#his voice starts to trail away...eyes wide

[drewsephrry]

Love Island: Episode 7 - Sparks Fly

series masterlist

pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader

words: 5.7k

warnings: cuss words, sexual innuendos, alcohol consumption

The sun creeps over the villa, golden light scattering across the pool and casting soft shadows through the trees. One by one, the islanders start to stir as the lights flicker on.

“Morning, guys.” Abigail calls out, voice sweet but still groggy. A few murmured replies and a chorus of groans answer her back. From the far side of the room, JJ’s soft snores cut through the noise. He is still dead asleep, sprawled across the bed, completely ignoring the makeshift pillow wall Cleo had built between them.

“Bro, seriously?” Cleo grumbles, trying to shove him onto his side. Nothing. She pushes again. Still nothing. Topper snorts from across the room.

“How is he still out cold?” He laughs. All heads turn to JJ, mouth agape, drool at the corner of his lips, snoring like a freight train.

“Aww, he looks so cute when he's sleeping.” Sarah coos, hands clasped dramatically. Cleo rolls her eyes.

“Yeah and he's a freaking menace when he's not.” That gets a wave of laughter from the room.

Y/N chuckles, watching Cleo’s struggle from her bed. But her focus drifts, her eyes falling to the arm slung over her leg. Rafe’s still buried under a pillow, blocking out the sun. He hadn’t let go of her all night. Even now, half-asleep, his fingers rest on her thigh like he’s anchoring himself to her.

She lets out a quiet breath, then glances to the other side of her bed. Ryan’s already sitting up, hoodie on, hair wild, his glasses halfway down his nose. He turns to her with a sleepy grin.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” She replies, matching his smile. “How was your first sleep in the villa?” She asks, voice soft. He grins.

“Honestly? Best sleep I’ve had in ages.” He replies and she laughs.

Her mind drifts back to her own first night. Struggling to sleep, tossing and turning and overthinking. Lying beside Rafe who made her feel safe enough to melt into him, even though they were practically strangers.

“Y/N?”

She blinks, pulled back to reality.

“You zoned out there.” Ryan says gently. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah.” She says quickly, flashing a smile and looking down to fidget with her ring. “Just tired.”

Ryan nods, but before he can say anything else, Abigail leans over to ask him something, giving Y/N space. She turns back toward Rafe just as he peeks out from under the pillow, rubbing his eyes. His tan chest rises with a slow breath and there’s a fresh stubble dusting his jaw. Somehow, it makes him look even more unfairly attractive. She swallows and looks away just as Kiara’s voice cuts through the room.

“What do you think Maddy and Kelce got up to in the Hideaway?” Kiara asks and the room lights up with reactions as guesses start flying.

“They definitely hooked up.” Topper says, still half-asleep but already causing drama. Alyssa and Cleo immediately start arguing with him.

The door swings open before the debate gets too heated and Maddy walks in, glowing, with Kelce trailing behind her in nothing but boxers and a smug grin.

“Morning, lovebirds!” Kelce yells, doing a lap around the room before throwing himself on Rafe and Y/N’s bed.

“Dude!” Rafe groans. Y/N grins and glances at Maddy, who’s laughing along with the others.

“Someone’s in a good mood.” She mutters.

Kelce beams. The girls all turn to Maddy, who’s sitting on her bed, eyes on her nails, a soft smile still lingering on her lips.

“Someone’s in a good mood.” Y/N mutters. Kelce beams, nodding like a bobblehead. The girls immediately zero in on Maddy, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Spill!” Kiara demands.

“You’re gonna tell us either way.” Topper adds and everyone murmurs their agreement.

“Guys, don’t pressure them.” Y/N cuts in, voice quieter.

Rafe hears it and wonders if it’s a jab, leftover tension from their argument the night before. Kelce, catching her tone, reaches out and gently taps her calf.

“You good?” He murmurs, reading her a little too well. She gives him a small smile and a quick nod. Kelce’s eyes flick to Rafe and he picks up on the tension between the two. He gets up from the bed, brushing off Rafe’s legs and claps his hands.

“I need coffee injected in my veins. Boys, come on!” He heads toward the door with a dramatic stretch. “Damn, it’s a good day!” He yells, making the others crack up as they follow him.

Rafe lingers for a beat, grabbing his phone and water. He looks down at Y/N.

“We’re gonna talk later, yeah?”

There’s something hesitant in his voice. Hope, but also worry.

She meets his eyes and nods softly.

He leans down, presses a kiss to her forehead and follows the others out.

Once the boys leave the room, the girls immediately pile into Y/N’s bed. Sarah’s the first to cling to her, adjusting her sunglasses. Maddy flops onto the bed with a giddy squeal, beckoning Abigail to scoot closer.

“Okay, spill!” Alyssa practically begs.

“Okay, so…” Maddy begins, clearly enjoying the attention.

“What did you two do?” Sarah grins.

“JJ’s convinced you guys hooked up.” Cleo throws in with a smirk.

“Girls, let her talk!” Y/N interjects, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Maddy says, clearing her throat. “So, first of all, the hideaway? Gorgeous. Hearts everywhere and the bed? Huge and insanely soft.”

The girls murmur excitedly as she continues.

“Anyway, we talked a lot. Just figuring out how compatible we actually are. And I’m really glad we did, because we’re totally on the same page.” She pauses, her voice softening. “And…we talked about you.”

Maddy turns to Y/N, whose brows furrow.

“Me?” Y/N repeats, caught off guard. “Wait, what? Why?”

Maddy chews her lip, choosing her words carefully.

“It wasn’t anything bad. Kelce just noticed how close we are. He told me he still cares about you, probably always will, even if you’re part of his past. He just wanted to make sure things between us were cool before him and I got more serious. He doesn’t want you to get hurt. And honestly, I get that and I don't want that either. So…are we good? I want you to be honest. If you’re not okay with it, I’ll back off, I mean it-”

“Maddy.” Y/N interrupts gently. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my friend. I want you to be happy. Yeah, I care about Kelce, I don’t want him getting hurt either, but I’m moving on. He should too. If what you two have is real, then I’m all for it. Trust me.”

Maddy nods, then pulls Y/N into a grateful hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She murmurs as the other girls smile.

“Okay but did anything happen?” Cleo asks impatiently, needing her gossip fix. The girls laugh as Maddy pulls back.

“Let’s just say…the salon opened.” Her smirk says it all and the girls gasp.

“The what?” Abigail asks, confused. Cleo points to her own shorts. Abigail’s eyes widen.

“Oh!”

“Wait, yours or his?” Kiara chimes in.

“Both.” Maddy mumbles, reaching for her water bottle as the girls erupt in squeals, shaking her from excitement.

“What kind of service did you get?” Cleo teases. Maddy giggles, blushing.

“Just…a really nice mani.” She reveals and the girls scream again, laughing.

“Genuinely so happy you got some.” Sarah grins and they all laugh again.

“Alright, what did I miss?” Maddy claps her hands, calming them down. All eyes turn to Y/N. She exhales.

“Nothing’s really changed with Rafe and I's situation. Last night, before bed, he said he wanted to talk today. That’s it.”

The girls give her quiet, sympathetic looks.

“I hate to ask but…are you okay?” Maddy says gently. Y/N shrugs.

“I don’t know. Things were going so well and now…I’m just confused.” She absentmindedly fiddles with her ring.

“It’s not your fault.” Cleo says firmly. “Even if your talk triggered something, it’s on him for not being honest.”

“It’s not only about honesty.” Y/N says softly. “He wasn’t ready to open up and I get that, I-”

“Don’t make excuses for him.” Kiara cuts in. “You’re allowed to be understanding, but that doesn’t mean he gets to walk away or lash out at you.”

The girls nod in agreement.

“Can we not talk about me for once?” Y/N pleads. “I feel like I’m always the topic and it’s exhausting.”

“We’re just worried.” Sarah says, rubbing her back.

“Yeah, I know, but-”

“Don’t you dare say ‘it’s fine,’ I will literally kick your ass.” Cleo warns. Y/N chuckles, hands up in mock surrender.

“Okay, I won’t.” She grins. “But it is gonna be fine.” She quickly hides behind Sarah to dodge Cleo and the girls break into laughter as she pretends to launch herself over.

Once things settle, Y/N clears her throat.

“Hey, Kie…I’ve been meaning to ask about…you and Pope.”

Kiara shifts uncomfortably.

“Last night, when he suggested the hideaway, it kinda looked like you wanted to run.”

The girls all turn to Kiara, waiting. She sighs.

“I’m gonna be honest with y'all, I’m not feeling it. He’s cute, he’s smart, sure. But he’s just…not my type. I’ve tried, but every conversation feels awkward.”

“Have you talked to him?” Y/N asks, but Sarah quickly grabs her arm.

“Wait, have you guys even kissed?” Sarah asks. Kiara hesitates.

“We had a peck. But…” She makes a face.

“Oh, Kie.” Maddy says sympathetically.

“You really haven’t told him?” Cleo asks.

“Not yet. I haven’t found the right time. And I don’t know how to say it.”

“You should do it soon.” Cleo urges. “You’ve been coupled up for a while and Pope seems into you. He deserves the chance to meet someone who actually connects with him.”

“Like you, babe?” Maddy teases, drawing a few giggles. Cleo blushes.

“No! Stop.”

“You like him!” Sarah shouts, setting off a round of gasps.

“No, I don’t.” Cleo says, arms crossed.

“You totally do!” Maddy sings. “Cleo and Pope, sitting in a tree-”

“Finish that and I’ll end you.” Cleo threatens and Maddy pretends to zip her lips.

“Come on.” Y/N grins. “It’s cute.”

“I don’t have a crush on him!”

“Cleo-”

“I’m just confused, alright?” She finally says. “There was nothing with John B, Kelce and I had no chemistry and JJ…please. But Pope…we have had a few chats and he gets me. Like, really gets me.”

The girls stay quiet, letting her talk.

“I just…I see the way he looks at Kiara. He really likes her. And I don’t want to be his second choice.”

Silence lingers for a moment.

“I’ll talk to him.” Kiara says at last. “But you should too.”

“Okay.” Cleo nods slowly.

The girls smile at the honest moment, the tension melting just a little.

Meanwhile, outside, after Kelce’s loud bragging session with the boys about ‘his girl’ and his night with Maddy, Rafe and Topper head to the kitchen. While Topper casually whisks eggs, Rafe finishes plating the avocado toast he just made.

“Forgiveness avocado toast?” Topper teases, raising an eyebrow. “What even happened last night? It feels like I missed an entire season.”

Rafe lets out a heavy sigh.

“We got into it. There was this talk with John B, JJ and Sarah…about exes. And I just…I don’t talk about my past. She tried to comfort me or get me to open up and I snapped. Like…full-on snapped at her. And I hate myself for it. She was just trying to help and I shut down.”

Topper nods, quiet for a beat.

“Maybe…talking to her, actually opening up, might help. Not just about the fight. About everything.” Topper tries as Rafe rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, except if I do that, she might actually hate me.”

“It can’t be that bad, dude. Everyone’s got baggage.” Topper says, narrowing his eyes. Rafe leans in closer and drops his voice.

“I cheated on my ex.”

Topper freezes at the confession.

“What?”

“It was a dumb mistake. One I regret every day. But if Y/N finds out...she’s not gonna look at me the same.” Rafe explains while Topper stares, trying to process.

“Damn. I don’t even know what to say. That’s…a lot. But I still think you should talk to her. She’s understanding. She might not get your side, but she’ll listen. That’s gotta be something.”

Rafe exhales slowly and grabs the plate and a glass of orange juice.

“Yeah, I…I’ll try. Thanks, man.”

“Anytime.” Topper gives him a light shoulder tap as Rafe heads toward the bedroom.

He carefully pushes the door open. The room falls quiet. Every girl turns to see who entered. Y/N’s face drops the moment she sees him.

“Ladies.” Rafe offers a small, respectful nod. He makes his way to Y/N and hands her the plate, setting the juice on her nightstand.

“I know you don’t usually eat breakfast ‘cause it makes you nauseous.” He says softly. “But I made you avocado toast. Extra crunchy, just how you like it. And the juice…no pulp.”

The girls blink at him in awe.

“I think I’m in love with you.” Maddy whispers, earning an elbow from Kiara.

Rafe’s eyes never leave Y/N’s. She stares back, stunned, her heart pounding. Sarah nudges her, trying to prompt a response.

Y/N still frozen in place, Sarah reaches over and steals a bite.

“Just gonna…try this.” She announces, chewing dramatically. Y/N finally blinks and shifts her gaze.

“Thank you.” She murmurs. She sets the plate aside and reaches with one arm, offering an awkward hug. Rafe leans in to accept it.

“Anytime.” He whispers, his hand brushing her arm before he pulls away. “I’ll see you later.”

She nods and he walks out without looking back. The moment the door closes, the girls erupt.

“I’m still kinda mad at him.” Cleo admits. “But that was…really sweet.”

“Right?” Kiara nods, glancing at Y/N, who’s still staring at the door. Sarah leans forward.

“So…what are you gonna say to him?” Sarah asks, making Y/N tear her eyes away.

“I think…I want him to apologize. Properly. First.”

“Exactly!” Kiara chimes in, arms crossed. Y/N sighs.

“I like him. A lot. And I know things are moving fast, but what we’ve built already…it’s real. And now I’m stuck between being angry and completely floored that he made me breakfast with everything exactly how I like it.” She groans, rubbing her forehead.

“I’ll marry him myself if you don’t.” Maddy says, making the girls laugh. Abigail looks sheepish.

“Okay, I don’t know the whole situation and I know it’s messy, but...can I have a bite? That looks insane.” She points to the plate. Y/N chuckles and cuts a piece for herself before passing it over. Soon, the plate is in the middle of the bed and all the girls are groaning and moaning over how good it tastes.

“Okay, this toast slaps.” Cleo says, avocado smeared at the corner of her lips.

“Damn you, Rafe Cameron!” Kiara shouts dramatically at the ceiling, sending everyone into laughter.

A little later, the girls are out in their bikinis, lounging around the villa, chatting with the boys and cooling off in the pool. Topper is in the middle of a conversation with Kelce when Y/N strolls past, heading toward the couch where Maddy is painting Kiara’s nails.

Topper lets out a low whistle.

“Y/N?” He calls. She glances over her shoulder, offering a smile and a wave.

“Hey. You boys doing okay?” She asks, sipping from her water bottle. Topper nods, gesturing for her to come over.

“Do you…wanna talk for a minute?” He asks. Y/N glances back at the girls, then shrugs and walks toward the pool steps. Kelce reaches out to steady her as she makes her way down and settles into one of the pool chairs. Carefully, she adjusts her mic to keep it dry and places her bottle on the pool’s edge.

“Everything okay?” She asks, scanning their faces. Topper nods in response.

“Yeah. I just…wanted to check in. How are you holding up?” He asks, crossing his arms curiously.

“What did he tell you?” She smirks, her eyes narrowing slightly, amused.

“Dude, I told you she’d see right through us.” Kelce exclaims, hitting Topper's shoulder while grinning. Y/N gasps dramatically.

“Were you two trying to ambush me right now?”

Topper chuckles, raising his hands in defense.

“No ambush. I just…I hate seeing you both like this. He’s like a brother to me and you’re honestly the sweetest girl here. Watching you guys upset like that over a situation that could easily be fixed. It sucks.”

Y/N drops her gaze to her hands.

“I tried, Top. I really did. And he still pushed me away.”

Topper sighs, exchanging a look with Kelce.

“We know.” Kelce says. “But you two have unreal chemistry. Everyone sees it. Don’t let it go to waste over…whatever this is. You're both being stubborn about it.”

“I’m not being stubborn.” She mutters, crossing her arms. Kelce shrugs.

“Okay, maybe not. But you both care. A lot. And this is not worth losing what you have.”

She leans back with a frustrated sigh.

“I like him.” She murmurs. “And I hate this. All of it. Like…it didn’t have to go down like that. If I hadn’t been so pushy or-or…needy or if he was more open to talking about it, maybe it’d be different.”

Her eyes land on the ring on her finger. She turns it slowly, lost in thought.

Before either of them can answer, a shadow looms behind her, someone approaching. Topper and Kelce glance up, Y/N still unaware, lost in her thoughts.

“Is now a good time to talk?” Rafe's deep voice cuts through the noise, making her stomach twist. She glances at the boys, who smirk like this was part of some master plan. Ignoring them, she looks back at Rafe and gives a small nod.

She stands, grabbing her mic pack and water bottle, then follows him over to one of the couches tucked away from the rest of the group. As they sit, Rafe clears his throat and pulls off his sunglasses, finally meeting her eyes.

“First off…I just want to say I'm sorry.” He begins. “I was acting stupid. Immature.”

She doesn't respond, just stares down at the pillow in her lap.

“Y/N…” His voice falters. “Can you look at me?”

She turns, meets his gaze and exhales slowly.

“I really like you.” He says, softer now. “And I know I messed up. But you’ve gotta understand, my last relationship is…it was tough on me. And I’ve never really talked about it with anyone before and maybe that’s why I handled all of this so badly.”

He pauses, searching her face.

“I’m not saying that makes it okay. I just...I want to move past this. Can we? Can we just try again?”

Her eyes search his face, flickering with hurt, confusion, and something dangerously close to resignation. Then she slowly shakes her head.

“I’m not just going to move on and pretend this didn’t happen.” She says quietly, voice tight but steady.

“I know I pushed about your ex. I get that it’s a sore spot and maybe I shouldn’t have gone there. But, Rafe…” She pauses, the words catching in her throat, “I want you to feel safe with me. I want to be someone you can talk to. Someone you trust.”

“Y/N-”

“Let me finish.” She holds up her manicured hand and he nods, lips pressing into a thin line as he falls silent.

“We’re in here trying to build something real. And real doesn’t mean shutting people out when it gets hard. I was there for you, Rafe. Last night, I was right there trying to understand you and you left me in the dark. And it's not the first time either.”

Rafe exhales, like he was holding his breath the whole time, the weight of guilt visible in the way his shoulders slump.

“I know. I know you were. And I appreciate it. I do. I just…I can’t talk about it. It’s off-limits.”

“You said you wouldn’t shut me out again.” She reminds him and her voice breaks slightly.

“I know.” He says softly. “And I promise I won't do that again."

She looks down at her hands, fidgeting with the strap of her water bottle. She shakes her head, the gesture slow, like the words physically sting.

“How am I supposed to believe you when I don’t even know if you’re being honest with me now?" She asks, obviously hurt. Rafe has no answer. He stares at her like he wishes he could take it all back, but knows he can’t.

“I don’t want to fight.” She whispers. “But I don’t want to feel like I’m the only one fighting for this either.”

She gets up, sighing as she pushes herself off the couch, her voice barely audible now and she starts to walk away.

“I cheated on her.”

Her feet stop mid-step. The words hang in the air like a crack of thunder. Slowly, she turns back, eyebrows drawn tight.

“What?” She asks. Rafe leans forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing at his face. He can’t look at her.

“My ex. I got drunk at a party and ended up in someone else’s bed. I was stupid. I ruined everything. And…fuck, I don’t even remember most of it. But it happened. And I hated myself for it." He finally looks up at her, eyes glassy.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to think less of me. T-to see me as that version of myself. Because I’m not him anymore. I swear I’m not.”

Y/N just stares. Still, silent, stunned.

“Can you please say something?” He asks, voice raw. She blinks, like she’s trying to shake herself out of it.

“What the fuck?”

“Y/N-”

“How could you do that to someone?” She snaps, her voice rising with emotion. “Why?”

“I was messed up. I wasn’t thinking. I’ve done the work, I’ve taken responsibility, but it’s not who I am anymore. I swear.”

He reaches for her hand, but she pulls away like he’s burned her.

“I don’t know what to say.” She whispers. “I just…I need time. I need to process this.”

“Y/N…”

But she’s already turned. And this time, she doesn’t stop.

Rafe stays frozen on the couch, the space she left behind feeling emptier than he thought possible. All that’s left is the echo of her disgust and the ache in his chest where her trust used to be.

Y/N makes her way over to Sarah, who’s chatting with Abigail and Maddy. One look at her and Sarah’s smile drops instantly.

“Hey, hey. What’s going on?” She asks, noticing Y/N’s trembling hands and the shaken look on her face. Y/N sinks into the seat beside them, still clearly reeling.

“We…talked.” She replies, voice low. “He…fuck.” Her fingers thread anxiously through her hair.

“What happened, Y/N/N?” Maddy asks gently, placing a comforting hand on her back.

“He told me about his ex.” She finally says.

“That’s…good, right?” Abigail offers carefully. “I mean, you’ve been wanting him to open up.”

The girls watch her, waiting, unsure.

“He told me…” Y/N pauses, trying to find the words. “He told me he cheated on her.”

Their eyes widen in unison, a heavy silence settling in.

“What?” Sarah blurts, brows furrowing. Y/N just nods.

“Yeah. That was my reaction too.” She says with a bitter laugh.

“Oh my god. What did you say?” Maddy asks, her voice soft with concern.

“I told him I need time to process. He kept saying how much he regrets it, how much he hates himself for it, how he has changed, but…I don’t even know what to think.”

Sarah wraps an arm around her, rubbing her back.

“It’s a lot. You don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

Y/N doesn’t respond, just stares down at the floor, her mind clearly miles away.

“I’m just…I don’t know how to feel about this. Or-or what I should do. I…I am…it’s so confusing.” She leans back into the couch, letting her head fall against the cushion with a frustrated sigh.

The girls exchange glances, quiet and gentle in their support. Maddy offers a soft smile and pats her thigh.

“We’re here, okay?” Sarah says. “Whatever you need.”

Y/N nods faintly, lips pressed into a thin line, still lost in thought.

Later that afternoon, the girls are getting ready upstairs while Rafe, Topper and Kelce are in the bedroom.

“I told her.” Rafe says, pulling a pair of jeans from his closet.

Topper looks up, puzzled. Kelce keeps ironing his shirt, barely reacting.

“Told her what?” Topper asks, reaching for his deodorant.

“About my ex.” Rafe replies. “That I cheated on her.”

