#but school is taking up way more of my time than before

[avonsdrabbles]

You know, I wanna add to this.

My parents… tried. They tried to come to my everything. They taped what they could so we could always have it on disk. My childhood was spent rewatching videos of my major events, none of which feel major now as a 27 year old. But they were major then. And with how much therapy I’ve gone through, I finally can recognize — can finally remember — how good that felt.

And how horrible it felt when that wasn’t the case.

Later in my life, before cutting them off, my dad lamented about how he had never been there for me. How he had work often when I was a child, so he missed a lot of my developmental ages. He tried to make up for this later in life; he built me toys and games, talked with me about various topics he thought would appeal.

They all fell flat. There was always some aspect of it that was missing. The air hockey table he built (which I appreciated, genuinely, especially since it was based on the joy I had with my sister, playing a makeshift one in my room) was in the garage where he smoked, and my asthma wouldn’t allow for playing. Every conversation we had that I was passionate about resulted in an argument as passions flared, and it became easier not to talk at all.

He would tout this failure of his to connect to me as a child as the reason I came out to mom, first. In some degrees, I think he’s right. I think it was a factor, at least.

But the biggest thing I can recognize as an adult is… I get it. He couldn’t be there as much. Just… physically. My father is disabled, was making the most money in the household, and we needed that income to continue with our way of life. My parents worked their asses off to provide for my sister and I, and we had a very comfortable lifestyle because of it. But that work came at the cost of connection.

I guess what I’m saying is… I can recognize, now, how necessary it was. But I wasn’t an idiot then. I could’ve understood, had anyone just explained it properly.

“Dad couldn’t come; he had work.”

To a 5 year old, that’s not an excuse. Can’t you just take off work? Can’t you just come? What sort of world do we live in where work is more important than (checks) my fifth grade play where I’ll screech at the top of my lungs??

“Dad had a headache.”

To a 5 year old, fuck that. I’ve had headaches at school before. Nevermind that my father had an aneurysm, I don’t know that word.

If you can’t make it, please, fucking explain to your child why, in ways they can understand!!! And do it BEFORE you miss, whenever possible.

“Hey honey; I want to come, but my boss is evil and won’t give me time off. If I don’t go to my job, I can’t afford your magic tree house books. I know this recital means a lot for you, but I know those books matter a lot too. Is it okay for me to miss this one, if I promise to see you on the camera later?”

Just give that reassurance.

Help your child through the grief of not seeing you there. Prepare them for it.

my parents never came to anything I did.

I have so many memories about this, but one in particular: when I was away at camp with 89 other teenagers, and at the one-month mark the post was collected distributed to all the dorms. 89 other children tore open their boxes and, shovelling handfuls of sweets their parents had sent them into their mouths, read pages-long letters and handed around photos of their brothers and sisters.

I didn't. I didn't get anything, I sat on my empty bed watching them. The teachers had to call my parents and ask if perhaps the post had gone missing...? but my parents were surprised they were required to interact with me while I was away.

Well, today, my 3-year-old daughter had a fun-run. The childcare centre invited parents to come but stressed that if we weren't able to, it was alright. There was no fucking way I wasn't going. My daughter wasn't going to be the only child there without a parent watching.

I got time off work and stood there in the beating sun and plastered in greasy sunscreen waiting to see my little girl emerge from inside the centre and stand on the track.

When she did, her little eyes searched through the crowd person-by-person for me, and absolutely lit up like the sun when she spotted me.

Mine filled with tears as I waved at her and cheered.

I'm breaking the cycle.

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 6

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content and language, being sick? overthinking? p being melodramatic Wordcount: 4.4K A/C: was feeling inspired :)) anyway pls be patient with me posting, i'm applying to schools rn!! anyway this went a direction i hadn't planned but... uhh... i have no excuses i was going with the flow. anyway enjoy x (also what a scare yesterday just hoping p is doing fine and i'm sure everything's okay!)

-

Before London

You need a ride to work tmr?

I don’t but thank you x

My eyes roam the texts as they had repeatedly since last night, trying to decipher each letter as if some ancient code I couldn’t understand. Is she seriously gonna be like that? Like she wasn’t the one who pulled me in. She kissed me. Why was she taking it out on me now? I don’t got time for this anyway, to be stressing about something like this. 

I hadn’t seen Izara since Saturday, not at work, not in the apartment building, hell, I’d even gone to the gym every morning praying that she might show up but it was as if the girl had disappeared from the face of the earth. I knew she was avoiding me, and I guess she had reason but fuck, I thought she’d be better than that. Not a word since Saturday, other than those strange cryptic texts. Fine. Be that way.

“My favourite girls!!” Trey’s voice blatantly interjects my spinning thoughts as me, Arike, Satou and Lou are sat at a circular table, eating lunch. Not that I had been eating per say, more so poking my fork here and there trying to stomach a piece of chicken now and then. The heaviness in the pit of my stomach made it hard to eat at all.

I lift my eyes, hoping Izara would be trailing behind the man as usual. But it’s Ava instead, holding a notepad and taking quick steps to keep up. I mean I knew it wasn’t Iz before even looking up - there was an uncomfortable void of heels tapping against the hardwood as the pair approach us eagerly.

“Oh hey!” Lou smiles from her chair next to me. “What’s up?”

“So we were thinking,” Trey starts, leaning forward against the table. “If y’all could film some clips answering comments on your own since our dear Zari isn’t here.”

“Uh, where is she anyway?” I ask as casually as I can - though the way everyone’s heads snap to me tells me it was a feeble attempt.

Trey’s dark brown eyes study me for a while with an expression I can’t quite read before answering. “She’s home sick, poor girl.”

Bullshit. She’s trying to avoid me, I know it. I can’t believe it, I thought she would be more mature than this, than faking being “sick” just to get away from an awkward conversation with me. Why was she assuming how I felt anyway? Like the kiss mattered to me? Like I’d want more?

I mean all that was true. God did it matter and God did I want, no, need more. Much more. But she didn’t know that, so why was she assuming. I thought we were friends. You know what this is? Bad friendship.

“Oh damn, hope she feels better,” Arike answers for me, noticing the way I’m gone in my thoughts.

“Y-yeah for sure,” I mumble, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’mma go to the weight room.”

I place the fork down on my half eaten plate harshly, getting up abruptly making my irritation quite clear to everyone around me.

“Paige you gotta eat a little more,” Lou encourages but I shake my head.

“Nah, m’ not hungry,” I murmur and take my plate back, preparing to take out my aggravation at some weights, ignoring the way Arike and the rest of the girls eye me as I walk away.

-

“So how are we feeling about the first game soon?” My dad’s voice echoes through the speaker but I barely hear him, pacing my apartment’s living room. Truthfully I hadn’t thought much about the upcoming game. I knew that was bad. That I should be ecstatic, or scared as hell, but I didn’t feel anything else besides the dread of what happened between me and Iz. 

Matter of fact, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else but the way she looked all night, the way her green smoked out eyes twinkled at me, the way she threw her head back when she laughed at my jokes, when she pressed her front against me. The way her full breasts felt against my chest, the way her round ass felt under my hands. God, the whimper she let out when I squeezed it as gently as I could.

“Paige?”

“Uh what?” I mumble, ears burning, completely forgotten about the call with my dad.

“What’s going on with you?” His secure, steady voice asks, grounding me.

“Nothin’ dad,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes and looking out the window into the street, eyeing every dark haired woman just in case they were Izara.

“Paige Madison.”

I groan. I might be 23-years-old but my dad’s stern voice turns me into a teenager without fail each time.

“You’re comin’ to the first game still, right?”

“Yes, of course,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Why?”

“Nothin’, just miss you,” I mumble, coming up with an excuse for my low mood - though it wasn’t far off. Everytime I felt sad or anxious I just wanted my dad.

“I miss you too, kid. You know you just say the word and I’m there, okay?”

“No I know, I know. I’m just tired I think,” I sigh, my chest warming at my dad’s comforting words.

“Uh oh,” he starts. “Paige Madison… Don’t tell me.”

“Huh? Tell you what?”

“Is this about a girl?” He asks.

I pause, coming to a halt with my pacing. “Hu- I- What?!”

“You always say “I’m just tired” when you got a girl on your mind,” my dad laughs, doing a horrible impression of me.

“No!” I argue a little too fast and a little too passionately. “I mean, no. Just tired. Long practice.”

“Mhm alright,” my dad mumbles, an amused tone in his voice that irritates me in a way only a parent could. “So no girl?”

“No dadddd,” I whine like a teenage girl. “There’s no girl.”

I didn’t like lying to him. I wanted to tell him all about Izara. I knew my dad would adore that girl. He always said I needed a woman to keep me in check - Izzie did just that. But I also didn’t want to tell my dad about this girl knowing it likely wasn’t going to go anywhere, especially now that she had been hiding from me since our kiss.

“Okay dad tell Drew I said hi and I’ll play Fortnite with him tomorrow,” I say into the phone, ready to hang up.

“Okay kid, love you.”

“Love you dad.”

The silence is deafening, again. Like it used to be before I became friends with Iz. I felt alone, anxious, my head spinning with thoughts I couldn’t turn off. I thought she was mature enough to handle this like two adults. If she just wanted to be friends then she could just tell me, at least we could continue our friendship like that.

But usually when I kissed a girl, they didn’t run away like this. Quite the opposite. Did she not like the way I kissed? Was I off my game? Maybe the tongue was too much? Maybe she didn’t like my outfit. I’m a good kisser, I know I am. Good enough to get girls into bed with ease. So what is the trouble now? And I also know that that was the best kiss I had ever had. That our lips fit together just right. Fuck this girl had me going out of my mind. And now I just had to wait for her to reach out, it didn’t feel fair.

No. It wasn’t fair. Why did I have to wait for her? Who said I had to? Fuck that.

Too frenzied to even throw a shirt over my sports bra, I walk downstairs determined, knocking on Izara’s door angrily, preparing a speech of everything I’d been thinking the past few days: Look, Izzie, we’re both adults. You clearly think the kiss was a mistake. But avoiding me and acting like this is ridiculous and stupid and we don’t need to be acting like teenage-

“Paige?” 

Izzie opens the door, voice weak and nasally. She’s in a pale pink pyjama set, hair up in a clip and nose red and irritated. She wasn’t lying. Definitely not. She is sick. 

Quick, improvise.

“Uh, hey,” I mumble, my cheeks turning pink, her red eyes staring up at me reminiscent of Saturday night and the moments before our kiss on the balcony. “Trey told me you were sick.”

She chuckles, looking down at her dishevelled appearance and returns her gaze to me. “How did you know,” she jokes. She’s acting like nothing happened between us. How could she act like that? I guess it’s better than if she actually had been avoiding me.

“Was worried, haven’t seen you since… The party,” I say unsurely.

“Uh… Yeah. Crazy party huh,” Izzie says almost to herself. “Well, anyway, thanks for checking in but I’m perfectly okay. Just a cold and I think it’s passing.”

She begins to close the door but I grab it, holding it open.

“You been resting?” I ask concerned.

The girl shrugs. “Well at first but now I’m just getting bored so I’ve been doing some work from home.”

“Izzie…”

“What?”

“You gotta be restin’ if you’re sick,” I argue, which makes the girl roll her eyes.

“I’m fine Paige,” she answers, but I step inside.

“Let me in.”

“No, you’ll get sick,” she complains but I shake my head.

“I won’t. I’m built different.”

Izzie laughs, deciding it was pointless to try to argue and lets me in.

Her apartment is spotless as always, laptop open on her dining table with schedules and notebooks piled next to it. This bitch hadn’t been resting, no she’s been working and cleaning.

“Izzie!” I groan and close the laptop.

“Shoes! Shoes shoes shoes!” She yelps, voice breaking as she does. 

“‘M sorry!” I gasp and take my sneakers off quickly, placing them neatly by the entrance. I feel her eyes fixed on me. 

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” She asks, blowing her stuffy nose, which makes me let out a single laugh.

“Why, you want me to?” I ask confidently, easily falling into the same effortlessness as before.

My words make the girl blush. Perhaps the kiss wasn’t that bad? Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I should just ask… Ask what?! If the kiss was good?! Bro… Get a grip.

“Well you’re going to get cold, it’s freezing here,” she tells me, turning away and walking to the couch where pillows are neatly arranged, an expensive looking blanket neatly folded on the armrest. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it definitely was not cold, that her apartment was scorching hot already making me sweat.

“Yo, you’re kidding right?” I laugh as I watch her somewhat pitifully curling up against the corner of the couch on her single throw pillow.

“What?”

“Iz, you’re sick!”

“Wow, thanks for rubbing it in my face,” she says nasally, blowing her nose again.

“Bro, that pillow is just sad! You need a nest,” I gasp, walking to her bedroom.

“Wait wait wait, it’s a mess in there,” she yelps, following after me. Mess, it is not. There is one hoodie on the bed, which is unmade. That’s it. I pull the heavy blanket off her bed, grabbing all four pillows and walking decisively to the couch with the dark-haired girl on my tail.

“What are you doing?” She asks as I begin to set up each pillow into a nest against the corner of the couch. She’s grabbing my arm and peeking at my actions from behind my back, clearly confused.

“I’m makin’ you a nest,” I explain, brows furrowing as I focus. This is serious business. “My stepmom does this when we’re sick.”

“A nest?” Izzie laughs.

“Yeah, get in,” I order, grabbing the girl’s shoulders and sitting her down. “Now lie back. Get comfy.”

Hesitating for a moment, Izzie curls up against the pillows as I place the blanket over her, watching as she gets comfortable with a smile on her face.

“There you go,” I coo, trying her forehead which is burning hot. “You have a fever Iz, I’m gonna get you some meds.”

“Paige, you don’t have to do this,” she sighs, looking up at me softly. I want to lean down and kiss her again. Instead, I bring my hand to her warm cheek, stroking it softly. She looks vulnerable, gentle for once. It made me want her even more.

“Lemme take care of you ma.”

She doesn’t comment on the nickname, matter of fact there’s a hint of a smile on her face when she nods. 

“The cabinet above the microwave.”

“Got it,” I tell her, pretty much scurrying to the kitchen, gathering everything you could think - water, painkillers, nose spray, I even cut up some fruit for her. But when I return the poor girl is in her nest, cuddled up, fast asleep. It hurts my heart to wake her up, but she needs these meds in her.

“Iz,” I murmur carefully, brushing dark locks away from her face. She blinks herself awake, rubbing her face. Everything about it makes me want to wrap her in my arms and never let anyone close in case they hurt her. 

“Fuck, I fell asleep,” she yawns. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.”

“You’re sick ma,” I remind her, sitting next to the girl on the couch and watching as she takes her medicine.

“This is so embarrassing,” she murmurs, sipping on the glass of water. Her cheeks are bright red, hair undone and eyes tired - I swear it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her look.

“Izara,” I say sternly. “You’re sick, lemme help.”

“You’re gonna get sick too, and you have your first game soon love.”

“I’ll be fine, I got mad immune system powers.”

She giggles. “Immune system powers?”

“You heard,” I nod, fighting a grin. She coughs a little.

“Paige?”

Oh God. She’s gonna bring up the kiss now. I know it. I can feel it.

“Y-yeah?”

She takes a deep breath. “Can we watch Lady and The Tramp?”

-

“How are you already crying?” Paige asks with a giggle, leaning against the opposite corner of the couch. 

“Lady as a puppy always makes me cry! How could it not?” I sniffle, wiping my nose, watching the scene where Lady doesn’t want to sleep in her dog bed, the poor puppy crying for her dad. 

The blonde is chewing on an apple in her sports bra and black Nike sweats, muscles grown more prominent over her training period with the Wings, arms bigger, shoulders wider, outline of the muscles on her abdomen faintly visible even as she slouches. 

“What kinda names are Darling and Jimmy Dear anyway?” She asks, dramatically frustrated.

“Paige, you’re slow,” I laugh. “Lady thinks those are their names because they call each other those as like, pet names darling.”

The blond thinks for a while, and then grins. “Oh.”

We both burst into a choir of laughter, though it feels rough against my scratchy throat. Still, I could feel the medication already making me feel better. Or maybe it was the company.

My mind had been a mess after I escaped the party. I felt embarrassed, childish even for running away like I did, leaving Paige high and dry. Once I woke up the next morning it was hard to figure out what truly happened and what was my mind playing tricks on me. But I knew the kiss really took place the moment I remembered it, the weight of Paige’s kiss a mere memory on my lips. One wouldn’t forget a kiss like that. It was impossible.

Getting sick had been a lucky coincidence, giving me time to think and take some distance from the situation. I found it impossible to figure out where my desire for Paige and desire for physical contact differed. I couldn’t tell if I was just lonely. Or if I really liked her. I never considered it, me having feelings (if you could call it that) for a girl again. But now as she sat there, looking like that, I wanted nothing but to get on her. To climb onto her lap and kiss her again like we had on the balcony. Without the drunken hue, just us feeling each other.

