#and while it's a whole look and a half to have. it's still hotter than a mf

[elixirfromthestars]

This is my first time reading for Billy, and Janie I think you may have awakened a new little crush for me 🤭💗 The banter and the tension had me hooked the entire time!! 👀✨ He’s so charming in his own like brooding and mysterious way, and I am so here for it!! 🥰

More under the cut ᯓᡣ𐭩

Instead of being seated in his second floor office overlooking the main part of the warehouse, you're standing in the basement dressed in your crisp white blouse, hastily pressed pencil skirt, and low heels.

^ In the basement?? 😳 Should I be nervous? Worried? 👀

"Russo?"

"Hm?" He hums distractedly. "Are those knives?"

^ A basement and knives…okay now I am a little nervous 😅

He leans his hands on the table, shamelessly giving you a slow and careful once over before he frowns a little. "You're gonna have to change."

^ why…? 🤨 sir….what are you up to??? 😳😅

"Then what am I doing here, Lieutenant?" Whoops. His head snaps up again, his already sunless eyes getting darker by the second. Without breaking the intense eye contact, he just gestures around the room as though it's oh so obvious. "Self-defence training."

^ Oh, I see now 👀 Well, color me intrigued, sir 🤭 (and we should definitely go change for this 💀)

"Aw, don't be scared," Billy chuckles and pats you on the shoulder, watching with those hawkish eyes of his as you consider your options. "This is a safe space." Is it though?

^ I have the same question my lovely protagonist, because while this man is devilishly handsome….I am still a bit cautious of him 👀

"I am training you. And you're not ready for guns yet," Billy grins when you unsheathe the dagger, eyes widening just a fraction at the way the blade glints in the light. "Sides, picturin' you with a knife is way hotter. You gonna wear a thigh holster?"

^ Not the shameless flirting 🤭💗 Stoooop it 🤭💕

You flick the tip of the blade in his direction, "Watch it, Russo. I'm armed." But he just laughs, a sound that comes with a dangerous surge of pride in your chest, "That's not how you hold a dagger."

"Oh, shut up," you bristle, cheeks warming and trying not to watch, enraptured, as he stands up to his full height, his boots thumping heavily on the concrete. "Careful," he warns, but he sounds more amused than offended as he closes the distance between you in just a few small strides. "You'd better play nice if you still want that interview."

^ I love these two 😂🩷 Their banter is so good, and it gives us such a nice look into the chemistry that’s building between them 🥰 I can tell he cares about her in his own way, even if he has difficulty fully showing it. 🥺

Even without looking back, you feel his dark obsidian gaze on the still healing bruise that's formed on the side of your face. His fingers tighten around yours, there's a slight hitch in his breath you can feel with his chest pressed to your back, and the hand on your hip slides forward and around to your other side in an almost embrace. Protective, possessive, and maybe even a little petrified.

^ I picked out this paragraph, but the whole section where the tension just builds from his proximity to her had me on the edge of my seat!! 💗💗 I kept wondering how far he’d take it since he was so close to her 👀💕 It’s one thing to keep his feelings at bay or controlled from a distance, but having her right there in his arms?? 👀💖

"I need to see where you're at first before I can teach you, darlin, he's still smirking, half condescending and half amused, and your hands twitch to fling the knife at his stupid head. "I'm at nowhere! I've got nothing! And you don't even have a weapon, I could slice your damn face off!" Or worse, scar it. Billy laughs again, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. "Oh, sweetheart, you can certainly try."

^ Did I already mention I love these two? 😂🩷 I just adore their banter so much, there’s something about their dynamic that hooks me in and makes me want to see how far they’ll take it until one of them cracks and goes all in 👀💖💖

Janie, thank you so much for participating in my writing challenge with this wonderful submission!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼 You’ve brought this man to my attention, and I fear I may need to read more of him 😂🩷🩷 (as if I already don’t have a long list of fics in my to be read to read 💀) This was such a fun read, and I loved seeing how you took the prompt and made it all your own!! 🩷🩷

SOME TYPE OF SKIN.

PAIRING — billy russo x reporter f!reader

CONTENTS — ficlet; fluff; tiny bit of angst if you squint really, really hard; a dash of pining; references to some canon-typical violence; some very mild innuendo.

SUMMARY — after a harrowing experience, billy surprisingly takes the matter of your personal safety into his very own hands.

WORD COUNT — 1.6k

NOTES — so I decided to write something short and fun for @elixirfromthestars’s cinema writing challenge and honestly, i’m not 100% satisfied with this (when am i ever tho?) but also trying not to overthink this too much. please excuse me while I continue to scream into the void about this stupidly beautiful man. I apologize in advance for the person I have been and am going to be for the next few weeks; ben barnes has such a firm grip on my fucking throat lmao 🤭

✩ masterlist ✩ library blog

When he asked you to meet him here at Anvil headquarters so you could finally interview him for that story in the Bulletin, this isn’t exactly what you were expecting. 

Instead of being seated in his second floor office overlooking the main part of the warehouse, you’re standing in the basement dressed in your crisp white blouse, hastily pressed pencil skirt, and low heels. You toy with the press pass hanging around your neck, unsure what to do with your hands. 

Your interview subject, however, seems quite relaxed save for the slight wrinkle between his dark brows as he very deliberately lays out several objects on a table in the middle of the room. He’s switched out his usual sharp business attire for a green pullover that looks soft to the touch, dark cargo pants, and a pair of combat boots. 

It takes you a few seconds to find your voice, because does he have to recline against the damn thing like that? He looks tall and lean, but damn it when he’s like this, showing off the corded muscles in his arms and shoulders, you cannot doubt that he’s an ex-Marine. 

“Russo?” 

“Hm?” He hums distractedly. 

“Are those knives?” 

Well, that gets his attention. He lifts his head and finally makes direct eye contact, and a shiver shoots down your spine. 

“Yeah, they are,” he confirms casually, as if you’ve just asked him if the sky is blue. He leans his hands on the table, shamelessly giving you a slow and careful once over before he frowns a little. “You’re gonna have to change.” 

“I feel compelled to tell you Karen knows I’m here,” you say quickly, raising an inquisitive eyebrow when he just chuckles like you’ve said something adorably funny. “Also, I thought we were doing an interview?” 

Billy Russo stares expectantly at you for a few seconds, lips slowly turning upward into a mysterious smile that you know has captured hearts all over the city. 

But you won’t fall for that, will you? 

Nope. Not in the slightest. 

“Nah, not yet anyway. Sorry, darlin’.” 

Ignore that! You scream mentally, but your brain does not cooperate. “Then what am I doing here, Lieutenant?” 

Whoops. His head snaps up again, his already sunless eyes getting darker by the second. Without breaking the intense eye contact, he just gestures around the room as though it’s oh so obvious. 

“Self-defence training.” 

“And why would I need—ugh, I don’t have time for this, Billy.” You heave a sigh, dropping all pretenses now, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. 

You’ve always known that Billy marches to the beat of his own drum, ever since the two of you met when Karen introduced you a few months ago while you were researching for a story about army veterans—a friend of a friend’s, she’d said, but never elaborated—but this seems excessive. 

“You wouldn’t have come if I were honest,” he says, his smile falling away in an instant, the glint of amusement in his eyes disappearing like smoke in the wind. “I don’t need to remind you of the… unpleasantness that happened last week.” 

“And yet here we are,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m fine.” 

“You were attacked,” Billy corrects, walking around the table to perch himself on the edge closest to you. You roll your eyes; as if you’ve forgotten. Getting ambushed in front of your apartment by two masked assailants isn’t exactly an easy thing to forget. 

“Everything worked out, didn’t it?” You uncross your arms and saunter over to the table, ignoring the heavy weight of his gaze on you. And it really had! 

Just as one of your would-be kidnappers, whatever it was they wanted, hit you in the face in retaliation for you kicking him in the shins and biting the other on the arm, your neighbour had come out of the apartment building just in time and began screaming bloody murder. They had no choice but to drop you and run, leaving you dishevelled and bruised, but otherwise fine, on the sidewalk. 

“They could come back,” Billy points out, since they obviously didn’t get what they’d come for, the same thing the police had said when they arrived just minutes later. You didn’t think much of it, though. Karen had had her fair share of run-ins with such undesirables, and she assured that this just meant you were pushing precisely the right buttons as a reporter. 

Even so, she still urged you to call Billy for protection.

You wonder if he gets all of his clients to undergo this self-defence training, or if he always personally offers to instruct them.

“Can’t guarantee it won’t happen again,” Billy doesn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. The two of you stare for a moment, engaging in a silent battle of wits that you, of course, end up losing when you’re the first to look away. He nods at the various knives and daggers strewn across the table. “C’mon, pick one and we’ll start small.” 

“Small?” You squeak as you eye the particularly ornate handle on one of the knives that honestly looks more like a short sword. 

“Aw, don’t be scared,” Billy chuckles and pats you on the shoulder, watching with those hawkish eyes of his as you consider your options. “This is a safe space.” 

Is it though? You wonder as you pick up a small dagger closest to you. “Wouldn’t guns make more sense since I’m not exactly trained in hand to hand combat?” 

“I am training you. And you’re not ready for guns yet,” Billy grins when you unsheathe the dagger, eyes widening just a fraction at the way the blade glints in the light. “‘Sides, picturin’ you with a knife is way hotter. You gonna wear a thigh holster?” 

You flick the tip of the blade in his direction, “Watch it, Russo. I’m armed.” 

But he just laughs, a sound that comes with a dangerous surge of pride in your chest, “That’s not how you hold a dagger.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you bristle, cheeks warming and trying not to watch, enraptured, as he stands up to his full height, his boots thumping heavily on the concrete. 

“Careful,” he warns, but he sounds more amused than offended as he closes the distance between you in just a few small strides. “You’d better play nice if you still want that interview.” 

But there’s nothing professional about the way he steps behind you, the way his arms pull you back against his chest, or the way his hand lands on yours to adjust your grip on the dagger’s handle. 

“Not all of us can be badass ex-Marines, can we?” It takes everything you have not to stammer, not to gulp nervously when you feel the calloused ridge of his trigger finger caressing the same spot on your own hand. 

“Yeah, well, I believe in you,” you can hear the smirk in his voice as his free hand comes down to rest on your hip, warm and heavy as it guides you slowly into a proper stance. “Bend your knees a little.” 

“Pretty sure I hired you so I wouldn’t have to take matters into my own hands like this,” you huff in annoyance, grumbling but following his instructions anyway, feeling a bit silly doing this in your work clothes. He never did give you a chance to change. 

“Please, you couldn’t afford me,” Billy murmurs so low against your ear that it sends a shiver down the side of your neck, all the way to a certain part of your anatomy you refuse to acknowledge at the moment, his beard slightly rough against your cheek. Is he doing this on purpose? “Also, did you technically hire me if I’m doing this pro bono?”

“Yeah, and on that note,” you grow bold when he squeezes your hip in encouragement, leaning back against him with your arm extended, your hands joined together, the tip of the dagger’s blade angled upward at an imaginary assailant. “Why are you? The Billy Russo I know never works for free.” 

You see, you know precisely the kind of man Billy is. He would never invest this kind of time and energy into something like this, not unless he had something to gain from it—

Even without looking back, you feel his dark obsidian gaze on the still healing bruise that’s formed on the side of your face. His fingers tighten around yours, there’s a slight hitch in his breath you can feel with his chest pressed to your back, and the hand on your hip slides forward and around to your other side in an almost embrace. Protective, possessive, and maybe even a little petrified.

—or unless he had some type of skin in the game. 

And suddenly, despite the way you’re dressed and your hilarious lack of experience, you start to feel pretty invincible. You allow yourself a proud grin, squaring your shoulders so you stand a little taller in his arms.

They fall instantly, however, when Billy steps away and moves to stand directly in front of you. You feel immensely colder at the loss of proximity. 

“Alright, let’s see what you got,” he’s smirking again, all that vulnerability and whatever warmth you sensed in his body language once again hidden away behind a layer of arrogance and swagger. He beckons you with a come here gesture of his hand. 

“What?” You blink. 

“I’ve just broken into your apartment,” he states matter-of factly, “what do you do?” He coaxes you again with another wave.

“But wait!” You almost shriek, your bout of confidence once again faltering. “You didn’t even teach me anything yet!” 

“I need to see where you’re at first before I can teach you, darlin’,” he’s still smirking, half condescending and half amused, and your hands twitch to fling the knife at his stupid head.

“I’m at nowhere! I’ve got nothing! And you don’t even have a weapon, I could slice your damn face off!” Or worse, scar it. 

Billy laughs again, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. “Oh, sweetheart, you can certainly try.” 

fin.

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[visibun]

tired of this cunt

[impeakcharacterdesign]

Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

[r4spb3rr13s]

pro heroes meeting their feisty, mcbling gf

♱ bakugou, kirishima, midoriya, dabi

♱ pt.2 here pt.3 here

note: it’s me, i’m the feisty mcbling gf 😞

Katsuki has been on shift for what feels like hours. In reality… well it has been hours. He’s been patrolling a smaller, more mundane part of Tokyo, where all he’s done is help little old ladies with their groceries and scold kids for trying to steal candy.

He was dying to get home.

So, when he heard a scream five minutes from patrol ending, the groan he let out was loud, unprofessional and frankly, really douche-y of him. But still, he flew towards the alley it echoed from.

He turned the corner, expecting a damsel in distress…

Only to see you.

Beating a man with a Juicy Couture suede bag, wobbling on platform sandals.

While this man lets out the girliest, highest-pitched screams Katsuki has ever heard in his life.

“That’s.” Hit. “What.” Hit. “You.” Hit. “Get!” Big hit!

Katsuki blinks out of his trance and takes a booming step toward you. “What the fuck’s goin on?”

You gasp and look up, and Katsuki swears his heart is echoing out of his chest.

Your s/c skin is everywhere, from your jean shorts to the cleavage practically spilling out your leopard print zip-up, and as you straighten up, he catches a glimpse of a belly ring that makes him gulp.

Your hair frames your face with a pair of sunglasses at the top of your head, showing off a fantastic scowl. Glittery eyes are met with furrowed brows, decorated with piercings-galore on your face, and two big hoops either side of your head.

“This prick!” You punctuate it with a nudge of your painted-pink toe, “Tried to rob me! I kneed him in his tiny balls.”

Katsuki raises a brow. You take a minute to glare at the guy, still whimpering, before you strut towards him with narrowed eyes.

You hate to admit it, but Dynamight was hotter in real life. Soot is smeared on his cheek and the scowl on his face sends his ruby-red lasers shooting through you.

“What? You have a staring problem?” You ask with a hand on your hip. Every ounce of confidence you’re letting off is soooo clearly fake right now, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

He shakes his head and looks around you to the poor guy on the floor. He’s not going anywhere, still curled up in a feral position and cradling his nads.

Katsuki sweats.

“Alright, sweetheart-”

You try to pretend it doesn’t make your heart skip a beat.

“Sweetheart?” He freezes and looks down at your cocked brow. “At least take me out for a drink first, Mr. Dynamight, c’mon.”

He clears his throat awkwardly, “Shit- sorry, I didn’t- look, you’re okay, right? No injuries?”

You’re inspecting your nails at this point, trying to avoid looking at the muscles in his hero costume. “Huh? Nah, but he should probably get checked out. Am I good to go?”

You sound eager to leave, but you make no move to when he nods.

Instead, you stand, scrutinising him with crossed arms. Katsuki hates to admit it, but even standing a whole foot taller than you, you’re making the blond blush.

“Okay, what? You need somethin’?” He gruffly says.

You glance back at the idiot still on the floor, and he flinches at your gaze.

“You don’t need my number for a report or somethin’?”

The words leave your mouth sooner than you can stop them, but you keep your face cool as your turn around. God, you need a smoke after this.

Katsuki’s hearts skips a beat, but his lip quirks up and he huffs out a chuckle. He reaches into one his pockets, and passes you his phone.

He’s still blushing, but God that man is grinning as well.

:::

Eijiro is mid-lat pulldown when he hears you through the full blast of his headphones. Being the manly pro he is, he takes an earbud out to hear the commotion.

“When I say fuck off, I mean fuck off! What part of that isn’t get through your thick skull?”

Eijiro watched as you scream in a steroid-fueled gym-bro’s face. You’re jabbing a pink nail in his chest, neon pink shorts matching to a sports bra and a small hoodie on your top half.

He gets off the machine, and a loud clang echoes through the gym - you don’t even notice.

“What, too much muscle blocking your brain from working?”

The guy is getting ready to respond, an ugly, violent grimace on his face. As Eijiro steps behind you and crosses his arms, the guy thinks twice.

He nods at you, and turns away, practically running.

You huff and tuck a loose piece of hair behind your hair.

“What was that?”

You jump at the voice and spin around with a shout. A chest- Jesus Christ, he’s tall. You’re face-to-chest with a man covered in muscle, a sharp-toothed smile and spiky, red hair to match it.

“Oh!”

…

…

He raises a brow and smiles at you.

A blush is fighting it’s way onto your face, but you’re too cool for that. Way too cool. So you clear your throat and stop staring at his adorable face for a minute.

“He wasn’t taking no for an answer,” You huff and cross your arms.

Eijiro frowns, “Shit, that sucks. Do you come here often?”

…

It’s your turn to raise a brow.

His face turns as red as his hair when he realises how stupid that sounded. It’s weirdly endearing watching such a large man blush and panic in front of you.

“N-no, like, I can get him banned if you’re a regular. I know the owners, so-”

“Where do I know you from?” You cut him off, doing mental gymnastics.

Eijiro freezes as he watches you. Your thick lashes touch your brows as you go wide-eyed, staring at him intently. So intently, he’s terrified to move a muscle.

You click your fingers and point a sparkly nail at his chest, “Red Riot! I knew I recognised you from somewhere.”

He grins and shrugs. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I mean,” You trail off for a minute, using all your self-restraint to not blush or stutter in front of this fine-ass man, “if you ever wanted to come to rescue again, I could just give you my number?”

Eijiro has never grabbed his phone faster in his life.

:::

Izuku has been caught in the midst of little fans. Children are detaching themselves from parents, flying away from friend groups to crowd around for his autograph. He’s reminded again why he always wears a cap and glasses when he goes to the mall.

He just needed to pick up a pair of boxers, for Gods sake.

A little boy comes hurtling at him, but such is the norm. What he doesn’t see is the girl sprinting after him- sprinting in platform heels that is.

Jeans cling to you tighter than your zebra print top, and the tiny handbag on your shoulder keeps slipping down. Every step you take is a loud jingle with the massive array of jewellery you have on, and star-shaped clips in your hair keep slipping out.

“Deku! You’re the coole-”

“Isamu! Get back here!” You screech. Your sister was going to kill you if she knew the one time you took your nephew out for a little trip to the mall, you lost him.

Watching him talk to a stranger was almost the cherry on top.

You come to a skidding stop, somehow not hurtling over on your open-toed death machines, and grab the 5 year old by the armpits. Isamu let’s out an excited shriek and smiles at you.

Then he points to the guy.

That guy being the number one hero in Japan.

You nearly drop your nephew.

“Oh my God-”

“I’m so sorry-”

You both speak at the same time, then shut up, and just stare at each other like two idiots. He’s not in his costume - duh, idiot, he’s at the mall?- but he looks just as good as he does with his face plastered all over Tokyo.

Strong arms are straining the seams of his black shirt, and his dark hair is brushing the nape of his neck- it looks so soft-

“I’m really sorry, I should have come out with my hat on, sunglasses-”

“Please do not apologise for looking that good,” You mutter and roll your eyes. Then you freeze. Then you both look at each other, while you nibble your lip and smear your lipgloss everywhere.

“Deku! Can I have your auto map!” Isamu screeches from your arms, wiggling like a worm. It’s getting hard to hold him, so you plop him down and hold his hand instead.

“Autograph, buddy, not auto map,” You whisper in his ear.

Izuku’s heart skips a beat. You are gorgeous, silly and amazing with kids- I mean, what else could he really ask for?

He nods and crouched to Isamu’s height.

“Who am I making it out to, then?”

Isamu screams his government name so loud you want to cover your ears, but you just smile awkwardly at Izuku crouching under you.

He looks at you with his big, doe eyes and a soft smile. “What about you?”

“Oh, no, I don’t want an autograph-”

“Your name?”

Oh shit. You mutter it and watch with a smile as the pro scrawls on a notebook he miraculously pulled out from his arse. His round, perky-

“There you go, Isamu. It was great meeting you,” He pats your nephew’s head, who is practically beaming. “It was nice meeting you too, Y/n,” he adds, and turns away with a wave.

As you walk away, Isamu thrusts the paper in your hand.

“LOOK AT IT AUNTIE Y/N!!”

‘if it’s not too forward, id like you text me sometime y/n :)’ and next to the note is his number.

Cheeky bitch.

:::

Dabi has no fucking idea how he ended up in a bar blasting Kesha from the speakers with millennial women screaming ‘this was my party song!’ but he hates it.

Until he sees you.

You’re in the tiniest jean skirt he’s ever seen, and your ass cheeks are so close to popping out. If you’d just stopped swaying your hips and bend over, he’d get a glimpse-

But you turn around, and he watches you twist and turn in a matching halter top, jewellery adding rhythms to the music.

Dabi swears he has never seen anything as captivating as your baby pink lips mouth along to Die Young. God, was he really thinking that? In relation to Kesha? You must be special, he thinks to himself.

He makes no move, though. He sits at the bar, watching you tip back fruity cocktails and teeter on your fur-covered boots.

He looks away for a second, he swears, and suddenly you’re on the bar stool next to him. Not just sat, but staring. Like, blatantly staring right at him.

He mirrors you, leaning on his palm and watching you.

You’d be lying if you tried to say his cerulean eyes weren’t doing something to you, but there were more pressing issues at hand.

“You’ve been staring at me all night.”

It’s a fact, he has been.

A smile curls onto his lips, and he shifts so he’s closer to you. “Have I? Didn’t notice…”

You’re drunk. Like, much too drunk, because his face is a blur- a handsome blur though. You are aware enough to tell he’s staring at your tits, though.

You click your fingers in his face and he looks back up at you. There’s a moment on his face where he looks shocked, but a bigger smirk replaces it.

“Sorry, hun-”

“Hun? What am I, 5?”

He leans forward, and the overwhelming stench of a beach fire is fighting with your Britney Spears perfume. The air starts to smell like burnt sugar around you, and it’s weirdly compelling.

“What do you want me to call you then?”

“Well, you’ll need my number to call me.”

It takes you a minute to realise how dumb that was- you’re drunk and that is not what he meant, but it made him drop the cool boy act. He stared at you for a second with wide eyes before chuckling under his breath.

“You are somethin’, princess…”

“Princess?”

“Yeah, the skirt and all the pink- very princessy,” He gestured to your outfit before pulling out… a burner phone.

You really should not have drank that much, because you don’t even care to question it as you’re typing you digits in.

note: ffs i didn’t make izuku’s gf feisty enough 😞

[wifeyoozi]

Jeon Wonwoo : zip it, strip it

w.c : 2.2 k ┊ synopsis : Wonwoo can't stand his roommate's progressively slutty online shipped clothes anymore┊ content warning : smut , friends to lovers, slight degradation (/slutshaming?) kink, unprotected sex (wrap the willy guys) , Lazada shopping , big dick wonu agenda , reader has slight size kink , oral + fingering (f rec)

a/n : mdni !! not completely beta read and still a little sloppy (the smut part) 😭

Wonwoo knows he is losing his mind. And it was solely and entirely because of you.

You, his roommate, best friend, and for quite a while now, his one-sided love.

Wonwoo wasn't exactly the most extroverted person. So the way you two became friends was only because you had once stumbled whole ten minutes late to the lecture in your first year college days once, and sat beside him for it was the only empty seat. And somehow you had engaged him in a conversation. And then somehow you had started sitting beside him everyday for the next four years. And then somehow you had just embedded yourself in his life (and heart) like that.