Kelce’s head snaps up.

“Wait-what?” He asks, his brows furrowing. Rafe exhales, pulling on his jeans.

“Yeah. That’s why I didn’t say anything last night. I knew it would hit her hard. And the way she looked at me…fuck, man.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Kelce says, staring at him.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Rafe asks as he shoots him a look.

Kelce shakes his head slowly.

“Dude…you should’ve told her from the start. Trust is a huge thing for her. I mean, obviously.”

“Obviously?” Rafe repeats, eyebrows knitting together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kelce turns off the iron, hesitating.

“She didn’t tell you?” He asks. Rafe glances between them, confused.

“Tell me what?”

“I don’t know if it’s my place, but…” Kelce pauses. “Before she and I got together, she was with this guy. Real piece of shit. Untrustworthy as hell. One day, she caught him in her bed with a girl she worked with.”

Rafe freezes, mouth slightly open.

“Shit.” He mutters, rubbing a hand over his buzzed head. “She never told me that. No wonder she was so upset.”

“That, plus being paired with someone who’s done the same thing?” Topper adds and Rafe scoffs.

“I’m not that guy anymore. I told her I regret it. Every bit of it.”

Kelce carefully slips on his shirt so as to not wrinkle it.

“Look, man. Let her have some time. Then talk to her, like really talk. No yelling. No ego. No stubbornness. Just…be honest. Let it be a conversation, not a war.”

Rafe nods slowly, eyes drifting to the bed he’s been sharing with her.

“Yeah.” He murmurs. “I will.”

As the islanders share laughs and drinks, Y/N and Cleo sit by the firepit, able to observe the rest of the group from a distance. JJ is walking on his hands, slowly making his way toward the pool without realizing it. Everyone watches in anticipation, waiting for the inevitable and when he finally topples in with a loud splash, laughter erupts all around. He emerges from the water, yelling and cussing them out as they double over.

Y/N chuckles and turns to Cleo, who’s clearly zoned out. Her eyes glued to Pope, who’s mid push-up competition with Topper. It doesn’t last long though as Pope gives out quickly and Sarah, being the sweetheart she is, immediately goes to comfort him. Y/N snaps her fingers in front of Cleo’s face.

“Girl.” She snaps again, finally catching her attention. Cleo blinks and turns to her.

“Don’t. Please. Don’t start.” Cleo warns.

“Dude.” Y/N pauses. “Just go for it.”

Cleo scoffs and shakes her head.

“He’s into Kiara.” She mutters, adjusting her skirt. Y/N gently grabs her hand, not letting her look away again.

“You’re wasting time by not giving it a chance.” She pauses. “Cleo, you’re so gorgeous and so kind-hearted and smart…it’s…you like him. And I know that may scare you or maybe you're scared of getting rejected, but it doesn’t hurt to try.”

Cleo looks up at her.

“Ho, are you a mind reader or something?” Cleo asks, narrowing her eyes playfully.

Y/N bursts out laughing, giving her a light slap on the thigh.

“I’m just saying…have a chat with him. You’re here to explore connections and hopefully find the right one. Maybe Pope is it.”

Cleo hesitates.

“But… what about Kiara…she-”

“She said she’d talk to him first. I know.” Y/N nods. “But I don’t think you should wait anymore. Plus, you know how Kie feels. It’s not like you’re stepping on anyone’s toes.”

Without warning, Cleo wraps her arms around Y/N in a tight hug, catching her completely off guard.

“I love you, little one.” She mumbles against her shoulder.

“I love you too, C.” Y/N says, hugging her back. Cleo pulls away and stands, adjusting her skirt again.

“Wish me luck.” She says lowly.

“You don’t need it.” Y/N smiles, standing and giving her a little push forward.

Cleo stumbles slightly before making her way toward the beanbags, where Pope is lounging with John B and Sarah.

“Hey.” She says, approaching with a soft smile. Everyone greets her with wide grins.

“Pope, do you…do you mind going for a chat?” She asks, glancing briefly at Sarah, who smirks knowingly.

“Yeah, sure.” Pope says, getting up and dapping John B before following Cleo to the couch under the terrace.

As they sit down, Cleo adjusts her skirt, smoothing the fabric across her legs.

“You look nice, by the way.” Pope says, nodding toward her. “That color really works on you.”

“Thanks. It’s Maddy’s, actually.” She glances down, smiling faintly. He nods.

“Still. It looks good. I mean, you do. I mean, the skirt does too, just…yeah.” He fumbles a little and she lets out a small laugh.

“How’ve you been finding it?” Cleo asks, shifting the conversation. “You know, the whole Love Island experience?”

“Yeah, it’s been good so far?” Pope shrugs and she raises an eyebrow.

“You’re asking me?”

He chuckles at her comment.

“No, no, I mean, yeah. It’s been…interesting.”

Cleo nods.

“What about you?” He asks and she sighs.

“Definitely a rollercoaster. Between the couplings and JJ’s snoring-”

“Oh my god, that's him?” Pope laughs, leaning back. “It's been driving me insane.”

“You’re lucky you’re across the room. I’ve got him snoring right into my ear.”

They both laugh and for a moment, things feel easy.

“I like this.” Cleo says after a beat, her voice softer now. “This?” Pope looks over, brows furrowed slightly.

“You. Us talking like this. You have this…calming energy. I feel like I can just be myself around you.” She swallows. “And I’ve been thinking about it and I just…I’m gonna say it. I’m attracted to you. And I don’t know if you’ve felt anything too, but I wanted to see if maybe there could be…something.”

Pope doesn’t respond right away. He just stares at her, lips parted slightly, blinking like he didn’t expect this.

“Usually this is the part where someone responds.” Cleo lets out a nervous laugh.

“I'm sorry. I just…” Pope finally says, shifting in his seat. “I didn’t really see this coming.”

“Oh.” Her smile falters, just a little.

“Not that…it’s not bad. I just…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “It kind of caught me off guard.”

“Right. Yeah. I get it.” She nods slowly, looking away.

“I’m sorry if that’s…like, if this is weird now.” He adds quickly.

“It’s not weird.” She says, though the words are a little too fast. “It’s fine. I just…wanted to be honest.”

They sit in silence again, but this time it’s stiffer, more uncomfortable. Cleo’s hands fidget in her lap. Pope stares at a spot on the ground.

“I should probably head back to the girls.” Cleo says eventually, standing a little too quickly.

“Yeah. Of course.” Pope says, not quite meeting her eyes.

She gives him a tight smile and walks off, leaving Pope sitting there, still trying to make sense of what just happened.

In the kitchen, Y/N reaches into the fridge for another drink when Ryan strolls up beside her.

“Hey, you.” He says, flashing her a grin and finger guns before immediately shoving his hands behind his back. “Sorry. I get weird around pretty girls.”

She laughs under her breath.

“I’ll let it slide since you called me pretty.” She replies and he clutches his chest like he’s been wounded in the best way.

“You want anything while I’m here?” She nods toward the fridge.

“A chat with you sounds ideal.” He pauses, then adds. “Oh, and maybe a soda? Since you’re offering.”

She blushes, grabbing a can for him along with her own drink, then turns back to him.

“Lead the way.” She says.

Ryan leads her toward a couch tucked at the back of the villa. The same one where she and Rafe had their fight earlier. She hesitates for a beat before following.

“You good?” Ryan asks once they sit. “You keep drifting off on me.”

“Yeah. Just got a lot on my mind.” She blinks, grounding herself. He nods, letting the moment hang.

“This about Rafe?” He asks and her head snaps to him.

“Did he say something?”

Ryan shakes his head.

“No. Just…felt like something was going on.” He replies, making her exhale and nod.

“Good instincts.” She mutters and he smiles.

“My instincts told me to come talk to you, so I’m gonna trust ‘em.” He pauses. “But hey, if you ever wanna talk about it-”

“No.” She cuts in softly. “I wanna get to know you.”

“What do you wanna know?” He nods, settling more comfortably into the couch. She taps her lip, thinking, before her lips turn upright into a playful smirk.

“What’s Sabrina like?” She asks, making both of them chuckle.

“She’s very short. And super sweet.”

“Yeah, I figured.” She chuckles again. “You live in New York, right?” She asks, switching gears.

“Yeah. Been there a few years now. Love it. Really great job opportunities. What about you?”

“I’m from there.”

He pauses.

“No way. That’s a sign.”

They both smile, easing into easy conversation, until her phone buzzes. She glances down and her smile fades.

“Shit.” She mutters. “Guys, I got a text!”

The villa falls quiet as they snap their attention towards her. Rafe looks up from across the yard, eyes locking on Y/N and Ryan sitting way too close for his comfort. His chest tightens.

“‘Islanders, pucker up because tonight you’ll be taking part in the Kissing Challenge. #kissandmakeup #hotandbothered’” She reads the message aloud.

The group erupts in excitement. Y/N shoots Ryan an apologetic look before hurrying off to find the girls.

Across the yard, Topper claps a hand on Rafe’s back with a smirk.

“Well, the text did say kiss and make up.”

Rafe doesn’t respond. His eyes are still locked on her, determined to win her back.

taglist: @cherrygirlfriend @judesgfirl @slickdickwitchbitchh @leather-n-velvet @alinavalentine @littlelamy @nami11 @madiisynnxx @ts1mp0ne @starkeyslibrary @aaronhotchenerswife15 @rafecameronsfavourite @rafesbuzzcutseason @lolharrystylesissexy @nofacenocase00 @k4yr14 @drewslefttoe @tinie03 @angielvsnick @dellevans @malibuhearts @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @harryweeniee @imawhoreforu @fastlovela @jjmaybankmylovee @nemesyaaa @drewsnr1slut @laniirackssss @emotionsmgcbabe @oconnrs @missabsey @cornliastreett @pvyden @italk2god @maybankslover @swagmoneydrew @lerclec @emmaaas-posts @rafecameronxxx @dorcas4meadowes @isabellaxlilah @xoxosblogsblog @bxbychxrry @julesbog @annaaaamichelle @st8rkey @lewispool @silkylovey @heartlesslies

[delilahsturniolo]

✦ HIGH OUT OF YOUR MIND . . .

.ᐟ smut, unprotected sex, smoking joints, sex while high, dirty talk, body worship, oral, (fem!receving) use of pet names, multiple orgasms, praise, boob & clit play, dealer!chris, kissing.

you're in chris's bedroom, the two of you lying on his bed together. you've just smoked a joint for the first time, and the high is starting to set in. chris grins at you, his eyes glazed and heavy-lidded. "feeling good, baby?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.

you nod, a lazy smile spreading across your face. "mmm," you murmur, snuggling closer to him. "i feel really good." chris's hand slides down your body, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts through your shirt. "you look really good too," he says, his voice rough with desire. "so fucking hot."

you shiver at his touch, your body already aching for more. you sit up, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside. you unhook your bra, letting it fall away to reveal your bare breasts. chris licks his lips, his eyes feasting on your exposed flesh. "fuck," he breathes, reaching out to cup your breasts in his hands. "you have the most perfect tits."

you moan softly as he squeezes, your nipples hardening under his touch. you arch into his hands, desperate for more stimulation. "please," you whimper, your voice thick with need. "touch me more."

chris grins, his fingers trailing down your stomach and disappearing beneath the waistband of your jeans. he pops the button open, tugging the zipper down slowly. "lift your hips, baby," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "let me get these off of you."

you do as he says, raising your hips off of the bed as he tugs your jeans down your legs. he tosses them aside, leaving you in nothing but your panties. chris runs his hands up your thighs, his fingers slipping under the hem of your panties. "you're so fucking wet," he growls, his voice strained with desire. "i can feel it through your panties."

you whimper, your hips bucking up to meet his touch. "it's all for you," you pant, your eyes locked on his. "i'm always wet for you." chris smirks, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties and tugging them down slowly. "i know," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin as he leans in to press a kiss to your mound. "and i love it."

you cry out, your head falling back against the pillow as he licks a slow stripe up your slit. "oh fuck," you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair. "that feels so good." chris grins against your flesh, his tongue delving deeper to taste your essence. he laps at your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth as he teases you closer to the edge.

you moan loudly, your body tensing as you near your peak. "oh god," you pant, your hips thrusting up to meet his mouth. "i'm—i’m gonna cum.." with a final swipe of his tongue, you come undone, your body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. chris continues to lap at you, drinking down every drop of your release until you're completely spent.

he kisses his way back up your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "you taste so fucking good," he murmurs, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. you can taste yourself on his tongue, you moan into his mouth, your hands roaming over his chest and back. "i need you inside me," you whimper, your voice desperate with desire. "please, chris. fuck me."

chris grins, reaching down to undo his jeans and tug them off. he kicks them aside, leaving him naked and hard before you. "you want my cock, baby?" he asks, his voice low and rough. "you want me to fill this tight little pussy?"

you nod frantically, spreading your legs wide in invitation. "yes," you pant, reaching for him. "please, chris. give it to me." chris positions himself between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance.

with that, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt in one swift motion. you cry out, your back arching off of the bed as he stretches you wide. "fuck," you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders. "you feel so good inside me."

chris starts to move, his hips snapping forward as he pounds into you hard and fast. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper as you meet his thrusts. "harder," you pant, your head thrown back in ecstasy, the joint you smoked only added to your pleasure. "fuck me harder, chris."

chris obliges, slamming into you with all of his strength. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and cries of pleasure. "you're mine," he growls again, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "this pussy belongs to me."

"yes," you whimper, your body tensing as you near another peak. "it's yours. all yours." chris reaches between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. "cum for me," he demands, his voice harsh with need. "cum on my cock."

with a few more strokes, you come undone again, your body shaking as your orgasm crashes over you. chris follows soon after, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his hot seed. he collapses on top of you, both of you panting and spent from the intense session. "fuck," he breathes, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "that was incredible."

you smile lazily, nuzzling into his neck. "mmm," you murmur, your body still tingling from the aftershocks of your release. "you're incredible." chris grins, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms. "you're not so bad yourself," he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. you giggle, reaching for the joint on the nightstand, taking a long drag before passing it to him. “yo, you needa chill with that, you’re already high out of your mind.” chris chuckles, practically snatching it away from you.

© delilahsturniolo

💌: late night post mwuahh

[snottyped]

roommates rut

werewolf x female reader

It started with him avoiding eye contact.

You’d been living together for months without issue—mostly chill, occasionally flirty, never serious. He was big, warm, annoyingly hot in that messy-hair, heavy-lidded, always-shirtless kind of way. You teased him for how much meat he ate, the way he slept with the window open even in the dead of winter, how he always seemed restless.

You never asked about the wolf thing. It felt… impolite.

But this week? He was different. Quieter. Snappier. Like he was holding something back. His muscles were more tense, his jaw tight. He wouldn’t stay in the same room with you for long. Every time you moved past him, you could feel his eyes on you—and not in the usual “roommate checking out your ass” kind of way. It was deeper. Hungrier.

Then, on Tuesday night, he finally said it.

You were sitting at the counter, scrolling your phone, halfway through a tub of ice cream, when he walked in shirtless and flushed, sweat gleaming across his chest. His hair was damp, like he’d just showered, but his skin still shimmered with heat. He opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and then just stood there—shoulders rising and falling too fast.

“…I’m going into rut,” he muttered, like it hurt to say the words. “This week. Maybe tonight.”

You blinked, barely looking up. “Okay?”

He tensed. You could feel it even from across the room.

“I just thought you should know.”

You snorted. “You say that like I’m supposed to lock my door or something.”

A long silence.

He closed the fridge, didn’t move. “Might be smart.”

That made you look at him. Really look. His eyes were dark, hooded, and very, very pointedly not on your face. There was something barely contained in his posture—like if he moved the wrong way, he’d snap.

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I’ll stay in my room.” His voice was rough. “Just don’t… don’t walk around in those little shorts. Or your towel. Or anything that smells like you.”

“…So I should just stop existing?”

His jaw clenched. He looked like he wanted to say something else—maybe beg. Maybe warn you harder. But instead he just growled under his breath and stalked off, leaving a trail of heat and tension in his wake.

You should’ve taken the hint.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. The air in the apartment felt thick, humid, like the walls were sweating. You kicked off your blanket and rolled over, but then you heard it.

A creak. A low groan. The rhythmic thud of a mattress rocking too hard. A muffled curse.

You slipped out of bed, heart thudding, and cracked your door open. The hallway was dark, lit only by the faint glow under his door—and the sounds. Wet, fast, desperate. His breath coming in ragged gasps. The broken snarl of his voice.

“Fuck… fuck, just need something tight…”

You froze, breath caught in your throat.

He let out a whine, low and rough, followed by the unmistakable slap slap slap of skin against something soft. You didn’t need to guess what. The whole apartment reeked of sweat, heat, sex. And underneath it all, faint but familiar, you could smell yourself—your shampoo, your laundry, your skin.

You knew you should walk away. Go back to bed. But you didn’t.

The next night, it was worse. Louder. Wetter. Like he wasn’t even trying to hold back anymore. You pressed your pillow over your head, but it didn’t help. You could hear everything. Every needy growl, every slap of flesh, every low, hungry moan. You were flushed and squirming under the sheets before you even realized your hand had slid between your legs.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That it was just curiosity. Shared space, thin walls. Nothing more.

But when he cornered you in the hallway the next night—bare-chested, sweat dripping from his neck, pupils blown wide—you knew something had shifted.

His breathing was shallow. His body radiated heat. And his voice, when he spoke, was barely human.

“I can’t—can’t do this anymore,” he rasped, stepping closer. “You smell too good. I need you. Please.”

Your mouth went dry. Your heart kicked hard in your chest. He was huge, trembling with restraint, and every cell in your body lit up with want.

You could’ve said no.

But you didn’t.

You grabbed his shirt, yanked him closer, and whispered, “Then take me.”

He didn’t kiss you at first.

He slammed you against the wall.

His hands gripped your hips like he didn’t trust himself—like if he touched you any rougher, he’d break you. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged and burning as it ghosted across your lips.

“I’ve been fighting it,” he choked. “Three fucking days. Every time you walk past me, every time you laugh, every time you wear that goddamn skirt—”

You tugged his head down, dragging your mouth to his. “Then stop fighting.”

That was all it took.

He crashed into you, mouth hot and greedy, devouring you like he was starving. His tongue pushed past your lips with a low growl, and you moaned into him, fingers fisting in his hair. He kissed like he fucked—rough, consuming, no room to breathe. His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered, voice low and dark.

You obeyed.

He carried you to his room in a blur—slammed the door, shoved aside everything in his path, and threw you down on his bed like a prize. The sheets were soaked with his scent, still warm from earlier. The air was thick, humid, dizzying.

You barely had time to think before he was on top of you again—hands tearing at your clothes, mouth everywhere at once. He pressed his nose to your throat and groaned, breathing you in like oxygen.

“Smell even better up close,” he rasped. “So fucking sweet… drives me insane.”

His teeth grazed your neck, not quite biting—but close. Teasing. A warning.

Your shirt was gone, then your underwear, ripped down your legs with a snarl. He was frantic, panting, barely holding himself back. His eyes burned gold in the low light, his pupils wide and wild.

“You sure?” he growled, even as his hands slid between your thighs.

You nodded, breathless. “Yes—fuck, yes.”

He didn’t waste another second.

He leaned down and dragged his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste like it was the first real relief he’d had in days. You cried out, hips jerking, and he pinned you down harder, his grip bruising. His mouth was everywhere—tongue plunging deep, nose grinding against your clit, licking and sucking like a man possessed.

Your thighs shook around his head. “Shit—wait, I—I’m gonna—”

He didn’t stop. If anything, he went harder.

You came hard and fast, gasping his name, hips bucking against his mouth as your orgasm crashed over you like a wave. He groaned into your cunt, licking you through it, drinking down everything you gave him.

When he pulled back, his mouth was wet, chin slick, eyes glassy with lust. He looked feral.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you,” he growled. “Need to feel you. Gonna fill you up, knot you so deep—”

He stripped what was left of his clothes in seconds, and your breath caught at the sight of him. He was huge—thick, flushed, already leaking—and at the base of his cock, you could see the swell of his knot, already beginning to form.

“Jesus,” you breathed. “That’s not gonna fit.”

“It will,” he said darkly, crawling over you. “It has to.”

He lined himself up, ran the head of his cock through your soaked folds, and moaned low in his throat. “So wet already… your body knows. It wants this.”

You didn’t deny it. You couldn’t.

“Hurry.”

He pushed in slow—just the tip—and your breath caught at the stretch. He was thick, and every inch felt like too much and not enough all at once. You dug your nails into his arms, moaning as he inched deeper, watching your face the whole time.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Take me. Let me fuck you through it.”

You whimpered as he bottomed out, his hips finally flush with yours, the base of his knot grinding against your entrance. The feeling of him inside you—hot, heavy, overwhelming—made your whole body tremble.

And then he moved.

Slow at first. Deep. Grinding his hips into yours with slow, brutal thrusts that made your breath hitch every time he hit that sweet, aching spot inside you.

“So tight,” he growled, voice slurred with heat. “So warm around me—fuck, you’re perfect.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, moaning into his neck. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

He picked up the pace, hips snapping faster, the slap of skin on skin getting louder, filthier. The wet sounds of your bodies colliding filled the room, slick and obscene, and you couldn’t stop moaning. Couldn’t think.

Your legs shook. Your body burned. You were stretched and stuffed and ruined and it still wasn’t enough.

You needed more.

He was pounding into you now—fast, hard, deep—his growls vibrating against your throat as your hips rocked up to meet every thrust.

“Fuck, fuck—you feel so good,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “So wet… you’re sucking me in.”

Your legs were wrapped tight around his waist, clinging to him like a lifeline. You could feel every inch of him—his thick cock sliding deep inside you, the swollen base of his knot grinding harder and harder against your entrance with every stroke.

You cried out, nails raking down his back. “You’re—ah!—gonna knot me—!”

“Yeah,” he snarled. “You ready for it, sweetheart? Gonna let me lock you up? Fill you till you’re dripping?”

You couldn’t even speak. Just nodded frantically, choking on your moans, your body trembling from the stretch and the heat and the pressure building, building—

Then his hips slammed forward—brutal and deep—and the thick ridge of his knot pressed hard against your cunt, stretching you impossibly wide.

