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champagnehenssey · 4 months ago

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“We’re for life y’know so, stop it. Stop doing this to me y’know I need you.”

✎ᝰ. Part one.

Black!Reader x Rockstar!Touya!

Now playing..

-Self Righteous by Bryson Tiller-

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ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

📢: toxic relationship, unexpected pregnancy!, drug addiction + alcohol addiction!, smut, angst, he’s an asshole, and bad writing!

Trust me baby it’s hard to give it up, it’s tough.

He remember the day you left him. It was probably one of his clearest memories and one that he regretted a lot.

“I’m getting better I fuckin’ swear! It’s just for recreational use—“ He tried to explain himself but you cut him off “Touya don’t give me that shit” You pointed your manicured finger in his chest harshly “I can’t believe you—no..no you promised to me! You promised to me you stopped!” The sheer pain in your voice made him wince he didn’t like to hurt you (but he seemed to do it a lot didn’t he? Time and time again he lost count now)

“The doctor said it’s okay as long as I do it in small doses—“

“Shut the fuck up! Stop trying to defend yourself. And what doctor? Cause I know you’re not talking about Garaki!”

He sighed rubbing his face feeling his blood rush to his brain the pills were already kicking in and he could barely hear you curse him out. He wanted to be anywhere but here.

“Are you even listening to me?” Fuck. He heard that little crack in your voice the one that always came out when you were mad and about to cry. It almost broke his heart.

“You want me to be honest? No I’m not because it’s not a big deal. It just small doses to get me through the day I can control it.” He said his voice so sure and he gestured with his hand to the pill bottle in your hand.

You looked at him in disbelief and at his sheer audacity your throat burning with the sensation that let you know you were about the cry. You threw the pill bottle at the wall and it popped open the containments going everywhere. Touya let out a frustrated groan his eyes flickering between the bottle and you “God, why do you have to be so dramatic! Making this shit so complicated.”

You stuck your middle finger at him turning around to the stairs “Fuck you! I am so sick of you and your shit. “ You voice was angry as you headed up not even bothering to look back at him ignoring his mutterings. “The next time you’re crying in the shower or in the hospital for overdosing don’t even bother calling my number.” You didn’t even try to hide the tears as they flowed down your cheek.

He should see how much he hurt you.

“Oh so that’s what we’re doing? You don’t really mean that and we both know it.” His tone was so dismissive and so aggravating you turnt to look at him your lip curled in disgust.

You saw him pause at the tears and the bastard had the audacity to look away “Don’t feel guilty now and I’m deadass.” You said grabbing the gold necklace at your neck that had the delicate little ‘D’ letter hanging off of it (he gave it to you your first anniversary and back then he was so sweet and loving—) and promptly ripped it off throwing it harshly down the stairs.

You saw the way he turnt his head back his eyes immediately going to where he heard the sound and you saw the way his eyes widened. He looked at the object like it was foreign something he could barely comprehend.

He shook his head trying to keep his composure because he could feel it, his anger coming to the surface and him angry and high wasn’t a good mix. “You think that,” he gestured vaguely to the necklace “is ‘suppose to me make what? Say sorry? It’s just a fuckin’ necklace and you’re acting like I’m doing coke it’s just pills.”

There he goes acting like he was right in this situation downplaying your feelings.

He would ‘quit’ go through withdrawal and then he would start again and It was always ‘light pills’. Then he would want something stronger, and when that wouldn’t satisfy him he would want something more higher grade. It’s how he’d get enlisted in the hospital and this was his starting third time.

You couldn’t take it anymore the last time he—he had to take a break from his career one that got him a lot backlash from critics and his fans. And now he was acting like he was invincible? This was so tiring and you were exhausted dealing with this.

With him and his demons.

So you didn’t even respond back to him. Didn’t even give him a glance as you went upstairs and packed your bags. And when you came downstairs an hour later and saw him in the kitchen drinking you scoffed not even saying a goodbye.

He didn’t chase you. No you always did that.

But when those two weeks passed and you still didn’t come back on his doorstep he called your phone and learned that you blocked him.

He scoffed “Doesn’t matter..fuck her..abandoning me..”

But it did matter. Because you dug a tight little hole in his heart that yearned for your warmth ever since the day you left. (I need you—I fuckin’ need you. I’m so sorry I know..I know I’m a piece of shit but I need you—)

I guess it's my fault, I know what's up.

Everything was his fault because it was always his fault. He was always the one hurting and hurting and you were the one who always forgave and forgave. (You were always too good for him, you were a good girl you didn’t belong with somebody like him. You deserved to be with a nice man who treated you right and as much as he wanted that for you he fuckin’ hated the idea of you being with someone else.)

So the least thing he could do is give you some space so you could breathe and come to peace before he would walk back into your life and destroy everything with his ‘I’m sorrys’ and your favorite flowers.

In that time, his life got both simpler and more complicated. Simpler, because you weren’t there anymore—no one was nagging him about the smoking or the drinking. No one was in his ear, begging him to take care of himself. He could do whatever he wanted without your voice holding him accountable. It was like he was finally free.

But complicated, because without you, everything undoubtedly spiraled.

It wasn’t the drugs that sent him to the hospital this time, though. No, this time, it was something else—a different kind of wake-up call. One that came with sterile white walls, the beeping of machines, and a doctor who looked too tired to bother sugarcoating the truth

He could die if he didn’t stop drinking.

Two years. That’s all they gave him. His liver was already weak enough but now it was waving the white flag. He remembered sitting in that hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to laugh it off like he always did. But the laugh didn’t come.

Because for the first time, he realized that all the nights spent drowning his thoughts, all the times he’d chosen the bottle over you—over everything—had brought him here.

(You were listed as his emergency contact when they found him passed out. You didn’t answer. You didn’t answer. You didn’t answer. Why was he surprised you basically foreshadowed this life dangering situation. Because you were always right and right and he always was so, so wrong.)

Baby, we used to fuck (from now on we make love)

He missed those legs fuck. Those things were the only reason why he did missionary he swears on it. Feeling the plush of your inner thighs and the sheer warmth there made him smile like actually smile. And when he was drowning himself in them your legs closed around him and he could barely hear you asking if he was okay because you didn’t want to suffocate him.

But he didn’t care because the taste of your cum on his tongue was better than any drug he’s ever had in his life (and feeling your thighs tremble as he kept going ‘n going. perfection.) He missed you pussy dearly she always took him so well squeezing around him, being sooo warm, and making him cum. Not to mention that feeling he always got which he didn’t want to lose for the world but he lost it shit!. (his pupils blown wide dilated from the pleasure and adrenaline from being inside you. His cock pumping in and out of your puffy cunt while his lips sucked on your collarbone branding your skin with his marks of lust love leaving your brown skin with red hickeys in his wake. )

He couldn’t lie and pretend and say he didn’t miss you. He missed his girl. (He hoped nobody was in that pussy when he wasn’t there. Nobody deserved to be in there besides him thank you very much)

And your eyes (sexy brown eyes ) damn your eyes. They weren’t lying when they said ‘eyes are the window to the soul’ because he saw everything and he loved seeing that pleasure pool in them and the ‘I want you to stop but I don’t want you stop’ written all over your face. Ugh it was priceless. He missed seeing those eyes when he woke up in the morning looking at him with so much love and warmth (“touya stop staring at me it’s creepy.” He remembers you saying and he replied with a “nah, I get to wake up to this sight everyday can’t I be appreciative?”) He should’ve been more appreciative but selfishness runs through his blood and it’s in his nature. He can’t help it. He’s sorry he didn’t mean to hurt you. Take me back, please I need you. He missed seeing those eyes when got back from tour and finally got to see them in person after months on FaceTime. He missed seeing those eyes when he was in his darkest moments and you never looked at him like he was a monster you just wanted to help. He took it for granted. He took it for granted. This is all your fault. Take responsibility. He missed seeing those eyes.

Girl, let's catch up, phone calls ain't enough

That's where I messed up, I shoulda kept in touch

He would’ve kept in touch. He tried to keep in touch with you. But you blocked him and don’t ask him how he got your new number.

Come back home

You don’t gotta forgive me I just wanna talk

I’m a piece of shit I know but i got help I got put in rehab again and it’s been 3 months. I’ve been trying like actually and I haven’t missed any days and it’s all for you. Please let me be better for you.

But you never answered. You didn’t even leave him on seen. Did it hurt? Of course it did it felt like the little space you dug in his heart was going to be empty forever and you would never come back to fill it up. He would never admit but he cried himself to sleep sometimes because you were suppose to be right beside him letting him spoon you.

It wasn’t suppose to be this way. God he’s such an asshole.

Cause I ain't the type that will hit it and quit it

Even if it's mine, even if it isn't

Take them trips and pay yo' ass a visit

And then. And then you texted him. It was the middle of the day to when he was doing a recording session.

1-12-8 Shinjuku, Shinjuku Ward, Tokyo 160-0022, Japan

When he saw the message he felt starstrucked. Because the last time he texted you was a month ago and he had been busy with working on this album. He felt his breath hitch reading the message ‘okay Shinjuku? she only lives half an hour away what the fuck’ okay this wasn’t bad. “Gotta go, you guys finish your parts.” He said half dazed and half distracted grabbing his things and leaving not even hearing Toga say “wait where ya going?”

Holy shit. You were allowing him back in if this address was anything to go by. But why? I mean he’s very happy he is (he would do better this time. He fuckin’ had to because you were his everything and then more) but this was so random, he thought you were never going to respond to his texts and he was even more surprised you didn’t straight up tell him to fuck off when he texted you. And that gave him hope because he wasn’t blocked yet.

And now here he was speeding on the highway all the way to Shinjuku because he was back in. He wanted to call you and ask why now? But he felt like you wouldn’t have answered until he got to the apartment because that’s the type of shit you would do.

He looked around as he parked in the parking lot. It was a simple apartment complex nothing to fancy although the grass did looked like it needed to be cut. There weren’t any shady figures looming around so that’s good that you weren’t in a bad area because if he could he would move you out so quick.

He rubbed at his face tiredly feeling his nerves run through him. God why was he nervous get a grip Touya isn’t this what you’ve wanting since she left? So breathe. And he did it’s one of things that actually stuck with him from rehab it gave him a sense of control. Or at least a faux one because he was never in control not one time in his life

He got out his car shutting the door and locking it before pulling up your address again from the text. Except the door number wasn’t there so he had to text you.

What’s your door number?

He waited like a good two minutes before he saw the seen pop up and then no response. Okay weird and then he heard a door being opened making him look up to the second floor.

Oh.

You dyed your hair? It was a honey brown color all over and was tied back in a slicked bun. Your eyes met his and he felt himself swallow hard and maybe he fell in love all over again. You then went back inside your apartment not a word from your lips and he quickly went to the stairs a couple feet away.

He rushed up and hurried down the walk to your door and promptly froze.

What.

What?!

Before he could even say anything you cut him off your voice soft and surprisingly calm (he was expecting anger for the most of it) “I don’t wanna hear nothing from your mouth until I say what I have to say. So come in and close the door.”

He swallowed hard again because there was to much going on and he was experiencing too much right now. He wasn’t expecting this. He felt dizzy, he felt like his head was spinning and spinning trying to wrap its self around this situation. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to bolt out the fuckin’ door and never come back. He-he—

Because here you are in the middle of your small living room holding a bundle of what he—of a—a bundle to your chest.

At your look he somehow had managed to turn around and close the door shut locking it and then turning around almost robotically. He eyed the bundle and saw a shift of movement which made you adjust your position. He felt his whole body freeze because no! He wa—wasn’t he..wasn’t ready. This had to be a dream—please let it be a dream!

His eyes flickered to the bundle, then to you, then to the bundle again. This shit couldn’t be real, it had to been some sick dream nightmare his brain made up and he was asleep in the studio right? Right?!

And then you started talking and everything went downhill from there.

“I was already pregnant..when I left. Maybe a week or so before and I was planning on telling you but I was scared.”

Touya felt something try to escape from his mouth but nothing came out. He remained speechless his throat closing up and his heart hammering in his chest so hard it echoed to his ears. This felt like being on adderall all over again except he wasn’t doing it for some motivation this felt like his drink got spiked.

He was staring at the bundle so hard he’s pretty sure lasers were about to come out. And then—and then he saw an a-arm escaping the blanket before going back in. “I..” His throat felt like it was on fire like and it reminded him of drinking whiskey the burn taste usually so welcomed but right now it it was unwelcomed.

“You weren’t ready.” Your voice steady and calm. You seemed so composed like you practiced for this in your head for days and you probably did. But he could see it the nerves the slight tremble of your finger and you still hadn’t look at him. Did it hurt so much to look at him? If it did he would understand he was still due for his punishment.

“Neither was I. And I..I thought about it. Aborting the baby and I was gonna do it for you. Because I know you’re not ready to be a father and all it would do was hurt you. But I was so s-sick of doing shit for you, thinking about your opinion, and how you felt when I didn’t even consider my own feelings.”

