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imaginespazzi · 2 days ago

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Our Merry Eternity

And she swears that every Christmas season, it feels like they fall deeper and deeper in love with each other.

(In which a writer would like to argue that a day after Christmas, is a perfectly reasonable time to release a Christmas fic)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, fluff, fluff with some hurt/comfort and angst if you squint

Words: 9.4K (if I could write things shorter maybe y'all would get things faster but alas)

TW: Implied sexual content/suggestive content, mentions of divorce, mentions of injuries, swearing

A/N: MERRY (one day after) CHRISTMAS MY LOVIES <3 It seems like everyone wanted domestic fluff and who am I to deny the people what they want (even if it is a little later than I intended it to be) and I didn't realize how much I missed eternity-verse till I wrote this. I'mma keep this short and sweet and go through the basics. Such as the fact that I did not edit. I eventually will but for now, feel free to let me know about any grammar/spelling/formatting issues. And even though I haven't had the time to go through my inbox in a hot second, I promise I will soon so as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a lovely rest of your holidays my angels <3

It’s beginning (to look a lot like Christmas)

Paige isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas; she doesn’t dislike it by any means but she’s never understood the fascination everyone else seems to have with it. Perhaps it’s because when she was younger, Christmas had been her parents’ favorite holiday to try and one-up each other. They’d competed in everything, from how big the tree was to how evenly spread the icing on the cookies were. Eventually the excitement of getting a big expensive present from one parent that would only be rivaled by an even bigger, more expensive present from the other wore off and all that was left was this hollow feeling of being torn in two. Her parents have matured now -no longer in a constant battle for her approval now that they had other kids to focus on as well- but the magic of Christmas had long worn off and Paige hadn’t bothered trying to rediscover it.

Until now.

Because right now, watching -through a facetime call that’s been running for almost four hours now- Azzi run around Walmart, searching for decorations and presents with her exasperated family in tow, almost feels a little magical. The way the younger girl’s eyes twinkle when she finds the perfect gift, the way her dimples deepen when she triumphantly wins an argument against her mother for an ornament her tree needs, makes Paige think that it would be so easy to fall in love with Christmas, if she got to spend it with Azzi.

And it’s like Azzi’s reading her mind because suddenly the younger girl’s face is filling all of Paige’s screen as she holds the phone close to her face, lips pouting in a way that has the blonde feelings decidedly unfriendly feelings toward a girl she’s barely known for six months, but feels like a best friend she’s known all her life.

“I wish we could spend Christmas together,” Azzi says with a slight whine, “and then you could help me with all of this. They’re absolutely no help-” her last sentence is cut off by her family and Paige laughs as the Fudds break out into a series of indignant protests.

“Oh so you just want me for manual labor or something huh?” Paige teases, leaning back against her bed and folding her arms across her chest, “and here I thought it’s cause you missed me.”

“I do miss you,” Azzi says matter-of-factly.

“Nah,” Paige shakes her head, “sounds like you just need another person to slave around for you.”

Azzi's mouth falls open at the accusation as the Fudds break into laughter behind her, the sound of it making something impossibly warm bloom in Paige’s chest.

“I do not make people slave around for me.”

“Yeah you do. You’re the princess. You order us around and we do as we’re told.”

“Here, here-ow!” Jon’s noise of agreement is cut off by his sister elbowing him in the stomach, “do all that work and get rewarded by violence too.”

“I tell you I miss you and this is how you repay me?” Azzi asks, her voice tinged with drama.

“Nah I still don’t believe you miss me,” it’s a lie; Paige is fully aware Azzi misses her -thinks that the younger girl has to feel at least a semblance of the emptiness she feels herself at the distance between them- but she likes making Azzi repeat it; likes the constant confirmation that Azzi misses her too.

“Of course I miss you P, after all,” Azzi’s eyes glint with mischief, “we’re engaged aren’t we? A girl’s gotta miss her fiancé.”

The cavalier use of the tone of endearment makes Paige freeze. It’s a joke; a callback to the fact that Paige had practically threatened Azzi that she’d have to marry her if the younger girl won their little pop-a-shot competition last summer at the Minnesota State fair. Paige hadn’t been thinking, it had just slipped out but then Azzi had won the game and then there were rings being exchanged and somehow the whole thing had become one big running joke between the two of them. Except, the idea of forever with Azzi doesn’t feel much like a joke to Paige. It feels like a wish, a hope, a want, a need something she’s not quite ready to admit to herself yet.

“I miss you too Az,” Paige says softly as they grin at each other through the phone, “can’t wait to see my best friend soon.”

Thirteen days to be exact -they’d planned to spend the last half of winter break together- but it’s not like Paige is crossing the days off of her calendar or anything.

“Fiancé,” Azzi corrects and Paige’s heart flutters despite her brain trying to remind her that this is just a bit they’re playing at.

“Right, so fiancé,” the word tastes like sugar cookies and marshmallows on the tip of her tongue, “you get my present yet?”

“You know I have and before you ask,” Azzi gives her a knowing look when Paige excitedly opens her mouth, “no I won’t give you a hint about what it is.”

“But Azziiiiiii-”

“Absolutely not Paige,” Azzi says firmly, “presents are meant to be surprises.”

“Aren’t fiancés meant to tell each other everything?” Paige scrunches her nose.

“Not this. Christmas presents are a sacred secret,” the younger girl replies gravely.

“And who made you an expert on all things Christmas presents?”

“Santa did,” Azzi retorts haughtily.

Paige snorts, “well Santa doesn’t ex-”

“PAIGE MADISON BUECKERS,” Azzi yells and the blonde can tell by the way she winces immediately that the younger girl’s little outburst had gotten her more than a couple of wary looks, “Paige Madison Bueckers,” she hisses again, her voice much quieter this time, “you take that back right now!”

“Az-”

“Take it back!”

“Bro you’re fifteen years old,” Paige argues.

“Believing has no age,” Azzi hums airily, “now take it back.”

“Nope!”

“Take it back or I’ll end our engagement,” Azzi threatens and Paige blanches at ultimatum.

“You wouldn’t,” she gasps.

“Try me.”

Paige is sixteen and she’s only really just started to learn what love is, but she thinks, as she sits on her bed bickering on facetime over the most ridiculous of topics with a girl who makes her feel things she’s never felt before, that maybe love is just something as simple and crazy as pretending admitting Santa is real so she can prevent her fake engagement, that’s almost beginning to feel a little much like a real promise, from being called off.

2. With you (under the mistletoe)

The truth is that neither of them quite remember what started the fight or even really why it had continued after. All they know is that one minute everything had been fine and then the next minute, they were fuming at each other and their plane ride back to the DMV for Christmas had passed in uncharacteristic silence. They'd parted ways at the airport -glumly sauntering over to their waiting families while decidedly avoiding looking over in each other’s directions- with a dreadful mixture of regret, guilt and the feeling of missing each other. But despite the fact that they were both clearly miserable, Paige and Azzi were both too stubborn and too eager to prove which one of them could be more stubborn. This was their first true fight after they’d gotten together earlier this year, and they were both adamant that the other one would apologize first.

But Azzi can feel the urge to cave in grow stronger and stronger by the minute as she feels Paige’s body against her own as the blonde reaches over the younger girl to grab something from the shelf. The contact is unnecessary and she knows Paige is doing it on purpose, trying to get a reaction and it takes every inch of self-control Azzi has to not shiver as the older girl presses herself against her back, acting like whatever she’s grabbing isn’t right at the front of the shelf. Azzi tries to focus on the cookies she’s icing, tries to keep her hands still as she traces the outline of a star in royal icing, tries to do anything but focus on the way Paige’s warm breath is tickling against the back of her neck.

It’s two days till Christmas and the Fudd family and friends have gathered to do their annual cookie baking and decorating tradition. And Katie had been clear that no matter what issues Paige and Azzi were having, they wouldn’t interfere with the open invitation that Paige had always had -since she’d moved to the DMV but even before that really- to join them throughout the Christmas festivities. Azzi had pretended to be a little miffed by it but secretly she’d been hoping that her girlfriend -god she still got such a thrill out of being able to call her that- would show up. They’d only really been apart for a day, but since they’d met, Paige and Azzi hadn’t gone often without talking to each other -whether it was in person or through text or on the phone- and so 24 hours had felt a little bit like 24 years and Azzi had spent every second missing the girl who’d long since become a part of her soul. And even though Paige had grunted about only being here for Drew’s sake, Azzi knows -by the way the blonde’s eyes had drunk in the sight of her when she’d let her into the house, by the way her stiff shoulders had relaxed just by being near her again- that Paige had missed her just as much.

But neither of them are quite ready to admit it yet, and so, as they bustle around the confined space of the Fudd’s kitchen, Paige continues to find ways to light Azzi’s skin on fire and Azzi continues to pretend it isn’t making her burn with want.

“Noooooooo,” a drawled out whine from the kitchen table has Azzi and Paige jumping away from each other as they both turn to look at Drew.

Azzi’s eyes widen and Paige bursts into laughter as they take in the scene in front of them. Clearly the little boy had overestimated his strength and the piping bag had burst and now Drew stands by the table, his lips slightly parted in shock, as the red icing -originally intended for the Santa hat cookies- drips down the front of his shirt. Jon and José are doubled down in their chairs, tears practically streaming down their faces as the sound of their laughter echoes through the walls.

“Oh my god,” Paige manages to get out between her giggles, “what did you do Drewskie.”

“Nothing,” her little brother immediately defends himself, “it literally burst out of nowhere.”

“Sure it did little Hulk, sure it did,” José teases as he swipes his finger over Drew’s ruined shirt and then licks the icing off of it, the casualness of it causing Jon and Paige to burst into another round of laughter while Azzi tries as hard as she can to keep her own giggles contained but a smile slips through the cracks.

“It’s not funny,” Drew stomps his feet petulantly, “I’m all sticky and icky and gross. Azzi,” he looks at the brunette with imploring eyes, “tell them to stop- OH MY GOD ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME TOO.”

Azzi's eyes widen as she tries to protest, “no of course not. C’mon let’s get you a new-”

But before she can put her plan into action, clearly Drew has a different idea and before Azzi can stop it from happening, the little boy is grabbing another piping bag -this one with green icing- and aiming it straight at Jose. There’s a split second of silence as the green icing arcs through the air, almost in slow motion, before landing with a splat on Jose’s newly bought t-shirt. And then the room bursts into chaos as Drew immediately dives behind Azzi’s legs, Paige and Jon continue to lose their minds laughing and José lets out a loud scream.

“WHAT THE FU-”

“José language,” both Paige and Azzi reprimand immediately and José glares at them but corrects himself anyways.

“What the fudge dude,” José scowls at Drew, “this is a brand new shirt.”

For his part, the little boy shrugs, “I thought you liked eating icing off of shirts. I figured I’d make it easier and let you eat it off of your own shirt.

If it’s possible this somehow makes Jon and Paige laugh harder and instead of focusing his wrath on Drew who’s still nestled behind Azzi’s legs, José turns on the two of them instead.

“You guys think this is SO funny don’t you,” he says menacingly, grabbing for two more piping bags.

“José no,” Paige is the first one to recover as she tries to turn away from the mess but it’s too late, and just as she’s trying to bolt out the door, she’s stopped by a glob of pink icing landing with a splat on the back of her plain white shirt.

“Oh you’re so dead,” Paige whispers angrily as she turns around, grabbing another bag of icing and aiming it directly at José’s face.

And then there’s no stopping anyone as Azzi watches as all the beautiful icing she’d painstakingly made and dyed into different colors begins to be thrown all over the kitchen, a rainbow painting itself all over the walls and floors. Drew darts out from behind her legs, joining into the mayhem as he starts to pelt Jon with all sorts of colors.

Seeing them all distracted and knowing it’s only a matter of time before she gets sucked into all of it, Azzi slowly tiptoes backwards, wanting nothing to do with the mess, and she’s just about to turn around and run up the stairs when a low voice echoes behind her.

“And where do you think you’re going,” because of course Paige had noticed her trying to escape; Paige always noticed when it came to Azzi.

“Paige,” Azzi warns slowly, trying to move away from the other girl, her eyes fixated on the purple icing in the blonde’s hands, “please.”

Paige smirks as she takes another step towards Azzi, “this is a little unfair isn’t it?”

“Hey I didn’t start any of this,” Azzi puts her hands up in surrender, choosing to back away from the stairs and towards the living room instead, “go fight the people who did.”

Paige shakes her head as she takes another step, “I already got ‘em all. Amateurs,” she says cockily, “they think they can beat me in a food fight.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “is there anything you’re not arrogant about?”

“Can’t help that I’m good at everything,” Paige shrugs and Azzi’s about to come up with a snarky retort when the blonde’s eyes soften, “except I guess- I guess I’m not too great at apologizing.”

Gone is the air of overconfidence that had surrounded the older girl just a second before and in her place is that soft, vulnerable Paige that Azzi is so desperately in love with and she can’t help but take a step towards the blonde.

“We should both probably apologize huh,” she says quietly, “think we both said some petty shit we didn’t mean.”

It’s true; they’d known each other so long and so deeply that they knew exactly how to push each other’s buttons, how to say the exact wrong thing to rile each other up when they were frustrated. The fight had been inevitable; an explosion of all the angst that existed between two athletes who were both fighting injuries and watching their team struggle without them. It had started with something little that Azzi can’t quite remember but then they were yelling about other things -Paige’s grievances about how Azzi had an irritating habit of hovering and Azzi’s issues with Paige’s tendency to close herself off- and it had ended with both of them near tears as they’d frustratedly stomped into their rooms.

“I’m sorry,” Paige says it first, as she loops her arm around Azzi’s waist, bringing the younger girl as close to her as she can, “I love you. I miss you.”

Azzi smiles, her hands finding their rightful place around Paige’s neck, not caring that the other girl is still covered in sticky icing, “don’t gotta miss me baby. I’m right here,” she says softly, resting her forehead against the blonde’s, “I’m sorry too. I love you so much.”

“Look up,” Paige says softly, as she strokes Azzi’s cheek and the younger girl does as she’s told, laughing when she notices the mistletoe hanging above them.

“Kissing under the mistletoe? You’re so cliché Bueckers.”

“Clichés are clichés for a reason Az,” Paige hums faintly before she’s pulling Azzi into a searing kiss, holding her as tightly as she physically can.

And yet Azzi still finds a way to tug her closer, trying to find a way to meld their bodies into one as she presses herself as close to Paige as possible. She’s just about to suggest they take this upstairs -because god has she missed being with Paige- when instead she feels the older girl pull away and before she can even react, she’s being hit in the face with a stream of bright purple icing.

“PAIGE WHAT THE FUCK,”

“Sorry baby. Just couldn’t help myself,” Paige grins as she steps back into Azzi’s space, gently attaching her lips to Azzi’s cheeks as her tongue languidly licks away at the icing and this time the younger girl doesn’t even try to hide the way her body reacts to it, “I promise I’ll clean you up though.”

3. I’ll be home (for Christmas)

“I’m good I swear,” Azzi’s voice is raw and hoarse like it often gets when she’s been crying and despite the younger girl’s best efforts to put on a brave front, Paige can hear right through it.

She cocks an eyebrow, shifting from her back onto her elbows and placing her phone -with the facetime call- against the headboard, “then why won’t you let me see your face?”

“It’s not me. Something’s up with my camera. I don’t know what,” and if it was anyone else, even someone else who also knew that Azzi had literally just gotten a new phone, maybe the attempted sincerity in the brunette’s voice would be enough to convince them that she was telling the truth.

But Paige has every line of the Azzi Fudd façade memorized, knows exactly how to discern the little cadences in her girlfriend’s voice and read between the lines. She knows Azzi’s purposely refusing to show her face; knows that it’s probably because it would take Paige one glance at said beautiful, gorgeous, stunning face to know that there had been tears running down it just a little bit ago.

The blonde sighs, choosing to let the lie go and instead focus on the precious few minutes she’s got to speak to her girlfriend in peace. This is the first time Paige and Azzi have truly been apart for an extended amount of time since the latter had gotten to UConn and somehow the past few weeks have felt worse than when they’d spent months and months apart. With Paige trying to lead an injury-riddled team and Azzi rehabbing another torn ACL, the opportunities to indulge in a proper facetimes call had been few and far between. And when they did finally find the team, it wasn’t just that they were physically tired; they were both emotionally drained too. It was hard recharging when their batteries -each other- were so far away and every call felt hollow; like something was missing.

“I miss you,” Paige says finally, feet digging into her bed as she musters up a soft smile, wishing that she could see Azzi return it with one of her own instead of staring at a black screen with only her own face in the corner.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” the younger girl says lightly and something uncomfortable churns in Paige’s stomach.

“You uh- you haven’t said it back in a while,” she says slowly, trying to keep her voice casual.

“Said what?”

Paige gulps, “that you miss me,” she gives Azzi a second to respond before her nerves have her speaking a mile per minute, “I mean not that you- not that you have to say it back or anything it’s just- you usually do- or like you always did and you just- you just haven’t said it back. And I mean I don’t say I miss you just so you’ll say it back or anything. I mean I do- you know- miss you and so that why I say it- because- because I miss you- I miss you so fucking much baby and I just- I just want you to know that but you haven’t- you haven’t said it back in a little bit and I just- Azzi,” her voice cracks as she tries not to let the tears slip through, “you do miss me don’t you?”

The other girl is quiet for so long that Paige thinks maybe she’s said too much; her mind rushes to the worst possibilities because what if Azzi really doesn’t miss her? What if her insecurities are right and the time apart has made Azzi realize that she wants something other than Paige?

“Of course I miss you Paige,” Azzi’s voice is thick with tears and all of Paige’s previous fears are replaced with worry instead, “god baby I miss you so fucking much. I miss you all the time and I’m sorry, fuck Paige, I’m sorry if I ever made you think I didn’t but baby- I-,” she’s heaving through her tears and Paige wishes she was with her; wishes she could wipe away her tears and hold her forever.

“Azzi-”

“I haven’t been saying it back because- because-” Azzi pushes on, still struggling to speak but determined to say her piece, “I can’t okay? I can’t keep saying it Paige- I can’t keep telling you I miss you and hearing that you miss me when we can’t do anything about it. And I get it- okay- I get it. I get that you have to be with the team and I have to be here and do my rehab and we can’t- we can’t be together right but fuck- I hate it. I hate it so much.”

“Azzi,” Paige says again helplessly.

She hates it too; hates that it’s so close to Christmas, so close to Azzi’s favorite holiday and her girlfriend is sobbing.

“Shit. I’m being a terrible girlfriend aren’t I? You have a game in a couple of hours and here I am being a fucking selfish wet wipe instead of wishing you luck. Fucking hell,” Azzi curses and Paige can picture her frantically pulling herself together as she tries to change her tone.

“You could never be a terrible girlfriend,” Paige reassures softly.

Azzi ignores her, “besides, we’ll see each other soon right? You’re gonna fly home from Toronto to Connecticut tomorrow and then come home to me after right? Just a couple more days,” and it sounds like she’s saying it more to herself than Paige, “just a few more days- few more hours really. We can do this.”

“Yeah,” Paige agrees but she can’t help but feel like even that’s too long and there’s a plan starting to form in her mind; a good use of all that NIL money she’s been earning.

“I love you P,” Azzi says softly, and despite the heaviness from before, Paige can hear the smile in her voice, “see you soon baby.”

“I love you too Az. I’ll be home soon,” Paige replies, a large grin settling onto her face as she gets ready to bring her idea to fruition; knowing that for now, their soons don’t quite mean the same thing.

***

Azzi thinks her parents and brother must have the patience of a saint. She’s acutely aware that she’s been a miserable grinch to be around; either ignoring them or answering them with tight one-word sentences. Since she’d come down to Virginia for her rehab, she’s kept herself holed down in her room, only coming out when absolutely necessary. The worst part of it, is that it’s her favorite time of the year and Azzi’s barely participated in all the little Christmas traditions -half of which had really been created by her- that she’d normally be excited to indulge in.

