#anon… how did you get inside my brain?

[twopoppies]

Just wanted to share my perspective. When I first joined this fandom, I had to catch up on everything that had happened over the past 12 years. It was overwhelming and emotional but never frustrating. I remember meticulously checking every tweet that was presented as evidence because there are so many photoshopped ones out there. I watched every available video to form my own conclusions.

In the end, there may have been fewer “proofs” than it initially seemed, but honestly you don’t need that much to believe they were together during the band days. Post-band, a lot of the things they sing, say, or do only make sense if you consider they’re together (or just really shitty people).

At the end of the day, though, they’re just two white, rich guys. As much as I love them, this fandom isn’t just about their relationship. For me, it’s about the incredible people I’ve met, the friendships I’ve formed, and the self-discovery I’ve experienced. I’ve read some amazing fanfics, enjoyed beautiful art, and found so much joy in this space.

Harry and Louis are the reason we’re all here, but what we do with our time in the fandom is up to us. We can choose to be happy, enjoy it, and embrace the community or let negativity take over with constant criticism, hate or anger.

I ghost wrote this.

[tonycries]

Girl, You Earned It!

Synopsis. Just the típ? Don’t make him laugh.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, “just the típ” trope, REALLY pússydrunk boys, marathon séx, cúmplay, semi-exhíbitionism (Nanami’s), bréeding, Geto’s rings omg, Geto’s a bit mean, creampíe, spítting, FÉRAL Gojo, best friend! Choso, fírst times (Choso’s), chokíng, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.4k

A/N. Smooches to that one anon for inspiring this. Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Handle it.

It was a familiar little song and dance - Toji’s favorite one at that. 

It’s around his fourth orgasm that night, head thrown back against the pillows to watch with a lewd little leer at the way you’re stuttering your limp hips down, down, down his long, swollen cock. Those glossy lips of yours sagging open to whine, “Too full, Toji! C-can’t ngh- handle it-”

Ah, it never gets old. 

Toji finds his brows knitting together in mock concern, cooing in a baritone voice, “Awww, my girl’s poor pussy can’t handle it?” 

At your bleary nod, he snakes a hand down as if to confirm, thumbing apart your puffy folds. All quivering and glistening with his seed in the dim lighting, “She’s too full? Too stuffed to take  hah- even my tip?”

Without any warning, you feel long, thick fingers splay out across your lower stomach. Pushing down - hard to make your poor cunt gush all around him. Coating his aching cock with a sheen of the cum he’d stuffed inside not so long ago. “There we go.” he breathes, sounding so utterly smug, ‘We have space now, right?“

“Oh, fuck yes- Toji– fuck fuck fuck-”

“Shhh shhh, s’alright. And since m’feeling so nice, I promise s’gonna be jus- hah- jus’ the tip.” he grins, eyes so greedy and crazed when he looks down at the way you’re sucking him up so greedily. Your pussy lips bulging around the top of his thick head. “M’kay?”

And Toji’s cock was already so big - so rock-hard - that no matter how much he’d split you apart on his cock before, just his fat head squeezing past your sloppy entrance feels like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. Your hazy brain. 

Fucking out every coherent thought out of you with each shallow grind up into your gummy walls just to fit inside. Slow, languid - just teasing you. 

“Hah- couldn’t ‘handle me’ my ass.” he’s spitting out from underneath you, mean fingers holding your precarious body still for him to pummel into. “The fuck are you hngh- doing now then, huh? Taking me so well.” 

An embarrassed mewl is being ripped from your throat when that little divot on the end of Toji’s cock is brushing against your sweet spots. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you realize that he’s just barely managed to squeeze his tip into your tight pussy, “I-I ngh-”

To which his palm comes down with a sharp smack! on the fat of your ass. 

“Jus’ the tip n’ you already can’t hah- speak?” he grins up at you, painful cock twitching with delight when you clench around him at the sting. Loving this slow, agonizing torture for the both of you. “Use your words properly, doll.”

You huff, nails digging into Toji’s plush pecs to stabilize yourself on top of him. “Thought I was too- hah- full. Thought I couldn’t handle havin’ you inside me again.”

“Heh- well what did I t-tell, ya?” he grunts, hips still thrusting - still pushing in mindless, semi-thrusts up. Wondering if you could feel his cum sloshing around inside you like he could. “As if I don’t know my girl’s pussy- As if I can’t handle this p-pussy. As if this pussy can’t handle me-” 

One hand dances back down to push further against your front. Dredging up every last glob of his seed down your sloppy cunt, forming a creamy ring at his base that he groans at. “Y’can handle it now, right?” The other glides the pads of his fingers across your needy clit, making you arch your body down in surprise. His cock slipping deeper down your pussy, “Fuuuuck yeah, you can definitely handle it now.”

“Toji.” you let out a warning. Your already-ravaged cunt so sensitive. Fingers tightening to leave neat little marks of red down his sculpted skin, “Thought you p-promised it was jus’ gonna be the ah- tip.”

Because his movements were getting deeper. Dangerous. 

Still shallow - but purposeful enough that you were sliding way past “just his tip”. And you could feel that sinfully prominent vein from about halfway down his shaft massaging against your sweet spots. 

Yet Toji only flashes you a devilish grin, no trace of guilt anywhere. Eyes half-lidded and devouring your adorable pout. “I did.” Giving you just barely enough time to relax before the hand firm on your stomach rests at your waist. Pulling - dragging you all the way down his massive cock. Tugged down like such a slut until he was buried balls-deep, your puffy folds kissing his hilt, your pelvis grinding against those tufts of black at his. “For now, that is.”

Ah, this is his favorite part.

He doesn’t waste even a second before making use of those muscled hips, giving you one, long thrust to haul your slobbering cunt all the way from the very end of his fat head down until he physically couldn’t anymore. 

Bruising. Fully. Fucking every false complaint out of you when his cock is finally hitting the back of your needy pussy. 

“Think s’time for you to handle all of me now, doll.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “Are you muted?”

Nanami Kento hated working overtime. And he especially hated having to sit at home on his desk, sighing during those droning online meetings which really could’ve been a five-minute conversation at work on Monday.

Which is where you came in.

“Mhm, of course m’muted, my love. Camera’s also off.” he answers your previous question with a slow, sensual drawl into your ear. Thumb gliding across your puffy cunt as he echoes patiently for the first time that hour, “But if you’re gonna be here then you better behave, my love.” Bouncing his knee to shuffle your quivering body where it was perched so prettily on his lap - and his aching, rock-hard cock. “Any deeper than the tip and you hngh- know how s’gonna end.”

A promise. 

But it’s been like this for so long now - too long, you think.

Your gummy walls squeeze desperately at that sensitive slit on Nanami’s length, lapping at his weeping precum. Wrists tugging uselessly where he’d tied them together behind your back with his familiar yellow tie. “But Ken, I really want-”

“I know I know, darling.” he presses a gentle kiss to the side of your pouty lips. Hushing those cute, whiny cries of yours that make his swollen cock twitch wildly, balls squeezing so painfully with the sweet sweet temptation to just stuff your tight pussy full. “But if I-”

“Nanami, have you completed the progress report for the client tomorrow?”

Instantly, your husband is in work mode, clearly his ragged voice lightly before hitting the Unmute button. “Yes, Higuruma I’ve…”

But oh his actions were anything but. 

Free hand still drawing quick, methodical circles on your clit - just daring you to make a noise while he continues so unfairly with the meeting as if nothing is happening. His deep voice rumbling in his chest with satisfaction, and yet you’re left helpless and aching for more.

“But Ken.” you breathe into his ear, just low enough that the microphone couldn’t pick up. Pushing past the vice-like hold that he had on your hips to seat his delicious cock further and further inside your gummy walls. “Wan’ more. Please, I’ve been patient for so long.”

“-and the charts from last week I’ll have to email.” Nanami rattles off, all business-like, the authoritative tone sending your cunt beading your juices all down his already-soaked cock. Hardened eyes brushing briefly against yours, though he still addresses his business partner, “I’ll make sure to take care of that later.”

And fuck the shivers this sends down your spine have you trembling in Nanami’s practised touch. 

Bucking your hips needily into his hand, your slick leaves a lewd little sheen all over his palm, his wrist, all the way down to that metal wrist watch digging into your skin.

“T-take care of it now, Ken.” you’re mewling stubbornly, fighting against those restraints. 

Letting your pussy lips fuck back into his thick cock. Deeper. Needier. Sucking him up so good that he’s letting go of your hips to mute himself again.

And fuck if you weren’t going to take the opportunity to just slam yourself down Nanami’s massive length, all the way until you could feel his abs against your ass. That little divot on his thick head smashing against your sweet spots, molding your plushy walls to the shape of his entire cock. 

“O-oh fuck.” he breathes, words cracking ever-so-slightly at the end. “The meeting- thought I said just the- hah you’re gonna be the death of me, my love.”

Before you can respond, Higuruma’s chuckling from behind the screen, cutting through the heady air in the room. “Heh, guess you’ve had enough of this since you’re already muted Nanami. Fair enough, I’ve kept you long enough.” 

And the words ring in the air, Nanami’s eyes unwavering from his laptop. Turned crazed as he looks to you, a hand already beginning to shut the screen.

“You’re free to go, make up your time with the wife or somethi-”

Slamming it closed. 

Followed shortly by you - being slammed onto the ground. Nanami’s hand underneath your face, cushioning the impact when you’re shoved face-first. Him mounting on you in a split second, strong thighs flexing with the effort to fuck you right there right then into the hardwood floor. Depraved. Animalistic. 

Not faltering for even a moment when he’s pulling you back by the tie digging into your wrists, sure to leave marks. Using the moment to watch the way your ass ripples every time he’s ramming into you. 

“Ken- fuck! Kento-” you sob like a mantra when he hikes up a leg of his to hit all those angles that have him bruising your sweet spots. Thrusts long, hard. Not leaving a single spot inside your gummy cunt untouched. “S’too good too good too good- hah- wan’ed this for so long since you were on that meeting. So hngh- close.”

“M-me too.” Nanami responds, sounding nothing like the put-together business man he was a few moments ago. Almost crazed now. Unpredictable. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. 

All it takes are a few filthy, nasty strokes of his sensitive cock into your snug pussy, of his fingers toying and teasing your clit - and then you’re cumming so fucking hard around him. 

Your walls sucking him in a smooth staccato like you were trying to milk the fucking soul out of Nanami while he drills into you through the pleasure. Not even thinking twice before spilling into your greedy pussy himself. 

Thick, creamy spurts of cum that warm you from the inside out. Reaching all those hidden spots inside while he pumps it deeper and deeper.

“Oh, my love.” Nanami groans when he pools the seed dribbling out of your cunt with ease. Making a mess of your pussy down below, of that creamy ring at his hilt. “Don’t think m’done making up for my overtime yet.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Battle of wills

“Awww.” you hear Geto’s deep voice cooing softly in your ear. Running his mouth smugly - as if he wasn’t just smashing the angry, soaked tip of his cock into you right now. “You can’t even talk right now. You can’t even breathe.”

Fuck, if it was any less true then you might’ve argued - maybe spat out a hissy little comment. 

But, instead, you’re managing out a wet gurgle, Geto’s thick, ringed fingers tightening where they were wrapped prettily around your neck. “I-I-”

The other draws languid, torturous circles on your sensitive clit, just as teasing as the way his hips were just barely pushing past your sopping wet slit. Nudging your honeyed walls with only his fat head. “What was that, gorgeous?”

“I said.” you gasp, when your beloved boyfriend mercifully lets his grip loosen ever-so-slightly to let you answer. “I- I’m going to win the bet, Sugu.”

Ah, the bet. That stupid, thoughtless little challenge you’d posed just a few hours ago about who’d break first if Geto was to fuck your tight pussy with just his tip. 

Who knew it would end up with your face pushed into the silky covers of your pillow, both of you barely-lucid and losing your minds as Geto pounded into you as much as he allowed himself to? Both your pathetic prides holding back, just waiting for the other to break first.

Geto’s voice was tinged with amusement, something so dark and mellow as he purrs against the shell of your ear. Cold metal rings digging into your flesh, you choke. “Well then…” His sinful abs flex ominously against your back, “-we’ll just have to see, right?”

“H-hey!” you gasp for air when he slams his hips forwards, letting your dripping cunt envelope him all the way down to that wide rim of his slit. 

“What?” he muses in response, circles speeding up and so so messy on your sensitive nub now. “S’jus’ the tip right? Exactly what I did. I’m-” Before moving again, in sultry, purposeful rolls of his slutty hips back and forth. “-not gonna be the hah- one losing this bet.”

Fuck, you’d forgotten how competitive your boyfriend was - always going easy, until he decided he wanted to win.

Geto’s eyes flit between his fingers, blocking your airway, and the wide wide rim of your sloppy entrance being stretched upon his thick head. 

Shit, the sight itself was heavenly enough that it had him almost second-guessing his resolve and stuffing you full like he wanted to. Almost. 

“Close to surrender?” he’s panting out when a few more shallow, teasing half-strokes has your gummy walls clenching around him like you’re trying to drag out something delicious. Exactly the way he loves - exactly the way he’s addicted to. And, usually, Geto would tell you over and over how much he loves it - but, this time, his ego makes him simply leave a wet trail of kisses down your arched spine. Murmuring heatedly into your ear, “No shame in ngh- giving up, y’know.”

Harder. Deeper - almost. 

Squealing airily, “M’not- m’not giving up.”

Immediately, Geto’s chuckling when he squeezes your pretty neck tighter, “M’gonna choke you harder when you lie, gorgeous. Now tell me-” Just wringing out syrupy moans of his name with each push. Each urgent flick of his fingers on your clit - not even circles anymore, fuck no he was too far gone for that now. Just messy, senseless patterns. “Y’gonna lose like my ah- p-pretty girl or am I gonna hafta keep treating you like my bitch?”

“But-” you wheeze. 

“I hngh- also really wanna fuck this cute cunt properly, y’know/”

Your vision’s blurring now, lungs straining for air. Yet you’re so cockdrunk that all you can focus on is the lewd curve of Geto’s dick, barely even realizing when your hips are trying to inch down for more. Jolting with each rub of his thumb against your clit. 

Harder. Deeper. 

“Sugu!” you’re screaming when you recklessly slam yourself back to meet his ruthless cadence. All the way back until your ass was pressing flush against the v-line jutting out from Geto’s toned pelvis. Shoving his cock so deep inside your plushy cunt it felt like his fat tip was making its mark against your lungs.

You lost - gladly. 

And for all his confidence, Geto Suguru is shocked. Half-lidded eyes flying open, teeth biting down on his lower lip so hard with the effort to hold back his disbelieving moans it was like he was trying to draw blood. 

“O-oh oh my god. Fuck fuck fuck fuck-” he shudders, jaw falling slack, swollen cock colliding in and out with your needy cunt. 

You send him a delirious half-glance, “Are you ok-”

The hand rested around your throat immediately comes down - finally letting you breathe. Only to just slam your head back down onto the pillow so you can’t see how utterly fucked he was. Keeping you still, “Just shut up and cum f’me, gorgeous.”

And oh you do - all over Geto’s pretty cock, your elastic walls molding around him to feel every ridge and bump as he fucks you through your wave of high. Hard. Fast. Sending electricity down your veins every time he hits the bullseye of your g-spot. Over and over and-

“H-hey, Sugu-” your teary face manages to look up from the pillow. Gummy walls still spasming around him, “Best out of three?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - FIRST?!

It was a simple favor, really - just a way to help your dear best friend lose his virginity.

To shut up those adorable whines about how much he dreams of feeling your- a pussy wrapped around his cock. And when he looked to you for help with those dark, puppy-dog eyes? Well, how could you ever say no?

Which is why you have Choso splayed out on your mattress, hazy gaze bulging when you straddle his toned hips. Sliding his tight boxers down his thighs - fuck, he was massive. A delicate, innocent pink at his angry head, leaking endless precum all the way down, down, down his creamy length. 

“Jus’ the tip, right?” you hum. Cunt throbbing at the sight of his swollen cock twitching up in interest at the mere sound of your sultry tone. “Jus’ to have you feel me?”

“God, yes.” he whispers - barely even audible, when you slot his leaky tip between your puffy folds. Letting your pussy drool your sweet sweet juices all over him. “Yes yes yes hurry please need to feel you- just the tip just the-” Choso’s voice breaks when you just barely press him past that first ring of resistance. “Oh- oh fuuuuck this is what it feels like? Hngh-”

The stretch of his fat head inside was so sinful. So maddening and shit- if this was what it was like with barely half of his tip in, then it drove you insane to wonder what it’d be like if you took in all of him. Smirking, “Mhm? You hah- like this, Cho?”

Fuck, hearing that little nickname right now makes Choso get even girthier, cock swelling painfully to stretch your sloppy hole.

“L-like this?” he asks, voice ragged with genuine disbelief. Barely-lucidly bringing one of your hands up to his face to press a soft, lingering kiss. “Oh, baby, I l-love this.”

He’s inching his thick head in further and further, kissing down your neck wetly. 

You’re choking when he starts up a messy, urgent rut of his hips upwards - untimed and sloppy like he didn’t know how to use his unforgiving cock yet, like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. Just bare, shallow little thrusts that have your hole stretching out and molding to the shape of his needy tip. 

Babbling, “Fuck, what’ve you done to me? How can you f-feel so good- how can you-”

Over and over and-

“O-oh, Cho!” you gasp when he accidently brushes up against one of your hidden sweet spots. Eyes going wide, jaw falling into an awestruck “oh” at as you buck and clamp down so fucking tight around him. Begging, “There- fuck fuck there wan’ more- hngh wan’ more of you, please.” 

The only response you’re getting is a string of incoherent profanity. Shit, Choso thinks he’s gonna pass out - that he might just paint your pretty pussy white already. 

But because he couldn’t stand the embarrassment of that, he wraps his big arms so tight around your waist. Running a palm to cradle your scalp, he hisses when he presses a kiss to your forehead, “Can’t.” And the word has barely left his sagging lips before Choso gives an unplanned, jagged thrust up into your cunt. Body moving before his mind to bully his swollen cock inside, spreading your puffy folds along the veins down his length. “Can’t- just the tip- shouldn’t.” 

“S’okay, Cho–”

“But-”

You were his best friend. His favorite person - and he always did feel guilty for thinking of you, cock in hand, on those long lonely nights. So this is the last thing he should be doing. 

But, oh it was like a dam had been broken open, and despite his words, Choso’s mouth is salivating at the thought. 

Pushing in sweet, desperate bucks of his hips to just drag your sloppy pussy down deeper and deeper - unknowingly, all the way down to his soaked base. Yet Choso was still pushing and pushing deliriously. 

“Just the tip just the- shouldn’t do this-” he pants against your open mouth, nipping and sucking on your bottom lips. “Only ever ngh- dreamed of this.” Each word is punctured by a rough ram into your dripping cunt, molding your gummy walls to that upwards curve of his dick. Reeling out a honeyed ah! ah! ah! from you every time his pretty veins were pulsing against your sensitive spots. “Shouldn’t ohhh I shouldn’t- fuck!”

Choso loses the end of his sentence - and his sanity - when he dares take a greedy look downwards. 

Being met with the absolutely obscene sight of your poor cunt being split apart on him. Realizing he was now very much past his tip, veering into the dangerous territory of your pussy lips kissing his toned pelvis, milking him until there was nothing more. 

“Heh.” His glassy eyes look up when you giggle, “So much for hah- ‘jus’ the tip’, huh?”

Choso grins - a languid, pussydrunk grin you never thought you could even imagine on your sweet best friend. Purring lowly, “Oh, my girl.Because of you m’never gonna be satisfied with just the tip ever again.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Please, please, please

“Apology not accepted, brat.” Sukuna spits out over your blubbering cries, still holding your squirming hips so stupidly still around his fat tip. Nothing more, nothing less. “Nuh uh, this is all yer gonna get if you wanna hah- complain so much.”

Now, Ryomen Sukuna is a strong man, always has been. He hasn’t missed those concerned looks strangers give you when he’s out in public with you, or the way your coworkers’ eyes widened in shock when they first saw him. 

The strongest - for everything except you. 

So, when he overhears you gossiping with your little friends about how maybe he’s too big - how it’s a bit of a hassle to lose your ability to walk every night - then, well, that spiteful little part of himself decides it’s time to give you exactly what you want. 

You’re wriggling your ass downwards, gummy walls sucking him up trying to sink further and further down Sukuna’s dizzying cock, “B-but Kuna-” 

“B-b-but Kuna.” He mocks in a pitch higher than normal, two thick fingers coming up to squish your tear-stained cheeks together into an embarrassing pout. Smirking down greedily, “But what? You were runnin’ this pretty mouth earlier, what happened now, hm? Too cockdrunk?”

And fuck, he didn’t expect you to be in the state to think up an answer to that question - he didn’t think you even heard it at first, too busy trying to milk his cock for all he was worth. 

But oh you always did surprise him. 

Teary, overstimulated gaze locking with his dark one when you give an unsteady, determined nod. Whimpering, “F-fuck yes.” 

Unbeknownst to himself - and his little scheme to punish you - your lewd little answer has Sukuna’s hips jutting forwards. Bullying past your gummy resistance to spearhead just a tinge more than his fat head into your sloppy entrance. 

