#I'm still kind of fuming | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eraserbread · 3 months ago

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you and your husband, nanami, have endured your fair share of struggles but, nothing held a flame to postpartum

week three of being a mother was the hardest.

all those sleepness nights between you and kento have finally caught up to you, and your body is fully, finally spent. minds are on a limb, and most days with you and your husband are spent transactionally.

it doesn't help that you woke up this morning with the worst, most painful lump in your breast. you noticed it and decided to feed baby girl on your freezer stash. going about the fast-paced morning with it in the back of your mind, deciding not to burden your husband.

he's already completely out of his element when he's cleaning up after the night shift and nursing breakfast on the stove so you can get your daughter situated. you couldn't bother him—not now.

not until you're kicked back up in bed, nursing pillow around your waist as your newborn suckles helplessly at your reddened, bruised nipple. research you've been scrolling through tells you to keep feeding from it - that the clog will come out with force, but your baby is just too gentle. gumming and suckling at your nipple did nothing but make fires erupt in your breast, face twisted up in agony as you toss your head back to the headboard.

"don't mean to interrupt." kento pushes into the bedroom with a sprawling breakfast tray in his hands. he's carrying a burp cloth on his shoulder, shirtless as he approaches you. "what's wrong?"

"think my milk duct is clogged," you reply, breathless. you've had enough of the pain, so you sit up just enough to switch your daughter to the other nipple - the nipple running on fumes, trying to keep up with the exclusive use.

kento leans over the bed, tracing his finger across his daughter's soft, suckling cheek. she has a tendency to fall asleep while nursing, letting dribbles of milk spill from her little lips. kento loves this, never understanding why you get so flustered about it. when she's asleep like this, the face she stole from him starts to fade into something reminiscent of yours.

"ju- just take her," you whine, trying to gather your composure as you massage the throbbing lump.

kento does whatever you say, now. he immediately takes your daughter into his safe, strong hands, turning and placing her at the bedside bassinet. It's a seamless maneuver; she doesn't even stir.

"i'm going to go crazy. i feel like i'm scrambling and drowning." you're starting to bead sweat at your hairline, deciding to stop in the meantime and pull your bra back up. "thank you for the food. love you so much."

"hey." kento sits down at your propped legs, massaging his hands across the covered skin. "you have me, and I know it's not very comforting to hear when you feel like this, but I will do everything I can... I love you, too."

"no, you're perfect. you're so patient and understanding - dealing with so much of my shit and still working full-time."

"you just birthed a human, give yourself some grace."

"but it's impossible when my body repeatedly fails me."

kento's seen you in many states, but the way you act regarding your daughter is a new kind of monster—a beautiful, passionate monster clawing at your skin that he can't feel; he can only see it.

so, he reaches for his safeword. "what can I do to help?"

"okay." you're shuffling in bed, sheets bunched around your body. against your propped knees he leans, giving you a reassuring kiss over your jaw. "just... just suck, please. you don't have to swallow, I'm sure a lot of milk won't come out."

"it's okay," he nods, helping you push your strap over your shoulder. you're clutching your breast, fingers ghosting over the rock-hard clog just above the nipple. he leans forward and takes it between his lips, warm lips covering the expanse as he starts sucking gently.

even his gentleness is 10x stronger than his daughters, and it makes you throw your head back in a hiss. "Ow, ow, ow, ow—keep going."

so he does. he's holding you, running his hand over your side for some comfort as he works your nipple over. you peek down to look at him, mesmerized by the hollows in his cheeks. you tangle your hand in his hair, swollen with admiration for him as his throat bobs down your milk.

he's flushed and enjoying this, and if it didn't feel like you were being branded by a hot iron, you'd enjoy it, too.

you're crying by the time you feel a pop, then instant relief. it makes you shudder out a thankful moan. "ah, keep going..." you rush, hand massaging back over the softening lump until it's fully dissipated. "ugh, iloveyousomuch, you got it."

kento pulls away with flushed lips, licking over them to bring some moisture back. you pull him into a thankful kiss, trying so hard to hold back hormonal tears when you look at him.

every time you think he cannot get any closer, he's helping you change out your postpartum underwear, standing behind you when you can't see your birth stitches and clean properly. he never mentions more than what he knows you need to hear, and that quiet, thoughtful stoicness is exactly what you need.

his unwavering patience and love were formed in the darkest of times, only to shine light on the happiest.

you two sit side by side and share a cold breakfast, no words breaking the sanctuary you created. he just wants to bite pieces of fruit between your teeth and kiss your sweetness away.

whispering as your daughter starts to stir with hunger,

"you amaze me."

#oh...mygod #this came out like vomit yall i know its so late #.nanami <3 #.the wife guy!! <3 #.favs :o #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento #nanami jjk #kento nanami

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verstappenverse · 1 month ago

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Still in the Race

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After a disastrous penalty in Spain, Max comes home expecting anger, but finds comfort instead.

Author's Note: The championship may be hanging by a mathematical thread, but the last shred of hopium lives on. But for real this was just a bit of fun to decompress after that race... onward to Canada.

1k words / Masterlist

The front door slams harder than it needs to.

You hear the tell-tale thud of Max’s duffel bag being dropped unceremoniously by the entryway and the low scrape of his shoes kicking against the mat. No words, no greetings yet. Just tension radiating from the hallway like a storm cloud dragged in behind him.

You stay curled on the couch, legs tucked under a blanket, laptop open but forgotten as you listen to him move. Cupboards open. Close. The fridge hums before the sound of a water bottle clattering to the counter breaks the silence.

Then finally, finally, you hear him sigh.

You wait.

And when he steps into the living room, face still tight with frustration and disappointment, you offer him a soft smile. “Hey.”

Max blinks at you. He looks like he expected war. Or at the very least, disappointment.

Instead, you pat the couch. “Come here.”

He hesitates.

Still wearing his hoodie creased from the long flight and jeans that haven’t been changed since he left the paddock, Max runs a hand over his face. There’s stubble along his jaw, and bags under his eyes that even his usual post-race adrenaline couldn’t burn off this time.

He doesn't say anything as he sinks down beside you.

You wait again.

And then, quietly, “So… tenth.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, head falling back against the cushions. “Fucking joke.”

You scoot closer. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” he snaps, too quickly. Then sighs again, softer. “Yes. I don’t know.”

You reach for his hand and thread your fingers through his. His thumb brushes your skin absentmindedly, something he always does when he’s overwhelmed. A grounding habit.

He swallows. “They screwed the strategy, you know that?”

You nod.

“Hards? Hards! I honestly can't wrap my head around what they thinking. Left me out like a goddamn sitting duck on those tyres and then—” He breaks off, jaw clenched. “Of course the car snaps. What the hell did they expect? Of course it did.”

You stay quiet, letting him vent.

“First I'm avoiding Charles, and then I'm ran off the road at turn one. It was my position, I had every right to pass, and they ask me to give the place back? Fucking ridiculous, honestly.”

You bite your lip to suppress the smile threatening to form. Not at his pain, never at that, but at the sheer intensity with which he’s reliving it. He’s fuming. A tightly wound coil of rage and injustice. But God, it’s almost endearing how passionate he is.

Max notices your expression. “You think it’s funny?”

“A little,” you admit, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I'm sorry I know I shouldn't laugh, but the way you radioed in, the reaction, was kind of iconic.”

That earns a soft laugh. Barely there, but it’s something.

“You’re not mad?”

“For what? For you being right?” You tilt your face up toward him. “No, Max. What's not funny was what the team did to you today, they panicked and screwed you over and you reacted. You were frustrated. Fair enough, anyone would be.”

He studies you. “I thought you’d say that I should’ve kept it together.”

You shrug. “Maybe. But you’re not a robot. You’re human and no one got hurt. Look in the long run it may not have been your smartest move, but what's done is done, and I’d be more concerned if you weren’t pissed off about a good race going up in flames because of someone else’s mistake." You squeeze his hand. “You know I’ll always stand by you.”

He turns his face away, jaw tightening. “It might be done, you know. The championship.”

“It might be,” you agree, because false optimism doesn’t help him. “But crazier things have happened. And there’s still time. You never know what's coming next.”

Max exhales. “It just feels like no matter what I do the universe is handing it to them on a silver platter.”

You smile gently. “You know better than anyone titles aren’t handed over. They’re won. And lost. And sometimes they’re snatched back in the final laps of the final race.”

His hand tightens around yours.

“Besides,” you continue, “even if this season doesn’t go the way you want, look at everything you’ve achieved already. You’re still Max. You’re still one of the greatest to ever do it.”

He meets your gaze finally. There’s something raw in his eyes. Tired. Hunted.

“I just hate when it feels like no one listens to me,” he mutters. “Like I’m screaming into the void.”

You squeeze his hand. “I always hear you.”

That undoes him more than anything else. The way his shoulders drop, the tension bleeding out of him slowly, like you’ve pressed a release valve on a week’s worth of chaos.

He tips forward, head bowed, and rests his forehead against yours.

“I was so angry,” he whispers.

“I know.”

“I want to win.”

“I know that too.”

He’s silent for a moment. Then more vulnerable than he would ever admit to anyone else, “I felt like I let everyone down.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t. You fought like hell. Hey, even with shit tires, the penalty, strategy against you, technically you still finished in the points.”

Max huffs. “Tenth.”

“Still in the race.”

He groans at the pun, and you laugh.

“Sorry. Too soon?”

He lifts his head just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. “A little. But I’ll allow it.”

You stroke his arm gently, letting the silence return in a more peaceful form. Max melts against you eventually, resting his head in your lap, his hand still wrapped in yours. The tension in his body finally dissipates, replaced by exhaustion and something heavier, grief for what might have been.

You run your fingers through his hair. “Want to know what I really thought when I saw the crash?”

He hums in response, and you nudge him playfully.

“I thought, that’s going to be a great highlight reel moment when he wins the championship.”

Max opens one eye. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’ll be part of the drama arc. The moment everyone thought you were done. Classic setup for a comeback.”

He smirks. “You think I’m still in it?”

“I think the championship doesn’t deserve to be over until you say it is.”

He shifts, curling in closer, your calm anchoring him.

“You’re really not mad at me?” he mumbles one more time.

You lean down and kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

“Even when I yell at GP?”

You grin. “Especially then. Makes for great memes.”

He laughs, fully this time, because if there’s one thing stronger than his frustration or disappointment it's you, together, and with you in his corner, maybe this championship isn’t over after all.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen masterlist #f1 rpf #formula 1 #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x y/n #f1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #max vertsappen fic

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inbabylontheywept · 6 months ago

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Memories of Grandpa Hank

I'm eating a bag of mormon gorp that tastes like gasoline while watching the rain run down the mountain. The taste doesn't even bother me anymore - all homemade gorp tastes like this. It's just a natural consequence of everyone keeping their prepper shit in their garages.

My dad's out in the clearing, wandering around with his GPS. He's got some pieces of wire out on top of it to try and make the effective antennae bigger, but it just makes it look like he's dowsing. Another mormon tradition. I ask him if he's close to find water yet, and he looks up at me, little rivers flowing off him, and says yeah - he can feel it.

I'm sure he can. I settle under my tree and watch the droplets roll down the needles. Awaiting the final judgement of Judge GPS.

A few minutes later, it provides:

Turns out my dad forgot to record the location of the car this morning. The GPS remembers where we parked yesterday, but by luck my dad knows how to get from there to our car. Downside is that it's a nine mile walk just to get to yesterday's position, then another five miles to backtrack. That's fourteen miles total.

I'm only thirteen.

Think you can make it? my dad asks. And it's a kindness that he's worried, but it's not like there's an alternative. What else would I do, sit down in the murk and cross my fingers he finds me again? Ask him to carry me 14 miles?

I'll be pretty jelly legged, I say. But yeah. I'll make it.

Attaboy, he says. He fishes a bag of poptarts out and offers me one as - I think - a peace offering. A, sorry you're gonna have to walk 14 miles in the rain because I goofed kind of gift.

I take a bite and, despite being individually wrapped, it still manages to taste like diesel fumes. We start hiking our incredibly long distance in terrible weather for foolish reasons, and I joke to my dad that the only way to make this day any more mormon would be by pushing handcarts.

He laughs. Neither of us laugh again until 11 pm, when we stumble like drunkards into camp. My grandpa has stayed up late to make sure we weren’t lost, but he only stays up long enough to see us arrive. We try to eat a dinner of sweet potato stew, but after falling asleep in the middle twice, we agree to just go to bed.

I sleep in well past nine and wake up to nobody in camp but my grandpa. My dad left with my sister to keep hunting around 5 am. I know that everyone assumes that their dad is invincible when they're 13, but I'm 28 now and part of me still thinks he's gonna live forever. That God made exactly one perpetual motion machine, and it raised me in the desert.

---

Around noon my grandpa suggests hunting again. If it was my dad, I'd probably tune him out, but I like my grandpa's style of hunting. My dad hikes and hikes and hikes until the elk get tired and just let him shoot them. My grandpa finds the sleepiest, sunniest, coziest field and takes a nap there, figuring if the elk have any decent taste they'll come there at some point.