The reason you two decided to get one apartment together was because how much money you could save from rent and groceries with that. And it be fun. Of course it was your idea and your words. But Wonwoo was a sucker in love and he'd blindly agreed for it.

It was a little awkward at first. You always tried to keep your stuff to yourself and not make a mess of the whole house and not indulge too much in Wonwoo's personal space, knowing he was the one who loved to keep to himself.

But the initial formalities wore off eventually. It started with forgetting a half empty coffee mug on the coffee table, no coaster. And then leaving your books on the couch, promising to pick up later to never really doing it. And then mixing your clothes with Wonwoo's in the laundry basket.

But Wonwoo didn't mind any of it.

All of it was just so ... Domestic.

It almost felt like he was married to you. And as much as he tried to stop himself from indulging too much in that thought, it always creeped back up in his mind everytime you fell asleep on his shoulder after your routines sunday movie nights.

His ears grew red everytime he thought of it - you as his wife, in your little home.

And that's the whole problem. You kept making him have fantasies about things he knew he could never have. But he just couldn’t stop.

His patience had really only been tested since very recently. You had recently come across Lazada - the wondrous online shopping platform for cheap and the poor people. “Look the prices are so less, wonu-ya! For a dress that cute!” you’d exclaimed that day, bouncing as you showed him the phone with the lazada tab opened,a cute pink floral summer dress on display. “And the first order has free shipping!”

A few dresses had arrived and wonwoo saw you try out the new clothes one after the other, most of them perfectly fitting your figure. He loved seeing you smile like that, happy over getting good quality clothes at a lower price.

The real problem arose now.

The summer was getting only hotter. And Lazada was on your head like a fever. And you kept ordering increasingly more and more revealing clothes now.

Wonwoo told himself he didn't mind. You were not his something. You were not together. He shouldn’t be deciding what you wear.

But he also felt his jaw tighten everytime he saw you in a new and a more revealing dress ordered online. Saw you twirl on your toes as your little summer skirt flared, showing the sight of your safety shorts inside. Saw you wear a tight thigh-length shiny party dress when you went clubbing with your friends. Saw you sit on the couch with all of your friends in short denim shorts, riding up and up as you sat in all inappropriate positions.

He’s been trying to hold his thoughts a lot, he really is. But he has got a little bit of a limit too, and he really just wants nothing more than to put his teeth on your thighs and your neck and mark them up red and blue. You really don’t know how much power you were holding onto him.

But thats not even all of it.

Since it was summer, you had decided to roam around the house in little satin negligees. Fucking negligees.

The first time you wore it, wonwoo had to stop breathing and take hold of every muscle in his body to not get embarrassingly hard in front of you. It was so tiny, it was just like a little piece of cloth clinging on you. You had given him a little twirl show, “isn’t it so cute? I love its pink colour so much!”

Wonwoo itched to tear the pretty pink off you.

He didn’t though. Because he had a little self-restrain left in him.

He wondered if you were really as innocent as you acted or did you know the effect you had on him. He was a man after all. He swears its like you know how big a crush he has on you. You are just playing with him too much.

Thankfully you didnt wear negligees more often after that, at least when he was at home.

Right now, wonwoo is opening the door to your apartment slowly. It's quite late, he doesn't want to wake you up accidentally.

“Wonu-ya!” you call out from inside your room, “Wonu-ya, ah, great you're home! Can you come in for a bit, please? I need some help.”

Wonwoo hums, taking off his bag on the couch and going inside your room to see what you possibly needed help with and-

His breath stopped, eyes dilating, starting to feel his pants tightening a little.

You were wearing a lacy sheer negligee. Again. And it was even more provocating than last time. It was a deep purple colour, contrasting perfectly with your pretty skin tone. Your bare back was completely exposed to him, your hair pulled aside over your shoulders and the dress completely unzipped. You were looking back at him, a hand reaching back in a way that your pose wasn’t helping making it any less provocating. Your legs were slightly spread on the bed, your silky thighs on perfect view for him with your night shorts fitting you like underwear.

“Wonu-ya, can you help me zip? I can’t reach it!” you pout at him, your lips looking glossed up and puckered out and he wanted nothing more than kiss and bite them red.

No way he was misinterpreting this, no way you were not doing this on purpose.

“y/n, do you realise i am a man?” he wasn’t growling, but he was holding the urge of it.

“Hm, i know,” you say, looking at him with big not-so-innocent eyes, “but i trust you!”

So wonwoo gulps down, and sits behind you on the bed, beginning to zip your dress up. The lace hugs you tighter as he does, highlighting your delicate curves and features. You feel so small under his dark gaze, his big hands could hold the entirety of your waist. He can see your colourbones from this angle and he just wants to bite and kiss all over them so bad.

He unknowingly rests his hands on the curve of your back. His heart is beating loudly, he could feel it in his ears. You lean back into his touch like a satisfied cat.

“y/n,” his voice is angry and restrained, “what are you trying to do?”

You sigh, looking back at him, your gaze seductive from under your dark lashes, “are you really asking? Do i have to say it out for you?”

The grip on your hips tightens. “Are you sure about it?”

More and more you act up like this, more and more he feels like a lusty caveman with no coherent thoughts in his mind other than those of desire. He took a heavy breath as you twisted your your waist to look back at him, your hand snaking up to rest on his chest. He glanced down at your hand, and then involuntarily at your cleavage visible from the thing your call a dress.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Wonwoo, I have not been whoring myself out like this for you to not fuck me!”

“Mark your words,” that was the last sane thing Wonwoo would speak that night before crashing his lips with yours.

You moaned immediately, feeling his rough lips fight against your softer ones. You climbed on his lap, feeling his hardness pushing against your thighs immediately. He kisses you intensely and aggressively, his teeth grazing against your lower lip. His mind was fogging up, intoxicated by your taste. Your strawberry lip gloss was on his lips and on his tongue and your arms were tight around his neck, one hand tangled in his hair, playing and pulling it.

The more sounds you made into the kiss, the harder his bulge pressed against you. You pull away momentarily, catching your breath and panting. His glasses were fogged up.

“Shit, Wonwoo, what fucking monster are hiding in those pants,” you mumbled, looking down to his crotch and reaching to touch him, but he holds your wrist before you could.

“You did this to me, baby,” he said, pulling off his glasses, not caring to even see where he threw them, “and I'm gonna make you take care of it.”

You knew how strong Wonwoo was just by looking at his big and built body. But you didn't realise how much that would help making you wetter as he manhandled you and pinned you down on the bed. Both of his knees encaged your hips, as he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off swiftly.

You chest faltered looking at his gorgeous body. It's not the first time you had seen him shirtless - y'all have had enough beach trips in your friendship for that. But this was different, you could thirst over him now, touch him and feel him up. Besides, he'd built up so much more than when you had last seen his naked torso the time y'all went to pool together.

You mumbled a fuck under your breath, your hand reaching to touch his abs. He chuckled. “Like what you see, huh?”,

Wonwoo doesn't give you a chance to answer, holds your wrist down and hold you down as he attacked your lips with his once again. You whined in his mouth, and that just made him kiss you deeper, hotter, wetter. His kisses went south to your jaw, down your neck. He nipped on the sweet skin of the crook of your neck, sucking and biting and bruising it. Marking it. Marking you.

His hands left your wrists to travel across your body, slipping under your dress and touching your warm waist. His hands are cold against your skin. You hear a tssrrt, and you look down to see Wonwoo ripping off your slip dress, and pulling it apart to expose your bare breasts to the cold air.

He tears apart from neck to look at your tits, and you feel your nipples harden under his gaze. He licks his lips vilely, before grabbing your boobs in his hands. He shoved his face in between the valley of your boobs, taking a breath full of your scent there before taking out his tongue and devouring you like a starved animal.

He looked up at you like that.

And his once so innocently handsome face looking so damn sinful right now, his eyes staring at your with deep lust. “I can't even count the number of times I've secretly oggled at these beautiful things, wanting to do all the ungodly stuff with them. Fuck, y/n.”

You moaned as he took your right nipple in his mouth, sucking harshly as his hands reach to play with your left. Your hands snake up his hair, clutching a handful, tugging it.

You gasp when his hand suddenly slipped down your shorts and panties, touching the skin right above your cunt. “shit, wonu!”

“Fucking slut,” Wonwoo mumbled against your skin, “making me desperate for you for so long, just because you're a cockslut.”

“Only for you,” you mutter under your breath, as Wonwoo's fingers inch downwards.

Wonwoo chuckles, “say that again, baby,”

“I am only your cockslut, Wonwoo,” you said, face red with shame and lust.

Wonwoo chuckled more as he dipped his fingers between your folds at those words. You let out a loud and erotic moan, legs clenching reflexively. Wonwoo played around the sensitive skin for a while before he found the throbbing bundle of nerves which got him the reaction from you which he was waiting for.

His fingers continued to rub over your clit in circular motion, lips moving downwards to kiss and lick and nipples at the skin of your belly. He managed to make the entirety of your torso cover in his spit in absolutely no time. “Lift, babe."

He pulled your shorts and your panties off your legs in one swift motion. Your legs shyly closed instinctively, but Wonwoo spread them back apart by you knees, “oh, you're shy now?”

He didn't expect a reply, diving into the heat between your legs. He kisses your inner thighs and your outer folds and gave your clitoris a few kitten licks, making you moan like a bitch in heat. He shoved his tongue in your hole, licking up your juices like a starved child.

“Fuck, you're so damn tasty, my love,” he mumbles as he explores your cunt with his tongue. You yelp at how deep his tongue reaches inside you, tickling against your g-spot.

You pull his face away with all of your strength when you feel the tension in your lower abdomen starting to build, “fuck, wonu stop,”

He stops immediately, looking up at you with concern for second, “shit, baby, I'm sorry, did i overstep-”

“No,” you interrupt, too desperate, “no, wonu. I, uh, i am close, but I don't wanna cum like this,” you say shyly, watching the concern in Wonwoo's eyes turn into the dark lust again, “fuck, I want to cum on your cock, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo smirked. “Scared me there, baby, and all for a cock? You want my cock, yeah? I'll give you some.” Wonwoo unzipped his jeans and wriggled out of them and his boxers, freeing his red angry cock which slapped against his toned stomach.

Your mouth watered at the sight. You just didn't happen to be kidding when you called that thing a fucking monster. You reached out to touch it but he slapped your hand away. Wonwoo pumped his dick a few times, coating it with your slick on his fingers, before lining it with your hole, wasting no time.

He trusted in deep, making you let out a choked sound. You winced at the initial sting as Wonwoo waited a second in you to let you get used to his size. He pulled out slowly, leaving only his top inside, before hammering back in, making you moan again.

He did it a few times before catching a stable pace, and you felt the coil in your stomach form again already. “ahh, wonu, need you to touch me,”

“Shit, nothing is ever enough for you, is it? Always begging and whining for more,” Wonwoo said, marking his sentence with a slap on your thighs before reaching his fingers to play with your clit, flickering and fondling it between his index and middle.

He bent down to kiss you again. You grabbed his broad muscular shoulders, your nails digging in as you reached nearer to your climax. It seemed so did Wonwoo, by the way his breath hitched in your mouth.

“Fuck, princess, where do I come?” Wonwoo muttered in your mouth.

You grabbed onto him tightly, legs squealing his hips as you were just on the book, “inside me? You could do that, I have the morning-after pills.”

You feel Wonwoo hum in your mouth as he increased his pace again, chasing both your orgasms.

You reach your high first, vision whitening and body going limp at the sensation, feeling the happy harmones release in your veins. Wonwoo comes soon after - you involuntarily spasming around his dick giving just the right amount of stimuli for him to cum deep in you, his semen hot inside.

He pulled out, hissing a little, and fell on the bed beside you. You rolled over lazily by his side, dumping your arm around his chest and resting your head on his shoulder. He scoots closer, cuddling you in.

“Shit, that was so…” you didn't even have enough words to describe a sex that good.

Wonwoo chuckled a little. “I tore your new dress, sorry for that.”

“Don't worry about it,” you giggle, “Lazada has a new sale coming. I'll buy many more for you to tear in the future.”

[muniimyg]

*ੈ εつ‧₊˚° ♡ ༘ ctrl+alt+delete // jjk ༘ ♡ °˚₊‧ εつ ੈ*

19 // next // series m.list

note: oh wHAT DO YOU KNOW ABT MEET CUTES??? huashjdkfasjf.... ignore my mistakes ,, i am sick ! goodnight pretty pussy kimi friends <3

//

friday night. 

jimin’s voice rings through the chaos of the small, but somehow always too crowded, apartment. it’s filled with people yet jimin’s squeaky yapping is the loudest thing in jungkook’s ear.

“stop freaking out!” jimin cries, dodging around taehyung, who’s already got a hand to his forehead like he’s holding back a migraine. “bro, you look fine.”

“but what if this is the wrong shirt?” jungkook whines, his brows knit together, tugging at the hem of the plain black tee he’s been second-guessing for the last hour and a half.

taehyung groans, dramatic as ever. “what if i hit you right now?”

“what if you go kill yourself—”

before jungkook can finish, the sound of liquid splashing against fabric cuts him off. the liquor spreads fast and drips down his shirt.

jungkook takes a deep breath in.

“oops,” jimin says, not even trying to hide the grin as his tequila splatters all over jungkook’s chest. “now you have to change. you’re welcome.”

“you—!” jungkook starts, eyes narrowing like he’s about to lunge.

“do it,” taehyung interrupts, his grin lazy, sharp, and mean in a way that only jungkook’s closest friends can manage. “before ___ walks in and sees you covered in alcohol. how’s that for a first impression, mr. perfect?”

jungkook shoots both of them a glare, muttering curses under his breath as he storms off toward his room, the familiar bubble of frustration fizzing in his chest.

god. 

tonight, out of all nights; he’s spiraling. really—because how could they not see how serious this all is? 

you’re coming over. 

you. 

st4rg1rlyni3. 

… and since this is your first time meeting… he has to get it right. he has to at least look good. presentable. maybe even… handsome.

once jungkook reaches his room, he pulls open his closet door with more force than necessary. the shirts hang neatly—too neatly—because he reorganized them this morning, just in case you’d... what? wander in here and look inside his closet?

he groans at himself, grabbing the first thing that doesn’t make him want to scream, a striped blue button-up he swore he wouldn’t wear tonight.

as he shrugs the shirt over his shoulders, he’s halfway through tugging it down—arms trapped in the fabric, mid-struggle—when his door creaks open.

his heart stalls. freezes, really, like his whole body is buffering.

because it’s you.

you’re standing there, hand still on the doorknob, looking as though you hadn’t expected to walk in on this exact moment—but you’re also clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

“oh.” your voice comes out light, amused. you glance down at your phone for a second before back up at him, a brow raising. “taehyung said the bathroom was—hmmm. okay. i get it.”

jungkook is acutely aware of every awkward detail: his hair sticking up from all his stressed-out fidgeting, the half-buttoned shirt that’s probably wrinkled by now, the way his mouth is hanging slightly open because he still hasn’t figured out what to say.

“um...” it’s the best he can manage, voice a little cracked.

your smile grows, softening the edges of the moment. 

“nice shirt.”

he stares at you, feels his cheeks flush a little hotter. because of course you’d show up looking this good, all easy confidence and effortless charm, while he’s here feeling like a walking disaster. your hair is curled in such an effortless way that truly scratches his brain. you’re wearing a baby pink dress that tugs your curves perfectly. 

truth be told, he was just talking shit about the colour pink. 

seeing it on you? 

yeah. it’s his favourite colour now too—

that’s when jungkook realizes he’s been silent for a minute too long. you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for a response.

“thanks,” he finally blurts, so fast it sounds like one word. then he clears his throat, scrambling to add, “just—uh, just picked it.”

your gaze lingers on him, a smile tipping into something dangerously close to teasing. 

“what’s… with the awkwardness? am i prettier than you expected?”

his breath hitches, and you swear you catch the faintest blush coloring his cheeks. but jungkook recovers quickly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

“the issue was never if you were pretty. you are pretty. there’s no denying that,” he admits, his voice steady yet soft. “it’s your attitude.”

your brow arches, feigning offense. 

“what attitude? i just got here.”

“that one,” he says, gesturing vaguely as if you radiate something he can’t quite put into words.

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “oh, so we’re acting like we didn’t just celebrate seven days of talking with cake? like you aren’t completely obsessed with me—”

“okay, miss disliker.”

“mr. vlog dedicator.”

“weren’t you mad at me a few days ago for muting when i peed?”

“yeah. i can admit to that. if i made peeing videos, you’d watch them, right? can you admit to that?”

jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, a nervous habit you’ve started to notice, and inhales sharply through his nose. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for a moment, his gaze drops to the floor like he’s trying to gather himself.

the air stills.

“sorry,” he finally breathes, his voice low and almost unsure. “seeing you in person… god, i don’t know how to act right now. i’m sorry, baby.”

his words settle over you, warm and sweet, sinking into the spaces you didn’t know were waiting to be filled. your stomach tightens, flipping over itself, and you’re suddenly too aware of the way his voice dips when he calls you baby.

jungkook finishes buttoning up his shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly on the last button, and then he extends his hand toward you. 

“nice to meet you—”

but before he can finish, you reach out, wrapping your arms around his neck instead.

his entire body tenses for a split second, caught off guard before he melts into the embrace. his arms come around you, pulling you close, holding you tight.

you rest your chin on his shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. his cologne—something woodsy with just a hint of spice—wraps around you, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

why does this feel so right?

your hands flex against his back, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips. it’s overwhelming—how natural this feels, how easy it is to lean into him like this.

he exhales against your hair, his breath warm and steady now, and you can feel the tension draining from his body. you pull back slightly, your arms still looped around his neck, and meet his gaze. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—uncertainty, maybe, or hesitation—but it’s quickly swallowed by a softness that tugs at your chest.

his hands slide down to rest on your waist, grounding you in place. “hi.”

you blink, your stomach flipping again as his words settle in. he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, and it’s almost too much to bear.

“hi.”

“i’m really nervous, to be honest. jimin and tae have been eating up my anxiety and i’m… i’ve embrassed myself in front of you already so what the hell?” he says, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly. “you’ve been in my head. and now… now you’re here, and i don’t know what to do with myself.”

you smile softly, trying to keep things light despite the way your heart is racing. 

“excited much?”

he laughs, the sound warm and a little breathless. “only a little.”

you don’t know who moves first, but somehow, you find yourself leaning in, his forehead pressing gently against yours. his eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, the world outside fades into nothingness.

“you smell nice,” he murmurs, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the ghost of his breath.

“so do you.”

he chuckles, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “this feels too perfect,” he whispers, almost like he’s afraid saying it out loud will break the spell.

your stomach flips again, and you’re suddenly so aware of everything—his hands on your waist, the warmth radiating off his body, the way his lips hover just a breath away from yours.

“then don’t ruin it,” you tease, your smile growing.

he grins, leaning back just enough to meet your eyes, and for a moment, you’re both caught in the weight of everything unsaid.

“not a chance,” he says, his voice steady now. 

you believe him.

the night feels like a dream. 

not the kind you forget the second you wake up, but the kind you spend the rest of the day reliving, hoping to hold onto every detail.

jungkook’s mind is filled with you.

every time he looks at you, touches you, or hears you—he can’t help but feel like his heart is beating outside of his chest. it’s so strange and love has never felt this way—so intense and real… so fast. 

you’re witty in a way that makes his chest ache, sharp without being mean, playful but never overbearing. he can’t remember the last time someone teased him, really teased him, without making him feel small. you make it fun—safe, even.

and god, you’re beautiful. 

not in the way he thought before, through screens and pictures, but in a way that’s... more. the kind of beauty that makes him feel like he should thank someone—maybe you, maybe the universe—for the chance to be here, breathing the same air as you.

he notices the way hobi smirks when he catches jungkook staring at you too long. the way taehyung elbows him whenever you laugh at one of his dumb jokes. the way jimin whispers “she likes you, idiot” every time you brush past him, your shoulder grazing his.

it’s obvious. 

to everyone. 

and apparently, to you too, because you’ve joined in. 

you’re teasing him just as much as his friends, your words sharp and deliberate in a way that keeps him on his toes. it’s almost unbearable, the way you make him feel like a little kid with a crush, heart pounding and cheeks burning every time you look his way.

and then, in the middle of it all, he snaps. 

not in a bad way, but in the way you’d snap a rubber band to bring yourself back to reality. he steps closer, his hand finding your waist, his fingers curling just slightly.

“can i show you something?”

your brows lift, curiosity flickering across your face. you nod. 

“sure.”

jungkook leads you to his room, the chaos of the party fading behind you. his fingers brush yours as he walks ahead, close enough to touch but not quite. it’s deliberate, like he’s trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

once you're in his room, he gestures towards his balcony.

you two step out and it's this set up of a cozy and quiet escape. there are string lights wrapped around the railing, a single blanket draped over the chair, and the view—god, the view is stunning.

the city stretches out like it’s alive, blinking lights and faint noises making it feel infinite.

“i fought for this room,” jungkook brags, leaning against the doorframe. “tae wanted it, but i beat him in an arm wrestling match.”

you laugh softly, stepping out onto the balcony.

“it’s worth the fight.”

“it is.”

he doesn’t mean the room, though.

you settle into the blanket he hands you, the conversation flowing into something softer, deeper.

“it's been a few hours already but... it’s still so weird seeing you in person,” he admits, his voice quieter now, like he’s letting himself be vulnerable. “i feel like... i’ve known you my entire life. it feels...”

“different?” you offer, your gaze steady on him.

he nods, his lips curving into a small smile. “in a good way."

“in a good way." you echo.

with that, you two settle in to each others presence. looking out at the view and laughing at each others lame jokes. for two sociable people, you two sure love your space from everyone... perhaps, it's because you're with the one.

as the conversation drifts, eventually, jungkook asks, “so... the anon thing. have you figured out who it is yet?”

you shrug, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“no, not really. hobi told me to take it slow. to focus on myself for now.”

“what does that mean for... you know.” his voice drops, suddenly shy. “your content.”

another shrug.

“i’m not sure. i don’t know if i want to keep going, but... i don’t think i have any other options.”

he frowns, leaning forward. “what do you mean by that?”

you hesitate, your fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. “i don’t really know what i am these days, to be honest with you.”

that's the plain truth.

you haven't really admitted it to anyone... honestly? hardly to yourself... but for some reason, it just came out. for a moment you think; maybe this is dangerous. trusting someone so fast and feeling how natural it is to say the hard things...

then, there’s a beat of silence before he speaks.

“that’s okay.” jungkook voice is steady, sure. “not knowing is okay. being you is enough.”

you blink, startled by the simplicity of his words.

they hit harder than you expected, settling somewhere deep. it’s strange, feeling so understood by someone you’ve only just met.

the moment is broken by the buzz of jungkook’s phone. he checks it, lips quirking into a smile.

“jimin says everyone went to the pool.”

he stands, holding out a hand. “come on.”

jungkook leads you to the rooftop pool. 

the rooftop is alive with soft laughter and the sound of water splashing, but all of it fades when you step out hand-in-hand with jungkook.

every set of eyes shifts to where your fingers are intertwined, lingering just a second too long before darting to his face, then back to yours. you feel your cheeks heat up, suddenly shy… but you two don’t let go. instead, you hold his hand even tighter. 

instinctively, you move slightly behind him, but jungkook isn’t having it.

he pulls you forward gently, his hand sliding to your waist, keeping you anchored there. 

for fucks sake… the prettiest girl at the party is with him. why would he hide this? why wouldn’t he boast?

“do you guys swim often?” you ask, trying to deflect from the weight of their teasing stares.

jungkook shrugs, playing it cool. “only when i wanna vlog and get your attention.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “right… because you just hate it when people only like you for your body?”

he nods, lips twitching into a grin. “exactly. oh, you so get me—”

“hate to break it to you,” taehyung interrupts, draping an arm around jungkook’s neck, “but posting thirst traps isn’t exactly original content.”

