#i know you’re probably feeling down & having a bit of struggle of your own

[okaylikeschaewon]

Thirsty

~7k words, Roommates series, Eunbi, smut

“Yo, far side of the bar, they’re still here.”

“I told you, tonight I’m chilling,” you replied, sipping your drink casually. “Take Mint with you.”

“Come on, there’s three of them and I know the one in the middle is your type.”

“Let it go, Jae,” Mint laughed, coming to your defense. “It was hard enough to convince him to come out tonight. There’ll be other girls.”

“Yeah, but I want that girl,” Jae complained. “And this handsome fucker knows the success rate of a three versus three is way higher than a two versus three.”

“I can’t lie, the friend in that little black dress is pretty fucking hot,” Mint added. “But you’d probably fumble this one anyway, you’ve been struggling tonight.”

“Man, I didn’t give a shit about that last girl, she wasn’t even my type,” Jae waved his hand in front of his face. “This girl, though? No chance of fumbling this one. I need to talk to her.”

“What, we’re not good enough for you anymore?” Mint picked up his own drink and took a sip. “You know, you’re allowed to go out and just chill with the boys from time to time.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” you agreed with your friend. “We rarely go out and don’t talk to girls.”

“Yeah it’s rare because your ass hates fun now,” Jae retaliated. “Gotta get you to a knitting club or some shit with all that ‘I refuse to find a girl in a club’ shit you’ve been spewing lately.”

“It’s true, I know I’m not finding the one in a club, especially not one like this,” you laughed while waving Yujin, one of the bartenders, over to get you another drink.

“He has a point,” Mint agreed. “It literally hasn’t worked out for any of us, and Jae you definitely have the most experience in that regard.”

“Also look, your three-man just turned into a two-man,” you commented while accepting your drink from Yujin and handing her a tip. “My girl just ditched them.”

“Perfect, come on MInty, let’s go,” Jae laughed. “You said you liked that little dress.”

“Great,” Mint sighed. “Let’s go add another failed two-man to the history books.”

The three of you laughed together before all of you picked up your drinks.

“Cheers boys,” you held your glass up, laughing as the three of you hit your glasses together. You took a hefty sip of your own while your friends finished theirs. “If the third girl comes back, I’ll step in. Good luck.”

“We don’t need luck where we’re going,” Jae puffed his chest out in confidence.

The two of them walked over to the girls while you watched, leaning against the bar. They actually seemed quite receptive, both of them were laughing at something Jae said. Within minutes, Mint had his arm around the girl he was interested in, and she could not stop staring at him. Jae’s girl was a bit more reserved, but she wouldn’t stop laughing at whatever he was saying.

“I feel like I should warn you,” Yujin leaned over towards you. “That girl your buddy is talking to is roommates with the girl he was talking to last weekend.”

“Oh shit, for real?” you burst out laughing. “Well, I guess he’s in for a surprise if it works out. What about the girl in the dress?”

“Never seen her before, but she seems incredibly sweet,” she answered. “What about you, couldn’t find a girl tonight?”

“What do you mean, I’m talking to one right now.”

“That doesn’t count, it’s my job to talk to customers.”

“Is it also your job to give your number to customers?” you smirked.

“You might as well delete it with how often you text me,” Yujin replied without missing a beat. “And if you say that any louder I will get security to carry you out of here.”

“Don’t worry, I was about to get going anyway. Could you close my tab?”

“Wow, calling it early tonight?” Yujin asked while tapping away at the screen.

“Yeah, I’m exhausted,” you answered. “Plus, it looks like those two are going to be pretty busy,” you motioned towards your friends. Jae had his tongue down his girl and Mint looked like he was absolutely in love with his.

“I guess you’ll have to get a drink with me another night,” Yujin held your card out for you.

“I still gotta finish this one,” you motioned towards your half emptied drink. “You could join me.”

“We agreed that when we eventually get a drink together I’d have to be on that side of the bar,” Yujin replied.

“You’re right, in that case,” you picked your drink up and downed it. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Have a good night,” Yujin leaned over the bar to give you a quick hug and kissed you on the cheek.

Before leaving, you quickly stopped by the bathroom. As soon as you walked in, a pair of girls left one of the stalls together, their clothes making the most feeble attempt at covering their bodies. The first girl was about to walk right past you, but she stopped when her friend paused.

“Why are you in the girl’s bathroom?” she asked you, clearly a little bit tipsy, or perhaps a lot tipsy.

“This is not the girl’s bathroom.”

“It’s not?” she gasped, eyes wide, looking around.

“No, it’s not,” you chuckled, carefully with two fingers adjusting her strap so that it was on her shoulder properly. “So, I guess I should be asking you, why are you in the men’s bathroom?”

“I was just letting my friend eat my ass,” the girl hiccuped.

“Wony, what the fuck,” her friend came back and grabbed her arm.

“Let go of me!” she squealed, yanking her arm away. “I found the love of my life.”

“Well, the love of your life needs to go piss,” you chuckled, turning to walk away from her.

The girl, Wony, stuck her arm out to stop you. Her friend looked so defeated, standing there and watching the events unfold.

“Let me hold it for you,” Wony mumbled as she fell forward.

“Whoa there,” you caught her in your arms, holding her up and stopping her from hitting her head against the wall. “How about we take a seat for a second.”

“I want to sit… on your cock…”

“Alright! That’s enough!” her friend came and grabbed Wony, dragging her away from you. “It’s time to leave.”

“Do you need help?” you asked her friend as she started dragging Wony away.

“It’s- fine-” she gasped as Wony broke free of her grip again and ran into you.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” she moaned as she latched onto you again. “Please eat my ass.”

If only this girl wasn’t borderline blacked out right now, because she was fucking gorgeous. It was a shame, but you weren’t going to even consider accepting her advances in this state, that wasn’t your cup of tea. You very carefully, while watching your hand placement, tried to get her off you, but it was futile - you decided just to carry her out of the bathroom while her friend watched.

“Here, sit down for a second,” you placed her gently onto one of the empty couches where her friend sat down next to her. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t leave me,” she whined, reaching out for you with both hands.

“I’m coming right back,” you grabbed both of her hands in yours and shook them playfully. “I promise.”

You couldn’t deny it, the way she nodded was quite endearing. She was still incredibly pretty, but now she was also absurdly cute. Once you felt confident that the girl, Wony, wouldn't fall over, you walked over to the bar.

“She’s cute,” Yujin teased, handing you the glass of water she already knew you came to get.

“She’s drunk,” you shook your head before thanking Yujin and heading back to the girls. Once you arrived back at the table, you handed Wony’s friend the glass of water since Wony was barely conscious at this point and holding a glass would not be in her best interest.

“I appreciate the help,” the friend said, accepting the glass and placing it on the table before reaching her hand out to you. “My name’s Gaeul, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you replied after giving her your name and shaking her hand. “And don’t worry about it, just make sure she drinks some water.”

“Also, what she said about me earlier, that was just a joke,” Gaeul added sheepishly.

“Even if it wasn’t, I’m not judging. That’s your business, not mine,” you replied casually. “Are you guys going to be alright getting home?”

“Yeah, we should be fine, some of our friends are by the bar, we came together,” Gaeul answered kindly. “Thank you again!”

“No problem, have a lovely night, and make sure she drinks that at some point,” you replied warmly before getting up.

Just as you were about to go back to the bathroom, a girl standing by the bar caught your attention. There were pretty girls everywhere, but this one stood out well above the rest. She was perfect - absolutely flawless. Everything from her posture to her expression, the way her outfit accentuated her beautifully fit body, showcasing her phenomenal rack, you just knew you had to talk to this one. You saw her separate from the group briefly as she was putting her empty drink back on the bar and decided that you needed to take the opportunity.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but you look like someone who I need to buy a drink,” you opened with as you leaned against the bar next to the girl.

“Oh do I?” she smirked, turning to face you properly.

It was incredibly difficult to keep your eyes up; She probably had the best tits you had seen in your entire life. Luckily for you, her face was also unbelievably pretty - this girl was unreal - so it wasn’t much of a punishment to keep eye contact with her. This girl really had it all.

“Yes, you absolutely do,” you waved Yujin over and held up two fingers, pointing to the glass the girl had placed on the bar and mouthing ‘please’.

Yujin nodded with a smile and began making the drinks.

“I appreciate the gesture,” the girl smiled while reaching into her purse. “But I think I’m the one who owes you the drink. I saw you taking care of Wonyoung over there.”

“Oh, you know her?”

“We go to school together,” she explained. “She’s actually my roommate.”

“You guys go to-” you began while gesturing towards the direction of your school when Eunbi interrupted you.

“Yup, we heard all the students love this club. It’s our first time here.”

“Wait, you’re not a freshman are you?”

“We’re both juniors, but neither of us lived in dorms before,” she laughed. “You?”

“Senior, been in dorms since the start,” you answered.

“I guess that means you come here often?”

“You could say that. Also, I didn’t help your roommate to get a free drink out of it,” you reached forward and blocked her from taking her card out of her purse. “How about you let me get these since I’m the one who offered, and you can thank me by telling me your name.”

The girl smiled at you, slumping her shoulders in defeat, accepting that you weren’t going to allow her to buy. She took the glass from your hand with a little nod of thanks while you began reaching for your card.

“Don’t worry about it, this one’s on the house,” Yujin winked at you before walking off.

“Would you look at that, now you don’t have to feel guilty,” you smiled, holding your glass up for her.

“So, I guess that confirms you’re a regular,” the girl chuckled while tapping her glass against yours and taking a sip with you. “My name is Eunbi.” 

“Alright Eunbi, explain something to me,” you put your glass down.

“What’s up?”

“How is it that I’ve never seen you before?”

“Maybe you have.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t forget it if I had,” you smiled at her.

“Well, it’s a big school,” she giggled, looking away for a second in embarrassment. “I was mostly a go-home-after-school type of girl.”

“Then I guess I should just be grateful that I ran into you tonight.”

“You definitely should, I’m not really one to go out like this.”

“Could have fooled me,” you looked her outfit up and down. “You definitely know how to dress the part.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” she smiled again, once again slightly embarrassed by the compliment. “Unfortunately, I think my friends are trying to leave.”

“I don’t see why that has to stop us from talking.”

“What are you implying, you want to stay here?”

“Here, somewhere else,” you answered. “Wherever I can talk to you some more.”

“Well, it is kinda loud here,” Eunbi looked around the club.

“My place is pretty quiet right now,” you commented while looking over at Mint who had his tongue down his girl’s throat now. “And it doesn’t look like my roommate is going to be bothering me tonight.”

“You’re going to invite me over after just meeting me?” Eunbi asked. “That’s a bit quick, no?”

“I’ve been enjoying your company so far and I’d love to get to know you better,” you replied with a smile before pulling out your phone and texting the group chat to let them know you were leaving. “But if you’re not comfortable with that, wanna at least put your number in my phone before we forget?”

“Depends, are you texting your girlfriend right now?”

“Girlfriend?”

“I don’t know, gut feeling,” Eunbi explained.

“Here,” you held your phone out to her. “I got nothing to hide, I was texting my friends to let them know I was leaving.”

Eunbi took one look at your phone and immediately bent over laughing.

“Condom broke, we awoke?”

“Blame my friend Jae for that one,” you smiled at her reaction.

“That has to be one of the best group chat names I’ve ever seen,” Eunbi giggled before looking at your phone again. “Alright, you can have my-” she stopped speaking abruptly and her cheeks turned bright pink. “Prettiest girl you’ve ever seen?” she mumbled, looking up from the phone.

“What, I tell my boys how it is,” you replied casually. “I never lie to them.”

Eunbi gave you back your phone and turned around to run over to her group of friends who were still standing there watching her from a few feet away. She began telling them something that earned you some peeks from a few of them. Wonyoung was asleep on Gaeul’s shoulder at this point, the latter flashed a smile at you while Eunbi talked. After about a minute or so, she quickly scurried back towards you.

“You’re not going to murder me, right?”

“Probably not,” you answered.

“Good enough for me,” Eunbi giggled. “Alright, I accept your offer.”

“Are you sure your friends are cool with this?” you asked, staring at Eunbi’s gorgeous eyes while in your periphery you could see her friends all staring at you. “I feel like I’m the one who should be worried about getting murdered.”

“You’ll be fine if you kiss me.”

“If I kiss you?”

“Yeah, they’ll probably trust you then,” Eunbi stared back into your eyes - she was serious.

“Only one way to find out,” you replied, slowly leaning forward.

The skill of Eunbi’s lips was not something you were prepared for. You closed your eyes, cupping her face in your hands, relishing in the sweet taste of her strawberry lip gloss, enjoying the enthralling nature of her soft lips. You couldn’t even hear the music anymore, in your mind the only thing left in this world was the girl you were making out with. As you felt her hand on the back of your neck, you moved one of your hands to her back, holding her warmly.

Once the kiss finally ended and you two separated, Eunbi held her face in front of yours, staring deeply into your eyes. She was adorable, absolutely the prettiest girl you had seen in your entire life. Her round eyes, expressionless face, the way she held herself right in front of you.

“Did it work,” she asked, never breaking eye contact.

“I don’t know.”

“Are you going to check?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t stop looking at you.”

She kept staring back, but now she was smiling and her cheeks were turning pink again.

“Whatever, it was just an excuse to kiss you anyway.”

“You don’t need an excuse to do that.”

“Do you ever stop flirting?” she asked.

“How about we start walking and you can find out for yourself,” you suggested, holding your hand out for her to take.

“We gotta finish our drinks first though,” Eunbi picked your glass back up and placed it in your outstretched hand.

“Let's do it properly then.” you suggested, holding your arm up slightly.

Eunbi wrapped her arm around yours, interlocking your arms at the elbows. She smiled brightly at you before bringing her drink up to her mouth. The two of you started drinking together. You finished your drink a few seconds before her and watched as she scrunched up her face trying to catch up. With your arm locked with hers still, all you could do was watch patiently as the adorable girl chugged her drink until she successfully finished it.

“Definitely not your first time,” you chuckled, taking her glass from her.

After placing her glass on the bar you grabbed a couple of napkins which you held out for her so that she could wipe her lips. She, however, had a different idea, and instead of accepting the napkins stuck her face out and pouted her lips at you. You smiled again, using the napkins to wipe her lips for her - this earned an eruption of little screams and squeals from her friends which you ignored. Eunbi grabbed your hand with a smile and pulled you out of the club without looking back at her friends a single time.

“Finally, I can hear my own thoughts,” you sighed as the brisk night air hit your skin.

“And what are those thoughts telling you?” Eunbi asked while letting go of your hand and spinning in a circle playfully.

“The same thing my eyes are,” you responded while looking over at Eunbi. “That you look even more stunning under the moonlight than I could have ever imagined.”

“I guess that answers my question,” Eunbi laughed, stumbling slightly before balancing herself.

“You’re not also drunk, are you?”

“Oh please, I can handle my liquor way better than Wonyoung,” Eunbi giggled, swaying slightly as she stood there with her hands on her hips. “I’m barely tipsy.”

“How many did you drink tonight?” you asked while walking up next to her and grabbing her hands.

“We were taking shots earlier…” she squinted her eyes as she was trying to remember. “Three? Four? I don’t know.”

“Plus at least two drinks.”

“That’s your fault,” she whined, pouting again. “I was fine until that last one.”

“It was your idea to chug it.”

“Oh yeah,” she giggled before latching onto your arm. “I’ll be honest, I think I’m feeling that last one hit me…”

“Have you been drinking water? Want me to get you some?”

“No it’s fine, I’ll drink some at your place. You have water right?”

“Of course I have water,” you chuckled.

“Then let’s go!” Eunbi giggled again, hopping cutely. “I’m getting cold.”

“We could grab a cab if you wanted,” you suggested as you started walking.

“It’s like a five minute walk to dorms, we’re not getting a cab,” Eunbi dismissed the idea, shivering slightly as she held onto your arm.

“Here,” you lifted your arm up and pulled her closer to your body, wrapping your arm around her shoulder. “Sorry I don’t have a jacket tonight, no drama-esque scene for us.”

“It’s alright,” Eunbi smiled as she held onto your body. “This’ll do. You smell really nice, by the way.”

“Just give me a warning if you’re about to throw up, I like this shirt.”

“Real funny,” Eunbi rolled her eyes at you. “I told you, I’m just tipsy.”

“So what’s the occasion tonight that led to you getting ‘just tipsy’, Friday night?”

“Wony passed some stupid quiz or something and wanted to go out,” Eunbi answered, the little girl shivering slightly. “Friday night is not enough to get me to go out, I told you I don’t do this often.”

“Celebrating a quiz? Wow, you guys sure are good friends.”

“I kinda owed her for something, otherwise I meant it when I said I really don’t go out like this very often.”

“With how quick you were to take any excuse to get out of there, I almost believe you,” you chuckled, giving her just a little bit of a squeeze to let her know you weren’t being serious. “Or maybe you just didn’t want to deal with your drunk roommate.”

“She’s a bit of a brat at times,” Eunbi giggled. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my roommate.”

“I wasn’t questioning it.”

“Good, with how much we do for her, you better not question it.”

“How much you do?”

“Look,” Eunbi giggled. “That girl is as bi as they come, I never know if she’s going to bring a guy or a girl back to the dorm. Thank God we have separate bedrooms.”

“Ah, so that’s what you meant by you owed her.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Hey look, it’s fine if you’re in a relationship with your roommate,” you teased.

“Me? No,” Eunbi laughed. “Our friend Gaeul on the other hand, she’s been coming over almost every night lately.”

“Oh yeah?” you replied, hoping she would elaborate.

“Wonyoung is fucking shameless, I swear,” Eunbi giggled while shaking her head. “She had Gaeul… this might be tmi…”

“No such thing as tmi in my eyes.”

“Look, we’re touchy and all that, I even kissed her tonight as a dare,” Eunbi continued. “But Gaeul… Wonyoung has her do everything to her.”

“Should I even ask?”

“All I’m saying is that the mess they left in the room tonight before we came out is part of the reason why I’d rather go back to your place,” Eunbi giggled.

“I hope you’re not expecting my place to be pristine, I wasn’t expecting company tonight.”

“As long as there aren’t plugs and beads all over the room, it’ll be better than ours.”

“Who said there wouldn’t be?”

“I… guess I didn’t account for that,” Eunbi giggled again. “Which floor are you on?” she asked as your building came into view.

“Third.”

“Oh! Same as us!”

“Wait, you’re also in this building?”

“Yeah,” Eunbi answered enthusiastically. “In the girl’s wing, of course.”

“Thanks for confirming, I was totally questioning that part,” you replied while scanning your ID to open the door. “Now I’m even more upset that I haven’t run into you before.”

“Well, now you know I’m only one hallway away from you, no more excuses,” Eunbi walked through the door you held for her.

After a short elevator ride and walk, you found yourself at your door. You opened it up, holding it for Eunbi to enter before following her into the room.

“Oh wow, this is my first time in a guys’ room,” Eunbi commented while looking around. “It looks just like ours.”

“Were you expecting something different?” you chuckled while walking past Eunbi towards the kitchen. “Here, drink this,” you poured her a glass of water which she accepted graciously.

“Thanks, that walk honestly sobered me up quite a bit.”

“Good, unless you wanted to stay tipsy,” you replied. “All we have right now is some shitty rum or some shitty vodka.”

“I’m alright, thank you though,” Eunbi smiled before putting the empty water glass down. “Can I see your room?”

“Yeah, of course,” you walked over to your bedroom door and entered your room. “Wanna sit?”

“Sure.”

“Go ahead,” you motioned towards your bed. “Mind giving me a second, I still really need to run to the bathroom.”

“No worries,” Eunbi smiled at you before looking around your room, admiring the various vanity items.

In the bathroom, you took a quick piss and then quickly reapplied some cologne. You checked your hair in the mirror, made sure everything looked good before heading to the kitchen where you grabbed yourself a glass of water, chugging it before heading back to your room.

“Did you want anything by the way, a drink-” you froze when you entered the room and saw Eunbi had taken off her top, leaving her in just a blue bra. “Oh.”

“Come sit,” Eunbi patted the bed next to her where you walked over and sat down. “You deserve some credit.”

“What for?” you asked, sitting down on the bed next to Eunbi, your eyes no longer able to avoid her tits.

“Not once have I caught you looking at my chest tonight,” Eunbi giggled. “Come on, I’m not stupid.”

“I gotta admit, you haven’t been paying enough attention,” you chuckled. “They’re too fucking beautiful, I couldn’t help myself.”

“At least you’re honest,” Eunbi smiled, leaning closer towards you. “You know, you’re allowed to touch them.”

“Quick to the point, are we?”

“I can put my top back on if you want,” Eunbi commented with an expression of fake concern.

“That won’t be necessary.”

The way her gorgeous smile began shining as soon as you grabbed her tits in your hands couldn’t be compared to anything. Nothing was hotter than a girl with self-confidence, and Eunbi absolutely knew what she was packing. Her tits were so fucking perfect, and they felt as amazing as they looked. So soft, molding into your fingers and you squeezed and squished them in every direction.

“Kiss me again and I’ll take the bra off, too,” she whispered, replacing her smile with the most seductive gaze humanly possible and opening her mouth slightly.

There wasn’t even a second of hesitation before you pressed forward with your mouth. You kept one hand squeezing her tits while the other lowered down towards her hip. Once again that delightful taste of strawberry blessed your mouth as Eunbi wrapped her arms around you, feeling up and down your toned back.

She was so fucking irresistable, you couldn’t detach from her body. You had to keep kissing her, you had to keep feeling her, you had to have her. She was too beautiful for this world - for all you knew, this was just a dream. Who fucking cared, you’d never wake up from this if it was, and that would be alright.

Without even stopping the kiss, Eunbi began reaching behind her back to unstrap her bra. You quickly reached around her body to help her, unstrapping it immediately and tossing it to the side. It didn’t even matter that her tits were completely out now, you didn’t want to stop kissing her yet to take a proper look. Slowly, you pushed forward until Eunbi was laying on her back, both of her hands now cupping your face while both of your hands were groping her chest.

This continued for a few more minutes, both of you were addicted to the other. Eunbi now had her leg bent and wrapped around your hips, you had one hand on the back of her thigh holding it up. Your other hand was still pressing into her soft tits, rubbing her nipples from time to time. Your hand slid up the back of her thigh, and for a bit you ended up palming her soft ass.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” Eunbi moaned from beneath you. “And you’re really fucking hot.”

“Right back at ya,” you smirked before shoving your mouth into her neck, kissing her clavicle.

“I don’t usually do it on the first night,” Eunbi moaned, grabbing your hair and pushing your head lower so that you were squished between her tits.

“That’s fine,” you gasped for air before taking her nipple into your mouth, sucking the nub until it was covered in your saliva. “No pressure.”

“I can make an exception tonight.”

“Should I grab a condom?” you asked excitedly before moving your mouth to her other tit and showing it the same love.

“No need, I’m on the pill,” Eunbi let go of your head and started pulling her skirt down.

“Leave it,” you insisted, sliding down your bed and reaching your hands up her skirt. “May I?”

She nodded with a giggle, loving your little act of chivalry, bending both of her legs so that her knees were up and bringing her hands to her tits, playing with them aggressively. As soon as her panties came off, you shoved your face between her legs. Just like that, within minutes of getting her in your room, you had your face in front of this dime piece of a girl’s pussy. A sharp inhale filled the room as you planted a kiss on her pussy - pure ecstasy to your ears.

Instead of sucking on her beautifully shaved pussy, you decided to slow it down, tease her a bit. You pressed your lips against her soft inner thigh, holding against her skin for a few seconds before kissing. Then, the same on the other leg, alternating with each kiss, moving closer and closer to her pussy. Once you couldn’t get any closer without actually placing your mouth on her folds, you started licking circles around her.

“Stop fucking teasing me,” Eunbi whined, squirming her lower body incessantly.

The corners of your lips curled upwards. You were going to have her begging soon, but you also needed a proper taste of Eunbi’s sweet pussy. With all the enthusiasm in the world, you gave her a singular lick from the bottom of her pussy all the way up to her clit where you sealed her clit with your lips. With the slight tang of her pussy now on your taste buds, you started jabbing your tongue against her clit.

“Oh yeah,” she began moaning before her moans swapped to screams as you shoved, without warning, two fingers up her pussy. “Oh fuck!”

Her entire lower body lifted off the bed briefly as you pushed two knuckles deep into her pussy, but the real surprise came when you felt her pussy squirt right onto your chin. You sat up on your knees, pulling your dripping fingers out of her snatch.

“Sorry,” Eunbi gasped, her chest heaving. “I should have… warned you…”

“Don’t apologize,” you wiped your chin with the back of your hand before ripping your shirt off and tossing it to the side. “That was really fucking hot.”

Eunbi didn’t have any time to feel embarrassed because as soon as your shirt came off you had shoved two fingers up her vagina again, this time thrusting them back and forth aggressively while your other hand started rubbing circles against her clit. It was sensory overload, you could tell by the way her face scrunched up in raw, unfiltered pleasure, and also by the droplets that began flinging out of her.

“Come on,” you grunted, speeding up your thrusting even more.

Suddenly, you got what you were looking for. Eunbi began gushing, spraying all over your arm, your chest, and your bed. She still had her eyes closed, but as her body once again lifted off the bed, she kept squirting all over anything that dared exist in front of her pussy. Once she stopped, you pulled your fingers out, and that led to a gush of liquid spilling out of her. Without missing a beat, you shoved your face between her legs and began lapping up her mess.

“Oh my fucking God,” Eunbi sobbed, her pussy literally trembling against your tongue. “Please.”

It was so fucking addicting. You couldn’t stop, you needed to suck every drop out of her pussy. You wanted to drown in her, your brain wasn’t working anymore. Eunbi’s wet pussy was your salvation. There was no way to know it now, but you’d be thinking about sucking Eunbi’s pussy for the next week.

“Stop,” she cried out, grabbing your hair with her hands. “I can’t…”

With her hands threatening to pull your hair out, you finally obeyed her wishes and held your face still. Other than the occasional lick of your tongue, you simply enjoyed the pulsatile squirts coming out of Eunbi’s pussy directly onto your chin. Once she finally stopped, her squirts being reduced to the occasional dribbles of fluid, you pulled back and sat up on your knees.

“You’re really fucking hot,” you said nonchalantly, wiping your chin again with the back of your hand.

“Come here,” she moaned, reaching her arms out for you.

As soon as you moved forward, she began kissing you again. Her hands found your buckle, undoing it swiftly and unbuttoning your pants. She fumbled around your crotch some more until her hand made it down your underwear, pulling your cock out.

“Want me to suck it first,” she whispered into your mouth between kisses, stroking your cock gently.

“Fuck that,” you spread her legs wide for you to get closer.

“Hold up,” Eunbi got up and turned you around so that now you were laying on your back with her on top of you. “Let me.”

Eunbi, her body right above yours, began rubbing her pussy with her palm before grabbing your cock and spreading her fluids along your shaft. She held your cock with one hand, lining it up with her pussy, and slowly started to lower herself onto your cock. You grabbed her skirt, lifting it up just in time to see her drenched pussy lips spread to accept your cock. She lowered herself lower and lower, pausing once she was all the way down, scrunching her face in delectation as her pussy adjusted to your size.

The girl knew how to move her hips, clearly showing off as she started moving up and down your shaft slowly. Her soaked pussy moved effortlessly as she started bouncing up and down your cock. Your hands found their way to her ass, gripping it tightly while she did all the work, working your cock like an expert.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you grunted, starting to push your hips into hers.

Eunbi started leaning forward, her massive tits hanging in front of you, shaking and jiggling each time she bounced on your cock. They were beautiful, shining as her efforts began leaving a thin layer of sweat all over her soft skin. She was beautiful. The way her face scrunched up as she felt each inch of your cock, she was irresistible. How could a girl be this perfect?

It was overwhelming. You didn’t have it in you to lay there, you knew you had to properly fuck this girl soon or else she was going to make you erupt with how good she was at moving her hips. Your hands left her ass and slid up her back, pulling her tits closer to your face until your nose was pressed between them. With your arms hugging her tightly, you stopped holding back.

“Oh fuck yes!” Eunbi screamed at the top of her lungs as soon as you started slamming your hips towards the roof. “Uh!”

It was such a blessing knowing most of your hallway would be out tonight, sparing you from dealing with the repercussions of a noise complaint, because Eunbi was loud. Equally as loud as her screams was the sound of your body slapping against her sweat-coated skin. At this point you had no idea if it was her sweat coating your legs or the absurd amount of fluid this goddess of a woman had squirted on you tonight.