Your voice cracked just slightly but you swallowed it down rocking the baby gently as if to calm yourself. You still hadn’t looked at him

Touya’s knees felt like they were about to give out and the dizzying felt worse. “I—I would’ve been there for you. I wouldn’t have abandoned you y’know this—“

But you cut him off sharply “We both know that’s a load of shit.” Your huff of amusement felt like a slap across the cheek. He flinched and he couldn’t help but feel offended and he wanted to say anything to defend himself but he knew you were right.

“You weren’t in a place where I could tell you. You weren’t even in a place where I could stay. I didn’t feel safe around you Touya and when you get in that mindset..you get erratic.”

Ouch.

Your words felt like he was being cut open slowly by knives. His flesh, muscles, bone and blood revealed for all to see. Cutting around his skin sharply and deeply no mercy in your voice (he didn’t deserve it anyway). He felt a pang of guilt hammering in his chest, this wasn’t just a conversation this was his reckoning.

This is your punishment.

He felt at a lost of words once again because he didn’t know what to say or what you wanted him to say. His apology would mean shit and you both would know it but him saying nothing at all would make the silence worse.

“You texted me saying you got into rehab for me..and I don’t know whether to believe that or not. Because you say a lot of shit to convince me to go back to you. So is it true or are you lying to me?”

You were the executioner and he was the condemned looking up at you as you were about to bring the axe down if he didn’t spit the truth out now.

You finally had looked at him your eyes flashing with pain before it disappeared like it was never there in the first place. He swallowed hard and the man that had been hiding behind arrogance and all the bravado finally came out (he couldn’t wear the mask any more. Show yourself. Who are you Touya Todoroki?)

“It’s true. I’ve been off of it for awhile now..and the alcohol.” His voice had been softer than he intended to it almost sounded..fragile.

Was that enough? No it never was. He let his face show his real emotions because nonchalance wasn’t something you deserved right now. He needed to be honest with you, something you never got while you two were together.

His hands itched at him to do something to reach for you, offer proof that didn’t exist, but he stayed rooted in his place.

“I’m not lying,” He added his voice cracking at the edges (show yourself. show her.) “You—you were right about..how I would be in the hospital again. I deserved it.” ‘I deserved everything’ was unspoken but it was heard and he didn’t know if it was on deaf ears.

His declaration sat in the air heavy its weight crushing him and your eyes burned into his. You needed more and he would give you more. Anything even if it meant allowing the guilt, the sheer shame, and the fear show up on his face. Something he never would’ve done in the past because it was pathetic but now? He deserved to feel pathetic.

He deserved to be down on his knees begging for your forgiveness to be allowed back into your life again. And so that’s what he did.

He walked away from the door slowly so you could see his actions as he made his way over to you showing you exactly what he was doing. Getting down on his knees looking up at you like you determined life and death and in this case you did. You looked at him in barely hidden shock your lips parted to say something but he cut you off. “I messed up..I messed us up.” He confessed like the dammed tied up in chains of all his lies, manipulations, and failures. His voice had dropped lower almost to a whisper and it sounded desperate.

“Please,” His voice rasped. “Please believe me. I don’t wanna hurt you again. Let me be the one to help you with this. Let me take all of your pain because I deserve all of it. I don’t blame you for leaving me. I don’t. I’m to much ‘fuckin work, too much damage, too much for anyone to handle. You shouldn’t have to drain yourself for me. So I get it—I understand.”

You said nothing in return but he caught it the way your grip around the baby tightened and the shaky breath that followed right after. His voice was gaining strength even as his composure was breaking and cracking finally showing you the man who you fell in love with.

“I took you for granted,” he continued his voice was raw and full of pain “But I’m taking responsibility now. I’m being mature something I know you needed in the past and I know I’m too late. But I’ve grown and I want you to see that. And I meant it when I said I went to rehab for you. I needed to get better. For you. For…” He looked up at the bundle you were cradling so gently and he had to take it in on how perfect you looked. (He felt like he was intruding and that he didn’t belong here looking at something so sacred.) His throat tightened again as the reality of it slammed into him like a wrecking ball. You’re a father now Touya. He wanted to throw up but he swallowed it down. Be a man, be a man for her. “I’m gonna continue to do better..for the both of you.”

You didn’t respond right away, and the silence that followed felt deafening. He had to fill it up he didn’t want to lose you. “You don’t have to let me back into your life not if you don’t want to. And that’s fine I just..I just want to help you.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Part 1 done yippe! I’m so happy I got this done and didn’t let it rot in my drafts for months. Please please please leave feedback even an emoji something that’ll keep me motivated.

٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- (I’m so serious leave something 🤬)

#mha dabi #touya todoroki #touya x reader #dabi #black women #black reader #bryson tiller #smut #ansgt #mha #bnha dabi

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martiniluvr · 1 year ago

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bruce wayne wake up they wrote a song about you pookie

#he’d have no idea who bryson tiller is but we move #sowing the seeds of my brucie agenda #dj martini #just yappin #bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne x reader #dc comics

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mymannotyours · 1 year ago

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my username as song bcs i saw other people doing this

M - my eyes by travis scott

y - you by lloyd

m - middle child - j. cole

a - away from home - drake

n - no heart by 21 savage and metro boomin

n - normal girl by sza

o - oh u went by young thug ft drake

t - the world is yours by nas

y - you know how we do it by ice cube

o - open arms by sza ft travis scott

u - upnow by dd osama ft coi leray

r - racks in the middle by nipsey hussle ft roddy ricch nd hit-boy

s - sorry not sorry by bryson tiller

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madameducyberversailles · 2 years ago

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Bryson Tiller Said (141 Crackfic)

Inspired by some dumbass shit I saw on Instagram and have been laughing at since. Could make more songfics if y’all want, I got ideas, but this one funny thing struck me the most. Enjoy the hilarity! (Seriously I looked up Texan radio stations for rap, different cars and British driving, I spent time researching this, please tell me how you feel about it)

Warnings: Swearing cause it’s military obvs, canon divergence, shenanigans, touching without knowledge (non-malicious), kind of suggestive but for comedy, short clothing is a warning? Bad/Incorrect military term use and imagery, but idgaf

Bryson Tiller Said: 141 x GN! Reader (Crackfic)

Song: Don’t -Bryson Tiller

No one knew whether or not it could be considered ‘down time’ in any way since you all were technically in hiding and appearing as civilian as possible to meet up with other agents and military personnel like yourselves, but it was enjoyable for the most part enough that the edge of the ongoing mission wasn’t as hard to deal with.

Communications had been cut off except for radio and very, very, secure messaging through military technology. You guys had to make it to the safehouse and gather with other operatives who were trying to deal with a threat- this time, from the inside. Price was already there, having been helping Laswell from the air with Nikolai when it all went downhill, and he’d ordered you all frantically to get to ‘Rockseller’s Point’, a fake place he’d made up, but it was a code word you all knew: the mission and team were compromised, meaning you all had to get to the nearest safehouse.

Thankfully, Price was thorough in his briefing before missions, and let you all know the codeword for your safehouses and their locations, establishing a system of communication that made it possible for your little group to survive should any higher up or other group decide they wanted to try a hand at eliminating you.

So, that’s how you all were here: travelling for three out of your eleven day long trip towards the safehouse. You all took turns driving (though Soap was permanently banned from sitting in the front ever since he nearly lost control behind the wheel because he got tipsy before his driving shift), and now Gaz pulled the Ford F-350 into a stop near a local gas station in the middle of fucking nowhere in Texas, trying to find the safehouse closest to the Mexican border as you got closer to meeting with Los Vaqueros for another mission in both Mexico and the States.

All of the Brits had troubles with the road. You had to drive the first day for almost 4 full shifts of 6 hours of driving, as the roads were on the opposite side, and the driver’s seat was also on the different side in America, meaning that they had to adapt and it would only be possible to do so after someone else drove for a while in order to get them able to drive in this new situation. After almost 50 hours of driving over two days, the Brits finally got used to the traffic enough that they were comfortable driving, and now, into the third day, Gaz and Ghost had driven a few hours.

Now, you were where you belonged, in your Passenger Princess seat, lovingly dubbed to you by popular culture which was technically your rightfully deserved throne at this point from carrying the entire 141′s asses to safety on the road and risking numb legs from driving. You had been reading a book as your phone charged, since everyone had to have at least one working phone just in case and you all took turns carefully charging one another’s phones to keep at least one personal device alive. You’d stopped for gas, and there was a convenience store as well that likely had overpriced sustenance, but you all would be able to make do with the 3K cash you guys kept on hand for missions just like this, located in a safe pocket known only to you and to be only used in emergencies. If had kept you guys watered and fed and still able to cover the needs for gas and any repairs you may need, thanks to you all (though mostly Ghost) keeping Soap from splurging on the drinks. Your gear in the back of the locked tailgate of the pickup truck you drove, and your friends with you meant you practically had everything you needed. Ghost was an especial help through all this due to his survival missions in previous years, and he was a godsend of help, since the other two were clowns, in every affectionate and damnable context of the word. With every stop, you all used the bathrooms (though the boys were unfortunately blessed with no social stigma or fear of their urinary systems when the bathrooms were bad enough that pig stys were cleaner) and gotten some food to keep your energy along with the MRE’s, even if the new food tasted blander than Texas sand, as Soap and you complained.

Days ago, the heat had gotten to you enough that you’d opted to wear civilian clothing, consisting of shorts and a shirt, and due to the heat you all kept having to drink water which made it worse, but at least you were trained for hostile temperatures and knew how to survive this, even with all the complaints you’d made that’d send God himself into another fit of flooding rage. You sat in the passenger seat, reading your book as Gaz, Ghost and Soap made their rounds at the gas station to gather necessities and switch driving shifts. You were shielded from the intensity of the mid-morning sun by the tinted windows, kept cool by the ac on blast as the car was stagnant as the boys conversed and argued about food to buy and driving regulations. You brought out a bag of chips that a vendor yesterday had given to you after he’d pitifully flirted with you and earned the ire of Ghost, Soap, and Gaz, and threw in free food in apology for ‘messing with the military’, which was somewhat of a cultural taboo in America, especially in a place like Texas. You began to munch on the chips, enjoying the flavour coating your tongue as you distractedly repositioned the bag between your thighs while reading, the book getting interesting as the archaeologist was about to come face to face with the harrowing truth of what they’d discovered. You didn’t even hear Ghost open the door on your left, nor did you feel the truck shift as he settled his weight into the driver’s seat, but you did comically jump when he shut the door with a slam! that knocked you out of your vicarious fantasy for a moment.

Ghosts’ eyes were full of puzzlement for a moment before his eyelids narrowed in a tell-tale sign of mild amusement, clearly finding your jumpiness funny. A dusting of red flushed across your cheeks as he teased: “Lost yourself in that book enough to let someone waltz into the truck and drive off into the horizon, hm?” making light of the trope of romance books usually being read on long trips though yours was not a romance book currently.

You turned away, smiling slightly in embarrassment as you retorted, “Well I didn’t see you waltz in, and if anyone’s driving it’ll have to be me since you guys don’t know how to drive on these roads”.

Ghost huffed, muttering a muffled ‘touché’ under his breath as he started the car up. “Buckle in, we’re leaving!” he called out to Gaz and Soap, his accented voice barking orders bringing them back to the present as you too scrambled to put on the seatbelt. Within just a few moments, you were on the road again with a full tank of gas and the wind on your skin.

You ate sparingly, wanting to save the chips to make them last. You looked up at the road and noticed there was a sign on the highway for Dallas, meaning you guys were getting closer to the destination point calculated for a productive journey to the safehouse. Knowing that you were ahead of schedule and headed into the inner cities, your worries for preserving your chips were slightly alleviated. You were closing into the climax of the book, and since you had more than you’d expected left, you decided to offer some to the others since they were likely bored and wanting a snack.

You reached towards the centre console to the cool water bottles stored in there, and took a swig, washing down most of the chips. You leaned your head on your shoulder and angled it to call out to Soap and Gaz behind you: “Hey, I’ve got chips, you guys can have some if you want, okay?”

Soap’s enthusiastic ‘yes!’ resounded through the car as he reached towards you, his hand out asking for some nourishment. You reach into the bag and place a few chips in his hand, to which his eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “These aren’t chips, they’re crisps,” he says in a hushed voice.

You roll your eyes, remembering that the Brits of course had a different word for things. “Yeah, we just call them chips in Turtle Island AKA North America, just eat it Soap” you told him, knowing he’d go on a tangent if you let him feel like he had to defend his vernacular for some reason. Soap playfully huffed, and you both went back to doing your own thing. You barely opened the book when you heard Gaz ask for some ‘crisps’ too, and you handed some over, sticking your tongue out at Soap when he groaned at his unsuccessful attempt to grab Gaz’s chips for himself, and let them know they could help themselves to the chips, or crisps as Soap was insistent on, from the bag in your lap.

You turned back to look at your book again when your eyes flickered to Ghost, the masked Lieutenant sitting proud and tall with steel posture to drive and fight the instinct to drive in the opposite lane. He was doing his best, driving on the empty scenic roads of Texas on the way to Dallas, and he must have skipped out on something in order to conserve resources, because the Lieutenant, as you’d come to know, was not as spectrally malevolent as the name sounds, as his concern for others lingers in his actions, and you wanted to make sure he was included in snack breaks.