“what does that make me?” you quip, arching a brow.

taehyung shrugs, also playing it cool. “jungkook said he’d beat me up if I ever click your links.”

you snort, covering your mouth to hide your laugh.

“oh, come on,” taehyung continues, pulling at the hem of jungkook’s shirt, threatening to lift it. “jungkooookieee… go for a swim and do the whole romantic wet hair look. she’ll love it.”

“shut up—”

“no, seriously! right, ___?” taehyung calls over his shoulder, his grin mischievous. “you’ll love it, right?”

before you can answer, jimin comes barreling in, teaming up with taehyung to ambush jungkook. they shove him into the pool, their laughter echoing as jungkook resurfaces, glaring at them.

you step to the edge, watching as the three of them wrestle and splash around in the water. hobi appears beside you, crossing his arms with a knowing smile.

“this is gonna get worse before it gets better,” he teases, nudging you lightly.

you kneel by the pool, your gaze following jungkook as he swims to where you’re crouched. his wet hair clings to his forehead, and there’s a boyish charm in the way he grins up at you.

he’s breathtaking like this. 

wet hair curling just enough to look messy, droplets sliding down the sharp line of his jaw, catching faint glimmers of the rooftop lights. his shirt clings to him, fabric plastered to every dip and ridge of his body, leaving nothing to the imagination—not that it matters. you’ve spent enough time watching him online to know every detail by heart, but this is different. 

you swallow hard, a little lightheaded. 

“help me up,” he says, holding his hand out.

“no.”

his grin falters. “what? why not—”

“you’re gonna pull me in.”

“no, i won’t.”

“yes, you are.”

“how do you know?”

“i know you.”

jungkook tilts his head, his grin returning as he leans his arms on the pool edge. “oh? you think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

you smirk. “don’t i?”

“you don’t,” he challenges, wiggling his fingers. “come on. trust me.”

against your better judgment, you give him your hand. the second his fingers close around yours, you know you’ve made a mistake.

“jungkook, don’t—”

but it’s too late. 

he tugs you in, and the cold water shocks you, stealing the air from your lungs. you bob to the surface, pushing your hair out of your face, only to see him laughing like a kid who just got away with a prank.

you splash him. “you’re the worst!”

“am i?” he teases, swimming closer.

you’re still laughing when he scoops you up under the water, holding you bridal style. he hums, grinning down at you. “saved you.”

“you pulled me in.”

“okay, fine. i pulled you in.”

“you give in easily.” you tease, splashing water to his face. jungkook squints, taking the splash. before you can say anything else, he defends himself with a few words that make your stomach turn again. 

“how am i supposed to argue with a pretty girl like you?”

back in his room, jungkook has a hoodie and a pair of sweats laid out for you. he’s drying off with a towel when you step out of his bathroom, his clothes hanging loose on you.

he pauses mid-motion, the towel draped over his shoulder as his eyes take you in. “you look better in my clothes than i do,” he teases, his voice dipping just slightly.

“gross.”

he grins, leaning against the dresser. “i’m serious. i might have to start hiding my hoodies.”

“please. you’d hand them over without a fight.”

“not true.”

you roll your eyes, stepping closer. without a word, you take the towel from his shoulder and start drying his hair. he freezes for a moment, caught off guard, before leaning into your touch.

your fingers work through his damp hair, your eyes inadvertently drifting to his lips. the air between you feels heavier now, thick with something unsaid. jungkook tilts his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to your eyes.

he leans in—so close, you can feel his breath on your skin—and then stops himself, pulling back just enough to create a sliver of space.

“i... i’m gonna wait,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“for?”

jungkook exhales, dragging a hand through his half-dry hair, the strands falling back into a soft, messy tangle that makes your stomach flip. the towel around his neck shifts as he fidgets with it, like it’s the only thing grounding him right now. 

“i don’t know,” he murmurs, voice quiet, like the words aren’t fully formed yet. “i want to show you i’m patient. i want to show you that i’m a good man. i am... so...” his eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze for a beat too long, raw and unguarded. “let’s go? i’ll drive you home and hold your hand the entire way.”

you tilt your head, biting back a smile. 

“you’re really not going to kiss me right now?”

his lips twitch into a soft laugh, dimples pressing into his cheeks as his shoulders relax.

“i just want you to know that you’re perfect for me,” he says, his tone so sincere it makes your breath catch. “i want to be perfect for you... and it’s hard when i’m losing my patience. if i kiss you right now…” he hesitates, his voice dipping lower, “i won’t stop.”

you lean forward, close enough to catch the faintest scent of his cologne mingling with chlorine. 

“okay, i get it. you wanna be a good boy. fine by me…” you whisper, your lips brushing the air between you. “you’re right. maybe you shouldn’t kiss me tonight—as a matter of fact—don’t.”

his brows lift, the corner of his mouth curving into a grin that feels dangerously addictive. 

“really?”

“yeah.” your smile widens as you lean just a little closer, your nose nearly grazing his. “i like making people wait.”

his grin deepens, the heat in his gaze undeniable. 

“yeah?”

“yeah. i like it because it usually leads to begging.”

and then, before he can respond, you close the distance—not to his lips, but to his cheek, pressing the softest kiss there. when you pull back, jungkook's stunned expression is almost too satisfying. 

almost.

[suksatoru]

003. CARNATIONS

Shoto is a lot like Touya.

He's currently reading over his older brother's progress report quietly. Shoto was barely seventeen, but he was incredibly mature for his age. Out of all the Todorokis, no one was more dedicated to Touya's recovery than his youngest brother.

Shoto doesn't talk much. You would soon learn it's not because he was shy or anything, he was just a naturally quiet person. Meeting him in person for the first time surprised you a bit. He would write to you often—telling you all he remembered about his big brother and details from the war.

The villain 'Dabi' used to be all over the news. You remember his early days in the League, where he'd first made his big debut. You'd be studying in your room, the small TV playing recent events and information on the League of Villains. Their pictures would be plastered everywhere as the most wanted villains in all of Japan.

He was made out as a person to fear—the whole League was. His name was dragged through the mud online, and his persona to the world was one of a merciless killer who had no heart.

If only you knew he'd become someone you would soon grow to know.

"I'm glad you're his doctor, Miss L/n."

You glance up at Shoto, snapping out of the daze you were in as you send him a surprised smile

Shoto and Touya's features are very similar. Both of them have the same, soft curl of their lips when they're trying to smile, something they obviously don't do often. Their noses are alike too—you can see the small pieces of them in each other. If you could point out the similarities between them even when most of Touya's skin was covered with bandages, you thought about how much more alike they'd look after Touya was healed completely.

He talks fondly about his brother, even after all he went through—Shoto doesn't show even a hint of anger towards Touya.

"When can I meet him?"

Shoto's smile is a small one, but the gleam of unwavering hope in his eyes is heartwarming to see. He truly does love Touya.

"We're nearing the end of his first month here. So I'd like to say soon! His communication skills with me show that he's able to hold conversations and express his emotions to a certain degree. But I'd like to give him a little more time, Shoto. What he went through was years of mental and physical strain. I want him to be comfortable with the idea of seeing you again. Do you think you can hold out a little longer for me?" You ask gently, and Shoto blinks in response before slowly nodding his head

"Of course. I... that was wrong of me to ask so early. I don't think he'd like to see me, anyways." He says with a bittersweet smile. His tone held no resentment, and you reach forward to hold his hand. His fingers fit snug in yours, and after a moment—he gives your hand a thankful squeeze.

It looked like Shoto and Touya's relationship would be one of the many things you would help mend.

Shoto left after half an hour, his heart feeling lighter than when he first came.

You were exactly what Touya deserved.

You were slowly learning that Touya had a lot of odd mannerisms. With spending so much of your time with him, it would only make sense that you would pick up on them eventually.

For instance, Touya didn't care for much spicy food. He'd always make a face when you fed him something on the hotter side, begrudgingly swallowing down the food as he complained about the aftertaste it left in his mouth.

You twirl the chopsticks through his noodles idly while carefully leaning over his bandaged arms to feed him his Soba—a meal Shoto had told you of when he wrote to you about his older brother. You still remember the glimmer of surprise in Touya's eyes at the sight of what seemed to be a nostalgic meal for him.

He almost looks embarrassed by the fact that you're feeding him as he opens his mouth for you—quickly chomping down on the soft noodles as he chews slowly, watching you with narrowed eyes. It's hard not to laugh as he squints at you, the soft pale skin around his eyes crinkled even further when he spotted your small smile.

He doesn't comment on it, resorting to flicking through the few channels he was allowed to watch on the TV. His arm was draped over the side of his bed, his bandaged fingers grazing your knee every now and then from where you sat in the seat right beside his bed. He never moved his hand away when the pads of his fingertips touched you—sometimes, it seemed like he was purposely trying to poke you, but you brushed away the prospect.

"Do you like the food, Touya? It smells really good!"

He meets your gaze with a soft grunt, stretching out his legs in front of him as he nods his head.

"It's fine. Better than the shit I ate before all this." He says, waving his hand around the hospital room as you slowly nod your head

"Really? How so? What did you eat before?"

He shrugs, and the fact that he doesn't really care about his once poor diet must be what makes you tap your foot nervously against the tiled floor beneath you. His transcript said he'd been missing since he was thirteen and was in a coma until he was sixteen. Had he really been living so carelessly and alone since then?

Touya had gone through the most important development years of his life all by himself while being unable to control his quirk. You remember the day they first brought him in after the war, the pictures before his surgery were so heartbreaking to see when you were first handed his file. But doctors are truly miracle workers, and you were all trying to help him in a matter of different ways.

The price for Touya's recovery was not small.

"Well, now you're going to be eating all sorts of delicious and healthy foods! Fresh vegetables and fruits with big meals that'll fill your stomach. What we eat is really important, and you certainly need the energy from the nutrients!"

He rolls his eyes as he chews, but nods nonetheless. As you go to feed him another bite of his Soba, his nose scrunches up a bit as he leans back in his bed

"Does that bite have any broccoli in it?"

"Touya."

You managed to feed him the rest of his meal before getting him a change of clothes. A simple black lounge set that would be comfortable for him to walk outside in.

Today, you were going to bring Touya to one of your favorite places in the hospital.

He peers around the recreational garden curiously, as if he was scoping out the area for any threats. Touya's eyes are attentive and careful as he keeps an eye out on the other patients—who were simply minding their own business. This however, did not mean they were saved from Touya's menacing glares.

He walked beside you, and you had to put some distance between you and him so you didn't have to feel him towering over you as you both walked. You remain a pace ahead and you turn back to him with a soft smile that quickly captures his attention.

"You and I will have weekly walks here. The gardens are beautiful Touya—this environment is great for your mind. It allows you to relax. The other patients here are lovely, all right? They won't bother you." You say softly, and he nods his head as he finally averts his gaze from everyone else to look solely at you. Quickly, you begin walking again as you lead him down the various paths in the garden

"You're free to come here whenever you'd like! You don't really have a curfew because, well, you're not leaving the facility. But it would be ideal if you come back in time for dinner! I'm free if you ever need someone to talk to or walk with." You remind him gently, and Touya wants to nod his head and say something along the lines of 'okay, thank you' or anything decent, but he finds the words stuck in his throat.

What would the people from his past say if they saw him now? He was such a big talker. He still was, but here in your presence—he found himself almost shying away. It was embarrassing. He shouldn't be thinking so hard on how to say thank you for something so simple and stupid that left your sweet lips. Was he really that messed up? Can he not even say thank you?

You tilt your head at him with a small smile, and he's almost annoyed with how well you're able to read him. It seems like you know exactly what he's thinking whenever you look at him—sure, that was kind of your job. But it felt different for Touya, more personal.

"Thanks. I guess." He mutters, leaning against the brick wall behind him as he peers around the garden, taking in the scenery and stone arches that were made throughout the entirety of it—flowers and vines crawling up their sides as they bathed in the warm sunlight.

You spend the rest of the evening telling him all about the history of the hospital. About the founder—an honorable man—and all the people who helped make it. This was a place for new beginnings. And when you said that, you see a bit of the tension release from Touya's usually clenched fists. By the end of your walk with him, his fists had uncurled completely as they laid relaxed at his sides

Touya didn't ever seem to notice when he was invading your personal space. There were a few times where you got lost in speaking, and it always made your heart rate spike when you turned around to ask him a question, or just to check how he's faring and he'd be standing right beside you. Barely a step away from having his breath tickle your skin. But the moment you moved even an inch closer to him, it was like he suddenly became hyper-aware of his surroundings.

He didn't really know why he was so against touching people. Maybe it was because he hadn't received a lick of affection since he was a kid—and even then, his life was so messed up that he can't even remember liking the tenderness of a hug or a kiss from a loved one.

Now that he thinks about it, Touya's never really had anyone to touch.

So when he's lowering himself onto the hospital bed with a tired sigh at night, he freezes when he feels your soft hand pressing itself onto his upper arm.

"Let me help—"

"Don't touch me."

He wants to take the words back the moment the words leave his mouth. But even then, he quickly slips out of your grasp and sits on the edge of the bed. He's laying down and peering up at the ceiling with a grimace. Ashamed.

Please don't hate me, are the first words that come to his mind when he squeezes his eyes shut. He'd understand, is what he tells himself—if you walked out and left him right then and there. He must be becoming such a burden, such a pain for you—

Touya feels a soft blanket being thrown over his long frame, the fabric quickly covering him as you peer over the bed and hover over him. His breath hitches in his throat as you do, mainly at the sight of you peering down at him so nicely. It makes his chest feel unbearably tight.

"Goodnight, Touya."

You're met with silence. You turn his lamp off, and he lays quietly as he watches you pack up your things. Clipboards and pens and cards from a small game you two had played after breakfast all go into your bag. The moonlight streaming through the window is the only form of light he needs to see that you're not angry with him. Your eyes don't look mad—you look perfectly content as you pack your bag as you routinely do.

You sling your bag over your shoulder once you're all packed, leaving the room as quietly as you had entered in the morning. Touya doesn't know how long he stays awake for, but he stares at the glow in the dark stars plastered on his ceiling until he can see them shining even after he closes his eyes.

It was going to be another long, sleepless night for him.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; FAWKKK did i get everyone who wanted to be tagged?? i hope so. please let me know if you'd like to be added, removed, or if i missed you! (i am so sincerely sorry if i did!! please lmk once again!) i've got some very sad&happy plans heheh. do you guys have any ideas on what you'd like to see?? i'm curiousss!

@kawaiidemoneart @porusuniverse @starrmage @lilbeatlebear @bokukenmakuroo

@bbluefllame @summercreolefanfictioner @dija200 @phtmmsqrde @sunaraii

@c-lunette @gh0stgirl333 @skullkittens @gurl-pls-evn-the-sharks-fear-me

@hawkwithsocks @suresnips @sugurusmoon @matchablossomsss @moonlitmorganite

@redr0sewrites @muimuiwisteria @sukunaspillow @marsoverthestars @starsryi

@eidolonwriter @dabislittlemouse

[yandere-romanticaa]

Low key building upon this post. Why? Because it was originally supposed to be more smutty but I'm a chicken who can't write smut, so I tried dipping my toes here. Nothing too extreme mind you, I'm still a big baby. Sue me. This was also written in a cafe in like, under 20 minutes so...

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to."

That mantra has been inside of your head for months now, ever since the bastard hunter took you. In some strange way, he did somewhat keep that promise and that made you feel so damn bitter. Kinich only really forced you to do the utmost basic necessities to keep you sane and alive - nothing more, nothing less.

He was still the same old Kinich you knew. Nothing was free of charge. The only reason why he still kept you around was because it made him feel good, or so he liked to remind you every so often.

That was precisely why the current predicament you were in was so damn bizarre.

Kinich panted beneath you, his eyes widened in shock as the faintest outline of blush dusted his cheeks, his shoulders quivering ever so slightly as you held him tightly on the bed. His arms found your hips and swiftly settled there, occasionally groping the soft skin whenever the opportunity arose.

Never in his wildest dreams could Kinich have predicted that you would ever greet him home like this.

Practically giving him no room to breathe, he was pounced on like a hunter does to its prey, giving him absolutely zero time to react. Your movements were desperate and clumsy but he did not care, not when everything felt so damn good. Kinich stared at you through half lidded eyes, his gaze seeping with exhaustion but want, so much so that he was inclined to gently nibble on your lower lip, which he gladly did.

A small noise escaped you, a silly mixture between a whimper and a cry but to Kinich's ears, it felt as though the gates of heaven had been opened.

Slipping his tongue in, he swiftly sealed your lips with his own, your own saliva and spit merging with his in some sort of flimsy but erotic dance. It was messy, he noted as he felt the spit gently trailing down his cheek, which he did not care about whatsoever. Your touch was hotter than the sun and it set his whole body ablaze with a lust which he had never felt before.

Was it normal for a person to want another this badly?

It most likely was not, Kinich reasoned. But that same reason was thrown out the fucking window once he felt your hips being pressed into his own, grinding ever so lightly against him. It was sudden but good, more than plain old good actually.

Kinich could hear your pants but chose not to pay attention to them. He was going to fight you on this for as long as he could, he was never going to stop kissing you if he could have his way.

Even so, Kinich himself felt his lungs burning for sweet air, but his heart was beating straight out of his chest and his mind was in tatters.

He cannot let you go. Not when you finally had given into him.

With his brute strength, Kinich broke free from your hold and roughly grabbed you by the waist, switching places that now you were the one who was pinned. He broke the kiss, finally, and slowly brought his arm up to his face, wiping away the spit off his lips. He stared down at you in a frenzy as he took the sight in - eyes screwed shut with a pained look on your face, heavy pants leaving your lips as you desperately tried to regain your composure but kept utterly failing each time.

It was so damn cute, he muttered wistfully.

Ever the opportunist, Kinich dove back down once more, his lips on yours again. One hand kept your arms pinned above your head while the other was lowered down towards your shirt, his skilled fingers ripping the fabric off. You yelped beneath him, not expecting the sudden force but that was alright too.

It simply added on to the cuteness.

Kinich felt himself growing harder by the second, his pants becoming more and more uncomfortable. He lost count with how many nights he had wasted away daydreaming about this exact moment - you, on his bed, stuffed full of his cock as his name was chanted like a sick love spell, over and over and over - let the whole valley hear, heck, let absolutely every human and beast hear who was making you feel so good. Your pleasure was officially in his hands now and there was no turning back now.

That was the initial idea, at least.

"HEY, HEY! What do you two freaks think you're doing?!"

Ajaw's shrill scream rang throughout the entire hut, its body now a mixture of bright orange and angry red, its tiny arms raised as high as they could be as it continued to complain.

"Kinich! I knew you were a freak but this crosses the line, even for YOU !" yelled the tiny dragon creature, its sharp gaze now stuck on you both.

"Sick perverts! How dare you subject the Mighty Dragon Lord to such an uncouth sight!"

Ajaw continued to complain over and over again as Kinich slowly distanced himself from you. He still lay there on top of you, albeit with his back fully straight now as his gaze became hollow. You could not tell if he was trying to tune out Ajaw or if he was listening intently but that question would be answered soon enough.

Still loudly complaining, Ajaw continued to prattle on and on, forcing Kinich to let out a very long and frustrated sigh. With a cool gaze Kinich raised his arm slightly in the air, his back still turned towards Ajaw as he made the "come here" motion with his finger. The tiny dragon obliged, thinking that his servant was going to give him a proper apology which he rightfully deserved - only to be met with the harshest smack across the head he had ever felt.

The impact was so loud that it echoed loudly across the entire room. Ajaw landed on the ground, dazed entirely and just stayed there, not making a sound. Still on top of you, Kinich lazily checked the ground to see where Ajaw had landed, and once he was satisfied with the findings, Kinich nodded to himself, his entire focus being shifted back towards you. With an outstretched arm, he placed a hand at the back of your head and gave your neck a soft but determined kiss. From the corner of your eye, you could see the faint outlines of the marks on his body beginning to glow but you did not know why, nor did you bother to ask.

Your body felt a little lighter as Kinich got up, the entire bed suddenly so much more free and cozy. Grabbing the hem of the blanket felt like the right thing to do, which you did. Kinich stood by the bed and watched you for a few seconds, his palm pressing your head down towards the pillow as he tucked you in.

"You did good tonight." he praised softly.

"I'll make sure to be a little nicer towards you. After all, how could I not be after tonight?" said Kinich with a snort, his lips forming into a smug smirk. You growled under your breath, frustrated to see your captor see so damn happy but you knew that in the long run, this was the best thing to do. A happy Kinich was a good Kinich.

It just made things easier. And that was the stone cold truth.

With a light pep in his step, Kinich walked towards the exit, grabbing his jacket along the way.

"I'll be out late tonight, commission. If Ajaw hadn't interrupted... I would have completely forgotten about it."

His tone was flat but cool, low key signaling that he was indeed telling the truth. Saying nothing, you covered your head with the fuzzy blanket and heard Kinich laugh under his breath one last time before leaving you to your own devices.

Times like these felt perfect for an escape attempt but experience had taught you well. No matter how far you went, Kinich would just track you down and bring you back by the ear if he had to.

He definitely had the monster like strength to do so.

With a huff you closed your eyes, blushing a little as you felt the pleasurable heat down your body, causing your legs to press themselves shut on instinct. The best thing to do now was to get some rest, nothing more, nothing less. The day had been long and draining, which only added to your sleepiness. In less than a few minutes darkness had taken over, your mind and body completely shut off from the rest of the world.

Meanwhile on the ground next to you, Ajaw quickly opened one eye and kept an ear out. Once he realized that you were fast asleep, only one thing could be said.

"Darn it."

[avaf00rd]

you’re like 30

Leah Williamson x Reader

I wanted to get my tillies fic out tonight but I feel so sick but I still wanted to write. Here is this short asf Leah piece!!!

————————————————————————

You woke up to Leah’s arms tightly around your torso, you being her little spoon as you slept on your left side of the bed. It was Leah’s birthday today and you couldn’t be more excited. You very gently peeled the last arm off of you waist, and slightly shifted her leg back that was hoisted over your legs to hold you closer.

You went down the hall after quietly creeping out, grabbing your bag of presents you had put on the dining room table, all nicely wrapped and also turning on your coffee machine, making yourself one and getting Leah a hot chocolate from the machine also. While the coffee was being made you decided to quickly post Leah’s birthday post on instagram that you both did for each other every year, consitisting of old and new photos of each other.

@y/n.y/l/n

happy 27th my precious girl. Thanks for being my whole world. So happy to be with you on your day, I hope it’s one to remember my love. Love you forever and always ⭐️ 🍾 @leahwilliamson

you quickly posted it before you heard Leah’s footsteps come up behind you. “No no baby go back to bed please” you smiled

“I’m already up” she shrugged still half asleep “happy birthday to me” she smiled, saying the part that you missed.

“Oh of course” you said gently grabbing her neck so you could give her a long morning kiss “happy birthday baby” you said softly before kissing her again. You handed her a mug before she thanked you and you brought her over to the living room.

You handed her a large bag that would sit up to your waist if you put in on the ground.

“What on earth” your girlfriend laughed

“There’s nothing crazy big. There was just a lot and it felt reasonable” you said motioning to the size

She unwrapped multiple presents from you. Like a new cowboy hat that you knew she would adore, an iPad for her piano app (well hopefully you didn’t spend that money just for that but the piano is an option), heaps of clothes from new and nice brands that she fell in love with, some random and silly gadgets you found online and while scrolling on instagram, and two new records - an old vintage record name ‘greatest hits of ‘75’ and a country hits one.

She gave you multiple hugs kisses after opening each gift. “Stop getting me so much” she teased, tickling into your side while you laid in her arms on the couch, wrapping paper surrounding you as you squirming under her touch.

“Never!” You exclaimed. “Wait was your card in there?” You asked her remembering she hadn’t opened it.