Everything became a blur of wetness, tits, and Eunbi’s screams. The profanities Eunbi were shouting into your room would surely get you expelled if your school could hear them. If it wasn’t a moan or a cry, it was a mixture of the most lust-driven mumbles of salaciousness. Even with how loud Eunbi’s voice was, she could barely be heard over the wet slapping of her pussy getting fucked.

As much as you wanted to switch up the position, you couldn’t. You physically could not detach your face from Eunbi’s tits - it was not possible. Not that it really mattered, Eunbi was making it very clear that she was enjoying this. In fact, she could not have made it any more clear than she already was, especially with how her body had started squirting all over your cock now. The only disappointment was that as you felt Eunbi’s wetness coating your crotch, you knew you were quickly approaching your limit.

“I’m close,” you huffed into Eunbi’s tits.

There was no way to be sure if Eunbi heard you, not until at least she started bouncing her hips up and down with every bit of enthusiasm in her little frame. She didn’t just want you to cum in her, she wanted to make you cum in her - It was out of your control now. There was no stopping it now, you felt the pressure, the sensation, the pleasure all building up in your cock.

With your hands now squeezing onto Eunbi’s ass for dear life, your face pressed as far into her tits as it could go, you held on for dear life as your cock blew its load into her pussy. She kept moaning, kept moving her hips, despite it being impossible for her to know you were adding to the mess of fluids in her pussy. The only indication would have been the strained moan you let escape your lips as your cock pumped again and again, emptying itself into her.

With one final pump, your entire body went limp. Your hands fell to your sides, and all you could do now was breathe deeply against the softness of Eunbi’s tits. She lay on top of you for a bit longer in silence, moving her hips just enough to feel your cock still inside her as it also began to relax.

“Holy fuck Eunbi,” you broke the silence, trying and failing to sit up.

She didn’t even reply, she simply giggled as she lifted herself up. Slowly, she moved up and let your cock fall over, completely coated in a mess of cum and all of Eunbi’s bodily fluids. Eunbi reached past your body, once again giving you a beautiful view of her massive tits hanging down towards your face, and grabbed a few tissues. She wiped between her legs, not that it mattered with how much of a mess everything was now, before standing up, leaving you on your bed gasping for air.

“Do you mind if I borrow a shirt?”

“Yeah go ahead,” you panted, your chest heaving up and down with your eyes closed.

“Can I take this one?” Eunbi asked.

She looked so embarrassed when you opened your eyes to see her holding the shirt you were wearing earlier.

“Sure,” you shrugged, sitting up in your bed, finally catching your breath. “Bring it back whenever, you know where I live.”

“I promise I will,” Eunbi smiled, slipping the shirt on. It was too big for her, and she looked adorable in it. She quickly checked her phone before giving you a disappointed look “I’m really sorry to rush off like this. I would have loved to spend more time, but I need to check up on Wony.”

“Don’t worry about it at all, go take care of your roommate. I’ll see you soon?”

“Abso’ fucking ‘lutely you will, especially after that.”

---

A/N:

Um, Eunbi is really hot. I just HAD to write her at some point. Initially I planned to make this like a 15-20k word fic, but after talking to some other writers I decided to break it up for the sake of readability (yes, that means I have already planned out the plot for the next two parts, and yes I have already started working on them). I could have written it all out and edited it properly, but that dopamine rush of posting a fic is too strong.

Hopefully you guys enjoy, this is a little different from my typical style in the sense that it's an alternate universe fic! I just had this idea and felt like writing it out, I might end up doing more of these style of fics if I get some more ideas that I feel like writing, especially for idols/groups who I don't follow as closely. Let me know what you guys think, as always, appreciate the support!

[fangirl-dot-com]

🐾 Il Pawdestinato

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Bianchi!Reader (fc. Alexandra) Genre: Comfort/Fluff Summary: A disappointing fourth place as Suzuka has your boyfriend feeling down. Maybe all he needs is a teeny-tiny surprise.

So this is that imagine that I've been talking about making. Sorry, it's taken so long. I hope you all enjoy and I promise I am working on the next chapter of Reputations. I just think that since it's a smaller fic, I could do an imagine and a chapter for the week. Let me know what y'all want me to do!

You internally sighed as you watched the red car with the number 16 cross the line in fourth place. Anger started to bubble below the surface and you had to turn around for a moment, hoping that the cameras in the garage wouldn’t catch the sneer on your face. 

How hard was it to get Charles on the podium that his heart needed? 

The tenth anniversary and it seemed to not matter to anyone except your family and Charles’s. But of course, it’s Ferrari. Can’t give their driver a decent car or a decent strategy. When Charles is ahead it’s race on if you’re faster. But if Charles is faster but behind it’s stay in position. 

When were Ferrari finally going to actually put actions into their words? Or give their chosen driver the better strategies? 

Your blood had almost boiled over at the very distasteful words of Damon Hill when he called Charles depressed and emotion during the weekend. Sorry, it’s not like his godfather or your brother had a fatal crash ten years ago. Totally not that. 

Charles had to hold you back from seeking out the former champion when you watched the interview. 

But now, you just had to be there for Charles. 

Your hands held the helmet that the Monegasque would have brought to the podium with him if he had been up there. The helmet that should have been brought to the podium years ago if everything had been according to plan. 

But ten years ago, fate had a different story: one that didn’t include your brother in the narrative. 

Your high-heeled feet quickly took you to Parc Ferme to meet him there. You didn’t want to be too late. Multiple people in red parted for you as you made your way to the cars. The shiny helmet seemed to blind anyone who looked at it. 

Charles took his time getting out of the car in the P4 placement. His heart was heavy as his head turned to look at the wrong Ferrari parked a few meters away. God how he wanted that to have been him. His eyes watered as he started to take his gloves off. He could see the tilt of Carlos’s lip as he gave his post-race interview. He despised the driver for it. 

However, as he turned, a glint of silver caught his eyes. The Monegasque almost choked on his spit when he saw that you were holding it up. He all but ran over, trying to get there quickly before Max was called up.  

Charles held out his hands when he got close, however he froze when you placed Jules’s helmet in his hands. His own helmet was still on, probably him trying to hide his own tears. Except, you had let yours run free. 

You gave him a little nudge. 

“Go,” was all you told him. 

The Ferrari driver, now with helmet in hand, jogged over to the cool down room. The security around didn’t bother him, almost knowing what he was trying to do. He poked his head around the corner and caught a bit of the conversation. 

“And you were struggling with tyres,” he heard Max say as he watched the Dutchman almost give Carlos a cold shoulder. Max’s eyes widened when he caught a familiar red helmet peeking around the corner. He cocked an eyebrow but walked over when beckoned. 

“Charlie?” he questioned when he saw the Monegasque crying in his helmet. Max wanted to question him further, but something was thrust in his hands. He looked down in shock. 

Charles shuffled on his feet a bit. 

“Can-can,” he stuttered under the Dutchman’s gaze. He inhaled deeply. “Can you take this with you? On the podium?” 

He shut his eyes tight, not even wanting to see if Max rejected his plea. A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he opened his eyes just a bit. He was confused when he saw that Max was close to tears as well. 

Max gulped the big lump in his throat, taken back by what Charles was asking. If Max could, he’d switch with Charles in heartbeat. 

He tried to give the brunet a smile, but it came out kind of crooked. Max clutched the helmet close to his stomach, careful not to accidentally drop it. He looked down at the silver detailing. The only thing lacking on it was the Ferrari emblem. His eyes widened a bit when he realized that this wasn’t just an extra helmet from Charles. 

“I-I’m sorry I c-can’t bring it up myself,” Charles tried to justify, but he couldn’t get the words out. 

In the back of the cooldown room, Checo’s eyes were trained on the pair. His eyes slid to the side only to find Carlos not even looking. The Mexican wished he could hear when they were saying, but the familiar helmet told him everything he needed to know. He watched Charles back away and disappear around the corner. Once the red-clad driver was gone, Checo saw Max stiffen as though he realized what this actually meant. 

The second Red Bull driver got off the seat and walked over toward the Dutchman. He peered down at the silver helmet. He could almost hear Max thinking in the silence. Now he was the one to place a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder, as the Dutchman had done for Charles. 

“He trusts you Max.” 

Max only breathed in and nodded. They were quickly called to line up go to the podium. When the blond got to the top step, he made sure to hold the helmet where everyone could see. It was kind of like a testament to truly show that he was the wrong driver to be holding it on the top step. 

His blue eyes tried to find green in the crowd below, but he failed. Max even failed trying to find you. He deflated a bit but still held his head up high. Max’s lips quirked when he heard P screaming from below in the arms of Kelly. 

While Max held the helmet, really all he could think of is if he would have friends who’d hold his helmet in reverence if he were to tragically die. He’d like to think that Charles would race with a dedication helmet all race year long. He wouldn’t want it on Carlos’s helmet or Checo’s (but he knew that the two would do it anyway). 

Even though he was missing green, his eyes did catch a wide smile. He was glad that Danny was there, knowing the Australian had been close to Jules during his time in F1. 

Max had been so caught up in the anthems that he didn’t even realize that they had ended. Not wanting the helmet to get ruined with champagne, he quickly ran around to hide it behind the wall. He made sure it was stable before running back out to join in the celebrations. He knew that he’d have to give it back after, but for now, he could only receive sprays of bubbly. 

Charles’s head had been buried in the crook of your next since he got back to his drivers room. You could only rub small circles on his back, trying the comfort the sad man. 

“Why am I just never good enough?” Charles whispered into the silence. Your breath hitched when you heard the utter despair in his voice. “Can’t even get a podium for Julio.” 

“Charles, it’s not you. Please, never think it’s you.” 

The Monegasque only sighed and turned more into you. Your hands blindly reached for your phone. Once your fingers hit the cool case, you immediately grabbed it and started to plan something. You knew that the two of you were headed to Milan this week for sim testing and for the grand opening of LEC. But, you knew that you could make it even more special. 

You grinned as you made the plans and sent over a hefty amount of money, but it’d be worth it.

Hopefully.

A knock on the door had Charles sitting up straight. He quickly rubbed his eyes before heading over to the door. When he opened it, he came face to face with a soaked Max, who had slightly sad eyes. In his hands was the helmet. 

Max’s gray eyes swept over Charles before looking around the room. He gave you a smile when your eyes met. A quick nod of you head told Max everything he had to know. He turned his eyes back to Charles and handed the headpiece over. 

There was some awkward silence before Max coughed. 

“I’m guessing you’re headed back to Maranello?” 

When Charles shook his head no, the Dutchman was a little confused.

“We’re headed to Milan first,” was all Charles offered. 

You snorted at the short words from your boyfriend. Charles grew red but then offered a little more intel. “I have that ice cream thing.” 

Max’s eyes widened when he realized that it wasn’t just a rumor or a joke. Charles made a face. 

“I’m very serious about my ice cream Max.” 

Oh, Max guesses he said that out loud.  

The Red Bull driver snorted. “I wouldn’t doubt that Charles. Everything you do, you do it best.” 

Now, Charles grew red (but not of embarrassment). 

“Thank you,” he whispered, squeezing the helmet a bit tighter. You were still scrolling through your phone as they talked a bit more. You were just making sure that the place you were staying at had the correct accommodations for your surprise. 

It was only when Charles got back into his spot on your chest did you realize that Max was gone. You turned your phone off and put your hands into his hair and started to scratch lightly. A content sigh escaped Charles as he finally melted into you. You leaned down to kiss his forehead. 

“We have to get going or the flight is going to leave without us,” you murmured into his hairline. You had talked to Fred (more like demanded) about letting Charles skip debrief for the time being. The money in your bank account could pay for whatever expenses the Monegasque would be fined if he skipped everything. 

In the plane, Charles had curled up to you once again. When you made sure that he was sound asleep, you got your computer back out. You finished typing out your email to Doni, making sure that everything was in order for when the plane would land. You just hoped that you could keep the surprise a secret for a little longer. 

Knowing that Charles would be dead tired when you got to the place where you’d be staying for almost two weeks, you put him straight to bed when you arrived. He went down with little to no arguments and was sound asleep as you unpacked everything. 

Pulling back the covers, you were able to slip in next to him. As you were about to fall asleep, Charles wrapped his arm around your middle and brought you closer. His lips met the crest of your shoulder before tucking his head back into your neck. You put your hand over his arm and held it tightly. 

In the morning, you were woken up by the sound of a blender from the kitchen. You sleepily put your feet on the cool tile and made your way to the open room. 

Charles had his bare back to you as he was slaving over frozen fruit and oat milk. He startled a bit as your cheek came to rest on his shoulder. Your lips pressed against your favorite freckle that stood out amongst the rest of the galaxy on his back. 

“Good morning amore.” 

You always loved his terms of endearment in the morning when his voice was still deep with sleep. 

“Morning Cha.” 

Charles smiled as he heard sleep still evident in your own voice. While he pressed the automatic blend button, he turned around to face you. Your eyes were still closed as you looked at him with a dopey smile. Charles couldn’t help but mirror it, even if you couldn’t see it.

 He leaned down and placed feather-light kissed on your eyelids before moving down to your nose. The Monegasque always loved doing that as your nose would immediately scrunch after. 

A whine left your lips, signally to him that he hadn’t kissed you where you wanted it yet. He rolled his eyes and stooped a bit lower, his lips finally finding solace in yours. 

After three years, you still couldn’t get over the feeling of his lips on yours. Your hands slip up his arms until they locked behind his neck, pulling him closer to you. His own hands found themselves planted against the span of your hips. 

It was just the two of you in your own little world for a bit, leaving you breathless when you finally parted, smoothie long forgotten. 

Charles rested his forehead against yours. 

You hummed, getting his attention. 

“I have a surprise for you later today,” you told him. Feeling him tense against your chest, you knew he was immediately interested. 

“Like, later today or in a few hours.” 

“More like in a few hours. We have to get ready and then get going.” 

You and Charles quickly drank your smoothies before you headed back to the bedroom to get dressed. Teasingly, you swung the keys around his face as you walked out to the car, claiming that you had to drive because he didn’t even know where you were going. 

“You get to be passenger princess now my love,” you called as you climbed into the driver’s seat. Charles could only roll his eyes. 

He would never admit it, but he secretly liked being the passenger every once in a while. It gave him the freedom to choose the music and not worry about getting one place to another. 

Once the car got closer to the location, Charles had a sense of what was going on. He turned his head toward you once you pulled into the house. His eyes were sparkling (but you knew they’d get brighter once he understood why exactly the two of you were here). 

Charles unbuckled with you following suit. 

“Are we here to see Mimi?” he questioned as he held your hand, swinging it as you walked. 

You were digging through your purse with your other. “Something like that.” 

The doorbell was rang and Charles smiled at the sight of his friend. 

“Hi mate,” he greeted, pulling Doni into a hug. You gave the man a greeting when you had the chance. 

“Follow me,” Doni said, pulling you and Charles into the house. You could tell that the Monegasque was excited as he squeezed passed Doni and immediately went to pick Mimi up. You giggled, seeing your boyfriend turn into a literally baby for the small dog. 

Seeing that he was preoccupied, you leaned over to Doni. 

“Is he here?” 

Doni smiled down at you. “We can go get him.” 

You turned to Charles. “Love, Doni is going to show me a new painting that he’s been working on. I’ll be right back.” 

The only response you got was Charles kissing Mimi on the head and waving you off. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be mad because moments later, your hands were full of puppy. You clutched the blond dachshund into your chest. 

“He’s perfect,” you whispered, kissing the puppy’s head lightly, earning a little yap in return. You and Doni returned to the bigger room, still finding Charles enamored with Mimi. You snorted at the sight. 

“Charlie,” you said, gaining the Monegasque’s attention for a moment. The minutes Charles’s eyes were on you, he froze at the sight of the itty-bitty puppy in your arms. He set Mimi down immediately, but the bigger dachshund wasn’t offended. 

Charles gingerly stepped over and his hands hovered over the little puppy in your arms. His eyes met yours, silently asking to hold the tiny thing. You rolled your eyes and you gently set the unnamed puppy in his hands. 

The baby dachshund looked tiny in your arms, but now looked even tinier in Charles’s bigger hands. The Ferrari driver held the puppy up to his face and was met with a wet tongue against his nose. The giggles that resounded out of the grown man made you melt inside. 

After the right amount of attention was given to the pup, Charles looked at Doni. 

“What’s his name?” he asked his friend. 

Doni smirked down at you. 

“That’s for you to decide love.” 

It was comical with how big Charles’s eyes got when he finally realized that the puppy in his hands was his (well, you two would share him). Tears even welled up in his green eyes, making them look incredibly glassy. 

You cooed at the two while stepping closer to put your hand back on the puppy. The little thing yawned and snuggled deeper into Charles’s hand. His head whipped up so he could look at you. 

“I’m never putting him down you know that right? I’ll make him a little pocket in my race suit and he’s going to go everywhere with me.” 

You snorted. “I don’t think puppies are built to withstand the G’s baby, but I’ll keep him company in the garage. He’ll have Roscoe to play with next year too.” 

Charles stopped listening after you had said “baby,” his brain melting. Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about a future with you and an actual baby. That made blood go to different places and he needed to stop thinking about that. 

Doni had walked away for a moment and came back with a piece of paper. 

“You think of a name superstar?” the man asked, pen poised to write. 

Charles held the British-crème dog up to his face and looked into the boba-like brown eyes. He hummed as he put him back down at stomach level, still not wanting to put him down. 

“Leo.” 

Now that you snorted. “You’re going to name our son after your rival?” 

Charles paled once he realized and stuttered as he tried to make up an excuse. “Non, it’s like the LEC logo. The ‘C’ looks like an ‘O’ if you squint.” 

You laughed but nodded at the excuse. “Sure amore, sure. But I think Leo Leclerc suits him. Little baby.” 

Doni also laughed as he wrote down Leo’s name. “More like Leo LeHandbag because I don’t think superstar is going to put him down anytime soon.” 

You turned back to Charles, but the man was already crouched down next to Mimi, showing off Leo to the older dog. You facepalmed. 

“I am dating a literally child. First an ice cream line and now this.” 

Doni smiled. “He looks happy.” 

You sighed in content. That’s all you had wanted to do since Suzuka: make Charles happy. You couldn’t bring back your brother, but you could offer small hopes to the man you loved so dearly. Your eyes widened when you looked at your watch. 

“Love, we have to go. Your launch is in an hour and a half.” 

Charles pouted. “We’re bringing him right?” 

You smiled softly. “Yes, let’s bring our son.” 

The two of you said your goodbyes to Doni before heading out. Charles still wanted to be the passenger so that he could hold onto Leo for longer, knowing that he’d have to give him back to you once the launch started. 

“I still can’t believe you named him Leo after Max.” 

“He is not named after Max.” 

“Sure babe. It’s definitely not like Roscoe being named after Nico Rosberg.” 

“Wait. Lewis names Roscoe after Rosberg?” 

“Yes Charlie. But it’s ok. I can be second best to your work-wife.” 

“Max is not my work-wife.” 

“Whatever you say. Il Predestinato now has Il Pawdestinato.” 

“HE WON IN SPA, HE WINS IN MONZA!” 

“I swear Charles, I will take him back.” 

“LEO LECLERC IS THE WINNER OF THE 2024 DOGGIE GRAND PRIX!” 

“I’m dating a child.” 

y/n_bianchi has posted

y/n_bianchi little Leo Leclerc ☀️

liked by charles_leclerc, lestappenlove, y/nxcharlie, and 4,204,096 others

leclerc_fam oh my gosh he's so cutieeeeeee

i_want_y/n do y'all need another one? cause I can bark 🗣

charliesangels STOP DID Y/N GET HIM A PUPPY AFTER SUZUKA????

lestappenlove not them naming Leo after a certain lion rival

brocedes2.0 reminds me of lewis naming Roscoe after Nico Rosberg

lecluv ice cream, a puppy, and a gorgeous girlfriend - Charles is living the life 😭

roscoelovescoco yous is goings to haves to brings him to the paddocks so I's cans meets new friend! ♥️

y/n_bianchi of course roscoe! I can babysit so the dads can do their thing 🏎💨

lewishamilton can't wait to meet the son!

charles_leclerc he'll be at Shanghai ☺️

roscoe&leo they're going to be the IT dogs of the paddock

leolovescharlie imagine having formula 1 driver Charles Leclerc and Ceo of a multimillion dollar company Y/n Bianchi as your parents

maxverstappen1 I like the name! 🦁

y/n_bianchi i told him that you'd say something

charles_leclerc HE IS NOT NAMED AFTER YOU

y/nxcharlie it's cat dad Max Verstappen vs dog dad Charles Leclerc

iamred_iamyellow choose your fighter

y/n_leclerc I'm just waiting for when y/n is going to show up with a ring

ferrari_fan when I saw I got that dawg in me, best know I'm talking about Leo

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[itneverendshere]

pogue reader getting sick but she can’t call out, but rafes fr mad at you about it

changed it a bit just bc i want to show reader's progress regarding her hyper-independence, they're already dating and past the "i love you" phase, i felt like some progress had to be made by this point, especially bc this is after their big fight in this. hope you enjoy <3

don't want less, don't want more - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

The floor beneath you feels like it's tilting, moving under your feet like a boat rocking on rough water. You blink a couple of times, hoping that’ll shake the haze taking over your vision, but it doesn’t do much. 

The bar lights over your head are too bright, and the music thumping from the speakers makes your head feel like it’s trapped in a vice. The clink of glass, every laugh, every order shouted at you feels like a hammer driving nails straight into your skull.

You swallow hard, trying not to gag. Your throat’s raw, and your chest feels tight, but you’re powering through it because you don’t have much of a choice. Not a choice at all.

"Whiskey sour, extra sour!" some country club douchebag yells from the other side of the bar.

His voice is like nails on a chalkboard. You force a smile and nod, reaching for the bottle, but your hands are shaky. You catch yourself on the edge of the bar before you can drop it.

This morning, you could barely get out of bed. Fever burning through you like you were standing too close to a bonfire, throat too sore to talk, and your head pounding so hard you thought you were going to pass out just brushing your teeth. 

You tried calling in. Tried. Told your manager, Greg, that you were sick as hell, couldn’t make it, but the guy just grunted like he always does. "Can’t afford anyone calling out today," he said. Like the world was going to end if you didn’t show up to sling drinks for a bunch of rich assholes.

So here you are.

You rub the back of your neck, trying to loosen up some of the tension building there, but it doesn’t help. Nothing really does at this point.

"Hey!" The guy who ordered the whiskey sour snaps his fingers in your face. "You deaf or something? Whiskey. Sour."

"Got it," You mutter, trying not to let your voice crack as you finally pour his drink. 

Your vision swims a little as you set it down in front of him, and for a second, you think you might actually faint right here at the bar.

That’d be something. Faceplant into a bunch of overpriced cocktails in front of half of the Kooks on this island. Greg would probably just step over you and ask you to get back to work.

You lean against the bar for a second. Your stomach rolls, threatening to revolt, but you choke it back. You can’t afford to be sick here. Not when you’re already in trouble with your manager for barely making it on time. You think back to the half-assed breakfast you tried to eat—if you can call a slice of toast breakfast—and how your stomach rejected it like poison.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Rafe coming in. And suddenly, you’re even more aware of how wrecked you are.

You know he still struggles with how independent you are sometimes. You’ve always been the kind of girl who handles things on her own, and Rafe has this tendency to think that means you don’t need him.

Today, though? You need him more than ever, but you couldn’t bring yourself to call for help.

You immediately know it’s gonna be a thing.

His eyes lock onto you from across the bar, and even through the fog in your head, you can see that look on his face. He’s pissed. Of course, he’s pissed. His jaw’s clenched like he’s biting back whatever rant he’s about to drop on you, and you can already feel the tension creeping up your neck.

Great, as if you didn’t feel bad enough already.

You try to stand a little straighter, look a little less like you're one second from collapsing, but your legs are jelly, and the room’s still spinning like you’re on some messed-up carnival ride.

You don’t want him to see how bad you’re hurting right now. But today? You’re too out of it to even try and explain.

He strides up to the bar, looking sharp, as usual. Meanwhile, you probably look like death warmed over. His eyes are scanning you, taking in the pale face, the way you’re gripping the edge of the bar like you’re about to keel over. You see his lips tighten, and yeah, he’s definitely about to lay into you.

“You didn’t call,” he says, voice low but definitely annoyed. He leans in, trying to keep this between just the two of you, but with how loud the bar is, it still feels like a confrontation.

“I’m fine,” you lie, forcing a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. 

Rafe’s eyes narrow. He’s not buying it. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Why didn’t you call me?”

You hate that you feel guilty.

“Because I’m handling it,” you say, voice softer now. But even you can hear how weak you sound.

It’s not convincing. Hell, you’re not even convinced.

He crosses his arms, looking down at you like you’re a puzzle he can’t figure out. “Handling it? Baby, you can barely stand.”

You let out a sigh, trying not to let it turn into a cough.

"I’m fine," you repeat, but even you know it sounds pathetic at this point. Your head feels like it's full of cotton, you’re not sure if you’ll make it through the next few minutes, let alone your entire shift.

But pride’s a bitch.

Rafe just stands there, arms crossed, staring at you like he’s waiting for you to come clean. You can feel his frustration, but there’s something else, too. Worry. It’s in the way his eyes keep flicking over your face, how his fingers are tapping against his arm like he’s holding himself back from just scooping you up and carrying you out of here.

"I heard from Topper," he finally says, like he’s been holding that card in his back pocket. You blink, trying to keep up. "He saw you at the club earlier, said you didn’t look right."

Great. Freaking Topper. Of course, idiot couldn’t mind his own business. You can almost picture him, all dressed up in some preppy golf outfit, spotting you from across the course and making a note to text Rafe the second he saw something off.

Rafe’s still watching you, waiting for a reaction.

You open your mouth, trying to come up with some excuse, some way to brush it off, but your brain’s too foggy, and all you manage is a weak, "I was fine then."

He raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? 'Cause Top said you looked like you were about to hurl on the 9th hole." He’s trying to keep his voice low, but you can tell he’s annoyed. Not at Topper, not even really at you—just at the whole situation.

You want to snap back, tell him you’re fine, that you’ve got it under control. But instead, all that comes out is another tired sigh. “Greg wouldn’t let me call out. Said they needed me.”

“You serious?”

“Dead-serious.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches so tight you think you hear his teeth grind. His hands come out of his pockets, flexing like he’s about to hit something—or someone. He runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to calm himself down before he says something he’ll regret.

But you know him—he’s never been great at holding back when he’s pissed. And right now? He’s definitely pissed.

“Greg said that?” His voice is low, but there’s this dangerous edge to it, like he’s two seconds away from losing it, “You should’ve called me. I would’ve come down here, I would’ve—”

“I know.” You cut him off because you do know.

He would’ve dropped everything and come running. That’s exactly why you didn’t call. You didn’t want to be the a burden again. Like you said, you’re still working on yourself.

Rafe leans against the bar, his whole body radiating this intensity that makes you feel both comforted and nervous.

“So, let me get this straight,” he says, voice louder now, not even bothering to keep it low-key anymore. “You’re sick as hell, and that asshole wouldn’t let you stay home?”

You wince. He’s drawing attention now, people at the bar starting to glance over. You hate seeing him like this, but you don’t have the energy to smooth things over.

“Rafe, please—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“No, seriously. What kind of fucking manager forces someone to come in when they’re this sick?” His voice carries, and a couple of the other bartenders are giving you looks, like they can’t decide if they’re more surprised or impressed by Rafe’s audacity, "You’re killing yourself for this job, and he doesn’t give a fuck.”

You glance toward the back, hoping Greg’s still in the office and not witnessing this meltdown. The last thing you need right now is more heat from him. But of course, your luck sucks, because just as Rafe’s ramping up, Greg strides out from the back, clipboard in hand, that same stupid scowl on his face like he’s already annoyed at everything.

Rafe spots him instantly, and if you thought he was mad before, now he’s on a whole other level.

"Greg!" Rafe calls out, loud enough that half the bar turns to look. Your stomach sinks. This is about to get ugly.

Greg stops dead in his tracks, his eyes flicking to Rafe and then back to you. He knows. He knows exactly what’s about to happen, and he’s already losing the upper hand.

“Yeah, Rafe?” Greg’s voice is weak, almost shaky. Like he’s trying to keep it together, but he knows he’s got no chance. Rafe’s family literally owns half the island—Greg’s just some middle manager with too much attitude.

Your boyfriend steps forward, slow and deliberate, closing the space between them like he’s already won this thing.

