#i love playing with my friends hair and i love it when they play with mine

[jkwrites-m]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Genre: established relationship, fluff, smut

Word Count: 6.4k

Summary: He’s finally home. And Y/N is ready to love him for the rest of forever.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, cursing, kissing, emotional vulnerability, light confessions, multiple smut scenes, separation, military, crying, light anxiety, explicit: praise, fingering, body worship, breast play, oral (f. receiving), slight handjob, unprotected sex (this is fiction!),

A/N: in honor of our boys coming back 🫡 (& another time ending & crying from everyone’s lovely comments), here’s a lil something since I stayed up all night to write bc what’s sleep? 🫶 (i originally planned like 3k words but i got kinda carried away 🤭)

♡ MASTERLIST

═══════

The clock ticked louder than it ever had before.

I’d vacuumed the living room twice. Rearranged the throw pillows six times. Lit two candles- one because it smelled like vanilla and safety, and the other because it was his favorite and smelled like expensive cologne and pine trees. My heart had been hammering against my ribs for the past hour, and now it had officially moved to my throat.

I was pacing.

Still in his oversized gray hoodie. Still barefoot. Still wearing the stupid socks with the tiny bunnies on them because they were his favorite and made him smile when he caught me dancing in them, and god, I just wanted him to smile again.

Eighteen months.

A year and a half of letters and FaceTime and countdowns and aching. The kind of ache that settled into your bones and made even the softest days feel sharp. And now, at last, it was over.

He was coming home.

Jeon Jungkook- my boyfriend, my best friend, my whole fucking world- was minutes away from walking through our door.

I felt like I was going to throw up. Or cry. Or both.

Probably both.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror and winced. I looked soft, nervous, flushed. Eyes too bright, mouth slightly open like I was afraid to breathe.

The couch still had the dent from the last time he sat there, all those months ago, legs spread, hair a mess, tugging me onto his lap while pretending we had five more minutes. The plants had survived, shockingly. His bunny mug was still in the cabinet, a little dusty but sacred. His dog tags were tucked in the top drawer of my nightstand, hidden like a secret I never wanted to forget.

My phone buzzed.

Jungkook: On my way up now 💜

My lungs forgot how to work.

I backed up until I was pressed against the front door, fingers curled around the hem of his hoodie, grounding myself in the scent that still lingered no matter how long it had been washed.

A minute passed.

And then, I heard it.

The sound of keys.

The soft jingle of metal against metal.

The world stopped spinning.

The doorknob turned slowly, like a movie playing in slow motion. The click of the lock releasing. A pause. A shift in the air.

And then- he was there.

He stood there for a second like he wasn’t sure if this was real.

His uniform was neat but creased from travel. The duffel bag slipped off his shoulder and thudded to the floor, forgotten. His hair was shorter than when I last saw him, neatly buzzed on the sides, grown just enough on top to let a few strands curl slightly across his forehead. His eyes- those stupid, beautiful brown eyes met mine, and they were glassy.

My mouth opened, but no words came out. I just stared, like blinking might make him disappear.

He said nothing at first. Just looked at me like I was a miracle.

And then he smiled.

That lazy, crooked, I-love-you-so-much-I-can’t-stand-it smile.

“Hi,” he said softly, voice rough and low.

I didn’t remember crossing the room. I just knew I was in his arms.

I slammed into him with enough force that he stumbled back a step, and his arms snapped around me like steel. His breath hitched. My fingers dug into his back, holding him as close as possible, trying to pull him into me.

“Shit,” he whispered against my hair. “You’re real. You’re really here.”

“You’re here,” I breathed, shaking. “You’re actually here.”

And then we kissed.

Hard. Fast. Desperate.

He tasted like spearmint gum and tears and every single day I’d waited for him. Our mouths clashed, messy and urgent, and I whimpered when he cupped my face with both hands, thumbs stroking the apples of my cheeks like I might fade if he didn’t touch every inch of me.

When we finally broke apart, he pressed his forehead to mine, his voice cracking.

“I kept dreaming about this.”

I laughed through a sob. “I kept your mug on the top shelf. It’s dusty as hell, but it’s yours.”

He laughed, breathless, hugging me tighter. “That stupid bunny one?”

“Of course.”

He looked at me like I was made of stars. “God, I missed you.”

I swallowed hard. “I missed you so bad, Jungkook. It physically hurt.”

His nose brushed mine. “Don’t cry yet. You promised not to cry.”

I wiped at my cheeks, sniffling. “You promised not to make me cry in the first five minutes.”

“And yet here we are,” he said with a grin, stepping inside fully and kicking the door closed behind him.

The moment it clicked shut, something shifted.

The weight of the past eighteen months lifted just enough for us to breathe.

He bent down, gently picking up his duffel bag with one hand and keeping the other firmly around my waist, like letting go wasn’t an option. I guided him toward the living room, heart still pounding in my ears, his presence so overwhelming it felt like light filling up every corner of a long-empty room.

═══════

We sat on the couch in the same spot we always claimed.

He let out a long sigh and leaned back, pulling me onto his lap without hesitation. I curled into him like I’d never left, straddling his thighs, arms wrapped around his neck. His hands settled on my hips, thumbs rubbing slow, calming circles.

“Still fits,” he murmured, looking down at the way I curled into him.

“What, me?” I teased.

He smirked. “You. The hoodie. The weight of you in my arms. All of it.”

I flushed, brushing my fingers across his cheek. “You look… God, I forgot how good you look up close.”

“Yeah?” he said, eyebrows raised, cocky grin pulling at his lips.

I nodded, biting my lip. “Like you’re gonna kiss me stupid again.”

He didn’t answer with words. He leaned in and did exactly that.

His lips were warm and familiar.

The kind of kiss that melted through skin and settled in the marrow.

I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t think I could stop. His mouth moved against mine like he was relearning every curve, every sigh, every tiny sound I made when he tilted his head just a little bit more. His fingers pressed against the small of my back, pulling me closer until there was nothing left between us but heat and years of pent-up wanting.

When we finally broke for air, he was smiling.

That soft, smug, gorgeous smile I hadn’t seen in person in far too long.

“You’re seriously trying to kill me,” I murmured, brushing my thumb along his bottom lip.

His eyes sparkled. “You think I flew across the country, got discharged, and came home just to not kiss you stupid?”

I snorted, burying my face in his neck. “You smell like detergent and danger.”

“Danger?” he repeated with a laugh. “Baby, I’m tame now. Government-issued. Fully trained in discipline.”

I pulled back just enough to raise a brow. “Yeah? That right?”

He nodded solemnly. “Mmhm. Highly decorated. Wildness fully contained.”

I rolled my hips just slightly in his lap- barely there, just enough to see if he’d crack.

He did.

“Fuck,” he hissed, hands tightening on my hips. “Okay- maybe not that contained.”

“That’s what I thought,” I whispered, lips brushing against the corner of his jaw.

His head tilted back, exposing his throat, and I kissed the smooth skin there, letting my teeth graze just enough to make him shiver.

“Eighteen months,” he whispered. “Do you know how many times I imagined this exact moment?”

“How many?”

“Too many to count. Always you. Always this hoodie. Always the way you look when you’re about to get what you want.”

I grinned. “What makes you think I’m about to get what I want?”

His hands slid under the hem of the hoodie, fingers grazing my bare thighs.

“Because I’m about to give you everything.”

═══════

He stood with me in his arms like I weighed nothing, one arm hooked under my legs, the other around my back. I squealed, laughing into his shoulder as he carried me down the hallway like some lovesick soldier in a romantic drama.

“I can walk, you know,” I teased.

“I��ve waited long enough,” he said, voice low. “Let me carry you for a bit.”

I bit my lip, heart stuttering.

He pushed open the bedroom door with his foot and set me down gently on the mattress. For a moment, we just looked at each other. No words. No teasing.

Just us.

His eyes roamed my face like it was holy. Like he was mapping me out again. He slid his hand up my leg slowly, reverently, pausing at the edge of the hoodie.

“Still mine?” he asked, voice rough.

“Always,” I whispered.

His mouth crashed into mine again.

But this time, it was slower. Deeper. We kissed like we had time. Like we had forever.

And as his hands started tugging fabric, and mine fumbled with the buttons of his uniform, I felt it- that tiny pulse of something perfect. Something sacred.

He kissed down the column of my neck like it was the only way he remembered how to breathe.

Slow, lingering, lips dragging along my pulse point, a warm exhale every time his mouth hovered just above skin. My fingers were in his hair before I realized it, tugging slightly, needing to anchor myself in something because I felt like I was floating.

The hoodie was still on me.

I think he liked it that way for a minute- his oversized clothing wrapped around my body, bare legs curled in the sheets beneath me, looking up at him like he hung the damn stars.

“Kook,” I whispered, fingers brushing his jaw.

He looked up, eyes dark and unreadable.

“Take it off,” I said, voice smaller than I meant it to be. “Please.”

His expression softened.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t tug or yank or act like he’d been waiting eighteen months just to get me naked- even if we both knew that was true. Instead, he knelt on the bed, hands sliding slowly up my thighs and under the hoodie, pushing the fabric up inch by inch.

I raised my arms for him.

He peeled it off gently, reverently like unwrapping something precious.

I was bare underneath. Nothing but skin and nerves.

He let out a slow, shaky breath. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

My skin flushed. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

His eyes drank me in like he was trying to memorize everything- the curve of my waist, the swell of my chest, the way I was already squirming under his gaze.

“You look like a dream,” he said, voice hoarse.

“And you look like mine,” I whispered back.

He leaned down, lips brushing the skin between my breasts, and I arched up into him on instinct.

Everything felt amplified. My body was hyper-aware of him. The way his fingertips skated along my hips, how he kissed across my ribs, how he made sure to linger in every spot that made me twitch or sigh or clutch the sheets.

“Still okay?” he asked, lips hovering above my belly.

“God, yes.”

“I want to go slow,” he murmured. “I don’t want to miss a single second.”

I reached for him, tugged gently on his shirt. “Then take this off and let me look at you.”

He sat up and pulled the dark green uniform shirt over his head, revealing tanned skin and inked muscle. My mouth dried instantly.

“You’ve been working out,” I said, biting my lip.

He smirked. “Had to keep busy.”

“Well, it paid off.”