“Ghost, if you’d like, feel free to grab some chips whenever, okay?” you offer, your voice in a hushed whisper to speak privately to him with respect.

He nods minutely, and it lets you know not only that he heard you but also that he acknowledged what you said. He kept driving. You turned back to your book.

A few minutes later, a skeletal gloved hand reached out towards the chips, and you shifted the mouth of the bag towards him so he could eat.

Ghost grabbed a few chips and you could see his hand move to the bag from your periphery before you turned back to the book, smiling to yourself that Ghost was actually eating something before your attention was fully tuned in to the book you were reading.

The road was smooth, gravel and asphalt combined with the tires of the pickup being the best kind of white noise for reading while in Passenger Princess Mode. Every so often the bag of chips would rustle to alert you someone was eating, and even Ghost’s hand didn’t faze you as he grabbed more chips, apparently enjoying the flavour. He fed himself the chips before trying to fiddle around with the radio, wondering if there was any traffic updates on the local radios, with soft static cutting in and out, adding to the languid atmosphere.

You were so engrossed in your novel that you didn’t see the envious look in Soap’s eyes as he looked at the chips, and you didn’t feel the bag being kidnapped from the security of your lap as Soap took the chips for himself and Gaz, the two soldiers crunching on the seasoned and fried potato slices to their heart’s content.

You did, however, feel when something brushed along your skin, eager fingers searching for purchase only to find a grip on the flesh of your thigh just before the hem of your shorts, insistent fingers grabbing onto the skin before it realized what it was touching.

You froze. So did the mystery hand.

Your eyes traced the gloved hand resting between your thighs, just as confused and embarrassed as you are. You tilted your head up back to Ghost.

The man was frozen in his seat, wide eyes flickering between his hand on your thigh, you and the road, the car barely moving. You could feel his hand tremble as he refused to meet your eyes.

The poor man was utterly mortified.

Silence reigned in the car, louder than any explosion you could recall as even Soap and Gaz sat stock still, wondering why the fuck Ghost’s hand was on your thigh.

No one dared to move. No one dared to breathe.

The radio crackled to life finally, getting just enough of a frequency to announce no traffic but instead burst into song-

“-Skrr, get in the ride,

Left hand is steering, the other is gripping your thigh-”

-Which inevitably caused you to snicker, and decide that it was time to be the best damn comedian you could be.

You put on the most pretentious look of surprise as you blatantly looked between Ghost’s hand and his eyes that looked everywhere but at you, and after a split second exaggerated gasp, you put your hand to your heart, clutching imaginary pearls.

“We’re not even on a first name basis, Lieutenant! I see we’re getting tactically touchy?” you said, rolling the last syllable as you batted your lashes in a way that would make satirical comedians wheeze. You even threw in a wink.

Ghost only blinked, confused.

Then you slapped your hand atop his own, bit your lip in the most obnoxious way, and leaned in as though you were going to kiss him.

The most feared Lieutenant Ghost reeled back at terminal velocity away from your pretend kiss and shrieked.

The car swerved, and Ghost cursed, his voice back to its normal low pitch as all passengers held onto their door handles as Ghost maneuvered the car back into the lane, remembering after a second that he should be driving in the right lane instead.

Soap and Gaz were getting squished by the displaced items from Ghost’s mistaken momentum but it did nothing to quell their laughter, as Soap fell onto Gaz’s lap as he wheezed from laughing so hard. Gaz was failing to hold himself upright as he slapped Soap’s back, laughing so hard his dimples showed and his stomach hurt.

You? You could barely make out Ghost’s silhouette when your eyes glassed over with tears, your entire body shaking with your hyena-like laughter as you could barely squeak at times, laughing so hard you nearly deprived yourself of oxygen.

Ghost’s shouts of ‘shut up you fucking idiots’ in between embarrassed mutterings and yelled threats did nothing to quell the laughter in the car, in fact it seemed to escalate it further, your laughter getting harder and Ghost’s shoulders hunching closer in embarrassment as he swore under his breath, his cheeks flushed a deep red with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel under his gloved hands. Gaz and Soap kept laughing, the chips long forgotten as they kept laughing about the entire situation, with Soap and Gaz losing air as their faces flushed from mirth. The men began to tire from their oxygen depravation from laughing so hard, and the laughter quieted down to whispered jokes and shushed chuckles.

Hours later, your book was finally finished, the ending being so heartbreaking yet cathartic at the same time that you closed the book and put it away, ready to start reading a different one later. You breathed a sigh as you leaned back in your seat, propping your one arm outside the window as wind from the sunroof flowed in to cool you down. Gaz and Soap had been so tuckered out that they fell asleep in the warmth of the sun and the steady pace of the car. You turned your body and leaned over the console compartment to grab the bag of chips back, a bit dismayed to find it nearing emptiness.

You mentally shrugged and began to eat some more of them. You turned to see Ghost, the Lieutenant’s posture relaxed if not for the tenseness of his shoulders, clearly from being made fun of. The Lieutenant had been with the 141 since its inception and was probably used to them, so he likely didn’t give a shit about the antics the boys pulled about making fun of him. So why was he tense? It occurred to you that maybe...he was embarrassed about the fact he touched you without permission.

You and the Lieutenant respected one another enough that you were well-acquainted with his mannerisms, his social cues, and his likes and dislikes enough that both on and off the field you could work together in relative ease. But his reaction to this situation now had you worried. Had any of you crossed an unspoken boundary?

Your heart started to pound harder in your chest as you worried about whether or not something bad had occurred, and if you were at fault. Ghost was not just a man who built himself up to war but also knew how to hold a grudge, and no one ever, in their right mind, wanted to be on the receiving end. Especially if they considered him a friend.

Gathering your courage, you regarded him for a moment then cleared your throat before you could chicken out. “Lieutenant?” you peeped up, your voice smaller than you’d intended.

Ghost briefly turned to look at you, his focus diverting from the completely empty road to you after one odd car passed by. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice in a more curious and benign tone than you expected it to be.

You looked down for a moment and took in a breath, causing Ghost’s eyes to flicker on you once more in a look that could be classified as nervous.

“I’m...uh, I’m sorry, sir, if we’d gone too far. Are you okay?” you asked, concern etched on your face.

Ghost grunted, nodding before turning back to the window. Silence reigned between you, causing your stomach to sink further. You pressed your lips together, eyes shifting before you heard him sigh after a beat.

“I touched you without permission; I should have apologized earlier. ‘M sorry if it made you uncomfortable”, he says, and the tinge in his voice tells you enough.

He’s not upset at you. He’s concerned if he made you uncomfortable.

The Lieutenant is not just feared, but also respected. Because he gives that respect to others too.

You smile, shaking your head softly. “I’m okay, sir. It was no big deal. I know it wasn’t intentional”, you said, feeling better now that the air was cleared. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Lt”.

You can see the tension leave him, his shoulders no longer as tense, now that there was no reason for there to be any awkward tension.

You smiled, more to yourself than to him, before settling down to sit more comfortably in the seat. Picking up your phone, you checked the percentage of power before finally unplugging it, checking through different apps to see if there was a message.

“If it’s of any consolation, I’m okay with touch. I know you weren’t trying to hurt me,” comes out of your mouth absentmindedly.

Ghost doesn’t answer.

Instead, the lieutenant’s fingers toy with the controls of the radio, finally giving up and scrolling it back to the Texas radio station ‘The Trap’, and letting it play music softly so as not to disturb the sleeping soldiers behind him.

You leaned on the centre console storage, arm laying on the armrest.

Ghost’s right hand drops from the wheel, his forearm meeting your elbow. Heat radiates from him, emanating through the fabric of his sleeves.

His wrist hangs over the console. Two gloved fingertips overlap your bare ones, warmth seeping into your skin as Future’s Turn on the Lights plays.

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zyafics · 7 months ago

Note

CAN YOU PLEASE, PLEASE ON MY KNEES WRITE ABOUT BITCHY!READER X RAFE AND IT'S SMUT?? I FEEL LIKE YOU'LL DO IT JUSTICE!!! thank you

you literally read my mind because i was just thinking of this prompt that works so well with bitchy!reader!! hope you'll enjoy <3 (if it’s bad, look away!!)

WHATEVER SHE WANTS | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot)

Pairing — Rafe x Bitchy!Kook!Female Reader

Content — 18+, power/dominance play, p in v, doggy style, orgasm denial, and dirty talks

Word Count — 2.2K

lıllılı Whatever She Wants by Bryson Tiller

You always wanted Rafe.

It's your right. Since you were a child, you demanded the best in everything—toys, clothes, boyfriends. They had to be perfect. Had to be yours. And yes, it may come off a little superficial but who cares? It's what you deserve, and it'll be hell if you don't get it.

Since the first look, when you caught Rafe lounging on a chair with his friends, tipping the rim of his beer onto his lips, while his eyes scanned over the room in an attractive lazy way, you knew you had to have him. It didn't help that you were competitive, and Rafe garnered attention with women. They flocked to him and begged for a minute of his time. It became a game to you, and that heightened your need.

Everything was calculated. The makeup you wore, the outfits you curated, the glances. You always timed your arrivals—when you knew Rafe would be watching the door—and marked your exits. You knew exactly what to wear—dresses that tantalizing exposes your ass, but only as a preview—and the cosmetic style he liked. Rafe's the type of man who believes he wants a bare-faced woman, but truly, he wants something natural that enhances your features.

You came with friends. You left alone. You drank enough to loosen your nerves and danced with the crowd, but not enough to make a fool of yourself. You knew your tolerance and knew Rafe didn't like a messy girl.

At least, in public.

You caught his gaze a couple of times, flashing a flirtatious smile over your shoulders, but never lingered longer than three seconds. Rafe can't know how easy he can have you, because Rafe, like most boys, loves a chase. You're not easy, you're spoiled. He had to come to you.

And he did.

Rafe tried to introduce himself on several occasions. On those nights when you're leaving early—as planned—Rafe would cut to the door to pay a parting remark. "You're leaving so soon?" he would ask, "Alone? Again?" He would add. You always told him it was because no one caught your eye, and Rafe took that as a personal challenge. He would then try to tell you his name, as if he were different, to which you nod—detached—as if it didn't matter.

It drove him insane.

Because you didn't offer the same courtesy. You kept him guessing. He had to finally ask around to learn your name, which he would use to tease you the next time he saw you. And he did. And you laughed. But you acted like you didn't care. Like all the trouble he went through didn't prove a thing. That's when Rafe knew he needed you.

Tonight's no different. Just as you're about to leave, Rafe catches you with another smooth pick-up line. You just giggle. He studies how your eyes crinkle with amusement, the curve of your lips painted in his favorite shade of lipstick, and the lithe tilt of your head to the side as you ask him with your gaze, is that the best you got?

It isn't. But Rafe's determined to get further with you tonight. He continues to talk, asking about which men disappointed you and the reasons for your constant disappearances from these parties. And, for once, you're answering his questions with little resistance. Perhaps, it's because of the amount of cheap wines you consumed, or maybe you—for once—are tired of the games and want it to come to a fruitful end. Because when Rafe finally asks to take you home, you don't say no.

The walk to his truck is brisk. His arm wrapped around your waist, directing your path, while his fingers trail over the backless cut of your dress, producing a buzzing feeling beneath your skin. He's whispering something in your ear, but all of it is incomprehensible as you revel in the feeling of his touch and his touch alone. The feeling of your game coming to a conclusion.

And, just as you're about to reach the car, Rafe slams you into the side of the vehicle with a searing kiss.

His mouth catches yours and everything feels perfect. As if the buildup leading to this precise moment had been worth it, and every needy emotion rises to the top. His hand travels down the length of your body, to your hips, pulling you closer, and needing to eliminate all the space and wait you made him do.

Rafe's movements are swift and controlled. One of his hands props open the backdoor of his car, pushing you inside, and laying you against his leather seats. All without breaking the kiss.

"You don't know how long I wanted this, wanted you," Rafe blubbers between wet kisses. "Seeing you at every party, in these tiny dresses, not being able to touch," he rasps, bundling the hem of your dress into a tight fist. "Tell me you wear them for me."

"And if I did?" You say with a moan, tipping your head back to grant him access to your neck. "Did you like them?"

"Of course I did," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, the vibration of his words sending heat straight to your core. "You dressing up for me like my own perfect doll."

You want to retort that it's him who's in the palm of your hand, but Rafe sucks on a sensitive spot, causing your eyes to roll back and a whimper to escape your lips instead. He grabs your wrists with one hand, throwing them over his shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest.

"So pretty, so fucking untouchable," Rafe kisses down the length of your throat, his fingers collecting the spaghetti straps of your dress before sliding it down the slope of your shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you so good."

His words snap you out of your haze. And while Rafe continues to expose more of your body, lamenting each reveal of flesh with a kiss, you withdraw enough to grab his attention.

"You're not fucking me in a car."