“You made her come in today?” His voice is calm, but it’s that scary kind of calm that’s worse than yelling. The kind that makes your stomach drop because you know the person holding it together is barely holding back.

Greg opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is this pathetic mumble. “We… we were short-staffed.”

Rafe raises an eyebrow, his lips pulling into this cold, humorless smile. “Short-staffed?” He glances at you, and you feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You really didn’t want this to turn into a scene, but here you are. “You see how she looks right now? You made her come in like this?”

Greg’s eyes flick back and forth between you and Rafe, and you can see the panic starting to set in. He’s sweating now, probably realizing that this little power trip he’s on is about to bite him in the ass. “She didn’t… uh… say she couldn’t work…”

“She told you she was sick,” Rafe cuts him off, voice like steel. “You’re the manager, right? Thought that meant taking care of your staff. Guess I was wrong.”

Greg’s mouth opens and closes like he’s trying to think of something to say, but nothing’s coming. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, knowing any move he makes right now could get him fired. Hell, maybe even blacklisted from every job on the island. The Cameron’s have that kind of pull.

“I-I didn’t realize how bad it was,” Greg finally stammers, but even he doesn’t sound convinced by his own excuse.

Rafe takes another step forward, practically towering over Greg now. “You didn’t realize?” He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “Look at her, man. How could you not realize?”

You wince as the room seems to get quieter, everyone watching this power struggle unfold. You’d rather be anywhere but here right now, but you also know that Rafe’s not letting this slide.

Greg takes a step back, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“I-I was just trying to keep things running. We… we were slammed.”

Rafe’s smile drops, and now it’s just pure ice. “You think that’s a good enough reason to put my girlfriend’s health at risk?”

Greg looks like he’s about to pass out himself at this point, but he manages to mutter, “No… no, I—I didn’t mean…”

“Here’s the deal, Greg,” Rafe says, voice low but dangerous. “You’re gonna back off. Let her finish this shift if she wants. If she doesn’t? She’s out, no questions asked. And next time, when she says she’s sick, you listen.”

Greg nods so fast it’s like his head’s on a swivel. “Of course, of course, Rafe. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I just—”

“Good,” Rafe interrupts, already turning away like he’s done with this conversation. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Greg just stands there, wide-eyed and frozen, clearly too scared to even argue. He stammers some half-hearted apology, but Rafe’s already turning back to you, brushing the whole thing off like it was nothing.

You look up at him, still in shock at how quickly Greg folded. “You really didn’t need to do that.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the bar with that easy confidence he always has. “Yeah, I did,” he says, his tone softening now that it’s just the two of you. “I’m not gonna let some nobody push you around like that.”

You sigh, feeling both relieved and slightly embarrassed. “You know he’s probably gonna hate me even more now.”

Rafe smirks, like that’s the least of his concerns. “Who cares? He won’t say a fuckin’ thing. Trust me.”

“Everyone’s going to say a thing, baby. They’re gonna think I have some kind of privilege because I’m dating you.”

Rafe’s smirk softens. He steps a little closer, lowering his voice so only you can hear him over the dull roar of the bar.

“Let them think whatever they want,” he says, his hand brushing against yours. “You’ve been busting your ass here long before I ever stepped in. Nobody can take that from you.”

You bite your lip, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, judgment and curiosity. He’s right in a way—you’ve been working extra hard. But still, it’s hard to ignore the feeling that now, everyone’s going to assume you’ve got some special treatment just because of Rafe’s name.

“It’s not about that,” you murmur, “I just—don’t want people thinking I can’t stand on my own. I don’t want to be the girl who hides behind her boyfriend’s power.”

Rafe tilts his head, studying you with that look he always gives when he knows you're holding back.

“You think that’s what this is?” His voice is steady, his tone a little softer now. “This wasn’t about power, baby. This was about someone treating you like you didn’t matter. And I’m not letting anyone—anyone—do that to you.”

He’s not wrong.

Greg didn’t give a damn about how sick you were, only about keeping the bar running, like you were replaceable. And you hate how right Rafe is, how much you needed someone to step in, even if it makes you feel a little helpless. You swallow hard, the tightness in your chest easing slightly, though your body still feels like it’s been run over by a truck.

“And you’re not working anymore today, or the next week for that matter. You’re gonna get your ass in my car and we’re going to the doctor.”

You nod, knowing there’s no arguing with Rafe when he’s like this, but part of you still feels guilty.

Not for needing help exactly, but for not being able to handle it all on your own. You've always been the girl who grits her teeth and gets through it, but today? Your body is screaming at you that you just can’t. Not anymore.

Rafe’s watching you closely, like he’s waiting for you to argue, but you don’t. You’re too drained. The adrenaline from the confrontation with Greg is wearing off, and now all you feel is this bone-deep exhaustion.

“I’m not going to a doctor,” you say, even though you know you probably should. “Just home. I just need to sleep.”

He narrows his eyes like he’s trying to read between the lines of what you’re saying, but then he just nods. “Fine. But if you’re not better by tomorrow, I’m dragging you to urgent care. No arguments.”

You give him a weak smile, trying to show you appreciate it even though you feel like crap.

“Deal.”

Without another word, he moves around the bar, ignoring Greg’s gawking and the way everyone’s still sneaking glances at you two. He gently takes the towel out of your hand, sets it on the counter, and slips an arm around your waist.

It’s the first time you’ve felt stable all day, leaning into him like you might actually make it to the car without collapsing.

“I don’t think I can afford an appointment.”

He looks at you like you’ve just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. His arm tightens around your waist, steadying you as you start to sway a little on your feet.

"Not worried about the money.”

You try to shake your head, but the movement makes you dizzy, and you stop, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

"I just don’t want to be that person, you know? Relying on you for everything."

He gives you a side glance, eyebrows raised.

"Baby, you’re not relying on me for everything. You’re literally sick, and I’m not about to let you tough it out just because you’re too stubborn to ask for help. We’ve talked about this a million times.”

"I guess," you mumble, letting your head rest against his shoulder as you walk towards the door.

"No guessing about it," he says, softer now, his fingers brushing your arm in a way that makes you feel more grounded. "You’ve been holding down the fort for too long. Let me take care of you for once."

The air outside hits you like a slap, but Rafe keeps you close, leading you toward his car. Your legs are weak, the fever still simmering under your skin, but his body warmth keeps you upright.

"Thanks," you whisper, even though it feels weird to say. You’re not used to thanking people for basic care, but with Rafe, it feels different.

He pauses, opening the passenger door for you.

"You don’t gotta thank me, okay? I’m just doing what anyone who loves you would do."

Your heart skips at that. You’re still not used to how easily he says stuff like that, like it’s no big deal. But he’s rubbing off on you, because you can say it just as easily now.

“I love you too, sorry for being a pain in your ass.”

Rafe chuckles as he helps you into the car, leaning down to make sure you’re settled before he shuts the door. He bends down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"You're always a pain in my ass," he murmurs against your skin, grinning as he pulls back just enough to look at you. "But you’re my pain in the ass, and that’s what matters."

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips despite how wrecked you feel. The fever, the headache, the exhaustion—it all takes a backseat, at least for a moment. 

Knowing Rafe’s always got your back? That makes it a little easier to breathe.

[emmyrosee]

happy birthday samu 🫶🏻

complete credit goes to @nyxprobability for the PRECIOUS idea, much love to you 🥺🩷

———

Tired legs struggle to keep his foot on the gas, and tired eyes struggle to stay open.

Osamu is convinced this is the longest drive he’s ever taken from his restaurant to home, the songs on the radio feel painfully slow and repetitive, and there’s a twisted part of him that wonders if he should just turn around and nap at the restaurant for a bit before coming home.

But you texted him, playfully demanding his presence at 6 sharp, to be at the dinner table, hungry.

It’s 5:55 when he pulls into the driveway.

Very, very hungry.

Heavy feet trudge up the walkway and the small steps in front of the door, and he sighs sleepily as he turns the handle.

The threshold reveals his warm kitchen, decorated with candles and all his favorite dishes, and he could cry.

It smells devine. He feels the weight lifted off of his shoulders at the idea that he’s able to just relax for the night and only have to worry about doing dishes for you- you’re a heaven sent, and he smiles softly as he hangs his keys on the hook and blinks his sleepy eyes at you.

“What do you think, baby?”

“I think you spoil me,” he chuckles, opening his arms for you to slip into, which you do. Your warm body feels like the perfect remedy to his crazy day, like you’re able to smooth all the frazzled bits of him back together with one soft coo of his name and pet of his hair.

“Well,” you giggle, rubbing your warm hands up and down his big arms, leaning up to catch his lips in a playful kiss, “it’s a special night. I wanted to spoil you.”

Wait.

Is it?

Osamu tenses in your arms, and you start to giggle softly at him, only striking more confusion through his soul. Was it your anniversary? No, surely that was months ago. Was it because of his new hire? No, you probably wouldn’t shower him in affection because of that.

You got a promotion. That had to be it, especially since he wasn’t home last night to celebrate with you. This is why you wanted him home. And he couldn’t be more happy.

He softens and presses a kiss to your head, “I’m so proud of you baby. I knew you could do it,” he says sincerely.

Now, you tense up. You look up at him with a quirked brow and when he matches your confusion, you click your tongue. “Baby… do you really not know what today is?”

Uhh…

“Sssssaaaaturrrrday…?”

“No,” you snicker. “Baby boy, it’s your birthday.”

It is?

“It is?” He asks aloud. He genuinely starts to count the days in his head, his lips moving slightly in thought.

Yeah… October 5.

Sure enough, it’s his birthday. He’s made it another year.

He’s just… surprised. No one wished him a happy birthday, not even his brother, his mother, and-

“Is your phone on do not disturb?” You ask; he assumes he looks saddened at his realization. “Because I did call you three times before you answered me about tonight.”

He smirks. Then, he lets out a flurry of laughter, shoulders shaking as the noise flows out of him, and he almost forgot how good the feeling of laughter is. You join his laughter and wrap your arms tight around him, squeezing him gently as his own arms drape around you.

“Happy Birthday, handsome man.”

“Thank you, babydoll.”

He takes out his phone from his back pocket, shaking his head at indeed, the little moon icon indicating his phone was set to Do Not Disturb. When he turns it off, he’s met with countless messages, from old friends and new, a missed call from his mom, and a flurry of texts from his brother.

A lot from his brother.

atsumu WEVE BEEN HERE FOR AN HOUR

WHERE ARE YOU

THIS WAS YOUR IDEA!

At least now I get a date but STILL!

Huh?

Another wave of realization crashes onto him, and he winces slightly at his mistake.

“Crap…”

“Whats wrong?”

“Atsumu and I were supposed to get brunch today.”

[hoe4sports]

Harm

Leah Williamson x reader ft Sam Kerr

A/n: Been battling this huge writes block for a month now. If you have any tips on out to get rid of it, send help. You need to use your imagination on this bby

Warning: Angry Sam

Summary: You and your ex-wife struggle co-parenting

-

You look at your watch.

18.53.

It’s now 1 long hour and 53 whole minutes since your ex wife, Sam, was supposed to come pick up your daughter for the weekend.

You don’t really know why you thought it would be different this time, it’s always been like this. From the moment you found her tangled up in her best-friends arms at your home, she’s been someone else. Someone you don’t recognise.

It’s none of your business anymore. You know that she parties and drinks, probably more than what’s healthy. And you know that it’s always a new girl. It’s always the same type of girl too, partygirls.

It’s the same never ending cycle. She gets a girlfriend, then she cheats on her with some random girl that she eventually ends up dating before the cycle repeats itself.

A part of you wants to take your daughter away from her. To never let her see her again. You’re her mom, you are supposed to protect her from harm. But, what do you do when the harm is her own ma?

“Still not heard from her?” Leah hums, her voice coming from behind your back.

You sigh at her while closing the blinds again, letting the last bit of hope disappear. The tears are now pressing in your eyes. You feel defeated. Leah immediately wraps you in her arms.

“Shh, it’s okay, we’ll sort this out” she reassures you. You nod while sniffing into her shirt, standing it with tears.

Your daughter coos from her little bouncer, kicking her feet with excitement. Her toothless grin spreading on her face. You can’t help it, but to turn your head to look at her. She brings a smile to your face. Her similarities to Sam aren’t there anymore. She’s growing into her own person. She has copied down Leah’s smile, just like babies does. Your hair, and your eyes. Not a single piece of Sam left in her. It eases your heart, it makes you feel less sad about your cheating ex-wife.

She cheated when you were just 1 week into your first attempt at getting pregnant. You didn’t leave at first, you did everything you could to salvage it. There wasn’t a single solution that you hadn’t tried. But she didn’t even try. The reality of the situation was that it fell through your hands like sand.

You don’t really understand why it happened. Why she chose her newfound best-friend over her wife and her daughter. It’s something you was forced come to terms with, but that you will never find in your heart to understand or forgive. Perhaps, it’s more that you have accepted the situation without being able to fully grasp the aspects of it.

Leah pulls away from the hug after giving you a kiss on the head. She moves towards your daughter, Ella, and scoops her up in her arms. Ella lets out a big yawn when she feels the comfort of Leah’s arms, settling in comfortably.

“I think that someone is up way beyond her bedtime, isn’t she?” She coos at the little baby in her arms. The sight of them makes your gaze soften, and your body relax. You can’t help it, but smile. They share something special, you just know it. Their bond is unique.

“Should we go upstairs to go night-night, huh Ellabear?” Leah asks as she leans down to kiss your daughter‘s forehead.

“Would you mind putting her down, baby? I think I need a minute..” you excuse to Leah, offering a sad smile.

You know that she’s more than happy to put her down. In fact, she’s been more than happy to put her down since even before she was born. Always excited for all the milestones you reached. Always there, always present.

Leah nods at you before taking Ella’s little hand to wave at you, you smile sadly back at them before they disappear up the staircase of your home.

You look at your watch again. 19.06. It’s been over two hours. That’s where you decide that she has missed her shot for the weekend. You move to the kitchen to find your backpack with your pencils. You reach for your notes before writing down the details around the yet again, missed agreement.

The divorce was messy. Sam wanted the baby. You refused. She pushed for visitation, and time with her daughter in court. You refused. But, Sam somehow ended up winning the case. Of course she did. She hired the best lawyers money could buy. It made your blood boil. Your lawyer recommended that you would write down every time she didn’t pick up Ella, and the details around missed visits.

Leah’s footsteps were soon to be heard coming down the staircase. Her hands eventually placed on your shoulders, lightly providing you with a gentle massage.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Leah’s voice hums. Her soft tone makes your body relax towards her frame.

“I’m just, hm, I think I feel disappointed for Ella. I know she won’t remember this, but the guilt is eating me alive.”

Leah wraps her arms around your waist before turning you to face her. Your eyes meets her, and you share a moment of silence while embracing each other.

“Ella is safe, she’s fed, she’s warm, she’s dry and she has a mommy and a Leah that loves her so much” Leah whispers in your ear.

The statement makes you feel safe, like you are the luckiest girl in the world to have Leah to lean on. To have someone step up to the responsibility when Sam failed. Leah didn’t have to, she had absolutely no obligations. But she still stayed.

“She has a mommy and a mama” you mumble into her arms, “you and me”.

Leah hums in response before your hands intertwine. Your heartbeat slows down, and your breathing softens. It feels safe. It’s feels warm. It’s like your mind unconsciously knows that you and Leah are building the foundation of a future marriage.

Her sincerity and warmth has you drawn to her. How she’s fair, how she never lets anyone get away with anything and how she is protective of what’s hers. You know that she will defend you to the end of the world, even if that means defending you when you are wrong. It’s one of her core values, to never embarrass you infront of others by arguing or correcting you.

Then, there is a knock on the door. The moment fades, and the memory is ruined by the continuous hammering on your door. Your heartbeat fastens again, and your breathing feels quicker and shallow.

You look over at Leah, and see that her fists are turning white. It’s only fair. You would feel that way too if you had something to outpower Sam. But you don’t. She’s taller, stronger, faster and more assertive than what you are.

The banging doesn’t stop, and soon enough you hear Ella’s scared cries in her bedroom through the baby-call hanging around Leah’s neck.

Leah looks at you and urges her head towards the door.

Normally you handle moments like this. But you are just so tired of it. Of Sam showing up drunk or hangover, demanding her daughter to be brought to her. It always scares you. Sometimes, you have nightmares about it. That someday, she’ll drive over drunk and get away with your baby. The kind of nightmares that only can be calmed by seeing that Ella is safe and having Leah holding you while softly stroking your back.

Leah looks at you again while nodding towards the door. The banging is still loud. This time, you can hear Sam’s voice through the door.

“For fucks same, give me my daughter. It’s my weekend! I know that you are awake”

You shake your head violently before tears swell in your eyes. You cannot find it in you to deal with Sam tonight.

“Go” Leah whispers while pointing upstairs. Your eyes widen.

“But what if she hurt-“

“I’m stronger and taller, I’m gonna be fine. Go calm Ella down, and I’ll be there soon, okay?” Leah urges moving towards the door.

You nod rapidly before going for a beeline up the stairs. You hear the door open up as you move upwards.

“Leah? Get me my kid will you” Sam commands.

Leah crosses her arms while looking firmly into her eyes.

“No, it’s past bedtime. She’s sleeping, or was before you scared her”.

“Nah, listen mate, this doesn’t involve you” Sam laughs before pushing towards the door.

Leah pushes Sam away from the entrance before grabbing the handle.

“I pay for the diapers, the clothes, the food. I put her to bed, I wake up with her at night and I wake up with her in the morning. I give her kisses and hugs, and I give her baths. What do you do?”

Sam looks at Leah with a gaze in shock.

“I, uh, I.. This is ridiculous, can I come and get her? It’ll be quick”

Leah grabs the door handle, and closes the door. But before she completely closes it, she looks Sam straight in her eyes.

“No, I suggest you leave before I call the police on trespassing.”

[porcalinecunt]

Hear me out: Jason todd with a pathetic fem criminal/thief he loves to play with involving gunplay

- heart anon ❤

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘!

🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 you couldn’t be a decent criminal for shit, so much so, the red hood himself has rather ulterior motives . . .

⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ JASON TODD X FEM! READER

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — rough sex, semi public, slight gunplay, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, breeding, jason being a bully :<

[・:。author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ i kinda hate this lol, sorry if my writing falls off towards the end. i haven’t touched this draft in MONTHS [sobs]

“i-i won’t hesitate!”

“yeah..threatening the guy with the ak-47..”

he scoffs, barely clutching onto the military grade weapon as if he knows you’d miss every last one of your shots from the tiny pistol you held. your shakey hands were already such a dead giveaway.

petite, timid and easy to snap in two. that’s enough to have the red hood himself laughing at your pathetic attempts to intimidate him. he almost wondered how Black Mask’s goons allowed you through just to grab a nice stash of hard drugs, most likely to sell for a ridiculous price.

“look little girl, put the pistol down and i’ll make it easier for ya. don’t gotta act all tough on me..” the barrel of the rifle faced the floor, clearly he doesn’t wish to waste a bullet on your airheaded self.

there’s my chance! you thought to yourself, rushing past the vigilante and booking it to the stairwell. a grin stretched your lips, how easy was that? and he’s meant to be the best!

as if red hood heard your thoughts, the larger figure dropped down from the ceiling right in front of you with an ear shattering thud! stopping dead in your tracks, you threw a hasty punch that was easily blocked before red hood yanked you by the wrist and threw you onto the wall next to you. not even a second went by before you felt his build press against your smaller figure. trapped.

“h-hey! let me go you prick!” you whined and pouted, trying to push your way out with no success. he didn’t even feel like another man, more like a wall.

amidst the struggle, you heard a small chuckle before the red hood succumbed to laughter. he was fucking laughing, at you. angry, you weakly elbowed him in the rib which did next to nothing. it only earned you another wheeze and chuckles from the hooded bastard.

“awe, what’s the matter? can’t fight back? is this your first crime girl?”

you looked back with an angry pout, his white eyes that were basically holes in that bulky helmet of his narrowed in amusement. an expression that admittedly, gave you a case of butterflies. the way he taunted you, laughed at you, even looked at you. fuck, you wondered if he was seeing anyone outside of fighting crime.

your facial expression must’ve shifted, as the masked vigilante tilted his head. “got something to say to me, little girl?”

his eyes widened a little after saying that, probably because of the way you began to press against his own body. whether you knew it or not, you’re practically arching, pressing your ass against his crotch. it really didn’t help that you were wearing a tight one piece that showed off every curve and shape of your figure.

it didn’t take long before red hood picked up on your intentional eye fucking, backing up to allow enough space for him to grab your hips and roam around your body. the red hood was a greedy one, grabbing and squeezing every bit of flesh he felt on you until he finally found your breasts. his hand alone covered the whole thing, that’s how huge he was. a sudden and rather harsh squeeze made you jump.

"don't be rough!" you whined as the crime lord gently massaged the sore flesh, only to give it another squeeze and forcing a yelp out of your throat. "you're mean..!"

"awe, am i? thought you were a big girl with that prissy attitude and the gaul to act all tough with me.." jason cooed in a mocking tone. even through the material of your bodysuit, you could feel him growing harder and harder against your ass. your stomach was in knots from the sheer length of this man, yet you never fessed up as his fingers found the zipper hidden in the fabric. . . .

you couldn't make a noise, not with jason's huge palm over your slobbering mouth while his cock pistons in and out of your ruined cunt. two orgasms ripped out of you yet he refuses to stop for even a breath, or to take off that stupid helmet.

"c'mon..i know you got another in ya." he grunted, smacking your left thigh which was covered in hand prints from the earlier rounds. you weren't wrong when you called him mean earlier, the way he discarded your bodysuit to him throwing you against different surfaces like a ragdoll. now, he has you over the stair railing while he brutally fucks you from behind.

your knees buckled from the pressure as you clung onto the dirty railing for dear life, the skin on your ass a bright red from his hips slamming against it. you turned your head slightly to meet those white eyes that bore themselves into your brain, how you wish he just took it off to see who's actually fucking you mid failed heist. stupidly, you reached out behind to try and pry even a little, only for a gun cocking to startle you frozen.

"fuck you think you're doing? thought you were slick huh.."

a breathy chuckle followed, as you heard the subtle clicks of the gun inching closer and closer to your ear until the barrel was pressed right below your jaw. you didn’t know if it was fear or arousal, but nonetheless, the next thing you knew was your stuffed cunt clenching around jason’s girth like a vice.

“ohh..you like this, do you?” he started, caressing the gun against your bruised skin. the cold outer was a sharp yet welcoming contrast to the hot air that suffocated you beneath his weight. you mewled in response, practically strangling his cock the harder you clenched.

the vigilante picked up his pace, groaning in your ear as he pointed the firearm below your jaw as if you were a hostage. a strangled moan echoed throughout the stairs and your knees buckled, prompting jason to wrap an arm around your waist.

“m’gonna..m’gonna cum..please..” you sighed, screwing your eyes shut as the knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter.

“cum f’me girl…don’t fuck this up too..” jason chuckled from the mean jab as his dick twitched against your cervix. before you could respond to his passive aggressive remark, you’re vision went white as a sudden wave of heat filled your ruined pussy. your vision blurred as jason fucked his cum deep into your cunt, not allowing a drop to slip out.

“atta girl..maybe you aren’t as stupid as i thought..”

jason tapped the gun against your thigh as he continues to move his hips against yours, not caring about the fact you could barley hold on at this point.

another round wouldn’t hurt, especially with the antics you’ve pulled today.

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Guilty Pleasure (1/7) - dbf!Joel x reader

You're home from college for the summer, staying with your parents in Austin, TX. So is your dad's best friend, Joel Miller. Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 42), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 2.3K A/N: If you know/follow me, you're probably just as shocked as I am to see a dbf!Joel fic by my hand. Totally get it if it's not your thing, please feel free to move on and skip this one. However - if you've read and enjoyed other fics by me, you may wanna give it a try! Submitting this also to @hellishjoel who is organizing the #hotdilfsummerchallenge (go check out all the other fics on her page!) 💜

series masterlist | main masterlist next chapter >

You don’t hate him. Not exactly. 

But he doesn’t need to know that. 

“I’m just so damn sick of him, you know? He thinks he’s so important and hot shit. People are fawning about him all the damn time, but he’s just my dad and an asshole,” you sigh to your best friend on the other end of the Facetime call. You’re in an Uber headed to your parents’ house, desperate for time away from school and your cheating ex. Your mom had been excited that you would be spending the summer break with them in Austin, and assured you that your father would be too. As IF. 

“I thought that maybe I could just relax, but no. Everything is about my dad again. He started this big... I don’t even know what. Project. Venture. Mission. Did you see it on tv? He’s on the news all the damn time.” Just the thought alone already makes you cringe, and you’re glad to see your friend nod at you, requiring no further explanation - she knows all about your father. “So I figured he won’t be in my way when I’m home. But now his friend Joel is staying at the house, too. The entire fucking summer. Who even does that?”

Your father and Joel had been friends for a long time, even before you were born, but you struggled to remember anything about him. He was a contractor, running his own company for quite a while now, and he had a brother named Tommy. “They’re working on renovating his house, so he needed a place to stay. It’s not like he’ll be in your way, sweetheart. Most of the time he’s out working for clients,” your mom had assured you, reminding you there were more than just a few spare bedrooms at the house. But to you, it didn’t matter; he would be in the way. You just knew it. Ruining your summer. The last thing you needed was a constant reminder of your dad shaped as Joel, hanging around the house.

“No, I don’t know much about him - it’s been years since I saw him.” You wince as you see your parents’ house down the street, and for a moment you’re tempted to ask the Uber driver to circle around the block one more time. “Look, I’m here - I have to go. Wish me luck, call me later,” you plead with your friend as the car pulls up to the oversized driveway. It takes a moment to get all your suitcases out of the car, since the driver merely watches you with an impatient frown on his face, but then you’re finally stumbling towards the front door. 

It’s good to be in Austin again, but you haven’t missed the Texas heat - and humidity - for one bit. All you want right now is a pizza and a very, very strong drink to forget about the shitty trip you just had. But it seems not even that is in the cards for you right now, as nobody bothers to come to the door after you’ve loudly rang the doorbell. Not even on the third try. Just when you’re about to start screaming in frustration, you finally hear footsteps rushing down the hallway. 

“Mom, why did you not–,” you start when the door swings open, but the words immediately stick in your throat as you stare at the man in front of you. Tall, strong, and handsome, looking much better than he had any right to while being dressed in old jeans and a t-shirt - courtesy of those arms in particular, and a mouth that immediately gave you ideas about where he should put it. Jesus Christ. 

“Joel…?”, you finally manage when your brain seems to catch up with the low throb you’re feeling in your pussy. You do not remember your dad’s best friend looking this hot, or smelling so good - the sandalwood in his cologne reminds you of more than just a couple of debauched nights on campus that you’d had in the past year. But this was clearly not one of the frat boys that surrounded you during your classes or evenings out. This was a whole ass DILF, somewhere in his early forties like your parents, and it takes you effort to not whimper as you take him in.

Your core aches just from looking at him, a painful reminder of how many weeks it has been since you’d last had an orgasm that didn’t come from your own hand or a toy. Finding out that your piece of shit ex-boyfriend had been running around with several other girls had been a harsh way to end the semester, but at least it made you decide to spend the summer here in Texas. And that decision suddenly seems like a very, very good idea in retrospect.

It’s only when Joel says your name, an amused smirk playing over his face, that you realize you’ve definitely been staring at him. “Hey, kiddo. Been a while. D’you need a hand with that?”, he asks, and as you hear his drawl, you’re pretty damn sure that you’ve never heard that man sound anything like this. Goddamn. Hot in every way, it seems, it seems - you may have never before appreciated a Texas accent as much as you like his.

He doesn’t wait for your response, but simply takes over two of your suitcases and a duffle bag like they weigh nothing. “Nicole- I mean, your mom asked me to help you get you settled, she’s gonna be back in a few hours,” he says, keeping the front door open with one strong shoulder so you can get into the house. 

“Thanks, that’s so nice of you,” you manage to say as you follow him through the house, to your bedroom on the second floor. Walking behind him is the perfect excuse to take in his physique, and you freely let your eyes roam over his strong shoulders and broad back, and you can tell you’re getting wet just by looking at him. God, he’s fit. Especially for a guy who is probably twenty years older than you are. Those arms… Was he single? And - did that even matter, really? 