She sighs, burrowing herself further into her pillows to block out the chatter of her family upstairs. In a couple of minutes, she’s sure one of them will come rushing downstairs, pleading for her to come join them as they make Christmas themed pancakes. And she’ll refuse -just as she has with every other fun little activity- and all though whoever’s been tasked with getting her out of her cave will persist a little longer, eventually they’ll give up, that awful look, tinged in both disappointment and pity, on their face as they go back upstairs with a promise to bring her a plate in a little bit. It’s a terrible routine that’s been on rinse and repeat and Azzi thinks she’d really like to break herself out of it, but it feels like she’s drowning in it instead, and there’s not a lifeboat in sight to pull her out of her misery.

Turning on her side, Azzi reaches for her phone, flipping to Paige’s contact and her heart aches from their last conversation last night. God she’d been so selfish, venting like that knowing her girlfriend had a game in a couple of hours; knowing how stressful each game -no matter how easy the opponent- was with an injury-riddled team. But Paige had sounded so miserable when asking if Azzi still missed her that in a way it had been infectious and suddenly Azzi found herself letting her own hurt waterfall out of her lips.

She scrunches her nose, eyebrows crinkling in confusion when she realizes that the last text she’d sent Paige before going to sleep -a simple you did really good today baby, i’m proud of you right after the game- had gone unanswered. Azzi frowns, looking down at her phone as if her staring harder at it might just conjure up a message from her girlfriend. She’d fallen asleep almost right after sending it and it was unlike Paige to not have answered her by the time she woke up. Azzi rattles her brain, trying to remember if the blonde had mentioned any other plans -beyond a dinner with Aaliyah’s parents that wouldn’t have kept her from her phone- but she can’t remember anything. Briefly glancing at the time and knowing that Paige’s flight to Connectcut wasn’t supposed to leave for at least another three hours, Azzi hastily texts her girlfriend again, crossing her fingers behind her back in anticipation of a quick reply.

Good morning Paigey <3

She gives it exactly three minutes, stomach churning when she doesn’t get a reply.

I miss you baby.

Another four minutes and still no reply and Azzi starts to feel her head getting heavy with that familiar weight of over thinking. What if she’d overstepped last night? What if it was too much? What if Paige had decided that she couldn’t deal with Azzi and her crap anymore?

She can hear someone starting to hurry down the steps, the quickness making her think it’s probably one of her brother’s who’s been tasked with getting her out of her room this time. But Azzi keeps her focus on her phone, ready to reject whatever offer is about to be made. The door creaks open and she doesn’t look up, typing another message instead.

I love you Paige.

“I love you too Azzi.”

Azzi freezes at the sound of the oh so familiar voice, her gaze moving from her phone to the doorway in slow-motion. She blinks in disbelief, mouth falling open as she stares at the figure in her doorway, taking in the sight of a disheveled blonde ponytail, the custom UConn sweats draped on a body that’s radiating exhaustion but more than anything her eyes fixates on that smile, the one that’s always been just for her.

“Paige,” she breathes out slowly, almost as if she’s scared that saying it will make the girl in front of her disappear like a dream.

“Hi baby,” Paige says softly, casually pointing to her phone, “I got your message.”

“You’re here,” Azzi chokes out and then, louder, “you’re here oh my god, you’re really here,” she repeats, rushing to get out of bed, desperate to wrap her arms around Paige, to hold her and be held in return.

“Hey, hey, hey wait baby careful,” Paige chides, her focus immediately on Azzi’s knee, “stay where you are-”

“What? Why?” Azzi pouts and that elicits a little laugh from Paige as she walks over to the brunette.

“Because,” the older girl says quietly, as she crawls onto the bed and pulls Azzi onto her lap so the younger girl is straddling Paige’s hips, “I’m here.”

Azzi looks at her in awe, hand tracing the curves of Paige’s face like she still can’t quite believe this is real, “yeah,” she whispers, “you’re here.”

And then she’s kissing every inch of Paige’s skin that she can, memorizing the way it feels soft and smooth under her lips, trying to make up for all the lost time of the past few weeks and perhaps even for when she knows they’ll inevitably have to be separated again. Paige’s grip on her waist is tight, fingers gripping her like they’re scared to let go as she shivers under Azzi’s featherlight touch.

“I’m here,” Paige repeats again before she guides Azzi’s lips onto her own into a feverish kiss that has both of them letting out a long-kept sigh of relief.

It starts off innocent enough, the two of them savoring the moment, savoring the feeling of finally being in each other’s arms. But then Paige’s tongue is licking into Azzi’s mouth and the younger girl is grinding her hips in the way she knows will drive the blonde a little insane as Paige’s own hands find themselves roaming underneath Azzi’s pajama shirt, rubbing circles dangerously close to the edge of her sleep shorts.

“Missed you- missed you so fucking much,” Azzi babbles as Paige’s mouth moves away from her lips to trail a series of kisses down her jaw, to her neck before nipping at her collarbone.

“Me too- me fucking too,” Paige mutters between kisses as she soothes her tongue over the mark she’d just tattooed into Azzi’s skin with her teeth, eyes glazing over when it elicits a barely-concealed moan from the brunette’s lips.

“Missed this,” Azzi groans, continuing to roll her body against Paige’s, and she thinks she could fall off the edge just like this, untouched and fully clothed.

“I know, baby. I know,” Paige pants as she continues her assault on the young girl’s skin, “gonna take care of you. I swear. Gonna make up for everything tonight-”

“No now,” Azzi whines, hands tangling in Paige’s hair and pulling in a way that has the older girl groaning into the crook of her neck, “I need you now. I’ll be quiet, I swear. Paige please.”

“Fuck baby don’t say that. You know I can’t say no to you.”

“Then don’t say no to me,” Azzi responds with a smirk, one hand trailing down to gently flick against Paige’s nipples causing the blonde to let out a conflicted noise somewhere between pure arousal and reluctant protest.

“I can’t,” she says finally, resting her head against Azzi’s shoulder as she purposefully grips the younger girl’s waist to keep her still.

Azzi pouts, “why not?”

When Paige finally looks up at her, there’s a sheepish look on her face, “I made a bet with your brothers.”

“What?”

“They said they hadn’t been able to get you out of your room and I said I could do it in ten minutes and they said it would take me a lot longer,” Paige says, hands moving animatedly and Azzi can’t help the fond smile that flitters onto her face.

“So let me get this straight,” she says slowly, “we haven’t seen each other in weeks, haven’t fucked,” she purposefully grinds her hips down onto the other girl, “in weeks and you wanna delay it longer because you wanna win a bet against my brothers?”

Paige has the decency to look at least a little ashamed as she nods before giving Azzi a goofy grin, “yes? I love you?”

Azzi rolls her eyes as she slips off of Paige’s lap, already missing the warmth of being on top of the other girl, “can’t believe you’d rather win a bet than fuck me.”

“Nah,” Paige smirks as she stands up, her hands immediately inching themselves around Azzi’s waist, “I’d rather win a bet, use that money to get us a hotel tonight and then fuck you.”

“You’ve really thought this through haven’t you?” Azzi shakes her head, trying to hide her excitement at the idea of being in a hotel room -being alone, just the two of them- with Paige tonight.

“Ten steps ahead always baby,” Paige grins as she presses her lips against Azzi’s, ending it quicker than either of them would like, “now hurry up so I can win this bet.”

But Azzi doesn’t move, instead she pulls Paige back into her, resting their foreheads together as she breathes in the scent of her girlfriend.

“I’m really glad you’re home P,” she whispers and Paige smiles, gently rubbing her back, “didn’t feel like Christmas season without you.”

4. You’re all I need (underneath the tree)

Azzi’s just putting on the finishing touches to her outfit -dangly gold hoops that Paige had gotten her just because- when she feels a pair of arms wrap around her middle, a warm body being pressed against her chest. She smiles, letting herself melt into her wife’s -God she loves being able to say that- touch, leaning her head back against Paige’s shoulder.

“You look so pretty in that dress,” the older woman whispers into her ear as she runs her hands up and down the velvety red material covering Azzi’s body, “but you sure we have to go to your parents’ right now? Cause I think you’d look even better out of it.”

Azzi giggles; they’ve been together for almost nine years -known each other for even longer- and yet every time Paige gives her a compliment, she feels her insides swooning, cheeks going red like she’s still a teenager whose crush is flirting with her. And she thinks this feeling will never go away, that the halo-like glow Paige’s mere presence casts around her will never fade because this love -this all-consuming sense of you’re it for me between them- is going to last forever. She’s sure of it.

“Do you ever think of anything but sex?” Azzi rolls her eyes as she turns around in Paige’s arms, fingers immediately reaching up to fix the collar of Paige’s matching red shirt.

Paige grins, “nah cause I’m always thinking about you and so by default I’m always thinking about sex.”

“You’re insatiable,” Azzi shakes her head.

“Can you blame me when my wife looks like that?” Paige makes a show of looking up and down Azzi’s body, letting out a low appreciative whistle at the way the dress hugs her figure, the neckline dipping just low enough to stay respectable yet sexy.

“You look pretty good yourself Bueckers,” Azzi hums as she grazes her teeth lightly against Paige’s neck, making the older woman shudder.

“Careful Az,” Paige warns, the sultry lilt in her voice saying the exact opposite, “I might start getting the wrong idea.”

Azzi shrugs cheekily, “and what idea would that be?”

Paige smirks, gently tugging at Azzi’s dress to expose a shoulder before she’s attaching her lips to the newly uncovered patch of skin, “that maybe you want us to be late. Or better yet, maybe you don’t want us to go at all.”

Keening under the softness of Paige’s touch, Azzi reluctantly pushes the older woman away, and that might be worse because now she can see her eyes and the lust swimming in them makes her want to give into temptation. But they’re already running late and she has no desire to give their brother’s any teasing material, so she settles on stealing another kiss from Paige’s lips.

“Go warm up the car,” she mutters against the blonde’s lips, gently squeezing her waist before she detaches from Paige and starts to fix her dress, “I’mma just do a quick double check and then be out.”

“Yes your highness,” Paige teases with a slight roll of her eyes before she’s grabbing both her and Azzi’s packed overnight bags and heading towards the car.

Azzi smiles as she watches her go. As much as they joked about not going at all, both of them loved spending Christmas with their families, especially considering how the Fudds, Bueckers and everything in between had melded into one big one. Despite the fact that living in the DMV now meant that they saw at least someone in their family once a week, the idea of having everyone under the same roof was still thrilling nonetheless.

Life had a funny way of working out. The plan had been set in motion since Azzi had been drafted to DC and although Paige had been tempted to stay in Minnesota -after all being the hometown hero picked with the no.1 pick had served her and the. team well for her first four rookie years, considering she’d helped them return to their former championship glory- they had ultimately decided that with most of their family in the DMV area, it made more sense for Paige to ask for a trade to DC than it did for Azzi to move to Minnesota. It hadn’t been the smoothest transition -they’d had their fair share of fights while making the decision and then adjusting to it- but they’d figure it out. They always did. Because as good as Paige and Azzi were at fighting with each other, they were even better at fighting for each other.

Quickly going through the to-do-list in her brain, Azzi nods to herself as she silently checks off everything. She does a quick glance of her room, making sure that they’re not leaving anything they’d need, before reaching to grab her phone, just to text her parents that they were on their own way. Instead her eyes catch on an email notification, her heart beating erratically when she reads the name of the sender.

Fingers fidgeting with the heart necklace Paige had gotten her years ago, Azzi slowly clicks on the notification as anticipation burns throughout her whole body. She tries to steady her breathing as she scans through it, reading each line carefully and she almost drops her phone, large hot tears dripping down her cheeks as she reaches the end of it. Her chest feels heavy with an unknown feeling and she knows she needs to get to Paige, but her feet are rooted to their spot.

“Baby,” she hears her wife call out, followed by the sound of Paige’s footsteps climbing up the stairs, “you ready yet? The car’s already- oh my god baby what’s wrong?”

Azzi looks up from her phone to find Paige standing in the doorway. Concern floods the older woman’s sharp features as she rushes over to her, hands running all over Azzi’s body as she tries to figure out what’s wrong.

“Az? Baby? What’s going on? What happened,” Paige asks urgently, “baby please you’re scaring me. What’s wrong,” her eyes drop to the phone in Azzi’s hands as her voice gets desperate, “did someone say something? Do I need to go kill somebody? Fuck baby please don’t cry. Tell me what’s wrong? I swear I’ll fix it but you gotta tell me baby. Please.”

Wordlessly, Azzi hands over her phone. Paige’s expression is confused and apprehensive -maybe even a little preemptively angry- as she takes the device from her wife’s hand. Azzi watches as recognition dawn of the blonde’s face when she spots the familiar e-mail address; watches as her wife goes through the same emotions she had reading through the email. When Paige finally looks back at her, her own eyes are brimming with tears.

“Baby,” she says breathlessly, “this- I- we-,” she chokes back a sob, her voice so quiet in comparison to the loud enigma that is Paige Bueckers-Fudd, “we’re gonna be Moms?”

Azzi nods, tears continuing to spill down her cheeks as she finally manages to open her mouth, “yeah- yeah we are. Paige, we’re gonna have a baby. No two,” she corrects herself, remembering the exact words of the e-mail, “we’re gonna have two babies. Twins.”

And it’s unclear who moves first -it doesn’t really matter- but then they’re in each other’s arms, trying to hold each other as tightly as physically possible as their tears and smiles begin to blend into one. It had been a couple of months since they’d started the adoption process and they’d gone through every stage, slightly scared that something would go wrong. But they’d passed every background and family and personality check rather easily and it was this last part, the wait to hear about a child -well children- that needed them that had been the hardest of it. And now here it was, the last brushstroke that would complete the picture they’d started painting when they were fifteen. Two babies that would complete them.

“You’re gonna be such a good Mom,” Paige mutters against Azzi’s hair, “god Azzi, baby I can’t wait to see you with our babies -fuck- our babies. Fuck baby I don’t know what you got me but I’m afraid it’s gonna have to be second best Christmas present I’m getting this year.

Azzi laughs breathlessly, her face still buried in Paige’s neck, “think it’s gonna be the best Christmas present ever,” she slowly lifts her head so she can brush away the tears from under her wife’s eyes, “I love you. I wouldn’t wanna do this with anyone but you.”

Paige presses her lips against Azzi’s forehead, “me too baby. I love you so fucking much. You, me and our babies. It’s all I’m ever gonna want, all I’m ever gonna need.”

5. All I want (for Christmas is you)

There’s a lot going on in her house right now -the chatter of family and friends mingling with the sounds of Christmas Carols blaring from the speakers, the mixed aroma of a well-cooked meal and freshly baked desserts, the twinkly lights strung all around the house blinking in different colors- but Paige’s entire attention is across the room where both of her two children are hanging off of her wife like baubles on a Christmas tree. Miles is situated on her lap, his head buried in his favorite place, between Azzi’s neck and shoulder. Sienna, always slightly more independent, has one hand wrapped around her mother’s ankle while she sits on the floor, her focus squarely on a princess coloring book. It’s a sight that will never stop making Paige’s heart swell with pride and happiness, her wife with their kids.

Slowly excusing herself from the conversation she’d been having with a relative, Paige makes her way over to her family -to her whole world- with a soft smile on her face. She sits down next to her wife, placing a kiss to her temple that makes Azzi smile, before pressing one to her son’s forehead over the younger woman’s shoulder, before finally picking her daughter off the floor onto her lap and giving Sienna a kiss on her cheek.

“Hi family,” she whispers and she thinks that if she could choose to have one picture ingrained in her mind forever, it would be a picture of the three smiles she gets in return. Miles’s is sleepy yet so sincere, Sienna’s is toothy and wide and Azzi’s- we’ll Azzi’s is exactly like it’s been since they were fifteen. It’s her Paige smile, one that is bright and beautiful and magnificent and filled with the promise of i’ll love you forever.

“Mama look,” Sienna coos, shoving her picture in front of Paige’s face, “I color a p-incess.”

“It’s beautiful Si-Si,” Paige says warmly, “I think it should probably go on the fridge once everybody’s gone home yeah?”

Azzi snorts, her voice dropping so only her wife can hear, “baby, I don’t think there’s any more space left on the fridge considering you’ve been putting up every single thing they’ve ever colored or made.”

“I’ll make space,” Paige says haughtily, “everything they make is fridge-worthy.”

Azzi shakes her head fondly but Paige knows that despite her words, she’ll be right there by her side tonight to help her make space on their rather cluttered fridge so that they could hang Sienna’s new masterpiece somewhere on it.

“Mi’s close to falling asleep,” Azzi gestures to the little boy in her arms who’s clearly struggling to keep his eyes open, “I think we should probably let them open their Christmas Eve presents now.”

Despite Azzi trying to keep her tone to a whisper, Sienna’s ears perk up at the word “present” and she turns on Paige’s lap to face her Moms with large, hopeful eyes, “it’s pwesent time?”

“Yeah sweetheart. It's present time, but only one okay?” Paige taps Sienna’s nose gently, laughing when the little girl nods diligently and then squeals with excitement, rushing off of her mother’s lap so she can tell anyone within earshot that it’s time to open presents.

“I was gonna tell you to get everybody but I think she’s got it. She’s got your vocal chords for sure,” Azzi nudges Paige’s shoulder teasingly before coaxing Miles’ head out her neck, “you ready to open a present Mi?”

Miles yawns and Paige can’t help but coo at how cute he looks as he stretches in his mother’s arms. It fascinates her, how despite being twins, Miles and Sienna sometimes feel like they’re years apart. And she knows they're only 3 years old, and she knows that they’ll both change over time but Paige thinks that the difference in their personalities makes them fit together even more beautifully. Sienna had a protective streak, always ready to shield her demure brother and Miles had a knack from calming Sienna down, always ready to comfort his boisterous sister.

“MI,” Sienna yells as she tugs on her twin brother’s arm, having somehow already gathered their family into the living room, “wake up Mi. Time to open a Ch-istmas Eve pwesent.”

“I coming Si-Si,” Miles says softly as he finally waddles off of Azzi’s lap, tiredly rubbing his eyes as he follows his sister towards the barrage of Christmas presents underneath the tree. Their mothers scooch off of the couch to stand closer to the tree, Paige wrapping her arms around Azzi from behind as she hooks her chin over her wife’s shoulder.

“Alright Si-Si,” Tim says, his eyes twinkling as he looks down at his granddaughter, “remember, you should always pick the biggest present to open on Christmas Eve!”

Sienna’s eyes widen as she takes in her grandfather’s words before her gaze drifts towards the presents, scouting for the biggest one of them all. Paige drinks in the joy on her daughter’s face when she finally spots a large box that might just be taller than she is.

“That one!” Sienna says gleefully as she practically climbs over the rest of the gifts to get to her chosen one.

“Careful sweetheart,” Azzi calls out, her voice laced with hints of worry as she watches her daughter try to pick up the present that’s clearly heavier than she is.

“Uncle Drew,” Sienna croaks out, turning to Paige’s brother as she realizes just how big the present she’d chosen is, “help me pease!”

Drew laughs, wading through the sea of presents to get to his niece as he sedulously sits down to help her unwrap the gift. Paige tightens her grip around Azzi in anticipation as she watches for her daughter’s reaction. The twins are old enough this year to really understand their gifts and even though Paige is sure she knows them well enough -they’re her babies for fuck’s sake- to have gotten them present they’d love, she’s still a little scared they wouldn’t.

“Relax baby,” Azzi leans her head back to whisper into the blonde’s ear, having noticed the way Paige is fidgeting with the sleeve of the brunette’s sweater, “she’s gonna love it. She’s our daughter. We know her.”

Paige presses a delicate kiss against the back of her wife’s neck, “you always say the right thing.”

“Because I know you,” Azzi says softly, eyes crinkling in the corner as she smiles at Paige.

They’re broken out of their reverie by their daughter screaming in excitement as she finally uncovers her present -a barbie basketball court-, and just like Azzi had predicted she would, she says, “I love it, I love it, I love it. Thank you Mama, thank you Mommy!”

Paige and Azzi laugh, opening their arms in tandem for Sienna to rush into, “we’re glad you like it Si-Si.”