You moaned.

It burned, that raw, overwhelming pressure of him trying to push deeper, your pussy clenching tight around his cock as your body fought it—and then gave in.

With a slick, wet pop, his knot slid inside.

“Shit—!” he growled, voice cracking as his hips stuttered. “That’s it, that’s—fuck—!”

Your body arched. You were full—so full you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The knot locked you together, pulsing deep inside, sealing him in as your cunt fluttered helplessly around him. You came again, hard, clenching tight around the thickness as you cried out, legs trembling.

He held still, buried to the hilt, his arms locked around you like a cage. You could feel his cock throbbing, feel the rush of heat as he spilled inside—hot and thick and so much, your belly aching from it.

“Mine,” he growled, panting against your neck. “All fucking mine now.”

You whimpered, voice gone, throat raw from moaning. Every little twitch of your hips made the knot drag against your walls, sent a fresh wave of overstimulation crashing through your core.

His hand slid between your legs, fingers rubbing your clit in lazy, tight circles.

“Still shaking?” he murmured. “Still hungry for more?”

You gasped, squirming. “I—I can’t—”

“Yes you can.” He kissed the corner of your mouth, slow and sticky-sweet. “You’re taking it so well. You were made to be knotted, weren’t you? Fucking bred for it.”

Your cunt clenched around him hard, and he grinned, feral.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “There it is.”

You buried your face in his neck, body twitching as another orgasm rolled over you—smaller this time, but no less intense. Just the stretch, the fullness, the locked sensation of being tied to him had your nerves singing, pleasure raw and messy in your belly.

You could feel his cum leaking out, hot and thick, dripping down your ass even with the knot sealing most of it inside.

“Fuck…” you slurred. “I feel like I’m gonna burst.”

He chuckled darkly, brushing sweat-matted hair from your face. “You’re doing perfect. You’re not going anywhere now.”

You whimpered, hips twitching helplessly.

He rocked into you again—slow this time, shallow little pulses of his hips that made you whine, your body too sensitive to handle it.

And he was still hard.

Still inside.

Still not done.

“I’ll give you a break,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “But just know… we’re not finished. My rut’s just getting started.”

You shivered beneath him, overwhelmed, overstretched, and somehow still wanting.

Still his.

Still full.

And knotted tight.

part two

[letsgobarbs]

You don't understand how giddy i felt starting this. like tummy fluttering, wide grin on my face.

It was a subconscious declaration of affection from Jack, spoken into his glass as he took a sip of beer. 

giggling, blushing, twirling my hair, kicking my feet <33

“Nothing defines a man like love that makes him soft.” Robby smiled as he said it. He knew Jack would give him a hard time for saying something so introspectively cheesy, but he also knew it would resonate with him whether Jack chose to admit it or not. 

HE SAID THE LINE!!! he listens to some music i see lmfao

Soothing with a gentle glimmer of energy, your voice flooded the room in mellow twilight and shimmering stars, hitting Jack’s ears in a way that instantly made his face heat up.

oh he's in love love....

Thank god his voice didn’t betray him. His words came out clear and concise, despite the fluttering in his chest at your body right next to his.

foaming at the mouth. need him so down bad. And yeah he'd keep his voice real low and gruff too. heehee i love how down bad he is.

He really loved your laugh. In fact, he went out of his way to make jokes just to hear it. It was soft, but rich. The kind of distinctive, infectious sound you could hear in a crowded room ten years later and know exactly who it belonged to. 

🫠🫠🫠

im so—

The subtle excitement of your accessories matched the bright charisma you brought into the building every time you walked through the doors. You appeared every morning like his own personal ray of sunshine, equipped with an irresistible laugh, sweet smile, and lime green socks. 

CUTE CUTE CUTE

i love jack abbot, i love him in love, inject this shit into my veins

“Your heart rate is just really high.” 

Hehehehehehe don't even worry about it

“Or adrenaline or something… I’ll be fine.” He didn’t look away as he continued explaining the reason for his quickening pulse. You found it slightly unnerving, and undeniably endearing as he kept his eyes fixed on yours for far too long. His words began to trail quietly, slowly losing their robust momentum. 

giggling lmfao

“Still not done in here?” Robby came barreling into the room. His presence was loud and boisterous compared to the sheepish exchange taking place between you and Jack.

BOOOOOOOOOO COCK BLOCK COCK BLOCK COCK BLOCK

~

Thank you for feeding my jack abbot obsession, i hope you know i will be hounding you for a part 2 where the confess and kith 👉👈 this was amazing and beautiful and so cutie patootie i loved it

soft

jack abbot x female reader

summary: jack gets injured on his shift and you’re there to help him get stitched up, making it impossible for him to ignore the soft side you bring out in him— especially when it makes his heart rate jump alarmingly high.

content: just a whole lot of fluff, reader is a resident on robby’s shift and jack has a capital c crush, i’m talking down astronomically bad, cursing, lots of cheesy banter between robby and jack bc i couldn’t help myself, reader is described to be upbeat and positive, very sunshine x grump coded, also the reader wears bright colors and patterns from time to time [sorry if that’s not your jam it just has to be that way for the plot, you get it], mentions of a brief altercation, mentions of blood and stitches, bad medical terminology [don’t yell at me i tried my best]

word count: 3.5k

author’s note: ok so hi this is my submission for the A DOCTOR A DAY event! but it's also a request from the lovely and talented @letsgobarbs so I thought I'd put them together and make this bad boy. thank you loops for the extraordinary idea, and thank you to my lovely babies, @clubsoft @ananonymousaffair and @letsgobarbs for putting on such an incredible little event! very very excited to see all the entires! my assigned dialogue was, “nothing defines a man like love that makes him soft.” and the color i got was green!

A reoccurring psych patient, and an elbow straight to the eye, landed Jack a seat in his own emergency department.

“I’m fine,” his voice came out with a twinge of annoyance, and a profusion of frustration as he side-eyed Robby from across the room.

But he was indeed, not fine. He was annoyed— borderline livid— at the current situation.

He should be on his way home, not sitting in an open treatment room with blood trickling down the side of his face.

It was completely unintentional, just an unstable patient throwing limbs in an effort to avoid an IV. What he thought would be his last case of the day, was now the reason for his friend making jokes at his expense, while Jack waited to get his brow sutured up so he could finally go home. 

“Yeah Okay. Whatever you wanna tell yourself.” Robby’s voice filled the room as he gathered supplies for the simple procedure.

“If Gloria found out you got a work related injury and walked out of those doors without somebody clearing you— on my shift? She’d have my neck.”

“Whatever, just make it fast.” 

All Jack could think about was how last night’s shift felt like the longest one he’d worked in a while. Taking a hit straight to the face was just the cherry on top of a dreadful night. The comfort of his bed was starting to look unbelievably far away as his presence at the hospital persisted long after it was supposed to.

“What’s the rush? You got a hot date I don’t know about?” Robby’s expression was a little too amused for Jack’s taste, as he placed a pulse oximeter on his finger.

“Yeah actually, her name is a breakfast bagel from Cal’s and 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep.” Jack stared down at the contraption sitting on his pointer finger, almost chuckling to himself at Robby’s commitment to care.

“A pulse ox? You’re really serious about this whole Gloria thing huh?”

“Yeah she’s been on my ass lately. Plus you got hit pretty hard, gotta make sure you don’t go down on us. Your risk for a heart attack is only going up with your age.” The smug curl of Robby’s lips as he pulled at the latex of his glove, made Jack instinctively roll his eyes.

Before Robby could start stitching, Dana’s voice carried into the room as she passed by the open door, “Robby, we’ve got a motorcyclist coming in. Multiple open fractures, severe blood loss with trauma to the head, and a possible pneumothorax, about 3 minutes out.” 

Robby shot Jack a knowing look as if to say, sorry buddy, duty calls.

“Oh c’mon, you’ve got this in three minutes.” Jack was desperate to get out of the hospital and on his way home. He was right, they both knew Robby was more than capable of lacing up two or three quick stitches before he was needed on the incoming trauma.

“As much as I would love to sit here and miss potentially the best case of my day to be ridiculed by you, I’m gonna have to make your fucked up eyebrow somebody else’s problem. Don’t worry, I’ll leave you in good hands.”

The sudden smirk Robby shot his way, had confusion clouding Jack’s mind. It wasn’t until the smug attending was calling out your name, that Jack understood the motive behind Robby’s words.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me.” The murmured annoyance from Jack’s lips sent Robby chuckling.

The laugh was no doubt caused by the memory of a shared confession over a couple of beers not more than three weeks ago.

Jack and Robby went out for drinks on their day off. It was a regular occurrence, but that specific night was a little different, because that night, Jack let it slip that he thought you were pretty. 

The men were sat side by side at the bar, recounting some of their best cases of the week, when Robby brought up your impressive intubation record.

Jack’s comment on your abilities had Robby stunned into a quick moment of silence.

“Pretty and she knows how to clear an airway.”

It was a subconscious declaration of affection from Jack, spoken into his glass as he took a sip of beer. 

A meek confession that Robby clung to, because he’d always noticed it— the way Jack’s stare lingered a little too long on you in those fleeting minutes when your shifts overlapped.

It was impossible for him to miss his friend’s not-so-subtle flirting when you were around. He’d been patient, waiting for Jack to bring it up first.

“Just your type.”

Robby’s words met Jack in the same way, stumbling off his lips and into his glass before taking a swig.

You were one of Robby’s residents. One of his favorites actually. A phenomenal doctor, always one step ahead of everyone else and charting your own course without having to be told what to do, it made Robby’s life a whole lot easier. What didn’t make Robby’s life easier? Watching his best friend dance around his undeniable attraction to you. He knew better than anyone that Jack had been out of the game for a while.

In fact, he hadn’t seen him show interest in anyone until you came along. Over the three months of shy smiles and round-about compliments paid to each other in passing, you and Jack's interactions had become impossible for Robby to ignore. He'd even tried bringing them up multiple times to see if Jack would admit to having a crush on you, only for him to jokingly brush it off every time.

“You could ask her out, you know?” Robby kept nursing his drink, trying to look nonchalant because the moment he put too much attention on the topic, he knew Jack would shut it down. 

“Yeah, we’re not doing this.”

And there it was, right on cue. Shut it down, and brush it off, like he did every time.

“Oh come on Jack. She’s great, you’re great, I see the way your demeanor changes when she's around.”

“Oh does it now?” Deciding to indulge in Robby’s incessant need to meddle in his lovelife, Jack fed into his friend’s accusation with raised brows and chuckle on his lips. 

“Yeah you get a little softer.”

“And, what makes you think I’m not just tired after a long night of people griping at me.”

Robby let a brief blanket of silence fall over the two of them before adding one final thought to the conversation.

“Nothing defines a man like love that makes him soft.” Robby smiled as he said it. He knew Jack would give him a hard time for saying something so introspectively cheesy, but he also knew it would resonate with him whether Jack chose to admit it or not. 

“I’m sorry?” Jack nearly choked on his IPA at the abnormally poetic words leaving Robby’s mouth. 

“Did you just pull that right out of your ass or what?” He was giving Robby a hard time, but couldn’t deny the truth hiding in the statement. 

That night he went home and lost more sleep than usual thinking about you— playing out past conversations over and over again in his mind, just to hear you say his name, or to see the captivating curve of your lips. The visions kept him up, even if it was just glimpses of you in his memory.

Robby didn't bring up Jack's comment about you after that night.

A few lingering stares and silent chuckles slipped from him when he watched the two of you interact, but he decided against bringing up that specific conversation. He knew Jack would just dismiss him, and keep to his stubborn reservations when it came to you, so he didn't push. 

This was the first time Robby took a chance, venturing into the territory of Jack’s confessed feelings. The timing was impeccable, with him needing to find someone else to do Jack’s sutures. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to force the two of you to be alone in a room together. 

“What can I say? I like watching you squirm,” a low giggle remained on his lips as Robby aimed his words at Jack, just before you appeared in the doorway.

“Hey, what’s going on?” 

Soothing with a gentle glimmer of energy, your voice flooded the room in mellow twilight and shimmering stars, hitting Jack’s ears in a way that instantly made his face heat up.

“Dr. Abbot here, took an elbow straight to the face first thing this morning. I was gonna stitch it up, but they need me on the incoming trauma.” Robby barely looked your direction as he spoke, but Jack couldn’t take his eyes off you, only a few feet from him, watching from the doorframe.

“Think you can handle it?” Robby glanced over at you as he joked, a grin stretching across his face.

“I’ve got it covered, boss.” You matched his playful tone, and the whimsical change of your voice made Jack’s eyes divert to the ceiling because— fuck Robby for doing this to him. 

“Make sure to keep an eye on his vitals, he took a pretty hard hit.” Robby’s voice carried from down the hall as he walked out of the room, leaving you and Jack alone.

You took to the space in front of Jack. 

Your body slid so effortlessly next to him, that he had to fight not to adjust his position under the sudden nervousness of having you so close. 

Drawing a quiet breath at the feeling of your thigh resting next to his, he sat still on the edge of the cot. You were on his right side, your left leg gently pressed against him as you leaned closer toward his body to get a good look at his face.

“Damn that’s bad. Someone really had it out for you this morning, huh?” Your fingertips barely touched his temple as you examined his forehead. An audible swallow pushed down his throat at the contact.

He didn’t know what was more embarrassing, his body’s immediate response to your touch, or the fact that he’d nearly been taken out by a patient, and you were the one witnessing him in such a vulnerable position. 

“Yeah well, he had a really effective defense response. I'll give him that.”

Thank god his voice didn’t betray him. His words came out clear and concise, despite the fluttering in his chest at your body right next to his.

Then you laughed. 

He really loved your laugh. In fact, he went out of his way to make jokes just to hear it. It was soft, but rich. The kind of distinctive, infectious sound you could hear in a crowded room ten years later and know exactly who it belonged to. 

“Well, I’m sorry you had to be on the receiving end of it.”

The laughter fizzled from your voice and was replaced with genuine concern as you cleaned his brow. The gentle passes of gauze against his forehead made his mouth go dry, only because he knew it was your fingertips behind the motion.

“Somebody’s gotta take one for the team.” His response was quick as he focused on the words leaving his mouth, trying not to think about the way your hands were working so carefully to take care of him.

Your presence made him nervous enough, but your touch? He couldn’t get a handle on the distraction of your fingers on his skin, even if there was a veil of latex and gauze in between.

You bent further forward into his body, the warmth of your thigh pressing harder against his as your hands carefully angled his head where you needed it, fingertips underneath his jaw, and at his temple. He forced his stare to the floor out of fear that looking into your eyes would send him straight into cardiac arrest.

Looking down at your shoes, he memorized the pattern of your laces to keep himself from thinking about the mildly intoxicating scent radiating from your body. He’d never been this close to you before— close enough to get a whiff of something fresh and so distinctively you.

Maybe it was your shampoo, or laundry detergent? Perfume perhaps?

Shoes. Back to your shoes. It was the same pair of white sneakers you wore most days, but the green socks peeking out at your ankles made him grin. A subtle smile that he was sure you wouldn’t notice as you prepared a needle at your fingertips. 

You always wore a pop of color, something to bring your own personal style into the doldrum of the ER.

It was something he shouldn’t have noticed; the patterned shirts you sometimes wore under your scrub top, the red hair tie you left on your wrist every so often, the memorable collection of colorful socks you constantly sported with your tennis shoes…

The subtle excitement of your accessories matched the bright charisma you brought into the building every time you walked through the doors. You appeared every morning like his own personal ray of sunshine, equipped with an irresistible laugh, sweet smile, and lime green socks. 

“Are you feeling okay?” His sock induced trance was broken at the sound of your voice— abrupt and concerned.

“Yeah, I’m good.” His eyes peered up only to notice your stare fixed on the pulse ox resting on his finger.

He almost forgot about it entirely, busy with the distraction of your proximity taking over his entire being.

“Your heart rate is just really high.” 

Of course it was. 

His heart was nearly beating out of his chest from the moment Robby called out your name earlier. 

“I’m fine.” He tried to move his hand further from your view, hoping to brush it under the rug, and get a move on with the mortifying interaction. 

“Are you sure? If he hit you hard enough to break skin maybe-”

“I promise. I’m fine.” He pulled out a tone in his voice that people usually didn’t argue with. It was a deep, commanding timbre that he had perfected over the years. It came in handy when he had an especially combative patient, or in this case an extremely beautiful woman hounding him for an incredibly humiliating confession as to why he couldn’t get a grip on his bodily reaction to her presence. 

“Whatever you say, Dr. Abbot.” Finally giving up the fight, you let a spirited air back into your words. Jokingly dismissing your concern, and trading it in for weary trust as you let him convince you that he was okay despite his alarmingly high heart rate. 

“But if you go AFib on me…” 

“I won’t,” his voice still held the same robust sound as he looked you straight in the eyes.

“Just stress.” He looked at you as he spoke, and the desperation in his eyes contradicting the tone of his voice.

His stare was tender, and almost pleading while his words spread through the room, sturdy and sure. 

“Or adrenaline or something… I’ll be fine.” He didn’t look away as he continued explaining the reason for his quickening pulse. You found it slightly unnerving, and undeniably endearing as he kept his eyes fixed on yours for far too long. His words began to trail quietly, slowly losing their robust momentum. 

Jack was in a complete daze. He made the mistake of looking up into your eyes, and now he was stuck, getting lost in the all too familiar color, illuminated by the concentration in your gentle stare. He was enamored.

“Well I’ll be quick so you can get out of here.” You reached down to grab some supplies before bringing your hands back up to Jack’s face, finally starting to suture his brow. 

“Although I’m sure Robby would’ve been done by now.” Your eyes zoned in on his injury, while Jack’s stare stayed trained on your face. 

“Eh, I’m glad you’re here and not him.” His voice was amiable and subdued, dripping with a delicate sound you’d never heard from him before. 

“Why’s that?” Still watching the careful work of the needle threading at his forehead, your eyes narrowed in focus, as the question formed on your lips.

“I’d have to deal with his smartass jokes. Plus, he’s too perky in the mornings.”

“And I’m not?”

He wanted to laugh at your question. Of course you weren’t too perky in the mornings. You weren’t too anything. You were perfect. 

“I don’t mind it when you are.” Your movements paused for a split second when the words left his mouth in that same strange, fragile tone.

You could feel his eyes watching- peering up, as you tried your best to keep your attention on your hands.

He felt you stop, internally panicking that he’d said something wrong, he kept talking. 

“I just- you’re different.” The words stumbled out, losing a bit of their fragility as they tripped over each other in an effort to reassure you. 

Your brows furrowed slightly at the word and Jack was convinced he’d just dug a deeper hole to bury himself in. 

“Different?” The one word question left your lips as they struggled to withhold a smile. 

You were amused at the way Jack was fumbling over his words.

It was rare to catch him in such a flustered state. You chalked it up to the fresh wound he’d just received, and his abnormally high heart rate that he really should be paying more attention to. 

“Pleasant.” 

Then you stopped. Longer this time. It must’ve been at least 30 seconds that your fingers paused their threading, as you glanced down at the pulse ox between sutures. Sure enough his heart was racing again.

110 bpm.

You would be concerned about his inevitable descent into a questionable cardiac rhythm if it weren’t for the way his eyes were fixed on yours. His stare was so deliberate, you could feel your own pulse quickening underneath the growing heat of your skin. 

“Pleasant? How so?”

112 bpm.

“You just have this way of making everyone happy. It’s subtle. You’re always smiling and positive, but it’s never performative, it’s just who you are.”

A warmth spreads through your body at the compliment, rolling like waves as each of his words washed over you, completely enveloping you in a state of coy flattery. 

“You’re just easy to be around.” 

The heat threatened to reach your face, as he continued talking. His words were nearly a whisper with his voice floating up to you, low and smooth. 

“I like being around you.” 

115 bpm.

You open your mouth before you’ve even decided how you want to respond to Jack’s innocent confession, then unexpectedly, a voice that’s not yours fills the room.

“Still not done in here?” Robby came barreling into the room. His presence was loud and boisterous compared to the sheepish exchange taking place between you and Jack.

He stopped a few feet into the room. Seeing your body so close to Jack’s, with your hands still working at the injury on his forehead, and your eyes locked on each other, seemed to make him apprehensive about continuing into the room, like he was interrupting something.

“Jesus, let the man go home.” His chuckle echoed around you as he decided to come closer, inspecting your work. 

“That was fast. What happened to that being the best case of your day?” Jack piped up from underneath your touch. He was careful not to move his head as he aimed his question at Robby, eyes averting to the man standing next to you. 

“Yeah, it went south pretty quick.” Robby’s voice finally found a level close to silence, as he watched in concentration while you tied off the last stitch. 

“You need some help there? I could send in one of the medical students-” He joked looking over at you. He knew you were quick. The way you were taking your time, being overly methodical with Jack, was out of character for you. 

“Very funny. I’m done.” You softly glared over at Robby as you took a step back, pulling your gloves off.

“See what I mean about the smartass jokes?” Jack’s eyes were on you, still holding a lingering softness from your unfinished conversation just moments prior. 

“Oh so I leave you two alone for a few minutes and you just use it to talk bad about me?” Pretending to be offended, Robby scoffed at the notion of you two discussing his comedic timing, watching as you and Jack just stared at one another.

“Something like that.”

Your response was hidden behind a smile while you and Jack stayed submerged in a brief moment of smitten eye contact and unquestionable curiosity, before you made your way to the open door.

“I’m gonna get back out there. Try not to take anymore elbows to the face Dr. Abbot,” You joked before taking a single step into the hallway, turning your back for a split second to look at him one last time.

“and I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

With that, you were already halfway down the hall, onto the next patient.

Robby stared at Jack with a goofy smile forming on his mouth as your absence left the room silent.

“Don’t.”

The single word snapped from Jack as he brushed past Robby, leaving the room before he could be hit with his friend’s smug confrontation.