Even as sick as I am, the familiar burn and ache that always showed up around the blonde begins to grow between my legs, making me squirm. Fuck, maybe I did like her. All I knew I definitely wasn’t in a place to start anything - that no matter what this was it would have to stay casual. I haven’t gotten rid of the ghost of my past relationship. No, not at all. I could see it looming around every corner, peeking through windows, just right outside my line of vision. I wasn’t ready.

Paige’s hand comes over to my bare feet poking out of the blanket, bringing them to her lap and beginning to rub them almost as if subconsciously, like unaware of the entire thing. Except her cheeks turn red as she does. My entire body relaxes, and I let her. For almost half of the movie she massages each toe, the arch of my foot, my ankle, leaving goosebumps everywhere. 

“I’m cold,” I complain, pulling my feet back under the blanket, feeling like a block of ice.

“I’m so hot,” Paige groans, now more invested in the movie, making small comments here and there.

“Lucky,” I groan which makes her snicker.

“Scooch,” The blonde tells me. Before I can resist she’s made her way under the blanket, into the nest, lying behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. I fit in her arms perfectly, like I was made to be her counterpart, born to be in her arms like this, every curve of her body slotting with mine just right. My ass pressing into her, the blonde’s chin brushing against my shoulder, hot breath tickling against my ear nearly making me moan. Fuck.

“I- I thought you were hot,” I mumble, beginning to lose my composure.

“But you’re cold,” she murmurs into my ear, nose nuzzling into my hair as we keep watching the movie. Though I can’t concentrate. Even on my favourite movie. My head spinning too fast, speeding up even more when my pyjama top hikes up and Paige’s fingertips rub circles against my lower stomach, dangerously close to dipping into my pyjama pants.

“P-paige,” I almost whisper, my voice coming out breathy.

“Mhm?” The blonde’s voice is shaky too, a hoarse hum straight into my ear making me even wetter than I already am.

“You’re gonna get sick,” I remind her, my chest heaving.

“I’m good,” she breathes out, shifting a little, her head fitting just in the crook of my neck. Perfectly. “Are you?”

She’s asking for consent, I can tell. To dip her fingers underneath the band, to slide them into my panties. And God I want to give it to her. To let her have her way with me. The temptation is growing nearly impossible to resist.

“I-” I nearly say it. But then I shift to my back, to meet her gaze. Paige’s face is flushed, nostrils flaring as she breathes, hand remaining on my bare stomach. “How are you feeling about the game?”

“Oh, uhh,” Paige is taken aback, pulling her hand back to my dismay, bringing it to her jaw and rubbing it. “I mean, I haven’t really thought about it if I’m honest? I’m excited to see my dad and Dorka.”

“She went to Uconn with you, right?”

The blonde nods. “I mean issa big moment for sure, but I just wanna take it one day at a time.”

I hesitate. “Are you not nervous at all?”

She lets out a single laugh and looks around the room. “Nah I am. Just tryna keep my mind off it.”

I nod, understanding. I wish I could carry some of her worry, I could tell she was more nervous than she let on. But instead of talking I slide my hand into hers, which seems to comfort the girl more than words, her blue eyes locking with mine. She’s thinking, mulling something over in her head. I can tell.

“The party… Iz, I-”

“Shh,” I tell her before she can keep going, my throat going dry, the ache between my thighs nearly painful. I wasn’t ready to talk, at all. All I wanted was to feel it again, the weight of her lips on mine. So bad I felt dizzy.

“Nah, Izzie, c’mon. I think we both feel we-”

“Paige?”

“Yeah mama?”

“Kiss me.”

-

It makes no sense. But I don’t hesitate. Leaning down, my lips crashing into hers with such hunger it makes me uncharacteristically whine. My body is on fire, every inch burning up as our lips slide against one another, boxers growing damp quickly. My hand carefully holds her cheek, like the girl next to me might break. But to my surprise she pulls me on top of her by the back of my head.

I’m tasting for every inch of her, slowing down and taking my time, unlike that drunken mess on the balcony. Somehow this is even better, the kiss of the century even. Her body is cool to the touch, a sign of the fever going down. But I barely register, kissing her bottom lip affectionately, my hands holding her face. Izzie responds, her teeth pulling on my lip harshly making me groan. Her warm tongue brushes over it, soothingly.

I open my mouth further, my tongue meeting hers, other hand moving to the bare waist of the girl underneath me. I can’t believe this is real. That I’m kissing Izara. It feels like some type of dream, but the ache between my legs proves that every second is real. That she’s really underneath me. And If I’m feeling my core throbbing just from the kiss, I’m certain the dark haired girl feels something similar and the idea of my girl feeling such pain and not having it taken care of breaks my heart.

So my thumb dips underneath the band of her satin pyjama pants, feeling the lace of her underwear as it does. Zari lets out a shaky whimper, her eyes fluttering open.

“Paige,” she whines, brows furrowing.

“Yeah?” I ask breathlessly, leaning down to kiss under her ear which makes her squirm under my weight.

“C-can you keep your hands,” another moan as I suck on her neck, careful not to leave a mark. Izara didn’t seem like the type of woman you marked. “On top of the clothes.”

God she’s gonna be the death of me. But I oblige happily, pulling my hand back to her bare waist.

“Whatever you want Izzie,” I say between ragged breaths, making the girl moan as I keep kissing her neck. Izara’s hands wrap around my back, long acrylics scratching at the skin there.

“Shit,” I cuss under my breath, feeling like I might die or cum in my pants if I don’t get to have her. Still, I keep kissing her, fully aware what a privilege it was just to be on her like this. I do everything to try to stay composed, to keep my cool, to focus on putting on my best show as I return back to sloppily kissing her lips, shifting on top of her, my other hand beside Izzie’s face to hold me up. 

As I move my hips, my knee presses into her core, against the sheer fabric of the pajamas making her gasp straight into my mouth. I repeat the movement with purpose now, and can feel the heat radiating off her, the fabric between her legs growing damp. She wants this just as bad as I do.

“Lemme keep going, please,” I whimper, brows furrowed and barely conscious of what is happening at this point. “Lemme help ma, won’t even touch you.”

Her face is contorted with need, chest heaving desperately. 

“It hurts don’t it? Lemme help,” I coo, my lips wrapping around her earlobe and sucking softly. “Please.”

“Paige,” she whimpers, her body shaking with need. But I feel her shift, legs wrapping around my body. “Please.”

Oh God, I might actually cum in my sweats.

I kiss her all over, her neck, bare shoulders, mind spinning with need, my cunt growing wetter and wetter with every moan that leaves Izzie’s lips as I push my knee against her core, gently, so as to not hurt her.

“P-paige,” she moans my name. My name. 

“Ohh fuck,” I cuss, squeezing my eyes shut at the way her voice sounds, deep and gravelly, turning more high-pitched each time I grind my knee into her cunt.

“Let me get you right ma, please,” I beg breathlessly, shaking my head to myself trying to keep myself present. “Please, Iz, would do anything to fuck you,”

She’s speechless, whimpering desperately, but I can feel her muscles turning tense from the pleasure I’m giving her, legs shaking gently.

“Would be so good, just lemme eat that pussy,” I moan into her ear. “Gimme five.”

Pulling back, I meet her gaze. Her contorted face, dark brows furrowed and lips parted, green eyes blown out black. This is the most beautiful she has ever looked. Easily. Could look at her like this forever.

I can tell she’s considering, mulling it over in her head. Just as her lips part the ring of her phone interrupts the moment, the obnoxious sound blaring over the movie playing in the back. Of course. I can never have anything good. Just little tastes.

“Fuck,” Izzie mumbles and abruptly sits up as if suddenly thinking clearly. I climb off her, watching as she fumbles to find her phone.

“Here,” I catch it, handing it to her. It’s Kiran, her brother.

“Fuck, I promised I’d help him with his paper,” she groans, still trying to catch her breath.

“Uh, okay,” I murmur, attempting to catch mine, awkwardly shifting further on the couch, watching as the girl gets up and walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, leaving me there once again. Wanting more.

-

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers

[xhazzz]

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Rain Kisses

warning: none, just kissing.

a/n: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LENGUAGE, so feel free to correct me if there’s anything wrong :)

masterlist || request’s are open

READERS’S POV:

“So… you’ve been going out with Hangman”, Penny teased me while we were getting ready for the bar to open on a few hours.

“In my defense, he’s proven he’s not like the others,” I said, laughing like a fool as memories of our last dates came flooding back.

“And what does your dad think about all this?” she asked with a sly grin.

“Come on, Pen,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “I’m an adult now. I don’t need my dad’s permission to date whoever I want.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” she said, laughing. “Your dad can’t really complain, considering he used to sneak into my room through the window back in the day.”

We both burst out laughing.

“Oh, God, Penny, I don’t want to imagine my dad like that,” I groaned, covering my eyes. “I just hope Hangman doesn’t open his big mouth and say something stupid that’ll get him grounded—or worse, punched by Rooster.”

—————————————-

JAKE’S POV

It had been two days since I last saw Y/N because of work, and I realized something: damn, I missed her. This girl was special.

“Excited to see your girl tonight, Romeo?” Coyote teased as we changed in the locker room.

“More than you know,” I admitted, sounding like some high school kid with his first crush.

“So it’s true, Hangman?” Phoenix chimed in, joining the conversation. “You’ve got the guts to date the boss’s daughter, even with Rooster as her big brother?”

“For God’s sake, it’s not like I’m scared of Chicken,” I said, laughing as I stuffed my dirty clothes into my duffel bag.

“And what does the boss think about all this?” Bob added, sitting on the bench.

“Come on, Bob, we’re not in high school anymore,” Coyote interjected. “I’ll just say it: Hangman hit the jackpot.”

Coyote and Fanboy started clapping like the idiots they were.

“So, how is she, you know, in…?” Fanboy began, smirking like a teenager.

“Watch your mouth, Seresin,” Rooster shouted from across the locker room.

“Relax, Tiger,” Phoenix said quickly. “If she’s Maverick’s daughter, there’s no way she’d let some guy like Bagman get in her pants.”

“I haven’t even kissed her yet,” I admitted with a sigh, slamming my locker shut.

“No way,” Rooster laughed, crossing his arms. “That’s my girl.”

“Not your girl, Chicken,” I corrected. “She’s mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

——————————————

READER’S POV

Friday night, the Hard Deck was packed. I was a little disappointed that the Dagger Squad hadn’t shown up yet. I kept busy serving drinks and passing out bottles of beer when someone called out to me from behind.

“Hey, Y/N,” it was Rooster with his ridiculous mustache.

“Hey, Roo,” I said, stepping out from behind the bar to hug him. “I missed you. Haven’t seen you around lately.”

“That’s because you’ve been busy with Bagman,” he teased, playfully nudging my shoulder. “I don’t know what you did, but you’ve got that idiot wrapped around your finger.”

“I hope you’re talking about me,” said a voice behind Rooster. “Because I hope I’m the only one you’re dating”

“Oh my God, Bagman, that’s the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard,” Rooster groaned, wrinkling his nose. “Let me know if he gets out of line, Y/N.”

“I will, Roo, don’t worry.” Bradley kissed my forehead before heading off to join the rest of the pilots.

“I hope you and Bradley are telling the truth and there’s nothing more between you two,” Jake said, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles—a gesture he was starting to make a habit.

“Ew, never,” I quickly said, ducking back behind the bar and handing him a beer. “Bradley’s not my type. Besides, I’m more into blondes.”

I leaned on the bar and winked at him.

“God, you’re amazing,” he said, grinning as he took a sip of his beer. “What time does your shift end?”

“Too bad for you, handsome, I’m staying late tonight.”

“No problem. I’ll wait,” he said charmingly, walking over to the pool table.

The rest of the night, I could feel his eyes on me, and every time I caught him staring, he’d smile like an idiot. But eventually, I lost sight of him. Past midnight, Penny let me off since the bar had started to clear out. I grabbed my things and, not seeing Jake or the rest of the Daggers, assumed they’d left. The night was cool, and it looked like it might rain. Great—no jacket or umbrella.

“Hey, you,” Jake’s voice came from where he was leaning against his truck. I jumped, startled, and he chuckled softly.

“God, you scared me,” I said, relieved. “I thought you’d left.”

“I told you I’d wait,” he said, draping his jacket over my shoulders. It smelled like his cologne. “Need a ride?”

“Are you my knight in shining armor?” I teased, looping my arm through his.

“Your carriage awaits, my princess,” he said with an exaggerated bow, opening the door for me—just in time, as the rain started to drizzle.

By the time we reached my house, it was pouring. I was definitely going to get soaked just stepping out of the truck.

“Thanks for the ride, Lieutenant,” I said, leaning in to kiss his cheek as I opened the door.

“Wait!” he said, quickly getting out and running around to my side.

“You’re going to get wet!” I laughed as he grabbed his jacket and held it over us. He took my hand, and we walked to the door, getting drenched anyway.

I slipped on a puddle near the steps, but Jake’s arm shot out, catching me around the waist. We both laughed, soaked to the bone. His hands stayed on my waist, and I wrapped mine around his neck. His eyes locked on mine, and then they dropped to my lips.

“Still want that goodnight kiss?” I asked, biting my lip.

“Hell, yeah,” he breathed.

Without hesitation, I pulled him down to me. His lips were soft, tasting faintly of beer, and fit perfectly against mine. One of his hands moved from my waist to cradle my neck, deepening the kiss.

We pulled apart for air, but he dove back in, kissing me more passionately this time. God, I really liked this man.

“Goodnight, Lieutenant,” came a voice from behind us. My dad stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

“Goodnight, sir,” Jake said quickly, stepping back and grabbing his jacket to drape it over me again.

“Hi, Dad. We were just…” I stammered, feeling like a teenager caught sneaking in.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see anything, but we’re having a serious conversation tomorrow, Seresin,” my dad said before going back inside.

“Should I be worried?” Jake asked nervously.

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it,” I said, smiling like a fool.

I pulled him down for another kiss, his hands gently resting on my hips.

“Goodnight, handsome.”

“Sleep well, beautiful.”

He gave me a quick peck before heading back to his truck. I stayed at the door until he drove off, leaning against it with a ridiculous smile on my face.

“He’d better treat you right, kid,” my dad called from the kitchen.

“Here we go…” I sighed. I knew I was in for a lecture, but Jake—handsome, charming Hangman—was definitely worth it.

[seasprincess]

nerd!rafe x popular!reader

mdni

warnings: smut-handjob, pathetic sub!rafe, this is not cannon Rafe AT ALL

Rafe Cameron is a quiet nerdy boy with about no friends. Where as you, you’re loud and popular, friends with everyone.

Ever since you had joined the school Rafe’s eyes have been on you. Watching you laugh and smile with the people that flocked to you like moths to a flame.

He couldn’t help admire you in a way. But mainly he was admiring your beauty.

He has never spoken to you of course. God no he wouldn’t dream of it. Well that’s not entirely true.

He’s dreamt of it, thought of it, imagined it while his hand was around his length. But not in a perv way of course. No no. Not in the way the other boys do it. In a sweet way. Right?

But no, he couldn’t talk to you. In the world of high school. Rafe isn’t allowed to talk to you. He’s too ‘low’ for you. Which he thinks is stupid but he can’t rewrite the social laws of the school.

So he’ll just sit in class staring at you instead of doing his work. Not like he needs to do more work in class. He’s smart enough to pass a test with just a glance. So here he’ll sit waiting for his chance to talk to you properly. Instead of that couple times you were sweet to him, sticking up for him and that one time he said thank you for you holding open the door. And god did that thought make his heart beat.

But soon enough, here’s his lucky day.

“Rafe, you’ll be working with y/n.” The teachers words ring in his head as his eyes are pulled up from the desk. He turns to face you and sees that you’re looking at him. And he c-wait-you’re looking at him.

He does a double take before seeing you wave at him. A small gesture that means so much to him you don’t even know. So he does a wave back. But he’s shy and awkward so now he’s stressing that he looked weird and seeing your friends giggling and whispering doesn’t help the feeling he’s embarrassed himself.

So quickly he turns away, back to the page on his desk. Drawing random lines on it to make it appear he’s doing something. Doing anything other than looking at you and gawking.

Why does he have to be so shy and embarrassing? Why can’t he be like the popular people like Bryce and Zach? They can just talk to everyone and just be confident all the time. He hates himself for his anxiety that is in the bottom of his stomach everytime anyone even breathes to close to him. He hates it so much th-

“Hey partner.” Rafe’s brought out of his spiral of thoughts when you speak to him. He’s frozen looking up at you, is this real? Or is he dreaming?

“H-hey.” He says, pushing up his glasses on his face as he adjust in his chair.

“So when we doing this project?”

