Your best friend gets a new boyfriend, and you come to see him in a different light.
Warnings: MDNI, Angst, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Hair descriptions for reader
*This is a commission for @mew4-ever18, it's the prequel to Pretty Little Liar! If you haven't read it yet, I recommend reading it after this🙂‍↕️ Anything that doesn't match up, remember that this is written after Pretty Little Liar
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
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“Hey, Le–” You begin, but you stop yourself when you see your co-worker is chatting with someone. You aren’t all that familiar with the building, but you’re here to work on a new system for the corporation’s computers. You aren’t familiar with the people, therefore you have no idea who Levi talks to.
You stare at the man, sitting down on a chair as if he owned the place. He clicks a pen over and over again as he speaks with Levi. You take note of his unusual white hair color; strange for a man like him, considering you’re around the same age. He certainly doesn’t belong in the IT department.
You make brief eye contact with his bright blue eyes before turning your attention to the computers… You almost feel flustered at the brief interaction– Something that can barely be considered an interaction. You listen in on the conversation,
“When are you coming over, Satoru? My wife is thrilled for you to meet the kids.” Levi speaks, and Satoru shrugs in response. The name makes you furrow your eyebrows… Satoru, you feel like you’ve heard the name before.
“I’ve been busy, Levi. I barely have a moment to myself.” Satoru responds, making Levi click his tongue. It’s almost as if Levi doesn’t believe it. 
“Right, busy. That’s why you’re here.” Levi replies as he joins you to work on the computers. Satoru chuckles, and you feel your face get warm. He has a cute laugh at least. You know you won’t be bothered by him snorting as you work.
“I don’t know, Levi. He looks pretty busy to me.” You joke, making both men laugh. They continue their conversations as you work. It’s pretty trivial, nothing that’s noteworthy to you until Satoru speaks up,
“They’re using the café for some stupid shit on Friday.” Which sparks up your attention. You remember your best friend, Ali, mentioning something about a meet and greet. An event that she’s been obsessing over because her rival is showing up. “Something about influencers meet and greet. I can’t imagine being so obsessed with someone that you’ve never seen, that you’ll pay to meet them.”
“You’re so judgy, Satoru. Maybe use that opportunity to get a girlfriend.” Levi answers.
“Like hell I’d pay to meet someone.” Satoru quickly responds, making Levi roll his eyes.
“Your father owns the building, I’m sure you can get in without a hitch.” Levi responds, making your eyes widen. You stare back at Satoru, and his eyes are as wide as yours. His cover has been blown, all thanks to Levi. 
“I’m not–” He begins, but you shake your head as a chuckle escapes your lips.
“Your secret is safe with me.” Your fingers do a zipping motion across your lips, which makes a subtle smile appear on his lips.
“Your hair is really pretty by the way.” He says, eyes staring at your curly brown hair. You smile at him, muttering a barely audible thank you, before turning around and focusing on your job. They chat for another minute before Levi tells him,
“Go back to work, Gojo. We don’t need your dad coming down here and turning the place upside down.” Which makes Satoru cross his arms and pout as if he were a child. You look back at him and laugh at his reaction. 
Satoru makes a joking comment before standing up and leaving the place, finally going back to his job.
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“I can’t wait for the weekend, I’m tired.” You comment as you chop up some vegetables, getting dinner ready for you and your best friend. Ali sits in the living room, staring at her phone. 
You can only assume that she’s editing some pictures to post. She’s so close to two million followers, and she’s posting just about anything to get attention. Or maybe she’s looking for outfit ideas, considering she’s going to be at the same place as Mai– She’s only reminded you over a hundred times that Mai’s her rival. One thing about Ali, she’ll make sure to stand out.
“Did I tell you what happened at work today? Some guy had an accident and they had to call an ambulance.” You continue talking, only to be met by hums. At least she’s listening, that’s what you tell yourself. You know that she’s busy and nervous for the event so you can’t blame her for not paying much attention.
You continue talking to her, not met by a single word from her. Not until you say something that catches her attention, “I also met the COO, I think his name was Satoru?”
“Gojo?!” She quickly questions, and you nod in response. She seems excited at the response, as if she knows exactly who Satoru is.
You furrow your eyebrows before asking her, “Do you know who he is?” 
“Of course I know who he is! He’s the most eligible bachelor in the city– Not to mention he’s our age.” She explains, and you’re surprised to see her so excited at the mention of Satoru. You should know by this point though. It’s even more surprising to hear her say, “Did you guys talk? What happened?”
“Oh, there wasn’t much to say. Him and my coworker were just talking about the event on Friday and that’s about it.” You tell her, and there’s a spark of hope in her eyes. She doesn’t have to ask before you gently let her down. “I don’t think he’s going… He did say he’s busy.”
“Oh.” Her excitement quickly turns sour, and you can’t help but feel bad for your best friend. 
“But maybe you’ll bump into each other! Satoru is really sweet, he complimented my hair.” You share, a bit of a dumb smile on your lips as you recall the moment. He’s really handsome, and to be complimented by him is utter flattery. 
You fail to notice how Ali rolls her eyes, a complete look of jealousy taking over her face. She lets out a small sigh before telling you, “Oh, dear. You’re just naive.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” You innocently reply, and there’s a pitiful look in her eyes. It’s as if she feels sorry for you.
“I’ve heard he does it to everyone… He’s a bit of a flirt.” She answers, and you raise your eyebrows. You let out a low chuckle before nodding in response.
“I wasn’t thinking much of it.” You reply, though your flattery fades away in a matter of seconds. She’s right, why did you even think much of such a simple compliment? 
You continue talking, and as the conversation shifts from Satoru, she loses her interest once again.
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Satoru doesn’t really care for coffee, but right now he can’t keep his eyes open. He needs to drink something to stay awake. He tried to slack off with Levi, but it seems that Levi would rather help his wife than help Satoru avoid work.
Satoru gets to the first floor of the building, and sees the line to enter the café. It’d be more time effective to get into his car and drive away, but he won’t do that. Satoru technically owns the building, so he should be able to skip the line without a problem. He ignores the complaints and yells from the people in the line.
Security lets him in without an issue, considering he’s very easy to recognize. One must be living under a rock to not recognize who Satoru Gojo is. 
The man plans on simply getting a coffee and leaving. Before his plan can even start, something catches his eye– Someone. They make eye contact before she turns her attention to a fan. She smiles brightly at them, tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. 
He should just get his coffee and leave, she’s not the type of woman that Satoru would go for. The self-absorbed type. The type that he’d go after just for sex– It’s not that Satoru doesn’t like women that are self confident, he just doesn’t like when they can only talk about themselves. 
Even with his internal dilemma, he decides to step toward her. They grin at each other before she speaks up,
“Hey. Here for a picture?” Which makes him chuckle. He ends up nodding, because he’d be a fool to say no to her. The same man that was talking bad about the event is now glad that it’s happening in this building. 
He leans down to take a selfie with her, both of them smiling brightly at the camera. There’s someone else waiting to meet her, but they can wait. Her attention is completely on Satoru.
“I’m Allison by the way.” She tells him, extending her hand for Satoru to take. He laughs again, taking her hand. It was easy for her to know that Satoru had no idea of her existence… But he still wanted a picture. 
“I’m Satoru.” He introduces himself, and he knows that she knows who he is. The man looks back at the line that is waiting to meet the woman, and he asks, “Am I holding up the line?” 
“Oh, no!” She doesn’t skip a beat. It’s clear that she doesn’t want the man to leave so soon, not until she gets his number. “I mean, I’ve got all day.”
“I wouldn’t want some of the men in the line to–” Satoru looks back at the line, filled with grown men that are here simply to talk to Ali. He’s definitely interrupting, but she doesn’t seem to care so why should he? “Ah, who cares in the end? I’m talking to a very gorgeous woman, to hell with them.”
“I’m flattered.” She answers, and they continue their conversation. Other people in line grow desperate, a meet up that’s supposed to last two minutes has been extended by eight minutes. It’s not ending anytime soon either.
After a couple more minutes, Satoru hands her his phone, telling her, “How about you give me your number so we can talk a bit more?”
“I’d love to.” She smiles, not hesitating before giving him her number. She smiles, knowing that this is just the beginning of something wonderful with Satoru.
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It’s nothing serious. Satoru just wants to meet up with Ali for one thing and one thing only. It’s not like he’s deceiving her as he texts her, Satoru makes it clear that she knows that he only wants sex. She’s clearly fine with it, from what he can tell. 
They agree to meet up at a hotel that isn’t too far from the café. Neither of them have to drive too much to meet up with each other. Satoru’s penthouse is nearby, but that’ll just turn things more personal than what they need to be. 
Satoru gets to the hotel, where he finds Ali waiting in reception. She’s eagerly looking around, excited to lay her eyes on him. He smiles at her when she finally sees him. Ali doesn’t waste a single second on walking over toward him, opening her arms to hug him.
“I hope you weren’t waiting long.” Satoru comments, as his hand grabs hers. She shakes her head, assuring him that she wasn’t there for too long. 
“Shall we go?” He asks, and she nods in response. She makes conversation, while Satoru prefers to stay quiet. He’s not trying to hide the fact that he isn’t looking for something more. 
He’s at the hotel for sex. He doesn’t have to engage in conversation because he’s made his intentions clear. 
And even with his very clear intentions, when he wakes up in the morning, he still takes her to breakfast. He feels a twinge of guilt as he watches her sleep beside him. He doesn’t know what it is– Perhaps it was something she said last night that makes him feel like this. 
He’ll take her for breakfast before giving her a proper goodbye.
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Ali comes home a little past noon, wearing the same clothes as the previous day. You can’t help but notice immediately when she walks through the door. You’re not one that keeps tabs on her, after all, Ali is grown– But you can’t lie, you were worried. She had failed to tell you about any plans after the event, and she didn’t answer any of your messages.
“I’m home!” She sings, clearly elated about something. You can already form the picture. One of her fans was more handsome than she intended and she couldn’t help herself. You’re happy for her.
“Glad to see you’re okay.” You tell her, not caring to look up much from your phone. You know her, she’ll end up locking herself in her room for the rest of the day to catch up on sleep. You think you have her all figured out until she sits beside you on the couch. You look up at her, curious. “What happened?”
“Do you remember Satoru Gojo?” She can’t hide her smile. You nod in response, furrowing your eyebrows as you think about him. In what possible scenario would they– No. No no no. “He went to the meet and greet yesterday and he asked for my number!”
“That’s great, Ali!” You tell her, a little shocked about it. You would’ve sworn that he’d never show up to the meet and greet, but it seems that he changed his mind at the last second. However, the story clearly doesn’t stop there, otherwise she wouldn’t be wearing yesterday’s clothes.
“We kept texting all day before we agreed to meet up at a hotel and let me tell you!” She excitedly continues, but your interest is quickly lost. You don’t want to hear about Ali’s wonderful night with Satoru. You love her to death, but you don’t need the details of her sexual life. “He’s so passionate, my goodness! He kept going all night and–”
She continues, and you feel queasy at every detail. Ali just can’t keep stuff to herself. You won’t lie and say you aren’t a bit disappointed as she tells you everything. It means that Satoru is completely off limits now. Though, you don’t believe that you ever had a chance with him.
You’re happy for her, especially when she says, “He’s the man of my dreams, I’m telling you. We’re destined to be together.”
“I’m so happy for you, Ali.” You respond, and she has a hint of smugness in her expression. It’s not something you pick up on. 
You swear that she tells you out of pure excitement since she’s your best friend, and you’re her best friend as well.
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Something that was meant to be a one night stand has turned into something more. It has no labels, that’s something that Satoru makes clear; something that Ali complains to you about every other day. Every single day she mentions Satoru, without failing to bring up how lucky she is. 
It’s been two months, and Ali is expecting some sort of commitment from Satoru. She knows she can’t force it, but she’s slowly growing impatient. It’s something that has become clear to Satoru as well. 
Satoru intends to let her down gently, but there’s never a right time. He’s walking her back to her hotel room after a very eventful day.
There’s never a right time because they spend a lot of time together. Very stupidly he decided to invite her overseas for her birthday. He’s not committing to her, but he’s very much giving her mixed signals. 
“You know, Satoru, I love spending time with you.” Ali suddenly says, and Satoru’s eyebrows perk up. He’s about to ask why, but she reads his mind. “You make me feel seen… Usually when I’m with a man they make me feel like I’m some sort of object…”
“I’m glad that you feel that way around me.” Satoru weakly smiles, feeling his ears get red. She says that as if Satoru isn’t similar to them. They’re just hooking up. 
They get to the door of her hotel room, and she proceeds to kiss his cheek. She squeezes his hands as she tells him, “Thank you for seeing me as someone more than just–”
“You don’t have to mention it.” He unintentionally cuts her off. He doesn’t want to hear it, knowing that he’s not as different as she claims he is.
“Thank you for inviting me out here. This place is truly beautiful.” She smiles brightly at him, unable to hide her happiness. “Bringing me here for my birthday was really thoughtful, I don’t know how to repay you.”
“You don’t have to repay me.” He assures her, placing a kiss on her forehead. He’s meant to let her down gently because he’s allowed this relationship to stray too far… But dumping a woman on her birthday? “Happy birthday, Ali.”
“Will you join me in my room? I want to watch a movie.” She asks, and Satoru bites down his lip before nodding in response. She opens the door to her room, and he sighs before speaking up.
“Ali, would you like to be my girlfriend?” It sounds forced and something he’d say out of pure guilt. Any other woman would be able to pick up on it by his tone, but Ali does not care. Her face lights up and she throws her arms over Satoru’s shoulders. She kisses him, her wordless answer to his question. 
A label-less relationship has suddenly obtained a label. The last thing that Satoru wanted.
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Ali invites you out the moment she gets back from her trip. You assume it’s her way to apologize for leaving you stranded. You had a special birthday surprise for her, only to find out that she was out of the country by her social media. Ali has a bad habit of leaving you in the dark. 
She’s making it up by inviting you to a restaurant that’s absolutely out of your budget. You can’t believe your eyes once you’re outside of the place. You’ve heard of it before but you knew it was well out of your price range. She’s most definitely inviting you here to apologize since she sensed you were being a little cold with her lately.
You give your car keys to the valet and make your way into the place. You can’t help but feel a little out of place once you walk inside, but there isn’t much you can do about it. You give the host Ali’s name, and you’re quickly guided to the table.
Your eyes fall on her, a smile coming to your lips as you see your best friend. However, the smile quickly fades when you see that she isn’t alone. It strikes you that this isn’t an apology, but rather her introducing you to her boyfriend. 
You can’t lie and say that you aren’t disappointed, but it’s easy to brush off. You’re still here with her, it shouldn’t matter. 
“Hi.” You greet them, eyes lingering on Ali. You briefly look at Satoru, and you can tell that he doesn’t remember you. You were just a face that he once saw at work, you’re not hurt in the slightest.
“You’re finally here!” Ali exclaims, as if she’s overcompensating for something. Something you fail to pick up on. 
“Yeah, there was a bit of traffic.” You tell her as you take a seat across from her and Satoru. Ali grins before she begins to introduce the two of you.
“Satoru, this my best friend.” She signals towards you, telling him your name. There’s a frown on his face, trying to recall where he’s seen you before. You almost feel embarrassed because you remember exactly who he is, but he can’t even remember if he’s seen you before. 
Ali can’t wipe the smirk off her face as she introduces you to her boyfriend. She makes it clear that things are more than official now– She emphasizes the word as if she had forgotten to tell you, “And this is Satoru, my boyfriend.”
“Nice to meet you, Satoru.” You wave at him, forcing yourself to smile. You’re a bit unprepared for all of this, considering Ali didn’t give you a heads up about meeting her boyfriend. Alas, you can’t flee now.
“We’ve met before!” He exclaims, suddenly remembering you. So it’s you. You’re the friend that couldn’t join on the trip because Ali claimed you were too busy. “You don’t remember? I was in the IT department slacking off– Well, I wouldn’t say slacking off but–”
“Yeah, I remember you.” You cut him off, a low chuckle leaving your lips as he runs down the events. It’s not the only time you’ve bumped into each other. Not too long ago you saw him in a meeting, but he was too busy with work to notice you. 
“I’m surprised you were too busy to join us on the trip, I didn’t think that your job was too demanding.” He brings up, and he feels Ali’s hand wrap around his wrist, squeezing. It seems like he’s overshared. You furrow your eyebrows, confused with what he says. 
“Huh? What do you mean?” You question, and before Satoru can further explain that you were invited on Ali’s birthday trip but you turned down the offer, Ali butts in.
“The trip was just so last minute so I assumed that you couldn’t come.” She explains, and you feel another wave of disappointment washing over you. You try to understand though, you know Ali is awful at communicating certain things. 
“Oh, I get it. Don’t worry about it.” You laugh it off. Awkwardness comes with the silence that ensues. Satoru looks around for the waiter, but he’s nowhere in sight. 
“I love your glasses, by the way. Is that a new frame?” Satoru asks, not liking the awkward silence. You feel your face get warm at the compliment but before you can answer, Ali speaks in your behalf,
“Aren’t they cute? I picked them out for her!” She quickly takes credit. “She called me for help! Poor thing looked lost.”
“That’s why I have you around.” You respond, and she laughs. She pulls out her phone, and quickly begins to take pictures for her Instagram story.
“My followers will love this.” She comments as she gets you and Satoru in a shot. It’s truly not a meal with Ali until she pulls out her phone to post everything.
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You’re back in Satoru’s workplace before you know it. You’re there to do a system check, something that doesn’t require you to deal with Satoru. You don’t want to say that you’re overjoyed that you’re not dealing with him, but you certainly aren’t upset about it.
Ali drags you along with her to almost everything that deals with him. Long story short, you third wheel a lot. You’re rightfully awkward around him, and you don’t want to deal with that feeling in a workplace setting. Perhaps things would be different if you got to know him in a different setting, but you’d prefer to keep things with him as minimal as possible.
Your prayers aren’t heard though. The moment that you step into the building, you make eye contact with him. You attempt to ignore him, acting as if you didn’t see him as you begin your job. He gives you that courtesy, and leaves you alone since you so clearly don’t want to be bothered. 
Satoru leaves you alone until you bump into each other in the break room. When he sees you again, he wants to talk to you.
“How’s work today?” He asks, and you know that he’s directly talking to you since there’s no one else around. 
“It’s fine.” You answer rather dryly, and he notices. It’s not intentional, you’re just focused on your job. “How about you? Are you down here slacking off?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” He laughs as if he’s been caught doing something that he’s not supposed to be doing. You’re right, you’ve caught him slacking off.
“Mr. Gojo, your office is not on this floor.” You remind him, and he feels a bit embarrassed. Right, the giant detail that he’s overlooked. “Levi is a bit busy, you can come in a couple of hours though.”
“How about you? Are you busy?” He asks, and you are but you’re also looking to take a longer break; you’ve got the perfect excuse lining up, the COO needed you so you couldn’t refuse.
“Why do you ask?” You reply, and he puts his hands in his pockets as he looks around the room. Once he sees that he’s free to say whatever he wishes, he answers.
“How about I give you a tour of the building? I know that you’re not here often.” He offers, and you take a moment to think about it. You already know the building pretty well, the parts that you don’t know don’t concern you. You still think about it.
“Mr. Gojo–” You begin, only to be quickly interrupted by him.
“Please, we’ve spent enough time together. Call me Satoru.” He corrects you, and you hum in response.
“Alright, Satoru, show me the place.” You agree, only for him to grab your hand and drag you out of the break room without hesitation. He does not think about how things might be awkward afterward, Satoru simply lives in the moment.
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“Alright you two, look at my phone.” Ali is practically shoving the camera right in your face to get the perfect shot. She needs to show off to everyone how great she is at managing her romantic and social life– She’s not the type of woman that puts a man over her friends. 
“Alright, babe. Put the phone down.” Satoru tells her after what feels like the millionth picture. He planned this lovely picnic, only for Ali to only care about showing her followers. He likes Ali, but there’s just something about her that Satoru doesn’t like… Unfortunately, relationships can’t be perfect.
“Just one more!” She claims, making Satoru click his tongue. No matter what he says, Ali won’t put the phone down. 
“Thank you for joining us. I would’ve sworn that at this point you’d be sick of us.” Satoru says as he passes you a sandwich. You laugh.
The only reason you joined was because you thought you’d be spending time alone with Ali. It’s rare to catch her alone nowadays since she’s usually with Satoru. It shouldn’t have surprised you to find out that the picnic was with Satoru; you weren’t even annoyed when you found it, as a matter of fact, you were happy to find out he was tagging along.
“Oh she’d never betray us, she’s like our loyal pet.” Ali comments, and you feel your face get warm of embarrassment. You can’t help but feel ashamed by her comment. 
“Ali, apologize.” Satoru quickly tells her as a frown comes to her face. She crosses her arms, before asking,
“Why should I apologize?”
“It’s fin–” You begin but Satoru cuts you off. He’s not going to let her words slide. 
“Because what you said was rude, she’s your best friend.” He’s getting upset about this, his tone of voice giving it away. Ali scoffs, not seeing anything wrong with her words. Why should she apologize when it isn’t a lie?
“You said it, she’s my best friend. I know her better than you do and I know that she’s fine with it.” She argues, and you’re almost praying for the ground to open and swallow you whole. Being here is already weird enough, but to watch them argue? You swear this is the last time you tag along without asking Ali about all the details.
“Do you not see how rude that is? You invited her, she didn’t beg to tag along.” He points out, which makes her roll her eyes. “You’re the one that usually invites her, you can’t say that about someone that never asks to join.”
“Fine!” She shouts, giving up. It usually means that she doesn’t have a counterargument. Additionally, if the argument escalates further then Satoru might just cancel the trip that they have for the weekend. She looks directly at you and forces herself to say, “I’m sorry for calling you our loyal pet.”
“It’s fine, I know you didn’t mean anything rude by it.” You reassure her, feeling completely and utterly embarrassed by this whole situation. Ali gives Satoru a weird look before she grabs herself something to snack on. 
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Things begin to change between you and Ali, and it’s all your fault. You’re refusing to hang out with her because you know that Satoru is going to be there. It’s not that you dislike him, on the contrary, you think he’s the perfect man for your best friend. But you can’t help but feel like there’s a weird dynamic whenever you’re third-wheeling. 
Luckily, Ali doesn’t seem to notice that you’re distant. She’s too preoccupied with Satoru. You’re more than fine with it, as long as you don’t have to explain yourself.
It does kind of suck that you’re barely seeing her since you can’t ask for a small favor. Taking the bus is not the end of the world, but waiting for it while it’s raining is an annoyance to say the least. It’ll take at least five more minutes for the bus to come by. Your car just had to break down during the rainiest time of the month. 
You’re watching all the cars go by, eyes focusing on a sports car that is all too similar to Satoru’s. It’s not an usual car to find in the area, so you don’t assume it’s Satoru– Not until the car pulls up at the bus stop and the window rolls down.
“Do you need a ride home?” You hear his voice before your eyes land on him. You bite down your lip as you look around the place. You really want to turn Satoru’s offer down, but the bus is nowhere near and the rain is not stopping any time soon. 