He left for the day, but not before stopping by the triage desk on his way out, purposefully walking past you just to get one last glimpse of your smile for the day.

the pitt masterlist

[jobean12-blog]

Midnight Confessions

Light SPOILERS ahead!!!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: A late night gives you the opportunity to flirt with Bucky and the next night he comes right back for more.

Author's Note: There are some Thunderbolts spoilers here- none really story related so much but more character driven. So reader BEWARE :D I had fun writing all the ridiculous dialogue in the beginning and it's a bit chaotic but I hope it makes you smile! Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: fun and fluff, flirtiness, tension, sweetness

You set the timer and place it on the counter, leaning back with a sigh. While it seems everyone else in the tower is asleep, you’re as wide awake as the bustling city below. This is the second batch of cookies you’ve made this week, but no one seems to be complaining.

After contemplating something on the TV you decide instead to read, hoping it will make you sleepy.

No such luck and just as you’re starting the next chapter you see a dark shadow at the entrance of the kitchen, you’re body stiffening.

“It’s just me doll.”

At the sound of Bucky’s voice, you instantly relax.

“Jeez you’re quiet,” you whisper.

He chuckles lightly and steps into the kitchen. His hair is slightly mussed as if he’s been running a hand through it and his tee shirt clings to the broad lines of his chest and toned biceps. With a hard swallow you let your eyes drop lower, to the way his pants sit low on his waist but still hug his thighs.

“Can’t sleep?” you squeak out, dragging your gaze back to his face.

He shakes his head no and moves closer, revealing a surprise. The guinea pig Yelena rescued from the lab sits atop his left shoulder, tucked close to his neck and partially hidden by his hair.

You sit up with a gasp and rush over to him, cooing quietly and without a word plucking the piglet from his shoulder.

“What are you doing up?” you ask the guinea pig in a sweet voice.

“I probably should have let him sleep but as soon as I made noise he started squeakin’.”

You look up at Bucky and notice his soft expression as he watches you with the guinea pig.

“It’s a boy?” you ask.

“Actually, I don’t know,” he replies.

“Hmm,” you say as you pet it’s soft fur. “I bet it’s a girl.”

“That works too,” he smiles. “Are you making cookies?”

“I am…they should be out…,” and you walk over to the timer, “in three minutes.”

“Great doll. I could use a snack!” He slowly rubs his stomach as he stretches, revealing the dark trail of hair that disappears enticingly into his sweats.

The guinea pig squeaks and draws your attention away before he catches you staring.

“She needs a name,” you state as you cradle her in your arm.

Bucky is silent for a moment before he blurts out, “Cookie.”

“That’s cute,” you giggle, “but I think you’re just hungry.”

He doesn’t disagree and keeps thinking.

“She’s brown and white so…BACON!”

You stop petting the piglet and narrow your eyes at Bucky.

He holds his hands up in surrender, but you can see the way his eyes crinkle at the corners as he tries to hold back a smile.

“Are you going to wash the dishes?”

Bob’s voice is so low you almost don’t hear it but Bucky spins around at the sound.

“Bob!” both you and Bucky exclaim.

“What’s going on in here?” Bob asks as he looks between you and Bucky.

“We can’t sleep, and I made cookies,” you explain.

“And we’re trying to give the guinea pig a name,” Bucky adds.

“Ok,” Bob says. “I’m going to wash the dishes.”

“Do you want help?” you ask him. “I can dry the bowls.”

“Sure,” Bob says.

You hand the guinea pig back to Bucky. “Don’t get comfy. I want her back when I’m done.”

“Anything you want doll,” he says with a wink.

“How about Piglet?” Bob chimes from the sink.

“Like in Winnie the Pooh?” you ask as you slide up next to him and take the first bowl to dry it.

“Yeah…she’s kinda tiny…,” Bob says.

“So, you think she’s a girl too!” you say happily. “Bucky was calling it a he.”

“Not because I don’t think it could be a girl…I just…said he first.”

“It’s a girl,” Yelena says as she walks in.

“See! I knew it!” you sing song.

“What is going on here?” Yelena asks.

“None of us could sleep,” Bob answers. “So, we’re making cookies, washing dishes and naming the guinea pig.”

“Are the cookies ready yet?” Yelena asks, eyeing the oven.

“Just about,” you answer.

“Bob suggested Piglet…but I like Bacon,” Bucky says to fill Yelena in.

“Of course you would say Bacon,” she tsks. “I like Piglet.”

“Do I smell cookies?”

Walker strides in and heads straight for the oven.

“HEY Walker,” you whisper shout. “They’ll be out in a minute.”

He stops and plops himself down on a stool at the island with a huff.

“Why didn’t anyone invite me to the party?” he says.

“Because you’re an asshole,” but you and Yelena chime simultaneously but not without a smile pulling at each of your mouths.

“Can I least have some cookies,” Walker asks.

“Of course,” you tell him.

“Why don’t you name the pig, Hamlet,” Walker adds.

Everyone is quiet for a minute and tries to hide their smiles. “Actually, that’s cute,” you say, “but we’ve decided it’s a girl so maybe something…more…girly.”

Walker rests his chin in his hands but remains silent.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Ava says, appearing from the other side of the wall.

Bob startles at the sink and Walker rolls his eyes.

“No one can sleep, we are about to eat cookies, and we need a name for our girl guinea pig,” Yelena sums up quickly before opening the oven just as the timer dings.

“Pipsqueak,” Ava says flatly.

Yelena smiles. “I like that. She does squeak…a lot.”

“But she’s brave,” Bob says. “She survived the lab. I wouldn’t call her a pipsqueak.”

“But Piglet is scared of everything isn’t he?” Bucky muses. “So that wouldn’t work either.”

“Oh,” Bob sighs. “Yeah, he is.”

“Still like Bacon,” Bucky mumbles to himself.

“WHO SAID BACON?” Alexei booms when he walks in. “We eat?”

Yelena hangs her head with a sigh and Ava rolls her eyes.

“No bacon,” Bucky says sadly. “But we have cookies.”

“Hm, that will do,” Alexei says as he walks over to Yelena and pulls out the hot tray with his hand.

“You should let them cool,” you say to Alexei as he goes to grab for one.

“No, no…I like them all gooey and melted and messy…” He pops half the cookie in his mouth and hums happily.

Bucky slides over; the guinea pig nestled in the crook of his metal arm as he grabs for a cookie.

Walker reaches over the island to grab his own.

“They’re still hot guys!” you scold but give up with a sigh when half the tray is gone in under a minute. “You better grab one,” you whisper to Bob.

He turns from the sink and wipes his hand, reaching for a cookie and placing it on a napkin near him. “I’ll let mine cool,” he says with a small smile.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence and lots of mumbled praises over the cookies, you ask, “so what are we naming the guinea pig?”

Alexei yells out, “ALEXEI!”

Everyone answers with a determined, “NO!”

Alexei deflates and takes another cookie.

“So far we ruled out all the suggestions,” you say, leaning back on the counter next to Bucky.

Without prompting he hands you the guinea pig. You gently hold her up and look her over.

“I have so many ideas but none of them seem to fit,” you huff.

“All mine are related to food,” Bucky shrugs.

“I still like Alexei,” Alexei grumbles.

“Hamlet isn’t girly enough,” Walker says.

“Piglet and Pipsqueak make her sound too timid,” Ava adds.

Finally, Yelena says, “what about Nat?”

All eyes turn to her, soft with unspoken words.

“That’s perfect,” you say quietly and everyone agrees.

Once the few remaining cookies are packed away and the kitchen is clean you walk over to Bucky who’s leaning against the wall, Nat once again cradled against his chest in the crook of his metal arm.

“She likes that spot,” you say quietly as you gently stroke her back.

“Yeah, maybe because it’s cool,” he says and then softly touches her nose as it twitches.

You watch him for a moment, so sweet and gentle with the little furball.

“You’re so cute,” you say softly.

“She is right,” Bucky agrees.

“She meant you super soldier,” Alexei chuckles from behind you. “Not pig.”

“She’s a guinea pig Dad,” Yelena dead pans.

Alexei waves his had dismissively. “All same.”

Your eyes meet Bucky’s, and you see the tops of his cheeks, just above all the dark stubble lining them, turn light pink.

“You meant little Nat right?” he asks.

“She definitely meant the guinea pig,” Walker says with a yawn as he walks by. “I’m goin’ to bed.”

Ava follows close behind him. “Me too. And she meant you Barnes.”

Alexei slaps Bucky hard on the back, jostling Nat in his arms and Bucky glares.

“Oh. Right, sorry,” Alexei mumbles then smiles wide. “She thinks you are cute.”

He walks away rubbing his stomach.

Only Yelena and Bob remain, Yelena with a smirk lifting her lips and Bob with wide eyes.

Your eyes stay on Bucky, and you lean in closer, still petting Nat. “No. I meant you. You’re really cute. Especially with her. It’s sweet.”

“She said he’s cute,” Bob whispers to Yelena who’s full on smiling now.

“Da,” Yelena nods, grabbing Bob’s arm to pull him down the hall.

“Does she like him?” Bob asks as he passes by you and Bucky.

Yelena laughs but doesn’t answer and keeps tugging him away.

The two of you are now alone and you watch Bucky’s gaze quickly drop to your lips before he says a quiet, “thanks.”

“Hope you can get some sleep,” you tell him then kiss his cheek. “Night.”

“Night, doll,” he whispers as he watches you walk to your room.

The next night when you’re still awake after midnight you head to the common room but when you don’t see a sign of anyone else you decide to go watch a movie until you fall asleep. The light knock on your door an hour later surprises you and when you open it to find Bucky on the other side you’re even more surprised.

“I didn’t wake you did I doll?” he asks in a rush.

“No, don’t worry. I was watching a movie.”

“I thought I saw light under the door so I figured you might still be up.”

“Did you want more cookies? The leftovers are in the cabinet.”

“Actually…Alexei ate them all. I checked…”

You snort laugh and grab Bucky’s hand, pulling him through the doorway.

“Of course he did,” you say as you plop down on the small couch.

Bucky follows and then stands there as if he’s unsure what to do next.

“You can sit,” you tell him.

He does.

“Are you watching The Goonies?”

“I am!” you say excitedly. “I’m so glad you’ve seen it.”

“Classic 80s.”

“Exactly,” you agree.

You settle back into the cushions and let your shoulder brush his. As the movie continues your body relaxes against him and he lifts his arm to rest it along the back of the couch. His fingers brush your shoulder and when he feels your skin pebble beneath his touch he does it again. Your breath catches in your throat and you audibly swallow.

The movie ends and you’re still pressed against him, his arm now circling your shoulders as his fingertips ghost over your skin.

“That’s one of my favorites,” you say and turn to meet his eyes.

“Mine too,” he whispers, curling his fingers around your arm so you turn your body into his.

His eyes wander over your face, their soft reverence only sharpened when they stop on your lips.

“Doll…I…”

Whatever he wants to say is lost in the moment and he presses his mouth to yours, softly at first, but when you slide your fingers into his hair and tug him closer, he hums low in his chest and deepens it, parting your lips.

His knuckles skim down your arm before splaying at your back and pulling you into his lap. His hand slips under your shirt, every caress of his fingertips slow and teasing as if he’s savoring every moment and committing it to memory. His kisses are sweet and languid and the hair lining his face scratches the soft column of your neck as his lips trail downward to your hammering pulse.

A deep and satisfied hum rumbles through his chest and you press yourself closer, feeling the hard lines of his muscle beneath his shirt.

“Bucky,” you whimper.

He lifts his head to stare at you, his breathing fast. His metal thumb lifts to trace your swollen bottom lip before he slides it behind your neck and brings your lips back to his, nibbling the same spot then soothing it with his tongue.

You moan into his mouth and the sound snaps what little control he’s holding on to and suddenly you’re flipped to your back, your wrists in his metal hand and pinned above your head. His eyes teasingly trail over your body, and you go pliant in his hold, your legs falling open as he settles between them.

He leans down, dipping his head to run his nose along your neck, breathing you in before his lips are on yours again.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, his hand releasing your wrists and sliding lower to stroke your curves. “I knew you would be.”

“You’ve thought about it?” you ask as you tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, licking his lips. “I came over here with the intention to ask you out on a date…”

“Is this not…?”

He cuts you off. “This is exactly what I want…you’re what I want. I’m just…trying to be a gentleman.”

Your lips form an O shape, and he kisses you again.

“I’ll go on a date with you Bucky,” you murmur between kisses.

“Good, that’s good,” he says, his warm hands continuing their exploration of your body while his lips trail down your neck.

You arch into him and slide your hands from his hair down his back, scraping lightly with your nails.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

When his eyes lift to yours he wears a pained expression.

“A gentleman,” he repeats.

“Right. A date,” you say.

“Fuck,” he mutters again but doesn’t move an inch.

You stare at each other, the tension building in the small space between you before he dips his head and kisses you again. His lips find the spot just below your ear and he whispers, “if you don’t tell me to go now…”

“I don’t want you to go Bucky. I want you to stay. I want you.”

[heartsforkatsuki]

pining.  ｡°✩ k.bakugo

pov; you've been inlove with your now ex-bestfriend for 15 years

pairing: bakugo katsuki x gn!reader warnings: angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, unrequited (then requited) love, emotional confrontation, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, YEARNING KATSUKI!!! word count: ~1.2k - this is my first time writing angst btw ahah

i want someone badly

maybe it was the way you stopped paying attention to him. the way you stopped orbiting around katsuki bakugo like he was the sun and you were just some helpless, burning thing.

maybe it was the way you grew into yourself. someone with their own dreams now. someone who no longer waited for him to notice them.

it didn’t matter though. not really. because the result was the same.

after years of you trailing behind katsuki — always there, always his constant — now the roles were reversed.

you’d been in each other’s lives since you were five. your moms were best friends. you grew up side by side like a pair of badly stitched twins, bickering and inseparable.

you always lit up when you saw him. always hugged him tight like it mattered. told him you loved him like it was easy, like it wasn’t killing you slowly every time he didn’t say it back.

and god, did you love him.

you thought he knew. maybe a part of you hoped if you said it enough, did enough, he’d start to love you too.

but then came senior year. and izuku — your best friend since forever — sat you down one day, looked at you with tired eyes, and said:

“we’re about to graduate, y/n. you can’t chase him forever.”

and you knew he was right.

you started remembering things that used to slide off your back. like how katsuki never hugged you unless you were crying. how he never said “i love you” — not even in a joking way. how he’d call you annoying in front of people like it was funny. like you were a bit much.

you used to think it was just how he was. now, you weren’t so sure.

so you pulled away. slowly. quietly.

no more dropping by his dorm after class. no more late-night game sessions. no more laughing until you couldn’t breathe.

you made excuses. “my mom needed help.” “i’m not feeling well.” “sorry, i forgot.”

he didn’t buy any of it. but he didn’t stop you either.

and now it’s been two years. two whole fucking years.

katsuki hates every second of it.

he can’t sleep without thinking about what he could’ve done differently. what he should’ve said. should’ve noticed. he misses you in a way that’s physical, in a way that haunts him.

he misses your voice. your laughter. the way you used to throw your arms around him without warning. the way you’d look at him like he mattered more than anything.

you don’t do any of that anymore.

and it’s killing him.

so when he hears there’s a class reunion in some half-lit bar in osaka, he shows up early. waits. watches the door like a fucking lunatic.

and then you walk in. with izuku, of course.

you’re laughing. smiling. katsuki hasn’t seen you smile like that in two years and it splits something open inside his chest.

twenty minutes in, kirishima calls you over. katsuki hears your name and suddenly he’s sweating. your eyes meet his, and he knows that look. you’re nervous.

“hi, eiji,” you say softly. “bakugo.”

bakugo.

not katsuki. not suki. not anything that means he still matters to you.

he wants to punch a wall.

“y/n,” he says back, like it doesn’t gut him.

you talk to kirishima. a little small talk. fake smiles.

and then katsuki’s standing. grabbing your wrist.

“what the hell are you doing?” you ask, eyes wide.

he drags you outside. it’s raining. cold. your coat’s too thin. you’re shivering.

“it’s katsuki to you,” he growls. “or kats. or suki. i don’t give a fuck which nickname you use, just stop calling me bakugo like i’m a stranger.”

“this is inappropriate,” you snap, yanking your hand free. “let me go.”

he ignores you. stares at the ground like it might tell him what to say.

“what happened?” he asks. his voice is low. raw.

“what are you talking about?” you blink at him like he’s gone insane.

“don’t do that,” he snaps. “you know what i mean. you disappeared. one day you were just... gone. after fifteen years. what the fuck, y/n?”

you exhale shakily. look up at him through wet lashes.

“you know why i stopped talking to you.”

“no,” he says, voice cracking. “i don’t. tell me.”

you hesitate. because this hurts. it always hurts.

“you knew i loved you. i spent fifteen years loving you, katsuki. and it meant nothing. not once did you look at me like i meant something to you.”

he’s staring at you like you’ve punched him.

“what the hell are you talking about?” he breathes.

“you never hugged me unless i was crying. you never said you loved me back. and every time someone brought up how close we were, you called me annoying. like i was some bug you couldn’t shake.”

“i hugged you,” he insists. “i did.”

“a pat on the back isn’t a hug, katsuki.”

you’re crying now. not loud. just quiet tears running down your cheeks.

he steps forward. wraps his arms around you. tight. too tight. like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he lets go.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, voice shaking. “i’ll fix it. i’ll do anything. these last two years... i can’t breathe without thinking about you. i can’t sleep. i can’t do anything. i’m so fucking angry all the time because you’re not here, and it’s my fault, and i hate myself for it.”

you’re sobbing. shoulders shaking. rain soaking through your clothes.

“don’t,” you whisper. “don’t say this now. i’ve spent years making peace with the fact you didn’t love me. i’ve moved on.”

“shut up,” he says, desperate. “just shut up and listen.”

you do. because you always do when it comes to him.

“you’re everything to me,” he says, and his voice is wrecked. “you always have been. even when i was too stupid to see it. i didn’t know how to show it. i didn’t know how to say it. but i do now.”

you’re frozen. staring up at him through rain and tears and years of ache.

“i love you,” he says.

and the world stops.

the rain, the noise, the pain in your chest — it all goes still.

you stare at him like the words didn’t make sense. like your brain needs to reboot just to process them.

you step back from his arms. look him in the eye.

he’s crying too. shaking. like he’s finally broken open.

“i’m sorry,” he says again, trying to wipe your tears with his thumb. “i’m so fucking sorry. don’t cry. please.”

you smile. small. sad.

and then you kiss him.

soft. slow. like you’re afraid it’ll disappear if you’re not careful.

he doesn’t pull away. for once, he pulls you closer.

the bar door opens behind you. someone gasps. but neither of you move.

because right now, the only thing that matters is that he said it back.

and this time, he means it.

“i love you,” you whisper.

he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years.

“i love you too, idiot.”

[songbirdseung]

Hi! I had this idea, since some fans calls Sunghoon a loser (affectionately ofc), I was wondering what it would be like for him to be in a loser x loser relationship. Could it be like a oneshot? Reader would be like shy and maybe it could be in a school setting?? Idk... it's up to you honestly O_O

thank you so much for the submission and yes oh myyyy, this is such a cute idea

𝑾𝑬𝑰𝑹𝑫𝑶𝑺  𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬  𝑼𝑺 Loser!Sunghoon x Shy!Reader | School AU | Fluff | One-shot

Sunghoon sat at the very back of the classroom, chin on palm, tracing circles into his notebook. Not notes. Just circles. Artfully imperfect and mindless. His bangs flopped over his eyes as he leaned down farther, hoping the teacher wouldn’t call on him. Again.

“Park Sunghoon?”

He winced. Of course.

“Yes?” he croaked, voice cracking slightly. The whole class barely registered it. No one cared. Thank God.

The teacher sighed. “We’re partnering up for the chemistry project. Page 132. I’ll assign. No complaints.”

Sunghoon already felt the sweat starting in his palms. Partnering. People. Talking.

Please not Jake. Please not Heeseung. Please not literally anyone who would think I’m weird.

“Sunghoon… You’re with Y/N.”

You looked up like a startled deer. Mouth parting just slightly. Eyes wide. Pen frozen in your grip. No... you weren’t ready for this either.

You’d spent the past month of class quietly trying not to be noticed. Perfecting invisibility. Sitting near the door. Not raising your hand. Not catching anyone’s eye. And definitely not talking to Park Sunghoon, the boy who mumbled to himself during lunch and once tripped over air in the cafeteria.

Now he was walking toward your desk like it was a death sentence.

He stood there awkwardly, rocking back on his heels. “Uh… hi.”

“Hi,” you whispered.

A pause.

“So… chemistry,” he said.

You nodded.

Another pause.

“…Right,” he added.

It wasn’t that either of you didn’t want to talk. You both just… didn’t know how. But somehow, in that weird way, it made it easier. The silence wasn’t bad. Just mutual. Tentative.

“Do you wanna, um…” he cleared his throat, “…work on it after school?”

Your heart stopped. After school. With him. Alone. Possibly at the library. Possibly within a foot of each other.

“Sure,” you said quickly, too quickly. “Yeah. Okay. Um. Cool.”

You sat across from each other at the corner table in the library, textbooks out, laptops open, but not a word had been spoken in twenty minutes.

Sunghoon peeked up at you and looked away when your eyes met.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t really know how to start.”

You smiled, barely, nervously. “Me neither.”

“I thought you were smart,” he blurted.

You blinked.

“I mean... you’re quiet. Like, in a smart way. Not like me. I’m just… quiet because I’m, uh…” he trailed off.

“A loser?” you finished, with a little laugh. It shocked both of you.

His eyes widened and then, shyly, he grinned. “Yeah. That.”

“I’m quiet because I’m a loser too.”

Sunghoon looked at you like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Wait. Really? But you’re like…” He trailed off again. “You’re cute.”

You stared at him.

He blinked, and his face turned red immediately. “I mean... not like-! Not that I was saying that out loud. I mean I did say it out loud, but I didn’t mean to. Or, like, I did? But-”

You were giggling. Hands over your mouth, eyes crinkled.

Sunghoon stopped. Watched you laugh. Something in his chest cracked a little.

“I think you’re cute too,” you said, softly, behind your hands.