You realize that you must’ve zoned out and missed something he’s said to you, because he gives you a questioning look when you’re both standing in your childhood bedroom. The decoration, colors and posters are still familiar to you, but in a detached way, like you’re looking at them in a photo album of someone you used to be, in sharp contrast to who you are now and the man in front of you.

“I said that I hope I won’t be in your way this summer. Your parents are happy you’re staying here with them,” he says, then surprises you by giving you a friendly, brief hug. “It’s good to see you again, kid.” You gladly accept the hug, and you can’t help but bury your face against his shoulder for just a moment, inhaling his cologne and the underlying subtle tone of his natural scent. That’s when you internally make up your mind, right there on the spot.

You want him.

Now, and for the rest of the summer. 

And if that pissed off your father? All the better.

Once you’re sure he’s left the hallway outside of your room, you grab your phone and immediately google his name, checking through his online profiles. No mention of any wife or girlfriend. Perfect. When you find his Instagram, your jaw drops at the photos you see of Joel clearly working hard and dripping sweat. Almost pornographic, really.

With a few taps you send the pictures to your best friend, quickly adding the caption ‘sooo i decided I’m gonna be his inappropriately young gf for the summer’. Her response pings almost instantly, as you expected, a barrage of emojis and ‘OMG GIRL YESSSS GET THAT DILF’. You can’t help but chuckle as you send a quick message back to her, ‘more later xxx’, then turn off the sound on your phone.

For a moment you consider unpacking all of your luggage, which would definitely be the more practical thing to do. On the other hand, your parents are not gonna be home in the next few hours, and since Joel’s room didn’t seem too close to yours to overhear anything…

You sigh in relief when you find the silky bag in your luggage that stores your sex toys, and pull out your favorite clit sucker without a moment of hesitation. Quick and dirty, that’s what you need right now, you decide as you get onto the bed. After a moment of hesitation, you re-open Instagram and scroll back to Joel��s page, while you reach for your AirPods in the hidden pocket of your dress. 

His profile is clearly promotional for his company - Miller & Co -, and you vaguely recognize his brother Tommy in some shots, but fortunately the focus is mostly on him. When you click on Reels and see several videos of him at work, your heart starts racing, your mouth going dry while you feel the exact opposite happening in your panties. Fuck, he is so hot. If you thought the view you had while walking behind him was good, it sure is nothing compared to seeing him work on construction projects that show him flexing those muscles, jeans clinging desperately onto his thighs the way you would like your hands to do.

You’re stroking yourself already after the second video, and by the time you’re treated to the sight and sound of him lifting lumber with a grunt, you’ve got two fingers deep inside of your pussy. You whimper as you imagine he’s in your room watching you with those dark eyes. Your breathing grows heavy as you picture him getting on the bed, giving you that sexy smirk as he puts his head between your thighs so he can lick at your wetness. His bottom lip had tempted you from the start, and you just know it would feel so good as he’d circle your clit with his tongue. 

You can barely suppress a moan as your hips buck up hard, and you press the toy closer against yourself, thrusting your slick fingers faster as you chase the release that’s close - so so very close already. What if he buried that stubble against your thighs, urging your fingers out of yourself so he could lick them clean, his lips closing around your digits as he’d suck on you. Brown eyes filled with desire, reflecting how much you want him too, and then the push of his tongue inside your cunt as he starts to eat you out. 

You whisper his name quietly as your body starts to shake, hearing him moan contently as he works you up some more, then comes up for air, slipping two - no, three of his thick fingers roughly inside of you, just as demanding as his mouth is. “Good girl. Now come f’me.”

You gasp as the orgasm ripples through you, much faster than you expected, and you bury your face into your pillow so you won’t cry his name out loud. Before the waves of your orgasm have subsided, you flip yourself to your stomach as you keep the buzzing toy in place, grinding down harder on your fingers as you shudder from the overstimulation. Still you keep going, because it’s what Joel would do - you know it’s what he would want, tease you and push you to make you come again and again. 

He’d make you cry his name out loudly, until you’re writhing against him like a feral cat in heat, desperate as you’re begging him for his cock so he can fuck you into the mattress, claiming you and demanding to own every part of you. His sweaty heavy body covering yours, lips and teeth drawing more gasps from you, until your head becomes completely devoid of any thoughts, only able to focus on how good he’s making you feel - how his thickness is throbbing inside of you, going deeper than anyone has been before, and you know that he’s about to ruin you for any other men, because it’s never going to be better than it is with him.

As your body convulses and you’re about to come again, you suddenly hear your name being called loudly from downstairs - not by Joel, but the shriller sound of your mom’s voice as she’s looking for you. It takes everything you have to restrain yourself from yelling angrily at the interruption, your mind and body at war with each other for a second, and you bite your lip hard as you mentally grab onto the fantasy of Joel, unwilling to let go of it - of him. 

“Coming!,” you snap loudly, hoping that she won’t be able to hear the panting in your voice, or the buzzing toy in your hand. “Be right there!”

‘Good fucking girl. Such a dirty little slut for me,’ imaginary-Joel whispers at you, pounding into you, and you know he’s about to come too. “Give it to me again. Wanna feel you soak my cock,” the whisper changing into a low hiss that sends shivers down your spine. You bury your face even further into the pillow as you whine his name, begging him for more, to pump his seed into you and fill you up. He laughs, the sound hoarse and taunting, and then his hand grabs a hold of your hair and tugs your head back up. “No hiding. You scream my name when I make you come, you hear me?”, he grunts at you - and you bite your lip as you come hard again, soaking your fingers for a second time as the orgasm rocks you so much harder than the first one did.

Fuck. FUCK. You need him, every part of him, so goddamn bad. 

next: part 2 >

🚨 Follow @longlongtime-updates for updates when new chapters drop!

A/N II: Thank you @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @lotusbxtch @sin-djarin @mountainsandmayhem

@qveerthe0ry @perotovar for encouraging me to write a wild idea that suddenly came to mind. This came together shockingly fast with ideas and feedback from all of them, so thank you babes for supporting and enabling me! Fic title is obviously snagged from Chappell Roan's 'Guilty Pleasure'!

[kithtaehyung]

lollipop (3tan) (m) | myg

title: lollipop (m) | part one: summer bbq pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) | broken (pt. 2) rating/genre: m (18+) ; fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after the summer cookout ends, you say goodnight to your brother and his best friend. but the latter just had to have a lollipop in his mouth… and had to make you aware of it hours later.  note: this is part two of the three tangerines drabble summer bbq! undisclosed whether these are in the main storyline or not, so it’s a standalone for now. note 2: also..... hope y'all read this in private :))) hahahah  warnings: yoongi is the biggest warning, but reader almost inches him out here🤭, no joke we may need to form a new line for reader, kissing, hella kissing, a mirror makes an appearance.. 🫣, tense situations, tender moments, lollipop gets its own warning i’m so serious, cocky yoongi lolll explicit warnings: under the cut! drop date: july 22nd, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 7.3k💀💀💀

explicit warnings: food play (just roll with it😂), oral sex (m/f rec), masturbation, the struggle to keep quiet is real, mirrors are involved lord have mercy, spanking, breast play, multiple orgasms, yoongi hands, choking, fingering, face f*cking, titty shotsss, a little bit of manhandling and roughness but we love it🤭🤭, aftercare and cute cute reader afterwards

—

—

It’s not long until you’re snuggled under your covers, every limb in your body relieved to be at rest. From getting ready, cooking for hours, to general host duties—all while trying to avoid sin in human form—you’ve completely exhausted your living battery. 

But for some reason, sleepiness is out of reach. 

Tiredness? For sure. But sleep seems to elude you, and you toss and turn before giving up and turning your television on. 

It’s after you get through two episodes of something random and endless doomscrolling that you get a text. 

From the last person that should be texting you right now.

And your heart slams on every brake it has.

Yoongi [2:37am]: You up?  

Umm.

What.

Why is he asking you that? It’s quite possibly the worst time and type of message to receive right now. 

Don’t overthink it. He probably just needs extra hands to drag your brother back to his room again.

You [2:37am]: mmhmm 

You [2:37am]: you need me for something?

With a sigh, you rest your phone by your side.

The last time that happened was so long ago. Back when you were fighting off sickness and absentmindedly grabbing tangerines to snack on.

You wonder what that man wants this time around.

Yoongi [2:37am]: Haha nah

Yoongi [2:37am]: Just curious

Well that’s interesting.

Is he still in the backyard? Somewhere in the house? You knew he was staying over, but is he in the guest room with Jimin lying down like you are?

Why is that making your soul squeeze? 

You [2:38am]: yeah i am. can’t sleep :\

After hitting send, you feel more awake than ever, staring at your ceiling changing hues from the light of your tv. 

It kinda hurts knowing Yoongi’s the closest he could be tonight. 

On one hand, you still remain feeling safer than ever, having all of them here. But on the other, you’d much rather Yoongi be right next to you, heart beating under the same covers and eyes covering you in moonlight.

He’s so close and yet… 

So damn far. 

Yoongi [2:39am]: Same. 

Your arm slings right over your eyes.

How is one word from him enough to make your legs shift? That is something that needs to be studied, but alas, you would only be the subject if someone paid you for it.

What do you say now? You miss him so much it practically hurts? You want him to be lying next to you even though it’s the riskiest thing in the world?

Maybe start slow.

You [2:40am]: did you have fun today? 

Shit, was that a little too slow? Abnormal? It’s not like you two have as much small talk as other people. Though you wouldn’t mind any type of talking with him at all, casual small talk just isn’t on the list of defaults.

When you check the next text you get, it’s hard to keep your phone from falling onto your face.

Yoongi [2:42am]: I’ll tell you if you open the door :)

Huh.

So much for starting slow what the fuck! 

You [2:43am]: ???

You [2:43am]: front door? 

Yoongi [2:43am]: Yours

There have been many times in which this man has made you speechless. Some just for being so heartstoppingly handsome; others for being the most considerate person you’ve ever met.

But this time?

You can’t even form all the reasons why you can’t form words.

You [2:44am]: ?????

Yoongi [2:44am]: 🤨

Yoongi [2:44am]: Feel like this is pretty easy stuff, doll 

What is happening? What possessed your brother’s legitimate ride or die to stand at your door while still in the same house? When other people are also staying over?

You’re so close. He’s right there. You can see a slight shadow underneath the wooden frame and it’s making your stomach silly.

But you have to be sure.

You [2:45am]: is he asleep? 

Yoongi [2:45am]: Yeah he’s out 

Getting up, you already miss the warmth of your sheets as you tiptoe towards the only thing separating you from the man you’ve yearned for all day long.

Fuck. If this isn’t the worst decision you’re ever gonna make in your life.

But damn it, you already knew you were gonna let him in as soon as he asked.

After checking what you’re wearing before knowing it doesn’t matter, you open your door while fearing what it reveals. 

And Yoongi slowly enters through the night—freshly showered, still studded with jewelry, and decked in clean clothes while dirtying your mind to hell.

Because of the goddamn lollipop in his mouth.

“What’s going on,” you whisper, knowing your brother could wake up at any second. Maybe. Possibly. Everything bad is always possible when you’re paranoid about it—especially since Yoongi is in your room! “What are you doing?”

Your secret wastes no time as he quietly shuts and locks the door, hair shifting down his head in damp waves as he takes out the sucker,

“This.”

Silent, he pulls you in slow for a kiss, melting you down with ease. When he presses you into one of your walls, you know the only thing propping you up is his pelvis molding with your front. 

Already, your senses are on high alert, wondering how long Yoongi plans on staying because as much as you want him here forever, you still want him in one piece. 

But it’s getting hard to concentrate on consequences and scenarios when this man is infiltrating your every thought. His lips feel like summer and his fragrance reminds you of spring, and you immediately know it’s that subtly scented body wash you picked to put in the guest bathroom. 

Strange. You both have now used each others’ soap and showers. That has to mean something intimate, right? How many people can say that about one another and not look into it too much?

Well, he technically hasn’t used the shower in your bathr—

“You looked great today,” Yoongi whispers into your neck. 

His kiss there renders you speechless for what seems like eons. Today. Uh huh. What were you thinking just now? “Thank you,” you finally sigh, relishing in the way he’s holding your side. “So did you.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I mean.. You always do, so. Nothing new there.”

Yoongi quietly huffs a laugh before tugging your hips. But he doesn’t say anything in return, and you wonder if he didn’t have an answer or just didn’t feel the need to. 

So your nerves fill the space again. “Is it weird that I missed you? You were here the whole time.” 

“Mm.” His kisses traverse up your shivering throat, and his raspy answer has your eyes fluttering shut, “I get that.”

Fuck, you can’t deal with him. “Is.. Is that so..”

“People miss me all the time.”

A snort. “Ass.”

Yoongi immediately laughs into your skin. “But they aren’t here now, are they?” When you don’t respond with anything substantial, he squeezes the side of your ass. “Are they.”

“No,” you hitch out. “But you shouldn’t be here, either.”

“Tell me to leave then.”

Shit. You can’t. You both know you can’t. You try so hard to stifle a moan when you feel Yoongi grip an asscheek, his lips finding your ear at the same time he gives a firm smack.

“Do it, doll.”

“I…” Fuck, he’s surrounding you and there’s no way no way out. “I can’t.”

“Good.” Yoongi then slides your hand from his side down to his legs, placing it on his very big, very hard length. “Cus I can’t fucking stay away from you.” 

You grip him through his pants, pleased when he moans deep. “What if he wakes up?”

“He won’t,” your handsome rebel purrs. “Drank for hours.”

“You sure?”

“Course I am.” Yoongi slides a finger along the outline of your breasts. “He tried to keep up and lost.”

“Typical.” 

He keeps doing exactly what you want him to do. It’s quite scary how well he knows your body now, but you’d also like to think you have a good level of knowledge with his.

Especially when you reach up to twist his nipple. 

A groan mixed with dark chuckles has your knees shaking, and you prolong it by doing something else you know—or think you know—he likes,

“I think you’d like it if I kicked you out now.”

The volcano inside Yoongi rumbles. “Is that so?”

“It is,” you huff out in mock triumph, loving how his cock twitches against your hand. “Or am I wrong?”

He flicks his eyes to yours before holding a gaze. A look so telling, and full, and searing. When his mouth flicks upward, he admits,

“I’d love it.”

Laughing as softly as you can, you stop to simply hug him. Leaning forward until your head rests, feeling the most at home and happy hearing his own amusement vibrating through his clothes. 

And just like that, you’re conflicted. 

What the hell are you doing? Even though passed out and sloshed, your brother could still wake up. It’s not like he’s totally gone. And if he catches his best friend in your room? There’s no telling what damage could be dealt.

Actually, the damage could be told in gruesome detail.

But the way Yoongi’s filling the distance from today, you really don’t want to stop. In fact, you don’t even want to pretend to shoo him off.

So this is your first step onto a precarious, unpredictable tightrope. A step you are very okay taking. 

“Babe?”

Shit, you got lost again. When you find your way back, Yoongi’s concern materializes at once,

“If you really aren’t down—”

“Fuck it.” 

Your kiss digs into his face so hard you strike gold, rewarded with a growl so potent it disrupts your core. Lightning zaps through your veins at the hands squeezing your hips, and you buck with a desperation that’s been stockpiling all day long.

Sliding along the wall, you notice that Yoongi tastes like alcohol and sugar, and you wanna lick every crevice you can reach, drunk off his cockiness and audacity alone. 

It’s no use fighting this. He’s really in your room, making out with you like a demon while the house is filled with your brother’s sleeping friends.

Fuck, you two could really get caught here.

The swirl in your belly keeps you on your toes, transforming your movements into sharp, hasty tugs on his clothes, hemlines, hair. You’re practically acting like you’ve never had him before and want to make up for all those missed opportunities.

Not like it’s any different every time.

But you’re quelled by a calm hand on your wrist. “As much as I like you like this,” Yoongi whispers across your cheek, “You can’t be too loud, baby girl.”

Your silent question must’ve escaped past your teeth. Because you hear a deep chuckle before shivers run down your spine,

“If you aren’t quiet enough I’m gonna fix that.”

Oh. Fuck.

“I didn’t even know I was talking,” you admit, body creasing in embarrassment and a bit of nervous laughs. Your grin cannot be contained by the fingers you slide up to cover it. “Oh, my god.” 

“What?” Yoongi’s devilish look is even more potent in the flashing lights of your television. “You serious?”

When you scrunch in deeper admittance, he flashes teeth with a wider smile than yours. It’s a prelude to the way he launches your heartbeat, his scent mesmerizing and his fingers lethal on the back of your neck. 

“Adorable.”

You groan into his swooping kiss, the rush of a thousand rivers carrying you to bliss. Breaths intertwined, the pair of you can’t seem to part until Yoongi accidentally shoulders something at his side.

Your mirror? When did you both travel so far that you got here? 

He lets off with a pop to steady the wavering furniture piece, pausing to make sure it’s stable before looking at the movie playing nearby.

And you watch in curiosity as he backs further into your room, eyeing himself in the mirror while slotting the sucker back into his mouth.

God. How did you forget he was still holding that?

And why can’t you move even as he turns around, even as he glances at the tv, even as he sits on the edge of your bed?

Move. Walk. Do something!

In the end, you can’t.

Because Yoongi’s stare alone gives you first time jitters, like you’ve never even conversed or much less slept with him before. 

How the fuck are you gonna get through the night? 

Swallowing and shooting one more look at your door, you pad your way to him, knowing he sees your nipples poking through your shirt and assuming there’s not much else you’re wearing. 

And he’s right. 

As you stop at Yoongi’s knees, you watch as he gives the lollipop another slow suck, groaning at the red smeared across his tainted lips.

That’s it. It’s decided. There’s no way you’re making it out alive.

“Get up here.”

Obliging but unhurried, you mount his lap, your heart skipping at the way he enjoys your shirt riding up your thighs.

So that damn sucker is gonna stay in his mouth? 

Min Yoongi is your enemy tonight.

Your nemesis, in fact. Even if he slides both free hands up your ass like that fuck he squeezes so expertly. Fuck. 

It’s keeping everything in you to hide your moan, your head falling forward as he slightly lifts you to drop you onto his comfy sweats.

When he chuckles in your ear, your muscles lock. And when he pops the lolly out of his mouth, you crumble at his mercy. “You were lucky to be off-limits today, doll.” 

“What…” You tense at another grip to your ass. “What do you mean.”

As you eye the silver around his neck, Yoongi’s smirk pours weight on your legs. “If you weren’t? There’s no telling what I would’ve done.”

You don’t think you’ve ever gulped so deeply. What toe-curling secrets is he hiding? Today could have gone a much, much different route depending on what he’d spill. “Tell… Tell me anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

The man below you huffs quick, and you watch the corner of his mouth lift at a dangerous angle. “Would’ve kept you in that bathroom,” he divulges, voice dragging across the rattled surface of your brain. “Bent you over the sink.”  

Your breath hitches when he gets close, lips caressing your ear but words striking through your chest, “Just so you could watch me fuck you in that sundress.” 

“Fuck.”

“Uh uh,” Yoongi coos, chuckle so, so deep. “Quiet, baby girl.”

“I just…” It’s already hard to think around this demon of a person. But it’s even more difficult when he’s got your ear in his teeth. “Wait.” 

As he pulls away, the light of your television highlights his features. And you find that this specific, comforting look of attentiveness is what attracts you the most. 

Now that you can think clearly, you remember exactly what you were gonna do. It’s simple but significant nonetheless. 

Because your dress from today is in the laundry already. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have another one. Another very particular one he may remember, in fact. 

“Go over there,” you whisper, smile wide as you dismount. “Turn around.” 

When he wordlessly asks what you’re up to, a single finger presses against your lips before you assure, “Just trust me.” 

The way his brows scrunch makes your cheeks hurt as you watch him get up and swivel, endeared by the casual lean on your wall and the lollipop stuck in his cheek. Just as his head falls in waiting, you slip into your closet, darkness getting even darker as you enter.

Due to an afterthought, you pop your head out. “No peeking in the mirror.”

“Uh huh.”

Satisfied, you go back to your lightless search. 

You know exactly what you’re going for. It’s too easy for you to locate your chosen piece of clothing before stripping and changing as orderly as you can. 

Okay. This is okay because you’re alone, right? No one else is here. Technically. Okay.

As you make your way out, a million nerves pop and fizzle under moonlight. The air surrounding your bare shoulders proves charged. Electric enough to send shivers down to your pedicured toes.

Composing yourself before you break, you softly catch his attention as you eye the sucker poised in his fingers,

“Ready.”

The moon waits.

Your breath follows.

And when Yoongi turns, you know you’ll never forget this moment. It feels exactly like the time in that restaurant long ago, but more potent. Shimmering. 

Because you’re wearing the same sundress he witnessed you in on the night of Dom’s party. 

And you’ve never been so delighted to see the stars in his eyes go dark.

You expect him to call you over. Whether with words or not, you’re gonna do whatever he wants—because it’s what you want… too…

Yoongi’s aura billows as he closes the distance himself. No words. No gestures. Just step by breath-taking step, air around him so charged and commanding that your knees threaten to buckle. 

For reasons you won’t admit, your mouth can’t even create sounds. All you want to ask is if he likes the dress, or if he even cares you aren’t as dressed up as before. 

Of course he wouldn’t give a single shit. But you can’t stop yourself from these thoughts just yet. 

Swallowing, you stare as he rolls the sucker in his mouth, eyes in no other direction but yours. “You, umm. Does this one work instead? The other one is in the—”

Quick isn’t fast enough to describe what’s happening, your shoulders pressing into the nearest wall as your lips get consumed by lust and possession. Everything in your body tingles, and for a split second you wonder how Yoongi managed to swing you around so swift with barely a sound. 

Stars fly from your eyes before they slip shut, pouring want onto his veins as he circles strong arms across your waist. Sparks erupt the scant distance between your hips and his, and you are once again reminded why you feel so high-strung. 

There are so many people staying over. Not just Yoongi and Jimin. From what you can recall, at least ten people are passed out around the house, any of which could wake up for a bathroom break or something at any second. 

And yet. You will not tell this man to leave. Truthfully, this is exhilarating and all you’re doing is ki—

“Get down there.”

Oh, fuck. 

This is the new point of no return. 

If you do this, not only will Yoongi be a goner, but so will you. Both of you would never, ever come back from this. 

But that fucking lollipop…

Screw everything to hell.

Your smile grows with his, lip bitten in the throes of your newfound excitement. You already feel how rock solid he is through his pants, and you make it a point to stroke him on the way to the ground. 

There’s so little room that your ass skims the wall, your chest the second part to slide along his covered length and causing him to groan out a curse. 

Is there a shift here? Did you change the whole dynamic with one move? Maybe you’re the one with the power now. 

“Look at me.”

Ah. Maybe not.

Obedient, you stare upward, catching the fire in Yoongi’s eyes as he gives the sucker one more pass in his mouth. 

God, he makes it look so enticing. It’s just a piece of candy but you’ve never been this desperate to have one, too. Or be the one treated with his tongue like that goddamn does he have to make it seem so erotic?

With a pop, Yoongi releases the stick, lips shiny and tainted in the television lights. When he lowers it, you realize it’s descending—farther and farther—until it stops in front of your face. 

And shivers overtake you.

“Suck.” 

Well. You’ve never done something like this before. In all the relationships you’ve been in, you have never experienced anything like this. Much less in your own house. 

Which makes your eyes flare and the monster in your belly rumble, fire hissing from its nose and prying your mouth open to do exactly what you were told. 

“That’s my girl.”

Sugar coats your tongue immediately. Glowing, the heat in your core stokes embers, warning with each loll, each cave of your cheeks. You treat the candy so tenderly Yoongi will deny jealousy, and your lips pucker and puff with a sheen. 

Are you glistening as much as his eyes? Are you causing him as much grief as he has put you through?

You damn well hope so. Yoongi isn’t the only one that’s gonna unleash his needs from the whole day. 

So you keep sucking with closed eyes, swirling your tongue around the lolly and licking it just how you would his tip. It tastes like sweet rebellion, but also late nights with your friends. And with a fleeting thought, you know said friends would grill you if they ever found out this was happening.

Maybe Tae would just laugh his ass off. 

Fuck, this is so unbelievably risky. Your door is locked, sure. But the guest room is still very much missing an occupant and one look in there and at Yoongi’s car in the street would cause an eruption.

Through the haze of your thoughts, you hear shuffling and a low droning grunt. 

With one glance, you know Yoongi is crumbling. The shadowed promises under his bangs make you preen, and you remain on the precipice of anxiousness and glee.

“Keep that tongue out for me.”

Clearly, he doesn’t give a shit about risk.

So gladly, you oblige, flinching when the lollipop is replaced by something you’re much more familiar with, and your eyes bat on instinct as you know exactly what to do with this one.

When did he shove his pants down? Were you that lost in your sticky treat that you didn’t even notice? 

Doesn’t matter. You feel his beautiful weight on your stained tongue and it’s second nature to pleasure. When you grab hold of his base, you give one more suck before popping him out of your mouth to lick down.

For someone that’s been shushing you, Yoongi’s groan is not quiet, and you pause just in time to see him grit his teeth with a nose scrunched to hell.

And his attention is sideways. What is he…

Oh. Fuck.

You can see yourself in your mirror on the other wall. 

Is that… you? The one looking back with a visage so arousing your breath stops? If this is the person that Yoongi brings out you actually feel your confidence inflate like a parade balloon.

“So fucking hot.”

When you laugh in shyness, his eyes slide shut in agony as he rakes through his hair. Crumbling inside, you offer a compliment of your own, 

“You’re so unfair when you do that.” 

Yoongi has the audacity to grin wide as he grips his long strands. “This?” 

“Ugh. Whatever.” You wanna smack that smirk right off his face.

So you keep going, loving the way his walls and defenses are back to shattering at your knees. From your inappropriate level of experience with his cock, you go for what you know. Licking his underside, swirling around the tip, sucking just the first bit, gathering spit all over before taking him in deep. 

The smells around you coalesce into something potent. With the fruitiness of the lolly and the headiness of Yoongi, it’s pure bliss in your nostrils and you soak it all in. There’s no pause in your sucking, licking, tugging him rough. You’re giving it your all and feeling the effects between your legs. 

Suddenly. 

Huffs litter around your sundress as Yoongi yanks himself out, sticking the sucker in your mouth again while holding your head. And his smile puts devils to shame when he scoffs, “Unfair, my ass.”

You giggle, sliding the pop up and down your outstretched tongue before slowly pushing it in. When you watch one of his veiny hands grip his cock, your brain resets and rewires, prompting you to be a little bit more daring.

As if this whole situation wasn’t daring enough.

You coyly slide one of your sundress straps down your arm, slowly revealing the top of a breast before going for the other side. Not enough to show everything. But enough to give him a much better view from above. 

And the sound you hear in response causes pulses between your legs,

“What the fuck.”

Satisfied, you ride this high of praise and keep diligently sucking on the lolly, watching him pump himself until you can’t can’t can’t take it anymore.

It all happens in quick succession, your hand outright slapping the lollipop out of his hand before grabbing for him, shaky fingers knocking into his slick ones before slipping his dick in your mouth.

“Shit—”

His scent captures your nostrils as he bucks forward, knocking your throat and causing your gag to hit the wall. When you keep sucking, Yoongi grabs your chin, chains swaying as he rocks in, out, in, out again.

Drool and spit cover your neck, seeping onto his fingers as he keeps them where he wants. Imagining how you look in the mirror makes you moan, and imagining Yoongi watching everything from his view makes your cunt leak onto your thighs. 

Fuck you wanna watch, too. What does that say about you? You’re legitimately jealous that you can’t see yourself taking Yoongi so deep he’s cursing in strings. 

When you choke, it’s disgustingly loud, so he has to pull out once again just to command, “Quiet.”

“Ye—” 

He’s shoved back in before you can finish one syllable, back out after a single suck before he drives his point home, “Understand?” 

“Y—”

Your words are pushed down your throat again, the intensity Yoongi’s exuding rolling your eyes back and shaking your muscles. Spent and unable to speak, you nod around him, and your arms are suddenly gathered against the wall until you’re fully flushed, held up by one of his strong hands.

“Good girl.”

You brace yourself for his complete control, dick sliding down your throat and pushing tears out of your eyes. Breathing through your nose, you keep your tongue flat, taking him in until your full body gag alerts him to pull out. 

As soon as he does, you buckle straight towards the mirror, eyes bursting with shock as you drink in the man watching your heaving, shimmering chest.

“This is what you do to me, doll.” When you shift your attention upward, you gulp at his smile of pride. “Can you stand?” 

“I…” Holy shit, he fucked the voice right out of you. “I think so.” 