She peeked back in the gift bag “don’t see one honey”

“Hang on” you said, getting out of her arms and heading up to your shared room to grab it. “Here” you smiled excitedly as your threw the card on her lap before sitting next to her, head leaning now on her shoulder.

dear Leah

My old girl is getting older now

You mean everything on this planet to me and even further into the universe. I wouldn’t want to wake up next to a more sweeter, genuine, prettier, passionate, hotter and loving woman than you my Leah.

Thank you for being there for me when times were lower than usual, and I’m so proud of all of your achievements, it gets me emotional thinking of your beautiful and amazing career.

Love you to the moon and back and I hope you have the best day

Love your girl y/n xoxoxoxo

You studied her face as she read it, not quite being able to see her facial expressions from the next to the girl. When she finally looked up from the paper she brought her hand up to her eye to wipe it. “Oh baby thank you” she chuckled pulling you on top of her so you could cuddle into her,

“Of course” you smiled in the crook of her next “happy birthday I love you”

“I love you. And your old girl huh?” She said raising an eyebrow

“Yeah you’re getting old” you smiled shrugging, looking down at your smiling blonde.

“Your 26 and I’m 27. I was your age yesterday” she laughed

“Your like 30 basically. Maybe it’s time you settle down” you shrugged in a joking way “scratch the current plan you carry the children and I’ll be the grumpy dad who goes to work” you giggled

“Hm let’s take it day by day huh. And stick to our decision. And no one is giving up their career yet” she told you, wide grin still plastered on her face.

“Smart. Ok now read the second paper in the thing” you said pointing at the envelope before clapping your hands in excitement.

She pulled out an A4 piece of paper with some sort of writing printed out and an image of skydivers. “Oh my we are going sky diving?” She laughed throwing her head back

“Close. Bungee jumping. I printed out the wrong photo”

“That’s scary” she said cutely before you pinched her cheeks

“No we get to do it together. We are like connected together and get to jump together” you exclaimed. You loved heights. Leah didn’t mind them, you wouldn’t have gotten the experience if she didn’t like them. “Plus it’s way more safer than skydiving so” you shrugged looking back down at her.

“I love you and thank you. I’m excited to do it with you” she smiled kissing your lips slowly.

“Goody cause it’s tomorrow!” You said happily

“What!“

—————————

Super short but I’ll start my draft for the fic you guys asked for tomorrow.

Love you! Stay nice in the requests and have the best day xxx

[theonottsbxtch]

99 PROBLEMS PT2| MV1

an: after many requests, i've changed up our beloved max. this has not been proof read so pls don't judge i am tired and have had the shittiest week of my life i swear but im slaying i promise!

wc: 5.5k

part one

The morning after was a slow burn of pain.

Noah woke up with a headache that felt like someone was hammering on his skull, each pulse a reminder of his poor life choices. His mouth was dry, and the room seemed to spin even though he was lying still. The sunlight creeping through the curtains made his head throb even harder.

He groaned and pulled the blankets over his head, trying to bury himself in the comfort of the pillow, but it was no use. The light was relentless.

With a resigned sigh, he threw the covers off and staggered to the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror was enough to make him want to crawl back into bed—hair a tangled mess, his face pale, and his eyes bloodshot. He splashed water on his face, feeling the coolness settle his nerves slightly, but he still wasn’t ready to face the world.

A thought occurred to him—he hadn’t eaten last night, and he needed food if he was going to survive this hangover. He stumbled toward the kitchen, squinting against the light.

The kitchen felt like a foreign land. The open windows made it bright, the kind of brightness that seemed determined to make him suffer. Noah squinted, trying to locate anything he could eat without being blinded.

Lights off, he thought, grumbling. He reached up, turned off the overheads, and then fumbled his way around the counters until he found the stove. The dim light coming from the street lamps outside was barely enough, but it was better than the harsh sunlight.

He opened the fridge and pulled out eggs, butter, and a bottle of orange juice, setting them on the counter. He moved with the deliberate slowness of someone trying not to trigger the next wave of nausea, and as he grabbed a frying pan, something on the counter caught his eye.

A small bag. A lipstick. A pair of earrings.

Noah froze.

He had no idea whose stuff it was at first, but the instant he saw the ID half-hidden under a paper towel, he couldn’t look away.

He reached for it cautiously, flipping it over to see the name on the card: Rosa, 21 years old.

He stared at it, blinking in disbelief.

Twenty-one.

His brain took a second to process the shock. He’d seen a lot of women come and go last night, but this was different.

His dad—Max—had slept with someone only four years older than him.

He shook his head, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered, making the room feel hotter and his stomach churn.

He bent down, rubbing his temples to stave off the headache, and that’s when he saw them—clothes strewn across the floor. A dress in a heap near the kitchen table. A pair of high heels kicked to the side like someone was in a rush to get out.

Eugh, Noah thought, feeling his stomach twist in disgust.

Thank god he’d come home early with Charles. He’d heard the stories—heard about what Max was like when he had a good time—but seeing it for himself, well, it was a whole different level of uncomfortable. He would’ve had to witness this, the aftermath, the leftovers of his dad’s typical antics.

Noah closed his eyes, leaning back against the counter as if he could shut out the entire night. He’d had enough of his dad’s antics for the next year—or lifetime.

Sighing deeply, he pulled the pan from the stove and cracked the eggs into it, the sizzling sound a small distraction from his thoughts. The smell of cooking eggs filled the room, but it didn’t do much to calm his nerves. It was just another reminder that life went on, even when things felt messed up.

As he scrambled the eggs, he couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d seen—the lipstick, the earrings, the stupid ID. Four years older than me?

He made himself a plate of scrambled eggs, avoiding the now-infamous counter, and took a seat at the table. He sat there quietly for a while, the silence pressing in around him.

Noah was just finishing his eggs when he heard footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and to his surprise, Rosa—Max’s most recent conquest—emerged from the hallway wearing nothing but one of Max’s oversized t-shirts. She looked a little uncomfortable, and her eyes flickered nervously toward him as she stepped into the kitchen.

Noah immediately pointed toward the hallway. “The dress is right there,” he said flatly, trying not to look at her.

She hesitated, clearly flustered, and then lowered her gaze. “I—sorry, I just—uh…” She trailed off, clearly not sure how to act around Max’s son.

Noah watched her, already knowing the answer but still asking. “Why did you do that?”

Rosa bit her lip. “He’s... he’s Max Verstappen,” she said quietly, as if that somehow explained everything.

Noah felt a pit grow in his stomach. He leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “He’s at least fifteen years your senior,” he replied, his voice laced with disbelief.

She seemed taken aback by the bluntness, but nodded sheepishly. “I... know. I don’t usually—well, I guess I’m not exactly thinking straight when it’s him, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Noah said dryly, then added for her benefit, “It’s Max Verstapen, right?”

She bit her lip, then grabbed her dress from the hallway and quickly went to change. Noah couldn’t help but feel relieved—he had no idea what to say to her, and honestly, he didn’t need to.

The sound of footsteps coming from the hallway brought him back to the moment. A few seconds later, Max appeared, stretching lazily as he entered the kitchen. His hair was still a mess from the night, but his grin was as wide as ever.

“Morning mate,” Max said, ruffling Noah’s hair as he walked by. 

Noah just stared at him, unimpressed. “Twenty-one, really?” he asked, shocked.

Both of them ignored her as she walked out, Noah still in disbelief.

Max chuckled, clearly not fazed, and started rummaging through the fridge. He opened a carton of eggs, cracked a couple into a pan, and began cooking.

It wasn’t long before Max’s phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the screen and swore under his breath, muttering, “Fuck.”

“What?” Noah asked, curious, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Max looked up, his face briefly reflecting an uncharacteristic moment of stress. “My personal assistant,” he muttered. “She’s off annual leave today.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “What’s so bad about that?”

Max sighed dramatically. “She keeps my life together, kid. Without her, I’d be completely lost.”

As if on cue, they heard the front door creak open. The sound of heels clicking against the floor echoed in the hallway.

Max’s face fell. “Oh, double hell,” he muttered.

Noah looked at him, confused. “Who’s that?”

The door to the kitchen swung open, and a woman walked in, looking both exasperated and amused at the same time. She was in her early thirties, with sharp features and a no-nonsense attitude that immediately made her stand out.

She didn’t waste any time. “Blocking me during my annual leave doesn’t work, Max Emilian,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Max stood up straight, putting on his most charming grin, which, unsurprisingly, didn’t seem to work on her. “Hey, sweetheart, how was the holiday?”

She didn’t even look at him before turning her gaze to Noah, who was watching this whole scene unfold with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

She raised an eyebrow. “Who’s this?”

Max froze for a split second before clearing his throat. “Uh, this is my son... Noah,” he said, sounding almost awkward.

The second she heard “son,” her eyes widened in shock. “MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN,” she snapped, her voice sharp as a whip. “What on earth have you gotten yourself into now?!”

Noah couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the way she was laying into his dad. Watching Max get his ass handed to him by someone who clearly had authority in his life was, honestly, one of the funniest things Noah had seen in a long time.

He leaned back in his chair, his mouth twisting into a grin. “This is... amazing,” Noah muttered under his breath, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Max, on the other hand, looked like he was regretting every decision he’d ever made. “Sweetheart, come on,” he said weakly. “It’s not that bad.”

“No, Max,” she said, crossing her arms, unimpressed. “It’s exactly as bad as it looks. I leave you alone for three weeks, and you end up with a what? a 16 year old who clearly looks hungover!” She turned to Noah, her expression softening just a little. “Nice to meet you, by the way. But please—please tell me you’re smarter than your dad.”

Max groaned and rubbed his temples, clearly still nursing the hangover. “Ugh, I’m hungover,” he muttered, dragging himself to the kitchen table and sitting down.

She didn’t even glance up from the folder she was pulling out of her bag. “Don’t care,” she said with a roll of her eyes, clearly unimpressed by his state.

Noah snorted with laughter, the sound escaping before he could stop it. He couldn’t help it—there was something undeniably hilarious about watching Max get shot down so effortlessly. Watching the great Max Verstappen, the Formula 1 champion, get treated like an everyday guy was something he hadn’t seen before.

She caught the laugh from across the room and shot Noah a playful smirk. “You think this is funny, huh?” she asked, but her tone was light, not harsh.

Noah raised both hands in surrender, still grinning. “You have no idea,” he said, shaking his head. “This is gold.”

Max shot him a sideways glance but didn’t say anything—probably because he was too busy trying to drag himself through the worst hangover of his life. He ate his food silently, still looking miserable, while she—who, honestly, looked like she had her life together more than anyone else in the room—slid a thick folder across the kitchen table in front of him.

“Here’s the menu,” she said, flipping it open. “You’ve got a race in two weeks. Act like it.” Her voice was firm, almost maternal, but there was a certain softness to it that suggested she genuinely cared about Max’s well-being. And maybe Noah’s, too.

Max groaned again. “Really? The race is two weeks away. Can’t you just let me suffer in peace for one more day?” he asked, looking up at her with a feigned pout.

She didn’t even blink. “I don’t care,” she said again, flipping through the folder with surgical precision. “You’ve got media events, sponsorship meetings, and training sessions that you will attend. You can wallow later, when you’re not about to crash a car into a wall. So do me a favour and get it together, darling.”

Noah watched the exchange with a growing sense of admiration for her. She had a way of keeping Max in line that Noah hadn’t even thought possible. The pet names, the obvious affection she had for him, it was like a love language they both spoke—but she could flip into business mode faster than anyone he’d ever seen.

Max’s face softened, and he finally gave in, wiping his face and nodding. “Fine. Fine,” he muttered, his voice rough. “You’re right. Just... can I get through one cup of coffee before I start pretending I’m an athlete again?”

She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “You’re not pretending, you are an athlete,” she said, her tone turning teasing, but still with that edge of authority that made her impossible to ignore. “But I’ll let you have your coffee.” She shot a glance at Noah. “Don’t get any ideas. You’re not allowed to slack off like him.”

Max snorted. “What ideas? He’s seventeen,” he shot back, clearly exhausted but trying to rally for the sake of their ongoing back-and-forth. “You think he’s gonna let me off the hook?”

Noah grinned. “If you can get away with it, I might give it a shot,” he said with a wink, feeling a rare moment of camaraderie with his dad—well, his dad when he wasn’t being an idiot.

She just shook her head. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” She pushed the folder over to Max again. “I’m serious, Max. The team’s not gonna wait for you to nurse a hangover. You’ve got a busy week, and you need to start acting like it.”

Max finally straightened up, rubbing the back of his neck, but then something like a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He looked at her with that familiar cocky glint in his eyes, a look Noah had seen a hundred times before. But this time, it wasn’t as obnoxious—it was affectionate.

“Alright, alright, you got it, princess,” Max said, using one of his usual pet names. She didn’t flinch, but Noah swore he saw the faintest trace of a smile tug at her lips.

Noah felt like an outsider looking in on this little dynamic, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Seriously, princess? Can’t you do any better?”

She looked at him, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Don’t get me started on the pet names,” she warned. “You’ll regret it.”

Noah chuckled, obviously enjoying the banter. He turned back to her. “If I call you princess, will you cut me some slack?”

“Not in a million years,” she replied with a smirk, her voice as calm as ever.

Max sighed dramatically, clearly not used to being outside of a joke, but he dropped the act, finally flipping through the folder in front of him. “Alright, alright. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Noah leaned back in his chair, watching the two of them with a mix of awe and amusement. It was clear—she wasn’t just a personal assistant. She was the one who kept Max’s world from falling apart, and soon maybe Noah’s, too. He’d never seen his dad so... well, manageable before. She’d probably seen it all—his dad’s hangovers, his cocky attitude, his late-night escapades—and yet she still kept things running smoothly.

Maybe that’s what he’d needed all along—someone who could manage the chaos, someone who could actually keep him grounded.

“Well, I guess I can’t slack off anymore either,” Noah muttered, pushing away from the table and grabbing his plate. “Guess I’m in this with you, huh?”

Max looked up at him and gave him a playful nudge. “You know it, kid,” he said, grinning. “The real work starts now.”

She stood at the counter, her movements fluid as she made a cup of coffee for Max. She placed it gently in front of him, then gave him a look that made it clear she wasn’t done yet.

“Your room,” she said firmly, raising an eyebrow. “Strip your sheets, air it out. It smells like sex in there.”

Max groaned, but his tone was playful. “Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he muttered, picking up the coffee and winking at her as if it was no big deal.

Noah watched the exchange, silently chuckling to himself. It was actually kind of adorable how well Max and she worked together. They didn’t seem like just a typical boss-assistant duo—they had a rhythm, a comfort with each other that made it hard to believe they weren’t more than that.

She raised her eyebrows at Max, clearly not impressed by his teasing. “Go,” she commanded, making a shooing motion toward the hallway.

Max rolled his eyes but shuffled off to his room, his back already to them.

She then glanced over at Noah, her expression softening now that it was just the two of them. “Alright, kid,” she said, her voice changing slightly. “Now, how did you end up here?”

Noah hesitated, unsure how much to share. He wasn’t used to talking about his family—about his mum. But she had a way of making him feel safe. She didn’t press, didn’t rush him, but her eyes were kind, giving him the space to speak if he wanted to.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, trying to find the words. “I was an accident,” he finally muttered, looking down at the table. “My mum... she was one of the many girls in and out of his life. She never really stuck around, I spent more time with my grandma.”

She nodded, encouraging him with a soft, understanding smile. She was so good at making him feel like his feelings mattered, like he wasn’t just a burden. “And after that?” she asked, her tone gentle but full of curiosity.

Noah paused, swallowing hard. “She just had enough, I guess. She couldn’t wait until I turned 18, so she shipped me off here to my dad.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, a little embarrassed by how honest he was being. “I don’t know if she ever really wanted to be a mum. But when it came down to it, she couldn’t even handle me for a few more months.”

Her expression softened even more, and she leaned forward slightly, her voice low and comforting. “That must’ve been really tough on you.”

Noah gave a half-shrug, but there was a weight to it. “It was. But, I mean... what can you do? She made her decision, and now I’m here. With him,” he said, glancing toward the hallway where Max had disappeared, an almost nostalgic look on his face. He wasn’t sure whether it was disappointment or something else—maybe just the surrealism of the situation.

She watched him closely, like she was trying to read him. “Do you want to stay after your eighteenth birthday?” she asked carefully. “Or do you think you’ll go back to the States, I’m assuming that is where you’re from?”

Noah felt a tight knot in his chest at the thought. He hadn’t really thought about it—hadn’t been asked. His whole life had been in limbo for the past three weeks, ever since he’d arrived in Monaco. “I don’t really know,” he said, exhaling deeply. “I’ve only been here for a few weeks. I turn 18 in a couple of weeks... and I guess I’m still figuring things out. It’s... it’s a lot to take in.”

She nodded again, giving him time to process the weight of it all. “Of course,” she said, her voice warm. “But listen, if you want to leave, we can make up for the missed child support. If you don’t feel comfortable here, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, okay?”

Noah didn’t know what to say at first. He felt like he hadn’t even had time to adjust to life with his dad before people were talking about the next step. But then something in her words hit him. We can make up for the missed child support. She was offering him an option. She wasn’t trying to guilt him into staying; she was giving him a choice, and that felt... different.

“But if you want to stay,” she added with a smile, “we can make up for lost time. And I’ll take you shopping.”

Noah chuckled, feeling a little lighter at the thought of her offer. It was a small thing, but it was enough to make him feel like he had options. Like maybe, just maybe, he could make a life here.

“Shopping, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Is that the deal-breaker?”

She smiled knowingly. “A little retail therapy never hurt anyone. Plus, it’s a good way to build a real wardrobe.”

Noah smiled back, surprised by the warmth in his chest. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he wasn’t just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe—just maybe—he could find a place for himself here.

Over the next few days, Noah couldn’t help but notice the unique dynamic between his dad and her. It was almost like a carefully choreographed dance—Max would slack off, mess around, maybe even throw a tantrum, and she would step in like a well-oiled machine, putting everything back in order without missing a beat.

She was the one who could actually control him, Noah realised. Not that Max ever looked like he was being controlled—he had that cocky, self-assured air, like the world owed him something. But she was the one who could gently rein him in, who knew exactly when to cut him off, when to play the tough love card, and when to let him have his moment of weakness.

And Noah saw it. He saw how Max listened to her. He’d always thought that Max did whatever he wanted. But with her around, he noticed a shift. She was the one who could keep Max grounded in ways Noah never could, and in that, Noah saw something—something that made him wonder if, maybe, she was the only one who could be perfect for his dad.

It was race week, and everything was running at full throttle. Max was his usual self, the high-octane Formula 1 driver, constantly on the go, living off adrenaline and the expectations that came with it. They boarded the private jet with a few of the other drivers, and as soon as they were in the air, Max and his mates turned their attention to technical talk, while Noah, feeling out of place but not entirely unwelcome, found a seat beside her.

As the engines hummed in the background and the landscape below them blurred into a sea of clouds, Noah let himself relax for the first time in what felt like forever. She was reading through a set of files, occasionally glancing up at him with that comforting, steady gaze she had perfected.

“So...” Noah said, breaking the silence after a while, “How did you get this job?”

She looked up, offering him a warm smile as she closed the folder in her lap. “That’s a loaded question,” she said, her voice playful but still laced with that underlying wisdom. “How much time do you have?”

Noah grinned, leaning back in his seat. “I’ve got all the time in the world, it seems. Might as well learn something interesting.”

She chuckled softly. “Fair enough. Well, I’ve always had a thing for organisation. I’ve worked in a lot of high-pressure environments, but this—” she motioned around the jet, a flick of her hand that encompassed the luxury, the chaos, the busy hum of the race world “—this was different. I actually came into it by accident.”

Noah raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Accident? How does someone accidentally end up working with the best Formula 1 drivers in the world?”

She shrugged casually, like it was no big deal. “I used to be a personal assistant for a couple of big-name corporate execs, and after some... interesting situations, I realised I needed a change. My family had always been involved in motorsports, so I started working for a racing team, just answering emails, scheduling meetings. Then one day, Max’s manager called me in to help out with his chaotic schedule. The rest is history.”

Noah laughed. “I’m guessing Max’s schedule is a nightmare?”

She gave him a knowing look. “You could say that.” She lowered her voice as though she was telling him a secret. “Max’s not the easiest guy to manage, but we get along just fine.”

Noah nodded, his curiosity piqued. “What’s it like... working with him? I mean, really working with him?”

Her expression softened, and for a moment, she seemed almost nostalgic, like she was remembering the past. “He’s a pain, honestly. He doesn’t listen half the time, and he thinks he can do whatever he wants. But that’s Max, right? He’s got this fire in him, this energy that doesn’t let anyone or anything hold him back. And... well, someone has to keep the wheels turning when the engine’s running at full speed. That’s where I come in.”

Noah couldn’t help but grin. “Seems like you’re the only one who can actually keep him in line.”

She gave him a small smile, her eyes sparkling with that quiet confidence. “I don’t keep him in line—I just know how to get him to do what’s necessary. There’s a big difference.”

The jet hummed steadily, and Noah leaned back in his seat, thinking about what she’d said. She was good. Too good at her job to be just another assistant. She was like the secret engine that kept Max running, and Noah didn’t think he’d ever fully understand why she chose to work with him, but he didn’t mind. She clearly had everything under control.

“So, do you like it?” Noah asked, after a beat of silence. “The job? I mean, it’s got to be crazy, right?”

She smiled at the question, looking thoughtful. “It’s a lot, yes. But it’s also rewarding. I’ve always loved a challenge, and Max... well, he’s a big one. But he’s also got a heart under all that arrogance. It’s just buried deep. You’d have to stick around long enough to see it for yourself.”

Noah stared at her for a moment, absorbing her words. He wasn’t sure if he believed she meant that, but it made him wonder about his dad in a way he hadn’t before. Maybe she was the one person who understood Max better than anyone. Better than he did, that’s for sure.

As the flight continued, the other drivers gathered in the back, talking racing tactics and joking among themselves. Max glanced over at Noah, giving him a quick nod before returning to his conversation with the others. But even from where he sat, Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but he felt... maybe a little bit more at home in this strange new world.

It wasn’t just about living up to the chaos or trying to impress his dad. It was about finding a balance between who he was and what this life could offer him. And maybe, just maybe, the one person who could make him see it clearly was sitting right in front of him, offering him coffee and a chance to truly know her story.

Race day had arrived, and the atmosphere was electric. The entire paddock was buzzing with energy as the team prepped for the race. Max’s PA was in the hospitality area, typing away at her laptop, responding to emails and making sure everything was in place for the post-race debrief. Her calm, focused demeanor was the eye of the storm, while around her, chaos seemed to swirl.

Noah had been lingering nearby, watching the action unfold. The race cars lined up, the drivers warming up in their suits, engineers giving last-minute adjustments. But Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that there was still so much he didn’t understand. Formula 1 was more than just fast cars; it was strategy, timing, and a whole world he hadn’t fully cracked yet.

She noticed him staring into the pit, looking like he was trying to figure it all out, and her lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. She closed her laptop and pushed her chair back, standing up.

"Hey," she called over to him, "You look a little lost. Want to get some fresh air?"

Noah blinked, his gaze lifting to meet hers. "Sure. I mean, I could use a break."

She motioned toward the balcony, a quieter spot away from the noise of the paddock. "Come on. Let’s go up there. I'll teach you a few things about the race."

They made their way out, and as soon as they stepped onto the balcony, Noah took in the view of the circuit below. He hadn’t even noticed the race started. Or was this the formation lap? He was sure he read something about that. The track was alive, filled with motion, the cars zipping around as the tension built toward the start.

She leaned against the railing, her arms folded as she studied Noah. “So, how much do you know about all this? The strategy, the pit stops, all that?”

Noah shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. “I know a decent amount. I mean, mum sometimes put on the race for me to shut me up, but I didn’t really get into the details. She wasn’t into it, and I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it.” He paused, then added with a bit of a sheepish grin, “So I know the basics, but it’s a lot more complicated than I thought.”