Man's got a knack for knowing what elk like - he's right more often than not. I think he might've been an elk in a previous life.

I go with him, and much as I hate to admit it, the hike is good for me. I start off walking like a pirate on two peg legs, so stiff I might as well not have knees, but by the end of the mile and a half walk I'm almost normal. We make it to the edge of the clearing, and my grandpa finds a patch of grass taller and softer than the beds inside the trailer, and he curls up to sleep there. I look across the grass and I watch the comings and goings of critters through the field. Sometimes I use the scope to get a magnified view, but I never do so with my hand on the trigger. The thought of accidentally looking a person through that glass is something that sends a chill up my spine.

Some deer wander through the glen, but it'd take a fool to mistake one of them for an elk. A few hours later, my grandpa wakes up and asks if I want to wander around a little. It's a lovely day. Rain comes in bursts in Arizona, and the day after is almost always clear as can be. And for a short while, all the desert browns turn green and lush. Hard mosses turn squishy and cacti swell up like fresh baked muffins and for a while you can get why people settled in these god forsaken wastes.

So I go with him, and we walk on, me with my gun, him just taking in the forest. He looks so peaceful that I get a little jealous, but it's not until my grandpa stops and looks at me that I even notice it myself. Takes a mirror, sometimes, to know yourself.

Being near my grandpa is always a strange thing for me. He's quiet, and he doesn't talk much, and I don't ever get the feeling that he's particularly emotionally intelligent - but it's like he's interacting with a reality more raw and real than mine. Like I'm watching symbols on a screen and he's counting atoms. And sometimes, just being near him gives me access to that raw matter. Just something about how he is breaks the illusions of the world.

He looks at the gun like a foreign object, like he doesn't recognize it, then he looks at me. He speaks and he doesn't mince words.

What would you do if an elk came across the path and you shot it right now? he asks.

Well, I'd start cleaning it, I say, and he waves the words away like cobwebs in his face.

But would you celebrate? he presses.

And I look at him, and I don't actually see any judgement staring back. He knows the answer, and he's at peace with it. He’s asking so I can see it too. He’s being a mirror so I can see my own face.

I think I might actually cry, I admit. And he nods along in agreement before reaching forward to take the gun off my shoulder.

Lets just walk today, he says. No chance of killing anything. No worrying about that.

Right, I say.

He pops the chamber open and tosses me back my bullet. I catch it, and the relief I feel is palpable.

Can I change my mind? I ask, and he shrugs.

Whenever you want. Hunt or don’t. It’s not the hunting that I’m worried about. It’s seeing you ignore your conscience.

And for a moment, I'm there in the real world with him, and my gloves are off, and reality is a metal cube in my hand: Sharp and cold and heavy.

Or maybe that’s just the bullet.

---

We make it back to camp a bit later than my dad. We get there and he’s waiting for us. If he's tired, he doesn't show it.

How'd it go? he asks. My grandpa looks at me, and I don't know how to respond. I don't know how to explain it, and I am scared.

Great, he replies. It's a shame Babs only has a doe tag. We saw a five-point out there. Close enough to hit with a football.

No, my dad says. If his grin was a half inch wider, both ends of his mouth would meet in the back of his head and everything above his tongue would slide off.

Tell him Babs, grandpa says. And, not for the first time, and especially not the last, I try my hand at spinning a yarn.

It's pretty good. But at 13, I still have a lot to learn.

#i've been reading some cormac mccarthy lately and i decided to try my hand at present tense #it was pretty rough but a fun experiment #kind of like writing with my left hand instead of my right #been thinking about my grandpa lately #miss him #wild world out there #babylon-lore

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aurorawritestoescape · 3 months ago

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WINTER HEAT

Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader || 4,1k

Summary: Joel helps you to get warm after a patrol.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, FLUFF, comfort, kinda grumpy and sunshine reversed, soft!Joel, reader hates winter (me-coded), Joel’s reading glasses, consensual somno, wet dreams, pet names, fingering, squirting, unprotected piv, creampie. No tlou2 spoilers! Reader has no specific physical features.

A/n: this is written for @sizzlingcloudmentality and @guiltyasdave ‘s Writing through the seasons challenge. Thank you for such a cool event, lovelies!💞 I got Winter with Joel and a wonderful mb that you can see at the end of the fic❤️ Kisses to my love @milla-frenchy for the fireplace idea and for beta-ing💋 And a shout out to a blizzard we had here in April that fueled my hate for the cold :/ Anyway, I hope you all will like the story and it brings you comfort, too. Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

You arrived in Jackson in spring. The sun was bright and warm and the town looked heavenly in its golden rays. The white mountain tops against the blue of the endless sky took your breath away. You felt at home right away, welcomed by the beauty of nature, greeted by the kind people who lived there. Although, one person in particular stood out to you immediately.

Tall, broad and handsone, with a ’don’t fuck with me’ glare, a man by the name Joel was asked to help you settle in your new place. You got to know him better when he became your first patrol partner — experienced and capable, Joel was chosen to keep an eye on a newbie like you. At first, you scoffed at him teaching you things you already knew, but as soon as you proved yourself to be an excellent shot, cool headed and careful, Joel stopped acting like your babysitter. You two worked so well together, that no one wanted to separate you afterwards.

Days passed and it became obvious that Joel and you were a perfect match not only as patrol partners. Like two lonely souls you drifted towards each other and a month after meeting him, you found yourself sleeping in his bed, and a week later living in his house.

You heard rumours about his past here and there, but it never bothered you. Who hadn’t done some shit during a literal apocalypse? Once a drunk guy at ‘The Tipsy Bison’ called Joel a monster and immediately got bitch-slapped by you. You were fuming, but Joel remained calm and led you away, his arm around your waist.

You couldn’t believe what some were saying. Joel was caring and kind and you were happy to share your present and your future with him, to help each other heal the wounds of the past.

The summer came and Joel made it magical. Your patrols felt more like dates — the scent of meadows in the air, two of you on a horseback, talking and laughing quietly, trying not to attract clickers. You relished every minute with him, even out of the safety of the town walls.

Fortunately, you had enough time to get lost in Joel completely, forget the dangers of the world you were living in and focus on its beauty.

Your now common home became your favourite place. You spent every possible moment outside in the backyard, basking in the sun, flowers in your hair, Joel’s lips on your neck. He grumbled about his aching knees but still fucked you on the grass every time you were sunbathing in your simple bikini you’d found at the clothes shop.

“Can’t walk past when you’re splayed like this,” he gruffed in your ear, thrusting his cock into you, your bikini bottoms pulled to the side.

“I was —ahh- jus’ enjoying the sun, Joel.”

“Yeah and now I'm enjoyin you.”

You felt his smile on your cheek and playfully licked his sweaty face, earning a light slap on your hip and a low chuckle from the man. When he grazed that magical spot inside your core, you squeezed your eyes shut and came on his cock, your loud moan fused with the bird chirping in the tree over your heads.

Now

You’re shielding your eyes with your gloved hand, covering them from a chilling wind. A shiver hits your body so hard that even Joel notices you trembling.

”Gonna be home soon, honey!” he shouts to you, grabbing the reins of his horse tighter as you two are riding to the gates. You grumble an ‘ok’, which immediately gets swallowed by the howling of the blizzard, and try to keep your teeth from banging but in vain.

As soon as you get home, you throw off your clothes, the cold woven into every inch of the fabric, and run upstairs to the only place that can warm you up - a bath. When Joel comes home from the stables, you’ve already dried yourself, put on a few layers of home clothes and nestled under a duvet.

This is how he finds you in the bedroom — an unmoving lump on the bed.

You feel the mattress dip next to you, a light pat lands on your ass.

“Ya hungry?”

“No.” Your voice is barely audible, your sad eyes set on the window. Joel sighs and asks softly,

“What is it, baby?”

“I hate winter. Hate snow. I’m tired of freezing my ass off every patrol.”

Joel hums and after following your line of vision stares at the blizzard, raging outside.

“I can make you some hot tea.”

”I don’t want any tea,” you mumble, covering your face with the duvet, hiding your sour expression and trying to warm up your still cold nose. Joel’s heavy hand rests on your back and he starts slowly rubbing it, giving you the comfort that you need so much yet refuse to accept because of your mood.

“What if I ask Tommy to assign you something else?”

“No!”

You yank the duvet off your face and glare at him.

“Don’t! I’m not a quitter.”

Joel stares at you, his brows raised, and you add, a little softer now, “I'll be fine.”

Your tone is far from fine and Joel knows that it’s better to leave you alone right now.

“Ok, I’m gonna have dinner. Hope you’ll join me.”

He gets up and leaves the bedroom. You watch the blizzard for a few minutes and then fall asleep, your body exhausted by constant shivering.

You wake up when it’s dark outside, the clock says you’ve slept for 3 hours. The wind has calmed down and fluffy snowflakes are floating by the window. You hate to leave the bed but your stomach is grumbling and, not risking the cold of the room creeping into your cocoon of warmth, you wrap the duvet around yourself and head downstairs.

You see Joel crouching in front of the fireplace in the living room, his back to you. He’s wearing a white tee and a pair of sweatpants and just the sight of his exposed arms makes you shiver.

“Hey,” you call softly, hating to startle him, and when he doesn’t hear you, because of the crackle of the fire or his bad ear, you say his name louder. Joel glances back and you see the fire burning bright behind him.

“Wow. Big one.” You widen your eyes, watching Joel carefully stir the logs.

“Made it for ya. And this.”

He nods to a pile of pillows and blankets, lying on the floor.

“Are we making a fort?” you laugh, looking at the mess on the floor, and Joel glares up at you with a fake annoyance in his sparkling eyes.

“‘s for you to sit on.”

“Oh,” you nod, realizing that he’s made this cozy warming place for you.

“Sit down. I’ll bring you dinner.”

“Oh,” you repeat but now your voice wavers and you get overcome with love and gratitude for the man. How could anyone call him a monster? And how the hell did you get so lucky?

You have your dinner in your makeshift nest, your eyes set on the fire dancing vividly in the fireplace, while Joel is reading next to you on the couch, the flames reflecting in his glasses.

The orange light is the only thing illuminating the room and you get mesmerized by the changing shadows on the walls. Your duvet is a cape on your shoulders right now, the heat from the fire warming you perfectly.

“Thank you, Joel,” you say, placing the empty plate on the side table and throwing the duvet off. He hums but his eyes are still set on the book.

You stand on your knees between his legs and tentatively take the book out of his hands. Your lips curve with a mischievous smile as you pull him down by his wrist.

“Nah-ah, I ain’t sittin on the floor.”

“Hey, you made this comfy bed, now come join me. Please,” you add, your puppy eyes begging.

Joel sighs, takes his glasses off and gets up with a grumble. He settles next to you in front of the fireplace, leans against the couch, and you quickly get comfortable between his legs, your back against his broad chest. His arms wrap around you and you smile like a cat in the sun.

It’s much easier for you to apologize when you’re not looking at him.

“I’m sorry, Joel. I’ve been a grumpy grump.”

“‘s ok. I know you’re snappy when you’re cold. Or hungry. Or sleepy. Or..”

“OK, stop it!” you laugh, playfully hitting his forearm. “You make me sound like such a pleasure to live with.”

“You are a pleasure. It’s jus‘ winter.”

“Yeah. I hate winter.”

You sink into his embrace and a warm wave runs from the place between your legs up to your belly and then chest. A happy sigh falls from your lips — fed, warmed up, wrapped in Joel’s arms, you finally feel content.

You tilt your head up to look at Joel and he gives you a soft smile, the light of the fire making his handsome face golden. His gaze slides from your eyes to your mouth before he leans down and kisses you. His lips are chapped, his beard is scruffy and harsh against your delicate skin, but you’ve never had a more tender kiss in your life.

Craving more, you part your lips to let him slip inside and he licks into your mouth, tasting you. You're languidly making out, but with the flames of the fire in front of you, and the furnace that is Joel Miller at your back, you get overheated in seconds and start squirming between Joel’s legs. You whine into his mouth and he parts from you, his brow raised up in question.

“Mm?”

“Too hot.” You sit up with a grunt while Joel looks extremely pleased with himself.

“Good. You’re finally warm.”

“I’m not warm, Joel, I’m hot,” you complain and start pulling your sweater and a long sleeve off, but immediately get tangled in the layers.

“D’ya need a hand?” Joel chuckles, watching you struggle. You’re huffing and puffing until he hears a muffled ‘yeah’ behind all the clothes and helps you to take the excess off. Finally, you can breathe, left wearing a tee with nothing underneath. You don’t remember the last time you had only a t-shirt on at home, but the fire has warmed up the air so nicely that you don’t feel it on your skin at all.

You lean back against Joel’s chest again, his arms find their place around your shoulders, and it takes only a few minutes of cozy silence and Joel’s slow breathing at your ear to lull you to sleep.