"What?" Rafe breaths, unable to snap out of the trace you had him in. Delirious with want, his mind warped around the idea of you being so close to attainable, that all rational manners left his system. He tries to kiss you again, to resume the moment, but you pull enough to send him a deadly glare, pouty and spoiled.

"Rafe, take me somewhere nice or we're not fucking at all."

He can't believe what he's hearing. He can't believe he's contemplating it. But Rafe doesn't understand that you have it all planned out to result in a perfect moment. You won't let it be disrupted just because Rafe can't drive the extra mile to take you somewhere nice. You'd rather leave him with blue balls.

"Are you serious?" He asks slowly, his eyes drawn to your swollen lips, the little pout, and the desperation to have them back on his. Sure, Rafe's had girls who wanted something more than a casual fling. He had them ask him for a better spot, but he never obliged. He never cared. But you're different. He wants you, and it's been a hell of a chase to get you here. He'll be damned if he lets it slip away because of a pretentious standard.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" You cross your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts further up. He nearly groans at the sight. "We're not having sex here."

"The nearest place has to be at least a fifteen-minute drive," Rafe argues. And it makes you upset, brows pinched together. "We can just—"

"I don't care," you snap. "Take me somewhere nice or I'm leaving."

You're serious. He sees it on your face. Rafe can't risk that, despite wanting to protest, because he knows he if he messes this up, he won't have another chance. Swearing under his breath, he drags himself out of the backseat and into the driver's side, pulling the car out of the parking lot.

Dangerously, Rafe speeds down the road, while you're sitting in the backseat with a self-satisfied demeanor, fixing your makeup through the rearview mirror. Occasionally, Rafe spares a glance through the same reflection, connecting with your gaze, and while there's subtle bitterness coiled in his chest, he recognizes the bigger prize at hand.

And what he can do with it.

Because, despite your bratty attitude, Rafe is a person who wants control. You want perfection. You two can have both.

That's how you find yourself in a newly-booked penthouse suite at one of the bougie hotels in Kildare, your head digging into the soft comforter of the bed, your ass in the air, as Rafe drills into you from behind.

When you reached the room, everything moved frantically. Rafe slammed you against the nearest wall to kiss you again—needing your lips, needing your taste—while his hands roamed over your dress and pulled down your cleavage, revealing your tits. Your hands wandered down his pants, unbuttoning them hurriedly, needily, and he assisted you by pulling them off alongside his boxers. His cock was big, slightly red with a pearly bead of pre-cum that rolls off the tip. And you could tell by the look on Rafe's face that he wanted you to suck it.

But you told him, "I don't do blowjobs."

So fucking pretentious.

It didn't matter. He hauled you over to the king-sized bed and pushed you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft thump, while Rafe hauled you up to your ass, pushing up your dress, until it became nothing but a bundle around your waist. His movements were urgent, and he wanted—no, needed—to be inside you because a bratty girl was going to be a great fuck.

And he was right.

You're perfect. The way you wrap around him, the way he sinks inside you. He doesn't know if it's because of the delirium of wanting you so desperately, of chasing you for so long—but he never had better pussy. And it doesn't help that your moans are sweet, breathy, and loud—begging him to go faster.

"Such a pretentious brat," Rafe grabs your throat, hauling you upwards till your spine rest on his chest, airway constricted by his harsh grip. "Making me wait this fucking long."

"R—Rafe," you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the way he's angling his cock deep into your cervix, bullying the sensitive spot over and over again until you're seeing stars.

"Had to get the princess treatment, did you?" He murmurs hotly into your ear, nibbling a spot on your neck as you rest the back of your head on his shoulder. His thrusts grow more erratic. "Had to make me earn you, didn't you?"

"You weren't going to fuck me in a car," you persist, and despite how cockdrunk you became, and how much of an attitude you're willing to sacrifice to feel good, you were still adamant about receiving what you deemed enough. He respected that. "I'm not one of your whores."

"But I'm fucking you like my own personal slut. Is that any better?" He bites the lobe of your ear, and his other hand wanders up to grab a handful of your breast, squeezing the fat before rolling your perked nipple between his fingers. You moan louder. "What does that make you?"

You can't seem to answer him, can't seem to find your senses. The words Rafe uses are vulgar, but there’s still no regrets about this entire thing. Rafe wanted you so badly, that he was willing to spend hundreds of dollars on a hotel he probably won't even stay the night in. All because you demanded it.

You win.

"Shut up," you stammer, your stomach tightening. "Shut up and just fuck me, Rafe."

Rafe grins. The hand playing with your tits slips between your thighs to assist, finding your clit easily as he rubs it with his thumb in sync with his thrusts. Breathy moans escape you as you arch into his palm, while he pistons deeper inside of you, bottoming out.

"You sound so pretty, doll," Rafe murmurs against your heated skin, "Come on, take my fucking cock."

Everything’s so dirty. The way he handles you, the way your wetness drips down your thighs, the way his words breathe onto your skin and tighten your core. But you love it. You do, but you're not willing to give in so easily. No matter how good it feels. No matter how much he feels like a prize.

"You don't deserve me." You whisper with a mewl, body tightening with the familiar wave of your undoing.

Yet, Rafe merely grins.

"But you're sucking in my cock like you need me," Rafe taunts, pleasure coursing through his body at the way your walls grip him in a vice. The way your words spark challenge and invitation. He knows, despite your spoiled attitude and pretentious demands, he'll do anything to get another chance like this. "Now, behave like a good girl or you're not coming tonight."

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

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rissouu · 8 months ago

Text

random bf texts w megumi!

pairing: megumi x fem!reader

warnings: no warnings.. this is nothing but two meanies in love, fluff fluff fluff!! enjoy :)

authors note: thank you for the request hun, here you go :) and i realize that i need to get back on my grind… lemme cook yall!! i got these long ass duck nails and it’s soooo hard to type but im risking it all for you guys.. so don’t mind any typos! other than that enjoy mwah ily, feel free to request but check rules first.

©rissouu 2024 (yall see what i did there with the bryson tiller lyric?? iykyk *wink wink*)

masterlist

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idyllicbarb · 4 months ago

Text

FOREVER MY LADY, AARON PIERRE.

pairing: aaron pierre x actress!reader

summary: feelings rise after you and aaron co-star in the same film.

warnings: slow burn, slight angst, eventual smut, fluff.

music:

forever my lady by jodeci

safety net by ariana grande ft. ty dolla sign

georgia peach by latto

make it to the mornin’ by partynextdoor

bad by wale ft. tiara thomas

belong to the city by partynextdoor

next to you by bryson tiller

desert eagle by beyoncé

the matrimony by wale ft. usher

hey daddy by usher

love on top by beyoncé

one.

two.

three.

four

five.

six.

seven.

eight.

nine.

ten.

taglist: comment if you want to be tagged for this story, k bye!

#aaron pierre #aaronpierre #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre x actress!reader #aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre fic #aaron pierre smut #x black reader #x black fem reader #x black plus size reader #black!reader #black!fem!reader #black!writer

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catsukiiee · 8 months ago

Text

# POSITIONS & R&B.

౨ৎ class 1-a & class 1-b boys x masc/fem!reader

[fan favorites only]

wordcount ; 893

paragraphs ; 41

sentences ; 53

songs used ; songs listed by each character.

all of them are their canon ages (24+)

# CLASS 1-A

# TENYA IIDA [ blame by bryson tiller ]

Tenya doesn’t care what position you two start off in, as long as he’s able to get inside you and hear your moans, then he’s sated. Unfortunately, though, our glorious king, Tenya Iida, cannot last long in any position where he can't see your face. That man NEEDS to see your face; he’s absolutely addicted to seeing your every reaction, especially when he goes deep, sound is not enough. He loves having you in the eagle position, don't even try hiding your face in the pillows.

“I wanna see your face, please.”

# DENKI KAMINARI. [ let em' know by bryson tiller ]

Desperate. That’s the only word I have for this motherfucker. Wanna have sex? He’s down. In doggystyle? Even better. Trust he’s losing his mind as soon as he sees you bend over; expect to have your hair pulled and your shoulders marked with bite marks at the end.

“Look at my little masterpieces.”

# EIJIRO KIRISHIMA [ gang over luv by brent faiyaz ]

As gentlemanly as he is, he’s far from a gentleman in the bedroom; in fact, his favorite position is low doggy. Simply because he can push your face into the mattress and go ham. You want to try and crawl away? Nah baby, he’s grabbing BOTH your arms and locking your ass down; you aren’t running until you’re both finished and he’s tired.

“Why are you moving? Cmere baby.”

# RIKIDO SATO [ ballin by partynextdoor ]

Lethal. He’s strong as fuck, so you better expect to have your pussy absolutely obliterated after a couple of deep strokes, but just like Iida, he needs to see your face to cum, and he's not pulling out either. His favorite position to put you in is young stallion.

That's exactly why y'all have five kids.

“A few more won’t hurt, baby.”

# HANTA SERO [ things & such b partynextdoor ]

THIS MOTHERFUCKER RIGHT HERE IS CRAZY.

The moment you mention wanting to have sex, you don’t even need to move to the bedroom, he loves fucking your brains out on the couch anyway, locking one of your legs over his shoulder while his hands hold your other leg down to keep your legs open so he can watch himself going in and out, your hands WILL BE TIED. Sero is obsessed with watching your breasts bounce to, it drives him insane and makes him finish in a matter of minutes, and he’s not stopping even after cumming first.

The messier the better.

“Look at you sucking me in, goddamn.”

# SHOTO TODOROKI [ jaded by drake ]

Probably the calmest man you know outside the bedroom, but when you’re both in the mood? Your back will be hurting. He loves seeing your back arched; if he goes too deep and you ruin the arch, he’s pushing you right back down immediately.

“What did I say? Lower it back down.”

# IZUKU MIDORIYA [ can i by drake ]

A whole power bottom, he loves having you on top of him, guiding your hips while you ride him. When he's feeling a little adventurous, he likes to grab your throat, forcing your eyes to stay on his as he starts to fuck up into you. HE'S A WHINER. The closer he gets, the whinier he gets.

“Can I cum in you? Please let me cum in you. I wanna cum in you so bad, please. Fuck, I'm cumming."

# KATSUKI BAKUGOU [ altitude by monetell fish ]

As soon as the “Wanna have sex” comes out of your mouth, it’s over for you; it doesn’t matter if y’all are in the living room, bathroom, kitchen, or out in PUBLIC. Trust, he’s going to find a way to have your ass folded and panting. He likes folding you into a pretzel just as much as he likes having you on your hands and knees.

Wanna try and move his hands? They’re locked behind your back. Start squirming and crawling away? He’s got a solution for that ass.

“Stop fucking squirming and take it.”

# HITOSHI SHINSO [ first fuck by 6lack ft jhene aiko ]

Gentle touches and hard deep strokes.

He’s far more focused on having his hands explore your body while doing it, might accidentally brainwash you when he asks, “Is this okay?” or “Want me to go harder? I can’t understand you baby.”

He loves positions where he can see your face as well.

# CLASS 1-B

# NEITO MONOMA [ sweat by zayn ]

This bitch cannot accept defeat; all that shit talking about lasting longer only to cum inside you after a couple of pumps, seeing your back glistening and your ass rippling each time his hips snapped against you was enough to send him over after five minutes. Don't worry though, he keeps going until you're finished, and then keeps going... and going just to get the 'last word' in his own way.

“What was that? All I hear are mumbles, tsk tsk, what a shame.”

# TETSUTETSU TETSUTETSU [ feel it by jacquees ]

Oh baby, he LOVES folding your ass as much as he loves your reactions to him going balls deep each time. Pulling your hair, shoving his fingers into your mouth when you got too loud, and pushing your back down into a deeper arch just to hit it deeper when he has you on your hands and knees.

'Overstimulation is key' is his mindset when he's fucking you.

“Yeah baby, keep cumming.”

i think y'all can tell who i listen to a lot and which characters are my favorite by writing this 💀..

I'M SORRY IF THE SONGS DON'T FIT THE CHARACTERS </3 THIS WAS ORIGINALLY GOING TO JUST BE ABOUT SERO BUT THEN I HAD AN IDEA

TEACHERS ARE NEXT!

#tenya iida smut #hanta sero smut #katsuki bakugo smut #denki kaminari smut #neito monoma smut #tetsutetsu tetsutetsu smut #ejirou kirishima smut #rikido sato smut #shoto todoroki smut #izuku midoriya smut #shinsou hitoshi smut #my hero academia smut #x reader smut

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milliumizoomi · 11 months ago

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Hello, I was thinking Armando Aretas x Reader. Where Reader was sleeping, and she felt the bed dip and noticed that Armando was on top her with his head on her chest and he was slightly crying because he had nightmare and Reader comforts him because he deserves the whole world. She also kisses his head and playing with his hair.

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

☆彡SUMMARY.; In which the night is unforgiving to Armando, so you do everything in your power to help him.