“Yeah.” You end up accepting, opening the car’s door. You do have an umbrella, but it can only do so much against the heavy rain. You apologize for getting his car all wet as you get in, and he assures you that it’s fine.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were taking the bus?” Satoru asks as he begins to drive. As you open your mouth to answer, he speaks again, “Granted, we haven’t been seeing each other much.”
You chuckle. He turns on the heating, noticing that you’re shivering the moment you get into the car. He picks up on the small details and you hate it. You’re truly happy for Ali, but you hate that Satoru makes you feel so wonderful.
Perhaps the reason why you’re distancing yourself doesn’t have to do much with them but rather yourself. You’re slowly seeing Satoru in a different light and you could never forgive yourself.
“I don’t want to be a burden. I can imagine you’re sick of me.” You comment, attempting to pass it off as a joke when a laugh escapes your lips. He doesn’t find the humor in it. 
“I miss you! When you’re not around Ali’s phone is all over me.” He jokes, and while you’d usually laugh, you can’t. His words weigh heavy on your heart. Why the hell would he tell you that he misses you? Does he not know what that does to a woman? “There’s a new dessert shop opening up soon, we should go there soon.”
He’s gotten to know you too well, that’s why you’re avoiding them. He’s Ali’s boyfriend, you’re overstepping a boundary. As a matter of fact, you shouldn’t be in his car. You feel awkward next to him– As if your heart was about to beat out of your chest. Your stomach churns every time that you look at him.
You frown as you look at him, suddenly feeling nauseous. You’ve come to a sudden realization. But no, it can’t be. No no no no no! You refuse to accept it.
“Hey, are you okay?” Satoru questions when he realizes the frown on your face as you stare at him. “Did I do something? Are you mad?”
“No, you’re fine! I just swore I saw something on your window.” You try to play it off, which he thankfully believes. You’re not in the mood to explain to him what you’re thinking of.
How awkward would it be to explain to him that you have a crush on him? Telling your best friend’s boyfriend about your weird feelings is the last thing you want to do. 
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You were planning on avoiding Satoru and Ali like the plague, but you started overthinking. Wouldn’t they notice something is up with you if you constantly ignore them? So you keep things to a minimum with the pretense that you don’t want to cut in. It’s nearly impossible to almost always avoid them, considering Satoru is almost always at your place.
You find yourself outside your apartment more often than usual. You’ve come to learn their schedule, and you’ve started to run errands whenever Satoru is around the apartment. It just never occurred to you that Satoru wasn’t abiding by a schedule, and that you’d bump into each other elsewhere.
You freeze in the middle of the grocery store when Satoru calls out your name. You curse yourself and pray that Ali is with him. You don’t want to find yourself alone with Satoru– You wouldn’t act out on your crush, but you still don’t feel comfortable at the thought of being alone with him. 
“Hey, Satoru… What are you doing here?” The terrible question leaves your lips as you turn around to face him. Why else would he be here? He’s a human, he needs to get groceries to survive. 
“Just getting some stuff for tonight. You’re coming to the dinner party, right?” Satoru questions, and you raise your eyebrow. You have no idea what he’s talking about. But instead of questioning him further, you simply shake your head. He sighs, “Ali insisted we host something for my birthday.”
“Oh, is it your birthday?” You ask.
“In the next couple of days.” He answers. “I thought Ali would invite you.”
“If I’m invited then her other influencer friends get jealous.” You remind him, and he clicks his tongue. They’re all so superficial, he’d much rather have you around over them.
“I already feel the headache coming on.” He jokes, making a low chuckle leave your lips. You begin to walk through the aisles, and the man walks by your side. He’s unknowingly complimenting you, which makes you want to drop to your knees.
“I really don’t know why she’d invite them and not you? I’d love to have you around, but them…” He says, and you laugh. You almost laugh at his every word, it’s a dead giveaway; but Satoru doesn’t notice. At least you think he doesn’t.
“Some of them are nice!” You tell him, but he’s not too sure that your words will uphold. Sure, they might be nice but they’ll all be too focused about themselves. They’re more than likely very similar to Ali– Which isn’t a bad thing, but sometimes Ali can only think about herself.
“Right.” He scoffs. You notice that he’s not picking up anything while he walks alongside you, making you wonder if he’s done with shopping. Or perhaps he’s simply forgotten that he’s here to shop.
“Are you done?” You ask him, and he looks back into his basket. He doesn’t even have half of the stuff he came here for. 
“Shit…” He mutters, realizing he has to go through all of the aisles again. He pats your back before telling you, “Alright, I’ll leave you.”
“Bye, Satoru.” You wave at him as he begins to walk away. There’s a stupid smile on your face as you stare at him. A smile that quickly fades away when you remember that Satoru is Ali’s boyfriend.
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“Alright, you have to be nice. We’re meeting his friends.” Ali tells you as she uses her phone camera to check her makeup. She wants to make the best impression on her boyfriend’s friends. 
“I’m always nice.” You tell her, as the elevator takes you up to Satoru’s penthouse. It’s the first time you’re invited to his place, and you wonder how it looks. Is it cold and empty? Or is it welcoming? Considering he’s almost always at your place, you’ve already made your conclusions.
“These are like his very close friends so you know things are getting serious.” Ali comments, making sure that you remember how her and Satoru are an item. There’s not a second in the day where she’s not reminding everyone. It’s almost as if she doesn’t believe it herself that she’s with Satoru.
“Things are going to go great, Ali. Don’t worry about it.” You reassure her, and she takes a deep breath. The elevator doors open, and you grab her hand to comfort her, giving it a light squeeze. You step into the penthouse, looking around the place. It’s empty, just like you imagined it– Sure, it has furniture but it just feels empty.
“They’re in the kitchen.” Ali points to where she hears the laughter. You follow her to the kitchen, noticing that the laughter dies down the moment she enters the room.
Satoru walks to her side, taking her hand into his own as he faces his friends. He grins before he tells them, “Suguru, Shoko, this is my girlfriend, Ali.”
“Hi, Ali.” Suguru smiles, waving at the woman. Shoko doesn’t exactly greet her, but she does try to smile at her with a subtle wave.
“Hi, guys! It’s so lovely to meet you!” She acts as if she’s known them all of her life, going over to them and hugging them. Her hug isn’t rejected, but it isn’t necessarily well received. 
You awkwardly stand by the door, feeling completely out of place. Ali came to you with the pretense that she needed you for moral support, and you couldn’t just reject her; right now you’re mad at your decision though. Your weekend plans are ruined. 
“And this is,” Satoru introduces you to his friends as well, when Ali is done giving out her awkward hug. You wave at his friends, not as confident as Ali to go to them and hug them.
“So nice to meet you.” Shoko finally speaks, earning you a side-eye from Ali. You don’t notice it, instead you focus on Satoru’s best friends.
“I love your shirt, Shoko.” You comment, and she thanks you as she looks down.
“Do you listen to them?” She asks you, and you nod in response. It leads to a conversation about your favorite songs, a conversation that Suguru chimes into. Ali can’t join in since she doesn’t know the band, therefore she can’t add anything useful.
Ali feels left out, and she hates that feeling. Therefore, she’ll force herself into the mix
“You know who I love!” She begins, only for Shoko to coldly look back at her. Shoko raises her eyebrow, and Ali begins to speak. An artist that’s completely unrelated to the initial genre; frankly, someone that isn’t well liked around the room. 
An awkward silence ensues when Ali stops talking, which makes Satoru intervene. The man clears his throat before speaking, “How about we go to the living room?” 
To which you all agree to.
Conversation flows smoothly when you’re speaking to Suguru and Shoko. You expected to feel left out for the entire night, but surprisingly you get along fine with the duo. You can’t help but notice that Ali’s being left out, so every now and then you ask her a question that fits into the conversation. However, she doesn’t have much to offer.
“So what do you do?” Shoko asks you as she cuddles up to Suguru on the couch. You’re sitting on the floor, watching as the couples begin to snuggle up. It’s getting colder in the penthouse, so rightfully they’re seeking warmth.
“I’m a tech analyst. I occasionally work with Satoru’s company!” You share. “I’ve been to it maybe a handful of times.”
“Is it fun?” She questions and you laugh, which answers her question. “At least it’s a real job.”
“What do you mean?” You ask, and Shoko chuckles, shaking her head. She refuses to answer, though it should be clear she’s talking about Ali. 
You look around the living room, watching as Shoko and Suguru snuggle up, as well as Ali and Satoru. You don’t feel as awkward as you should be since you’re used to this sort of thing. It isn’t the first and it won’t be the last time that Ali invites you to something for couples only. 
“Awh, look at you. You look so lonely.” Ali takes a pitiful tone as she speaks to you, and suddenly a weird shame consumes you.
“What are you even saying? She’s with us.” Shoko immediately defends you, taking a harsh tone as she looks at Ali. “She doesn’t need a significant other.”
“Right, all a partner does is–” Suguru begins, which earns him a quick glare from Shoko. He bites down his tongue, deciding to not get himself in trouble. Suguru ends up clearing his throat before saying, “At least she’s making interesting conversation.”
“It’s getting late!” Satoru chimes in, not wanting to escalate things further. He quickly picks up on the fact that Shoko doesn’t like Ali, and he feels like Ali reciprocates that feeling. “I’m sleepy.”
“He’s kicking us out, Shoko.” Suguru says, sticking his tongue out at Satoru. The couple stands up, and you awkwardly remain on the floor. You regret accepting Ali’s proposal of staying the night. 
“Aren’t you busy tomorrow? I don’t want you to be too tired for your plans.” Satoru tries to make it seem as if he isn’t kicking them out, when in reality he is. He doesn’t want things to escalate, and Suguru can tell which is why he doesn’t say anything else. 
“Right, busy. Sunday morning. We’re going to church or whatever you do.” Suguru says as he’s led to the elevator by Satoru. 
You take a quick look at Ali, seeing the upset look in her face. You’d usually comfort her, but you know that she isn’t in the mood for comfort. She needs a moment alone, which is why you stand up.
“I’m going to sleep.” You tell her, trying to smile at her. She simply hums, not even looking in your direction. 
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You wake up earlier than usual, unable to sleep for longer since the room you’re sleeping in isn’t your own. It’s odd, considering that the bed you lay on is the most comfortable bed you’ve ever touched. Last night’s events weigh heavy on your mind, contributing to the lack of sleep. You wonder if Ali is still upset with you, or if the sleep has cooled her off.
You get up from bed, and get out as quietly as possible. You don’t want to make a loud noise and wake up the happy couple– Although you doubt that any noise will reach them from how big the penthouse is.
A big yawn escapes your lips as you walk to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee. You freeze when you enter the kitchen and bump into Satoru. Your eyes widen when you realize he’s shirtless. 
“Oh!” You can’t help but exclaim, as your eyes look him up and down. He’s only wearing gray sweatpants. Your face is turning hot, feeling almost like a complete virgin. You make eye contact with him, and the man looks at you utterly surprised.
“I’m sorry.” He quickly apologizes, and you dramatically turn around. He’s just shirtless, it’s not the end of the world. But you swear you took a peek at his underwear. 
“No, it’s your home. You’re okay.” You trip over your words as your hands cover your face. He notices that your reaction is a tad bit dramatic. He won’t judge you for it, you have your reasons to react the way you do.
Before Satoru can utter another word, you’re out of the kitchen. Satoru furrows his eyebrows, as his eyes land on the box of macaroons that you got him for his birthday. Ali simply a watch, one that he already had in his collection. You took note of what he liked and went out of your way to get it for him. 
It dawns on him. The reason why you reacted the way you did is because you like him. Luckily, Ali is asleep so she won’t notice a thing.
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“Satoru, what are you doing?” You ask before he cups your face and kisses your lips. He’s kissing you so hungrily. He’s full of passion, as if he’s been waiting for this moment for a long time. 
When did he get into your room?
“I need you.” He tells you between kisses, his hands going under your nightgown. He’s getting risky. Where did all of this come from? One moment he was cuddling up with Ali and then the next he’s kissing you as if you were his. You should fight back since you know it’s wrong, but your body melts.
You can’t do anything as Satoru kisses you, except give in. His lips move lower, going to your neck as his hands go higher. Before you know it, he’s playing with your panties. He teases your pussy, and you feel your breath get caught up in your chest as he gets more risky.
“We shouldn’t, Satoru.” Your voice is barely audible, easy to slip past his ears. You won’t repeat yourself because you don’t want him to stop. 
He pushes your panties to the side, two fingers running through your folds. His fingers press against your clit, nearly making your eyes roll to the back of your head. He’s sucking on your neck, on that sweet spot that makes you weak. He already knows his body as if it were his own.
“Oh–” You gasp as he pushes a finger inside of you. You can’t believe this is happening– Oh how wrong is it? Poor Ali. But guilt isn’t the most prominent feeling in your mind, which means it’s ignored. A second finger quickly follows, and you swear you’re in heaven.
“I need you so badly.” He sounds breathless, utterly desperate. He curves his fingers, hitting just the right spot. You moan his name, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth. You don’t remember if Ali is nearby or not, but you don’t want to risk it.
His thumb is playing with your clit, feeling your whole body turn to putty. You can’t stop now. You need to feel him in every possible sense. 
“Please…” You mutter, your body craving more. You can’t use your words, it simply makes things wrong. He reads your mind, pulling away and taking his shirt off. You can’t help but run your hands down his well toned torso. This is so wrong but you can’t bring yourself to stop.
Your hand reaches the waistband of his sweatpants, biting down your lip before you pull down. That’s where you lose control again, Satoru taking charge.
“Just relax, okay? I’ll take good care of you.” Satoru tells you as he puts you on your stomach, facing away from him. He fully lifts up your nightgown to get a good look at your ass. He slaps your ass before running the tip of his cock through your folds.
He slowly pushes himself in, and you bury your head into your pillow. You can’t make a noise as his thick cock fills you up. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as he bottoms out. 
“Can you handle it, pretty girl?” He asks, giving you a moment to adjust to him. Your answer comes out muffled by the pillow, but luckily he can understand the yes that leaves your lips. He begins to move slowly.
Why is this happening? Not that you’re complaining. Guilt will eat you alive later, but you’re living in the moment. How could you not live in the moment when Satoru is fucking you?
“You feel so good.” Satoru moans, and you can’t hold yourself back on being as enthusiastic as he is. He’s hitting all the right spots, making your body feel euphoric. 
You’re too in your head that you almost miss that the door opens– The door opens?! You immediately know it’s her, and you can’t stop. How will you explain it to her? No, no no no no! You seriously can’t be doing this to your best friend.
“Wake up, sleepyhead.” You hear, and suddenly she’s shaking your body. Your mind is snapped out of your subconscious when she yells, “Ew! You’re drooling!”
Your eyes slowly open, and you feel the guilt pit in your stomach when you realize you were having a dream about your best friend’s boyfriend. A very explicit dream to say the least. 
“Ali, what do you need?” You question with a raspy voice, clearly just woken up from a very fantastic dream. No, not fantastic. A bad dream.
“You went to sleep really early last night. Don’t you think it’s time to wake up?” She reminds you. You remember getting home from Satoru’s place, and heading straight to your room. You spent all day in bed yesterday, almost as if you had a cold. “Plus, you told me you’d cook for me for my diet!”
“Oh, right… I forgot.” You respond, your hand wiping the sweat on your forehead. You look her up and down and ask, “Why are you going on a diet again!”
“It’s essential that I maintain my figure! I make a living out of this, you know?” She answers, and you give her a subtle nod. She ends up leaving your room to wait for her breakfast patiently.
A sigh leaves your lips, the tough reminder that you’re not only in charge of dinner anymore but breakfast and lunch as well. You’ll do it for her though, she’s your best friend.
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You bounce your leg as you sit near Satoru and Ali. The couple snuggles up as they watch a movie. They forced you out of your room and made you join them, but you can’t even focus on the screen. 
Satoru is the first to notice, considering you’re acting weird around him. He keeps looking back at you, wondering when you’ll calm down. You’ve never acted like this around him before… Was the shirtless incident that bad? 
He gets that you like him, but you don’t have to be so tense and nervous all the time. He won’t try a thing, he’s not that kind of guy.
“Do you want some popcorn?” Satoru extends the bowl towards you, and Ali immediately shushes him. She acts as if she can’t rewind ten seconds to hear what she missed.
“I’m okay, thank you.” You awkwardly smile at him before quickly looking away. You won’t even dare to look him in the eye. You end up standing up from your seat, telling the couple, “I’m not feeling too well–”
“Just go.” Ali interrupts you, not caring too much that you want to go back to your room. It was Satoru’s bright idea to invite you along. She won’t mention it to him, but it’s annoying that he wants you to include you in almost everything.
Ali pauses the movie when your door closes, looking at it and then back at Satoru, “She’s acting weird.”
“What do you mean? She just looks tired to me.” Satoru acts confused. He knows Ali enough to know that the woman has a tad bit of a jealousy issue. If he were to tell Ali about his finding, she wouldn’t react in a rational manner. 
They both know that you wouldn’t even dare to make a move on Satoru, but that won’t change a thing. Which is why Satoru chooses to bite his tongue.
“I don’t know. I don’t care too much anyway.” She ends up shrugging, resuming the movie. 
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“Happy birthday!” Satoru cheerfully congratulates you the moment he sees you. It took a while considering that you’ve been in your room all day.
“Thank you, Satoru.” You’re a little surprised that the man knows, let alone, went out of his way to congratulate you. You smile at him, as he holds his index finger up.
“I got you something, hold on. It’s in my car.” He practically runs out of the apartment, leaving you to look around the place. Ali is in her room, so you can’t ask her what Satoru got you. 
You feel weird as you wait for him. All you can think about is the dream that you had not too long ago, and guilt fills you up. Ali’s your best friend, you shouldn’t like her boyfriend. You take a deep breath to calm down the mix of emotions that suddenly consume you.
“Here it is.” Satoru comes back, not even a minute later. He holds the pink gift bag, and extends it so you can take it. You thank him, too shy to open the gift in front of him. “I hope things can go back to how they were.”
“Huh?” You question, even though you know exactly what he talks about.
“Things have been weird between us… I don’t know what happened.” He responds, and you’re left speechless. You aren’t sure how to answer. Before you can answer, he signals toward the gift, “Well, aren’t you going to open it?”
“Yeah.” You put the gift bag on the counter and take the tissue paper out before your eyes fall on the gift. You smile, pulling out the wireless headphones. “Thank you, Satoru. These will come in handy.”
“I hope so! I got them when I remembered your job.” He explains, and you can’t help but smile. He finally sees a sincere smile on your face, something that he hadn’t seen in a while. “There’s something else in the bag.”
“Oh?” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you look inside. There’s a small blue box inside, and you feel your heart skip a beat as you look at it. You feel too self conscious to open it in front of him. “You didn’t have to, Satoru.”
“You’re my friend! Of course I had to.” He claims, signaling you to open the box. You bite down your lip before doing what he wants you to do. Your eyes glimmer at the sight of a beautiful charm bracelet.
“It’s so beautiful!” You exclaim, right when Ali exits the bedroom. She looks at what you hold in your hand, and then at Satoru. “Thank you, Satoru. I love it.”
“It’s no problem. Happy birthday.” Satoru responds, just as Ali’s arms wrap around him. He hugs her back, but his gaze remains on you. “What are you doing tonight? Are you going out?”
“Tomorrow night. I’m not doing anything tonight.” You answer.
“How about we take you to dinner!” He offers, and Ali gives him a cold stare. A stare that goes ignored by him.
“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve done too much.” You awkwardly respond, getting reminded that he’s Ali’s boyfriend as she hugs him. If you didn’t know any better, by the way she acts, you’d say she’s jealous.
“We insist. It’s your birthday.” He replies. “Go get ready, we’ll wait for you here.”
You argue a bit more with him before you finally accept. You go to your room with gifts in hand. When you’re out of sight, Ali can’t help but comment, “Didn’t you do a little much?”
“What do you mean? That’s your friend.” Satoru responds, and she sighs. He ends up letting go of her and asking, “What’s wrong?”
“It feels like you’re putting more thought into her birthday than mine.” She crosses her arms, getting pouty about it. Satoru should’ve known, Ali gets upset when the attention isn’t all on her. He doesn’t like to admit it, but she’s a bit selfish. “You’re doing more for her than what you did for me.”
“I took you overseas and gave you many gifts.” He reminds her, but that’s not enough for her. “Can’t you just be happy for your best friend?”
“Fine.” She clicks her tongue, and she ends up stomping away. She has to get ready.
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Your birthday dinner starts off awkward, but it slowly gets better. Overall, you enjoy it. The food is delicious and the company is great. You still can’t help but feel like Ali is upset with you. You’re not sure what you did wrong, but she acts weird. 
She ignores you the next day, or gives you the most basic answers to any question. You wonder if she’s upset with you because Satoru gave you a birthday gift but… How are you at fault for that? It can’t be that. You try to talk to Ali at night, but she’s with Satoru and you don’t want to interrupt anything.
You end up going to bed without speaking to each other. Maybe you’ll patch things up tomorrow before Shoko and Suguru come over. 
You’re woken up by strange sounds in the middle of the night– The sounds seem distant until you listen closely. You furrow your brow, trying to make out the strange noises until you figure out what it is, then you just want to bury your face into your hands out of pure embarrassment.
“Oh, it’s so good, Satoru!” Quickly followed by “Like that! Just like that!”
And as you keep listening to it, you feel tears well up in your eyes. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s guilt because you like the man Ali is in bed with right now; or perhaps it’s because you know that you’ll never be with him.
You sniffle, reaching over for the headphones that Satoru got you and putting them on, deciding to listen to some soothing music to fall back asleep. You’ll listen to just about anything to block out that sound.
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luvergirl-866 · 3 days ago
Text
that’s so true
word count - 8.3k
pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd
c/w - language, toxic p/toxic relationship (situationship) (kinda toxic a too)? i guess you could call it angst? but it’s very unserious bc i’ve been doing too much serious stuff. fluff and happy ending. very dialogue heavy
a/n - i don’t usually like to incorporate music into my fics but the anon who gave this prompt specifically recommended it so i hope i did it justice! also, this takes place azzi’s freshman year so like 2021/2022, and i know this song didn’t exist then but this is fiction so i can do what i want 😛. hope yall enjoy!!!
They only have five minutes before they’re supposed to leave with everybody else to Ted’s. Unfortunately for Azzi, Paige Bueckers is very hot and also very much on top of her, and both of these things coincide to create quite the predicament: they can’t stop kissing.
It’s normal for them, lately. Kissing is easier than talking, considering talking has gotten harder since they started—whatever this is. Or maybe restarted is a better word, considering they did this same thing in high school. But back then, the kissing was a little clumsier, often fast and desperate, whereas now they’re older, mature (yeah, right) and they take their time with these things, often just making out for hours before they move on to other things, relishing in not having to worry about either of their parents or siblings barging in on them like they used to.
There’s also another difference—back then, they were dating. Like, introducing each other as their girlfriends, going on dates, holding-hands-in-public dating.
That’s different because today—and for the past six months—they’ve been decidedly not dating.