“Anytime. Anytime that’s good for you, I’m free. Like all the time. I’m not doing…anything.” Rafe decides to stop himself from babbling and making himself look like a complete and utter loser.

But all you’re doing is smiling at him. Not pulling the disgusted face he’s use to.

“Tomorrow night? My place?”

“Yeah sure.”

“Cool, don’t have snap so I can send you the info?” You say as you pull out your phone. Waiting for him to respond to you.

Rafe rubs the back of his neck as he thinks how to reply to this. He couldn’t say that his mom doesn’t allow him to have social media and even if he was to have it he wouldn’t have enough friends anyway.

“No. I don’t use snap anymore.” He lies.

“Oh right okay. Insta? Tiktok?”

Rafe just shakes his head.

“I can give you my number?”

“Yeah sure okay.”

Rafe gets out his phone, a tiny phone that was probably made eight years ago that his mom told him was ‘cool and trendy’. She’s so wrong it almost hurts.

Rafe had been waiting and waiting for this day. Yes the plans were arranged yesterday but he’s just so excited it’s almost sad really.

But after making his way to your house and you giving him a tour of the mansion you live in. You’re now both sat on your bed.

He’s in your room.

On your bed.

“No you’ll have to tutor me.” You say as you smile before looking back at the work that’s in front of you. You’re laying on the bed as Rafe is sat stiff.

“Tutor you?” Rafe asks, adjusting his glasses again for the second time this minute.

“Well we’re doing this project and I don’t get what it’s about so you’ll have to help me.”

Earlier when Rafe started talking about the project he had presumed that he’d been doing it all himself like he’d usually do with other people. But you insisted you’d actually help. Even if you have been distracted a couple times.

“Yeah sure.” Rafe replies as he smiles, looking down at you. He’s rather close to you it’s making his heart beat so fast. If it beats any faster it’ll pop out his chest like in those cartoons. His eyes might also pop out his head too. We’re just waiting for that.

God he’s so close to you he can smell that perfume you wear every day to school. It hasn’t changed since the first time he met you.

He’s just watching you lay on your stomach on the bed, writing down some things. He just can’t seem to pull his eyes away from you. You just look so beautiful and calm. Of course he has to go and ruin it.

He’s just staring, and before he thinks he leans in and kisses you. His soft lips pressing against yours until he realises what’s happened and pulls back.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He says as he starts panicking. Of course he’s ruining things like he always does. He may be smart when it comes to academics but he’s so stupid when it comes to social situations.

But all you do is smile. Just smile at him before pushing up and climbing onto his lap.

“Oh, oh. Okay…” He says as he holds his breath and looks anywhere but you. His hands don’t touch you. Just in the air, frozen in place by this very unexpected action from you.

So you place his hands on yours hips looking at him before your hands are placed on his cheeks. Gently rubbing them as you look down at him.

“You have a crush on me Rafe?”

Rafe nods as he stares into your eyes. He’s too shy to say anything, and also incredibly aroused by having you here. On his lap. His hand sneaks as he brings it close to his face to adjust his glasses. He look looks up at you like a puppy.

He’s so cute and shy it makes him all the more attractive to you. Some people think he’s all these things but unknown to him you’ve always had some feelings for him. Even if you did try and stop them.

Your hand travels downs Rafe’s body until it reaches his zipper. His dick twitching in his pants as he lets out a low whine. He’s so pathetic it’s so hot to you.

“You want me to touch you Rafe?”

This has escalated very quickly, and as scary it is to Rafe. It’s very exciting for Rafe too. He’s never even held hands with a girl. Or spoken to one for longer than thirty minutes. Twenty minutes. Ten minutes at best.

“Yes please.” He whines out as he wriggles lightly underneath you, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He has thought about thus situation before but this is not how he was expecting at all.

You smile as you start to kiss him, lips pressing softly against Rafe’s. His lips are soft, different to what you’ve kissed before. Your tongue slips into his mouth which is met by more whines from the boy underneath you.

Your hand slips into Rafe’s pants and before he can say a word you start to stroke him. His dick hard and leaking with precum. He feels slightly embarrassed but that’s quickly stopped as you begin to go faster. And all he can think about is how good it feels and how much better it is than his own hand.

The moans and whimper from this man is heavenly. Making those panties you chose to wear just for him wet.

“Please, please can I cum?” Rafe is begging for this. Begging for this release from you. His whole body is practically shaking. He knows he’s acting needy and pathetic. But he can’t help it. He’s practically brainwashed by you.

He’s a man who could genuinely have any job he’s ever wanted but here he is whining for you. Whinging and moaning and begging. A possible future president is begging to cum.

“Yeah baby. Cum for me.”

You will definitely be doing this again.

a/n: don’t know how to feel about this one and i am still upset over bae’s eyebrows.

[bathypelagicbutch]

the first time i was treated even remotely respectfully in public when i first transitioned was at 3am in a 24 hour pizza place while high out of my mind on shrooms. i was in full drag with a full face and it was the first and only time i was ever gendered correctly and respectfully in a public place while presenting femme. i pass now, and I'm thankful that i do, but the amount of effort I've had to put into making my body as acceptable as possible for people just so i don't get harassed for more reasons than being Black in places i don't belong (super white grad school lmao) is wild. i shouldn't have to make myself look like you want me to fuck you for you to respect me, and it really shouldn't be that hard for queer people to realise that that is literally what most of society, including white queers, forces us to do. there's a weird intersection with Blackness and masculinity for both Black men and women that i feel gets pointed out a lot, but i feel like the hypermasculinisation of Black women unless they present sufficiently slutty is something that only gets talked about at length for cis Black women and queer Black women in general. mainly because whenever the dolls try to bring it up the only response is immediate horniness or complete denial. it's also interesting that when i started presenting more masc i started passing, but since then the amount of horny white people who've been unable to remove the rupaulified fucktoy version of me in their brain for long enough to listen to me when i try to talk about how much it sucks being butch and trans has increased. exponentially. you all have too many issues with Black men to even notice how your racism affects every part of how you view Blackness in general.

speaking of! follow up to that earlier thing i said about not being able to be masc and trans without ppl needing to remind you that they only support you for your ability to fuck them ‐ it's worse when you're Black, and you white queens do it too. and i really don't think you realise you do! because I've talked about this with almost every person I've been with (if I've even been allowed to before being dismissed without a hint of concern) and most of them just admitted to doing this at some point in our relationship. so instead of being philosophical I'll just use a few examples from the past 3 years (because they get worse if you go earlier and also i. do not have to)

you don't get to call me sir in bed because I'm masc and you said you want to treat me like a guy in bed (you're gay please stop confusing Black masculinity for being a man and work on your issues before fucking me) and you especially don't get to use this as leverage against me whenever i discuss how racist the relationship dynamic is despite your incredibly vocal support of my activism. you don't get to use my body or the right to demand that i use your body because you have a fetish for Black men, and you aren't allowed to get upset when i point out that this is the most supportive attitude you've had towards any part of me the entire time we've been together. you don't get to take out your frustration against Black people or Black men by making me fuck you, and again you don't get to get upset when i point out how fucked up that is that you call yourself an ally and then only use that allyship to get dicked down. you don't get to assume that because I'm Black and masc i'm the most aggressive top you've ever come across and you don't get to white woman tears your way out of it by using your own transness as a pass. you aren't allowed to enjoy Black bodies if we're only a commodity to you (which you openly admit) and you similarly don't get to white woman tears your eay out of it by using your confused sexuality as a pass.

i think I've made my point so I'm gonna stop! but yeah can you all be normal about Black people thanks a million blushes sweetly

kinda uncomfortable how ppl cant celebrate black trans women unless they are superduperhyperfeminine with 19 layers of makeup + expensive surgeries/weaves/dresses and looking like theyre going to walk the red carpet every day

[rubiehart]

LOOK AFTER YOU…

pairing: jj maybank x bsf!reader

summary: an alternative universe to my own bsf!reader, where her parents aren’t supportive of her and jj’s relationship and the consequences of that.

warnings: graphic description of injuries, mentions of physical, mental and verbal abuse, underage use of tobacco, hurt/comfort.

a/n: literally came up with this in ten minutes and binge wrote it in an hour, wasn’t even initially gonna be based on any song but this one just fit so well so why no lol. i guess this is kinda the start of my comeback for the new year, hope you all love ♡︎

♪ Look After You - The Fray ♪

Honestly, JJ didn’t know how he ended up dating the girl who’d been his best friend since elementary school, how sharing beds after a long day of surfing in middle school turned into them smushed up against each other only three years later, limbs tangled and breath mingling, completely drunk off of each other, completely enamoured by the other like it was the first glimpse.

He knew she was a bitch sometimes, he knew she was sweet sometimes, but only ever around him and when they’d completely stripped each other of every wall they’d put up, emotions raw and throat’s even more so from whatever had gone on with their own parents in the place they were supposed to call home. Neither of them knew the meaning until that night.

That one night that changed the entire rest of their lives, for better or worse? Neither of them knew. The night when they both separately hit rock bottom. Absolutely nothing to lose, now. The lowest of the low. Hell.

She’d just been kicked out by her parents for good, and it really was official this time. Something stupid she’d done with JJ that really wasn’t as serious as they were making it seem, but it seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final push that made them force all their walls up against JJ, but they were a team, two halves of a whole, so in her eyes, if they were denying JJ they were also denying her, and she didn’t have time or the energy to deal with people like that, so she up and left that night. Sending JJ a quick text before shoving her dying phone in the pocket of her battered shorts and setting off to where she knew he’d go to first.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ’s situation was similar, something simmering on a low heat in Luke’s body for a few days previous, a few too many pills popped and he was ready to burst, and who better to take it out on that his sixteen year old son? No one, supposedly. This is how JJ ends up shoving open the door to the wooden lodge he’s supposed to call home, body aching as he forces himself down the steps, stumbling on an already bruised leg, until he reaches the edge of the lawn of the Maybank residence. The last thing he hears is the raw, blood curdling yell of his father, ‘Run and pray I don’t find ya, boy!’, the blood rushing in his ears and the soft beating of his combat boots against the dead grass, a baffling contrast to the absolute war in his mind.

His bruised legs carry him all the way across the island, the only thing in his mind is her, and it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet, head spinning, as he continually tells himself, ‘Just a little longer, J’, ‘A little longer than you can take a break.’ He doesn’t let himself stop until he gets there, lungs gasping for a breath of fresh air as the wind rushes past his ears, legs aching and stinging but he fights it until the image he’d been imagining comes into view through the weeds of the marsh. The lighthouse.

He’d found her on the rocky island, as expected slumped against the rocky wall of the structure, red and white painted chipped to hell. She was wearing an oversized black tank top, assumably his, the usual pair of denim shorts, and some beat up sneakers, hair falling in front of her eyes, cigarette already burning between her lips.

It’s late, the moonlight bathes her body, forearms resting on her knees, friendship bracelets dangling from her wrists and brushing against the grazed skin of her legs. He wordlessly slumps down next to her, groaning softly as his beaten body hits the rocky floor, a streak of white hot pain passing through his chest.

She obviously senses his presence, it’s completely un-ignorable. She makes brief eye contact with him in the pale light, a warm glow casted over her face from the flame at the end of the cigarette, highlighting the tear marks down her freckled cheeks, now dried and assumably sticky in the soft wind of the late night.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to, and neither does he.

That’s one thing that was so special about them, even before they’d gotten together and were just best friends with insane sexual tension, they could always read the other’s mind without sharing any words, could read each other fluently with just looks and body language.

The toe of her beat up sneaker digs into the rocks scattering the floor, and he watches her from the corner of him eye, chest still heaving, her head falls back against the concrete wall of the lighthouse, exhaling into the cold night as she passes off the burning stick to him. He notices how her fingernails are painted shimmery purple, or were, now they’re all chipped and her fingernails are bitten.

He accepts the cigarette, the familiar bitter tobacco and smoke slip past his chapped lips, gash on the lower corner re opening as he inhales. He couldn’t care less in this moment as they both sit wordlessly in the moonlight. She could practically feel the tension in his shoulders and the inevitable tightness in his chest, maybe this cigarette wasn’t the best thing for him right now, but everyone’s got their way of dealing, so she keeps her mouth shut for once.

He glances at her through his peripheral, pulling his legs up into a similar position to her, arms aching as he rests his forearms against his bloody knees. His hooded eyes frail over her tear stained cheeks. She’s tough. Tougher than anybody he’d ever met. He knew not to push her to talk. She’d talk when she was ready, and he wasn’t exactly eager to tell her about what went on tonight, either.

Her softer fingers brush his calloused ones when he passes it back, taking a drag and holding it in her lungs, letting it burn, because in this moment she wants to hurt, the pain is almost a comfort.

She exhales, smoke clouding his image of her for a second as she passes it back off to him, the orange glow lighting him up for once as her lips part to speak.

It’s raspy, like she’d been screaming, or crying, or both. He assumes both because he knows how it is in her house, much like she knows how it is in his. The precise reason why she doesn’t question the cuts on his cheekbones, or the grazes on his knees and elbows, and knows that there’s bound to be a ton more all over his body, concealed by his threadbare shirt and cargo shorts, curtesy of his deadbeat father.

“Got thrown out.”

Her voice pierces the bitterly cold wind that blows, blowing his sweaty, blonde tresses every which way, he lifts a hand to cover the end of the cigarette, blocking it from the strong gusts, the silver of his rings glinting in the orange glow.

He nods once, taking a hit as he takes in the information, he’s not all that suprised though, it was only a matter of time, he knows they’d been waiting for anything to happen to get rid of her for good.

“Same here.”

He says with a soft chuckle, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes and she doesn’t wonder why. He doesn’t want her to know the extent of it though, he doesn’t want her to know how bad it gets. Doesn’t want her to worry.

A small smile graces her lips, the skin stretching tight from the cold, licking over her lips once as she glances at him. She doesn’t even know why, she’s got absolutely nothing to smile about, sixteen, homeless, not even a dollar to her name, but just a glance at him smiling lifts a weight off of her, like maybe things weren’t going to be so bad.

She takes the cigarette back from him, mock forcefully, a ghost of a smirk still lingering as she takes another drag, shorter this time, sucking and blowing before speaking again, forearms adjusting on her grazed knees with a silent hiss, teeth gritted.

“What for?”

He lets out a bitter scoff, staring at his shoes so he doesn’t have to meet her eyes. The moonlight is making her look a fallen angel, all soft and pretty but still a little rough around the edges, just like him. He shrugs like he doesn’t know, pretending like he doesn’t know she can read him like a book.

“Same old bullshit.” He mumbles around the cig, taking a second drag since she’d passed it back, like he was trying to drown out the memory. She scoffs, mirroring his own reaction. Two halves of a whole. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering to his side profile, illuminated by the soft amber glow of the flame, highlighting the slope of his angular nose, the chisel of his cheekbones, already blooming with black and purple splotches, but he’s beautiful to her nonetheless.

She forces her eyes away and nods. “Same.” Picking at the chipped polish along her nails as she glares out at the horizon, the waves lapping ever so quietly at the rocky shore, the light from the lookout flickering dully above their heads.

He huffs softly, shaking his head, passing back the cigarette with trembling fingers.

Of course that was the reason, on her end anyway, and without her explicitly stating it he knows what her ‘same old bullshit’ is. He had pretty much known from the start that her parents wouldn’t be supportive of their relationship. He was a troublemaker, a bad kid, the kind of boy parents warned their daughters about.

He looks up at her, fiddling with his fingers between the gap in his bent knees, blonde hair flopping over his sweat slicked forehead, tickling at the gash above his eyebrow. He studies her profile as the glow of the cigarette lights her up. Even with her hair messy and her eyes red rimmed and her eyeliner smeared down her cheeks, she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of them, the gravity of the situation hitting them both at different speeds. Two homeless, empty pocketed sixteen year olds, only their love for each other keeping them above water. Dodging whirlpools and massive swells with just each other to stay afloat. She digs the toe of her sneaker into scatter of rocks again, the soft clink of them the only thing heard other than the soft lapping of waves and their breathing, which had now synced.

He keeps his eyes on her, studying her and taking in every single detail in the moonlight. He can see every single freckle on her skin, every single eyelash. She’s perfect. Gorgeous. An angel amongst a sea of demons. He leans in closer, gently knocking his knee against hers.

“We’re gonna be okay, yeah?”

He mutters under his breath, so close she can feel the warmth radiating off of him.

She turns her head, hair falling infront of her black rimmed eyes, framing her blood rushed cheeks in the moonlight, nursing the fading cigarette between her fingers. She nods once, it’s small but it’s there, and it’s all the reassurance that he needs that they’re gonna be okay.

She leans a little more into his touch so they stay close, shoulders occasionally brushing and knees pressed together.

“Yeah.” She breathes out, a small smile making its way onto her lips.