She nodded, a knowing look crossing her face. “Yeah, it’s a lot more than just fast cars and fuel. Let me give you the rundown.”

She began explaining the finer details of race strategy—the tire choices, how teams monitored fuel and tire degradation, the timing of pit stops, the importance of keeping track of the weather. As she talked, Noah found himself listening intently, his mind absorbing the information. She wasn’t just teaching him about the race; she was showing him how the puzzle pieces fit together.

“You’re getting it,” she said, smiling at him as he absorbed it all. “The strategy isn’t just about winning; it’s about staying ahead of the competition at every turn. A good driver can have the skill, but it’s the team that makes them successful.”

Noah nodded, feeling a new sense of respect for everything that went into a race. “I get it now. It’s more than just the guy behind the wheel.”

She grinned. “Exactly.”

The sound of the race engines revving up brought them both back to the present. The cars were lining up, and she could feel the tension building as the race was about to begin. She turned toward Noah, her tone shifting slightly. “Alright, time to get back to work. Max has quite a few places to make up.”

They both turned toward the pit, and with a knowing glance, she led Noah back inside.

The race was intense, but as the laps ticked down, Max started to pull away from the pack. Noah could see it happening before anyone else—his dad was dominating, racing like the champion he was. It wasn’t just about the car; it was about Max’s relentless drive.

And then, it happened. Max crossed the finish line in first place, and the entire team erupted in celebration. Noah felt a strange mix of pride and awe. This was his dad—he was winning, and it was like nothing else mattered in that moment.

She was already moving, heading straight for the garage to make sure everything was set for the post-race celebrations. Noah followed behind her, curious but also wanting to see what happened next.

As they entered the garage, Noah couldn’t help but ask, “Why are we back here?”

She turned to him with a knowing smile. “Away from the cameras,” she said simply. “Sometimes the celebrations should be private.”

The doors opened just as Max walked in, his face flushed with triumph, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on her. Without a second thought, he crossed the space in long strides, pulling her into a tight hug.

Noah watched them, a small smile tugging at his lips as he saw the chemistry between them. It was impossible to ignore—the way Max’s arms wrapped around her, how she laughed softly in his arms, as though they had all the time in the world. It wasn’t just the physical connection between them, it was the way they fit together. They had this unspoken understanding, this quiet intimacy that Noah couldn’t deny.

For the first time, he felt like an outsider—just a kid who had stumbled into a world he didn’t fully understand, yet somehow found himself caught in the middle of something bigger than himself. Watching them together, he couldn't help but think they were cute—and it was a thought that made him feel oddly warm inside.

Max pulled away from her, looking down at Noah with a mischievous grin. “Atta boy, kid,” he said, pulling Noah into a hug. The older man’s arms enveloped him easily, and for a second, Noah felt the weight of everything—his confusion, his place in all of this, but also the new undeniable love for moments like this, moments he never had. 

It was rare, moments like these, where Noah felt like he truly belonged in this world, like he wasn’t just a spectator in anyone’s life. The hug felt like a reassurance, like Max was showing him, in his own way, that he was happy he was here.

As they pulled apart, Noah found himself grinning, the rush of the race and the moment of connection filling him with something he couldn’t quite name. But whatever it was, it felt real.

She stepped forward, brushing off a stray piece of hair from her face. “Good job, Max,” she said, her voice soft but proud. “You didn’t screw it up for once.”

Max shot her a playful look. “Who are you calling a screw-up?”

She winked at him. “You, it’s just not obvious because I pick up your slack Max Emilian.”

Noah looked between them, watching the playful banter, and for the first time since he’d arrived in Monaco, he felt like things were... right. Whatever this was between his dad and her, it was something real. And maybe, just maybe, it could be the foundation for something that could help him find his place in this chaotic world.

taglist: @linnygirl09 @mirrorball-6 @miyasuni

[ipegchangbin]

— honey, changbin.

🏷️ sub!changbin, dom!gn!reader, dry humping, he’s delirious

the room feels hotter than it is. the friction between his thighs slotted between yours, his palms planted on your own with fingers intertwined, the sweat rolling down your still-clothed bodies; it’s all much. changbin continues to rock his hips closer and closer to your crotch, desperation showering over him.

“my honey,” you say. you kiss him as he moans.

for whatever reason, changbin melts at that term of endearment. he’s your honey, as sweet as can be. he’s a bear and a bee, soft and fuzzy and warm, but you make him feel like a bruin and a wasp under your fiery touch.

you tighten your grasp on his hands, caging his strong yet pudgy fingers in yours. you lean into his ear and whisper quiet moans, teasing him as he desperately ruts harder and harder onto you.

the fabric between your parts and his is incredibly annoying, frustrating changbin to the point that he could rip it all off to love you better — but he doesn’t. he could, but he also can’t, restrained by nothing but his own weakness. he just can’t do any of that when you’re right there.

it’s interesting how you soothe him and drive him crazy at the same time. depriving him of his needs while giving him more for his emotions to feast on. his mind is mush, spiraling in nothing but thoughts of loving you, wanting you, obsessing over you.

before he knows it, he’s drooling into the crook of your neck. it somehow isn’t gross when he looks so out of it, eyes glassy and distant, lips dripping and pouty.

“honey,” you call, the name sliding out of your mouth with a velvety tone. “honey, you’re doing good.”

“want you,” he begs, “need you.”

“my honey has to be patient,” you coo. your sly hands slip out of his fingers and find both his cheek and his hip.

changbin sips a bit of his drool back but your thumb prods his mouth agape. he shivers at your gesture, but it worsens into a full-body jerk when you force him to meet eyes with you. the other hand sinks deep into his body, pain and pleasure pulsing through his thick denim jeans. he’ll never know how you manage to do this.

“please…” he’s whining at this point, eyebrows lifted upwards while his skin flushes under your touch. “i-i need you so bad…been craving you, honey…”

you won’t admit, but you love being his honey too.

unfortunately for him, you’re spicy flavored with a dense texture that he’ll have to fight the combs for.

“what about patience, hmm? can’t you wait to be touched?”

he lets out a whimper akin to that of a panicked bunny. it’s not a good noise, but god, the guilty pleasure of relishing in it overrides your system as you spank his hip and asscheek. seems you’re impatient too, but he catches none of it and whimpers louder instead.

he starts drooling again while nuzzling his face into your palm. his lower body movements start jittering, the slow and whole thrusts turning into impossibly more desperate flicks of his hips up and down. changbin’s cock strains painfully against his pants, the tent of his length only bulging out more and more.

it must hurt, but you don’t stop teasing.

“how about we cum like this? just like this? then i’ll let you touch me?”

he replies immediately with shut eyes, nodding his head down, along with a desperate string of “please, please, please!” and you’ll never forget how his body tenses to the point it almost collapses on you.

quivering yourself, you guide his hips with your hand snaked over his plump ass to keep thrusting against you. you can’t deny how your body reacts as well, rocking your own lower half to match the pace you set. changbin’s head falls to your shoulder, prompting you to hug his upper body by the shoulder blades to support the poor boy.

“oh, honey,” you moan. maybe the pleasure spike leaves you fighting desperation as well, but the shakiness in your voice sends changbin’s mind ablaze.

he starts moaning your name like an uncontrollable barking dog. he growls but also mewls, rutting his crotch so close to yours that he could almost feel your heat under all the thick fabric setting you both apart.

changbin’s eyes are crystals with the way his tears coat them. he pulls his head back to crash his lips against yours in an attempt to mute himself. it doesn’t work as he moans “honey, honey, honey” all into your mouth. the hot breaths give you both goosebumps.

closing in on a climax, you feel him weakening in your arms; you figure to continue thrusting yourself onto him as your legs cage him by the hips again.

your minds are hazy, but his is clouded in a horny fog. he loves you, loves you to the point that you’re the only one he thinks about. you’re his but he is entirely yours. he doesn’t mind being toyed with as long as you were playing with him, but best of all, he loves you because you play fair with him. you always do, and he loves that you love him.

even if the clothes feel so fucking unfair right now.

and changbin’s desperation turns into something worse. he loves you, so much that he wants to get fucked by you. he loves you and he wants to see the most breathtaking body that he’s always loved. he loves you and your name is now a mantra in his head. he loves you and his cock burns so much with need that he could simply throw his shirt away and rip his pants with an unbridled strength, but again, he can’t.

a loud whine escapes his throat as he stills in place, ass clenching as he feels an uncomfortable fire beneath his skin. he’s about to cum, but he’s never literally finished like this, hovering over you, about to dirty his own pants.

but for a split second, you meet eyes, and you look at him so sweetly that he stops holding back.

he finishes while hugging you, only to feel your orgasm wash over him as well.

a beat of silence passes. the only noises that full the air are heavy breaths and panting between you two. the embrace you share is warm, so incredibly warm.

but changbin’s still hard. you’re still energized.

you push him off your body with a strength you never knew you had, rolling him over and pinning him down onto the mattress.

lips smack, hands hold each other again, only to reach desperately for your own shirt until it’s lifted swiftly off your sweating body.

you unbutton his jeans with a single feral snap, sliding his zipper down a split second later.

you’re craving the sweetness. maybe you’re the impatient one.

“good boy. now let me pamper my honey.”

[saphronethaleph]

Legally Mandated Vacation Days

The holoprojector in Palpatine’s private quarters activated, an image shimmering to life, and Palpatine smiled in anticipation of seeing Vader kneeling before him.

That lasted approximately half a second, until he saw the actual image.

“Your Majesty!” an extremely nervous Imperial Navy lieutenant said, saluting. “It’s an honour to-”

“Where is Vader?” Palpatine asked. “This is his personal hologram frequency!”

“Ah… Lord Vader assigned me to take his calls while he was away,” the lieutenant explained. “It’s, ah… an honour to be speaking to you… do you have a message?”

“Away?” Palpatine repeated. “Why is Vader away?”

“I don’t know!” the lieutenant protested. “Your Majesty, I don’t know anything more than what I’ve told you – he just told me to take his calls and said he was using up some annual leave, since he hadn’t taken any since the year one.”

It took Palpatine a fraction of a second to actually calculate what that meant, because replacing the calendar when he came to unquestioned power had been what the youth called ‘a flex’ but it had also caused significant calendrical chaos and he personally still thought in the old system at least half the time.

Eleven years, then. Vader had eleven years of stored up annual leave, and he was choosing to expend some.

“Where did he go?” Palpatine asked.

“I didn’t ask!” the lieutenant replied. “Your Majesty, I didn’t want to die, and also I don’t think I’m allowed to ask anyway…”

Palpatine glowered at the hologram, then untensed.

Marginally.

“Inform Vader that I want to speak to him as soon as possible,” he said, then ended the call before the lieutenant could start fawning again.

“Uncle Owen!” Luke called, running down the steps of the homestead. “Aunt Beru! Someone’s coming!”

“We’d better see what this is about, then,” Owen Lars decided. “Did you recognize them?”

The pre-teen looked thoughtful.

“Don’t think so,” he said. “Whoever it was, they were wearing black. Not sure why.”

“Black robes are just as cool as white,” Beru commented. “I know black gets hotter, but it doesn’t reach the skin.”

Luke frowned.

“It might have been robes,” he said. “Don’t know.”

“Well, let’s see who it is,” Owen decided.

Beru’s gaze darted to where one of their blasters was hidden, as Owen headed up the stairs.

“Oh kriff,” Owen said, in a tiny voice.

Then a black shape, like death, came down the stairs.

The figure in the armoured suit and cloak wasn’t really forcing Owen to retreat, not really.

Not through any physical means, or otherwise.

He was just… walking, and Owen was responding in an instinctive sort of way to get out of the way of Darth Vader, the Emperor’s Enforcer, the sign of death across the whole of the known galaxy.

Upon reaching floor level, Vader examined Beru, then Luke, then the room around them.

“So,” Darth Vader said, in a dread but awkward voice. “How have you been doing?”

It took all those present several seconds to find their voices.

“...what?” Owen asked, eventually.

“I know it has been a while,” Vader went on, then stopped. “…ah, of course. It is unsurprising you fail to recognize me. I… was not wearing this, before.”

“Then who are you?” Beru asked. “You’re acting like you know us, but… you’re Darth Vader.”

“Yes,” Vader agreed. “I… have had a complicated last few months. I ran into someone from my past. We fought. I was seriously injured, and it gave me reason to consider what I have made of my life. About the relatives that I have failed to visit.”

Owen and Beru exchanged glances, then both looked at Luke.

“Are you really Darth Vader?” Luke said, sounding fascinated. “Everyone says you’re really scary, but you’re in our kitchen and I don’t know if that means you’re scary.”

“I am extremely scary,” Vader replied, in tones of either great seriousness or impressive deadpan. “I have killed people for annoying me. I have killed people who did not have the time to annoy me.”

“Did you cut their heads off?” Luke asked, in that way that children can. “I’ve never seen that happen but it sounds like it’d be really messy. There’s two bits of person then.”

Vader made a sound that, charitably, could be interpreted as chuckling.

“It appears I have been remiss in not talking about my work to my step-brother’s child,” he said. “I approve of you, child.”

“Step-brother’s child…” Owen said, then his eyes went wide. “You’re – you’re Anakin!?”

Vader tilted his head slightly. “Who else would I be?”

“I’ve got relatives,” Beru pointed out. “I wouldn’t have thought any of them was Darth Vader, but… we thought Anakin was dead.”

Vader appeared to think about that.

“I can see why you would think that,” he admitted.

“Does that mean you’re my dad?” Luke asked.

Vader did a double take.

“What,” he said.

For a moment, simmering anger filled the room, then it faded away.

“I suppose if you thought that I was dead, then taking in my child would be reasonable,” he conceded. “As my only surviving relatives of any sort.”

“I’ll get some water for us to share?” Beru suggested, falling back on basic hospitality. And on a way to get out of the sight of the others for a minute.

She was going to need to comm Ben Kenobi to stay the absolute kriff away from the homestead for now.

It was at least possible that Vader – Anakin – whichever would be more interested in his very much alive and present son he was reconnecting with than a mention of an absent Kenobi somewhere else on the planet who made Luke toys.

Kenobi here? The fight would destroy the homestead, and that would make it considerably more difficult to keep Luke safe… even with how the difficulty of that had jumped significantly in the last ten minutes.

[haveihitanerve]

Batboys centric in which they come to the realization that Bruce is pretty (not romantically, the kind of pretty when you look at your mom's wedding photos and see her in an amazing dress).

Bruce isn't used to people seeing him as pretty, but her Brucie Wayne persona because that's the whole point of it.

ohohoho i have a hunch this is you and also this is sooooo interesting... lemme see what i got-

“Do you want to come to the tavern with me?” 

The words caught Dick off guard. Both because he hadn’t heard anyone say “tavern” in years, and because Bruce had said it.

“Um?” He glanced up from where he was sprawled over the couch, looking away from his phone. “Yeah? Sure?”

Bruce hummed, reaching up a hand as though to run it through his hair, then thought better of it, and dropped it again. For good reason too.

Dick tripped as he stood, eyes glued to his father, blown wide. Bruce frowned, glancing down at himself.

“What's wrong?” He asked, concerned.

Dick’s cheeks burned and he ducked under Bruce’s arm, heading up the stairs. “Nothing, nothing, I’m just gonna get changed.” He muttered, hurrying up the stairs and ducking behind the corner.

Because what the fuck.

Dick peeked back out, daring a glance back down the stairs at his Dad.

Bruce was wearing a loose fitted light pink tank top, tucked half heartedly into deep navy slacks, hair styled away from his face in a way that clearly revealed his age.

It wasn’t to say that Dick had never seen his Dad in different versions of undressed. Quite the contrary. Their line of work required levels of nudity, whether while dressing an injury, showering, or working their secret identity personas.

But this… Dick shook his head, heading to his room to grab some clothes to change into.

Bruce was… pretty. 

The next time it happened, Dick had witnesses. Jason and Tim were sitting in the den with him, pretending to watch a movie.

Truly, only Jason was actually focused on the story, as it was a movie that had come out when he’d been dead, but Tim would look up on occasion, usually only to draw Jason into a quick debate before dropping his attention back to his phone.

Dick himself was listening to the movie like an audiobook, a real book propped up halfheartedly on his stomach.

“Tim, could you help me quickly?” Bruce called, a moment before he entered the den.

Tim dropped his phone, eager for an excuse to have some work to do, faltering only for a second when he realized the task wasn't case work. No, instead it was much much worse.

Dick lifted his book, cheeks burning, as Jason stared, eyes wide, jaw dropped.

Tim, however, seemed completely unbothered, hands moving quickly and effortlessly to help Bruce out before he dropped back into the seat.

Bruce ruffled his hair with a light smile, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Thanks Timmy. Boys.” He nodded at his eldest and exited again.

“Tim.” Jason hissed the second he was out of hearing, and Dick dropped his book.

Tim, who had returned to his phone, completely unruffled, glanced up, frowning when he spotted their gagged expressions. “What?” He asked, puzzled.

“You just-” Jason floundered.

“You just helped lace Bruce up in a corset.” Dick hissed. Tim blinked, mind whirring.

“Yes?” He finally agreed, still perplexed. “And this is important because…??”

“He’s pretty.” Jason scowled.

Tim laughed. “Guys, you do realize that our Dad is Bruce Wayne right??? The guy who wins every fashion contest? The guy our classmates call hotter than Superman?? The one person where guys go “i’m not gay but…” and girls go “i’m not straight but…” That Bruce Wayne, yeah?”

Dick scowled. “Yes. We’re aware. I’ve had to deal with those comments about him for much longer than you ever have.” He shot petulantly.

Tim raised his hands, brows furrowed. “Then what's the big deal???”

“We know he’s hot.” Jason snapped. “But he’s… he’s just.” He looked at Dick for help.

“He’s never been pretty.” Dick supplied. “Hot, yeah sure, handsome, okay, sexy, ugh, fine. But- but pretty??? He can’t leave the house like that. My ears will never recover.”

Jason nodded his agreement, looking like a grim military general at war and not a child discussing his fathers attraction level.

Tim looked at both of them, laughed, and propped his feet up on the table, picking up his phone again, chuckling like a supervillain.

“Oh man. And y’all haven't even seen him in a dress yet.” 

um. so.. okay. Firstly, I'm so sorry for the long wait, I just uh have been really busy and unmotivated and yeah im so sorry 😭- secondly, this is not like, even close to what you asked... and i also apologize for that, but i figured better late than never? and its like... kind of in line with what you asked so... yay? anyway sorry and here and hope you like it even tho its not what you asked :)

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

extra 3: life “over and over the only truth, everything comes back to you”

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur @thelightknight21 @ellehoops

wc: 9.0k

notes: finally getting through the last of the irp extra requests 😮‍💨 yes i didn't make a new banner and no i didn't want to. this is def the last extra chap i'll do (this is the end for real...that's crazy) bc after a while i feel like im beating a dead horse. tess kennedy you will always be famous. thank you all for loving irp, i loved writing it but she must go on her own way now 😓 poorly proofread but as always lmk what you guys think 🫶

i. why does ‘TessKennedysControversiallyYoungGirlfriend’ want you to step on her and how do i tell her to get a job

APRIL 2025, POST NCAA CHAMPIONSHIP

If you were to ask Tess, she would probably say, no, I’m not a jealous person. In a materialistic sense, she doesn’t make a habit of looking at what other people have and deciding that her life has any less value because of what she may lack. She’s a wholehearted believer that she could get anything that she wants (barring that slight crash out from a year and a half ago when she thought she couldn’t have Paige…but that’s neither here nor there) and if she couldn’t immediately get it, then she knows she could work for it. Those are the two fundamental truths of her life.

However, in the sense of her and Paige, Tess still doesn’t think she’s jealous. They’ve been together long enough that Tess is comfortably secure in their relationship. She has no reason to not trust Paige, Paige has no reason to not trust her, they’re happy and committed to each other and all is well.

But the lack of jealousy doesn’t mean a lack of possessiveness. Maybe possessiveness isn’t even the right word. Tess doesn’t necessarily think that Paige belongs to her and feeling owned honestly gives her the ick, so she’s fortunate that Paige doesn’t really think that way, either. There’s a simple understanding that they’re girlfriends – that means something, and if Tess had to admit anything, it’s that she enjoys Paige’s undivided attention a lot more than she lets herself realize or more than she will ever tell Paige (although there’s a small part of her that’s sure Paige has her suspicions).

Which brings them to where they are now.

The bathroom door in their hotel room is cracked open, the sound of water hitting tile echoing as Paige showers before their date. Following UConn’s championship win, Tess and Paige were treating themselves to a vacation before the draft rolled around. They knew they would immediately be in training camps and moving across the country, so they just wanted to enjoy this last bit of uninterrupted time together before shit truly hit the fan and the only way they’d get to see each other is during games. That was honestly a hard pill to swallow – being apart for so long, but they had a long, thoughtful discussion about it, promising to communicate and be present and all of that other sentimental shit.

Tess frowns down at her phone, her eyes all but burning a hole through the device as she reads Maddy Siegrist’s comment on Paige’s latest Instagram dump. Honestly, it’s not even that bad, but what is Tess if not a crash out? It was simple, reading dallas is about to get a whole lot hotter. First of all, ew? Second of all, Tess feels like that should be illegal. It feels like draft tampering. She can’t argue why but it just does. And third of all, has she said ew yet? She knows it’s probably teammate banter, but if she said that to Raven, then Raven would probably kill her before she got the chance to kill herself.

“Paige!” she calls, sliding off the bed and into a pair of slippers to pad into the bathroom.

“Yeah?” Paige says, opening the textured glass door to poke her head out.

Tess keeps her gaze respectful, not allowing her eyes to trace the water droplets as they trail down Paige’s cheek and jaw, dropping onto her chest. She flips her phone around, showing the comment section to Paige. “Tell your thirsty ass teammate to stop trying to homewreck.”

“My who?” Paige echos, biting her lip to stop her laughter as her eyes scan the comment.

“Your thirsty ass teammate.”

The look Paige gives her is nothing short of wicked. “One, she’s not my teammate.”

“Not yet,” Tess huffs.

Paige rolls her eyes. “Two, she’s engaged.”

“You do understand that you knowing that is like, worse, right?”

“Three,” Paige emphasizes. “Look who just followed you.” Tess resists an eye roll as she navigates to her notifications, her eyes catching on the one reading cameronbrink22 has followed you! When Tess glances back up, Paige looks smug, raising a brow. “You got a thing for blondes or sum?”

“You are so annoying,” Tess admonishes.

“Tell your thirsty ass teammate to stop trying to homewreck.”

“Not teammates!”

“Yeah, just like you’re not jealous,” Paige retorts.

Tess gives up on restraining herself and rolls her eyes fully. “I am not jealous.”

Paige grins insufferably. “Whatever you say, ma. You gettin’ in?” she asks, referring to the shower. “Save water?”

Tess huffs again, already reaching for the hem of her shirt. “Don’t say it like that,” she states, but she can’t help the way she preens when she feels Paige’s gaze fixed on her.

“I didn’t say nothin’ any type of way,” Paige says. “Just tryna be environmentally conscious and all that, let my jealous girlfriend know I ain’t showerin’ with nobody else.”

Tess turns, narrowing her eyes at Paige. “I’m gonna put my shirt back on,” she threatens.

Paige’s bottom lip juts out in a dramatic pout. “Noooo,” she whines. “Please don’t.” She reaches for Tess’s wrist, water droplets splashing against the bathroom tile and Tess lets herself be dragged in. “C’mon. Let’s talk. I know I’m being annoying but you’re being kinda passive aggressive so now I know you’re not just fucking around.”