“O-oh.” he groans, dropping his head feverishly into the crook of your neck. Trying to get back some control over his own body, but shit just an ounce of the way your slutty cunt was massaging every ridge and curve of his swollen cock and the king of curses just breaks. He’s biting his sharp canines down on your lower lip in what can barely be called a kiss. Messy. “Oh you little minx. You evil, evil-” He gives a punctuated half-thrust. “-brat.”

And that’s all it takes for Sukuna to be drunk on your cunt. To sink his achingly hard cock in so deep that it has his heavy balls smacking your ass, his leaky tip pressing a harsh peck to your poor cervix. 

Deeper. 

Hips immediately snapping forwards to replicate those purposeful, long slams you were tittering about just earlier today. 

“You’re so fuckin- hah-” he sucks in a shaky breath when you clench down on him hard. Absent-mindedly, Sukuna toys his free thumb down to roll against your neglected clit, wondering if this was part of your evil plan. Spitting against your kiss-bitten lips, “-unfair. Riling me up, complaining about it being ‘too much’ n’ then taking it like such a slut.”

It’s all you can do to moan brokenly, “Wasn’t- wasn’t complaining.”

For this, you’re getting a punishing smack! to your ravaged clit, immediately followed by an apologetic circle of Sukuna’s fingers. Harder. “So now you’re gonna ngh- lie while m’fucking you like this?”

As if to prove his point - and maybe drag out a few more of your honeyed cries on his cock - he’s reeling his hips back. Letting his throbbing veins massage against every inch of your elastic walls until it was just the ends of his thick head left inside you now. “Really? Real confident for someone that was just begging for my cock, y’know.”

“N-no!” you gasp, panicked. Your ankles manage to lock around Sukuna’s sculpted waist, digging into those sinful dimples at the end of his spine to push his length in deeper - just the way you liked it. “No no no- ngh was a compliment. A compliment I swear! Was bragging ah-”

He leers oh so cockily, “Oh really?”

Only growing at your urgent nod, your glossy lips falling into such a pretty pout, “Promise. Would n-never hah- complain about your cock, Kuna.”

Fuck, did you know how to drive him insane. 

To have him playing right into your pretty lil’ hands. 

Because each and every word spilling out of your delirious mouth has Sukuna fucking you deeper and deeper into the mattress. So animalistic with the way he was plunging into you like some glorified sextoy, the curve of his dick rubbing spots inside your gummy walls that you didn’t even know existed. That have you seeing stars. That have him forgetting that stupid promise of “just the tip”.

Too big? Fucking hilarious, you were lucky if you could make it out alive tonight with the way all the blood in his massive body was rushing to Sukuna’s dick, stretching him to an obscene girth. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he’s grunting with each nudge against your cervix, your g-spot. Bruising you from the inside out. “Well then…” He’s wrestling your nodding face towards him, thrusts growing more and more erratic with each moan. “-let’s give you some more to brag about, hm?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - (Mind)break!

No one would believe their ears if they could see the great Gojo Satoru right about now. That Gojo Satoru? The strongest? The cocky lil’ shit that upturned desks and skipped out on every single jujutsu meeting?

Of course, it wasn’t the same Gojo Satoru that came straight to you after a particularly taxing jujutsu mission, eyes wide - crazed, a feral grin on him that’d never left. Of course, it wasn’t the same Gojo Satoru that had to take only one look at you before ripping your poor clothes off, pent-up jujutsu still thrumming behind his fingers where he folded you into such a mean mating press. Making you cum over and over selfishly while he hasn’t even once. 

Of course. 

But here he was - around your third orgasm, his face buried nose-deep at your erratic pulse, powerful hips jerky and stuttering while he tried to keep his swollen cock controlled, buried inside your heavenly cunt still only till that pretty pink slit at his head. 

Because this was Gojo Satoru, and he didn’t want to break you just yet. 

“Aww, look at you- fuck!” Gojo whines when the tip of his sensitive cock brushes up against another one of your sweet spots. Reeling back ever-so-slightly to spit right onto your bulging cunt once. Twice. “Fuck just look at you, sweetheart.”

And before you can react, a large hand is enveloping your cheeks. Sending a buzz of electricity from his touch to where he was tilting your head down, forcing you to look at the obscene sight below you. 

Your ravaged cunt all messy and glistening with the excess of Gojo’s saliva, slobbering even filthier down the head of his unforgiving cock. Red and angry, each slow, controlled grind just begging for you to take him whole. 

The little gasp that leaves your candied lips is enough for Gojo to moan gutturally, “Ohhh look at that- look at that. Makes me wanna hah-” His ragged words trail off, thighs flexing like they were about to shove himself up, up, up and- only for your boyfriend to gather whatever’s left of his sanity with a sharp intake of breath. “-wanna break you.”

Stubbornly, you jut out your kiss-bitten lower lip, grinding your hips up pathetically to try and take some more greedy inches for yourself. “Why not? Wan’ more than jus’ the tip, gimme ngh all of it.”

“Heh, my needy girl. So- so cock-hungry, huh?” Gojo spits, another steady stream of saliva hitting your waiting tongue- wait, when did you even let it loll out like that? He plows on, thumb gliding over to gloss it over your lips. “Wish I could- ohhh I wish so bad. But m’too fuckin’ hah- worked up after that mission. Can’t handle- can’t control hngh-”

Each word sounds stilted - pained. And Gojo’s giving minute, almost-unidentifiable thrusts puncturing each one. Slowly but surely losing his sanity as well as his restraint. 

If either of you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed that glowing tinge in his hazy eyes, the little crackles of purple lighting dancing down his milky skin. 

But, no, instead you’re whining, “I don’t care, Toru–”

“No you d-don’t get to do that.” he gasps, eyes going wide at that unfair nickname. Giving a dangerous half-thrust into your gummy walls. “No no no no you don’t get to do that. M’only giving you the tip right now.” And you’re being gifted a messy little graze of Gojo’s plump lips against your own, hissing when you bite down. “Don’t know the ngh- extent of my power. S’unstable- could kill- hah destroy-”

“You talk too much.” 

Gojo can sense it before it happens - of course he can. And he knows he should stop it, for the safety of you and less importantly, the entirety of Japan. He knows he should keep fucking you with just his fat head, keeping as much composure as possible. 

But Gojo lets it happen anyway.

Letting those wobbly legs of yours dangling around his broad shoulders lock in an instant to just nudge his body forwards. Sighing when you feel the stretch of his rock-hard cock making their mark past his thick head. 

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining too bright that they burst into little shards of energy.

Yet it doesn’t matter to you or Gojo, his electric-blue eyes burning bright into the darkness. Tiny flicks of lightning illuminating your ruined bedroom as his entire body stiffens for a split-second. Jolting like he’d come to life - and in one, fluid movement, he was buried inside your tight pussy. Fully. 

Fuck, Gojo’s stretched so taut. Something ugly, dangerous snapping in him when that’s all it takes for him to be releasing thick rope after rope of his seed. Cumming and cumming so hard it’s like he can’t stop. Won’t stop. 

Knows he won’t for a very, very long time even when you reach your high for the fourth time that night. Milking him for every single drop. 

Even when his cum paints your gummy walls a white to match his hair, filling you up so much that it overspills. Forming a lewd little pool below that makes you tremble impossibly deeper down Gojo’s still hard cock. 

And the only thing you can hear in the moment the low crackle of jujutsu in the suddenly pressurized air, and the sinful squelches as Gojo steadies his hips back dangerously. Readying. Letting out a raspy, barely-audible whisper, “If we make it out of this alive, remind me to buy you plan B, sweetheart.”

A/N. Tony stop writing Higuruma cameos challenge GO! (Failed)

Plagiarism not authorized.

[nanaslutt]

Geto def gets off to being called a pervert

I see the vision clear as day anon, i hope you enjoy<3

Geto is so dirty in this holy........

contains: fem reader, roomate!geto, panty thief, teasing, dirty talk, degradation, praise, accidental voyeurism, mating press, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (reader receiving), cum eating, geto is nasttyyyyyy, slight crack at the end, shoko makes an appearance :p

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“Suguru can I borrow that band tee you were wearing the other day? I’m about to go out with shoko.” you scrolled on some social media site on the sofa while you called out for your roommate in the kitchen.

Head hanging upside down off the armrest, looking at his naked back in your twisted view, waiting for his response.

Geto peeked his head briefly over his shoulder from the counter he faced, letting out a short laugh before he replied, wanting to ask if the ridiculous positions you came up with were actually comfortable.

Saving his smart remark for another day and responding that he didn’t care, followed by the location of the tshirt.

Picking up your body you placed one foot in front of the other, making quick work for his room, voice ringing out in the hall, “thanks!”

“Shoko said she’s heading here soon so I should probably start getting ready.” you shouted from his room, reaching for his second dresser drawer, where he said it would be.

Pulling the nob back and messing up his carefully folded clothes as you pulled out shirt after shirt, unfolding it to get a better view of the piece before shoving it back in when it ultimately wasn’t what you were looking for.

Eyebrows scrunching inwards when your sights landed on a piece of bright pink fabric shoved deep in the bottom of the drawer. Not remembering suguru ever wear anything like it, you pulled it out.

And you really don’t remember him wearing anything like this.

Because what you were holding between your fingers was your panties.

Jaw dropping slightly in disbelief, head turning back towards the doorway you just walked through, before snapping your neck back in front of you and digging deeper.

“Where are you guys going?” he questioned, yelling from the kitchen as he chopped up some vegetables, back facing the direction of his room.

A decent sized pile was forming of the undergarments you thought you had lost the deeper you looked. You were fuming.

Between Suguru and yourself, you divided the chores up evenly the day you moved in together. Him opting to be on laundry duty over trash, both splitting the dishes.

Never once did the thought even cross your mind that they might’ve been kidnapped by your usually sweet roommate; who is in charge of handling those same panties every day; when you were unable to find them anywhere in your space.

You scoffed in disbeleif at his antics, tongue poking the inside of your ckeek, making it bulge.

You heard him say your name from the kitchen when you didnt answer his question.

Wading up the thieved panties in your fist, you stormed out of his room. Stomping down the hall at a much hastier pace than before, his toned back once agains came into your view.

Geto paused his chopping, muscles in his body going rigid, because he swears you just threw something at his back.

Turning his body to face you, he looked down at the underwear at his feet, a smirk creeping onto his face when he drags his sights back up, making eye contact with your furious expression, brain racing with questions only he could answer.

"Whoops," he says, not an ounce of remorse in his tone. He could practically see the steam coming off of the top of your head when your face scrunched up in a scowl.

"What the fuck were you doing with my panties, do you have any idea how long I've been looking for some of those!?", he feels the anger in the air with your every word.

"You sure you want me to answer that?" he giggles, crossing his arms over his bulging pecs, letting the weight off one of his legs as he braced his lower back into the counter.

"Oh my god!" you shook your head, "you're such a fucking pervert!" you shouted.

"Woah, you don't even know what I did with them yet. Don't you think you're jumping to conclusions when you call me that, huh?" he retaliated, faux offense gracing his features before a more smug look took its place.

"There is no non..." throwing your hands up in search of the right word, "freaky explanation as to why you hid my PANTIES suguru!" Lip curled up in frustration again when laughed at your retort, “so I think my choice of words was fitting." you finished, referring to the name you called him.

"Haha! yeahh, you might be right." both hands dropped from his chest and slid into his pockets. "I wrapped them around my cock a couple of times when I was jerkin' off." An amused look sticking to his face when your jaw dropped in speechlessness, face turning completely red at his confession.

"Came all over the crotch of ur pretty panties too, pretended it was ur pussy." his big mouth continued spilling his dirty secrets out into the open air.

"Y-you," stuttering as you felt the air around you shifting into a heavier one, one that you both picked up on, heart racing in your chest matching the throbbing between your legs as you spoke, "pervert."

----

"F-fucking pervert, fuck!" you moaned into the air when his curved cock drilled perfectly into the most sensitive spot inside you for the nth time that evening.

Really hoping Shoko was taking her time as Suguru held your thighs open by your head, pushing your flexability to the limits as he bullied his thick cock inside your gushing pussy.

"Yeah? tell me how fucking nasty I am baby," he groaned with a smile. Eyes not being able to choose their favorite sight as he looked between where the two of you were connected; your cum making a ring form around the base of his cock; and your pretty drooling face that was looking so fucked out.

"S-so f-fucking disgusting for st-ealin' my dirty panties sugu-ru." words getting broken up by your pleasured moans as he brought his hips back till just the tip of his cock was caught on the rim of your little hole, before fucking it back in with such force it made you dizzy.

"C-cant believe you would d-o that." whining loudly when his thick thumb came down to rub circles into your throbbing bud.

Geto felt a tingling sensation of pleasure jolt through his spine at your harsh words, "M' sorry baby," he lied between his teeth, "got tired of seein’ ur cute little ass walk around the house in basically nothing." cooing at you when you squeezed your cunt tightly around his length at his filthy words, "h-had to do something about it,"

The both of you bounced against the bed as you let out loud Ah's and curses in response to his mean thrusts.

"Nothin' compares to this tho," Geto smiled, rubbing your clit faster when he noticed it made you tighten up your pussy, "Fucking ur pretty little pussy like this is so much better than my fist 'n holdin' ur panties against my face."

"S-suguru thats so nas-tyyy." you drawled out when he picked up his pace, fucking into you with such force and speed you thought you were gonna pass out.

Leaning his body into yours, practically crushing you with his weight with your legs dangling over his shoulders, he brought his face just inches from yours, lips grazing each others at his rough thrusts jolting you both around.

"Is it?" he replied to your declaration, opening his mouth and moaning against your lips before he closed the distance, " Felt so fucking good tho," he laughed against you, pushing his tongue into your mouth, his groans mixing with your squeals.

Less of a kiss and more of him just crushing his jaw into your own as he overwhelmed you with his tongue. Greedily inhaling your moans into his lungs as he continued his assult on your sensitive clit.

"Sugu' 'm gonna cum, fuck-" you mumbled against his wet lips. His own high-creeping rapidly up on him, feeling his balls tighten as they slapped against your ass.

"Me too baby m-me too," eyes squeezing together and eyebrows furrowing, thumb against your clit becoming sloppy as he started to lose himself, "gonna let this pervert fill you up, huh?" he babbled, breaking the kiss and buring his head in the crook of your neck while he messily sucked and kissed the skin there.

"Gonna take a-all my fucking cum like a good girl?" his moans raising in pitch, goosebumbs forming on the back of his neck hearing your loud whines and moans go straight into his ear.

"P-please, give it to me, please." you begged, "fu-ck, c-coming," you managed to voice before your cunt constricted around him, squelching noises increasing when your pussy forced your orgasm out around him, "oh m-y go-d" you repeated as he fucked you through it.

Getting thrown into overstimulation as he repeatedly hit your g-spot, not being able to move his thumb off your clit, or even voice him to do so, "cum inside me sugu-ru," you whimpered into his ear, helping him reach his end. Squealing at his rough thrusts losing their once steady pace when he came.

He bit down hard on your neck, groaning and whining into the skin as he fucked his cum into your womb. Timing his heavy thrusts with the ropes of warm seed spurting out of his dick, pressing his balls hard into your ass each time he did, making sure he really filled you up.

Geto’s eyes rolled back in his head feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm spasm around his twitching dick, milking him for all he was worth. "holy shittt." you voiced at how full he was making you feel.

Your overstimulation died down when his brain was no longer able to function well enough to remind him to play with your clit, something you were grateful for.

He silently lifted his head from the crook of your neck and pulled his incredibly sensitive cock out of your warmth. Staring between the two of you to watch his cum drip out of you, his mouth watering.

Your own arm being draped over your face while you tried to catch your breath, blocking you from seeing his next moves.

Holding your legs up and spread by your calves, he leaned down to your pussy and started sucking on your folds.

Caught off gaurd at the simulation you shot your hands down to his head, trying to push him off you at the intense feeling of his fat tongue on your mound.

He forced his tongue into the tight ring of your cunt, greedily drinking up your combined cum and moaning at the taste. Your thighs twitched with the need to shut around his head at the vibration.

Detaching his mouth from your pussy with a 'pop' he sat back on his heels, your calves still in his large palms as he stared at your abused pussy, licking his lips clean.

"So much fucking tastier than your panties." He grinned.

"You really are disgusting Suguru." Shaking your head against the sheets as he finally let your legs drop back down to the mattress.

"Careful, my cock likes when you talk to me like that." He teases, meaning every word as he tucks his drenched cock back into his boxers,

"Whatever, take me to the bathroom please." You said, ignoring his previous comment, "Cant stand and I need to pee." Holding your arms out to him.

He giggled at your dramatics; even tho he really did fuck the strength out of your legs; scooping his palms under your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He raised you from the bed in a princess cradle and started walking you to the bathroom, "You need to learn how to take it easy. Seriously." you chastised, noticing the bruises and bite marks on your neck when you walked past a mirror, "If this is how you're going to treat me when we fuck, you're better off sticking to stealing my panties, at least they won't feel what you do to them." you complained, only partially meaning your words, which he knew.

"Don't act like your pussy doesn't throb when you see how I marked you up." you rolled your eyes at his retort, making it to the bathroom that neighbors a wall with the kitchen. He placed you down on the seat of the toilet before backing up and leaning against the doorway, facing the doorframe parallel to him as he let you do your business.

"I just had to listen to you guys fuck each other like rabbits for ten minutes, please don't make me listen to you dirty talk each other outside of the bedroom too."

You knew that voice.

"Shoko! good to see you, didn't realize you made yourself at home." Geto snarkily remarked.

"Your pretty roomie gave me a key you big oaf, now go hide in your room for awhile kay?" she brushed her hand in the air, signaling him to fuck off, "Was suposed to take her out but its sounding like you broke her legs so.. well just watch a movie here." she sighed.

Geto brought his attention back to you once more. He had to fight back the laugh burning in his lungs when he saw your crimson face buried in your hands, shinji posing on the toilet in embarrassment.

Stupid fucking panty thief.

“pt.2” here

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

i need some smut with all of the diasomnia members

(AFAB! reader will be appreciated or if it has a breeding kink if not then its okay since anything you create is insanely good)

love ur work btw one of my favorite creators here also don’t mind the hate comments they just don’t like peace or happiness. Stay hydrated and have a good day!!

I turned off Anon-asks because of the people who can’t speak respectfully, but tysm! Also, I am ~95% sure that you wanted all of the Diasomnia members together…? However, I felt a bit weird about it since their relationship is a lot like family, so I changed it a bit.

Warnings: AFAB!Reader who uses She/Her pronouns, Polyamory, Breeding, Sebek whimpers, Cunnilingus/Oral (Reader Receiving), Overstimulation, Aftercare.

Diasomnia

It had been a few months since you entered this… new relationship with the Diasomnia crew. 

Basically, it all started when each of them realized that they had feelings for you, despite you dating Silver, and Silver was more than alright with sharing. However, due to the conflict of relationships, you all agreed that you would not lay in bed together.

After all: Despite no one being blood-related, it was still weird.

Anyway, this week was a rough week for everyone, with Malleus being forgotten from a meeting; Sebek, you, and Silver having had to study a bunch for upcoming tests and exams; and Lilia being sad that Malleus did not have an heir yet.

In other words, everyone needed some relief, and you were more than willing to spread your legs and welcome them. 

However… This time, there was a twist. 

~~~~~~~~

Silver went first. After all, he was very close to falling asleep, and he was probably going to be the most gentle with you. A warm-up, if you will.

He knelt on the floor, bringing you to the edge of the bed as he tongue-fucked you, his teeth grazing lightly on your clit before he grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulders. The touch grounded him, reminding him to stay awake. Your scent nearly made him high.

Drawing another orgasm from you, his grip tightened to hold you still as his face became covered in your juices. He moaned a bit at your taste, the vibrations of his voice making you writhe even more under his grasp. 

However, he soon felt his eyes growing heavy, so he pulled away from your dripping cunt to tag in Sebek. ~~~~~~~~

To say that you were overstimulated would be an understatement, especially since Sebek’s size was nothing to laugh at. He mounted you, and thanks to Silver, he slid right in.

Before you, he was a total virgin, and he was still learning the ropes around sex, but his desperate thrusts and whimpers were more than enough to make your brain melt from the pleasure he was giving you.

However, no matter how desperate he was, it was a rule between the five of you that Malleus was the only one allowed to come inside you… so when Sebek got close, he pulled out and stroked himself to finish all over your back. 

Before he left to head to bed, he grabbed a warm towel to help prepare you for Malleus. After all, the incoming Prince needs the best, right?

~~~~~~~~

Malleus was, by far, the largest size you have ever taken.

He always had you in a mating press, always wanting to be able to see your beautiful face as he gently thrusted into you. Actually, it was more like rutting. His entire shaft didn’t fit in all the way, as he only ever managed to fit half of it all at once.