Now it was your turn to flush. But the moment was real. Awkward, yes. Mortifying, maybe. But sweet. Gently tragic in a way that made it feel like neither of you had to be anything you weren’t.

The library clock ticked quietly above them, soft and persistent like a heartbeat, as the two of you sat hunched over a single open textbook.

It had been thirty minutes now. You’d made progress, sort of. The assignment was slowly taking shape, mostly because you’d stopped overthinking every sentence you wrote and had started to trust that Sunghoon’s awkward jokes weren’t jokes at all, just gentle attempts at speaking.

“So... if sodium and water react explosively,” he said, tilting his head, “does that mean we’re technically doing a dangerous experiment on paper?”

You raised a brow. “Only if we read it too fast.”

Sunghoon blinked, then laughed under his breath, surprised. You’d made a joke. A small one. But still.

“I knew it,” he murmured.

“Knew what?”

“That you were secretly funny.” He tapped the page with the back of his pen, eyes flicking to yours. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

You looked down quickly. “Says the guy who tripped on air and blamed it on ‘invisible wind.’”

His mouth dropped open. “You saw that?”

You tried not to grin. “Everyone did.”

Sunghoon groaned and buried his face in the crook of his arm. “I should’ve transferred schools. Or faked an injury. You weren’t supposed to witness that.”

“You looked like you were in slow motion,” you said, unable to stop giggling now. “Like gravity personally targeted you.”

“I felt personally targeted,” he muttered into the table. “I still do.”

There was something about the way he slumped dramatically, cheek squished to the wood, that made him look... oddly endearing. And when he peeked up at you through his bangs, just a little... like he was checking if you were laughing with him or at him, it made your chest squeeze a little.

You nudged the eraser on his pencil with yours. A tiny bump. He looked at it. Then at you.

“I’m glad we got partnered,” you said, so quietly you didn’t even know if he heard.

But he did.

He sat up slowly, straightening the corner of the worksheet like he needed to do something with his hands. “Me too.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward anymore. It was the kind of silence that asked nothing of either of you. It just was. Soft. Easy.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, “do you wanna split the project? Like... not just work separately and combine it, but actually do it together? brainstorm and stuff.”

You tilted your head. “Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”

“Yeah, but... I mean outside of school. Like, over the weekend maybe? At my place? I can make ramen. Badly.”

Your stomach twisted with nerves, but the good kind. The kind that felt like you were on the edge of something. “Okay,” you said.

Sunghoon blinked again. “Wait, really?”

You nodded.

He smiled. And it was a real one this time. Full, crooked, unfiltered.

He’d cleaned. Not well, but he’d tried. A mountain of clean-ish laundry had been shoved into the closet, and he’d lit a cinnamon candle like he thought that made it romantic. Mostly it just smelled like toast. Burnt toast.

You sat cross-legged on the floor beside his bed, your laptop propped against your knees. Sunghoon was on his stomach, sprawled out beside you, head resting on a pillow that looked suspiciously like it had a penguin face on it.

“I have a theory,” he said, voice muffled.

“Oh?”

“That the real reason I suck at chemistry is because I keep thinking about penguins instead of electrons.”

You snorted. “Penguins?”

“They’re funny little guys. Like, they just waddle around and fall over. But no one bullies them.”

“Do you... want to be a penguin, Sunghoon?”

“I want to be respected, Y/N.”

You laughed, head tilting to the side as you looked at him. “I think penguins are kind of loser-coded too.”

“Exactly!” He pointed at you. “And yet they’re beloved. It’s the blueprint.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “You’re so weird.”

“I get that a lot,” he said, mock-dramatically, rolling onto his back with a groan. “Usually by people who then proceed to ignore me forever.”

You were quiet for a moment.

“I’m not going to ignore you,” you said, carefully.

His eyes met yours, half surprised, half something softer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You both stared for a second too long. The air between you was suddenly still—not tense, not electric, just quietly full of possibility. The laptop screen dimmed beside you. Neither of you moved to touch it.

Sunghoon sat up, slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re... really cool, you know that?”

You flushed. “I’m literally the shyest person in class.”

“That’s what makes you cool,” he said. “Like... you’re not trying. You’re just... you.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

So instead, you nudged your shoulder against his.

A quiet little nudge.

And he nudged back.

The penguin pillow had somehow ended up between you, squished slightly as you sat side by side on the floor. It was getting late, the sun had dipped low outside Sunghoon’s window, casting slanted golden shadows across his messy room. The air was still cinnamon-sweet from the candle, though it was flickering weakly now, nearly out.

You’d stopped working on the project twenty minutes ago. The chemistry worksheet was abandoned somewhere behind you, and your laptops had long gone to sleep. But neither of you had moved to do anything about it.

It wasn’t laziness. It was just… comfort.

Sunghoon glanced over at you again. He kept doing that, like he couldn’t help it. And each time, it made your chest flutter a little more, a little higher.

“I, uh…” he started, then faltered, rubbing at the corner of his mouth. “This is gonna sound dumb, but... I’ve never really hung out with someone like this. Just... talking. Sitting. Not being weird on purpose.”

You looked at him. Really looked this time.

His hair was a little messy from flopping around on the floor earlier. There was a red imprint of the carpet on his cheek, fading slowly. He looked soft. Honest in a way that made you want to say something equally unfiltered.

“I like this,” you said quietly.

Sunghoon looked at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes searched yours, gently, not pressing, but you could feel the question forming behind them. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then closed it. He shifted slightly closer. His leg brushed yours, barely.

You didn’t move away.

“Y/N,” he murmured.

You turned your face toward him, heart drumming louder now. “Yeah?”

He blinked slowly, then laughed, just once—a breathy sound, half nerves, half disbelief. “I really want to kiss you right now, but I’m terrified I’m gonna mess it up.”

You let out a small breath of a laugh, too. “What if we mess it up together?”

That made him freeze.

Then slowly, he leaned in.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t practiced. He paused right in front of you, lips hovering just a breath away, his eyes flicking from your mouth to your eyes, like asking permission in a language he didn’t quite know how to speak.

You nodded. Barely.

And he closed the gap.

His lips were warm. Hesitant. He didn’t try to move too fast or tilt your head or do anything dramatic. He just pressed. Gently. A soft connection. A quiet question.

And you answered by kissing him back.

Just once. Just enough.

When he pulled away, you were both pink in the face, blinking like you’d stepped into sunlight.

“…That wasn’t a mess,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper.

“No,” you whispered back. “That was... nice.”

A silence settled again, but this time it hummed.

Then Sunghoon, without looking at you, reached out and gently took your hand in his.

“Y/N?”

“Mm?”

“Do you wanna maybe, like... not be project partners anymore?”

You blinked. “What?”

“I do want to finish the project. But, like... after that. Do you want to maybe be... something else?”

You squeezed his hand.

And smiled.

“Okay,” you said. “Yeah. Let’s be something else.”

[ssvnriise]

I genuinely start writing these typa fics thinking “just a few hundred words” and end up 4k deep in loserboy brainrot (word count isn’t 4k tho dw, it’s about 1k 🥴)

content warnings — NSFW/mdni, smut, mild degradation, praise kink, pathetic!choso, femdom, begging, established relationships

choso is such a hopeless loser for you that the very first time your lips met, he actually moaned—a soft, needy sound muffled into your mouth like he couldn’t stop it even if he tried. his hands immediately flew to your waist, fingers digging in with surprising urgency as he tugged you closer, like he was afraid you’d pull away before he got to savor it. you could feel how tense he was, how his whole body shivered under the weight of something so simple.

you couldn’t help but giggle, the sound bubbling up between the kiss as you leaned back just enough to look into his eyes. his brows were furrowed slightly, lips parted, eyes wide and blinking like he was trying to piece together what just happened. “cho… did you really just moan? from a kiss?” you tease, your voice light and amused, but laced with affection.

his pale cheeks went crimson almost instantly. he blinked a few more times, then glanced away for a second like he was trying to find an escape route—only to shyly meet your gaze again, lips twitching into the faintest pout. “couldn’t help it… you’re so pretty,” he mumbled, almost inaudible, like the words physically pained him to admit.

but then he was leaning in again, this time hungrier, more desperate—kissing you like he needed it, like he’d been waiting forever for this. his hands slid lower, gripping your thighs as he pulled you into his lap in one swift motion. you gasped against his mouth as you straddled him, feeling the unmistakable press of him already hard beneath you. from a kiss. the thought made you giggle again, breathless against his lips.

“you’re ridiculous,” you murmured against his lips, unable to stop your smile.

you ran your fingers up into his hair, threading through the dark strands with gentle precision. he let out the softest whimper when you tugged lightly, undoing his space buns one at a time until his hair tumbled down around his face. “there,” you murmured, lips brushing his jaw. “you look better like this.”

he didn’t answer—just kissed you again like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

choso’s breath hitched as your fingers threaded through his now-loosened hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers like dark ribbons. his lips were back on yours, more forceful this time, tongue slipping past your parted lips with a need that had your thighs tightening around his hips. His hands roamed now—up your back, over your sides, then back down to your ass, kneading you through your clothes like he was trying to memorize every curve.

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me…,” he muttered into your mouth, voice husky and low, barely restrained. his hips bucked upward instinctively, grinding into you, and you felt how hard he was now—thick and straining through the fabric of his pants, pressing perfectly against the heat between your legs.

all that from a kiss.

you smirked into the next one, rolling your hips slowly just to hear the broken little gasp he gave. “you’re so easy, cho,” you teased, nipping at his bottom lip. “didn’t even have to touch you and you’re already like this?”

he whined. whined. the sound went straight to your core. “I—fuck, I can’t help it when you’re on top of me like this,” he breathed, voice shaking. “feels like i’m gonna lose it.”

your hands slid down his chest, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. you pushed it up and over his head, baring his pale torso, the lean muscles of his abdomen flexing under your touch. you leaned down, trailing your lips down his neck, along his collarbone, and then down his chest—each kiss leaving him twitching, panting softly, desperate for more.

when you finally reached his belt, your eyes flicked up to meet his. he looked dazed, completely fucked-out already, even though you’d barely touched him. “can I?” you asked, your voice lower now, soft but deliberate.

he nodded so fast it was almost pathetic. “please,” he whispered, hands trembling slightly as he rested them on your hips.

you unbuckled his belt slowly, teasing him with the drag of your fingers as you undid the button and zipper. his breath caught in his throat as you slipped your hand inside, finding him hot, thick, and already leaking. you wrapped your fingers around him through his boxers first, just enough pressure to make his hips jerk up into your palm.

“fuck,” he groaned, head falling back against the couch, throat exposed and flushed. “that feels—shit, that feels so good.”

you grinned, leaning in to kiss up his neck again. “you’re so sensitive,” you whispered, stroking him just a little faster now. “makes me wonder how fast I could make you cum if I really tried…”

he looked at you then, eyes half-lidded, needy, and already hazy with lust. “try me,” he dared, voice rough.

your hand worked him slowly, deliberately, fingers gliding along his length with just enough friction to keep him teetering on the edge. choso was falling apart beneath you, hands gripping your hips like they were the only things anchoring him to the moment. his thighs tensed under yours, breath hitching every time your thumb passed over his tip, smearing the slick precum that had already soaked through the front of his boxers.

“f-fuck, don’t stop—please don’t stop,” he panted, voice so raw it made you ache for him.

you leaned in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “you’re this desperate from just a hand?” you teased, tongue flicking out to taste the heat of his skin. “haven’t even touched you properly yet, and you’re already begging.”

his whole body shuddered.

“y-you don’t understand,” he groaned, trying to buck up into your palm but you pressed him down with your weight. “you’re—god, you’re perfect. I can’t—ngh—think straight when you’re on me like this.”

you nipped at his neck, loving the way his voice broke when you sucked a mark just under his jaw. he gasped again, his breath catching in his throat, and his hands moved to cup your ass, squeezing gently, then a little harder, as if grounding himself in the feel of you.

“you’re so worked up,” you murmured, your voice a low purr. “all flushed and twitchy for me. how long have you been thinking about this?”

he didn’t answer right away—just looked at you like he was caught in a trance, pupils blown wide, lips parted. “…since the first time you touched my hair,” he said finally, so quietly it was nearly a confession. “when you said it looked better down. I—fuck, I wanted you so bad I couldn’t even look at you the same after that.”

your heart gave a flutter, warmth blooming in your chest even as you kept your rhythm steady around him. you leaned down again, kissing him softer this time, slower—tongue dragging lazily against his, savoring the taste of him while your hand kept teasing every reaction from his body.

he groaned into your mouth, every sound he made needy and open and real. his hands wandered, moving under your shirt now, spreading warmth along your skin with his palms as they slid up your back. when he found the clasp of your bra, he hesitated—but only for a second.

“can I?” he whispered, his forehead pressed to yours.

you nodded, heart pounding. “yeah. go ahead.”

he unclasped it with shaky fingers, letting the fabric fall loose between your bodies. the moment your chest was bare to him, his eyes went wide with awe, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. he didn’t even go for them right away—just stared, mouth parted, hands resting respectfully at your waist like he didn’t trust himself.

“you’re…” he exhaled sharply. “you’re everything.”

your breath caught—he said it with such sincerity, such reverence, that it stole your teasing right out from under you. you leaned down again, brushing your chest against his just to feel the way he gasped, the way his hands finally moved to cup your breasts with trembling care.

you sighed, letting yourself melt into his touch, kissing him again—longer, deeper, slower now. like you were both soaking in the closeness, letting the hunger burn without rushing to extinguish it.

your hips rocked against his slowly, lazily, just enough friction to keep the tension tight between you both, your slick panties dragging over his cock still trapped beneath his boxers. he whimpered into your mouth.

“if you keep doing that,” he rasped, “i’m gonna cum in my pants.”

you giggled against his lips, eyes glinting. “maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

you kept your rhythm steady, rocking your hips against him in smooth, deliberate rolls. every movement made him whimper, his cock twitching helplessly beneath you, still trapped between the tight heat of your clothed core and the damp fabric of his boxers. his fingers dug into your waist like he was barely holding on, eyes fluttering shut, lips parted as soft, broken sounds spilled out of him with every grind.

“god,” he choked out, forehead pressing to your shoulder now, breath hot against your skin. “i’m—fuck—i’m not gonna last.”

you smiled, slow and wicked, dragging your nails up the back of his neck and into his loose hair. “you really gonna cum just like this?” you whispered, your voice dripping with amusement. “still fully dressed, cock not even out? that desperate for me?”

he moaned—loud, unfiltered, desperate—and you felt his hips jerk up beneath you.

“you are, aren’t you?” you continued, rocking down just a little harder this time, letting the head of his cock catch right where you were wettest. “all that talk, all that brooding, and now look at you. hard and panting under me like a fucking virgin.”

“I—I c-can’t—” he stammered, his voice dissolving into another strangled gasp as you leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“gonna cum in your boxers just from me grinding on you, choso? Is that how fucking pathetic you are?”

his whole body tensed, and he let out the most broken, wrecked sound you’d ever heard—something between a moan and a sob—as his cock pulsed and throbbed against your soaked panties, warmth spilling out in thick, hot spurts into his boxers. his grip on you turned desperate, clutching you to him like he was falling apart. his breath came in short, stuttering gasps, face buried in your neck, his whole body trembling with the intensity of it.

“oh my god,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I—I came. I didn’t mean to, I—fuck, I couldn’t stop—”

you giggled again, not unkindly, just amused and delighted by how absolutely ruined he was. you pulled back slightly to look at him, and the sight made your stomach flip: his flushed cheeks, messy hair sticking to his forehead, eyes wide and glassy with embarrassment and overstimulation. he looked dazed, like he couldn’t believe it had actually happened.

“already made a mess, huh?” you cooed, gently brushing your fingers through his hair. “poor thing. came so fast I didn’t even get to touch you properly.”

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, genuinely flustered, still trying to catch his breath. “I just… I couldn’t take it. you’re too much.”

you kissed his jaw, slow and tender, fingers still tangled in his hair. “aw,” you murmured, grinning, “you made such a mess.”

he groaned—half from embarrassment, half from overstimulation—and let his head fall back against the couch. “I can’t believe I came like that,” he muttered, eyes fluttering shut. “didn’t even get to touch you...”

[vaginalvr]

I saw how many works you have and actually screamed btw. I know I’ll be reading (and rereading) all of them tonight.

Can I request something like sub!spencer AND sub!reader together? Like maybe it’s their first time having sex with eachother and one of them, I don’t mind who, tries to be the dom at first but they just end up slipping into being submissive. Whiny needy sex is my soft spot‼️

this is so pathetic I love it

cw: mutual shyness, first time, sub x sub dynamic, praise kink, soft dom moments (from both), lots of asking and consent, mutual oral (m. & f. receiving), slow and tender, cuddly sex, emotional intimacy, very gentle smut

REQUESTS OPEN!

You weren’t sure how it started.

A brush of his hand on your knee during movie night. The way he looked at you when you laughed at something stupid. How close he leaned when he asked you a question, eyes searching yours like you might disappear if he blinked too fast.

You’d been dancing around each other for months — gentle touches, too-long hugs, soft confessions over wine and dim lighting — but tonight, something was different. You could feel it. The way Spencer’s eyes lingered on your mouth. How his voice kept catching, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite bring himself to say it.

And when your fingers brushed his on the couch, and you didn’t pull away?

He laced them with yours.

You both just… sat there, staring at each other, hearts thudding, faces warm.

“Spence,” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

“…Have you ever…?” You trailed off, chewing your lip.

He flushed. “Not with someone I—care about. Not like this.”

You swallowed. “Me either.”

There was a pause.

And then: “Do you want to?”

Spencer’s breath hitched. He nodded. “But I don’t really—know what to do. Or, I mean—I do, anatomically, but not like—how to… start.”

You laughed gently. “Me either.”

His smile was small, nervous, utterly precious. “Okay. Then maybe we… just figure it out? Together?”

You nodded.

He kissed you slow. Sweet.

Careful, like he was afraid to break you.

Your hands trembled as they curled into his shirt. His touched your face like you were made of glass.

By the time you reached the bed, you were both breathless, wide-eyed, and so clearly out of your depth — but so ready to fall into each other anyway.

“Can I—can I take your shirt off?” he asked, voice soft, hands hovering.

You nodded, lifting your arms. “Can I… see you too?”

He flushed. “Y-yeah.”

Layer by layer, you undressed each other like unwrapping a gift you weren’t sure you deserved. When he saw you fully naked, Spencer made a sound — soft and reverent, like awe.

“You’re…” He swallowed. “You’re so beautiful.”

You smiled, cupping his jaw. “You are too.”

His laugh was self-conscious. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I want to.”

Spencer laid you down gently, trembling hands gliding over your bare thighs. His eyes flicked to your face with every movement, asking silent permission again and again. You nodded every time.

When his mouth lowered between your legs, he asked first.

“Can I taste you?”

Your breath caught. “Yes. Please.”

And God — he was so careful.

Spencer kissed your thighs first, nosed at your skin, then flattened his tongue against you with a soft hum that nearly made your back arch. He moaned when he felt how wet you already were, like he couldn’t believe it.

“You’re… fuck, you’re soaked already,” he whispered, flushed and shy. “Am I doing okay?”

You nodded frantically. “More than okay.”

He kept going — slowly, gently, just like you needed — and only stopped when your thighs were shaking around his ears and your moans turned to soft cries of his name.

After, he looked up at you, his lips wet and pink. “Did that feel good?”

You giggled and pulled him up to kiss you. “Come here and find out.”

You wanted to make him feel just as good — so you kissed your way down his stomach, hands trembling, cheeks warm.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” you murmured.

“I won’t want you to,” he whispered, voice cracking. “But I will.”

He gasped when you took him into your mouth — not deep, not fast, just enough to let him feel your warmth, your care. His fingers tangled in the sheets, not daring to touch you unless you asked.

You pulled off with a soft pop, kissing the inside of his thigh. “Ready for more?”

His whole body shook as he nodded.

When you finally slid onto him, inch by inch, your foreheads pressed together, mouths gasping against each other’s skin — neither of you moved at first.

Just breathing. Shaking. Getting used to the closeness.

“Okay?” you asked, brushing his hair from his face.

He nodded, eyes glossy. “I think I’ve wanted this forever.”

You rocked your hips. He moaned. His hands gripped your waist, like he didn’t know what else to do.

You moved together like a shared heartbeat — slow, nervous, reverent. Every thrust was a whispered promise. Every kiss a reassurance.

He kept mumbling praise — “So good, so warm, you feel amazing” — and when you finally came, it was with his name on your lips and tears in your eyes.

Spencer followed with a soft, broken cry, burying his face in your shoulder like the world might fall apart if he didn’t hold on to you.

After, you curled together under the blankets, legs tangled, breaths finally slowing.

“Was that… okay?” he whispered.

You laughed, snuggling into his chest. “It was perfect.”

He kissed your temple. “Let’s never be scared to ask for what we want again.”

You smiled.

“Deal.”

[perreqult]

FALSE GOD JAMES HAGENS

summary: i can’t figure out a way to summarize this i’m so sorry

word count:

contains: cbsf! james and reader, p in v (unprotected — don’t take advice from james and reader), smut as a confession basically, flashback to highschool ‘n stuff (approaching junior year), sort of angst at the start (??), michael (james’ brother) being an asshole

notes: oh how i love naming fics after taylor swift songs

god i could make an entire au on this; probably the only fic of mine i actually like

#notproofreadAGAIN so don’t expect this to be good at all

“So, draft night?” Your words break the silence that fill the room, james’ dorm room to be specific. You’re lying against his headboard, fiddling with your necklace.

“What about it?” He replies, chuckling as he’s saying it, sitting across the space by the foot of his bed.

“You’re gonna go off to some city. What’re you gonna do with me?” You clarify, slowing your movements across your pendant, looking up into his bright colored eyes.

“It’s not like I’m leaving tomorrow, dude.” He jokes, dismissing your worries. “And plus, we’ve been away from each other and have still been fine.” He adds on, scooting forward and moving closer to you.

“I know but…” You trail off, not knowing how to tell him how you’re worried.