You dream of summer and Joel. He's lying in your backyard, right on the grass, waiting for you with his arms open, and you fall into his embrace like it's the warmest ocean. He rolls you onto your back, pinning you with his comforting weight, and gives you a kiss. It's a hot day and your back dampens with sweat, but you don't squirm under him, don't show a trace of discomfort. There isn't any. You revel in the heat of the sun over your heads, in the warmth of Joel's body, big and strong, caging you against the soft grass.

A wave of heat rises deep inside your core, when Joel's hand slithers between your bodies and he cups your pussy over your clothes. His thick fingers, confident but gentle, start massaging your folds, and you moan into his mouth, slowly melting into your underwear. You break the kiss, and, wishing to see his dear face, flutter your eyes open.

Instead of Joel, a bright orange light appears in front of you, but it's not the summer sun you've been dreaming about. The burning fireplace blinds you for a second and, startled by its intensity, you jerk.

"Shhh, baby, ‘s fine."

You hear a soft baritone, feel a firm chest at your back, and reality slowly seeps back into your mind, calming you down.

“Joel,“ you croak and a sudden whimper falls from your lips, when you realize that not everything in the dream was the result of your imagination. You look down and see Joel’s hand cupping your pussy over your panties and leggings, his thumb gently rubbing your folds. It moves just over your covered clit, stimulating it slowly, nonetheless building your pleasure drop by drop.

“Joel,” you murmur again but it’s a moan now, coated in need and want. He presses his lips to your temple, his voice echoes your desire.

“I’m here, honey. Jus’ playin with her a little. ‘s ok?”

“Mmm, always,” you breathe out as your finger traces the veins on his hand. The hand that protects you, takes care of you, makes you see stars.

His palm is resting on the place that belongs to him and he has a right to use you whenever he pleases. You don’t mind one bit. You talked about it before and you gave him a green light to do whatever he wanted to you in your sleep. The idea of waking up wet and stretched around his cock or with his lips wrapped around your clit always made your head spin.

Now the warmth of his hand seeps through your leggings and your cunt purrs like a kitten at the feather-light stimulation. Your eyelids get so heavy it’s impossible to keep them open, and you close them, concentrating on Joel’s fingers dancing over your pussy. You take a deep breath and drift off again.

Your body slumps against Joel’s chest so he knows you’re sleeping. He keeps holding your beating heat in his hand, enjoying your warmth, feeling your pulse against his skin. Soon his composure gets overtaken by the need to feel you fully - your wetness on his skin, your pussy fluttering in his palm, your body unraveling around his fingers, flooding them with your juices.

Carefully, inch by inch, holding his breath, Joel pulls your leggings and panties down, not too low, but enough to free your beautiful cunt. The heat of the fire brings the scent of your need to Joel’s nostrils and he takes a deep breath, sharp and shaky, devouring it, his desire for you already stiff in his pants.

Joel knows you need him too, judging by a soft moan escaping your half parted lips, and he hooks your leg with his knee and opens you up, so his hand could find place between your thighs. He cups your naked cunt and his cock twitches and grows, demanding to stuff your soft hole. He contemplates taking you right now, fucking you slowly and steadily, keeping you asleep, but he loves playing with your pussy too much. She’s always warm and wet for him and the little noises you make are the prettiest he’s ever heard.

The sight of your wet folds, glistening with arousal, sends a shiver down his spine and Joel slightly squeezes your pussy in his huge hand. You hum and he reads it like a signal.

Joel’s middle finger pushes between your slick petals and into your warm hole, carefully, knuckle after knuckle. He grits his teeth, swallowing a groan that’s crawling up his throat, while he feels just how wet you’re for him, your pussy craving him too.

He moves his finger in and out a few times and then pushes another one in.

The effect on you is immediate. Your chest starts rising and falling fast, your eyelids flutter and you moan again and again, your song is barely audible with the fire crackling so close. Joel’s fingers are moving in and out your cunt, but one thing is missing and his desperation for it grows. Your beautiful eyes.

”Honey,” he calls through your sleep, “please.. need you to wake up.”

You open your eyes with a long whimper, a wave of pleasure swallowing you all at once, it overwhelms you. Joel’s fingers buried inside your hole, your thighs already trembling, your belly heaving, your core burning like the fire in front of your eyes.

“Gonna make you come… Look at me… Need to see..”

Joel’s voice is strained with lust, impatience turns his breath heavy, and you tilt your head to face him, to give him what he wants. You desire it, too, desperately, to come, to unravel with him drinking up the pleasure on your face.

Joel manhandles you to rest your head against his shoulder and you bite your lip, seeing what you’ve done to him— his eyes are dark as the night outside, his lips are wet, his forehead is glistening with sweat. The sight sends a new surge of wetness from your pussy and into his palm and you feel and hear a rumble in his chest. .

Joel feels you perfectly, sees your face perfectly — the tears on your lashes from the bliss he’s giving you, your half parted lips, ready to sing for him. He doesn’t make you wait and resumes pumping his thick fingers in and out of your pussy, curling them inside you while the heel of his palm is rhythmically hitting your clit, drawing shamelessly loud moans out of you. Soon the heat boils over in your core.

“Oh, Joel… don’t stop, please,” you beg, your needy voice mixing with Joel’s breathing and the squelching of your sopping pussy.

“Never.. never,” he assures you and leans down to give you a heady kiss. He scratches your delicate skin with his beard and moustache but you don’t care — any discomfort is drowned in the ocean of pleasure, devastating your body.

Joel presses his forehead to yours, but his hand is moving tirelessly, generously filling the glass of your pleasure, until it overflows, and your pussy explodes around his fingers. Wetness sprays out of your hole, wetting Joel’s hand, the blanket under you, your quivering thighs.

“Holy shit…,” you gasp at the sight but the quickly following orgasm hits you so hard, your head falls on his shoulder and, squeezing your eyes tight, you come with a loud cry. You’re moaning and shaking against Joel, every cell in your body lights up, your mind shuts down, while Joel’s fingers are fucking into your drenched hole again and again, dragging out your unforgettable climax. The squelching would probably make you embarrassed any other day but right now it sounds like music, a serenade of your love and lust for each other.

When the burn of overstimulation licks at your core, you close your legs and Joel pulls his fingers out. He drags his soaked hand along your body, up, up, and with your hazy eyes, you see a wet path he’s drawing on your skin.

“Look at that,” Joel pants, excitement rich in his voice. “Ya never done it with me before.”

“Never done it with anyone before,” you breathe out, locking eyes with him.

“Really?” He furrows his brows, as if in disbelief, but his chest expands with pride under your back, a corner of his mouth rises.

You’ve just had the best orgasm of your life but the hunger comes back quickly when you’re with Joel. Having given yourself just a few moments of respite, you clumsily get on your knees, your limbs shaky, throw your clothes off and plop down on the blankets, tugging Joel down with you.

“Need you… imagine how.. how wet I am...”

“Oh damn, right.”

Joel’s tired, you can see it in his droopy eyes, but with the agility of a much younger man, he hurries to settle between your spread legs. He’s still panting, pulling his pants and boxers down and freeing his hard cock, but suddenly he freezes.

“What is it?” You ask, your brows pulled together. ”You ok?”

Joel’s hand holding his leaking cock, the other on your bent knee, his gaze is sliding over your glistening cunt, your sweaty body as he rasps,

“Yeah.. ‘m jus’ lookin. You’re beautiful. In this light…glowin like an angel.”

“Thank you,” you whisper with a smile, feeling a lump in your throat, tears welling up in your eyes. The fire is warming you up so well, but nothing compares to the soft heat of Joel’s love. Needing him close, you reach your arms out to him and he gets on top of you, holding himself up on an elbow, and slides his hot tip between your dripping folds.

”Oh, fuck. You’re killin me, baby.”

“Hope not,” you giggle and sneak your hand between your bodies. Your palm wraps around the base of his stiff cock and you mumble,

“Let me.” Joel nods and plants both elbows on the blanket while you notch your pussy with the head of his member.

You move your hips up, spread your thighs wider and slowly start piercing yourself with his cock. You both moan at the feeling of being united, and when Joel’s length is fully sheathed inside your cunt, his lips brush yours as he murmurs,

”So warm, baby— wanna live inside you.”

You smile against his mouth and kiss him. Like a missing puzzle piece, Joel always makes you feel complete. Thoroughly opened by his fingers, you’re taking his cock with ease, while he’s rolling his hips into you at a slow but steady pace, and you meet him halfway, desperate to make it less strenuous on his exhausted body.

Joel’s face finds place in the crook of your neck and you’re holding him close, running your fingers over his skin, through his hair, caressing him as softly as you can.

His eyes soon find yours as he rasps,

“‘s too good, baby… gonna come soon. ‘m sorry.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “Come, my love.” His eyes radiate wrinkles as he smiles at your words.

“Where, honey?”

“Inside. Please, inside.”

”Hnggg, want my hot cum?” Joel grunts, picking up the pace of his hips, ”to keep your pussy warm, too?”

“Ahhh, yeah, warm and wet for longer.”

Lust is shining in his gaze as Joel gruffs,

“Give me one more and I’ll fill you up.”

Knowing well how to make you unwind, he bends down and takes your nipple in his hot mouth. He starts sucking on it, swirling his tongue around the bud and it makes your eyes roll back into your head before a second orgasm starts shaking your body, your pussy choking Joel’s cock. He squeezes you between his strong arms and begins coming, too. His heavy balls are sticking to your ass, as he keeps thrusting into you with every rope of cum his cock pumps into your already sloppy pussy. He adds more and more and you don’t stop milking him with your clenching walls until the last drop is deep inside you.

Not pulling out, Joel moves you both on the side and you’re holding each other, your bodies tingling in the afterglow.

Your face is buried in his neck and your giggle comes out muffled.

“If you keep warming me up like this, I might survive this winter.”

“If ya come for me like this, I’m gonna do it every damn day… till the spring comes.” You feel Joel’s smile against your forehead.

“No, ‘s too much. I’ll get dehydrated,” you laugh and he chuckles with you before you say,

“After every patrol then, ‘k?”

“Ya got it.”

Joel lies on his back and you take your favorite sleeping position- your head on his shoulder, your leg bent over his thigh, Joel’s arm holding you close.

Soon you hear his slow and deep breathing- he’s asleep. You watch the fire dance for a few minutes, remembering the hard patrol, the cold tormenting your body and soul, the wonderful surprise Joel has given you, and a thought crosses your mind,

“Maybe winter isn’t that bad.”

With a happy smile on your lips you follow Joel and fall asleep, too.

moodboard by @guiltyasdave and @sizzlingcloudmentality 💞

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! Your feedback means the world🌺

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40 @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name @tateypots

People who were interested in the wip post (no pressure to read, bbs) @604to647 @arcanefox207 @sawymredfox @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal

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bosbas · 8 months ago

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Chapter 1: I said, "dancin' is a dangerous game"

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader WC: 2.5k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, lowkey why do i ship daphne and y/n....

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

May 13, 1812 - You were in Hyde Park less than ten minutes before you saw Daphne Bridgerton's figure out of the corner of your eye. Delighted that she'd joined you earlier than expected, you waved her over.

"Hello, Daph," you greeted cheerfully, scooting over so your best friend could sit beside you on the bench. "I didn't think I'd see you for a few hours, given how many gentlemen asked you to dance last night. Did none of them call?"

Daphne groaned, a scowl set deep on her face, as she took a piece of bread from your basket and broke it into chunks to feed the ducks.

"Don't remind me. Most of them called, actually," she responded. "If only Anthony had let me have three seconds with them I might have been able to discern whether or not I was actually interested. He barged into the sunroom and promptly kicked everyone out. There was not a single suitor left in the room by the time he'd finished!"

You snorted. "Ah, so the overbearing eldest brother is once again to blame."

"Isn't he always?" she responded, too annoyed to match the lightness in your tone.

You just smiled to yourself and fed the ducks silently, knowing Daphne well enough to hide your smile from her, given that she was more than likely fuming at Anthony's constant meddling. You knew he meant well, but he was known to go a bit overboard at times. Well, most times. Especially when it came to Daphne's courtships.

"Anthony's the biggest rake in Mayfair, anyway. I don't know exactly what moral high ground he thinks he's standing on but it's certainly not as sturdy as he assumes," continued Daphne, still upset over that morning's happenings.

"Is it really that bad, Daph?" you said in an attempt to console her. "At least you're not getting hordes of unpleasant men at your doorstep every day. And you know the kinds of men that frequent the ton aren't always the kind you'd want to spend your afternoons with."

"I'm not getting any men at my doorstep! That's the problem!" exclaimed Daphne, exasperated. "I know you might not share the same desires as me, but I would eventually like to get married and have a family."

"I want to find a husband, too," you insisted, your tone bordering on defensive. "I just don't particularly feel bothered to look for one during my first season."

Daphne sobered immediately, coming out of her annoyance toward her brother as she could sense you were upset. "I didn't mean it like that, I swear," she insisted, placing a hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes. "It was just-"

"I understand," you smiled at her, placing your hand over hers. "I just don't have the same urgency as you do, on account of my father having absolutely no stake in my marital status. No stake in anything about me at all, actually."