☆彡FEATURED.; ARMANDO ARETAS x FEM! READER

☆彡TROPE.; ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

☆彡FORMAT.; ONE SHOT

☆彡GENRE.; FLUFF + ANGST + HURT ➪ COMFORT

☆彡WARNINGS.; mentions of nightmares, mentions of death, mentions of anxiety, mature language, actions of crying and vulnerability, fear of being left behind, google translated spanish, and slight bad boys for life spoilers.

☆彡NOTES.; oooo babes this requestttt omg I love it🥹🥹,, the vulnerability of him is something that I’ve always liked so I’m soooo happy to write this. Tysm for this request and I hope I’ll be able to portray it good. I hope you all enjoy!!💕💕

[P.S.] HE USES THE TERM MAMA AS A FORM OF ENDEARMENT, its holds the same weight as the terms babe or baby would.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED😉.

🎧FOR THE BEST EXPERIENCE, YOU CAN LISTEN TO RIGHT MY WRONGS by BRYSON TILLER🎧

The rain beat down on the glass windows of your apartment. It was currently 2:33 am and you were sound asleep, softly breathing in the tranquil of deep slumber.

Between the pitter patter of the rain hitting the windows, and the soft and gentle vrring of the air conditioning, you couldn’t help the calming sounds that kept you in a deep state of sleep.

However, the man beside you couldn’t fare the same.

Armando had been tossing and turning all night.

At one point he woke up in a cold sweat. He looked over at your sleeping form, softly snoring away and he didn’t want to bother you because he’s hates the feeling of vulnerability in any situation. So he sucked it up and tried to go back to sleep.

By now another 2 hours have passed and it’s by now you’re beginning to stir in bed. You felt the bed dip beside you but thought nothing of it, thinking Armando was just doing something, or simply sitting up in bed so you tried shifting in bed and going back to sleep.

That was until you felt a sudden dip in the bed right next to you, and then a sudden weight on your body. Your eyes shot open and you look down to see a little mop of hair in your face. It wasn’t the weight of his body on top of yours that startled you, it was the fact that your shirt was dampening as he was hiding is face in your chest.

He was crying. And he never cries.

Immediately you began to worry and sat up as he was holding onto you, following your body up. He was holding onto you so tightly that his grip was threatening to pull you back down.

“Baby..? Are you okay?” You caress his head softly as the worry in your voice was evident. He didn’t answer, opting to hold onto you tighter. “Baby please talk to me.. what’s wrong?” You scrape your fingers through his hair gently in order to calm him down.

Finally he looks up at you and you see his red watery eyes and dried tears in his cheeks, with more tears threatening to spill down them. Immediately your hands shoot up to his face and caresses his cheeks.

“Dime qué pasa bebé. Estoy aquí y te escucho.”

Finally he looks at you and holds onto you tighter. You feel his body slightly shaking and your worry continues to grow.

“..had a dream you got shot.. took a bullet for me and i just kinda.. stood there and let it happen… I didn’t react fast enough and you just dropped and I..—“ he starts and then chokes up.

“Shh baby I’m here.. I’m here with you.. I didn’t go anywhere, I didn’t die”

You caress his head and pulls him impossibly closer to you, comforting him the best you can by reassuring words and kisses, littering them all over his face. He just surrenders to your actions, wanting nothing more than just being close to you in this moment.

“Did the nightmare just happen?” You ask him. Wordlessly, he nods his head no and you can feel his body convulsing, as to hold back his tears. You gently rub his back, and proceeds to slide back down into a laying position with his head still on your chest.

Your heart ached seeing him like this.

“Should’ve woken me up babe.. you know I’d help you” you say softly into his hair, simultaneously kissing the top of his head.

“..didn’t wanna bother you” he says back.

You furrow your eyebrows at this. “You’ve never bothered me baby.. if it happens again, wake me up okay?”

He nods and hugs around your waist tighter.

This went on for a couple more minutes and you could tell it was extremely painful for him to talk about.

Everytime he’d try to explain in detail what happened in his dream, he’d get choked up again and you couldn’t stand to see him hurt so much anymore.

“You don’t have to say anything else okay? Nothing at all.. I won’t leave you by yourself.. I won’t die on you.. te prometo que” you say softly, pulling his head up from your chest with both of your hands then plants a kiss on his lips, using your thumbs to wipe away the tears escaping his eyes.

He leans into the kiss, closing his eyes and the furrowing his eyebrows, a tendency he has a lot. You pull away and he stares into your eyes.

“No puedes volver con eso mamà.. you promised”

You smile at him and then kiss him again. “I’m not going anywhere babe.. I promise.. hasta el fuego”

He finally cracks a small smile at your words, a little bit of peace comes with what you just said to him.

He rests his head back into your chest.. mimicking the same words back to you.

“Así es mamá.. hasta el fuego”

The rest of the night is filled with the same pitter pattering of the rain hitting the windows, and the gentle sound of the AC filling the space, except this time, the man you love so deeply is resting on your chest, the steady beating of your heart reassuring him that you are here, and still with him.

That you go won’t anywhere.

And you in turn use your fingers to comb through his hair, scratching his scalp gently and playing with his hair, occasionally kissing his head and caressing his body to soothe him back to sleep.

You had already made up your mind that you wouldn’t sleep until he fell asleep.

Between the beating of your heart, your touches and the rain outside, it didn’t take long for the man resting on your chest to drift away into slumber.

And you in turn smiled, happy that he can now get the rest he deserves, knowing that you won’t be going anywhere, unless it’s with him.

[GLOSSARY]

“Dime qué pasa bebé. Estoy aquí y te escucho.” — Tell me what's wrong baby.. i'm here and i'm listening

“..—te prometo que” — I promise you that

“No puedes volver con eso mamá..” — you can’t go back on that mama

“hasta el fuego” — to the fire or til we burn

“Así es mamá” — that’s right mama

ミ★

{TAGLIST} :: @loakswifesworld @ghettogirly @tinys0ftie @shurisgf || if you’d like to be added to the taglist just let me know in comments or dms🤗💕

#🪸 :: 𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 #armando aretas #armando armas #armando x reader #armando armas x reader #armando aretas x reader #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life #jacob scipio

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hwaslayer · 2 months ago

Text

wildfire (cs) | fifteen.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 6.6k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, changes are happening??, namjoon again to the rescue, a bit of distant san 😔, a bit of yearning san ❤️‍🩹, alcohol consumption & intoxication, a very small kiss that was accidental and meant absolutely nothing, these two just 😞 over each other, some crying

—on rotation: next to you - bryson tiller | i'll be alright (tonight) - mura masa

Two months have passed, closer to 3, and you've been busy working your ass off in Namjoon's lab. You've brainstormed and came up with a project that Namjoon approved, giving you all the resources and space you needed to get started. You've also been working alongside a few people in the lab since their project was relatable to yours, finding guidance and a little bit of training and support to carry your project forward. It's been busy, and it's been a good busy.

It's been good enough to keep your mind off of San.

For the most part.

You could only avoid him so many times, and it's not like the ache you felt deep in your chest, your stomach, went away. It still lingers, and it still hits you from time to time.

And it doesn't make it any easier when you get reminders.

Like meeting San's eyes across campus— only for him to break loose and shift his attention elsewhere.

The shift is a harsh, cold reminder that this may actually be over for good.

—FLASHBACK

"Hey." Sunwoo says, gently nudging you. "You okay? Haven't seen you in awhile?" You nod, half smiling before looking down at your laptop.

"Was busy." You chuckle a bit. "Was working on the fine details of my rotation presentation, along with all the data analysis we worked on." You give him a small smile. "I came to clean out the last bits of my stuff."

"It'll all blow over." He says with a reassuring smile. "For the record, I don't think it really matters but I know Professor Kim is just trying to keep everything together before it all blows up again."

"Guessing the whole world knows now?" He shrugs.

"Maybe, maybe not. I haven't heard much lately, but you know me, I don't like to meddle in things like that in general. I keep outta that shit."

"People must think greatly of me." He chuckles.

"It doesn't matter what they think. In any case, you are a good person, you're super sweet and super smart. If they choose to fix on that, that's their issue."

"Thanks, Sunwoo." You look at him. "I'm sorry I won't be able to help you after this."

"That's okay. We'll still hang out and I'm sure we'll cross paths more before I finish up here. Plus, I love Professor Choi but having Professor Kim take you under his wing is fucking sick." You laugh, playfully shoving him.

"I don't know where this will take me, but I hope it works out."

"Are you two.. still a thing? Secret's safe with me. For real."

"I know. But, no."

"I don't know the ins and outs of what happened between you and Professor Choi, but I'm sure he did it for good reason. To also protect you."

"Yeah, maybe. Who knows anymore." You sigh. "Anyway. Gotta head out to do my rotation presentation."

"Goodluck. It'll be all good." Sunwoo gives you a small smile. "Text or call me? Let's get lunch on a weekly basis or something to catch up."

"Yeah, I will. Thanks for everything, Sunwoo."

"Nah, thank you. You really helped my ass out." You laugh and playfully ruffle his hair.

"I'll see you around." You gather your things and let out a shaky sigh as you head out. You're hauling your main bag, and another tote bag that has the rest of your things from your desk. You head over to the small auditorium that Namjoon booked for your rotation presentation, giving yourself some wiggle room to set up and get situated before the three would arrive.

Too bad someone else also had the same plan.

You waltz into the room and head straight for the podium, setting your things down onto a chair in the front row. You grab your laptop and settle at the front, eyes shooting up at the door when you hear footsteps approach the entrance.

And of course it would be San.

He slowly trails in with Namjoon next to him; except, Namjoon turns to speak with a student that stopped him right by the entrance. San is in his black dress pants, white shirt and a black leather jacket. His boots are leaving sounds with every step he takes, watch gleaming on his wrist. He meets your eyes and you instantly freeze— shifting your attention back to your laptop because you don't know what the hell else to do. He doesn't say anything as he heads down the aisle and to the front row, his greeting almost sounding dull.

Forced, even.

"Y/N."

"Professor Choi." The awkwardness and the tension fills the room, and you can't help but notice how awfully clammy your hands are getting. How nervous you feel yourself getting. "How are you?"

"Good." Is all he says before plopping into seat in front while you continue to work with the AV system to get your presentation up on the screen.

"That's good." You reply without looking at him. He feels cold and so standoff-ish— it's hard to tell if he's doing this because he has to or because he actually means it. Was he really done with you? "Hope the presentation's okay." You mumble lightly. San catches on, but he continues to scroll through his phone to distract himself until Namjoon finally walks in.

"Sure you'll be fine." And it sucks. Maybe he does mean it. He doesn't say anything else, and he doesn't reassure you the way he usually does. For San, it's a front. He has to distance himself or else he'll cave. For you, it hurts nonetheless.

"Sorry! Got caught up. The dean's on his way." Namjoon pops in and sits next to San in the front row. "All good, Y/N? Do you need help with setting anything else up?"

"No, I think I got it. Thank you." You smile at him and he nods.

"Course."

"Alright, let's get this going. Sorry for the small wait." The dean comes in last, taking a seat by the two. "Hi Y/N, hope you're doing okay."

"Think so." You chuckle a bit. "Well, I'll get started if there aren't any objections?" They shake their heads. "Great." You nervously respond while Namjoon and the dean give you a small smile.

San doesn't even maintain eye contact with you.

But, it's only because it's the hardest thing to suppress his feelings for you whenever you're in front of him and he can't exactly have you like he used to.

—END

"Yo!" Jiung waves, shifting your attention towards him across the lawn. You give him a small smile, stopping in your motions to wait for him to cross over. To your left is San, patiently waiting for Zara to walk over to him. You can't help but watch; the two only a couple of feet away, their voices slightly echoing around the courtyard.

His hand hovering the small of her back as they enter the Harvey Building together.

To this day, you can still feel your heart physically drop to your gut. You're not sure when it'll pass, but you hope it's soon. You're so tired of feeling this way.

So, so tired.

"Hey." You give Jiung a tiny smile as you hug your books against your chest.

"Whattup?" It took awhile for you and Jiung to get back to normal. You always knew you would, but you needed a little more time to understand his side of things. For awhile, you were angry and hurt. All you could see was red. All you could see was Jiung openly going behind your back to talk to Professor Kim about something he didn't know anything about.

You saw the surface level.

But, as time went on, and as your hurt continued to settle into something you just needed to accept, you understood Jiung a little more. You knew he had always cared about you and you knew he was always protective of you. You knew there wasn't any ill intention behind his actions. And when you two finally came together to talk about it more maturely, you've seen that Jiung had been more understanding of your side, too. He apologized for having gotten in the middle, but he did everything out of care for you and protection. It's clearer now that the relationship you had with San wasn't just any relationship— he saw you cry, and cry, and cry. Wondering where you went wrong or what you could've done to be more careful, to prevent this from happening. He saw the look in your eyes, the way your body physically called and yearned for San's touch and love; he knew this wasn't any of those cases of power imbalance or a one-sided relationship. He felt stupid having needed time to marinate on the whole thing when he should've known you better. But, he could truly say he acted in fear and felt better to err on the side of caution.

He just wished it didn't have to end like this; with you, sad and alone. Feeling like all of it was just too good to be true, a fleeting moment.