“Here.” 

You place your hand in his, muscles in your legs stinging at the change in position. When you go slow, Yoongi lets you, and your lips curve tenderly at the way he kisses you at your peak. 

“You almost made me come,” he whispers, chuckling when you watch his eyes. “Fuckin’ hustler.” 

“You didn’t want to?” 

“Not yet.” Winking, Yoongi gives you another peck before getting close. 

As you look in the mirror, you catch the way he kisses along your neck, his hair tickling your skin and his arms bent as he holds yours. It’s almost enough to make you feel higher than royalty, now knowing what it looks like to be feasted on by a king.

“Promise me something,” he rasps. 

“Anything,” you whisper in confidence.

“It’s your turn now.” Another kiss to your ear makes you flinch. “But if you’re too loud that’s all you get.” 

Bold statement coming from the guy that couldn’t stay silent. But you’re far too gone to dwell on the past so all you can do is nod in understanding. You need this. After today? You really fucking need this.

Yoongi tucks himself back in his sweats before kissing your neck again, lips leaving a trail along the tracks left by your own actions. When he gets to your chest, he gets to unwrap another treat, slowly peeling your dress down to suck on a nipple. 

You almost cut the whole thing short. 

A hand flies up over your mouth, and you watch your face twist in anguish in the glass. Sparks tingle from where Yoongi slides his tongue, and seeing this man in action from another viewpoint launches you across the edge instead of right to it. 

You’re gonna get yourself caught. There’s no way you aren’t crying out by the time he’s done but goddamn you’ve got to keep it toge—

Deft fingers rub your other nipple, causing your body to jump forward and Yoongi to chuckle into your chest. After he squeezes, you watch as he pops off your tit. “What’d I say.” 

This is the hardest thing you’ve ever done! 

You can only shake your head, hand still preventing your mouth to move and your throat stinging from suppressed screams. 

“That’s what I thought,” Yoongi quips before kissing the rest of your dress downward. 

And the fucker didn’t even look back at the mirror. Like he already knows exactly what he looks like or doesn’t care in the slightest. All he’s focused on is you and you alone, and you’re so enamoured that you watch his head below you, too. 

Calmly and surely, Yoongi lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, kissing along your skin and gripping you tight. When he lifts a brow upward, you nod downward, bracing yourself for him to notice something else you had planned to show.

Works like a sinful charm. His reaction could be felt better than seen. 

Because as soon as he notices that you don’t have any underwear on, Yoongi pours out dark amusement before giving your cunt the deepest kiss it’s ever felt.

A mewl smushes into your fingers as you cave, eyes shutting so tight as he eats you out like a man starved and never satiated. 

His licks hit just right, and the way he tongues you causes stars to pierce your eyes through. Over and over and over, Yoongi is merciless in how he pleasures, and your esophagus burns and burns and burns. 

Both your legs quake as he slips a finger under his tongue, and your eyes fly open just in time to see yourselves in the mirror again. 

Holy fuck.

You’ve always known this man was attractive. Overwhelmingly so, in fact. But seeing him on his knees and knowing it’s not a dream makes you so dizzy your brain can’t keep up. 

Yoongi’s hands flex on your skin with each minuscule grip, and his hair bunches as he moves between your legs. Your thigh covers his face, but maybe that’s for the best, because you don’t think you could handle watching his tongue while feeling it inside. 

“So fucking wet,” he hisses out before diving in again, and you use your other hand to grapple a chunk of his drying hair. “Fuck.”

Yes, keep going. He’s so close to making you come you squeeze even harder. By now, your whole upper body is burning with unreleased yells and your lower body is suffering just as much. He’s too good. Way too good for a quiet house.

You can’t hold it in. You can’t you can’t you can’t.

“Yoongi, please”—your legs start to twinge with want and pending release—“Gonna come, I—”

Everything snaps as soon as he reaches to grope your ass, tugging you forward to lick a spot that has you vibrating like mad. 

And your orgasm is so potent that your knees legitimately buckle, your body slipping with no purchase before you catch yourself on the wall. Waves hit you from all directions and you let out one yelp before you feel a moist hand clamp over your lips.

Oh, he’s standing now. Oh, he’s fingering you. Oh fuck, he’s talking you through your orgasm and you can’t understand him but your body reacts either way. 

“—another one for me.”

Your pulses wreck your body into angles, each one shifting into another as your mouth is still covered. Yoongi’s fingers prove fatal as he leads you into a second paradise, and you cry into his hand as you come into his other—harder, stronger. 

“Just like that, doll, fuck.”

Tears stream down your cheeks again as you lift, soaring into the summer skies and leaping over sleeping souls. It’s too much to keep inside. Too powerful to not let out all at once. 

“—this fucking dress.”

You don’t know what’s being said. Nor do you care. Your body is so spent from the vicious tempest and all the energy leaves you at once. 

“Uh uh.”

What. 

“One more for me,” Yoongi goads. “And you’re gonna watch this time.” 

Your chest beats and beats as his fingers pump slow, and your head lolls to the side as you catch sight of your salacious act in the mirror. 

Immediately, you know exactly why he said that. Watching the way his arms bulge with effort is encouragement enough to stay upright. With each thrust, you can see your dress hitching with your arches, and Yoongi dives into your neck to strike lightning. 

“Baby—” You feel it. You feel a third wave incoming and its crest seems higher than the rest. 

“Come for me,” he whispers, his dark bangs peeking from behind your neck in the mirror and his throat stretching out. “And don’t fucking scream.” 

Fuck! Your hand grips your mouth so bad it will leave soreness. But water pulls you under and twists you like a ragdoll. Unlike the other times, this orgasm quivers your legs to the point where Yoongi teases. And he can’t stop praising you for being naughty, for letting him in here, for letting him destroy you while everyone’s here.

“I love it,” you whoosh out into his throat, voice cracked and chipped. “Fuck, I love it.” 

“I know you do.” Another deep set of laughs. “You’re a problem.”

Head lolling forward, you slowly slip right into Yoongi’s arms before he helps you stand. “Come on,” he leads, walking you a short distance to your bed before chuckling at your cartoonish collapse.

Some moments pass. One, two, four or five more. Even the room seems to swim a little in your vision when you struggle to open your eyes. 

Finally, after breathing hard, you can only manage a gravelly, “Holy shit.” 

Yoongi laughs soft before wiping your forehead. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you exhale, chest heaving and heaving. “I’ll be good.” 

Fingers still wisping across your face, he praises, “So beautiful.” 

You finally calm your pulse before you slide your hand over his cock. “Did you come?” 

“Nah.” 

Looks like you aren’t done. “Mm,” you whisper, trying your best to prop yourself up. “Lie down for me.” 

“You sure?” 

You nod with heavy eyes, and he slowly occupies your bed while you caress him again. So smooth and so tender before squeezing just right. 

It’s already almost enough because Yoongi throws his head onto your pillow. “Goddamn.”

When you slip his sweats down, you use willpower alone to consume him again. You will not rest until he’s fully content, too. With this in mind, your cheeks and jaw work overtime. 

You want this, want this, want this. He gave you the world and then some, you can run on fumes to make him a mess. After all, you’re drunk off the pleasurable cocktail he just concocted with his tongue. This will carry you despite your functioning levels in the trenches. 

“Babe—”

For a split second, you forget where you are. Your eyelids droop so low and your body twinges with aftershocks as you spit right onto his cock, sliding your lips along his pretty length before you feel him tug your sheets.

“Shit.”

He’s close. He doesn’t even have to tell you. You can tell by the way his body reacts and bends and folds, and you quickly decide what that means for you.

Because you could swallow. 

But you instead make your way to the floor, commanding him before realizing just how authoritative and raspy you sound, 

“Sit up.”

Right as he does, you pump him right above your exposed chest, shocking him so abruptly his low groan shakes your core,

“Oh, fuck—”

Hot, thick spurts land all over you, his release your only focus and not the pain in your knees from hitting the floor in round two. As his head rolls back, you watch with heightened pride, loving the way he looks lost in delicious, honeyed ecstasy.

And just like that, both of you are satisfied. Both of you got what you needed and wanted from this… hot summer… day…

There was a sound outside your door, further down the hall but fucking close enough. 

And holy shit his cum is on your tits.

Holy shit holy shit this is the absolute last thing you should’ve let him do what the fuck what the fuck! 

If anyone sees you like this you are both finished. Cooked. Banished.

You glance at the door, body locking and hands massive weights at your side. 

One second. 

Two seconds. 

You’re fully awake now. 

Four seconds. 

Nothing else happens. Your ears strain wildly but you don’t hear any noises in succession, and you wonder if it was just a snore or something similar. 

Sighing, you breathe out relief before peering straight up.

And the look you get in return is pure, primal hunger. 

Yoongi’s never looked like this. Maybe he’s come close that one time before, but this is much different. 

What is this? His pupils are magnified and his lids are lowered in fire, stoking the heat within you and clutching your cunt with his eyes alone. You’re so wet that you can come again if he so much as touched you. “Baby?” 

Yoongi simply grazes your cheek with his knuckles. “Just want this in my phone so fucking bad.” 

Oh. Well, fuck. 

You blink at his shamelessness. But it makes you so exhilarated and shy that you resort to your default—cracking jokes. Of all the things he could’ve mentioned like the sound outside or possibly getting caught and dragged to hell he decides he wants your pictures in his phone. Right.

“Happy you painted me like Picasso?” You laugh before you can even finish, but so does Yoongi as he throws his head back. 

Immediately, the atmosphere calms. “You heard that earlier?” 

“He’s an idiot.” 

“He is.” Yoongi helps you up and onto your bed before he asks, “Towels in your bathroom?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Under the sink.”

You watch as he goes to fetch them, heart pulsing extra hard at his consideration. When he bustles around in a room you use everyday, it’s surreal to witness. Both unnatural, but so natural at the same time. 

He’s careful not to make loud sounds, gently closing your cabinets and coming back with a cloth he ran under water.

A sudden pang hits your chest and you have no clue why.

Is it because you’ll never see him in there again? Or is it because of the conversation you just brought up? 

Maybe both. The convo from earlier today still rings in your ears, everyone hounding Yoongi about the scratches you left on his back. They were old but still very visible. You need to be more mindful of what you can and can’t do right now. 

As Yoongi wipes your shivering chest, you ask something that’s been weighing on your mind, “Did I get you in even more trouble?” 

He just looks at you before finishing his cooling task, raising straps back onto your shoulders. “Course you did.” 

Ah. He didn’t seem bothered, but your apology follows him as he goes to pick up the abandoned candy from earlier. “Sorry. I didn’t think about it at the time.” 

“S’ok. Hope you’re fine being some chick from outta town, though.” 

Your chuckle hurts your throat on the way out. Not from disappointment, but from the very man you’re talking to. “I can deal with that. Is she nasty?” 

It takes a bit for him to discard everything. When he comes back, he bends down to answer, 

“So fuckin’ nasty.” 

You giggle right into his kiss. Fully spent, your arms around his neck pull him in close, and his rough laugh makes your legs even weaker. “Can’t believe we just did all that.”

“Same.”

“Guess you like the dress, huh?”

A hand comes up to squeeze your thigh. “Dunno. Might have to see it again when the sun’s out.”

“Ass.”

“You get it.”

“Wow.” 

Yoongi hisses amusement, shifting to lay beside you across your bed. When he does, light from the window hits him just right, and you fall silent at once.

So perfect. So unfair.

“I think this is my favorite,” you admit, not giving him full context. So when he wordlessly asks for it, you reach up and caress his cheek. “When you look happy.”

“I am,” he says after a pause. “Cus of you.”

You feel starlight in your own eyes. “I’m happy, too.”

For this, Yoongi doesn’t need to ask for more context at all.

The lingering fear of being caught is still there, but it’s not as present now. Maybe it’s because you’re both content again, but you don’t feel too stressed. 

Did you want to get caught that whole time? Surely not when things were going down.

But what about now? If someone saw you lost in each others’ stars, would you care if they plucked you from the sky? 

Staring into this man’s eyes, you can’t bring yourself to say you would. 

“When will I see you again?” you blurt out of nowhere.

At this, Yoongi props his head up with an elbow. “When do you want to?”

“Tomorrow.”

His chest bobs with his laugh. “I’ll make sure to see you before I head out then.” 

You nod, eyes shutting when Yoongi goes in for another kiss. 

Another kiss is how you frame it. Because a final kiss is too painful to think about. 

Yoongi has to leave. You know he literally cannot stay.

But facts and logic don’t make this parting any easier, and your heart breaks when he slips out of your bed.

It’s too soon. Yes, it’s also way past the time he should be in your room, but it’s too fucking soon. 

Your chest burns. Sears make fiery ridges along your ribs until they overtake your heart, creeping closer and closer.

Until Yoongi bends to kiss you again, fingers slotting into yours and squeezing some liquid out of your eyes. 

But his rasp gives you pause, “I did, by the way.”

Blinking, you feel him swipe at oncoming tears when you ask, “You did what?”

“Have fun.”

Oh. Wait, he’s answering the text you sent? You already forgot about that. Ages ago. “Good,” you say with a slight ghost of a smile. “It looked like you were having a good time. And I.. Really liked seeing you laugh.”

Yoongi just stares, thoughts and emotions skimming across his eyes. When you reach up to cradle his cheek, they then slip shut, brows dipping as he presses into you further. “You were the reason,” he admits with no hesitation.

Don’t cry more. Not now.

He gives you one more hug, and you cradle his head into your skin. “Good night, baby,” you whisper so softly, planting a kiss on his cheek. 

When he does the same to yours, you wonder if his reaction was also reminiscent of tiny sparklers on a summer night. 

“Night, doll.” 

The steps he takes all stomp on your heart. 

But you find solace in the hopeful future. One where you can stand next to him at summer barbecues, or host them with him, or just simply be anywhere with him. 

But mostly, you’re yearning for a future where you don’t have to keep watching him leave through a door. 

But come back through one.

-

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fin. :)

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🍭so... how did it go!🍭 | join the server! | join the taglist!

a/n: thank you to everyone that has stuck around while i took my huge rest! it was a little strange to not be here everyday talking to you all, but looking back, the resting and step back was needed. although it looks like some people left - whether the blog or in general - i am happy to see so many familiar and new people! let's keep having fun with the 3tanverse and beyond, yeah? a/n 2: thank you for also being here despite the highs and lows! i'll be here to talk and scream with y'all whenever, and it should be more frequent now. also be on the lookout for some physical copy interest checks! we are getting closer to 3tan copies being A Real Thing! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[majikkulu]

━━ ❝ masterlist ❞

these are my personal observations and may not resonate with everyone. please take them with a grain of salt, as i'm not a professional astrologer! :))

(i don’t know much about greek gods and goddesses, but i joined a top model contest where i have to dress up as a greek deity. it landed on hecate, and since she represents witchcraft and spirituality, i felt inspired to do an asteroid hecate lmaoooo. i hope yall will like my interpretation ;pp.)

asteroid hekate (100) is a greek goddess who rules over witchcraft, crossroads, and the night. she represents the deep, hidden parts of life, like the mysteries of life and death, and changes that happen in the dark or behind the scenes. think of her as a super-powered flashlight that helps you find your way when you’re lost in a dark forest. hekate helps you tap into your inner wisdom and guides you through tough times or big decisions.

where hekate is in your chart it points to areas where you might face crossroads, big changes, and hidden truths. it’s like having a special ability to understand things that aren't obvious right away. hekate also helps with personal transformation, helping you move from one part of your life to another.

𝖍𝖊𝖐𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖓 1𝖘𝖙 - they have a really cool, mysterious vibe that makes people curious about them. their intuition is super strong, and they might even have psychic abilities. this gives them a natural wisdom that others find fascinating, especially if they’re into spiritual stuff. while they might be drawn to spiritual practices, fully embracing them could be challenging. they’re very sensitive to their surroundings and trust their instincts. their journey involves listening to their inner voice and following their gut. people feel there’s more to them than meets the eye, and their powerful presence can be very magnetic. however, they might struggle with knowing exactly who they are and what path to take.

𝖍𝖊𝖐𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖓 2𝖓𝖉 - they’ve got a knack for making smart choices with their money and possessions through their intuition. their financial situation might go through a lot of ups and downs, but these changes help them figure out what’s truly important to them. they might find themselves deciding what to keep and exploring new ways to earn money. they probably value items with special meaning. over time, their priorities might shift, and they’ll rethink what’s worth holding onto. they might be drawn to earning money through spiritual work like astrology or tarot. even though their finances can be a bit unpredictable, they should remember that their true worth comes from their spiritual and intuitive gifts, not just material things.

𝖍𝖊𝖐𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖓 3𝖗𝖉 - they speak in a way that’s intense and full of insight, often using metaphors and talking about deep topics like psychology or mystical themes. they might have a natural understanding of what others are thinking and feeling. advising their siblings or close relatives might come easily to them. however, they might find it tricky to clearly express their own thoughts and feelings, which can sometimes lead to misunderstandings.

𝖍𝖊𝖐𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖓 4𝖙𝖍 - they might go through major changes related to their family and home, like moving or shifts in family dynamics. their home could feel like a special, mysterious place that they protect strongly. they might discover deep truths about their family or even uncover secrets. they could be someone others rely on for emotional support, which can be a lot of pressure. they might have inherited spiritual abilities from their family, and these could be a big part of who they are. handling strong emotions and family conflicts might require them to take a step back for some introspection and healing. it’s important for them to set boundaries to take care of themselves while still being there for their loved ones.

𝖍𝖊𝖐𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖓 5𝖙𝖍 - they’re drawn to exploring spiritual themes through their creativity. creative activities help them express their deep, hidden truths. when they date, they look for strong emotional or spiritual connections and are often attracted to people who share their mystical interests. their intuition makes these connections intense and transformative, helping them understand themselves better. they use creative outlets to connect with their inner self and explore spiritual practices that make them happy. they’re also great with kids, understanding them intuitively and guiding them with wisdom. they might face creative blocks, but these challenges often lead to new insights or breakthroughs.

𝖍𝖊𝖐𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖓 6𝖙𝖍 - they might be drawn to careers with a spiritual theme, like healing or counseling. their job situation could change a lot, and they’ll likely know intuitively if something is wrong with their health, which might lead them to holistic practices like energy healing or meditation. emotional or spiritual issues might show up as physical symptoms. their daily routine might include spiritual practices like meditation, and they might naturally organize what feels right to them. helping others could be fulfilling, especially when it comes to understanding their personal and emotional struggles. however, this placement might also lead to stress or dissatisfaction, causing them to overthink their path or daily tasks.

𝖍𝖊𝖐𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖓 7𝖙𝖍 - they form deep, transformative relationships and attract partners who are intense and spiritual. these partners might push them to explore new sides of themselves and their relationship dynamics. they have an intuitive understanding of their partner’s needs and desires. they might be drawn to mysterious partners who reveal hidden parts of themselves or their relationship. some connections could feel significant or even karmic. this placement can also bring challenges related to control and emotional conflicts, similar to having pluto in the 7th house.

𝖍𝖊𝖐𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖓 8𝖙𝖍 - for them, intimacy can be intense and revealing, bringing up psychological and spiritual truths about themselves and their partners. they might be interested in exploring hidden or taboo aspects of sex. their intuition is strong when it comes to shared finances. they might face fears and psychological issues that lead to personal growth. they could be interested in mystical practices like astrology or tarot. working through past traumas and unresolved issues can bring healing and a sense of renewal. however, they might encounter issues with control or power in their intimate relationships or financial dealings. despite these challenges, they could do really well in business.

𝖍𝖊𝖐𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖓 9𝖙𝖍 - they might experience changes in their beliefs and how they view life's purpose, often leading them to a more spiritual perspective. they could be drawn to esoteric or occult philosophies and approach learning with their intuition. traveling might bring transformative experiences and new insights. they might be attracted to places with spiritual or mystical significance, prompting deeper reflection. exploring the universe and its mysteries could fascinate them. their deep knowledge and intuitive understanding can make them a great teacher.

𝖍𝖊𝖐𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖓 10𝖙𝖍 - their career and goals might go through changes, and they could be drawn to roles that involve mystical practices. the public might see them as someone who brings a unique, transformative energy with innovative ideas. their strong intuition can help them make decisions that lead to success. in their work, they might take on a mentoring role. this placement can bring intense or challenging experiences, and they might explore hidden aspects of society.

𝖍𝖊𝖐𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖓 11𝖙𝖍 - they might experience deep and transformative friendships and interactions. they often attract friends who are intense or spiritual, bringing significant changes into their life. they might be drawn to groups with mystical or esoteric interests. their long-term goals might involve spiritual themes, and they have an intuitive sense of their dreams and aspirations. they could experience intense dynamics within their social circle, like power struggles. they might take on a leadership role in their group, providing guidance and support. their aspirations have a spiritual purpose, leading to a fulfilling journey.

𝖍𝖊𝖐𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖓 12𝖙𝖍 - they might go through inner changes and transformations, exploring hidden parts of themselves. this can lead to self-discovery and healing. spending time alone can offer them growth and spiritual insight. they might be pushed to confront and address shadow aspects of themselves, which can be intense but also healing. they may need to work through self-sabotaging tendencies. their path involves deep inner work and exploring hidden realms, so trusting their inner guidance and intuition is key. this placement can bring healing, inner peace, and insights from unknown sources.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Strawberry Lemonade

Summary: Spencer and you have a summer fling before you start your masters in theater, but you both fall in love. A chance encounter years later will give you the chance to reconnect.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Broadway fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: summer love, suggestive content (16+), happy ending

Word count: 6.7k

a/n: this is cuteee i imagine season 1 spencer at the beginning and season 7 spencer at the end but its up to you hehe

main masterlist

Six years ago…

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you heard the voice before you felt the cold liquid soaking through your shirt, chilling your skin. The sensation was sudden and startling, making you gasp and jump back instinctively.

“Ah!” you exclaimed, eyes wide as you looked down at the spreading stain on your clothes. It was a shock, but more amusing than upsetting.

“I—I didn’t see you, I am so, so sorry. Um, let me get you a napkin,” the man rushed out, his voice laced with genuine panic as he scrambled to make amends.

You finally looked up at him, and despite the situation, a smile tugged at your lips. “Whoa, wait, it’s okay!” you reassured him, waving your hands to calm him down. “What did you spill on me?” you asked, your tone light and humorous as you took in his flushed, slightly disheveled appearance.

“Strawberry lemonade…” he admitted, wincing as if expecting you to be upset.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I might be sticky, but at least I’ll smell good!” The sound of your laughter seemed to ease his anxiety, and for a moment, he looked relieved, albeit still a bit embarrassed. 

“I’m really sorry again,” he said, his tone sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was so focused I just wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.”

“Seriously, it’s okay!” you assured him, still smiling. “I can just head home and change. I didn’t have any big plans today anyway.”

“Still, it’s inconvenient,” he insisted, clearly feeling guilty.

“Oh well, you’re just keeping my day interesting. Do you want to do that all summer long?” you joked, the lighthearted comment slipping out before you could stop yourself.

“Huh?” He blinked, momentarily confused by your question.

You chuckled, shaking your head at your own boldness. “I’m watching my parents’ house for the summer. Not sure what I’m going to do… I probably shouldn’t have told you that, random male stranger.”

His expression shifted to one of concern. “Uh, no, you should not tell people that. But, I am in the FBI, actually. I catch the people you shouldn’t tell that you’re watching your parents’ house.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, curiosity and skepticism bubbling up inside you. “Wow! That’s cool, and I totally don’t believe you at all,” you laughed again, the sound warm and infectious. You noticed how his eyes seemed to light up at the sound of your laughter.

He fumbled for a moment, clearly eager to prove himself. After a brief struggle, he managed to retrieve his badge from his pocket. “Here,” he said, holding it out for you to see, the credentials gleaming under the light.

You leaned in slightly to inspect it, your eyes narrowing playfully. “Alright, I believe you, Spencer Reid,” you said, pronouncing his name with a teasing lilt.

The blush that spread across his cheeks was instant and endearing. “Thanks, um…” he trailed off, realizing he didn’t know your name.

“Y/N L/N,” you said, extending your hand toward him, your smile never wavering.

He glanced at your hand, then back up at you, a hint of nervousness still lingering in his eyes. “It’s actually safer for us to kiss with all of the germs that are passed through hands touching,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his sudden awkwardness. “Well, if you buy me a drink instead of spilling one on me, I’ll give you that kiss,” you teased, your voice carrying a playful challenge.

Spencer’s eyes widened, his blush deepening as he realized you were serious. For a moment, he was speechless, but then a shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Deal,” he said softly, his heart racing as he met your gaze.

—

You had gotten Spencer Reid’s number after your first encounter, agreeing to find a time to get that drink he owed you. The anticipation of seeing him again had you smiling as you got ready for your casual meetup. You wanted to see if he was just as endearing without the strawberry lemonade incident.

As you approached the café, you spotted Spencer sitting at a small table outside. His posture was slightly tense, his hands wrapped around a coffee cup as he scanned the surroundings nervously. When he saw you approaching, though, his face lit up with a shy but genuine smile, one that instantly warmed your heart.

“Spencer!” you called out, waving as you neared the table.

“Hi, Y/N,” he responded, his voice soft but filled with warmth.

When you reached the table, you noticed two drinks already waiting. You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Did you order for me?” you asked, a hint of amusement in your tone.

Spencer nodded, looking bashful as he explained, “I did. You mentioned that you liked chai lattes, so I got you one.”

Your heart fluttered at his thoughtfulness, and you couldn’t help but smile even wider. “You are the sweetest! Thank you!” You took a seat across from him, picking up the warm cup and taking a sip. The spiced, creamy flavor was perfect, and you let out an appreciative hum. “It’s delicious, and look at that! It made it into my mouth and not on my clothes,” you teased, your eyes twinkling with humor.

Spencer chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Yeah, I promise not to ruin your clothes this time,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a small smile.

You leaned in slightly, a mischievous glint in your eye. “What about next time?”

Spencer choked on his drink, caught off guard by your playful question. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, finding his awkwardness endearing. Once he recovered, he grinned sheepishly, his cheeks tinged with pink. “I’ll work on my coordination before then,” he replied, his voice laced with embarrassment and amusement.

You giggled, shaking your head. “I’m just messing with you, Spencer. But I’m glad you’re thinking ahead.”

He relaxed even more, clearly enjoying your company as much as you were enjoying his. The conversation flowed easily between you two, filled with light banter, shared stories, and plenty of laughter. It was clear that this was just the beginning of something special—something that neither of you could have predicted from a simple spilled drink.

—

As the summer days drifted by, Spencer had become a regular fixture in your life. He was your constant companion, always ready for an adventure whenever his demanding job allowed. Whether it was movie nights on the couch, intense games of chess in the park, or wandering through the quiet halls of a museum, every moment with him was something you cherished. But today, you were ready to take things to the next level, to let him know just how much you enjoyed his company in a way that left little room for misinterpretation.

Spencer was coming over again, this time for a swim in the lake behind your parents’ house. He’d been over many times before, but today was different. Today, you were determined to make your intentions clear.

The sound of his car pulling up the driveway sent a thrill of anticipation through you. You smoothed down your cover-up and opened the door just as he was about to knock. “Hey, babe,” you greeted him with a playful grin, the casual endearment slipping from your lips effortlessly.

Spencer’s cheeks immediately flushed a light shade of pink, clearly caught off guard. He wasn’t used to pet names, especially not from someone like you—someone who had become increasingly important to him over these past few months. “Hi, Y/N,” he managed to reply, his voice soft and a little unsure.

“Are you ready to swim?” you asked, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you leaned against the doorframe.

“Mhm,” he nodded, lifting the small bag he brought with him. “I brought my swimsuit.”

“Awe, damn,” you pouted dramatically, teasing him with a sparkle in your eye. “I thought we were going skinny dipping.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he stammered, “Y/N!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, biting your lip to suppress a grin. “I’m joking! Maybe…” you added with a wink before turning to lead him inside. You could feel his eyes on you, nervousness and curiosity radiating from him.

Once he changed, you led Spencer out to the dock that stretched over the lake. The sun was warm, the water inviting, and the setting was perfect. Spencer was busy setting up the beach chairs, focused on getting everything just right, when you called out to him.

“Hey, Spencer, can you help me out?” Your voice was light, almost innocent.

He turned to see what you needed, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he caught sight of you. There you stood, your cover-up discarded to reveal a tiny swimsuit that left very little to the imagination. The way the fabric clung to your curves, barely covering what it needed to, had Spencer’s mind spinning. He was completely unprepared for this.