Tess sighs as Paige shuts the sliding glass door behind them. Paige guides her under the shower stream, her hands rubbing her shoulders as the warm water envelops them. “I’m sorry. You’re right,” she concedes, drawing a hum from her girlfriend as she reaches for the loofah and the bodywash, beginning to work on scrubbing her back. “I’m not like, actually jealous, you know? I’m secure in our relationship and we both know neither of us are going anywhere. So I don’t feel threatened, but it’s just – she,  and the rest of your teammates – are gonna get to see you on a constant basis for four years and I – I don’t know. You’re not even gone yet but I miss you already. I know it won’t be that different from college and we’ve made our peace with that, but I guess some part of me had hoped otherwise for so long and the realization that we’re actually going to play away from each other professionally is sinking in. It’s stupid –”

“Not stupid,” Paige interrupts, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the back of her neck. She places the loofah on the rack in the shower and wraps her arms around Tess’s waist, pressing their bodies together. It’s the casual intimacy like this that Tess will probably miss the most now that she’s had a taste of it. There’s no expectations right now, just her and Paige, and she sinks back into her hold gratefully. “It’s a big change for us, right? Even if we’re used to it, or whatever, it’s different ‘cause we’re like…locked in, you know? We’re not just girlfriends.” Paige huffs. “I’on even know if that makes sense.”

Tess shakes her head, her hands coming down to rest over Paige’s. “No, I know what you mean,” she agrees.

Paige squeezes her gently. “Point is, s’okay to be a little upset about it. Just don’t be scared of it. It’s not easy to…I’on know, think about right now, but once you’re actually livin’ it up in LA, playin’ with KP and Rickea and Cam, it’s not gonna feel as bad. This is your dream, baby,” Paige reminds her, kissing her cheek as she rocks them side to side. Tess can feel the smile Paige presses against her skin, one of her own growing despite herself. “Whether I’m right next to you, at UConn, or in Dallas, I’m blessed to even be part of your life. We’ll make it work. We always do.”

It’s then that Tess twists around in her arms, resting her hands upon Paige’s shoulders. Her thumb absentmindedly brushes across the slope of her collarbone but neither of them fully register it. “Are you…?”

“Upset?” Paige finishes. “Scared?” Tess nods, not trusting herself to speak. Paige’s expression melts into one of soft understanding. “‘Course I am,” she murmurs. The tension in Tess’s shoulder washes away under the shower stream, but she finds herself feeling guilty. Paige was also struggling with this change, and here she is comforting Tess about it. Paige seems to recognize the look on her face because she shakes her head. “I wish we could be closer, too. Like, if everything lined up perfectly and somehow we went to the same team. The league wouldn’t know what to do with us.” That makes Tess laugh, which makes Paige’s face brighten. “I just…gotta remind myself that it’s just different, not impossible. I promised you don’t gotta be scared with me. I meant that. And I know I don’t gotta be scared with you, either. So…it might be a little hard for a while, but we’ll settle in and we’ll be okay. It’s new and different but it’s exciting, right? Us, getting drafted? Me kicking your ass in the championship?”

“Okay, you ruined the mood,” Tess complains, extracting herself from Paige’s grip as the blonde laughs smugly. Despite her words, her tone lacks any real heat and she fights to keep the smile off of her lips.

“Hey,” Paige calls out to her, passing her the bottle of her shampoo. “Good?” The check-in is a gentle reminder that regardless of their conversation being softened by humor, Paige is still looking out for her, for her feelings.

Tess nods, wrapping Paige in a gentle hug as the blonde presses a kiss to her temple. “Good,” she confirms. “Thank you. For…” Her words falter, not because she doesn’t know what she’s thanking Paige for, but because she knows that there’s so many things that she could be thanking her for. 

Paige understands her all the same – she always has, which is just another thing on the long list of things that Tess finds herself thankful for. She smiles softly, her hand squeezing Tess’s hip. “I got you,” she promises, and Tess knows that’s the one thing she’ll always be certain of.

This brief period of peace doesn’t last for too long. They finish out the rest of their day, lounging around and enjoying their postseason vacation. They post a few TikToks together (which consist mostly of Paige roping her into thirst traps and funny couple’s challenges), DoorDash an unhealthy amount of snacks, and binge-watch movies until midnight when Tess falls asleep in the middle of a trashy rom-com.

Tess is in the middle of a strange dream – one wherein she and Paige are, for whatever reason, football players (although she supposes the recent football fixation is because Paige forced her to watch the Superbowl with her this year), when she’s gently shaken away. The voice in her ear is a soft murmur, pulling her out of sleep. The exhaustion makes her eyelids heavy but when they open fully, she sets her gaze on Paige. “You better have a good reason for waking me up this early,” Tess grumbles, pressing her face further into the space where Paige’s neck meets her shoulder, and she feels Paige’s body shake as she laughs.

“It’s 10am,” Paige says. “And I was bored. Tried waiting for you but you just kept on snoozing.”

“Paige Bueckers complaining about someone sleeping in,” Tess teases, mock-amazement filling her tone. “Someone pinch me.” Paige does, which makes Tess yelp and grab her hip. “Jackass,” she says. “Maddy Siegrist can have you. I don’t even care anymore.”

Paige’s eyes light up in remembrance. “A’ight, so I woke you up for a reason, actually,” she starts. Tess groans, but Paige’s hand traces the dimples on her back and that makes her forget all about her indignance. “So I was scrolling through TikTok. You remember that one we posted yesterday, the boogie on down trend?” Tess hums tiredly, the drag of Paige’s fingers lulling her back to sleep. “Never in a million years will you guess who commented on it.”

“Was it Sab?” Tess asks hopefully.

Paige huffs. “Worse.” Paige angles her phone to show her and at first, Tess is thankful that she had the foresight to at least turn her brightness down. “Why does ‘TessKennedysControversiallyYoungGirlfriend’ want you to step on her and how do I tell her to get a job?”

“Who?” Tess blinks once, lifting her head to look at Paige’s phone. True to her word, there was such a commenter, but what truly makes Tess giggle is the comment reading, ‘i want tess kennedy to step on me if only so she can scrape me off of her sneaker like day old gum.’ “Holy shit. That’s actually the craziest thing I’ve ever read.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’!” Paige cries. “We need to do something about this.”

Tess snorts. “Yeah, okay, let me just message my controversially young girlfriend and tell her my actual girlfriend is crashing out so she needs to stop commenting weird shit on our TikToks.”

“You laugh now but I’m serious,” Paige says, her tone leaving no room for argument. The pleading expression on her face tells Tess all she needs to know. She sighs again as Paige continues. “We need to post another TikTok.”

Tess gazes at her, amused. “Do you really think that will solve anything?”

“Prolly not,” Paige concedes. “But it’ll make me feel better. You don’t want me sad, do you?”

Tess narrows her eyes. “You are such a pain in my ass.”

“That’s not a no!”

Paige was correct. It was not a no. It became an okay, fine after Paige DoorDashed her a coffee and a bacon, egg, and cheese for breakfast, and once she was finally awake and coherent, she let Paige guide her to her heart’s content. Tess was actually pretty familiar with whatever trend Paige was trying to get them to do, but she kept that to herself because Paige had seemed so proud of herself and Tess wasn’t trying to take that away from her. It was simple – Tess was going to apply a thick layer of her lipstick – her go-to shade when she’s not settling for her usual gloss – and she would kiss lipstick stains onto Paige’s face. The actual video would start with Tess swiping the lipstick onto her lips and “accidentally” smudging it, then Paige would reach out to try and clean it, only for the camera to pan over to her face, revealing all of the kiss marks.

If Tess was being completely honest, she wasn’t sure how this was going to deter anyone. She’s sure it’s more fanservice at this point than anything else, or maybe Paige just wanted an excuse to post something like that. Regardless, Tess knew her intentions weren’t as pure as they seemed, but truth be told, she didn’t really care.

“Are you ready?” Tess asks, endlessly amused as she watches Paige inspect her face in the mirror, a ridiculously proud expression on her face.

Paige hums. “Nah. You missed a spot,” she says innocently, motioning to her lips. Tess rolls her eyes, but she obliges, kissing Paige soundly and leaving a red smudge across her lips. Paige examines herself once more, tilting her head back and forth each way like she’s actually going to find an inch of skin that Tess hasn’t stained, but she eventually settles down. “Perfect. Now we can start.”

Tess chuckles and locks in. The TikTok counts down from three before Daniel Caesar and Kali Uchis’s Get You starts playing. Tess swipes the applicator across her lips – her hand falters, dragging the lipstick off course. Paige reaches in, her thumb finding her chin and wiping the lipstick away as Tess pans her phone over to Paige, showcasing her covered in lipstick stains and the sickeningly in love expression on her face. Despite herself, Tess can’t help but be a little shocked – from the slight blush on Paige’s cheeks, the dopey grin, and sheer amount of affection that is reflected in her eyes, and she finds herself melting, too. She knows that Paige loves her – she says as much everyday, shows her how much everyday, but seeing how much when Paige isn’t doing or saying anything is a good kind of different.

Tess stops the recording, watching it back with Paige once. They’d gotten it perfect on the first try and after a lot of deliberation, Tess captions the video with the lipstick stain emoji and posts it. Paige looks unbelievably smug as they watch the comments roll in, a large majority reading, “just fell to my knees in a Walmart parking lot” (whatever that means).

“You done being jealous of fangirls online?” Tess asks teasingly, to which Paige kisses her teeth and shoves her shoulder lightly. Tess hardly moves and all it does is make her more amused.

“Wasn’t jealous,” Paige states. “Just wanted you to do that trend with me and make it very clear that you’re off the market and you’re not stepping on anyone. Let alone your apparent ‘controversially young girlfriend.’”

“Don’t worry,” Tess croons, squeezing Paige’s hand. “You can be my controversially clingy girlfriend. Or my controversially annoying girlfriend. Or–”

“Chill!”

ii. how many golden state valkyries does it take to screw in a lightbulb (spoiler: a lot)

LATE APRIL 2029

When Azzi suggested a team bonding activity to welcome in the Valkyries’ newest free agency pick-ups and their single draft selection, Tess had a couple of ideas. Maybe they’d all gather in the gym for some friendly scrimmage. Maybe they’d gather at someone’s house to have dinner and play party games like they weren’t pushing thirty. Or maybe they’d even go out on some fancy teammate preseason vacation – in her fourth year with the Sparks, Tess and her teammates went to Greece. But this? Tess didn’t even consider it.

“An escape room?” she repeats.

“Hear me out!” Azzi exclaims, water bottle in hand. The Valkyries had just wrapped up their first training camp practice of the season and even though it was grueling, Tess couldn’t deny that she was incredibly excited to play basketball with this roster – Azzi had developed into a monster in her last year at UConn and her time with the Valkyries had only strengthened that. Tess herself had improved her game tremendously and she knew that between her, Azzi, and Paige, the Valkyries would be a force to be reckoned with. Logistics and basketball aside, Tess was over the moon to be able to play with Paige – her wife, which Tess still isn’t used to thinking about. Life in the Bay was amazing so far. “So, an escape room teaches you how to work together, right?”

“Sure,” Kiki agrees, stretching her legs out. A few more of their teammates hum, their gaze set on the shooting guard.

“But most importantly, working together in high pressure situations,” she states. “Like, have you ever been in an escape room with your friends and you’ve got less than five minutes on the clock and you’re not close to finishing and everyone is screaming and yelling?”

“I’ve never done an escape room at all,” Tess admits, and Azzi’s eyes nearly bug out of her head.

“What?” she cries in disbelief. “You’re twenty-seven and you’ve never done an escape room?”

Paige nudges Azzi, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips as she wraps her towel around her neck. “Not too much on her now,” her wife says. “She ain’t even have an Xbox until I first made her play Fortnite with me.”

That draws more disbelieving gasps from their teammates and Tess throws her hands in the air, exasperated. “This isn’t about me! Azzi, please tell us more about your wonderful idea. Or literally anything else so Paige stops talking.”

“You married her,” Ayoka reminds her.

Tess shrugs. “I didn’t have enough community service hours at South Carolina,” she says. “Cathy said I couldn’t get picked up out of free agency unless I gave back to the world. Hence me marrying Paige so she learns to behave.”

Paige rubs her temples, opening her mouth like she wants to argue, but Azzi groans. “Guys! My turn to talk.” Everyone goes quiet, sheepish looks on their faces. “Thank you. So, I think we should do an escape room. Teamwork in high pressure situations, learning how to work together even when you’re pissed, ‘cause let’s face it, we know Paige is gonna pass to Tess religiously–”

“I’m a 64% three point shooter,” Tess interrupts. “There are worse things that could happen.”

“–and because I think it would be fun,” she finishes. Azzi scans the team with hopeful, doe eyes, and Tess knows in her heart of hearts that it’s not possible to say no to Azzi Fudd. “All in favor?” Simultaneously, every hand in the huddle raises and Azzi grins proudly. “Perfect. We’ll go on Saturday.”

The rest of the week passes in a blur of practice, shopping for more home decor, and even more practice. Finally, Saturday rolls around and Tess and Paige load up in Paige’s Jeep to head out to the escape room facility. They’d paid a little (okay, a lot) extra to rent out the entire place, knowing that if the media knew where they were, they wouldn’t be granted a second of peace. Paige offered to drive a few of their teammates, although Ayoka and Kiki adamantly refused, claiming that Tess and Paige were in a perpetual honeymoon phase and they couldn’t sit in the back and watch them make heart eyes at each other.

Contrary to popular belief, Tess and Paige could keep it together, but whatever. Riding alone just meant they could sing along to the High School Musical soundtrack in peace without being mocked.

They arrive at the escape room facility and only have to wait around five minutes for everyone else to show up. Azzi leads the Valkyries into the building, signing them in and delegating teams. They’d decided to separate into two groups of six with Tess, Paige, Azzi, Ayoka, Kiki, and Kate in the first group and the rest of their bench in the second group. Tess is quiet, taking her new team in, and a slow smile grows on her lips before she can truly process it. Paige has her arm wrapped around her waist, almost absentminded in the touch – Paige always has to have a hand on her one way or the other; over the years, it just became something that Tess doesn’t think twice about – as she bickers with Azzi over something stupid like “This escape room is ‘get away from your kidnapper’ themed? Az, we have got to get those Ellen Mover books away from you!” to which Azzi responds with, “First of all, it’s Colleen Hoover. Second of all, I don’t read her books – you were the one who dared me to read one and it made me throw up. And third of all, she’s literally in jail. There are no more Colleen Hoover books.”

Moving her attention away from her wife and her best friend’s latest debate (there was just something in Paige’s genetic code that made her want to test everyone’s last nerve), Tess glances at Kate, who’s grinning excitedly at Ayoka and Temi as she shows them photos of her dog. Kiki and Janiah are in the middle of a long-winded argument about a USC/UCLA match-up from last month where, according to Janiah, “The refs were blind as fuck, Kiki!” and, according to Kiki, “Invest in some LASIK for you and your bum ass Bruins so y’all can see what winners look like.” That makes Janiah gasp in indignation, but both she and Kiki dissolve into cackling laughter that draws the attention of Madison, Kayla, Celeste, and Dorka. The six of them lapse into an entirely new argument about which of their colleges were better.

Tess tunes them out, her smile turning fond as her heart constricts with happiness. She’s pretty sure that the second group – Temi, Janiah, Madison, Kayla, Celeste, and Dorka – is going to be just as much chaos as the first group, but she gets the impression that they’re going to make it out in time.

Finally, the escape room operators return to let everyone know that the rooms are ready. Without further argument, the Valkyries separate, although Janiah glances back to taunt, “See y’all after we win!”

Tess and Paige share a glance. Then they look at Azzi, then Ayoka and Kiki, and then Kate, and they don’t need to say anything else to know they’re going to make Janiah and her team eat shit.

The six of them are led into a dim room, locking hands to make sure none of them trip or stumble, although someone — Paige — seems to bump into the wall as evidenced by a high-pitched “Ow!” that causes Tess to snicker. The operator sits them down and adjusts the bindings on their wrists and ankles. They’re loose enough that they could easily slip out of them, but where’s the fun in that? The door closes without another word and the Valkyries sit in silence until the overhead speaker crackles to life. 

The operator’s voice is affected by a voice modulator, sounding distorted and mischievous as they explain the set up. You’ve been kidnapped! Luckily for you, your assailant is away for an hour to collect supplies. You and your party must work to escape before he returns. Pretty standard stuff. Per the operator’s instruction, one person’s bindings weren’t fully locked, so it’s their responsibility to figure out who it was, and then they must locate the master key that’s hanging on the wall by the door. 

“Okay,” Azzi says calmly. “Who’s not locked up?”

Tess stretches out her wrists and her ankles to no avail. “Not me,” she states, followed by agreements from Paige, Kiki, and Ayoka. Tess hears the click of someone’s bindings before their victorious cheer. 

“Don’t worry, guys,” Kate says proudly. “I got this.”

“Our hero,” Kiki mutters dryly as Kate begins feeling around the room in search of the key. 

Tess eyes the clock in the corner of the room. 59 minutes left. “No rush, Money,” she says nonchalantly. “There’s not a kidnapper on his way back or anything.”

“Paige, get your wife,” Kate gripes. 

“I said no rush!”

“Feels like you’re rushing me,” she says, her tone clearly teasing, and Tess grins despite herself. Kate makes another noise in celebration once she’s finally found the key. “Okay, I’m gonna unlock Azzi first, give her the key, then I’m gonna try to find our next clue.” After Azzi is free, she makes her way around the room to unlock everyone else as Kate begins her search.

Soon, they’re all free, and Kate has narrowed down their next step. To open up their next clue box, they have to replace the flickering lightbulb in the room. Removing the old bulb requires them to solve a puzzle, so Kate directs their group to split. Kate, Azzi, and Paige work on solving the puzzle to unscrew the lightbulb while Ayoka, Kiki, and Tess work on solving the puzzle to get the new bulb.

Evidently, this task is incredibly difficult. Paige curses under her breath as she reads the instructions again, adjusting the number sequence and pulling. The lock doesn’t budge. Meanwhile, the clue to unlock Tess’s puzzle is written entirely in a cryptogram – albeit, a really simple one, but the six of them are operating on one shared brain cell (which Azzi probably has) – and Ayoka and Kiki can’t seem to figure it out.

It’s then that the operator phones back in to offer some advice. “How many Golden State Valkyries does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” the operator asks, their voice deep and teasing, and all it does is cause the room to let out simultaneous groans. “Time’s ticking, Valkyries. Perhaps you should consider how…connected, these clues are.” The room goes silent again and instantly, Tess knows what to do. Cryptogram in hand, she spins around and meets Paige, who is on the same wavelength. They pore over both of their clues until Tess keys in on the strange spacing between the letters of Paige’s clue and the symbols on her cryptogram. Placing the papers over each other, Tess and Paige cheer when the cryptogram symbols line up with several letters. It gives them enough to work with and Tess inputs the answer. To everyone’s relief, the lock gives and Tess produces a lightbulb and another clue from the chest.

The new clue lines up perfectly with Paige’s initial clue and she puts in her new sequence, too. Her lock opens up and she extracts the lightbulb, swapping it out with Tess’s, screwing it back in, and locks it into place. Finally, the light in the room returns fully and the Valkyries cheer now that they can see better. Paige raises her hands in a high five, bumping chests with her wife, and nobody in the room can truly keep the grins off of their faces.

From then on, the six of them work like a well-oiled machine. There’s no true “leader” as everyone showcases their strengths on different puzzles. The clock in the corner of the room serves as motivating pressure, but they don’t let it get to them, staying focused and working together quickly. 

With five minutes left on the clock, they’re struggling through the last puzzle together, searching for the final key to unlock the remaining door to escape. It’s Paige who clutches up with less than thirty seconds remaining, finally solving the puzzle and securing the key. Ayoka, Kiki, Tess, Azzi, and Kate all cheer as Paige fumbles with the key, sticking it in the lock and twisting. The door opens with a click! and the six of them rush out, high fiving each other with huge grins on their faces.

The operator meets them at the exit, grinning and congratulating them, but the sweetest reward of all is the maniacal laughter coming from within the room across the hall from them, followed by screaming. The six of them share a glance and within moments, the other half of their team exits their escape room, defeated looks on their faces, but no one is truly upset. Temi claps them all on the back, expressing her pride and the sentiment that “you don’t win them all,” and Tess softens a little bit.

Tess locks eyes with Janiah, who smirks at her. “Don’t wanna hear it,” she says, drawing laughter from the shooting guard as she raises her hands in surrender. “I ate my words – that’s okay.”

They gather for pictures, posing with weird props, and Paige rests her arm on Tess’s shoulder as if she’s more than two inches taller than her. Tess rolls her eyes, but grins when Paige presses a cheeky kiss to her temple, her lips curling into a faux snarl as she holds up a prop knife. Tess knows better than anyone else that these photos are going to cause the Internet to explode once the Valkyries media team posts them, but she can’t find it within herself to care, especially not when Paige pulls her a little tighter into her side.

The ensuing argument about where they should get lunch eclipses any argument or disagreement they had while they were in the escape room, but they eventually settle on a steakhouse not too far away. Everyone loads up, driving away without a second glance, but Paige hesitates for a moment in her Jeep.

“Everything okay?” Tess asks her, concerned as she places her hand over her wrist.

“Yeah,” Paige says softly, her shoulders relaxed. Tess knows instantly that it’s the truth. “I just…I’m really happy. I’m here with you. I love our teammates. Everything’s perfect.”

“It is,” Tess agrees, which makes Paige squeeze her hand gently. It’s a little strange to think back on everything they had to do to get here. The whole fake dating thing – to go from that to being married for real is hilarious in retrospect, but Tess wouldn’t change anything about them – the hundreds of miles apart during their rookie contracts, the countless hours of work and commitment and honesty. All of that has led Tess to where she is now – married, playing professional basketball with her best friend, and living the kind of life she used to always dream about.

iii. bueckers-kennedy to bueckers-kennedy for three, good if it goes…

OCTOBER 2029

Tip-off wasn’t for another ten minutes, but the Chase Center was already roaring. The cheering from both sides of the arena was almost suppressive, half of the stands donning the Valkyries white and purple and the other half clashing with the Indiana Fever red. Both the Valkyries and the Fever were equally matched – after DeWanna Bonner and Natasha Howard’s departures/retirements, the Fever scouted for young talent just as the Valkyries had. A couple of free agent steals added to their already stacked roster, but Tess knew that she was leaving this arena with another ring on her finger tonight, even if the Fever made her work for it.

To be honest, Tess didn’t really plan to go to the finals in her first year as a Valkyrie. Playoffs, sure, but the league was stacked. The Valkyries, however, rose to the challenge. They dominated the league with a staggering 39-5 record. Their starters were deadly and their bench was full of energy and experience. It took weeks of practice, drills, and film to get here, but Tess knew that her team was willing to do what it takes to shut down the Fever tonight.

Tess makes her final rounds to her teammates, offering words of encouragement. She’d truly grown into her own leadership role on this team, too, providing excellent veteran experience. She knew how to push the right buttons to get her team going, a trait she’d picked up from five years with Coach Staley, who was in the crowd tonight. She was actually courtside next to Geno. Knowing the both of them, they’d probably spend the entire game roasting their respective players. Smiling at that thought, Tess finally makes her way over to her wife, who is working on her handles and sinking the ball in from the midrange. Paige grins when she sees her, pulling an airpod out of her ear and joining Tess for their silly, pregame handshake with several steps.

“You ready for this?” Tess asks teasingly.

Paige kisses her teeth, waving her off. “‘Course I am,” she states confidently. “Just make sure you land your shots, a’ight? Azzi already thinks 75% of my passes go to you.”

Tess snorts. “That’s because they do, babe. And because I do land my shots, thank you very much. 67% three point shooter, remember?”

Paige smirks. “You tryna flirt with me before our big game?”

“Oh, are you turned on by numbers now?”

“Just the ones that show my girl’s the best shooter in the nation.” Tess rolls her eyes, unable to stop the blush from lighting up her cheeks. “You ready?” Paige’s voice softens.

“Yeah,” she confirms, no hesitation. “We’re unstoppable. We’ve got Azzi. Ayoka. Kiki. Kate. Madison–” Paige clears her throat, raising a pointed brow. “Oh, right. Saniya, Kayla, Celeste–”

“Heard,” Paige mutters. “I’m only passing to Azzi tonight.”