“I love it,” Sienna corrects as she gives each of them a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“My turn now?” a meek voice cuts in and everyone's eyes fall onto Miles, who cowers slightly at having everyone’s attention.

“Yeah it is,” Paige grins at her son, tickling him lightly in the stomach before pushing him towards the presents, “pick whichever one you want to open Mi.”

Miles chews at his bottom lip, cautiously observing the huge pile of presents before turning to his Mothers’ with a way expression and Paige has to hide her grin, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask.

“Too many,” Miles says, bouncing nervously on his tiny little feet, “you help me pick pease Mama.”

Paige laughs as she gathers the little boy in her arms but not before she’s whispering in Azzi’s ear, “think he might be more indecisive than you baby,” which earns her a slight elbow to the stomach before she nods at her son, “of course I’ll help you pick sweetheart.”

She pretends to make a big show of searching for the right present, observing her son’s facial expression before she sees his eyes light up a little when she grabs a medium-sized blue one.

“Aha!” Paige yells triumphantly, causing all the adults in the room to snicker at her antiques, “think you should open this one Mi.”

Miles grins as he makes grabby hands towards the present in his mother’s hand. It takes him approximately four and a half seconds to rip off all the wrapping paper and his eyes marvel at the gift in his hands.

“Teddy,” Miles says in awe as he clutches the cuddly stuffed toy to his chest.

“Yeah it is baby,” Azzi nods as she kneels down next to the little boy, “here,” she points towards the blue heart on his chest, “how about you squeeze it?”

Miles does as he is told, squeezing the teddy-bear’s heart as tightly as he can and it starts to glow. Paige and Azzi’s voices ring out through the room, singing -slightly off-key- Miles’s favorite lullaby. The little boy’s eyes widen when he realizes the sound isn’t coming from his Mothers', both of whom have their mouths closed, but from the teddy-bear’s heart.

“Now, whenever you’re scared at night in your big boy bed, you can just squeeze teddy and it’ll be like Mommy and Mama are already there with you,” Azzi says softly as she brushes her hands through her son’s hair, “you like it Mi?”

“I’m gonna call it MoMa,” Miles says in lieu of an answer as he beams up at Paige and Azzi, “like Mommy and Mama but MoMa.”

Paige laughs, her eyes suddenly starting to feel a little wet, as she wraps an arm around Azzi’s waist, watching her children fawn over the presents they’d just opened. There’s plenty more left and she’s excited to watch their reaction to opening the others but the first ones are always just a little more special. And whether it was giving Sienna a basketball court, or giving Miles a version of their voices, through these gifts they’d tried to give their children a part of themselves.

“Hey,” Azzi snaps Paige out of her trance, her hand reaching down to intertwine with Paige’s as she begins to pull her away from their family, “come with me for a second.”

“Azzi Fudd,” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her chest, smirking as she follows her wife upstairs, “are you sneaking me into our bedroom to have a quickie? While our family and our children are right downstairs?”

Azzi turns to her with a cheeky grin as they enter their bedroom, tracing a finger down Paige’s arm, “would you object if I was?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not. Let’s do it,” Paige waggles her eyebrows, pulling Azzi into her chest but the younger woman immediately shrugs herself out of it as she goes into their closet instead, “oh okay then, leave me high and dry on fucking Christmas Eve.”

“Shut up,” Azzi chides, still rummaging through drawers before she finally emerges from the mahogany doors with a small silver box, walking back to Paige with a small smile on her face, “I figured you should get to open a present tonight too.”

“Well the present I was hoping to unwrap was you-” her joke is cut off by Azzi laughing.

“Baby please, you are way too old to be saying that shit.”

“Hey,” Paige says with mock offense, “first of all, I’m not that old and second of all, you’re never too old to be flirting with your wife.”

“First of all, it’s okay that you’re old baby, I like them a little older,” Azzi smirks, “and second of all, you are if the flirting's that corny and third of all,” she gives Paige a pointed look when the other woman open her mouth to counter, “shut up and open your present.”

“Still so bossy aren’t you princess?” Paige shakes her head but she does as she told, delicately removing the lid from the box and gasping when she sees the necklace inside, “baby, it’s beautiful.”

The necklace is similar to the engagement ring she’d gotten for Azzi, not the one from the fair all those years ago, but the real one. It’s a simple enough chain with a heart shaped diamond-encrusted locket, except on either side of the heart, the chain is looped into two infinity symbols.

“Open it,” Azzi says softly.

“What?” Paige asks, still staring dazedly at the dainty jewelry in her hands.

“The heart,” Azzi points to the locket, “it opens.”

Paige does as she’s told, delicately using her nails to pull apart the locket and a fresh set of tears brim in her eyes when she sees what’s inside. On one side of the heart is a picture of Miles and Sienna, the twins grinning at the camera and Paige remembers the exact moment she’d taken it. On the other side, is a picture of Paige and Azzi; specifically a picture of their kiss at their wedding.

“Baby,” Paige says again, uncannily lost for words.

“You’re really fucking hard to shop for you know that?” Azzi says slowly, her own eyes glistening with moisture “like what do you even get someone who basically has everything because you know- like you always say- we’re your everything -all you could ever want is me, Miles and Sienna- and we’re already yours, just like you’re already ours. And so I figured I’d just give you a reminder of it, something you can always keep with you so you always know.”

“It’s perfect,” Paige breathes out as she holds the locker out towards Azzi, “put it on me?”

Azzi grins as Paige turns around and the blonde watches through the mirror as the chain is placed carefully around her neck and her wife firmly clasps it together before placing a soft kiss to the back of her neck.

“I love you,” Azzi whispers when Paige turns back around, “for eternity.”

“I love you,” Paige whispers back, pulling her wife flush against her chest, the locket with her world hanging between them, “to eternity and beyond.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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sarahsangelicdoll · 1 day ago

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જ⁀➴ icky s1 Rafe finds your secret tumblr blog . . .

To say you were addicted to tumblr was an understatement, and Rafe had absolutely no idea why you were so addicted to the god forsaken app. After dinner it was as if the world outside no longer mattered nor existed. Laying on your or his bed and focusing intently on your phone screen, muttering ‘tumblr’ every time he asked, every night. It was bad enough that you hid your phone every time he tried to peak over your shoulder at what you were doing. Throughout the day you always stopped to check your tumblr. Falling behind Rafe as your steps trailed off and you checked tumblr. And shocked was an understatement to explain Rafes reaction when you sheepishly admitted you had more than twenty hours average total screen time on tumblr just by Friday.

And now, Rafe saw an opportunity. You showering in the washroom connected to Rafes room. Sabrina Carpenter blaring within his room so that you could hear it from the bathroom. Thank god his parents and Wheezie were gone to some event for Wheezies school. Sarah probably off with Topper somewhere.

Rafe leaned against his pillows, Xbox controller in his hand as he continuously eyed your phone, which was charging on his desk, left on and unlocked. He had an urge to go and look, but at the same time didn’t want to deal with your complaints later. And quite frankly, he didn’t want to get up.

But then, Rafe remembered. Remembered how you had somehow accumulated nearly thirty hours of tumblr screen time by the end of the week. And his urge to look overtook him as he huffed and threw his controller to the side. Rafe had to know what was oh so interesting on tumblr that you spent quite literally hours on it daily.

Rafe ran his hands through his greasy hair as he walked up to his desk. Ripping your charger out of your phone as he grabbed the flimsy piece of metal and made his way back to bed. Freezing once his butt touched the bed and his eyes widening as he read the first line he saw; “You gripped the sheets, pussy gripping around his cock like a vice as he spilled his cum into you, filling you to the brim.”

Rafe snorted as he leaned back against the pillows, his arm moving to rest behind his head, smirk forming on his face as he scrolled down and saw various posts, majority following the same theme: breeding. Rafe raised his brow and bit his lip as realization dawned on him; you had a fucking breeding kink you never told him about.

Adding onto his shock, Rafe nearly choked once he saw that your own blog had a whole bunch of porn reblogged or inappropriate writing, some of it your own writing. His eyes darted towards the bathroom as he heard the shower shut off, licking his lips as he looked back at your phone. Rafe could feel himself stirring in his pants as he grew increasingly excited. Now he understood why ‘Juno’ was your favourite song. The clues clicking in his head.

Your phone was quickly turned off and hid under the pillow as the bathroom door open, yourself walking out, towel wrapped around your body. “Hey.” You said simply, shooting Rafe a smile as you quickly grabbed a pair of panties, bra, shorts and sweatshirt from your bag.

“Hey,” Rafe mimicked, stretching as he got up from the bed, moving towards you. His eyes darting down to your ass as you dropped the towel from your figure and onto the floor. Untwisting your pair of baby blue underwear, however before you could put them on Rafes hands planted themselves onto the curves of your waist and moved down teasingly to your thighs. “No no don’t put those on yet,” Rafe teased, squeezing your thighs gently. You could feel his hard on pressing against your ass, only confined from his sweats.

“If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno”

Rafe smirked as he heard the lyrics, ‘perfect timing’ Rafe thought to himself as he leaned down to start littering your neck with kisses. “Let me ‘make you Juno’?”

⟡ ݁₊ . written by sarahsangelicdoll, 2024 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours.

⟡ ݁₊ . four posts in a single day? i’m on fire today | only proofread once

#obx #obx smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #outer banks #rafe smut #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe cameron smut #outer banks smut #smut #rafe x reader smut #rafe cameron x reader smut

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little-diable · 3 days ago

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The Agreement - Rafe Cameron (smut)

So, this is a new one. But I am so deep down the Rafe and Drew rabbit hole, I just had to write something. This has potentional for more parts, but I will settle on that once I get your reactions on this part 1. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is new to the area, but it didn't taken long for Sarah's and her ways to cross. But life in the area is expensive, so the reader is in desperate need for someone to support her, perhaps Rafe Cameron, the guy everybody warned her about, is the right guy to help her out. But Rafe Cameron isn't a guy with a soft heart, the devil doesn't make one sided deals.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), sex with a stranger somewhat, sex in an unfamiliar room, spitting, slight choking, degrading, talks about the reader working as a sugar baby

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!reader (3.1k words)

I LIVE for this gif. Jesus.

“Honestly, I am so ready to marry rich and forget about all these payments. Who can even afford to pay for all these things?” A groan left (y/n), head rolling back while she pressed herself further against the mattress of her bed. For a moment she was met with silence, waiting for Sarah to reply, but her friend kept quiet, seemingly deep in thought.

“Well, maybe it’s time we finally find you someone good. I bet you’d easily find someone fitting at the Country Club.” (Y/n) had to fight against the urge to roll her eyes, Sarah was all too aware of her distaste for all these rich people who only cared about themselves. She was still relatively new to the area but had instantly picked up on the struggles between the pogues and kooks, fights (y/n) desperately wanted to stay away from.

“Thank you, but I’d rather sell my soul than step a foot into that place.” Sarah’s giggles forced a smile to widen on (y/n)’s lips, knowing that her new friend wouldn’t back down from this discussion.

“Oh c’mon, live a little. But you could also just try to mingle at a party, I guess.” It took (y/n) a moment to think through the idea, especially since she knew she’d feel by far more comfortable at a party rather than at the country club. The hum leaving her drew another giggle from Sarah, already excited about whatever (y/n) may stumble upon.

“I guess I could but only if you join me to figure out if there are any parties worth joining.” She had interacted quite a lot with Sarah Cameron so far, a friendly face she had crossed paths with every now and then when she had first moved here. Something seemed to connect the two of them, something (y/n) couldn’t pinpoint yet but was insanely grateful for nevertheless.

“Absolutely I’ll text you in a few!”

…

She should have stayed at home, away from all these unfamiliar faces, the alcohol which would undoubtedly leave her massively hungover, and the horrible music she couldn’t endure much longer. So far she still hadn’t crossed paths with Sarah, clinging to the promise that she’d eventually show up with some friends in tow - people (y/n) could click with, according to Sarah at least.

The distaste clung to her face as (y/n) pushed through the crowd of sweaty bodies, trying to stay away from those who looked at her for a few seconds too long. Her feet carried her towards the kitchen, set on pouring herself another drink to at least endure another hour of this party.

With her eyes set on the open cabinet, (y/n) tried to reach for one of the almost empty bottles, weight shifted onto her toes to grasp it - though miserably failing. The exhausted huff clawing through her was swallowed by the sound of a raspy laugh filling the kitchen, forcing her eyes to find a pair of bright ones.

“C’mon, you almost had it, don’t stop the show now.” The smirk clinging to his lips left her scowling, instantly recognising him, Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s brother. Even though (y/n) hadn’t been around for long, she had picked up on numerous warnings, telling her to stay away from the guy who was followed around by trouble.

“Fuck off.” Her words made him laugh again, letting the sound ring in her ears while he pushed himself closer. Rafe’s cologne wrapped itself around her, making her heavily swallow the second she felt his front pressed against her back. With one hand finding her waist, he held her close while reaching for the bottle she had tried to grasp. Wordlessly he poured her some of the liquid, letting go of her seconds later, but she stayed quiet, not saying a single word to the smirking guy.

“Where’s my thank you? Or is cursing the only thing you can do?” Rafe leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed in front of his chest. Her eyes couldn’t help but find his bulging muscles, hating that he was that handsome while she had promised others she’d stay away from him.

“I don’t want to further inflate your ego, Cameron.” (Y/n) tried to push past Rafe, though without any luck. His bright eyes wandered over her features, grinning down on the frowning girl. His hands kept holding onto her, settling on her waist as if they had crossed paths numerous times before, more familiar with one another than they let on.

“I can see why you haven’t found many new friends so far, (y/n).” A scoff left her as she tried to push him away, though without any luck. Anger began to bubble deep inside of her, wondering how she could get rid of the devilish handsome guy. But Rafe seemed all too comfortable with their closeness, looking at her like a predator ready to snap, already high on her blood he’d feast from any second now. “What’s your problem with me, huh?” “I have no problem with you, Rafe. Let me go.” He clicked his tongue before letting it run along his lower lip, a motion she couldn’t help but stare at, eyes following his every movement.

“What did my sister tell you about me?” His thumb began to move, softly stroking along the silver of skin her top showed off. Goosebumps covered her arms, something (y/n) could only curse at, hating her body for feeling that drawn towards him. Sarah had told her all those gruesome stories about him, a psychotic guy she should desperately try to stay away from – and yet something intrigued (y/n), something she couldn’t shake.

“Drugs, guns, whoring around, the list is long, and I really don’t want to catch anything from you.” She shot him a sickly sweet smile before finally pulling herself free. Without giving Rafe the chance to stop her, (y/n) managed to disappear from his sight, finding shelter in another spot of the mansion. Her heart was racing in her chest, beating faster than probably ever before.

Sarah’s words kept hallowing in her mind, sharply reminding her of the bad news following Rafe Cameron around, words that began to lose their importance when her eyes were drawn back to his bright ones. They held contact as she drowned her drink in one go, still feeling his hands on her body as if he had burned his touch into her skin. Her breath got hitched in her chest as Rafe began to move, seemingly set on speaking to her again – and yet he didn’t get far, forced to watch his sister find (y/n) first, pulling her outside.

“I was looking for you, I want to introduce you to some people.” Sarah clung to (y/n)’s side as she led her to the pool area, introducing her to people whose names she didn’t pick up on, still thinking of Rafe. Sarah’s words from this morning reached her again, overthinking their plan of (y/n) finding a guy to keep around at a party like this, a plan she had to scoff at now.

“Sarah told us you’re currently working as a surf instructor around here, would you want to go surfing with us tomorrow morning?” A blonde guy smiled at her, forcing her to focus for a second. The cap he wore only showed off a few of his strands, enough for her to pick up on how cute he looked. She was close to denying, wanting to spend the morning sleeping in, but the way Sarah squeezed her wrist forced a soft “Sure” out of (y/n).

She didn’t listen to the other things the group shared, feeling a pair of eyes on her. Slowly, (y/n) let her gaze wander, finding Rafe looking at her from one of the windows. He raised his brows in an almost mocking manner, taking a sip of his drink as if he was daring her to find her way back to him. She rolled her eyes at him, and yet she stepped away from Sarah a moment later, murmuring something about having to find the bathroom.

Rafe was back at her side the second she stepped into the house, pulled through the room by the hand finding hers. The loud music momentarily managed to drown out her racing thoughts, thoughts that were completely silenced the second she found herself pushed into a dark room, front pressed against Rafe’s.

“Is this one of your famous tactics? Pulling girls you don’t know into dark ro-,” she didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence, interrupted by the feeling of Rafe’s lips finding hers. Even though her first instinct was to push him away, she didn’t find the want to do it, instead (y/n) chased his lips, swallowing the raspy chuckle leaving Rafe.

She was all too aware of the way Rafe’s eyes had followed her around for the past weeks, trying to find the right moment to speak to her whenever he was at the beach with his friends or when she met friends near the club. Late at night he’d stroke his cock to the thought of her, painting the screen of his phone white while looking at her pictures, only further fuelling his obsession with her. Something about (y/n) stuck to Rafe, perhaps it was the fact that she was all too oblivious to the struggles they all had faced for the past months, perhaps it was the fact that she didn’t seem to give a shit about him, whatever it was, he needed to get his hands on her.

Without breaking the kiss, Rafe led her to the bed, plopping down on it with her falling into his lap. Their tongues got tangled, brushing together while his warm hands found their way underneath her shirt, feeling her tremble in his grasp. His name rolled off her tongue as (y/n) needed a second to breathe, high on the feeling of him kissing his way down her throat.

Her mind screamed at her, asking her what the hell she was doing, and yet her body didn’t seem to care. Rafe Cameron had pulled her into his trap, unable to rip herself free while slowly letting him in. She didn’t protest as he pulled her shirt over her head, didn’t protest as his lips found her right nipple, softly biting and sucking on the soft skin before finding the other.

“Fuck, we shouldn’t do this.” For a second he froze at her slightly panicked words, waiting for her to say something else, to push him away. But (y/n) didn’t find the strength to pull herself free, tugging on his golden strands to reconnect their lips, allowing him to shift them around to press (y/n) against the mattress. It felt as if her body was on fire, set ablaze by his touch, by the way he towered over her and looked at her as if she was the prettiest sight he had ever set his eyes on.

“Breathe, sweetheart, let me do this.” Rafe kissed his way down her stomach, pulling her shorts and soaked panties down her legs to settle between her thighs. The moan that left him the second he brushed his tongue through her slit made her arch her back, pushing herself further against his mouth. Rafe’s eyes were set on her pleasure-drunken features, watching her get lost in the sensation.

“Fuck, Rafe.” (Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut, hands finding his hair to hold him close. It had been a while since she had last been with someone, no longer used to feeling this alive. His thumb circled her pulsing bundle, tongue slowly fucking into her tightness to push her further towards the edge. No longer was her mind racing, no longer did (y/n) find herself overthinking this situation, solemnly focused on Rafe’s skilled touch.

“Look at you, pretty girl, at the mercy of a guy you claim not to like.” It was clear that he enjoyed this all too much, smirking up at (y/n) who couldn’t reply to his teasing words. She was desperate to cum, to let go with his name rolling off her tongue like a prayer spoken in a need of guidance.

He put his mouth back on her heat, sucking on her clit while he pushed two of his long fingers into her, fucking her with his fingers curled against her swollen spot. Another moan clawed its way out of (y/n), reverberating through the dark room, a sound so sweet Rafe couldn’t help but groan against her skin. The sound was enough to push her over the edge, cumming on his tongue with a call of his name.

Rafe’s fingers fucked her through her high, enjoying the sight of her trembling body, watching her fall apart with his bright eyes that had slowly adjusted to the darkness. Only when she loosened her grip on his hair did Rafe move up her body again, pressing a kiss to her slightly swollen lips which allowed (y/n) to taste herself on his tongue.

“Will you let me fuck you, (y/n)?” She was spaced out, and yet her mind was still clear enough to pick up on his words. A moan left her before she could stop the sound from making it past her lips, set on the same goal as Rafe. His ringed fingers rested on her throat, keeping a tight grasp on her, “Gonna need you to speak up, use your words.”