It would be a sad sentiment if you weren't used to it. You were an only child, and your mother had died after getting ill when you were only five years old. Your father, of course, was quite busy with the land he managed, and thus most of your upbringing had just been you and your governess. And the Bridgertons, of course.

You had met Daphne when she was eight and you were seven, and the two of you had gotten along splendidly since then. Since you had no real family of your own, bar your absent father, you spent copious amounts of time at the Bridgerton residence at Daphne's insistence. You now found yourself to be a semi-permanent fixture in their house, feeling just as home there as you did at your father's home.

This proximity to the Bridgertons had made you intimately familiar with Anthony's overprotective demeanor. Ever since you and Daphne were young, Anthony had gone out of his way to make sure that his siblings were cared for. Sometimes that included you, too. But unfortunately, he could take it too far sometimes.

"Did you like anyone last night, at least? Your dress was quite magnificent and I know I'm not the only one who noticed," you winked at Daphne.

She hummed thoughtfully. "I don't entirely know. I don't think one dance is enough to know whether I truly like someone," she responded, slumping down on the bench.

"Especially not when Anthony cuts the dance short halfway through," you laughed, recalling the eldest Bridgerton's attempts to thwart Daphne's search for a husband.

But your comment did nothing to lighten the mood. Instead, it seemed to make your friend even more irritated.

"It's my second year out in society! I still don't have a husband. Not even close to it, apparently," continued Daphne, aggressively tossing bits of bread into the pond.

"Well, you have to marry eventually. Anthony can't keep you away from every man for the rest of your life!" you argued.

But this did little to quell Daphne's annoyance. "He's certainly trying," she muttered.

"We can ship him off to the West Indies for the season," you joked. "Surely he won't be able to interrupt your suitors from halfway across the globe."

Suddenly, Daphne raised her eyebrows, looking at you with a devious smile.

"I was only joking! We can't actually ship him away," you laughed. "Besides, how would the ladies of the ton ever survive without the most desirable bachelor who is always just out of reach?"

Daphne snorted, amused at your dig at Anthony. "No, no, we don't have to ship him away," she said. "But you are correct in saying that I need time away from him to fully explore potential matches."

You hummed in agreement, imagining how much easier life would be for Daphne if her older brother simply... let her be. "Is he going on a hunting trip soon?" you said hopefully.

Your best friend shook her head, still smiling at you like she was plotting something.

"What is it?" you pressed, laughing at her expression.

"Can I ask you a favor?" she said, an expectant look in her eyes.

“Yes, I’ll kill Anthony for you. I’ve only been waiting for you to ask,” you joked.

“No,” Daphne laughed. “I’m serious.”

“Go on then,” you nodded.

“Could you ask him to dance at tomorrow’s ball?”

“Me? Ask him? Are you out of your mind?” you sputtered. You had never danced with Anthony at a ball, and you couldn't fathom the first time you did so being after you were the one to ask him.

“Y/N, please. I can’t just rely on forlorn glances across the ballroom to secure suitors. I need to actually speak with them, and I won’t be able to if Anthony keeps... hovering.”

Granted, hovering was a very generous word for what Anthony was really doing. But still, you looked at her, uncertainty in your eyes. You weren’t particularly keen on asking Anthony to dance, knowing he was famously opposed to marriage at this point in his life. Yes, you had grown up around him, but that didn’t mean he was interested in you at all, and you didn’t want to face that rejection if you could avoid it.

“Don’t give me that look! I promise it’ll work,” cried Daphne, desperate. “Just tell him you feel like dancing but don’t want to give another man the wrong impression since it’s only your first season and you’re still biding your time. Most of which is true.”

She made a good point. You didn’t want the hordes of men that seemed to flock to Daphne just yet. And would one dance really hurt that much?

---

The music in the ballroom pleasantly surrounded you as you stood next to Violet. Daphne had left to dance with Lord Wilson, a bachelor of very distinguished background who seemed to be hanging onto every word your best friend said.

Just as you turned to Violet to comment on how well-suited the pair looked, Anthony stormed over to where you were standing.

"It's unbelievable that she's even giving him the time of day," he said lowly, looking wholly unimpressed by the dance happening a few feet in front of him.

You could feel Anthony growing tense beside you as the seconds ticked by, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. Three seconds of his sister speaking with a man and he was ready to explode already? He was worse than you thought.

You saw Daphne lean back as she laughed at something the gentleman said, and you knew you had to act fast before Anthony intervened.

“Oh, the music is wonderful tonight! Anthony, would you care for a dance?”

He tore his gaze away from his sister and looked at you, perplexed.

“Are you asking me to dance?”

“I believe I am, Anthony,” you said.

He scoffed, not quite believing you. “That is not very proper of you, Lady L/N.”

“And you are a great authority on propriety, I presume?" you said, a playful edge to your voice. "Given your… adventures as a rake, surely you have a better idea of what is proper than I do.”

Anthony choked at your bold choice of words, not used to people calling him out so publicly. “Y/N! Why do you want to dance with me then, if I'm such a rake?”

You rolled your eyes. “I just enjoy the music and want to dance. And I don’t want to give any other men the wrong impression,” you recited exactly what Daphne had told you to say.

He nodded reluctantly and took your hand. “Very well. One dance, then. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong impression of me either.”

This was the last time you ever did anything for Daphne. God, how difficult could one man be?

But all of your annoyance faded away once he placed his hand on your hip and spun you around. This was rather nice, you found yourself thinking. You hadn't properly danced at a ball yet, and you couldn't help but think that you'd missed out on a rather enjoyable activity.

The dance was going along quite smoothly, and you and Anthony seemed to be melting together, no longer two individuals but instead moving more like one entity. You were especially enjoying whenever his grip shifted slightly and his hand ran across the small of your back. To be truthful, you were simply having fun.

That is until you felt Anthony shifting you across the dance floor so you could get nearer to Daphne and the gentleman she was dancing with. Feeling Anthony's shoulders tense underneath your gingerly placed hands, you looked up at him.

Looking into his eyes, you raised your eyebrows. "She's fine, you know. You don't have to watch over her every second of every ball."

Anthony rolled his eyes, dismissing your comment. "Of course I do. She's my sister! I have to take care of her. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to her or if she ended up betrothed to a dolt."

"Anthony," you softened your tone. "It's quite alright. It's not all up to you. You've got an entire family to keep her safe. And me, of course."

You could feel his muscles relax under your hands. "Thank you," he breathed out. "I know all of that to be true. I just worry about her. And about you! But luckily there aren't many suitors of yours to scare off."

"Oh," you said, your voice squeakier than you intended. "Thank you?" you questioned. You weren't quite sure how to take his comment.

"No!" he rushed out, immediately realizing what his words sounded like. "I didn't mean it like that. Daphne had just mentioned that you're not as interested in finding someone right now since it's your first season. And I hadn't really seen you dance with anyone at one of these balls before. And-"

"It's no trouble, Anthony," you smiled, giggling at how flustered he'd gotten. "I appreciate the concern nonetheless."

He shook his head, still not believing that he'd been so rude toward you. As much as you were a familiar face around his home, he couldn't quite tease you the way he did Daphne or any of his other sisters, and he was dreadfully embarrassed that he had made you upset, even if just for a moment.

"If you ever want to dance again, just come to me, understood?" he said, his voice turning serious. "I don't need another one of you to worry about."

You could barely contain your laughter as the music came to an end. "Yes, Anthony," you said dutifully, smiling at how silly he was being.

Looking over at Daphne, you were pleased to see that everything had gone to plan and she'd had the chance to talk to Lord Wilson the entire time you'd been with her brother. It was a relief that she'd finally gotten a normal courting experience.

Before Anthony could reach her and wrench her away from her suitor, Daphne rushed over to you, grabbing your arm excitedly.

"Shall we take a turn about the ballroom?" she suggested, leaving you no room to protest as she led you away from her mother and brother.

You laughed at her excitement, glad that your best friend was finally enjoying herself.

"Thank you so much, Y/N, truly," she gushed, squeezing your arm affectionately. "That was absolutely incredible. It's the longest time I've been able to spend with a potential match without Anthony hanging over my shoulder."

"I'm happy to do it," you said amusedly. "He was that lovely, then?"

"Oh, absolutely not," she shook her head. "Lord Wilson was dreadfully boring. But at least now I know! And I don't have to pine over him or wonder what he would be like. I know for certain I'm not interested, and I can focus on finding my true love match."

"That's wonderful, Daph," you laughed. You truly held so much affection for her. It was endearing to see her so excited over spending time with a man she didn't even like.

Suddenly, Daphne slowed her pace. Turning you around, she held both of your hands and took a deep breath. "Yes, it was. Which is why I must ask you to dance with Anthony tomorrow night as well."

"What do you mean? Ask him to dance again? I thought this was only for tonight," you sounded unconvinced. Asking her brother to dance one time had already been enough of a hassle, but having to pretend to need him to dance with you once more was looking like an insurmountable challenge.

"Please, Y/N," she begged. "It's the only way I'll find a husband that isn't someone like Nigel Berbrooke," she added, whispering the last part.

It was true, Anthony seemed to have impossibly high standards that only the most unpleasant bachelor in Mayfair seemed to be able to meet. If you could do anything to protect Daphne from that unpleasant fate, you would do it.

"I suppose I could try tomorrow night. Though I can't promise he'll want to dance with me again. Anthony seemed quite reluctant tonight," you conceded.

"Nonsense," said Daphne, rolling her eyes. "Anthony loves you dearly, I can't imagine he'd ever turn you down."

"Whatever you say," you responded, unconvinced but unwilling to dampen your best friend's chipper mood. Besides, you had a wonderful time with Anthony tonight. How could another dance possibly go wrong?

—

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earthtooz · 1 year ago

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jealous ratio because i really like him like that, fluff, reader is a menace

“who gave you those flowers?”

ratio’s voice is demanding and snarky, eyes ablaze with a similar kind of disgust when you walk into your home with a bouquet in your arms. putting your keys on the counter, you greet him with your usual smile and prance over to place a kiss on his scowling expression.

which softens momentarily at the feel of your lips on his skin.

“hi, veritas,” you greet.

“welcome home, love,” he murmurs in return, smiling when looking at you, but the scowl returns when he makes eye contact with the flowers. “who gave you these?”

“aventurine did.”

the world freezes over with ratio’s silent rage and you’re the only one untouched despite being the catalyst. searching for a vase nearby, you’re more than content to let his possessiveness simmer, in fact, it’s something you are used to now.

when you manage to dig up an empty vase from a cabinet nearby, ratio’s footsteps scurry towards you.

“you’re keeping them?” he asks.

“why wouldn’t i? they’re a gift.”

“a gift?

he’s fuming, absolutely fuming now as he watches you fret over the bouquet, trimming the ends, putting water in the bot, arranging them to look nice and lovely, all whilst your lover stared at you hawkishly. you pretend not to notice the way his eye twitches occasionally, allowing him to watch you work.

his mind must be working at a million thoughts per second, so you’ll just let him be until he can talk to you again.

“why did he give you flowers? there must be an occasion that i am unaware of.”

after finishing your final touches, you turn around with all the garbage in your hands and walk past the scholar. he follows. “to say thanks. he recently consulted me for one of his projects and the results were fruitful, so he bought me a bouquet in gratitude.”

pink roses. last time ratio read, they were supposed to symbolise gratitude, the ideal choice to send to someone who has helped you.

“well. if that’s the case then he owes me a planet’s worth of flowers.”

“lighten up, veritas, he was just being friendly.”

“friendly?” he all but snaps.

“yes, friendly. is there an issue with that?”

“that gambler being friendly implies to him being up to no good.” he attaches himself to your hip, hovering over you as you make a mug of coffee. “he is a menace, an undesirable anomaly, a type one error, i advise you keep your interactions with him limited. only one of us should need to deal with his antics so i suppose i’ll have to bite the bullet on this one, darling.”

“you are so brave, my hero. are you done? anymore talk about aventurine and i might just think you’re in love with him.” ratio splutters at your wild accusations, missing the way you smile under your breath. then, you throw your arms around the scholar and he doesn’t return the embrace, still dumbfounded. “i missed you and the first thing you do when i come home is talk about another man.”

he scoffs, lifting you up onto the kitchen counter. there, he rests his hands on either sides of the counter beside you. “your mouth is twice as foul as his.”

“and yet you still love me.”

“marginally.”

“you!”

tomorrow, you return home to a luxurious bouquet of red roses sitting on the kitchen island.

i'm writing this as a pregame to the diluc fic i have in the works.

#earthtooz: honkai star rail #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff

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all-with-angel · 1 month ago

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—Sick day

❥ How they take care of you when you're sick! (And minimizing it)

❥ Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna x gn!reader [separate]

masterlist

“I’m fine,” you rasped. Your throat hurt more than you expected. “It’s just a little fever. ”

Your feet, bare and trembling, stuck to the chill of the linoleum as you stood by the counter. One hand braced against the edge. Everything was hazy, like you were underwater and the air around you didn’t quite know how to sit still. Heat throbbed at the back of your neck, uncomfortably scrawling down your back as sweat clung to your clothes.