He’s tempted to reach for her hand, to tangle his fingers in hers, to hold her as tight as possible for as long as possible, because she’s all he has left, and he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold her close, she’ll disappear like every other ounce of hope in his life.

But he doesn’t know if she’s okay with being touched right now. He knows she can be sensitive sometimes when she’s like this, closed off and thinking. So he keeps his hands to himself, not wanting to overstep. Instead, he just lets himself lean into her a little more, head tilted a little to the side to give her more than enough space if she wants to lean her head against his shoulder like she does sometimes. He’s making it clear that if she needs him, he’s here. Always.

Then, almost as if reading his mind, her hands finds his, soft skin brushing callouses along his pinkie finger, it’s hesitant but it’s not accidental as their fingers intertwine. She doesn’t look at him but he doesn’t need her to to know what she’s thinking. She stubs out the cigarette with her other hand, the ash hissing softly against the concrete wall behind her head before she flicks the butt into the rocks. Waves lap against the shore, sea foam clotting and sticking and forming pretty consolations, her thumb brushes over his bruised knuckles thoughtfully, but it’s natural and unpracticed.

He lets out a shaky exhale as her delicate fingers wrap around his. They’re smaller than his, more nimble, and yet they’re strong. Stronger than normal, like she’s solidifying every word she’s conveying through his simple touch. That this is real. Once that contact is made he feels like he can breathe again. Her skin feels electric against, sending sparks up his arm and signals to his brain that stop him feeling the dull, everlasting ache all over his body, that thrums low but never truly leaves for good. But this feels right. It feels good.

The winds starting to pick up a little now, she has no idea what time it is and neither does he, but it’s a distant worry. She’s got a little niggling at the back of her brain that there’s a storm incoming, but she’s not sure when or where’d she’d heard it, every memory from the past few days blending into one, where she can’t pinpoint any individual words or emotions.

She lets her eyelids flutter closed, head laying down softly onto JJ’s shoulder, incase there was a nasty bruise underneath the worn cotton, he wouldn’t have told her even if there was. She breathes steadily, breathing in the lingering scent of him on the warm skin of his neck: sea water, sweat and a hint of the old spice cologne he’d stolen from his dad in ninth grade, and then kept stealing bottles whenever it’d run out.

She squeezed his hand in hers: once, twice, three times. A silent ‘I love you’. Neither of them had ever been any good with words, but they didn’t need to be.

She doesn’t know whats going to happen and she doesn’t know what they’re going to do after tonight, when they wake up tomorrow morning in the abandoned lighthouse with less than a dollar to their shared name. But she doesn’t let the thought cloud her memory too long, because with JJ by her side it’s hard to worry about things that aren’t facing you yet, it’s easy to just live in the moment with him.

With her head leaning against his shoulder, breath from her nose tickling his skin, he takes the time to study her for the billionth time that night. Taking in the slope of her nose, her jawline, her eyelashes. His heart does all sorts of crazy things in his chest, things he’d never felt before her. But it’s not from fear, or uncertainty, or anything of the sort. Instead, it’s from love. From adoration. From everything he feels for her.

“I love you.”

He whispers, just loud enough for her to hear him over the wind.

Her eyelashes flutter open, kissing at her eyebrows, fingers still interlocked with his as she zones in on him, he notices the way her eyes are glazed over with tears.

It had always been harder for her to say those three words, even though she’d come from a more conventional family than JJ, his full of physical abuse, hers was full of mental and verbal abuse, the pushing down of her feelings to avoid manipulation is second nature to her. Usually.

But now with JJ, she lets out a soft exhale through her nose, pressing it against the side of his neck, breathing him in as she whispers, hot breath ticking the sensitive skin.

“I love you too.”

He can feel his cheeks heat up when her hot breath brushes against his skin. He doesn’t know why it makes him so flustered, because by this point he should be used to her touch, her quiet little declarations of love. He’s spent countless nights wrapped around her, his arms holding her to his chest like she’s his lifeline.

And yet, when she whispers that she loves him, his heart races in his chest. His fingers squeeze around hers so tight it’s bound to bruise. He doesn’t need to say anything back and she doesn’t expect it, he conveys everything he wants to say through the way his breath hitches and his heartbeat quickens under her ear.

Her eyes flick up to his profile after a minute or so, eyes roaming all over his features from this new angle, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, watching him fiddle with his rings on his fingers, twisting at them, pulling them off and putting them on again. She breaks through his quiet thoughts with a soft question, that he misses because it’s caught in the whisper of the wind.

“Hm?” He mumbles, hand reaching down to find hers again, squeezing it reassuringly as he looks down, hooded eyes completely captivated by her.

“Does it hurt?” She repeats softly, no irritation in her tone like normal when she has to repeat herself to him. He’s confused for a second, eyebrows furrowing until he realises she’s talking about the series of bruises across his cheekbone, her wide eyes lingering on the skin. It’s only then he remembers he was even hurt in the first place, and the low thrum of pain comes back all over his body, wound above his eyebrow stinging when a gust of wind blows.

She squeezes his hand again softly, not forcing him to speak if he doesn’t want to, being patient with him. His gaze stays on her, and he’s coming up with a lie, telling her he’s fine and not to worry about him. But the words get caught in his throat at the worry in her soft gaze. He doesn’t want to lie, not to her.

“Like hell.”

He mutters, bringing his free hand up to his eyeline, the one that’s not gripping hers. He stares down at his bruised knuckles, some starting to scab, others not, starting to turn an ugly shade or reddish purple.

“Yeah?” She replies softly, she seems to have thawed off a little, anger not so red hot, scalding in her fingertips. Not so angry at the world. Her free hand comes up to softly brush against the blossom of purple along his cheekbone, and his jaw ticks under her touch, refraining from flinching away from her. She notices, though, and tears spring to the corners of her eyes, tear ducts working overtime tonight, it seemed.

He lets out a shaky exhale, it’s covered by the wind but she doesn’t miss the quiver of his lips. Her gentle touch feels electric against his skin. He doesn’t want to flinch, but it hurts. It hurts.

Her touch is soft and delicate, tracing over the bruise with a feather light touch. His skin is heated and tender, and any contact makes the thrumming under his skin stronger. But at the same time, it feels good, because she’s touching him. Loving him.

His eyes dart up to meet hers, searching them for any sign of fear. Or disgust.

There’s nothing even close reflected in her eyes. They’re soft, softer than he’s ever seen them. That hard exterior she puts up is broken through as she looks at him, beaten and bruised. It makes her heart physically ache in her chest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

She whispers softly, he hears her through the soft gust that comes in, blowing his hair out of his face a little, exposing the gash across his temple. He’s so tuned into her right now, overanalysing every movement she makes, every word, every breath.

He lets out a soft scoff, shaking his head. The last thing he wants to talk about is his piece-of-shit dad. Talking about the events of tonight wouldn’t change a single thing, and it’s just gonna make her worry.

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

He mutters under his breath, avoiding her gaze. He knows she’s trying to be sweet, and care for him but he doesn’t want her to pity him. He doesn’t want her to think he’s weak.

She notices his walls coming back up, him pulling away from her a little, if not physically definitely internally. She doesn’t force anything, just nods softly, blinking back the tears in her eyes and slips her hand from his cheek, slumping back against the concrete wall with a soft sigh, knees and shoulders brushing.

The last thing she wants to do it push, make him cramp up and close himself off like he did sometimes.

The part of him that wants to lean back into her touch, to be held and loved and cared for after being beat to a pulp wars with the part of him that doesn’t want her pity.

He settles for somewhere in the middle, their thighs pressing together and shoulders brushing. He’s still avoiding her eyes, staring down at his bruised knuckles, biting back the tears that lodge his throat.

Her gaze stays on him for a long time, even if he’s refusing to reciprocate her longing gaze. She doesn’t mind, she just quietly watches, admires.

He feels her gaze on him and he can’t fight it anymore, he never could. His eyes flick to hers, fiddling with the rings on his thick fingers, forearms rested on his knees.

She’s giving him this look that makes him want to melt, like she sees right through him, for everything he is and everything he will be and the only emotion in her moonlit eyes is love.

“Do you..” She trails off, the wind picking up a little around them, the waves splatter against the rocks, sea foam clinging to the pebbles only a few meters away and JJ’s eyes flick from the shore, and then to her. He knows what she’s trying to ask, or along the lines of her question.

His heart’s doing that fluttering thing again, like a caged bird. He doesn’t need to be told what she’s asking, because he can read it in her eyes. He knows she’s not asking out of pity, or even out of lust. Just a pure, unconditional adoration. A need to hold the boy she loves. A need to be as close to him as possible. He knows there’s no point in denying her, and he doesn’t want to, anyway.

He nods shakily, letting his eyes flutter shut, pleading with him himself internally to not break, not yet.

“What do you need?”

She whispers softly, fingers itching to touch him, to comfort him, but she wants to touch him however he wants to be, and she don’t want to push anything.

He wants her. Needs her. He wants to run his fingers through her hair, feel her heart beating against his, breathe in the scent of her skin. And it’s not out of lustful desire, it’s out of a deep-down desperate need to feel safe. To feel wanted. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets out a shaky breath. His eyes flick open, the saddest look she’d ever seen gracing his features, and she can tell he’s about to break.

“C’mere.”

He mutters under his breath, voice scratchy and quiet as he reaches his arms out for her, wincing softly at the stretch of the skin of his chest, littered with purple and blues.

She doesn’t wait to crawl into his lap, slowly, listening intently to every little gasp he makes to make sure she’s not putting any pressure on his major bruises, if they weren’t outside on a rocky beach, slumped against a wall, she’d be the one holding him, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made, and right now JJ needs her, no matter how.

Her chest is pressed against his, strong arms wrapped around her back and keeping her as close as possible to him. He’s holding her tighter than he should, afraid she might slip away if he loosens his grip.

His hands find her hips, snaking under the loose material of the tank top and digging affectionally into the warm skin there. The feeling of her finally being against him is driving him crazy, but in a good way, caged between the wall and her.

He lets out a shuddering breath, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his nose nuzzling at her soft skin.

“You’re okay.” She whispers, resting one hand at the back of his head, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck gently, pressing her lips to his crown. She feels his shoulders begin to shake and the meltdown that he’d been holding back from all night crashing down and overtaking him now.

You know all you can do is be present, and reassure him. “Everything’s gonna be okay..”

He feels the dam inside of him break, like the floodgates had finally opened, and before he knows what he’s doing, hot tears are springing to his eyes.

She’s saying all the right things. She’s touching him like no one’s touched him. And it’s too much. Too much to handle. He buries himself against her chest, his arms wrapping around her torso to hold her close. He lets out another shuddering breath, a soft crying shortly following, and it’s guttural and soul shattering as he shakes against her.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” She mumbles into his sweaty hair, blonde tresses tickling at her chin, leaving kisses anywhere she can reach, hands carding through his hair, offering the maximum amount of comfort she can in his arms.

“You’re okay, baby.”

Her calling him ‘baby’ isn’t something he realised has such an effect on him until now, and the way her voice is so soft, so sweet and caring, has him melting against her.

Her touch and her words are like a balm on his frayed nerves, extinguishing the fire burning under his skin.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He chokes out, like a mantra, into the warm crook of her neck, over and over again, soaking the skin with his tears.

“I love you more.”

She whispers against his head, leaning sitting up a little straighter against him for a sec, but he’s pulling her down just as quick, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone as he cries.

“Hey, listen for a sec.” She mumbles, and waits for him to nod against her before continuing, fingernails scraping deliciously against his scalp as she speaks, her words attempting to calm him down from his spiral.

“‘Member what we said? After we figure all this shit out.. gonna get a house t’gether and get married, yeah? You listenin’?”

He nods shakily as she holds him, her hands brushing his sweaty hair at his temples, her kisses along his forehead keeping him grounded to reality. He swallows hard at her words about the future, his heart seizing up in his chest. But he nods again, desperately needing to hear more. He needs to hear about their future together, because it’s the only thing keeping him together right now, when he feels like nothing’s going right, his only way out is her.

“Yeah-yeah, ‘m listenin’.” He murmurs against her hot skin, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter, making sure she was really still there, and this wasn’t some hallucination.

“Good, keep breathin’. And y’know what else? Gonna have so many babies together, yeah? All of our little mini us’s runnin’ ‘round. We’re gonna be so happy, J. Soon as we get outta this mess.”

The very thought of having kids with her has him choking up again.

He can picture it all so clearly, the cozy fish shack by the marsh, a whole football team of kiddos, the little girls beautiful like their mama, getting dressed up all pretty, the rowdy boys the spitting image of JJ, with unruly blonde hair as big blue eyes, tackling and wrestling with each other on the grass outside whilst he tries to teach them to fish.

He can’t help but grip her tighter at the imagery flashing through his clouded mind, ringed fingers digging into her hips.

“Lotsa babies. Lotsa babies. Our babies. Promise?”

She nods with a soft smile, eyes reflecting the same expression as his when his eyes meet hers, glazed over and filled with an emotion unlabelled. Her thumbs swipe at his under eyes, wiping away the hot tears, careful to avoid any gashes or bruises.

“Promise. But none o’ that’s gonna happen if you don’t make it through tonight, baby. You gotta breathe for me.”

Of course she’s exaggerating, and it’s in a hope to bring a little light to the emotional rollercoaster he’s going through right now, and she’s on the same ride internally, but she needs to be strong, for him.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his chest heaving against hers as he forces his body to breathe.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out-

He wants that life. With her. A life with her in a homey beach shack, a physical place he can call home, instead of the girl he’s holding in his arms.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out.

But the only way he’s going to get that life is by surviving, together and by getting through tonight, together.

He slowly nods, squeezing her hips again.

“M breathin’.. ‘M breathin’..”

She nods tearfully, sniffling and swiping at her own eyes before he can see them. “Good.. that’s good..” She mumbles in praise, hands still holding his face and stroking at his cheeks with her thumbs gently. “Can you look at me a sec?” She’s careful to keep her touch featherlight over any bruises.

He nods shakily, slowly lifting his tired eyes to look at her, the day weighing heavy on his shoulders and now he’d really let everything out, he was exhausted. His cheeks are still tear stained and his chest heaving. He slowly brings a hand up, cupping the side of her face so he can run his thumb along her tear stained jaw.

“Lookin’.” He mumbles, breath hitching.

“You breathin’ properly now?” She mumbles, jaw moving under his calloused palm as she eyes him sweetly, eyes reflecting all the love he feels for her in this moment.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes slowly raking over her face, taking in all her features like he’d never seen them before, and he’s lost count of how many times he’s got lost in her tonight.

She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself. Stunning in an effortless way, always has been. Like she woke up this morning and was effortlessly gorgeous.

His hand is still on her face, his thumb brushing against her skin.

“Yeah.. yeah baby, ‘m breathin’ normal. You’re makin’ it all messed up ‘gain, though.”

He mumbles, breathing a little heavily out of his nose and it tickles at her skin, a soft smile makes its way onto her face at the look in his eyes, completely enamoured by her.

She lets a breath of laughter slip from her nose, it’s soft and sweet and his eyes visibly soften at the sound, ears perking up.

“You’re so handsome, J.” She mumbles, thumb never stopping it’s comforting ministrations against the damp skin of his cheek.

Her touch on his skin makes him shiver, his mind and body always being so receptive to her. He wants to hide his face when he calls her handsome. He doesn’t think he’s handsome. Hot, sure, he’s been called that many a time. Pretty, meh, makes his heart flutter a little when you mumble it against his ear in bed, but he’d never admit it. But handsome? He’s not handsome.

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he averts his gaze.

“Don’t. ‘M not handsome..” He mutters under his breath.

Her heart breaks a little at his immediate denial of the compliment.

“You are, J.” She mumbles, hand coming under his jaw to lift his gaze back to hers.

“You are, JJ.” She reassures him again, making sure he really knows it, believes it.

“‘n our babies are gonna be too.”

His heart is doing the fluttering thing again, his stomach flip flopping inside of him as he meets her gaze.

Babies, plural.

Oh, Jesus.

The thought of having little babies running around looking like the perfect mix of the both of you has him reeling. He’s always had a hard time picturing his future, but mostly the father part, after everything he’s been through he could never see it for himself. But with her, the image never seemed so impossible.

He lets out a shaky breath, a tear slipping down his rosy cheek, fingers squeezing at her hip again.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” She smiles, thumb stroking over a larger bruise at his temple.

“‘N I know things are hard right now, but we’re gonna get through this rough patch together, yeah? We can sleep here, at the lighthouse, we’ll get jobs, then eventually buy a house, get married..” She speaks softly, the wind picking up a little and making her cheeks cold and frost bitten. They’re sixteen and homeless, but all they need is each other.

That night they hold each other closer than ever before, knocking out on the old mattress up in the look out tower, limbs tangled together and content just for the night. JJ had calmed down now, stripped down to just his underwear, her too, pressed up against his good side in bed, head rested against his shoulder as she sleeps soundly, for the first time in what feels like forever.