“Fuck me, Rafe, please.” It was all he needed to hear, momentarily letting go of her to pull his shirt over his head, to free his hard cock from the confines of his trousers, and to pull a condom down his length. She forced herself up on her forearms, resting her weight on them to watch him tower over her. Their eyes held contact as Rafe pushed into her, letting his cock spread her tight walls.

For a second, neither of them moved, allowing their bodies to adjust before Rafe began to fuck her with a faster growing rythm. With one hand resting on the pillow next to her head, he kept himself balanced while the other found its way back to her throat. She stared up at him, fully at his mercy as if the devil himself was fucking her, forcing her to accept that she had just gambled with her soul and lost it to him.

His thrusts were ferocious, hips meeting hers with every movement, drawing sinful sounds from the both of them. Rafe’s thumb tapped against her lip, forcing (y/n) to open her mouth – seemingly understanding what he was about to do. He stared down at her as he spat onto her tongue, making her swallow his saliva without protesting once, finding the way he was claiming her too hot to fight against it.

“I should have fucked that tight cunt of yours the first time I laid my eyes on you.” Rafe’s rasped out words left her gasping, eyes rolling back into her head for a second. His words had an instant effect on (y/n), letting her stuttering breaths break out of her as if she hadn’t been allowed to inhale any air for the past minutes. “Such a pathetic little slut, letting the guy others warned you about fuck you. But you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I am, fuck, you’re so good at this, Rafe.” She no longer cared about his way too big ego, didn’t care about how desperate she sounded, solemnly focused on her second nearing orgasm. One of her hands found her pulsing bundle, circling it while her free hand moved up his naked back, feeling his muscles tense beneath it.

“Beg for it, baby, let me hear how desperate you are to cum on my cock.” Another moan left her, and another as his thrusts met the spot that made her choke. It took (y/n) a second to find her voice, blabbering a few incoherent begging words before finding her strength.

“Please, let me cum, fuck, I need it, Rafe.” He chuckled against her lips, once again picking up his speed before a raspy “Cum” found its way to her. She choked on her moans, sobbing his name while he followed her down the edge seconds later, moaning into their kiss.

Heavy breaths left them both, clinging to one another without speaking for a moment or two. Only slowly did he let go of her, pulling away to throw the condom into the trash. (Y/n) watched him move around, redressing while he seemed deep in thought, no longer wearing that arrogant smirk she secretly loved.

“I heard what you talked about with Sarah this morning.” Rafe had his eyes focused on her, eyebrows furrowed as if he struggled to find the right words. She didn’t say anything at first, dressing herself before plopping back down on the bed. “About bills and payments and all that shit.”

“Mhm, what about it?” Her tone had something almost bored to it, not daring to let him in on the panic that slowly began to simmer inside of her. She shouldn’t care about what he was thinking of her, even though he had just fucked her better than any other guy she had been with so far.

“I have a proposition for you, an arrangement if you want. You need someone to help with your bills and I need someone I can trust by my side for all these galas and events I need to show up at, someone to fool partners with.” A humourless laugh left (y/n) at his words, not daring to believe the words Rafe had just spoken.

“I knew you were an asshole, but I don’t need you to fuck with me like that, Cameron.” She rose to her feet, set on fleeing from this room, but Rafe didn’t let her, hand snapping down on her wrist like it had back in the kitchen.

“It’s the truth, Sarah seems to like you for whatever reason, and even though her people skills are fucked, I fear she may be right with this one.” His words had a strange undertone to them, a desperation that made her halt for a second. (Y/n) let her eyes wander over his features, studying Rafe who stared at her with an unreadable expression.

“Do you really mean that? You’d pay me for making you, what? Look good at events? Would I be like a sugar baby?”

#Rafe Cameron smut #Rafe Cameron x reader #Rafe Cameron imagine #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron x you

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rahuratna · 2 days ago

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Courtney, this was just an incredible piece of writing. Absolutely stunning. Something I picked up immediately, similar to a previous fic of yours I once reviewed, was your mastery of the passage of time. The pacing is perfect. The way time moves in your stories is like a waltz, steady and full of rhythm and grace in certain places, and full of vibrancy and energy in others.

Next, this is one of my favourite portrayals of Hiromi I've ever read. You wrote him subtly, with passion, poignancy, a rare playfulness, all while losing none of his quiet determination, dedication to duty and the single-mindedness with which he pursues his goals.

I love that you've written his intensity as a character, all while maintaining that tender and gentle banter he would have with someone he truly cares for.

Furthermore, the other thing that I consistently find to be a sterling characteristic of your stories is that attention to detail. The realism of the world you build lies in those details, in the rooftop haven you've created, in the description of Hiromi's apartment, in the specific ornaments that are used to decorate the tree ... it's phenomenal how vivid the imagery you generate is.

The developing relationship between Hiromi and the reader is just amazing. The way you've shown that minute progression of their interaction, year by year, marked by Christmas is an inspired one. There's so much symbolism here. Christmas is a holiday we typically associate with friends, family and the spirit of togetherness.

For someone like Hiromi, building up to that point where he could finally lay claim to the Reader's company, to the time, attention and effort that went into making him feel less alone, is the hallmark that decides the direction of this relationship. Hiromi's character strikes me as one that wanders through the world with detachment, mind focused on the task he's assigned himself with unerring focus. It would take a LOT to derail him even slightly from that, but here you've written a scenario that encompasses that aspect of his character, whole also giving a real view of how this situation could happen.

Finally, the love scene between them was so incredibly sexy, passionate and tender. I love how you've captured the way someone like Hiromi would treat their lover, should they breach those unspoken barriers between them. To see that focus normally reserved for his work now turned to the subject of his desires is just ... mind-melting.

Thank you for writing another masterpiece. I'm in awe of how you write these characters we love with such passion, complexity and elegance.

Pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x Reader (Vicky)

Rating/CW: fluff, smut, explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, oral sex, holiday romance, MDNI!

WC: ~5.2K

Summary: A holiday tale of three Christmases with your neighbor Higuruma.

a/n: As part of the Secret Santa Fic Exchange hosted by @nanamiscocksleeve, I wrote this for my secret santa @sassypossum. This is my first Hiromi fic, so I hope you enjoy!

Divider: @arminsumi @mikeykuns

The first time wasn’t planned.

Most people fill their December evenings with bright parties that have too much alcohol and shopping bags, with wrapped presents and spiked eggnog. But not for you. This Christmas night, you find yourself climbing to the roof of your apartment building, a thermos of hot chocolate warming your hands.

The day hadn’t started great—an alarm that never went off, a train ride that was twenty minutes late, and your favorite tea that you’d spent money you would rather not think about had arrived in a package soaked to the bone, destroying the precious herbs inside. Just being in the walls of your own home wasn’t enough.

So now here you are. The city sprawls before you, and blocks of flickering concrete, reminiscent of your Christmas lights before they blew out from a fuse you still can’t find.

You don’t expect to find him there.

Not too tall, standing at the edge of the roof with his back turned. A suit as black as night and wrinkled along the hem, swept back hair fluttering faintly in the chilly breeze. His shoulders rise just slightly and then relax, a plume of smoke curling into the air. You’d seen him around the building enough to know his name—his habits.

Higuruma Hiromi, a man who consists of late hours fighting endless battles most would consider already lost, exhaustion always clinging to him like a second skin but always sharing a gentle smile when you both brushed past each other in the hallway.

You’d seen him around but barely had the confidence to actually have a conversation. There was something about him that always made you stop short, to open your mouth and then close it again in fear of humiliating yourself just by asking him out for coffee.

“Mind sharing that rail?” you called out, watching him startle slightly before craning his head over his shoulder to look at your approaching form. His small pupils, a deep chocolate brown, focused on you with an intensity you couldn’t quite place, then flickering to the thermos.

“It’s public space,” he resigned but shifted slightly to make room for you. The metal railing was cold against your thin pajama pants as you settled beside him, close enough to smell the tobacco and what might have been a hint of coffee on his breath.

“Rough case?” you asked softly after a few quiet moments, your eyes on the Tokyo skyline as you offered him your thermos.

Higuruma’s tired eyes look from you and down to the thermos in your hands, hesitation flashing over his features before he pops the cigarette in his mouth and uncaps the lid. “Hot chocolate?” The surprise in his voice is enough to make you smile despite his evasiveness.

“With candy canes,” you add. “Christmas tradition.”

His quiet laugh catches you off guard—a warm and low hitching in the back of his throat that sounds misplaced, as if rusty and remembering how to work. “God, I don’t think I’ve had hot chocolate since…“ he trails off, eyes jumping from building to building in order to remember before giving up.

He pulls a heavy drag instead, turning his head away to exhale the thick gray smoke and take a sip of your drink. The city hums with holiday energy, lights brighter than usual, cars honking louder and longer than necessary.

“I usually work through the holidays,” he says finally, cigarette already half gone. The confession hangs in the air between you, heavy with years of solitary Christmases. Of declining parties and get-togethers and finding company in himself and the bed he collapses into after a long day.

You don’t know what makes you say it. The serenity in the air. The subtle jumping of your heart when you watch his lips purse and the embers of the butt illuminate the curve of his nose.

“Well, now you have company this year,” you reply gently, trying to ignore the feel of his fingertips brushing yours when it’s your turn to collect the hot chocolate.

He hums noncommittally; gaze turned back to the city long enough for you to study him. He’s a handsome man with lean features and a strong sense of justice that makes your heart flutter in ways you don’t understand.

You drink the last of the hot chocolate—the peppermint of the candy cane forming a syrupy concoction at the very bottom that slides along your tongue—but you don’t leave. You stay with him until his cigarette is ash, until the bottom of your thermos is dry, until the December air has painted both your cheeks pink.

The next day, you don’t speak when you pass in the elevator, but something’s changed—like the first note of a song neither of you knows you are waiting to hear.

Time flies when you become aware of things, and a year passes like seasons through a window. There are glimpses of each other in the elevator, shared cigarette breaks that become a habit, the way you learn to read his different types of tired. Just like that, winter finds you again, this time in the lobby of your apartment building. A convenience store bag is clutched in your hands, fingers shaking with the prospect of what you want to do, your eyes watching the numbers above the elevator tick down.

Maybe he’ll be there again. Resting on the railing, smoking a cigarette with his gaze on the city skyline. Maybe he’ll smile when he sees you, just like he did a week before when you both checked your mail at the same time—brushing shoulders, a joke passed back and forth, his lips breaking into a smile that lingered long after he was gone.

When the doors open, he’s there—suit jacket missing and sleeves rolled to show sinewy forearms. Those small pupils widen slightly at the sight of you, a year’s worth of rooftop conversations living in the space between you, unspoken but undeniably present.

“There you are,” he says casually, stuffing his hands in his pockets as you cross the threshold of the elevator and slink beside him. The words are simple, but they hang in the air, heavy with an implication that’s enough to still your heart.

The elevator doors slide closed slowly, casting you both in silence, and the subtle ‘ding’ of levels climbed. He turns, leaning one side of his body against the elevator wall, his full attention on you in that intense way you have learned by now is not apathy.

It didn’t take very long to read him, to pick past the perpetual weary expression on his face to take in the ticks in his jaw, the furrow of his brow, the blinding smile he gives when he gets past that initial few minutes of shyness. That sense of conviction he has for his cases translates to everything else in different ways. And now, it’s on you, a look so intense with something warmer. Something sharper.

“Late night?” you ask, trying your best to cast the room into something else other than your nerves that seem to ooze out of your skin like tendrils. You squeeze the handle of your bag, the plastic rustling faintly in the quiet. His gaze flickers down to your hands, taking in the brand stamped on the bag.

“Always.” That weariness is softer now, worn smooth like a river on jagged stones from all the nights you’ve shared his silence. “I take it you have plans this year?” He nods to the bag in your hand.

You try not to think about the resignation in his voice. You clear your throat, opening the bag for him to peek inside. “If by plans you mean a Christmas cake? Then yes, I have plans.”

The elevator dings again, five stops away from your shared floor. He whistles long and low, pulling a snicker from your chest as he pulls out the cake and turns it in his hands to examine. “You sure you can finish this on your own?”

You scoff, feigning offense and snatching the cake away to shove back in your bag. “I’ll have you know that I have a very insatiable appetite.”

“Is that so?” he asks, dripping with so much suggestiveness that you’re convinced you’re just hearing things. The elevator doors slide open, but neither of you moves. His gaze catches yours, steady and unyielding, and suddenly, the air feels heavier, your chest tighter.

“I have coffee,” he offers finally, his voice low, deliberate. The words carry so much more—an invitation, a continuation, a year of understanding distilled into a simple gesture. “If you would like company…for your plans.”

He smells like a hint of cigarettes and cologne that makes you lightheaded, but you pull in a deep breath to let the smell fill your lungs, willingly disorienting yourself.

“Sure,” you say gingerly, your voice catching slightly in your throat. He steps aside, holding the elevator door open for you, and you follow him down the hall.

His apartment is exactly as you imagined—case files neat on every surface, the quilted throw blanket on his couch that he had wrapped around you two days ago on the roof, that cheap coffee maker you’ve heard him defend countless times humming in the corner. But there are new details too—a mug you recognize from the combini downstairs, the one you mentioned liking a month ago. Artwork that looks like it came directly from a museum on every wall, adding a quiet sophistication to the otherwise practical space.

You can only take in so many details before he’s moving, kicking off his shoes and taking the bag from you as he walks to his open kitchen. “How about tea instead?”

He opens one of the kitchen cabinets to display a plethora of neatly arranged glass jars filled with tea bags and loose-leaf blends. The sight surprises you, your breath hitching slightly as he quirks a smile. “You like tea.” And it leaves his mouth as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You do. And the fact that he’s remembered this small detail leaves an electric warmth in your chest that you try not to let show. Instead of responding, you focus on unloading the cake from your bag, carefully peeling back the wrapper without smudging the icing.

Behind you, the quiet clink of jars being opened and spoons measuring tea and coffee into a pot fills the space. There’s a domesticity to it—the ease with which he moves around his kitchen, hovering and reaching around you without invading your space—feels almost surreal. It’s the kind of quiet moment you’ve imagined in fragments, alone in your apartment, in the early mornings when you’re mind is more imaginative than usual, during work meetings that you should be paying attention to. It’s something you’ve thought of, but never quite dared to believe could be real.

When he sets two mismatched mugs on the counter, a tea bag hanging from the one you mentioned, the steam curls between you both like an offering. You look up at him, your heart stumbling over itself at the softness in his gaze. The darkness beneath his eyes is still as intense as ever, but there’s an undercurrent of care painted over his skin that eases your worry.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the quiet filled with the whir of the coffee maker as it cools down and the warmth of the tea between your palms. He cuts the cake evenly, sliding the entire treat between you both and presenting two forks of equal size.

The first bite of the cake is far too sweet, the tea doesn’t have the amount of honey that you prefer, but neither of you seems to mind. The world feels impossibly small��just this kitchen, just this quiet, just you and Higuruma.

He presses his forearms on the counter, leaning on his elbows and tilting his head to regard you. His dark hair flops over one side, wild and ruffling and itching for you to touch. His curved nose only enhances his features to create a devastating concoction of tired beauty.

“You really brought all this just for yourself?” he presses, voice soft but laced with that quiet amusement you’ve come to expect. There’s no judgment in it, just a curiosity—an invitation for honesty that he already knows if you’re brave enough to give it.

You shrug. “I imagined you had the expertise to solve this kind of question on your own.”

Higuruma snorts, stabbing a corner of his side of the cake. “Uh-huh.”

“Don’t ‘uh-huh’ me,” you playfully hiss, pointing your icing-covered fork in his direction like an accusation.

He takes a slow sip of his coffee, unflinching despite the heat, his eyes locked on yours in a silent battle that you’re definitely losing. The cup clinks onto the counter, cutting through the silence.

“You like me.”

Several things happen at once.

Internally, you’re panicking, heart picking up in speed, stomach coiling with nervous heat, mind screaming at you to abandon ship like a giggling school girl.

Externally, you narrow your eyes, feigning indifference with all the composure you can muster. “Or, I just thought someone could use a little Christmas.”

If he believes you, you can’t tell. That level of apathy you can read has only taken you so far, and without the experience of working with him, there’s no way you can pick apart the mask of a lawyer who has the answer but doesn’t want to give it away.

But slowly, his brow lifts, something in his expression shifting—warmer, softer. “Someone?”

Your fingers tighten around your mug, the ceramic almost too hot to hold. You bring it to your mouth, stalling with a long sip as your chest tightens, and somehow manage a small shrug. “Yeah. Someone.”

He hums, contemplative, accepting even as he forks a piece of cake and presents it to you like a silent toast. “Well, if I were this someone—which clearly I’m not,” he drones, smirking at your rolling eyes, “then I would say thank you for bringing it to me. And Merry Christmas.”

The silence that follows isn’t empty. It’s full of something unspoken, something that hums in the space between you like an unsung melody. You hold your fork aloft, mirroring his gesture, and lightly tap the prongs against his.

“Merry Christmas, Hiromi.”

Outside, the city glows with the soft pulse of winter as Christmas draws to a close, but here, in the warmth of his kitchen, the world feels impossibly still. Just this quiet, just this moment, just you and him.

Time moves differently again.

Too fast, yes, but now when you’re falling for someone in fragments—in elevator rides with your shoulders pressed together, in text conversations that stretch into dawn, in the way Higuruma’s tired eyes seem to hold more light when they find yours. Another year passes like this, in moments you collect like precious things.

Your apartment feels unusually warm, the faint scent of pine mingling with cinnamon from the candle flickering on the coffee table. Your Christmas tree stands in the corner, a decent height with artificial branches fluffed to their best shape, the entire ensemble still missing the final touch—the ornaments scattered on the table beside two mugs of tea.

You glance at the clock nervously, dusting imaginary lint off your sweater. He’s late, not by much, but enough for you to wonder if he’s had second thoughts. You know you shouldn’t entertain it. Higuruma is more than able to text you should anything come up. But still—

There’s a knock—firm and stead, unmistakably him and your heart drops to your stomach. He’s there, of course, when you open the door—suit jacket gone, dark hair messy from running his fingers through it, tie crooked and loose. His dark eyes meet yours, and the weight of them is both comforting and disarming.

“Please tell me you didn’t put it all together without me?”

You roll your eyes, letting him inside and silently swallowing the hint of tobacco that wafts from him. “Saved the best for last.”

It doesn’t take long for you both to fall into a rhythm. The ornaments vary—some old and sentimental, others newer and playful. He’s careful with each one, furrowing with that harsh concentration as he places each bauble on a branch that seems to hold significance. You both work efficiently, a hum of Christmas music filtering through the air, the warmth from the fireplace warming your toes. When you catch a glimpse of him on the other side of the tree, your mind wanders.

You know him better now. Know that he likes his coffee with two scoops of sugar (and a dash of cream when he thinks no one’s watching), how his voice sounds rough with exhaustion after long cases, how he hates when his hair touches the tips of his ears, how his usual detachment melts into something softer when it’s just you two.

“Before you…I hadn’t had a Christmas tree since law school,” Higuruma muses wistfully.

You glance at him, admiring how the firelight softens the perpetual exhaustion in his features—the glow illuminates his face so you can trace his aquiline nose, the slight darkness beneath his eyes, the length of his dark eyelashes that blink slowly.

“Not even those years you won bigger cases? Feels like that’s worthy of time off to enjoy the holidays.”

“Especially not then.” He picks up a small ornament, rolling the metal hook between his fingers. “Never seemed important enough to take the time.”

You busy yourself with pinching the flimsy metal hook of a larger ornament, trying to ignore the resignation you saw in his eyes often during those late nights when he opened up to you. Another victory only meant more time to take on another case, another person with the system automatically turned against them in need of his help. Even with the knowledge, there’s something that still twists in your stomach. Spending every Christmas like this—hunched over a desk, buried in work, alone.

You hold an ornament for him—a tiny racing car from your third year of life— wiggling it like a wad of cash before he rolls his eyes and snatches it playfully from your hands. The tree slowly begins to take shape, lopsided and shedding plastic pine needs, but still beautiful in its imperfection. As you both begin to hang the smaller ornaments one by one, you ask,

“So…before you decided to take on the world, what kind of trees did you have growing up?”