“We don’t need distractions,” Paige had said after they’d fucked, only a month after Azzi came to UConn. (They had both agreed to stay just friends—best friends—but nothing more. But then they had to live in the same building and watch each other get all hot and sweaty at practice and see each other in skimpy pajamas and who were they to blame, really, when they fucked in that club bathroom one heated but sober night? They had spent a year broken up, a year of being long-distance besties, FaceTiming and texting and posting each other on socials with captions like “happy birthday i miss you” and “come see me”. It honestly would’ve been wrong for them to not fuck.)
“Mm—Paige, wait,” Azzi whispers when they finally separate for air.
“What’s up,” Paige says, eyes roving over every inch of Azzi’s face. Her voice is a little raspy from lack of use and it does things to Azzi’s tummy.
“I—you don’t—we need to go,” Azzi urges, pushing at Paige’s shoulders. Paige, of course, just smiles at that, pressing her knee up in between Azzi’s legs. It’s really not her fault when she gasps a little.
Paige chuckles, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then between her eyebrows. “Do we?” she mumbles, pecking the tip of Azzi’s nose and the corner of her mouth. “Like, do we really?”
“Yes, Paige, we do.” Azzi moves one of her hands down to Paige’s occupied thigh, trying desperately to separate the toned muscle from her aching core. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
“Definitely not as much fun as this is.”
“Well, we can continue later, when we get home.” That gets Paige to move her knee back, offering Azzi both relief and leaving an ache between her legs. She does her best to flash a sultry smile. “It’s a weekend. We can stay up all night if we want.”
Paige looks at her skeptically. “I thought you were stayin’ sober?”
Azzi moves her head back and forth. “Might not.”
“For real?”
“Uh-huh.” Azzi winds her arms around Paige’s shoulders, then scratches a little roughly down the length of her back, something Paige has always been into. It works, Paige’s jaw dropping just enough to show the pink of her tongue. “I want it, too, P. We just can’t ditch the team again. I think they already suspect us.”
“What?” Paige makes a face and scoffs. “Nah, we’re sneaky.”
“You called me babe in front of everyone at practice.”
“That’s a friend thing.” Paige waggles her eyebrows and plants a kiss on her lips, as if to prove just how friendly they are.
“Nika saw you basically groping me the other day, too.”
“I never did that.”
“My apartment, the kitchen. Movie night. I was making popcorn and you came up behind me and grabbed my tits.”
“Hm. Don’t remember that.”
“You said ‘I wanna fuck you from behind right now,’ and poor Nika walked in and stared at us and said, ‘This doesn’t look like you’re making popcorn’.”
Paige groans, dropping her head into Azzi’s shoulder and effectively laying the entire length of her body on Azzi’s. “I did wanna fuck you from behind. You were wearing those jeans…”
“Paige!”
“Okay, whatever.” Paige is a little muffled now, buried in the crook of Azzi’s neck. Her breath tingles, sending hot shivers up the length of her arm. “I do that to everyone, Nika won’t think anything of it.”
“Oh, really,” Azzi says, tone dropping into something utterly unamused, and Paige’s head pops up when she hears it. “So you say things like that to every bitch?”
Paige’s eyes widen. “No!” she grapples for something to say, and Azzi just raises an eyebrow at her. “I don’t—I meant—I just didn’t wanna admit you’re right, I wasn’t—baby.” Paige juts out her bottom lip. It kinda works. “You know I wasn’t thinkin’.”
This is another interesting thing about their current situation: because they’re not dating, they’ve never discussed where they stand in terms of other people. Sure, at the very beginning, they agreed since it was just casual sex, there was no reason for them to be exclusive. They didn’t want to get anywhere near that line of the all-consuming, intense relationship they had in high school, and they figured seeing other people—or at least having the option to do so—would steer them clear of that. And it worked for about…two seconds.
But then somewhere down the line things got a little blurry and slowly but surely Azzi stopped thinking of them as friends with benefits and as more of a slightly complicated but also fun situationship. Because at some point they started kissing without the goal of sex or even third base, just little pecks here and there when they had a second alone. And then they started staying a little longer each time after they’d fuck—at first, they’d leave directly after. But then they would stay for some basic aftercare, and then it got to full-on snuggling, and then it got to their clothes in each other’s apartments from how often they’d stay the night with each other. And the most recent development which really cemented things for Azzi: Paige has started using pet names outside the bedroom, something she only ever did while they were girlfriends. It’s only been a few weeks since this started and Azzi was absolutely floored when Paige had picked up her phone call with a, “Hey, baby.”
And now here they are, late for yet another night out because Paige is very clearly scandalized at the mere notion of her seeing another girl—even though it’s supposed to be allowed—and Azzi has to be honest, she doesn’t love the idea, either.
“Aw, c’mon,” Paige says when Azzi doesn’t reply. “Don’t be mad at me, mama.”
Azzi blinks up at her, officially not jealous and not overthinking about their complicated situation any longer. “You’re stupid,” she teases, scooting back and sitting up.
Paige follows closely, so that by the time Azzi is propped up against the headboard she’s on her lap. “You’re really stopping us?” she asks.
“We’re already late, I’m sure everybody left without us,” Azzi says, tapping Paige encouragingly on the hip, “so yes.”
Paige doesn’t yet move and doesn’t look like she’s going to until a sharp knock at the door makes both of them jolt. “Hey!” It’s Aaliyah’s voice. “Y’all cannot be taking this long to get ready.”
���I don’t…we just…” Azzi stammers as Paige scrambles off her, and they both get quickly to their feet, making as little noise as possible, “our hair wasn’t cooperating,” she says, reaching up to fix Paige’s tousled hair. “We’ll be right out!”
“You better be, we’re all waiting outside and it’s fucking cold.”
“Coming!” Azzi calls, letting Paige wipe some of her smudged lip gloss, rolling her eyes when Paige smirks at her and says, “Oh, you will be.”
She has no idea what Paige Bueckers is to her, but an annoyance will always take the top spot.
————————————————
When Azzi had claimed she’d stay sober with the other freshmen, she hadn’t accounted for the fact that she has a best friend who loves to party and who loves peer pressuring even more.
“C’mon, just a few shots,” Paige pouts, leaning in too close to her. Azzi glances around the bar, trying to see if anybody is watching them, but she can’t tell. There’s too many people.
“Nobody can hear us,” Paige assures her, placing her hands low on Azzi’s hips, pressing her into the wall of the corner they’re semi-hidden in.
Azzi swears this girl is horrible for her blood pressure. “Paige,” she hisses, removing Paige’s hands, “not here.”
“You shoulda let us stay home,” Paige says, and now that her hands are placed firmly at her sides her eyes do all the wandering for them, raking slowly down Azzi’s body and back up. “I woulda had you fucked out by now, I swear.”
“Oh, I believe you,” Azzi mumbles.
“You seem anxious, baby.” Bravely, Paige holds her again, though this time it’s at a more friendly place, higher up on her waist. Azzi tries to meet her eyes but they’re held firmly on her lips. “Fuck. I wanna kiss you so bad.”
“No, Paige,” Azzi says, as sternly as possible. She would rather like to kiss her too, but not here, not now, not when Paige is tipsy and Azzi is horrendously sober.
“Okay, I’ma go get me another dirty shirley.” Azzi swears she would marry that drink if she could. “And I’ma grab a couple shots for you while I’m at it. And then we’re gonna fuck in the bathroom.”
Azzi smacks Paige on the arm. “I’m done with public restrooms. Once was enough.”
Paige, still sober enough to have some sort of common sense, wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, you’re right. But I’m still grabbing shots.” She smacks a wet kiss onto her forehead and with that, turns around to head toward the bar.
Azzi doesn’t get a second of peace before someone else is sidling up to her. Though when she looks over she sighs with relief when it’s just Caroline. “Hey, Carol.”
“You’re so lucky you have a girlfriend who’ll buy you shots,” Caroline says, looking wistfully in Paige’s direction.
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
Caroline side-eyes her. “Uh-huh.”
“She’s not. We broke up.”
“And then got back together.”
Azzi shoves her away before pulling her back, linking their arms together as she leads them towards their team’s section of seats. “Nope. We’re still exes.”
“Exes who are romantically involved.”
“Carol,” Azzi groans, urging her to shut up as they approach the rest of the girls. “We’re just friends.”
It used to leave a bitter taste in her mouth, lying to her closest friend, the one whose shoulder she cried on when she and Paige broke up. But after six months of doing it, she’s used to it. And it’s not like Caroline believes her, anyway.
“Okay,” Caroline says skeptically. “So if the guy that’s been looking at you since we got here asked for your number, you’d give it to him?”
They’re at the team’s booth now, and Amari perks up at the mention of the slightest possibility of drama. “What guy?”
“I haven’t noticed a guy,” Azzi says, which is the truth. As it usually goes, she’s only had eyes for Paige tonight.
“Over there,” Carol says, leaning against the table and gesturing subtly across the bar. “Muscle shirt.”
“Immediately no,” Azzi replies, not even looking for him in the group of guys across the room. But he must be actively searching her out because just as she’s about to look away she catches his eye, and even though she immediately looks away, she can still see him grin out of the corner of her eye.
“Uh-oh,” Amari mutters. “You engaged him.”
“Don’t make eye contact,” Azzi says, turning away from him to face her friends. “Make yourself unapproachable.”
Caroline turns away, too, and the two of them lean over the table.
Aaliyah looks up from the conversation she was having. “What’re you guys doing?”
“Hiding,” Azzi hisses.
Amari peeks around Azzi’s shoulder, then settles back in her seat. “He’s coming over.”
“What?” Azzi wants to look at him but doesn’t, instead inching herself closer to Caroline. “Save me.”
“Who is that?” Aaliyah asks, not-so-subtly staring at the guy.
“A man about to flirt with Azzi,” Caroline says, nudging her away.
“Oh, Paige is gonna be maddd,” Aaliyah sing-songs, and they all giggle like this is funny and not absolutely awkward and stress-inducing.
Azzi glares at them. “She has no reason to be mad.” And it’s true, she kind of doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean she won’t.
“Oh, yeah?” Caroline asks, glancing behind them just as Azzi feels the man come up behind her. “We’ll see about that.”
And then there’s a tap on her shoulder, and Azzi takes a deep breath before turning around with a strained smile on her face.
“Hey.” Muscle shirt is standing a little too close for comfort, which she’s sure he’ll excuse by the crowded bar but is obviously just him being weird. “You’re Azzi, right?”
“Uh-huh,” Azzi says, leaning back against the table.
“I’ve seen you around,” he continues, smiling cockily, obviously very proud of himself for being brave enough to approach her. “You come here a lot, right? To Ted’s?”
Azzi shrugs, looking casually to her side in the hopes that Caroline will rescue her, but to her astonishment she has slid into the booth next to Aaliyah and is now chatting happily with the rest of the team. “I guess.”
“Noticed you weren’t with Bueckers,” he says, and she winces. Not five sentences into the conversation and he’s already brought up her current situationship. “Thought it was a good opening.” He laughs. She doesn’t.
“How so?” she asks, a little nervously.
“I mean, she obviously doesn’t want anybody coming near you.” A girl squeezes past behind him and he takes it as an excuse to inch even closer to her. Azzi presses herself further back into the table. “Can’t even look your way without her looking like she’s gonna fight someone.”
“She’s just protective,” Azzi says. As if Paige would do that for any of their friends, as if that level of pure possessiveness is normal.
“Right.” He doesn’t sound fully convinced. “You didn’t ask my name.”
God. Why are men so…gross? “My bad.” He stares at her expectantly. “Uh…so…?”
“I’m Elliot,” he says, grinning at her. That muscle shirt is really not doing good things for him. “You want me to buy you a drink?”
“Um, actually—“
“She’s good.”
Azzi’s shoulders sag at the mere sound of Paige’s voice. She can’t help but smile when Paige approaches them, moving roughly past Elliot to sidle up next to her. She hands her two brightly colored shots before slinging an arm around her, firmly ignoring Elliot. “Gotchu these. Lemme know if you don’t like ‘em.”
Azzi nods, and usually she’d shy away from the physical contact, especially right in front of their friends, but now she leans into it, safe under Paige’s arm. “Thanks.”
“Sorry I took so long.” As if sensing her discomfort—which she probably can—she rubs her thumb soothingly over her shoulder. “They’re super busy up there. You okay?”
Azzi opens her mouth to respond, but Elliot interrupts her. “She’s fine, dude. We’re just talking.”
Paige looks at him. “Aight. Well, you can be done talking now.”
Their teammates have gone mostly quiet behind them, and Azzi rolls her eyes when she hears them snickering.
Elliot scoffs, but he’s skinny and a little shorter than Paige, and when her arm tightens around Azzi’s shoulder he puts his hands up. “Damn, okay.”
Azzi breathes a sigh of relief when he’s gone. “Thank god. That was so awkward.”
“You shoulda called me,” Paige says, dropping her arm to turn around and face their teammates. “And y’all shoulda helped her out.”
The girls look up at them innocently. Amari smiles charmingly at Paige and says, “We knew you were gonna do it soon enough.”
Azzi shakes her head and downs one of the shots. It is as disgusting as it looks.
“You guys suck,” Paige says, pulling Azzi into her side once again. “Leaving my girl in the trenches like that.”
Dozens of eyebrows raise at that, and it’s then that Azzi smells the booze on Paige’s breath. She flushes, trying to pull away. “P,” she mutters.
“I know,” Paige says, holding fast to Azzi’s waist, setting her shirley on the table so she can wrap the other around her, too.
“Paige,” Azzi urges, pressed completely now into Paige’s chest and trying desperately to ignore the scrutinizing looks from her teammates. She hopes they’re all too drunk to think hard about Paige’s behavior.
“Yeah,” Paige says, her hand creeping slowly down Azzi’s back.
“Did you have another drink?” Azzi asks, trying to walk them away from the booth, but Paige keeps her feet planted.
“I might’ve had another shot.” Paige grins, and Azzi would easily admit she likes it a lot more than muscle shirt’s. “Missed you, baby.”
The girls are pretending not to eavesdrop, but they’re clearly listening, sharing furtive glances with each other. Which is just—great. Because tomorrow the girls are going to have questions and Paige will be sober enough for that to stress her out, which will in turn stress Azzi out, and there will be no saving face if she lets Paige continue on like this.
“Not now, Paige,” she hisses, trying desperately to push her back.
Paige pouts. Their faces are far too close together. “What, you wanna go back to that guy or sum’?”
Azzi knows she’s not serious, but it still annoys her, and she doesn’t feel quite as comforted in Paige’s arms anymore. “Seriously, I’m not in the mood.”
Paige scoffs, maybe a little more serious now. “Course you aren’t.”
Azzi blinks at her, and when Paige’s hands drop to her sides she takes a step back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I dunno.” Paige gestured between them. “Just that you never wanna be around me unless we’re fu—“
Azzi’s overstimulated and irritated, but she still has enough common sense to shove Paige hard enough to shut her up. “Don’t.”
Paige watches as Azzi drinks her other shot. “What? You really don’t want anybody to know, huh? You that embarrassed or something?”
Azzi shakes her head in disbelief, stepping back towards Paige so they can at least have this conversation too quiet for anybody to hear. “Are you dumb? You’re the one who wanted to keep this secret.”
“Because I didn’t want my teammates thinking I was distracted!”
“Our teammates, Paige.” Azzi gives her another little shove for good measure, and then she steps away again. “You’re acting stupid. Go chill out and come back when you wanna be normal.”
“Fine. I will.” With that, she turns on her heel and disappears into the crowd. Azzi rolls her eyes at her hot-headedness. They’re both too stubborn for their own good, but Paige is ten times worse when she’s drunk and Azzi has always been more logical. Little, senseless arguments like this never happened when they were dating—or even when they were broken up—but now that they’re at this weird in-between, they’re becoming more frequent.
Hence why they prefer to kiss instead of talk.
Azzi plops down beside Amari, grateful when nobody questions her, and feels a little better when she thinks about how good the make-up sex will be later.
—————————————
There will be no make-up sex tonight. Or ever, Azzi thinks bitterly, glaring daggers at the girl Paige is currently feeling up.
Okay, feeling up might be an overstatement. She has a hand on her arm. But Azzi knows better than anyone that for Paige, hand-on-arm action might as well be foreplay. And the girl seems to sense it, too, if her batting eyelashes and twinkling smile have anything to show for it.
“She’s just doing it to make you jealous.” Once again, it’s Caroline, sidling up next to Azzi to study the tall blonde across the bar.
“I have no reason to be jealous,” Azzi all but spits out, and Caroline smirks.
“Pretend all you want, Az. But it’s impossible to not see what’s going on with you and her.”
“There’s nothing.” Paige’s fingers trail down the length of the girl’s arm and it’s almost like Azzi can feel it, too.
“Are you guys exclusive?”
“No,” Azzi responds immediately, too tipsy to be thinking straight, and when Caroline smiles proudly to herself, she backtracks. “I mean, obviously not. We’re not anything.”
“Well, if you’re not exclusive, she’s not doing anything wrong.”
Azzi hates this bitter reminder and turns her anger onto her best friend. “Shut up, Carol.”
“You two should probably talk about not seeing other people,” Caroline says, as wise and perceptive as ever. (She is also significantly more sober than Azzi is.)
“She can see whoever she wants,” Azzi seethes, stirring the ice in her drink. “I don’t care.”
Paige’s eyes flit from the girl’s face to Azzi. And then, with a little smirk, she leans in to whisper something in her ear, blue eyes never leaving brown as the girl giggles and grabs onto her arm. She smiles, too, and Azzi takes some satisfaction in the fact the girl has no idea she’s not the one Paige is doing this for.
She’s always been good at putting up a show. And Azzi has always been her captive audience.
Not tonight, Azzi decides as she looks firmly away. It’s about time Paige learns to behave herself.
—————————————-
It’s been a long night of drinking and trying not to watch Paige attach herself to this random girl’s hip when Azzi is approached by none other than random girl herself.
She’s gorgeous up close, but Azzi can’t help but notice her brown curls and crescent dimples, the way they’re the exact same height. It nearly makes her laugh.
“Hey,” the girl says, dropping into the bar seat next to Azzi.
“Uh,” Azzi says, vey tipsy and very irate. “Hey.”
“What’s that? It looks so good,” the girl asks, pointing to her drink. Her voice is soft and kind, nothing malicious gleaming in her eyes. Azzi hates it.
“Just a mango daiquiri,” Azzi responds, kind of unable to be snarky about it with the wide-eyed way the girl is looking at her.
“Oh, fancy! I’m definitely gonna cop that.” She smiles conspiratorially at her. Azzi can’t help but smile back. Okay, now she just kind of hates herself. She’s never been one to be rude to girls she’s jealous of. Especially not harmless, sweet ones.
“It’s so good,” she’s saying before she can help it. “And they come in all different flavors so there’s like, endless possibilities.”
“Stop,” the girl gasps.
“I know!” and then they both giggle like the tipsy college students they are. This is possibly even better than hating her, because it’s almost like a smack in the face: look at me, Paige, being the bigger person. Making best friends with your target of the night. How’s that feel?
“Hey,” the girl giggles, leaning her elbows on the bar. “You’re Azzi, yeah? You play so good.”
“Thank you!” Azzi gushes, flashing her dimples as the girl does just the same. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Haven,” she replies. Even her name is nice. Azzi thinks about how Paige must’ve thought the same thing when they met a few hours ago, but she doesn’t like the thought, so she pushes it firmly away.
“Hey,” Haven says, sounding suddenly hesitant. “Um, I actually wanted to ask you something. About…Paige?”
Azzi’s eyes snap to where the blonde sits at the team’s booth—she always seems to know where Paige is in a room, though she never remembers tracking her movements—before she quickly looks back to Haven. “What about her?”
“Well…that,” she says.
“What?” Azzi asks, stirring her drink casually.
“The reaction you just had to me saying her name.”
Okay, so Azzi apparently does not appear as cool and collected as she thought. “Oh, that was just—I mean, she’s my best friend.”
“Yeah?” Haven asks. “Because I kinda got the impression y’all were…”
“No,” Azzi says, trying to contort her features into something like disgust. “Ew. Never.”
Haven raises her eyebrows. “Never?”
Why is everybody deciding to clock Paige and Azzi’s shit tonight? “Okay, like, maybe at one point. But it’s over.”
“Really.” She does not sound convinced at all. Glancing over at Paige, Haven leans forward, as if she’s afraid they’ll be heard. “It’s just, she keeps looking at you and you keep looking back and she was all over you earlier, so like—“
“I wouldn’t say she was all over me.”
“She totally was.” Haven’s looking at her like she’s clueless. “I just…listen, Paige invited me over tonight.” Azzi’s stomach drops. So definitely no make-up sex then. In fact, Azzi might as well pack up her vagina right now because Paige has ruined everybody else for her, too. “And I don’t wanna get in the middle of anything,” Haven continues, completely oblivious to Azzi’s internal vow of celibacy, “especially nothing messy.”
“Yeah, no, I totally get that.” Azzi sighs heavily; considering their situation is exactly what one might describe as messy, Azzi figures it’s probably the right thing to do to tell this poor girl the truth. “To be honest, we kinda are…I dunno. I mean, we fuck.”
“Okay,” Haven nods, sounding not at all surprised.
“She stays over most of the time. I stay at her’s sometimes, but she mostly stays at mine.”
“Spare toothbrushes in each other’s bathroom?”
Azzi winces. “Possibly.”
“Yeow.”
“And, like, generally, we don’t see other people. We used to, at the beginning, but not anymore. We were just talking about it today, actually. Well, not talking about it—we don’t talk about stuff. We’re not serious enough for Paige to wanna talk about stuff.” Azzi is rambling now, and Haven is hanging onto her every word, and Azzi thinks she loves making fast friends with other girls then realizes this is the exact thing that happens every time she gets drunk. Perhaps she crossed over that line awhile ago.
The two of them have their heads close together now, the rest of the bar completely shut out. “But anyway, she said something and I was like, what, you say that to all your bitches? You know, mostly joking but not.”
“Of course.”
“And she was all, no, baby, I would never ever have other bitches, don’t be mad,” Azzi says, deepening her tone in a stupid caricature of Paige’s voice.
Haven gasps. “That was today?”
“Like ten minutes before we came here.”
“And then she was all up on me tonight.” Haven glares in Paige’s direction. “Damn.”
“I know. But like, yeah, we’re not exclusive or anything so it’s fine. But it’s not, you know?”
“Oh, for sure. That’s fucked up,” Haven says haughtily. “So, wait, how long has this been going on for?”
“Uh…six months?” but no, that doesn’t feel right. “Well, I guess, like, four years? But six months.”
Haven blinks at her.
Azzi sighs. “We were super serious in high school.”
Haven nearly screams, slamming her hand on the bar. “She’s your ex?”
“Yes!” Azzi cries, and it feels so, so good for someone to understand her situation. “We were so in love and shit! And then things started feeling weird the summer before she came here—because, like, I’m a year younger than her so she was gonna be in college while I was still in high school and I—I could tell she didn’t wanna be tied down by her lame hometown girlfriend so I ended things.”
“Girl!” Haven yells.
“I had no other choiceeee,” Azzi groans. “She woulda broken up with me if I hadn’t broken up with her.”
“You’re crazy,” Haven says, shaking her head. “That girl is down bad.”
“Stop,” Azzi says, waving her off.