You were the louder one out of the two of you, especially as he sank his fangs into your neck to muffle his grunts. The pretty noises you made would always be his favorite to hear, and he wouldn’t be able to hear them if he was making any unnecessary noises. When he neared his finish, he stilled inside you as he filled you up, painting your insides white with thick cum. Then, he put a pillow under your hips to ensure that nothing spilled. After all, an heir needed to be produced, right?

~~~~~~~~

Lilia… he surprisingly had no need to get off. He knew you were tuckered out, and he didn’t feel that insatiable urge for sex as much as he used to back in his younger days.

As he cleaned you up with a warm cloth, he giggled at your blissed out expression.

“You know, dearie… The Briar Valley Queen would love to meet you soon… especially since you will be carrying Malleus’s heir very soon.” You thought about his words, smiling softly and nodding. “Perhaps… over the next Winter Break… I may go with you all? I have heard many things about Her Majesty, and I would love to meet her as well.” Lilia was happy to know that you did not have much of an issue with the situation. He thought that you would have an issue with having to carry a dragon’s heir, but you seemed very excited about the thought of becoming a mother. “You shall make an excellent mother, my dear.. We are very excited to be with you on the rewarding, mind-changing journey that is pregnancy.”

Soon, your eyelids started growing heavier and heavier, and the sweet abyss that is called ‘sleep’ started taking over.

“Goodnight, lovely. See you in the morning.”

[caotictimmy]

I ATE THE WHOLE DAISUKE DATING HC AND I MUST SAY ALL THE BRAINROT THAT HAS BEEN STEWING IN MY MIND!!!

I think he's such a golden retriever bf 😭 like both ways— sfw and nsfw. HES SO DOWN BAD FOR YOU, he loves you so much and fjdkkd if his partner also has physical contact as a primary love language, he would die for headpats. Like genuinely, give this guy headpats be when you two are cuddling or when you are both in an intimate moment. You could reward him with a little patpat on the head when Swansea is not looking, and he would lean in to your touch a little bit before reminding himself, he needs to learn!! he needs to make you proud

NOW NSFW-WISEE.....

Praise kink goes so hard on him is insane

He could be eating you out with sparkles in his eyes, almost like asking if he's doing a good job, and if you do express it, tell him he's such a good boy, how good you are feeling because of HIM, he's going to go harder on you out of pure happiness—hes doing a good job!! you're like this because of his work and that amazes him

i could write more but my mind is a mess and im so sleepy wnwnkd.

🐁 out!!!

🐁 anon I love your thinking please don’t spontaneously combust. BUT IM SO GLAD THE HIM LIKING HIS HAIR/HEAD TOUCHED IS CATCHING ON OMG….

Sfw headcanons/thoughts

- Now that I’m thinking of it. I should have known he’d like head pats. LIKE I ALREADY GOT THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER BF VIBE FROM HIM.

- But he definitely loves getting head pats or his hair ruffled! Specifically he really likes it after/is doing something good. Like normal head pats are fine but. Knowing your giving him them because he did something good?!?!

- You guys have definitely gotten called weirdos by Swansea, cause you patted Daisuke’s head. Swansea wont say anything cause this man is emotionally constipated 💔. But he’s glad Daisuke has someone who Daisuke can be his true weird self.

- If your hand is somewhere close to his head, and he wants head pats. Daisuke will head butt his head against your hand to show he wants you to either play with his hair, pat his head, scratch his scalp, etc ect.

- I think like the first time he head butt your hand for attention was when y’all were cuddling. You had your hand by his head. And you weren’t taking hid obvious hints! (Slightly nudging at you). So well he just thunked his head against your hand. Ever since then he keeps doing that when he wants you to play with his hair

NSFW - DO NOT READ IF YOUR A MINOR OR UNCOMFORTABLE WITH NSFW (mostly AFAB some Gn )

- Omg please pull his hair. PLEASE. He loves it so much. Like holy moly. If you pull his hair while he’s deep inside. HES COMING IMMEDIATELY! Like pull just right and omg. It’s like a switch in his brain. And that man is going HARDER AND FASTER. Like I hope to burnt curly Anya can lend you a wheel chair.

- Omg just imagine Daisuke pulling his hair back during sex. OMG MY GYATTTT. Guys I see the light and it’s Daisuke pulling his hair back.

-(AFAB) I just thought of something. GYAHH IMAGINE SEEING DAISUKE TIES HIS HAIR BACK TO EAT YOU OUT(might need to make this into a FIC).I’m Actually foaming at the mouth. Guys wait let me cook.

“wait!”. Daisuke said. Before rolling a hair tie he had on his wrist for working on machines. Biting it as he collects his hair. Tying it up in a ponytail. Before pushing his sleeves up. Daisuke Looks back at You with a smile. “Now I’m ready” he say cheekily.

- Guys someone please draw Daisuke with a sexy man ponytail please I’ll be in debt with you. PLEASE HE’LL LOOK SO HOT JUST TRUST MY VISON!!!!

-(AFAB) Omg and grip his hair while he’s eating you out. Like omg if you’re pulling at his hair moaning. He’s gonna feel so good about himself knowing he’s pleasing you. Also if you ever shoved his face in your cunt while he’s eating you out. You gave yourself a death wish. CAUSE THIS MAN WILL NOT STOP UNTIL YOU HAVE TO PULL HIS HEAD AWAY.

You couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like he couldn’t stop. The pleasure was getting to much. You gripped his hair. Feeling him moan in you. You pull his head back, letting out that breath you didn’t know you were holding in. You could hear him catching his breath before hearing him let out a sad noise. You looked down seeing Daisuke giving you these sad puppy dog eyes. “Did I do something wrong.” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“No no! Just needed-“. You huffed, “need..need a moment.” You said dazed. He paused for a moment. The glimmer in his eyes back with a vengeance. He starts to grin. “Did I..” He started. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, cleaning your slick off around his mouth. “Did I do good?” He asked. Daisuke happily looking up at you waiting for your response. His grin got wider as he felt your hand rub against his head.

Authors note: GYAHH I LOVED THIS REQUEST SMMMM. Like, reblogd, and especially comments are appreciated! This was so fun writing thud.

[punkshort]

First Impressions

Thanks anon for this request!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader one-shot

Summary: When your heater breaks in the dead of winter, you get more than you bargained for when Joel Miller arrives to fix it.

Warnings: language, some fluff, the stress and fear that comes with living in the wilderness during a zombie apocalypse, competency kink (a little), smut (18+ MDNI), dirty talk

WC: 4.2K

Adjusting to life in Jackson was tough. You had been on your own for so long, you found it nearly impossible to ever fully relax. You were grateful Tommy and Maria took you in after one of their patrols stumbled across you freezing in the thick Wyoming wilderness, but to be yanked from the brink of death and dropped into some thriving community that seemingly even managed to still celebrate the holidays was too jarring.

So, you kept to yourself for a while. You pitched in around the stables. It was where you felt most comfortable: less people, more animals. You didn't go to the dining hall to eat and you didn't visit the bar for a drink. You had a clear cut path from your house to the stables and back, and you rarely ever strayed.

Unfortunately, while Jackson had a lot to offer and did incredibly well at reviving civilization, things still did break. Like your space heater.

You piled on extra blankets for a week, and then you moved to the living room to sleep on the tiny sofa in front of the fireplace, but eventually your back was screaming at you for it and the cold weather wouldn't let up for at least another two months, so you had no choice but to ask for help.

Tommy was shocked you hadn't said something sooner and apologized for making you feel like you couldn't ask for help, even though it wasn't at all his fault or anyone else's except your own, and promised to have his brother stop by that afternoon to take a look at it.

While you kept to yourself and hardly socialized at all, that didn't stop you from overhearing things at the stables. You knew of Tommy's brother. How people whispered rumors behind his back and fell silent whenever he stepped foot inside the building.

Did you know he slit a raider's throat and made the guy's girlfriend watch?

He beat the shit out of Seth the other night just for looking at him wrong.

Back in Boston, I heard he knocked some guy's teeth down his throat for taking the last of the beef jerky.

Someone told me he only sleeps two hours a night.

He fixed Greg's shower and told him not to fuck it up again or else he'll be taking baths in the kitchen sink.

Were you intimidated? Maybe a little. But you had been on your own for so long, fighting and scratching and clawing to stay alive. Some asshole wasn't going to shake you up.

Then you saw him.

Well, you'd seen him before, sure. But just glimpses in the barn or passing by him on the street. Never up close.

When you opened your front door later that afternoon, you were a little taken aback. He was so much more handsome than you had thought. He was built like a refrigerator; broad and strong. His cheeks and chin were dusted in a patchy, greying beard, growing right below a hooked nose and deep, velvety brown eyes. There were a few scars littering his bronzed skin but what drew your attention more was his hair. His fucking hair. Loose, mostly grey curls that fell past his ear and down the back of his neck. Not long enough to pull into a ponytail, like Tommy, but give it a few more months and he might. He had them pushed back from his face, making the silken locks look like a cascading river so enticing, you had to hold yourself back from touching them.

He said your name and readjusted the toolbox in his hand and you blinked yourself back to life before stepping aside to let him in. When he passed you, you were hit with the strong scent of wood shavings and coffee, an intoxicating combination that had your brain buffering once again.

"Tommy said you needed your heater looked at?"

You nodded and pointed up the stairs. "It's in my bedroom. Can I, uh, get you something to drink? Coffee?"

He perked up at that once he slid off his jacket and shoes. "You got coffee?"

You nodded and walked toward the kitchen, rummaging through your meager belongings until you found the precious tin can. "That's the one thing I always made sure I grabbed if I ever saw it out there. If we have to live like this, at least I'm still having my coffee."

Joel grinned and set the toolbox down on your counter, watching as you filled up a kettle with water. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest. He couldn't believe how lucky he was that your stupid heater broke, giving him the perfect excuse to finally meet you so he could stop pining from afar. "You don't like it much here, then?"

You startled at that, giving him a look of surprise before lighting your stove.

"No, I didn't mean here, I just meant... you know... the world in general."

"I know, I'm just teasin' you," he said a little awkwardly with a soft chuckle. You turned around, leaning against your counter and crossing your arms over your chest. You had just spoken a few words but so far, nothing about this man screamed scary. In fact, he seemed rather... sweet.

"How long have you been here?" you asked while you waited for the water to boil.

"'Bout five years," he said thoughtfully, scratching his chin. "You're new, though."

You nodded, your fingers fidgeting underneath your bicep. "Yeah. I think it's been almost a month. I'm not really sure, never bothered keeping track of the days out there."

Joel studied you up for a moment, picking up on your eyes shifting over your surroundings, your foot tapping anxiously on the floor, and the way you kept your back protected when you spoke to him.

"I remember when we first got here," Joel said. Your fidgeting paused and you looked at him again. "It was tough. Acclimatin' to this kind of life. Hard to sleep. Hard to trust anyone. It took time but eventually, you start sleepin' soundly again and that guard comes down. You'll see."

A slow smile spread across your face and you looked down shyly at your feet. "Am I that obvious?"

Joel laughed and strolled over to the two mugs and can of instant coffee you had sitting out. "Wouldn't say it's obvious but I haven't seen you at the dining hall one time. In fact, pretty sure this is the first time I've heard your voice." Your cheeks warmed up behind his back and you bit your lower lip. So he's noticed you enough to realize you never went to the dining hall.

"It's a pretty one," he said over his shoulder, focusing on scooping the correct amount of coffee into each mug. "Your voice, I mean. Shame you been keepin' it hidden all this time."

"O-oh," you stuttered, completely flustered by his compliments. This was not at all the man everyone made him out to be. "Thank you."

Joel carefully poured the boiling water into each mug before giving them each a stir, then handed you one. "You're welcome, darlin'. Now why don't you show me to your bedroom?"

Your eyes must have bugged out of your head because at first, he frowned, then after he realized what he said, turned a shade of pink you didn't know he was capable of.

"I mean, for the heater."

"Yeah, oh Christ, I know," you said, waving him off and heading for the stairs, your mug clutched so tightly in one hand you thought it might break. You lead Joel to the first door on the left and stepped back so he had room to swing his toolbox through the narrow door with him.

"I don't know what happened," you said, trailing in after him while he began to set out some tools on the ground. When he knelt down, he groaned at the creak in his knees and you quickly grabbed a spare pillow. "Here, kneel on this," you offered. He looked up at the pillow, then at you, and shook his head.

"I ain't kneelin' on your pillow."

"It's a spare. I only use the one. And honestly, even that seems too much sometimes."

He sighed and hesitated for only a moment longer before taking the pillow from your hand. "Thank you," he said softly. You smiled and sat down on the edge of your bed after putting your coffee on the end table with his.

"Anyway. As I was saying, I don't know what happened. It was working fine and then one day it just wouldn't turn on. I tried other outlets and I didn't see any issues with the cord, so I just gave up."

Joel began to unscrew the back of the heater while he listened. "So you gave up and slept in the cold for two weeks?"

"Nothing I wasn't used to."

He couldn't argue with that.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence while he worked until he began to hum some old country song under his breath, making you smile again. You couldn't remember the last time you smiled so much.

"What're you smilin' for?" he asked with a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

"You aren't at all the way people say you are," you said boldly.

He quirked an eyebrow and turned his attention back to his work. "And what have you heard?"

You shrugged and leaned back on your hands. "Threatened a man after breaking his shower. Knocked out some guy named Seth. That you only sleep two hours a night," you chuckled at the last one when you heard how silly it sounded.

"Well," Joel said with a heavy sigh. "I didn't threaten anyone about their shower. Just reminded him he's gotta take care of the pipes or else the whole place'll rot."

You grinned to yourself as he continued to explain the rumors.

"I did punch Seth but he said somethin' real nasty 'bout my girl and, well, that just don't sit right with me."

Your grin slid right off your face. "Your girl?"

He stopped what he was doing and swiveled around to face you. "My - Ellie. Her name's Ellie. She's, uh, well... she ain't my daughter, but..."

Relief flooded your veins. "Oh. I thought you meant -"

"No, no," Joel said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "No, not like that." He twirled a wrench around in between his fingers as he nervously bit the inside of his cheek before adding, "Don't got anyone like that."

Your mouth formed a silent oh. Message received.

Joel cleared his throat again and turned back to the heater. "And the sleep thing, well, they got me there," he chuckled with a shake of his head. "Although some nights are better than others."

"I know what you mean," you said with a nod. After a moment of silence, Joel smiled to himself.

"Imagine y'do if you ain't got any heat at night."

You giggled and he smiled again, this time his chest swelling when he heard you laugh.

Joel continued to work on the heater while you studied him quietly. He took you by complete surprise. The last thing you expected was to make a friend out of the fearsome Joel Miller. It didn't hurt that he was so easy on the eyes, either. How old was he? Your gaze roamed over his greying hair and the crinkles next to his eyes. Older than you, definitely, but it was hard to tell by how much.

You couldn't even remember the last time you were interested in anyone. It must have been when you were in the Atlanta QZ, and that was years ago.

"Alright, let's give her a run," Joel suddenly said. When you refocused on him, you saw he had put the heater back together and was fixing it upright. He plugged it into the wall and hovered his finger over the power button before glancing back at you. "Ready?"

You nodded and swung your legs back and forth over the edge of your bed, then he winked at you, sending warmth all over your body. Jesus, if Joel kept giving you little looks like that, you wouldn't have much need for a heater anymore.

He pressed the button and sure enough, the coils inside the heater began to glow orange and heat started to fill the room.

"Oh!" you exclaimed, jumping off the bed in excitement. "Thank you!" you added, kneeling on the floor as well so you could warm your hands in front of the heater.

"Anytime," Joel murmured, and it wasn't until you heard the deep timber of his voice next to you that you realized he was so close. You tilted your face, smiling shyly at him next to you. Up close, you could see the fine lines in his face in much more detail, each one calling out to you to trace with your fingertip. When you met his gaze, you found he had been examining you, as well. Quickly, you looked away and stood up.

"Is there anythin' else?" Joel asked as he began to pack up his toolbox. You shook your head.

"No, I think that'll do it."

"You sure? Thought I saw that faucet drippin' in the kitchen."

You frowned. "No, I didn't notice that," you said slowly.

"What 'bout those windows?" he asked, standing up with a grunt and gesturing to the two bedroom windows on the other side of the room. "Need help hangin' curtains?"

You looked where he was pointing. "No, never really bothered me. Besides, it faces the backyard. No one can see in."

He laughed softly and rubbed his chin before shooting you a sheepish look. "I'm tryin' to find a reason to stay, sweetheart."

Your eyes widened and once again, you felt your cheeks heat up.

"Oh," you said, shyly dropping your gaze to the floor to hide your smile. "I would like that."

"Yeah?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah. You're, um," you shifted your weight nervously, "you're sweet. And nice."

Joel huffed and set his toolbox back down. "I ain't nice all the time," he warned. "But you ain't gotta worry 'bout that."

"No?" you questioned, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as he began to close the distance between you.

He sighed and cupped your face with both hands. Your body instantly melted at his touch, your knees practically giving out when he dragged his thumb across your lip, saving it from your teeth. "Am I readin' this wrong?" he asked, his eyes darting all over your face. You quickly shook your head and stepped even closer.

"Thank Christ," he breathed before capturing your lips in a deep kiss. It had been several years and you were a little rusty, but you quickly found it was like riding a bike.

Joel's kiss lit a fire in you, one that had gone dormant for so long. Your fingers curled around the lapels of his flannel, the material warm and soft, just like him, and with the confidence boost that came from his hands dropping to grab excitedly at your hips, you walked him backwards until he bumped against the edge of your mattress.

He sat down on your bed with an oomph and you crawled into his lap, not once breaking the kiss.

"Wish I got to know you sooner," he whispered, tipping his head back when your lips traveled down his neck. Fuck, even his neck was sexy. "Always so skittish and shy," he continued, his palms gliding up and down your back.

You laughed softly against his skin and leaned back. "You still don't really know me."

He grinned and shrugged. "I'd like to, if you're willin'," he said, his vulnerability making your chest ache. You sunk your teeth into your lower lip again and nodded.

"Good," he said, his hands roaming further past your waist to cup your ass. "'Cause I like what I know so far."

"You're full of surprises," you told him, giggling when he gave your ass a firm squeeze. "You're so much more... you're more gentle and sweet than I expected."

Joel smirked and tugged you closer so you felt his erection trapped within his jeans. "I can be gentle," he told you, nipping at your jaw. "Or I can be rough. Whatever you like."

You swallowed when you caught the mischievous glint in his dark eyes. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mhmm," he said, and before you could blink he had spun you around so your back was pressed into the mattress while he hovered above you. You had to admit, he was adorable. He had to be pushing sixty but he was talking like a man half his age. After you heard the way his knees creaked when he was fixing your heater, you figured he was all talk, or maybe he just needed the ego boost to hype himself up.

But the speed in which he removed your clothes should have been the first sign that your impression of him was wrong. When he buried himself inside you, his surprisingly thick length stretching you open and nudging the furthest depths of you, you got the message.

When you gasped and tipped your head back, his big hand immediately rose to cup the side of your face and tilt it back down so he could watch your face as you unraveled beneath him. Each little noise and moan seemed to egg him on, like he fed off your sounds and the way your face twisted in pleasure when his coarse hair rubbed against your clit with each roll of his hips.

"Wanna see you," he explained, eyes scanning all over your face. "Wanna watch you take it. You'll keep your eyes on me, won't you? Hm? You'll be good for me, yeah?"

You nodded, your mind a muddled mess. The only thing you could seem to focus on was the slow and deliberate drag of his heavy cock in and out of you. Joel pressed your knees back against your chest as far as you could handle and pushed inside you further with a rough grunt. He managed to get so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach and the sensation left you breathless.

"So fuckin' pretty, y'know that?" he groaned, gazing down at you without breaking rhythm. His long locks loosened and hung past his eyes, tempting you to smooth them back. "Wanted to get to know you f'so long but I couldn't ever catch your eye," he admitted with a little smirk. You moaned when his hips began to swirl, switching the angle ever so slightly and setting your nerves alight.

"I-I... oh, god," you whined, already struggling to keep your eyes on him like he asked. "I didn't know."

He lunged forward and crashed his mouth against yours hungrily, his exhale fanning over your cheek. Then just as suddenly as he kissed you, he leaned back and pulled out.

"Turn over," he instructed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he dragged in air. You did as you were told and shakily held yourself up on your hands and knees.

"Fuck," he muttered behind you. Your face went hot and you tucked your chin into your shoulder as you waited for him to enter you again, but he chose to take an extra minute to glide his hand over the curves of your hips and ass. If you had been able to see him, you would have seen a look of awe and appreciation on his face.

"Always wondered what you had hidden under all those clothes," he said as he lined himself up at your entrance. You cried out his name when he finally slid back inside, the angle already too intense and he hadn't even begun to move. "Goddamn, wanna run my tongue over every fuckin' inch of you, baby," he growled, fingers gripping your sides as he tried to ground himself.

He gave you a few gentle thrusts to get used to it before he couldn't hold back any longer. He pounded into you, his eyes fixed on your ass and the way it bounced with every snap of his hips. One hand slowly reached down to trace your spine, marveling at the way your body welcomed him. Then you arched your back and you both moaned at the slight change and he could feel his stomach begin to tense in anticipation of his release.

"So fuckin' tight," he said through clenched teeth. You could hear him breathing heavily as his thrusts grew sloppy and you began to panic, sensing he was about to come before you were ready. But then as if he read your mind, one of his hands snaked around your front to draw fast circles over your clit.

"C'mon, give it t'me," he said with a grunt. "Wanna feel this perfect pussy squeeze me, want you to be feelin' me for fuckin' days, sweetheart."

"Oh, shit," you gasped, mouth hanging open in a mixture of ecstasy and surprise. You wondered how on earth everyone in town had so much to say about Joel's reputation but somehow managed to leave out how mind-blowing he happened to be in bed.