I ran my hands down his chest, loving the way he shivered under my touch.

He lowered himself onto me, skin to skin now, heat meeting heat, and kissed me like he meant to make up for every night we’d lost.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he whispered, voice barely holding together.

“I do,” I breathed. “Because I felt it too.”

His hand slipped between us, and I gasped.

The real beginning was here.

And I was ready.

═══════

His fingers moved slowly- deliberate, trembling slightly, like the gravity of touching me again after so long was still settling in.

I opened for him instinctively, breath catching as he slid two fingers along my folds, testing, teasing, learning me all over again. His forehead pressed to mine, eyes never leaving mine, watching every twitch of my mouth as I whimpered under his touch.

The air between us was thick with anticipation, heavy with the weight of eighteen months apart.

“You’re soaked,” he breathed, his voice rough and low, as if the words were torn from him against his will.

“You’re late,” I whispered, a teasing edge to my tone, though my heart was pounding in my chest. I couldn’t help but smile, even as my body arched into his touch, craving more.

He let out a strangled laugh and kissed me again, lips claiming, hand steady as he slipped one finger inside me, and I gasped so loud he groaned, his breath hot against my skin.

“Fuck,” he muttered, kissing down my throat. “I forgot how tight- how perfect- ”

“Don’t you dare stop,” I breathed, nails digging into his shoulder, holding him close. I needed him, needed this, after so long apart.

He didn’t.

A second finger joined the first, slower now, deliberate, as if he were mapping every inch of me. My hips bucked up into his hand without shame, without hesitation.

I wanted all of him. Now.

My hands fumbled at his waistband, and he didn’t stop me. In fact, he shifted just enough to help, pushing the last of his clothing off, bare now, hot and flushed and hard as hell. My mouth actually dropped open.

I looked down.

“Oh.”

His smirk was wicked, playful, the same one that had always made my heart skip a beat. “Something you missed?”

I bit my lip. “So much.”

And then I was on my back again, legs wrapped around his waist, his body hovering above mine like a question- waiting for the answer we both already knew. I could feel the heat of him, the weight of him, and my answer was already written in the way my body arched toward his.

“Still sure?” he whispered, forehead pressed to mine.

“Don’t make me beg,” I said softly, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside me.

His hips rolled forward.

We both gasped.

It was a stretch- the good kind. The perfect kind. Like being filled up with something that felt like love and breath and the sun all at once. He sank in slowly, carefully, kissing me through every inch, groaning against my mouth when he bottomed out.

We didn’t move at first.

Just stared at each other like the world had ended and we were all that was left. His eyes searched mine, full of questions and answers, of everything we hadn’t said in the months apart.

Then he started to move.

Slow. Rhythmic. Deep.

Every thrust was measured, like he wasn’t just fucking me- he was remembering me. I clung to him, my legs wrapped tight around his waist, my hands digging into his back, mouth open with moans I couldn’t control. My breath stuttered in time with his hips, and I felt every inch of him, every memory, every moment we’d missed.

“God, I missed you,” he groaned.

“I never stopped wanting you,” I cried out, my voice breaking as tears welled in my eyes.

He kissed away the tears as they came- not rushed, not frantic. Just present. Every part of him was right there. No space left between us. No apologies. Just forgiveness and softness and heat and-

My orgasm hit me like a wave.

It stole my breath and made me cry out, body tightening around him in a way that made him curse beautifully into my neck. He didn’t stop moving. He kept going- rougher now, chasing his own high as he buried his face in my chest.

“I’m close,” he panted, his voice a raw whisper. “Fuck- I’m- ”

“Cum,” I whispered. “Come home to me.”

That did it.

He spilled into me with a guttural moan, shaking, holding me so tight I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began.

We stayed like that for a long time.

Sticky. Sweaty. Tired. Home.

═══════

Later, he curled into me, head resting on my chest like it was the only pillow that ever made sense. One leg hooked over mine. One arm around my waist. He held me like I was the last tether holding him to earth- like if he let go, the world would tip again.

I couldn’t stop touching him.

My fingers carded through his hair, slow and steady. It was softer than I remembered. Freshly washed, warm from sweat, the ends damp and curling from the heat between us. I pressed a kiss to the crown of his head and inhaled deeply, committing the moment to memory.

He didn’t speak. But I knew he wasn’t asleep.

His breath hitched every time I stroked behind his ear. His thumb brushed back and forth across the skin just above my hip bone, like he was counting seconds. 

He was still here. Still present. Still grounding himself.

Every so often, he’d let out a long breath, not quite a sigh, more like a release. As if with each exhale, a little more of the weight he’d carried for eighteen months finally bled out of him.

“I love you,” I whispered, not even meaning to say it aloud.

But he hummed in response, soft and quiet, like his soul already knew.

And still, I held him.

I let my fingers explore gently. Tracing the curve of his shoulder, the line of his spine, the new ridges and hardness in his body that hadn’t been there before. He’d grown stronger. Quieter. Older, somehow. But this- the way he clung to me like I was his anchor, hadn’t changed at all.

Finally, his breathing began to slow.

His grip loosened, not in fear, but in peace. His face softened, lips parting slightly as sleep took him. I kissed his temple, felt the tiny twitch of his lashes against my chest.

I waited until he was fully still. Until the apartment around us felt like a cocoon, and the air between us had settled into something sacred.

Then I leaned in close. My lips brushing the shell of his ear, breath warming his skin.

“Welcome home,” I whispered.

He didn’t answer.

But the smile that tugged at his lips in sleep was enough.

═══════

When I woke up, the room was blue.

That soft, pre-dawn blue where everything looks like a painting. The blinds were tilted just enough for the city lights to bleed through, casting long shadows across the sheets tangled around our bodies. I hadn’t moved. Neither had he.

Jungkook was still draped over me, cheek pressed to my chest, breathing slow and even. His arm was slung lazily over my waist, fingers curled into the fabric of the sheet like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go.

I could barely breathe, but not because of the weight.

Because of the peace.

I lay there, unmoving, eyes tracing the slope of his bare shoulder, the tiny freckles on his back, the edge of the tattoo that peeked out from beneath the covers. God, I missed those freckles. I missed the way he slept- completely uninhibited, one leg flung out, lips parted slightly like he’d been dreaming something soft.

He made this tiny sound when I brushed a hand down his spine. A low, sleepy murmur, almost like a cat stretching into touch. I smiled.

“I missed that noise,” I whispered, not really intending for him to hear.

But he shifted slightly, his voice thick and rough from sleep. “Missed you whispering in bed.”

My breath caught. I looked down, and sure enough, his eyes were barely open. 

His lips were pulled into a sleepy, lopsided smile.

“Good morning,” I said, brushing the hair from his forehead.

“Best one I’ve had in eighteen months.”

I felt my throat close a little. “You remember how to flirt, I see.”

“Hard to forget when you were in my dreams every damn night.”

He pushed himself up on one elbow and hovered above me, the sheet slipping slightly to reveal his chest. He leaned down and kissed my bare shoulder. Then my collarbone. Then the corner of my mouth.

“You smell the same,” he whispered.

“So do you.”

He smiled. “Must be fate.”

I laughed, pushing at his chest until he collapsed beside me with a groan, arm pulling me with him. I curled into his side, my hand resting over his heart.

“You okay?” he asked after a beat. “Really okay?”

I nodded against him. “I didn’t realize how not-okay I was until I could touch you again.”

He swallowed hard. “Same.”

We lay in silence for a moment, just listening to each other breathe. There was something sacred about the quiet. Something that didn’t need to be filled. Just held.

“I was scared,” he said quietly, voice so low I almost missed it.

My heart paused.

He was staring at the ceiling now, one arm still around me, his fingers drumming slowly against my hip. It was a nervous rhythm, soft and off-tempo. Like he was fighting the words.

“What were you scared of?” I asked, nuzzling closer, my nose brushing his jaw.

He hesitated, then turned to face me fully.

“That you’d move on,” he said. “That you’d realize you didn’t want to wait anymore. That someone else would come along and actually be there for you.”

I blinked at him.

“Jungkook.”

He looked down. “I know it’s dumb. You always reassured me. But every time I saw your face through a screen instead of in front of me, it hit me all over again. I wasn’t there. I couldn’t hold you when you cried. I couldn’t kiss you when you had a bad day. I couldn’t even send you a real fucking gift without jumping through a dozen approval hoops.”

“You sent me letters,” I whispered, voice thick.

“I wanted to send me. Not scraps of me. All of me.”

I cupped his face gently. His eyes were glassy again, lashes heavy with emotion.

“I never wanted anyone else,” I told him. “Not even for a second.”

He swallowed hard.

“I didn’t stay because I’m a good girlfriend,” I continued. “I stayed because you’re my person. You’re the one I see when I think of forever. There’s no timeline that could ever make me forget that.”

He leaned forward and kissed me- slow, deep, thankful. He kissed me like I’d just saved his life.

“I love you so much,” he whispered against my lips.

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

We fell back against the pillows, foreheads touching, breath shared. The silence between us wasn’t silence anymore. It was full. Of everything we’d said. And everything we didn’t need to.

After a few minutes, I rested my chin on his chest.

“I had my own fears,” I admitted.

He looked down at me. “Yeah?”

I nodded slowly. “That when you came back, you’d be… different. That maybe the version of you I remembered wouldn’t exist anymore. That I wouldn’t know how to fit next to you again.”

He traced a finger along my back. “Did it feel like that?”

“No,” I said. “It felt like breathing again.”

He pulled me tighter against him. “Then let’s never stop.”

My heart fluttered.

He kissed my forehead and whispered, “We can stay here all day, you know. Screw the outside world. No alarms. No phone calls. Just you, me, and this bed.”

“You’re speaking my language,” I murmured.

“I’ve always been fluent in you.”

I giggled, hiding my face against his chest. “That was so cheesy.”

He grinned. “I’ve been saving that line for weeks.”

═══════

Time slowed in the haze of post-reunion softness.

I couldn’t tell how long we’d been wrapped up in each other like that. Minutes? Hours? I didn’t care. The world outside our bedroom didn’t exist. It’s just the faint hum of the fridge, the occasional car below our window, and the steady thrum of Jungkook’s heartbeat beneath my cheek.

“I missed this,” I mumbled, eyes still closed.

He stroked my back gently. “What, cuddling naked in bed while I sweat like a furnace?”