JJ eventually manages to fall asleep, too, her previous words on his mind all through his slumber, dreaming of Maybank family fishing days, and the beautiful house that he would raise his babies in, the love of his life by his side, dreaming of a future where he wasn’t ashamed of his last name, and everyone he loved dearly shared it with him.

[afterglowkatie]

mistletoe mischief | k.m./c.f.

katie mccabe x caitlin foord x child!reader ft. kyra and teyah | 1.0k | ‘you’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss,’

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of the little starfish universe. starfish is nine in this blurb since it fit to make her a bit older than she is in the other current starfish fics

❆♡────୨ holiday season blurb event ৎ────♡❆

‘Don’t you think we might’ve gone overboard?’ Kyra took a little step back to look around the apartment where you, Teyah and Kyra just put up as much mistletoe as you could find. You frowned, looking at Kyra with disbelief, more in disbelief that she was the one, of all people, thinking you’d gone overboard. There wasn’t that much, but enough to hopefully be noticeable.

‘The point is for them to see it,’ With you being a bit older, you’d noticed that your mums had started showing each other less affection than you remember from when you were a bit younger. For a moment there was a thought that went through your head where you thought something was wrong between them both but Teyah did remind you that sometimes things change and take a while to adapt now that it’s not just you and your mums anymore. 

One night after you’d begged your mammy and mum to let Kyra look after you, something they were very apprehensive about but they didn’t really have any other option at the time, she let you stay up way past your bedtime. Way past the time Kyra and your mums agreed on. But you were both watching a movie.

‘Why do they have to kiss?’ You looked at Kyra, tilting your head to the side, your eyebrows furrowing a little, a small pout on your face.

‘They’re under the mistletoe,’ Kyra shrugged, not taking her eyes off the movie.

‘But why?’ Your voice is still questioning but a bit more firm, wanting Kyra to actually answer you properly. Sometimes people forgot you were still small and didn’t know everything that they knew.

‘It’s just what two people do when they’re under it,’ Kyra, trying to take the easy way out and not have to explain the entire meaning behind it, hoping that you’d be happy with an answer like that.

‘Two people who love love each other, right?’ As soon as Kyra nodded to your question, a little idea started forming in your head. An idea that you were going to need help executing.

You faked being sick so you could skip school one day, in hopes your mammy and mum would let you come to training with them. They were going to take the day off but you’d convinced them to just bring you along anyway. There you got to form the little idea you had with both Kyra and Teyah.

It was close to Christmas and the best way to get your mums out of the house and get them to agree to Kyra and Teyah looking after you? Tell them that you told Santa of something you wanted that you hadn’t mentioned before. The sure way to make them panic and willingly leave you with the pair so you could carry out your little idea. 

Katie and Caitlin were both unaware that Kyra ruined the magic of Santa last year but you never said anything with your younger sister around, plus the idea of extra presents was obviously appealing to any nine year old.

‘Knowing my mums, bets are they won’t notice it,’ You all laughed, they can be the most observant but oblivious people at times and you’ve started to use it to your advantage.

You were right, you don’t even know how they didn’t notice basically a roof covered in mistletoe but they both did. Most likely the stress of your last minute present idea was enough to distract them. 

As soon as the three of you heard the jingle of your mammy’s keys in the front door you all rushed towards your room. Trying to act normal and not cause too much suspicion. Though, the three of you just being in the same room together is any cause for suspicion.

Eventually you opted for sitting at the top of the stairs, perfect view of the lounge, watching your mammy and mum rush around trying to sort out everything for you and your younger sister. Your younger sister who was currently having her midday nap and you were hoping wouldn’t wake up crying for them any time soon.

Though the longer you waited for them to notice, the more bored the three of you got and the less fun it was beginning to become, ‘What the-’ Your mum was the first to finally notice, stopping in her tracks. Your mammy came back from hiding a present in their room, standing next to you mum and following where her eyes were going.

‘Who decided to grow a mini forest on our roof?’ You knew your mammy was five seconds away from yelling out for you throughout the house. 

‘It’s mistletoe,’ Your mum pointed out, an amused smile on her face while she gently flicked the mistletoe that was dangling from the roof. Your mammy just rolled her eyes, still trying to process it all.

Though, just like your mammy’s does on the pitch, your patience grew thin and you couldn’t stand to watch it unfold naturally anymore, ‘You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss,’ You semi yelled out, bounding down the stairs.

‘Where did you even learn that?’ Your mammy was the first one to question it before her eyes drifted off behind you where Kyra and Teyah were slowly making their way down the stairs, ‘Typical, shouldn’t leave you lot alone together,’ 

‘Stop stalling mammy,’ 

‘Yeah come on,’ 

‘You heard Starfish,’

The three of you trying to get your mums to kiss under the mistletoe. Your favourite part when you were little was seeing how happy your mums made each other, and you, and all the little bits of affection towards each other, and towards you as well. It was part of the reason you were the happy kid you currently were and you didn’t want you and your sister to be the reason any of the changed. In your mind you were just trying to help them adapt to having two kids faster.

‘We aren’t part of some show for the three of you,’ Your mum laughed, resting her chin on your mammy’s shoulder looking at the three of you. They didn’t have only two children, somehow they had six, Vic and Laia were often included in the mischief you’d all get up to.

‘Yeah how about yous go back to your own houses and stop pestering us,’ Your mammy directed towards the older two.

‘I’m going with them and that-,’ You pointed towards all the mistletoe on the roof, ‘-is staying up until you both give a proper kiss,’

[pasteldreams]

aftercare - c.s.

pairing: fwb!chris sturniolo x reader

summary: you teach your fuck buddy, chris, how to care for you after he rails you

cw: mentions of sex and bodily fluids (mdni), aftercare, pet names (baby, pretty girl, etc.), educational maybe?, fluff

word count: ~1.2k

you and chris had been "together" for a while. when you broke up with your ex 6 months ago, you missed his dick more than anything. fortunately, your friend, chris, offered up just what you needed. you two weren't technically dating, but everyone knew you were fucking each other and only each other. chris was great in bed, he knew exactly what to do to make your back arch and your fists grab the sheets. however, he didn't have nearly as much experience as you do. his lack of experience didn't seem to affect his performance much, but his aftercare skills were shit. and today was no different.

"fuck, you did so good for me baby," chris says in between heavy breaths. he slowly lowers himself to lay next to you as he gently brushes your hair off of your face, both of you sticky from a combination of bodily fluids.

all you could release was a soft hum in response as the blood pumping through your ears began to quiet. you attempt to open your eyes only for the exhaustion to drag your lids back down.

chris laughs, "damn, it was that good?" you could practically hear the smirk in his voice before he let out a soft laugh.

"i'll give you a minute to recover, pretty girl." he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before moving to check his phone on the night stand. after seeing his notifications, he begins rambling on about something sports-related, but you were still much too fucked out to comprehend any spoken language. once your senses returned to normal, your eyes fluttered open and you slowly turned towards chris, cringing as your lower body vibrated from even the small movement.

"guess what time it is," he grins laying against the pillow while facing you.

"what time is it, chris?" you ask trying to mask the discomfort.

"it's… CUDDLE TIME!" he yells suddenly before throwing himself on top of you, forcing you to lay on your back, and engulfing you in his arms.

you groan and attempt to push him off quickly receiving a pout in response.

"heyyy, what's wrong? why won't you cuddle with me?"

"dude… i literally have your cum dripping down my ass crack right now," you roll your eyes.

"oh," he pauses. "um. do you want me to get you a towel or something for that?"

"uh, yeah, that'd be nice," you say passive aggressively.

he doesn't respond as he quickly shuffles to the bathroom to grab a towel.

"do you want a big one or a small one?" he yells from the bathroom.

you sigh. "either is fine," you grumble just loud enough for him to hear.

he returns with a small towel.

"what's wrong baby?" he says as he climbs onto the bed putting the towel next to you.

"have you ever heard of aftercare?" you ask using the towel to soak up as much of the leaking fluid as you could, grimacing at the friction on the sensitive area.

“aftercare? like when a parent forgets to pick their kid up from school?" he jokes.

"no, chris… like for after sex," you state bluntly.

"no? am I supposed to know what it is?"

"do you wanna keep fucking me?"

he looks at you with surprised eyes not expecting that kind of question.

"of course I do, I mean─fuck─look at you," he gently slides his hand up your side as his eyes follow, taking in each inch of your skin on the way up.

"well, if you wanna keep fucking me, you need to learn how to take care of me after. you can't just fuck me the way that you do and expect me not to be in pain afterwards…"

"wait, you're in pain?" he furrows his brows in concern. "why didn't you tell me, angel? i can be more gentle whe-"

"no! fuck, no. i love the way you fuck me. please, don't be gentle. that's not what i want"

"so what d-"

"christopher, you can't learn if you don't let me talk."

"oh right, sorry, i'm listening," his expression turns serious suddenly.

"aw, what a good boy," you smirk teasing him.

"yeah, yeah, yeah, let's get on with this so I can keep fuckin' you, pretty girl."

"my pleasure," you grin. "first, you're usually pretty good with this one, but after you practically abuse me with your dick, i need you to tell me how good i was for you. because it's a lot of work taking you like i do, and i deserve the praise."

"you do deserve it princess. i can─no, i do do that. easy. next," he responds confidently.

"next, the towel. non-negotiable, and honestly, put it down before we even start 'cause once you pull out, sometimes even before that, it all just…"

"yeah, yeah, makes sense. i definitely should've thought about it when i was washing the sheets every single time we fucked," he admits sheepishly.

you laugh, "yeah, maybe."

"what else can I do for you, baby?" he cups your face with one of his warm hands, softly gliding his thumb across your cheekbone.

"now… i'm gonna need some help getting to the bathroom, 'cause i don't think i can even stand up on my own right now," you laugh softly, thinking about the less-than-natural positions chris had just put you in.

He laughs, smirking. "i really fucked you good today, huh?"

"just shut up and help me up."

“yes ma'am," he salutes jokingly before standing up and reaching his hands out to lift you out of bed and to the bathroom.

"you didn't have to carry me," you tell him.

"i know, but i like carrying you," he admits as he gently places you on your feet in the bathroom. once you're standing with the support of the counter, chris can't help but look you up and down.

"are you just gonna watch me piss or can i get a second by myself?" you tease him.

"oh shit, right, sorry. i'll be- um, i'll be out here," he says clearly flustered by your comment while backing out of the bathroom and closing the door.

You laugh, shaking your head.

After finishing in the restroom, you call chris's name softly.

"yes, baby?"

"can you help me get back to the room?" you giggle at your own sad state knowing it was partially your fault for begging chris to go harder.

he opens the door, quickly scooping you up and carrying back to the room.

"so, when do we get to cuddle?" he asks laying you down on the bed,

you roll your eyes playfully at him. "now, we can cuddle now, chris."

"fuck, finally, i've been waiting years to hold you," he exaggerates as he lays next to you, pulling your frame against his chest.

"chris, it was like 10 minutes."

"yeah, and I was going through withdrawal."

"you're so dramatic."

he nuzzles his head into your neck, releasing a content sigh. "you trust me to take care of you now? i can keep fucking you? please say yes."

You laugh. "yes, you can keep fucking me, on one condition."

"anything for you. what is it?"

"you promise to always cuddle me after."

"i promise to always cuddle you, whether we fucked or not."

a/n: love y/all and thanks for all the support! enjoy :)

🏷️ taglist: @y3sterdaysproblem @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan

reply/msg/inbox and ask to be added to the taglist!

cake divider by @dollywons, apple divider by @ithemes, and heart divider by @cafekitsune

[corvidsforhire]

Now I'm imagining a timeline where Dick didnt become a cop and when he needed to get an Actual Adult Job just went back to being an acrobat and joined an e-circus.

Except he realised early on cant just go around with his actual face because people will recognise him as the son of a billionaire, and just book his shows to see a celebrity rather than for an acrobat.

He cant really wear a mask either. A full face mask would be impersonal and limit his crowd work. Plus it might scare the kids! And an eye mask might make it too easy to recognise him as Nightwing.

So, naturally, the most logical thing to do would be to use make up.

It's not clown make up! It's not! It's totally different! It just needs fancy and colourful enough designs to obscure his facial features. And of course its a circus-esque design, hes got a theme to stick to here, damn it.

Of course none of the bats really notice or care. It's just his day job and while he does occasionally show off videos of him and his fellow performers rehearsals, they don't have any reason to track down the privately booked performances he does. Plus the whole thing started back he was still pissed at Bruce about the Robin thing so it wasnt like he was actually telling anyone details about his new day job, and later it was just a normal part of his life that there wasnt much reason to talk about.

Then Jason came back and clowns are A Thing now.

The bats stumble upon one of Dicks performances in full costume and Jason is absolutely scandalised that his brother is now a clown. After everything that's happened to him. It's the highest betrayal.

Dick, meanwhile, is desperately trying to get across that he is not, in fact, a clown. It's not anything close to clown make up! Wearing make up and being in a circus does not make you a clown! Hes never even been to clown school.

The rest of the bats do not buy Dick's not-a-clown arguement either. Not necessarily because they don't agree, but because they dont really give a shit and this is perfect bullying material.

Stephanie is constantly nailing Dick with new clown insults. Tim is actively provoking both sides of Jason and Dicks new feud with off-handed comments. Cass doesn't say much either way in general, but it makes the simple staring straight into Dick's eyes and calling him a clown out of the blue even more brutal. Duke takes Jason's side with the 'do you even care about my (and the rest of Gotham's) trauma' comments. Barbara actually fully agrees with Dick and has known about this the whole time, but joins in with Jason and Duke on occasion just to mess with Dick. Damian hadn't even known that Dick had an actual job before this and is now indignant that it's a clown of all things.

Bruce would just really like it if they stopped yelling about this over comms. And if Jason stopped blowing up every slightly circus related thing in Gotham and Bludhaven.

Dick: So, you know how I’m part of an online circus?

Jason: What the actual hell is an online circus?

Dick, exuberant: It’s like... an on-demand Cirque du Soleil! People book us for events—birthdays, concerts, whatever—and performers log in from all over the world.

Jason: ...so you have clowns.

Dick, visibly sweating: Well, it’s more than clowns! We have aerialists, jugglers, fire-eaters—

Jason, standing up, looming over Dick: But you have clowns.

Dick, desperate backpedal mode: Technically, yes. But they’re like artistic clowns. Highbrow. Minimal honking.

Jason: Minimal honking? You’re telling me there’s still honking?

Dick, defensive: Controlled honking. Tasteful honks only.

Jason, crossing his arms: Joker-level honks?

Dick, horrified: Joker doesn’t even have a clown permit! He’s not qualified.

Jason: He went to clown school.

Dick: No, he shot up a clown school. That’s different.

Jason, sitting back down: You know why this pisses me off.

Dick, quietly: Yeah, I do.

Jason: It’s weird, right?

Dick: Super weird.

Jason: Sometimes I feel like you should be more messed up about clowns. Like, my level of messed up.

Dick: I know, bud.

Jason: It’s just... I feel alone in this whole clown thing.

Dick: You’re not alone. Gotham as a whole has a no-clown policy. Did you know circus clowns refuse to work here?

Jason: Of course. Otherwise, your little e-circus would’ve been torched.

Dick: By Joker?

Jason, thinking about that one time he shot up a department store window for displaying clown shoes: Uh... yeah. Yeah, Joker.

Dick: Well, for what it’s worth, you’d be great in the online circus.

Jason, deadpan: You saying I’m a clown?

Dick, grinning: No, but you are a high-value performer. People would pay top dollar to see Red Hood juggle guns.

Jason, pulling a gun from his holster and spinning it effortlessly: You mean like this?

Dick, mock clapping: Bravo! Now add some honking, and you’re ready for the big leagues.

Jason, standing up, gun still in hand: You have three seconds to run.

Dick, already halfway out the door: for the record, I'm a performer, so this retreat is performative and just to keep you happy-slash-entertained

Jason: get out!

[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly Chapter 5

Fic Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Chapter Summary: You and Eddie make some calls and get to know each other a little more.

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, one-sided enemies to lovers, one-sided pining, miscommunication trope, anxious-ish!Reader, fem!Reader, Reader is not described, no use of y/n

Word Count: 2.4k

Master List

No beta, you all should know better by now.

“You’re old enough to buy your own now, you know. I’m only gonna up-charge you.” 

“What? Can’t a girl just buy some smokes from her friend?” 

“Right. Friends.”

“Fine, then I’m supporting a local business.” 

“What do you actually want, Stacy?”

“I’m just making sure that you two are going to play nice.”

“What the Hell? Shouldn’t you be telling her that?”

“She’s always nice.”

“Right, and I’m the queen of Sheba.”