A quick chapter in your book.

He gets that now.

When he sees San walking around, he almost feels the same energy, aura, that he feels when he sees you. It's just too bad he can't help. Even if he did, he finds it better to no longer meddle.

Maybe it'll bring you two back together again. When the time is right.

"Nothing. I just need to get some stuff together before I meet with Professor Kim in a bit."

"Nervous?"

"No, not really." You shake your head. "Things have been going well for the most part, minus little hiccups. He wanted to talk about other programs and opportunities he found fitting for me."

"Huh." Jiung cocks a brow up. "More collaborations he wants you involved in, I'm assuming." You shrug.

"If it is, I'm for it. Just hope it doesn't take up my entire schedule completely." You chuckle.

"It'll be good either way!"

"Yeah, I know. It's been good. I have no complaints." You shiver from the breeze that's picking up, digging your face deeper into the scarf you have on.

"Did you hear? There's supposed to be a random storm coming soon. Spring weather, amirite?"

"I heard."

"Are you gonna head home? You should try and head home if you can. Who knows what it'll bring here."

"I don't know. I do need to catch up on some data analysis or else I'll be behind." You pause. "Dunno if I trust myself to work productively at home. We have backup generators, right?"

"I mean, yeah. But, what if it goes out? Then, what?"

"Yeah, I don't know. Let's hope that's not one of these cases." You stop in front of the Panama Building and turn to Jiung.

"Lunch later?" You nod.

"Might be a little late. I'll text you when I'm wrapping up?"

"Sounds good. We'll wait for you."

"See you later." You wave before heading inside the building, shimmying off the cold once you step inside and try to warm yourself up. You head down to the lab, setting your things down on your desk before immediately getting started on your work for the day. You try to pace yourself and plan out your tasks well so that you're able to step out for your meeting with Professor Kim and grab lunch with your friends in a few hours.

It's busy, and time flies. Busy is good. At least your mind is occupied with other pressing matters.

Time slips by so quickly you're almost running late to your meeting with Professor Kim. You put a pause in your current run for behavior, grabbing your laptop and a notebook before darting up to Professor Kim's office. You power-walk down the familiar hallway before finally reaching his open door, finding him occupied at his desk.

"Hey!" Namjoon smiles when you walk into his office and plop down in the chair. "Give me a second, just finishing up this email."

"All good." You chuckle. "Sorry I'm a few minutes late. Was running behavior."

"No worries, I figured. Get comfortable." You plop onto the seat in front of his desk, watching as his fingers move swiftly on the keyboard before he navigates to the mouse and clears his throat. "Okay! All good." He laughs a bit. "How's it going?"

"Good! Pretty busy per usual."

"Good busy, I suppose?"

"Yes, good busy. It's been productive. Days are going by quick. I've got some really promising data for this cohort and I think you might be happy with it."

"I'm happy with any progress." You laugh. "That sounds great! Any other ideas? Any other plans at the moment?"

"Well, I'm not sure yet. As long as I'm on the right path, I think there are other avenues I can explore if the results continue to trend upwards."

"Then, let's explore when we get there. I know you'll continue to do great work, and the results look promising. It all looks promising."

"Thank you, Professor Kim."

"There is something else I wanted to talk to you about." You cock a brow up and tilt your head to the side.

"Sure. I'm all ears."

"Professor Qi from the Mirae Biomedical Institute contacted me the other day. She was really impressed by your symposium presentation and the work you've done in Professor Choi's lab and mine. She thinks you'd be a great asset in their program, especially since she's starting a new clinical research study that I also agree you'd contribute well to. It's a study examining neural activity and behavioral patterns in individuals with conditions like bipolar disorder, anxiety, and OCD, etc. You get the gist. A lot of your work is relatable and can be used to push this study forward."

"Oh my god, wow." You respond in disbelief, shock, even. You didn't think anyone was really paying attention to your work like that, especially with what has happened. You kinda felt like a lost cause even though nothing entirely catastrophic has happened. "I was not expecting that."

"Why not?" Namjoon laughs. "You deserve the credit. What do you think about it?"

"I'm really honored, truly. I think it's a great opportunity."

"It is. Not a lot of people get recruited this way, especially with a research assistant position included in the package." You nod silently, still trying to take it in. "Now, if you do want to move forward, it does mean we'll have to get your transfer application in ASAP. They do offer housing assistance should you need it, and they're willing to help cover any other expenses until you settle."

"Right, transferring." You look down at your palms. Truthfully, Mirae wasn't that far from here; it'd be about 2 hours out, but you could easily get there by a drive down the less busier highway or the bullet train.

You'd have to make that effort to see your friends, meet halfway.

San comes into your head.

"I know it's a bit scary, you've already gotten accustomed to things here even if it's just been your first year. But, luckily, it's not that far away and you can always meet your friends halfway. The train can connect you to campus and back." He tries to reassure you because he really wants you to take this. Of course, he can't force you, but he knows this would be beneficial to your growth.

"Yeah, I know. It's not that bad."

"It's not. Plus, you guys all drive, right?" You nod.

"When do I have to get my transfer application in?" Namjoon pulls up the information on his desktop and lets out a small sigh.

"In two weeks. We can get that done. I can write up a letter of recommendation for you and have Professors Choi and Bahng do one each." He looks at you. "Do you feel comfortable asking Professor Jeong for one since you TA'd for him? It's not entirely necessary, but wanted to see how you felt."

"Um, to be honest, not really." He nods.

"That's fine. We don't need it. Us three should be more than enough." He gives you a tiny smile. "Think you can get a personal statement and everything else together by then?"

"Yeah, I think so. Shouldn't be too much of a hassle."

"I can help with official transcripts, too."

"That sounds great." Your expression is blank and Namjoon tilts his head to try and get a read from you.

"Why the face?"

"I truthfully didn't think I was qualified or that anyone was really paying attention." Namjoon chuckles a bit.

"Listen, your grades are fantastic. The work you do is incredible. I fully think you are capable of handling all the ins and outs of this transfer and transitioning over." Namjoon smiles. "The program isn't too different from ours, but it will definitely offer you a lot of different options and pathways with the clinical study picking up."

"It's alot, and I'm grateful you believe in me. I just don't know if I can handle it. The changes."

"Don't second-guess yourself, okay? You are more than capable. It won't be much different from what you're already doing. Just a 'lil more umph. More seasoning, if you will."

"You think so?" He nods.

"You'll still focus on research, but you'll be split between classes and eventually, the hospital. Unfortunately, that does probably mean there is some weekend work in store for you." You let out a breath, eyes still on Professor Kim. He lets out another laugh [of endearment] and nods, clasping his hands together. "I know that look. I've been there before, but trust me. You'll do amazing, and you'll excel, no doubt. You shouldn't restrict yourself just because you assume you won't do well. Your work and ethic has proved otherwise."

"Thank you, Professor Kim. I think I do wanna move forward with this."

"Cool, then we can work together and get you set up. I'll loop you into an email with her so we can all chat and finalize this. Hopefully before the week ends." You nod.

"And I mean it, by the way." You pause. "Thank you for everything. For supporting me and pushing me forward regardless of everything that's happened."

"You're welcome. I would never let that define you." You give him a small smile, fiddling with your laptop sleeve— dying to ask him about the one person that has been occupying your mind the most. "You okay otherwise?"

"Yeah, I think so. Just thought about some things, but nothing important."

"He's doing okay." Namjoon gives you a tiny smile.

"I— huh? How'd you know I was—"

"Because I just do. He asks about you, too."

"Oh." Is all you say, swallowing the thick lump forming in your throat. "Well, I'm glad he's okay."

"Him and Professor Choi #2 received approval for their joint program, so they'll be getting the real estate they wanted in the new building."

"That's amazing. I'm glad it all worked out." Namjoon nods.

"Anything else I can do for you in the meantime?"

"No, that's it. For now. I'm sure more things will come up when we meet next."

"Sounds good. Well, you let me know if anything comes up or if I can do anything else for you."

"Thanks, Professor Kim." You give him one last smile before grabbing your things and heading out the door.

And the rest of your day is pretty eventful, but not as eventful as San's turns out to be.

While you busy yourself with your new classes, lab work and hanging out with your friends, San is having to force himself to go out with his own group. For awhile, he kinda sulked. Stayed home, did his own thing. Kept quiet. But, it got old to Jongho [and the rest of them] quick— hence, now he's being forced to leave the comfort of his home.

He guesses he could use the fresh air, the night out. It is Mingi's birthday, so he doesn't think he could've said no otherwise.

"Ayo!" Jongho calls out as he enters San's house, twirling the key around his finger as he waits for San's response.

"I told you I'd be fine driving." San slowly comes down his steps, dressed in a simple tee, jeans and a bomber jacket.

"Okay, miss attitude." Jongho laughs. "I'm trying to make it easier so you don't have to worry about parking and what not." San sighs.

"Thanks." He shrugs. "Do I look okay? Not that it matters."

"Can you at least try to be somewhat happy? Especially when we see Mingi later?"

"I'm sorry, I really am trying. Just kinda hard to."

"I know, and I truly think you could use this night to get your mind off of things. It's been some time, give yourself a little break." Jongho nudges him.

"Yeah, yeah. You're right." San gives him a small smile.

"Things will get better, but you gotta stop sulking about it or else you'll just keep enforcing this negativity to come for you."

"Wow, that's the deepest shit I've ever heard from you."

"And it won't come again, so fucking take it or leave it." San laughs a bit and shakes his head.

"Can we go? Before I change my mind and tell Mingi I'm sick or something."

"Hell no." Jongho starts power-walking to his car, making San take his time as he checks around the living room and kitchen once more before locking up and slipping into the passenger's seat. San slouches in his seat while Jongho drives off towards the busy downtown area, scrolling through the new group chat created for Mingi's birthday to catch up.

"They're all there already."

"Yeah, well. They wanted a head start."

"I thought Zara wasn't coming."

"She wasn't, but I think her initial plans ended up getting canceled."

"I see." San sighs and rests his head back against the head rest. The bar is ways away from campus, thankfully. It's a new bar that just opened a month ago, and Mingi's birthday was the perfect excuse for everyone to get together for a night and relieve some stress. When Jongho arrives at their destination, he's having to park down the block due to how crazy busy the area is tonight. It's a chilly night, and San has to tuck his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket to try and keep himself warm on the walk. When they enter, they see familiar faces near the back wall of the bar, Mingi's loud voice radiating towards the entrance.

"My fucking boys!" He says, already intoxicated. He pulls San and Jongho into a hug before the two start greeting the group properly.

"Hey. I didn't think you were coming." San says, pulling Zara into a hug. She's got on a jeans, high heeled boots and an off-the shoulder sweater on. She's got a bit more makeup on tonight— she's gone for the natural blush kinda look. San is not gonna lie, she looks good.

But, she will never be you.

"Yeah, plans got canceled and I was already dressed so, figured I'd make use of the outfit somehow." San chuckles a bit.

"Glad you were able to." He gives her a small smile before greeting the rest of the crew that was there, including Namjoon.

The night starts off pretty chill for San. He's taken a few shots to try and keep up with Mingi, no longer wanting to hear him complain about how no one wanted to take shots for his birthday. After the third, he tries to slow it down and cashes in for a small can of beer while Mingi continues on with spreading the love throughout the group by passing out more shots. The music is right up everyone's ally, making most of their group bounce along to the beats and sing along loudly. San's got himself next to Zara at the booth— both of them sipping on their poison for the rest of the night.

"So, San." She turns to him, her chin resting on the palm of her hand. "How's everything going?" San looks at her and despite the blush she's wearing, he can tell her cheeks are naturally flushing red at the question, at being tipsy. At the fact that she has him alone.

Because you aren't around.

"Good. Super busy, but good." San is pretty drunk, not gonna lie. He doesn't normally drink like this, but he figured he'd just enjoy himself while around his bestfriends. The beer obviously isn't helping his case, but he believes he'll be fine. He doesn't think anything will come out of this anyway. "Heard you've secured some new funding and you've got three more grad students."

"I did, yeah."

"Congrats." San smiles at her before gently tapping his beer can against her cocktail glass.

"What's new with you? We haven't been able to catch up for a bit."

"Yeah, sorry. It's just— it's been a rollercoaster."

"I bet." Zara sips on her drink. There's a slight pause before she's tracing the rim of her glass, then speaking up again. "I'm sorry about everything that's happened." San looks at her. They're sitting in close proximity; enough for San to feel her arm rub against him whenever she moves, her body heat.

"You don't have to be sorry for anything." He gives her a small smile. "It is what it is. Things are pretty stable now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"So, are you not seeing her anymore?" San takes a big gulp of his beer while keeping his eyes trained on the crowd in front of him. Her.

You always come back in the picture.

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"All good. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be." Zara looks up at him and they meet eyes for a moment. To her, the tension feels thick. But to San, he's just going with the motions. He's drunk, she's pretty, he's chillin'. Nothing more to it. But, she looks at him in a certain way and it has him slightly furrowing his brows when he tilts his head to look at her a little more, a little deeper.