Still, you told yourself it wasn’t that bad. It was just a fever. A little dizziness. Maybe the flu.

Nothing a nap couldn’t fix.

"You're obviously not okay." He mused, voice a little tighter than a moment ago. God, as much as you loved his voice, every word felt like another hit to your growing headache.

"I said I'm fine-" You turned around quickly, whipping your head in his direction and snapping out an answer. That was clearly the wrong decision as you felt your vision swim and suddenly you were distantly aware that you were about to be very well acquainted with the cold floor.

❥ SATORU GOJO

Satoru had caught you before you were even so much as close to leaning too far to the right, his mouth uncharacteristically pulled into a frown. One that wasn't just a simple pout.

He watched you closely, every breath and uncomfortable shift was known to his eyes. After a few seconds of him squinting those bright blue eyes at you, he sighed in resignation- Voice returning to its usual chipper tone.

"Alright! To the doctors we go!" He hupped once, and suddenly you were comfortably carried princess-style in his arms. "W-wait, no, 'Toru-"

"A-a-ah, no sweetheart, you will be going to the doctors! And you will get better waaaay sooner, 'kay?" he said lightly, but his voice was quieter now. Almost tired. The kind of quiet you only got when someone cared too much.

Satoru had fought curses that split mountains. He’d squared off with enemies that wanted to level entire cities. He was the Strongest. He was a God on the battlefield.

But right now? Right now, he was just a man holding someone who refused to let themselves be cared for.

You sigh in resignation, convinced by his tone. “Fine.”

The next few hours were a blur, you were given a check-up by a doctor you were sure you saw on a billboard once, given a prescription and tucked into bed with a kiss on the forehead as quickly as you could blink. Don’t get him wrong, Satoru was upset.

You didn’t expect care. That made him fume.

You had learned, over and over, that being sick meant being alone. That weakness was a burden no one else had time for. You’d stitched yourself together so many times, it never even occurred to you to ask someone else to help hold the needle.

But he had time. He would make time.

Even if it meant teleporting back home every other hour to check your temperature (Mildly obsessively, even in his eyes) and carrying you to the bathroom when you gave him a quick text. Which, he had to beg you to do whenever you had to get up for whatever reason. You caved ofcourse, even if asking for it made a strong sense of guilt well up in your stomach, you couldn’t resist those blue puppy dog eyes of his.

“Five-star,” he grinned. “Michelin called me personally.”

You blinked blearily at the bowl and tried to sit up, his hand was already at your back as he set the tray to the bedside table.

“You made this?” You wondered, voice a little bit better than earlier as Satoru had helped you sit up properly. “Mhm! All me baby~ Told you I could do it!”

The bowl of soup wasn’t anything special, but it was warm and smelled pretty good from what little sense of smell you had recovered. “And how’s the kitchen?” You hummed as you took a spoonful.

“Let’s not talk about that.”

All in all? 9/10 care imo, minus a point because the kitchen is a mess and he doesnt like doing the dishes so he buys new pots and pans when he had to wash them

❥ SUGURU GETO

You ofcourse, never hit the floor.

But your body did hit soft, silken robes with firm arms keeping you upright. A gentle and cool hand was at your back, rubbing soothing circles as you struggled to even want to open your eyes. It felt comfortable, and frankly, you could feel your headache getting quieter and quieter, quiet enough to hear the whisper of words Suguru had cooed at you. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

Now, Suguru knew you didn’t like to be fussed over. He knew that you didn’t think you were worth to be fussed over. That much he knew in the short time he had been with you.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for you, he was very patient. And he also loved fussing over you. He liked taking care of you, whisking away your worries and sickness.

Suguru had set you back on the bed, tucking you in and checking your temperature. You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him again you were fine- That you always were, but he silenced the words with a shake of his head and a kiss to your lips. He dismissed your words as if you were a child speaking nonsense, determined to give you the love and care you deserve.

The following days really did continue like that, being coddled and shushed whenever you raised a complaint about him mother-henning you. He shut your little insecurities down, comforting you gently while also supplying some sass and sarcasm here and there. (mommy suguru, anyone?)

All of your complaints will be shushed with a kiss- Much to your horror. Try to push him away? Kiss on your hand. Complain about being a burden? Kiss to your lips. Whine about how he might get sick too because of all this kissing? Kiss attack straight to the face

Don't worry, he's really gentle and soft about it!! Each plant of his lips on any part of you is filled with love and care, his touch cool on your feverishly warm skin.

Miraculously he doesn't get sick at all.

He spoonfeeds you your medication, a glass of water ready by the side to help the bitter taste go down easier. Suguru was very familiar with bad tastes, so he'd rather have you not suffer as much as possible.

He lets the girls ‘help’ too! He has them as his little helpers as he makes you the blandest (the healthiest) breakfast, lunch and dinner for you. He makes sure they keep a distance from you though, careful to make sure that not all three of you get sick.

He loves loves loves giving you baths, double, triple and quadruple checking the water before helping you in it. It's soft, it's gentle how he helps you undress and holds your hand to steady you as you get into the tub. He washes your hair, and it dries softer and silkier than you’ve ever had it. Your skin is clear and by the time you were clear of any fever or sickness, you looked almost better than how you looked before you were sick!

See? You should let him take care of you more often!

10/10 very sweet, you get better in 3 days but he extends the care to a week to make sure you aint getting sick anytime soon lol

❥ KENTO NANAMI

The floor? What's that?? For the entire time you’re sick, your feet barely touched the ground. Nanami had caught you with ease before using those big strong arms and carrying you to the bedroom. To be honest, Nanami was a little scared ever since this morning, he had a sinking gut feeling you were going to collapse with how much you had and will probably continue to push yourself.

When you were back in bad, there was suddenly a bowl of freezing cold water on the bedside and an equally freezing towel on your head. You hissed at the feeling, weakly swatting at Nanami’s forearm. “‘ts too cold,”

“It’ll help with your fever. Bear with me, okay?”

After a bit, he does actually start to scold you. In a simple and straightforward tone, he told you that you had to stop pushing yourself and letting yourself go uncared for. He was here, and he was going to be no matter what. He will take care of you, so please rely on him.

Gives you the gentlest but most refreshing massages when your feet and back get sore from laying around in bed all day. He’s strict about you eating before taking medication, even more strict about the medication.

“I can feed myself,” you rasped.

He raised a brow. “No. You’ll say that and take two bites.”

You groan. “I’m not hungry.”

“Please?” He frowned, eyes full of concern. “Just a few more bites sweetheart.”

Oh and how could you say no to that??? Whenever you tried to argue, the second you opened your mouth, he gave you that look again. The one that told you this wasn’t up for debate. So you let him feed you, slow and careful, letting the warmth settle in your stomach as he patiently waited between each spoonful. He dabbed your mouth with a napkin without a word when some broth dribbled down your chin.

11/10 no notes

❥ TOJI FUSHIGURO

“Hey, hey-” Toji caught you easily, he set you down to the floor gently, but not without a slight thud of urgency. “Talk to me. How many fingers am I holding up?” You squinted, a little annoyed and disoriented but answered anyway.

You were pretty sure your answer was wrong judging by the worried way Toji glanced around the room. You could feel the tension in his body as he picked you up with ease and laid you down on the couch. A firm pillow under your head, his palm pressing to your forehead right after.

Your eyes fluttered half open, too heavy to keep focused. You were expecting a lecture, maybe an annoyed huff, maybe even teasing right out the gate- but what you got was something else. He crouched beside the couch, big hands resting on his knees, and just looked at you. His lips were in a tight line, watching you as if you had all the secrets to the universe. “What do you need?”

You blinked, mentally going through a roster of medication and bland food. But not before slowly shaking your head. “Toji, it’s fine. I can get it myself-”

“Bullshit. You almost collapsed on the kitchen floor. Tell me what you need.”

His eyes were serious, but you could see the genuine concern in them. He wanted to help. He just didn’t know how. “...Paracetamol. And water.”

He stood abruptly and stalked off toward the bathroom. You heard drawers opening, cabinets, the scrape of something across tile. When he returned, it was with a bottle of pills in one hand and a thermometer in the other. He crouched again and held them up like you were the authority here.

“This the right stuff?” he asked. “They all look the same.”

You nodded weakly. He popped the cap and shook out two, hesitating. “Wait- is it one or two?”

Now. Toji isn’t exactly the best at taking care of you during your little sick time, but he's trying his best. You teach him once, and he knows exactly what to do the next time. And he’s actually pretty great at distracting you from any pain or qualms you had with being taken care of. He’s funny, poking fun at you once you're over feeling bad for being sick.

He’s a little bit anxious,especially during the times where he had to touch you. It's like he was scared to make it worse, that you’d shatter like glass if he had so much as poked you wrong. Baths were very gentle, and took quite a while- With Toji’s brows furrowed in concentration as you told him what temperature to keep the water at, and to go gentler or slower while he's cleaning your body.

Yes, he makes a few horny jokes here and there, but it's just that. He’s too focused on taking care of you to actually get horny, believe it or not. The anxiety is fucking up is dick game, it seems.

You get better after a week or so, and Toji collapses and promptly gets sick too. 8/10. A+ for effort.

❥ SUKUNA RYOMEN

You were picked up by the shirt before you could hit the floor. In a blur of movement, you find yourself getting hauled back to the bedroom. You could barely hear Sukuna’s voice in the haze, but his tone was low and demanding. The kind he only ever used in the most serious situations as he’d command Uraume. “They’re sick. Fix it.”

“Yes, my lord.”

You weren’t entirely aware of the transition, but when you surfaced again—half-lucid, throat raw and skin burning- you were no longer on your feet. The silken sheets beneath you, the cool dampness of a cloth on your forehead, and the unfamiliar scent of incense and old stone said as much. You knew this wasn’t your room. You knew those weren’t your own hands caring for you.

You saw Uraume above you, fixing the sheets before noticing your gaze. They quickly backed away and bowed, announcing their departure. You stirred again with a groan and caught a flicker of movement: Sukuna, sitting on a chair a few feet away. Watching you. Always watching you.

You recovered quickly ofcourse, thanks to the help of an entire team of doctors tasked with only one thing, to get you back to normal. If they don’t, Sukuna will have their heads. He didn’t like their hands on you. That much was obvious. His silence was thick with an unvoiced threat. His eyes traced every movement of the stethoscope, every raised syringe, every tremble of your lips as you tried to drink water that someone else held for you. He didn’t interfere. But gods help anyone who failed.

He paced the halls at night, bare feet silent on tatami. His fingers twitched. His chest felt hollow in a way he would never name. He’d drag his claws across the stone walls, scratching lines with quiet violence, teeth gritted. You weren’t supposed to be this breakable. You weren’t supposed to look like this. But he couldn’t fix it, now could he?

His hands were made for destruction, he couldn’t help you. That's why he had others do it. Because he was too scared to even touch you.

One night where you were more lucid than others, when your bones didn’t protest at every movement, you had convinced Sukuna to sit right beside the bed. Close enough where you could lean on him while you sat up. He was eerily still, not daring to breathe as you did so.

You get better in 5 ish days! With no casualties! Yay! 10/10 but im biased

A.N. Can you guys tell who I struggled with </3

#Jujutsu kaisen #Jujutsu Kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk scenarios #jjk drabbles #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #Toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #sukuna x reader #angels drabbles •°. *࿐

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thepigeonhasapen · 9 months ago

Text

Finding Them When They're Trapped: Olympian Edition (NSFWish)

(I promise I'm working on requests but the horny bug bit ok)

🩷Aphrodite🩷

"Oh, darling, I'm afraid something simply tragic has happened. One of my suitors has taken advantage of me and left me like this!"

"...In your own bedchamber?"

Aphrodite waves a hand. As well as she's able to with the short chain connecting it to the bedpost anyway. "Sweetheart, it's sex. We don't need to apply logic to it."

"...I see." You sit next to Aphrodite, admiring the way the restraints draw her body into long, smooth curves. She wriggles in her chains, a deliberate enticement. An enticement too is the way she's looking at you, lashes fluttering and eyes locked sweetly upon your own.

"As I was saying..."

"Yes, yes, a horrible man left you tied to a bed and now I'm here to take advantage of that fact?"

"You do catch on quick, my dear."

⚔️Ares⚔️

Ares does not think this is funny. Unfortunately for Ares it is objectively pretty funny.

He glares at you from the bed, squirming against his chains. "Stop laughing and let me loose."

"I can't believe Aphrodite just left you like this!" You giggle. "I'm pretty sure she just straight up forgot you were here actually."

You can tell Ares is positively fuming about the whole thing. The headboard creaks as he yanks at the cuffs, but all the furniture upon Olympus is far too durable to break that easily. He glares at you once more and then sighs.

"Will you please set me free? I have something I wish to discuss with our dear Aphrodite."