I snorted. “No. Well, yes. But also this. Just being dumb and half-asleep and saying things like ‘I missed this.’”

His chest rumbled under me with quiet laughter. “I missed you being dumb and half-asleep.”

“Charming.”

“You love it.”

“I do.”

We stayed there, giggling softly, like we were trying not to wake the memory of everything we’d been through. I traced lazy shapes on his chest, spelling out nonsense, occasionally drawing a heart or writing his name with my fingertip.

He hummed. “Whatcha writing?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Is it dirty?”

I grinned up at him. “What if it is?”

He leaned down, nudging my nose with his. “Then I’m obviously obligated to investigate.”

His mouth found mine again. Slow, sleepy, and deliciously unhurried. He kissed me like there was no rush. Like we had all the time in the world.

And for the first time in a long time, we did.

When we pulled apart, he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “You wanna know what I missed the most?”

I nodded.

He smiled. “The way you look at me when you’re not saying anything. Just… like that. Like you already know I’m yours.”

I felt my eyes sting.

“And you are,” I whispered. “You always were.”

═══════

Eventually, our stomachs growled loud enough to interrupt the moment.

He groaned. “Okay. I love you, but I also love food.”

“You can have both,” I said. “You have me and leftover ramen in the fridge.”

He lit up like a little kid. “You kept the leftovers?”

I smirked. “I keep everything.”

He reached for his boxers, but I yanked him back by the waistband and planted a quick kiss on his lips. “I’m serious, though. Today’s just for us.”

“No calls. No errands. No makeup or clothes unless absolutely necessary.”

He saluted. “Roger that. I am officially yours for the day.”

“You’re mine every day.”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “Damn right I am.”

═══════

Jungkook made breakfast shirtless, and I decided I was never letting him leave the apartment again.

He wore nothing but those gray sweatpants and a sleepy grin, hair messy from bed, dog tags clinking softly as he moved around the kitchen like it was still his. Like no time had passed. Like his body didn’t just come home from the weight of eighteen months of structure and silence.

I sat on the counter in one of his old t-shirts (the black one with the tiny bleach stain near the hem) and watched him whisk eggs like it was the most mesmerizing thing in the world.

“I forgot how loud you are in the kitchen,” I teased, swinging my legs.

“I forgot how nosy you are,” he shot back with a grin, glancing over his shoulder.

I smiled, sipping my coffee. “Is it weird that this feels normal already?”

“Not weird. Perfect.”

He poured the eggs into the skillet and crossed the kitchen to stand between my legs. His hands rested on my thighs, his head dropping to my shoulder.

“I used to imagine this exact moment,” he said softly. “Waking up with you. Cooking for you. Holding you in a room that didn’t echo.”

My fingers threaded through his hair. “We’re here now.”

“I know.” His lips brushed my neck. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

═══════

We ate together at the counter. Laughing over slightly burnt toast, fighting over who got more juice, giggling when he leaned over just to kiss the corner of my mouth.

Every moment felt precious. Every touch mattered.

After breakfast, we curled up on the couch- me wrapped in a blanket, him lying between my legs, head on my chest like before. Our show played in the background, but we didn’t pay attention. We were too caught up in each other.

“I kept watching this without you,” I admitted.

He gasped dramatically. “You betrayed me.”

“I had to do something to feel close to you.”

He smiled, looking up at me. “You could’ve just written ‘Jungkook is sexy’ on all the mirrors.”

I snorted. “You assume I didn’t?”

He burst out laughing, hand sliding under the blanket to squeeze my knee. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

We stayed that way until the sunlight shifted, the afternoon creeping across the walls. And still, neither of us moved.

He sighed deeply, hand stroking my hip under the blanket. “You know the hardest part?”

I tilted my head.

“It wasn’t the schedule. Or the drills. Or the cold nights. It was sleeping without you. Going to bed and waking up without you.”

I bent down and kissed his temple. “Well, you’re never doing that again.”

He nodded slowly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

═══════

Night fell slow and soft over the apartment, wrapping everything in gold. The city hummed outside the window, but inside, it was just us. Tangled limbs. Quiet breaths. Familiar touches.

We lay curled around each other in bed, the comforter kicked halfway down, skin against skin. I was spooned against his chest, his arm tucked tight around my waist, nose pressed to the back of my neck. I could feel him breathing me in.

And then his hand started moving.

Not hurried. Not rough. Just soft, slow strokes across my stomach. Fingertips tracing idle patterns, brushing under the hem of the shirt I’d borrowed from him again. 

“Kook,” I whispered, breath catching.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just nuzzled closer, pressed a warm kiss just below my ear.

“I can’t stop touching you,” he murmured, voice heavy with sleep and want. “It still doesn’t feel real.”

I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes, warm and heavy-lidded, held a vulnerability I wasn’t used to seeing. “It’s real,” I whispered, reaching down to lace our fingers together. 

His hand was calloused, a reminder of the life he’d lived without me for the past eighteen months, but his touch was gentle, as if he feared I might shatter.

He turned me gently onto my back, body sliding over mine in one smooth, fluid motion. His weight wasn’t oppressive; it was grounding, a reminder of his presence, of us. His lips found my collarbone, and I felt the low hum in his throat as he kissed lower, slower.

My body responded instinctively, arching slightly as his mouth trailed down, his tongue leaving a wet path that made me squirm beneath him.

“Need you one more time,” he said.

My breath hitched. “You just had me.”

“I know,” he whispered, forehead resting against mine. “But I want to feel it again. All of it. You. Us. This. Before sleep takes me.”

There was no room for teasing now, no space for jokes. Just heat and heartache and something deeper than either of us could put into words.

His lips found mine, and he kissed me like it was his final prayer, like he was pouring every unspoken word, every missed moment, into that single touch.

Hands exploring like every inch of me was sacred. 

He pushed my hair back, exposing the curve of my neck, and kissed every inch of newly revealed skin as if asking permission all over again. My shirt was peeled away slowly, his lips following the fabric as it slid off my shoulders. 

I shivered as his mouth found the sensitive skin of my breasts, his tongue tracing the outline of my nipples before taking one into his mouth, sucking gently, then harder, until I gasped his name.

“Kook,” I breathed, my hands tangling in his black hair, pulling him closer.

He smiled against my skin, a cheeky grin that made my heart flutter. “You taste so good,” he murmured, his lips moving lower, his hands sliding down my body. 

He kissed my stomach, my hips, my thighs as his fingers hooked into the waistband of my pants. I lifted my hips, helping him slide them off, and he paused, his eyes drinking me in like I was the only thing he’d ever wanted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with awe.

I blushed, but the heat in my cheeks was nothing compared to the fire burning low in my belly. “Baby,” I whispered, urging him closer.

His lips found the junction of my thighs, his breath warm against my cunt. I gasped as his tongue pressed against me, slow and deliberate, tasting me like I was the sweetest thing he’d ever known. 

His hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he explored, his tongue dipping and swirling, his mouth sucking gently, then harder, until I was moaning his name, my fingers clutching at the sheets.

“Fuuuck, Kook,” I groaned, my body arching off the bed. “Right there.”

He hummed his approval, his tongue pressing deeper, his fingers sliding between my folds, teasing the spot that made me see stars. 

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice muffled against my skin. “So fucking perfect.”

His praise sent a rush of heat through me, and I felt my walls clenching around his tongue, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. 

“Baby, please,” I begged, my body on the edge, teetering between pleasure and release.

He smiled against me, his lips curving into that cheeky grin I loved so much. “I got you baby,” he whispered, pulling back slightly, his tongue tracing lazy circles that made me whimper. “Come apart for me.”

His words were the push, and I felt my body respond, my muscles tightening, my breath hitching as he worked his magic. His tongue was relentless, his mouth devouring me, his fingers sliding inside me, stretching me, filling me, until I was a mess of moans and pleas, my body trembling on the brink.

“Kook, I- ”

He didn’t let me finish. His mouth closed over me, his tongue pressing hard against my clit, his fingers curling inside me, and I shattered. My back arched, my nails digging into his shoulders as my orgasm ripped through me, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over me, leaving me breathless and boneless.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, my body still trembling as he kissed his way back up, his lips brushing against mine. “That was-“ 

“Not enough,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “But we’ll fix that.”

He shifted, his body moving over mine, his lips finding mine again, kissing me deeply, his tongue tangling with mine as he settled between my legs. I felt him, hard and thick, pressing against my thigh, and I reached down, wrapping my hand around him, stroking slowly, savoring the feel of him, the way he twitched in my grip.

“You’re so hard,” I murmured, my thumb brushing over the head, smearing the pre-cum that had leaked from him.

“All for you,” he replied, his voice a low growl. “Always.”

He kissed me again, his lips moving to my neck, my collarbone, his hands sliding down my body, teasing, touching, until I was squirming beneath him, needy and desperate for more. 

“I want you inside me,” I whispered, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

He kissed me like he was claiming me, his lips fierce and hungry, his hands gripping my hips as he positioned himself at my entrance. I felt him press against me, the head of his cock teasing my folds, and I gasped as he slid inside, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine.

It felt different. More intense. Like our bodies remembered each other better than our minds ever could. There was no rush. No wild rhythm. Just slow, deep movements- hips rocking together in a perfect, quiet ache.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “You feel so good.”

I wrapped my legs tighter around him, urging him deeper, and he obliged, his hips rocking into mine, his thrusts slow and controlled, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through me. His eyes stayed locked on mine, his expression raw and open, as if he was laying his soul bare.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice a chant, a tether holding him to me. “So much.”

I kissed the corner of his mouth, the edge of his jaw, my fingers tracing the scar near his shoulder, a reminder of the life he’d lived before me. 

“I’m yours,” I told him. “Always.”

His thrusts grew deeper, his hips moving in a rhythm that matched my own, our bodies moving as one, our breaths syncing, our hearts beating in time. 

The air was thick with the sound of our skin slapping together, our moans filling the room, our pleasure building, inexorable and undeniable.

“Kook,” I gasped, my body tightening around him, my walls clenching as I felt the familiar coil of pleasure building low in my belly. “I’m close.”

“Me too,” he groaned, his thrusts becoming more urgent, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “Cum with me, baby. Let go.”