“Su–sure,” he stammered, struggling to keep his gaze respectful even as his face turned a deep shade of crimson.

You smiled at his reaction, a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. You had his attention now, that much was clear. “Thanks,” you said, moving closer to him, letting your arm brush against his as you reached for the sunscreen. “Would you mind helping me with my back?”

Spencer swallowed hard, his brain short-circuiting as he nodded. “Of course,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

As he carefully applied the sunscreen, his fingers trembling slightly as they skimmed over your skin, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. 

“Mmm, your hands are so warm, Spencer. This feels nice,” you murmured, letting your eyes flutter closed as his hands worked gently across your back. You could feel the heat radiating from his palms, soothing against your skin. 

Spencer made a small, high-pitched sound that was almost a squeak, clearly caught off guard by your comment. “I’m—uh, I’m glad,” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly.

As his hands reached your shoulders, you rolled them, leaning back into his touch, allowing yourself to let out a soft, almost involuntary, sound of pleasure. It was subtle, but you knew it would have an effect on him. “Can you get my lower back too, please?” you asked, your voice laced with just enough sweetness to make him melt.

“Ok—okay,” Spencer managed to say, his breath hitching as he moved his hands lower. When his fingers finally reached your lower back, you couldn’t resist arching it just a bit, causing your hips to shift subtly, drawing his attention further down.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said, turning your head slightly to glance back at him with a mischievous smile. “You’re good with your hands.”

Spencer’s face was bright red by now, and he cleared his throat, quickly pulling his hands away as if they’d been burned. “Um, you’re all done! Let’s, uh, let’s get in the water!” he blurted out, almost too fast for the words to be coherent.

You couldn’t help but laugh, enjoying the effect you had on him. “Don’t you need sunscreen?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you watched him turn his back to you, clearly flustered.

“Nope!” he shouted, his voice a bit higher than usual, before making a beeline for the edge of the dock. Without a second thought, he dove into the lake, the cold water a welcome relief from the heat you’d stirred up inside him.

You watched, amused, as Spencer resurfaced, his hair plastered to his forehead as he pushed it back with one hand. He looked at you with wide eyes, a mixture of embarrassment and something else you couldn’t quite place. You knew he was trying to compose himself, but you could tell you’d rattled him in the best way possible.

“Water’s great!” he called out, trying to sound casual, though his voice still carried a note of nervousness. “You should join me.”

You smirked, taking your time as you walked to the edge of the dock. “Oh, I plan to,” you said, your tone playful as you prepared to jump in after him, the summer day suddenly feeling a whole lot warmer.

You and Spencer splashed around in the cool water, laughing and enjoying the kind of carefree fun that usually only comes with childhood. The day was perfect, the sun shining down, the water glistening, and you couldn’t help but feel a warmth growing in your chest every time you looked at him. There was something so endearing about Spencer, especially now with his big, round eyes wide with wonder, his wet hair sticking to his forehead in messy strands. He was so pretty.

“Y/N?” Spencer called out suddenly, a hint of concern in his voice as he glanced around, squinting since he had left his glasses on the dock. You had slipped beneath the surface, and he couldn’t see where you had gone.

“Ahh!” he yelped when he felt hands on his waist, the surprise making him jump. But before he could fully process what was happening, you popped up right in front of him, grinning as you wiped the water and hair from your face.

“Hi,” you whispered softly, the playfulness in your eyes unmistakable.

“You scared me,” he admitted, still catching his breath from the sudden startle.

“Sorry, Spence,” you replied, your voice gentle, though there was a lingering note of amusement.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice softer now as he looked at you, his nerves easing but still very much present.

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing closer. He stiffened slightly, but didn’t pull away. Feeling bold, you decided to make your next move, wrapping your legs around his torso as well, anchoring yourself to him in the water. His hands instinctively moved to support you, his fingers brushing your waist as he tried to steady himself.

“You’re like a koala,” Spencer observed, his voice a bit breathless, the situation clearly getting to him.

“Mmm, do koalas like wet nerds?” you teased, your lips just inches from his, your breath warm against his damp skin.

“What—” he began, but before he could finish, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, your heart racing as you made your intentions clear.

For a moment, Spencer froze, clearly caught off guard by the suddenness of your kiss. Panic started to bubble up inside you, and you quickly pulled back, searching his face for any sign that you’d made a mistake. “I’m sorry, was that not okay?” you asked, your voice tinged with worry as you began to second-guess yourself.

But before you could spiral too far, Spencer’s hand cupped your face, his touch gentle but firm. He didn’t say a word, just pulled you back toward him, his other hand sliding down to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the warmth of his lips on yours, the cool water lapping around you, and the undeniable chemistry that had been building between you all summer.

The kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a passion that surprised you, his usual shyness nowhere to be found. You melted into him, feeling the last of your doubts wash away as you wrapped yourself even tighter around him, the world fading until it was just you and Spencer, lost in the moment, lost in each other.

—

The day at the lake marked the beginning of your official relationship with Spencer, and from then on, your summer together blossomed into the kind of romance you’d always dreamed of. There were countless moments that felt like they were straight out of a movie—bouquets of flowers delivered unexpectedly, rosy cheeks from laughter, bike rides on cobblestone streets, and endless time spent in each other’s company. Spencer was always so thoughtful, his gestures sweet and genuine, and you couldn’t help but fall deeper for him with every passing day.

But as the summer days dwindled, so did the time you had left before returning to school. One afternoon, Spencer walked into the living room of your parents’ house, his face bright with excitement. “Hey, love,” he said, his voice warm and affectionate as he approached you.

“Hmm?” you responded, glancing up from your computer where you were half-listening while reviewing your reading list for the fall term at Hunter College. 

“There’s this annual FBI gala in September,” Spencer began, leaning down to place a tender kiss on the top of your head. “I was wondering if you’d like to be my date.”

You nodded absentmindedly, still focused on your work. “Uh, sure, babe. Sounds fun!”

Spencer smiled, pleased by your agreement. “Amazing, it’s the last Saturday of September.”

It wasn’t until he mentioned the date that realization hit you, and your heart sank. “Oh no… I’ll be back at school by then.”

“What?” Spencer’s smile faltered, confusion and disappointment flickering across his face as he looked at you.

“Well, I’m going back to school at the beginning of September… I’m only here for the summer, I told you that, baby.”

“I know you did,” Spencer sighed, the disappointment settling in as he plopped down on the couch. “I guess I didn’t think about how soon you were going back.”

Seeing him so crestfallen made your heart ache. You quickly set your computer aside and moved to climb into his lap, wrapping your arms around him. Spencer’s hands instinctively found your waist, holding you close as you nestled against him. “I’m sorry, Spence,” you said softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Maybe I can still come? If I’m not too busy with work and school?”

“Yeah,” he replied, though the frown on his face made it clear he wasn’t convinced. He avoided your gaze, his eyes focused on some distant point.

“Hey,” you whispered, tilting his chin up so he had no choice but to look at you. “We still have all of August, you still have me all to yourself for a whole month.”

“That’s true,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing his as you spoke. “Can you think of anything you want to do with me while I’m all yours?” you asked, your voice playful, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you smirked at him.

Spencer’s smile grew a little wider, and he let out a soft chuckle. “I can think of a few things,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze affectionate. “But we might need more than a month.”

“Well then, you better start planning,” you whispered against his lips, before closing the small distance between you in a tender kiss, hoping to chase away the cloud of impending separation with the warmth of your affection.

—

“I can’t believe you leave next week,” Spencer mumbled into your stomach, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into your skin, seeking comfort in the warmth of your body.

Spencer’s words hung in the air, the weight of them settling deep in your chest. You’d known this moment would come, the one where the reality of your impending departure would hit both of you with full force. But hearing him say it, feeling the emotion behind his words, made it all the more real. 

You sighed softly, your fingers threading through his hair as you stared up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Spence… please stop mentioning it. I don’t want to cry again. Can’t we just enjoy this week?”

He lifted his head slightly, resting his chin on your soft tummy as he looked up at you, his eyes full of regret for bringing it up. “Yes, I’m sorry, love,” he murmured, his voice sincere.

For a moment, you just looked at him, taking in every detail of his face—the way his hair fell into his eyes, the softness of his expression, the beauty that radiated from him so clearly. “You’re so beautiful, Spencer Reid,” you mused, your heart squeezing in your chest at how deeply you felt for him.

Spencer’s eyes softened even more, and then, almost as if he couldn’t hold it back any longer, he said, “I love you.” It was the first time he’d said it, the words slipping out with such raw honesty that they made your breath hitch.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you laughed, even as tears welled up in your eyes, “I said not to make me cry.”

His expression shifted from worry to understanding in an instant, and he quickly sat up, pulling you into his arms, holding you close in the bed. “Why are you crying?” he asked, concern lacing his voice as he brushed a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Because I love you too,” you whispered, your smile tinged with sadness as you looked up at him, the reality of your situation crashing down on you.

The look in Spencer’s eyes changed then, deepening into something more intense, more profound. He kissed you, but this time it was different—there was more emotion, more passion than either of you had ever felt before. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a promise, a declaration, a desperate attempt to hold onto this moment, this connection, for as long as possible.

Slowly, he guided you back down onto the pillows, his body moving between your legs, his hands caressing your sides with a tenderness that made your heart ache. His lips never left yours, the kiss deepening as he settled over you, his breath warm against your skin.

“Spencer?” you whispered hesitantly, your voice trembling slightly. You knew he wasn’t very experienced, and until now, the two of you hadn’t gone further than heavy makeouts. He’d only seen you topless once, and even then, he’d been adorably flustered.

“I’m sure, darling,” he breathed, his voice steady but filled with a nervous excitement that matched your own.

“Oh—okay,” you replied softly, your heart racing as you let yourself sink into the moment, trusting him, trusting this love.

That morning, as the sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room, you lay tangled in the sheets with Spencer. Both of you basking in the intimacy you’d shared, it had been more than just a physical connection; it was a merging of hearts, a deepening of the bond that had grown between you over the summer.

In those moments, with the world outside fading away, you realized that Spencer had stolen your heart completely, just as you had become his first in so many ways. The warmth of the sun on your skin, the softness of the sheets, and the gentle rise and fall of his breath beside you—it all felt like a dream, a perfect culmination of the love that had blossomed between you.

As you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that no matter what the future held, this moment would always be yours.

—

“Okay, so call me as soon as you make it to your apartment. And… text and email as much as you can,” Spencer said, his voice trembling as he fought to keep his composure.

The moment was heavy with emotion as you stood by your car, Spencer’s eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The weight of the impending separation hung between you, thick and tangible, making every word feel like it was being carved into your hearts.

“I will, Spence,” you nodded, your own voice barely steady as you bit your lip, trying desperately to hold back the sob that threatened to break free.

“I love you, please know that,” he whispered, the raw emotion in his words making your heart ache.

“I know, baby, I know,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your lips to his in a kiss that conveyed everything you couldn’t put into words. “I love you too, so much.”

As you pulled back slightly, Spencer’s voice cracked with a plea, “Please don’t forget me.”

You stared into his eyes, the depth of your feelings for him clear and unwavering. “Spencer Reid,” you said softly but firmly, “I will never forget you.”

With that, you kissed him one last time, the bittersweet farewell lingering in the air as you both held onto each other for as long as you could.

—

Despite all the promises and the heartfelt goodbyes, life had other plans. The demands of your master’s program and the grueling work on Broadway consumed your time and energy. Spencer, too, became increasingly busy with his responsibilities at the BAU and his guest lectures, often being called away for cases more frequently than before. The distance, both physical and emotional, began to take its toll.

Calls that used to bring comfort and connection started going to voicemail. Texts that once sparked joy and laughter were left unanswered. Emails that used to be filled with affection and updates were opened but never replied to. The busy lives you both led pulled you further apart, until one day, you realized that you hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, then months.

The connection that had once been so strong faded away, not with a dramatic end but with a quiet, painful drift. Despite the love you had for each other, you and Spencer never saw each other again. The summer you shared remained a beautiful, bittersweet memory, a chapter that closed far too soon.

—

Present

The present day found Rossi deep in the midst of orchestrating the final details for JJ and Will’s last-minute wedding. After wrapping up their latest case, he hadn’t expected to be planning a wedding, but he was more than happy to take on the challenge. With everything falling into place—JJ’s mom attending, the guests taken care of, food arranged, his beautiful backyard as the location, and even the rings sorted—the only thing left was the music. Rossi could have easily hired a band, a DJ, or even a string quartet, but he had someone specific in mind.

His thoughts drifted to a young woman he had met years ago, back when she was just starting out on Broadway as a background singer. Rossi had discovered her in a small, back-alley theater during an off-Broadway performance of Rent where she played Mimi. Her performance had been nothing short of phenomenal, and Rossi had made sure to keep in touch with her over the years. She was someone who had made an impression on him, and he liked to check in on those who left a mark.

Pulling out his phone, Rossi quickly typed out a message, hoping she was available. 

Am I the luckiest man alive or can you not be in Virginia tomorrow evening for a wedding?

It didn’t take long for a response to come through. 

A wedding? This is a strange proposal, but I can be there. Send me details!

Rossi smiled, relieved and excited. With her on board, he knew the night would be something truly special.

—

The air was filled with warmth and joy as JJ and Will’s wedding ceremony unfolded, a picture-perfect blend of love and simplicity. A band played soft, unobtrusive music in the background, setting the tone for the intimate occasion. As the ceremony transitioned to the reception, the band continued to provide a gentle soundtrack, allowing everyone to bask in the glow of the newlyweds’ happiness.

But as the moment for the first dance approached, Rossi knew it was time to unveil his final surprise. He made his way to the small makeshift stage, where a microphone stood unused, and with a confident smile, he took hold of it. “Alright everyone, may I have your attention, please?” His voice carried over the crowd, drawing all eyes to him.

The guests turned their attention to Rossi, their expressions warm and expectant. JJ and Will stood together, their hands intertwined, basking in the moment.

“JJ, Will,” Rossi began, his tone heartfelt, “I am so happy for you both. Thank you for allowing us to witness your union, and may you lead a beautiful life together.”

The group erupted into cheers, the love and support for the couple evident in every smiling face.

Rossi’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he continued, “Now, I do have one last surprise for you…”

JJ, ever the skeptic, raised a brow, her signature look of sass making a brief appearance as she wondered what Rossi had up his sleeve.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Rossi announced, his voice brimming with excitement, “all the way from Broadway, please welcome, Y/N L/N…”

The crowd turned with curiosity as you stepped onto the stage, ready to add your own special touch to this unforgettable night.

As you stepped onto the stage, the evening air filled with a gentle buzz of excitement and warmth. “Hello, all! Thank you so much, David,” you began, your voice clear and bright. “I am deeply grateful to be here performing for such a special evening. Thank you for letting me share in the festivities.”

JJ and Will raised their glasses to you, smiles of appreciation on their faces, and the crowd erupted into cheers. But one person did not share in the cheers, silently staring from the back of the group, his expression frozen in shock—Spencer. He never forgot a face, and yours was etched into his memory, even if time had added a few years since your last encounter.

“I was informed this first song is to be the first dance,” you continued, your eyes scanning the crowd, oblivious to the familiar face among them. “So please make room for the lovely couple!” With a graceful flourish, you began your performance, your voice effortlessly filling the space with a soft, ethereal melody that perfectly suited the evening’s romantic atmosphere.

Spencer could hardly believe what he was seeing. You were here. You were real, and you were performing at this very wedding. For someone who lived his life by facts, figures, and logical conclusions, this moment felt almost like destiny. You had come back into his life in the most unexpected way, and it left him reeling.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, as he was hiding out towards the back, not wanting to draw attention to himself. But as the evening wore on, he found himself pulled to the dance floor by Penelope Garcia, her bright smile and colorful attire impossible to resist. It was only then, as you sang and your eyes swept across the guests, that you saw him. Your breath caught in your throat, but you kept singing, the professionalism in you pushing through even as your wide eyes tracked his every move.

He was dancing with a woman—tall, beautiful, blonde, and dressed in an outfit that could only be described as whimsical. They moved together easily, and you felt a pang of something you hadn’t expected to feel after all these years—jealousy. It wasn’t that you had any claim on him; so much time had passed, and life had moved on for both of you. But seeing him again, so unexpectedly, brought a rush of old emotions, and suddenly, it felt as though no time had passed at all.

You could feel your pulse quicken as the last notes of your performance faded into the night. The applause was warm and appreciative, but all you could think about was getting off that stage and finding Spencer. The need to talk to him, to see him up close after all these years, was almost overwhelming.

“That concludes my contribution to the gorgeous evening David planned. Thank you all again for allowing me to sing for you,” you said, giving the crowd a gracious smile as you left the stage. As you descended, Rossi was there to escort you, his arm linked with yours as he guided you toward the refreshments. You wasted no time in grabbing a glass of champagne, hoping the bubbles might help settle your nerves.

“That was phenomenal, Y/N. You never disappoint. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice,” Rossi said, his voice full of genuine gratitude.

“It was my pleasure, David. Thank you for always thinking of me,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside you.

Before Rossi could say more, a voice you knew all too well sounded from behind you. “Y/N?”

You turned, and there he was—Spencer Reid, standing just a few feet away, looking even more handsome than you remembered. Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat as all the emotions you’d been trying to keep at bay came rushing back with full force.

“Hi, Spence,” you managed to say, your voice soft but warm, betraying the flood of feelings coursing through you.

Rossi, ever perceptive, noticed the unspoken tension and slowly began to excuse himself, moving away with the intention of questioning you both later.

Spencer seemed flustered, his mind racing as he tried to process everything. “Wh—what are you doing here? I mean, I know what you’re doing here, but how do you know Rossi?”

You swallowed, trying to keep your emotions in check. “He, uh, he came to one of my shows when I first started performing,” you explained, though your voice was a little choked up, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

Spencer’s eyes widened with surprise. “You perform? Where?”

“Broadway…” you said, a small, almost self-conscious laugh escaping your lips as you watched his reaction.

Spencer’s eyes softened, a mix of pride and awe flickering across his face. “Wow,” he breathed, clearly impressed. “I didn’t know he really meant–that’s… amazing, Y/N.”

For a moment, neither of you knew what to say, the years that had passed between you suddenly feeling both like a lifetime and like no time at all.

Spencer’s voice was soft, almost reverent as he asked, “Do you… want to dance?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with a mix of nostalgia and hope. “I’d love to.” You let him take your hand and lead you to the dance floor, feeling a lump form in your throat as you realized just how much you had missed him. As his back turned to you, you quickly dabbed at your eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears threatening to spill over.

The team, scattered around the reception, couldn’t help but glance over at the two of you, curiosity piqued. They exchanged looks, silently wondering how their usually women-avoidant genius had managed to snag the singer for a dance.

With Spencer’s hands resting gently on your hips and your arms draped over his shoulders, you felt both light as a feather and heavy as a ton of bricks, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between you. His touch was gentle, reassuring, but there was an underlying tension—years of separation and longing bubbling just beneath the surface.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing you right now,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “Are you sure you’re real?”

Spencer, always quick with a quip, responded with a small smile. “Do you often see people that aren’t real?”

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping despite the lump in your throat. “No… I just can’t get my mind around it.”

“Me neither,” he admitted, his thumbs rubbing small, soothing circles on your waist.

You looked up at him, your eyes tracing the familiar features of his face, now slightly more mature but just as handsome. “You look so handsome, Spence. You’ve aged like fine wine.”

His blush was immediate, endearing in its sincerity. “Thank you,” he mumbled, clearly flustered. “You look gorgeous. You haven’t aged a bit.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m not a profiler, but even I know that’s a lie. Look at these bags!” You pointed to the faint circles under your eyes, a result of late nights and hard work.

Spencer’s gaze softened, and he smiled tenderly. “You’re perfect, maybe I’m just blind to your flaws.”

“Wow, Agent,” you mused, a teasing note in your voice. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me.”

“Is that okay?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his tone. “Figured I could make up for lost time.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you tried to steady your breathing. “Spencer…”

He noticed the shift in your expression, his brow furrowing slightly in concern. “I remember that face. What’s wrong? Do you have a partner?”

“No,” you assured him quickly, shaking your head. “Should we keep it friendly? Not much has changed…”

“A lot has changed,” Spencer countered, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Like what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Like… I happen to know that if you work on Broadway, you get downtime between shows. You’re here right now, aren’t you?”

“That’s true… but I still have to rehearse, practice, and prepare. And I have an audition next week.”

Spencer’s smile widened, his eyes filled with admiration. “And you will do amazing at that audition. Do you want to get dinner after?”

“In New York?” you asked, a bit taken aback by his boldness.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his forehead pressing gently against yours. “I’ll take the train, meet you after you blow the casting directors away.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though your heart was pounding. “You’re insane. What if we don’t get along anymore?”

“That would be really unfortunate, and I’d just take the train back,” he snorted, the sound making you laugh despite yourself.

“What if you find out that you only liked me because you didn’t really know me?” you asked, the question heavier than you intended.

“I loved you, think I still do,” Spencer corrected, his voice soft but firm, taking your breath away.

“Right,” you murmured, the gravity of his words settling over you. “So… you just want to date me? After six years?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Even though it’s going to be hard?”

“Absolutely.”

“And we’ll have to do long distance more often than not?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, his resolve unwavering.  

“And—” you began, but your words were cut off as Spencer leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and intense, filled with all the emotion and love that had been building up between you for years.

—

“Hey, babe, how was the train?” you asked as Spencer walked up to you, his familiar, comforting presence immediately easing some of your post-audition nerves.

Spencer laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You just auditioned for Hairspray and you’re asking me how my train ride was??” His tone was incredulous, but there was a playful glint in his eyes.

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I’m anxious and don’t want to think about it, so tell me about your train ride… or kiss me.”

Spencer’s smile softened as he leaned in closer. “I’ll do both,” he said, his voice tender as he bent down to kiss you. But in his eagerness, he completely forgot about the coffee cup in his hand. As he leaned in, the warm drink spilled, splashing down the front of your shirt.

“Spencer!” you exclaimed, jumping back as the coffee soaked through the fabric, surprise and exasperation coloring your voice.

Spencer’s eyes widened in horror, his face turning a deep shade of red. “Oh no, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—let me—” He fumbled, his usual calm demeanor thrown off by the sudden mishap.

Despite the mess, you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension from the audition melting away. “It’s okay, Spence,” you said, shaking your head as you tried to blot the coffee stain. “I guess some things never change.” 

Spencer, still flustered but smiling, handed you a handkerchief, grateful that you were taking it in stride. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, and you knew he meant it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[lilacs-stars]

aiming for your heart

this is part 1, read part 2 here! pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is glinda the good witch's daughter) SUMMARY: you agree to a tutoring session with your pirate classmate, but things end up taking an...unexpected twist. GENRE: pure fluff, a bit of banter CW: nothing much, just mentions of societal pressures WC: 7.9k (they just keep getting longer...)

A/N: I decided to finally do something cute and fluffy after days of working on dark angsty stuff and this felt like a much-needed breath of fresh air. it was so fun to write, so thanks to the anon who requested this for the fun idea! <3 please give me feedback and suggestions, I'd love to know your thoughts!

Up, swish, circle, flick. Up, swish, circle, flick. Up, swish, cir—

“Ahh, oww!” you cry out as a very solid metal object collides with the side of your skull. Your hand instinctively goes up to the spot on your head—which you can already feel starting to swell—as you wince in pain. 

You’re supposed to throw the ring in the basket, not at my head, idiot, you think to yourself as you grimace. 

“Oh my gosh, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear!” you glance around the room, locking eyes with your classmate just a few tables away, whose wand is still poised in their hand and a bewildered expression planted on their face. “I just can’t seem to control…this gosh darn wand…”

You let out a little sigh, trying your best to not be impatient. After all, you couldn’t expect everyone to be as experienced in this field as you are. 

You glance back at the student, who’s rereading their textbook pages for what’s probably the tenth time. As you watch them struggle, a pang of guilt hits you for being so mean and irritable. It’s not like they were trying to hit you, and even though it was just a thought passing through in the privacy of your mind, you still feel as though thinking something mean like that is wrong. 

You push your chair back and rise from your seat, wand tightly gripped in one hand. Walking over to your classmate’s desk, you give a small smile as you ask them, “Need any help?”

They look up at you with wide eyes. “Oh, yes, please! Enchantment of Magical Objects is literally the hardest class ever!”

You grin again, keeping your demeanor light and friendly, like always. “Okay, so first, you go up, then swish, then circle your wand back around, and finally flick, and then…”

You copy the movements with your own wand as you speak, small magical sparks flickering off it at your gestures. After you complete your little demonstration, you both watch as a hand-sized sleek metal ring, somewhat resembling a circular horseshoe, levitates off the desk and neatly lands in a bucket in the center of the room. 

Today’s assignment in your Enchantment class is to use the Aiming Spell to throw the rings into a bucket. Safe to say, it wasn’t really going well for most of the class. 

“Wow, that was amazing! You’re so good at this Y/N!” your now starry-eyed classmate exclaims. “And I can barely get my rings off my desk…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there,” you smile reassuringly. “After all, I’ve had a lot of experience around wands and enchantments.”

“Yeah, I suppose that is right. I guess not everyone can be as talented with magic as the Good Witch’s very own daughter.”

A small laugh escapes your lips, and you bid farewell to your classmate as you make your way back to your seat. They aren’t wrong, after all. Your mother, Glinda, taught you how to use a wand as soon as you could walk. You’ve been watching her use magic for ages, so it’s not a surprise to anyone that you’re top of your class. 

You sit back down, getting back to work. Even though you know you’ve already mastered the spell, you still have some class time left, which you decide to use wisely and continue practicing the spell. 

Staring at the pile of metal rings in front of you, you take a deep breath and begin the task of making each one levitate off your desk and make a perfect arch towards the basket. 

Up, swish, circle, flick. Up—swoosh!

A flying ring shoots straight past your face, barely missing you by only a few inches. You stumble backwards in your chair, quite startled. Still, it isn’t unusual to see objects flying around the classroom, or rather, objects flying where they’re not supposed to.

A moment later, another one whizzes past you again. Then a third, which gets so close to your face that you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Annoyed, your head snaps to your right, trying to figure out who keeps nearly decapitating you. 

You glance around, finally locking eyes with what seems to be the culprit. Chair leaning against the wall, tipped back on its hind two legs, sits a figure with deep brown eyes and smokey eyeshadow look to match. A smirk is planted on his face, a mischievous glint in his gaze. He wears a dark red jacket on top of a black dress shirt, the collar disheveled and his tie loose around his neck. Contrary to his tousled outfit, his medium-length brown hair is neatly slicked back. One of his hands leisurely holds a wand while the other rests behind his head, and combined with the way he has a leg crossed over the other, one would think he’s enjoying a nice day at the beach instead of sitting in class at one of the most prestigious academies in the land.

You fix him with a look, your gaze subconsciously morphing into a glare as he jerks the wand up, causing one of the metal rings in front of him to levitate a few inches off his desk. With a flick of the wrist, he sends it flying across the room once again. Having learned your lesson, this time you duck down, eyes following the disk as it soars across the room. You watch as it shoots straight towards its target, who expertly crouches as the metal ring hits the wall behind him with a thud, falling to the ground and joining the previous disks.

The target of these attacks is a boy you recognize to be a good friend of the ring-throwing troublemaker, with light brown hair brushed away from his forehead and dressed in a dark green shirt with a black choker around his neck. Morgie le Fay shoots a glare across the room to his perpetrator, making a face that could only mean “You’ll pay for this later.”

Another disk comes shooting at his head, and he ducks down yet again. This time, the metal hits the wall so hard, you worry it left a dent. Unable to take their child-like behavior any longer, you get up from your seat for the second time and stomp your way over to the disk-thrower.

“Hook!” you say as you reach his table. The man in question tilts his head towards you, looking up with an amused grin.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, lassie?” he replies, his accent crisp and unmistakable. 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, knowing it would be terribly rude, even if he was getting on your nerves like no other. You settle for fixing him with another look. “Could you please stop hurling those disks around? It’s not the assignment, and you practically hit me!”

“My apologies, love,” Hook replies, still peering up at you, unbothered. You honestly doubt he means it, so you frown and try again. “I’m being serious, Hook.”

“As am I,” he replies, making you want to smack that stupid smirk off his face. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you remind yourself. Violence is never the answer. You find it funny how you can almost hear your mother’s voice as you repeat those words in your head, the ones she always tells you.

“So you’ll stop?” you ask, raising a brow and putting your hands on your hips to show him you’re not messing around.