You’re worried if you’ll be across the country from each other. You’re worried if you won’t be friends because of it. You’re worried he’ll meet some girl that rocks his world and doesn’t want you to be friends. It’s not hard to say you’re worried about everything.

You’re worried you won’t forget all those memories with him. Except that bonfire, God, you wish you could forget that.

Even with your other friends, without James this summer just felt empty. You wish hockey camp all the way in Minnesota could just end faster.

Until it does your only communication with your best friend is limited to quick snaps to maintain your streak lasting since middle school, likes of instagram stories and messages that can only be described as sub-par, just barley considered a conversation.

At the very least he’s coming home in time for the annual last day of summer bonfire. If he wasn’t you think you would’ve just not gone. Or maybe get dragged along by your friends and leave early.

It’s not like you liked him or anything— your blood practically boiled whenever your friends joked about the possibility— but you two were close. The feeling was mutual. You know James couldn’t have liked you.

Your thoughts snap away when you hear a familiar voice coming from behind you.

“You in your own world or what?” James. You could recognize that voice from a mile away.

“Shut up. I’m currently trying to act like I’m enjoying myself.”

“You’re not doing a good job then.” He stands next to you, leaning over your shoulder to whisper to you, the both of you completely forgetting about everyone else there.

You and James were always in your own world. Even from when you first met eachother in school, you’d zone out together, be lost in conversation that you thought only the two of you could truly understand.

“So, how was camp all the way in Minnesota? Ya miss me?” In a weird way you really hope you did. I mean, you missed him. Like a lot. You would’ve been a little embarrassed if he barely even thought of you while he was there, the complete opposite of what you were feeling.

“Oh of course I missed you. You’re the only one I can actually stand here.” You chuckle. It’s something you already knew because that’s half of what he’d talk about; how everyone annoys him. Except you.

“I’d miss me too. I’m just too cool.” He rolls his eyes and a wide smile creeps upon his face.

“Well I’m absolutely sure you missed me. You’re clingy.” You respond with a joking, soft, elbow jab to his ribs.

“Clingy is an overstatement. Especially coming from you Hages.”

“Oh sureeeee. How am I clingy.”

“You literally can’t handle being away from your dog for more than 2 hours.”

He stutters, clearly flustered and upset, “I-That’s different!”

“P.S, you never answered my question.” He looks over to you, puzzled. “How was camp?” You elaborate.

“It was good. I learned— like a lot. There were so many great players there that taught me so much.”

He drags on with everything else that happened there that’s he hadn’t mentioned over quick texts he shot you, from stupid stories about how his brother almost got kicked out after getting caught fucking a girl in a closet to this guy that basically took him under his wing when he got assigned rooms with him.

Jason— one of James’ friends— jogs over to the two of you, midway through the story James’ tell.ing you, talking about something like “C’mon James, couple of us are about to play truth or dare over by the fire. He was slurring his words so it was a bit hard to understand him—he was probably drunk you’d assume, that suspicion was proven once you’d seen the bottle of svedka in his hands.

“D’you want to?” James turns over to you, locking eyes.

You shrug your shoulders, if he wanted to go over there you would but if you had to choose for yourself you’d rather not be surrounded by teenage boys that are all either drunk or high— or all of the above.

He gestures over to where the people Jason was talking about were sitting. Looking over you see a couple more of James’ friends waving him over.

He starts walking over to them and you figured you’d follow— you didn’t really have anyone else you’d want to talk to you here anyway.

“Hagey!” Some white boy yells from across the circle. Two girls scoot over, allowing you and James room to conjoin with the circle.

A few rounds go by, empty bottle of strawberry svedka spinning around and ‘round before it lands on either you or James.

You’re almost dissociating from everything—the stupid jokes, the drunken laughs, bottles clinking and beer cans cracking open— when the neck of the bottle faces you, stopping in its tracks.

Jason, the holder of the previous turn, asks you the question that’s inevitable, “Truth or dare?”

Fuck, you don’t care. “Uh, dare i guess.” All your mind says is ‘who really gives a fuck?’.

“Ooook.” He drags out through a laugh. His eyes darts over to James and he tries to hold back a laugh likes he’s saving the funniest joke of all time. “I dare you,” He gestures his hand to you. “To kiss James.” He finishes, looking over at James’ now flushed out face.

He’s red. Like red. You think he’s on the verge of explode with how embarrassed he looks. If he’s that flustered what the hell did you look like?

James fumbles to say something but nothing comes out but babbles. You want to say something yet no sound comes out at all.

You really just want to get it over with, hoping for a less awkward situation to talk about later like you know you will.

You look over to him, leaning forward to get a glimpse of his face again. He’s almost about to faint you think, almost turning purple. Someone shouts for you to get it over with and that’s how you know you’ve been staring at his face for too long.

You lean towards him, he looks like a lost poppy with his gaze softening once he remembers that the person gripping his jaw is you. You fulfill your promise of trying to get it over with as quick as possible and crash your lips against his.

You can hear Jason shout some stupid thing you couldn’t care less about when your lips interlock, heads tilting to avoid his nose.

His lips are dry, you’re assuming he forgot to apply lip balm. His lips quiver like he’s hesitating shoving his tongue into your mouth.

You can feel the eyes across your body, trailing from your lips— probably the main focus— to your hands, shaking in nervousness.

It’s not like you haven’t kissed before. It’s your junior year it’d be more surprising if you didn’t. But with James it’s different.

It’s awkward, more than you would’ve ever thought. Can this be over now. That’s when you remember you have free will and draw back from him.

James’ eyes flash open, again with that nervous, lost puppy look.

Somebody erupts into laughter. You’re half thinking about chewing whoever that was out until you realize you can barely say anything, lips still jittering even after you’ve pulled back.

You default back to your original position sitting with your legs crossed and your head down. The only difference is that both you and James’ couldn’t even dream of speaking in your current state.

James shifts back, eyes jittering, looking around in every direction except to your face.

You both don’t talk to eachother at all for the rest of the game. You wonder why— obviously you don’t. You and James are too embarrassed to talk to anyone essentially, only uttering things when you have to ask your friend a question for their turn.

When he finally gets a turn he immediately chooses truth, hoping it won’t be any question about you.

Of course he was wrong.

“So, James.” His brother, Michael, asks, laughing through the question. “Have you ever,” He pauses, opting for a deep breath instead of berating into laughter like you think he originally planned to. “…Jerked off thinkin’ of her.” Pointing to you.

Can someone shoot you? You think that’d be much better than living in this terrible reality.

“W-what? No. E..Ew.” He sputter out, you don’t think he could get more embarrassed. It looks like he could throws his head into his hands and cry out of flusteredness.

“Y’sure? Pretty sure I heard some…odd… noises coming from your room at camp. Or was that just that Tyler kid?” He says the last part like he doesn’t believe that’s a possibility at all.

James manages to look over to you. He mouths a stuttered ‘no’.

Can this night end already?

Embarrassment is flooding James face, that’s just from the initial question alone. Just get a look of his face after everyone spontaneously develops into laughter, no idea Michael would ever ask something as weird as that.

James gets up. Straight up walks away. You have no idea where he’s going but that’s answered when you see him stride towards a half empty bottle of jack, discarded by a rock covered in joint paper and a bong sitting atop of it.

Groans are drawn out of various people in the crowd saying, ‘Oh, god what is he doing’, ‘Michael, go stop him.’, ‘literally why the fuck would you ask that.’ You agree with all of them.

You decide to take action and walk over to him. If it wasn’t gonna be Michael to go advise him not to get shitfaced the night before the first day of school.

“James, ‘fuck are you doing? We got school tomorrow. Don’t get drunk as hell just cause Mike asked something embarrassing question.” No response, just the sound of cork reopening.

You reach over, snatching that god damned bottled out his grasp.

“James I don’t… I don’t care about what he said.” He’s about to reach back for that bottle until he hears that.

His mouth opens to say something but he just can’t.

“Let’s just forget this all happened. Forget this whole night happened. Today sucked.

Silence.

You’re about to think whatever you said didn’t work until his stupid, dry lips crush against yours.

What the fuck is in the air tonight?

“Remember that day at the beach? That bonfire.” His face drops, like it’s some secret that nobody should ever mention again. He’s not even sure where you could be going with this.

“What about it?” He says dryly, looking down at the covers like he’s wishing you’d just drop it.

“I remember thinking you were gonna forget me while you were at camp.” He nodded to show he’s listening. “You didn’t.”

“Well…yeah.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world.

“Think it’ll be like that once you’re halfway across the country? You don’t forget me?” He nods, looking up into your eyes.

“Hell yeah. Could never forget you.” You smile. His reassurance always put you at ease.

“I’m sorry I freaked out when Michael asked that question ‘bout us.” He’s apologized for it 1000 times by now. Now you’re the one confused about what he could be leading up to.

“Wasn’t sorry about kissing you though.” He mumbles. It sounds like he doesn’t want to be heard but your ears lock in on the sound anyway.

He looks up to you with those soft bright eyes again, like he’s not sure if you heard him, like it didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Fuck. You… you can’t just say that.”

An almost identical kiss from that night before junior year started occurs. His hungry lips seep into yours, this time he actually knows how to kiss and not look and act stupid during it. He grips your hips almost animalisticaly.

It’s like you’re exposed to those memories of that last day of summer, that familiar feeling of blood and adrenaline rushinv through your body.

Before you even know it you both silently strip down to your underwear. Before you know it he’s pushing your back flat against the bed and kissing up the expanse from your abdomen to your neck.

He’s tracing marks across your jaw, flushed burning red. He almost smiled at you sucking in a breath, trying your best not to moan out at something as simple as hickeys.

You can tell just how much he wants this. It’s apparent from his rutting against the bed hungrily with low groans into your skin.

He finally thinks the, his, —probably over 10—marks on your skin are enough and leans back from your body. He snakes his hand up through your bra, wishing he could just yank it off.

Instead he waits for you to unclasp it and throw it across his dorm room, something he’d probably have to retrieve early tomorrow morning.

When your breasts roll free he’s all over them. He traces those same types of mark atop of your breasts, simultaneously thumbing your nipples in his grasp.

He finally pulls away from you again probably a minute later—time wasn’t your main concern right now— and places his grip back on your hips, tracing the hemline of your cotton underwear.

He yanks them down, wanting to see your awaiting entrance, get a good look at to what he’s been thinking about since sophomore year.

When he finally reveals your heat, he practically drools. Did he mention he’s been thinking about this since he was 15 years old?

He finally shift out of his underwear and closer to your slick folds. His dick’s lined up with you home that’s anything but dry. You’re almost about to yank his hips into you— getting him inside you as soon as possible.

“James.” You draw out. You just want him in you. For someone that’s allegedly jerked off to you he either didn’t want to fuck you or he wanted to savor the movement. Either way you’re disappointed. How else do you get it across to him that you want his cock.

“We’ll get to that.” You pout. He just pulls your lips in for a deep sensual kiss again. So he’s really doing anything but dicking you down.

“Fine.” He says against your lips, dipping his head into your aching entrance.

You moan out. Loud. You can practically see the noise complaints through notes coming in under James’ door.

“God. ‘Been dreaming ‘bout this for so long.” He says, pushing even deeper in you.

“So Michael was right about you jerkin’ off to me?” He sighs out a light laugh.

“Can we not talk about my brother when I’m halfway in your pussy?” You nod, reaching your arms around his back, staring to claw him when he drags in even deeper.

God when he finally starts moving inside of you, making you feel every curve, divot, any physical feature of his member, you practically scream.

Every slam deep into your hole you do the exact same thing over and over. There’s nothing else you can think about but his thrusts.

His slams grow fast, erratic almost. All you can do is sit back and take it, yelling out things like ‘Fuck, James. So good.’, anything you can fish out of your vocal cords as his hips crash back into your pelvis.

He almost short circuits when you squeeze tightly around him once he it’s that spot that makes your body go numb.

“Fuuuuuck. Tight.” He drags out, mixed with a low moan.

You can feel his thrusts turn sporadic, you know he’s drawing close to his orgasm. His jitters, loses a bit of his rhythm, breaths even harder against your ear.

Your orgasm approaches you quick, before you can even realize it’s coming. More so you’re coming.

It crashes over you, drawing out an even louder scream than you think you could’ve ever screamed. Yelling out his name in a way you’re sure boosts his ego. Eyes rolling back into your head, legs shaking, voice quivering, nails digging deep into his skin.

He’s soon to follow, soon to pump his release deep inside of you. His breath turns shaky, he pulls you by your hips tight. So tightly you think his grip might bruise.

“Y’should’ve fucked me sooner.” You tell him, brushing the stray hairs out his face. “Better not forget me, now. I’m gonna need this dick atleast weekly.” You continue. He smirks, refraining from laughing.

“Who says you ain’t coming with me?”

[serapharua]

୨୧ 一 HYBRID!ZB1 REACTING TO YOU TOUCHING THEIR EARS

zb1 ot9 — GENRE : imagines headcanon fluff hybrid au — WARNING : none — REQUESTED : no ☆ — zb1 masterlist

JIWOONG (panther hybrid) :

The afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting golden streaks across the living room floor. Jiwoong was stretched out on the couch, half-lidded eyes trained lazily on the ceiling, one leg propped up and an arm slung over his forehead. His black panther ears twitched every so often, responding to sounds only he seemed to catch, quiet, in-control, feline. His long tail, sleek and glossy, draped over the edge of the cushions, occasionally flicking like a metronome keeping time with his thoughts.

You’d seen his ears flatten when he was annoyed, perk when he was amused, and swivel when he was alert, but you’d never touched them. Not seriously, at least. There was a reverence to them, something almost regal. But today, he looked soft. Peaceful. Like he’d let the walls down for a bit.

Carefully, you sat beside him. Your presence made one ear twitch toward you.

“Something on your mind?” he murmured without opening his eyes, voice deep and slow like warm honey.

You didn’t answer. Instead, your fingers lifted, hesitant at first, then gently brushing the velvety edge of one ear.

The response was instant.

Jiwoong’s eyes fluttered open, not wide, but sharp, focused. His tail gave a quick flick behind him, betraying the surprise his face tried to mask. But he didn’t pull away.

“You’re brave today,” he said, tone unreadable, though a faint curl tugged at the corner of his mouth. His golden eyes held yours, steady and unreadable, but there was no warning there.

You let your fingers trail a little more, gliding along the soft fur. The ear twitched again under your touch, but Jiwoong’s gaze never left you. It was like he was letting you in on a secret, quiet, intimate, unspoken.

“They’re sensitive, you know,” he added, voice quieter this time. “Most people don’t get this close.”

You smiled faintly, not pulling away. “Am I not most people?”

That made him huff a soft laugh, warm and low. “You’re not.”

His eyes closed again, and this time, he leaned slightly into your hand. The smallest, subtlest gesture, but coming from Jiwoong, it was everything.

ZHANG HAO (red panda hybrid) :

The rain had started gently that evening, tapping rhythmically against the windows and soaking the world outside in a soft, silver hush. You and Hao sat near the window, legs barely touching, a cozy silence settled between you. The warmth of the room, the softness of the blankets, the golden glow of the lamp—it all made Hao seem even more otherworldly than usual.

His red panda ears, usually well-hidden beneath his hair, twitched faintly every now and then—adorable tufts of chestnut and cream. His striped tail was curled around his side, the soft fur rippling slightly as he shifted. It was rare to see him so at ease. Hao was composed, thoughtful, always in control of his emotions—but tonight, he was quietly serene.

You reached out without really thinking, fingers brushing gently over the round curve of one ear.

He froze.

Not startled, just still, as though the world had paused mid-breath. His eyes, deep and calm, shifted to you with a silent question.

“Sorry,” you murmured, hand halfway pulling back. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

But Hao caught your wrist before you could retreat. Not roughly, his touch was warm, reassuring, a quiet invitation rather than a restraint.

“You didn’t,” he said softly. “I just… wasn’t expecting it.”

You hesitated, searching his face. There was no tension in his expression, only a softness you rarely got to see.

With a small, barely-there nod, he tilted his head just enough to nudge your hand back into place.

The fur beneath your fingers was impossibly soft, warm like the rest of him. As you continued your gentle touch, his tail flicked once, then stilled again, like a shy response he couldn’t quite suppress. His eyes fluttered half-closed, and the edges of his lips curved slightly, a quiet smile forming.

“You’re the only one I’d let do that,” he said, voice hushed and sincere.

In that moment, with the rain still falling outside and Hao quietly leaning into your touch, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t need to exist.

HANBIN (hamster hybrid) :

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in soft streaks of apricot and lavender. Hanbin sat cross-legged on the rug by your bed, sorting through some scattered photos with a quiet hum. His short, sandy-colored fur glowed a little in the light, especially the faint patch on the tip of his tail that always curled just slightly when he was happy. His round hamster ears twitched with each new sound: your breath, the rustle of paper, the way your fingers absently tapped the floor.

You’d been watching him quietly, the gentle way he smiled at old memories, the soft way he mumbled little thoughts under his breath. He always gave so much of his warmth to others without even trying. Maybe that’s why your heart ached a little at how easy it was to love him.

And maybe that’s why your fingers moved without thinking, reaching to graze one of his fluffy ears.

He made the tiniest squeak, not a real sound, more of a breath caught off guard, as his whole body stiffened for a beat. His head whipped toward you, cheeks slightly puffed in surprise, eyes wide like you’d caught him mid-nap.

“Wha—was that… on purpose?” he asked, blinking quickly, his tone high and flustered.

You blinked back. “Too much?”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then gave a nervous laugh as his tail curled instinctively around one ankle.

“No! I mean… not too much. Just, no one’s really done that before,” he admitted, scratching behind his neck with that bashful little grin he always wore when flustered.

His ears twitched again, as if curious despite him. You reached out a second time, slower this time, waiting for his reaction.

When he didn’t stop you, your fingers brushed the soft fur gently. It was warmer than you expected, and when you dared to glance at Hanbin again, he was biting his lip, eyes half-lidded, ears twitching as he leaned ever so slightly into your touch.

“I, um…” he mumbled, “I’m gonna get used to this way too fast, aren’t I?”

You chuckled, brushing your thumb just once more before letting your hand fall away.

“Maybe,” you said. “But I don’t mind.”

Hanbin’s smile lingered long after, his ears still faintly twitching, his tail lazily swaying behind him, like he was still holding onto the warmth of your touch.

MATTHEW (red fox hybrid) :

It was late, one of those nights where the world felt hushed and slow, wrapped in a velvet kind of quiet. The two of you were curled up together in your usual spot on the balcony, a shared blanket draped over your shoulders as the city lights blinked softly below. Matthew rested against you, eyes closed, arms folded, his breathing calm and even. He always seemed more peaceful in moments like this, when there was no pressure to perform, no noise to drown out.

His red fox ears twitched subtly beneath his messy hair, catching the breeze or the distant sound of traffic. You’d always been a little curious, about how soft they looked, how expressive they were, always giving away more than his calm voice ever did. And tonight, with his guard down, the urge tugged at you more than usual.

So, you reached out gently and let your fingers brush along the base of one ear.

Matthew startled just slightly, a blink, a little shift in his posture, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned his head toward you, eyes narrowed with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“…You’re really gonna start something like that out of nowhere?” he asked, voice low, but not annoyed. Just a little surprised.

You offered a small shrug, your touch featherlight. “I was curious.”

His ears twitched again under your fingers, more reactive now. You could feel the heat in them, the fine texture of the fur, soft and downy, just like you imagined. Matthew studied your expression for a moment, then gave a breathy chuckle and looked away, pretending to focus on the horizon.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he mumbled.

“You really hate it?”

He was quiet for a beat before shaking his head. “No. I just didn’t expect it to feel… that nice.”

You smiled faintly, moving your hand to stroke behind the ear now, slower, more deliberate. His shoulders relaxed again, and his tail, usually still, gave a slow sway beside him, like a silent sign of contentment.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked softly.

Matthew didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned his head just slightly more into your hand.

“…No,” he murmured. “Keep going. Just… stay here a little longer.”

And so you did, quiet and warm, your hand in his hair, his tail brushing lazily against your side, the rest of the world forgotten somewhere far below.

TAERAE (beagle hybrid) :

The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind a sky washed clean, stars peeking shyly through scattered clouds. You and Taerae sat on the floor of your living room, sharing headphones and laughter as a playlist of your favorite songs crackled softly between you. His legs were stretched out, head tilted your way, and the lazy sway of his beagle tail thumped against the floor every few moments, completely unbothered, completely himself.

Taerae was always a little sunshine-soft, a little too easy to read. His emotions painted across his face, tail wagging with every burst of laughter or subtle smile. Tonight, he was especially relaxed, hair a little messy, cheeks pink from laughing too hard.

You glanced at his floppy ears, rounded, velvety things that twitched whenever he got excited. You’d never touched them before. Not really. But they looked so soft in the low light, and Taerae was so openly affectionate with you, so unguarded, that something in you stirred with curiosity.

Without a word, you reached over and gently stroked the edge of one ear.

His laughter stopped mid-sentence.

Taerae went still, comically still, eyes wide as he looked at you, completely startled.

“Wait… wait,” he said quickly, but his voice was already dissolving into a breathy laugh. “Did you just touch my ear?”

You nodded slowly, unsure if you should’ve asked first. “I did. Is that okay?”

For a second, he didn’t say anything, just blinked at you with a look you couldn’t quite read. Then, with an exaggerated groan, he flopped onto his back, covering his face with both hands.

“That was, unfair,” he mumbled dramatically. “You can’t just do that! You know how sensitive those are!”

You blinked, concerned. “Was it bad?”

He peeked at you between his fingers, ears twitching as his tail wagged wildly behind him, giving him away completely.

“No, it was… kind of great, actually,” he admitted, a shy smile creeping across his face. “Just caught me off guard. No one’s ever touched them like that before.”

You leaned over, brushing the fur gently again, this time with a little more confidence. His eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a tiny sigh, tail still thumping softly.

“That feels… weirdly nice,” he murmured. “Dangerously nice.”

You grinned. “So I should stop?”

“Absolutely not,” he said quickly, cracking one eye open with a playful smirk. “I’m just saying, if you keep doing that, I might get addicted.”