“Well then, your majesty, just give me my smokes and I’ll be on my way.”

Bev wasn’t too happy that Eddie was going to be coming in an hour and a half later than expected on his Wednesday shift but she waved it off. The Hideout survived without him for god knows how long, the small dive could handle losing a busboy for a few hours on a weekday night. 

He sauntered into Ms. Benson’s classroom a fashionable ten minutes late, and a few dollars richer. You were already sitting at a desk chatting with Ms. Benson about who-knows-what before taking his own seat on top of the desk. 

If Eddie had to be here, he might as well rebel in his own way. He really would rather be bussing tables and trying to convince Bev to give him extra time on stage than do school services with someone who hated him. 

“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Munson.” Ms. Benson said, ignoring the fact that he was on his desk. She pulled out a thick binder and a rolodex that looked like it would fall apart if she didn’t hold it just so. “In here, you’ll find the budget for Spring Day and all of the different vendors and events that we’ve used over the past ten years.” 

Being the smart woman that she was, she placed the rolodex in front of you and dropped the binder on Eddie’s lap. He raised an eyebrow and flipped through it casually, as if looking through the Spring Day binder would provide him with secrets to the school that he could use to force Higgins to let him graduate this year. 

“There’s a phone in the teachers lounge you can use.” She continued, grabbing her own purse. “Let me know what you come up with on Monday.” 

“Wait- are you leaving?” You asked, jaw dropped as Ms. Benson started out of the room. “You’re not gonna help?”

“There’s only one phone. Just get some quotes for vendors. All of the information is in the binder. Just close the door tight when you leave.”  

Your mouth was still agape as Ms. Benson left, which was very amusing to Eddie. It was dead silent before Eddie burst out in a maniacal cackle that echoed through the classroom and made you jump. That also amused Eddie. 

“Well well, it looks like it’s just us in charge of Spring Day.” He got off the desk and dropped the binder down where he had just been sitting. Eddie leaned over the binder and flipped through it. “I’m thinking evil clowns, adding balloon popping back but with knives, and a petting zoo with snakes and goats.” Eddie turned and grinned wide at you. 

“What, no fortune teller to tell you how you’re gonna die a gruesome death?” Your voice was flat, but Eddie could pick up the hint of amusement in your voice which made his grin widen. 

“I’m sure we can dress you up in something covered in stars. I’ll sit under the table and shake it. We’ll make a killing!” Eddie laughed. 

“A killing? Really?” You shook your head at the terrible joke and flipped through the rolodex with a sour look on your face. Eddie hadn’t meant to make a pun, but if it annoyed you he’d keep it up. 

Play nice.

As if Stacy had any say over what happened between the two of you. He barely knew either of you.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to charge for anything, anyway.” you continued, flipping through the cards almost as fast as Doug flipped through long boxes at the comic shop. 

“What doesn’t kill Higgens won’t hurt us.” Eddie pressed, not even fully invested in the idea himself. Something about his talk with Stacy just got under his skin, and the only way he could shake it was by getting under yours now. 

“I don’t think half of these businesses even exist anymore.” you said to yourself as you kept flipping through the rolodex with your good hand. Eddie sighed and figured you were ignoring him until you continued. “This laundromat shut down last year. I heard it was a front for some mafia and there was a shootout.”

Eddie perked up a little, had that been an attempt at playing along? It wasn’t completely in line, but everyone in town knew that the laundromat had just been flooded from the inside when a pipe burst. 

“There’s no mafia in Hawkins.” Eddie said, looking over your shoulder at the rolodex. “Only cults that sacrifice people to the dark forces.” 

You stopped messing with the rolodex, and Eddie wasn’t sure if he’d said something wrong. You had apologized before, maybe it was too soon to joke about it? 

Eddie was usually good at reading people, but you were harder to understand. 

“So, what’s the budget that we’re supposed to be working with?” You asked, changing the subject. 

“Three pennies and an expired coupon for Benny’s.” Eddie replied, flipping back to the first page. 

“Yeah, that sounds right. I guess there’s no room in the budget when the basketball team needs new jerseys or the cheerleaders need pom-poms.” you rolled your eyes, done messing with the rolodex. 

Eddie was a little surprised at the dig towards the cheerleaders, considering your best friend was one. Had been one. Why the hell had she wanted to buy smokes from him today?

The two of you finally got up and made your way to the teacher’s lounge. Ms. Teedee, the art teacher, gave him a half hearted wave as she finished washing her coffee cup. Eddie liked Ms. Teedee, she didn’t give a shit about his reputation. Art and shop were the only classes he had ever done consistently well in, so when he was saddled with a third senior year he decided to re-take art as an easy A. 

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon calling places and taking down numbers. You did most of the talking, but Eddie took charge when you got up to use the bathroom. 

Eddie was surprised when you came back, well that you came back. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you had run for the hills and left him alone. But you did come back, two bags of chips in hand. One of them was offered to him. 

“Thanks...?” Eddie didn’t mean for that to come out as a question, but it did anyway. How was it that one minute you hated him, but another you were apologizing? You were scandalized to be left alone with him to work on this, and yet came back with food. 

He shouldn’t trust it, but he also wasn’t too good for free snacks. 

“So, what’s your deal?” Eddie asked, timing his question with you shoving a few large chips in your mouth. 

“Huh?” was your graceful reply as you covered your mouth with your hand. He could see that his timing was not appreciated, which made him feel better. 

“Your deal. Which of these fine cliques here at Hawkins Hell do you belong to?” Eddie elaborated, spreading his arms as if gesturing to a crowd when in reality he was gesturing to the table the phone was sitting on. 

You took a moment to finish chewing, giving him a glare as you finally got the chips down. Okay, maybe Eddie felt a little bad for that, as you had been nice enough to get him a snack. 

Play nice.

He was a dungeon master, he wasn’t known for playing nice. He could at least play fair though. 

“I don’t belong to anyone.” you said finally, flipping through the binder and not looking at him. “I got in late, made friends with Stacy and... I don’t know. This late in the game, cliques aren’t exactly taking new applicants. Not this close to graduation when everyone has known each other since elementary school.” 

Eddie looked at your broken wrist again, looking at all the different signatures. For someone who didn’t belong to any group, you sure were on everyone’s good side. 

Everyone had some group they belonged to. That’s how high school worked. The Freaks sat with him, the Jocks sat with their teams, the Science Nerds sat with the science nerds... that’s how high school- no, that’s how the world worked, according to Eddie. 

Your response would normally have you tucked away as “new kid” or “freshman” but neither of those fit you. You knew too many people. You hung out with an ex-cheerleader, but you weren’t exactly jumping around with excitement at the last pep-rally. Stacy still dressed like a cheerleader, and was just as nosy as one but you didn’t look popular. 

Not that there was anything wrong with the way you looked to Eddie, you just didn’t look or dress like the popular crowd. He could tell you apart from the near identical wave of perms and ponytails. 

What was your deal?

When Eddie didn’t respond in an appropriate amount of time for you, you responded with the same question. 

“What’s your deal, Eddie?” His name sounded foreign coming from your mouth. 

“Huh?” he asked, shoving a chip into his own mouth, mimicking you. You rubbed your face and let out a laugh, to his surprise. 

“What’s your deal? Or, I guess what’s Hellfire’s deal?” You clarified. 

“Well, you see, it’s a fantasy game-” 

“Not a cult?” 

“I can neither confirm nor deny that.” 

“Go on.”

You didn’t interrupt him again as he started explaining the bare basics of the game, figuring that you were just looking for an excuse to stop calling people for a moment. That was fine with Eddie, he’d happily sit here and rant about his favorite game in the teachers lounge, tainting the warden’s space with the game that they tried to hide away from the rest of the inmates. 

What he didn’t expect was for you to be listening so intently. You were looking at him, really really looking at him. If Eddie didn’t know any better, and he liked to think that he did, you seemed to be actually interested in the world he was opening up up to you. 

His eyes glanced down at your cast, and the curly signature of Chrissy Cunningham shimmered slightly on the underside of your cast. Eddie could barely make out her last name, but he could assume that the glitter gel pen signature belonged to the cheerleader. 

That reminded Eddie that, popular or not, you were still in a completely different world than him. One where people actually liked you and didn’t sneer at you for bullshit reasons. 

But then why were you looking at him so intensely? 

“So you’re playing make believe with dice and if you roll high you can do things and if you roll low you eat shit.” You said, crumpling up your bag of chips. 

It was a grossly simplified explanation of the game that Eddie had poured hundreds of hours into. 

“Yeah, basically.” At least that had killed a good fifteen minutes. 

“And you’re god.” You added, which Eddie did appreciate. 

“No, I’m Satan, remember?” He flashed you his most charming smile and you just laughed again. 

“You aren’t that bad.” You sounded like you meant that. 

“Tell that to my players, they say I’m worse than Satan.” He said with pride. 

Your conversation was interrupted by the bell, announcing that any clubs needed to pack up and leave. Eddie took that as your cue that you were done. 

You closed the binder and the notes that you two had taken over the past hour and took a deep breath. 

“Wait, shit, Mrs. Benson left. What do we do with this?” You asked, motioning to the binder and rolodex. “Do we just leave it here?”

Eddie wouldn’t have thought twice about just dumping it on one of the tables and leaving. He still had his shift to get to, but... 

“Come on, we’ll drop it on her desk.” he said, and walked out of the lounge before you could protest. 

You caught up to him a moment later, glaring at him for ditching you and leaving you to scramble with your things. Eddie wasn’t sure if he liked you more when you looked like you were hanging on his every word or looking at him with annoyance. Maybe Eddie just wasn’t sure if he liked you. He sure couldn’t tell if you like him at all. 

“It’s locked.” you said. 

“Barely. Make sure no one’s coming.” Eddie squatted down and pulled out a thin strip of plastic from his coat. He could feel his eyes on him and he looked up at you as you gaped. “Not me, look out for anyone else.” he clarified. 

Once you had looked away and down the hall, it didn’t take more than a few seconds for Eddie to jimmy the lock open. He grabbed the rolodex and the binder from you before you knew what was happening. 

Eddie had broken into the classroom, dropped the items off the desk, and slipped back out into the hallway in less than a minute. 

“How’d you learn to do that?” you asked, following him out towards the parking lot. 

Eddie just shrugged. “I’m a man of many talents.”

It was cool outside, the winter weather seemed to finally be on its way out. A small beep signaled you to the sleek car that Stacy drove and you waved at her. Being the good friend that she was, Stacy had offered to drive you home that night. 

“I guess, I’ll see you next week.” you said to Eddie. 

“Same bullshit time, same bullshit place.” he agreed, watching you hop into the car before heading off towards his own van and drive off. 

“Sooooo, how was your date?”

“It wasn’t a date, it was school.”

“Did you make out in the teachers lounge?” 

“No, I gave him a hand job in the janitor's closet.”

“The one by the gym, or the one by the science lab.”

“The gym. Smelled worse but at least there weren’t any dangerous chemicals.” 

“No, really, tell me what happened.”

“We called different places to get quotes for Spring Day. He also talked about Dungeons and Dragons for fifteen minutes.”

“And then you made out?”

“No.”

“But you wanted to.” 

“....Stacy, I’ve never wanted to blow someone more in my entire life.”

Author Notes: Sorry this took so long, I got so brain dead writing this. I really need to visit more of the source material. I love Eddie, but he just hasn't been talking to me much lately. Hopefully when Rise of Hellfire comes out it'll help lol

Tag List: 

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@amieinghigh @hazydespair @princesssunderworld

[nerokoma]

heads up! — winning either way (29/30)

1k wc

The walk to the convenience store was silent.

When Kuroo showed up in front of your hotel to come pick you up, no words had been exchanged between the two of you. The only interaction you had shared was a single, brief glance as you exited the building. He had tilted his head to motion for you to follow him, and despite all the questions burning inside you, you complied. 

Like deja vu, you found yourself sitting on the curb once more, your shadow illuminated by the bright lights of the store behind you. Kuroo sat beside you, staring off into space with a distant look in his eyes that gave you no comfort whatsoever. You wanted to speak up, ask him what was on his mind, but you knew this was something he had to start himself. And it was clear that he knew it too, which was why he was spending so much time organizing his thoughts.

“I’m sorry for how I acted.” 

You blinked, glancing over at the boy as his eyes were glued to the ground.

“It was wrong of me to just leave so suddenly without telling you why, and even worse I left you out here all by yourself. It was such a selfish thing for me to do, and I’m just really glad that you’re safe.” A sigh escaped the boy’s lips as he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “It’s just- I shouldn’t even be upset because I’m the one who asked about it, but when you told me that story about how you used to like Daichi, and you were giving him so much love and praise, something inside me just…broke.” 

You nodded slowly. Although the information he was providing was nothing new, hearing the words come directly from Kuroo’s mouth gave you a completely different feeling than before. You couldn’t help the small smile that spread across your face.

“You were…jealous.”

The boy let out a single, humourless chuckle. 

“I couldn’t figure out why it bothered me so much that you were praising your friend. Ever since we met, you haven’t been shy when expressing your love for others.” When you glanced over, Kuroo’s expression had dropped. He remained silent for a moment, lost in thought. “Eventually, I realized it was because a part of me wanted all that love for myself.” 

“Kuroo…” Your eyes widened slightly as he lifted his head, making eye contact with you for the second time that night. 

“I really like you, Y/N,” he confessed. “And you don’t have to reciprocate, but you deserve to know why I did what I did. I know it doesn’t excuse my actions whatsoever, and I’ll spend as much time as it takes to make it up to you because you deserve someone who will always treat you with respect and look out for you no matter what–”

“Kuroo,” you said, cutting the boy’s rambling short. He immediately stopped, staring at you with wide eyes. “Things don’t usually come easily for me. School, becoming a manager, even making friends isn’t always easy. I mean, remember how we first met?”

Kuroo’s face glowed a faint shade of pink as he nodded, a small smile making its way onto his face as the memories flooded back.

“When we started talking, I was surprised at how fast we became friends. Everything felt so…natural. Like I could talk to you about anything.” You looked away as your face heated up. “So when I realized that I started to catch feelings, I was afraid of ruining what we had already established. And considering how much our lives are going to change in the next couple months, I didn’t want to destroy one of the few things that brought me comfort.”

Kuroo stared at you with a blank expression, and you could almost see the gears in his head turning as he processed what you’d just said. 

“You like me?” 

You covered your face in embarrassment for a moment before giving a quick nod.

“Yes, Kuroo. I like you.” 

The moment those words left your mouth, a massive grin broke out across Kuroo’s face. His body shook in excitement, which he quickly got under control as he let out a cough and cleared his throat. This made you giggle, only causing the smile to return to the boy’s face.

“I can’t promise that things will be easy,” Kuroo said. “We live hours away and we’re both graduating, but the thought of being with you makes me so happy that I’m willing to try and make it work.” He shook his head. “Not willing, I want to make it work. If you do, of course.” 

You made eye contact with him, your smile practically reaching your eyes as you nodded. “I want to make it work too.”

Kuroo stood up and brushed himself off, extending his hand toward you. 

“Y/N L/N, will you do me the honour of accompanying me on a date?” 

You tapped your index finger on your chin as you pretended to contemplate his words. “I don’t know…I think I’ll have to see how tomorrow’s match turns out before making that decision.” You let out a small hum. “How about this: if Nekoma wins tomorrow, you can take me out on a date.” 

“I’m ok with that,” he said with a nod. “And if Karasuno wins, I get to take you out on a date.” 

You narrowed your eyes at the boy. “Aren’t those the same things?”

Kuroo only shrugged as a smirk spread across his face, the same cheeky expression you’d grown accustomed to and missed in the last couple interactions you’d had. “Are they?” 

Grinning, you reached for his outstretched hand and took it, allowing him to help you up off the ground. 

“Well Mr. Kuroo Tetsurou, you have yourself a deal.” The two of you shook hands as you came face to face with him, his bright red face fully on display and illuminated by the store’s lights. You tilted your head curiously. “Why are you blushing so much?”

Kuroo looked away, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. 

“That’s uh, that’s the first time you’ve said it- said my name.” 

Your eyebrows raised at him. Nekoma’s fearless captain, reduced to a blushing, stuttering mess in front of you. The sight was quite amusing.

“Would you like me to say it more often, Tetsurou?” 

Kuroo closed his eyes, letting out a sigh as he extended his arm slightly.

“You wanna get ice cream? I’m really craving some right about now.” 

Giggling, you nodded, following the boy as he led you into the convenience store, fingers interlaced as you stepped inside. 

kuroo’s got his priorities straight: make the battle at the garbage dump happen, win nationals, go to university, and maybe win the heart of the rival team’s cute manager along the way. 