“Ah, well, you see,” Hook starts, and it takes every ounce of benevolence in you to not internally combust at whatever excuse he’s planning to come up with. “I’m having a tad bit of trouble with this spell, love. No matter what I do, I simply can’t seem to lock on to the right target.”

At this, you raise your eyebrows again, disbelief laced through your every cell. “Why don’t you give it a go,” you say, jerking your chin towards the basket in the middle of the room. “You never know until you don’t try.”

Hook leans forward in his chair, righting it again so it stands on all four legs. He raises his wand, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s actually concentrating on the task at hand. One of the metal disks rises into the air, levitating a meter above the floor.

Hook flicks his wand forward and the disk sails away, missing the basket in an almost laughable attempt at execution. Instead of the proper target, it lands on the edge of a file cabinet in the far corner of the room. You pray for the poor soul that will inevitably open one of its drawers, only to be smacked in the head by a piece of solid steel.

Eyebrows raised, Hook unabashedly turns back around to face you with that grin of his. “So how was that, love? Satisfied?”

“Not quite,” you huff, shaking your head at him. “Honestly, I haven’t seen anyone make such a…uh, interesting attempt at this assignment.” Deep down, a little part of you really wants to say much meaner things, but you bite back your words, knowing that showing contempt never did anyone any good.

“Interesting, eh?” Hook’s smirk grows, and you can see him already scheming inside that villainous little mind of his. “Say, Y/N”—he uncrosses his legs, leaning in your direction—“you’re the top student of this class, are you not?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but refrain from saying anything you know you’ll later regret. “Yes, and?”

“Well, as you can clearly see here, I require a bit of assistance with this assignment. After all, not everyone grew up waving wands like you,” he quips, flourishing the wand in his hand as if it were an ordinary stick. Abruptly, he stills his movements and drops the wand on his desk, before turning to face you directly, locking eyes. “Would you be so kind as to teach me a few things?”

You quirk your brows, albeit attempting to keep a straight face. “Are you asking me to…tutor you?”

Hook grins yet again. “This evening, 7 o’clock, the common area in the East Wing.” He puts his hand on his knees as he gets up, now leering a few inches above you. Still holding your gaze—although he has to tilt his head down to do so—he asks, “I’ll see you then?”

You blink twice, mind replaying the events that led to you getting yourself stuck in this situation. On the one hand, you definitely don't want to have a one-on-one study session with a villain—and an annoyingly smug one at that. Honestly, the few interactions you are forced to have with him in class are far enough for you. 

But on the other hand, he is asking for help to improve his grades…after all, it’s not every day someone the likes of him shows interest in learning. Plus, you know that it’s not right to turn away a person in need of your help, no matter how insufferable they are. Especially if they’re always flashing you a smile filled with shining white teeth and full, plump pink lips.

A sigh escapes your mouth before you can stop it as you resign yourself to your fate. “Alright, I guess. But come prepared to learn. That means you need your wand, your textbooks, notebo—”

He cuts you off with a passive sweep of his hook, much to your annoyance. Leaning in just a little closer to you, enough to make your palms slightly sweaty, his face tilts down even nearer to yours. “It’s a date, then,” Hook says, his voice soft but still with that teasing tone it always seems to carry.

“It’s not a date!” you call out as the bell rings, but he’s already making his way out of the classroom, sauntering off to do who-knows-what.

Heavens, what have I gotten myself into, you think, placing a hand on your forehead as you breathe out a long, heavy sigh.

The evening rolls around far too quickly for your liking, and before you know it you’re making your way out of your doom room and up a set of stairs.

You keep on thinking about how you had ample time to back out of this arrangement; plus, you would be lying if you said you didn't consider it a number of times. But each time, you remind yourself that you are doing a good deed for someone obviously in need of a good influence. That you have to be selfless and put aside your personal feelings to serve a good cause, as all heroes do. That your opinions don't really matter—after all, the best heroes are the ones who make the deepest sacrifices, right?

So that’s how you find yourself dragging heavy feet across a corridor, a tiny voice in your head begging you to turn around, as you finally reach the common area set as your meetup spot. You glance at your wristwatch, which reads 6:55. You had decided to leave a bit early so you could arrive with a few minutes to spare. As your mother always reminds you, “It’s better to be an hour early than a minute late.”

Pulling out a chair at a nearby two-person table, you sit down, plopping your bookbag next to you. You had stuffed it full of your personal notes, your wand, and several textbooks you thought could help Hook. 

Tapping a pencil on the wooden desk, you sigh, glancing at your clock again. 6:57. Thinking back on your previous decision, you wonder why you left so early. After all, you have Hook down in your mind as the type to be extremely unpunctual. Leaning back in your chair out of sheer boredom, you start to clearly picture Hook showing up a good hour late. Heck, you’d be surprised if he even shows up at all. 

The clock hits 6:59, and you begin to debate how long you’re willing to stay here before giving up and returning to your dorm. Would ten minutes be enough? Fifteen? Thirty? The more you think about it, the more you can imagine this being some sort of elaborate prank to trick you. After all, why would a delinquent villain like Hook ever be interested in planning a tutoring session?

You sigh once again, angry at yourself for being so naive as to fall for his little trick. Drumming your fingers on the table as you put your head down, you mentally punch yourself for your gullibility. 

Which is why you nearly jump out of your own skin at the sound of a loud thud sound from in front of you. You jerk back into your chair, arms flailing as it tips, causing you to nearly topple backwards. With your reflexes kicking in, your hand latches onto the edge of the table—thankfully—and you manage to pull yourself back to a more stable position.

Hand clutching your pounding heart, you roll your head back to be greeted with that stupid little smirk that haunts your thoughts. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright, love. After all, we were planning to meet up, were we not?” Hook says, tone extremely smug and a tiny bit pitiful at your frightened state. 

You raise your arm and flick your wrist, reading the time displayed on your clock. 7:00. He…he showed up exactly on time, you think, praying that your shock isn’t displayed on your face.

As if he can read your mind—and in all honesty, maybe he can—Hook says, “You didn’t doubt me, now, did you, darling? How could I skimp out on our little date?”

“It’s not a date,” you tell him once again, not even trying to hide the annoyance in your voice this time.

“Whatever you say.” Hook gives a little grin as he raises his eyebrows for a second. Before you can continue to argue, he pulls out the chair across from you and sits down. You eye a small black leather satchel that dangles from his hook as he drops it down on the floor. Huh, he even came prepared.

He leans in, arms resting on the table, as he fixes you with a sly grin. “So, Miss Teacher, what are you going to teach me today?”

You hate to pass on the opportunity to make a snarky remark, but you know that rubbing Hook the wrong way is not going to make these next few hours any less sufferable. Instead, you simply go for a “How about you start by getting out your materials?”

“As you wish, m’lady.” An irritated sigh escapes your lips, and you realize you’ve been sighing a lot more than usual ever since you got in this…predicament. You watch, somewhat impatiently, as Hook reaches down and draws a single notebook and his practice wand out of the leather satchel. Glancing at his materials, then back at yours, you realize that you came a lot more prepared than he did, even though you’re not the one trying to learn here. Well, I guess him putting in some effort still better than nothing.

You pull out one of the thick textbooks from your bag, the used animal skin cover peeling at the edges and the pages yellowed from the wear of time. 

“First, we’re going to get started with the theory of enchantments and spells.” You flip through the pages until you land on the first of many detailing the basics of spellcasting. “Even though we’re going to be focusing on the Aiming Spell, the underlying principles are pretty much the same for all spells you use. Now, you see here, highlighted in the chart are the five main…”

You chance a glance over at Hook, voice trailing off when you realize he isn’t listening. In fact, he's not even looking at the textbook placed in the middle of the desk. Instead, his gaze is fixed on…

…you?

“Hey! Why are you staring at me like that, you weirdo!” you exclaim, pulling back from the table. Hook remains unflinching, his chin in his good hand as he stares up at you with a sparkle in his eye. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it, love. You’re just so…so entrancing.”

You blink hard, recoiling at his words. He’s not flirting with you…is he? No, there’s no way. Don’t be overly arrogant, you convince yourself. This is just his personality, how he usually acts. The same way he calls everyone “love” and “darling.” There’s absolutely nothing more to it than him saying anything he can think of to fluster you and throw you off track.

…Right?

You ignore the stupid little flutter your heart does at not just being called pretty, or beautiful, or any of the normal compliments. No, you aren’t normal, you’re entrancing…

Snap out of it! you internally scold yourself. This is just another one of his little antics. You’re just letting him win by getting in your head. 

“Look, I didn’t come here and set aside this chunk of my valuable time to tutor you, only for you to not listen. If you came here to mess around—” you rant, but you’re cut off before you can get everything off your chest.

“I apologize, lassie. I promise, I’ll focus from here on out,” Hook vows. You eye him with a glare, feeling very distrustful, but you’re only met with his rather sincere gaze.

You let out another breath, once again regretting agreeing to this. “Fine. Get out your notebook. You’re going to want to take notes on this.”

Hook nods and reaches into his satchel, which is still lying on the floor. “If I’m being completely honest—which I assume you must hold in high regard, being a hero and whatnot—I really didn’t expect you to be so…irritable.”

You shoot Hook another glare, before realizing that you’re just proving his point. You give a brief roll of your eyes as you attempt a smile. “I’m not usually like this,” you say, fighting to keep a decently pleasant expression on your face. “You just really find a way to, how should I put this, you really—”

“Push your buttons?” Hook finishes for you, raising his eyebrows.

“I was going to say you really find a way to get on my nerves, but that too,” you respond, with obviously forced cheerfulness. “Whatever, we need to get back to studying. For real this time.”

Hook replies with an “Of course, m’lady,” before you begin your lecture again on the foundation of enchantments. This time, he makes sure to periodically glance down at the textbook pages and occasionally nod or ask a question, all to ensure that you don’t catch him staring at you again. Unbeknownst to you, adoration shines bright in his eyes as he studies your features, committing them to memory every time you’re not looking his way.

You spend some time going over theory with Hook, until you can feel him growing restless, causing you to start wondering if people like him have a capacity for how much information they can absorb at one time. Deciding that theory is no good if it’s not put to practice, you slam the textbook shut once you reach the end of a page, standing up.

Hook looks up at you, a slightly startled expression on his face. “Come on,” you say. “Now we’re going to see how much you paid attention by putting your lesson to good use.”

You hope to see a look of fear flash across his face, but his demeanor stays completely even. Feeling a bit let down, you remind yourself that he still has to actually cast the spell. Watch him mess it up, you think. Let’s see how smug he is then, huh?

Reaching down into your bookbag, you pull out a small bundle wrapped in a piece of cloth. You open it to reveal a handful of metal disks, similar to the ones you had used earlier in class. You empty them out on the table before walking over to the middle of the room and placing the cloth down on the floor, a good number of meters away from your table. “This is your target area,” you explain. “Stand by the table and get those rings to land within the borders of the cloth.”

Let’s see how well you fare now, pretty boy.

“Aye, that’s not fair,” Hook says, scrunching his brow as he gestures towards your setup with his hook. “That cloth’s much smaller than the basket we used in class. And the distance is far greater.”

“Well, if you learn how to get the spell right with tougher constraints than the requirement, you’ll be sure to do great for the real thing.” You flash him a wink as you watch his jaw part slightly, an incredulous expression painted on his face. “That’s how I always ace my exams.”

Hook draws in a breath, putting his ever-famous smirk back on his face, although you can feel his unease this time. He picks up his wand, turning around to point it at disks on the table. 

Up. He rolls his hand upwards, and one of the disks starts to levitate a foot in the air.

Swish. Hook jerks his wrist to the side, causing the disk to start gently vibrating with potential energy. 

Circle. He rotates his hand counterclockwise, drawing a circle with the tip of the wand.

Flick. You watch with bated breath as Hook flicks the wand towards the cloth in the middle of the room. 

Both of you follow the disc’s arc through the air with tense anticipation, as it soars, soars…

…and ends up missing the cloth by a good three feet.

Hook gives a small, halfhearted laugh, trying to keep up the suave facade. Yet you notice the way his shoulders slump forward, the way his body stiffens in an embarrassing shock. 

Part of you feels a wickedly twisted satisfaction at his failure—but as soon as you recognize it for what it is, you shove it away, repulsed at the thought of you even coming close experiencing such an emotion. Plus, the majority of you feels rather disappointed at the undesirable outcome. Whether it’s Hook’s chagrin rubbing off on you, or the voice in your head whispering that you, as his teacher, failed at your job, you can’t help but feel a bit let down at his messing up.

“Hey, it’s fine. Let’s try again,” you say softly, your usual eager-to-help manner coming back at the sight of someone needing comforting.

And so, Hook tries again. And again. And again.

Finally, after the seventh or eighth try, he puts the wand back down on the table. “I don’t know what to tell you, love. No matter how hard I try, it’s simply not working.” You sigh, looking at the floor before you, which was now littered with disks. “Hey, at least you got closer each time! That’s still progress.” You attempt to raise his spirits a bit, but he just fixes you with a look that tells you he’s not one to fall for your false positivity.

“Uhm…” You hesitate, not quite sure what to do next or how to fix this. “How about you see how I do it, and try to copy that?”

Hook gives a small nod and you fish out your wand, pulling up your sleeves and taking a deep breath to prepare. Focusing on one of the disks on the table, you start the particular movements. Up. Swish. Circle. Flick!

Both of you watch in somewhat astonishment as the ring curves perfectly through the air, flying with grace, as it lands directly in the center of the cloth.

Hook looks at you with raised eyebrows. Although that little part of you wants to rub it in his face, the fact that a hero, out of all people, bested him, you decide that torturing him with your teasing is only going to make him less likely to get the spell right.

“You see that? Now, try to copy it yourself,” you instruct.

And so, Hook makes a few more attempts, landing closer to the cloth each time, now only a couple inches away—yet never actually making contact with it.

You study his movements carefully as he casts the spell, trying to figure out what he’s doing wrong. After a few more of his failed attempts, you decide to try a different approach.

“Okay, watch me do it again, but this time come hold my wand from behind so you can get a feel for how I cast it,” you say, glancing up at Hook. “After all, it’s all in the wrist.” You recite a line your mother always says, one that often replays in your mind as you cast a spell. In your opinion, her guidance is the main reason that you’re so good at spells.

You’re still sitting down in your chair, pushing it in a little to provide room for him to come up behind you and reach your wand. 

You were expecting Hook to get rather close; after all, there aren’t many ways for two people to hold the same wand in the position you were in without a tight proximity. What you weren’t expecting was the way he comes up from behind you leisurely, deliberately. The way his chest presses into your back as he leans in, arm brushing against yours as he extends it towards the wand. The way you can feel his exhales on your skin, breathing down your neck—literally—causes goosebumps to rise up and down your arms. The way his natural aroma engulfs you completely, overwhelming your senses all at once. How his large hand feels on yours as he places it on top, curling his fingers around the wand—and yours, as well. The way you can feel the smirk dancing on his face, looking down at you with what you expect to be half-lidded eyes. 

And the way your heart races, good heavens. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought you just ran a marathon. Your body simultaneously heats up and freezes at his touches, no matter how small, your mind becoming overly aware of every point of contact you have with him. You fight against the overstimulation flooding your senses, resisting the urge to wipe your sweaty palms on your legs, while hoping that the wand doesn’t slip out of your hand as perform the incantation. 

Truth be told, although you definitely won’t admit this to anyone: you really haven’t had much experience with romance, or anything of the sorts. All your life, you’ve focused on doing good deeds and keeping up with your studies, aiming to be the best of the best in the hero world. Which is probably why no boy has ever taken interest in you; instead of going to dances or out on dates, you've always spent your Friday nights locked away in your room, studying hard to make sure you ace your exams. Plus, with your goody-two-shoes streak, you aren't exactly the most sought-out person in your class.

Which is why with the way Hook flirts with you, and now, the way you can feel his inhales and exhales against your skin—subconsciously trying to match the rhythm of his breathing—your brain is short-circuiting. The lack of romantic attention you’ve received your whole life is behind why you don't know how to react to Hook's antics, while still internally freaking out at his movements and words.

You inhale a shaky breath, trying to steady your quivering hand and hope that Hook doesn’t notice your reaction. But after the amused little hum he gives, your embarrassment grows by the second. Trying your best to focus on the task at hand, you say, “Okay, here goes.”

Up. You feel Hook’s grip tighten around your hand, just a little bit but still enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Swish. The disk vibrates with extreme intensity, to the point where you’re afraid it’ll break apart, despite the metal structure.

Circle. As you circle your wrist around, you feel Hook’s arm rub against yours even more, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. Gods, the things this man is doing to you.

Flick. You flick the wand towards the cloth yet again, jerking your head sideways to follow it as it flies across the room. Agonizing in how it ignites every nerve in your body, you feel Hook’s head brush against the top of yours as he follows your movements, watching the disk soar.

It seems, for a minute, as if it’s going to land right on top of the previous one. But to both your shocks, it falls just outside the borders of the cloth, barely touching the edge.

Your face absolutely burns in embarrassment, palms dripping with sweat now. Hook tilts his head towards yours—which you feel all too well—as he says, far closer to your ear than you would’ve liked, “Well, it seems like even the master makes mistakes, love.”

Fuming, you finally give into the urge and drop the wand to wipe your hands on your clothes. Screw him, you mentally curse. It’s all his fault. I’ve never messed up this spell before.

And as much as you want to blame him, you know that it’ll do you absolutely no good to tell him the fact that he was so close to you made your brain short-circuit to such an extent that you messed up a spell you could do since you were five.

You shake your head, refusing to accept your failure. “No, I…I don’t know what happened. It must have been a faulty disk. Just…I’m going to try again.”

Hook raises his eyebrows at you—or at least, you’re pretty sure he does, as you can’t see him from behind. You grab your wand again, and without even telling him to do so, Hook leans in and places his hand back over yours, your fingers trapped between his and the wand.

Internally, you find yourself growing impossibly more annoyed at him. Honestly, did he really have to go back to that position, the one that made you mess up the spell in the first place? You take a deep, steadying breath, forcing away all thoughts of Hook and how his dark brown eyes, beautiful and rich like the bark of the trees back in Oz, are boring into your skull right now. You simply can’t afford to get distracted again. Messing up the spell once is one thing—sure, everyone makes mistakes, don’t they? But twice? It would be absolutely inexcusable.

Twice would mean that you are not as adept as you thought you were, not talented enough in the one thing that you've been sure of for your whole life.

Remember the words.

Up, swish, circle, flick!

Fueled by your self-directed rage, you ensure that every movement you make is precise, sharp, and without a single tremor going through your hand. This time, the disk slices through the air with a clean, aerodynamic curve, and lands…

…right on top of your first one.

You beam, regaining your former confidence in your spellcasting abilities.

“The master may sometimes make mistakes, but they’re still the master,” you gloat. “Now come on, you need to practice till you get as good as that.”

You and Hook spend quite some time on practicing the spell, with you giving him pointers and him—surprisingly—improving. It seems as though your hands-on demonstration really helped him, as his skills greatly improved. 

Soon, in every set of ten rings he practiced on, he was consistently getting six or seven of them within the boundaries of the cloth, with one or two more landing on the edge, half-in. 

After one round where he managed to get nine of the disks touching the cloth—his personal best so far—you decide he needs something even more challenging.

“Woah, that was a really good round,” you praise. Hook turns to face you, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that his normal smirk seems a little less snarky and a little more…genuine. 

“Still not as good as you, though, love,” Hook replies. You can tell he’s trying hard to maintain his nonchalant front, especially when it comes to academics, but the pride in his eyes and the earnest grip on his wand tell a different story. Honestly, you like him better this way. Less of him pretending to be a bad boy villain, and more of his real personality.

And in this moment, as you subtly study his features and think about his change in behavior over the past few hours, a thought that’s never even come close to crossing your mind suddenly pops up. What if villains, just like heroes, feel pressured to uphold a certain facade? The same way that you’ve always felt like you just have to be good, no matter the cost, no matter how hard it is for you, maybe villains feel the same way. Maybe they believe they always have to be bad, troublesome, and cruel. Even if that’s not who they truly are.

And through the lens of your new insight, you start seeing Hook in a different light. Just like how you feel as if being good and helpful and cheery all the time is a burden, how sometimes you wish you could just let loose and be selfish, maybe villains feel like being evil is a burden. Maybe Hook feels compelled to act smug and suave, even though that isn’t who he truly feels like being all the time. 

You begin to feel a deep sense of guilt for judging him based on his demeanor and criticizing his performance in class. Reflecting back, you realize that you had been unnecessarily harsh on him for something that is likely beyond his control. Gosh, I'm such an idiot, you think, shame burning your cheeks.

Shaking off your remorse, you put on another bright smile and try to respond as cheerfully as possible. “Hey, it’s still a huge improvement from sending the rings flying on top of a filing cabinet in the corner of the room. Or at innocent bystanders’ heads!” This time, you don’t encourage him because you feel pressured to do so, or because that’s who you know you’re supposed to be. You do it because deep down, in your heart, it’s what you feel like saying.

“Hmm, true,” Hook replies, angling his head to the side as he considers your point, the smallest of smiles still dancing on his lips.

“Now, for your final test.” At your statement, Hook raises a brow. “You need something different, something truly challenging. Something to prove your mastery of the Aiming Spell…”

You rack your brain for ideas, but nothing comes to mind. After a moment in silence, Hook speaks up. “I may have an idea.”

Glancing over at him, rather surprised—you were the teacher, after all—you gesture for him to go on. 

“Go stand over there by that wall,” he instructs, motioning with his hook to the wall opposite you two. “And put your hands up.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, fixing him with a look of wariness and doubt. You don’t move for a second, still too distrusting of him as you try to imagine what standing in that position has to do with casting a spell. Noticing your hesitation, Hook nods towards the wall again. “Well, go on, love.”

Still suspicious of him, you cave in and walk over to the far side of the room. Pressing your back against the wall as you raise your hands up, the position makes you feel as if you've just been caught red-handed in the midst of a crime. Hook still stands by the table, waiting patiently. You try to think back to the textbook pages you went over with him, wondering if you had accidentally taught him some sort of attack charm that he was planning to use on you.

Feeling your anxiety build, you wriggle your left fingers, wrapping your thumb and middle finger around the base of your pointer. You always wear a special, very pretty ring on that hand, a gift your mother gave to you a few years ago. Fiddling with it while twisting it around and around helps to soothe you, especially when you feel nervous.

But this time, when you go to repeat the same movement you always do, you feel the absence of the familiar metal surface and engravings etched into it. Glancing up at your hand, you confirm that your ring is indeed missing. The only trace of its former presence is the two parallel, circular indents in your skin from wearing it for so long.

Your panic skyrockets now at the loss of one of your favorite possessions, practically forgetting about Hook and the unease that accompanied his bizarre request. That ring had come with a special message; the night you got it, your mother had told you, “Remember when you were younger, and I told you that people are either good or bad? Well, that’s not quite true. No one is really black or white. We’re all just shades of gray. Some people are lighter gray, and some people are darker gray. And although we might be different shades, we all fall under the same color. Remember that, Y/N.”

And you have remembered it. Every time you go to toy with your ring, those words echo in your mind. Your mom had embedded the ring with a marble featuring a swirl of many different shades of gray, a reminder of the message that came along with it. You were too young to truly understand her words back then, but now, especially in these recent moments, you think you’re starting to fully grasp what she meant.

Snapping back to the present, you realize the serious problem you have at hand. “My ring!” you cry. “I could have sworn I had it when I came here…”

“Looking for this?” Hook’s smirk is back in full force. His left arm is raised, and on the crest of his polished metal hook, your precious ring glimmers under the golden lights projected from the ceiling.

“You…! When did you even…” your voice trails off as your mind catches up to your mouth. It must have been when he leaned in, while you were demonstrating the spell. That was the only time he had gotten close enough to you, although you don’t know how in the world he nicked it off your finger without you having the slightest hint.

Then you remember, quite painfully, how flustered you had been in that moment. If you were so distracted that you couldn't even cast a simple spell right, then you certainly wouldn’t have had enough brainpower to notice a skilled thief steal from you.

“Hey! Give that back!” you exclaim, huffing angrily, a frown etched deep into your face.

“I will, darling,” Hook replies smugly. “Now, raise your hands up again. And don’t wiggle your fingers around this time.”

“Give me my ring back first!” you demand, your previous annoyance towards him coming right back.

“Let me do this first, and then you’ll get your ring. Hands up.” At your glare, Hook tilts his head to the side and gives you a look. “Don’t you trust me?”

Well, of course not, is the first thought that pops into your mind. You’re a liar and a thief, and above all, a villain.

But then you remember your mother’s words, your earlier revelation and how, just for a moment, you glimpsed Hook through a different light. So, although you definitely won't go as far as saying that you trust him, you still empathize with him enough to give in to his request.

Wordlessly, you raise your hands back up to your sides, palms facing in front of you, while fighting the urge to fidget again. You debate whether or not it’d be best to close your eyes for this, but you ultimately decide that if Hook does try to pull any more of his little tricks, all your senses should be sharp and aware.

And so you stand, frozen, as Hook raises the wand. For a second, you think he’s going to cast the spell on you. But instead, he uses his good hand to remove the ring from where it’s stuck in his hook, instead placing it dangling from the tip. He points his wand at the ring, repeating the maneuvers you two practiced so many times.

Up. The ring lifts off his hook and levitates just in front of him.

Swish. It starts vibrating like the disks, but due to its small size, your cherished ring begins to rotate on its axis.

Circle. With Hook’s circular movement of the wand, the ring’s spinning accelerates, locking on to its target—whatever that is.

Flick. For one final time, Hook flicks his wrist, this time towards you.

You watch, your heart pounding as fast as ever, as the ring—your ring—curves through the sky as it falls, getting closer and closer to you. You slam your eyes shut for just a beat, unable to bear the anticipation, before remembering your earlier rationale again.

Eyes flying open instantly, you regain your vision just as the ring falls, falls, falls, landing…

…directly on your finger.

But not the finger that you previously wore it on. Your eyes widen again in disbelief as it slips perfectly around your ring finger.

“Uh…I…uhm…” you stammer, confused and shocked and overwhelmed with far too many things at once to form a coherent sentence. How in the world did he cast such a precise Aiming Spell, in a situation where it wouldn’t have succeeded had he been even a centimeter off? And if he was so precise with his location pinpointing, then why in the world did he put it on your left ring finger??

“Come on, spit it out, love,” Hook replies teasingly. “You can say it, don’t be afraid.”

Your mind is working far too hard for you to shoot him a glare, but you mentally do it anyway. “That was…impressive,” you finally admit, although you wish you didn’t when Hook’s smug grin grows twice as wide. Ugh, his ego is already big enough. I did not need to inflate it like that.

“Could you always cast the spell that well?” you ask, still stunned at his precision. You honestly couldn’t see how anyone who had been sending disks flying all across the room a mere few hours ago was now casting spells with the accuracy of someone who had been doing this for years.

“Why, of course not. You saw how I was earlier.” Hook’s grin grows even wider as he adds, “It’s all because I had a wonderful teacher.”

You still frown at him skeptically, walking back towards the table where he stands. “I highly doubt it’s because of that. I mean, I don’t know if even I could pull something like that off with such little practice.”

At this, Hook gives a little laugh. “What do they say, the student exceeds the teacher?”

You roll your eyes at him. “No, they call it ‘beginner’s luck.’ You should be happy you got it right this time, because you might not get so lucky on your exams.”

Hook grins again, and as much as you detest the pleasure he gets from teasing you—and though you’d never admit it—a small, dark gray part of you enjoys the playful banter between you two.

“That’s why I have you, darling. If I ever need more help, I’ll know who to run to.” He leans in close to you, so close, until his mouth is right next to your ear. You start having flashbacks to your previous experiences with Hook being in a close proximity, and the combined feelings from both your memories and his current actions causes your body to heat up in a way you didn’t even know was possible. 

He tilts his head down ever so slightly towards you, his lips feathering across your ear. “And you won’t be able to get out of helping me, my little goody-goody.”

Your mind is absolutely spinning at his words, his touch, his presence, his everything. You desperately struggle to formulate some sort of response, but just as you open your mouth, ready to question his choice of ring placement, a deep, low horn sounds, reverberating off the walls.

Curfew.

Hook breaks away from you as you glance down at your wristwatch. The clock shows exactly 10:00. Gods, how did the time pass by so quickly?

You glance back up at Hook, deciding to ignore the way he so alluringly whispered in your ear just seconds ago. “Well, uh, we have to get going, then,” you awkwardly say, scratching at your neck.