“She is, horrendously.” Haven gestures over to Paige. “As soon as you got to UConn she wanted to start something with you, right? And then y’all have a little tiff and she’s doing the most with another girl just to get your attention?”
“She asked you to go home with her,” Azzi points out. “That definitely wasn’t for my benefit.”
“Um, I’m sorry, have you not noticed how scary alike we look?” Haven asks, and Azzi flushes. “She was definitely gonna pretend I was you. Which I’m not down for, like, at all.”
“She’s such a dick,” Azzi says. Because she may have been in love with Paige Bueckers since high school, but yeah, she’s still kinda a dick.
“Totally,” Haven agrees. “But…
“Don’t tell me you’re about to defend her.”
“Listen!” Haven places her hands on Azzi’s shoulder. “I think her heart’s in the right place. She wants you. She’s just a little…misguided.”
Azzi shakes her head. “She was the one who said we couldn’t be serious. She said we couldn’t have ‘distractions’.”
“And you didn’t stop to think that maybe she was still insecure and hurt by the fact you broke up with her and was protecting herself from getting hurt again?”
Azzi blinks at this drunk, genius girl in front of her. “Whoa.”
“Yeah. You know what, I’m starting to think maybe you’re both a little stupid.”
Azzi shoves her. “Don’t get so cocky, you could be wrong!”
“I could,” Haven admits. “But where would that leave you? With an asshole ex-girlfriend who messes with your head for fun?”
Azzi thinks maybe, if they didn’t look so uncannily alike, she could kiss this girl. “I love you.”
“Girl, I love you more.” Haven pats her arm and leans back on her barstool. “Now take Auntie Haven’s advice and give her the silent treatment for a few days. She’ll realize her mistakes and come running back real quick.”
“What if I don’t wanna take her back?” Azzi says, already knowing it’s bullshit.
“You do. But you gotta make her work for it. And then you have to communicate with her.”
Azzi makes a face. “Didn’t I already tell you we don’t like talking?”
Haven rubs her temples. “There’s your main fucking problem, Azzi.”
It’s then that Haven’s eyes trail to something over her shoulder and before Azzi can ask there’s a large, warm, all-too-familiar ringed hand on her shoulder. “What’re you two talking about over here?”
Azzi looks first at the hand on her shoulder, then slowly up to Paige’s face. Paige raises her eyebrows, waiting for an answer, and then Azzi looks back at Haven, meeting her eyes.
And then they laugh.
“What?” Paige nearly demands.
Azzi brushes her hand off, still giggling. “Leave us alone, Paige.”
“I just didn’t know y’all knew each other,” Paige says, and Azzi delights at how confused she sounds. “Because you two seem pretty buddy-buddy over here.”
“Didn’t realize you were watching so closely,” Haven quips. Azzi giggles.
“Never said I was.” Paige moves from behind Azzi, going to stand beside them, studying them closely. “You two are drunk as hell.”
“So are you!” Haven and Azzi both say at the same time, and tears are forming at this point. Azzi holds on to Haven’s knee to keep herself from falling off her chair.
“Aight, yeah, I’m getting you an Uber,” Paige says to Haven, before touching Azzi’s arm, “And I’ma walk you home.”
“I can get my own Uber,” Haven says haughtily, but Paige already has her phone out.
Once again, Azzi bats Paige’s hand away. “I don’t wanna go home with you.”
Paige rolls her eyes, still navigating through her phone. “I figured, Az. But we live in the same building. Just lemme walk you.”
“You’re not sober enough to walk me.”
“I’ve been drinking water for the past hour, I’m pretty much good.” Paige shuts her phone off and looks at Haven. “You car’ll be here in fifteen.”
“Wish you were pretty much good a couple hours ago,” Azzi grumbles.
Paige’s expression becomes a little less nonchalant at that. “I know, mama, we can talk about it tomorrow.”
And that almost works. But then Haven sends her a warning glare and she straightens up. “No, thanks.”
Paige’s face scrunches up like it always done when she’s shocked, and Azzi hates that it’s still the cutest thing in the world. “Whatchu mean?”
“Exactly that,” Azzi says, standing from her barstool. Her butt is sore from sitting for so long. “And I’ll walk home with the rest of the team, thanks.”
Paige splutters. Haven gives her the middle finger.
—————————————
Later, when they are walking home—stumbling, more accurately—Azzi is leaning against Aubrey when she hears familiar footfalls coming up behind them and braces herself.
“Hey, Azzi,” Paige calls, catching her arm as she catches up. “Come walk with me.”
“I wanna walk with Aubrey,” Azzi says petulantly.
Aubrey looks awkwardly between the two of them.
“Bro, just—“ Paige stops, mindful of their audience. “Let’s just talk, okay?”
“No, thanks.”
“Azzi, c’mon.”
“I’m drunk and I’m cold and I’m mad at you. Leave me alone.”
Paige looks desperately to Aubrey for help. Aubrey just shrugs and says, “What’m I supposed to do? She said what she said.”
“Thank you,” Azzi huffs.
“Man, fuck this,” Paige says. Azzi feels very satisfied when Paige falls back, leaving her alone. But her arm also tingles where Paige had caught it.
Oh, yeah. This makeup sex had better be good for the trouble she’s going through.
—————————————
It isn’t until the next day that, during a car ride with Caroline, Azzi disovers it.
The two of them have always had similar music tastes, so when an unfamiliar song comes on over the speaker, she’s a little surprised. However, as she listens to the lyrics, she finds herself even more surprised at how much they resonate with her.
I could go and read your mind
Think about your dumb face all the time
Living in your glass house I’m outside
“Hey,” she says, “what song is this?”
“That’s So True,” Caroline answers, still staring ahead at the road. “By Gracie Abrams. Why?”
Looking into big blue eyes
Did it just to hurt me, make me cry
Smiling through it all, yeah, that’s my life
“Oh,” Azzi says casually, “no reason.”
——————————————
It becomes very apparent there is a reason when, over the next week, the song becomes everyone else’s problem.
So apparent, in fact, that the team actually starts to worry about her.
“What did you do to her?” Aaliyah asks as soon as Paige walks into the apartment.
“You broke her,” Amari says.
“That stupid song kept me up all night and it’s your fault,” Aubrey continues, pointing menacingly at Paige.
“I didn’t do nothing!” Paige says, backing away from her angry friends.
“You better fix it,” Amari says. “Like, now.”
“Fix what?”
Oddly, they all go quiet at this. Paige is about to ask what’s up with them when music begins blasting from somewhere in the dorm.
“That,” Aaliyah says.
Paige scrunches her nose. “Bad pop music?”
“It is not bad,” Caroline says defensively, joining them in the entryway. When she gets judgmental looks from the other girls, she sighs. “Okay, it wasn’t bad. But Azzi’s been listening to it nonstop for a week and it used to be my favorite song and now I’m sick of it.”
“We’re all sick of it,” Amari adds unhelpfully.
“I still don’t understand what this has to do with me,” Paige says, but of course she’s lying. From what she can make out the lyrics are about a break up, maybe, something to do with jealousy and anger. With the way Azzi’s been dodging her this week (calls sent straight to voicemail, texts left on read, not even a hint of eye contact when they see each other) she knows she fucked up at the party.
It’s not like them to fight—really, it’s not. They’ve gotten into more arguments this year than they have in their entire friendship. Obviously, there’s a correlation there, something major signaling that this whole friends-with-benefits thing doesn’t work for them. Or maybe it does. Maybe it’s the whole best-friends-who-dated-then-became-exes-then-friends-with-benefits thing that they can’t do.
But either way—fights? Like, actual fights that Paige can’t talk (or kiss) their way out of? Those are rare.
She didn’t think their argument at the bar was that big a deal. Didn’t even think her flirting with another girl would make Azzi mad. (She’d been hoping for jealousy because dysfunctional as they may be, the sex is really good and it’s even better when one of them is all riled up).
She has a sneaky feeling this all has to do with that girl at the bar. Haven. The cute one who looked a lot like Azzi and seemed super into Paige until she turned around and became best friends with none other than Azzi herself. She should’ve known that would happen. Azzi always makes friends when she gets drunk.
She just wishes this bout of silence (and celibacy) between them would end already.
“You can’t be serious,” Amari says.
Paige shrugs.
“We all know you two are fucking, Paige,” Caroline says quite bluntly.
And, okay, the sheer panic that Paige feels at this is maybe a little ridiculous.
She never wanted the team—anyone, really—to know she and Azzi were back together. Because, well, they weren’t, for one, and there’s no good way to tell your parents, “Hey, you know how I was super emo about how the love of my life broke up with me before college? Yeah, well, it’s been a year and I’m not totally over it but I fucked her in the bathroom at a club and we’re going steady—as in, fucking—now!”
But the main reason she didn’t want anybody to know is because she was—is—so afraid of having her heart broken again. And if she keeps this to herself, then she gets to act like she doesn’t care if history repeats itself. Gets to move on and not think about it and use other people as rebounds without anybody batting an eye.
But it’s been six months of them going from friends with benefits to best friends who also kiss and have sex to best friends who kiss and have sex exclusively with each other. She may have gotten a little too cocky, may have thought they were finding solid ground, and may have not put so much effort into hiding it.
But Azzi hasn’t spoken to her for a week and she doesn’t even remember what solid ground feels like anymore so yeah, the notion of her friends knowing about them when they may be on the brink of ending is a little scary.
“Okay,” Amari says tentatively when Paige stares blankly at them, “don’t freak. It’s not a big deal. We don’t care.”
“No, I—I know,” Paige stutters.
“Seriously, P, it’s cool,” Aubrey says, patting her shoulder. “Just, you know, go fix it.”
That song has played three consecutive times since this conversation started. They may be right. Paige might’ve broken her.
Might’ve broken them.
“And while you’re at it,” Caroline adds, giving her a little push in the direction of Azzi’s room, “make sure you guys are official so we don’t have to deal with this again.”
Paige tries to plant her feet to prevent her advance towards Azzi, but Aubrey rounds to her front and starts pulling at her arms while Amari pushes and then she’s directly in front of a door with a pink ‘welcome’ sign hanging off the front. As that song thuds accusingly through the door, Paige doesn’t feel very welcome.
“Okay, stop being a pussy,” Aaliyah pipes up from behind them, “and go in there. Please.”
“Make it stop,” Aubrey says. She almost sounds like she’s about to cry.
Paige stares at them, wondering if they’re really going to make her do this. But they all nod at her before disappearing down the hall so it’s just Paige in front of Azzi’s door and she could leave, could just go back home but she’d never hear the end of it from her teammates. (And she might end up hating herself if she does that, too.)
So, with a deep, steadying breath, Paige lifts her fist and knocks.
“Coming,” Azzi calls. Blessedly, the song turns off and there’s some rustling inside before the door creaks open.
Paige expects a lot of things when Azzi first sees her—anger, upset, a door slamming in her face.
What she doesn’t expect is the satisfied smile that flits across Azzi’s face before she carefully fixes her expression into something more somber.
“Uh, hey,” Paige says. “Can I—“
“Come in,” Azzi says gravely, opening the door all the way to let her through.
“Uh, aight.” Nervously, Paige walks past Azzi, a little afraid that is some sort of trap based off the strange way she’s acting. Once she’s inside and the door’s shut, she faces the younger girl, though doesn’t quite look her in the eye. “So, I just…you know, about the other night. At Ted’s.”
Azzi nods. “Go on.”
“Well, I know I started that lil argument and I feel bad.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I was just drunk and I wanted your attention so I acted stupid.”
Azzi crosses her arms impatiently. Paige wishes she had written this down and practiced beforehand or something.
“And with that other girl—“
“Her name’s Haven,” Azzi says sharply.
Paige blinks at her, surprised. “Yeah. Her. Well—“
“She’s actually really nice. We’ve been texting.”
Paige can’t help but scoff a little at that. “What, you gonna leave me for her or sum’?”
“We look related, so no,” Azzi says, raising an eyebrow. “And if I remember right, I thought it was you asking her to come to your place that night.”
Shit. So the two of them really did talk about everything. That’s not great for her.
“I didn’t mean it,” Paige says, which is very much true—she doesn’t know what she would’ve done if Haven had agreed to come over that night, but she certainly wouldn’t have kissed her. “I just, we were arguing and I wanted to make you jealous so we could, like, kiss and make up.”
Azzi crosses the room to sit on her bed, and Paige hovers awkwardly, wondering if she should follow. She decides on staying put. “I was jealous,” Azzi says. “But it just pissed me off.”
“I know, and it was a stupid thing to do.”
“I just—I thought we weren’t really, like, seeing other people.”
Paige freezes. This is completely outside of argument-at-Ted’s territory and it seems a little more like serious-talk-about-us time. Which Paige is just not prepared for at all. She should’ve made notecards for this.
“I mean—we aren’t—but, like…” Paige trails off, and she knows it’s bad how uncertain she sounds when hurt flashes over Azzi’s expression.
“Have you? Been seeing other people,” she asks, and Paige can tell she’s trying to sound nonchalant, putting on a brave face, but in reality she’s terrified of the answer.
Paige rushes to reassure her. “No, Az, no. Not a—seriously, not a single person. Not since that day at the club.” Not since the day Azzi came to UConn, if she’s being a little more accurate. But Azzi doesn’t need to know that.
Again, Azzi tries to act like it doesn’t affect her. But Paige knows her far too well—far too intimately—to miss the way her features relax, her shoulders lowering just a little bit. “Me neither,” she says softly.
Paige lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding at that. “Okay.”
“So…what does that mean?” Azzi asks tentatively.
Now that Azzi seems a little less guarded, Paige takes her chance to sit beside her on the bed, though not too close. “I dunno,” she says lamely, but when she’s met with a heavily annoyed silence, she sighs and tries desperately to think something up. “I mean. We can’t really be casual and exclusive. That’s not really how that works.”
“Yeah,” Azzi says.
Paige waits for her to pick up the conversation at least a little, but she doesn’t, and Paige is forced to go on. “I don’t—I think it’s not even something I want anymore. The whole casual thing.”
It’s hard, getting the words out, like each syllable is a barrier being broken, and maybe it is. Paige looks down at her hands, fiddles with them, anything so she doesn’t have to watch Azzi’s reaction.
“Paige,” Azzi says quietly.
And when Paige catches the hesitancy in her tone—the fear—she is suddenly too desperate and maybe even too in love to keep quiet just because it’s hard. Because she can’t do this, not again. She can’t watch Azzi walk away without at least putting up a fight.
“I know what I did was wrong,” Paige blurts out before Azzi can say anything else. She looks up, stares at the wall ahead, before turning to Azzi. She tries to detect the look in her eyes and what it may mean, but can’t. “At Ted’s. And I’m sorry. I guess I just—these past six months have been so—I mean, they’ve been good, but they’ve also been super fucking confusing and kinda scary, too. It’s like I’m always on edge waiting for you to end things, so whenever we get too close to how we were—before, in high school—I back out, no matter how hard it is. No matter how good it feels to have you again.”
Azzi opens her mouth, the beginning of a word escaping, but Paige’s heart races and she stands, stopping her. “But I’m realizing that I don’t think I can do that with you. I don’t think I can be just friends with you, or friends with benefits, or even whatever the hell it is we’ve been doing. Every day since you ended things I’ve been a fucking wreck, Azzi.” And it’s true. Her freshmen year had been hard, spent sleeping with random caramel-skinned, dimpled girls to try and fill the Azzi-shaped void in her heart. And the summer after was hell, too, reconnecting with Azzi long-distance and trying to become friends again, acting like they were never anything more. And the past six months has been the worst of it all, because having Azzi but not really having her, keeping her at an arm’s length and teetering on this edge of will she do it again and when will it happen proving almost painful.
Azzi stands, too, stepping in front of her, tilting her chin just slightly up to make eye contact like she’s always had to do. “I didn’t want that, Paige,” she says, almost as if she’s pleading. “I wanted—I thought you’d have more fun if you were single. I thought you’d resent me for, like, tying you down.”
Paige looks at Azzi for a solid few seconds, trying to discern whether she’s fucking with her. And when Azzi doesn’t laugh or tell her this was all a stupid prank she turns around, pushes her hand through her hair, and then faces her again. “Are you fucking for real?”
“Yeah,” Azzi says sheepishly. “I thought—I don’t know. I was also sixteen and stupid and insecure, and I just wanted to make you happy. I didn’t think about what I wanted.” She looks down at her feet. “Didn’t realize how hard it’d be.”
“Yeah, you were stupid,” Paige snaps, and when Azzi flinches, she takes a step towards her. “You really thought that I’d—what, not want you? Want to fucking break up so I could hoe around?”
“Kind of!” Azzi says, throwing her hands in the air. “Things already felt off that summer before you left—“
“Because I didn’t want to leave you!” Paige practically shouts, and she wonders briefly why they never bothered to discuss this before. “I had no idea what I was gonna do when we were so far apart, but you know what? We could have handled it. We could’ve handled a year. I wanted to handle it, if it meant we could stay together.” She takes another step closer, so they’re face-to-face now. “I thought you were bored of me or sum’, you know? I was so fucking hurt.”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you!” Azzi cries. “Obviously I wasn’t bored, Paige, or I wouldn’t have jumped your fucking bones the minute I got to school.”
“And obviously I didn’t wanna be single or I wouldn’t have let you!”
Silence washes over them, and Paige is sure she could hear a pin drop, almost as sure as she is that their teammates are thoroughly listening to this argument outside the door. But she doesn’t care. Not when she’s looking close-up at the girl she’s loved forever and seeing her for the first time in almost two years—inches apart without hidden hurt or secret regrets tucked between them.
They’re both breathing heavy, both affected by everything they’ve just said and everything that still needs to be said but it’s not a surprise that they hold each other’s gazes, both too stubborn to be the first to look away.
And when the eye contact becomes too much for Paige to bear, she decides she will not chicken out, will not let her trepidations hold her back this time. And she leans forward and kisses her.
They’ve kissed—a million times, probably. Maybe more. At this point, they’ve learned each other down to the last breath, the last hair on their heads. They know exactly where to put their hands, exactly how to tell what the other is feeling based off the way they move their lips, exactly what things to say in between kisses. But despite all that, this—this feels brand new. Gentle, and tentative, but excited, too, like they know it’s the mark of something different. Something better.
———————————-
A week later, when Paige appears at her doorstep with a nervous little smile and flowers to take her on their second-first date, Paige asks her about the ‘lame girly song’ she’d been playing on repeat. Azzi tells her the song is not, in fact, lame, and is actually really quite good. She doesn’t admit that she can’t listen to it anymore.
(And, because I know you’re all wondering—yes, the makeup sex was as good as Azzi’d hoped.)
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johns-prince · 21 hours ago
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Jokes aside, it does seem like Paul was kind of the little cook of the group, even as teenagers:
““Yeah yeah, it’s all very well, Paul,” muttered John. “Just because your Dad played in some old time music hall in the thirties doesn’t mean we should go on stage wearing white coats. People will think we’re a bunch of fairies.”
“Wait a minute, John, I’m burning the toast.” Paul, clattering about in the kitchen, seemed oblivious to John’s emphatic statement. He then came out of the kitchen with a pile of buttered toast on a large plate for the ravenous horde waiting.
“What did you say? I couldn’t hear you properly; oh, the white coats, is that what you’re on about? What’s your problem with that? Look John, it’s about time we started smartening up our image because we can’t go on looking like a gang of ruffians just dragged off the streets,” retorted Paul. “We must look professional – we’re on the stage, in the public eye, and appearances are important. If we start looking the part then perhaps you may even be able to get your chords right.” Paul said this last point in a jovial manner, not wishing to rouse John’s temper, as he knew even after short acquaintance with John that he could soon ‘fly off the handle’ if provoked.
John seemed unperturbed by the insinuation that Paul was making about his professionalism (or lack of it). There was a silence for a couple of minutes as we all munched on our buttered toast. “Yeah okay – but white coats? I can’t see myself in one of those. Anyway, where would we get them from?”
“Never mind that – Nigel will sort that out. Look, it will be you and me up front from now on as main guitarists and vocalists so it’ll look good, the both of us wearing the same gear. It will be white coats, white shirts and black bow ties – the rest of the group can wear white shirts and black bow ties.”
John still seemed undecided and looked to me for support. “What do you think, Len?” he asked.
“I think the answer lies in the soil,” I said, trying to bring a bit of humour into what seemed to me a contest building up between two strong personalities, each having been used to getting their own way. Continuing in a none-too-serious vein, “But then again I think that you two don’t need us anymore, we’re has-beens.” […]
“Come on, Len, be serious for a minute. What do you think?” repeated John, who was by this time desperate for support. “I honestly think it’s worth a try and it will probably improve our image,” I said half-heartedly.
Suddenly John resorted to his lighter mode. “Ooh, eh! We will look smart. Why don’t we hire a limousine and dress up as undertakers instead?” he quipped.
“Don’t be thick, John, we’d all have to wear black for that,” Eric Griffiths suddenly interjected.
“Okay, we’ll all be in white then – it’s agreed,” said Paul. John then started up with a song that had recently been popularised: “A white sport coat and a pink carnation, I’m getting dressed up for a dance.” With that John did a little dance around the room. The Quarrymen Committee had arrived at another major decision without too much rancour.”
— Len Garry, John, Paul and Me: Before The Beatles. (1997) (X)
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When We Was Fab: Inside the Beatles Australasian Tour 1964 by Andy Neill and Greg Armstrong
I’ve stolen this off a Facebook group but feel it needs to be seen on tumblr.
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basicallyjeankirschtein · 2 days ago
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lost and found - toji x reader x sukuna
chapter 6: meeting sukuna
summary: gojo and geto ditched you (again, after promising not too) but thankfully there’s another man there for you (:
warnings: ooc sukuna (i’m sorry i just think it’s so cute when a big scary man is mean to everyone but soft towards you), a teensy bit suggestive MDNI, not proof read
* this chapter is mostly writing!
masterlist. prev. next
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you bit your bottom lip as you noticed the texts coming in from your friends, conveniently after the fact you’ve already asked for sukuna to drive you home.
sukuna surprised you. he looked scary, acted scary, sounded scary, and beat up gojo! you didn’t expect him to be so helpful, and to call you cute?
you were trying to side with the rational side of your brain, oh, he’s just saying that to get in your pants, but something told you that you could trust him.
sukuna did not lie when he said he would take only fifteen minutes. actually, he even got here in twelve minutes. your thoughts that told you you could trust him vanished immediately when you saw how huge and scary he was.
he towered over you, he was fucking huge. he had these huge muscles that looked like they could crush a man. he had these intricate tattooed scattered around his body, and suddenly you wondered if he was here to get revenge on gojo- not to help you.
“y/n.” he spoke in a deep, cold voice. it made you uneasy. he spoke like your name was a statement, staring at you coldly. you wondered if this is just how he always was.
“hi,” you managed to say, your voice small as if you were trying to hide yourself. you looked down at your feet, a bit nervous. when you finally had the courage to look up at him, his cheeks were tinged red. was he cold?
sukuna coughed awkwardly, “hi.”
you weren’t quite sure where to lead the conversation. should you just give him your address? you tried to search his face for any emotion, but his face was stoic. the only sign of life on his face being his flushed cheeks.
when you were about to speak up, you notified sukunas eyes widened. you quirked an eyebrow, pouting as you turned around to see what got him so surprised. before you could notice anything, sukuna took your hand and spun you around.
the action made you gasp, stumbling into him. to your surprise, this intimidating man began spewing apologies.