Aphrodite has been so kind as to leave your favorite god naked, and you take advantage of this by resting your hand on his groin. You don't miss the sharp intake of breath when your skin touches his own.

"But it would be such a shame to let you go when I already have you here like this."

"I... be that as it may, I-" Ares's pupils blow wide with lust as you swing onto the bed to straddle his lap.

"Aphrodite isn't going anywhere. And-" You laugh. "Neither are you apparently."

"I suppose... my evening might still be salvageable after all."

🏹Artemis🏹

How embarrassing... to get caught in one of her own traps. Artemis is never going to live this down if anyone finds out about it. Too late for her, though, you've already found out about it.

"It's not funny! I just forgot where I set it, okay? Now let me down so we can both forget this ever happened."

Perhaps Artemis might be more intimidating if she wasn't blushing so fiercely. Oh yeah, and hanging upside-down by her ankle from a tree branch. That too.

"So if you're the prey, what's hunting you then? A deer? A bunny?"

You didn't think it was possible but Artemis blushes even harder. "Yeah, yeah, just get me down."

"Deal... but in exchange for not telling anyone about this, you'll owe me."

If looks could kill, not only would you be dead, you'd have been vaporized from existence. You start to walk away. "Or I guess you could just wait for somebody else to come by... Hermes, maybe?"

It doesn't take long for Artemis to break. "Okay, okay, deal! Now cut me loose before somebody sees."

As you're helping her down, Artemis shoots you another dirty look. "You’re just lucky I've got a soft spot for you."

🦉Athena🦉

One of the last places you expect to find Athena is stuck in a hole in the ground, but here you are. She looks up at you, visibly relieved to catch sight of you.

"Hail, Y/N. It would seem the Lady Artemis is leaving her pit traps strewn about the grounds. Again. I really must have a word with her about it. But first I require your assistance."

"Oh yeah? I hope you're not expecting me to carry you out of that hole." Look, Athena's like twice your size. You love her but it's just not gonna happen.

"No, nothing of the sort. If you could run to Hephaestus's workshop and fetch a ladder..."

You sit down at the edge of the hole, elbows resting on your knees. "I might do that. But to be honest, it's kinda hot seeing you be bested every once in a while."

"I was not bested. This was no battle of wills. This was my foolish half-sister being careless once again."

"Still... you being trapped is kinda doing it for me."

Athena sighs. "If you fetch me a ladder, I swear I will let you tie me up to your heart's content. Do we have an arrangement?"

"Done."

And you can't wait to take her up on that.

❄️Demeter❄️

"I'm going to kill that wretched foster brother of mine. We'll see if he can still throw his precious lightning bolts when he's encased in ice."

You've stumbled across Demeter cuffed to the railing of her balcony. You don't quite know what happened, but Zeus had something to do with it from the sounds of it.

"He told me I ought to get more sun! That it would be good for me! Put a smile on my face! Pah, as if there's anything to smile about upon this blasted mountain."

"Ahem," you say.

Demeter softens. "Ah... my apologies. Of course you give me cause to smile quite often."

"Would it make you smile if you said you looked cute in those cuffs?"

Demeter doesn't look in the slightest bit amused. "It most decidedly would not."

"Ah."

🍇Dionysus🍇

Dionysus had asked you to meet you in his vineyard but how strange, he doesn't seem to be here. Well, since you're here, you may as well look around. As you wander deeper through the plants, you hear rustling and the sounds of someone struggling.

He looks almost sheepish when you find him, half-buried in foliage with rogue vines twined around his limbs.

"Hey, so uh... there may have been a little... incident. Would you mind maybe lending a hand?"

"Don’t you have control over grapevines?"

"...These are special grapevines, yeah?"

And how kind of the vines to splay him out so beautifully. And to let him take off his cape first. And that all of his usual retinue is conveniently absent.

Dionysus shivers when you run a hand down his muscled chest. "And how exactly am I meant to help you if even a god as powerful as you can't set yourself free?" You stop just above where you're certain he wants you to touch him. "Shall I fetch someone to help?"

Dionysus whines when you remove your hand. "You’re such a damn tease, man! Just have your way with me already."

"I'm a tease? I'm not the one who's tied myself up in hopes of being ravaged."

"If you want we can switch places." Dionysus offers playfully.

"Hmm. Maybe later." You think you're gonna pass this up? Not a chance.

🪽Hermes🪽

You didn't expect to find the Messenger of the Gods tangled in a bunch of vines, but to be perfectly fair you're pretty sure he didn't intend for you to find him like that either.

"Oh, hi there, boss. I seem to have encountered a spot of trouble here but don't you worry, I'll be out in a jiffy."

He squirms, trying to free himself, but he's really just making the problem worse. Something he soon figures out when he sighs and looks helplessly at you.

"Don’t suppose you'd care to lend a hand?"

"Haha, oh alright," you manage through your giggles. "Hold on just a moment."

"Kinda can't do anything else," he points out.

You wade into the bushes, reaching for the vines that ensnare his wrist. Unfortunately, there's a bit more of them than you bargained for. One catches on your foot and you go tumbling forward, knocking both you and Hermes to the ground.

"Shit, sorry!"

But Hermes doesn't look as bothered as you thought he would. It's probably because your hand has landed squarely on his groin. You hadn't quite been sure if he was blushing before, but now he most certainly is.

He's not quite looking at you as he says, "You know it would really be a shame for you to let an opportunity like this go to waste, you know."

...He makes a valid point.

🔱Poseidon🔱

"Damn that blasted nephew of mine! I swear when I catch him, I'll- oh hello, dear! Would you mind helping your favorite sea god out of the predicament he's found himself in?"

You laugh. You can't help it; Poseidon looks absolutely ridiculous looking at you upside-down from the floor. Somehow he's ended up wrapped head to toe in chains, his arms pinned behind his back and his legs bound firmly together.

"What happened here?"

"That good for nothing nephew of mine, Hephaestus swore to me that he'd created chains so powerful that nothing could break them! I, of course, had to put such notions to rest. Nothing can overpower the might of the sea! Anyway, I uh..."

"So you let Hephaestus do this to you?"

You've never seen Poseidon look quite so flustered. "I, er... well, we don't need to linger on the past. Why don't you set me free and we can both go out to a nice dinner?"

"Not a chance, sea god." You drop to the floor beside him, greedily taking advantage of a sight you so rarely get to see. The might of Poseidon, bound. And looking quite handsome in his chains if you do say so yourself. "I think I've got a better idea than dinner."

It doesn't take Poseidon but a moment to catch your drift. "Ha! You best take advantage of the moment then because I don't imagine it'll be happening again."

Maybe. Or maybe Hephaestus will let you borrow these chains from time to time...

⚡️Zeus⚡️

It's funny... this situation that you've found Zeus in almost seems... familiar.

"Curses! Damnit... that blasted, darn Hephaestus... and my foul brother. I shall have both their heads for this, I swear..."

"Whatcha doin'?"

You've never seen the King of the Gods blush before. And certainly not so fiercely. "I um... well, I've run into a spot of bother. And it is entirely the fault of that wretched brother of mine. He insisted that these chains were unbreakable. Naturally, I had to show him the error of his ways. None can stand against the power of the heavens!"

Well, apparently being a cocky, arrogant idiot runs in the family. You drop to a crouch beside him, unable to keep the amused grin off your face. "And how's that working out for you?"

"Yes, yes," he huffs, "I can have a sense of humor like any other. You've all had your laugh. Now let me loose."

You reach down and squeeze between his legs, just enough that Zeus's eyes start to go hazy. He won't get mad at you for the imposition; he thinks far too much with his cock for that. "Oh, but I never get to top."

Zeus looks as if he's already having trouble formulating words. "Well... maybe just this once..."

Once? Not if you can help it.

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iluvbuckets · 1 month ago

Note

seeing paige fall at the game today just made me fume on how no one even tried checking if she had a concussion 😓

so could u do like a one shot where r basically throws a whole tantrum over seeing paige on the floor and demanding she gets checked

I BEG

great minds think alike bc i literally started this immediately when i saw the announcement

concussion protocol

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you and paige are teammates on the dallas wings and she takes a hard hit to the head in the second quarter.

warnings: nothing just you having a soft spot for paige

word count: 2.1k

notes: i could make a part 2 if y'all want also i'm not used to getting anon messages i feel so special

read part 2!

✷✷✷

you had been playing for the dallas wings for two years.

this new team had been nicknamed the team of crashouts, with paige bueckers being a mini diana taurasi combined with dijonai carrington and myisha hines-allen. but you had never been the type to argue with a referee, so you were quickly nicknamed the mom. you kept everyone calm while they were having genuine conversations, as paige would call it. of course, if a call was particularly bad, you did talk to the refs, but not in the way they did. and you had always been that way, even since aau basketball.

there were many clips of you coming over to talk to any of your teammates while they were talking to refs, especially paige because she seemed to be doing it the most.

when paige was announced as the number one pick in the draft, you and your team danced around the room in dallas like it wasn’t being live-streamed. you were so excited to get someone as skilled in the sport as paige, and someone who was so kind off the court.

during training camp, she quickly became your favorite teammate. there was a running joke among the team that she was your velcro player because she just always seemed to be where you were without fail, and you pretended to be annoyed by her, but you would never admit that you secretly loved it. having her around was like a breath of fresh air with her sweet, childish energy, especially because she made sure everyone was always having fun at practice.

and you were becoming close off the court as well. during the first week and even throughout the rest of training camp, you could tell she was having a hard time adjusting to being so far from her loved ones. you started inviting her over for dinner a couple of nights a week so she didn’t feel so lonely and honestly, it felt good to have someone who wanted to spend time with you like that.

it had evolved from just dinner, though, to full-on hanging out any chance you got, and everyone knew. the two of you had been caught at the mall, professional sports games, the grocery store, restaurants–all by fans wanting photos. not that you minded, of course, because she was quickly becoming one of your best friends.

so when you finally won in connecticut, you were so happy for her, you thought you could cry. it was the place she had never lost in front of her old teammates that she had missed so badly, so you knew it was a full-circle moment. you definitely weren’t expecting her to ask you to come meet her old teammates, either. when they saw you two walking together, they gave each other looks, but you pretended to ignore them for the sake of your sanity.

leading into the next game against the sky, she was still riding on that high. the last game she had been on fire and she was determined to bring it back to chicago with her.

but things didn’t always go according to plan.

during the second quarter, while running point with courtney vandersloot guarding her, she tried to drive to be able to get the shot (or a good pass, knowing paige). instead, she ended up colliding with sloot and was sent tumbling to the ground. you were standing in the opposite corner waiting for her to go so you could move from your spot. you barely even registered that she had been hit until you saw her stumble. as soon as the whistle blew, you were running to her side, not even waiting to see if she would get right back up.

and she didn’t, she stayed on the ground. her eyes were pinched shut, biting her bottom lip as hard as she could, hands on her forehead, as she tried to will the pain away on the floor. your stomach dropped at the sight.

you placed a hand on her knee, bending over her a little bit. “are you okay?”

she just nodded in response, moving her hands to cover her face, but you weren’t convinced. you glanced over to the bench to see if they were sending any trainers or if coach was coming over, but she reached her hand out for you to help her up, so they didn’t. they can’t come onto the court unless the player can’t get down. still, you helped her up, patting her on the back comfortingly. she blinked a few times, wincing as she did so.

“you need to go get checked out, paige,” you said sternly.

“no, i’m fine,” she argued, shaking her head. you didn’t know if she was shaking her head at you or trying to shake some of the pain away, though. “i can play.”

you threw your hands up at her, clearly angry. “you just hit your head.”

she just shrugged as she turned to walk to her spot for the possession throw-in, getting stopped by sloot on the way to check in.

“paige!” you yelled in frustration. she just shook her head at you and pointed to the baseline, silently telling you to drop it and just throw it in.

you began to walk over to the ref, debating on whether or not there was anything he could do. ultimately, you decided there wasn’t much except give you a technical for arguing like that, so you immediately pivoted to direct your anger to your coach.

“you’re going to let her play?” you practically screamed, watching as his eyes widened slightly, but he attempted to remain calm. he had never been the butt of your emotion before (well, he’d probably never seen it on film either, so this would be a total first).

you couldn’t even stop to think about how to handle it rationally without lashing out, and you didn’t think about the way the announcers would be talking about it either.

uh oh, that’s new. y/l/n seems to be having some words with her coaches after bueckers took that fall.

the arena was quiet enough watching it all go down that the livestream could hear you yelling too, and that would definitely get sent around later, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. a head and neck injury is a serious injury, and you can’t believe that they aren’t treating it as such.

“if she says she’s fine, she’s fine,” coach shrugged, not wanting to make a scene.