Higuruma pauses, a faded blue bulb hanging from lightly tanned fingertips. For a moment, his gaze drifts, his already solemn expression dipping fractionally, and you wonder if you’ve pushed too far. But then he speaks, his voice softer than before.

“Real ones,” he mutters. “Tall ones that shed pine needles all over the floor and made the house smell like a forest.” He places the ornament on a branch near the top, bending the thin metal hook to secure it. “My mother used to insist on decorating it all herself, though. She had this thing about symmetry.” A small, nostalgic smile tugs at his lips. “I think I preferred watching her more than actually helping.”

You smile softly, picturing a younger Higuruma sitting cross-legged on the floor, hair probably shorter, eyes smooth around the edges and free of sleep deprivation, observing with quiet curiosity. “What about you?”

“Depends on the year,” you shrug, holding up a Spongebob ornament and inspecting its slightly chipped edge. “Some years, we had fake ones like this. Other years, my family would drag a real one home and spend the next six months vacuuming pine needles.”

His chuckle is low and warm, seeming to drift across the room, wrapping around the tree to warm your skin. For a moment, the air between you feels lighter, more familiar.

The tree glimmers by the time you’re done, a haphazard mix of ornaments and lights that somehow works. As he helps you pack up the empty boxes, Higuruma pulls something from the depths of one—a sprig of artificial mistletoe.

You freeze, hair standing on end as he holds it aloft, an eyebrow quirking in amusement. “Were you planning on using this?”

“Not intentionally,” you murmur, rushing to him and reaching to snatch it from his hands before he tilts it away and dangles it above your heads. The sight of where it is, the implication of what it means, makes your throat dry up quickly.

“Isn’t it a tradition?

“It’s cheesy,” you try to reach for it again and sigh when he raises it higher. “And for someone who hardly pays attention to the holidays, why do you suddenly want to follow tradition now?”

Higuruma grins, and the look of it, the way it makes him seem so much younger and filled with mischief, only makes heat spring to life in your belly. Unwarranted and quickly flaming out of control.

“Because for the past three years, you’ve made sure I follow at least some kind of tradition. You want to try this one too?”

You open your mouth to retort, to tell him that you don’t want to kiss him, and spend the next few nights crying because he doesn’t feel the same way. You don’t want to finally put yourself out there and then be so miserably crushed that you’ll probably find a way to break your lease.

But the words dissolve on your tongue when his free hand cups your jaw, his touch warm and grounding with the faint littering of callus. The space between you shortens, the air thin so quickly you can barely breathe, his lips brushing yours so lightly it’s almost asking the question again.

And because you don’t know if you can wait another year to be in this position again, you close the gap. Your hands twist into the front of his shirt as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss, the weight of three years fizzling into nothing as he wraps his arms around your lower back, the mistletoe dropping to the floor.

It’s not enough for your brain to process before you break apart, both of you breathing heavily, his forehead resting against yours.

“Good?” you exhale, the word trembling on your lips.

Those down-turned eyes study you, taking in the curve of your eyebrows, the length of your lashes, and the humps of your lips. He responds by pulling you back into him, his kiss feverish now, mouth pitching against yours until you open with a soft gasp and welcome his tongue.

For as much as he smokes, he barely tastes like tobacco. Your tongue picks up on coffee and spearmint, licking against him and resisting the urge to bite down when the hands on your hips dip past the hem of your shirt, brushing the bare skin of your sides.

When he pulls back again, the sound he makes in his throat feels as if it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done. He presses a kiss to your forehead, your nose, and one cheek. “Is this okay?”

For a moment, you want to be offended by the question. This man, who you’ve wanted for years, is stopping the very thing you want to ask questions. But when your brain puts two and two together, when you realize that, of course, he’s asking for permission, it only makes that heat in your belly curdle.

“Yes,” you breathe against his lips, pulling him into you again. His touch is deliberate yet tender, palms exploring more of your skin and pulling you into him like he can’t get enough. The intensity of the kiss leaves you dizzy, and you barely hold on to his neck long enough for him to hike up your legs and wrap them around your waist.

The journey to your bedroom is hazy. You register when your back brushes against a wall when he stumbles, a sting in your lip when he bites down. By the time you both fall into bed together, the sheets are cold, your skin naked and flush with his and you blink away the arousal enough to take him in. Despite his outward appearance, Hiromi is beautiful. The sinewy muscle that curves a faint impression of abs, firm pectorals, and lean thighs with a thick line of dark hair that collects where he hangs heavy.

He leans down, trailing soft kisses from your lips down the column of your throat, licking the curve of each nipple before taking them in his mouth one by one. You arch into the wet feel of his tongue sliding down your stomach, nipping down your pelvis as he slides large hands under your thighs and throws them over his shoulders. The sight of him there, between your legs, hair mussed and falling in front of his eyes, sends a rush of heat through your body so quickly that you almost choke on a breath.

“You like me,” you can’t help but tease, exhaling in a fluttering laugh when he snorts and presses a kiss to your inner thigh. It feels as gentle as a promise, flaring in importance as he works his way up, the stubble of his jaw grazing your sensitive skin, leaving a blistering trail of fire in its wake.

“I definitely do.”

Your back, which is already unconsciously arching slowly from the feel of his breath at the apex of your thighs, practically snaps when you finally feel him on you, a cry leaving your throat inhibited. The world seems to narrow on the feel of him, the way his thick tongue moves with unrelenting accuracy, the way his lips press and suck, groaning into your folds when you unleash sounds you didn’t know you were capable of making.

“Hiromi,” you gasp brokenly, your hands tangling in his hair and tugging closer as the tension builds in your core. He hums against you, sucking your clit into his mouth, a vibrating jolt of pleasure shooting through your body. It’s too much and not enough, your breath coming in ragged gasps and pleas as he takes you apart.

When you finally shatter, it’s with his name on your lips, your body shaking wildly as waves of pleasure consume you. Through it all, he doesn’t waver, licking you slowly through the aftershocks, his hands stroking your thighs to work you down.

When he finally pulls away, his lips glistening with your essence and dark eyes fixed on you, there’s an intensity in his expression that steals the breath from your already struggling lungs. He trails wet kisses back up your body, hands picking up what’s missed until his tongue slides back in your mouth again. The taste of you is enough to lick that flame back to life again.

“Still okay?” he asks gently, roughened by desire but laced with unmistakable care that makes your eyes sting.

You nod, your chest still heaving from your orgasm, but the weight of your emotions and the look in his eyes demand words. “Yes. Always, Hiromi.”

Something passes over his features at the sound of his name on your lips, soft and unguarded. He kisses you once more, slow and deliberate, as if he’s savoring you. It’s not just want—it’s need, tethered to something deeper that’s been growing between you for years, but you were always afraid you wouldn’t be as strong on his side.

“I need you to know…this isn’t just tonight for me. It’s not just because that mistletoe was in that box.” He swallows, resting his forehead against yours. “I want you…this.”

The words settle between you like the freshly fallen snow that started a few hours ago, soft and weightless but undeniable. For a moment, your chest tightens, a fragile knot of hope loosening into something sure as his gaze searches yours. You cup his jaw, tilting his face so you can look into his eyes through your blurry vision.

“It’s not just tonight for me either.”

The tenderness in his expression melts into something more charged, more finite—lips claiming yours and tip pressing to your entrance before he carefully slides in inch by inch, his eyes never leaving yours until he’s fully seated inside. It’s overwhelming—pleasure and emotion weaving together to make your body tremble beneath him.

It feels like it takes so much time and none at all for momentum to build between you. The heat of his breath, still tinged with your scent, fans across your cheeks as if he’s memorizing the shape of them. His hands dig into your hips and pull your closer to him, curving his cock with a blissful thrust that makes you see stars.

“Perfect,” he whispers, reverent as he kisses up your neck. “So perfect, angel.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, nails digging into the meat, yanking him impossibly closer as your throat pitches moan after moan into the hot air of your apartment. Each thrust is slow, deep, and intentional as if he’s trying to show you everything he can’t yet put into words. But you can feel the promise in the way his hips smack against yours. In the way he groans against your lips and swallows your pleas for more.

“I’ll do it right next time,” he whispers. “I’ll take a few days off work. Take you to dinner at the izakaya up the block you’ve been talking about.”

“Hiromi—”

“Three years of wanting you, of pretending—” You can’t answer him, can’t really soothe him when his movements are growing desperate when he kisses you in a way that makes you lose yourself even further.

You’ll muster up the energy later for another round, but right now, you’re rushing to the finish line, whimpering against his lips that turns into a debauched moan when his fingers find your clit, rubbing slowly despite the frantic clap of his hips.

You fall over first, you can’t help it. The whisper of your name from his lips is enough to yank you over with an embarrassed keen. He follows not long after. It’s not just pleasure—it’s the unraveling of three holidays spent balancing on the edge of this moment. Every rooftop conversation under snow cloud-covered skies, every flicker of shared warmth over tea, every stolen glance and whispered joke—all of it spills out now. It’s every lonely Christmas rewritten in the language of him, of this, of now.

He’s holding you through it as your orgasm pulses through you like its own heartbeat but doesn’t let go. In the quiet that follows, you think of that first night—how you brought him hot chocolate and warmth when he thought he needed neither. His lips press soft kisses to your temple, your shoulder, your fingers. His eyes so heavy with the need to sleep but his actions saying everything but.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs, his voice filled with something you hope to have a name for in the near future.

You smile, dragging your fingers up and down his back. That unspoken thing finally becomes tangible, a soft tune creating harmony with the Christmas music still playing in your living room.

“Merry Christmas, Hiromi.”

Merry Christmas, @sassypossum!!!

#ncs secret santa #merry ficmas #jjk higuruma #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #higuruma hiromi x reader #jjk hiromi #higuruma #jjk fluff #jjk smut

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probablyreadinsmut · 2 days ago

Text

The Mrs Clause - Part Two

Jackson Joel Miller X Afab! Reader.

Read part one here

Here it is! Part two to this mini fic, I had wanted to get it done before Christmas but life and procrastination got in the way. Honestly I'm glad I waited and didn't rush it though. I hope you all had a lovely Christmas and are enjoying the holidays and if you don't partake in the celebrations then I hope you're having a lovely week 💜

Warnings for part 2: Smut. MDNI.(For all my Joel Ho(e) Ho(e) Ho(e)s out there). Oral M+F receiving. Unprotected P in V (I expect y'all to do better, wrap it up like a present). Dirty talk. Joel is a quick draw. Squirting (if you squint). Praise. Folding you like a pretzel. Pussy and cock pronouns. Joel's a big boy. Fluff. Some love and appreciation for Joel's chompable ass. Mentions of loss. Joel is a sweetheart. Tommy can't sing for shit. Surprise at the end. Language (Swearing). Implied legal age gap, use your imaginations, reader existed before the apocalypse but there's no set age. No betas and I'm the worst at proofreading. I'm just here to practice writing and have fun.

Word Count: 5.3k

Credit for the cute little dividers goes to @strangergraphics 🎄

Kissing Joel was everything you'd dreamt it would be, feeling like you're floating, the entire world has gone silent, all you can hear is the slightly elevated thrum of your own heartbeat in your ears and the soft smack of his lips as they move with yours.

Neither of you have any idea how long you've been standing together like this, completely lost in each other. You can't think of anything but him and the way his hands feel on your back, gently caressing you through the velour Santa jacket he'd loaned you.

The way his beard scruff scrapes against your soft skin.

The way he smells, like pine and cinammon, mixed the sweet peppermint taste from all those candy canes he'd been snacking on over the course of the day.

The way his kiss is reverent but there's a tinge of something more behind it, a subtle heat that's threatening to escape from him.

The exhilarating combination of everything is making your head feel swimmy.

It's the squeels of kids outside the mess hall, engaging in an impromptu snowball fight, that finally snaps you both out of it, before you get too carried away. Honestly? It's probably a good thing, you felt like you were moments away from walking yourself backwards to one of the tables, letting him take you right here.

But you needed this reprieve. You didn't know if that's where he wanted this to go so quickly.

God knows that's what you wanted, but if he didn't and it spoiled the evening, you'd have been kicking yourself.

As you both pull back, lightly panting for breath, you both just stare at one another, letting out matching soft huffs of laughter.

"Well... That... I gotta say darlin'... That was probably top of my wish list for gifts this year." He says with a stupid goofy grin, to which you roll your eyes in amusement. "No no, really! Well... That and a well aged bottle of whiskey"

You shake your head with a small snort of laughter "Oh what an honour it is, hope you enjoyed it, 'cause you aren't getting another one"

He sticks his bottom lip out in a mocking pout. "Really? But I've been such a good boy this year" His hands are on your hips now, drawing small circles with his fingers over your clothes.

It's a lethal combination, he knows what he's doing. He's being anything but a good boy right now.

It's absolutely working, because the next words come tumbling out of your mouth in a flustered blurt. "Come back to my place?"

He knows he'd be a stupid man to say no to that.

Your heart is in your throat as you step over the threshold together. Joel shakes the fresh snow off himself almost like how a dog shakes themselves dry. He's so unintentionally funny sometimes, it actually calms your nerves a little.

Holding back a giggle, you head into the main living space, slipping off your heels with a small groan of relief, there was a reason you never wore these fucking things. Whoever designed them hated feet.

Meanwhile, he's taken the opportunity to do a little snooping, never having been in your house before, natural curiosity takes over.

A low whistle leaves him when he spots your record collection, it's tiny but it's there. "Didn't take ya for a Fleetwood fan" He grins as he raises the album up. "They're one of my favourites too, actually saw Stevie live back in the day"

"Someone's bragging, lucky bastard. I'm only a little jealous about that." your feigned non-chalonce and playful pout draws a chuckle from him, the sound of which has your heart skipping a beat.

Taking off the Santa jacket to hang it over the back of your couch, retrieving the carving from the pocket, you wander over to the mantleplace, setting it down to take pride of place in the centre, nestled between the one treasured photograph you have of your family and the candle you light when you're missing them. Lana is back where she belongs.

It's then that the gentle opening riffs of Landslide begin to play and you turn to see Joel watching you, with this soft smile and gooey eyes that make all your fears melt away. This bastard is a romantic. You hadn't expected that.

It a few short strides he's crossed the room, stopping in front of you. "May I have this dance?" He grins, outstretching his hand like the southern gentleman in him never left.

You don't hesitate to slip your hand into his and he doesn't hesitate to pull you closer, slipping his large hands around to rest flat against your lower back, your arms slide around his torso, resting your head against his shoulder as you begin to slowly sway together in the middle of your living room.

A small contented hum leaves him as he rests his cheek against the top of your head, your hearts beating in a steady, matching rhythm. This - you realise, is what's mean missing from your life. Joel Miller. The secret romantic, the secret big softie. You were crushing on him even before, when you knew him as the stern and authoritative grump that you'd been partnered up with for patrols, but now in his arms like this? Now you felt like you were falling.

And you couldn't stop it even if you tried.

"Y'know..." he starts, his voice a low murmur "I can't remember the last time I danced with someone like this... Definitely not since before anyway... Probably at my high school prom actually"

You chuckle lightly, shifting to wrap your arms around him just a little tighter, not wanting this moment to end. Closing your eyes you try to picture young Joel all dressed up in a tux, swaying softly with a faceless date, you could imagine yourself at that age as his date.

You'd never had a prom, 18 year old you was too busy growing up in this new world, learning how to live without her family. Still it was nice to fantasize. But the reality was right here with you now, pretty sure he was the man of four dreams, as cliché as that sounded in your head. It didn't make it any less true.

Lifting your head from his shoulder, you meet his soft gaze, that same feeling you had earlier when the two of you were about to kiss under the mistletoe begins to swell within you, like a drumroll leading up to a big finish.

"I like you Joel... A hell of a lot actually. Probably too much." it's an admission that's been months in the making, always on the tip of your tongue when you're out on patrol together or when you find him at the Tipsy Bison drinking alone. You'd always been too chickenshit to admit it though, he seemed like he enjoyed being alone but there was always a part of you that thought perhaps he did it as a defence mechanism.

Keep your circle small, less chance of getting hurt. You could respect that. Everyone had lost something in this world, he was no exception to the rule.

"I like you too darlin'. It's... Fuckin' terrifying actually. Last person I had any kind of feelin's for she..." He cuts himself off, throat bobbing as he takes a moment to think about Tess, it wasn't conventional love, he'd never said it to her, she'd never said it to him but he knew deep down what it was to both of them. "...Well, I don't think I need to say more about that. You know."

And you do, you can see it in his eyes, the pain as he's thinking about a lost love. This world had taken so much from everyone.

"I do.. S-so I get it, if you don't want this to be anything more than just tonight or... or if you want to stop right now and go home." As much as it pains you to say, the last thing you'd want is for him to feel pressured to let you into his life, to become one more person inside that small circle of his, but what you don't know is that you're already in it.

He just stares blankly at you for a moment like that's the dumbest thing he's ever heard. "What? No. No, no. Don't get me wrong, like I said I'm fuckin' terrified but-" He raises a hand to cup your cheek, the gentleness of his touch a sweet opposite to the rough persona he gives off "-but, I do want this. Make no mistake about that. I'm all in darlin'"

From there it starts slow, kissing unhurriedly in the living room, savouring each other. Eventually you'd begun to undress each other on the stairs, laughing together when Joel tripped up a step as he attempted to chase you up them, his tshirt discarded with reckless abandon over the bannister.

It didn't take long for things to heat up once he'd got you into your bedroom, kissing and nipping at your neck as he helped you out of your skirt while you tugged down those ridiculous Santa pants, though you were still questioning how those made you feel.

Soon enough you're both on your bed, naked and tangled up together in a heated frenzy of kisses, the moonlight streaming in and illuminating your bodies through the crack in the curtains.

It had been a while for you, not since the last QZ you were in before Jackson and if the warmth of pre cum oozing onto your thigh is anything to go by, it's been a while for him too.

"Okay--" he pulls back slightly, resting his forearms either side of your head, his breathing ragged with desire as he gazes down at you "-If we don't slow down a 'lil I'm gonna blow my load before we've even started darlin' that's the gods honest truth"

A soft giggle leaves you, lazily raking your nails up and down his bare back, feeling the way he shivers under your touch. "As hot as that is." It really is, the fact that he's so worked up just from kissing and some heavy petting, makes you feel like some kind of goddess right now. That you could get a man like Joel Miller, ruthless-prickly-antisocial to just about everyone else in this town-Joel Miller, well that has you positively weak at the knees. "I really would like you to fuck me first before that happens"

A low groan leaves him at your words and his brain just about short circuits, he's heard you swear plenty of times out on patrol but what you just said was legitimately the best Christmas gift he could ask for.

"Ohhhh darlin'" He drawls in that smooth timbre that has your pussy clenching around nothing "I don't think I'm gonna last long if you keep talking like that, I'm probably not gonna last long as it is." He lowers down to press slow, warm open mouthed kisses on your neck, taking his time now "But I intend. To make sure. That you. Enjoy yourself first." it's murmured against your skin between kisses, his breath hot against your collarbone as you register the featherlight skim of his fingers on your breast, his thumb finding your nipple, rubbing in languide circles as he coaxes it to peak.

He takes his time on your breasts when he finally does get to them with his lips, sucking one into his mouth, working it over with his tongue, the bastard even has the audacity to look up at you through those dark lashes, grinning with your nipple in his mouth. It's sinful how good he looks like this. A complete 180 from the soft man who was playing Santa just a few hours ago.

Now he's lavishing your tits with such expertise that has you sure that he's definitely on the naughty list.

Every little gasp that falls from your lips and writhe under him has him reading you like a book, quickly learning your cues as if he were memorizing directions. Mentally mapping your body out.

Once he's sure you're a mess for him, he pulls off your breast with a wet pop, dragging his lips down your abdomen, his stubble tickling at the sensitive flesh there, a breathy chuckle leaving you. You're ticklish. Another little fact about you that he'll happily store away for safe keeping.