My body shattered around him, my orgasm ripping through me, my cries echoing in the room as he followed, his own release spilling into me, his name on my lips as we came apart together, our bodies trembling, our breaths ragged, our hearts pounding.

He collapsed beside me, chest rising fast, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead. I turned into him, pulling the blanket up over us. His hand found mine beneath it.

“I could stay here forever,” he mumbled, lips brushing my temple.

I smiled, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “I’d let you.”

And then, slowly, his body began to relax. His breathing slowed. His grip on my hand loosened just slightly as his eyes fluttered shut.

I looked at him. He’s so beautiful and unguarded in sleep.

My heart ached with how much I loved him.

I leaned in, lips brushing his ear.

“No more waiting, baby. No more distance. You’re home… you always were.”

═══════

♡ MASTERLIST

♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

═══════

Posted: 06/10/2025

[teaboot]

Have you had other cats before Ollie? If so, what can you tell us about them?

Thomas was a black cat who slept in my crib when I was a baby. Hated everyone except me and my papa, would attack anyone who came to wake me up. By the time I turned four I was horribly allergic to him and we had to send him to live with family. Never saw him again. Rags was a long-furred bright orange barn cat I only ever saw a handful of times behind my grandma’s house.

Pretty Kitty was half-feral, but by far the most beautiful barn cat we had. A lovely long-haired Siamese type girl with big blue eyes. Shy but gentle.

Monday was a little runty black kitten I gave away at a festival, because I had a box full of kittens who needed homes fast.

Skippy broke his leg as a kitten, and for the rest of his life ran with his back legs together like a jumping bunny. He would play fetch with a ball and bring it back to you after you threw it. My dad hit him with his car one day and never told me.

Arthur was a short-haired orange cat who would meet me at he end of the driveway after school every day and walk me to my bus stop every morning. He had big yellow eyes and would swipe Angel-wing marks onto ground-floor windows with his paws. He went into the fenced backyard when the dogs were out and Penny, the youngest, killed him.

Garfield was another orange-furred cat. I don’t remember much about him, but he got in a fight with a dog and ran away and I never saw him again.

Stumpy was an ancient brick shithouse of a brown tortie with had little tufted ears and á bobbed tail, and half my life she was pregnant or nursing new kittens. She was famously short-tempered and especially protective of her babies, and once swiped one of the sheepdog puppies across the nose for getting too close and spooked him so bad he was terrified of cats the rest of his life. I once saw her catch, kill, and devour an entire rabbit, bones and all.

G*psy was an unfortunately-named sweetheart, white with black spots, who was my absolute best friend for the longest time. Eventually she had two kittens, one I gave to family and one that went to live with my papa. One day I realized she’d disappeared, and spent six months looking for her. Then I found out that an eagle had carried her off, and my grandpa had found half of her left behind in a field and hadn’t had the heart to tell me.

Bobbi and Fritz were two cats whose names I may be misremembering, left behind when an old lady in town had died without assigning them to anyone in her will. My mom wound up giving them to me to take care of. I don’t remember what happened to Fritz, but I went to feed Bobbi one morning and found her dead in her litter box.

Franklin was an emaciated-looking orange bastard who was 17 when I got him. Again, his owner had passed away before he could, so I wound up with him. He was pretty clearly depressed and would sometimes attack me at random, wrapping himself around my leg and biting the shit out of me. He passed away the morning we were about to leave for a road trip so he spent several weeks in a paper bag in our freezer before I could bury him.

Fireside Al was a semi-feral barn cat who would have been an excellent lap cat, if he wasn’t in a perpetual state of mild claustrophobia. The deal was he’d come into the house and STAY in the house for as long as the front door was open, but as soon as you tried to close the door he’d cry and wail and generally pitch á fit before zoning out again at the soonest chance. As per the name, his favourite spot was on the warm bricks in front of the cast-iron wood stove.

Ashley was a black and white cat and a massive bitch who hated everyone and everything except my dad. She never did gain weight, was like a bag of sticks under a rug her whole entire life, was scared of small rodents and hated babies. All she ever wanted was to bite people and be left alone.

Monty survived losing all his teeth, two major ear infections that left both ears tiny and shriveled, dementia, some sort of seizure disorder, cancer, a house fire, and something that made him spontaneously pee blood sometimes. He passed away peacefully in his sleep at 21 years old. Until that point, the joke was that all his various conditions and diseases had neutralized each other in their fight for dominance. My mom once heard him cough, asked him if he was okay, and then watched him hack up a tooth. He drooled when he was happy and smelled like garbage, his skin was crusty and full of cysts, and near the end sometimes he would get confused and end up lost somewhat in the house, or forget who the other cats were and attack them. He was a very good boy and we miss him.

Cookie is 30lbs and silky-soft like a chinchilla. He is also largely blind due to a disease he got as a kitten, and can only see vague shadows and bright lights because he somehow has two optic nerves in each eye. We found out when he first went blind and then seemed to miraculously regain some vision- seems like his tiny spare mutant nerves worked as a backup. I once watched him sit on another cat and eat its food. He’s doing great

Petra is probably 4.5 pounds soaking wet and launches herself from person to person like a flying squirrel. She is a soft blue-grey princess my brother’s boss found in a ditch on the side of the road. Every photo of her looks insanely glamorous.

Otis was my big baby who kept me alive through college. I brought him home and kept him in my room in secret for two weeks before my younger brother narc’d. At one point my dad told me if I didn’t get rid of him he’d kill him, so I took him out into the woods myself and set up camp in the old family home we’d abandoned years back. Then he moved out with me when I was 17 and went to college. He’s a crochety old man now and lives with my mom.

Tyler is my brother’s cat. He stole her by accident. Before then she was kind of shared by his whole neighborhood, until she showed up injured at his house. She is now “the biggest bitch alive, I love her so much”, to quote him. She hates all other forms of life and only really tolerates my brother.

Cleo was also my brother’s, but she passed away recently due to age and health reasons. He used to be solid muscle like Stumpy but developed a thyroid issue of some kind where her body just could not retain weight. She was very spoiled in her golden years though, and once declared terminal was pretty much given Doritos on demand (she fucking loved Doritos)

Not a complete list but these are the ones I think of most. If you can take away anything from this, please don’t let your cats free-roam unsupervised. Even barn cats, with a whole barn for shelter and an actual job to perform, don’t last long outdoors.

Much appreciated.

[siawritez]

Title: Come Back In

Pairing: Sophia (KATSEYE) x fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, arguing, emotional hurt/comfort, rain-soaked idiot in love, fluffy reconciliation, kisses everywhere, light NSFW (makeout + implied intimacy), wet clothes, smushed cupcakes

Summary: You and Sophia haven’t spoken since the night she yelled — the one night she finally cracked, and you finally left. But love has a way of soaking through everything, and now she’s standing outside in the rain with ruined flowers and a mashed box of cupcakes, begging for a second chance.

It started with a fight.

Not a screaming match, not some explosive fallout — but something raw, something small and real, that simmered too long without being touched. You hadn’t meant to snap, and neither had she. But sometimes, little cracks in the dam start to leak, and before you know it, everything’s flooding.

You’d been feeling neglected. Not in a loud, dramatic way — just quietly, in the late hours of the night when Sophia didn’t notice the way your voice softened when asking her to come to bed. The way your arms hovered in the air for too long before you gave up on hugging her. The way she was present, physically, but her head was constantly buried in rehearsals, calls, or projects.

And you understood. You always had. But you missed her. You missed her attention, her eyes, her laugh when you did something stupid just to see her smile.

The breaking point came when she came home late — again. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing her hoodie, fingers laced tightly in your lap to keep them from shaking.

She didn’t even take her shoes off. “I’m so tired,” she mumbled, throwing her bag down.

You stood up. “You’re always tired.”

She blinked, then frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I haven’t had a real conversation with my girlfriend in two weeks, Sophia.”

She looked like she’d been slapped. “Don’t be dramatic, Y/N.”

That stung more than anything else. You’d never asked for much. Just her time. Her presence.

Your voice cracked. “I’m not being dramatic. I’m being honest.”

She sighed loudly, rubbing her temples, and then — she raised her voice. Just enough. “I’m doing the best I can. Sorry if that’s not enough for you.”

And you froze. Her voice had never been that sharp with you. Not once.

The silence that followed was worse than the yelling.

You didn’t cry. Not in front of her. You calmly picked up your phone, threw some clothes into your tote, grabbed your toothbrush, and walked out. She didn’t stop you.

Not that night.

---

You stayed at your friend’s place. Jinny, bless her heart, didn’t ask many questions. Just opened the door in pajamas and said, “I’ve got wine and a couch with your name on it.”

You pretended not to check your phone every few minutes. Not to stare at her contact, waiting for the little typing bubble that never came. Days passed like that. Sophia was silent.

You tried to be angry. You should have been angry. But mostly, you were just...empty.

You missed her. Her chaotic laugh when she spilled cereal. Her voice humming while she folded laundry. The way she talked to your cat like he was a real person. You even missed her weird skincare rituals.

You didn’t know that Sophia hadn’t slept in three days. That she sat in your apartment — your shared space — staring at your empty side of the bed like it personally offended her. That she couldn’t finish a single meal without feeling sick to her stomach.

It hit her hardest when she opened the fridge to find the yogurt you always bought her — strawberry with little fruit chunks — and realized she hadn’t seen you smile in weeks.

She broke down in the kitchen. On the cold tile. Just like that.

---

The knock came on a Saturday. The weather was miserable. Jinny was braiding your hair lazily on the couch while a dumb rom-com played in the background. You weren’t expecting anyone.

“I got it,” Jinny said, padding to the door.

You heard it before you saw it.

“Is she here?”

That voice. Broken. Wet. You heard it crack mid-sentence.

Your stomach flipped. You stood up.

“Sophia?” you said, stepping into the doorway.

And there she was. A soggy, pitiful mess on your friend’s porch. Hair dripping in tangled waves. Hoodie clinging to her frame. Shivering like a stray kitten. She hadn’t even brought an umbrella. In her arms was a bouquet of completely ruined tulips — soaked and drooping — and a white bakery box with one corner bent and damp, likely full of smushed cupcakes.

Your first instinct was to pull her in. But your anger held you still.

“Are you insane? What are you doing out here in the rain?”

“I deserved it,” she choked. “I thought you’d slam the door in my face. I wanted to see you anyway.”