“shit, ‘m sorry.” he mumbled, glancing at your wrist to make sure he didn’t leave a bruise. “let’s bring you home. it’s getting late.” he insisted, not waiting for your answer as he brought you out to his car.
you didn’t protest as he opened the passenger side door for you, politely helping you sit down. if it weren’t for the circumstances, you’d have blushed and wondered if he was trying to be romantic.
“thank you, again.” you said sheepishly, hiding your shyness behind a giggle. he sighed, nodding. “no worries. if you need anything again, you can text me.”
again? you assumed this was a one time thing, to make up for beating up your best friend.
“no worries.” you told him, but he quickly shut you up.
“i’m being serious.” his tone definitely was serious, he sounded like he was mad. it made you uneasy all over again, practically curling into yourself. he was a scary, scary man.
when he noticed your discomfort, his face and tone visibly softened. “sorry.” he spoke, sighing to himself as he ran a hand through his hair, putting the car in drive.
“what’s your address?” he asked, trying to change the subject. you stammered out your address, still a bit nervous of his intentions. he muttered a thank you before beginning the drive to your place.
“i mean it.” he said, about ten minutes into the awkwardly silent car drive. you tilted your head, confused. “hm?” you hummed.
sukuna coughed awkwardly, the second time for that night. “i mean, if you need anything. if gojo tries something again-“ his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “don’t feel afraid to text, or call me. i can beat him up again, too. or beat up that other friend of yours.”
you couldn’t help the loud giggle that escaped your lips, “i’ll have to think about it.” you joked, though truthfully, you didn’t want to see either of them hurt. they may have hurt you, but you wouldn’t hurt them back. that’s not the type of person you were.
“you should leave them.” he said, turning into the parking lot of your apartment complex.
“huh?” you asked, eyes wide as he suggested such a thing. you knew after this event gojo and geto weren’t to be trusted as your friends anymore, but you didn’t actually think about the aspect of leaving them entirely.
before you could offer him a response, which you couldn’t really think of anyways, your thoughts were interrupted by a ding of your phone.
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oh shit.
was that why sukuna looked so shocked? and he was so adamant of getting you out of that cafe so fast?
you don’t know if you should feel guilty for your friends, hurt that they’re mad at you even thought they ditched you first, or flustered that sukuna was concerned about your feelings. maybe all three.
sukuna seemed to notice your discomfort, something flashed in his eyes though you couldn’t quite notice what it was.
“you okay?” he asked, his typical cold tone unusually soft. once again, your response was interrupted from a notification, this time from gojo.
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“oh no..” you mumbled out loud, biting your bottom lip to stop it from quivering. how embarrassing would it be to start crying in sukunas car?
“what’s wrong?” sukuna asked, his tone almost demanding. “what did gojo do?” sukuna seemed to have already known the center of your worry.
“d-drop me off before you reach my apartment building.” you spoke, making sukuna furrow his eyebrows together.
“this late? no. what did gojo do?” he persisted, his tone getting angrier and angrier. it was embarrassing, but you’ve always been sensitive when people raised their voice or got a mean tone with you.
“he saw us-“ you began, overwhelmed by all your emotions surrounding gojo and geto and your sensitivity to sukunas tone. “he’s mad.” you said after taking a deep breath, hoping to calm yourself down. “they’re already on their way to my apartment-“
this made sukuna growl. you didn’t even know a human was capable of making such a scary noise. if it was directed towards you, you’d start crying right here right now, but it wasn’t. it was directed at the assholes that hurt you. and that made you weak. you never even knew you had a kink for this thing-
“that bastard.” he groaned, voice raising as his knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. it made you a bit scared, bottom lip trembling once more as he raised his voice.
“i’m going to bring you to my place. is that okay?” he spoke. he must’ve noticed your discomfort, as he tried to tone himself down. though you could still tell he was seething.
you probably should’ve declined. you didn’t know this man. maybe he was a serial killer and this is how he lured his prey. either way, you’d either be dead to gojo and geto, or this hot man. you’d rather die to the hot man.
“o-okay.” you spoke, voice shaky as you got the courage to speak.
“i won’t hurt you. i’ve got a roommate who can vouch. shit-“ he growled, suddenly remembering he’d have to warn his roommate he was bringing you home.
“just tell my roommate im bringing you over, or he’ll hurt me.” he forced a chuckle, trying to ease your nerves. it didn’t work, but you appreciated it nonetheless.
sukuna handed you his phone, giving you the password to his phone without a second thought.
“his contact name is toji, just say i’m bringing you home.”
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i hope u enjoy my writing! i’m gonna be so fr the last time i wrote actual fanfiction was in middle school when i wrote bts fanfic.. so my writing has probably not improved at all but i enjoy writing this stuff out (:
tag list
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@anonnieghost @tyunswifey @ex1acy @t4naiis @shizukaay0 @ivydoesit23
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missarchive · 22 hours ago
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american jesus³ ☆
spencer reid
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part one part two part three
summary; The delicate veil of secrecy is torn, unraveling a truth neither were prepared to face.
A fleeting mistake reveals their intertwined worlds, forcing them to confront the forbidden desire that binds them. Love and restraint wage a quiet war, their connection teetering on the edge of discovery, threatening to unravel everything they’ve built.
cw; angst, spencer yells at the reader, age gap, sugar daddy/baby dynamics, big big feelings = big big argument, lots and lots of yearning, student/teacher relationship (ezra and aria who?) no smut in this part (i know, disappointing), you'll have to wait for part 4 ;)
an; as always, thank you for taking the time to read my work, i hope you all enjoy. please consider leaving feedback in the form of a comment or an ask if you did enjoy, i always love hearing from you <3
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“Can’t believe how lucky I am,” Spencer murmurs, his voice low and steady, almost like he’s thinking out loud. He’s not saying anything groundbreaking, just a simple truth, but you can feel the sincerity in every word.
You’re lying next to him, the warmth of his body pressing gently against yours, the world outside his apartment fading away. There’s no rush, no urgency. It’s just you and Spencer, the quiet hum of the city muted by the walls of the apartment. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm, the touch both soothing and reassuring, like a silent promise.
You turn your head slightly to look at him, catching his gaze, and his eyes soften when they meet yours. “Lucky?” you ask, a small smile playing on your lips. “Why’s that?”
He shrugs, his expression relaxed, but there’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite place—something that makes your chest tighten in a good way. “I don’t know. You’re... everything. You just get me, you know? You always know when I’m overthinking or when I need a minute, and you’re there without making a big deal out of it.”
You chuckle softly, rolling onto your side to face him more fully. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of mind reader.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” he continues, his hand resting lightly on your hip now, fingers gently tracing along your skin. “You’re so... intuitive. So much more than I ever expected.”
You’re not sure why, but something about the way he says it makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world he could say that to. It feels real—genuine, even. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you say, your voice quieter now, the smile still lingering on your lips.
Spencer laughs softly, his fingers brushing over your hair. “I don’t know about that,” he says, though the affection in his voice is undeniable. “But I’m definitely glad you’re here. Glad it’s... us.”
“Me too,” you whisper back, settling a little closer to him, resting your head against his chest. It’s easy, this thing between you. Comfortable in a way that doesn’t need to be overanalysed or explained. You both know where you stand, and that’s enough.
He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his voice barely above a whisper. “I really like being with you. More than I can say.”
You close your eyes, letting the simple words wash over you, content in the quiet of the moment. The world outside can wait. Here, with him, everything feels just right.
So as you crossed the campus the next morning, your bag tucked tightly against your side like a fragile secret, you couldn’t help but think of him. The air was crisp, carrying the faint tang of autumn, and the hum of the campus buzzed around you. Laughter echoed from a nearby bench, the scrape of skateboard wheels over concrete punctuating the morning stillness. It was a world in motion, but for you, each step felt heavier, each breath tighter.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket, jolting you from your spiralling thoughts. A welcome distraction. You stepped into the shadow of a quiet corner in the quad, your back leaning against the cool brick of a building as you pulled it out. The message preview glowed softly on the screen, taunting you with its simplicity. Just a few words, but enough to make your stomach twist. You hesitated, the pad of your thumb hovering over the notification, before swiping it open.
@ thefourthdoctor; Big day today, right? How's it going so far?
You smiled to yourself. He had a way of grounding you, even when the chaos of life seemed overwhelming. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you typed back quickly.
@ laceandliterature; Surviving so far. One more class. Supposedly the professor is a genius or something.
@ thefourthdoctor; Genius professors are overrated. Bet you'll end up teaching them something.
You let out a soft laugh, earning a curious glance from the student beside you. You put your phone away as the chatter in the room began to quiet. The door at the front of the classroom opened, and a tall, slightly disheveled man stepped in.
"Good afternoon," he began, his voice smooth and steady, carrying just enough authority to quiet the murmur of the room. "My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, and I’ll be your professor for this semester."
A cold shiver ran through you, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. For a moment, your brain refused to process them, to connect the dots. It was like a veil had dropped over the classroom, the world outside of him fading into a muffled blur. He was your Spencer—your secret, your late-night confidant, the person who had slowly crept into your thoughts, into your heart.
And now, as you looked up, there he was. Dr. Spencer Reid. The very thought of it made you freeze.
The world around you seemed to tilt, gravity losing its hold, as if the earth had somehow shifted beneath your feet. The air in the room thickened, and your pulse hammered in your ears. You could feel every eye in the room, but all you could focus on was him—on the way his gaze flickered over the crowd, on the moment he paused as if feeling your presence before his eyes locked onto yours.
It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be happening.
Recognition flashed in his eyes, swift and sharp like a lightning strike, followed by something darker—something that mirrored the panic rising in your chest. His steps faltered, a momentary loss of composure. For an agonizing second, he looked like he might trip over his own feet, his hand reaching instinctively to grip the edge of the podium, as though it were the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His lips parted, as if he meant to speak, but the words didn’t come.
The room around you blurred, every sound drowned out by the rushing roar of your heart, by the sudden weight of the truth crashing down on you. Dr. Spencer Reid, the man you had been talking to for weeks, the one you had come to trust with pieces of yourself you’d never shared with anyone, was standing in front of you—your professor. The line between you had just dissolved into nothing, and the implications hit you all at once.
His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were filled with something raw and unsettled—confusion, maybe even disbelief, a look that mirrored the one you felt inside. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. You were so close to something, to something more, to a feeling you’d been fighting to define, but now… now it all felt tainted. The connection you had with him was something that had blossomed in the quiet, the secrecy, and now it felt so exposed, so fragile, hanging on the edge of something you couldn’t control.
You watched him struggle to regain his composure. His face was flushed, his brow furrowed with tension, but there was something else beneath it—something deep, something that had been there all along, though you hadn’t dared to name it. The reality of the situation hit you with crushing force: the late-night conversations, the casual affection, the way he made you feel seen and heard… It had all been real. But so was this.
He opened his mouth again, but it wasn’t to speak to you—not directly. He cleared his throat, pulling himself together with shaky breath, and in that instant, you knew that everything had changed. He was no longer the man you had been texting, the one who had shared things with you that felt impossible to tell anyone else. No. Now, he was your professor, the person whose authority you were supposed to respect, the person who had the power to affect your future in ways you hadn’t even considered.
You tried to steady your racing thoughts, but the reality of what was happening, what had just happened, pressed down on you. This wasn’t just an awkward surprise. This was a violation of all the boundaries you thought you could keep between your personal life and the rest of the world. You felt your chest tighten as the dread crept in.
You had been so close. So close to something real, something that had started to feel like it could actually be more than just a fleeting connection. But now? Now, you were staring into the abyss of what could only be a mess. His eyes kept flicking to you, but he didn’t speak directly to you again. Instead, he turned his attention back to the class, clearing his throat one more time before continuing, his voice more composed but still carrying an undercurrent of something strained.
"...I’ll be teaching cognitive development this semester," he said, his tone firm but not quite steady. "It’s a challenging course, but I’m confident you’ll all be able to keep up."
His words felt hollow, detached, as though he were going through the motions, but every syllable felt like an echo of everything you could no longer ignore.
You stayed rooted in your seat, a cold heaviness settling over you, your heart racing, your mind reeling. The world had just shifted, and you weren’t sure how to catch your breath.
"Uh," he stammered, his voice betraying a crack of unsteadiness. "As I said, I’m Dr. Reid. I, uh, specialise in behavioural psychology and philosophy. If you need anything, my office hours are listed in the syllabus, which you should have received by email."
He spoke too quickly, the words tumbling out like they might shield him from the reality of the moment. His hands gripped the podium tightly, and though his eyes swept over the room, you could tell he was avoiding looking directly at you. His composure was a fragile thing, threatening to crumble with every second that passed.
Your stomach churned as the implications of this impossible situation sank in. The air in the room felt stifling now, too warm, too heavy. You were hyperaware of him—of the way he stood just a little too rigidly, the faint flush creeping up his neck, the way his voice had wavered when he said anything.
This was the man who had been your confidant, the one who made you feel seen in a way no one else had. And now, he was standing in front of you, holding a position of authority that made every shared moment, every word exchanged, a dangerous secret.
He risked another fleeting glance in your direction, his expression unreadable. The air between you felt charged, like the space before a storm, filled with things left unsaid and too many emotions packed into too little time.
Your mind raced, a tangled mess of shock, dread, and something heartbreakingly close to longing. How could this possibly work? Could it even work at all?
Spencer turned back to his papers, his shoulders tight as he forced himself to continue. But the damage was done. The moment had shattered the fragile wall between your two worlds, and now you were left to navigate the wreckage.
And now, he was standing here, just feet away, your professor.
You could still feel his eyes on you, even when he wasn’t looking directly your way. You knew he felt it too—the electricity, the undeniable tension.
As the class dragged on, each word Spencer spoke felt like it was coming from miles away. You couldn’t focus, couldn’t absorb anything except the overwhelming weight of the truth. Dr. Spencer Reid. The realization kept replaying in your mind like a broken record, the echo of it rattling your thoughts until everything else faded into white noise. You tried to look at him objectively, tried to see the professor in front of you, but all you saw was the man who had become your secret, your late-night refuge. The man who, just hours ago, you had felt yourself slipping closer to, only to have the ground ripped out from under you.
When the lecture finally ended, the final bell a dull thud in your chest, you stayed in your seat for a beat too long, uncertain. The others filed out, chattering and laughing, their voices lost to you as if you were underwater. You debated, internally torn between confronting him—demanding answers—or simply running the other way and never looking back.
But before you could decide, before you could move, you caught his eye. Just for a second. It was brief, fleeting, but in that shared glance, you saw it—the acknowledgment, the silent recognition that you were both trapped in the same web of confusion and unspoken desire. His gaze held something more: a question, a plea, a silent call for understanding. You weren’t sure which one it was, but you felt it.
Neither of you said a word, but the air between you grew thick with it, with everything you weren’t saying. It hung there, heavy and suffocating, the invisible barrier that now separated you. You wanted to speak, to ask him what this meant, to demand the answers that both of you seemed too afraid to say aloud. But you didn’t. And neither did he.
This was going to complicate everything.
The days after that first class passed in a blur. The initial shock had dulled, but it had left behind an uneasy tension, a strange sort of tightness in the air between you and Spencer. Something had shifted between you both, but neither of you knew how to handle it, how to navigate the mess of emotions and risks.
In lectures, Spencer kept his gaze trained firmly ahead, rarely letting it wander to your corner of the room. When he did glance in your direction, it was quick, as if he feared even that brief moment of connection might undo him. The smooth flow of his lecture, once so natural, now had a stutter to it when you raised your hand, your voice, anything. The usual rhythm was broken, disrupted by the constant awareness of each other. Every word you spoke seemed to have the weight of a thousand unspoken things behind it, like every sentence was a landmine that could blow everything apart.
Outside of class, things were no easier. The messages between you and Spencer, once frequent and filled with ease, had become painfully measured. You had both learned to carefully choose your words, as if a wrong one could expose everything—the feelings you were hiding, the longing you couldn’t keep at bay, the dangers that now clung to every thought and touch. Every interaction felt like it was wrapped in a shroud of what ifs—what if someone found out? What if this all fell apart? What if it was too late?
But despite the careful distance, despite the impossible situation you found yourselves in, you couldn’t stay away. There was something magnetic between you, a pull that neither of you could resist. Each encounter, each brief exchange, only made it worse, only made you want him more.
And yet, you couldn’t have him. Not like this. Not with the risk of everything unraveling in an instant. But every part of you screamed that you couldn’t walk away, that you couldn’t let go of the thing that had begun to feel so real. And every part of him seemed to feel the same way.
There’s something almost sacred in the way he moves, the way he speaks, each word falling from his lips like it’s meant only for you, like you’re the only one who can truly hear it. You can't help but trace every line of his face, from the sharp curve of his jaw to the faint scrunch of his brow when he's lost in thought. His every gesture seems like poetry, something you could study for hours, even days.
You idolise him in a way that feels almost holy, a quiet reverence in the way you let your gaze linger on him, not just as your professor, but as someone untouchable. Every time his eyes sweep the room, you hold your breath, hoping, praying that maybe this time, they’ll land on you—just you. But they never do.
And still, you can’t stop. He’s your obsession, your quiet prayer whispered to the stars. You don’t just listen to him; you drink in every syllable, every inflection of his voice, as if his words are the only truth worth knowing. And in those moments, the world falls away, leaving only you and him—alone, even if you’re not.
It started in whispers, in moments so small they were almost imperceptible. A lingering glance after class that held for just a second too long. The way his fingers brushed yours when he handed back a graded paper, the touch fleeting but electric. You told yourself these gestures didn’t matter, that they were coincidences or figments of your imagination. But you knew better. You felt it in your chest, in the way your breath caught each time his eyes met yours and lingered.
Then one evening, as you packed up your notebook and pens after a lecture, his voice stopped you mid-motion.
“Y/N,” he said softly, careful not to draw the attention of the few students still milling about. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”
You froze, your heart skipping, then nodding as you tried to keep your face neutral. His eyes darted around the room, scanning for onlookers, before he gestured toward the hallway.
The atmosphere in Spencer’s office was tense, a quiet unease pressing down on both of you. The faint hum of the overhead light mixed with the distant sounds of the campus outside, but neither did much to distract from the gravity of the conversation.
Spencer sat behind his desk, his fingers lightly drumming against the edge as he stared at the scattered papers in front of him. His gaze was unfocused, the weight of what he needed to say pulling at his normally composed demeanor. You leaned against the closed door, arms crossed, your posture guarded.
“This isn’t just risky,” he said after a long silence, his voice steady but low. He glanced up at you, his eyes serious. “If anyone finds out, it could ruin both of us.”
You straightened, arms dropping to your sides. “I know the risks, Spencer. But walking away isn’t an option for me, and I don’t think it is for you either.”
He leaned back in his chair, letting out a quiet sigh. “It’s not. But that means we have to be careful—really careful. We need rules. Boundaries. Something to protect us.”
You stepped closer to his desk, pulling a chair to sit across from him. “Okay,” you said, keeping your voice even. “Let’s figure it out. What’s non-negotiable?”
He hesitated, his fingers lacing together as he thought. “First, no public displays of affection. Not even subtle things. On campus, we have to act like nothing’s going on. No lingering looks, no casual touches—nothing.”
“Agreed,” you said, though the thought of keeping that distance stung. “We can’t give anyone a reason to suspect us.”
“And no communication about us through email or official channels,” he added. “If we need to talk, it has to be in person or through something secure.”
You nodded. “There are private apps we could use, encrypted ones. Only for emergencies, though. No casual texting.”
The practicality of it all settled over you both, the careful parameters of what you could and couldn’t do drawing a stark line around the relationship.
Spencer looked at you, his expression softer now, though no less serious. “If at any point this feels like too much—if it starts to put pressure on your life or your future—you have to tell me. I don’t want you to feel trapped in this.”
You met his gaze, holding it firmly. “That goes both ways. If you start to feel like this is putting your career in jeopardy, you need to tell me.”
He nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Deal.”
The conversation felt clinical, like drawing up a contract, but it was necessary. The risks weren’t hypothetical—they were real, and you both knew what was at stake.
“Do you think this will work?” you asked after a pause, your voice quieter now.
Spencer didn’t answer right away. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk as he looked at you. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I know I’m willing to try. For you.”
His honesty grounded you, cutting through the uncertainty. “Then we’ll make it work,” you said simply.
You found ways to navigate the tightrope of your relationship, though every step felt like it could be the one that sent you both tumbling into ruin.
You started meeting in places where no one would recognise you. A quiet café on the outskirts of town. A secluded bench in the park. The conversations were tentative at first, but the connection between you refused to fade.
One night, as the rain pattered softly against the windows of his apartment, you found yourself curled up on his couch, your head resting on his shoulder.
“You know this is insane, right,” he muttered, though his arm tightened around you.
“Probably,” you admitted, tilting your head to look up at him. “But doesn’t it feel worth it?”
His gaze lingered on yours, conflicted but warm. “It does,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. “And that’s what scares me.”
The line between you and Spencer was razor-thin, a fragile, trembling thread neither of you dared to define. It felt like standing on the edge of a precipice, the dizzying height both thrilling and terrifying. You both knew the fall was inevitable, yet neither of you could step away. Instead, you lingered there, savouring the tension in those fleeting moments before gravity claimed you.
One late afternoon, as the sun dipped low and painted the campus in gold and shadow, you found yourself outside his office door. The brass plaque bearing his name gleamed faintly, a stark reminder of the boundaries you were about to cross. Your pulse quickened as you raised a hand and knocked softly, the sound barely louder than your breath.
“Come in,” he called, his voice muffled, distracted.
You slipped inside, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. Spencer sat hunched over his desk, papers sprawled across its surface like a chaotic map of his thoughts. His tie hung loose around his neck, and his hair fell untamed over his forehead, catching the fading light.
When he looked up and saw you, the tired lines of his face softened. His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, one that chased away some of the tension in his shoulders. “You’re here,” he said, his voice warmer now, but still tinged with a nervous edge. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I couldn’t stay away,” you admitted, stepping closer. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
He stood slowly, his movements hesitant as though torn between his delight at seeing you and the weight of the risks that lingered between you. “I’ve been thinking about you too,” he confessed, his hand moving to the back of his neck. “But this... it’s complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” you replied, your voice steady but gentle.
He shook his head with a quiet laugh, though it lacked humor. “You make it sound so simple.” His gaze dropped to the floor before returning to you, his expression earnest. “I’m glad you’re here—I always am—but... we have to be careful.”
“I know,” you said, your tone softer now. “But I needed to see you.”
He exhaled, taking a step toward you, the space between you narrowing. “This is dangerous,” he said, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed the firmness of his words. “For both of us. You understand that, right?”
“Yes,” you replied, your gaze locking with his. “I understand. But that doesn’t change how I feel.”
The honesty of your words hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed. Spencer’s breath hitched, and he hesitated for a moment before closing the remaining distance between you.
His hands came to rest gently on your waist, his touch light but steady, as if testing the limits of how close he could let himself be. “You make it impossible to think straight,” he murmured, a faint, self-deprecating smile on his lips.