As his lips move past your hips, burying his face in the wirey curls of your mound, inches away from your aching cunt, your legs part on instinct, his arms moving to hook underneath your thighs, holding you open for him.

"Fuuuuuuck sweetheart, look at this pretty little pussy. This mess all for me huh?" His breath fans across your pussy as he speaks, you're resting on your forearms looking down your body at him, appreciating the curve of his ass behind him, very biteable, yum.

The dirty talk doesn't even surprise you, just by the way he carries himself in his day to day life you already had a hunch he'd be like this, all tender and sweet when he wants to be, but as filthy as they come between the sheets.

"C'mon babygirl, use your words, wanna hear you say who this..." He swipes his finger through your folds, collecting your arousal before he brings it to his lips, tongue darting out to taste you on his fingers "...Sweet little cunt belongs to, holy fuck you taste so good"

His reaction has your wetness pooling beneath you, you're absolutely soaked right now and there's no hiding it from him. "You Joel. I'm yours, please..."

"Don't need to ask me twice darlin'" With that he ducks his head down, licking a slow stripe up from your entrance to your clit, an obscenely hot growl leaving him as your essence hits his tastebuds at full force.

You mewl and arch beneath him, his big hands gripping your thighs to keep you open. He starts slow at first, swirling your clit with the tip of his tongue in practiced patterns, just as you think he's sticking to a rhythm of left to right, he switches it up and goes in circles.

It's threatening to drive you to insanity. Edging you closer to release before he pulls it back, drawing this out longer, you realise quick enough. You're not usually this quick to approach climax but that's because you're on your own. Now however, he has complete control over you and he knows it.

The moan you let out when his tongue breeches you is obscene, you feel the mattress rock a little, lifting your head just enough to see him rutting into it. "Careful... You'll- oh fuck... Make yourself cum" That's all you can manage to get out before you throw your head back with a gasp, your hands flying into his hair holding him firm against you. He's let go of one of your thighs, bringing his thumb to your clit, circling it with a delicious pressure that makes all your self given orgasms pale in comparison.

A deep rumble of laughter bubbles up from his throat as he feels your velvety walls begin to spasm around his tongue. He'll stop teasing you now, he wants nothing more than to taste that sweet honey of yours, that and his dick is throbbing so hard it's verging on painful, all those little noises you've been making are addictive.

His hips still against the mattress as he focuses all his energy on you now, pressing just that little bit firmer against your clit as his tongue curls and fucks your tight heat. You feel the mixture of his saliva and your juices making a mess under you, trickling down your ass. You know his beard will be coated too.

"J-joel- oh... F-fuck. Mmm. Gonna- oh god!!"

Thighs trembling either side of his head, if he didn't have you spread open with his big hand on your thigh, you're sure you'd be clamping them around him by now, threatening to suffocate him as your release wracks through you. As it is, you're holding him steady against your pussy and he's more than happy to work you through it, groaning out as he laps up every last drop.

As the trembles begin to subside, he starts his way back up your body, kissing every curve and valley along the way until his looming over you once more, grinning down at you with pride, his chin glistening with your glossy fluids.

"Bet you're- so fucking pleased with yourself huh?" The breathless tone has his eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth.

"Damn right I'm proud of myself. Got her nice and wet f'me, prolly gonna be able to slide right in." He coos as he reaches down between you, teasing his cock through your folds, up and down, over your swollen clit and back again to nudge at your entrance, over and over again. "I'm warnin' you darlin', I really ain't gonna last long. 'Specially if you're gonna be makin' all those noises f'me"

"Joel. Do you think I care? You just gave me the best head of my life. What I need right now..." You pause as you slide further down the pillows to lay flat against the mattress, knees bent, wide open as he kneels between them "...Is your fat cock inside me. Got it?"

A sly smirk stretches across his lips, hearing you talk dirty is quickly becoming one of his favourite things. "Yes ma'am, I hear ya loud and clear".

With that he wastes no more time, notching himself at your entrance, slowly sinking into you. Both of you groan in unison and that's just from the first couple of inches. Joel's a big man. You don't need to see his cock to know that, not when you can feel the sweet sting and stretch, even if he had made you soaked enough that he could just thrust into you with one powerful jerk of his hips but he knows he'd risk cumming too fast and he doesn't want to hurt you. Fully aware that his size can be a challenge.

"Fuck darlin'... Look at you... Takin' me so good. That's not even all of me. Think you can take more?"

You nod dumbly and he takes this as his cue to kick things up a notch, grabbing your calves as he pushes your knees back until they're against your chest, practically folding you in half. The new angle allows him to feed the rest of his cock into you, hitting deep when he's fully sheathed.

His plush bottom lip is pulled between his teeth as his gaze is fixed between you, watching as he begins to move. Pulling back until he's almost all the way out before he plunges deep back in again. The slow drag of his cock over your g-spot has you gasping already. Over and over until he starts to pick up the pace.

Leaning down, your legs either side of his shoulders as his hands are planted firmly either side of you. You know you're both going to be feeling this tomorrow but right now you don't fucking care, this feels too good, he feels too good.

"Joel!" You whimper and sob under him, trying your hardest to keep your eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment of this, the way his teeth are gritted together, the knot of his brow as he's focusing on not cumming yet. He's not being rough by any means but the slap of flesh on flesh is constant, fast, deep and hard. It's as if he knew that's how you liked it.

"I know sugar. Not yet. Need ya t'cum again f'me first. I know y'can. Can... Ohhh christ... Feel ya... Grippin' me like a fuckin' vice! Need ya t'cum f'me again." He's barely holding himself together, the way his voice is strained. He angles his hips a little more to the point where he knows that with every thrust you'll be feeling a grind against your poor sensitive clit. He knows it'll get you there faster.

You're so stretched out and folded right now that you feel like all the air in your lungs is being knocked out of you with every lunge of his hips. Your breaths coming out in short sharp gasps as your fingers blindly claw at the sheets, feeling so full of him to the point where it's almost overwhelming.

Every noise you're making drives him just that little bit closer but he wants nothing more than to feel you shatter around his cock first. He needs it and he gets it. With a strangled cry of his name your second orgasm hits you, saturating his cock with your release to the point where it's dripping down his thighs.

"Fuck... Fuck... Fuck."

He fucks you through it, just barely restraining himself from cumming inside you, as soon as the flutters stop, he pulls out, jerking his cock as few times until he's spilling out onto your stomach, coating your skin with his warm, sticking spend, groaning lowly as he does so.

When the tremors of post coital bliss begin to subside, that's when the leg cramp hits, he'd let go of one of your calves before but the other is still firmly in his grip, your knee is still pressing against your chest.

"Joel. Ah. Leg cramp, leg cramp" You tap his arm to get his attention, and he scrambles to let you go, carefully helping your knee to straighten back out.

"Sorry about that, Darlin' you okay?" He asks with a tender stroke of his thumb across your leg, finding the cramp he helps to massage it away.

"Yeah I'm okay" You huff out a little laugh "Not sure I'm built for positions like that for an extended period of time though, don't get me wrong, that was fucking amazing and we will be doing that again"

He let's go of your leg when he feels the tension ease, coming to lean down over you, giving you the gentlest, sweetest kiss ever before he pulls back, resting his forehead against yours. "Damn right we will sweetheart. Right now though? Need to get ya all cleaned up. Stay put."

He climbs out of bed, naked as the day he was born and you can't help but admire his back profile, broad shoulders flexing in the moonlight, dimples in his lower bsck and that ass. The one you'd been admiring in his jeans every time you'd been out on patrol together. It's even better in the flesh.

"You say that as if I have the energy to move right now anyway!" You call out and he grins over his shoulder at you, knowing he did that to you. Even at 57 years old, he can still give the younger guys a run for their money.

The rest of that night is spent sleeplessly, you're either talking and joking or you're back to exploring each other's bodies, finding what makes each other tick. It surprises you, the stamina that he does have but you're damn happy about it, most men would have fallen asleep and called it a night after round one. Not Joel Miller though.

By the time either of you actually bother to look at the clock it's nearly 4am. You'd both been so swept up in everything that you hadn't even realised how much the time had gotten away from you.

Both of you had collapsed into a sated, blissful heap together after you'd decided you just had to ride him. Your bodies are entangled in a sweaty, sticky sheen but neither of you cares right now.

"Best. Christmas. Ever" He gets out as he plants soft little kisses to your cheek, you can feel his heart thundering in his chest, just like yours is.

"Can say that again. Guess Christmas came early huh? Among other things." That last remark earns you a playful jab to your side, ellicitng a squeel from you.

"You tease but I didn't hear you complainin', in fact I remember you were all too happy not to waste a drop" You'd gone down on him soon after your first round the second he was able to get hard again, he'd been so sensitive from his first release that all it took was a few minutes before he was cumming down your throat.

"You got me there, Miller." You grin as you shift onto your front, laying at his side with your feet gently kicking back and forth in the air, admiring his handsome features. He smiles back at you, taking in your beautiful face bathed in the moonlight, fingers running up and down the curve of your spine. "Joel?"

"Yes darlin'?"

"Can I ask you something? It's... It's about something I noticed at the grotto."

His fingers still for a moment, tilting his head in curiosity about what you're going to ask. "Shoot. Ask away"

"I... Well you were so good with the kids today. It was really sweet but- there was this one little girl? I noticed you looked kind of sad?"

The look on his face makes you regret asking almost instantly, you recognise the pain there. That same pain he'd had earlier when briefly touching on someone else he'd lost, the same pain that you recognise reflecting back at you in the mirror sometimes.

"Its okay if you don't want to-"

He closes his eyes and shakes his head shallowly as he takes a moment to collect himself, opening them back up to look at you with a small sad smile. "No... No, S'okay. I can talk about it. There was a time when I couldn't but... I can now. And I want to tell you everything. I mean everything. Is that okay with you, sweetheart?"

You slide your hand across his chest to rest over his heart, feeling the comforting steady thrum of it beneath your fingertips. "Whatever you're willing to share Joel, then I'm happy to listen."

He trusts you. He really fucking likes you. Even before tonight he'd felt like he was falling for you but now he's sure he is.

And so he does. He tells you everything.

All of it. Sparing no details about Ellie and the fireflies, about her immunity and what happened in Salt Lake City.

About what he and Tommy used to do after the world collapsed.

About Tess and the complicated relationship they shared.

And about Sarah. His babygirl that he'd lost on day one.

It all then makes sense to you why he is the way that he is with Ellie and why he keeps his circle so small.

One year later

'Last Christmas, I gave you my heart but the very next day you gave it away.'

Whoever had convinced Tommy to get up on stage and sing Wham either needed a slap or they needed to be bought a drink, you couldn't decide.

It's Christmas Eve, this year Tommy and Maria had decided to host Karaoke night for the community, almost everyone was here, sitting around at the bar or at tables wincing every time Tommy tried to hit a high note.

You'd lost count how many times Joel had mumbled 'I fuckin' hate karaoke' under his breath beside you, looking like he wanted someone to put a bullet in him.

"So that's a no to getting up on stage with me hm?" You tease as you sip your drink through the little straw.

"Firm no."

"Oh c'mon not even Elton John and Kiki Dee!?" He shoots you a look that you know all too well by now, one that says, 'If you keep teasin' I'm going to ruin you the second we get home'. The heated glare has you weak at the knees, half tempted to keep prodding the bull but you don't get a chance.

Ellie and Dina come running over to your table to plop themselves in front of the two of you, all grins and wide excited eyes.

"What's got the two of you so worked up?" You ask with a suspicious chuckle.

Ellie twists her lips coyly "Nothing! Hey Joel you know that thing? It's ready."

"Oh that's cryptic. What thing? What's she talking about?" You turn to Joel with confusion etched on your face.

"Subtle Ellie, real subtle. Didn't I tell ya to work on that?"

It's then that Tommy finishes his song, finally and takes the mic in his hand, tapping it a few times to get everyone's attention, the feedback making some of the patrons groan.

"Alrighty folks, need y'all to get yer coats on now cos we've got one more special even planned for tonight, other than my wonderful singing that is."

The curious mumbles rise from the crowd, Joel is quick to pull you to stand, urging you to get your jacket on as the girls both dash back outside into the snow.

Everyone files out slowly, Joel keeps his hand firmly in yours as he pushes through the crowd with murmered sorrys and 'scuse me's. You have no idea what's going on right now or why Ellie and Dina smiling ear to ear just a few feet ahead.

With the crowd gathered, you and Joel at the very front, you feel his hand shaking in yours.

"Baby is everything okay, what's going o-"

Before you can even get your words out there's a small squeel and a fizz before a rocket goes flying into the air, your eyes following the noise, lighting up when you see the burst of colours against the night sky.

Fireworks in vivid shades of red, blues and greens in the distance, beyond the walls of Jackson.

Momentarily panicking that the noise might attract unwanted attention to the town, but it's over as quick as it began because out of the corner of your eye you see him, sinking down onto one knee, letting out a small groan that reveals his bones are older than he likes to pretend he is.

You gawp down at him with wide, unblinking eyes The whole town is now watching the two of you "Joel. What are you doing?"

"Whats it look like I'm doin'? And if you say no you'll be makin' me look like an ass in front of the entire town, you have any idea how long it took to get this fireworks thing rigged up far enough away so it doesn't cause a fuss?" He half chuckles as he digs a small box out of his pocket, saying your name slowly as he opens it to reveal a simple silver band with tiny little emeralds set into it.

The smallest of gasps leaves you, realising hes about to propose in front of the whole fucking town.

And then he says the words you've been longing to hear. "Will you marry me?"

Without missing a beat you give him his answer "Are you fucking kidding me!? Yes!" You sink to your knees in the snow, throwing your arms around him almost catching him off balance with an oof.

His free arm snakes around your waist holding you close to him as he buries his face in your neck.

You hear the whistles and cheers from the crowd but right now it all may as well be background noise because all you hear is his whispered words as he slips the ring onto your finger, it fits like a glove much to his joy. "I love you so fuckin' much, Merry Christmas baby."

Your eyes are glittering with unshed happy tears as you respond "Merry Christmas Joel."

You're going to spend the rest of your life with this man. This Christmas and every Christmas thereafter.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

@itwasntimethatdidit40 @cheekychaos28 @joelmillerisapunk @almostempty @lovely-vamp-princess @baronessvonglitter @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @kirsteng42

@ashleyfilm @redollface @supmlfevs @laprofesoratinacita

Thank you to everyone who interacts, reblogs, comments and reads, it means the world to me 💜

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blackynsupremacy · 1 day ago

Text

SICK DAYS WITH

CLARK KENT

HEADCANONS

pairing: older!smallville!clark kent x black!fem!reader

summary: clark nurses you back to health when you feel under the weather.

contains: fluff, established relationship, clark being a green flag, reader can imagine any clark ofc.

a/n: i missed writing for him sm. i’m going through this rn, so writing this made me feel a little less worse. please enjoy while i try to sleep this off!

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @thabiddie23 @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @paisholotus @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @venic-bxtch @stargirl-mayaa @ellethespaceunicorn

• there’s nothing worse than waking up with a sore throat, fever, chills, and a stuffed nose.

• you groan in agony as you feel like absolute garbage.

• clark is stirred by your sound and turns to you with a gaze of concern.

• he takes one glance at your peaked face.

• it doesn’t take x-ray vision for him to know that you’ve come down with something.

• he feels your forehead and as soon as it feels hot as the sun, he immediately calls in the daily planet for both of you.

• those headlines and deadlines were gonna have to wait because to clark, your safety and your health were his top priority.

• he urges you to stay in bed because with him around, you won’t have to lift a finger.

• he makes sure that you have the necessities like tissues, water, cough drops, saltines, and ginger ale. (ifykyk)

• he waits on you hand and foot.

• whether you like it or not, he’s making you an appointment to the doctor later on. home remedies can only do so much.

• he cooks for you a soup that’s his mother’s special recipe.

• clark puts his heart, soul, and heat vision in that soup.

• when you finally get the appetite, clark makes sure that you get your fill.

• don’t bother trying to skip on that water, he will be on you about hydrating yourself.

• and taking any medication that the doctor prescribed.

• hypes you up when you have a big pill to swallow.

• you love that he doesn’t get sick as humans do, so you can kiss and hug him without any fret of spreading your illness to him.

• alien or not, you can’t resist showing your affection.

• clark is so, so, so, good to you.

• you guys aren’t married, but he takes in sickness and in health to a whole new level.

• he’ll sanitize the apartment for you.

• he we will give you the whole queen treatment.

• bubble baths, back massages, foot rubs, you name it!

• you tell him to relax and lay down with you.

• you put on shows like judge judy or general hospital.

• he reads to you or tells you stories about his life in smallville.

• not to be a creep, but it’s peaceful for him to see you sleep.

• you deserve some good sleep for enduring this illness all day.

• clark holds you close and fixes your scarf/bonnet if it shifts.

• if you’re still feeling feverish, he has an ice pack ready to gently lay on your head.

• whether he sleeps or not, he wouldn’t dare to leave your side for a second.

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bows4tyun · 9 hours ago

Note

Can you write virgin reader and Soobin with bad corruption kink pleaseeee, I just read the 2 of your fics and I'm obsessed 🫶🏼

BROKEN ANGEL - ! ⸝⸝ 최수빈

୨ৎ: soobin was always fond of how innocent and pure you were, not having a single clue of all the twisted and dirty thoughts that went through his head, the subtle touches he would give you, or not even how rock hard you had him all the time. he never knew that your innocence would soon effect him like never before.

𓍼 paring ! - husband!soobin x virgin!reader (f)

𓍼 warnings ! - softdom!soobin, sub!reader, they're so in love, massive corruption kink, virginity loss, breast worship, nipple play, praise kink, size training, bulge kink, breeding kink (he really wants to get reader pregnant), lots of kisses, soobin referred as binnie by reader, soobin calls reader bun, bunny, angel, and good girl

𓍼 # lexi adds ! - heh i rlly like this one :3 I like this one so much I'll cry in the corner of my room and wish to have a love like this. "thank you anon!" we all say in unison!!

you loved your boyfriend and he loved you too, always showing you how much he loved you with soft kisses everyday or baking you some sweet treats. it had never gone as far as anything sexual.

you don't know why, but it just never happened even after a 2 year marriage with him. of course, you were still a virgin, you had never had a sexual experience with any other man.

if soobin had wanted to then why didn't he just ask? well the answer was simple;

he loved how innocent you were.

soobin was always fond of how innocent and pure you were, not having a single clue of all the twisted and dirty thoughts that went through his head, the subtle touches he would give you, or not even how rock hard you had him all the time. he never knew that your innocence would soon effect him like never before until one fateful day...

it was a day just like any other, soobin was heading back home from work, smiling at the text message he had gotten from you, giving him a small heads up that there would be dinner ready for him as soon as he got back.

he absolutely adored the way you thought ahead for him, and only him. he wanted it to stay like this forever, just you and him, him and his sweet angel.

everything about you was just so perfect an angelic, how did soobin ever get so lucky to have his own real life angel all to himself?

he dreamed of starting a family with you, him working while you stayed home taking care of his babies, it was everything he wanted. but in order to make babies, you had to have sex.

soobin just couldn't get himself to ask for sex, not wanting to break your innocence in any shape or form. you guys were both adult, more than capable of making your own decisions, so maybe this time soobin would have a go at it.

⸝⸝

he felt nervous as he entered your cozy and loving home, being greeted by a warm embrace and small peck on lips right as he step foot inside that dissolved all the nervousness away.

soobin planted a soft kiss on your forehead before you helped him removed his jacket and place on a hook from the coat hanger.

"i made your favourite." your voice calm and collected yet heavy with love and adoration. soobin liked this feeling, being with you, a smile always painted on his face while having you close to him.

with a small nod, he allowed you to lead him to your small dining table of two, the table well organized and ready for the two of you to have a loving and home-cooked meal together.

a small yet gentle smile tugged at soobin's lips once he saw the prepped dinner. instead of sitting down, he hugged you once more, this time more tightly than before. he leaned down enough to whisper in your ear, "what did I do to deserve you?"

a giggle escaped past your lips,feeling ticklish from his whisper against your ear. "binnie, let's eat first."

he leaned back his cute dimple visible as his grinned affectionately, "oh right... yeah let's do that."