“i don’t give a fuck what she says,” you laughed in disbelief. “evaluate her, at least. she just got hit in the head!”

i don’t think we’ve ever seen y/l/n this heated before. i’m surprised there isn’t smoke coming out of her ears.

paige was standing where she was supposed to be, chewing on her lip, watching this all go down. she couldn’t decide if she was embarrassed or feeling giddy seeing you react this way, but she was definitely a little annoyed. she tried to play it off as best as she could so she wouldn’t get taken out and there you were, ruining it.

before you could keep yelling, dijonai was pressing a hand to your stomach to push you away before things got too heated. she gave you an apologetic smile, but didn’t say anything as you walked back to where you were supposed to be. when you were standing on the baseline, you shot paige a glare that she ignored.

you played out the final minute, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how angry you were. at paige for getting up, at your trainers and the refs for not intervening, at your coach for not taking it seriously. you didn’t blame your teammates because honestly, what were they supposed to do?

when the buzzer sounded to signal halftime, you walked straight past your coach as you went into the tunnel back to the locker room. you stood at the bench lining the wall for a few moments, closing your eyes and tipping your head back to try to gain some composure before the rest of the team walked in.

you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt arms wrap around you from behind and a head rest on your shoulder, a ponytail touching the side of your neck.

“i’m okay,” paige’s voice broke the silence. it was soft and quiet, and attempting to be reassuring, but it didn’t help.

you laughed, but not out of amusement. “don’t piss me off.”

“you already are.”

“not at you, but i will be if you don’t get evaluated,” you said.

she let go when she realized you weren’t going to hug her back, sitting on the bench in front of you and staring up at you. you didn’t sit next to her, though. you just crossed your arms and shifted your weight to one foot.

“i just did a quick one,” she replied matter-of-factly. “they said i can still play.”

you rolled your eyes at her words, knowing that meant that you had to just let it go if she was cleared, but you still knew it was a bad idea. your brother played in the nfl, and if that happened to them, they would’ve been immediately pulled from gameplay because symptoms can take 24-48 hours to show. it’s ridiculous that paige didn’t get the same treatment.

“you have a headache?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

she shook her head, but didn’t make eye contact. then opened her mouth to speak, but the rest of the team started filing into the locker room.

for the rest of halftime, you didn’t meet your coach’s eyes as he spoke. you just sat on the bench next to paige, stealing glances every so often to try to catch her wincing in pain so you could plead your case and trying to diffuse your anger.

she doesn’t though, and you’re forced to carry on into the next quarter like usual.

but it wasn’t usual. she was moving slowly, throwing up bad shots, and making lazy passes. all those stupid mistakes that a normal, healthy paige would never dare to make, even by accident.

at some point toward the middle of the third quarter, she bumped into one of the opposing players. the hit wasn’t even hard and a foul was called on someone somewhere else on the floor, but you watched as she reached up to touch her temple where she had been hit and winced.

“paige!” you yelled again, approaching her as everyone went down the floor to throw in on chicago’s side. “what the hell was that?”

she gave you a confused look. “what?”

“you have a fucking headache,” you accused. there was no reason to ask at that point; you could tell. her face constantly looked like she was in pain for the entire quarter and that touch only gave it away. “get the fuck off the court.”

“i’m fine,” she shook her head, running down the court where everyone was waiting.

you marched right over to the bench for the second time that night to give your coach a piece of your mind.

“take her out,” you said, pointing to paige.

“she was cleared,” coach said calmly.

“okay? you want to play around with our best player like that?” you asked, throwing your hands up. still, you jogged back down the court so the game wasn’t delayed anymore and you could avoid a call for that.

the game continues like nothing happened.

toward the end of the quarter, another foul is called on your team. it results in free-throws from chicago. while they are setting up, you use the opportunity to approach paige again.

when she noticed, her eyes widened like she was scared you would yell at her again. you didn’t, though, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders in a hug, making sure your head was on the side she didn’t get hit on. she relaxed in your touch, her hands coming up to rest on your back.

“i’m not mad at you. i’m just worried, okay?” your murmured in her ear, reassuringly. “i want you to get a full evaluation after this game is over.”

she nodded into your shoulder, knowing she didn't have a choice.

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #wcbb x reader

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blackwhitez · 1 month ago

Text

BET YOU ────────୨ৎ

⤿ ALTERNATIVELY ✿ the science nerd fucks you in his dorm ᝰ.ᐟ

⤿ wc: 5k

s. jy × fem . reader

ⓘ cw: smut, academic rivals, literature student : reader, science student : jake, enemies to lovers?, they're literally nerds, unprotected sex, embarrassment, whiny jake, puppy!jake agenda, a lot of it, he's so cute, public-ish sex (not exhibitionism), eating out (fem), overstimulation, teasing, sexual tension. ♡

you always had your own suspicions around him—everyone called him a sweetheart, the golden retriever of the campus, kind to everyone. you thought no one could possibly be this good, but the more he spoke with his beautiful smile and gorgeous flowy hair, the more you believed it. that's until... he went on an uncalled for debate with you over his amazing science major.

you were in the college's conference hall with few elite students and three other professors discussing orientation plans and how to get students into your majors. you volunteered to help, and just so happens the sweetheart jake sim people talk about is here too. it's not a surprise. you see him around often when you participate in college events that bring different majors together. but it's your first time having a one on one talk with him.

"I could write down the history of the big tree planted in the campus' entrance, how it was planted when the first ever female student enrolled in our college." as you spoke, you heard a huff of a laugh. "I don't think new students would care about some history." he tilted his head, and your eyebrow rose.

"that's the issue about your major, it's not interesting enough." he played with the pen he had been fidgeting with for a while. "in science, you could explain the world with clarity poetry can never reach. it's so much deeper than words." he eyed you, eyes challenging and smug. you didn't break the contact, refusing to show weakness. but the more you did the hotter he got blabbing about science. he continued about the gravitational wave lab and the latest discoveries. meanwhile, your blood continued to boil. you have no idea you're fuming because of the insult to your major or of how gorgeous he looks with that stupid sunray casting on him from the hall's window like a paid actor.

the professors and students listened in amusement as you both went back and forth. one professor enjoyed it so much she suggested you two be the hosts for the panel during orientation week. you accepted the opportunity immediately. yes, you do volunteer often, but you're still not at the top of the top. it's perfect to boost your resume and get you noticed. of course, jake accepted the request, too.

when you left the hall, you heard someone whispering next to you. "hey, don't get the wrong idea. I wasn't arguing with you. I'm just that passionate about science." you look up to see him again, closer and ever dazzlingly beautiful. "it's fine. I don't get to defend my major that often, 't was fun." you say, as you continue to walk. "I think professor lee is more convinced over the impact of the science major, though." you internally roll your eyes, you could care less. before you speak again, he goes, "hey! wanna place a bet?"

you look at him. he's smiling so wide, the way you often had glimpses of from far away, but now it's close and... pretty. "who can convince professor lee to publicly endorse their major as more impactful wins the bet." oh, now you're interested. you would, in fact, love that. "and the prize?" you try to hide how amused you sound, but it shows, he grins. "ummm... the winner gets the other person to wear their major's sweater merch for a whole week."

that's so stupid...

but it's fun...

"sure." and that's how it starts. orientation week rolls in, where you both get busy with events and the bet on the line. you'd steal glimpses on what he's doing with his colleagues, and you'd catch him doing the same. the panel goes as heated as it was in the hall last time. this time, the friendly rivalry draws giggles from the students. you would occasionally shake your head, and when you look at him, he flashes you the cutest smile and winks. you had no idea what that meant.

you actually have no idea what most of his actions meant. if it were you, you'd call him a wolf than a golden retriever with the way he randomly gives you those dreamy eyes and raises his eyebrows before he looks away when you all were out handing flyers; with the way he's surrounded by a group of giggly girls most of the time; with the way he bites his lips and brushes his long hair with his fingers. he knows what he's doing.

but precisely, with the way he found you walking alone in a hallway to get more flyers and stopped you there. "I don't think you have to work that hard," you literally roll your eyes this time. "worry about yourself." he steps closer, with a pout. you're kind of taken aback, so you retreat your steps, accidentally cornering yourself between the wall and him. to your surprise, he leans into your ear. "count your days, y/n" his breath tickles you, "you will be wearing my sweater soon"

"my sweater"

he is insane

you hate yourself more by the end of the week, because—he won. of course he did. and here you are hovering your mouse over the college's merchandise shop tap. but most of them are sold out after the orientation week. you hear a kakaotalk ping and look at your phone. it's a new chat.

"can't wait to see you next week ^^"

clicking on the profile tells you who it is, though you guessed from the content of the text. you text him back.

"it's sold out"

"what to do?~ ^^"

you give him the same energy back. you hoped that would make him give up on the dumb bet, but you underestimated the nerd you're talking to. jake would never back down.

"come to my dorm I'll give you mine"

and he sends a cute and teasing sticker. he's annoying... but cutely so. he likes to push your buttons and you hate how much you enjoy it. you admit, being single for a while got you awfully bored. after that first debate and the entirety of orientation week has been the most fun you had for a long while. what could go wrong? you will just go and recieve a sweater.

you grab a jacket to throw it over your camisole and text him that you're coming. the sky was a gorgeous orange as you strolled your way to the boy's dorms. you text him again when you're outside, but he tells you to come to his room. you huff and hesitantly go in. It’s kind of quiet, and the few male students who spot you only took a quick glance and went about their business. you know some female students would invade the boy's dorm to see their boyfriends and vice versa, but something about it still feels weird for you.

you gently knock his door and he opens it in seconds. walking in his room, you can neither call it clean or messy. it's a bit of both. you could tell he tried to throw some clothes that were scattered on his bed into a "tidy" pile next to his closet. but one thing for sure, it smells really nice. not overwhelming at all, smells like fabric softner and faintly of flowers. something you never expected. but if you were to be honest, it still smells heavy of him.

"I have to admit, you did really well this week." you raise your brow in suspect with this sudden gentle tone. "why? is it weird to compliment you?" you nodded, "yes. I'm actually scared." he went to his closet and got his sweater off the hook. "I actually almost called off the bet halfway, because it felt stupid... but every time I saw the sweater it got me thinking of you wearing it." you can't tell if his grin was innocent or with a deeper intent. nevertheless, he looked like a puppy excited for a treat. except, he's holding it out for you.

"wear it, I can't wait till next week." he says, excited. he goes to sit on his desk's chair after handing you the sweater, his sweater paws between his legs, and looks at you with utmost anticipation. if he had a tail, it would be wagging. you swear you can see it. "now?" you look around the tiny proximity of his room. "yes!" you sigh, "fine. well... will you turn around or watch me strip?" he tilts his head, "would you let me?" you almost throw the damned sweater at him but he holds his hands up, "okay, okay."

when he turns his wheeled chair the other side, you make sure he's not stealing glances—you do trust him it's just your own little insecurity—before you take off your jacket and top, fold it aside, and put on the sweater. the smell of the same fabric softer in the air is coming off of it. "okay... I'm done." you fix your hair and straighten the sweater and your shorts.

for a few moments he doesn't say anything, just watches with a blank expression. for some reason, something about it—the whole thing feels extremely illegal, scandalous, hot. you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, being in his territory, wearing his clothes as he watches you. an amusing smile finally breaks his controlled features, his voice shaky "not bad. looks better on you than me."

"well, I'm glad it's washed. I was going to walk out if it smelled like shit." he finally relaxed a little and giggled, blushing. he was blushing. why was he blushing so much? you know he's nervous with the way he can't stop touching his hair and abusing his lips. you wanted to tell him to stop before they start bleeding. "but really, what was the bet for?" you know it was just for fun, but jake knows both of you are busy students and would care less for stupid things like this. so, why did he start a bet out of no where.

"why did you agree?" he asks instead, tilting his head in the same amused way he does, but his eyes were more deliberate, intent. like he wants to get out a secret out of you before he tells his own. "you can't return the same question" you hold your ground. "and why is that," now he's off his chair, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. "is it not literary correct?" he teases. you look away, hiding how his silly teasings gets you worked up.

"I was just curious, because you seem to enjoy it so much." you start to notice the waver in your voice, nerves getting to you, he's getting to you with the way he's standing tall in his room and looking ever handsome in the dimmed lights. the once fresh air feels thick and suffocating. your hands clasp to the hem of the sweater, noticing how they started sweating. even though you liked to take jake lightly and joke with him, you can't deny how actually smart he is and how tactful. you feel like you walked into his trap, but you don't seem to mind it.

he pushes his lip into a pout and raises his shoulders, "I did. but you seem to have enjoyed it too?" he teases again, with a knowing smile. that similar feeling you had in the conference hall is back. where you start to fume for all different reasons. he sees it, and you know he does. the faint dilation of your eyes. he knows his own affect on you. you can see it in the way he grins without his eyes. caught on your own thoughts to form a protest, to find the right words to attack him back, he goes first with soft strides you almost don't notice. before you feel his hand on the side of your face and lips locked fervently onto yours.

very quickly, your world starts spinning. it takes you few seconds to process you're kissing jake. jake the science major nerd. jake the beloved golden retriever of everyone. jake who always looks at you with such intent no one else does. the fumes in your body rush to your face. his lips feel so soft and hot, burning you both. once you respond, instinctively opening up for him, you feel him get more excited. enthusiastic with the way he holds you closer by your waist and slide his tongue over the plush of your lips. he almost suffocates you with his fervor.

placing your hands over his chest and shoulders, you did not know how much you were craving this. craving jake. yes, you've thought of how would it be like if you dated—and it sounded so silly and embarrassing you quickly made yourself forget about it, but you never thought how would it feel to have his plump lips caress yours, how his big warm hands hold your waist, how he would manhandle you and lift you to his bed, how it would feel to straddle him and return his kisses.

hours went by like minutes as you make out on his bed, as he sucks and bites your neck with his hand sneaking under your – his – sweater. your stomach flex, chills running through you at the contact of his soft fingertips caressing your body. you pant next to his head, his hair tickling you. a hot suck on a spot between your collarbone and neck draw a suppressed moan out of you. "jake..." you plea, hips rocking in swift motion onto his. you want him so bad. it's so bad it's driving you insane. you can feel him twitching, you can feel him so hard he keeps whining when you press on it.