“Then don’t think,” you whispered, your hand rising to cup his face. Your thumb brushed against the stubble along his jaw, the touch grounding. “Just let yourself feel, Spencer.”
His resolve faltered, and after a brief, wavering pause, he gave in. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and urgent, as though trying to convey everything he couldn’t say aloud.
When you pulled back, your breaths mingled in the space between you, your foreheads resting together. His hands tightened slightly on your waist, reluctant to let you go.
“This is reckless,” he murmured, though his tone lacked any real conviction.
“Then tell me to leave,” you said softly, challenging him with your eyes. “If you really believe this is a mistake, say it, and I will.”
Spencer’s silence stretched, his gaze searching yours for an answer he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Then, instead of pushing you away, he leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss—slower this time, more deliberate.
In that moment, the rest of the world faded away. It didn’t matter that this was risky or complicated. All that mattered was the way his arms felt around you, and the way he whispered your name like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground.
But even as you clung to him, the weight of reality loomed just beyond the door. You both knew the balance wouldn’t hold forever. Every stolen moment brought you closer to the edge, but neither of you was ready to let go. Not yet.
The weeks that followed were nothing short of surreal, a delicate haze of stolen moments and whispered confessions that felt like they existed outside of time. For a brief, golden sliver of your lives, the rest of the world melted away. The tension and danger that had once defined your relationship softened, and in its place grew something that felt achingly close to normal—a fleeting illusion of safety in a house of cards.
During the day, Spencer was every bit the professor. His lectures were sharp, his insights unmatched, and his demeanour coolly professional. He kept his distance, his gaze skimming over you with the same neutrality he granted every student. But in the evenings, when the classroom emptied and the cloak of twilight fell over the city, those carefully maintained facades slipped away.
You found solace in the quiet intimacy of those stolen hours, the shared secret between you and Spencer feeling like a delicate, shimmering bubble that shielded you from the outside world—if only for a little while. His apartment, modest and unassuming, became your sanctuary. Under the cover of darkness, you would arrive, greeted by the soft, golden glow of a desk lamp that bathed the room in warmth. The light cast long, flickering shadows across the walls, giving the space an almost dreamlike quality.
He’d sit at his desk, his slender fingers skimming over pages of handwritten notes or flipping through the well-worn pages of a book. Papers were scattered in controlled chaos before him, but his focus would inevitably drift to you. Meanwhile, you lounged on his worn, olive-green couch, the fabric soft from years of use, a book resting in your hands. The faint scent of old paper mingled with the subtle aroma of his cologne, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.
One evening, the air felt particularly still, broken only by the soft scratch of his pen against paper and the occasional rustle of pages as you turned them. The tension between you wasn’t heavy—it was something quieter, more tender, like the gentle pull of a tide.
“I’m starting to think you’re only here to distract me,” he teased, his voice breaking the silence. His eyes flicked up from his notes, catching yours across the room. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his expression a perfect blend of amusement and affection.
You looked up from your book, tilting your head with a playful grin. “Maybe I am,” you replied, your tone light but laced with an unmistakable warmth. “But you don’t seem to mind.”
He leaned back in his chair, the smirk softening into something more vulnerable, more honest. “I don’t,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, carrying a sincerity that made your chest tighten. His gaze lingered on you, filled with a kind of unspoken gratitude, as though you were the one thing anchoring him amidst the chaos of his thoughts.
The moment stretched between you, delicate and unbroken, like the fragile stillness before a storm. In that space, with only the golden lamplight and the quiet hum of shared presence, the world outside faded away.
Some nights, you’d find yourselves in his small, modest kitchen, an intimate space that seemed to wrap around you like a cocoon. The countertops were cluttered with mismatched utensils and a few carefully chosen cookbooks, their spines cracked from frequent use. The narrow layout forced you close, your movements effortlessly weaving around each other, as though this was a dance you’d been perfecting for years.
You’d stand at the counter, chopping vegetables with a focus that was occasionally interrupted by his amused glances. Meanwhile, he’d hover over the stove, stirring something fragrant and humming softly under his breath. The warm, savoury scent of simmering herbs and spices filled the air, mingling with the faint crackle of oil in the pan.
“Reid, you’re a genius, not a chef,” you teased, pausing to nudge him gently with your elbow. The touch was casual, yet the closeness sent a subtle thrill through you.
Without missing a beat, he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his lips curving into a playful smirk. “I think genius qualifies me for multitasking,” he retorted, his tone light and laced with dry humor.
The way he spoke, so earnest yet teasing, made you laugh—an easy, carefree sound that filled the small space. His smile widened at the sound, the fondness in his expression unmistakable. He turned back to the stove, stirring the pot with careful precision, as though the act of cooking together was as much about the process as the meal itself.
Occasionally, his arm would brush against yours, the fleeting contact as natural as it was electric. He’d reach over you to grab a spice jar, murmuring an absent “Excuse me,” though his hand would linger just a moment too long against yours.
He told you stories about the BAU, his voice animated as he recounted Morgan’s relentless pranks or Garcia’s exuberance. You’d laugh until tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, your sides aching from the joy of it.
“This feels too good to be true,” you murmured one night, leaning against the counter as you watched him stir a pot of pasta.
“It does,” he replied, glancing at you with a small, almost shy smile that made your chest tighten. “But I don’t want to think about that right now. I just want to enjoy this.”
And you did. You savoured the moments as though they might slip through your fingers at any moment. But beneath the surface, there was always a quiet awareness—a faint, unspoken dread. You both knew this fragile peace couldn’t last forever. The bubble you lived in was too perfect, too delicate, and the outside world was never far away.
The nights were the best, the moments you cherished most. Wrapped in his arms, the world outside ceased to exist. Time itself seemed to slow down, fading into the background as everything else fell away. The warmth of his skin against yours was enough to make the chaos of the day disappear. He’d trace lazy patterns across your back or along your arms, the soft rhythm of his touch sending a sense of peace through you, grounding you in the present moment. His voice would hum softly, a low murmur that carried the oddest mix of comfort and distraction. He’d recite obscure facts with the same earnestness he applied to everything else, his words a strange lullaby that somehow felt both educational and intimate.
“Did you know that octopuses have three hearts?” he said one evening, his body pressed close to yours, limbs tangled together like the quietest dance. His voice was warm, the amusement in it making your pulse quicken slightly.
You laughed softly, feeling the slight vibration of his chest against your cheek. You buried your face against his skin, closing your eyes for a moment to soak in the sense of peace that only seemed to exist here, with him. “And here I thought you didn’t have one at all,” you teased, a playful smirk pulling at your lips.
His fingers brushed against your cheek, a soft, almost reverent touch that stilled your teasing. His expression shifted, becoming something quieter, something that caught you off guard. The warmth of his breath against your skin softened, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade.
“I do,” he whispered, the words a soft confession, barely audible but filled with weight. “And it’s yours.”
The words hung in the air, more potent than anything he had said before. The way he said them, so sure, so vulnerable, made your heart skip a beat. You wanted to respond, but the truth was—there was nothing to say. The vulnerability in his voice, the sincerity in his touch, said everything you needed to know.
The bubble burst on an otherwise ordinary evening. You’d fallen into an easy rhythm with Spencer, your shared secret giving you a sense of intimacy that felt almost unbreakable. But the thing about bubbles is that they’re fragile, no matter how much you want them to last.
It started with a message.
Spencer had been quiet all day, his usual goodnight text conspicuously absent the night before. When you finally worked up the courage to check your phone, there it was.
@ thefourthdoctor; We need to talk. Can you come over?
Your heart sank as you read the words. “We need to talk” was never a good sign.
The walk to his apartment felt longer than usual, your mind racing with all the possibilities of what he might say. By the time you arrived, your hands were trembling as you knocked on the door.
He opened it quickly, stepping aside to let you in without a word. His expression was tense, his usually warm eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite place.
“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice barely steady.
He closed the door, running a hand through his hair. “Something happened,” he said, his tone clipped.
The weight of his words settled heavily in your chest. “What do you mean? Did someone—”
“Someone knows,” he interrupted, his voice sharp. “Or at least, someone suspects.”
You blinked, your stomach twisting. “How? Who?”
“I don’t know who,” he said, pacing the small living room. “But today, a coworker asked me why I’ve been acting distracted. He didn’t say anything outright, but I could tell he’s suspicious. And if he’s suspicious, it’s only a matter of time before someone else starts asking questions.”
You felt the blood drain from your face. “What did you say to him?”
“I brushed it off,” he said, his voice strained. “But this isn’t just about the team. If the school finds out…” He trailed off, his hands clenched into fists.
The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.
“So, what are you saying?” you finally asked, your voice trembling.
He stopped pacing, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m saying we need to stop this. Whatever this is, it’s not worth the risk.”
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Not worth the risk?” you repeated, your voice rising. “Is that all this is to you? A risk?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, but the damage was done.
“Then what did you mean, Spencer?” you demanded, your voice cracking. “Because it sounds a lot like you’re saying I’m not worth it.”
His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his silence louder than any words he could have said.
“Unbelievable,” you said, shaking your head. “I thought—” Your voice broke, and you had to swallow hard before continuing. “I thought this meant something to you.”
“It does,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You mean something to me. But this—us—it’s reckless. It’s dangerous. And if we keep going, we’re both going to get hurt.”
“So, what? You’re just giving up?” you asked, tears stinging your eyes. “You’re walking away because it’s easier than fighting for me?”
“I’m trying to protect you!” he snapped, his voice louder than you’d ever heard it.
“Protect me from what?” you shot back. “From caring about you? From wanting to be with you?”
“From yourself!” he yelled, his words cutting through the air like a knife. “You don’t think things through! You’re impulsive and immature, and you don’t understand the consequences of your actions!”
The room went still, his words hanging heavy between you.
For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your chest heaving as the weight of his words crushed you. “Is that what you really think of me?” you whispered, your voice trembling.
His face softened for a split second, regret flashing in his eyes, but it wasn’t enough.
“Maybe we should’ve never started this,” he said quietly, the words like a final blow.
You felt something inside you shatter. Without another word, you turned and walked to the door, your movements mechanical as you grabbed your coat.
"I'll write you a check, Spencer," you spat, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. "You can have every cent back, every single dollar you ever gave me. I don’t want it anymore—I don’t want any of it. Not the money, not the memories, not you.”
“Wait,” he called, his voice desperate now. But you didn’t stop.
As the door closed behind you, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the hallway as you walked away.
This time, you didn’t look back.
Spencer stood frozen in the middle of his living room, staring at the door you had just slammed shut. The silence in the apartment was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.
He felt hollow, like the argument had carved out a piece of him and taken it with you when you left. His chest ached, and his hands hung uselessly at his sides, still trembling from the heat of the fight.
Anger flickered in him—not at you, but at himself. The words he’d thrown at you echoed in his mind, sharp and bitter. Impulsive. Immature. Reckless. He had said them to push you away, to make you understand the gravity of the situation. But now they tasted like poison, regret seeping into every corner of his mind.
What have I done?
Spencer ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. He sank onto the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. His mind replayed the look on your face when he had yelled at you—the way your eyes had glistened with unshed tears, the tremble in your voice when you asked if that was what he really thought of you.
He didn’t mean it. Not any of it.
The truth was, you weren’t reckless. You weren’t immature. You were brave in a way he couldn’t comprehend, willing to take risks for what you wanted, for what you believed in. And Spencer admired you for it, even if he couldn’t admit it aloud.
But admiration wasn’t enough to protect you.
That was what haunted him the most. He had been terrified—not of you, but of what your relationship meant, of the potential fallout, the consequences that could ruin both your lives. He thought pushing you away was the right thing to do, the only thing to do. But now, sitting alone in the empty apartment, all he felt was loss.
Spencer’s throat tightened as he leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. He wanted to call you, to apologize, to take it all back. But the rational part of him held him back. You were right to leave, he thought bitterly. I’m no good for you.
Still, the thought of never seeing you again, never hearing your laugh or feeling the warmth of your touch, was unbearable.
The apartment felt colder, emptier, without you in it. Spencer closed his eyes, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he had said and everything he hadn’t.
And for the first time in a long while, he felt utterly, devastatingly alone.
You got me red, white, and blue
Pledging my allegiance to you
Tell me you believe in me too
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fieldofdaisiies · 17 hours ago
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Azriel x Reader - It‘s Late
I don't know how this short story happened, but I had an idea and @brekkershadowsinger helped develop it hehe. Warning, this is smut with very little plot.
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"It‘s late, baby." Your hands sneak around your mate’s strong shoulders in tender caress, sliding down to his chest and his shadows awaken at your closeness, swirling around you and brushing over your arms. "Come to bed."
Azriel groans at your touch, his body relaxing in reaction to it. You can feel the shift, a warm, rich feeling greeting you through the bond, welcoming you and wrapping around you like a cosy embrace. Love.
"I‘ll be there shortly … one more report, my mate." His voice sounds almost a bit pained, almost like he has to force himself to continue with the reports and not leave them as they are and fully you straight away.
You can feel he wants to join you in bed, more than anything else. But his spymaster duty is not something he doesn’t easily put aside.
His body tenses. Tipping his head back, he pulls his lower lip between his teeth. You take it as a chance to kiss his cheek.
Tonight, you‘re having none of it. You don’t want to wait and you know how desperately he needs a break.
"I want you now." You place a kiss to the spot right beneath his ear..
He grinds his teeth, every muscle in his body tense. He is fighting his desire to join you and you almost have to giggle.
"Five more minutes,” he grinds out.
You kiss a path down to his ear, hovering right above it. Then you kiss his earlobe. "Now, my mate, or I‘ll put on my clothes again."
The shadowsinger spins around so fast you barely have time to catch yourself on his broad shoulders to keep you upright. He blows out a long breath, eyes darkening as they skate over your body. "Fuck me." He smacks his hand over his face and wipes it down harshly. "Don’t do this to me. Rhys needs those reports tomorrow."
"And I," —you step between his legs, veiling your voice in a sultry tone as you lean in— "need you."
His hands are on your hips in an instant. "Rhys is going to kill me," he says but keeps pulling you in until you slide onto his lap, legs braced on either side of his hips. His chin drops, and he leans in to kiss your neck. "And all because of my pretty little and terribly needy mate." His voice has changed, now having a sensual hue to it and is at least an octave deeper.
You sigh at the feeling of his lips closing over your neck, before he lets his tongue poke out and glide over your heated skin. “What shall I do with you now?” He tips his head back, an almost wicked grin on his lips. “Distracting me? Making me delay my reports for the High Lord? I assume this calls for some punishment?”
You lean forward, making sure you breast touch his chest, your hand falling to his neck, fingers curling around it. “Or you reward me, for being such a good mate who‘s always needy for you.” You glance up at him through lower lashes, his arousal already pressing against you through the fabric of his cotton pants.
His eyes are dark as the lock with yours, his scarred fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. 
“Needy you say?” His right hand slides to your aching centre. “Let me see how needy you are.” A grin appears on his lips as he lets his middle finger slide through your wetness.
“You‘re dripping with arousal.” The grin only widens. “And all of it for me.”
“All for you, Az.” You want to grind against his gingers for some sort of friction, hoping he will give you exactly what you need but he moves his hand away, lifting it to his lips to lick it clean.
“Then I shall truly reward you.” He sharply pulls you in, your lips only inches apart. “Tell me what you want. What you need. How you want me.”
“I need you, Az. I need you to make me feel good,” you breathe against his mouth. “Plea—”
He steals the word from your lips as he kisses you, desperate and hungry, almost like a starved male. And as your lips merge, teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance, he begins to move your hips, grinding you against his growing hardness. 
“Az!” you gasp, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. “More. I need more.”
You don’t have to tell him twice. With strength that is beyond you he lifts you onto his desk —onto the reports— spreading your thighs wide before lifting your legs over his shoulders, the tips of your toes touching the leathery membrane of his wings.
“So wet,” Azriel hums against your skin as his lips cast down the inside of your thighs, lower and lower, until he kisses your throbbing centre.
He doesn’t only kiss you there. He drives his tongue deep into you, nibbling and suckling, feasting. All the while his fingertips into your thighs, into your ass, kneading until one of them wanders to your centre accompanying his tongue, playing with your clit.
Slick noises fill the air around you as your hips lift off the desk, grinding against his face. Your eyes glaze over with desire, fingers curling around the desk for support, knuckles turning white.
You call out his name, and curses as his tongue licks at your clit, fingers driving deep into you, and your climax nears in tidal waves. 
And when you finally come, it hits you hard. Like your body is on fire, your soul ascending, rising and falling, but Azriel is there to catch you. He helps you ride out your high, his head still between your legs, licking and kissing.
You tug at his hair, making him tips his head up. His fave is damp with you, with your arousal and Azriel grins from one ear to the other. It‘s the most beautiful sight you have ever seen, seeing your mate smile, grin.
Your legs continue to tremble, chest lifting and falling with deep intakes of air, as you come down from your high. Your mate gently lowers your legs, then pulls you back onto his lap, holding you close to his chest. “My pretty little mate, you‘re the best distraction a male could ever ask for.” He kisses the top of your head and you can feel him smile against your hair.
Your arms sneak around him, your face pressed against his chest. “Bath?”
“Absolutely.”
->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->
tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @cadiawrites @bookishbroadwaybish @tele86 @fuckingsimp4azriel 
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yeomongi · 3 days ago
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𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 — ᡣ𐭩
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genre: smut!! 18+ content below cut MDNI!!!
pairing: seonghwa x you
word count: ~1.2k
warnings: unprotected sex (don’t), kinda noncon?? (y/n is sleeping but enjoys it and goes along w it,) somnophilia, cumming inside, fingering, i think that’s it! no proofread
synopsis: seonghwa had been achingly hard all day just by the thought of y/n. when he got home and saw y/n sleeping so peacefully , he couldn’t resist…
note: this was a request!! gosh the way i wish seonghwa would wake me up by fucking me… I MEANNNN!!!! anyways, i had fun writing this! i hope everyone enjoys! reblogs and interactions appreciated! <3
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you'd been driving seonghwa crazy all day, occupying his every thought as he tried to focus on work. every few hours, he'd slip into the bathroom, unzipping his pants to adjust himself or even take a few hasty strokes to try and ease the ache. nothing seemed to work, though - his desire for you only grew stronger with each passing minute.
when he finally got home, he headed straight for the living room, expecting to pull you into his arms and have his way with you right then and there. but what he saw stopped him in his tracks: you, curled up so sweetly under his fuzzy blanket on the couch, fast asleep. the sight made his already-throbbing length twitch hard against his boxers. god, you looked so adorable like that...
without hesitation, he crept over to you, his eyes raking hungrily over your peaceful form. he couldn't wait any longer. gently, he lifted the blanket, exposing your body to his eager gaze. his breath caught at the sight of you, so vulnerable and trusting in slumber. perfect.
he knelt down beside the couch, fingers trembling with anticipation as he carefully began unbuckling his belt. he knew this was wrong, invading your privacy like this...but he just couldn't bring himself to wake you gently first. his mind was consumed with primal desire.
once free, his hardened length sprung out, already leaking with need. he grasped himself firmly, stroking up and down as he gazed at every inch of you. your soft breaths against the pillow, the gentle rise and fall of your chest...it was intoxicating.
he shuffled closer, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your forehead before positioning himself between your legs. the heat radiating from your body urged him on as he rubbed the swollen tip against your clothed entrance. he bit his lip, trying to quiet the whimpers that threatened to escape. god, he needed this.
ignoring any last shreds of guilt, he slipped two fingers beneath your panties, feeling your warmth and slickness that told him everything he needed to know. with a low groan, he pushed them inside you, curving them to stroke that sweet spot within as he continued rubbing against your covered depths.
your body betrayed your unconscious state, hips bucking slightly against his touching. seonghwa fought back a grin, his movements growing more urgent. he slipped another finger into his mouth, coating it with his saliva before slowly pushing it into you alongside the others. once you took them all easily, he withdrew his fingers and brought them to his nose, inhaling your scent with a shudder.
with a final look of apology - as if you could sense his actions - he guided himself to your slick opening and thrust home with one rough push, burying himself fully inside you. your lack of awareness allowed him to set a relentless pace, chasing his own pleasure without restraint.
your body jolted slightly beneath him as he pounded away, the hazy edges of consciousness starting to pull you back from your slumber. your drowsy mind struggled to process the overwhelming sensations - fullness, friction, the warmth of his weight pinning you down.
seonghwa, oblivious to your stirrings, leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning over your neck as he continued his punishing rhythm. one strong hand gripped your hip bruisingly tight, while the other traced patterns on your stomach.
the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the quiet room, mingling with the soft whimpering noises escaping his lips. he was close now, the familiar tension coiling low in his belly. just a little more...
your eyes fluttered, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. a confused grogginess enveloped you as you slowly realized what was happening. beneath you, seonghwa didn't seem to notice yet. his gaze was fixed on his movements, watching where he disappeared inside you again and again.
your mind began to clear just enough for you to feel the pleasure building along with the sensation of him deep within, though you still felt too dazed to fully comprehend or respond. a hand came up to weakly push against his chest, as if trying to make sense of this unexpected interlude.
seonghwa finally noticed your hand pushing against him, but instead of stopping - he grabbed it firmly, intertwining your fingers together. he leaned closer, his hot mouth finding your ear as his breathing grew heavier.
"shhh, let me..." he murmured against your lobe before nibbling on it lightly. his hips surged forward, driving himself deeper inside you, angling to strike that sweet spot over and over.
the constant friction was sending shivers through your being, your cries muffled against the cushions. seonghwa's jaw clenched, his face twisted in intense concentration, his self-control hanging by a thread.
your body betrayed you further, your hips moving with his rhythm despite your groggy state. the pleasure was undeniable now, washing over you in waves. you felt the coiled tension in your core begin to snap like a rubber band pulled taut. tears pricked your eyes as sensation overwhelmed your senses, your body arching beneath him as if searching for release.
seonghwa sensed your response, his voice dropping to a husky timbre. "you're close aren't you, darling?" he purred, his hand leaving yours to rub circles around your clit, pushing you closer still.
"st-stop…” you manage to gasp out weakly, face flushing crimson with heat. the stimulation is too much, your mind reeling as you struggle to process everything that's happening. seonghwa, seeing you fall apart so beautifully beneath him, feels his control slipping.
"no, you look so gorgeous like this..." he growls, his gaze raking hungrily over your features. his movements become more erratic, chasing his own end now.
"gonna fill you up, make you take it all..." he promises, the promise in his voice sending another shock through you. he's right on the edge.
tears spill down your cheeks as your body tightens around him, the unfamiliar intimacy and intensity too overwhelming. at the sight, seonghwa lets out a ragged groan, unable to hold back any longer. with one final powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, finding his own shattering release as he begins to spill himself.
waves of pure ecstasy crash through you both, prolonging the intensity of the moment. seonghwa continues to ride out his climax, shuddering above you as he pours every last drop within your depths.
he collapses forward, catching himself slightly so he doesn't crush you completely. his hot panting breaths fan over your neck, body going lax on top of yours. a hand gently strokes your hair as he murmurs apologies against your ear.