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[snoopychris]

hardest part

warnings: angst but it’s not too bad. yet.

college admissions were so nerve wracking. it sucked. the waiting and the fear of not getting in consumed you. when you took the middle school field trip to New York, you and nick were hooked. in the 4 hour bus ride back to Boston, your entire life was planned out. high school then NYU with nick. you’d live in the dorms for a year, then when you were able you’d move into an apartment together until you both graduated. you’d fall in love, tell each other about dates, share everything possible. you’d do everything together.

today was just the first day of that

nicks room was always so much more quiet than the other rooms in the house. it was nice. comforting. familiar. that’s where you sat now. both you and nick were refreshing the NYU admissions like crazy. there was a mutual squeal when there was finally an update. as if it were new years, there was a countdown. 3…2…1…

two white screens with big purple letters. ACCEPTED. your two screams became one as you hugged each other and jumped up and down. it looked like two little kids celebrating for the first time ever.

crazy enough, you were the first to run downstairs. “MARYLOU MARYLOU!!! I GOT IN I GOT IN I GOT IN.” you cheered, tears forming in your eyes as your second mother pulled you in for a hug. you had grown closer with her as of late, but she had always supported everything you did. nick was next to celebrate with his mother, as you switched places to celebrate with jimmy.

“i always knew you’d do it.” jimmy whispers to you, hugging you tightly. you smile at the simple action, giggling at your achievements. matt was at work for another while so he wouldn’t be able to celebrate, at least not right away. chris, however, was home. he ran down the stairs after hearing all of the screaming going on. you locked eyes with him before nick did, and with that look all was well again.

he pulled you in for the tightest embrace you’ve ever experienced and just smiled. “‘m so damn proud of you, sweetie. i always knew y’could do it. you’re gonna do such big things.” chris whispers, moving away from you to pat his brother on the back. though chris would never admit it, tears formed in his eyes. “and you! you’re gonna be the best damn photographer this world has ever known.” you giggle at his words, pulling nick in for another hug.

“oh my god. sweetie we’re actually going to college together… and you know it’s perfect cause now the hard parts over. and you’re only what? 4 hours from boston? you’ll be able to come home to matt all the time! i mean it works out.” nick whispers, making you reconsider everything.

you hadn’t taken that into account. as much as you’d hate to admit it, you never even thought about matt when reading over the acceptance letter. “yeah… yeah we can… come back a few weekends a month! and… and i’ll take my car.” you whisper, hands settling on the counter. half of you is filled with excitement while the other hand is filled with regret. how were you meant to leave the boy you had been attached to the hip to for a month now? the late night conversations, the kisses, all of the plans, were they supposed to be thrown away?

the celebration died down decently fast. everything was calm. your previous spot in the kitchen was now on the couch. your feet were on chris’ lap the way everything used to be. at some point or another nate showed up. then sadie showed up. then claire showed up. it was all of your friends right there with you celebrating your accomplishments. a party had been planned for that saturday, the first party in two or so weeks. you were okay. like nick had said, the hardest part was over.

matt arrives about a half hour later. he still had his black GameStop polo on. if you could, you’d tackle him to the floor then and there. he just looked that good. his face turns white when he sees all the people there. even if he had a few more friends now, he was still the same socially awkward kid who ate lunch in the science room and had a pokémon backpack. he twiddles his thumbs before pointing towards sadie, claire, and even nate. “i need to three out. um… are mom and dad here?” he whispers, looking around as your friends leave the room.

chris pushes your feet off his lap and nods, calling out for his parents. he notices the way his brothers face is full of fear. the same way you do. part of you wants to stand up and hug him, just to ease the nerves, but you don’t think now’s the time. it’s not until marylou and jimmy are in the room that he finally speaks. his voice is shaky and he’s visibly nervous. “i um… i got a full ride to Stanford. and im…. i’m gonna take it. i’ve been saving money. i can buy a car there… im gonna be farther than expected i know but i just… really need this after harvard.”

oh. stanford. 3000 miles away from NYU. matt doesn’t seem to notice the way your face turns as white as his had, but nick and chris do. you push it all away and stand up, instantly taking your boyfriend into a tight hug. “i’m so proud of you.” is all that you can muster out. it’s genuine. it’s also so full of pain. something matt also doesn’t seem to recognize. you choke back tears as you kiss his cheek, turning to avoid his gaze. nick and chris catch it. chris wants to beat matt’s ass. nick wants to pull you into a hug. they both know they can’t. not right now. “i’m gonna… go to the bathroom.” you whisper, heading through the house to the bathroom.

nate, sadie, and claire are chatting it up in the kitchen, and not a single them misses the tears in the eyes. nate’s the only one to act on anything. he doesn’t ask any questions, he just knows that something’s not right. you’re not okay. without thinking, he pulls you into a hug similar to the one chris had pulled you into earlier.

at that moment everything snaps. the hardest part was not over.

a/n: you guys should’ve picked the p!links. kiss kiss! -gen.

tags: @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @chrisscoraline @m4ttg1rl @princessesgarden @ikyoudreamofme @allylovescody @ayesha-eroticaa @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @user1smvtysturniolo @chrislova

[jaggedamethyst]

circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part three)

tutor!jayce talis x reader college au

content: adding tutoring to an already packed schedule has gotten overwhelming. there's so much to do, yet not enough time, it seems.

pining (but im not saying who lmaooo), mentions of mental health (panic attacks, anxiety, etc).

notes: hiii. i am addicted to writing for this i fear so don't be surprised if i just keep updating randomly. i've also just started school so this is all in my free time!! but chat...its about to get good af *smiles mischievously*

word count: 1.2k

series masterlist

⭑·ﾟﾟ·*:༅。.。༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅。.。༅:*·ﾟﾟ·⭑

You didn’t enjoy this, scrambling for the countless time today to make a meeting. Even more so, you hated the idea of being late to see Ekko, again. He was always so empathetic—understanding. Even if he was upset with you, and you knew he was, he would never make you feel bad about it. He understood things happened. 

It didn’t stop you from speeding into the dining hall and turning to your usual table in a complete frenzy, though. “Ekko, I am so sorry. Time literally got away from me today.” 

He grips a chain he’d been holding, a locket at the top, and pushed it back into his pocket quickly. “It has a way of doing that…time I mean.” 

You sat down, immediately feeling way worse than you already had. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, I’m sure you had a reason, right?” 

“Yes,” you sighed. “I was at tutoring with Jayce. We went over vectors and I finally understand it better.” 

His eyes lingered on the table, “Mm.” A hum from him, seemingly half paying attention. 

“Mm?” You mimicked the sound he made, “What’s mm?” 

“It’s just that I definitely could’ve helped you with that…being a STEM major and all…” 

“I know that…of course I know that but-“ 

He cracked a smile, “I’m joking.” 

You couldn’t help the smile on your face, the lightheartedness finally returning to you both. “I hate you, truly.” 

“You don’t…and that’s okay! I’m extremely lovable.” 

You nodded sarcastically, “Sure, I’ll let you keep believing that.” You looked around, finally taking in how desolate the dining hall actually was. It was a bit after peak hours now, considering you showed up a bit later than normal. A yawn escaped you, then, the day catching up to you. 

Ekko perked up a bit, “You hungry?” 

You tilted your head, “Always.” 

He turned to grab a paper bag from inside his backpack—pushing it across the table to you. Your order down to the sauces, no tomatoes, extra pickles. 

“Oh my gosh, I love you so much Ekko…you’re actually the best.” 

He watched you inspect the bag, each little detail perfect. There was a glint in your eye; it was rather humorous that it was about food, but he appreciated it nonetheless. 

You weren’t looking at him, but he was locked in on you. A genuine and soft look was on his face. “I love you…too.” 

The fries you were eating fully occupied your mind and nothing besides the comfort of your bed could get your mind off of them. Ekko didn’t say much after, letting you eat in silence before offering to walk you back to your place. The sounds of the busy city filled the space between you, him occasionally ushering you ahead with a soft nudge. Neither of you spoke until you were outside your door. 

You leaned in for a hug, “Thank you…I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yup.” He hugged you back, leaning his head into yours, inhaling deeply. “Tomorrow.” 

“On time,” You pulled away, “I promise.” 

His hands found his pockets, nodding simply. “On time.” 

Exhaustion was creeping up on you. At this point, you had class most days of the week, Ekko meetings daily, and tutoring at least twice a week. On top of all of this, you desperately needed a job. Even with the hours that passed and the rest you got, the looming feeling of doom was making you feel anxious. There was a bubbling thought in you that in a few days time, you might genuinely have a panic attack. The signs were there, a fleeting feeling of irritation—the need to constantly be doing something. If you didn’t you’d be left alone with your thoughts and that never worked out well. 

The next day's hours squished themselves together. Despite the feeling, you plastered on a smile and made your way to do everything you had to. You couldn’t chance anyone, especially Ekko, knowing that you weren’t feeling the best. Yet, the emotion often found you in silent cries. You took the long way to tutoring, walking on side roads you knew never had many people on them. In one ear, you let music play, sinking into the emotion as best you could with the consistent sounds of the world around you. It was best you cry now, you thought. You had to focus during tutoring. 

You didn’t sob, but rather let the tears run freely. The cool sensation helped usually—a way for you to identify that you were present in the moment…in your body. You let your legs carry you to the resource center eventually, mindlessly walking toward the room Jayce had reserved. Truthfully, you were glad to see he wasn’t here yet. 

You got comfortable, wiping your face free of the proof of your small breakdown. You straightened at the sound of footsteps approaching the door. 

“Hey,” Jayce backed into the room, a small bag in his hands. He slowly turned, closing the door behind him. You weren’t looking his way, purposely avoiding his gaze—hiding your reddened eyes. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m good,” a sniffle, “Just had a hard day…lot on my plate.” 

He nodded, sitting across from you. “Well…I guess it’s good I made sure to bring some encouragement then.” You finally looked at him. His face contorted briefly at the sight of you before handing you the bag he walked in with. “Here…this should help.” 

Confused, you reached for the bag. “But-“ 

“I asked Viktor,” he interrupted, “He said you would like some of these.” 

“You really didn’t have to, I was just joking-“ 

“I wanted to,” he spoke quickly before pausing. He looked at you, swallowing the already lessening amount of moisture in his mouth. He needed some water. “Besides, the store was on the way here.” He cut himself off, gulping some of the water from his bottle. 

You didn’t speak, just looking at your favorite snacks in the bag. The gesture was a lot to take in, but it was appreciated.

“Can I say something?” 

You nodded, “Of course.” 

“I kind of relate to you…what you said about school. I have a scholarship, too.” 

“You do?” 

“Yup. It’s just me and my mom and we can’t really afford it.” He repositioned in his chair, “I worked really hard before this…for years to make sure I could get a full ride. I couldn’t stand the thought of putting that burden on my mom. But, when I got here, it was like the burden was on me now, to not fail…you know?” 

“Right…” 

“I don’t want you to feel…you shouldn’t feel like it’s all impossible.” He didn’t acknowledge the way you started to cry a little—he thought better of it and you thanked him internally. Instead, he reached for a paper towel. “Sorry, this is all we have…with the white boards…” 

“Thank you,” you chuckled a bit. 

“So…are you gonna eat any of those or can I have it back.” 

“I might be willing to share.” 

Jayce rubbed his hands together, “That’s what I like to hear!” 

The session was great, as usual. You were feeling even more comfortable—confident enough to take the next physics quiz. 

More importantly, you made it just in time to see Ekko’s look of surprise when you got there before him. 

“On time?” 

“On time.” 

taglist

@juskonutoh @sseleniaa @aerina127 @sleepysoldier @bxxerry

[minniesfiles]

YOUNG, WILD AND FREE

There was nothing Mingyu valued more than his freedom — not even your friendship.

❧ PAIRING; mingyu x reader

❧ GENRE; angst

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; friends with benefits, friends to strangers, angst, school au, swearing, unrequited love, mingyu is an asshole, crying, mention of smoking

❧ WORDCOUNT; 2.1k

𐚁₊⊹

▍12 JULY 2015

Eighteen is an age where most teenagers are expected to have their minds set on the future by making plans, and preparing for adulthood.

But for you and Mingyu, life had a different flow, one that refused to conform to societal expectations. To you both, eighteen wasn’t the end of your teenage years but the peak of them — a time to savor the short-lived moments of youth before the emerging responsibilities of adulthood could tighten their grip.

You had your entire lives to be serious, to settle down, and to embrace the grind. For now, life was about embracing freedom and chasing the kind of memories you’d still laugh about decades later.

The word “fun” held a different connotation to you. It was about enjoying the reckless energy of youth and pleasures.

It meant sneaking into wild parties with flashing lights and loud music, losing yourselves in the rhythm of the dance floor. It meant exploring the highs and lows of life without apology — whether through alcohol-fueled nights that blurred into dawn or the moments of sexual intimacy that only the two of you shared.

Those moments weren't uncommon though — they became a routine to you. In the world that you and Mingyu lived in, everything was an adventure, and nothing was too risky if it promised even a silver amount of excitement.

The way you two fit together was magnetic, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to magnify each other's joy and chaos. You pushed each other deeper into the vortex you called life, and he carried an unshakeable confidence that you returned.

But even as you laughed and celebrated your youth, things began to change — subtly at first. It was in the little things. Like the way he would look at you as if he were looking for something deeper, or the quiet moments in which the usual play of your shenanigans would cease and a wordless burden would linger.

“Have an extra cigarette?” Mingyu asked as he jogged towards you, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You shook your head with a half-smile, “sorry, this was my last one.”

With a careless shrug, you dropped the burning stub onto the pavement and crushed it under your boot.

“Liar,” he said with a scoff, rolling his eyes as he sat down next to you. His presence was so casual, as if the air between you two wasn’t filled with tension.

You glared at him, irritation bubbling to the surface. “Mingyu, what do you want?” you asked sharply, crossing your arms in an attempt to create some barrier between the two of you.

“Chill, I didn’t even do anything,” he said defensively, his hands shooting up as though to shield himself from your sharp tone. But you weren’t having it.

“No, I mean, why are you here? Surely you want something,” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. There was no way Mingyu had just ditched his best friend’s birthday party to come and find you for no reason, especially not after what happened.

He sighed deeply, shifting uncomfortably before speaking. “Look, I wanna talk about that night…last week,” he started hesitantly, his voice quieter than usual.

Your heart skipped a beat, and the mention of “that night” made a knot form in your stomach. You shot up from the rusted bench, shaking your head quickly.

“I don’t want to do this,” you muttered, your voice low but firm. You couldn’t bear to go back there — not with him.

But Mingyu wasn’t going to let you walk away that easily. “Y/n, wait!” he called out, suddenly on his feet.

His hand grabbed your wrist before you could take another step, and spun you around to face him. The sudden movement startled you, and before you knew it, you were pressed up against his chest. You froze, the proximity making it impossible to ignore the intensity in his eyes.

“That night-” he began, his voice trembling slightly, but you cut him off before he could finish.

“Please, can we not talk about it?” your voice was almost a whisper now, your resolve crumbling as the weight of that memory pressed against your chest. Each second felt heavier as the images of that night played in your mind.

Mingyu’s grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to keep you anchored there. “You know we were drunk,” he said softly, his gaze searching for yours.

“And I know those words…they didn’t mean to come out of your mouth. But I need you to understand that I’m not ready for things like that.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, each syllable piercing through your chest. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for what you felt, for what you said that night. And hearing him say it out loud — hearing the finality in his tone — was enough to break something deep inside you.

Your shoulders slumped as the weight of his rejection settled in. It wasn’t anger or frustration that you felt in that moment, but a bone-deep sadness. Your heart felt like it had been sliced in two, leaving you standing there completely shattered.

Yet, you said nothing. What could you say? The words that had once tumbled out of your mouth were now stuck in your throat, choking you.

You didn’t even realise your eyes were welling up with tears until you felt the warm streaks slide down your cheeks. Embarrassed and overwhelmed, you pulled away from Mingyu’s grasp with a sharp jerk, and wiped your face with shaky hands.

“I wasn’t drunk that night, Mingyu. But I was definitely stupid to have my hopes high” your voice cracked as you blurted.

His expression froze, and his brows furrowed in confusion as he searched your face for clarity. “What do you mean?” he asked.

But you didn’t want to explain — not now, not like this. “Forget it,” you said harshly, taking another step back and shaking your head as though that would erase the vulnerability you had just exposed. You refused to let him see any more of the pain that clawed your heart.

He stood still, staring at you as you turned on your heel and tried to leave. But before you could get too far, you heard the sound of his footsteps behind you. He wasn’t going to let you walk away, not without answers.

Grabbing your wrist, he spun you around, his grip firm but not forceful. His other hand came up to tilt your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with something between frustration and desperation.

“Y/n, I need answers,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “You’re not in love with me, are you?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, frozen. He pressed further, his voice louder now, “answer me, goddammit!”

“SO WHAT IF I AM?!” you shouted back, your voice rising before cracking.