"Christ, honey. Ain't gonna last much longer," he groaned, his fingers working even faster between your legs. He pounded into you harder, punching the air from your lungs and pushing you closer and closer to your peak. Your breaths were coming in shallow pants and you could feel the swell building deep inside you, threatening to unleash at any second. You reached behind you frantically, searching for some part of him to hold onto when you found his hand pressed firmly onto your hip. Your fingers clasped over his as you felt the pressure build up quickly and you knew in that moment this one encounter was going to single-handedly ruin you.

The moment you fell apart while practically screaming his name, your cunt pulsing around him and your body shaking, he almost made a huge mistake. Finally getting to witness what you looked like when you came was more than enough, but hearing his name over and over while your body shook with pleasure? It was too much and he was only just a man who was holding on by his goddamn fingernails as it was. But fortunately, he managed to pull out just in time to paint your lower back with his cum. He knew he was making some ungodly sounds as relief flooded his veins, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He had been daydreaming about taking you apart like that for weeks and now that he finally had you, there was no turning back.

"Oh, fuck," he gasped, lifting his chin towards the ceiling while dragging in deep lungfuls of air. You collapsed flat onto your stomach with a grunt and he tilted his face back down to grin as how spent you looked.

Still got it.

"I'll be right back, darlin'," he told you. You mumbled something tiredly in response before he slipped out of your room to get a washcloth from your bathroom and returned quickly to clean you up.

"Thank you," you said, turning your face so you could watch him gently wipe up his mess. His eyes flickered to yours and he smirked.

"You thankin' me for fixin' the heater, for fuckin' you, or for cleanin' you up?"

You giggled, your voice a little hoarse when you replied, "All of the above."

You flipped over onto your back and his eyes immediately drifted down your naked body, his breath catching in the back of his throat at how perfect you were. Even better than he ever imagined.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, letting the rag fall to the floor so he could glide his hand up your thigh, over your hips and stomach to one of your breasts which, he realized far too late, had gone neglected. Next time.

"So are you," you whispered back, bringing a hand up to play with the long curls resting on the back of his neck. He shook his head shyly and looked away.

"I need a haircut."

"I like it just the way it is," you told him, twisting a lock of hair around one finger and watching as it loosely bounced back when you let it go. "Gives me something to grab onto," you joked. A wide smile stretched across his face and his eyes looked like he was staring at the tree on Christmas morning.

"So, uh," Joel began when the silence stretched on for too long. "I meant it earlier. 'Bout gettin' to know you better." He couldn't remember the last time he felt so nervous. He could feel his face heating up and he prayed you didn't notice. "I know you don't like goin' to the dining hall but I'd really like to have dinner with you. I can't make much but I can make stew, if y'wanna-"

"I would go to the dining hall with you," you said, cutting him off. His eyes snapped back up to yours and he shot you a nervous smile.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said with a little shrug before sitting up and draping your arms around his shoulders. "As long as you're there, I'll go."

He grinned and leaned forward to kiss you, still in complete disbelief his wildest fantasy actually came true.

"How 'bout tomorrow, then?" he asked a little breathlessly when he broke the kiss.

Your eyes lit up and you nodded. "It's a date."

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[bettys-redwinesupernova]

FEAR OF WATER

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: after an abusive past, y/n struggles with toxic communication in her relationship with rafe. when fear pushes her away, love teaches her to stay.

based on this ask !! this was a really angsty and emotional one to write and i LOVED it anon, so thank you, and apologies it’s taken a while <3

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: angst w/ a comforting ending, slightly toxic!reader (unintentional), emotional abuse (by readers ex), trauma responses, arguing, crying, cursing, soft!rafe, fear of letting people in, flinching, detailed descriptions of emotional abuse & manipulation. (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

THIRD PERSON +

The slam of the front door rattled the picture frames on the walls, the weight of Y/N’s footsteps heavy against the wooden floor as she stormed into the kitchen. Her hands were shaking—she hated that they always did when she was this upset. It made her feel weak, even when the anger inside her burned so hot she thought it might consume her entirely.

Rafe followed behind, slower, guarded. He had that look in his eyes again—the one that made her stomach twist with guilt before she could even process why. The look of someone who was tired, not from the fight itself, but from the exhaustion of never knowing how the next argument would go.

“I don’t get why you’re acting like this,” she spat, her voice sharper than she intended. “You know exactly what you did.”

Rafe exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “Y/N, I don’t—what did I do? Just tell me.”

His calmness made her angrier. It made her feel unheard, like he wasn’t taking this seriously. Her brain was wired to expect resistance, to expect gaslighting, to prepare for the fight that had always followed in her past relationship.

“You said you’d call, and you didn’t. You do this all the time, Rafe. You make promises, and then you break them, like it doesn’t even matter.”

“That’s not fair,” he said carefully. “I got caught up at work. I should’ve called, I’m sorry, but it’s not like I did it on purpose.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, right. There’s always an excuse.”

He frowned, stepping closer, but she took a step back, arms folding over her chest like she was shielding herself from an attack that wasn’t coming. He sighed, something pained flickering across his face.

“Do you hear how you’re talking to me right now?” His voice was quiet, not angry, not defensive—just… tired.

And that was when it hit her.

She wasn’t even really arguing with him. Not Rafe. Not the boy who held her when she had nightmares, who traced circles on her back when she was overwhelmed, who had never once raised his voice at her even when she threw words like daggers. She was arguing with the ghost of the man who had hurt her before, who had made her feel like she had to fight to be heard, to be understood.

Her chest tightened, shame creeping up her spine.

She was training him.

She was teaching Rafe—patient, loving Rafe—that no matter how hard he tried, it would never be good enough for her. That he’d always be walking on eggshells, waiting for the next time he slipped up and she lashed out.

She was turning him into someone who feared her.

The realisation knocked the air from her lungs, and before she could stop herself, her feet were already moving, carrying her toward the door.

“Y/N, wait,” Rafe called, but she couldn’t—she couldn’t.

If she let him say something kind, if she let him look at her with that soft, exhausted sadness in his eyes, she’d break down right in front of him.

She barely registered getting into her car, barely noticed the shaking of her hands as she fumbled with the keys.

And then she was driving.

Her vision blurred with tears, and she blinked them away furiously, but they just kept coming, spilling down her cheeks in hot, silent streams.

She had pushed him too far this time.

She knew it—knew, in the deepest part of her heart, that there was only so much someone could take.

She wanted to be better. She needed to be better. But how could she, when she didn’t even know what that looked like? When she had spent so long being told that love was a battlefield, that the only way to be heard was to yell louder, fight harder?

She should’ve let Rafe in. She should’ve told him why she reacted the way she did, why she felt like she had to accuse before she could be accused, hurt before she could be hurt.

But it was too late.

She had to leave before he could do it to her.

Because that’s what she had been taught—that love never stayed, that sooner or later, they always left.

And she’d rather be the one walking away than the one being abandoned.

The thought shattered something inside her, and for the first time in a long time, she let herself sob.

—

Rafe had never felt this kind of exhaustion before.

It wasn’t the kind that came after a long day working in the heat or the kind that settled in his bones after a sleepless night. No, this was different. It was the weight of not knowing—the crushing uncertainty of whether or not he had just lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He hadn’t stopped calling since the moment Y/N ran out of his house. The first few went straight to voicemail. Then, after what felt like an eternity, a text finally came through.

I’m safe. I just need some space.

The relief had been instant—so strong that his knees nearly buckled. But it didn’t last long. Because the truth was, she might be safe, but she wasn’t okay.

And the worst part? He didn’t know how to fix it.

Rafe sat on the edge of his bed, phone still clutched in his hands, staring at the screen like it might give him the answers he needed. But there were no answers—just the hollow ache in his chest and the endless loop of their fight playing over and over again in his head.

It wasn’t the argument itself that unsettled him. Couples fought—it was normal. He and Y/N had had disagreements before, sure, but never like this.

The way she’d looked at him tonight wasn’t how someone looked at the person they loved. It was how someone looked at a threat.

And that… that was what haunted him the most.

Rafe never wanted to be something Y/N had to defend herself against.

His thoughts raced, trying to piece together why she had reacted the way she did. It wasn’t like he’d done anything that bad—he’d forgotten to call. That was all. It wasn’t like he lied, or cheated, or intentionally hurt her. And yet, the second he tried to explain, she had shut down, turned on him, twisted it into something it wasn’t.

It was almost like… she expected him to hurt her.

The realisation hit him hard.

Y/N had mentioned her ex before, offhandedly. Just a couple of times. She never said much, just that he was shitty, that he messed her up.

But this… this was more than just the baggage of a bad breakup. This was damage.

And if there was anyone who might have more answers, it was Sarah.

—

Sarah wasn’t surprised when she opened the door to find Rafe standing there, disheveled and tense, like he’d been pacing for hours.

She sighed, leaning against the frame. “I figured you’d show up eventually.”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Did she tell you?”

Sarah nodded her head. “She sent me a short text. It was reallt vague, but I gathered it wasn’t good.”

Rafe swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I just… I don’t understand. She got so defensive. It was like—like she thought I was trying to hurt her. And when I tried to calm things down, it just made her angrier.”

Sarah’s expression softened. “Rafe…” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “You know her last relationship wasn’t good, right?”

“She said it was shitty, but—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t realise how bad.”

Sarah sighed, crossing her arms. “Her ex was emotionally abusive. Manipulative. The kind of guy who’d twist things until she thought she was the problem. He made her question everything. Gaslit her, isolated her. It took her forever to get out.”

Rafe’s stomach twisted.

Y/N had never told him any of that.

Sarah continued, her voice quieter now. “She’s not like this because she wants to be, Rafe. It’s a trauma response. She learned to survive by being defensive. By fighting back first before she could be blamed. And now, even when she’s with someone who actually loves her, it’s hard to unlearn that.”

Rafe nodded slowly, his jaw tight. He could see it now, see how it all fit together.

How the moment something felt like it could go wrong, Y/N would push him away. How she always needed control over the situation, how she sometimes twisted his words—not because she wanted to hurt him, but because that’s how she had survived before.

She wasn’t fighting him. She was fighting the past.

Sarah sighed. “I don’t want to say more—it’s not my story to tell. But if you really care about her, you’ll be patient. She needs to learn how to trust that you’re not him.”

Rafe nodded, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I do care,” he muttered. “More than I probably should.”

Sarah gave him a small, sad smile. “Then don’t give up on her yet.”

—

Rafe sat in his truck, staring at the dark road ahead, his mind still reeling from everything Sarah had told him.

It all made sense now.

It wasn’t that Y/N didn’t love him. It wasn’t even that she wanted to hurt him. It was that she didn’t know any different.

And that broke his fucking heart.

He thought about the way she looked at him when they weren’t fighting—when she was curled up in his arms, or when she laughed at something stupid he said, or when she kissed him like he was the only thing keeping her steady.

That was her.

Not the girl who lashed out. Not the girl who pushed and twisted things in an attempt to stay in control.

He couldn’t let this be the thing that ended them.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it was that Y/N deserved to be loved the right way. She deserved someone who wouldn’t run just because loving her required patience.

She deserved someone who would stay.

And if that meant showing up even when she didn’t know how to ask him to—if that meant proving to her that he wasn’t like the man who hurt her—then he’d do it.

He threw the truck into drive, determination settling in his chest.

He needed to see her.

He needed to talk to her.

So Rafe headed towards his place to grab his phone before heading to Y/N’s to fix things.

He had barely stepped into his house when the knock echoed through the quiet space.

He frowned, glancing toward the door. He hadn’t been expecting anyone, and after the night he’d had, he wasn’t exactly in the mood for surprises. But when he pulled it open, his breath caught in his throat.

Y/N stood there, her frame swallowed by an oversized hoodie, sleeves pulled over her hands as she twisted the fabric between trembling fingers. Her eyes—blood-shot and swollen from crying—met his with a hesitance that made his chest ache.

She looked afraid.

Not of him.

But of what came next.

“Y/N—”

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice was hoarse, like she’d been crying for hours. Maybe she had. The weight of everything unsaid hung between them, thick and suffocating. Rafe wanted to say something, anything, but she beat him to it.

And when she spoke, the words tumbled out in a frantic, shaky rush.

“I—God, I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted, sniffing as she swiped a sleeve under her nose. “I just—I need to say this before I lose my nerve.”

Rafe nodded slowly, heart pounding. “Okay.”

She took a deep breath, and then, like a dam breaking, everything spilled out.

“My ex—he wasn’t just shitty, Rafe. He was toxic. He—he manipulated me, controlled me, made me think I was losing my mind. Every time we fought, he’d twist my words until I couldn’t even tell what was real anymore. And when I got upset, that became the problem. I was the problem. He convinced me I was crazy. That I was too much, too sensitive, too difficult to love.”

Her voice cracked, and Rafe’s hands clenched into fists at his sides.

He had felt it before—the anger, the quiet rage that settled deep in his bones whenever he thought about the way Y/N’s past had left its mark on her. But now, hearing her say it aloud, it burned white-hot in his veins.

“I spent so much time walking on eggshells, just waiting for the next thing he’d use against me,” she continued, voice thick with emotion. “So eventually, I just… I learned to fight back first. Before he could get the upper hand. Before he could make me feel small again.”

Rafe swallowed hard, feeling something inside him break at the way she spoke—like she still carried the weight of it all, like she still believed she was the problem.

“Y/N,” he started, but she shook her head.

“I need to finish,” she whispered. “Please.”

He nodded, his throat tight.

She exhaled shakily. “I didn’t mean to treat you like him. I swear I didn’t. But I don’t know how else to be. Every time we fight, I feel like I have to defend myself before you can hurt me. But you never do. You’re nothing like him, Rafe. You’ve never made me feel small, never made me question myself. You’re the only person I’m actually terrified of losing, so tonight—” Her voice wavered. “Tonight, I left before you could.”

Rafe felt his heart shatter.

She had run because she thought he’d leave her. That he’d get tired of her, of the way she struggled to let go of the past.

She didn’t realise he never would.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she barely seemed to notice, too lost in her own confession.

“I don’t want to be like this,” she whispered, voice raw with desperation. “I don’t want to push you away. I don’t want to hurt you just because I don’t know what healthy love is supposed to look like.”

“Y/N…” Rafe’s voice broke, and suddenly, he was moving—closing the space between them, cupping her face in his hands with a gentleness that made her shudder.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, she just leaned into his touch, like she was memorising the feeling of him still being there.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m so fucking sorry, Rafe. I know I’ve been difficult, I know I’ve been hard to love, but please—please don’t go anywhere.”

He felt his own tears spill over at that—at the sheer, heartbreaking fear in her voice.

She thought he was going to leave.

She truly believed that he’d wake up one day and decide she wasn’t worth it.

He pressed his forehead to hers, his grip tightening like he was afraid she might slip away again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Ever.”

Her breath hitched, and her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, like she was trying to anchor herself to him.

“I promise,” he continued, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “You are not too much. You are not difficult to love. I don’t care how long it takes for you to believe that, I’m not going anywhere.”

A sob wracked through her body, but this time, it wasn’t just pain—it was relief.

And then, in the quietest voice, she whispered, “I’ll get help.”

Rafe pulled back slightly, searching her eyes.

“I mean it,” she insisted. “I want to get better. I want to be better. For us.”

She let out a shaky breath, looking up at him with a mixture of fear and determination.

“Now I’m not afraid of the water,” she whispered. “I’ll dive right in. And I can be brave, so I’m gonna give it a try.” Her lip trembled. “Because I know you’ll be on the other side.”

Rafe’s heart clenched.

Because for the first time since she had come into his life, Y/N wasn’t running.

She was staying.

And so was he.

Rafe cradled her face, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, his own tears still slipping down his cheeks.

“I’m right here,” he murmured. “I’ll always be right here.”

She exhaled shakily, nodding as she let herself fall into his embrace, arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

And as they stood there, wrapped up in each other, Rafe knew—this was what love was supposed to be.

Messy. Imperfect. But real.

And this time, neither of them were afraid of stepping into unknown waters.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

thank you so much for this request anon, i love me some angst !! pls keep requesting everyone, i am working my way through them and i have like four in my drafts rn to be edited so stay tuned !!

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[bucketbueckers]

FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER

pairing: azzi fudd x fem!reader

content: language, slight cheating (deserved? 🌚), messy, toxicity, gaslighting, angst (w a happy ending bc angst without a happy ending makes me want to jump)

wc: 9.2k

synopsis: The unspoken truth between you and Azzi was that the two of you weren’t just friends. There was always something more, something that lingered just beneath the surface, something that was so glaringly obvious to your mutual friends yet something neither of you wanted to fully acknowledge. You thought that it was safer this way – keeping your relationship with Azzi strictly platonic, saving the both of you from an eventual heartbreak. Unfortunately, it seems that a toxic girlfriend you weren’t quite committed to was actually all it took for the two of you to give up on trying to stay away from each other.

notes: this was supposed to be a lighter read but 💛 anon said i should make a really angsty fic and well. who am i to deny the people. this was not originally going to have as much plot as it did but my fics never stay on track 🌚 also this is a little all over the place so im sorry!!! as always i hope y'all enjoy 🫶

For as long as you’ve known her, Azzi Fudd wasn’t just your friend. There was always something more between you. Gazes that lingered a little too long, a hand on a waist that burned in the most pleasant way possible, softer smiles that seemed to be reserved only for each other.

You met her during your freshman year – she was a freshman, too, a little wide-eyed and definitely out of her element at the crowded frat party. You were only there for “team bonding” and you quickly realized that “team bonding” meant your teammates were going to get plastered and you’d have to be the babysitter. You’d spotted Azzi from the corner of your eye while you were rummaging through the refrigerator for a water bottle, and, in a rare moment of smoothness where you didn’t stumble over your words because Azzi was drop dead fucking gorgeous, like stunningly beautiful, you’d asked if she wanted a water, too. She told you yes. For good measure, you stole a bowl of hummus and some pita chips from the pantry, asked if she wanted to get some air, and that was that. She told you her name under the glow of the porchlight and you told her yours through a coughing fit (which she’d been endlessly amused by) because the hummus was spicy for whatever reason – either way, you and Azzi had an instant connection, one that went a little deeper than hummus and chips at midnight and an easy conversation you’d never expected to have with a stranger, and frankly, you were a little too scared to give up what you had with her to ever think about acting on your growing feelings.

So, you never did. You never let anything slip – never gave any sort of indication that occasionally, you jolt awake late at night, your skin burning with what feels like the phantom press of Azzi’s lips against your skin. You don’t tell anyone how you’ve spent years organizing that little compartment in the corner of your brain that’s dedicated purely to Azzi – the meticulous system of filing cabinet-esque thoughts and facts about her; you know that you store her favorite color right next to her coffee order, only three rows down from vivid images of her smile, the dimples on her cheeks, the slight pout of her lips.

If anyone asked, Azzi Fudd was just your best friend, and you were hers. It seemed as though Azzi was none the wiser – or perhaps she was too polite to say anything otherwise, or maybe she’d felt the same way, too, and was just as afraid of ruining your friendship as you were – no way that was actually the truth, though. Despite your best efforts, you weren’t as subtle as you thought. Paige was convinced that you and Azzi were meant to be. Caroline always glanced at you meaningfully when you and Azzi walked into the room at the same time or when she caught you staring at her from afar. It was as though you and Azzi were just one big inside joke that everyone was in on but the two of you.

It’s a late night at Ted’s when you find yourself nursing a drink at your usual table. Paige had stolen Aubrey and Ayanna away to play some pool, KK, Jana, and Ice were dancing, and Azzi and Caroline went to the bathroom to freshen up. In times like these, you wish you were just a little better at saying no to Azzi – there’s something in the air that’s bringing your mood down and you can’t figure out what it is. It’s like a heaviness weighing down on you, a sort of dread that fills your veins. You’re sure the liquor isn’t helping either. Granted, you’re only a few sips in, not one to ever progress past tipsy, but you’re not really feeling the night out. Azzi had gazed at you with her big doe eyes, lips drawing into a pout. You figure you’d have a better chance at fighting off a bear than living with yourself after denying Azzi something.

“Hey–”

You can’t help the way you startle, lost in your thoughts. Azzi’s tinkling laughter reverberates in this small bubble of space you’ve created in the back corner of the bar; despite yourself, your lips curl into an amused smile, Azzi’s presence alone enough to lift your mood. “How’s the brooding, Batman?”

Huffing out something akin to laughter, you roll your eyes a little, sliding over in the booth to let Azzi in. She sits, eliminating the space between your bodies completely; you swallow, trying to not fixate on the way her shorts ride up on her thighs as her skin presses against yours, and Azzi? She’s the perfect picture of nonchalance, taking a sip from her drink like she’s completely unaware of how she’s turned your brain into mush. “Not brooding,” you argue. You don’t comment on how weak your voice sounds. Blessedly, Azzi doesn’t either, but she sets her drink down on the table to gaze at you. 