You didn’t say anything.

“I yelled at you,” she went on. “And I hate myself for it. I haven’t eaten since Tuesday. The bed is cold. I can’t sleep. The apartment feels like a tomb without you in it.”

You stared at her.

She extended the flowers. They were practically mulch now. “I brought you these. And cupcakes. I forgot an umbrella. Sorry. I—God, I suck at this.”

Jinny, watching from behind you, whispered, “You’re really gonna leave her out here?”

You groaned and stepped forward, opening the door wider. “Come in before you catch hypothermia.”

She blinked, then looked up at you like you were the sun. She stumbled forward. You stepped back as she entered, careful not to touch her dripping sleeves.

You led her to the bathroom, tossing her a towel and your softest spare hoodie. “Change before you flood the floor.”

She looked like she wanted to cry.

---

Fifteen minutes later, Sophia sat on Jinny’s couch in your clothes, hands folded like she was afraid to touch anything. The cupcakes were half-crushed and lopsided, but you still set them on the table. The flowers, you put in a vase. They didn’t look great, but something about the gesture stopped your heart.

She looked up at you. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“No, like—I’m sorry. For everything. For ignoring you. For yelling. For being so wrapped up in my own world that I didn’t even notice I was losing the most important person in it.”

You crossed your arms. “I needed you, Sophia. And you weren’t there.”

Her voice broke. “I know. I was scared. Of how much I care. It’s stupid. I thought if I stayed busy, I wouldn’t have to feel so...dependent on you.”

You frowned. “Dependent?”

She looked up at you. “I can’t even eat without you. I tried. I made ramen and started crying halfway through.”

Despite yourself, a tiny laugh escaped.

She perked up. “Was that a laugh? Did I get a laugh?”

You narrowed your eyes, but your lips were twitching. “Barely.”

She scooted closer, tentatively. “Y/N. I’ll sleep on the floor. I’ll eat the ruined cupcakes. I’ll do the laundry for a month. I’ll go on my knees right now if you want me to—”

“Stop,” you said firmly.

She froze mid-motion.

You sighed. “Just...don’t grovel. Just mean it.”

She nodded, face open and raw. “I mean it.”

You walked over and sat beside her.

She looked at you. And then — slowly, carefully — pulled you into her arms.

You resisted, just for a moment. But she was warm now. And she smelled like your fabric softener. And when her arms wrapped around your waist, you felt everything you’d been holding back finally crumble.

Her breath hitched. Her lips brushed your hair. Then your temple.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

Your cheek. “Sorry.”

Your jaw. “I love you.”

Your nose. “I missed you.”

Your neck. “Please come home.”

Your heart pounded. Her kisses were soft, reverent, everywhere. She held you like she thought you might disappear.

You closed your eyes, leaning into her, whispering, “Sophia...”

She pulled back, just enough to look at you.

You cupped her cheek. She was still damp. Her eyes searched yours, asking permission.

And then — you kissed her.

Slow. Gentle. Full of everything that had gone unsaid.

Her breath caught against your lips. Her hands trembled as they slid up your back, pulling you tighter, impossibly close.

You deepened the kiss, tilting your head, tasting the rain on her skin. Her hands roamed, fingers sliding under the hem of your hoodie, caressing your sides. You shivered.

“You're freezing,” you murmured.

“Then warm me up,” she whispered, voice low.

You smiled against her mouth.

---

That night, Jinny graciously went to a late night walk. “You two need this,” she said, winking.

Back in the tiny guest bed, in a borrowed room, you and Sophia lay tangled in each other.

She hovered above you, shirtless now, damp curls falling into her face. Her hands roamed your waist, your thighs, your ribs — with so much care it made you ache.

“Still mad at me?” she whispered.

You tugged her down by the collar. “Shut up.”

She kissed you again. Slower this time. Softer. Like she was savoring you.

You let her.

Her hands slid under your shirt. You arched into her, sighing as her fingers brushed your bare skin, drawing lazy patterns over your ribs. Her lips found your neck, then your collarbone. Your breath hitched.

Her voice was husky. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You cupped her cheek again. “Don’t you dare.”

She chuckled. Then pulled the shirt over your head.

And for a while, there were no more words — just breathless laughter, sighs, moans soft against the pillow. Her hands, her lips, her body moved like she was relearning you, rediscovering the shape of you, like each curve and scar was a prayer she hadn’t dared whisper in weeks.

You didn’t rush. You just let the silence carry you. Let the sheets hold your secrets.

When it was over, she held you close, forehead against yours.

“I love you,” she whispered again.

“I know,” you breathed, threading your fingers through her hair. “I love you too.”

She pressed a final kiss to your lips, lingering, then collapsed beside you, pulling the blanket over your entwined legs.

And there, in the dark, with her heart beating steady under your palm, you finally, finally felt whole again.

[theliving-radio]

So I’m in the middle of doing an angst Big Brother ask, and I got hit with such a good idea series I wanna do with Sylus.

So I just wore vomited all over my docs and here’s what I have:

Imagine:

You are… well used to be one of Sylus top assistants. Always helping with the boring paperwork and calls to help close in deals with his employers or employees.

The reason why you are no longer his assistant is because he found out you had feelings for him. Not just platonic feelings, nope. But deep love, the type where if he was to walk through death's door you would follow.

Sylus didn’t want that, and certainly not from you. He believed it would cause you to be distracted, and it would, since he has Ms Hunter to occupy his time now. His attention is always on her and her alone, making you envy her and get lost in your own head.

So he lets you go, but still pays you until you find a comfortable job.

You didn’t want to stay in the N109 Zone, knowing that he would still be around, so you try and make a life in Linkon, working as a Cashier at a convenience store. Pay isn’t well, but it gets by, and you and some old high school friends are in a punk rock band that play on the weekends.

Now imagine:

You get a knock on your front door, a few days from performing. It’s nearly 3 in the morning and you groggily go to open it up. There, you see your old boss…

But with longer hair, horns, and a tail… clutching a large egg close to him.

“You… I found you.”

What???

Now you have this man that looks like your boss stuck in your apartment who is telling you that you were his mate from a different universe, a different time and place.

You don’t believe in any of this, telling “Sylus” to stop messing with you. He didn’t want you around! You left! Don’t toy with your emotions!

Hearing you say all these negative things makes “Sylus” upset. Why would he not want you? You're his mate. You're his everything.

You had enough of this and called Luke and Kieran to come pick up their boss because he’s clearly on drugs or something. But when you do, you hear Sylus in the background.

“Whatever nonsense you're trying to pull, cut it out.” And the phone hangs up. Followed by a next message from Luke apologizing for their boss ending the call.

When you look over at “Sylus”, he’s on your couch making a small little seat for the egg he was carrying.

Who the hell is this guy? And why do you feel a connection towards him?

Now imagine:

On a far planet, in a different time, different space, different universe, there was an injured dragon. He was fighting for his life from the people that call him a monster, a demon, a fiend.

Just when he thought he was going to die in the deep depths of the forest, he swore he saw an angel approach him with such worry before everything went black.

The next thing he knew when he woke up was the soft comforts under him. His body was aching, covered in bandages so he wouldn’t bleed out. He looks around the room and spotted a very tired girl reading a book, when she looks up where he was resting, she’s surprised at first but then full on smiles.

The girl sets the book down and approaches him, but the beast spreads his wings out in a threatening manner, hoping to scare her off. It doesn't matter if she brought him into her shelter and healed him, it could all be a trick.

When he questions who she is, and where he’s at, she moves her hands. She kept motioning for something, but soon stopped when it seemed like something dawned on her. She seemed embarrassed as she then pointed to her mouth, and made an X with her hands.

She cannot speak. A mute.

That didn’t help him in his case.

He watches as the girl goes back to her sitting spot and brings him a small tray. Slabs of meat and berries were laid perfectly on a plate.

This… this had to be a trap. All his life he’s been cursed at, tossed aside for what he is. A beast, a monster. Were you not aware of such a thing? You had to have known what he was, yet you looked at him with care.

He found out he was resting in your bed, and that you were trying to do your best to communicate with him with hand signals and shapes. Each time you got closer to him he tried to threaten you, but all you did was give him a disapproving look each time he moved and he would flinch in pain.

Eventually he lets you get closer to him so you can change out his bandages. Your touch was gentle, soft, full of care… the dragon didn’t know what to feel about it. But he knows that once he fully heals, he will leave immediately.

He learns that you weren’t the only one living here. He only got to know this info when your older sister walks in and asks if you were hungry. She spots him on your bed and practically screams for your guy's father.

You try to get her to calm down the best you can, signing to her that he was a friend… but he didn’t know that.

When your father comes in with his axe in hand, you practically try your best to shield the dragon with your body.

“Honey, get away from that beast!”

You only shook your head in defiance and spread your arms out wider.

The dragon was in pure awe as you were going against your fathers wishes just to protect him. He watched as you signed to your father and each time you did he would argue back. The beast looked at your hands the whole time as you “spoke”, trying to make sense of certain things.

Eventually your father let up and said that the dragon can stay until he is fully healed.

When your sister and father left, you turned to him and smiled. He didn’t know how to feel about his new situation.

Over time he is able to leave your bed and walk around the house, having to duck every time he wants to pass through a doorway due to his horns. A few times his tail would knock into some of the furniture and you would go ahead and straighten it out again.

Your grandmother also lived with you. The dragon got to meet her one evening when she was in the kitchen making a hearty stew. She didn’t scream or panic when she saw him. The old lady only held up a spoon to him and asked if it needed more seasoning.

Time passes and the dragon is healed, but not completely. While he stayed, yours and his relationship started to grow into something more. Even with your family, he begins to welcome him with open arms.

You even get to teach him sign language

Eventually, the dragon mentions he will have to leave. He is fully healed after all. He was not expecting you to cry and ask him to stay. It broke his heart.

But he leaves anyway, and you are heart broken.

But not for long.

The dragon comes back, but not empty handed. He presented a beautiful gem to you, one of his most treasured possessions in his hoard. He hands it to you, and apologizes for leaving without explaining anything. Or that the gem was not of a ring to place upon your finger. But you did not care about it at all.

You punched his chest several times, they were weak and you only cried even more. You thought he left you, but he didn’t. The beast only chuckles at your weak attack and draws you in a kiss.