"baby, I...I'm sorry," he whispers, though the remnants of blissful satisfaction linger on his lips. he seems to have snapped out of his haze now, acutely aware of what he did without your technical consent.
you feel seonghwa tense up as if anticipating your anger. but then, to his surprise, you spoke up - your voice soft yet truthful.
"it...it felt good..." you confess, cheeks burning red hot. seonghwa pulls back slightly, eyes searching your face for any signs of genuine sentiment behind the words.
a slow smile spreads across his features when he sees you weren't upset. he dips down, kissing you tenderly on the lips. "you liked that?" he asks quietly, tracing a finger down your side.
"next time, I'll make sure you're awake. watching you, hearing you...it's intoxicating." he promises, his eyes darkened with renewed desire.
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strayingawayy · 2 days ago
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the parenting pro...
...where you're flabbergasted by how good jeongin is at being a father
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it was a typical saturday morning, and you were trying to survive your new life as a parent. your baby girl was crying, her tiny fists flailing around like she was preparing for a boxing match. you stood there, holding her awkwardly, wishing for some magical parenting wisdom to hit you. you thought you'd be the one running around like a headless chicken, but nope. that honor? apparently, jeongin’s.
he walked into the living room like it was a walk in the park, holding a bottle of milk in one hand and a clean diaper in the other.
“jeongin, i—” you started, but he was already in full-on baby whisperer mode.
“don't worry, babe, i got this,” he said, giving you a confident little finger wave like he was in charge of a multi-million-dollar business, not holding a crying baby. you stared, eyes wide, as he proceeded to feed your daughter with one hand and change her diaper with the other.
you didn’t know whether to cry or laugh at the absurdity of it all. your daughter was blissfully drinking from the bottle, while jeongin hummed a lullaby and expertly switched between diaper-changing wizard and snack provider. you were standing there like, “uhhh, help?”
“how...?” you managed to say, almost in disbelief. was this some sort of magic?
jeongin looked up, completely unbothered. “oh, i helped raise my little brother. no biggie. basically, i’m a parenting prodigy.”
“you… raised your brother?” you asked, blinking rapidly as if you were hearing some wild story from another dimension.
“yeah,” he said, like it was as normal as breathing. “my mom was a little busy, so i was basically his second dad. changed diapers, made him sandwiches, taught him how to walk, swear. no biggie.”
you stared at him, dumbfounded. how was this the same jeongin who couldn’t even find his own socks five minutes ago?
“wait, wait,” you said, still processing. “you—you’re like, good at this. you’re... a dad genius.”
“yep.” jeongin said, popping the 'p.' “i’m basically the da vinci of diapers.”
you were trying to hold back a laugh but failed miserably. “you’re a literal parenting genius. i'm over here trying to figure out if she’s crying because she’s hungry or because she's plotting world domination.”
“i mean, both seem like possibilities,” jeongin said, deadpan, as he rocked the baby to sleep with one hand, casually flipping through his phone with the other. “but i think she just needed a nap. oh, and don’t worry, i also packed her snacks for when she wakes up. you're welcome.”
you stared at him, in awe and total confusion. “you've got snacks for a baby? like... pre-planned snacks?”
“obviously,” jeongin said, as though that was the most basic thing in the world. “they’ve got to be prepared for snack time. it’s a crucial part of the schedule.” he paused, glancing at the baby now peacefully asleep in his arms.
you were speechless. you felt like you were in the presence of a parenting deity. “jeongin, i... i’m genuinely in shock right now. you’re amazing.”
you laughed, defeated but relieved. “i'm marrying this bro.” you whispered to yourself, already wondering how you got so lucky.
as jeongin continued to rock the baby to sleep, you couldn’t help but think: maybe this whole parenthood thing wouldn’t be so bad... as long as jeongin was in charge.
"...babe, did you just call me bro?"
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futfemfantasies · 2 days ago
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New year, new beginnings ~ Leah Williamson x Catley!reader
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The days between Christmas and New Years always felt strange. The Christmas tree still stood with lights twinkling faintly, but the excitement of the season had dimmed. For Leah, the quiet wasn’t restful, but unnerving. Mainly because it was filled with thoughts of you.
You’re Steph’s younger sister. You transferred to Arsenal in the last transfer window and you have come into Leah‘s life like a whirlwind. Over the past few months, Leah has learned so much about you – your laugh, quirks, the way you tilted your head when you were concentrating. You two weren’t officially together. Friends. yes. Maybe more, but in Leah’s heart though you were already hers.
Well, you were in Melbourne, spending the holiday break with your family, Leah was back in London. Leah was missing you more than she thought possible. She sat in her mum‘s recliner, cuddled into a blanket looking at photos Steph had sent over the past few days. You were laughing in most of them, your eyes bright with happiness. Leah‘s thumb hovered over Steph‘s contact for several minutes, going back-and-forth in her head whether to call. She finally pressed it, bringing the phone up to her ear before moving out of the room,
“Leah!” Steph answered a little too cheery. “Shouldn’t you be recovering from all those mince pies?”
Leah let out a nervous laugh. “I’ve had my fair share of Christmas goodies thank you but that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Oh? It’s about my sister isn’t it?”
Leah‘s pulse quickens. “Yeah, it is.”
Steph chuckled knowingly. “What’s going on? She hasn’t stopped talking about you since we got here.”
“She hasn’t?” Leah’s voice softened.
“Leah, she misses you. She’s been moping around all week since she opened your present.”
“I can’t start the New Year like this Steph, I need to see her. No more tiptoeing around it, I need to ask her to be my girlfriend,”
“Finally!” Steph exclaimed. “When are you flying in? You can stay with us, obviously. We’ll figure out the minor details later.”
Relief washed over Leah. “You’re amazing Steph, thank you, I owe you.”
“Just make sure my sister says yes, that’s payment enough.”
Two days later, Leah is greeted by the warm summer sun in Melbourne. The plane ride was long, especially with a delay in the layover. After collecting her bag, Leah scanned the arrivals area and spotted Steph waving at her with a grin stretching across her face.
“Welcome to Australia!” Steph greeted, giving Leah a quick hug. “How was the flight?”
“Long, but worth every mile,” Leah replied nervously. “But I’m too nervous to think about it.”
Steph smirked, nudging Leah playfully on their way to the car. “You’re going to be fine. Honestly, she will probably faint when she sees you. Y/N’s been unbearable, by the way. Keeps asking if I’ve heard from you, like you two don’t talk all the time.”
The thought made Leah smile. You missed her too.
During the drive, Steph filled Leah in on the plan. She would pretend to go to the shops. Not really a lie, she did get some food to cover the surprise.
“So I’ll go in and call Y/N out of her room then I’ll give you a signal and you’ll come through the door.” Leah nodded, her palms clammy.
As Steph pulled up to the house, Leah thought she was going to die of nervousness. You’d be going crazy with no responses to texts or missed calls, Leah thought. Steph sneakily poked her head inside to see you chilling in the lounge room watching re-runs of your favourite tv show. Steph signalled Leah to come up the stairs but wait outside.
“Hey, I got your favourite.” Steph called out casually. Leah peaked inside, you didn’t move from the couch.
Your voice carried through the living room, curious and playful. “What did you get?”
“Come see for yourself.” Steph replied, barely containing her excitement. Leah moved more into view as you slowly rolled off the couch.
Moments later, you appeared in the doorway. The sight of Leah standing in your family’s kitchen looking nervous and out of place made you freeze.
“Leah?” You whispered.
“Hi love.” Leah said softly, her smile tentative.
You didn’t move for a second. Then something snapped and you ran towards her, throwing yourself in her arms. Leah caught you easily, her laugh mixing with yours.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” You murmured, your voice thick with emotion.
“I couldn’t stay away any longer,” Leah admitted as her arms tightened around you. “I missed you”
“I missed you too. So much”
That night, you both decided to go into the city to watch the New Years Eve fireworks. You luckily found a spot along the Yarra River, the crowds around you buzzing with excitement. Leah moved close, her fingers brushing against yours as the countdown begins.
“Ten…nine”
Leah turned to you, her smile soft. “Y/N?”
“Eight…seven”
Leah swallowed hard, her heart pounding against her chest. “I need to tell you something.”
“Six…five”
You tilted your head, waiting. “What is it?”
“Four…three”
Leah held your hands, her voice slightly trembling. “I don’t want to go into next year without you being mine, officially. Will you be my girlfriend?”
“Two…one”
As the fireworks exploded above, you leaned in and kissed Leah. When you pulled back, your eyes filled with tears but your smile was radiant.
“Yes Leah,” you whispered. “I’ll be yours, always.”
Leah couldn’t stop staring at you, her mind capturing every detail - the way the colours of the fireworks illuminated your face, the way your eyes sparkled with emotion, and the way your lips curled into a smile just for her.
She cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing ever so gently on your skin as she murmured, “you’ve made this the best New Year’s Eve ever.”
“You’ve outdone yourself. Showing up like this? You’ve set the bar impossibly high for next year.”
Leah grinned, her arms around your waist pulling you somewhat closer. “Don’t worry. I plan on being by your side for all the New Year’s Eves to come.”
Your heart swelled at her admission, and you felt the urge to pull her into another kiss. But the crowd around you erupted in chairs as another round of fireworks filled the sky.
“Did you plan all this on your own?” You asked, your voice barely audible over the distant booms.
“ I had some help. Steph might’ve been a little too enthusiastic about the whole thing.” Leah chuckled.
You grown playfully. “ That explains why she’s been acting so smug the past few days. She can’t keep a secret to save her life.”
“She kept this one,” Leah pointed out, smirking. “Barely.”
You laughed again, shaking your head. “Well, I’ll forgive her, just this once.”
When the fireworks ended the two of you lying by the river, watching as a crowd began to disperse. It was quiet now except for the occasional burst of laughter or distant car horn.
“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” you said, your fingers lacing with hers.
Leah looked at you, her expression soft. “Neither can I, honestly. But the thought of not being here, not asking you to be mine, didn’t sit right. I couldn’t imagine starting the year without you.”
“Leah… I don’t think you realise how much this means to me. You being here, doing all of this… I’ve never felt so-“
“Loved?” Leah finished for you, her voice tender.
You nodded, blinking back tears. “Yeah. Loved”
Leah stepped closer, her free hand coming up to tuck strand of hair behind your ear. “Yhat’s because you are. And I’m going to spend every day proving it to you.”
You leaned into her touch, your eyes searching hers. “You already have.”
When you finally returned to your family home, it was late. The house was quiet, with the faint of the air-conditioning in the background. Steph was waiting in the living room, knowing green on her face as you and Leah walked in hand-in-hand.
“Well?” Steph asked, sitting up straighter. “How’d it go?”
You shot her a mock glare. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
Steph raised an eyebrow. “Is that a ‘thank you,’ or…?”
Leah laughed, squeezing your hand. “It went perfectly. Thanks for everything, Steph.”
Steph waved her hand dismissively. “Please. I’m just glad you finally sorted yourselves out. It was painful to watch.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade. “I’ll deal with you tomorrow.” You said teasingly, tingly towards the stairs. “We’re calling it a night.”
“Good night, lovebirds.” Steph called after you, her laughed echoing as you disappeared down the hallway.
Later, as you and Leah lay in bed, tangled together beneath the sheets, you couldn’t help it feel a sense of peace wash over you. The weight of the past year, the uncertainty, and the longing had all melted away, leaving only the warmth of Leah’s presence.
“Leah?” You mermaid, your head resting against her chest.
“Hmm?” She replied sleepily, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your back.
“I’m really glad you came.”
Leah smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Me too. I couldn’t let another year pass without making sure you knew how I felt.”
You tilted your head up to look at her, your heart swelling with affection. “Well, now you’re stuck with me.”
“Good,” Leah whispered, her eyes shining with love. “Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
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burguesinha24 · 11 hours ago
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KITTY KAT
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a/n: I need her… P IS FOR PUSSY P-U-S-S-Y, THAT PUSSY
Pairings: personaltrainer!Vi x f!reader
Warnings: she does indeed take you to pound town, very self indulgent (i hate working out), fingering, oral (you receiving), spitting (tehe), kinda fluffy idk, semi-public sex GRRRAH
Song: Kitty Kat, Megan Thee Stallion (our queen)
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The gym.
One of the worst fucking places in existence. 
Who the fuck could ever take pleasure in being sweaty and tired and sore?
You, apparently. 
You didn’t necessarily like working out. (It was the bane of your existence) But your doctor had said it was healthy, and it was New Year’s, so now was as good a time to start as any. Plus, it gave you an excuse to wear the adorable sports bra and skirt combo your sister had gotten you.
As expected, the gym was absolutely packed. You could see white dudes flexing from every corner, along with a few (glorious) muscle mommies. Unfortunately, the universe did not seem to support your dream (that was whole-heartedly pushed on you by your friends and doctor) of getting fit for the year.
“Apologies, ma’am, but we just don’t have enough space at the moment.” You stared down at the poor, overworked receptionist and frowned, credit card already in hand.
“Really? But I can spot a few extra spaces-”
“It’s a fire hazard, ma’am. You’ll have to wait outside or come back at an earlier time.” 
“There’s really no space? At all?” The teenager looked down at the computer in front of him. 
“Well, we do have available spots with our private trainers, but you’d have to pay for the session. As well as an extra fee for being so last-minute.” You cursed under your breath, moving to put your credit card back in your bag when someone cut you off.
“I’ll take her.” You looked up at the sound of the voice, only to find piercing blue eyes already staring at you. It was scary, honestly, how fit she was. Her messy pink hair flopped carelessly to the side, over one of her eyes, and her body was littered with tattoos. She was already glowing, probably from an earlier exercise. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her grey sweats as she walked over to the teenager behind the desk.
“You sure, Vi? You don’t usually ta-”
“I said I’ll take her, Ekko.” She glanced up at you again, an easy smile playing on her ridiculously attractive features. “She looks like she’s never stepped foot inside a gym before.” Your face flushed at her absolutely correct observation. Her gaze darted down to take in your appearance, shamelessly dragging up and down your frame. You suddenly felt a little self-aware about the light pink set you had decided to wear, even if your sweater was drowning your figure. 
Fuck, I do look like I have no idea what I’m doing.
“I’ve been inside a gym before.” You finally responded, frowning at the way her grin only grew.
“Sure you have, cupcake.” Your heart pounded erratically at the nickname, and you silently cursed the universe for putting you in the position to make a fool of yourself in front of such an attractive woman. The teenager behind the desk, Ekko, glanced between the two of you, sighing and turning back to his computer with a look that said, ‘I-don't-get-paid-enough-for-this’.
“Alright, that’ll be-”
“Free of charge, Ekko.” You tore your gaze from her hypnotic blue eyes to look down at the young man. He raised an eyebrow. “Fine, whatever. I gotta give a reason, though. What should I code in? That you were too horny to-” She coughed loudly, drowning out the rest of his sentence. He smirked at her as she sent him a harsh glare. 
“I’ll deal with that later, just give her a damn card.” 
One sibling-like argument later and a shiny new membership card in your hand, you found yourself in one of the training rooms with the attractive stranger. 
Vi.
Her name echoed in your mind. You wondered what it was short for. Victoria? Vivian? Vienna? She watched as you set your stuff down in the corner of the room, nervously fiddling with your water bottle until it finally decided to stand upright without falling over. She eyed you expectantly as you turned around.
“What?” You finally said, picking at the fabric of your sweatshirt. 
“You gonna take that off?” Your cheeks flamed. “I don’t go easy.” She tilted her head. “I would hate for you to get uncomfortable and sweaty before we even start.” Holy shit the way she was talking had you second guessing what you were really here for. You obeyed her request, (because, duh) slowly sliding off your sweatshirt to reveal the set you had chosen out for today. Something flickered in her eyes as she drank in the sight of you.
Shit, she had thought you were hot in the lobby, but this? This was just fucking unfair. You looked like a goddess. Your skirt just barely hung half-way down your thighs, and your bra pushed up your breasts in a way that had her mouth watering. She quickly tore her gaze off of your body as you cleared your throat.
Get it the fuck together, Vi.
“So, what are your goals, hm? Any particular things you want to hit?” She made her way over to the closet in the room, sifting through the selections of weights and trying to ignore the heat thrumming through her body that had nothing to do with her previous workout. 
“I don’t really know. I guess just… being healthy?” You sounded so shy, so tentative. She fought the shudder that was threatening to roll down her spine. 
“Well, I guess I’ll start you off easy. Work on your core,” Now it was your turn to shudder. “Maybe hit some squats too.” She turned back around, closing the closet and tilting her head to better look at you. “Just to get a lay of the land, hm, cupcake?” Your face felt like it was in a perpetual state of fire. You nodded eagerly.
She made her way over to you after turning on some music that felt way too sensual for a workout. (of this type, anyway.) 
“We’re gonna start with some stretching, ok?” You fiddled with your fingers, nodding like a child being instructed by a teacher. Vi circled your form before settling on standing behind you, her hands gently resting on your hips. “Gonna need you to spread your legs for me, pretty.” The words, whispered so softly and so dangerously in your ear, almost made you gasp. You tilted your head to look back at her, eyes blown (adorably, if she might add) wide. She grinned, a seductive, dangerous thing that made your panties drop. (Figuratively). She raised an eyebrow. “What? I don’t want you to pull a hamstring, cupcake.” You swallowed thickly, trying to will away the increasingly inappropriate thoughts that were crowding your mind.
Slowly, slowly, you spread your legs, biting back a whimper as her hand snaked up your back, gently pushing your upper body down into a sort of downward dog position. The burn you felt in your legs was almost embarrassing. The moment you were down, fingertips brushing the floor, Vi’s gaze went straight to your ass.
“Fuck.” The words slipped past her lips before she could even realize what she was doing. She tucked her bottom lip under her teeth, dragging the hand that was on your back higher, just tracing the curve of your ass. 
You were wet.
She could see the faintest of outlines through the thin layer of your undershorts. 
You whimpered, legs shaking ever so slightly from the strain of the stretch. (You really needed to workout more)
Now she was wet.
Without even thinking, she grabbed you by your ponytail, yanking you up into a standing position. The force of her movement made you stumble, your legs still awkwardly stretched wide. Thankfully, she had stuck out her knee for you to sit on. 
“I think,” She breathed in your ear, a hot, heavy thing that sent an embarrassing amount of slick oozing out of your cunt. “That we should focus on a different type of workout, hmm, cupcake?” You nodded slowly, dazed. And fuck, was she a woman starved. 
In a second you found yourself on the floor, looking up at her with wide, desperate eyes. You clenched your thighs together, your hips rocking up into the air for some form of friction. She took her time, just staring at you. At the way your hair fanned out around you like a halo, the way your breasts moved with each shuddering breath you took, the way you looked so, so wrecked. A dangerous grin spread across her face.
She was going to ruin you.
There was not a single coherent thought in your mind as she hastily dragged your skirt and panties off of your legs in one, harsh tug. She was manhandling your legs open, and you swore she whined at the sight of your glistening arousal. 
“Fuck, baby.” She whispered out hoarsely. You squirmed under her gaze, cheeks burning in embarrassment as you tried to close your legs. “No no no no no, don’t you fucking dare.” She dragged her middle finger down your slit, gathering up your juices before bringing her finger to her mouth and sucking. “Been dreaming of this sweet pussy for so long.” She moaned out. 
“B-but, we just met like, h-half an hour ago.” You sputtered out, your cheeks rosy and your eyes hazy with lust and confusion. She grinned again, lowering her head so she was a hair's breadth away from where you needed her most.
“Thirty minutes is a long fucking time, cupcake.” You didn’t even have time to process her words before she was wrapping her lips around your clit, giving it a harsh suck that left you keening. 
“Oh, f-fuck!” You gasped out, back arching at how her tongue skillfully lapped at your pussy. She hummed against your burning flesh, the vibrations against your puffy clit making your toes curl. The obscene sounds of slurping and squelching filled the room, and you might have had half a mind to care about it if you weren’t so fucking far gone by the feel of her mouth. 
“Taste so good, princess.” She mumbled against your skin. You dared to look down and, fuck, she looked even more wrecked then you were. Her eyes hazy and half-lidded, cheeks flushed and shiny from your juices, and her hair sticking to her face with each deliberate suck. You could vaguely make out how she was grinding against the ground, but she pulled away before you could actually think of helping her as well. You whined at the loss, reaching down to try and tug her closer to you. 
“P-please-oh-” You gasped as she spit on your already slobbering cunt, once, twice, three times, before she was satisfied. Your clit twitched as the globs of her saliva attacked it. 
“Shh, baby, trying to make sure your nice and messy f’me.” She rubbed a few quick circles on your clit with her thumb before prodding at your entrance with her pointer finger. Her eyes were glued to the way your face contorted as she pressed into your cunt. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” She whispered in awe.
“OhmygodViplease.” Your begging was nothing more than a long string of incoherent words. She chuckled, pressing yet another long, thick finger into your opening.
“Fucked dumb already?” She cooed, thrusting into you shallowly. You almost sobbed. It was only when she added a third finger that she was finally satisfied. Her slow, shallow thrusts turned fucking manic. Her eyes never left your face as she curled her fingers up with each thrust searching for-
“Fuck!” You squealed, your walls clamping down on her like a vice. She crawled up your frame, leaning down to nip at your neck before thrusting in that same spot again.
“Found it.” Her gazed dropped from your face to look down at her fingers as she fucked you, her mouth parting open in awe at how you were swallowing her up, you arousal dripping onto the floor beneath you. It didn’t take long before you were on the very precipice, just dangling off the edge of oblivion. She pressed down harder on your clit, and then you came. 
Your back arched into an almost painful position, your fingernails digging into the floor for something to anchor yourself to. She whispered in your ear as you saw white, her fingers still fucking you through your orgasm. 
“Shh, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. There we go, perfect fucking pussy.” She finally stopped as you collapsed, boneless on the floor. You turned your head to look up at her, smiling tiredly.
“What’s your name short for?” She grinned.
“Violet.” 
“Mm, pretty.” You winced as she closed your legs, then blushed as she sucked her fingers clean. “What about you?” Your brows furrowed as you pushed yourself up by your elbows. 
“You can do me later. After our date.” You blinked in surprise, your mind still a little hazy.
“Date?” She stood up, then helped you stand on shaky legs. 
“Well, our session has ended, so I figured we could pick things up at your place, maybe. I know a bomb-ass asian restaurant just off Main.” You smiled softly, and it made her beat just a little faster.
“Yeah, alright. I’ll see you then.” You walked out of the private room looking a hell of a lot more disheveled then when you first walked in. Ekko rolled his eyes, praying to whoever was up there that he wouldn’t have to clean any suspicious stains from the floor. 
You looked down at your phone as it pinged, smiling to yourself as you read the message.
Hope you enjoyed our workout, cupcake ;)
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a/n: my first ever like actual fic pls don't kill me guys ik its kind of shit, was honestly just trying to get this out of the way so i could work on oil rig worker Vi. ANYWAYS I LUV U ALL MWAH!