You laughed, fingers lingering in his hair, his warm ear nestled under your palm. He didn’t move again, just stayed there, flushed and glowing, every beat of his tail saying what his words couldn’t.

RICKY (Siamese cat hybrid) :

It was quiet, late evening again, the kind where the air was still and heavy with the calm before sleep. Ricky sat beside you on the couch, legs folded beneath him, his long silver tail curled neatly around his side. His expression, as always, was poised: serene, composed, maybe even unreadable to anyone who didn’t know him like you did.

But you did. You saw the small tells, the faint twitch of his tail tip when he was focused, the subtle tilt of his ears when something caught his attention, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, just a little longer than necessary.

You had noticed tonight that his ears looked especially soft, sleek and delicate, catching the low lamp light. You’d always wondered what it would be like to touch them, but Ricky wasn’t the type to invite casual affection. Everything he gave, he gave with intention.

Still, you reached out, slow and gentle, giving him time to stop you if he wanted to.

Your fingertips brushed the edge of his ear.

Ricky’s breath caught, his whole body going still like a deer sensing something shift in the forest. His tail flicked once, sharply, and then settled again. He turned his head slightly toward you, not pulling away, but not quite leaning in either.

“You’re bold tonight,” he said softly, voice threaded with something unreadable.

You hesitated. “Do you want me to stop?”

There was a long pause. Then, Ricky exhaled slowly, as if surrendering to something unspoken. He shifted closer, his shoulder brushing against yours, and closed his eyes.

“No,” he murmured. “It’s you. You can.”

You resumed your touch, light and careful. His ear was warm beneath your fingers, and you swore you could feel the slightest tremble run through him. His tail swayed again, slower this time, brushing your thigh like a whispered thanks.

“I don’t let people touch me like this,” he admitted after a moment, voice so soft it barely reached you. “But you… you make it feel safe.”

You let your hand slide back into his hair, stroking just once behind the ear now. “Then I’ll never take it for granted.”

Ricky didn’t reply with words, just leaned his head ever so slightly into your hand, his ears twitching gently, tail curling tighter around your legs like he was silently claiming this closeness, this trust, as something only you were allowed to hold.

GYUVIN (Golden retriever hybrid) :

Gyuvin was sprawled across the floor like he belonged there, limbs everywhere, head tilted lazily in your lap as he scrolled through something on his phone. His golden retriever ears twitched every now and then with little jolts of emotion, surprise, curiosity, amusement, and his tail gave a casual wag whenever your fingers found their way into his hair. He was completely at ease, the kind of comfortable only someone completely safe in your presence could be.

You watched the way his ears flicked when he laughed at a meme, and the thought stirred again, how soft they looked, how you’d never really touched them properly. You’d played with his hair, sure, but his ears always twitched away like they were too sensitive for random touches.

Still, curiosity tugged at you. So, gently, you reached down and grazed your fingers along the edge of one.

Gyuvin yelped, not in pain, but in surprise. His phone clattered to the side, and he sat up so fast he nearly headbutted you. His ears were flushed pink at the base, twitching wildly, and his tail was wagging so fast it was practically a blur.

“You touched my ear!” he cried, somewhere between scandalized and giddy.

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “Yeah. I did.”

He blinked at you, stunned. “That’s… like—like the hybrid equivalent of—of forehead kisses or something! That’s, like, serious!”

Your smile softened. “I wasn’t thinking of it like that. It just looked soft.”

“It is,” he said, still dazed. “It’s too soft. It’s criminally soft. I should’ve warned you.” He paused, then leaned forward with a mock-suspicious squint. “Was this your plan all along? To distract me so I short-circuit on the floor?”

You laughed, cupping the back of his head gently. “Not exactly. But I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

Gyuvin’s ears twitched again, this time curling slightly toward your hand, and a low, helpless sound escaped him, somewhere between a sigh and a whine.

“Okay,” he said, voice suddenly quiet. “Only if it’s you.”

He leaned back into your touch, tail thumping lazily now, golden eyes fluttering shut. His smile had gone soft, dreamy around the edges, his usual chaotic energy melted into something warm and safe.

You stroked his ear again, slow and careful, and Gyuvin practically melted in your lap, mumbling something sleepy and incoherent.

If it was anyone else, he probably would’ve barked and darted away.

But it was you, and for Gyuvin, that made all the difference.

GUNWOOK (German Shepherd hybrid) :

Gunwook wasn’t exactly the type to melt at affection, not at first glance. With his German Shepherd ears always alert and upright, his posture straight, and his tone calm but firm, he had the presence of someone always ready to protect. His tail, thick and strong, gave away more than he liked, though. You’d learned to read him through it, the flicks of irritation, the sways of amusement, the slow wag that betrayed the affection he tried to keep cool.

Tonight, he was leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching you with that steady gaze of his. His tail was tucked neatly beside him, but it twitched slightly when your hand brushed along the blanket near his hip.

“You’re staring,” he muttered, one brow raised.

You grinned. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“…About how you’ve never let me touch your ears.”

Gunwook froze, and his ears, those tall, sensitive points, twitched just once before standing straighter, a clear giveaway. “That’s because they’re… sensitive,” he said carefully, though his eyes stayed on yours. “And kind of… private.”

“I know,” you replied softly. “That’s why I haven’t. But I’m curious. Only if you’re okay with it.”

He was quiet for a moment, jaw working as if weighing every word. Then, with a quiet sigh, he leaned forward, just enough that his head dipped a little in your direction.

“Just once,” he muttered, ears flattening slightly, not in fear or discomfort, but in shy surrender.

You reached out, slowly, gently brushing your fingers along the edge of his left ear. It twitched beneath your touch, and Gunwook inhaled sharply through his nose, body tensing, but he didn’t pull away.

Instead, his tail gave a soft, hesitant thump against the blanket.

Your hand moved carefully, tracing the soft fur near the base, feeling how warm and alive he was beneath your fingers. His ears flicked once more, but then settled under your touch, slowly adjusting to the sensation.

Gunwook let out a breath, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “You’re not teasing me, right?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, letting your hand linger with quiet intent. “Never.”

His eyes opened again, softer now, vulnerable in a way few got to see. “Okay,” he said simply, leaning ever so slightly more into your touch.

And though his words were few, the slow wag of his tail, now brushing gently against your leg, said everything else.

YUJIN (border collie hybrid) :

Yujin wasn’t used to being the one flustered. As the youngest, sure, he got teased, got babied a little, but he was sharp, clever, always bouncing back with a smart remark and a crooked grin. But when it came to things like touch, especially the kind that felt intimate, he still had a kind of awkward, bashful innocence to him. The way his Border Collie ears perked and twitched whenever you got too close was both endearing and telling.

You were curled up on the couch together, some late-night movie playing in the background, but neither of you were really watching. His head rested on your shoulder, a little tentatively, and his tail, fluffy and restless, kept giving him away with every flick.

Your hand moved slowly to his hair, fingers brushing through the dark strands. He didn’t react at first, just let out a quiet breath and relaxed a little more against you. But when your fingers skimmed the base of his ears, he flinched, not from discomfort, but from sheer surprise.

His ears shot straight up, and he sat bolt upright, cheeks already flushed. “Wha—hey!”

You blinked, startled by the sudden movement. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to—was that too much?”

Yujin looked at you, ears still high and twitching slightly, eyes wide with something that wasn’t quite panic, more like embarrassment wrapped in nervous energy. “No! I mean—it’s not bad, just—just no one’s done that before.”

You smiled softly. “I can stop.”

“…No,” he said after a beat, quieter this time. “I didn’t say that.”

You reached up again, slower this time, giving him every chance to pull away. But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned in, just barely, and let you touch his ears again.

They were softer than you expected, warm and velvet-smooth beneath your fingertips. Yujin’s shoulders tensed at first, but gradually, he seemed to melt, his tail curling closer to his legs, swaying gently.

“You’re really warm,” you murmured.

“I’m not warm,” he mumbled immediately, eyes darting to the side. “You’re just really close.”

You bit back a laugh, brushing a thumb over the edge of his ear.

His ears flicked again, but this time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into your side once more, a shy but genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“…Don’t tell the others,” he murmured, eyes fluttering shut. “This is just for you.”

Word count : 3619 | serapharua, 2025.

[rykno-j]

G/ojo is mostly the one who is touchy with G/eto, but now im thinking maybe one of the times G/eto would willingly touch G/ojo could be when he was feeling G/ojo's forehead for a fever.

It came so unexpectedly that G/ojo was just stun-locked. Eyes going wide, freezing in place, that kinda stuff.

The palm against his forehead was warm but cool, it felt soft, gentle, different from how G/eto would normally poke at him in retaliation to his antics.

G/ojo sinks into the touch, completely forgetting that G/eto had quite literally confirmed that he was running a fever, one that he had been trying to hide, too.

And if any thermometers went missing that day, its because G/eto's hand was more than capable of reading his temperature.

▪︎•▪︎

[davinawritings]

Werewolf neighbor that can’t hold himself back from breeding you once he smells you ovulating.

Warnings: Oral (fem receiving), Major Breeding Kink, Slight Overstimulation, Knotting

Pairing: Male Werewolf x Female Reader ( Reader could be read as human or monster or hybrid)

You had moved into his apartment complex a few weeks ago, and he had tried to keep his distance.

He had only really seen you on that first day when you were guiding the movers to your apartment, which happened to be on the same floor as his. You had given him a shy smile, and he quickly responded with a tense nod before entering his apartment and slamming the door shut, already feeling his cock hardening.

Unfortunately, he could pick up on your smell whenever you were in the hallway due to his heightened senses. It never failed to send his blood rushing to his cock, but he always managed to keep himself locked away in his apartment, rutting into his own hand.

As he hears your door unlock tonight, he waits for the inevitable moment when your delicious scent will hit his senses. Like every other day, it does, but it is much sweeter this time. His cock is almost instantly hard, and a low growl is involuntarily released from his chest.

All of his instincts are screaming at him to breed your fertile pussy, and he groans at the realization that you smell so sweet because you are ovulating. His legs move faster than his brain, and before he knows it, he is in the hallway and pacing towards the elevator where you are calmly waiting.

He grabs you and pulls you over his shoulder, causing you to gasp. “ What are you doing?” you ask. He doesn’t answer and carries you back to his apartment and bedroom. He lays you down on his bed, and you stare at him wide-eyed. He watches as your eyes trail over his tall body stopping on his throbbing cock, hidden only slightly by some gray sweatpants.

He smirks as you lick your lips. He quickly strips you of all your clothes, pulling your legs apart to settle his face between them. You let out a low whine as his breath hits your wet center. “ I’m going to get this pussy nice and ready for my cock, and then I am going to spend hours breeding this beautiful body. Got it? I’m not stopping until I’m sure you are carrying my pups”, he says, his voice rough with lust.

You moan out a simple “please”, your body on fire with need. He licks a stripe up your slit and moans, giving you a grin before burying his head in your pussy and eating you like a god. Every lick has you clawing at the sheets and moaning in pleasure.

He moves to fucking his tongue inside your already dripping cunt, and you cry out at the feeling. His snout rubs your clit as he shakes his head back and forth, and you scream as you cum on his tongue, back arching off the bed.

He crawls up your body and doesn’t wait for your orgasm to end before starting to push his thick cock into your still convulsing cunt. Tears come to your eyes at the stretch and overstimulation, but you just pull him closer, needing to feel him fill you completely.

“Fuck. Your pussy feels so good. So fucking tight around my cock. You can take it. Just a little more”, he tells you. You look down, already feeling so full, and see that there really is still more. You whine, gripping the sheets and bracing yourself for the last few inches of his impossibly large cock, wanting to take all of him.

His clawed hand wraps around your hip, and he gives one last hard shove, pushing the final few inches inside of you. “Such a good girl. Taking all my cock. Fucking perfect”, he says, and your cunt clenches at his praise.

He slowly withdraws his cock, relishing in your soft mewls, before thrusting back in and starting a brutal pace. He nips along your neck and chest as your hands claw at his shoulders and back. He never relents in his thrusts, loving the feeling of your cunt clenching around his cock.

You cry out for him, your own release washing over you multiple times, but his instincts won’t allow him to stop until he has filled your womb with his seed.

He flips you over onto your stomach and enters you from behind, fucking you into the mattress. You moan at the new angle, his tip bullying your g-spot and your clit being repeatedly shoved into his silk sheets.

“I tried to leave you alone, pretty girl. I could fucking smell your sweet cunt each time you left your apartment and every fucking time I had to rut into my own fucking fist”, he says, each word followed by a harsh thrust.

“I tried, baby. I rea- fuck. I really fucking tried, but when you walked out today, I could smell this perfect fucking pussy ovulating. Your body practically screamed that it needed me to breed it. I just couldn’t hold myself back”, he growls out, and you feel his cock start growing at the base.

His knot starts catching on each thrust, expanding quickly with his fast-approaching orgasm. He switches to grinding, his knot no longer allowing him to thrust in and out of you. His cock rubs against your g-spot relentlessly as his hips grind your lower half into the bed harshly, your clit being dragged against the silk sheets over and over.

You scream in ecstasy as you cum once again, cunt clenching around his knot as you milk his cock for his seed. He growls loudly, claws digging into the mattress as his cum begins to fill your pulsing cunt, his knot keeping all of his cum locked inside of you. His short thrusts don’t stop as rope after rope of cum continues to fill you, the pressure and fullness making you whine.

After a few minutes, he finally stops and rolls you to your sides, keeping you pressed firmly to his chest and firmly locked on his knot. He releases a small chuckle when you give a small yawn and snuggle further into his chest. “Go ahead and rest, baby. You have a long night ahead of you once my knot goes down.”

🖤💕❤️❤️💕🖤

[screampied]

‘ THIS AIN’T FICTION, BABY! (it is kinda..) ★

☆ sum. jjk men finding out you write jaw dropping smut. boo you whore. can you even do half the things you write about? well . .

warnings. fem! reader, feat. gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna, breaking the forth wall kekw, smut writer reader, unprotected, dirty talk, praise, squırting, manhandling, cuńnilingus, whiny men, cockwarming, daddy kink, overstim, spıt, impact play, breaking the bed, bréeding, size kinks.

GOJO ☆

“oooooh,” a husky low voice coos right next to your ear. hot breath ghosts against the tiny hairs that stand tall near the back of your neck. you bit your lip whilst you’re in the midst of being stuffed full of cock. just plain evil . . satoru’s got you cockwarming him while a fat thumb of his skims down your phone. “let’s see. gojo smut, gojo satoru x reader, hey that’s me, heh,” and he pauses, a snowy brow raising up in daze once he sees your user displayed in bold near the very top of the search bar. “cockwarming gojo, how fitting, angel.”

“toru, fuck,” you whine, making a cute attempt at trying to snatch your phone away. weakly pawing at his wrist, he holds it up even higher. you gasp, feeling his swollen tip swivel its way deeper inside your cunt. “don’t read it,” you fall back into his chest, moaning once he starts to purposely bounce his thigh. embarrassment had you hot, you could practically feel your heartbeat accelerating by the minute. “ ‘s embarrassing.”

satoru squints, resuming to scroll down the glowing screen before a free hand of his trails toward your pussy. he hums, “aw, pretty girl’s got a hobby i didn’t even know of, hm. here, you say ‘he’s got you right on his lap, suppressing a moan with your teeth dug into the bottom of your lip as you’re taking him fully. .’ such nasty literature,” and the edges of your nails pierce into his pants leg. the half on long black slacks that satoru wore were merely all ruffled and ragged thanks to your pretty fingernails tugging at it with all its might. as he continues to read, you’re whining, desperate to move, desperate for at least some kind of friction. as you’re squirming on his lap, satoru’s eye then twitches. “ ‘gojo satoru also would whine in bed?’ this has to be a typo. .”

and of course, his ego gets bruised.

the pout on satoru’s face was adorable. as you’re trying to sturdy your hips, he buries his face into your chest. “mmph,” he’s shoved right between the softness of your tits, his personal happy place.

although—he had to admit, he was flattered that you wrote such lewd compositions about him. you moan as you’re grinding against him, feeling his achy cock slam into you deep within each wet bounce. satoru makes a mess as he’s buried between your plush mounds, remnants of stringy saliva dribbling down the valley of your chest. pretty, his white lashes flutter as you’re quickening your hip movements and he gasps. “oh, f- fuck, angel. ‘s no fair when you ride me like thaaat.”

and you can’t help but giggle—despite your cock drunken state, he’s still got that little glower of a pout on his lips as you’re rutting into him.

satoru’s clenched abs flex more the second you run a finger down the sharp outline of his pecs, watching him immediately fold at your touch. “but you always whine, ‘toru,” you argue in a shivering voice, your cunt tightly squeezing around his length. his wide girth makes your mouth water, such thickness was just insane. you bury your unstable knees into the center of his thighs before his broad big arms wrap around you.

he’s holding you—almost squishing you.

but just like you wrote, satoru whines the second he ends up cumming early. with the way you ride him and the crazed speed of your hips, he never ever lasted long.

it was cute,

he was always confident until he’s buried deep inside your pussy, whining and sobbing pathetic cacophonies of your name at how good you feel clamping around him. it’s merry lukewarm, as he snaps, a puddle of thick syrupy cum shoots into you deep and he’s an entire frantic mess. pants of airy breath slip out of his pink lips as he’s giving you a fill, biting into your neck to hide his slutty whimpers. “god, ‘m gonna die,” he sniffles, squeezing pressure against your bare ass. you hold onto him tight as he’s pouring such slippery wads of seed into you at once—velvety hot amounts spit inside your pussy and you’re matching heavy gasps for air right with him, entirely in sync. “fuck, fuck baby, mommy.”

“what?”

“s- shut up,” he back tracks, and he sees the smug expression growing on your face. satoru lightly smacks a hand over his face before groaning, his cock all milked and flaccid. “i said baby.”

NANAMI ☆

tender mahongy eyes stare deep into your eyes as your fingers happily intertwine with his. tangled and curled, he’s got a soft grip as his body hovers completely over yours.

with ruffled blond strands running down the front of his forehead, nanami brings a kiss toward your cheek as he’s not just fucking you, but making love to you in missionary. “sweetheart, you left your laptop open you know,” and you moan once you feel his plump tip circle its way inside of your gummy inviting walls. already, you’re coating his entire dick with your slimy slick to the hilt. your eyes widen at his words before the left side of your twitching lip is met with another gentle kiss. “i didn’t mean to be nosy, but i saw a little ‘headcanon’ about me, is that what you call it?”

you glance into his eyes with abashed intent as a burning wave of heat sprays over your face. fuck, the pulse of your thumping heart only grew louder as your first response was utter silence.

“i—” you mutter out, and he chuckles at your lack of words, digging his head into your neck. nanami’s scent was strong, it goes through each of your nostrils and you felt yourself throbbing from his touch alone.

his strokes were tender and precise. he’s swaying back and forth as his bare body continues to rut straight into you. pent up muscles of his that were merely perfectly sculptured—identical to the physique of a greek god, you couldn’t help but stare. you just couldn’t help but ogle at how he’s so pretty, how fat tears of sweat race down both sides of his bulky arms. no one could blame you for writing about nanami, although—the things you wrote about him, they were pretty risqué to say the least. with a growing pout, your arms throw over his shoulders as he’s presenting your cunt blissful deep thrusts. “okay, i write about you sometimes, ‘ken. ‘m sorry.”

“sorry for what exactly? being talented, silly girl?” he whispers in a raspy tone.

nanami cups your chin so you could look right at him, naturally leaning into his touch. he focuses on the way your eyes soften and he’s plummeting girthy inches into you raw. your toes curl, running down his back and tickling the scratch marks that paint against his flushed skin. “don’t be sorry,” he adds, pressing a wet kiss near the crook of your neck. “i’m flattered. although, dirty talk isn’t exactly my forte. you know this, my love,” and you moan, feeling the edges of his teeth playfully nibble at your exposed flesh. as pounds of skin resume to smack against each other loudly, nanami slowly lifts up your leg, tossing it over your shoulder. “my favorite part had to be when you said i pulled on your hair ‘n called you a ‘messy whore’ .”

“y- you weren’t supposed to see that,” you nervously grin . . trying to avoid how you were so close to finishing. just a few more thrusts and that was it, you’d be finished, done for. you’ve felt embarrassed before—but never to this extent. he was teasing you, nanami kento was teasing you. and pathetically enough, your pussy twitched as he recited your exact filthy written words. the bed continues to creak and groan as jolting bodies move and move together, amongst each other, and on top of each other.

with kind eyes, nanami watches as you bring both of your hands up to your face, hoping to shield yourself from any more embarrassment.

“oh, honey,” he coos in a melodically low tone. his cock reached so deep that strangled moans flew out from your lips left and right. his tempo was always just right. he never wanted to lose control, but after reading your work, he knew you’d probably like that. crimson damp lips press under your chin before he grunts, preparing himself to be milked dry.

“hngh, don’t hide that pretty face from me,” he huffs, in a soft alluring voice. everything felt abnormally tender, nanami’s softly swerving his body against yours in irregular addictive arcs in such impassioned ardent. the more you stare into your eyes—the more your blown pupils dilate.

once he cup both sides of your face, you lean into his touch. his base was thick, swollen and full. you craved him more than anything, and it’s as if your words were actually coming to life.

“there she is, that’s my girl,” he grits in a raspy voice, prying your hands away from your face. his touch was forevermore gentle. with a soft smile, nanami presses his twitching ruby lips onto yours as you both prepare to cum in euphoric torrent. bedaubing a plump thumb over your bottom quivering lip, he slows his thrusts down a few beats—hearing you vocal pussy’s squelches before a wrinkle of a smile curls against his lips. “now, now. make a mess on your husband’s cock jus how you write them in your little stories, my love.”