Her brows draw together when she asks, “You okay?” Her fingers brush across your cheek and up your temple, which makes all of the blood rush to your head. “You’re feeling a little hot. You sure you’re not catching whatever bug Kayla and Jana had?”

You try for a chuckle, but even that comes out unconvincing. “Might be the alcohol,” you deflect, knowing full well that the two and a half sips you’ve had weren’t even enough to get you buzzed. The truth of the matter is that after a while, this just gets exhausting – pretending that you weren’t completely head over heels for Azzi. She’s your best friend. It’s easy to hide your feelings during the day when you’re both occupied – Azzi with basketball, you with softball – but things change at night. You’re looser, less-restrained, and all of the walls you keep up during the day to keep your feelings at bay come crashing down. Everything just feels so much more stronger and part of you starts to wonder if it’s worth it anymore – harboring your feelings. Maybe saying them out loud would be enough for you to start working through them and finally get over Azzi. Maybe you could finally be just friends again and you could spend time with her without hyperfocusing on how each and every one of your nerve-endings light up with activity at the slightest brush of her skin against yours.

Then, Azzi’s smiling at you, something soft and warm and mischievous all at the same time, like she’s got a trick up her sleeve and she knows that you’ll spend hours trying to figure out what it is. Her next words surprise you, moreso when her hand circles around your wrist, intertwining your fingers. “Come dance with me,” she requests.

Your throat bobs as you swallow, glancing at her hesitantly. “What?” you say smartly.

Azzi rolls her eyes, standing and pulling you to her feet. “I said–” She plants her hands on your shoulders and all you can really do is let yours fall to her waist, your fingers catching on her belt loops, “–come dance with me. You’ve been sitting too long. No wonder that half a shot of alcohol is kicking your ass.”

“It was like two shots,” you shoot back, but you let Azzi drag you across the room. You catch Paige’s eye as she leans over the pool table, lining up her shot, and she gives you a knowing look that just makes your cheeks heat up all over again. If you never got the chance to tell Azzi how you’d felt, you were sure that Paige Bueckers and that big ass mouth of hers would find a way to slip up and tell Azzi herself. “And you know that bartender uses that strong tequila.”

“I think you’re just a lightweight, babe,” Azzi states, pulling you into her space as she leads you to the beat of the music. You try to not focus too much on her words, but babe has begun to circulate through your mind on repeat, bumping into things haphazardly. Before you know it, one of your last remaining brain cells has caught the word in a jar like a butterfly and has stored it in that compartment in your brain next to everything you know about Azzi. The jar is tucked onto a shelf, only a few rows down from your filing cabinet system; one day you’ll worry about just how much space in your brain is dedicated to Azzi Fudd, but as her hands burn marks into your skin, guiding your body against hers, you find that you don’t really care.

Neither of you say anything as you dance along to the song. You can feel the bass in the ground, reverberating through your body as it races up your spine. You feel Azzi’s hand splayed across your waist, her grip firm, like there’s some sort of unspoken promise that she’d lose it if you weren’t in her personal space at all times – she spins you around, your back to her front, and the drag of her fingertips against your skin makes your head dizzy. Her breath tickles the back of your neck, her voice sweet as she hums in tune with the singer through the crackling speakers.

It’s in times like these that everything fades away – your hesitation, your insecurities, the worries that Azzi may never truly reciprocate what you feel for her. All you can truly focus on is the gradually lessening space between the two of you, the cloud of her perfume in the air, each and every one of her whispered lyrics and the smile she presses against your temple. You’re not sure if there’s a chance in hell that you’d be able to get over her. But for now, that’s the least of your worries, far too lost in the warmth of her palm against your bare skin where your shirt has ridden up – until you’re dragged back into the real world.

Azzi’s grip has tightened on you, but you barely register it as you open your eyes to see who has interrupted you. It’s a girl, probably around your age, hair dyed a red so dark that it’s nearly brown. She’s wearing a form-fitting black dress, and sure, she’s conventionally attractive, but Azzi has had your attention for nearly four years; you can’t think or look at anyone that’s not her. When the redhead asks Azzi to dance, a hopeful smile on her face, you feel your stomach churn immediately. It’s enough to sober you up fully – drunk not because of the alcohol, but because you’d allowed yourself to fall into Azzi as if the two of you were actually together. You’re reminded of the fact she’s just your best friend. The way she’s holding you means nothing. You feel Azzi’s gaze on you, but before she can say anything, you extract yourself from her hold, smiling unconvincingly at her, and you’re too unfocused to notice the way her face falls.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” you say, nodding meaningfully to the redhead as bile pools in your throat. “You have fun, okay?”

You’re gone before Azzi can say anything else, unwilling to look back. You push your way through the crowd to the bar, swallowing back the humiliation and the fact that despite everything, a part of you still yearns for Azzi, and you motion to the bartender, requesting another drink. You dig through your wallet for your card, fingers trembling, cursing under your breath when it refuses to slide out of the little pocket it’s nestled in.

“I got it,” someone else says. You glance up to see an unfamiliar woman offering her card out for the bartender to swipe. She flashes you a charismatic smile and in return, all you can do is raise your brow.

“You didn’t need to do that,” you say, but you slide your wallet back into your pocket, anyway.

“Seemed like you needed a pick me up,” she says, shrugging a shoulder. “Saw you dancing with that girl over there – I was hoping she wasn’t your girlfriend, because I’ve been wanting to buy you a drink all night.”

You take a cautious sip, glancing back into the crowd of people, your eyes finding Azzi immediately. She’s dancing half-heartedly with the redhead, a generous amount of space between the two of them, and she seems to feel your eyes on her because she turns her head, locking eyes with you. You stare for a beat, then avert your gaze, making eye contact with the woman before you. She’s blonde, easy on the eyes, and she seems nice enough. Why not? “We aren’t together,” you state – although you wish you were – and her smile seems to grow.

She tells you her name – Alex – and the two of you dance for about fifteen minutes until Jana, with the grace of a bull in a China shop, interrupts to complain about a tummy ache and that everyone needs to go home. You weren’t sure where she got the logic on that one, but Jana had seemed desperate, and you weren’t going to tell her off in front of Alex.

You and Alex exchanged numbers. Still, she was nice enough, but she wasn’t Azzi. Maybe she was what you needed to get over Azzi, though. Conversation flowed nicely between the two of you and you had some things in common. Maybe you could grow to like her. Maybe you just needed to find someone the opposite of Azzi – blonde, boisterous, and short – to get over the crush you had on her (though you weren’t stupid enough to actually think it was a crush).

Azzi drives you home after Ted’s that night. You’re both silent for the first few minutes until she speaks up. “Did you have fun?” she asks cautiously. You don’t need to ask her to clarify – you know what she means.

You also know that you can’t lie to Azzi. You’ve never been any good at it. She glances at you from the corner of her eye and you feel yourself sink a little further into her passenger seat. “Would’ve had more fun with you,” you confess, watching as some of the tension melts from her shoulders.

“Then why didn’t you?”

You shrug a little, picking at your cuticles. You know exactly why you pushed her away. You just weren’t strong enough to admit it to her. “The redhead seemed to like you,” you say softly. “You don’t have to spend all your time with me. You can like…see other people. Do shit. Have fun. I don’t wanna be your clingy best friend.”

Azzi’s jaw ticks as she signals left, coming to a stop in the turn lane as she waits for the light to change. “What if I want to?” she murmurs. “Spend time with you, I mean. It’s not clingy. It’s just us.” That’s kind of the issue. You don’t voice that thought out loud, trying to ignore the rapid pounding of your heart, too. She speaks again before you can, her voice coming out in an almost petulant huff. “I don’t even remember her name.”

At that, you choke on a laugh, finally lifting your head to look at her. “Whose?” you ask. “The redhead?”

“Yeah,” Azzi confirms, pressing on the gas once the light turns green. “She wasn’t you.”

You swallow thickly. “Alex’s not you, either,” you whisper.

Azzi makes a soft noise in the back of her throat. “Alex,” she repeats, like she’s in disbelief. “Do you like her?”

You shrug again, noncommittal. “She’s…nice,” you say. “And she bought me a seven dollar drink, so…” Azzi doesn’t find that as humorous as you did, her lips drawing into a pout, one you would have teased her for had the situation been less tense. “Az, what’s the issue? I was with her for like, twenty-five minutes. I’m not getting married to her.”

That makes Azzi fall silent again, contemplating her next words. “No issue,” she says, clearing her throat, as if sobering back up. “I’m sorry. I think the alcohol made me moody.”

You don’t comment on how she barely made it through her first drink before switching to water, but she didn’t comment on your lies and deflections, either. “It’s okay,” you say, summoning the courage to nudge her gently. She glances at you once more, a soft look on her face as you say, “Who’s brooding now, Batman?”

That makes her roll her eyes, giggling under her breath before she refocuses on the road. The tension in the car dissolves as she turns on your shared playlist, continuing to drive. For a moment, it feels like nothing is wrong. Tonight was just weird. There’s nothing going on between you and Azzi. Then, your phone buzzes in your lap, the screen lighting up with a text notification from an unknown number. It’s Alex – letting you know that she enjoyed getting to meet you and that she’d like to see you again. You feel the unmistakable feeling of dread wrap its iron fist around your heart. Too caught up in your own reaction to the message, you don’t notice how Azzi’s knuckles turn white as they grip the wheel.

Against your better judgement, you do see Alex again. You stared at her message for a few hours, trying to come up with one good reason why you couldn’t give her a chance, but your mind came up blank every time. She was nice, attentive, had a good sense of humor, and she was wholly focused on you when you’d spend time together. Still, no matter what, you couldn’t shake the image of warm brown eyes from the forefront of your mind. You tell yourself that it’s not supposed to be an overnight change. You don’t love someone for four years and expect it to go away. So, you give Alex that chance (even though it feels so wrong), and she treats you to a few dates over the course of three weeks.

You get to know her. At the very least, she’s a good friend and a charismatic date. She tips well, makes you laugh, and she has an adorable little weiner dog named Bruiser (“Legally Blonde style,” she’d said jokingly, which did make you laugh, mostly because Bruiser, despite his name, was dressed in a cute pair of pink pajamas). By the third date, you start to feel a little hopeful that you’re finally making progress. Alex doesn’t push you – she seems to understand that you want to take it slow, which is something that you’re grateful for. She hasn’t asked you to be her girlfriend yet, either, which is also something you’re grateful for. Becoming her girlfriend this early feels too real, like the idea of you and Azzi is something that you’re fully leaving in the past. Keeping up the facade around Azzi does weigh on you, but it’s become something that feels like a core part of you and being without it feels wrong.

Speaking of Azzi, you don’t tell her too much about the Alex situation. She doesn’t ask much about her, either, a barely concealed look of irritation clouding her features whenever her name is mentioned. She hasn’t told you that she doesn’t like Alex, but at this point, you think her telling you is more of a formality than anything else. It’s clear as day that she hates Alex’s guts, although you don’t suppose Azzi will ever tell you why.

Maybe you’ll be better off this way – having one part of your life that doesn’t revolve around Azzi – well, doesn’t revolve completely around Azzi. Hopefully this little bit of independence will be good for you. This feels more like blind reassurance than actual confidence, but you’ll take what you can get at this point.

As you and Alex spend more time together, something changes with Azzi. At first, it’s nothing serious and you hardly even notice it. Azzi’s texts come a little more frequent, your FaceTimes a little longer. It’s miniscule especially because you and Azzi already text frequently and you spend hours on FaceTime together, but it’s more like a concerted effort to keep you with her and talking to her for longer periods of time. You’re not exactly sure why, although you’re not complaining; you’ve always enjoyed your late night phone conversations where Azzi loses her filter and rambles on and on for hours about the funny things that happen at practice or the latest picture of Stewie that her mom had sent her. You do have to admit this change in behavior makes it a little more difficult to get over Azzi – the constant proximity and speaking isn’t doing you any favors – but you can’t just abandon Azzi because you’re talking to Alex now. Your goal is to go back to a complete, platonic friendship with her, not ice her out completely.

Azzi’s behavior does progress, though. Still, it’s subtle – she’ll come over to your apartment more often or invite you over to hers more frequently. You’ll spend the night watching movies, giggling over the shitty acting or singing along to the Disney movies that Azzi ropes you into watching with her (as if you’d ever say no to her). It ends with her convincing you to stay over or her coming up with a slick excuse how she should just stay the night since her apartment is so far away (that you see right through – Azzi Fudd is a lot of things but a good liar is not one). Sometimes she’ll leave behind a shirt or a hair tie at your apartment; when you ask if she wants you to bring it over, her response is always the same: “Nah, keep it. I don’t have enough space in my closet for that shirt,” or “I noticed you were running out of hair ties anyways – you should just keep it.”

(When Alex comes over, she’ll notice each and every new addition, her nose wrinkling slightly. “Azzi left her sweatpants this time?” she asks, gingerly moving them from the foot of your bed to your desk chair. You don’t notice the bothered look on her face as you hum.

“Yeah,” you say, not thinking much of it. “She said she has too many.”

“Right,” Alex hums, not quite convinced. “You don’t want any of mine?”

Confused, you glance at Alex, busy folding your own laundry. “Your what?”

Alex huffs quietly. “...Forget about it.”)

Then, the behavior ramps up. Azzi is touchier, borderline clingy, which is different because you’re usually the clingy one between you and Azzi. It’s not that obvious when the two of you are watching movies at night – she’ll just lean against you, her head on your shoulder and a leg slung over yours, but in public? She’s almost possessive, always needing to be in contact one way or the other, a firm arm wrapped around your waist at all times. When tipsy randoms approach you to ask to dance, she doesn’t even let them finish their sentences before she’s tightening her arm around you, shaking her head with faux sympathy, and saying, “Sorry, she’s spoken for.”

In public is one thing. But in public when Alex is around is when Azzi really shines. You and Alex aren’t official yet, which is something that Azzi seems to take advantage of. Azzi buys all your drinks, glancing at Alex when she smiles that honey-sweet smile and says, “C’mon, you know I got you, right?” She always whisks you away to dance before Alex can get the chance to, and to be honest, you let her. Deep down, you know that you’d rather be doing this anyway – dancing with Azzi, letting her pull you close like she’s trying to stake a claim or prove something to someone, letting her whisper the lyrics in your ear and the both of you laughing when she starts making up her own words because the actual ones don’t make any sense.

You don’t think much of Azzi’s behavior until Alex calls you that night when Azzi’s in the shower. Alex offered to drive you home, but Azzi stepped in to let her know that you’d be staying over with Azzi to watch a new movie that had recently come out – you weren’t aware those were the plans, but you didn’t mind, either. You’re doing your skincare at Azzi’s vanity when your phone rings. Part of you is tempted to let it go to voicemail, but Alex had seemed bothered, and while the two of you weren’t official yet, you didn’t want to be an asshole.

“Hello?” you greet, pressing the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you rub in your moisturizer. 

“Hey,” Alex says. You hear her exhale sharply. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I don’t really know how to, like, explain this, but I feel like you keep blowing me off for Azzi,” Alex states, which makes you pause in your movements. “I feel like Azzi is jealous – of me – and she keeps trying to, fuck, I don’t know, worm her way in between us to keep you away from me? And you just let her do that shit.” You’re silent, letting her words echo in your brain, but she keeps speaking before you get the chance to. “I know she’s your friend. But ‘friends’ don’t behave like that. She’s one day away from pissing on you like a dog to mark her territory and I just need to know – do you even like me? Is this going anywhere? Because I feel like I’m going fucking crazy. I’m trying to be nice about it but at this point I can’t tell what you want from me.”

You open your mouth, then close it, looking vaguely fish-like in the mirror. You can hear Alex’s breathing from the other end of the line as you try to gather your thoughts. Finally, you settle, and gently you say, “Azzi is my best friend.” You can almost visualize Alex’s eye roll, the soft huff that she thinks the microphone doesn’t pick up on. “She’s not jealous. Just…protective, I guess. She’s not trying to get in between us – we’re just always close like that.”

“Then tell her to chill,” Alex says frustratedly. “It’s making me feel like I’m the other woman – like I’m just something you’re stringing along in case Azzi gets bored. Did she ever act like this before I started taking you out? Why is she suddenly so obsessed with being all over you now that she doesn’t have all of your attention?”

“Alex,” you say calmly, surprising yourself. “I am not your girlfriend.”

She laughs bitterly from the other line. “Oh, it’s like that? What, I take you on a few dates and it didn’t mean shit to you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you hiss. “You don’t have a claim over me. You’re acting like a dog trying to mark its territory. You are not the other woman. There isn’t even a woman. Ask me to be your girlfriend – or don’t – but leave Azzi out of this.”

Alex doesn’t say anything for a few beats until she scoffs. “Okay. Whatever. Have a good fucking night – I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up without a second word. You roll your eyes, huffing, dropping your phone face down on the surface of Azzi’s vanity as you continue your skincare routine.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Azzi’s voice startles you, which causes you to groan and Azzi to giggle. She murmurs an apology as she comes up behind you, resting her palms over your shoulders, her thumbs pressing into your shoulder blades pleasantly. “Everything okay?”

You shrug, sighing again as her fingers work out the knots in your back. “Alex is just being weird,” you say, grunting when her fingers dig in harder than intended at the mention of her name. Azzi whispers another apology, softening her motions.

“What’d she say?” Azzi coaxes.

You meet her eyes through the mirror, seeing nothing but concern and a willingness to help on her features. “She just…I don’t know. She said you’re ‘one day away from pissing on me like a dog trying to mark its territory.’”

Azzi’s jaw drops, pausing in disbelief for a moment until peals of giggles fall from her lips. Her amusement makes you feel a little bit better about the situation. “Gross,” she says.

“I know,” you agree. “She thinks you’re trying to get between me and her. I told her there wasn’t even a ‘me and her.’ She hasn’t asked me to be her girlfriend.”

Azzi snorts. “How’d she take that one?”

“She told me to have a good fucking night and that she’d see me tomorrow.”

“Yikes,” Azzi says.

You hum again. “Yeah. I’m not really bothered, though. Don’t really wanna deal with it right now. She thinks you’re obsessed with being all over me and that you’re possessive. I said we’re just best friends, like we’ve always been like this?” It’s then that you catch onto Azzi’s sudden silence. Concerned, you turn in your chair to look at Azzi directly. “Az? You good?”

“You know you could do better than her, right?” Azzi’s words surprise you. Your jaw falls slightly, brows drawing together in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Azzi emphasizes, “what’s so good about Alex?” She spits her name like it’s poison. “She danced with you one night at a bar and thinks that makes you exclusive. She’s jealous, possessive, and she doesn’t even try to be cordial to me, Paige, Jana, or anyone. You could do so much better than her. You know you don’t have to settle.”

“I’m not settling,” you argue, even though you know you 100% are settling because you can’t have Azzi.

Azzi gives you a knowing look, one that softens when she sees the confusion in your features, the angst, the insecurity that no matter what, the decision you’re making isn’t a good one. “I just feel like I’m losing you to her,” she admits in a whisper. “That you’re gonna choose her over me.”

“Az,” you breathe out, your heart aching. “I’d never do that. You’re not gonna lose me.”

“I feel like I already have,” Azzi says. She swallows, her eyes searching yours, and she takes a deep breath like this conversation is physically destroying her. She shifts, staring at the wall instead of you, and the way her next breath comes out in a shudder makes you feel like she’s realized something damning. “I don’t… I like being us. Before there was an Alex. And I know I don’t have a claim over you – but it feels like things are changing faster than we realize. That we’re changing and I can’t even figure out why or what’s different because you’re with Alex.”

You soften, standing to face her fully, and you cup her cheeks, pulling her attention back to you. “We aren’t changing,” you promise. “You’re still you. I’m still me. Alex won’t change that.”

“Do you even like her?” You falter, not expecting Azzi to ask you that, and your silence is all the answer she needs. “Why are you with someone you don’t even like?”

“I’m not with her,” you say weakly, but Azzi is shaking her head, pressing on.

“You don’t have to settle,” she reminds you again. “She is not your only option.”

You can’t tell if Azzi is trying to convince you or herself of that. You don’t have the courage to be honest with her, to tell her the real reason you’ve spent so long trying to make yourself believe that you truly liked Alex. So you don’t. Instead, you whisper, “Do we have to talk about this tonight?”

Azzi’s face falls slightly, but you hardly notice it, too caught up in the way your heart nearly pounds out of your chest. She nods, stepping back, and she clears her throat. “Yeah. Whatever you want.”

You can recognize the look in Azzi’s face from a mile away. Softening again, you reach out, wrapping her in a tight hug, one that she immediately melts into. “Thank you,” you murmur into her neck, her skin still a little warm to the touch from her shower. She doesn’t say anything in response to that, instead tightening her arms around your waist, and exhaling deeply.

Alex asks you to be her girlfriend the night after your conversation with Azzi. She’d showed up to your apartment unprompted, bouquet in hand and an apologetic expression on her face. “I was out of line,” she’d said, sincerity in her features. “It wasn’t right of me to get upset or accuse you and Azzi of what I accused you of.” Your heart was pounding out of your chest while she explained herself, apologizing and making it right all in one, but the way your heart raced wasn’t out of anticipation. It wasn’t because you’d spent so long wishing that Alex would ask. Your pulse thrummed because of pure dread and adrenaline coursing through your veins. This wasn’t what you wanted. Not at all. You wanted Azzi – you’ve wanted nobody else but her for close to four years.

But Alex wanted you. Azzi didn’t. You needed to get over her. So, feeling as though you’re making a terrible decision you may never be able to come back from, you say, “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