⸝⸝

after dinner, soobin had gone to your shared master bedroom to change while you cleaned up and washed the dishes, it was so calm in your house, only the sound of water running bouncing off the walls.

not paying much attention to your surroundings, you're startled when you felt soobin's hands creep up around your waist. "binnie, you scared me!" you say as you turn around to face him. he chuckles at your cute reaction, cupping your face with his hands and pecking you on the lips.

"sorry bun, I'll make it up to you." he says, "anything you want." and he pecks your lips again.

"I don't need anything from you, binnie, just having you here is enough." your words might have sounded cliche but you meant every single thing. he was the most important thing to you and nothing could ever change that.

soobin lets his hands fall to his sides, admiring your beauty for a few seconds, the moment is so sweet, just the two of you, so stupid in love with each other, it was something you'd both cherish forever.

suddenly, your lifted into soobin's arms, startled once more and you yelp as he holds you, carrying you the same way he had on your wedding day.

"soobin!" you squeal.

nothing but a small snicker escapes past his lip as he stares into your eyes, "it's okay, I got you bunny" his voice reassuring as he leads you to your room.

you wrapped your arm around the back of his neck to ensure you don't fall even when you know soobin would never drop you, never in his life.

he took you in the direction of the bed, placing you down on the soft and comfy mattress, admiring your beauty as you laid under him, looking as pure as ever, his angelic wife.

you feel his eyes on you, his warm brown eyes enamoured by your content beauty. the nervousness gets to you, causing a warm feeling to rise to your cheeks, painting them a mellow pink hue and your hand moves to hover over your mouth.

soobin placed a comforting hand on yours, his touch warm. he moves your hand away from your face, keeping it close to your chest. "don't hide yourself from me bunny, I want to see your pretty face..."

your other hand envelopes his as you stare into his eyes. "what are you trying to do binnie...?" your question curious yet innocent as your eyes search his for an answer.

"you've had me worked up for way too long, bun. I can't take it. I want to make love to you, only if you're okay with it, of course. I know it's your first time and I don't want to hurt you," he says, "I'll accept any answer you give me."

his words make you feel an unusual sensation in your core, you're never felt this before.

finally, you nod you head meekly a small "mhm" leaving your mouth. "I've been waiting for you to ask, binnie..." you turn your head and gaze elsewhere, to shy to look him in the eyes.

his face instantly lights up from your response, not believing what he was hearing. his hand moves to your chin as he gently turns your head back and he kisses you, softly and lovingly, just so full of love.

"I'll start slow, don't worry, bun" one by one, pieces of your clothes are removed from your body, leaving you fully exposed and vulnerable in front of him, soobin leaving small kisses on every inch of newly exposed skin he saw, not wanting to miss out on anything. "fuck, can't believe I have you all to myself now, bunny. you're just like an angel, all for me..."

He kisses your lips once more before kneeling in front of your thighs, watching the way your cunt glistens with your slick.

you whine from the desperate need of his touch, you feel like a n animal in heat, it felt pathetic.

"b-binnie..." you stutter from the overwhelming feeling and he stops.

"are you okay? did I hurt you?" his tone of voice sounds alert and concerned for any of your discomfort.

you shake your head, and he leaves from inbetween your legs. "n-no I just..." you say, embarrassed "I want you to touch me... "

"is that what my angel wants, to be pleasured?" he coos softly , caressing your hair and moving his other hand to your breast, squeezing the soft squishy flesh and tweaking at your nipple, drawing mewls to fall from your lips.

"b-binnie...!" you whimper his name out again, not knowing what else to say accept feel the immense feeling of pleasure coursing through your body.

"yeah? you're doing so good, such a good girl..." you moan pathetically at the pet name, not knowing how much you'd actually like it. "you ready to take me in?"

"not yet-!" you watch as soobin's head shoots down and his lips attach to your nipple, sucking lightly, hardening the sensitive bud. you squirm and whimper, you can feel soobin smirking at the sight infront of him, your face contorted in pleasure as your brows furrow and your eyes screw shut.

his lip detach themselves from your nipple, a small string of saliva connecting the two of you together before breaking, he licked his lips in hunger, wanting more. "it's okay, bunny, take your time."

his hands run down your sides in a soothing way, the dim light in the room letting you see all of his features just right. he was so handsome, he always had been. so cute too. you couldn't believe he was your husband. that's when you spoke up, your voice barely above a whisper, "soobin... I'm ready..."

his eyes widen, "a-are you sure...? like, completely sure?"

with a small nod as a gesture, he picks you up again, sitting himself on the bed and placing on on his lap, his head against the headboard.

your clothed core presses against his thigh, a slight whimper escaping from the feeling. you sit on his thigh, your clit pressing against him and you feel a huge burst of pleasure and your eyes close again.

soobin smirks and chuckles at the sight of you pleasuring yourself, his hands on your hips to keep to steady. "there you go, bun. you're getting the hand of it, aren't you?" he says, "now let's get this dick out, wanna do it for me?

you're a bit shocked by his question, your eyes opening only to see his signalling you to take his dick out his pants. you agree to his offer, you hands finding their way down to his bulge, pulling the waistband of his sweatpants down and you grab his hard dick, he hisses at the feeling as you pull it out.

it's huge, you never knew that they could be that big. you're startled a bit, and soobin notices, caressing your hair in a comforting manner. "don't be scared, bun. I'll take care of you, I would never hurt you."

he lifts you from his thigh, tugging your matching laced panties off of your body. throwing it into the pile of your long and forgotten clothes.

"tell me if it hurts and I'll stop, okay?" he says reassuringly, not wanting to scare you away. "I got it binnie, I want to try."

"don't push yourself too hard." he kisses you softly before you align yourself with his cock.

"is this right?" you question innocently, not sure of what you're doing.

he smiles warmly, "perfect. you got this, bunny. just push yourself down of it, okay?"

with his words of affirmation, you're finally able to get yourself to push his cock inside of, it hurts, a lot. the sting pluses through your body but you keep going despite the pain, not wanting to disappoint soobin.

a small cry and hiss leave your lips and soobin stops you from going any further, "bunny don't hurt yourself, please."

"I'm fine binnie..." you whisper, trying to convince him but he doesn't believe you.

"bunny, if you can't handle it, don't keep going, please."

"I can do it..." and with those words you push yourself completely , bottoming yourself on his cock, feeling your skin finally touch his. he's so deep inside of you, his tip kissing your sweet spot just right.

you moan out and pull yourself off his cock, your hole stretched out like never before, but you push yourself back down without soobin's help. he watches as you repeat your actions and fuck yourself up and down on his dick, the pleasure only getting better.

"ah- binnie! f-feels so good...!" you cry out, soobin only admiring the way your tits bounce right in front of his face, his hands moving up to cup them.

"that's right, bunny. you're such a fast learner..." he says in admiration, groping your tits softly "fuck your tits are perfect." he admits, "I'm so glad that I'm the one taking your innocence, angel."

your soft whimpers and moans are absolute music to soobin's ears, he would listen to you all day if he could.

as you bounced on his dick, the sounds of wet and lewd slapping echoes and bounces off the walls. the sounds of your moans and soobin's groans filling the room that was now full of the scent of sex.

"hmph! binnie! I'm feel something in my stomach-!" you grip his shoulders as he grips onto your waist.

"that's a good thing bunny, a very good thing," he huffs out " you're taking me so well, such a good girl... " he can't help himself and begins to thrust up into you, hitting your cervix on repeat, causing your moans to grow louder and even more desperate than before.

"I can't take it...! binnie-!" you find yourself fucked dumb on his cock and soobin feels his balls tighten, knowing his release was soon, very soon.

you finally release on his cock, feeling as it was embarrassingly fast, but you continue to bounce on his dick despite your orgasm.

he suddenly stops you from bouncing, holding you place and he thrusts up with so much power, leaving you only to whimper and moan out pathetic babbles, only fueling soobin to chase his high.

"fuck bunny, im going to fill you up so... good! want me to fill you with our first child, hm? want me to get you round and pregnant?"

you can't understand what he's saying, your mind fucked dumb as you just agree and nod. "yes! yes please binnie...!"

he snickers " I'll give you exactly what you want, bun. you know I always do."

and fill you up he does, right to brim.

he leaves the both of you breathless as he stays snug inside, not wanting to let his cum go to waste. you feel as some of his cum swivels down and wets the mattress under you.

"let's stay like this for a while, hm? want to just hug you and cherish you in my arms. I love you, bunny."

𓍼 taglist ! - @hyunj00 (please lmk if you want to be tagged in any of my future works!)

reblogs are appreciated!

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urfavlarry · 2 days ago

Text

—You’re the kind of person they write rock songs about

-modern!au Viktor x fem!reader warning. not proof read, swearing, might be OOC

part one || part two

‼️A/N. if anyone wants to be added to the taglist for this fic, let me know!! ‼️

'Taste me, you will see

'More is all you need..'

You were an art major with dreams of becoming a performer—a passion that stuck to you during your high school years. It wasn’t always a dream of yours; as a child, you’d imagined yourself as a ballerina or a doctor saving hundreds of lives but everything changed when the gates of high school and teenage drama opened up to you.

In your sophomore year, you and a few friends stumbled upon a shared love for music and decided to form a small rock band. Powder, your best friend, took the lead as the singer. Her stepsister, Isha, played the drums, while Ekko, Powder’s boyfriend, handled the bass. You took on guitar duties and backup vocals. The band quickly became a big part of your lives, and you weren’t half bad.

By the time you all made it to college—except Isha, who was in her senior year of high school—you were performing at local bars and small venues. The gigs didn’t pay much, but they weren’t a loss either, and your parents were proud of your dedication.

You got more of a recognition when the principal assigned you and the band to play some of your own songs or whatever covers you deemed fit for the occasion and even got an award which earned you the title of the ‘schools rock stars’ by most of the people who attended that day and it quickly spread and stuck until graduation.

The journey, however, wasn’t always just rainbows and sunshine. Learning guitar and perfecting your singing skills took patience, and there were moments of frustration.

Your forgetfulness and stupidity often kicked you right in the ass—or well, fingers— having to buy a new guitar pick every few days leaving your fingers bloody and sore. On a particular night performing at the Last Drop your guitar was left bloodied after you thought it would be an absolutely genius idea to play Metallicas ‘Master of Puppets’ which luckily went great! The crowd went wild however it did earn you quite a scolding from Vander as he carefully put band aids on each of your fingers. However he could tell by the proud look on your face that you thought it was worth it, people coming up to cogratulate you on your performance, suggesting songs or giving you sweets they bought as a sort of reward and all Vander could really do was laugh at his daughter’s best friends foolishness.

While you immersed yourself in music, Viktor—a double major in physics and engineering—navigated a completely different world. His close circle of friends—Vi, Powder’s older sister; Jayce, Mel and Caitlyn, Vi’s girlfriend—shared little in common with your bandmates, yet you crossed paths by chance from time to time. Viktor knew of you mostly through Vi and Jayce’s stories or from the few times he happened to see your band perform.

One such instance was prom, where he watched you take the stage with confidence. Another was a night at The Last Drop, where Viktor had ended up by chance when Vi dragged the group into the establishment for a few drinks.

Today the bar was as lively as ever. The dimly lit bar was packed, and the familiar hum of chatter and clinking glasses filled the air before the first note was played. “Are you ready?” You half screamed into the mic as a roar of cheers and claps bounced through the walls. You strummed your fingers along the strings of your guitar, gifted to you not long ago by your friends since your old one was pretty wrecked however it still had it’s place and on display in your bedroom as a symbol of where you first started while Isha got into the beat of ‘Can’t stop’ by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers.

You saw a few faces light up but most didn’t quiet recognize the song but still looked like they were enjoying themselves as the chatter slowly died down, all eyes and ears on your performance.

Viktor sat in the corner with Vi, Jayce, and Caitlyn, his attention flitting between their conversation and the band on stage. He wasn’t one for loud, crowded places, but something about your music intrigued him. He knew of the rock genre because of Jayce being quite a fan of System of a Down and many other bands he would need a whole notebook to name however Vi had a big part of the introduction herself but he adjusted to the change of genre he wasn’t quiet familiar with before he met his dear friends.

There was a passion in your performance that resonated with him, though he couldn’t quite explain why.

After the set, you stepped off the stage, sweaty and exhilarated. Powder gave you a playful nudge, her eyes twinkling with pride. “Killed it as always,” she said with a grin.

“Thanks, Pow,” you replied, wiping your brow. Your gaze swept across the room, catching sight of a group you vaguely recognized—Vi’s crew. As if on queue Vi averted her gaze from the group and caught your attention, waving you over, and though you hesitated for a moment before you all made your way to their table. “Hey, Rockstar!” Vi greeted, giving you a playful smirk. “Nice set tonight. You finally learned how to tune that thing, huh?”

You rolled your eyes at her teasing. “Thanks, Vi. You still can’t keep a beat, though, can you?”

The group laughed, and you found yourself pulled into their orbit. Introductions were made, though most were unnecessary—you already knew who they were. When it came to Viktor, however, there was an awkward pause.

“Viktor,” he said, offering a polite nod. You smiled and gave your name in response and decide to strike up a conversation with the man. “Thanks for sticking around! You don’t seem like the type for these kinds of outings.” You say truthfully and chuckle nervously.

“It was... impressive,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet but sincere. “You’d be correct on that last part. I don’t often attend these kinds of events, but your performance was captivating.” His accent was foreign to you yet it was a cute quality, making your stomach flutter with butterflies. The compliment however caught you off guard. You weren’t used to that kind of earnest praise, especially from someone who seemed like they’d be more of the jazz or pop type. “Thanks,” you said, a bit bashfully. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

The conversation shifted back to the group, but Viktor’s words lingered in your mind. Something about his quiet demeanor fascinated you, and you couldn’t help but want to know more about this mystery of a man.

That night when you all went your seperate ways once you got to the college dorms, Powder noticed how lost in thought you were; basically just lying on the bed and looking at nothing. “Okay, what’s with your teen spirit Cobain?” She chuckles at her own joke and you look at her with a ‘really?’ face, letting out a giggle of your own. “So many other jokes out there and that’s what you come up with?” You push her shoulder playfully and sit up from your bed, facing her. “Okay, okay.. enough shaming my stand up comedy, what’s wrong Y/N?”

“That Viktor guy from your sister’s group.. with the accent and shit?” You start as a smirk sneaked onto her lips, kicking her feet in the air as she lied on her stomach. “Yeaah?” “Well I don’t know, something about me just.. makes me want to get to know him you know?” You sigh, throwing yourself onto Powders bed, lying on her stomach. “He’s such a nerd though! From what Vi told me over the phone a few times he’s like a workaholic but ten times worse girl. And he looks like he has a couple conditions.. probably should get that checked.” She mumbled to herself, making you giggle. “Come on Pow that’s just straight up mean.”

“But look who’s giggling.” She flicks the side of your head and joins in on your laughter.

You remember the cane he had, the golden details and carvings and the way his under eyes were darker then the rest of his pale, almost sickly skin. His jawline was sharp with a straight nose and an almost unnoticeable underbite. He was pretty cute.. He was probably a cool person to be around so you wondered if you’d have the chance to maybe hang out with him.

“Do you think your sister would be up to hanging out? You know, our group and hers? We have that show next weekend we can invite them there and spend the rest of the night doing whatever!” You suggest and quickly get a nod of approval from your blue haired friend which only made your excitement rise.

Next weekend it is.. Maybe he’d be up to a one on one hangout once you have the chance to ask, maybe even over the phone if you’re lucky enough to get his number or socials. Until next weekend all you could do was practice and imagine every sort of scenario of how it would all go.

taglist: let me know if you want to be added

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR COPY ANY OF MY WRITING TO OTHER PLATFORMS

I DON’T CONSENT FOR MY WRITING TO BE USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫

#ᯓ★ urfavlarry #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane season one #arcane x reader #arcane fanfiction #arcane fanfic #arcane #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #viktor fanfic #viktor lol #viktor nation

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syndrossi · 2 days ago

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I am reading a webnovel where the main character is pregnant, and it just makes me want to see Aemon and Jocelyn's reactions when they find out she's pregnant with the twins. Depending on the timeline and scenario you go with, it could be very interesting... I hope they come as a nice surprise in any case!

And I know it's a little similar to the scene where Rhea has the twins, but I'm amused thinking about Aemon being introduced to Jon, another dark-haired babe, and thinking his wife's coloring wins again, only for a little Aemon clone (baby Rhaegar!!!) to come out right after. Also, for him to not only have a male heir, but TWO OF THEM in one miraculous day. Three children, just like that.

Will Rhaenys love them immediately? Not sure how old she'll be in this AU, but if she's young enough, she honestly feels like the kind of big sister who would drag her baby siblings around like dolls and declare them as HER babies, tyvm.

I assume Jaehaerys will be pleased as punch in this AU as well... and it gives this AU that extra unique spin of not just princes being born to a second son, but of the actual much awaited future KING being born...

How many AUs do you think we can get you to write where Jon and Rhaegar are actual babies? 🤣

I'm thinking I'll go with the "nearish Daemon's birth" timeline in the Aemon's Sons AU, where either Jocelyn and Alyssa get to commiserate through their pregnancies, or Jocelyn gets pregnant maybe a year later. Either way, you know Jaehaerys is hoping beyond hope that his heir gets a "proper" (male) heir at last, after all this time, and never even thinks there might be two.

I like to think that Baelon has a friendly wager going with Aemon that the baby is going to look like Jocelyn again, and then little Rhaegar to pop out second and then they go "...who wins in this scenario?" (Everybody, of course, but they agree to a tie.) Baelon is holding baby Daemon, of course, informing him that these will be his new best friends, after his brother, of course.

I adore the idea of Rhaenys treating them as her personal dolls for a time, bossily insisting on helping pick out their clothing, rocking them like their nurse / mother do, etc. She loves that one looks like her and one looks like her dad, it's the perfect variety pack! She absolutely insists on picking out their dragon eggs personally. (I planned on going with Aerion and Valerion for their names, but it would also be hilarious if Rhaenys comes up with Rhaegar for, well, Rhaegar because it sounds like her name!)

As soon as the twins are confirmed healthy, I'm certain that Jaehaerys is organizing a celebratory tourney. As you said, your heir having heirs (two of them) is something that makes the entire realm breathe a sigh of relief for stability's sake. And of course all the lords take stock of their own young daughters because they can do the math: there is a grand total of one royal daughter (Rhaenys) that can be matched to any of the four young princes.

Well, relative to Reverberate and Regnal, I expect we'll spend less time on the twins as tiny babies in Aemon's Sons AU, though of course Aemon and Jocelyn will get a few moments before we skip ahead.

#resonant asks

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kaija-rayne-author · 17 hours ago

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Dragon Age, as a series, deserved so much better than Veilguard.

Spoilers for Veilguard and maybe other DA stuff.

Obligatory 'I'm not an asshole' disclaimer. Feel free to jump to the cut if you've read it.

Something came to my attention. I need to make it crystal clear that I utterly love the diversity in DAV. It's fantastic. I'm also a heavily left leaning, non-binary, queer as fuck reviewer, editor, and author.

I was on media blackout while I played DAV. Please be safe and take care of yourselves. Arguing with incels and white supremacists is completely pointless. They sea lion worse than an actual sea lion. Your mental health is important.

Though, every single time the anti-queer brigade comes out for a new DA game, I sit there thinking 'have you bozos ever played any DA game, like, ever?' My guess is nope.

Note. None of my writing on DA, but especially DAV, is edited. This is just my off the cuff writing. I don't have the time, energy, or heart to edit them properly.

The Solavellan romance deserved a much better end than 'die and go to fade prison'. I agree that Inky would likely be happy to leave. She's as traumatized as Solas for having to lead when she didn't want to. But I needed more than a craptastic Romeo and Juliet ending.

I refuse to do the heavy lifting for the writers. If it wasn't shown in the game or in supplementary materials, it didn't happen. Showing us the story was the writers' and devs job, not mine.

I mourn what will never be, even as I work on a Solavellan fix it fic.