Years pass and he lives with you and your family. It took some time for him to warm up to your father with him, but eventually they got along. The old man isn't getting any younger and so the dragon is more than helpful when it comes to any heavy lifting or cutting up wood.

Your sister went to him when they felt like they didn’t feel right being called a “girl”. They wanted to be a boy. And the dragon accepted him, and helped him confess to the family. It was a celebration. A “rebirth” is what your grandmother calls it.

Your grandmother is the one to teach you sign language, and the beast picked up on it quickly. Apparently your grandfather became deaf over the years before passing. He and your grandmother picked up on sign language early on so it would be easier.

The first sign he did with you was pointing towards you and saying “My treasure”. He panicked when you just stood there and started crying.

Two years pass and you give birth… to an egg.

You were pregnant for nine months and were finally ready to meet your baby. But everyone was in shock when a dragon egg came out of you instead. Though that shock didn’t last long when your family just turned to Sylus and nodded. Completely understandable why there is a dragon egg.

They all learned that it takes a lot of care, and for a year and a half for the egg to finally hatch. Everyone was in a n uproar about it. But it also didn’t last long, because all they did was just look at Sylus and nodded once again. Understanding that yes, dragon.

Though, the domestic bliss came crashing down when someone outed the dragon. A person from the nearby village who saw him fly overhead from his old cave to pick up some gold from his hoard. He just wanted to give it to his family so they could buy something nice while in town.

Knights stormed the forest, and demanded where the beast was hidden. Nobody gave them any answers, and so they took you. You. The one that allowed themselves to be defiled by a fiend and spawn a demon.

You were taken to the village square where you were made an example, a burning at the stake. Your family screamed for you while you released silent screams in the fire. Everyone cursed you for allowing yourself to be touched by a creature like him.

Your family never did give the location where the dragon was at. For he was part of the family. And they too were doomed.

When the dragon returned, he saw what had happened to his family, to his loved ones. To his mate. He was now alone with the unhatched egg, and a burned down cabin.

With desperation, he looks for the sorceresses in hopes to bring back his family, and his mate.

When he finds her, she’s not surprised to find her in an old tower. She leads the dragon into her abode and says she can not bring his family back… but she can locate their souls.

Souls can never die, and so where they go is in a different place, in a different time, in a different universe.

“I can bring you to where your mate is located, it will take some time… and I will warn you, when you meet her, she won’t be like you remember her. She might be different, act different, live a different life… but her soul is still the same. She will not recognize you, but a familiarity will fall over her.”

“There is just one issue that I seem to find… there is a soul there that is similar to yours.”

“Has he claimed her?”

“No. He is bound by another.”

The dragon clutches the egg close to him as the sorceress begins her spell, sending the dragon off to where his family is located. Where his mate is.

So imagine:

The dragon has finally made it to your world. He found you during one of your concerts. You were a singer, and hearing your voice for the first time felt like a blessing.

In your other life you told him if you had a voice you would want to be loud, to sing out to the heavens. And seeing you now, you got your wish.

He’s proud of you, he’s happy. And though you don’t recognize him, and see him as a stranger, he sees your hesitation and the spark of familiarity in your eyes when you look at him.

When you ask for his name, he rumbles out to you.

“Stayrus? That’s your name?”

“Yes, but you may call me Skye”

I just needed to share this here and hopefully when I’m done with some of my writing I’m already doing I can get to this on a later date! I just wanted to share what I have so far in my brain!

Anyway byyyyeeee~

[meiyokbf]

under your spell | megan x g!p!reader | part two

synopsis: it ended at the club, right? a little heat, a little fun. but when you ask for something real, megan takes you home. the teasing fades, the candles burn low, and beneath all that confidence, she lets you see her. shaky, breathless, wanting. it’s not just sex. it’s surrender. and it feels like the beginning of something neither of you expected.

author’s note: absolutely loved how this turned out!! lmk what you guys think, i love your feedbacks! hope you guys enjoy <3

warnings: mdni. stripper!megan x g!p!reader, slightly manon x lara, sobering up, smut (oral, reader and megan recieving, p in v). reader is kind of a loser lol, megan is more vulnerable on this one.

word count: 2,3k

🏷️: katseye, megan x reader, megan skiendiel x reader, katseye x reader, katseye smut, megan smut.

part 1.

— megan… — her name slipped out of your mouth like a secret; and then you laughed, breathless, throat still raw from the sounds she pulled out of you. — i… yeah. i think i am. but… not here.

she tilted her head, amused. — really? i kinda liked hearing you moan over the sound of closer by nine inch nails playing in the hallway.

— god. — you covered your face with both hands. — that’s not what i meant. i just… i wanna do this somewhere else. somewhere that doesn’t smell like… like…

— regret and glitter?

— yes. and also… — you looked at her, suddenly feeling a little shy. — i just… want this to be good. like, actually good. not a backroom fantasy with bad lighting and a questionable couch. like, something i’d wanna remember later.

she blinked, and the teasing dropped out of her face for a second. just like that. gone. she looked at you like she wasn’t expecting that; like you’d just surprised her. something in her gaze softened, just slightly. — you want this to be… nicer?

you nodded, sheepish. — yeah. if that’s okay.

megan smiled, and it wasn’t teasing. it was warm. something you hadn’t seen yet. — that’s more than okay, baby.

you fumbled for your phone, pulling up your messages, just in case manon had texted some kind of “where the hell are you” threat.

and there it was.

manzanita: “don’t come home. lara and i are watching twilight and possibly scissoring. try not to impregnate anyone. cya 💋”

you blinked. — well. guess my place is off-limits tonight.

— wait… lara? — megan raised a brow.

you shrugged. — yeah. i think that’s her name? the indian one with the fire engine red hair and those green boots that look like they’d file a tax return for you?

megan laughed, loud and real. — you mean dallas?

you stared. — what.

— that’s her stage name. — she shook her head, amused. — her actual name’s lara. i’ve known her for a while.

— of course you do. of course you know their real names. — you huffed. — do you have some stripper mafia group chat or something?

megan smirked. — maybe. if you play your cards right, i’ll add you.

you grinned, then sobered a little. — so… your place?

— yeah. come on. — she laced her fingers with yours. — i’ll take you home.

the uber ride was quiet. not awkward-quiet. just… heavy with anticipation.

you both sat in the back seat, her hand resting on your thigh, fingers tracing slow circles through the denim. it wasn’t even sexual. it was grounding.

you couldn’t stop looking at her reflection in the window. the way the streetlights caught the edge of her jaw, her lashes. she looked unreal. like someone from a dream you forgot and just remembered again.

her apartment was on the third floor of a brick building with vines growing up the side. it was small, but not cramped. clean, but lived-in. soft orange lighting. plants. a bookshelf with exactly three books in it and some bottles of wine. candles on the shelves. a framed photo of two girls you assumed were her friends. there was a warmth to it, something quiet and safe.

she locked the door behind you and leaned back against it. — nervous?

— no. — you said, too quickly.

she smiled. — liar.

you stood there like an idiot, still in your jacket, your heart hammering in your chest.

megan walked up to you, took your face in both hands. — take your shoes off.

you blinked. — what?

— first rule of my place. no shoes. — she was grinning, but her voice was soft. — second rule: you have to kiss me like you mean it.

so you did.

slow. deep. like your whole night had been leading to this moment. she didn’t rush.

her fingers traced under your shirt, grazing your stomach like she was feeling her way into your body one inch at a time.

you let her peel it off of you alongside your jacket, raising your arms without thinking. her eyes drank you in, hands spreading over your bare chest, thumbs stroking lazy circles just beneath your ribs.

— god, i love that you’re soft and strong. — she whispered. — you’re built like a goddamn daydream.

you flushed, overwhelmed by how she was looking at you. — you say shit like that often?

— only when i mean it. — she kissed down your throat, her hands slipping lower. — and i mean all of it.

she kissed you while directing you to her room, and then pushed you back towards the bed, the backs of your knees hitting the edge as she dropped to her knees. you froze.

— megan…

— shush. — she murmured, kissing the trail from your belly button to the waistband of your pants. — i want you to remember this forever.

her fingers popped the button of your jeans, slow and steady. the zipper came down. your boxers were already damp. painfully so.

when she pulled your cock free, she moaned; actually moaned, as if only the mere sight of you was enough to get her off.

— fuck… you’re beautiful. — she wrapped her hand around you, stroking once, slow. — i bet you’re so sensitive now, aren’t you?

you nodded, hips already twitching.

— yeah? still all worked up for me? after what i did to you back there?

— fuck, yes, megan.

she kissed the head of your cock, then licked a stripe down the underside, slow as honey.

— say it again.

— megan.

— again.

— megan. — you moaned it this time, your fingers curling in her hair as she took you into her mouth.

she sucked you slow, cheeks hollowing, tongue swirling around the tip like she wanted to taste every part of you. her hand gripped the base, twisting in rhythm with her mouth.

you gasped, bucking slightly, but she pressed a hand to your stomach, holding you still.

— easy, baby. let me worship you.

you could’ve come right there. but you didn’t want to. you needed to feel her.

— megan… please, i want to be inside you…

she pulled off with a soft pop, lips slick. her eyes were dark, pupils wide. — say that again.

you reached for her, voice cracking. — i want to be inside you. i want to fuck you so bad... please.

her whole body shivered.

— god. you don’t even know what that does to me when you beg.

she climbed into your lap, straddling you, sliding off her tank top, shorts and underwear without ceremony. you were half gone just looking at her. her skin, her softness, the flush in her cheeks.

— ready?

you nodded. she reached between you, lined you up, and sank down onto your cock with a long, gasping breath. you both stilled for a moment, overwhelmed.

— jesus christ… — she whispered. — you feel so fucking good.

you couldn’t even speak. she was tight. wet. perfect. the way she held you inside her like she was made for you.

she started moving slowly, hips rolling in steady, delicious circles.

— god, you’re so thick… fuck, i can feel you so deep… — her hands slid down your chest. — every inch of you. stretching me just right.

your hands went to her hips, gripping without meaning to. — megan… fuck, you’re so tight. i can’t-

— oh yes, you can. — she rocked down harder, making both of you moan. — you’re taking it so well, baby. making me feel so fucking full.

you moved with her, hips meeting hers, matching her rhythm now. her breath hitched every time your cock hit that perfect angle inside her.