For a while, things are okay. Azzi clearly isn’t happy with you and Alex now being official, but your friendship stays the same. You try to split your time between the two of them, not wanting to feel as though you have to make a choice between your best friend and your girlfriend, and for the first month that you and Alex are together, it works well enough.

At least it does until Alex decides that it’s not enough.

It’s a Friday night, and you’re supposed to go over to Paige’s dorm to hang out with her and the rest of the team. They’d had a nailbiter game on Thursday and between practices and exams, you all just wanted to take the time to spend together and relax. KK was supposed to be bringing her Switch and you were looking forward to beating Paige’s smug ass at Mario Kart.

“You’re seriously going out?” Alex says from her bed, where she’s been watching you touch up your make-up in the mirror.

You resist an eye roll, not really wanting to argue, so calmly, you explain, “I’m just going to Paige’s to hang out with the team.”

“Feels like you never want to make time with me anymore,” Alex complains. You don’t respond to that, focusing on your mascara, until she speaks up again. “Is Azzi gonna be there?”

Your hand falters, smudging against your cheekbone, and you sigh in frustration as you dig through your clutch for a makeup wipe. “She’s on the team, so yes, Azzi will be there.”

“You do know you’re not with her, right?” That makes you stop moving completely, sliding the wand into the applicator. You turn to meet Alex’s gaze, who seems proud at having elicited a reaction.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not with Azzi,” Alex repeats, as if you needed a reminder. That’s the reason why you’re in this fucked up mess anyways, trying to make yourself like someone who’s not actually the woman you love. “So why do you keep running back to her at the end of the day? You’ve been friends for, what, four years now? If she wanted you, don’t you think she would have done something about it by now?” Despite the anger bubbling in your chest, embarrassment also blooms on your cheeks. “I want you. She doesn’t. Stop chasing her and running away from me – it’s not going to change anything.”

For that, you have no true response, your heart racing. You just feel trapped now. This isn’t what you wanted at all, but you feel like you’re too far in to quit now. “Stay in with me,” Alex states. It’s not a plea, not a request. It’s a demand – and for a moment, you think maybe she’s right. You’re still her girlfriend. You have to spend time with her. 

You text Paige, letting her know that you can’t make it tonight. Her response is swift, an over dramatic series of crying emojis followed up by a message that makes your heart constrict – “Az was lookin forward to this all week, she’s gonna crash out lol.” You don’t really know what else to say, so you just send Paige another apology before powering your phone off, knowing that as soon as Azzi finds out, you’re going to be the first person she calls.

You and Alex curl up on her couch, browsing through Hulu for a show to watch. Her arm wrapped around your shoulders feels wrong. It’s too stifling, too possessive. It’s nothing like the way Azzi would wrap her arm around you – making you feel safe and grounded all at once. Alex is nothing like Azzi and in the beginning, you thought that was just what you needed to let go of Azzi. Now, it feels like giving up Azzi feels like giving up a part of yourself.

Another month passes by in a blur of daily disappearances, shitty excuses, and daydreams of soft brown eyes and a dimpled smile. Anytime you’d try to make plans with Azzi or her teammates, Alex would remind you of all the reasons why you shouldn’t. You’re with me – not them. Why did you pursue me if you were just going to discard me? And at a certain point in time, the edges start getting blurry. You can’t even remember if you’d truly made those promises to Alex in the first place.

Azzi tried to reach out a few times, but Alex’s watchful eye had creeped into every facet of your life. She was there to pick you up from your practices. There wasn’t a single plan you’d made that she hadn’t carefully looked over and approved – most of them she invited herself along for, just to make sure you wouldn’t stray too far away. Weeks passed and you couldn’t remember the last time you had a life to yourself that wasn’t corrupted by every inch of the woman you’d danced with at the bar.

Escaping feels too difficult. Lately, it feels as though Alex knows more about you than you know about yourself. She strings you along just to yank the chain, leaving you unmoored and choking around a collar you were sure you’d fastened yourself. She’s devoted and loving one moment, cold and apathetic the next when she feels as though you hadn’t done enough to earn her affection. She’s attached at your hip for one week, then leaves you drowning the next when she suddenly ghosts, leaving you wondering if you’d truly had a girlfriend at all.

The irony isn’t lost on you. Alex had accused you of stringing her along for the ride to get over Azzi, and now here she is. You don’t think she’s trying to use you to get over someone, but perhaps she’s punishing you for the way you’d chosen Azzi at every opportunity at the beginning of your relationship. You’re doing the time now, you suppose, although every morning you wonder if and when your sentence would end; you hope that Alex would grow tired of you one day and finally dispose of you. You weren’t sure if you had the confidence to drag yourself out of this mess despite how easily you threw yourself into it.

“You know Azzi’s like, in love with you, right?” Alex asks you one day. You’re sitting at the table, poking at your chicken and spinach mindlessly. Your girlfriend sits across from you, arms crossed and plate clean. Her words make you falter, your fork stilling, and you don’t glance up, not wanting to confront the expression on her face. “I recognized it the first night at the bar. She was all over you while you were dancing, holding you like she owned you. When she went to dance with someone else, it was a complete shift – she didn’t even want that other girl. Just you.”

At that, you glance up finally, searching Alex’s eyes. They’re cold, nothing like the Azzi’s warm brown that you’d spent years memorizing the exact hue of. “What are you trying to say?” you ask, because you truly don’t understand her point. Doesn’t she understand that she’s won? That she’s broken you down, separated you from your friends, that she’s interwoven herself into the very fabric of your life? What else could you have for her to take?

Alex shrugs, a picture of nonchalance, but you see the tension in her shoulders anyways. “I just want you to know why I’m doing this,” she says, which makes a cold feeling course through your veins. “I don’t want to be the bad guy. You know that, right? I just want to protect you, from someone who wants to take you from me. Azzi couldn’t take care of you like I could. She always had this agenda from the very first night we met. Do you understand that?”

Your fingers are trembling around your fork. “Alex,” you whisper, drawing her attention to you. Her head cocks like you’re a wounded animal on the side of the road and she’s studying you to determine if she should leave you – or at the very least, move you out of harm’s way. You know her, though. She’s the type of person to keep on driving. “I’m tired. Can we not do this right now?”

Her lips curl into a smug, self-satisfied smile, because she knows. She knows she’s elicited a reaction, even if it’s not as obvious. She knows that she’s won this round. She stands, leaving her plate behind, and she looms behind you as her hand trails across your shoulders. Then, she leans in, planting the barest of kisses to your temple that makes your body tighten with barely concealed fear and dread. “I’m just trying to look out for you,” she whispers, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “One day you’ll understand what I’ve done for you.”

She leaves and it’s only then that you allow your body to relax. Exhaling deeply, you bury your head in your hands, feeling tears of anguish and frustration building at your waterline. Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You don’t need to look at it to know who it is. Azzi has been trying to reach you for a while. She hasn’t given up, but you haven’t had the energy to text her back, to tell her about what’s going on. Now, you think you might have to take that chance.

That night, while Alex snores unknowingly next to you, you collect your bag and all of the clothes stored in her drawers. With quiet footsteps, you exit her apartment, already reaching for your phone with trembling fingers as you dial the one number you know will pick up at any time. It barely rings once before the line clicks through.

Azzi’s greeting is a murmur of your name, both in disbelief and ever present relief. “Azzi,” you say back, your voice barely reaching her. “Please come pick me up.”

“Do you want water? Juice?”

Azzi’s voice cuts through the haze in your brain. When she picked you up, neither of you had said anything, but you’d hugged her tight enough that she groaned a little, which made you smile for what feels like the first time in forever. She let you into her apartment wordlessly, took your bag to her room, and sat you down on the couch.

“I’m okay,” you say. All you really wanted was to feel comfortable in your own skin again, but being in Azzi’s presence is doing wonders for you. You can’t help but feel a bit of residual guilt – all of this could have been avoided had you been braver, if you’d denied Alex from the start or if you could just muster the courage to tell Azzi that you’ve been in love with her for four years. “Can we just…can we go to bed?”

Azzi nods quickly, murmuring an affirmative, and she links her hand with yours as she leads you down the familiar hallways. It shouldn’t bring you as much peace as it does, but holding Azzi’s hand makes you feel like you’re a sailor coming home after a long voyage and finally spotting the lighthouse in the distance. Azzi’s bed is a welcome comfort and you fall into place next to her, feeling the tension melt out of your shoulders.

You can feel her next to you, the warmth of her body, the smell of her perfume in the air, and you feel your heart ache all over again. This was where you were supposed to be. Not with Alex. Even if you and Azzi remained friends forever and you kept your feelings for her close to your chest, it would still be better than going through these past few weeks with Alex on repeat.

“I missed you,” Azzi admits, her voice cutting through the darkness in the room. She shifts. You can feel her eyes on you, so you shift, too, coming face to face with her.

“I missed you too,” you whisper, watching as a soft smile spreads across her face. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

You swallow thickly. “For everything. For Alex. For leaving you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Azzi promises. Hearing those words is like coming up for air after being submerged for so long. You don’t know if she knows just how healing it was to hear her say that. Her hand finds yours, squeezing you gently. “I’m sorry for not doing more to help you.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shoot back, a coy smile on your face, which makes Azzi giggle.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Azzi murmurs.

You think that you should – that you owe it to yourself and to Azzi to be honest about the last few months. So you do. Azzi listens to you as you start from the beginning, outlining the course of your and Alex’s relationship and where it derailed. When you finish, Azzi’s face is full of concern, sadness, and a slight determination. She’d apologized again. You told her it was okay, mostly because it was okay. You would be okay.

“Do you love her?” Azzi asks a few beats later, perhaps a bit selfishly. 

“No,” you confess, feeling Azzi relax against you. “I never did.” She nods, and you both fall silent for a moment until you speak up again. “Az?” She hums, her fingers brushing against your skin. “If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth? Alex said something earlier and I’m…I’m just tired of feeling like I’m crazy.”

“Anything,” she promises. 

“Do you love me?” The words come out less composed than you’d been trying for, your voice cracking at the end, but you don’t really care. You need answers. You’d spent so many years loving Azzi from afar, but for Alex to say she’s confident in Azzi loving you back? This could change everything.

“Of course I do,” Azzi says, her words a little jilted. “You’re my best friend.”

You feel your heart drop, but you press forward. “Not in that way, Az.”

You can hear her breath hitch. At first, you’re not sure if you’re going to get a response, but she tightens her grip on your waist, and admits, “Yeah. I love you.”

Silence encompasses the both of you. Azzi doesn’t push – she never does, and that might be one of the things you love most about her. She lets you process that revelation on your own. At first, a part of you wonders if it was truly that easy in the first place, if all you ever needed to do was ask Azzi. The fear of her saying anything but yes outweighed the hope. Now that you’ve heard it, you can’t deny how much lighter your chest feels, the hope that swells in your chest. “Say it again,” you request.

“I love you,” Azzi swears, her voice a little firmer this time, her hands holding onto you like she’s afraid you’re going to disappear completely. “I love you. I have for years. Seeing you with Alex almost destroyed me.”

Feeling a little braver, you sit up, moving your legs to straddle her waist. There’s nothing inherently sexual about it, but the sheer closeness makes you feel a little more grounded, especially when her hands steady you by the hips. “I’m sorry,” you say again, your voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioning.

“Don’t be,” Azzi murmurs, her thumb brushing against your hip bone.

“I was only with her because I thought I could get over you,” you confess, which makes her jaw relax, her face soften. “God, Az, I’ve been in love with you forever. I didn’t think I could have you.”

Despite the heaviness of the moment, Azzi’s lips quirk into a fond, relieved smile. Her hands leave your hips, fingers brushing your arms as she trails them up. She hooks a finger into the collar of your shirt, pulling you down to her as she whispers, “You have me. Completely.”

You’re not thinking about the consequences as you finally kiss Azzi Fudd – you’re not concerned about the fact that technically, you have a girlfriend that you’re technically cheating on, nor are you concerned about what this means for you and Azzi. The logistics are a problem for you tomorrow. Azzi sighs against you, her lips insistent, fingers tangling in your shirt – and to be honest, it’s a pleasant paradox. Alex is a taker in every definition of the word, but Azzi swallows each little sound you make against her lips, pressing firmer against you to take everything you’ll give her, but there’s a bit of mutualism in the way you and Azzi simultaneously take and give.

One of her hands releases your shirt to cup your cheek, her palm warm against your skin as it rapidly heats. You’re both passionate, a little desperate, but despite it all, the love between the two of you is palpable – you can feel it in your heart and the way it swells; it courses through your veins, leading you home, reminding you that this is a love you’ve spent years harboring and cultivating. 

People always say your first kiss with someone you love is a little earth-shattering, that it’s like fireworks or coming home. To you, this kiss with Azzi feels something like freedom. It feels like you don’t have to keep any more secrets from her or yourself.

Azzi breaks away, her chest heaving and her breath warm against your lips. “I love you,” she whispers again, holding you tighter, insistent. “Leave her. Please.”

You’re nodding before Azzi has even finished her plea. “I will,” you swear, kissing her again. You grin when Azzi chases you, pressing one last kiss to your lips before a soft smile spreads across her features. “I love you.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything in response to that – she doesn’t have to. She presses a kiss to your temple and you stretch out across her body, her arms wrapping around you once more. You fall asleep next to her feeling free and at peace – you’re not quite out of the woods yet, but you’re almost there, and you have more moments like these to look forward to with Azzi.

She has an early practice that next morning, so she’s gone before you’re awake, but you know what you need to do. You walk the short distance to your apartment, make yourself a coffee to mentally prepare, and you send a quick text to Alex – ignoring the fifteen unread messages she’s sent between the hours of 2am to 7am – telling her to come to your apartment so you can talk. You don’t wait around for a response. You get a trash bag and start collecting all of the shit she’s left at your apartment during the time you were together – clothes, toiletries, a lone coffee mug (that you’re sure shatters once you drop it into the bag, but you don’t really care).

All of Alex’s belongings are secured in the trash bag when there’s a knock at your door. You take a deep breath to calm yourself, dragging the bag behind you as you step up to your door. You open it halfway, raising a hand and making an annoyed noise when Alex tries to walk in. “No,” you say firmly, “stay outside.”

A look of annoyance flashes across her face, but she does as you’ve commanded, crossing her arms. You reach for the bag, throwing it haphazardly behind her. “So, here’s what’s happening,” you begin. “We’re breaking up.” She opens her mouth to say something, but you cut her off with a raised hand again. “I don’t really care what you have to say. We’re done. This is all you’re getting from me. Lose my number and get fucked.”

Unceremoniously, you slam the door in her face, locking it immediately. You bury your head in your hands as your pulse pounds against your ribcage, but as you listen to the sound of her footsteps fading away, that familiar feeling of freedom returns tenfold. You could cry with relief, although you don’t, pulling your phone out of your pocket. You’re free now, and you know who your first call will be to.

Azzi picks up on the first ring, sounding a little out of breath as she greets you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you respond, feeling the smile creep up onto your lips – you’re sure she can hear the excitement and the relief in your voice.

And she does. She laughs a little, sounding relieved, too. “I’m on my way,” is all she says, bidding you one last goodbye before she hangs up.

You can’t get rid of your smile, and thankfully, she only keeps you waiting for about fifteen minutes. She opens your door with her key and walks in like she’s been here hundreds of times before – which she has, because there’s no part of your life that is complete without Azzi in it. She spots you immediately. You stand up from the couch, dropping your phone on the cushion, and you meet her in the middle.

Azzi is a little sweaty, disheveled from practice, but you don’t care as her arms encircle your waist, pulling you flush into her with pure relief in her laughter. You wrap yours around her neck, standing on the tips of your toes to reach her. You kiss her, something softer than the first one you’d shared the night prior. You feel her smile against your lips, which only makes you smile, too, your noses brushing against each other as you both share a breathless little laugh. She tightens her grip around you and you can’t find it in yourself to mind – you know that Azzi is always going to be there to protect you, and finally being hers after all these years is something you know that you’re not going to screw up – you did your time.

[mekakitsune]

"you don't want me here? then why does your body say other wise?" jinx x fem piltover!reader - nsfw - minors dni

(requested by anon)

for as long as you can remember, your family did everything in their power to keep you from venturing into the undercity. topside was where you belonged, no doubts about it. you were polite, kindhearted and far too soft for that kind of lifestyle– or so you thought.

it wasnt until you met her, that your views changed. she showed you so much, taught things you never had the chance to know, all while being so incredibly...human?

did jinx use your piltover status against you? absolutely. when you first met, you could tell she hated you, just by seeing how you presented yourself. she made it her own personal mission to get as far under your skin as she possibly could.

"you really shouldn't be here jinx, my parents are sleeping downstairs..." you mutter as she pressed kisses along your neck, making sure she left bruises as she went. she ignored your plea, hands roaming under your shirt, making you shiver.

"then i guess you'll have to be quiet then, yeah?" she smiled deviously, hands tracing the underside of your breasts.

"jinx...im serious" you whined, voice low and slightly trembling. your parents would have both of your heads on a spike if they knew what was happening right now.

she slides herself off your hips and moves to dip her fingers into your pants, making you suck in a harsh breath of air. she smirks as her fingers trace over your underwear, relishing in the way you react to her touch.

"youre cute yknow? so sensitive..." she whispers, circling her finger around your clit through the fabric. you moan lowly, hips shifting as a silent plea for more, despite your better judgment. she seems to get the hint, and moves to slide your pants and underwear down– her eyes fixated on your now soaking cunt. feeling rather exposed, you attempt to close your legs, but shes inbetween them, and her hands grip the soft flesh as soon as she feels you hesitate.

"s'funny baby...you don't want me here? then why does your body say otherwise?"

she smirks as she runs her finger through your folds, bottom lip slipping between her teeth as she feels you soak her fingers. "practically dripping f'me" she purrs.

you whine as her fingers find your clit again, rubbing precisely where she knew would make you cry out.

"jinx.." you sigh, looking at her face to see a sinister smirk. she locks her eyes onto yours as she lowers her hand, easily slipping two fingers into you. you moan out, and before you can curse yourself her hand slaps over your mouth.

"shhh, youll wake em up, doll." she giggles, almost as if she didnt have her fingers deep inside of you. you whine against her hand as she thrusts her fingers in and out, curling them into that spot that makes your brain fuzzy. she can feel you getting close, with the way your practically dripping into her palm, and she decided she needed to make you cum, right here, right now.

her thrusts continue, the slick sound making your cheeks heat up as she works you closer to the edge. her chest is heaving softly, the sight of your like this always worked her up, not that she'd ever admit it.

"you close?" she whispers again, hand still over your mouth. you nod desperately, your sounds muffled by her palm. she picks up her pace, practically slamming her fingers into as you writhe beneath her. she groans quietly as she feels you tighten around her fingers like a vice grip, body stilling as you cum, hard.

she lets you ride it out, not stopping until your whine against her palm once more and your thighs are shaking. she removes her hand from your mouth and slams her lips onto yours, biting at your lower lip. your hands find her hips, and without warning, you flip her over so you are hovering over her form. her eyes widen at the sudden movement, a smirk growing on her lips.

"i think its only fair i get you back for that, yeah?" you lean down, face close to hers and you swear you feel her breath hitch in her lungs.

it was only fair, after all, she wanted you to cum? now its her turn.

"keep quiet, or i'll stop" you smirk as your fingers find the waist of her pants.

thank u for the req anon! more to come & feel free to leave me a prompt ;)

[beloveds-embrace]

Back again (outside of anon lmao) to lay out the brain worm that's been chewing on my grey matter for a few days now: designationless!reader whose secondary gender presents super late in life.

It's not super unheard of for kids to present a little late. Babies don't always have their scents until after a few weeks or months, and it's a rarer chance for kids over two or three to not develop a scent or display certain qualities that are noticeably of a certain designation. But typically, if someone doesn't have a designation before they're five, they don't have one at all.

Which is why there's absolutely no protocol for it when reader wakes up one day and everything just hurts. Her body is sticky with sweat and hot to the point where it feels like the only thing able to quell the heat would be to claw her own skin open.

Everything is so overwhelming, but she hadn't realised that scents were everywhere. On her, on the blankets, in the air. Everything has a scent - she has a scent, since when did she have a scent? Overwhelming her poor nose to the point where the only way to stop the frying in her brain is to crawl into a cold shower and let it wash everything away.

Yesss but also we should really consider the aftermath 😩 spending your whole life getting used to one thing, and it gets ripped apart just like that? Devestating.

You’ve never felt more like a stranger to yourself than you do now.

The world is different. Everything is different. The air feels different- thick, heavier, like the scent of something that doesn’t belong is clinging to your skin, following you everywhere you go. It’s like you’re drowning in it, suffocating you from the inside out.

You can’t stop smelling it. Their scents. It’s there, all of them, wrapped up in the air around you, pressing in on your every move. It’s too much. Too strong. Too intimate. You don’t know how to process it- any of it, when previously there’d been nothing but candles to give you a sliver of an idea about what they smell like.