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sheinhamood · 1 day ago
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hooked on her fishnets
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paige x black f!reader
synopsis: you and paige go out on a date and paige is yet again reminded why you’re all hers
warnings: sexual tension ?
word count: 284 [lowercase intended!]
funky talks: pleasee pleaseee reblog, and like ily thx
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“y/n are you almost done?” paige sits in you’re shared bedroom fully dressed waiting for you to come out the bathroom. “yes i’m almost done”
you have been saying that for the past hour now. paige becoming inpatient and needing to know what is taking you so long. “y/n i’m coming in” she says now getting up from the bed.
now posing in the mirror taking photos not hearing what paige had said, are now face to face with a stunned paige. “hey baby you look good” you grit awkwardly, terrified of what she might say about what you’re wearing.
you’re outfit consisted of a slim black dress that hugged you’re body and fishnets that covered your legs, reveling more skin in different parts of your thighs. lastly with thigh high boots.
paige still standing in the doorway , her eyes roaming your body. “paige?” looking at paige she looks as if she’s frozen in time, not moving or speaking, and barely breathing. her eyes locked in to you’re thighs.
“do you not like it? i can go change?” you say getting worried. paige starts looking down at the ground gathering herself “y/n” with paige saying little to nothing you don’t do anything but start walking back to you’re closet.
“wait what are you doing?” you look at paige with face mixed with confusion and frustration. “i’m going to go change paige” “no, no stay in that” you start to smile still not really understanding what paige is doing.
“i just had to take a minute and admire you baby” paige says watching as you walk out the bathroom. “omg, you play extremely to much” you say laughing. “send me those photos, you looked too good”
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thank you for reading! i heart you so much mwah mwah
masterlist
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jackiespurnell · 3 days ago
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it's just pretend, right? (fake dating au jackie taylor x fem reader)
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you weren’t entirely sure how you ended up in jackie taylor’s house, sitting criss crossed on her pink bed sheets, with her hands placed on each of your shoulders, very much about to kiss you. this was not how you thought your friday afternoon was going to go.
it all started approximately 24 hours ago, right after yesterday’s soccer practice. you were getting ready to leave the school premises, excited to get home and lie down on your bed and pretend you actually have a love life that isn’t just fantasizing about your pretty, popular soccer captain.
not like anything would ever happen between you two. but, you know. a girl can dream. 
you were just grabbing your water bottle and your bag from the locker room, when you heard a noise. well, not really a noise. more like, noises. more, like screaming.
you didn’t recognize the voices, not at first. it sounds like a guy and girl, which didn’t make much sense, because that definitely wasn’t any of the coaches. you slowly and quietly walk over, hoping not to drag any attention to yourself. you were nosy, of course you wanted to know what exactly was going on. you hide behind a locker, peeking over to see jackie and jeff - her boyfriend - having another yelling match. typical.
jackie and jeff have been dating on and off since freshman year. they had been broken up and back together more times than you could count. you never really understood it, why break up with someone if you know you’re going to end up back together but who were you to judge? i mean, yeah, you’re like, 99% sure that you could treat her much better than that pathetic excuse for a dumb jock with a worse hairline than your balding father but. it’s fine. whatever floats her boat.
you listened in, staying still and quiet. they weren’t really arguing about anything new, or different, just the typical ‘oh, you never listen to me!’ ‘all i do is listen to you!’ ‘you don’t even love me!’ type bullshit. you kind of wish they’d either get their act together or just break up for good. sure, you love good drama, but it’s starting to get boring. 
“oh my god, jackie, what did you even expect!? it’s not my fault that after three years you didn’t want to have sex with me! and it’s definitely not my fault that shauna wanted me too!”
oh.
oh.
“what?” you whispered to yourself, because holy shit jeff was hooking up with shauna? well, not exactly. he never specified what exactly they were doing. they could’ve been just talking, or kissing, or like, actually hooking up-hooking up. jackie’s boyfriend and jackie’s best friend. jackie’s boyfriend for three years and jackie’s best friend for who knows how long. 
and jackie. she didn’t even seem surprised. like she knew. you wonder how she found out. you wonder if she was sad or angry or both. you wonder a lot of things actually, except you don’t have time to wonder because you were too shocked to notice jeff walking over to leave except he saw you so instead of leaving, jeff now is standing in front of you, looking at you like you were casually eavesdropping on their very important, very private conversation and oh, wait, that’s actually what you were doing. shit.
“what’s she doing?” jeff asks jackie and you just awkwardly stand there, and you look at jackie with an apologetic look in your eyes and you knew you’d have a lot of explaining to do.
“um” jackie says. “actually, she’s driving me home. so she was waiting for me”
jeff raises his eyebrows. “jackie, you live like five minutes away? you don’t need a car ride home. what’s going on?” you immediately feel bad, knowing jackie was gonna have to make up some fuck ass lie that probably wouldn’t even make any sense.
“well” jackie says, avoiding eye contact with either of you. “she was actually bringing me back to her place.” 
“why the fuck would you be going back to her place?” jeff asked and wow, okay. realistically, you knew it made sense, you and jackie never even hung out outside of practice but way to casually break your already fragile lovergirl heart. even if you knew jackie didn’t like you back, it kind of stung. the way jeff said her, not even paying attention to you, as if you were just some thing, some useless, worthless thing. it made you want to crawl into a hole and die. “i mean are you guys even friends?” he asks, finally looking in your direction.
now there are a million ways you figured this could go.
and this most definitely was not one of them.
because in what is probably your dumbest moment (and you’ve had some pretty dumb moments) you blurt out “actually she’s my girlfriend. and she’s over you. let’s go.”
and with that to take jackie by the arm and pull her away and holy shit you just took jackie by the arm and pulled her away from her actual boyfriend and holy shit you said you guys are dating and holy shit you technically told this girl you barely know anything about that she’s over her boyfriend and holy. fucking. shit.
once you two get out of the locker room and out of the school, you freeze and jackie stares at you expectantly and you try to come up with an explanation that isn’t ‘i was eavesdropping and overheard that your boyfriend was cheating on you with your best friend and i also kind of really like you so i said that and i’m sorry.’
you stare at her awkwardly, trying to come up with some reasonable response. “i, um, well…i, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to eavesdrop but i heard about um…you know, you and jeff and shauna and i, just, you looked uncomfortable and i really shouldn’t have broken up with jeff for you and then said what i said and i’m so sorry.” you expect her to roll her eyes or yell at you or demand you go back inside and tell jeff you lied.
but instead? she starts bursting into laughter.
“oh my god, no! you’re good! no, that was like, the funniest fucking thing i’ve seen in ages. i mean, did you see the look on jeff’s face?” you wanted to say, no, jackie, i didn’t, because i was too busy freaking the fuck out.
“okay but like” jackie says. “maybe this could work.”
“this?” you question and then you realize she means this, as in really, genuinely, faking a relationship with her. “yeah.” jackie nods. “i mean, come on, jeff is probably gonna get with shauna like, for real now. would it be so bad to let them think im getting with you?”
you hesitate. “i don’t know jackie…” “come on! i mean, it’s just pretend, right?” that makes you hesitate even more. fake dating the girl you like was not the smartest move, even you knew that. but still, she’s giving you those puppy dog eyes, and fuck, you love her puppy dog eyes.
fine. you take it back. telling jeff you and jackie were dating when you weren’t wasn’t your dumbest moment.
agreeing with jackie to keep up the act was.
which is how you ended up, 24 hours later, in her house. on her bed. about to kiss.
jackie said you two need to be physical in front of people. she was the people’s princess after all, if she was going to do something, naturally, it had to be big. she needed to have you close to her at all times. an arm around your waist. your head on her shoulder. her lips against yours and of course, practice makes perfect. 
so she leans in to kiss you, and you’re about to freeze up, about to say no, about to say this is a bad idea and stupid and they should call it off, but you don’t, you don’t say a thing, and holy shit, she tastes good. and feels good. and just is good. and you as if she could stab you right now and you’d thank her. you then decide that you could die doing this, no, you want to die doing this. it would be painless and you’d be in total bliss. you are in total bliss.
maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t such a bad idea.
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sshadow-heartz · 2 days ago
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The Way Life Goes
Requested by: @brainacidsstuff
•Squid Game C.AI Bots: here
🤍PART ONE: I Love You, I’m Sorry
🤍Gi-Hun’s reaction to Sang-Woo killing you.
🤍Word Count: 1.1k
🤍Tags: Dead body, mentions of death, fighting, angst
‼️If you are sensitive to the tagged topics, please keep scrolling‼️
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Sang-Woo awoke with a jolt, the familiar morning alarm playing through the speakers. Crap. He had fallen asleep beside you, your body cold and unmoving. The blood that had been shed now lay dry, clinging to your clothing, the bed and most of the floor around you.
He sighed, pushing himself into a sitting position and looking over his shoulder. Gi-Hun was awake, the man rubbing his eyes as he yawns. Spotting Sang-Woo, he waves cheerfully.
“Morning, Sang-Woo. One more game, right? Then we can get out of here,” he grins. “Is y/n still sleeping? They always slept through that alarm.”
So cheerful, so positive. It made Sang-Woo feel nauseous, knowing his sickly sweet optimism would fall the minute Gi-Hun found out about what he had done to you.
“Yeah… yeah, still sleeping,” he nods, watching Gi-Hun stand up and stretch. His plan had been perfect, wait until you had fallen asleep, strike and let the guards take away your body during the night.
It would have been a perfect plan, if you weren’t still laying here beside him. The guards would come any moment, he knew that, carrying a box for you to be taken away in. It’d be obvious, there were no longer hundreds of players to cause a crowd to hide away in. Gi-Hun’s reaction wouldn’t be pleasant, and he wasn’t quite ready to hear it.
The large doors of the hall slide open, and the two men catch sight of the familiar pink guards. One walks in front, another behind, a large black box between them gift wrapped with a pink bow. They had seen these boxes countless times, watched players they knew be carried into them and taken away.
Gi-Hun looked confused, looking over at Sang-Woo. “What are they doing here? We’re all still alive. Is this part of some game?”
His questions ramble on and on, as the guards move closer to your body. Sang-Woo stands motionless, watching as they begin to lift you up. Cold, pale and soaked in blood. Your shirt had a large blood stain, as well as your chin. Sang-Woo could remember the sound of your coughing and choking, the way blood had dripped out of your mouth.
Gi-Hun’s rambling falls silent, jaw dropping in disbelief. You…? But you were fine last night, you were unharmed. It didn’t make sense…
“Sang-Woo?” He piped up, voice shaking. He turned towards Sang-Woo who was still stood beside your body, the guards having laid you in the box and were beginning to put the lid on. “What have you done?”
“I spared them. It was for the best, Gi-Hun, you’ll understand that one day. They weren’t going to make it, they were alone out there. They would have died in the next game or gone on to live a miserable, lonely life.”
Sang-Woo’s confession made Gi-Hun go cold. He had killed you, he had admitted it right there and he had tried to play it off as a good thing… It almost didn’t feel real, he didn’t know how to react. He had cared about you so deeply, and there you were - cold, dead and gone. Just like the rest of his team.
Gi-Hun marched over to Sang-Woo, grabbing the man by his shirt. He pushed him against the wall, brows furrowed with anger. “What have you done?!” He yelled, voice thick with grief. “You… you’re a murderer. You’re sick!” His fists beat against Sang-Woo’s chest as tears roll down his cheeks. He was so shocked, so unwilling to believe that his own best friend had murdered you in cold blood.
“Cry all you want, Gi-Hun, you’ll get it someday. What I did was for the best, you just don’t understand it yet. This is the way life goes, you need to let go.”
His words caused Gi-Hun’s blood to boil. He sounded proud, like he really had done you a favour. “They wouldn’t have been alone! We were going to make it out together, all three of us.”
Sang-Woo chuckled, shaking his head. “You really don’t get it, do you? Only one of us can win, don’t you see? This place isn’t about friends and making it out as a time, it’s about competition! You either kill or get killed, circle of life, Gi-Hun.”
The guards had carried you away by now, your body being taken down to be harvested, just like everyone else. It was over, you were never coming back.
Gi-Hun pulled back his arm, sending a harsh punch across Sang-Woo’s jaw, causing the other man to grunt. He didn’t care that Sang-Woo was his friend, not right now. All he could see was a murderer, a man who thought he had done something kind for you. You should have been here, the three of you should have been eating breakfast, preparing for what’s to come.
The two guards stood by the door, one holding two bread rolls and two cartons of milk simply look at eachother, before turning their gazes to the wall. This was entertainment, a little preview of the next game, something for the VIP’s to eat up and enjoy. They’d step in when things got risky, they couldn’t have the players killing eachother before the last round.
Sang-Woo shoved Gi-Hun back, a hand rubbing his jaw where the punch had landed. “Don’t do this,” he warns. “It doesn’t have to be this way.” He holds his arms up in defence, knowing his friend is unlikely to back down now.
Gi-Hun moves forward, jabbing at his ribs. Sang-Woo could see the hurt in his eyes, the betrayal, and yet he simply grabbed Gi-Hun by the jacket, shoving the man to pin him against the wall. He held him there silently, Gi-Hun’s fists pounding against his chest and arms.
“You were my friend! You were their friend! We were going to get through this together,” the man sobbed. “Why would you do this? Sang-Woo… why?”
Sang-Woo looked down, unwilling to look into his friend’s tearful eyes. It was a sad sight, his eyes were always so big and shiny, finding light in the darkest of places and yet, now? Red, watery, pathetic. No longer light brown, just dark… dark, and angry.
Gi-Hun’s fists fell still, head bowed as sobs wracked his body. You weren’t coming back. You had likely been scared and in pain… images of you flooded his mind, imagining your final moments. It hurt him, truly. Like a knife to the heart.
The room was silent, Sang-Woo’s arms holding the man up against the wall as he shook and cried for his fallen friend.
“Attention players! The next game will be starting soon. All players must report to the arena.”
The speaker announces the next round. Life goes on. The world keeps spinning, money keeps amounting.
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runninriot · 2 days ago
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You're So New (never had this taste in my mouth)
written for @steddiesongfics
inspiration: 'New' by NoDoubt | rated: E | wc: 4.982 | tags: sexual content, pre steddie, love confessions, friends to lovers | read on ao3
Eddie is caught in a free fall. That, at least, is what it feels like.
Down it goes, fast but somehow too slow at the same time. Down, down, no end in sight. Feels like he should’ve crashed minutes ago, but still, he keeps drifting, floating, falling. Swiftly swaying like a feather in the wind, violently twirling like he’s caught in a hurricane.
Lost in contrasts – no sense for where is up and where is down, caught somewhere in the middle of a blissful nightmare. His insides churning, heartbeat out of rhythm – he feels cold and hot and it’s all too much.
But then why can he hear himself begging for more?
There’s a gentle beast eating away at his insides while angels sing a song of damnation, underlining this heavenly torture that makes him giddy; giggles and cries fighting for freedom in his throat.
This is fucking crazy, Eddie is going fucking crazy.
It shouldn’t mess him up the way it does; he’s had sex before, this isn’t new. He knows the way deft fingers map out his skin, searching for the spots that make him wince and whine and wiggle. He knows the feeling of cool air and hot breath mingling on his spit covered nipples, sending sparks of pleasure into his nerve endings. He knows what it’s like to have need coiling in his gut, desire expanding into desperation that makes his body feel too small for all the sensations it houses.
And yet, everything about this is new. New and different and so much better than anything he’s ever felt before because it is their first time together like this. The first time he has Steve’s fingers digging into his sides so deep, his nails might break skin if he keeps going. Might leave bruises if Eddie wishes for it hard enough.
It’s not the first time they’re both shirtless but it’s the first time they’re shirtless on Steve’s bed. And while they’ve been kissing for some time now, it still feels new to open his mouth to let Steve’s tongue inside, summoning Eddie’s inner demons who oh-so-willingly accept this dirty dance request, blindly following his moves.
Maybe it’s the fact that, after all this time starving, Eddie’s suddenly served up the perfect dish to satiate his hunger, despite him being the one presented on the silver platter, waiting to be devoured.
Undecided if he’s hunter or prey, Eddie is helplessly chasing himself, trying to catch a breath while he’s grasping for hold, fumbling, flailing. Tumbling down a rabbit hole, where it’s warm and bright and the world is alight with invisible sunbeams setting him ablaze from the inside out.
Maybe he’s dying. Maybe this is what being reborn feels like.
And maybe he’s said that out loud because Steve chuckles, the smile on his lips leaving a ghostly imprint on the side of Eddie’s neck where they linger, placing barely-there-kisses on this soft shell of his body that does fuck all to keep his soul from oozing through the cracks he didn’t even know were there.
   “Steve, I-“
There are words trapped somewhere in the back of his mind but they’re written in a foreign language Eddie doesn’t know how to read, let alone speak, so he breathes instead, lets out this pitiful noise, this fragile little half-whimper, half-moan that doesn’t sound like him at all. Or maybe it does now because-
Because the old Eddie Munson is dead. Long live Eddie Munson – the new one, the reborn one, the one who gets to touch Steve in ways he never thought possible.
The one whose hands don’t burn in shame but rather tingle in excitement when they trace the curve of Steve’s perfect ass. Whose fingers don’t need to ask for permission to grab and play.
The Eddie, who is allowed to let himself go, to shut off his mind and let his body develop one of its own under Steve's guidance. Losing himself in the lovely, teasing way Steve moves on top of him – feline and snakelike, somehow both at the same time – curling around him, face buried deep in the crook of his neck, nosing at his skin, licking his way down the long line of it just to make Eddie squirm. Leaving dampness behind that causes him to break out in goosebumps with each exhale that tickles his skin.
   “Steve, baby-”
    Baby.
How easy they’ve been sharing this name. As if they had never called each other anything else.
   “Can you-“
Breathless, he waits for the other man's eyes to find his, hands coming up to cup Steve’s face on either side. He isn't sure what he wants to say, not sure what he's about to do, only that he needed a break, needed Steve to stop the trail of his mouth for just a moment, or else he was going to break, combust, fly too far away to find his way back down.
   “Everything okay?” Steve asks, voice ridden with concern that reflects in his eyes, too. Suddenly looking so soft  despite how hard he still is where their bodies absently grind and move, seemingly unwilling to stop what they've started.
   “Y-yeah, sorry just-“
Head empty, brain malfunctioning, heart racing so fast it must be unhealthy, Eddie struggles to find the right words to say – what is he even sorry for?
It's not his fault that he’s so fucking high on adrenaline right now, that the can barely keep himself from vibrating out of his skin. He feels itchy, wants to shed all of these outworn layers that cover his flesh and bones, wants Steve to slice him open and rearrange his insides to make space for all the new, divine things he makes him feel.
Throw out all the old and banish the dark, paint him with light and decorate him with roses – bright-pink and with heart shaped petals. Something soft to contradict the surge raging where he feels too much at once, for too little room.
   “I just... needed a moment,” he offers, smiling shyly at the beautiful man in his lap.
His beating muscle can't keep up pumping blood through his veins, down to where it’s demanded. Where Steve’s straining against him. Where they are mirror versions of each other, unable to hide what their bodies are longing for. Heat and arousal pooling in his lower half when he welcomes Steve's downward grind as he leans in for another kiss, a slower one, almost chaste compared to the ones before.
The taste of shared cigarettes and soda is still clinging to both of their tongues, and Eddie wonders if he'll ever be able to smoke or have a coke again without getting a hard-on, because that flavour will forever remind him of Steve now.
   “Sorry, am I going too fast?” Steve asks and before he even finishes the question, Eddie’s already vehemently shaking his head.
   “Want you,” -so much it scares me.
Eddie keeps the second half to himself, would rather choke on the words than say them out loud because he doesn’t know if this is too much to admit. If they’re at the point yet, where they can just drop truths of the heart so easily. They’ve barley even-
No. They haven’t made any real confessions at all. Not the wordy kinds, at least. Didn’t have time for that kind of conversation because it all happened so unexpected and fast. Words haven’t really been much of an option since then so they let their bodies do all the talking.
    “Want you too, Eddie. God, I want you.”
With his lips back on Eddie’s, Steve doesn’t give him the chance to say more, and maybe that’s good. Maybe they don’t need to speak right now.
If Eddie is really lucky, and this is not just a glitch in the matrix, they’ll have time to talk later. After. When Eddie’s brain is back online and his thoughts stop revolving solely around the pulse in his cock, still trapped inside his boxers and jeans, yearning to break free.
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withahappyrefrain · 2 days ago
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I constantly think about friends to lovers (quite literally lovers) w/ Bob. Like imagine being childhood friends who totally like each inter but don’t say anything until the reader visits Bob in Miramar and hangman or rooster goes up to her and hits on her and Bob finally snaps. That night he makes sure that the next day that the reader is off limits
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"What the hell is your problem Floyd?"
One minute you were trying to politely (but also firmly) turn down Jake Seresin's advances and the next minute your best friend of two decades was leading you out of the bar.
It was another thing to add on the list of weird shit Bob had done since you arrived in Miramar.
First was the way his welcoming hug had lingered, how he buried his face into your hair. Then it was how he licked his lips whenever he saw you in your sleepwear. Prior to five minutes ago, the most recent action was how he was rendered speechless when you showed him your outfit for tonight. When asked if something was wrong with the sundress, he quickly sputtered a response while his face turned bright red.
Something was going on.
"Are you going to talk to me or do I have to sing your least favorite song?" Though unusual, it was a tried and true method. Bob had nothing against Justin Bieber personally, but having three younger sisters meant he had to hear 'Baby' every hour of the day for two years straight.
That very threat was what made Bob finally turn around. He looked out of sorts; his usually perfectly straightened glasses were crooked, there was a slight flush of red blooming across his cheeks, his usually perfectly coiffed hair had been run through by one of his large hands. A sandy brown curl brushed against his forehead.
Bob had no right to look so hot when he was being annoying.
"Do not go out with him," He grunted, voice uncharacteristically low. You would need to unpack what it did to you later.
"Who said I was?"
"I know he looks like he should be on the cover of Men's Health, but that's the only compliment I'll give him. He doesn't deserve you, you deserve better. And I'm not saying I'm better- wait, yes I am. But what I mean is-"
"I know you're better. You're the best man I know and I've been having to act like I don't want you like that for the last ten fucking years. So don't play that humble act with me Floyd."
Wait, shit. That's not what you meant to say.
His eyes widened like saucers, "T-ten years? I could have had you for ten years now?"
Wait, what?
Timidly, you nodded, "Yeah. Ten years. What a waste, right?"
Bob shook his head before stepping forward. Whether it was you or him who initiated the kiss didn't matter. His lips were so soft, no doubt due to the chapstick you'd watch him apply. The scent of sage and mint flooded your nostrils. How did he smell so good all the damn time? Speaking of time, y'all had a decade to make up for, which is why you didn't feel bad about swiping your tongue across his bottom lip. You especially didn't feel bad when it got a groan out of Bob. The sound was low and gutteral, so unlike that pristine church boy act he put up for everyone but you.
Perhaps there were a lot of signs you had missed. Probably.
Wait, when the fuck did he lift you up? Fuck, he was that strong? You weren't light by any means, but Bob was deceptively muscular.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled before pressing your back against the wall, "Should take you out on a date but I can't wait, 've waited so long-"
"Robby," your groaned as his teeth sunk into your neck, "If we don't get into your car, I'm going to let you fuck me against this wall."
Bob could feel his cock twitch against his jeans, "What about inside the car?"
"I knew you were fucking dirty Floyd."
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