"I'm sure it hasn't been easy." Her eyes are moving down to his nose, to his lips. San is following her gaze and he knows all too well where this could lead. He should've known to break contact, but before he could even think about it, Zara is the first to lean in and make her move— lips pressing against San's that he's instantly in shock and can't process right away.

But, what he does know is that this doesn't feel right, and his body is already rejecting the action because it isn't you.

"Zara—" San gently pushes Zara back with a frown on his face. "Zara, I can't. I— this can't happen. I'm sorry if I ever misled you, but—"

"Oh." She almost looks confused. "No, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, how embarrassing." She shies away. "I should've known."

"I'm sorry—" He tries to repeat again, but she's shaking her head and walking off towards the bathroom. "Fuck." He runs his hand through his hair, letting out a heavy sigh. He feels terrible that it happened. One, it shouldn't have happened. Two, he didn't mean to hurt his friend.

Three, it wasn't you.

It sounds so fucked up, but even after all of that, his mind still takes him to you and he can't help but drunkly panic as if you were around to see it. It should've never happened, it should've never happened.

He didn't want that to happen.

They had been hanging out for awhile, but the last thing he wanted was to lead her on unintentionally. And he doesn't think he did, knowing she had feelings for him from the get-go. He was there for her and enjoyed her company, but kept enough distance to make sure it didn't cross any boundaries.

He didn't want that to happen.

He pushes his way through the crowd and finds his way outside, letting the cool air hit his skin. If he hadn't made his way out of the bar, he might've [quite frankly] yacked from the slight nausea and anxiety he's feeling. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket, quickly scrolling through his call log to find your name.

You don't answer when he calls.

So, he texts.

san: i'm sorry

san: i miss you so badly

san: i miss us

san: zara kissed me and you're probably gonna hate me for it

san: i'm so sorry baby, pls come back to me i miss you. i don't fucking care anymore, i just need you.

you: san stop

you: get home safely okay?

san: no i want you with me though

you: san, please stop making this harder than it already is.

And then he calls again. Because for some reason, he feels like you already hate him and want nothing to do with him over a dumb 'lil mistake that he had no intention of making.

He calls again.

And again. Even when he's got his back pressed against the wall, crouching near the ground until he can hear your voice clearly on the other line. Zara steps out to get a breather, but she sees that he's already on the phone and it must be with you. She doesn't know why she expected anything out of that stupid, silly little kiss.

He was always gonna run back to you.

It was always gonna be you.

You finally answer, but it's because you think something's wrong and you don't want anything to happen to San.

You don't even know if you can stomach hearing him right now.

"Baby." He drunkly murmurs on the phone and it causes you to swallow the lump forming in your throat— shut your eyes to prevent any more tears from falling. "Sweetheart, you there?"

"San, stop this. That's all I'm asking from you." You shakily respond.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? You shouldn't be calling ne as if things are okay."

"But, they can be, angel. We can make it okay again."

"Please don't call me that." You barely say above a whisper, tears sting your eyes, throat aching. "If you need a ride, I can call you a cab."

"No. Mm'fine. I just wanted to hear your voice because I miss you so damn much."

"You're making this way too hard. Please just go home and get sleep, okay?"

"You're gonna hate me more than you already do."

"I don't hate you. But, whatever your business is with her, is your business with her. None of this pertains to me."

"I don't have business with her. I want you. I just want you. It's always you." You purse your lips tightly when you remember his text— of course Zara would take the opportunity, and now he's confessing his love to you.

All of this was so fucked up.

"I love you."

"San."

"You don't feel the same anymore?" You feel the burn in your throat when you take a moment to pause.

"Can you just put Jongho on the phone, please?"

"Why?" He whines.

"Because I need to make sure you get home safely." He clicks his teeth.

"Fine." He whines some more before he's calling out to Jongho and telling him his girl would like to have a word. "Think my girl is mad. C-can you tell her we can work this out? I-I don't want her mad anymore." In which Jongho follows with a quick 'yeah, ok' before snatching up his phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi. I'm sorry to trouble you with this, but can you please make sure he gets home in one piece? I think it's best he stops calling me, too."

"Of course. I'll stay with him."

"Thank you, Professor—"

"Jongho."

"Thank you, Jongho." You hang up the call and instantly toss your phone to the side before your tears start overflowing. You let the sheets swallow you whole before you cry.

And you just.. cry.

Until you tire yourself and fall asleep, even though you tried to stay up to make sure nothing else came in from San.

Nothing does, anyway.

Jongho throws San into the car and tells him to chill while he says his final goodbyes to everyone. Mingi, Yeosang and the rest of the group are laughing it off, assuming San is just drunk and slumped for the night. And he kinda is, but he's sad. He's completely heartbroken. He doesn't wanna be alone for the night, and Jongho says he'll take the guest room so he doesn't have to wallow in his drunkenness alone.

Yet, he still feels like he is.

When he gets home, he lazily kicks off his shoes and runs a quick shower. The world is still spinning more than he'd like, so he downs a whole water bottle before finishing up his routine and slipping under the sheets. Jongho has left him to his peace, also getting ready for bed in the guest bathroom and bedroom.

San can barely get comfortable because he can't even close his eyes and feel still for a second. He lies on his tummy, sprawled out across his bed since there's no use in leaving space for two.

He wishes he could.

Your side remains empty.

"You good?" Jongho pokes his head in to see a shirtless San facing the opposite way.

"Mhm." He mumbles. "Thanks."

"Yeah. Well, you know where to find me if you need anything." San stays silent, making Jongho shut his door gently before retreating to the bedroom.

San does know what he needs, though.

It's unfortunate your side remains empty.

Monday comes, and San is hoping he doesn't run into you.

He's hoping he doesn't run into you because he's not sure how to explain himself, and it's not like he can, anyway. But, it'll also make everything real for him— too real for his liking.

It'll be too real that he drunk texted you and called you, confessing his love after an incident that should've never happened in the first place.

It'll be too real that you aren't his.

It'll be too real that you never came to be by his side and that your side of the bed remains empty.

San sighs to himself as he quickly rushes into the Harvey Building, hurrying down to the basement and unlocking his office door. He sets his bags down and plops onto his chair, getting settled for the day. He couldn't sleep last night, so he decided to get up before the sun rose to workout in the faculty gym. He might've pushed himself a little harder than usual, his arms already feeling the soreness from the upper body workout he did. He'll be extra tired today, but at least his day will fly by with the shit he has to do.

He just hopes he doesn't run into you.

Because somehow, when he sees you, time stops and he feels frozen.

He lets out a sigh and starts working on a few progress reports that are literally due tomorrow. He's gotten through most of it and thankfully, just needs to add a few more details before sending it off. He also just got word that he won an award, and the foundation has been asking for a bunch of material to get ready for the award ceremony in a few months.

He hopes he can still share that news with you at some point.

Until then, he'll gather some childhood and school photos, candids he has from being in the classroom and doing lectures, other award photos; you know the deal. He's gotta write an acceptance speech that's 500-600 words and lasts about 2-3 minutes, plus answer a bunch of questions on a sheet they sent him.

It takes up a good chunk of his early morning that he's grabbing coffee right before his meeting with Namjoon and Jongho about the new program and real estate. He mutters a quick 'oh shit' to himself when he looks down at his watch, wrapping up his last thoughts before switching his desktop computer to sleep mode and gathering his phone and badge. When he slips out of his office, he finds the basement office more packed than usual. Lots of his lab members are meeting with people from other labs to collaborate or get guidance on a project. Sunwoo is busying himself with the data on his computer, working on his next data presentation for the lab meeting next week. He's noticed that him and Belle don't talk anymore, and he wonders why; he has an inkling it has to do with you, but he won't pry unless he hears about it somehow.

They all toss their 'hello's' his way while he rushes out to grab his coffee before making his way to the electrical engineering building.

Luckily, the walk is quiet.

San sips on his coffee and makes his way into a room that Jongho booked for their meeting. He's not here yet, but Namjoon isn't either, so San sits at the table by himself— mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He hasn't deleted your text thread [call him crazy], and he still has all your photos in his album. He hasn't changed the 'Baby 💕' listed as your contact name, he hasn't changed his home wallpaper that consists of a shot from behind you looking out at the beach view.

It's all equally tearing him apart and getting him by at the same time.

He can't seem to get his mind off of you and it makes him think that the universe is playing some kind of sick, twisted game with him.

Or, maybe it's a sign that he just has to accept his feelings for you. That you were always gonna be the one for him no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it couldn't work—

"Ayo." Namjoon pulls him out of his thoughts when he walks in and plops down on a seat next to him.

"Sup."

"I see Jongho's running a bit late." San checks his texts to see the unread 'running a few mins late - be there soon' text from the man himself.

"Yeah. I almost forgot myself. Was too busy getting the award materials together." Namjoon smiles.

"That's a big one. Definitely deserved."

"Thanks, boss."

"How's everything else?"

"Good, I guess." But Namjoon can see it's deeper than that, and San isn't all that great at hiding his true feelings.

"You guess?"

"Yeah, why?" He looks at Namjoon.

"She's doing great."

"Is she?"

"Yeah, really."

"That's good to hear."

"Qi Jaemi from Mirae reached out and is recruiting Y/N into their program. She started a clinical study not too long ago that's moving fast, and the work that Y/N has done in our labs is incredibly beneficial and relates well to what she's focused on. She offered to support her and give her a research assistant position while she's studying for extra financial support." Namjoon meets San's eyes. "I think she'd flourish and do amazing in it. Can't let her talents go to waste."

"I agree." San shifts in his seat. "So, she'll be transferring?"

"Yeah, sounds like. It's promising and I told her she has my support. I think she's gonna take it and not backtrack."

"T-that's great. I hope she does." San says.

"I'll need your help with writing a rec letter for her transfer application. If that's okay."

"Yeah, of course. Anything." He is truly happy for you and thinks it's the best move, especially for a very well known professor like Professor Qi. After everything, he's glad your work is still being recognized and that you're opening new doors to different opportunities.

He hopes you do move forward with it.

Selfishly enough, he hopes you take it and this will eventually lead you two back together. To a time where you don't have to hide your relationship and be loved undercover.

To a time where you two could just be happy without any outside noise.

"You miss her?"

"I do." San barely responds. "I really do, and I don't know how I'm supposed to get past this. I tried, Joon. I can't let her go." He sighs.

"Listen, I can't tell you what to do anymore. My job doesn't include policing you down to the T. Things have settled and brushed over, but it doesn't mean the dean isn't watching you or her. Luckily, if she takes this, it won't be as big of a deal as it is now while she's a student here. He'd still wanna make sure you aren't getting distracted, though."

"Okay.. but that's great, right? Things have settled for the both of us." Namjoon sighs. "If she takes the opportunity, it changes everything."

"Yes, which is why.. whatever you do, please just remember not to mess this up for her or you. The both of you are on great paths right now."

"It was never my intention to do so in the first place. I wanna add value to her life, not take away from it."

"So, what are you trying to say?"

"I love her."

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated @randajjjad

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gottencents · 3 months ago

Text

Next To You - Jennie Kim

pairing. idol!jennie x bp!added!member!reader

synopsis. during a late-night gaming stream, y/n becomes so engrossed in playing baldur’s gate 3 that she completely loses track of time

the room is dimly lit, the glow of y/n’s monitor illuminating her face as she clicks furiously at her keyboard. her focus is completely locked on the screen, her character in baldur’s gate 3 sneaking through a dungeon.

“alright, shadowheart, let’s not mess this up,” y/n mutters under her breath. she’s completely immersed, ignoring the faint buzz of her phone on the desk beside her.

on her phone screen, missed notifications pile up:

lisa: y/n, get off the game.

lisa: seriously, it’s almost 4 am.

lisa: jennie’s going to kill you if she wakes up.

but y/n doesn’t see it. she’s too busy strategizing her next move in the game. that is until the door to her room suddenly bursts open, and jennie, wearing a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, storms in with her hair slightly messy.

“y/n, get off the fucking game!” jennie yells, startling y/n so much that she nearly jumps out of her chair.

“holy—jennie!” y/n quickly mutes her mic and spins her chair around to face her. “what’s going on?”

“what’s going on?” jennie echoes, her voice sharp. “it’s four in the morning, and you’re still yelling at a computer screen! i can’t sleep with you screaming about spells and—whatever it is you’re doing!”

y/n’s mouth opens, but before she can respond, jennie sighs deeply and pinches the bridge of her nose. “sorry. i didn’t mean to yell… or curse. it’s just… it’s so loud, and it’s so late. can you please turn it off?”

y/n blinks, feeling a pang of guilt. “oh, jennie, i’m sorry. i didn’t realize it was that late. i didn’t mean to keep you up.”

jennie crosses her arms, still looking frustrated but clearly softening as y/n speaks. “i know you didn’t, but come on. you’ve been at this for hours.”

y/n scratches the back of her neck, looking sheepish. “okay, okay. i’ll log off. but, uh…” she pauses, glancing back at her screen, then back at jennie. “before i do, i need your opinion on something really important.”

jennie raises an eyebrow, confused. “what could possibly be important right now?”