Your body aches under the weight of it all, and it’s not just from your own overwhelming heat anymore. It’s everything. Their presence, their voices, the way they’re always so near, always so protective, so unwavering. You can’t get away from them. You can’t escape the constant pull, the way your body reacts, how your mind feels like it’s turning to mush.

You don’t understand what’s happening to you. You feel... wrong. Unnatural. More than you’ve ever been.

The others are trying their best, truly. They’re there. But you can’t stop the wave of shame that crashes over you when you think of what you’ve become.

The shame of your late presentation. The shame of not being the kind of omega they expected- normal, clean and in control. Everything you are currently not.

But you’re not like that. You never have been. And now... you’re broken. As if being designationless already wasn’t so strange- you had to present so late you had no doubt you were really, truly, unnatural.

It’s too much.

They’re gentle with you, patient, but you can see it in their eyes- they’re worried. They don’t say anything, but you feel it. You feel how different you are from them now, how out of place you are with their instincts swirling around you. Their scent fills your lungs in a way that makes your heart ache, because you don’t know how to feel about it. It’s comforting but it’s too much.

You don’t know how to feel about them.

When you catch yourself shying away from their touch, feeling overwhelmed by the constant onslaught of their scent, the weight of their attention, your chest tightens with guilt. You can’t look them in the eye. It feels like an invasion.

Your body craves something you can’t give, but you don’t know how to push it away.

Your mind, too, races with irrational thoughts. Maybe you’re too much now. Too unnatural. You resent it. You don’t want it. You never wanted it. You can’t believe there’d been days you’d craved this- this mess you’ve become.

You can’t stop smelling yourself either- the newness of it, the strangeness, the instincts that have begun to claw at the back of your mind. You catch yourself trying to make a nest. You hate the way your skin burns with need whenever any of them are near, the way you feel pulled toward them without any control over it.

You want to run.

But where would you go? Where can you even go?

Johnny’s the first to try and properly talk to you, catching you in your room after you’d shoved yourself there. While command decided on what to do with you, you were exempt from missions and drills.

“Hey,” he says gently, his voice quiet, a little uncertain. “Y’alright, hen?”

You don’t answer. You can’t look at him. You don’t know how to tell him that you’re not, that you feel like you’re suffocating. That you want to bury your face in his neck and breathe until all other sensations are washed away.

“You don’t have to hide from us.” He continues, his hand reaching for your arm, but you jerk back with a sharp intake of breath, and you can hear the sharp edge of concern in his voice when he speaks again. “You’re still you. You’re not some... freak, love. We’re here.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your breath coming too fast. Please don’t touch me.

But it’s too late.

The flood of scents, the pressure in your chest, it all rises again. The overwhelming wave of emotions, the shift of something inside you that you’ve never felt before, it’s too much to bear.

You don’t know what’s happening to you.

You don’t want them to see you like this. Even if they’d seen you the cursed day you designation presented itself.

John and Simon appear in the hallway, eyes trained on you as if they already know. Simon steps forward first, and you already know what expression he has underneath his mask. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with a quiet understanding.

You want to yell at them, tell them to go away, but you don’t have the strength.

It’s too much.

“Love,” John says, firm but gentle, reaching for you in that way he always does. “Talk to us. Let us help.”

Kyle joins as well- you can feel his warmth as he sits down beside Johnny, not yet touching you, but the smell of concern almost chokes you.

You want to. You really do. But the words are caught in your throat, lodged there with the lump of shame, of self-loathing.

“I- I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words barely leaving your lips. “I don’t... I don’t know what to do. I’m not... I’m not like this. I wasn’t supposed to... to...”

“Hey,” Kyle says softly, his hands gentle as he slides his fingers under your chin to tilt your face up. His eyes are full of something that makes you ache. “You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Your chest tightens, and the tears you’ve been trying to hold back finally spill over, leaving a trail of shame behind them.

“I’m a mess,” you sob, your voice breaking. “I’m not supposed to be like this. I’m too late, too... too wrong.”

Simon’s hand wraps around yours, his warmth steadying you, calming the storm inside your chest just a little. They are slowly sureounding you- a living nest cocoon of warmth you are undeserving of. “You’re not wrong, lovie,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to be anything but you.”

Your eyes meet his, searching for some kind of truth. His grip tightens on yours, and the grounding presence of the others behind him steadies you just a little.

“You’re ours,” John continues in a murmur in his stead, his thumb brushing your cheek, wiping away a tear. “And that’s enough. Presenting like this doesn’t suddenly make you any less than who you were, love.”

You can’t answer, can’t process all the words they’re giving you. But their hands are on you, and their presence fills you up in a way that begins to soften the sharp edge of the shame gnawing at you.

Maybe you’re still too much for yourself. But you just… have to trust them.

Omegaverse masterlist

[missarchive]

captured in quiet glances

spencer reid

cw; making out in the bullpen, slightly cocky spencer, flirting, nervous!reader, GLASSES GLASSES GLASSES (cause they need a warning of their own), cockblocking in the workplace

an; based on an ask i received a little while ago but accidentally deleted, my sincere apologies, sweet anon, i hope you enjoy!

wc; around 3k

Spencer Reid.

The very same name had rolled off your tongue in whispered prayer late in the night more times than you could count. When you could finally enjoy solitude, away from prying eyes, away from the people who knew what you were thinking before you even did. Your attraction to Spencer was no secret—how could it be?

Not when your gaze lingered on him far too long, tracing the sharp curve of his jaw, the delicate arch of his brow, or the way his hands moved when he spoke, gesturing with an awkward yet endearing intensity.

Not when your heart skipped a beat every time he laughed at something you said, even if it was something ridiculous. And certainly not when your stomach fluttered with reckless abandon whenever his eyes locked onto yours, as if you were part of the mystery he was trying to solve.

But today was different.

You hadn’t expected to find him in the bullpen this morning looking like that.

The moment you stepped through the doors, your feet faltered, your bag sliding precariously down your shoulder as your brain scrambled to catch up with the vision before you. Spencer Reid. In glasses.

Not the kind of glasses someone wears begrudgingly, as a last resort after losing a contact. No, these were intentional. Framed to perfection, resting effortlessly on the bridge of his nose, accentuating the sharpness of his features in a way that sent your thoughts spiralling.

The lenses framed his cautious brown doe-eyes, once soft and inquisitive, now sharp and calculated, as though seeing the world through a new, refined lens. They gave him an air of confidence, something you might mistake for cockiness in anyone else. But with Spencer, it was different.

You knew his ego when it came to his intelligence—how could he not have one? Years of being underestimated, of facing disbelief instead of encouragement, had built him into a man who wielded his knowledge like armour.

He wasn’t the same awkward boy genius anymore. Today, standing there in his crisp shirt and fitted vest, pushing those damned glasses up the bridge of his nose with a casual flick of his fingers—he was something else entirely.

He was devastating.

"Y/N?"

His voice shattered the daze you had fallen into, and you blinked rapidly, realizing you had been staring. Heat flooded your cheeks as your grip tightened on your bag, your mind scrambling for an escape.

"Morning, Spencer," you managed, forcing a smile that you hoped masked the chaos inside you.

His lips quirked into a polite smile, his eyes scanning your face in that way that made your skin prickle. He adjusted his glasses again, and you had to fight the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to reach out and do it for him.

Focus, Y/N.

You dropped your bag onto your desk with a little too much enthusiasm, papers shuffling under your fumbling hands. Anything to keep yourself busy. Anything to stop thinking about how ridiculously attractive he looked today. Because if you let yourself dwell on it too long, you'd be doomed.

"Everything okay?"

His voice was closer now, and when you glanced up, he was standing right beside your desk, those sharp, knowing eyes analyzing you with quiet intensity. You swallowed hard, forcing a casual shrug.

"Yeah," you croaked, clearing your throat. "Just didn’t get much sleep last night."

Spencer nodded thoughtfully, his expression softening. "If you need caffeine, I just brewed a fresh pot in the break room."

You nodded, your voice coming out higher than intended. "Thanks, Reid."

As he walked away, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Spencer Reid in glasses was going to be the death of you.

The morning passed in a blur of stolen glances and clumsy keystrokes, each one more humiliating than the last. You were convinced you'd managed to play it cool—until you heard your name.

"Y/N."

Your head snapped up, eyes widening as Spencer stood beside your desk again, arms crossed over his chest. He had that look—the one that said he had already unraveled the entire situation in his head and was just waiting for you to confirm it.

"You’ve been acting... different today," he observed, tilting his head slightly.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "Different? How?"

You aimed for nonchalance, but the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Spencer's lips twitched in amusement. "For one, your typing speed has decreased by approximately thirty percent. You’ve corrected yourself five times in the last hour, and you haven’t made eye contact with me for more than two seconds at a time. Normally, you maintain it for an average of 6.4 seconds."

Damn it. Why did he have to be so perceptive?

You shifted in your seat, waving a dismissive hand. "Maybe I’m just tired."

Spencer hummed thoughtfully. "Or maybe..." He leaned in, his voice dropping slightly, "it has something to do with the fact that you've been staring at my glasses all day."

Your stomach plummeted, and heat rushed to your face. He knew. Of course he knew.

"I—" you began, scrambling for an excuse, but his soft chuckle cut you off.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice lower now, almost teasing. “I noticed the way your pupils dilated when you first saw me this morning. It’s a physiological response to attraction.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Oh my God, Spencer.”

His chuckle deepened, and when you peeked through your fingers, he was smiling—genuine and warm, with a hint of something else beneath it. Something smug.

“So,” he prompted, watching you carefully, “you think I look good in glasses?”

You let out a nervous laugh, finally dropping your hands. “Okay, fine. Yes, Reid. You look… good in glasses. Happy now?”

His eyes sparkled behind the lenses, and he nodded thoughtfully, fiddling with the leather strap on his messenger bag.

You felt the blush creep back up your neck as you realised where the conversation was headed. “Spencer Reid,” you said, trying to sound chastising. “Are you propositioning me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” you said bluntly, trying not to let your tone betray the excitement that was building inside you.

Spencer was quiet for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Is that… okay?” he murmured, leaning in even closer, until his face was only inches from yours.

You bit your lip, your heart pounding in your ears. You shook your head, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself. “Yes, yeah- more than okay...”

Spencer’s lips parted, a soft huff of air escaping him. His fingers curled over the edge of your desk, gripping it like he needed the support to stay standing. He looked at you with those sharp, calculating eyes, but something had changed. His gaze had softened. It wasn’t as intense as it had been before.

 It felt more like he was watching you—really watching you. Like he was taking in every little detail. The way your hair curled slightly at the nape of your neck, the soft pink hue of your lips, the shape of your eyes.

He leaned in even closer, his breath ghosting over your skin as he spoke. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you swallowed hard. “How long?”

Spencer’s thumb rubbed against the edge of your desk in a soothing motion, his eyes still locked on yours. “As soon as you joined the team,” he said, and even though his voice was steady, his words were laced with a vulnerability that made your chest ache. “You walked in, and everything changed for me.”

Your heart raced in your chest, pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of your ribcage. Spencer Reid had been attracted to you since day one? You felt his fingers brush against your hand, tentative as they intertwined with yours. Your palm tingled at the touch, and you looked down, watching as he threaded his fingers through yours.

Spencer’s eyes followed your gaze, lingering on the sight of your joined hands before flicking back up to your face. His fingers tightened around yours, his mouth opening to speak. “Do you still want this?” he asked, and it was different from the earlier question.

This time, there was no teasing in his voice, no confidence. He looked nervous. Anxious. Vulnerable. He looked like a man who had spent years wondering if he had a chance. A man who couldn’t believe he might finally get it.

And that—that was all it took. That was all you needed to see in him. You reached up, running your palm over his cheek and threading your fingers through his hair. You looked him straight in the eye. “I do,” you whispered, and his eyes fluttered closed at the words. His body seemed to sag against yours, like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for the response.

When his eyes opened again, they weren’t shy anymore. They were sharp, burning with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against yours, feather light. Your breath hitched, and his tongue slid out, tracing over your bottom lip. He tugged at your lower lip, pulling it between his teeth to nibble. You gasped, his mouth swallowing the sound. Your hands slid up to his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as he deepened the kiss.

He tasted like mint and chocolate, like your favourite kind of candy. His lips were softer than you imagined, his tongue hot and slick as it tangled with yours. You let out a moan, and Spencer’s grip on your waist tightened.

He pulled you closer, his hips shifting against yours, and that was all it took for your entire body to tense up. The feeling of his erection against you was enough to send your pulse into overdrive.

You wanted him. Needed him. So, so badly.

When he pulled away, your lips were swollen, and you felt like you might come right then and there. Your entire body was burning with need, tingling with arousal. “Spencer,” you gasped, clutching at his shirt. You tugged him closer, your mouth seeking his again. His hands tightened on your waist, and he groaned into your mouth, kissing you harder.

This wasn’t a gentle kiss. This wasn’t the sweet, tender moment you’d been imagining. This was desperate and needy, like he couldn’t get enough of you.

And you felt the same.

But a sound tore through the bullpen, snapping both of you back to reality.

The break room door had swung open. You heard the clatter of mugs on the counter as someone went for coffee. Spencer’s head snapped back, and he cursed under his breath.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling away. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling quickly, like he was struggling to catch his breath.  He ran a hand over his mouth, looking more than a little dazed.

You couldn’t blame him. You felt like you’d just been hit by a freight train.

“We’re still at work,” he whispered, his voice thick. He glanced at the break room, then back to you. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, running your fingers through your hair. “It’s okay,” you said, forcing a laugh. “I think it’s been a while since anyone’s gotten action at the office.”

Spencer’s brows arched, and a laugh escaped him. It sounded more like a cough at first, but then grew louder, until he was grinning. You smiled back at him, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered.

As Spencer’s laugh faded, a comfortable silence lingered between you, but the tension was still palpable, buzzing in the air like static electricity. His hand lingered on the edge of your desk, fingers drumming softly as if he were debating what to say next.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen like this,” he admitted, his voice softer now, carrying a note of vulnerability that made your heart ache. “But... I’m not sorry it did.”

Your lips parted in surprise, your chest tightening at his words. You swallowed hard, gathering enough courage to answer. “Me neither.”

Spencer’s gaze softened further, the intensity in his eyes replaced by something warmer, more earnest. He hesitated, glancing toward the bullpen as if checking to see if anyone else might appear. When he was satisfied you were still alone, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“What do we do now?”

The question hung in the air between you, weighty and full of possibilities. You felt your pulse quicken, the reality of the situation crashing over you like a wave.

You smiled nervously, shifting in your seat. “Well, for starters, we don’t get caught making out in the middle of the office.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his lips curving into that shy, boyish smile you’d always found so endearing. “Good point.” He straightened up slightly, adjusting his glasses—a gesture that was quickly becoming your undoing. “But after that…?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. This wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you’d planned for when you woke up this morning. But as you looked up at him, at the way he stood there watching you with an intensity that made your stomach flutter, you realized you didn’t want to let this moment slip away.

“Dinner,” you said, surprising even yourself. “Tonight. My place.”

Spencer’s brows lifted, and for a brief moment, you worried you’d been too forward. But then his expression softened again, and he nodded. “I’d like that,” he said simply.

Relief flooded through you, and you found yourself smiling despite the lingering nerves. “Good. Then it’s a date.”

Before he could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps snapped both of you back to reality. Spencer stepped back quickly, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie as if nothing had happened. You grabbed a random file off your desk, pretending to review it with far more interest than necessary.

“Reid! Y/N!” Emily’s voice rang out as she approached, a cup of coffee in hand. “Hotch wants us in the conference room. New case.”

You both nodded, mumbling acknowledgments as Emily disappeared down the hall. When you glanced at Spencer, you found him already looking at you, a small, private smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Tonight,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear before turning and heading toward the conference room.

You watched him go, your heart pounding in your chest. Tonight. The word echoed in your mind, full of promise and anticipation.

[6toru]

hi! I would be down and to see you write something with Dr. Ratio or Boothill. I was thinking something like hate s£x or dub con. Everything is fine...Have a great day tough either way <3

*ੈ✩ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. boothill x fem!reader, smut (mdni), cyborg fucking (his cöck is real tho), hate fucking, public sex, rough sex, pussy slapping, squirting, degradation (reader gets called whore & slut), explicit language / dirty talk *ੈ✩ 𝐖𝐂. 1.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. thank u for the request anon! please enjoy <3

Now, he knows pretty damn well how strong of a word 'hate' is, and he's pretty damn sure you're the epitome of the one thing he hates — that was the fucking Interastal Peace Corporation. Mission after mission, as if fate is against him, he always manages to cross paths with you; staring up at him teasingly with that coy fucking smile — coming up to him for one reason, and one reason only. He's honestly surprised as to how persistent you are despite his constant circumvents from the IPC's interventions.

"𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋, Boothill." You chime the cowboy's name, making fearless strides towards the cyborg with a piece of paper in your fists, and the other IPC staffs follow suit. Luckily, with his sharp vision, he caught wind of what the contents were in said paper, and of-fucking-course it had to be his wanted poster.

"The hell do you motherfuckers want?" The galactic cowboy raises an eyebrow, staring down at you with a look of scorn plastered across his face.

You tap the wanted poster lightly across his metallic chest, giving him the same coy smile that he's grown to hate. Right, hate. He fucking hates how dry his mouth gets whenever you pull this sort of shit. Just what exactly did you do to tamper with his system? Though, he decides to shrug those useless thoughts off his brain, as he stares down at you with a pointed look in his eyes, and a dry, disinterested chuckle escapes his lips.

"You know what I'm holding in my hand, right? Turns out, you're now wanted for deliberate acts of sabotage against IPC facilities and posing a serious threat to universal public property safety. Got anything to say to that?"

"The IPC deserves all the shit that's coming to 'em," replies Boothill, sparing you a toothy smile laced with venom all whilst adjusting his cowboy hat. You continue to stand your ground, raising an eyebrow towards the male.

"You're wanted," you firmly state, shrugging your shoulders. "Whether you like it or not, you're coming with us. I let it slide multiple times before, but the higher ups are getting rather impatient."

"Give the fuck up, Sapphire or whatever the fuck gem you are. I ain't going anywhere with you IPC shits." The silver-haired man retorts, "I didn't go with you then, and I ain't going with you now."

"If ya keep persisting..." He digs a hand inside his pocket, slowly drawing out his gun. "Then, I challenge ya to a duel. if I win, you gotta let me go again. how's that sound?"

Immediately, your henchmen draws out their weapons. You raise a hand up, signalling the men to lower their weapons. Heaving a sigh of chagrin, you roll your eyes. Crossing your arms, a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "Fine, Cowboy. I'll entertain you one last time."

"If fighting's what you really want, then let's duel." You say, drawing out your weapon. "Though, don't blame me for what's about to come next. I won't go easy on you this time."

The exact words you had uttered are immediately shoved back down your throat when you find yourself pressed against the cool, brick walls along the isolated alleyway; both your weapons are splayed across the concrete, and your little mewls of wanton are muffled by the surprisingly soft plush of his lips. He bites down your lips softly, though it's enough to draw a small amount of blood due to his sharp canines.

"Hey, hey. Don't you care about your little henchmen hearing those dirty noises you're makin' right now, sweetheart?" Comments Boothill, and it's almost as if he's sneering at you – only, if it isn't for the way your walls clench around him so deliciously; making him nearly just as fucked out as you are.

Each rock of his hips sends you closer, and closer to cloud nine. You didn't know exactly how your due transitioned into fucking, but you're too fucked out to even care. The lines between that of hatred and arousal has long since been blurred.

He's supposed to hate you. For god's sake, you're part of the corporate he fucking despises — the very same corporate that reignited his need for revenge and destruction; the very reason as to why he became the way he is now. You're in the fuckin' IPC, but for fuck's sake! But, there's simply no denying that he's getting immensely high off of your pussy, and he can't bring himself to stop. Oh, how he loves the way he can easily wipe that coy smile off your face, only for it to be replaced with that of desperation and pure ecstasy.

"O-Oh fuck, fuck, fuck... Ah! Y-You're so f-fucking deep!" You stammer out, and when he resumes his relentless pace — your lips immediately latch onto his neck, biting at the cool metal plate that coats his flesh. If he continues to fuck you at this pace, you're convinced he's going to destroy you. With the way he's fucking you, it's beyond human.

"Where'd all that venom of yours go? Hm?" Boothill hums against your lips, swiping his tongue along the outlines of your lips; coating his tongue in crimson. "Ya told me moments before you wouldn't go easy on me. Be honest, you wanted this all this time."