Tess laughs, her eyes shining. She squeezes Paige’s hand quickly, not wanting to do too much in front of the cameras that she knows are undoubtedly trained on them. “And the best point guard in the country,” she finishes in a murmur. Despite herself, Paige’s lips quirk into a smile, a little bashful. “What do you say about winning our first chip together tonight?”

“I’d say you’re running out of fingers to put your rings on,” Paige jokes.

“Well,” Tess hums, raising both of her hands and examining her ring fingers. Her engagement ring and wedding bands are both absent – because playing with jewelry was hazardous and Tess would lose her mind if her rings ever got damaged – but she smiles at the sight of the dual tattoos on both of her ring fingers. During the All-Star break, she and Paige had finally mustered enough courage to get matching ring tattoos so they could show it off, knowing that they couldn’t wear their rings as much as they’d like to due to their professions. “At least I always have the important ones.”

Paige’s smile turns impossibly tender. Seeming to forget about the cameras, she lets the ball fall to the ground, stopping it from rolling away with her foot, and takes both of Tess’s hands in her. Delicately, she presses her lips to both of Tess’s ring fingers, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. “I love you,” she whispers. “You and me?”

“You and me,” Tess agrees, smiling widely. “I love you, too.”

The time passes quickly and finally, the ball is tipped. Ayoka just barely beats Aliyah, awarding the Valkyries the first possession of the game, and Kiki passes the ball to Paige with haste as she begins directing traffic to her liking. The offense rotates seamlessly until a hole in the passing lane opens up and Paige sails it swiftly to Ayoka, who lays the ball in with ease.

The Fever open up their possession with a signature Caitlin Clark three. Paige, Tess, and Azzi share a glance as the ball falls through the net cleanly. If that’s the pace they want to play at, then the Valkyries are happy to oblige.

The first quarter passes in a series of back and forth buckets, crucial defensive stops, blocks and steals, and Tess ends it off with a clean eight points. Azzi trails her with six, then Paige with five (although she’s racked up five assists of her own), and Ayoka and Kiki combine for another eight points in the paint. The Valkyries hold a slim three point lead over the Fever, 27-24, but going into the second half, they’re unwilling to let that lead go.

And they don’t. The Valkyries double down on their defensive pressure, holding the Fever scoreless for the first four minutes. Kate, Saniya, and Madison provide great minutes for the Valkyries as they log a combined 14 points. Paige and Tess sit for the last three minutes of the half. They head into the locker room 53-48, where Natalie emphasizes the need for stops. The Fever were a very powerful team offensively – if they were able to shut them down there, then their defense would falter, too.

Although the Valkyries come back stronger in the second half, the Fever do, too. Caitlin opens the third quarter with two back to back threes that put the Fever in the lead by 1. One possession later, when they’re all in the huddle after Kiki was fouled by Aliyah in the paint, Paige reminds them to get their head in the game, to refocus. Caitlin was starting to take the game into her hands, which means she was passing less and shooting more. Applying pressure on Caitlin would get the ball moving, and since the rest of her team wasn’t as hot yet, applying pressure on them would stagnate their offense.

The rest of the third quarter passes quickly. The Valkyries are able to hold Caitlin out, but the rest of the Fever start warming up. Lexi Hull is explosive from the wings, adding to Aliyah’s paint dominance, and by the time the quarter ends, they’re tied 71-71.

This was their final game of the season. Win or go home. They’d played six games against the Fever already with the series tied at 3-3. The Valkyries need to put an end to this game, now. The final quarter was a defensive battle through and through. Tess comes down with two critical steals which allow for two, quick transition scores from Paige and Azzi respectively. Kiki and Ayoka own the paint, sending three different lay-up attempts flying into the fifth row of the stands. And Tess? She’s hot from three, sinking two back to back shots in seamlessly and forcing an early Fever timeout.

With three minutes left in the game, they’re still tied 82-82. They’d played a clean quarter and had a couple fouls to give, so the final minutes of the game were a test of clean clock management or getting the ball to their sharpshooters to hopefully make the deficit too large to come back from. After the timeout, the Fever have possession, and the game starts back up again.

The last minutes are tense, a mix of shots and bricks and running down the clock to try to get a hold of the last possession. The game is still tied 87-87 and with twenty-five seconds left on the clock, it appears as though the Fever are letting the time run down before they try for a final shot. Tess is on Caitlin like glue, the look in her eyes reminiscent of the second Final Four they’d ever played against each other in college. Tess has spent enough time playing against her and watching her play to read her tells perfectly. So when Caitlin steps back, gearing up for a deep three to either send the game into overtime or send the Fever home with a championship win, Tess jumps with all the power she can muster, the muscles in her body rippling as she extends her fingers as far as they could go.

The ball scrapes against her fingertips, sending it off-course and directly into Paige’s waiting hands. Tess and Paige are speeding off in tandem without another thought, but the Fever are quickly back on defense. With five seconds remaining, Tess makes a break to weave around Caitlin, acting as though she’s driving to the bucket, although she plants her feet and steps back, watching as Caitlin slides harmlessly across the court. She angles her body to receive the incoming pass from Paige and without a second thought, she pulls up to shoot the three.

Over the pounding of her heart, the roar of the crowd, and the commentator’s cry of, “Bueckers-Kennedy to Bueckers-Kennedy, good if it goes…”

The buzzer rings, echoing in the arena, but the swish of the net is all Tess truly registers.

“It’s good! The Golden State Valkyries are your 2029 WNBA Champions!”

Tess is immediately swarmed by her teammates, their laughter and cries and cheers like music to her ears. She feels the tears spring to her eyes as she wraps her arms around whoever, she doesn’t know, but she holds onto them as tightly as she possibly can. The one thing she does know like the back of her hand, however, is the looping arm around her waist, the warmth of the palm against her stomach, and Tess turns in their group hug to throw her arms around Paige’s neck. Her wife’s hold on her tightens as they share elated giggles. Tess can feel Paige’s tears as they soak into the fabric of her jersey, and this feeling right here – winning a championship and having your wife be the first person you see after sinking the game winner? There’s no better feeling in the world. Paige lifts her clean off the ground, the rest of the arena fading into nothing behind them, and the one thing Tess is certain of is that she and Paige have plenty more wins in front of them.

Tess lifts her head, scanning the crowd, the sea of white and purple jerseys that are here for her, for her team, at her home in the Bay. She watches as Azzi pulls Kate into a bone-crushing hug – they were truly a dynamic duo; Kate, becoming the face of the organization after the expansion draft and Azzi being the organization's first drafted Rookie of the Year. The both of them had truly put so much into this team and Tess can’t help the fresh wave of tears that pools in her eyes. Temi and Kiki pull Natalie onto the court to celebrate with her, too, because why wouldn’t they? Natalie is the fucking coach of the year and she’d just guided her team to a championship win in her fifth year as head coach.

Her feet touch the ground again, dragging her out of her thoughts, and Tess all but beams as she glances up at Paige, her hands resting atop her shoulders once more. “What I say, huh?” Paige jeers, a wide grin on her face. “Game winning three? You’re like that, baby?”

“Game winning assist?” Tess echoes, tangling her fingers in the fabric of Paige’s jersey. “We’re like that?”

Paige’s nose brushes hers, her teeth bared in excitement, although the look in her eyes is impossibly soft, reserved just for her. The kiss that Paige plants on Tess’s lips, in front of the crowds and the cameras and the eyes, softens the heat and the thrill of the moment, and Tess can’t help but sink into Paige’s embrace. They’d done it. They’d really done it. She almost can’t wrap her mind around it, but Paige is firm, tangible, here, and it’s all the proof that Tess needs to know that this wasn’t just a dream.

When Paige pulls away, her smile is tender. “Same time next year?” she murmurs, and all Tess can really do is pull her back in, whispering the same promise against her lips.

iv. no, sweetie, mamma does not have more championship wins than mommy, she’s lying to you

SOMETIME IN 2044

“And so that’s how you and Mamma fell in love? Like for real?”

Carter’s voice is childlike, full of wonder as she stares at both of her mothers in awe. At five years old, she’s the oldest of Tess and Paige’s two children. Their youngest child, another daughter named Alessia, is only a year younger than her sister, but Carter holds onto that year like it’s the most important thing in her life. To be honest, Carter probably gets that from Tess, which is something that Paige teases the both of them for on the daily. Both of their children are laid in their beds, having demanded a bedtime story like the hours they spent running around all day didn’t tire them out.

“For real,” Paige agrees, wide-eyed herself, and even after fifteen years married, nearly twenty together, her antics still make Tess smile like they’re lovesick twenty-somethings.

Both of them had retired in 2039 after ten successful years with the Valkyries. After their first championship win, they added on four more, which would probably be enough to secure their spots in the Hall of Fame. They’d long since retired their jerseys – both at the collegiate level and for the Valkyries. Numbers 5 and 25 would never be worn again, although at the rate Carter and Alessia are progressing, Tess and Paige think that they might have to make an exception for the next generation of Bueckers-Kennedys to carry on the torch. Carter and Alessia, fortunately, aren’t at the age where they want to argue about who gets which mother’s jersey number, but Tess knows that day is coming sooner rather than later. Following retirement, Natalie brought them on as assistant coaches, although Natalie herself retired a few years later. Tess and Paige were going into the 2044 season with Paige as the official head coach of the Valkyries and Tess as the associate head coach. Tess was content to let Paige have it, knowing the sheer amount of paperwork that came with being the head coach, although that was for naught as Paige tends to drag her into head coach conversations, anyways.

At first, Tess and Paige had wanted to adopt, but after looking at the IVF options, Tess quickly found the appeal in carrying. Paige was a hard no, which Tess wasn’t really bothered by, but pregnancy was a discussion that took a long time before they ever truly reached a consensus. It wasn’t that they were in disagreement on a lot of things. It was more so the fact that pregnancy was huge, even for them, and they wanted to give themselves enough time to fully consider the ins and outs of it and the extensive process that was IVF. Ultimately, Tess ended up carrying both Carter and Alessia, and that was that.

“And then you had me and Carter,” Alessia states matter-of-factly.

“I came first,” Carter points out proudly, puffing her chest out, and Tess and Paige share an amused glance. 

“Yes, you did,” Tess agrees, brushing her fingers through Carter’s hair, her heart swelling when a toothy smile lights up her daughter’s features. 

“Why couldn’t I have been born first?” Alessia complains. 

“‘Cause you’d be named Carter,” Paige retorts, which makes Carter gasp and Alessia nod as if it makes a ton of sense.

“I like being Alessia,” their youngest daughter says, yawning when Paige adjusts her comforter, tucking her in and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Wait,” Carter says, a confused expression on her face as she sticks up her fingers to count. “So Mamma has one…two…champ-ships in college. Mommy has one.”

Paige’s eye twitches and Tess fights the urge to laugh. “Championships,” Tess enunciates slowly, smiling when Carter tests the syllables out on her tongue and strings the word together. “But yes, honey, Mamma had two championships in college and Mommy had one.”

“Then Mamma beat Mommy in the other champ – championship –” Tess nods proudly when Carter looks up at her for reassurance, “– and then Mamma and Mommy won five together.”

Tess hums in confirmation. “Your Mommy could never really win when it came to me, huh?”

That makes both of their children giggle, although Paige huffs dramatically. “Mamma wins more?” Alessia asks.

Tess nods again and Paige kisses her teeth. “No, sweetie, Mamma does not have more championship wins than Mommy, she’s lying to you,” she argues.

“Babe, what’d we say about lying to the kids?” Tess teases, but she knows Paige is just joking, too, matching smiles on both of their faces.

“Lying is bad,” Carter agrees wisely, waggling a small finger at Paige. The blonde swoops down, pretending to bite her finger, and that just sends Carter into another flurry of giggles.

“You’re too smart for your own good,” Paige murmurs, kissing Carter’s forehead. She makes sure to turn back around, brushing Alessia’s hair out of her face and grinning at her. “You, too. You both are the smartest, most beautiful, kindest girls in the world.” A smile grows on Tess’s face as she watches Paige interact with their children. When they were first seriously talking about pregnancy, Paige was always a little worried that she wouldn’t be a good mom. She thought motherhood had to be natural, that it couldn’t be trial and error. Tess finds that Paige is a mix of both. She’s a natural in the way she uplifts and encourages their daughters, in the way she teaches them how to be better humans, although it took her a few attempts to figure out how to discipline them (on the rare occasions it was warranted – Tess and Paige truly lucked out and got the perfect children).

Tess used to think that one day, it would be impossible to fall anymore in love with Paige, but she continues to surprise her. Watching her be a mother to their daughters activates a different part of her brain entirely. It’s like it was something she was destined to do, and Tess can’t help the way her heart swells at the sight.

“Time for bed,” she says softly. Surprisingly, Carter and Alessia don’t complain, only sticking out their tiny arms. Tess and Paige both wrap them up in tight hugs, leading them both through their goodnight prayers and making sure to whisper their I love yous. With a gentle chorus of “Night Mamma, night Mommy”, Paige shuts off the light in their room, closing the door with a gentle click.

Paige doesn’t waste anymore time after. She wraps her arms around Tess from behind, sighing against her softly as her head falls onto her shoulder, pressing a chaste, innocent kiss to her neck. “You’re really good with them,” Tess comments.

Paige squeezes her waist a little tighter, a soft noise that sounds vaguely like disbelief building in her throat. “They’re my girls,” she murmurs. “So are you.” Her hands trail to her stomach, fingers brushing against the soft skin of her navel, the sinew and the power in her muscles despite how motherhood has softened her. “I love you so much, you know that?”

Tess chuckles, twisting around in Paige’s embrace to hug her fully. Her body is warm against hers, solid. It’s always the easiest way to ground her after long days where being a mother tests her patience. Paige’s arms envelop her fully and Tess sighs, melting into her. “Been told a time or two,” she murmurs, which makes Paige huff out something akin to laughter as she sways them back and forth.

“You’re good with them, too, you know,” Paige reminds her after a while.

“You make it easy,” she states.

“We’re a team.”

In lieu of a verbal response to that, Tess presses up on the tips of her toes to kiss her wife, soft brushes that make her feel like it’s their first kiss all over again. The peace in her heart feels like contentment, like relief. She has everything she’s ever wanted in life; her wife, her family, her legacy. Wrapped up in Paige’s arms outside of their childrens’ bedroom is truly what fulfillment feels like.

When Paige draws back far enough to whisper, “Thank you for giving me this life,” Tess knows exactly what she means. Her love, her heart, their children – they all add up to be the greatest successes of their shared life together. Tess couldn’t be anymore thankful, more appreciative of the way her life has played out. Paige is worth it. Their children are worth it. And for as long as she has her family, she knows that home isn’t so far away.

[ajortga]

sweet pt.3

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

summary: jenna's plans don't go as expected with you, the cute coffee girl, you spend the day with her in the park instead.

word count: 3.8k+

a/n: idk what to think about this, but really wanted to get this out there. aggtm series mentioned!

read the previous parts here!: part 1 part 2 part 3

-

A day comes a little quicker than anticipated. You send her your address and she tells you she’ll come at 10:25.

Jenna spends the whole day after filming figuring out just what she’ll wear. 

‘It’s not even a date’ she’s trying to assure herself. A moment of weakness for her caused her to ask you out for anything but what she’d call a date.

Jasmin’s voice is already echoing in her head.

‘You know, Y/N, Jenna dressed extra fancy for this occasion. Spent all night trying to impress you. So feel proud, she doesn’t dress this well even on expensive dinner nights.’

The thought makes her groan, she wishes that it was filming day tomorrow. All they have to do is be there and listen to the picture of the director for their next shoot. 

She unhangs the top hidden in her closet and takes out a black off the shoulder long sleeve mini dress. Her eyes scan it for a moment, looking at the mirror while draping it over herself. Then she pairs it with a pair of gold hoops.

Sure it’s not simple, but she’d wear it to fancy dinners, so Jasmin wouldn’t tattle tale of her wearing something more extravagant because of you. She’ll just make up an excuse of some sort.

You told her to come at 10:25, you’re basically 10 minutes away from her. 

Jenna fucking wakes up at 7:25. The sight that she saw in the mirror was the closest thing to hideous she’d ever seen. Every morning the brunette looks like a messed up raccoon when she looks in the mirror. Her eyes staring dully at her, half-lidded and hair all scattered. 

The reflection stares back at her, a smile on her face. 

“This is actually so stupid,” Jenna says to herself, immediately dropping the giddy smile on her face. “Ridiculous.”

She tosses her clothes to the side, into the basket that held her unwashed clothes. Her fluffy cow slippers fly off as she feels the cold tile under her come in contact with her skin. 

She shivers.

The handle of the shower is turned to a warm setting. Leaned more to the hotter side, before she steps in and lets the warmth of the water tickle her bare skin. A sigh escapes from her lips, grabbing the best smelling shampoo her heart desires. It’s not even the day to wash her hair, but she does it anyway.

“Date, date, date” says the voice in Jenna’s head.

“Oh, so now you’re haunting my brain, Jasmin? Great.” She murmurs, shaking her head while letting her fingertips thread out her bubbly hair.

-

Jenna showers for 30 minutes, smelling as fragrant as possible. She hopes you like vanilla. Well, she doesn’t care if you like vanilla or not. She doesn’t even care about you. (Yeah no, that’s a lie)

Steam hisses out the shower when she steps out of the stall, body wrapped in a warm fluffy towel.

Her fingers brush through her hair as she blow dries and curls it, putting on her outfit she chose the day before, glimmering in the lifting sun. 

Then she puts on skin care and makeup, closing her eyes as she rinses her face off with her grapefruit wash, her eyeliner perfectly sweeping next to the tip of her eyes.

She sprays her favorite perfume. Which also coincidentally seems to be her most expensive one.

At 9:30 you send her a small text.

y/n, the nice okay coffee shop girl: hi, goodmorning! i hope i didn’t wake u if u were sleeping. i’m still not sure if you’re still picking me up at 10:25, i was waiting for a text yesterday to confirm but i didn’t want to push, yk?

“Shoot,” she mutters, mentally smacking herself in the face, she forgot to text you to let you know that it was for sure she was going to come get you. She furiously smacks her thumbs against the keyboard.

jelly bean: omg hi! Sorry, lowkey was kinda distracted yesterday.

Jenna stops for a moment, realizing she was distracted planning out her whole day and making sure that you’re impressed with what she shows you, before looking back at her phone to type more.

jelly bean: with work i guess but yes! 10:25 is still on. I hope u don’t mind being tagged along with a few people, they usually pick me up. Sorry for not texting!

seen at 9:34

y/n, the nice okay coffee shop girl: oohhh yeah don’t worry about it! I just didn’t want to bother u or anything

jelly bean: Text me anytime, you don’t bother me

jelly bean: I might just take a while to respond, but I do eventually. See u soon!

liked by y/n, the nice okay coffee shop girl

-

Honks are heard from her driveway as Jenna uses her spare time wrapped in her headphones and the book she was currently invested in, As Good as Dead. She places her bookmark through the page she was on and closes it, before she listens closely. 

Long-long-short-short

Yep, she knew that beeping pattern all too well to know that it was Jas. She grabs her keys, some gum, and her book before opening her front door.

“Hey girl! Oh shit, you look amazing!” Jasmin hollers, Mason screaming his head off in the passenger seat and Melissa poking her head out.

Jenna can feel her eyes rolling, a smile plastered on her face as she crawls into the back of the car, hugging Melissa.

She can hear the statement coming before Jasmin even says anything, “Oh, wait a minute. You’re all dressed up because of a certain someone, aren’t you?”

“No I’m not.”

Jasmin looks at her with a ‘really?’ look in her eyes from the rear-view mirror. “Hair styled and everything. Oh!” She gasps, turning her head slowly and teasing her.

“And your favorite perfume too.”

“Ay dios,” Melissa mumbles.

“Jasmin, I’m going to leave if you say anything when Y/N  goes through these car doors.” 

She gasps, offended, before giving up and letting Jenna off easy, “Okay, okay. No promises though.”

It’s silent for a moment, before Jasmin turns back from the wheel, “But I’m going to tell her if I catch you making out in the backseat of my car.”

“Jasmin!”

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” She yells, turning a right and following the navigation to your house.

-

When they pull up to your drive, where your lawn is perfectly mowed and littered with the most precious flowers, Jenna texts you.

jelly bean: i’m here

She looks over to your window, her attention drawing away from her phone. Your house was white, nice windows and cute gnomes and exterior looks. Jenna only looked away for a few seconds, to look back at her phone and see Jasmin was literally nudging her nose through your messages.

“What the fuck!” Jenna screams.

“Y//n, the nice okay coffee shop girl,” she replies out loud, a bit too loud. “Oh wow, you even have her in your pinned messages.”

Melissa leers over, looking at the two as they smack each other's hands. 

She has to physically stop Jasmin and Jenna fighting playfully, “She’s coming out.”

They don’t hear her. Of course. 

And before Jenna knows it, she’s shaking her phone out of the other girl’s hand. She hears a tap on the window and looks up.

“Hi,” you greet, glancing at the people behind her. You wore a pearl necklace, hoops dangling from your ears. Jenna noticed that she’d never seen you without your apron at the cafe. Now you’re here, wearing something that you usually wouldn’t wear. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the dreamy thoughts.

The phone that was grasped is immediately let go and Jenna looks at you with eyes wide. It takes a moment to be able to register what was going on.

“Can I slip in?”

Jenna pops out of her thoughts, immediately opening the car door for you and scooting into the middle seat, “Oops, yeah, my bad, sorry.”

Jasmin rolls her eyes, “Amauteur,” she whispers under her breath, watching you buckle in your seat belt. She notices the way you tilt your legs to the side of the window, like you can give Jenna leg room.

“Hope you don’t mind a few friends tagging along?” She says, looking at you as you stare at the window.

“Oh no, it’s all okay.” You glance at her for a moment, trying to avoid the way everyone is basically staring at you.

“I’m Melissa,” the brunette next to Jenna says to you.“Melissa Barrera,” she adds, a small roll of her r’s present. She has eyes like one of a deer, wavy hair, and looks sweet. The smile she gives off eases your nerves a little as you give a small one back. 

“I’m Jas and this is Mason. Don’t get near him, he has a thing for throwing anything in his arms when someone scares him..” The curly short-hair driver says, like spilling a secret. It makes Jenna smile. You scoot just a teeny bit closer.

Mason gasps, smacking her arm as she drives to the set, “For your information, it’s called reflexes. Chad would definitely have survived, could’ve gotten away by accidentally hitting ghostface whack with a guitar.” They share a laugh. 

Jenna digs in her bag for something, earbuds. Damn it, you didn’t expect her to listen to music. You didn’t want to just curl up in the window while the other three were talking. You were hoping to get to know her better. 

“So, coffee girl,” Mason’s voice brings you back from your thoughts. He stays silent for a moment before whispering, “We’re trying to get to know your name!” As if he didn’t already know from the gazillion number of times Jenna told them. He’d just have to play stupid.

“Jenna named you cute coffee girl on her phone,” Jasmin teased, “No, I’m just kidding.”

You give an awkward laugh, feeling the way Jenna tenses against you. You don’t catch the dead glare she gives to her. You hope you’re not a bother to her, maybe she thinks of you too lowly to find you cute. You let it go, “It’s Y/N,” you softly say.

“That name is pretty,” Melissa says, Jenna agrees, getting the courage to nudge your shoulder like she usually does when the other 3 aren’t around. You nudge her back. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, giving a thankful smile.

-

“What the shit do you mean there's no filming today?” Jasmin hollers, slamming the gate with her palms. 

“Jas, I think you got the wrong date,” the tall brunette says next to you. Jenna skeptically looks at the girl, currently complaining, “I got my hair done and everything!” 

The shorter girl taps on her phone, you stay close by, “Wow, I thought you were just a little shorter than me. But man, you really are short.” 

She shoots you a look, her freckles apparent on her face. She flips you off. “How do you miss the day by 4 days?”