“should i romance shadowheart or not?” y/n asks, completely serious, her expression earnest.

jennie stares at her, dumbfounded. “…what?”

“shadowheart,” y/n repeats, gesturing toward the screen. “she’s this really cool cleric, super mysterious, kind of edgy. i think she’s into me—well, my character. but, like, i don’t know if i should go for it. what do you think?”

jennie looks at y/n like she’s grown another head. “y/n, i don’t even know what you’re talking about. i just want to sleep.”

y/n grins, trying to lighten the mood. “okay, okay. forget shadowheart. let’s talk about you instead.”

jennie narrows her eyes suspiciously. “what about me?”

“you’re gorgeous, you know that? like, stunning even at four am,” y/n says with a playful smile, leaning back in her chair.

jennie’s frustration melts into a mix of flustered confusion and exasperation. “y/n… stop trying to distract me with compliments.”

“but it’s true,” y/n insists, grinning wider.

jennie shakes her head, muttering something under her breath as she turns to leave. “goodnight, y/n. turn off the game. i’m serious.”

as the door closes behind her, y/n can’t help but chuckle softly before turning back to her stream and saying to her viewers, “well, that happened. guess it’s time to log off before jennie disowns me.”

the next morning, clips of the late-night interaction surface online, and fans go wild:

“did y/n just flirt with jennie in the middle of an argument???”

“jennie storming in at 4 am and y/n asking about shadowheart… iconic.”

“they’ve been shipped for years, and now this?!”

“y/n calling jennie stunning at 4 am… goals.”

the moment becomes an instant meme, cementing y/n and jennie as the internet’s favorite “married couple.”

#cents works #blackpink #blackpink x reader #jennie #jennie x reader #jennie kim #jennie kim x reader #fluff #kpop gg x reader #kpop wlw #kpop gg #Spotify

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asapeveryday · 1 year ago

Text

SHOCK FACTOR ★彡PART 5

Prev. Next.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: a lot of media attention and some solo time isn’t enough to keep paige away from you.

A/n: one more chap after this then we done 😛

YOU WAKE UP with a pounding headache, not as engulfing as last night but still enough to induce a groan as you lift your head from your pillow.

The hotel-white pillowcase is smeared with residual makeup and your hair feels tangled and unruly. It was surprising how well you slept, seeing as multiple things had happened the night before that should’ve kept you up till morning. You look around to see the hotel room is empty, then check your phone for the time. It’s 1:34pm, you’ve slept into the afternoon.

Your phone is absolutely filled with notifications.

JUJU-KINS😘

U up?

Coach is lit tweaking rn

U bouta be getting media trained FOR LIFE

ELAINEY 🤞

hey

can we talk pls?

ur only in town for a couple more days

it’s not as bad as it seems i swear

i was drunk

COACH

Call me when you see this message.

I hope you already know what you’ve done wrong so I don’t have to waste my time.

You’re smarter than this!

Collapsing on your bed again, you bury yourself in the sheets. Being in Connecticut had just turned out to be a nightmare, you’ve barely interacted with your teammates, your friendship with Elaine was ruined, you’ve had the most confusing relationship with Paige and you’ve made a fool of yourself online.

You shoot a quick text to Juju as well as some other teammates who’ve checked up on you, being sure to ignore Elaine’s texts. You find yourself re-reading your messages with Paige, thankfully your drunk brain hadn’t texted anything too out of pocket, and though you clearly remember her typing after your last message she hadn’t responded since then.

Your call with Coach was the most dreaded of all, you truly respected and feared her, so sitting through an almost half-hour phone call about your responsibilities, failures, expectations and repercussions was awful.

In short, you were to be off of social media until back in state, live privileges were fully revoked, if you were to be found partying and clubbing you’d be in massive trouble, you had to issue a statement on Instagram and twitter (which was pre-written by some professional), and the next practice you participate in will be the worst practice you’ve ever experienced in the history of bad practices. Most probably an insane amount of sprints.

You release your statements on Instagram and Twitter, but before deleting the apps you check out Paige’s comments. She’d obviously received a similar order. Her Instagram story consisted of a black screen and a small box of text, simply entailing how spreading love and positivity while uplifting other players is an obligation she intends to follow from this point onwards.

Her twitter had two new tweets:

paigebueckers1 : Me and (Name) have had some truly special experiences in college basketball. She’s an amazing player who is only gonna go higher and get better as she grows. When I was a junior I was stuck in crutches hoping for the chance I have now. (Name) as a junior herself is absolutely killing it on the court and I for one will always be rooting for her, competitive comments online or not. Keep doin what you’re doin @yourusername !

paigebueckers1 : God is good! 🙏

Turning your phone off, the only thing you’re thinking is ‘you’re so full of shit.’

You wonder if she wrote that herself or if somebody wrote it for her and made it seem like it was her own typing. Regardless, it didn’t matter anymore. You’d had your experience with the Big East Champion, and it was enough for a lifetime.

The amount of content coming out regarding you and Paige was insanely overwhelming. Debates online regarding your skills, looks, personality and basically anything the public can grasp were rampant. You and Paige had been a bit of a scandal ever since she shaded you on that panel, and the media had been seriously following you two back and forth between the seemingly friendly interactions and more hostile ones.

Eventually you stumble upon something different. A video of you and Paige in the background of KK and Ice’s live that day in the coffee shop. You can see yourself fumbling with napkins, and Paige approaching. It’s almost entrancing to see everything play out from another perspective, to see how her face eases into a smile at your smartass comments, to relive your own amused emotion at her stare, to watch Paige speedily write her number on a napkin before the camera shifts and the live ends.

You’re unsure how to react to all of this. No matter how close or far you could get with Paige, would it ever amount to anything? To the slightest bit of trust? Her lips were almost on yours that evening in the street, but just an hour earlier she had lied to your face about knowing Elaine.

You recall what Elaine drunkenly spat out during your argument outside the bar.

“N’ I’ll tell you what. She’s going to play your ass and you’re never gonna get over it, cus that’s what she does.”

Was this spoken out of experience, or a mixture of jealousy and intoxication? Had Elaine once been that girl on the street, inches away?

You can’t help but think it wasn’t the case. Paige bit her tongue around you to stifle a laugh or to hold back a rebuttal to your teasing. When it came to Elaine, Paige bit her tongue in a different way. A loathing way. You couldn’t explain it.

Plus, Elaine had said herself that you were not Paige’s usual type. If she meant you and her were not alike, that was the truth. You and Paige had more of a history, more similar lifestyles and experiences, more. At least you assumed so.

Finally, you decide you’ve done enough thinking for the day. It was time to line up some plans, maybe meet up with the team for a couple hours and then hoop solo in the evening. Anything to distract from the situation.

The sound of a basketball against the blacktop, the hollow bounce that always found itself back to your hand. It’s sustenance to you, it’s breathing.

Storrs had been blessed with a hotter Sunday then usual, even in your shorts and t-shirt you were sweating, shooting hoops the same way you’ve been doing since you were a child.

The court was empty and outdoors, perfect for you to hold the ball for a moment and admire the scenery, the changing colours of the sky as afternoon fades to evening.

You hear the bounce of a ball again, but yours is secured in your hand.

“Hey.”

You’re not surprised to see her. The sink in your stomach as you meet her eyes in almost predictable.

“What are the chances.” You scoff. “Don’t you have like, the entire UConn gym to hoop?”

“I come to this court all the time.” Paige narrows her eyes. “It’s usually peaceful.”

“I figured.” You say curtly, turning your head to see the setting sun. It was very peaceful, even with the impending silence between you and the blonde.

“How drunk were you last night?” Paige asks.

You spin around to give her a look. “Drunk enough to get on live,” You scoff. “but sober enough to read a text and send it without regrets.”

At the mention of your short conversation with Paige over text, you can see her cringe. She obviously hadn’t been expecting you to find out about her relationship with your friend, let alone be so upfront with it.

“I never fucked her in my car…just so you know.” She finally manages to breath out.

You almost bark out a laugh at this. “You think I’m mad cus you fucked her?” You ask, walking towards Paige and lightly dribbling the ball. She simply stares at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Are you not?”

“Is the blonde fucking seeping into your head?” You snap, mentally celebrating as her lips forms a straight line. “If you don’t know, you better figure it out.”

Paige brings a hand to her face, rubbing her forehead as if it’s aching. Her eyes are wide and analyzing you, thinking of the best way to respond.

“Go on,” you tease her. “tell me why I’m mad.”

You’re close to her now, too close for comfort. You can see her smile lines, her plush lips, her silver chain glinting beneath the black long sleeve she’s wearing. The sleeves are rolled up, and you can’t help but noticed how veiny her arms are, how her long fingers are holding the basketball against her body.

Biting her lip, Paige finally responds. “You’re mad because I lied.”

“Smart girl.” You scoff, almost choking on your breath when her jaw clenches at your comment. “I’m mad cus you lied to my face. And cus you went on live and shit talked me again for no reason.”

You and her stare at each other for a long moment before she breaks a smile. “That was my bad.” She murmurs. “I was uh, Ion’ know. I was in sum kinda mood.”

“The mood to lie?” You raise your eyebrow. “Or the mood to be a bitch?”

“Don’t call me a bitch.” She scowls, and you’re reminded of the last time you called her that, at the end of your game against UConn.

“That’s what you are, Bueckers.” You say with a smile, eyeing her down and getting in her face just a little more. “Bitches lie, bitches make problems out of nothing.”

Her eye is fiercely trained on you, on the way your lips move as you degrade her. You can’t tell what she’s thinking in the slightest.

“(Name), I’m sorry.” She says softly.

Once again you two are staring in silence. The proximity is intoxicating, you can practically smell her clean clothes.

“Are you still fucking Elaine?”

“Hell no.” Paige shakes her head furiously. “That ended a while ago. We haven’t talked in like months.”

“She still has your location.” You grumble. “That’s how she knew I was with you at the restaurant.”

“Shit.” Paige groans, immediately pulling out her phone. “She interrupted us on purpose then? Psycho.”

You watch as she turns off her location for Elaine and blocks her before slipping her phone back in her pocket.

“We didn’t hookup for long.” Paige says, obviously feeling the need to explain herself. “Jus a couple times. I broke things off, she couldn’t accept how busy my schedule was.”

You shrug, not knowing what to say.

“Guess she couldn’t accept you and me either, huh?” Paige smirks, shooting you a ‘forgive me’ type look.

Ignoring the swell in your heart at the stupid comment, you just chuckle and shake your head.

“Do you wanna 1v1?” She asks almost sheepishly.

You think for a moment.

“You sure I’m on your level?”

Paige looks embarrassed for a moment, remembering what she said on her live. “Quit playin.” She rolls her eyes. “C’mon, show me what you got.”

You’d be lying if you were to say you knew the score.

Was she taking score? You and Paige were equally insanely competitive, but this wasn’t a true test of skill. This was a test of endurance. A test to see who would break first.

You knew this when her hand grazed your waist as she darted past you to the other end of the court, or when she stared you down, tongue between her lips as she blocked your shot. You retaliated yourself, letting your hand linger a bit too long as you helped her up from the ground after tripping her up, or whistling at her as she makes another three.

The heavy breathing, the piercing stares, the cold air as the sun disappeared. You were in a zone you’d never been in before, somehow equally focused on the game and the girl.

You manage to steal the ball from Paige in a swift moment, but suddenly she’s in front of you again. Her hands dart for the ball, attempting to smack it out of your hand. She almost manages to steal it back, but your grip tightens just at the right moment.

She’s stuck to you, her hands attempting to pry the ball out of your own. You can hear her breath, you can see the beaded sweat on her forehead, you can feel her blue eyes watching you, watching your chest widen and shrink with every inhale and exhale, watching your lips.

It’s a replay of the college game that started all of this.

You struggle for a moment longer before the tousle is not longer controlled, the ball slips between both of your sweaty hands. You and Paige both scramble to save it, but it bounces out of your grasps and away from the court.

Neither of you chase after it.

She’s still up close to you, face flushed from the game.

“What was the score?” She huffs, out of breath. Paige’s voice is raspy and tired. You feel something spark inside of you.

“No clue.”

Paige’s face breaks into a small smirk as her hands find your waist, uncertain and soft, just barely ghosting your frame. “That was my ball.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, your heart hammering at the feeling of her eyes exploring every part of you, lingering on your lips before she finally leans in.

Paige’s lips are rough against yours, but fit perfectly as if moulded for your own. She melts into you, her hands finally tightening around your body, her face tilting just right so she can finally taste you. It’s something you didn’t know you’d been waiting for. She kisses with a million emotions, with urgency, passion and the slightest bit of control. It’s electrical.

When you need to break the kiss to breath, you simply tug on her ponytail. You were not expecting the slight whimper as your lips part.

“M’ not done.” She mutters against you, catching her breath.

“I want you, P.” You whisper, looking up at her. Paige’s face immediately changes at this, lips tilting upward in an annoyingly charismatic way.

“I know you do, baby.” She murmurs. “Let me take you home.”

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