Hook stands there for a moment, staring at you whilst completely motionless, making you wonder what he’s thinking and what he’s planning to do. Just as you’re about to bid him a goodnight and turn away, he reaches his good hand out, grabbing your left one. He holds it delicately in his hand, his palm cupped upwards with your fingers resting gently on top.

Slowly, and while keeping his head up just enough to maintain eye contact with you the entire way down, he bends into a bow in front of you. Only does he avert his gaze when he finally reaches your hand, looking down at your ring, which still sits on your ring finger, as he places a kiss on the bright stone.

He peers back up at you, deep brown eyes wide and expressive.

“Until we meet again, m’lady.”

on to part 2! ->

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a/n: the demons I had to fight to not name this "if you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it" haha. anyways thanks for reading!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[ddarker-dreams]

play wrestling — blade.

Embarrassment doesn’t find you easily.

To experience embarrassment implies a degree of self-awareness. While you possess some, it’s decreased significantly compared to your earlier years. Such is the natural progression of life. This is why you felt free to act on a little impulse, initially uncaring of how it’d reflect on you.

However, faced with two eyes as crimson as freshly spilled blood, you can’t help but do some reassessing.

“… What are you doing?” Blade asks, dryly. You feel the low rumble of his baritone voice against your palms, which you’ve splayed against his chest. His neutral countenance doesn’t give much away. According to your peer-reviewed scientific analysis, he alternates between three expressions — apathy, irritation, and wrath. There is an additional secret one for when it’s just the two of you and he doesn’t think you’re looking.

From what you can tell, you’ve landed yourself on the apathetic side of the spectrum. You can work with that. You’ll commit to the bit.

“Besting an intergalactic criminal in combat, obviously,” you scoff, faking a bravado you don’t have.

“Hm.”

“…”

“…”

Is he not going to do anything to free himself from this position?!

Blade had silently slid himself next to where you sat on the floor, playing with your phone. This unique opportunity activated a primal part of your brain that probably should’ve stayed in the vault. You wrangled him down. Now, he’s lying flat on his back, with you sitting victorious atop his lower abdomen. Long strands of his black hair fall along his side, painting a pretty picture. You suppress the urge to run your hands through his silky locks. That can come later, you have an objective to achieve.

“Are you finished?”

“Wh— well, no,” you frown. And here you thought he might indulge you. “You have to, y’know, fight back…?”

He raises an eyebrow and you want to groan.

“But I’d win.”

The declaration is made like it’s a foregone conclusion. Which, if you’re being honest, isn’t wrong. Still, he should give you some credit. You can hold your own in a fight! Maybe you’re not waving-around-a-three-thousand-pound-ancient-sword good, but you’re decent enough. He’s no fun. Kafka would’ve played around with you.

“How can you be so sure— eek!”

He grabs you by the shoulders and flips you around, reversing your position. Despite the immense speed he used, your head doesn’t hit the ground hard like it should’ve. He cushioned the impact by essentially cradling the back of your head with his hand. This is why you never believe him when he denies being a ‘secret softie.’ You know the truth.

“This is how,” he says.

You pout. “Did I at least put up a good fight?”

His silence speaks volumes.

After getting his fill of how nice you look beneath him, he climbs off you. The second you’re no longer restrained, you begin your counterattack. You lunge at him, intending to pin him down, only to feel the cool leather of his gloves against your wrists. You struggle valiantly to regain your freedom. All this does is amuse him further.

“We’re pretty evenly matched, right?” You ask, beginning to grow breathless from the energy you’re exerting.

The corners of his lips twitch upward.

“Mhm. Right.”

[girlokwhatever]

i have an emily idea cooking … ok so they played together at louisville (maybe reader is a year or two younger than em) and dated. they broke up and emily left for the wnba. reader transferred to uconn bc louisville reminded her too much of emily. two years later reader is drafted and ends up on the mystics with emily 🙈

(guys i’m switching up the draft picks a little bit to fit the plot ok i know washington wasn’t second pick)

𖤓✎⋆·˚ ༘ *✧.*ੈ✩‧₊˚ end of beginning,,

part two

emily engstler x fem!ex!reader

“i am happy for you emily, truly i am.”

“then why are you breaking up with me? you don’t know that long distance won’t work.”

tears stream down both of your faces, a consequence of your decision to end things with emily. she committed to the draft that was only days away and was projected to rank very high. she was leaving louisville, which meant she was leaving you and the life you built together.

you weren’t mad at her at all. you really were happy for her and her accomplishments. it was going to break you to watch her leave and not come back, which is why you made the decision you did. selfishly, you needed to focus on your career. you needed to let her go so that the two of you could grow on your own.

“emily..”

“please don’t do this. we can try. i’ll try. please.”

you meant the world to emily, encouraged her to do great things and be a better person. she felt as if she owed the entire past year to you and your motivation that kept her going even through the darkest moments. you’d been a great comfort to her. there would be late nights when nothing else mattered but the feeling of you in her arms. she’d do anything for you.

she’d do anything for you.

“i can’t,”

your voice is barely above a whisper. you’re trying to hold back the sob threatening to spill over. sometimes the best choices were the hardest ones to make.

emily drags her hands down her face and peers over at you. you’re not looking at her anymore, head turned and eyes squeezed shut. she reaches out for you and cups her hand around the side of your face. when you lean into her touch she feels sick, finally letting the reality of having to let you go sink in.

“it’s okay. i get it, i know. i love you.”

she kisses your forehead as she stands, letting her hand drop back down to her side. you relish in the feeling before it’s gone because you know this will probably be the last time you feel it. that same feeling that still gives you butterflies.

“i love you too, em.”

that was two years ago.

you went to watch her get drafted, eyes teary and gleaming as you followed her figure walking to the stage after getting picked forth overall. you cheered and cried for her as if nothing had changed.

a few days after that you entered the transfer portal. everything reminded you too much of her. her name was still plastered on the cubby next to yours in the locker room, her scent still lingered in your sheets, her spot on the couch was left untouched, her absence in the home court was noted heavily.

you ended up signing with uconn. the last two years of your collegiate career were spent there, growing and expanding as not only a player but a person. the friends you made were phenomenal and helped you grieve with the ones you lost.

due to the extra work you were putting into your dream, you grew exponentially in popularity on social media along with your fellow teammate paige bueckers. you were close to everyone on the team, especially her. it led to people shipping the two of you much to your surprise.

you hadn’t dated anyone since emily.

but now it was your turn to be drafted. you committed to the draft alongside your two teammates nika and aaliyah. life was good. after two years of struggling and trying to find yourself, things were finally falling into place.

you’d gotten second overall pick in the first round. the washington mystics selected you and you were beyond grateful for the opportunity. you turned to give your coach a hug, noticing paige and azzi recording in the back with wide smiles on their faces.

it felt like a fever dream honestly. the rest of the night flew by, interviews and interactions seemingly only lasting seconds before you were pulled off to the next person. through the haze, you forgot what would be waiting for you once you arrived in washington.

or who.

emily watched the draft, nervous with anticipation to see where you’d end up. when she heard your name and washington mystics in the same sentence, her heart started pounding in her chest.

she never got over you. it made starting the league hard for her considering she lost her main pillar of love and support. her year with the indiana fever was full of intense moments and anger, always feeling like she wasn’t giving enough and kept having to prove herself.

the next year was even harder. she suffered a rough shoulder injury, leading to countless days of physical therapy and doctor visits. all without you.

to know that she’d see you again in only a short number of days was terrifying. you’d both be in training camp together which lasted weeks, spending day after day seeing each other. though it made her anxious, emily was also excited. she would get to see you again in all your glory, hopefully being able to smile and laugh together like you used to.

emily walked into the mystics gym, setting her bag down and standing to observe the room. there were a few people there already, you being one of them. her eyes immediately found you and your figure, so recognizable to emily.

you seemed to have this glowing aura around you. a smile was plastered on your face as you talked to ariel. you dribbled a basketball between your hands effortlessly, adjusting to the weight and getting used to your new surroundings. your eyes also wandered after you broke away from ariel, finding emily across the room.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss her. two years without her was a major struggle for you. sometimes, late at night, you wondered what it would’ve been like if you had never broken up with her. there were countless times when you regretted your choice. you never considered the fact that you could possibly be teammates again one day. certainly not so soon.

you wandered onto the court, leaving all your aimless thoughts behind. the rest of the trainees gathered with you and started a simple drill where you and a partner would take turns shooting and guarding one another.

by second nature you and emily found each other, shyly muttering a quick, “do you wanna be my partner?”

“yeah, i’d love to.” her heart was pounding at your words, imagining that maybe, just maybe, you missed her too. she smiled at your shyness, finding it ironic how your relationship had devolved.

emily was considerably taller than you, so shooting over her was not easy feat. at some moments you felt like she was letting you drain shots purposefully, even if she swore she wasn’t. you were even able to block a few of her shots, mostly when she kept her feet planted though.

after awhile and a few rotations, the coach offered a different drill. he split the group in two and let you scrimmage, you and emily somehow ending up on the same team.

it was giving you deja vu. anytime you’d get the ball emily was there either setting a screen or opening a path for you. it felt like she never left, like you never split, like you two were still the dynamic duo you were known to be at one point. like she was still your emily.

being here with her made you feel like your old self. the you from louisville, playing with the emily from louisville. in a time where you were both still in love and happy. another version of yourself was here, the best version of yourself.

after hours of sweating and nearly collapsing from being breathless, the day’s training was coming to an end. you drained one more three point shot, finally feeling satisfied with your performance. everyone cheered for you playfully as you collected your bag, quickly heading back to your car. you made it all the way to the parking lot before hearing a voice.

“you did really good today.”

you turned to see emily standing behind you, slightly disheveled and out of breath. she was smiling softly at you the same way she used to. it still made you flutter to this day, especially when you remember all the memories the two of you share.

“thank you, you too! your defense is still so good.”

“thank you,”

you both stood there in silence, not quite ready to break away. being around her offered you some sense of comfort in such an unfamiliar place.

“how’s paige?”

“paige? i mean, she’s good.”

“are you two, like.. together?”

“what- no. we’re just friends.”

emily nods, satisfied at the information. she’s slightly embarrassed for even asking, but she had to know. she had to know if you moved on with someone else.

“so then, is it okay if i take you out to dinner?”

“like, right now?”

“just tonight. you can shower and stuff of course.”

you don’t even have to think about your answer. you’d been wanting a moment like this for over a year. you missed her so much, too much. it was starting to affect you mentally. you’d wonder about her too often, having to fight some of the strongest urges to reach out to her and ask how she was doing.

“yeah, yeah. i’d really like that.”

she’s smiling, allowing it to reach her eyes as she waves you off. she felt like she was home again, even though she was still thousands of miles away. you were here, and that’s all she needed. any moment with you felt so right.

she took the time apart from you to grow as her own person, but now she was ready to grow again with you.

hopefully, you’d be ready too.

𖤓✎⋆·˚ ༘ *✧.*ੈ✩‧₊˚

guys hopefully the song makes sense for this fic

should i make a part two idk?!!?!

also i will spell check this tomorrow.

[bunnyrafe]

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. f!reader, mean!rafe, icky behavior, teasing, mentions of masturbation, no real smut.

thinking about brother’s best friend!rafe who is literally the meanest perviest boy you’ve ever known in your whole life.

he wouldn’t pick on you so much if you didn’t pout like that. if your lip didn’t start wobbling the second he glares at you. if you didn’t go running with your pretty, little face in your hands every time he teases you. he’s always been addicted to hearing you sniffle and watching you squirm— even more addicted now that he’s switched things up a bit. new humiliation tactics that have you squealing his name and smacking his arm. like him sneaking his hands up your skirt, or kneeling down just to get a look beneath your party dress… he’s a menace… one that kind of makes your cunt messy in your panties with all his teasing.

you would never act on any desire you have towards him.

well, that’s what you’d like to think… until he comes over one day, expecting to see your brother in the backyard and to kick off whatever trouble they can get into. but it’s you— sun bathing in a skimpy swimsuit. your soft skin is glistening and dappled with water from the pool. you’re giving him years worth of jack-off material without knowing it, but you don’t even notice him until he curses under his breath.

“rafe?” the disgust in your voice isn’t missed, “what are you doing our here? my brother is—”

“don’t care where your brother is,” he cuts you off before sitting on the lounge chair next to your own, eyes still locked on you and trailing down your form, “wouldn’t wanna give up this view.”

while you’re shocked he’s given you what some would generously call a compliment, your nose still scrunches up— “you’re gross.”

“oh, i’m disgusting.” rafe goads. a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in the harsh sun, “as if you don’t probably play with your cunt to the thought of me every fuckin’ night.”

“what the fuck?” you bark out through pouty lips. suddenly you feel like you’re burning from the inside out, breath catching in your throat as your sunglasses slip down your nose when you look at him and say, “never in a million years, rafe cameron.”

“yeah?” his tone is softer, and he leans closer to you. you can smell his cologne while vague memories of how it feels when he touches you flood your head, making you want to push him away and stomp off out of bashfulness alone— he’s fucking with you and not stopping anytime soon, “c’mon, baby— i know you lay in that princess bed of yours with your hand between your thighs… y’probably moan my name every time, huh?”

you can only stare at him for a moment. eyes wide and already beginning to gloss over because he’s right. your face grows hotter with shame, and your mouth feels dry as you struggle to think of anything to say. there’s no way in hell he doesn’t see the way your thigh squeeze together beyond your control, and you swear he’s about to make a move. maybe he’ll drag you to your room, maybe to the pool house— what the fuck are you thinking?

“you’re—” insufferable, is what you want to say.

however your brother’s voice cuts through yours. and with that rafe stands up so he can greet him and they can finally head out, giving you a nearly threatening wink in the process.

“see you later, princess.”

[moonstruckme]

Mae! I have a request that I am really hoping you can do!

Emt! Marauders with reader that is admitted to the hospital because she is very sick and dehydrated, so they have a hard time getting her IV in, and after being there for almost a day, her back is killing her because of how uncomfortable the beds are?

I know it might be a bit of an odd request but I would love this if possible? If not it's 100% okay!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: hospital, mention of IV

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 618 words

Remus is moving his thumb back and forth over your hand, a slow, hypnotic drag, and you know he’s trying to get you to sleep but you’re too uncomfortable to manage it for him. 

You shift on your side, the muscles of your back stretching for one blissful second before the ache sets back in. You wish the hospital had one of those medieval torture devices that would pull you limb from limb until your spine stretched all the way out. You think it would help. 

Your poor boyfriend should be sleeping, too. He’s just worked a twelve-hour shift, and as soon as he got off he came here to sit with you. The boys had all been some mix of alarmed and happy to see you when you’d texted them that you were feeling funny and they’d come in their ambulance to find you ill and severely dehydrated, sitting down on your kitchen floor to keep from passing out. It had been an onslaught of scoldings and doting all the way to the hospital, whereafter they’d done their best to check in on you in between calls out. 

“Okay, dollface,” Sirius comes into the room with his usual burst of sound (Remus gives him a look, but it’s pointless; you were nowhere near sleep anyway), “prepare to fall head over heels for me.” 

“For us,” James says, coming in behind him with a large bag. “It’s not like it was only your idea.” 

“Yeah, but mine was the best part, so.” 

“What’s in the bag?” Remus asks, sounding quite lovingly exasperated with the both of them. You can only smile tiredly at the three boys’ bickering. 

“So nice of you to ask, Moony.” Sirius looks genuinely excited, his eyes clear and light. “In this bag is our girl’s salvation.” 

James sets the bag on your bed, taking out two pillows with a flourish. 

You gasp. “My pillows! You went back to get these?” 

“Yes, and it appears we forgot to lock the door on our way out of there the first time.” James smiles sheepishly, stacking them behind your back and head when Remus helps you lean forward. “It’s locked now.” 

“Thanks,” you say, meaning it with all your heart. Your back is already grateful for the familiar plushness, muscles you didn’t even realize were tight relaxing. 

“Oh, that’s not all.” Sirius grins at you, reaching into the bag again and pulling out some snacks from your kitchen. “We figured while we were there we might as well bring you some things you’d enjoy.”

“This is so thoughtful.” You smile at him as you take them. Your heart feels heavy and full. “Thank you guys.” 

“Are you feeling very besotted yet?” 

“Very,” you say, somewhat shyly. 

Sirius grins, leaning over to kiss your cheek. He’s careful to avoid your IV line, but his eyes go there, and he frowns when he sees the dull bruise forming around where he’d struggled to put it in. 

“I’m sorry about this, lovely,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the spot. 

“It’s fine,” you promise him. “It was hard, I get it.” 

“Remus could’ve managed it,” James says certainly. Remus blushes and Sirius’ lips tilt up in a half smile.

“Probably right,” he agrees, tone apologetic. 

“You’ve more than made it up,” you reassure him, returning his cheek kiss with one of your own. You rip open one of your snacks for emphasis. 

“I was trying to get her to go to sleep,” Remus says pointedly. 

“Oh, let her have a second.” James sits on the edge of your bed, gifting you a dazzling smile. “Five of those, lovie, then it’s nap time. We wouldn’t want our Moony to get cranky.” 

[highvern]

YUCK

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: fluff, suggestive moments

warnings: mentions of illness/body fluids (snot, vomit), avoidant attachment from reader, Hoshi best boy

Length: ~2.9k

Note: more of this couples bc im crazy thank u @gyuswhore

series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], Talk [a, s, f], Casual [a, s, f], Mine [s], espresso [f, s]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Two and a half months of hooking up with a guy who may or may not be a furry and things start feeling…comfortable. 

You’ll pretend until the day you die that every time the weekend rolls around you won’t end up naked in Soonyoung’s bed. Or your own. Usually it is your own because he has more roommates than you and yours leaves to stay at her boyfriend’s until Monday night which means there is no need to keep quiet (which you and Soonyoung both struggle with but you refuse to acknowledge that fact). 

It allows for many nights bent over the kitchen counter, Soonyoung’s chest hot against the back of your thighs as he works you up with his mouth. Or occasional nights on the couch after you both are too into each other to make it upstairs to your room, planted firmly in his lap while pinning his hands to the cushions. There's also the nights he drags you straight to bed and demonstrates exactly what all the pictures you took while tucked away in the privacy of a gross bar bathroom did to him. 

You’re pretty sure Soonyoung has picked up on your game by now because instead of asking ‘if’ he’s taken to asking ‘when’ he can come over. And it's annoying that it doesn’t really annoy you at all.

Soonyoung comes over on Friday nights and leaves Saturday afternoon, except when he shows up on Saturday mornings and stays well into Sunday night. Or the occasional weekend where you remember who you are and show up on his door and leave three hours later with cum still drying on your thigh as you walk past his roommates still pregaming in the living room.

Except now it's Friday and you’ve got nothing on your mind except for the inside of a toilet bowl and the cool tile of the bathroom floor.

Call it food poisoning or maybe the flu, but you’ve been in and out of sleep since the early hours of dawn. Shivering on the floor, the only company you have is a pile of dirty clothes. Even the crack of light under the door is too much stimulation for your illness-racked brain to tolerate.

“Y/N?” your roommate calls from the other side of the darkness, out in the hallway where it's safe from whatever curse is making home in your gut. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home? I don’t mind.”

“I’m fine,” you groan. Your words couldn’t convince the deaf but you try anyway. 

She responds but it slips right past because another bout of nausea takes hold.

You manage to fall asleep at some point, clammy on the floor with aching hips. Maybe an hour or maybe ten minutes. It doesn't really make a difference because you still feel like shit when the door opens and the hall light burns through your retinas.

“Hazel, I said I’m— What are you doing here?” you croak from the floor. 

Soonyoung stairs down at you, face soft with something that might be worry but it’s probably just the fever melting your brain. “You look like shit.” 

“You always know just what to say.” The usual snark isn’t there, replaced by a pathetic helpless whine of discomfort because all you want is to curl up and die. “Did you come to insult me or…?”

“Hazel let me know you were sick and usually sick people need medicine and soup so I brought that and this tea my mom used to give me as a kid.” 

“Are you trying to cure me so you can get your dick wet?” 

“No. If I wanted to stick my dick in a Petri dish I feel like there are easier ways to go about it.” He kneels right next to you like he isn’t the slightest bit concerned about catching the plague brewing in your immune system. A cool hand cups your cheek, thumb gentle at your temple where a dull throb has haunted you all day. You lean into the comforting touch without much thought.  “When was the last time you showered?” 

“I don’t know. Like two days ago?” 

“Yeah, I can smell that. Alright my little germ cell, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

His arms snake under yours, dragging you from the floor even with your muscles limp. It takes more maneuvering but you don’t bother helping. If he wants to play not-so-sexy nurse and patient then that's his problem. The warmth of his sweater is welcome though. 

“Is this some weird fetish thing?” Nose buried in Soonyoung’s chest, it comes out in a jumble. “Because I can’t handle this and the furry stuff.” 

“Yes, caring about your health is a fetish for me. Really gets me off knowing you’ve been a good girl and taken your vitamins.” 

“I knew it.” you whisper. “I’m not calling you daddy if that’s what you want.” 

Soonyoung laughs and the movement sends another bolt of pain through your skull. He tuts over your responding whimper and what may be his lips press to the side of your head briefly. It’s warm and comforting, the beat of his heart lulling you into the first satisfying rest since you woke up. Your hands bunching the front of his shirt are desperate for anything to keep you steady. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t release you while setting things up for a shower; accommodating for your weight with a slow shuffle and more placating coos against your hairline every time you protest a sudden jostle. The chill of the bathroom fully sets in when he pushes down your sweats and shucks off your snot stained sweater before tossing away his own. If you weren’t barely functioning it might even be impressive that he’s kept you in his arms the entire time.

“If you’re trying to fuck me, I hope you don’t mind snot.” You blow your nose against the curve of his neck just to be a bitch. 

You feel more naked under the stream of water than you ever have, which is ironic given you’ve had Soonyoung face to crotch more times than you can count. Something about the non-sexual nature of nudeness, feeling the least sexy you ever have while he scrubs you down with gentle hands, turns your stomach more than before.

“I’m not trying to fuck you,” he laughs again; a thousand volts straight to the heart. “Don’t worry.” 

You pop out of hiding, hurt by the idea. “You don’t want to fuck me?” 

Soonyoung’s face is soft, cheeks round and hair already damp to his forehead. He isn’t disgusted by the puke on your breath or the sweat matting your hair. Or if he is, he hides it well. “I always want to fuck you but right now I’m trying to make sure you don’t die.” 

You dive back into his shoulder, mind numb to anything beyond the silky feel of hands washing away days of ick. You’ve felt his hands on almost every part of your body but right now they lack the characteristic urgency from those moments where you can’t get enough of each other quick enough. He’s touching you the way he does in the glow of the moon after you’ve both been satisfied, when Soonyoung thinks you’re asleep and you let him as every curve and dip and hill of your body is covered in gentle strokes like he’s committing you to memory.

“I can do that on my own,” you argue. 

The facts aren’t stacked in your favor right now but it’s the principle: you don’t need him to take care of you. You can handle it on your own. He’s only here because you let him.

“Oh, I know. Now close your eyes so I don’t get soap in them.”

He cups your face, thumbs rubbing away the sweat that's been caked on since morning. Then it’s a rough washcloth doused in the scent of your face wash but you swat it away in favor of the calluses on his fingers. If you weren’t a dead woman walking he’d never get a chance to be this close. 

How is it more terrifying for someone to wipe away your boogers than let him see you naked multiple times a week? A question knotting your stomach into tight pieces as Soonyoung hums some tune you don’t recognize like he’s more than happy to do so.

Your brain stops working after so long; too exhausted from everything to think more about what this all means. Not even the familiar flat press of his front against yours can incite a response beyond content. All the world shrinks into the pitter patter of the water swirling around the drain, and the parts that are warmed by Soonyoung and the parts that are waiting to be.

When you come back to awareness, the waters off and he is whispering something into your clammy forehead.

“Hmmm?” 

“I said, it’s time to get out.”

More shuffling gets you back into your room where the mattress takes your weight while he digs around for fresh clothes. You roll onto your side, clad in a towel and nothing else, resound to fall asleep then and there.

“Alright, arms up,” he commands. 

You try to pull away, diving back into the pillow soaked from your hair but Soonyoung gets you up at the waist, maneuvering stiff limbs patiently.

“Do you have an armpit fetish too?” you ask with the collar stuck around the top of your head. 

“And you call me a freak?”

Next is pants, and it takes a few tries for you to even consider being helpful. Soonyoung lifts each leg individually, working the fabric as far as he can. Then a few dramatic grunts from coordinating your entire body weight but you’re back in a clean pair of pajamas and tucked under the covers. Soonyoung didn’t rise to any more of your snide remarks about being naked. He simply avoiding your bare skin like it’d burn. Not even his favorite thing about you (boobs) gets any attention, just a few chuckles and more kisses into your temple.

You melt into the plush mattress, hidden beneath a pile of blankets from the cruel world that cursed you with new realizations you're not prepared for just yet. 

Eyes closed the entire time, you hear Soonyoung leave without so much as a goodbye. In theory it’s what you want. Exactly how you prefer; you alone, him somewhere you can pretend all the confounding feelings don’t exist. You didn’t even want him to show up in the first place, but now that he’s been here and you’re horrifically aware how nice it feels to have someone take care of you. You miss him. 

And as soon as the pit opens up, you hear someone shuffling down the hall coming towards your room.

“Alright, once you eat something you can sleep.”

The thought of food tightens your stomach more than the fact he didn’t leave you but he’s right. You need fluids and you’re not strong willed enough to get them yourself.

After the first few bites, you feel a little more human and less like a walking sack of shit. With it, the discomfort of this entire ordeal rears with a new vengeance. 

“Why are you here?” It sounds like an accusation.

He doesn’t even miss a beat. “Because I like you.” 

Soonyoung says it matter of factly, the same way the sky is blue and water is wet, while shoving another bite into your mouth.

You’re too exhausted for a fight right now; not with the only person making a real effort to keep you alive, but the instinct is strong after years of low expectations and plenty of disappointment.

“Why?” 

“Because I just do.” 

Your eyes meet over the spoon. He doesn’t look annoyed or perturbed or even angry. He likes you whether you like it or not. 

“I don’t date.” 

“Okay,” he agrees, wiping at the spill dripping from your chin.

“You aren’t gonna argue?” 

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ and your need for confrontation with it. “You don’t wanna date? That’s fine. I’ll take whatever I can get, even if that’s spoon feeding you on your deathbed.” 

You take the next bite before commenting, “You’re so weird.” 

“I like you too. Now open up for the airplane.” He makes the noise and the medicine twists your brain into actually finding it funny. “How are you pretty even when you’re blowing your nose on my shirt?”

“Deal with the devil.”

He passes you a cold cup when you brush away the remainder of the soup. One sip is all it takes.

“How did you know I like the orange Gatorade?”

“I asked Jun to give me June’s number and she gave me Hazel’s number and I asked while I was at the store.”

“You went through all that trouble just to buy me the right Gatorade?” you snort.

“It really wasn’t any trouble.”

It isn’t but it’s more than anyone else has ever done for you. The fresh wave of nausea has nothing to do with your cold.

“I’m tired,” you tell him. 

The mess is cleaned up in silence. You pretend to fall asleep and Soonyoung lets you until he’s shoving more medicine your way. 

You shake your head, failing to refuse because Soonyoung is doing that dumb airplane nose again and when you cough up a laugh he shoves the spoon in your mouth and you’re left with no choice but to swallow.

Then he’s up and you watch through heavy eyes as he gathers his things. You’ll blame it on the drugs loosening the clutch you have on your emotions later.

“Where are you going?” you ask with faux apathy, negated by the fist tangled in the hem of his sweatshirt in case he evaporates away.

“Home. Unless…you want me to stay?” A tug at the sweater is your answer to that horrible thought. “Oh, thank god – I was getting sad.”

You roll over, offering him your back to curl around. The muscles tensed around your spine soften when he does. 

I sleep better when you’re here.

You won’t tell him that but Soonyoung stiffens for a moment and the fear you’ve said the wrong thing creeps in where fatigue hasn’t rooted just yet. But a kiss to your covered shoulder and a hand under your sweater, flat against your stomach so you stay as close as possible calms the thoughts enough you can drift off.

It’s strange. Having the heat of his body at your back without the limpness of a good fuck still coursing through your veins to thaw the parts that hate pillow talk and the stickiness that come with it.

What's even stranger is that you don’t really mind it all. If anything, it’s actually pretty nice.

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