GETO ☆

“oh, boo. looks like someone’s innocent all of a sudden when she’s not writing ‘bout dick, hm? wonder why that is,” geto hums, propped right up between your trembly legs. he’s staring at you with a sly smirk that refuses to wipe off his lips. two of his hands spread your thighs apart more before kissing near your slobbering exposed pussy.

with a cunning grin, he gives your drooling folds a few friendly taps as if it was a little mic test. “finish that paragraph. c’mon, wanna make sure ‘m doin’ it right.”

a salty taste of shame fills and salivates inside of your mouth as you watch him with heart shaped pupils. he’s got the most hungry gaze, a bit of spit already dribbling from the thin corners of his lips.

“um, okay,” you moan, picking up your phone again, leisurely dragging a thumb down the neatly typed paragraphs. “it says, ‘you whine, taking s-suguru’s thick fingers happily into your slippery cunt. long digits of his rummage their way inside before curling all around. once suguru spits on your p- pussy, he pats it and calls it a good girl.’ ”

“like this?” geto snickers—copying your exact words, using the flat palm of his hand to rub against your bare clit. you whimper, entirely sensitive as his thick digits toy with your soddened folds. your thighs continue to jostle and shake and he found it so adorable at how you just couldn’t stay still. so cute, he’s got darkened irises focused on you and only you the entire time. these seconds felt like hours, and as he gathers a nice amount of saliva, he spits right on your cunt. just like you wrote it . . you gasp at the sloppy cold saliva cascading down your pussy. the cobwebby strands that pour from his lips had such a pretty glimmer to it. the warm breath of geto that fans against your entrance makes you twitch in elated pleasure.

he’s so sloppy, unapologetically. just like your drabble said—he then pats your cunt with an open palm before leaning right up close, pulling a thumb down your pulsating uvula before licking it passionately. “good fuckin’ girl.”

you whine, your knees practically buckling and he’s just eating your expressions up. “y- yes— like that, fuck,” you move a few long black strands away from his face. geto dips two fingers inside and he stretches you out so easily with his digits. your lips form into a cute ‘o’ shape as you mewl out a desperate cry for more. as he’s watching you succumb into such bliss, he’s got such a pretty face. it makes his dick twitch in his sweats at the thought of you writing about how he goes down on you. the specifics, how sloppy he is, even how he spanks your cunt only to then shamelessly lick the slick mess right up with his tongue.

the thought that probably hundreds of your horny little readers read about this, about him, about his tongue . .

geto’s tongue was ruthless.

he lays it flat against your cunt before fluttering his long black lashes closed. he huskily groans, not even caring that you weren’t reading anymore. as his brows arch into a contorting furrow, he slides in two fat fingers. you whimper at the sudden big yet deliciously enthralling stretch, yanking roughly on his hair. “s . . sugu,” he pulls his slick covered fingers out, licking them clean whilst staring you right in the eyes. you tremor within his hold, feeling his palms tighten its grasp on both of your thighs. you couldn’t lie, this felt a lot better than fiction. so much better . .

he’s making out with your pussy, swirling his tongue around and spelling out all of the letters of his name. creating such a mess, your slick then starts to stream down his chin to which he happily licks it up. groaning, geto then slurps at your drenched hole before giving it yet another kiss. his chin had such luminescent shine to it. you cup his face with shaky hands as he’s eating you out through another orgasm and he jibes.

“mhm, your writing could use a bit more dirty talk though,” he critiques, swiping a thumb against his lips before he spanks your cunt for the umpteenth time.

with your legs sporadically quivering, he playfully bites on your clit, watching you squeal as you’re riding orgasm out on his tongue. “oh, and make sure you add in your little fics that i bite pretty clits too.”

CHOSO ☆

“bottom? w- what’s a bottom?”

choso quirks a brow in cute confusion, slouching back as you’re still getting over your most recent orgasm.

both pounds of sweltering skin melt into each other, sticking together like glue as your hips grow unsteady. choso was reading one of your published works and he can’t help but grow curious. the way you wrote about him, how you portrayed him as whiny and submissive, it does something to him—he personally always thought he was dominant. cute. .

“oh, don’t worry about that, baby,” you timidly utter, trying to conceal an incoming moan once his cock buries its way deep in yet again. he’s nice and snug everyone and it drives him crazy. choso’s got a pout—but it quickly turns into a lewd expression once your sopping pussy swallows him right up again. two jittery hands creep their way onto your rickety hips and he moans once he feels himself already bottoming out. “f- fuck, cho.”

his eyebrows were still all furrowed and he’s got a cute scrunched up expression. “ ‘m not a bottom,” choso grumps, leaning in to sneak a kiss near the corner of your mouth. despite the raspiness lingering underneath his tone—you could hear the incoming whine desperately trying to escape. choso’s black ponytails had cute ribbons in them—by you, and he’s biting his lip at the feeling of your hips starting to grind. “i- i can be dominant too.”

“prove it,” you whisper, a bratty impish glint forming in your eyes. choso scoffs, narrowing his eyes at you but it doesn’t last at all because he’s already pussy drunk to the max.

those two words. . those two words was all it took for him to manhandle you like a rag doll, politely and respectfully tossing you into the springy soft mattress.

it bounces from the abrupt weight crashing down and you gasp once choso backs up his words, and oh, he’s fucking you stupid. you let off a gargled three second moan once choso spanks your ass, using one hand to repeatedly drag you back into his chiseled hips. sharp thrusts plow into you with such speed that you’re left with a dumbfounded expression. your eyes were rolling back and your tongue was lolled out as choso was fucking you in doggy.

as much as you write about him, he doesn’t like doggy, mainly because he can’t see your pretty face. it kills him—but he can’t deny that the view of you like this was so pretty, so enticing. your buckling knees lock as you’re cupping a hand over your mouth, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

choso’s cock was so weighty and thick that it’s got a lazy curve, a mean curve that makes itself known in every part of your insides. he’s no stranger to your body, he knows the exact layout. such stamina—you didn’t expect him to be so feral, it’s as if he was an entire different person. “fuck, fuuuck,” he throws his head back, giving your ass more and more hard spanks. the recoil was his favorite. it was just the way your pretty shaped ass would bounce back onto him. he’s in love with love, in love with your pussy, in love with you. “ngh, gotta show you ‘m not a bottom, baby.”

“c- choso,” you whimper, and his fat base swings against your ass, almost shocking you from the electric friction. you’re drooling—he’s got you stupid as your swollen chaste clit bumps up against his pelvis every single time. the bed hollers out a plethora of cries as he’s jerking more and more into you. your cunt’s drooling dewy slick all down the undersides of your thighs. you even make an attempt at trying to touch yourself. with slickness though, choso snatches your wrist away.

“no baby. ‘s my pussy,” he grumbles, pinning an arm behind your back. you’re babbling—squatting forward as he’s feeding your needy pussy with such inches. choso hisses at the brief twinges of pleasure all due to your sloppy grip. you’re brutal, wetting up his base with your dewy slick. he can’t help but stare and gawk at the way your ass presses up against him. choso’s bottom lip quivers at how good it feels and how good you feel. no matter how much of a front he puts up, he’s gonna whine. “f- fuck. teasin’ me with your hips, baby. so mean.”

yet as he’s dragging you back and forth, watching as your chest heaving and your thighs try to clamp inward—you abruptly cum, gushing all over choso’s cock. he huffs at how sudden it was, and he knew you didn’t expect it in the slightest. so pretty, your final orgasmic cries sounded like a sweet candied harmony and he could feel your quavering body breaking down with his shaft still shoved deeply inside. your mess soaks up the entirety of the dark sheet, now being drenched in a damp grey color. “fuck, fuck,” you whimper, shaking as your head slumps into the pillow. choso whines at your own pleasure, and he doesn’t even care if he doesn’t finish. he pulls out, crawling toward you before burying his face into the nook of your neck. “c- choso, oh my g- god.”

as your flimsy arms hold him close, accepting his embrace, he goes back to his clingy needy self again, speaking in a shivering soft voice. “h- have you ever wrote about squirting yet?”

with droopy eye lids, you were longing for a kiss. as if he read your mind, he leans in—planting a sultry balmy kiss right onto your lips. “no,” you mumble, moving a few strands out of his face.

choso licks near your neck, one of his hands sprawling your sticky legs apart and he brushes a finger against your slick wet cunt. “w- well, you can always write about that,” and you gasp once he lifts your leg up, easily tossing it over his shoulder. with pleading eyes, choso sighs. “but, can we do that again, baby? i- i think i like when you squirt on me.”

SUKUNA ☆

“breeding kink, interesting,” the demon gruffs, hearing you whine after he swipes his phone from your hand, wondering what in the actual hell could be so important.

he’s reading a strange explicit story of himself that’s apparently called a ‘one shot,’ according to you. how stupid, he thinks. sukuna’s irked vermillion-shot eyes skim through the many paragraphs of filth before he spanks your ass, making you keep your most recent arch.

“ah, seems like y’r even more nasty than i thought,” and your breath hitches once he circles a palm over your stinging rear cheek— an attempt at soothing the sudden pang. hearing your cute muffled whimpers, he mocks your noises. “aw, if you wanted me to ‘breed’ you princess, you could have just asked.”

“ ‘kuna, ‘s embarrassing,” you moan, gasping once he smears his leaky tip against your entrance. he was right - you could’ve ask, you could have asked him to do all the little dirty things you wrote about, you could have . .

swallowing the invisible lump that resides at the roof of your mouth, you imagine yourself being stuffed full of sukuna’s cum. so much to where he ends up getting you all swollen—you’d be nothing but sitting pretty with a cute plump tummy, wads and wads of glossy runny cum just slickly dribbling down the sides of your ass and thighs.

“write like a slut ‘n you even act like one too,” he hums, using a thumb to slide down your pussy. sukuna’s staring openly at how you’re already so soaked, so drenched and he looks like he’s ready to feast. your puffy folds glisten with your own arousal and it’s so so cute. “wonder if you write while havin’ a pussy this sloppy too,” and he smacks it raw, feeling your entire body jolt from the sudden impact. you fall into the soft padded mattress and he darkly chuckles at your weakly spot-on reaction time, aligning himself. “poor baby. spendin’ all this time writing when you could’ve been getting . . ah, what’s the word? oh, right. bred, heh.”

and sukuna does more than just breed you—he quite literally overflows your cunt. he’s a demon, and demons cum a lot.

you’re an entire puddled mess that was filled to the brim.

the sheets were all damp and stained and you’re glistening with droplets of perspiration—radiating from his heat entirely. “s- sukuna, fuck,” you weep out his name, hearing the sloppy spurts of cum still dribbling out of you. such a mess, your mouth waters as you realize just how full you are. you always wrote about this sort of thing but never knew that your silly fiction could turn into mere reality. both of your thighs stick together as you’re left trembling with an arch in your back. he’s cackling at your state, watching as globs of creamy ropes leak out of your slobbering pussy.

“how cute, jus might mess around ‘n get you pregnant, yeah,” the demon jibes, a sharp fang poking underneath his bottom lip. you’re haplessly quivering. your panties that were lazily dragged to the side were all torn and ripped, coated in a ivory white color also. as you’re trying to collect breaths—you then let off a moan once he presses himself deep against you.

your womb was completely flooded, you’re drowning with his stringy cum and with his hot burly body right up against you, you feel him right there. you couldn’t miss it, he’s so long and thick that he’s practically tickling your goopy insides. sukuna wraps a hand around your throat whilst another hand sneaks toward your pussy. “bet you’d like that, fuckin’ freak,” and he’s smearing circles against your folds. you twitch at his cursed hand, his cock still tucked inside of you before he laughs against your ear. “you want a baby, huh. wanna carry my demon babies, don’t ya princess?”

you nod and he lets off a snicker of amusement. “keh. bet you do,” and his voice lowly pitches. you moan, feeling him pull out of your dripping cunt, plugging his spilling cum back in with a single thumb. “fuck, better write about this too, princess. let all your pathetic readers know how much of a sloppy pussy their favorite author has,” and you gasp once he quickly flips you over. sukuna suddenly dives head first between your legs, lapping his flick tongue against your folds. “mmph, now watch me clean you up,” and he spits on your pussy only to then look at it with disgust. “messy girl.”

TOJI ☆

“nuh uh, get the fuck back here babygirl,” he grabs you by the hip, and you let off a moan once his fingers trail up your skirt. a wavering crinkle prods near the edge of his left twitching eye as he’s processing such raunchy words about him. a dry chortle leaves from toji’s mouth as he makes you lie on your tummy, multitasking by slapping his swollen cockhead on your dribbling folds. “ya always told me you were a writer but i didn’t think you write ‘bout this,” he purrs, and your toes curl once he’s aligning himself against your slick heat. but fuck was your cunt just was drooling for him. both folds were weeping for him to just go in already, and yet here he was - teasing you. “really? what’s with the whole ‘toji daddy kink’ thing? i look like the kinda guy that’s into that?”

you feel embarrassment creep up your shoulder. he was reading that part, the part where reader calls him ‘daddy.’

sheepishly trying to crawl away from his grasp, you swallow ignominy. “ ‘s not real, i just made it up toji,” you try to explain through gritted teeth. but as he’s reeling you back into his keen structed hips, you lewdly mewl. he’s just so fucking big, happily massaging your walls freely with just a few inches. your mouth widens as you hear him lowly snickering in the background. a snickering laugh that never failed to make your pussy throb.

toji grabs at the fat of your ass, stubby fingertips poking through your skin. with a mean spank, it’s a non-verbal sign for you to stay still. “y’er a fuckin’ slut with your writing, baby. i bet ya haven’t even tried these kinks,” he teases, and you moan again once his cock delves deeper into your walls. with such ease, you back raises up into an even sluttier arch. “hm, lets see if y’er as nasty as you write,” and you hear him grunt briefly, one of his hands gently wrapping around your neck. toji gets right up close to your ear, flicking his tongue against your soft earlobe. “go on, say it.”

“s- say what?” you squeak, but you knew exactly what he wanted. never in a million years would you have thought toji would discover your little erotic hobby. by now, he’s balls deep—you whine, feeling yet another sharp swat smack against your left ass cheek at the lack of response. you’re chewing on the inside of your cheek in guilt before you hear toji smack his lips in sheer vex.

“c’mon, don’t get shy on me now,” he murmurs in a hoarse tone, salacious timbre pouring on his entire voice. toji feels your pussy dripping around him and he hums, giving you just one single tease of a thrust. your body jerks forward and you whimper sweetly. he’s so close up to you, hard washboard abs of his that were proudly flexing grinds against your back. he’s pressing his muscular weight onto you, careful not to crush you but just enough to. inching his lips back toward your ear, he kisses near your neck. “call me daddy. jus like how you write me, little girl.”

as you’re feeling a few throbbing pangs between your thighs, you shiver underneath him. burying your head in shame between your arms, you whine. “ngh, daddy,” and a weird feeling pools around the insides of your stomach. butterflies and a mixture of flutters swarm inside of you and you moan. once those words slip past your lips so prettily, toji raspily groans. he pistons his hips before not even seconds later, he’s fucking you stupid. babbles of babbles leave from you, and you’re acting just like the main character you write for. ironic, you’re clinging onto the silky cream-colored sheets, bawling up the thinly-made fabric with your clammy fists before squealing. “fuck, daddy ‘m not gonna last.”

“should hear how stupid you fuckin’ sound, baby,” he growls, merciless hips snapping into you at full throttle. you were gonna break, you just knew it. toji’s thrusts were so powerful that you’re left squeaking out pathetic whimpers—his cock stretching you out as if you were elastic. “fuck,” he runs a hand through his messy dark tresses. his shaggy strands were unkempt, overgrown a bit and running down his eyes. he’s got to cock his head up a bit just to see your pretty face and your even prettier ass. “c’monnn, do that cute arch you describe in y’r slutty fics.”

“t- tojiii,” you whimper, the weight of the bed dipping after each continuous stroke. he’s thorough. toji’s maddened fat tip has your legs becoming more and more unstable before he smacks your ass. the powerful hit against your rear rings through each of your ears—and you pout, gnawing on your lip, knowing he wants you to correct yourself. “ngh, i- i mean daddy. ‘m gonna cum, fuck.”

but right when you’re about to finish, you’re interrupted by the ear-splitting sound of wood. you’re moaning—feeling your pussy continue to squeeze around his throbbing length that’s coated with veins all the way down to the tan swollen base. it’s loud, you gasp once the weight of the springy bed suddenly drops and you both collapse—toji falling on top of you. he doesn’t even say anything, and he pulls you up to continue fucking you but you let off a whiny whimper. “you just broke my b-bed.”

“yeah, so.”

“so..? you’re gonna have to buy me a new one.”

“right. about that . .”

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ satoru's mouth runs a mile a minute, especially when things get intimate.

it's a constant stream, sometimes coherent, often just utter nonsense. and it starts the second any skin is revealed, not even after the main event. his blue eyes will widen, a soft gasp escaping his slightly parted lips.

a dreamy, swoon-like sigh will flutter from his throat, a delicate pink dusting his cheeks. "oh, you're so, so pretty," he'll murmur, punctuating the words with soft kisses against your bare chest, his tongue leaving a wet trail over your perky nipples. "incredibly pretty. beautiful. no, gorgeous. actually, ethereal."

you manage a soft thank you, your brows furrowing with building anticipation. for what feels like an eternity, he's been teasing you, a relentless dance on the edge. the slick head of his cock bumps insistently against your clit with every subtle shift of his weight.

he just keeps talking, a breathless monologue about how perfect you look spread out beneath him, how impossibly lucky he feels.

you're seconds away from snapping; that he'd feel a hell of a lot luckier if he'd just slide inside already.

"sato, c'mon," you finally whine, a desperate edge to your voice. "ple— please, just…"

"i am, i am," he coos, a lazy smile stretching across his features. "just give me a minute to properly appreciate m'girl."

you huff out a frustrated breath, giving him a pointed look that clearly conveys your dwindling patience. "you've had plenty of minutes already."

but then, finally, he presses the tip against your slick entrance, and the anticipation spikes. he sinks in slowly, stretching your tight, wet walls with his thick length, and he's instantly undone.

his thrusts are never gentle or rhythmic, but rather urgent, greedy slams, as if he's desperate to absorb every sensation, every inch of you, in that single moment.

"fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," he pants, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "no— no one takes me like you do."

his eyes are glazed over, pupils blown wide with pure sensation. a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and his hands roam your body restlessly, eventually settling on the curve of your waist, his thumbs digging in possessively.

"i can't— god, i think i could come just like this," he groans, leaning down to nip at the shell of your ear, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. his fingers slip lower, finding the swollen nub of your clit and rubbing against it in tantalizing circles.

"s'wet," he breathes, his voice a husky whisper. "do i do that to you, huh?" it's not even a practiced dirty talk, you realize, just his unfiltered, lust-filled thoughts tumbling out.

as satoru's climax hits, a shuddering wave that ripples through his entire body, he's literally thanking you, a broken, hiccuping sound escaping his lips. his head falls heavily into the crook of your neck, and you kiss away the tears that squeeze from his tightly shut eyes.

satoru pulls away, just by a little, gazing at you with big, blue eyes. "i think— i think we should get married."

[luvbabydoll]

more to love — simon “ghost” riley

simon “ghost” riley x chubby!fem!reader

the gym had never been your favorite place.

it was hot, crowded, and full of people who made it look easy—like lifting weights and running on treadmills was second nature. meanwhile, you were here, struggling with a machine that looked like it was built for torture rather than exercise.

you adjusted the seat, tried to grab the handles, then frowned when they felt too far away.

frustration bubbled up in your chest. maybe you were just doing it wrong. maybe you shouldn’t even be here.

“need a hand, love?”

the deep, accented voice startled you. you turned—and immediately regretted it.

because holy shit.

the man standing behind you was massive. tall, broad-shouldered, built like he could snap the machine in half with one hand. he was dressed in all black, a hoodie pulled up over his head, a skull mask covering the lower half of his face. and yet, even with all that, his presence alone made heat crawl up your neck.

“i—uh—” words? gone. brain? empty.

his eyes flicked down to the machine, then back to you.

“you’re set too far back.” his voice was gruff, like he wasn’t used to talking much. “lemme show you.”

before you could protest, he reached past you, adjusting the seat effortlessly. his arm barely grazed yours, but it was enough to make you hyper-aware of how close he was.

“try now.”

you swallowed hard, nodding, trying to ignore how warm your face felt as you reached for the handles again. this time, it fit better.

“better?”

you nodded again. “y-yeah, thanks.”

he huffed, stepping back, arms crossing over his chest. “good. no point in doin’ it if you’re just gonna hurt yourself.”

at first, that was all it was. he’d spot you now and then, offering the occasional correction, always watching with that unreadable gaze. sometimes, if you did something right, he’d murmur a quiet "good girl," and it sent a shiver down your spine every time.

but then, he started noticing things.

the way your shirt rode up when you stretched, the peek of soft skin at your waist. the way your thighs pressed together when you sat down to catch your breath. the way you avoided looking in the mirror, adjusting your clothes like you were trying to hide yourself.

and it pissed him off.

because, fuck, how did you not see what he saw?

one day, you were tugging at your shirt again, mumbling something under your breath as you glared at your reflection.

ghost heard it.

“quit that.”

you froze, looking up at him, wide-eyed.

he stepped closer, his voice dropping low. dangerous. “ain’t gonna stand here and watch you tear yourself apart. not when you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever laid eyes on.”

your breath hitched. “i—”

but he didn’t let you finish. he grabbed your wrist, tugging you toward the locker room—empty, because it was late—and backed you against the wall.

“y’know what i see when i look at you?” his gloved hand trailed down, fingers brushing over your belly, gripping at the soft flesh with something close to reverence. “i see somethin’ perfect.”

then his mask was up just enough for you to see his mouth, and before you could process it, he was biting.

your belly. your thighs. your love handles. he had his hands on you, all over you, pressing you against the wall as he nipped, kissed, worshiped every inch of soft skin he could reach. he growled between bites, “so fuckin’ soft,” and, ‘could spend all night right here.”

and when you tried to protest, tried to tell him you weren’t—

he growled. actually growled, sinking his teeth into your thigh before pulling back, lips curling into something almost smug.

“don’t wanna hear another word about it,” he muttered. then, hoisted you up—like it was nothing—and carried you over to the bench.

“now. y’gonna let me sit you on my lap, or you gonna make me take you home first?”