How could they betray the IP so badly?

How could they betray their fanbase so badly? The fanbase that kept hope for that game alive for 10 years. I've seen so many people saying they've lost their interest or passion for the entirety of Dragon age. That they're not even remotely interested in another game because absolutely none of the choices we made in previous games matters anymore. They've wiped everything clean... or blighted it anyway. (I have absolutely no interest in another DA game. Not with Epler/Busche/Weekes involved. And whoever designed that ridiculous fighting system.)

The only way I could possibly be interested in another game would be if they loudly decanonized DAV, gave us a DLC (they've already confirmed there will be no DLC) that showed us Solas and Inky happy and not in a horrible place. One that showed us that somehow, something changed for the elves.

But that's so unlikely it's laughable.

The elves deserved a better ending. Are the survivors still enslaved or living in alienages? What actually changed for the elves except the largest portion of the Dalish being dead from blight? (That’s a real elvish win, isn't it?)

I'm a stubborn person. I refuse to let Epler's 'hate-revenge on Solas fan fic' ruin something I've loved for years. I still have the first 3 games. I'll make an actual happy ending and a decent romance for Rook in my fic.

And by the fact they paid a fortune to big gaming magazines while denying game keys to bigger honest reviewers... they knew.

They knew gamers wouldn't like it and tried to blow so much smoke up our asses with the interviews and AMAs.

How do they even sleep at night?

I'm a creative too, I write, do graphic design, digital (learning) and traditional (good) art.

My stories are important to me. They deserve not only an ending, but an ending that respects the characters, lore, and world that I've created.

My readers deserve that, too.

I, as the creator of my stories, deserve a decent, respectful ending.

Dragon age deserved it, too. A good, well thought out, and well written ending to the story of the Dreadwolf storyline, which, if you're paying attention, is intertwined through all 3 games. It's not just in Inquisition. One that made sense to the collected Lore, his struggles and mistakes, his literary role as an anti-hero.

I would never be able to do what they've done to a beloved series. I could never knowingly mislead fans like they did.

It's just a really painful reminder that beloved stories can be utterly destroyed in the wrong hands. And a reminder that there's so much talent and skill in Fan fic.

Busche worked on the Sims. No wonder the companions often feel as interesting as wet cardboard. Most Sims NPCs do, too. (I actually enjoy the Sims, but the NPCs aren't why I like it.)

And she had the gall to blame 'culture wars' and 'identity politics' for why the game is tanking. Rather than take ownership of the incredibly bad calls made for DAV.

It's just gross. I wish I could stop thinking about it. But Dragon Age got me through some tough times. It means a lot to me.

And it just deserved better. So did we.

#dragon age #dragon age veilguard #veilguard #da veilguard #dragonage #solas #solavellan #bioware critical #Veilguard Critical #Veilguard Spoilers #DAtV critical #DAtV spoilers #DAV critical #DAV spoilers

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shxyerahol · 13 hours ago

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2024 Fanfiction Recommendations

I have read a lot of wonderful fics this year, and I wanted to personally highlight a few of my favorites that have been spinning in my head ever since I read them. Some are not written in this year, but I found this year that I fell in love with.

Writers - thank you for writing this wonderful pieces of art! I personally had a really rough year, so I turned to fics as a way to escape. For context, I am atwentyyeardarknight on AO3, so if you have seen a comment or kudos from that person, it is me!

All my love!

The series The Inbetweens by @appassaddle

G & T / A:TLA / Set after the 100 year war. I cannot say enough words to how fantastic this series is!!! The way grief is explored..AAHHH I am yelling about it right now.

Winds of Rebellion by an orphaned account

M / A:TLA/ The Gaang focused about Cranefish town.

The series Prasinos Hierax by @shiyahawk

T / Justice League & Unlimited / Shayera focused but the league is all there. I have been a fan of this writer for many years and would suggest anything written by her!

One Way Trip Around the Sun by @newtkelly

M / 9-1-1 / A Tommy character study mixed with a romantic comedy mixed with a spoof of a horror movie...trust me. Read it.

The series Finding Our Way by @azaablue

G / A:TLA / The Gaang but focuses a lot on Aang. I cannot begin to explain my love of this series. The way she writes Aang is so delicious and sad I need more people to read these!!!

The Devil Doesn't Bargain & A Set of Empty Bones by @kinardsevan

E / 9-1-1 / Buck/Tommy focused. These stories are so incredibly depressing (I say that with total affection) and the way this writer tackles and handles these deeply sensitive topics is fantastic, kudos all around!

Prescribed Burn by @wakeupnew

T / 9-1-1 / Buck/Tommy. Set during the Madney wedding.. the way Tommy has to suffer through second hand information. It was all in all such a fun read.

Legacies by WildInkling

G / A:TLA / Zuko focused. A historian finds Zuko's journal and honestly this premise is a 10/10!!!

Delicate by @lantur

M / Fullmetal Alchemist / Riza focused that covers her life. SO SO SO SOOOOO Good. (slightly cheating here I read this last year but I did not do a fic roundup then but I wanted to give out flowers to you)

Memories in the Wind by @ ADCurtis

G / A:TLA / Aang POV. Y'know when you read something and then you finish and you just sit there and stare at a wall for a minute or so to process? That was me after reading this. Once again a story about Aang and grief..can't help myself LOL

A Little Slice by RadiantBeam

G / Justice League & Unlimited / Shayera/John. Set after the JL Infinity comic. An absolute joy to read full of pining and cake!!! (I also read this last year but wanted to include it here since I did not do a roundup last year)

Honorable Mentions:

9-1-1

Twelve Chirstmases by @cjlouwho

A Comet's Misfortune & Atlas (Bound) by @cecilyv & @liminalmemories21

Still by @gayhoediaz

A Wolf Without a Foot & What Are Your Intentiones & Sad Girl Poetic Thursday Night by @screamlet

Hotshot's Number Two Fans by @herrmannhalsteadproduction

The Shaky Things We've Seen by @fyrehose

Dear Mountain View Neighbors by @middyblue

Connected by A String of Text and Letters by @zeraparker

You Plus Me by @leashybebes

A Life More Ordinary by @peppermintquartz

You Still Love Me Anyway by @epiphainie

Two Shadows Starting to Softly Combine by @aesthetictarlos

Letting The Flavors Get to Know Each Other by @firehose118

Mr. LAFD Updates Man by @henswilsons

Five Ways To Fall In Love With the Man in the Mirror by @userautumn

A:TLA

Lullaby for the Departed by @chocomd & @itsmoonpeaches

The Whistle-Speak Chronicles by MadameFluffnStuff

Twists and Turns by @likehercules

The Face Stealer by @cats-and-metersticks

'Cause The Truth is Out by @twinkle-toph

The Greatest Illusion by Sycamore17

Fullmetal Alchemist

My Demons, Forgive Me by @bauliya

Justice League & Unlimited

However Long it Takes by DisneyLover010

Let me know if any of the links are not working...it was a lot of cross referencing to keep track of LOL

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anonymous-dentist · 1 day ago

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I’ve also been going through the lifesteal ao3 tag, and I absolutely love how I have to let go of any sense of reality when reading because, hey, yeah, sure, there’s just a murderous danish clown dude walking around dressed like a fucked up evil medieval jester with a scythe and a creepy mask. Like just casually. No, he never takes the mask off, don’t be ridiculous. That would be silly. He also runs an objectively evil casino and a murder (fun)house. He probably goes to Walmart in his creepy clown getup and dabs in front of the security cameras while covered in the blood of his enemies (he has many enemies, many of whom shop at Walmart.)

But somehow the most unrealistic thing of all isn’t the evil murder clown or the dude with parrot wings or the very existence of the hearts system. It’s the fact that a solid 75% of writers write Branzy as a normal man and not the physical embodiment of the passive aggressive 😺 emoji. This dude has an anxiety disorder that exclusively applies to his scary clown boyfriend, and he probably has seventeen bombs on him at any given point in time. He’ll probably end up blowing himself up with them, but, hey! It’s the thought that counts! And while you’re checking on him after he’s blown himself up a little, he’s stealing your wallet and replacing your credit cards with stock photos of chickens!

Aka: I love these fics

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phoebe-delia · 1 day ago

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I'm back with another rec for @hprecfest! This is for two prompts: a fic under 5k AND a fic with fanart.

Just Stay by @nv-md (2.7k) with art by @babooshkart

Let's start with the writing. The pining in this fic is E X Q U I S I T E. Just. Absolutely fucking gorgeous. It's honestly kind of immersive; I find myself pining for Harry vicariously through Draco. It's impossible not to fall in love with Harry, and Draco too, and the way they come together is just so satisfying. Reading this fic is like eating a dark chocolate lava cake by slowly working your way in; the first few bites are rich and slightly bittersweet, but when you reach the melty, gooey center—it's decadent.

Then when you're done reading, and you think the moment can't get any better, you scroll down a little further and see Boo's fantastic art. Yall. I see this art and it's so sweet and intimate I feel a little like I'm intruding. They're so peaceful together, wrapped in each other's arms. Ali's vivid description is more than enough to put the image, and the emotion, in your head; but Boo's art is the perfect addition to do Ali's words justice. I cannot recommend this fic and art enough.

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #hprecfest2024 #Boo's art is fantastic as always #And I'm NEVER gonna pass up the chance to talk about an Ali fic

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villainintern · 3 days ago

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⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Little update here (10k new words total, ~4k per plathru.)

______________________________________________________________

Forewarning, this is a shorter demo update! This is because I've been finagling with the combat hella. Trying to figure out how to make it work. Expect a follow-up-update (another 15kish) within a month!

TL;DR- I'm testing a combat system before I fully move forward and polish/drop more story. Don't want to put my cart before the horse. Would like to know if you guys think it works!

-----> Also, you can save now! 😌

______________________________________________________________

Essentially, the way I wanted to do this game involved a ton of different little superpowers. 18 abilities total, with like over 50 possible combinations. Giving equal flavor text to all those different kinds of players, making your abilities feel impactful, making them work in conjunction- all a huge task.

It started overwhelming the story (classic IF fumble), so I knew I needed a new approach, but I didn't want to lose any of the customization and flavor text!! I love that stuff.

So I'm trialing a kind of turn-based thing. The update is better at explaining it than I could here! Let me know if this is something you could see working throughout the game (or not! That's cool too!)

If you like to toss up feedback, this one is for u! But if you prefer to read more polished drafts, by all means hold out until the next demo changes. I'll be putting out a sister update super soon, I just couldn't blow past the combat without working out its kinks.

More development blabber under the cut 🤘

🤖 Screen reader accessibility is absolutely on my mind! Unfortunately I keep running into reasons to use special characters 😵‍💫. It's still in my plans to go back through eventually and do a screen reader mode, but I don't expect to start that until I have the story pinned down more. More on this later.

🤖 I found, also, a little plot hole in the prologue. At one point you could get your keycard destroyed and then immediately use your keycard to get lunch at the cafeteria. Something shall be done about this

🤖 I also plan to rework the fight with the henchman on floor four. You can kind of see the combat problems I was running into there- you only get like 1 or 2 choices when attacking him (boring!) because I was only able to write like one for each ability. And it was still so much text lol. That scene will be freshened up, but for now I locked it down. For 2 reasons: the combat needs updating, and also it prevents the aforementioned plot hole

#this is really just like a sullivan drop tbh. just a half chapter of sullivan content finally #VI updates #VI info

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thenickgirl · 4 hours ago

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LET THEM EAT CAKE

bf!nick x male!reader

summary: in which Nick and reader do more than bake in the kitchen

type: oneshot ✩ genre: smut ✩ pov: reader’s ✩ word count: 1.7K+

warnings: established relationship, swearing, food play, rimming, spitting, oral and anal sex, top!nick, bottom!reader

disclaimer: please be careful with food play, i’m not a doctor, but i’m pretty sure it could lead to infections. safe sex always!

a/n: (RAHHH YES I KNOW CHRISTMAS IS OVER SHUT UP 😭) i came up with this in the shower, don’t ask. yes, it’s top nick! i know i know boooo, but listen, i refuse to let him be slandered in my own house lmao. although it took a while, this was so much fun to write, and i hope you all enjoy it. happy reading! ✩

It was late in the evening, Ariana Grande’s ‘Christmas & Chill’ album was playing softly from your bluetooth speaker as you and Nick were in the kitchen. The two of you were donned in your matching Grinch pajamas. The aroma surrounding you was that of sugar cookies baking in the oven.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and you were in charge of bringing the desserts for dinner with your family. It was basically tradition for your family to celebrate on Christmas Eve so that everyone could relax on Christmas Day.

You had always loved baking since you were a kid, and your family absolutely loved your sweet treats. You already prepared two pies, and a pan of brownies, but you decided to add one more dessert just for good measure. You were currently standing at the island, working on a strawberry cake. You cracked two eggs into a clear mixing bowl, the flour poofing as each egg drops on top of it.

Nick was sitting on the countertop directly behind you, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. If it weren’t for his random chuckles, you would’ve sworn he had gone upstairs to bed. He was supposed to be helping you, but you didn’t mind, you actually preferred to bake alone anyway, you found it relaxing.

Once you were done adding the correct ingredients, it was time to mix. Unfortunately though, you were going to have to do this by hand, since the mixer you ordered didn’t arrive before the holidays. Just as you were about to get started, you heard the oven beep, alerting you that the sugar cookies were now done. You make your way to the oven, slipping on some mittens before bending over to open it, and as you were doing so, you felt eyes on you. You weren’t sure if it was the oven, or the fact that your boyfriend was definitely staring that made your cheeks heat up.

You stand up right after pulling the tray of cookies from the oven, placing it on top of the stove to cool, and slipping off your mittens. You decided to leave the oven on, since you’d be baking the cake next. Nick's eyes followed you as you walked back to the island where you were. You grab your whisk, and begin mixing the ingredients, carefully at first, not to spill, before slowly increasing your speed.

Nick’s eyes never left you, as he studied your frame. The way your biceps tightened as you gripped the whisk, the way your hips moved with every churn, the way your ass looked in your pajama bottoms, it was driving him insane. He bit his lip before hopping off the counter, creeping up behind you. You gasped when you felt his body pressing against you.

“Need a hand with that, baby?” Nick’s voice was low and sultry as he placed his hand on top of yours, helping you stir the batter.

You could already feel your body heat up due the close proximity, and his bulge pressing against your ass. He leans down, his soft lips making contact with your skin, as they trail down your neck, earning a soft moan from you.

“Nick…I have to finish this. I still have to bake, and frost this cake, and then frost the cookies ” you whine, wanting to pull away from him, but the feeling of his mouth on your neck was making you dizzy.

He trails his lips back up to your ear, “You’ve been at this all night, let’s take a break,” he starts, taking one of his hands off yours, sliding it in your bottoms, palming your length through your boxers.

“Don’t you think you deserve a little break? Hm?” he whispered, the warmth of his breath tickling your ear as he bites it.

You groan, as you bite your lip, contemplating. You knew that you needed to get this done, but also desperately wanted to get your brains fucked out. His thumb circled around your tip, as his lips were on your neck, and you gave in to him instantly. The effect this man had on you was undeniable, you were putty in his hands.

“O-okay,” you whisper breathlessly, looking back at him.

Nick captures your lips with his, kissing you hungrily, as you moan into his mouth. Soon after he breaks the kiss, and he goes down on his knees. You bite your lip, looking down at him, as he slowly pulls your pants, and boxers down in one motion. His large hands squeeze your ass, a low growl escaping his throat. He spreads your cheeks open, then spits at your hole, before lapping it up with his tongue, and you gasp. His tongue runs laps around your hole before sliding in, and you moan, your hands finding the edge of the island. His grip on your ass tightens, as his tongue moves in and out of you continuously. He reaches one of his hands under you, massaging your balls, and you push your ass more into his face, and he moans.

He pulls away, carefully replacing his tongue with a finger, before pumping it in and out. He slowly adds a second finger, and you moan as you push back, riding his hand. Nick groans at the sight of you, and he smacks your ass cheek. He then slides in a third finger, and you gasp at the stretch. He curls them in a way that makes you shudder. His fingers brush against that spot inside you, and you’re a moaning mess.

“More, I need more of you, please,” you beg.

“Yeah? Gonna let me bend you over this counter, pretty boy?” He asks, and you nod eagerly as he slows down his movements, making you whine.

He pulls his fingers from you completely before standing up. He pulls down his pants and boxers and his thick cock springs free. You look back at it, practically drooling as you wait, impatiently, for that delicious stretch it was bound to give you. He bends you over the island, before grabbing his length, stroking it a few times then lining himself with your entrance. He spits down at your hole, coating his tip before sliding into you carefully.

“Ohhh fuck,” you moan, gripping the edge of the island, your face pressed against the cold tile.

He grabs your hands, pulling and holding them behind your back. Nick slams his length into you, before pulling all the way out, and slamming into you again. He moans, the warm, and wet feeling of you around him making him feral, as he gains a steady rhythm, his hips rocking against you. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes around the room like a sweet symphony.

“You look so fucking hot when you bake, I just couldn’t take it anymore,” He groans, releasing your hands as he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging it, and you whimper. The pain mixing with pleasure makes your cock twitch. His hips continue to snap against you, as he fucks you harder, your moans filling the room.

“Feels so good, baby, so perfect for me,” Nick grunts, letting go of your hair, his hands now gripping your hips, holding you in place. You reach down, wrapping your hand around your leaking cock, stroking it. You pump your length in time with his thrusts, and your eyes roll back.

“Nnghh fuck fuck fuck,” you moan out.

“Close already, baby? I’m nowhere near being done with you,” He teases, before pulling out of you.

Nick then pushes over all the utensils and flour you’ve used during the night, and they crash onto the floor. An impulsive act that he would no doubt regret later. You start to protest, but he spins you around sharply, before lifting you up by your waist, and onto the island. He removes your shirt, and his quickly, before kissing you roughly. He gently pushes you down, laying you back against the counter.

He breaks the kiss, before taking the icing you had ready for piping, and drizzles it along your chest, and down your abdomen, the cool, sticky substance making you gasp. He leans down again before his warm tongue makes contact with your skin, licking the icing he just coated you in. His tongue runs circles around your left nipple, flicking it every so often. He then moves to the right nipple, exacting the same motions, your hands find their way into his brunette strands, tugging it. Nick moans at the sensation of you pulling his hair, and bites your nipple as you whine.

Nick runs his tongue down your abdomen, lapping up the rest of the icing, stopping right above your leaking cock. He licks a strip from the base to the tip, ultimately wrapping his mouth around you, and your back arches.

“Nick…ohh my godd,” you moan out, bucking your hips into his mouth.

He groans as he takes more of you into his wet mouth, his head bobbing up and down for a few minutes, before pulling off of you with a ‘pop’. He leans up, hovering you as he kisses you hungrily, his teeth hooking into your bottom lip as he pulls away.

“Mm my pretty boy tastes so sweet,” Nick whispered against your lips, then stood up straight, lining himself up with your hole again. He slides you into slowly, bottoming out before repeating his actions. He then pushes your thighs back, your knees parallel to your chest, giving him deeper access. His thrusts become harder as he fucks you relentlessly. Your body shudders when his length hits your prostate over and over, while his name falls off your lips.

“F-fuck yes, daddy, just like that,” you whimper, taking your cock in your hand once again, pumping slowly.

Nick continues, now deepening his thrusts, and your body shakes. You’re so close to coming undone, and his release isn’t too far behind.

“Gonna be a good boy, and cum with me?” he says, and you nod, desperately.

After a few more thrusts, Nick’s hips stutter as he cums inside of you, and you cum onto your chest at the same time. You’re both a panting mess as you come down from your high. He slides out of you, and you feel empty. He grabs your hands, pulling you to sit upright, and you look up at him before giggling.

“What?” he questions, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You’ve got flour in your hair,” you say, laughing, and he joins in. The two of you look around, both your eyes widening as you finally see the mess that’s been made.

“I bet you regret that now,” you tease, wrapping your arms around him, before pecking his lips softly.

Nick shrugs, “It was worth it.”

—

signed,

✎ 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 ✩

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