“So fucking what?!” you could barely hold yourself together anymore, your words spilling out in a shaky defiance.

“Y/n, we’re just fuck buddies. I thought we made it clear that no feelings were supposed to be involved, and that we wouldn’t fall for each other,” Mingyu said, his voice firm yet laced with frustration.

He looked at you like he was trying to drill the words into your mind, as though reminding you of the rules would somehow erase everything you were feeling.

“I know, okay?! I know!” you shouted, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.

“But I couldn’t help it, Gyu. I couldn’t help how I feel about you. It just…it just happened,” you sobbed, rubbing your face in frustration. The tears wouldn’t stop falling, each one a reminder of how deeply you had let yourself fall for him.

Mingyu’s expression hardened, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Maybe hesitation, or guilt? He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. He didn’t know how to respond, and that silence stung more than any words could have.

Finally, he sighed “stay away from me from now on” he said. His voice was cold and detached, as if he flipped a switch and turned off all the warmth you’d once felt from him. His eyes bore into yours with a glare that was meant to sever ties.

Your heart shattered. The pain was unbearable, like a knife twisting deeper with each passing second. “I want to have fun, Y/n, and I don’t need you and your stupid feelings ruining anything for me,” he added, his tone sharp and unforgiving.

He turned to walk away, and something inside you snapped. Before you could think, you ran after him, grabbing his wrist with trembling hands. “Mingyu, wait!”

He stopped but let out an exasperated sigh, turning back to you with visible annoyance. “What now?” he asked sharply.

You stepped in front of him, tears streaming down your face as you looked up at him. “Please don’t do this,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, and I can’t help how I feel about you. I love you, Gyu. I love you. Why can’t you understand that?”

Your shaking hands reached up to cup his face. Your touch was desperate and filled with longing, hoping — praying — that he would finally see how much he meant to you.

“Why can’t we give each other a chance?” you asked again, your voice quivering as tears spilled. There was a pleading in your eyes that you hoped Mingyu would notice.

But all he did was glare back at you. He took a step back, shaking his head, and pushed your hands away from his face. “The thing is, I don’t love you, Y/n,” he said bluntly, his tone sharp enough to cut through the silence.

“And you can’t force someone to love you either.” The heaviness of his words hit you like a tidal wave, and your knees threatened to buckle under the growing ache in your chest.

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his dark hair before continuing, “And plus, we’re only eighteen. There’s still so much I want to do, so much I want to experience. Getting into a relationship is a huge commitment, and I’m not ready for that kind of thing right now. We’re young, wild, and free, Y/n.”

His voice softened for a moment, almost as if he was trying to make you understand his point. “I just want to enjoy my life and do what I want before I even think about settling down.”

He studied your face for a moment, his gaze intense but unreadable. “Come on, Y/n, you used to think like that too. What happened to that girl? You’re the one who used to say we’re too young to have these kinds of feelings, too young to get caught up in this kind of drama. What changed? What happened to you?” his voice cracked slightly as he asked, but he quickly masked it with frustration.

You couldn’t look him in the eye anymore. Instead, your gaze dropped to the ground as silent tears rolled down your cheeks. “I know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“But things can change. People can change. Feelings can change. I love you, Mingyu,” you confessed, your words broken by a quiet sniffle.

He scoffed, taking another step back. “Well, I don’t,” he said flatly. “And I need you to stop contacting me from now on.”

His words were final as he walked past you, and you didn’t chase this man this time no matter how much you wanted to. You stayed rooted in place, letting the silence envelop you as you silently cried. For the first time, you realised that no amount of love on your end could ever make him stay.

You stumbled and collapsed onto your knees as sobs wracked your body. Tears streamed down your face, blurring the lights of the city around you. You never loved anyone before, not like this, and you never experienced the gut-wrenching pain of heartbreak either. The sting of rejection pierced deeper than you ever thought was possible. You had no idea what it meant to feel this hollow, this abandoned, until Mingyu.

Some of the things he said still echoed in your mind — they weren’t entirely wrong. You once believed that you were too young for anything serious, too young to tie yourself down.

But somewhere along the way, your feelings shifted. You saw a future with him, imagining moments far beyond your eighteen years. Yet, reality came crashing down. To him, you were never more than a temporary connection, a mistake you had mistaken for love.

[probablyreadinsmut]

The Cooldown.

One shot.

Pairing: Boyfriend! Joel Miller x Mid/Plus size Afab!Reader

Pictures used are just for reference purposes, you are the lucky gal in this fic

Summary: Your boyfriend can't resist offering you a little post workout fun. Completely inspired by those pictures of Pedro from yesterday.

This one goes out to all my thigh riding girlie's (gn) <3

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Established relationship, AU no outbreak, Mentions of being body conscious in the past, vague descriptions of being fuller figured nothing specific though, sweaty post gym thigh riding, Praise, dirty talk. Undefined legal age gap. Spanking.

Not beta'd and probably not proofread very well, putting the disorder in adhd, as ever. ✌️

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist

“C’mere baby” Joel’s patting his thick thigh with a lecherous grin on his face as he’s watching you peel off your gym wear, the damp nylon is sticking to every inch of you.

You respond with a soft snort “What do you mean come here? Joel, I feel gross. That work out nearly killed me today.” It had been his idea to start going to the gym together, another ‘couples bonding’ experience he’d said. He was big into that kind of thing, but honestly you were pretty sure it was so he could watch your tits and ass jiggle, he thought he was slick.

“Do I look like I care darlin’? Get that beautiful ass over here and ride my thigh, c’mon...” It’s a command and an invitation all in one, your boyfriend of two years knew what he wanted, he’s never sugar-coated it and that horny, feral part of your brain loved that about him.

So, you shuck off your sports bra over your head, tossing it into the hamper. You can feel the sweat that had collected beneath the material was now running down your sternum, trickling to your belly button. You’d already be in the shower if you were alone, but these days doing anything alone is a huge feat in itself where Joel is concerned. On the days he’s not working, or when Sarah is at school, he’s with you, making the most of your time together. Usually naked.

You watch as his once brown eyes go almost completely black with desire, pupils blown wide, the bulge in his sinfully short shorts is impossible to ignore. You’d tease him a little more if you weren’t so fucking turned on. Maybe a joint session at the gym had been for both his benefit and yours. He’d been eyeing you in your figure hugging leggings and tight little sports bra while you’d been ogling his thighs and ass the whole time.

You should have known that once you made it back to your place, you’d both be spending the rest of the day engaging in a more horizontal form of exercise.

So you tug off your leggings, shimmying out of them as you take your panties off with them, his eyes never leave you for a moment, his gaze is both predatory and appreciative. You’re his. Every day he thanks his lucky stars for that.

You put on a little show for him as you strut towards the bed where he sits, his thighs parted wide, leaning back on his palms. Your hips shake hypnotically with every step. Before Joel, you hadn’t loved your body that much, but now with the way he worships every dip and curve, whether it be with his eyes, lips, tongue or fingers, now you love your fuller frame. Gone are the days where you’d be covering up in t-shirts that swamped you at the gym, you were beautiful and you didn’t feel the need to hide any more.

You lower yourself onto his thick thigh, more defined these days, he’d said a while ago that he wanted to stay in shape now he was getting ‘older’, if not for his sake then for the sake of his babygirl and you were more than happy to support him, they way he supported you in everything you wanted to achieve.

“That’s it” He coos, leaning back just pinning you with a stare that has you melting already “Fuck darlin’ look at you, pretty as a picture. Y’look good just like this...”

You preen under his praise, a little giggle leaving you as you plant your hands on his broad shoulders and start to glide along his thigh, the ridges and hairs tickle your clit just right. “Maybe we just skip the gym next time... Stay home and fuck all day instead?” That earns you a sharp spank, making you gasp, soothed by his thick fingers pawing at the fleshy part of your cheek. It’s a sweet sting that’s left there, one you know has probably left a red mark, one that has your cunt clenching around nothing nonetheless, dribbling onto his naked thigh.

“I could spend all day in this pretty little pussy, y’know that” His hands come up to your hips, kneading the soft flesh under his fingertips “But there’s just something about you... All hot and sweaty out in public that makes my motor run baby... maybe next time y’let me fuck you in the locker room huh? Stay nice an’ quiet for me while I bend you over one of those benches? That sound good sugar?” he’s guiding you now, pressing you down harder against his thigh, urging you to roll those gorgeous hips of yours.

With a breathy moan you nod and he spanks you again, the slap echoing throughout the bedroom.

“Use your words sweetness, need t’hear you say it.”

You feel your release quickly creeping up on you, his thigh is getting slicker by the second. You grind yourself deeper agaisnt his thigh with his guidance giving your swollen little clit all the attention she so desperately needs. “Yes! Fuck baby- P-please next time... N-next time fuck me just like that...”

He can feel you tensing up on top of him, he can hear the little hitches in your breath all the subtle cues that tell him you’re about to make a mess on his thigh.

“That’s it darlin’ just like that, keep goin’.. Fuck... After this we’re gonna go take a shower together and I’m gonna bury my cock so deep inside you, that you won’t know where you end and I begin... Gonna make this tight little pussy sing for me” His jaw is set and tense as he grits his teeth, urging you to move faster, you look between the two of you seeing his cock straining painfully against the stretchy fabric of his shorts, begging to come out and play.

You throw your head back, nails digging into his taut flesh as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave of pleasure. The deep, filthy groan that leaves him as he watches you fall apart is one that will be engrained in your memory for years to come.

His thigh is soaked, he can feel it running down his knee and he fucking loves it. Your cries of ecstasy are just dying down when he releases his grip on your hips and helps you up onto your feet, holding you upright since you’re knees are buckling like a deer taking their first steps.

He’s guiding you towards the ensuite when he ducks his head down to drawl in your ear “C’mon baby, let’s get you all cleaned up so I can make you dirty again”.  

Tags: @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @joelmillerisapunk @baronessvonglitter @syd-djarin @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @guiltyasdave

[shigarosie]

Butterfly, Fly Away (part one)

Aizawa feels out of breath. Despite the fact that he drove to the daycare center, it feels like he ran the whole way. He doesn’t run inside, but he does do an awkward half jog to get in there quickly without looking like some sort of lunatic. 

The room, as expected, is a disaster. Kids are crying. Drawings have been torn up and thrown around, chairs have been overturned. Eri is at the center of it all, with an uninterrupted scream at the top of her lungs that he’s sure has lasted at least a full minute by the way her red face is slowly starting to show hints of purple. 

Eri has been kicked out of another daycare. 

She skips alongside him merrily as he walks back to the car with him, her little purple bag in one hand while the other holds her own pudgy little palm. You would think that she was a perfectly well behaved little angel if you saw her now, no traces left of her hurricane of an outburst mere minutes ago. 

There was a familiar throbbing pain forming like a tight band around his skull. 

Once they were in the car, Eri kicking her feet in her carseat and playing with the straps of her bag, Aizawa couldn’t help but spare glances at her in the rearview mirror when he stopped at all the stop signs on the way back to the high school. His daughter was the best, most important thing in his life. He loved her more than anything, no matter what. He just didn’t know what to do with her anymore. 

As he parked in his designated spot, five minutes left of his lunch break, Eri hurriedly tried to unbuckled her carseat before Aizawa could get to her. It was a game she liked to play, despite the fact that her clumsy fingers hadn’t yet grown strong enough to fully press the big red button that released the clips. But Aizawa didn’t get out of the car to come around and unbuckle her yet. 

“Hurry daddy!” she taunts, grunting as her fingers slip as they always do. “I’m gonna beat you this time!” 

“What happened, Eri?”

She paused, looking up at him with those eyes that look almost too big for her head in the sweetest way. She looked unphased. Unashamed, unapologetic. 

“I didn’t like it there,” was the simple answer she gave. “Daycare is stupid.” 

“But honey,” he sighed, “you know that you have to go. And don’t use the word stupid, please.” 

The little girl starts to shift uncomfortably in her seat, no longer trying to unbuckle her restrictive straps, but attempting to pull them down her shoulders instead. 

“Why?” she asks, an edge beginning to form where a smooth curve used to exist in her voice. “Why can’t I just come with you to big kid school?” 

“Because next year you’ll have to start going to kindergarten, so you can learn new things and make friends. I won’t be able to just drop everything and come get you. Instead you’ll be forced to either sit in your classroom or sit in the principal’s office for hours until big kid school is done.”

Eri slumps in her seat. The tears are welling in her eyes and Aizawa has to look above her head in order to keep talking with her. 

“This is the fourth daycare you’ve been kicked out of, honey. That’s not good.”

Eri turns her face away. “Guess you’ll have to maybe take me to a new one then,” she says. 

“I can’t.” At this she perks up, catching the feeling of excitement in those little hands of hers before it slips from her grasp and runs off when she sees her dad do that thing where he drags his hand down the entirety of his face and then rubs at his scruffy jaw. “This was the last daycare in our area that I can afford. No more daycares.”

“So I’ll have to come to school with you now, right?” she asks, hopeful eyes shining with a few embarrassed tears that hadn’t yet gone away. 

Aizawa doesn’t say anything. He gets out of the car, opens her door, and helps her out of her seatbelt. 

“Come on,” he says, holding her bag in one hand and her palm in the other. “Today you get to watch my students take a pop quiz.” 

Class 1-A loves Eri. They love to dote on her, like she’s their princess and they are nothing but her humble servants. They don’t bat an eye when she shows up during the second half of the day anymore, used to their visibly stressed teacher sitting her down with coloring pages and an old cd player (there’s no way in hell he would ever put an ipad in her hands) in a poor attempt at a fort under his desk. They felt bad for him, really, knowing how hard he’s had it since… 

They also like to sneak little snacks and fidget toys to her when he’s not looking. They get passed down the rows of desks like contraband, making a wide loop around the goody-goodies that rat them out. They think they’re helping, really they do. And it’s endearing. But it makes it more difficult for him, in all actuality, when he’s trying to convince Eri that his classroom is not the place for her to be and they’re doing everything to make it friendly for her. They even stopped swearing when Eri made her little visits. (At least, they tried their best.) 

“They’re like her gang of babysitters,” Aizawa explains to Mic as he pulls out a bottle of scotch from the baby proofed cupboard above the fridge and two glasses. Eri had been put to bed an hour prior, after having her bath and getting her hair braided and insisting on TWO stories tonight; one from her dad and one from her godfather. “It just makes her want to be there even more.”

“Maybe that’s what you two need,” Mic says from the sofa, helping himself to some chips and dip. 

“What?”

“You know, a babysitter,” the blond elaborates. “Or a nanny, in this case.”

Aizawa’s brow furrows. His lips turn down. Mic can already tell this is going to take a lot of selling. “What’s the difference?”

“Nannies do more,” Mic says, his mouth partially full. He gave up on manners around Aizawa sometime around… well, they met in middle school, so he probably never had them in the first place. “Babysitters are for, like, date nights and stuff.” 

“I definitely don’t need one of those,” Aizawa grumbles, handing Mic his glass before settling onto the couch himself. 

“Nannies are more long term,” Mic continues, not addressing the comment, “they would stay with her at home the whole day while you work, maybe do some tidying or run some errands for you. It’s like daycare, but more personal and actually not at all like daycare. You just have someone watching your kid all day.” 

Aizawa groans, gulping down most of his drink in one go. “I don’t want some stranger in my house alone with my kid. That sounds terrible.” 

“Man, they call them nanny cams for a reason. And when you use the websites they do background checks.” 

“How do you know so much about nannies?” Aizawa asks suspiciously. Mic had no kids. He had no nieces or nephews. All he had were a bunch of elementary school students singing the same ten annoying songs off key. 

“Remember the lady with the two kids I was hooking up with while they were with their dad? She had a nanny.” 

“And how long after you stopped seeing the mom did you start sleeping with the nanny?” Aizawa asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“Hey, it’s completely a coincidence that I met her nanny out at a bar one night, okay? Swear on my life. Not like I ever met her before then, I never met the kids!” 

“Whatever,” Aizawa says, downing the last of his drink before pouring another. “I’m not getting a nanny.” 

“You at least gotta think about it,” Mic says, “you don’t have many other choices here. Unless you want to call your mom and have her-” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Then I recommend you take the weekend to research nanny websites,” Mic says. “You can’t bring your kid to work with you every day. It’s not good for her. It’s not good for you.” Mic leaves his unfinished drink on the coffee table, knowing Aizawa will just drink the rest himself after he leaves. “I should tuck in for the night. Think about it, alright? And I’m right down the street if you ever need anything. And-” 

“Good night, Mic.” 

“Later.” 

Aizawa stays on the couch, sitting in the same spot, staring at the wall in front of him for an hour before he finally sighs to himself. 

“Don’t have many other choices,” he grumbles as he pulls his laptop out of his work bag and starts his google search, Mic’s unfinished glass of scotch in hand. 

‘best nanny websites’