— fuck, right there… — she whimpered, hands bracing on your shoulders. — keep fucking me just like that, baby. shit, you’re ruining me.

— you feel like heaven. — you gasped. — fuck, i never want to leave your body.

she kissed you then; messy, urgent, tongues sliding, teeth grazing.

— you make me feel like me… not jade, not the fantasy… just me. — she whispered against your lips. — thank you.

your hands cradled her face, thrusts slowing just for a second. — thank you, megan.

— say it again.

— megan...

she clenched around you at the sound of it, hips stuttering.

— i’m gonna cum, baby… please, cum with me. — she almost sobbed while holding you for dear life once the tip of your cock massaged her sweet spot.

— fuck…fuck, i’m there- i’m..

you both shattered almost at the same time; bodies locking, sounds swallowed in each other’s mouths. your thick cum filled her, hot and deep, her walls pulsing around you like waves as she moaned like a bitch upon you.

and when you finally stopped shaking, she was still holding you like she never wanted to let go.

but you weren’t done with her. not even close.

you slid your hands to her waist, coaxing her gently off of you, and before she could ask what you were doing, you were guiding her to lie back against the sheets.

— what are you… — her voice was breathless, unsure.

— shh. — you kissed her inner thigh, lips barely brushing her flushed skin. — let me take care of you.

you didn’t give her time to protest. not that she would’ve. her breath caught when your tongue dragged slowly through her folds, tasting her pussy; warm, slick, everything. her body jolted like she hadn’t expected it, like she wasn’t used to someone worshipping her this way.

— oh, fuck… — she whispered, already breathless.

you licked her slow, deliberate, taking your time, tracing every ridge of her with your tongue. her thighs tensed around your shoulders, not closing; never that. but holding on. grounding herself.

she tried to keep quiet. tried to stay in control.

— baby, you don’t have to- oh, god… i already came-

— and you’ll come again. — you murmured against her, voice low. — let me feel you fall apart.

you sucked her clit gently, tongue flicking it with just the right pressure, and she gasped. one hand flying to her mouth, the other twisting in the sheets.

— jesus christ… — she moaned, trying to keep it together.

you glanced up at her, eyes locking onto hers as you pushed two fingers inside her, slow and deep. her jaw dropped, back arching.

— f-fuck… (y/n)…— she whined, louder now, more raw than you’d ever heard her.

— that’s it. let go for me, megan.

her name from your lips did something to her. her composure cracked further, pleasure unraveling her second by second. you curled your fingers just right, tongue never breaking rhythm, and her hips started to buck; searching, needy.

— i… — she gasped, voice high and ragged. — i never let anyone do this. fuck, i never let anyone-

— but you’re letting me. — you kissed her clit again, sucked harder. — let me have all of you, megan.

her thighs clamped tighter, body tensing like a wire ready to snap.

— oh my god- i’m… fuck, baby, i’m gonna…

and she shattered. came so hard she quite literally cried out, voice hoarse, face buried in her arm like she couldn’t let herself be seen like this, even now. you didn’t stop until her legs were trembling and her breaths were stuttering out of her chest like aftershocks.

when you finally kissed your way back up her body, she was flushed and quiet, her eyes a little glassy. still catching her breath.

you laid beside her, brushing hair from her face. she looked at you like she didn’t know what to do with all the feeling inside her.

— you okay?

she nodded, slow. then whispered, almost like a confession.

— i don’t usually let people do that. i… don’t really like feeling… exposed.

— did you feel safe?

she didn’t said anything right away.

— yeah. i did. — she answered truthfully.

you leaned in, kissed her cheek. — good. because that was one of the sexiest things i’ve ever seen.

she laughed; soft and real, and pressed her forehead to yours. — you’re such a nerd.

— you’re still shaking.

— yeah. your fault. dick.

you kissed her again, smiling into it. when she finally relaxed, her limbs draped over yours, and then she collapsed against your chest, breath uneven. you kissed the crown of her head, still trembling a little.

there was a long pause, but not at all uncomfortable. quite the opposite, actually.

— you used my name a lot.

you smiled. — well, you gave it to me. figured i’d use it.

— feels different when you say it like that.

you kissed her shoulder. — then i’ll keep saying it. every time i make you feel like this.

her smile was sleepy, satisfied.

— deal.

the room was still, lit only by the soft yellow glow of a bedside lamp. her fingers traced slow shapes across your skin like she was absentmindedly writing poetry she didn’t want to say out loud.

you stared at the ceiling, your heart still a little uneven. not from the sex. from the after.

you cleared your throat, voice barely above a whisper.

— so… will i see you again?

megan didn’t answer right away. her hand stilled, just for a second.

then she propped herself up on one elbow, looked down at you with those sleepy, unreadable eyes.

— baby, after the way you just fucked me? — she smiled. soft. real. — you’re not getting rid of me that easy.

and somehow, that meant more than yes.

you let yourself exhale, pulling her closer again, like maybe tonight wasn’t just an accident.

maybe it was a beginning.

[cheriedivine]

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Chapter 7

previous | chapter 7 | next

꩜ synopsis: you’re best friends. just best friends. except when she lingers a little too long at your door. except when she calls you her favorite, and it doesn’t feel like a joke. except when her fingers graze yours and neither of you pull away. except when you start to wonder if she’s wondering, too…

꩜ pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (No use of y/n)

꩜ content warnings: smoking, weed, smut (finally)

꩜ WC: 11.7k

꩜ Author’s note: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT AND IM SO TERRIFIED PLZ… also thank u guys for the sweet comments and messages i’m over the moon grateful, this series is so special to me and it’s not even close to be done okay… y’all will get tired of my ass. Anyway enjoy the chapter love u happy pride month<3

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

"Wait, but when did you actually catch feelings for me, though?" you asked for what had to be the millionth time.

Honestly, Ellie didn’t mind repeating herself. If anything, she kind of loved it. The way you always wanted to hear it again, like replaying your favorite song over and over again. Every time she recalled it, she seemed to remember something new. Like the way your eyes lingered just a second too long on hers when you talked, or how your pinkies always seemed to find each other when you sat side by side. Small things. Things she could never forget.

September had slipped by quickly, and in the blink of an eye, October had arrived, trading warm evenings for cooler nights and scattering orange and brown leaves across the sidewalks. It had been a month since your first kiss, (Not like you were counting or whatever). A month of sleepovers, shared sweaters, tangled limbs, nonstop texting, and sneaking into the diner’s back office during your breaks for rushed makeout sessions. Maria had almost banned you from going back there altogether. Ellie had just grinned and said, “Worth the risk.”

“I’ve told you like, a hundred times,” she said now, clearly enjoying the way you whined for her to say it again.

The two of you were tangled up on her couch, limbs lazily thrown over each other. Ellie was supposed to be sorting through prints for her gallery, her best photos from the week. Some from your recent hangouts: walks in the park under trees turned orange, city crosswalks filled with motion blur, candids of you laughing or distracted, the occasional stray cat she couldn’t help but snap. She’d taken the gallery prep seriously. Of course she had to. But lately, it was like you kept happening to her, distracting and consuming in all the best, worst ways.

You sat curled up on the couch, legs tucked under yourself, a book open in your lap, rereading the same paragraph over and over. You weren’t even paying attention to the text. How were you supposed to focus when she looked like that? Her sleeves pushed up, veins visible along her tattooed forearm as she leaned over her table, elbows braced, studying the scattered prints.

“Your death stare is making it very hard for me to analyze these pictures,” she muttered without looking up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm. I can feel it burning a hole through my skull.”

“Can’t help it,” you said, smiling. “You’re too pretty.”

God, the way that made her chest flutter. She shook her head, hiding a tiny smile. Trying to play it cool, but she was already blushing hard. She gathered up the prints and slid them into a folder, then walked over and dropped her full body weight onto you with a dramatic sigh. Her favorite move. Full body crush, almost knocking the air out of your lungs. Face buried in your chest like she could inhale you and forget the gallery pressure altogether.

You didn’t mind. Not even a little. You stroked her hair slowly, gently, like she was fragile, like you knew how much she needed softness. You stayed like that for a while, Ellie breathing you in, inhaling your scent like the oxygen she needed to live, her eyes were closed as you ran your fingers through her hair.

Both of you spent more time together. Even more than before. On the rare day you didn’t hang out because your schedules didn’t align, it felt like a tragedy. Like someone had sent her off to war. It was all so giddy, high school-level giddy. You felt like a teenager again…sneaking out of the group hangs early just to be alone with her. Play-fighting over who had to hang up first. So many dates, even if Ellie still stubbornly insisted on calling them hangouts like it made a difference. You’d been doing the romantic shit before you even kissed.

“C’monnn, just wanna make sure you weren’t secretly foolin’ me or something.” You pouted again, that same little face that made Ellie’s knees weak every time.

Ellie groaned and buried her face deeper into your chest, voice muffled. “I mean, what haven’t I told you?” Then she tilted her face to look up at you, cheeks slightly red from being squished against you.

“When we met I was basically obsessed with you. But I told myself, ‘Don’t be a creep, Ellie. This is why you only have one friend. Stop being delusional.’” She paused, a little smile tugging at her lips. “But with you, everything felt different. Like I didn’t have to hide. Still, I was too stubborn to admit I liked you like that. Lived in constant denial.”

You watched her talk. Taking in every expression, you could study her mouth and eyes for hours and never get bored. The way her brow furrowed when she talked about feelings. The way her voice softened at the edges when she looked at you like this. You’d heard this story before, at least a dozen times. And still, it made something warm unravel in your chest.

“So that explains the flirting with random girls?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in mock interrogation.

She groaned. “I had to cope in some way, plus seeing all those guys hit on you at the diner kinda ripped me apart, but didn’t say anything.”

“I told you,” you said, crossing your arms, “I laugh when I’m nervous. Doesn’t mean I liked it. Plus, I flirted with you all the time. You were just too hard-headed to notice.”

Ellie grabbed the nearest cushion and tossed it at your face.

Which of course triggered a full-blown pillow war.

You wrestled and squealed and laughed until Ellie gave up and surrendered. You were breathless, Ellie’s limbs sprawled on the couch, with you sitting between her legs, flushed and grinning.

And then she grabbed your face, gently leaning in, still catching her breath and kissed you like she’d been waiting all day to do it.