With one strong thrust of his hips, the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, and your body jolts forward. A sharp, pathetic yelp escapes your lips as your hands immediately reach towards his shoulders for support. Albeit, as pathetic as you appear beneath his larger frame, shocks of arousal travels straight down to his cock, so much that it almost becomes sore. It almost makes him want to fuck you with thrice the fervour.

A shit-eating grin begins to tug at the corners of his lips, and maybe you would have smacked it off if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s fucking the living shit out of you.

"You dirty fuckin' slut," hisses the male in between staggered thrusts, "can't even deny it too, huh? Hah— Wonder what your higher ups are goin' to think once they realize that their little IPC agent is nothin' more than a cock hungry slut for the wanted guy on the poster."

"Mm — Fuck, fuck. Ngh." You're barely coherent with your words, the climb to your release is inching closer, and closer.

A sharp sting emanates from your swollen cunt, and Boothill repeats the motion once more — placing light, yet firm smacks across your sensitive clit all whilst thrusting his cock inside yours like he's a fucking madman. He clenches his jaw, his brows furrowed as he relishes in the way your pussy squeezes on his cock like a vice.

"Answer me, slut." He orders, his warm breath fanning over your neck as he licks a long strip along your collarbone to your jaw. Without thinking, you lean your head back, giving the cyborg male more access to the spot. Waves of pleasure hits you like a truck when you reach your high for the second time, your juices spraying all over his cock and abdomen along with a shaky moan that slips past your lips.

"F-Fuck you," you manage to gasp out, sending him a death glare following his cruel ministrations. "Y-You... Mmh– You're so fuckin' mean..! Ah!"

"You're sayin' all that, but your pussy's beggin' me to stay." He rasps, his low, baritone voice hitching at every thrust he ruts into you; the little groans that falls past his lips effortlessly inches you closer and closer to your release, and the volume of your moans merely increases.

"Shiiiit," the word rolls down his tongue, his mouth hung open as he revels in the lewd sight before him. "You love bein' fucked by a cyborg man that bad, hm?"

Clenching his jaw and furrowing his brows, the male hoists you up in the air in one swift movement; anchoring your legs with his herculean arms, and when he thrusts his hips back into yours, eliciting a loud, uncontrollable squeak to fall past your lips. You didn't expect him to reach deeper, but he fully surpasses your expectations. Trembling beneath his touches, you swear you're this close to coming for the third time.

"Admit it, sweetheart. You lost." Boothill hums, though his breathing remains hitched – perhaps, even more so with each thrust he plummets into you.

"Shut up," you retort, and a small moan follows, and you fail to realize the small beads of saliva trailing down your lips; viscous like honey. "T-This wasn't... Mmm... part of the duel."

Shit. The sight's enough to get his dick twitching, growing more and more desperate for release.

"Ya do realize how slutty and pathetic you're lookin' like right now?" He huffs out, a guttural chuckle rumbles from his throat. "Besides – Hah, fuck. You think you can still fight right after I'm done with you?"

You bite your lip at his words, "What if I don't wanna?"

"Say it," orders Boothill, "admit I won, and I'll give you exactly what you've always wanted. If not, I'm gonna leave you high and dry, and I have no problem doin' that."

He eventually slows down with his pace, and his eyes slowly trail down your face; relishing in the way your face scrunches in pure ecstasy, your lips quivering as you attempt to mask your strong dismay at his words.

"You asshole..."

Your fingers travel up towards the back of his scalp, running your digits through his silver locks before giving them a harsh tug; eliciting a harsh hiss from your supposed nemesis. "The fuck was that for—?"

"D-Don't you dare fucking stop, Boothill." You hiss at him, cutting him off. It almost sounds pathetic, nearly coming off as a sob as you desperately rock your hips closer to his. Tears are stinging at the corners of your eyes as you begin to ramble off. "Fine, you fuckin' win! I don't care anymore, just make me come!"

Despite being stuffed full with his dick, you're still aching for more. Boothill nearly cums at the sight, but with the little self-control that remains within him, he relents.

"What about the higher ups?" He teases you, his warm breath fanning over your ears before he begins to nibble on the skin with his sharp canines. "Didn't you say they were... rather impatient?"

"I'll..." You try to utter, but another moan threatens to slip past your lips and you gulp, breathing shakily. "Mmm... I'll tell them to be more patient."

"Good girl," he praises you, digging his fingers deeper into the plush of your ass, "just exactly what I wanted to fuckin' hear."

"Fuck," you sob, "Just fuckin' give it to me, 'm so, so close. Please."

"Oh, don't you worry." Boothill hums at you, grinning. "I'll reward you generously."

© 6TORU do not copy, repost, or translate my works on any platform.

[moonstruckme]

Oh! Oh! I’m not the anon who asked about Jily x reader but your response made something spark in my brain. So picture a super cosy, soft scene where one of them comes home from a long and draining day of work to one of their loves in the kitchen baking, and then the third comes home with dinner and it’s all just soft and domestic. My heart! I think I can see the Jily x reader appeal

Thank you for requesting lovely! I feel like I'm still getting my sea legs under me with them but so far I'm really enjoying writing for them :)

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

The front door opens, and you say “Hi,” with a question in your voice, unsure who’s made it home first. 

The answer comes in the quiet scrape of a chair being pulled out. Only one of your partners is given to actually sitting down to take their shoes off, rather than toeing them off and being shocked when the backs get scuffed. “Hi, love,” Lily replies. 

“Hi,” you say again, warmer now. “Hey, could you help me with something when you’re done?” 

“Yeah, with what?” 

“My hair won’t stop getting in my face.” You blow a strand away from your eye. It comes right back. “And my hands have dough on them.”

“Just a second.” You hear the chair being pushed back under your table, the quiet padding of socked feet as your girlfriend comes up behind you. As usual, she’s come prepared, a hair tie already on her wrist. Gentle fingers sweep strands away from your face and draw it all back into a loose ponytail. Lily presses a kiss to your nape once she’s done. 

“Thank you,” you say, and she hums, settling her arms around your waist. “How was your day?” 

Lily sighs and rests her chin on your shoulder. “Long.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, lovely. Anything in particular?” 

“Not really. Just one thing after another, you know.” She toys with the loose knit of your sweater, sticking her finger through a hole. “I’m happy to be home.” 

The fondness that bleeds through you feels warm and sticky. “I’m happy you’re home, too,” you say with a smile.

You feel her lips curve in kind as she kisses your shoulder. “What’re you making?” 

“Cinnamon roll cookies. They’re more complicated than I thought, but I figure even if I mess them up they’ll at least smell nice when they’re baking.” 

“Good thinking. You won’t mess them up, though.” 

You both hear a key being fitted into the lock outside, and Lily calls out, “It’s open!”

“What?” The voice is muffled through the door. The key retracts, the handle twists. “Why is it open?” James asks as he comes inside. “I could be a murderer.” 

“Because I knew you’d be right on my tail,” says Lily, at the same time as you say, “What makes you think someone would want to murder us?” 

“Well, I’d rather you not find out,” James replies. He toes off his shoes and sets a large paper bag on the table. “Especially when I’m not home.” 

“Oh, because surely we need a man to protect us? We could do just as well in a fight whether you were here or not.” 

Looking at your tall, muscled boyfriend, you have to admit privately that this may be factually untrue. By the look Lily gives you as she goes to give him a kiss, she also disagrees with your argument even if she respects it. 

“Let’s just keep the door locked and that way none of us ever have to fight,” James says as she steps into his arms. He smiles. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Lily pecks him on the lips. “What’s in the bag?” 

“Dinner. I know I was meant to cook tonight, but I decided on the way home to pick up instead.” 

“Oh no,” you say mournfully. “Did you have a bad day, too?” 

“No.” James looks at you, confused. “Who had a bad day?” 

“Lily did.” 

“It wasn’t bad, it was just draining,” your girlfriend qualifies, though this doesn’t stop James from cooing and folding her into a hug. “I’m really fine.” Her voice is muffled against his chest. 

“I must’ve had a sixth sense, then.” James kisses her hair. “I got your favorite.” 

“No, did you really?” You can hear Lily perk up. She doesn’t completely remove herself from his embrace but frees one arm and cranes her neck to look inside the bag. “Thank you, love.” 

“Don’t thank me, thank my telepathy,” he says, letting her go so she can start grabbing forks and napkins for you all to eat with. 

James makes his way over to you, leaning against the counter so he can see your face while you work. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, his hair fluffy like he’s been running his fingers through it or he rolled down the window on the drive home.

“And how was your day?” he asks you. 

“My day was good.” You grin at him. He returns it with twice the enthusiasm. “I finished my book, and I found this recipe for cinnamon roll cookies.” 

James’ gaze doesn’t dip to where you’re folding the cinnamon mixture into your dough. He nods as he keeps looking at your face, eyes warm. He’s still smiling. 

“What?” 

“Did you know you have a little bit of flour on your cheek?” 

“Oh, why’d you ruin it?” Lily asks, bustling through the kitchen to get you water for dinner. “I wasn’t going to tell her.” 

“What?” You look over your shoulder in betrayal. “Is it a lot? Why wouldn’t you tell me?” 

Lily turns off the tap, giving you a sheepish smile and a lift of her shoulders as she passes by you again. “It’s cute.” 

“It’s very cute,” James agrees. “Want me to get it for you?” 

“Yes.” You roll your eyes at your girlfriend. “Please.” 

James uses his thumb to brush off your cheek, holding your face in his hand while he does. His smile is still firmly in place, soft around the edges with a sweet fondness. He keeps rubbing until you’re sure the flour has to be long gone, until warmth kisses your cheeks and it’s just touching.

“Love you,” you say softly. 

James’ cheeks dimple. “Love you, sweetheart.” 

“Will you turn the tap on for me?” 

He does, and you wash your hands in the sink, leaving the rest of the baking for after dinner. 

“Oh, good.” Lily comes back into the kitchen. “Are you ready to eat? I’m worried it’s going to get cold.” 

“We’re ready,” James answers for you. “Just washing up.” 

“Jamie.” Lily smiles at you as you step away from the sink to let him have his turn. “You didn’t get it all.” 

“I got distracted,” says James. “Anyway, I thought you liked it there.” 

She beckons you closer. “I do, but if you’re going to get it, you may as well finish the job.” She brushes a fingertip over your cheek, pretty eyes crinkling. “There. Perfect.” 

“She’s always perfect.” James dries his hands on a towel. He kisses you when you smile bashfully. 

“The food’s getting cold,” you remind them. 

“Excuses, excuses.” 

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reacting to their s/o having curly hair

Request: GIOOOOODDDDDD MOORNINGGGG YOU BEAUTIFUL WONDERFUL SPECTACULAR HUMAN ｡ﾟ( ﾟ^∀^ﾟ)ﾟ｡

it’s meeeeeeee your 🫧 anon (✿◠‿◠) before i begin i must give you words of thanks for fueling my (and all of our) delusions 🙂‍↕️ it’s very much appreciated in this economy (づ ￣ ³￣)づ

since ur requests are open again would u mind indulging me just one more time? 🥹 how svt would react to reader having curly hair ╥﹏╥ i saw one (and only one :/) somewhere awhile ago and i haven’t been able to find any since so i would 🥰LOVE🥰 if your beautiful wonderful spectacular brain would do its sparkly pixie magic 🪄 on this for me whenever you get free time 🥹 absolutely no rush, of course!!

anyways, even if you don’t get to it I STILL LOVE UUUU INFINITY REGARDLESS MWAH 💋 I HOPE YOU HAVE A LOVELY DAY(。･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

A/N: YOU’RE SO SWEET OMG!!! Your energy is literally sunshine in text form 😦

I LOVE this request!! Curly hair appreciation is SO underrated and I’d be absolutely honored to write this one for you!! I’ll keep it ambiguous and relatable, so all the curly-headed cuties can feel SEEN. Thank you for trusting me with your vision again, and for always being such a ray of light!

P.S. MWAH BACK AT YOU!!

Seungcheol:

Lowkey obsessed. He loves running his fingers through your curls, even if you’re like “noooo, it’s gonna frizz!”

Always tells you how gorgeous your hair is, especially when you get self-conscious.

“You’re literally perfect!”

Might steal your diffuser to ‘help’ dry your hair but ends up doing it wrong lmao.

Jeonghan:

Teases you sometimes like, “Did a bird make a nest in here?” but actually melts inside because you’re adorable.

Loves watching you take care of your curls and enjoys when you let him help with your hair routine.

Buys you fancy satin pillowcases and pretends he’s nonchalant about it but secretly researched “how to protect curly hair at night.”

Joshua:

Super gentle with your curls, always asking if he can touch them.

Loves seeing you with your natural hair, will hype you up every single time.

Might playfully tug at a curl just to see it bounce back and giggle like a kid.

Also the type to say, “youur hair smells so nice!”

Jun:

Mesmerized by the texture. Will 100% stare at your hair when you’re talking because he’s so fascinated.

“It’s like art,” he says, poking at a curl.

Likes how soft and cozy your curls feel when you cuddle.

Might suggest you both try silly hair masks together, just for fun.

Hoshi:

Completely dramatic about it. “Why is your hair SO COOL?!” every time.

Loves when you wear it down so he can get lost in it.

Randomly sticks his face in your hair and says, “It smells like you!”

Will also take blurry selfies of you two mid-cuddle and caption them “the fluff squad.”

Wonwoo:

Admires how beautiful your curls are.

Looooves resting his head on your shoulder and feeling your soft hair brush against his face.

Will notice the effort you put into taking care of them and bring you little gifts like hair oils or scrunchies.

Very sincere compliments. “You look really pretty today.”

Woozi:

Lowkey loves your curls but pretends to be indifferent.

“It’s just hair,” but then gets flustered when you catch him staring.

Loves how your hair smells and might absentmindedly play with a curl when you’re sitting next to him.

Occasionally suggests writing a song about how cute you look 😭😭😭

Dokyeom:

Hypeman to the MAX. “LOOK AT THOSE CURLS! YOU’RE SO BEAUTIFUL!”

Loves tucking your hair behind your ear only for it to curl under your ear, and then he giggles like crazy.

Gets way too into helping you shop for hair stuff, reading every label like an exam.

Constantly says, “You should model your hair, it’s like from a magazine.”

Mingyu:

SO TOUCHY. Always playing with your curls, even when you say, “Stop, I’ll get frizzy!”

Thinks you’re the cutest thing on earth and tells you constantly.

Buys you way too many hair products like, “I don’t know what this does but it says curl on it.” [protect my man!]

Loves when you wear one of his oversized hoodies and your hair just flows out cutely.

Minghao:

Effortlessly stylish himself, so he appreciates your unique beauty.

Definitely suggests fun haircare routines or treatments because he’s into self-care too.

Will compliment you like, “Your curls are so you, they’re perfect,” and genuinely mean it.

Loves when your hair gets a little wild after a long day and you don’t bother taming it.

Seungkwan:

Super playful but also super loving.

Loves when your curls frame your face, always says you look extra cute when you wake up with bedhead.

“How are you THIS adorable 24/7?”

Sends you memes about curly hair struggles and relates hard with you.

Vernon:

Obsessed with how your curls match your vibe.

Loves burying his face in your hair when hugging you from behind.

Always notices when you try a new curly hairstyle and says something like, “Yo, that’s fire.”

Will try to sneak pics of you when your curls are all fluffy because he loves how soft you look.

Dino:

Super fascinated. Might ask a million questions like, “How long does it take to style them?”

Loves how unique your curls make you and is always super supportive.

Will randomly twirl a curl around his finger while you’re talking and not even realize it.

“You’re like…extra soft,” he says while giving you the tightest bear hug ever.

[sems-diarie]

Ok but Aizawa is absolutely obsessed with chubby/fat women bc they’re soft and they smell nice and he will use you in place of his sleeping bag all the time. He will come home from a shift or his hell class, see you on the couch and bully you into a position where he can sleep comfortably on you.

If you pout n whine at him just right he’ll let out this huge sigh like you’re stressing him out and then wiggle down between your legs to eat you out until you’re crying, wailing that you can’t take anymore and then he’ll just smack your thigh or ass, enthralled at the way the flesh jiggles before diving right back in.

You wanted his attention right? So be a good girl and take what he’s giving you, and thank him for it.

anon u r brilliant i’ve been thinking ab this for days

you’re not thinking much of him when aizawa comes to sit by you. no, not even when he slots his huge, dense body over your back.

you gave him an initial side eye, but he just grinned real lazy. said he likes being close—don’t you, pretty lady?

you don’t think much of shouta, or his schemes, until he raises his head from motorboating the back of your thighs to slapping a hand into the meat of said luscious thigh. he’s sick, you decide, when he presses his nose against the sweat-slicked skin there.

you squeal and tense at the sudden pain that blossoms where he hit you. you don’t have long to relish in it when his fingers sink into you. he holds you still where you lay on the couch, and shouta groans deep as he molds your flesh with hands.

“it hurt?” shouta asks, sounding like it hurts him to breathe anything but the bewitching aroma of the cute, twitching pussy beneath his nearly drooling mouth. “sorry.”

“i need—,” you whine, rocking back to meet his mouth despite knowing you shouldn’t. “y’can’t, ‘cause i’m gross.”

your shouta doesn’t even bat an eye. the minute the words leave his mouth, he’s gone back to harassing your pussy-soft pillow thighs with his scratchy beard. “i don’t care for the shaved shit.”

“i need t’shower,” you hiss. “you’re tactless.”

you’ve been home all day. well, you showered last night for your early-morning errand run. and then you went and did some roller skating. then, you came back and watched a movie. and now, your husband is home and hungry—

and you’re trying to tell him dinner isn’t ready?

you don’t even bother after that. shouta’s strong hands take to your legs, spreading them a bit. just enough to get space for his shoulders to take up between your hips. for a while, aizawa just looks. and talks shit. fake worry drips from your husband’s tone when you, to his pleasant surprise, fight back against him.

“i just want to lick you a little,” aizawa says. he kisses you now, soft half-bites to soft, delectable parts of your legs. “woke up thinkin’ ‘bout it, came home thinkin’ ‘bout it…”

“you want my pussy in your mouth all the time,” it’s more of a hiss than you mean for it to be. and you nearly cry out as part of him brushes your clit. one of his hands supports your weight on his face; the other slides up your body to pinch your nipple.

“fuck yes. are you offering?” shouta loves how your hips grind back to him, taking the pleasure he’s giving you with a clenching, sloppy pussy. “wish you’d cut it with the panties, too.”

“think i give a fuck about a shower?” aizawa is not shy about it at all as he continues. he bites into the silence your swirling brain so dumbly encourages you to leave. and your brickhouse of a man fills it with the filthy, nasty ways he plans on making those pretty eyes cry as you grind cum all over his mouth.

he growls, “make me fuckin’ messy, baby.”

you whine.

“whining about later—you don’t think this spoiled pussy needs me now?”

shouta revels in the gooey squishes your pussy makes when his thick fingers come to pry your ass cheeks apart. you don’t even get a chance to answer before he spreads you again, and this time his tongue claims the insides of your cunt instead.

[authorhjk1]

How would Oh!GG members react when they receive their very first creampie? If you search their group name you will definitely love their members. Hehe.

Was too busy since my last ask, it's good to be back momentarily. Get well soon btw.

Asking anon

Taeyeon

Taeyeon knew she had bitten off more than she could chew, when she first saw your cock. And now, three orgasms later, Taeyeon can feel you throbbing inside of her.

"I'm gonna cum, noona."

You whisper into her ear, which almost makes it sound like a threat.

"Yes, do it. I want it."

You're leaving her breathless with your constant thrusts into her pussy. If she had a clear head, she'd probably tell you to pull out. But your cock has made her brain useless.

"I love your pussy, noona."

Your sincere compliment makes Taeyeon climax for a forth time. Her pussy contracts around your cock. Her walls give you tight squeezes. Finally, she makes you cum as well. You bury your head in her shoulder as you shoot your load deep into her pussy. Taeyeon's moans become louder as you fill her tummy with warm cum. Her whole body seems to heat up and she can't help but whine.

"Your cum feels so good in me."

Sunny

Sunny rolls her hips on top of you, a mischievous smile playing around her lips.

"Come on, sweetie. Cum for me."

You try to hold it together, if that means you can stay inside of her for just a minute longer. But you don't stand a chance. When Sunny starts to play with her own tits, you finally give up.

"God, yes!"

Sunny's head rolls back as your cum floods her insides.

"This feels amazing."

She keeps moving her hips, trying to get every last drop out of you.

"Good, boy."

Hyoyeon

Hyoyeon has waited for this for a long time. Ever since Taeyeon admitted that you did it to her. And now, Hyoyeon is riding you. Her hips move up and down, her hands on your shoulders, while your own hands are tied to the back of the chair.

"Do it. I want to feel you cum inside of me."

Hyoyeon picks up the pace, her pussy applying more pressure to your cock. And sooner rather than layer, you can't hold back anymore.

With a groan, you thrust up into her, spilling your seed inside Hyoyeon's pussy.

"Fuck, that's hot."

She gasps, finally sinking fully onto your cock as she lakes the whole load. You feel her walls contracting around you, trying to steal every last drop from you.

"You better get back to dance practice. We don't want anyone catching you cuming inside me, do we?"

Yuri

"Where do you think you're going?"

Yuri quickly locks you into position, her legs tightly wrapped around you.

"W.. What?"

You are barely able to speak, your brain already a mess.

Yuri's tight pussy is going to make you cum and you were going to pull out in time, but now you're forced to stay inside of her.

"I want to feel it. I want to feel your cum deep inside me."

Her words instantly make you orgasm. Who would be able to resist that? No one.

You almost fall over and on top of her as you bury your cock as deep in her pussy as possible. Yuri arches her back, letting out a satisfied moan as she feels your cum filling her pussy. It's warmth quickly spreads through her body, even making her cheeks burn.

"This is making me so wet."

She sighs as she watches you pull out of her. Your cum starts to leak out of her pussy, before she can seal it with her hand.

Yoona

"N-Noona."

You still can't believe your stepsister's pussy is wrapped around your cock. You can't believe Yoona, of all people, would be your first. You were very hesitant at first, when she came at you. Especially since neither of you had protection. She just waved your worries away, saying it's fine, as long as you pull out.

"Noona."

You call for her for a second time. But your voice isn't as loud as your hips smacking against her ass, or the moans that leave her lips. And since she's on all fours and not facing you, you can't give her any signs.

And you definitely can not pull out. It just feels so amazing. Your stepsister's pussy feels like silk around your cock. The best thing you've ever felt. You wish you'd last longer. But you've reached the end. You can't stop thrusting into her. With a loud groan, you suddenly shoot your load deep into your stepsister's unprotected pussy.

"Oh, fuck! What are you-!"

Yoona yelps and moans when she suddenly feels your warmth flooding her system. Surprise, shock and arousal wash through her. Your weight hits her unexpectedly and the two of you hit the mattress. Your cock is still deep inside of her, the last drops of cum just waiting to completely fill her up.

The fact that you just came inside of her without any protection at all makes a cold shudder run down Yoona's spine. She feels goosebumps on her skin, when she hears the wet sound of you pulling out of her cream pied pussy.