"shit... you feel so nice, y/n" he speaks from your shoulder. he looks back for a quick check on you, "never thought I'd get the literature nerd on my lap" he grins his silly, flirty attempt grin he always gives you across campus and on the panel and in hallways. you couldn't hide the little bashful laugh that comes out of you, looking off distance. "what? you're shy now?" he pries for your gaze. "you wish." you trace a finger over his waistband, palm had no choice but to brush over the rising bulge, a noticeable twitch pushes the fabric. you hear him swallow, watching your every little action. "I knew it all along, you're not as innocent as you make yourself seem."

this time, your palm landed gently on his bulge, pressing curiously. this made you realise how much he have been holding back, because the simple touch made him jolt and hiss. you were shocked at first, but now you're the one having a mischievous grin on your face. your hand teasingly rub up and down his clothed cock. you notice, it's bigger than you thought. you squeeze, just a little bit, feeling it out. a guttural moan comes out of jake it makes your insides twitch. shit, you really like hearing him like this.

you sat up on your knees, jake watches you as you slide your shorts and panties off. the science sweater stays on. he gulps once more; how you're half naked with only his sweater on. pulling on his waistband to free him, cock rising and falling it makes you sick. you let him focus on you again, gently kissing his cheek, his soft but sharp jaw, his lips. as you move, his cock slaps the wetness of your exposed clit making you moan and lean into it. gliding on him feels so good you're seeing stars. and he's not even inside yet.

after menacing minutes of drawing whines out of the both of you, your cunt throbbing from the contact, from the smooth and sticky slide over his veins, and over the shroom of his head. he's impossibly hard and aching. translucent plops blooming out and dripping down his length. "fuck, y/n. if you don't ride me already–" he huffs in your neck, holding your hips so hard you think it would leave printed marks. "patience," you would never let him one up you in this game you created.

if he smiled you can't see it, as you align and slowly sit on him. you bite your lip, you did nothing to prepare. you're dripping wet but still a little tight. "fuck." you feel his tip plop in. the more you go down the more dizzy you are and can't take control anymore. you're glad he has his big hand on your lower back and helps you go all the way.

impatient, you start moving before he's all the way in. and fuck he feels amazing. he feels so so good, you think you're gushing wet again. "ahh.. y/n" his lips swollen and wet with your spit, skin flushing red and glistening. he had took off his own top at some point. your hand on his pretty abs as you kiss again and again. his taste is addicting, the way he bites you is addicting. you keep moving, and he keeps getting deeper. you keep tasting heaven every time his shroom tip grazes that spot. "shit, shit, shit, jake!" you're long lost careful with the noise being too loud and travelling the thin walls. anyone passing by would hear that. hell, anyone on the same floor. It’s probably dinner time by now. the sun is setting, and the room is getting dimmer, but both of you are getting hotter.

jake's hand have undone your bra under his sweater long ago, working one tit and mouth bruising a new spot beneath your ear. the pressure of his hand is dizzying. you almost lose your pace on his dick, so he picks it up, starts fucking you relentlessly while hugging your waist you start to see white. you try to focus on him and kiss him again but all you can do is pant and rest your forehead on his.

you're incredibly close you can taste it. "oh, I'm gonna cum." jake breathes. god his sounds turn you on so much. his whines and the way he keeps hitting the spot are throwing you over the edge. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming.." he almost cries. "please." you respond, wanting to feel it. wanting him to paint your walls as you cum too. you're tightening so much it draw moans and whines from the both of you. he's holding you so strong and close, focusing all his willpower into fucking you. "y/n..."

"oh- my god" you feel it, your knees clenching as you cum hard. the waves rip through your stomach to the top of your head. jake is cursing too. you can't tell if he came before or after you—or with you, but he stills for a moment, holding you strong, flush to his chest. he then moves slowly, riding out the high. cold sweat drips down your waist and bare thighs between jake. he stays hugging, face in your neck. your head throbbing and your core too. you take still moments to breath. faint sounds outside brings you back. "oh no... how am I gonna leave like this." you breath, in delirium.

jake finally looks, "you can stay?" he's back to his menacing act. and he still looks fucking hot, if not hotter with sex sweat glistening his face. "yeah, no." you try to hide the simmering blush with a stern tone. you really just fucked one of the elite students of your college, in his own dorm room, in his own major's sweater, shamelessly. looking back to day one at the conference hall, he was giving you this same look, like he'd be more than pleased to devour you.

when the sounds outside subside, you slowly and carefully shift off jake. "i need to go before there's more people around after dinner." you feel jake pouting without you looking as you collect your clothes. logically, he knows you're correct. but emotionally, he's already missing your warmth. he thought he'd get to do some aftercare, kiss you more as if he didn't a thousand times just now, cuddle you, and kiss you more everywhere. but you're already out the door.

the weekend pass by in an odd whim. you're constantly thinking about jake, the back and forth teasings of last week, the sex... his mouth... his smile... just how much he made you feel good. but also, the whole ambiguity around it. you're not dating and you're not friends either? you have no idea what you are and why you kept pushing and pulling each other. so, you just left. like none of that happened. you were so hot and embarrassed you chickened out. he got what he wanted and you got what you want(?) so what's more there to it?

when you meet again at the same conference hall to receive your rewards and few good words from your assigned professor. you try your best to act normal, though you can't help yourself checking on him every time the professor is speaking to him and the focus is not on you anymore. he seems normal. in his usual clean and professional, yet casual attire. did he get a haircut? his hair still looks long and curling at the ends but tidy. that's until your eyes meet. he looks a little worried, but there's also the glint of desire.

the professor makes a joke that you both look like the perfect pair and whispers, questioning if you're not dating already. you both just giggle and kindly deny the rumor, it probably became a topic among the professors who seen your debates. you and jake... together... he is cute. he'd make the loveliest boyfriend. it honestly would be funny if a perfect literature girl dated an elite science guy. you just know it would be a hot topic that would keep students amused until you both graduate. after the short meeting and exchange of empty future plans you both just nod off to and suggest empty promises, you two exist and to your surprise, a hand hooks onto yours and you're dragged into the nearest secluded class.

jake doesn't even bother to turn on the light, the sun coming in through the windows is enough. "everything's okay? did I do anything wrong?" you feel the worry dripping from his voice. like it's been killing him the entire weekend. he's so close, like he wants to be assured so bad. he really thought he did something wrong? when you were the one that ran out?

you soften, touching his cheek carefully. hesitant. "no, jake. you did nothing wrong." he literally melts, leaning into your touch like an obedient pup. he's a tall and huge guy. and yet, your simple touch affects him this much. you hate and love how much he affects you, how much your heart is throbbing inside your chest when he's looking at you like this.

it happens out of habit, a new habit you formed for him, you hook your hand through the back of his hair and the other arm over his shoulder and kiss him for all the wait you put him through. he moans.

that's how much he craved you through the weekend. but his kisses are gentle, yet passionate enough to tell you "I still want you and I will continue to". you can never get used to how good his mouth feels and tastes. it's always so plush and full of spit. bigger than yours, he almost devours you—and he does. in few minutes, his hand worked the buttons of your polo sweater, his mouth tasting your chest, trailing kisses to your ribcage and stomach. he kisses it with so much love it makes you melt. his hands hooked to your thighs, riding up under your skirt. you gasp when his hand grip your ass at the same time he's sucking a spot on your hip. he's going to be the end of you.

the next thing you know, your panties are down and jake taking his time placing kisses to your inner thigh. he watches you drip with wetness caused by him like it amuses him. the way he looks up at you drives you insane. "been thinking about you" he says, holding your leg up to get closer to your cunt. trailing his hot mouth in the direction where you want him to go. "wanted to taste you" and that's the last thing he whispers before he gives in to his need for you. his mouth latches openly on your core you literally wail and shake. "jake!"

his tongue flicks between your folds and he looks drunk how much he's enjoying the taste. he looks hungry. "oh my god," your hand goes from holding the wall behind you to one shotting out to thread through his hair since you can't stop yourself from moving to his face. he doesn't seem to mind any of it. he looks up at you, underneath his now messy bangs like he's telling you to go ahead and use him.

feels weird

you want to say, but the sensation is taking over you. It’s your first time getting eaten out and you didn't imagine you'd recieve it standing like this. with nothing but a wall for support. you want to push him, but you also like it. it feels really good. so good your thighs almost suffocating him. but he doesn't look like he'd care to lose his breath with him going in, nose deep, slippery sounds coming out, and you feel him drooling so much it's running down his chin.

to your surprise, long fingers slide in—you're assuming two—and curl making you hold in a scream. "I'm gonna cum, jake. I ca–" you were reaching your high when he suddenly started sucking hard. you felt like you were exploding into several fireworks, covering your mouth not to make the same mistake again. although you know, it’s probably too late by now. he licks and sucks you through it, you start begging him to stop. when he does, he gently puts down your leg and licks whatever remnants of spit and your cum on his mouth. he still looks like he wants more, eyes heavy and dilating when he gets up. but the way he kisses you is soft and gentle.

you feel him working something down with his free hand and then his bare cock rubbing on you. he must have been aching so much in his pants. you let him have his way with you, hand back into his hair soothing him through it. he sucks down your neck, as he's pounding and writhing against you like a horny dog. "god. I can't believe how you make me feel, y/n..." the head of his cock keeps poking, before he finally hold it and forces himself in with the most satisfying slide you suddenly want to cum again. you tentatively hold your knee up to make it easier for him and hook it around him. "keep talking to me like this and I'd think you really want me."

"what if I do, y/n?" you hear him pant to your ear, hips never stopping. "what if I actually... really... love you." your insides churn at that, eyelids fluttering. "bullshit." you had enough experience you know most of them throw this word around whenever. but jake, he was patient. he didn't get into your pants until he knew you wanted him too. you have no idea why you're trying to deny how his looks are different, his touch is different.

his thrusts halts for seconds. he slides out and you think it's over, it's done. but he's twisting you to face the wall and holds your hips out for him. you gulp, he's sliding in again to fuck you from behind. he rests his chin on your shoulder as he holds you in place. he's always close, like he never wants to be a sentimeter away from you. "you... you seem to not trust me yet. let me show you" moans escape you, he's so so deep. you don't think he got this deep last time. you want to say something back, have the last word, always, and it’s like he knows you do so he's going harder. his body is pushing you it’s making you one with the wall.

"jake. fuck, fuck, fuckkk." his free hand that was on your stomach, goes down to rub your dripping clit and you patently scream to the wall tilting your hips. his other hand somehow lift your bra, cupping your tit and squeezing your nip. you feel him everywhere it's dizzying. the sight of his veiny arm and fingers working your core as he keeps rutting into make you see the heavens gate.

his little whines next to your face is the cherry on top. he whines like an injured puppy it makes you want to cry. who knew he sounded this beautiful high with pleasure. is this how much he wants you? you want to tell him you wanted him too, you craved him too. but you can't help but whine it out, just like him.

it's coming, achingly close your knees joining together. the sensation of his hot fingers rapidly working you, his dick pushing all the way you feel it in your stomach, the warm hand and faint squeezes on your tit. "jake..." he's getting hold of every part of you deep inside until you explode. it arrives in waves, you don't know how many. just when you think it stopped, you're losing it again. in the midst of it, comes jake's mantra, "I'm coming, I'm coming..." you never heard such a melodic voice. you're seeing a pattern—he likes to announce his coming over and over. he stills deep in your cervix, gushing white ropes. you wince and whine, jake is pushing you further to the wall until there's really no space. his hand on your stomach.

there's a wet, droopy kiss on your neck. it sends chills, even after everything that had happened. the kiss lingers as he mutters into it under his breath. "I want you." he say, with demand. as if he didn't just had his way with you. but you understand it as in, "I want to continue this" he makes you chuckle a little bit—he doesn't know it yet but he's a romantic himself. you will tell him later.

♥︎ : @srehyaps

#goodness that was my first smut in a WHILE #hehe hope you enjoy #enhypen smut #enha hard hours #enha hard thoughts #sim jaeyun smut #sim jake smut #jake hard thoughts #nerd jake #nerd reader #academic rivals #enha smut

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