Mason jumps up and down, slamming his fists into his chest, “You know what that means… MOVIE MARATHON NUMBER TWENTY-” 

“No.”

“Ok,” Mason mumbles, defeated. 

It’s a little chilly, you try to get familiar with your surroundings. It’s a filming studio, you’ve seen it before when you drove to work. You try to think where you five could go to that was nearby. 

“There's a garden nearby, if you guys are willing to go. We don’t have to go if you guys don’t want to. I’ve driven there before and it’s really nice, I just never had the time to actually go there.” You suggest.

Jenna looks up at you, scrunching her nose. You sniff, ruffling her hair as she speaks, “I thought you only knew about coffee.”

“Lucky for you I’m a lady too,” you reply, grabbing out plain crackers from your backpack. “You wanna feed the geese?”

She snatches the crackers and opens it, “Yes,” she says, already stuffing her mouth with the crackers. “This brand is fire.” 

You chuckle, before snatching the bag back and putting it into your backpack, “Miss, I can assure you you will be given more crackers if you help me feed the wild animals,” your voice is sarcastic.

“But Jenna is a wild animal,” Jasmin states.

“Oh, right,” you say, nodding up and down like it was a realization. “Here you go, jelly bean.” You throw the cracker in Jenna’s mouth while she munches it happily.

“Duck duckity duck goose.” Mason sing-songs, dancing with his hands everywhere, “I want me a goose so I can juice a moose.” 

Jasmin looks at him, weirded out, “Juice a moose?”

“Have you never heard of rhyming?”

“Mason is so silly like a Billy that wants a chili- Okay guys that’s enough.” Melissa interrupts, “I’d love to hear your rap battle but I want to come home with flowers so let’s GO.”

Mason and Jasmin cross their arms, rolling their eyes, “Aw man."

-

You five walk across the garden, the sweet smell filling the air. You look at Jenna, currently flipping through the starting pages of a book that looks oddly familiar.

"Is that a book from A Good Girl's Guide to Murder?"

The question makes her ears perk, immediately looking at you, "Yeah, actually it's the third book."

There is nothing more that makes her heart swell than to see your smile right here and now, "I love that series! I finished all of Holly Jackson's books in the span of 2 weeks."

"Really? I just remember reading the first one and really liking it. What did you think of it?"

Your eyes shine, "It was so good! Had me in a book frenzy. I like the third one the best, though I thought it was kind of slow at first. It definitely has the most action. You'll love it."

"I'm glad to hear that. Hey, maybe we should read the same books or watch the same movies and compare our tastes, music wise too!"

You look like a little girl on Christmas Eve, a silly smile on your face, "I'd love that!"

Jasmin, Melissa, and Mason whisper among each other, smirking at the two of you. "They're already flirting."

-

“So,” Jenna starts, walking with you across the meadow filled with flowers, it looks so pretty, just like you. She could say that, maybe you’ll find her strange and stare at her with a straight face, so she doesn’t. “Why did you decide to work at a coffee shop?”

You look down at her, playing with your necklace, “I don’t know. Honestly, I used to bake a lot when I was little. It was mostly because my brother was a fatass.” You say seriously, and Jenna turns to you, going, “Oh.”

It’s silent for a moment, before you start giggling, “No! I’m just kidding, sure my brother was hungry. But I started baking cause my grandma was always in the kitchen making random shit. It was just that I liked spending time with her. I guess it sort of rubbed off on me.” You look at her and she takes in your eyes. She didn’t know how to explain it. But Jenna would say something in them made you special. 

You tear your gaze, looking at the blossoming display of flowers in front of you.

“Do you think you’d like doing it for the rest of your life?”

The display of different flowers growing makes the setting like spring. “Maybe, I don’t know. Maybe not the rest of my life. I mean,” You don’t know how to explain yourself. “Well, as much as I love baking and carrying on the piece I can only connect to my grandma, I guess I’m not always going to be happy baking.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Baking is something I like to do for a hobby. I like to do it because I want to do it whenever I feel a certain way. But it’s not really fun when I have to do it no matter what I’m feeling, if you can understand that.”

Jenna nods, “Yeah, I do.” She murmurs as you guys find a place to sit down. The other three walk around.

“So, what do you want to be?” she asks, now a little more intrigued. 

“Something in film. I always wanted to do something like that. A director maybe, I guess I want to be in an atmosphere that’s based on what I see on set.” You pick at the daisies in front of you, tucking it in your ear and offering Jenna one, she takes it. “My parents never let me do anything with theater when I was in high school. I remember I wanted to do it for 3 years, when freshman year of high school started, I was going to apply. But my parents forced me to take something else when they looked over my decisions.”

The shorter girl looked at you, the way you twirled the flower in your hand. It seemed like the subject made you a little vulnerable, the lack of seeing your soulful gaze gave it away. 

“I was pretty upset,” you sigh, scratching your head, “I mean, sure I understood that they just wanted me to have a career that could make me a living, something that I wouldn’t regret. But even then, I wish I could’ve just done it for fun, take the experience. At least if I couldn’t do it as a career, I wanted freshman year to be the time to explore. I just kind of gave up, knowing that what my parents wanted was only trying to protect me.”

Jenna could understand you. She too was rejected when she wanted to first act. She could remember slamming her tiny hands into her pillow as she sobbed angry tears when her mother told her no. Maybe she should’ve been more thankful that she was given the opportunity. You never were told yes.

You wrap your arms around your knees, she does the same and feels you put your head on your shoulder. “What are your favorite flowers, jelly bean?”

“Roses. Light pink ones. Sunflowers and daisies are nice too.” She says, also tucking the daisy against her ear. “What about you?”

“Tulips. Pink, blue, yellow. I think they’re just so pretty. I love hydrangeas too. The light blue ones if I’m choosing a color.”

Jenna tries to keep that in mind. You look away from her, putting a strand of hair behind your ear as you look at the never ending garden in front of you two. She pulls out her phone, snaps a photo of you looking into the distance, away from her. You don’t notice.

“Tulips suit your favorite flower,” she murmurs. “I heard people match their favorite flower.” She puts her phone down as you turn to her. 

It takes you a moment to get what she’s saying. She thinks you’re pretty. It makes her smile when she sees you realize what she’s saying. The least you can do is give her a foolish grin, “Thanks. You suit your favorite flowers too.”

“Guys, geese!” Mason’s voice interrupts, all breathy and out of breath from running to you guys. “I want to feed them, come on!”

You and Jenna get swept off your feet as you run with her into the flower-filled meadow to the small pond filled with ducklings, geese, swans, and fish. 

They quack, waddling up to you as you pull out your crackers. It doesn’t take long for at least 30 animals to come to you. Half of them aren’t even geese. Squirrels, jack rabbits, heck, even a stray cat. 

You hand the crackers to Jenna, before bending down and petting the orange kitten. “Hello there,” you say in a baby voice, petting it as it meows and nudges its body to your legs. You giggle, sitting down and letting it rest on your lap. “You’re a small one, aren’t you?” The cat makes a small noise as you stroke its soft, orange fur.

Jenna hands the crackers to Mason and the other two. “I never seen a stray this cute before,” she squeaks, petting the small cat’s head gently. 

The kitty purrs, licking your hand that’s scratching its side. It’s a boy. “What should we call this adorable creature?”

“What about Tiny?” 

“Tiny it is. Tiny the tiny kitty.” You grab an apple slice and let Jenna feed him.

“Oh you’re so cute!” She exclaims, cradling Tiny. He seems pretty clean, you hold him. “I wonder what it’s doing out here.”

“I think it’s a sign for us to start a pet daycare.”

You giggle.

-

Mason, Melissa, and Jasmin run around, throwing crackers to ducks.

“SOMEONE FUCKING HELP ME!” Jasmin cries, accidentally hitting the cracker whack in the goose’s face, running around as it’s chasing her. “I’M BEING CHASED!” She screams, throwing her arms in the air as you and Jenna watch her, laughing and huddled up against a tree.

Mason and Melissa snort, shaking their heads and rolling their eyes. “This is what she gets for taking all the cute and chubby ducks.”

Jasmin shrieks, running into a patio for the park nearby and closing the gate.

30 minutes pass and everyone is calmed down, except Jasmin, who’s cautiously eyeing the goose who chased her. “If you can run faster than me, I’m going to apply to be a track runner bitch.”

You're napping on Jenna’s shoulder, Tiny cuddled up against you two. She snaps another picture of you, smiling widely. 

-

The day after, you open your phone to be greeted with a new post from Jenna on instagram.

-

liked by melissabarreram and 6,810,532 others

jennaortega: Day in the park with my favorites. 3rd photo taken by melissa, te amo

melissabarram: Pretty girls 😍 

y/n_l/n: we are oh fish ally giving tiny a new daycare cutie

↳ jennaortega: oh yes, we first need to sign a contract of marriage and work

aliyah.ortega: yes queen

jasminsavoy: i'm never going there again, i almost got brutally murdered by that goose.

masonthegooding: 🔥need to plan a picnic there

-

You smile to yourself, letting yourself lean on your side as you grin. You send her another text on Insta.

y/n, the nice okay coffee shop girl: i have to sign a contract of both marriage AND work? what if i have to choose just one?

jelly bean: 🤷‍♀️ i can only give you one contract if you tell me your schedules for your shifts. Do u know how many times I came in and am greeted with someone completely different?

y/n, the nice okay coffee shop girl: okay maam, you got it ! :p

sent 1 attachment

jelly bean: Thanks for ur service

jelly bean: let's make a playlist together

jelly bean: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/<3

reacted with 💗

-

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Ok but remote control vibrators for public humiliation is like a top tier thing. Secret relationship Baby Billy and parishioner while he's on stage and reader is in the audience and he's just edging the reader through the whole service...

I hope I did this ask thing right. I'm never sure what the rules/expectations are.

YES~~

Baby Billy Freeman x Reader

CW: toy use, public humiliation, things happening in a church that should not be, kinda corruption kink??, edging, use of Bible quotes and religious imagery,

a/n: this was such a challenging piece to write in a good way, having to understand my limitations of using too specific of Bible verses and things. Thank you anon for such a new and challenging prompt for me!!

~~~

You couldn’t believe you were doing this.

Couldn’t believe he was doing this to you.

You nestled into the front row just like he had instructed. Making sure you were visible to him from any point on the stage. Cold wooden pew pressing against your thighs, faint cushion practically non-existent from years of use. Your ‘gift’ from Baby cautiously stowed away.

… Arms draped around your waist, nose tucked into your neck. Deep hazel eyes stared at you in the mirror before you. White hair and tinted glasses peaked over your shoulder. One of your hands rested on his against your lower half, other coming up to caress his face. Locked away in his dressing room in the basement of the church.

“I saw you with that boy,” Baby Billy’s deep tone vibrated against your skin.

Your throat tightened. Starting to question, but being interrupted by him.

“Giggling and shit. Saw the way your hand touched his arm. Thought you were my girl, now. Maybe I need to remind you of that,” his lips rested against your cheek with a kiss.

You furrowed your brows, mouth forming a question that could not escape. Firm hand held you against him, the other opening one of the drawers in front of you. Pulling out a little black box, white teeth forming a devious grin. Lips kissed along your face and neck as he sat the box on the counter in front of you.

“Go on,” Baby Billy encouraged.

Perplexed, you opened it. Your face immediately heated like someone had turned up the temperature. A hot pink vibrator. One of those ones you inserted and it rubbed against your clit. Still confused, you looked up at him in the reflection. He had a small remote in his hand. So tiny that you could hide it against your palm and no one would see it. Discretely black so it could be hidden. Clicking it and showing you exactly what it did. The box vibrated in front of you.

Your mind put the pieces together immediately. Cheeks flooding with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment. Locking eyes with him once again.

“My pretty girl. Sometimes you just gotta be reminded, dontcha?” Baby’s lips pressed against your ear, “Now, tomorrow before you get all dolled up for church, you’re gonna put that little thing in that perfect pussy of yours. Baby’s gonna get the Holy Spirit flowing through you tomorrow. You understand?”

You coyly nodded at him. Body vibrating at the idea. Mouth running dry.

“If you play nice, I’ll make sure I fuck you real good afterward. Oh, and wear that dress I like,” Baby smiled at you…

And now here you were. Front pew of his sanctuary. Knees pressed together and hands folded in your lap. Hum of people filled the room. Smiling and waving. Greeting the usual crowd. Men tuning their instruments on the stage, casual conversation of the weekend and what they had cooked for Sunday dinner filled your ears.

Was it hotter in here than normal?

Someone must have turned on the heat for the first time. It was Winter. Your palms were shaky as you stared at the dampness that lathered them. Feeling your thighs shift smoothly with the perspiration. Hairs on the back of your neck stood up when one of your fellow congregation members sat down beside you.

“Hi, Y/N,” it was the same boy that Baby Billy had grown jealous of. The one who got you into this mess. Great. Like this would help. Baby was for sure not going easy on you now.

“Hi,” you shortly mumbled. Lifting your hand in a semi-wave. Lips pierced together in a smile. Attention going back to the front. The boy rambled on about the game the day before. Going on about how his fantasy league was performing worse than it ever had before. Ears ringing as you zoned out all the sound around you.

The room shifted.

Something in the air changed. You knew he was here. And his loud southern twang confirmed it. You looked over your shoulder. Watching as his bright white smile greeted each person as he shook their hand. Soft ‘mornin’s and ‘how’reya’s echoing. Then he walked up to where you sat. Your heart could have jumped out of your chest. Licking your lips as you attempted to speak to him.

“Mornin’ young man,” Baby completely ignored you. Extending his hand out to your unwanted guest. Lip twitching when his eyes darted over to you for a moment. Hazel eyes drowned out by the black hole of his pupils. Expanding as soon as your eyes met. A look that told you everything you needed to know.

You were in for it.

Church bells clanged. Signaling the band to begin their usual rhythm. The lights dimmed around the room, bright stage lights illuminating his face. People clapped along as Baby Billy stood silently at the pulpit. Smiling and tapping his hands against the podium. Eyes darting to you constantly, trying to hide how badly he wanted you. Deciding it was time.

His hand slid under the top of the lectern, discreetly clicking the button on the remote. Pulling out his Bible from the den underneath so no one was suspicious of what he was doing. There was a flutter in his chest. Denying himself the pleasure of being excited. Fighting the way his cock jumped when he clicked the first button. Trying to keep his stern exterior so you would view this as a punishment. A reminder of who you belonged to, even if it was in secret.

Your eyes sprung open. The soft and slow vibrations startled you. Hunching forward slightly in your surprise. The feeling of your clit being stimulated had your mouth running dry and hands gripping at your dress. Swallowing heavily as you attempting to pat your lap along to the rhythm. You could not let anyone know what was happening.

The music mellowed out. A hush falling over the room as Baby Billy adjusted the long, thin microphone. Smiling his famous pearly whites across the crowd, “Good mornin’, y’all.”

The crowd returned with a hushed “mornin’” before falling back into silence. Yours coming out unintentionally shaky. Pulling a small look from the boy beside you. Awkwardly smiling at him.

That was a mistake.

Baby Billy clicked the remote again. Having to keep his cool after seeing you smile at the boy. Obviously, his slow attempt at a reminder was not working. Lip twitching as he watched how the boy’s eyes scanned your body.

Your gaze shot back up to Baby Billy. Feeling the new setting vibrating inside you. Pushing your legs together in an attempt to relieve yourself. Face heating up silently.

“It’s so nice to see all your beautiful smiling faces today, church. Happy to have so many of ya here today. Now, everybody stand so we can fellowship. Share in that wonderful, warm love for Christ. It’s cold out there, but in here we are warm!” Baby Billy slapped the wood with his words. Sound of shifting seats in unison filling the room as the band strummed to a Hymn.

Baby Billy walked off the stage, completely ignoring your front row and going along to a different section. Shaking hands with his congregation. You softly smiled as you shook hands with all those around you. Palms sweaty and shaky. Silent, unable to return the casualties being shared with you.

Watching as Baby Billy finally looped back around to you. Shaking hands with the boy beside you first. Finally acknowledging your existence. Reaching his thick hand out to you, eyes locked in on yours. You held your anxious hand out to him, allowing him to scoop it into his. Hooded eyes scanned your face. Watching how you twitched trying to hide the pleasure you were feeling. “Hi, Baby,” you sighed out with a broken voice.

His member jumped at your tone. Hearing how disheveled he had gotten you already. Longing to hear you chant his name over and over again as he sheathed deep inside you. “Hi, doll,” Baby Billy whispered as he lingered on your handshake. You exchanged smiles. Secret only known between you.

Blinking himself out of the trance, he took his place back at the pulpit. Deciding you could handle another level up.

The toy vibrated quickly against your throbbing clit. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you began to sweat all over. Overwhelmed with pleasure, yet no finish. Having to keep wobbling legs steady as you all stood for the reading of the scripture. Some verse from 1st Corinthians 10, too lost in your own feelings to pay close enough attention. For sure that it had something to do with temptation and being faithful. To everyone else he was just spreading what God had put onto his heart, but you knew better. It was for you.

This was so wrong.

But you could not deny how much you enjoyed it. Knowing Baby Billy felt so much possession over you that even you casually talking to another man got him like this. Forcing you to partake in sinful activities during his own sermon.

Congregation finally instructed to take a seat. Biggest relief you had felt yet. Unable to complete your prayers as everyone else around you bowed their heads. Muttering their prayers in the House of the Lord. The only prayer you could think of was one for strength. The capability to make it through the Sunday service. Leaning forward causing your nub to press against the toy firmer, causing you to bite your lip in response.

Baby Billy peaked through his prayer at you. Watching how you squirmed for him, knowing he was consuming you. Taking any other thoughts out of your mind, but him. Having to heavily focus to remember what he had prepared for his preaching this morning. Not really caring what anyone else had to say. Only wanting you to a point of begging and clinging to him after all was said and done.

Everyone straightened back up with a wave of “Amen”s washing through the church. Sighing loudly as you directed yourself forward. Stomach tightening as the toy continued to push you towards your end. Fixating on Baby Billy’s slim build as he took his place back at the head. Longing to feel his thick fingers roam your body as cold rings pressed into your overheated skin. Smell of expensive cologne and cigarettes a strong memory in your memory.

You could feel your release reaching out to you, begging for you to give in. Until it all suddenly stopped, your lungs tightened in your chest.

He had turned the damned thing off.

Sudden loss of stimulation was infuriating. You pressed your thighs together searching for your release that was ripped from you. Feeling your heartbeat heaving in your chest. Shooting a look up at Baby Billy, seeing him smirking.

This was your real punishment.

The embarrassment and humiliation was one thing, but not allowing you to finish was another. You realized he was not going to force you into a quivering mess overstimulated by too many orgasms. Instead, he was going to have you teary eyed begging to finish. Having to rely on him to give it to you.

You choked awkwardly. Flattening your hands against your lap as you caught your breath. Unaware that you had been holding it. Sweat trickled down your back. Hooded eyes watching Baby Billy invite people up to sing their Sunday Morning songs. Staring at his waist, knowing he was fighting his own pleasure too. Not noticeable to anyone else, but you could see his cock. Knowing what was under those layers of clothes. Biting your lip at the idea of him fucking you.

Baby Billy caught your eyes in his view. Meeting your wanting gaze with soft expressions telling you he was thinking too. Cheeks burning with your arousal. His encouragement made this feel less like a punishment and more like a game. Both of you forcing your attention to the front when the music finally stopped.

His tall, thin figure rose and strutted back to his podium, Bible gripped tightly in his hand. Veins and bones popping out of his matured hands. Oh, how you adored those fingers. His hands knew your body just as well as they knew the Bible. Able to perfectly pleasure you and still have you wanting more by the end.

Softly, the leather bound book laid on the wood. Directly above where Baby Billy had his special remote hidden. Hand journeying into a dark hole to bring you back to life. Pressing it to the softest setting, really wanting you to ride along with it. Bright white smile greeting everyone once again. Instructing everyone to turn to a specific book and chapter. Too distracted by the return of pleasure.

Clumsy fingers turned to what you thought was the correct chapter. Refusing to look at the boy sitting beside you. Lost in how your heart raced against your ribs. Mouth running completely dry. Solely focusing on the sound of Baby Billy. His beautiful twang better than any singing you had heard.

Glossy orbs honed in on him. Locking in on any small motion that deviated from the norm. Noticing his arm slip away once more as the vibrations increased heavily. Sucking your lip between your teeth as your brow furrowed. Shoulders heaving in your state as sweat rolled down your entire body.

Baby Billy droned on about devotion to Christ. And how if you would allow it, God would take care of you forever. And how sometimes the Lord tests us. But all you had to do was show him your dedication and devotion was pure and only his. And that was God's way of showing us His love.

He thinks he's being slick.

His forehead was growing shiny as the stage lights beamed onto his skin. Fighting the feeling rising between his legs when he would see you hunch forward when the toy would hit a certain spot. This was becoming more of a punishment for him than you. Desire to take you away from everyone else filling his veins. Continuing the confess himself to you through the words of the Bible and his sermon. Knowing that you knew what he was meaning with the chosen words he used.

Familiarity dug its fingers into your insides. Constricting walls begging for an ending worth all this you were feeling. Your eyes fell shut for a moment as you took a deep breath. As badly as you wanted to give in, you could not disappoint Baby Billy. No matter the shame and embarrassment that sat so heavy on your shoulders. This was all for him. You would always give yourself to him.

Your lip softly quivered as shaky air fell from you. Hands laced together in your lap as knees bumped and prodded at each other. Everyone else in the room had disappeared as your vision blurred when tears begged to fall from your eyes. An overstimulation of arousal you had no idea you would ever experience.

Baby Billy instructed everyone to bow their heads. Turning off the machine as the room fell silent. Causing your sigh of frustration and relief to reverberate off the walls of the chapel. Heating up your face with embarrassment. Your panties were completely soaked, causing your thighs to stick together slightly. Infatuation for him apparent in your blown pupils and need to peak up and see him. Being greeted with his finger pressed to his lips as he silently mocked the loud puff that had escaped you. Unable to stop yourself from smiling at him.

He was such an ass.

Your fingertips pulsed as you finally relaxed your muscles. Nerves still on end. Raising your head to watch as Baby Billy dismissed everyone. That same hum inside you returning suddenly. Turned up to what you imagined was the highest setting. Causing you to cough as it took your breath away. Pulling a question from your pew-mate that you ignored. Done with any pleasantries you were willing to give. Having to focus every single inch of yourself into not finishing. Overwhelmed with how good it felt.

Baby Billy smiled as he watched people around you stand and share casual conversations. Refusing to leave at the rate the two of you begged. Your legs were shaking. Sweat drenched every single inch of you now. Unable to stop your eyes from forcing themselves shut and your face contorting in your pleasure.

You felt a sudden hand on your thigh. Fingertips edging up your dress.

"Sweetheart," his preacher voice urging you to look at him, almost like a question. Hooded eyes pried open. Meeting his black pupils as he smiled at you. Sweat decorated his face as he breathed heavy. Looking down to see a clear outline of his hard cock through his dress pants. Unknown to you, the room had cleared. Not even noticing that the boy sitting beside you had up and left.

"Ready for our meeting?" Baby Billy's voice was not above a whisper. You nodded vigorously. Knowing if you had to endure another moment of this you were going to be a shouting, squirming mess.

"Please."

~~~

[END//Part 1]

// Thank you so much for reading! I definitely plan on doing a follow up story for this one, if you are interested in being tagged please let me know!! I love writing Baby Billy, the new season of Righteous Gemstones cannot get here fast enough! //

{tags}

@boydcrowderapologist ~ @toogaytofunctiondangit ~ @megangovier ~ @iwmflbb ~ @its-in-the-woods ~ @dichromaniac ~ @manamania ~ @rose-blisse-blog ~ @b0bai ~ @dannymcbridelover ~ @ghoul-rider ~ @trashdoggy ~ @babbling-idiot ~ @beastofburdenxo ~