You think about it all the time. How everything but still nothing changed after the kiss, like it was always meant to go this way. There was no big moment or sudden change. Just small things that added up to everything.

Ellie started picking you up after your late shifts, waiting out front in her beat up truck with the heater cranked and a hoodie in the passenger seat for you to throw on. She always claimed you looked better in her clothes, especially that faded blue hoodie, the one she kept pretending she didn’t miss when you “accidentally” took it home.

Your hangouts had shifted into something else. There wasn’t that quiet, aching longing hanging in the air anymore, not in the same way. After that night at your apartment, Ellie promised she’d take you on a date. A real one.

Like the kind you’d gush about in those cheesy movies you love, and what better place to live out a cliché than the fair…where the air was thick with fried grease and too-loud pop music, and where she finally had a decent excuse to hold your hand on the roller coasters.

Neon lights blinked in seizure-inducing patterns while kids screamed on rickety rides in the distance. Ellie had dragged you from booth to booth, fully committed to her vendetta against rigged carnival games.

“I swear this is the one,” she said, squinting at the line of wobbling bottles.

“You said that about the ring toss. And basketball. And the darts.”

Her eyes locked on the duck shooting booth. Yellow plastic ducks glided across a narrow trough, jerking mechanically as bubbles popped around them.

“Oh,” she said, eyes glinting. “This is my game.”

You trailed behind her as she calmly gave the booth guy a crumpled five, taking her jacket off and handing it over to you.

She rolled up the sleeves of her flannel, revealing her forearms, tattoo on full display, veins trailing down to her hands like thunders on a stormy night and took her place at the mounted water gun like it was a sniper rifle.

You blinked. “Oh my god.”

She leaned in. Tongue poking out slightly. Face unreadably focused. Hands gripping the water gun with total control, like she’d done this before, maybe in a past life. The light caught the curve of her jaw just right, and your brain short-circuited.

You started to feel as if you had been lit up in fire, was it hot in here?

Ellie didn’t speak. She just adjusted her stance a little, lips pursed, and let the water stream rip. One by one, the ducks fell, each hit perfectly in the center like she had memorized the timing and rhythm.

By the time the buzzer rang, Ellie had cleared the whole line.

You stared at her, wide eyed. “What the fuck,” you breathed.

Ellie blew imaginary smoke from the tip of the gun. “Told you. My game.”

You gaped. “Are you secretly, like… ex-military?”

“Duck assassin,” she replied coolly, already pointing to a shelf of prizes.

She chose the smallest one, a crooked little stuffed bear with lopsided button eyes and shoved it into your arms in exchange of her jacket, like it wasn’t a big deal, even though she was clearly suppressing a smug smile.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Uh-huh.” She bumped her shoulder into yours. “You like the bear though.”

You did. Stupidly so.

You held it to your chest and muttered, “Yeah I do.”

She was grinning like stupid, tossing her jacket over your shoulders like a shield, as she grabbed your hand and dragged you to the next game.

You still sleep with that bear sometimes. Not that you’d ever tell her.

Another time, it was the planetarium. This one had been your idea, half-jokingly, you didn’t expect much when you pitched it, just a casual “we could go to the planetarium or whatever,” but when the words fell out of your lips Ellie’s eyes gleamed like a kid on christmas morning.

“No way,” she’d said, practically bouncing. “I thought you weren’t into that kind of stuff?”

“Wanna go or no?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m in.”

She’d shown up five minutes early, hair still damp from a rushed shower, hoodie zipped up to her chin, smelling faintly like mint and laundry detergent. Her eyes were wide, childlike, curious, like she wasn’t totally sure what she was about to walk into but her pulse rushed from the thrill.

Inside, the lights dimmed. The dome lit up. Stars bloomed across the ceiling like someone had torn open the sky. Ellie tilted her head all the way back, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “Holy shit,” she whispered. “This is… fucking sick.”

You were already watching her more than the ceiling.

“Knew you’d like it,” you said, voice low.

She didn’t even respond. Just stared upward, entranced, like the stars were spelling out something only she could read.

Halfway through the show, during some slow narration about galaxies forming, you felt her hand brush against yours on the shared armrest. A light graze. Just the backs of your fingers, hesitant at first. Then she slid her pinky over yours, this time more purposeful. Like it was no big gesture, but you felt like the sun was imploding inside of you.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t look at you, just linked your fingers together, her thumb tracing small circles over yours, soft and delicate.

Her voice stayed low the whole time, whispering random facts on your ear, with the sweetest tone, like she couldn’t help herself.

“Neptune’s winds are faster than the speed of sound,” she muttered. “Like… hypersonic. That’s insane.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, too distracted by the glint in her eye.

“And Jupiter’s Great Red Spot is a storm. Like a storm. It’s been raging for three hundred years and it’s big enough to fit Earth inside it, like—” she made a quiet whooshing sound, “—in one bite.”

Her hand squeezed yours a little. Like she got excited and forgot she was even holding you.

You nodded. “That’s… intense.”

She shot you a glance. “You’re not listening, are you?”

She could’ve told you the sun was made of hot dogs and you wouldn’t have noticed. You were too busy staring at her profile, glowing faintly blue under the artificial sky.

“Yeah, no sorry I got a bit lost, what did you say?”

Ellie smirked, a bit shy now. “Nothing.”

She leaned in slightly, placing a quick peck on the top of your head, breathing in your perfume, then turned away, but she saw the smile tug at your lips.

After the show, you walked out into the cool night air, fingers still brushing like they weren’t quite ready to let go.

“I’m not usually, like… a space person. But that was cool.” You said, as you walked out into the night.

Ellie bumped her shoulder into yours. “You’re a space person now. Deal with it.”

You gave her a look, maybe more earnest than you meant it to be. “Only because of you.”

She paused. Looking at you. Then shoved her hands in her hoodie pocket and looked away, clearly fighting a smile.

“Whatever,” she mumbled, ears a little pink. “You’re welcome.”

You both stood there for a second, silent.

But your favorite one was definitely the arcade date. You hadn’t planned it, it was just one of those random afternoons where Ellie showed up at the diner unannounced, leaning against the doorframe waiting for your shift to be over, with that smug little grin of hers.

“You busy?” she asked, truck keys twirling around her fingers.

You weren’t. Not even a little.

The drive was filled with chatter, windows rolled down, music loud, and Ellie’s hand tapping against the steering wheel, like she was playing the backup drums on whatever song was playing. You were both laughing, until you passed a neon sign that read ARCADE & PIZZA, you practically almost turned the wheel yourself.

“Wait Ellie turn around—pull over.”

Ellie flinched. “Okay okay— Jesus you scared me for a second.” You grinned, already unbuckling your seatbelt as Ellie pulled over the parking lot.

“I haven’t been to an arcade since I was like twelve I think” you said as you threw Ellie’s hoodie over your head.

“Wow. Nerd” she snorted, earning a small kick on her heel.

Inside, it smelled like childhood. Pizza and dusty carpets, it was oddly nostalgic. The place was loud, packed with kids and their parents, and a couple of teenagers. Neon lights were blindingly colorful, you felt like your twelve year old self again.

“Alright,” she said, cracking her knuckles dramatically. “Where the competition at?”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe over there, at Jason’s 9th birthday party.” you joked, pointing at the table surrounded by little kids.

Ellie scoffed, “Pffft, easy wins, where is the real competition at?" she glanced over at you.

Oh, you knew where this was going.

“Just say you want to get your ass kicked by me, Williams, not that hard.”

Her grin widened. “You’re on now. Loser pays for the winner’s pizza.”

“Deal.” Both of you squeezed your hands, like you were making some sort of business deal, but this was way more serious.

You didn’t know Ellie had a competitive streak until she practically shoved a 10-year-old out of the way to get to the skee-ball machine.

“Ellie,” you hissed. “You can’t just—”

“He was taking forever,” she snapped, already rolling the ball with deadly focus. “I got shit to prove.”

She won three games in a row.

“Okay, what the fuck,” you growled, staring at the air hockey scoreboard like it had insulted your ancestors. “You’re cheating. There’s no way.”

“You’re just bad,” she teased, throwing the small ball in the air and catching it with her hand. “Maybe I should give you lessons. Private ones.”

“Wow. Cocky.”

“I mean, I did just wipe the floor with you.”

“Oh yeah?” you leaned forward, tempting her, but then you turned around, spotting the motorcycle racing game. Two bikes. One screen. Destiny.

You dragged her over the machine, both mounted the fake bikes revving them like you’d trained your whole lives. Ellie leaned forward, focused her hands gripping the throttle. Her tongue poked out, focused. You knew that look.

Meanwhile you adjusted yourself on the seat, inserting the quarters on the coin slot, your back was slightly arched, causing your shirt to ride up a little and making the small dimples on your lower back visible. Ellie almost fell from her bike at the sight of that. And you weren’t even aware.

“It’s over for you Williams, prepare to eat dust.” you teased.

“You fucking wish.”

The countdown started and the game launched. You took the lead, she trailed behind you, both leaning into turns like you were actually swerving through a neon-lit city. At one moment, your eyes drifted toward Ellie’s arms, her forearm tattoo flexing, adorned by her pulsing veins from gripping the bike handle. God it was unfair—you almost forgot you were in a competition with her.

“Hey, eyes on the road,” she joked, but she was secretly enjoying your staring.

In the end? You won. Throwing your arms up in celebration. “HA. SUCK IT.”

Ellie blinked at the scoreboard in disbelief, “No. Rematch. Right now. My screen lagged.”

“Boohoo excuses are for losers.” you laughed so hard you almost fell off your bike.

The next stop was the dance machine.

Ellie looked skeptical. “I don’t know, dude…”

You were already dragging her by the hoodie. “Nope. No backing out. It’s fate.”

She rolled her eyes but followed. “If I break my ankle, I’m blaming you.”

The game started. The song was fast, the tiles lit up like a rave, and the both of you? Horrible dancers. Absolutely terrible.

You couldn’t stop laughing. Ellie missed the first five steps, almost fell twice, and kept yelling “this is a fucking death trap!” like the machine was out to get her.

But then, something shifted.

Halfway through, she got weirdly into it. Jaw set. Eyes sharp. She started nailing every step, stomping on the lit tiles like she was born in a dancing tournament. She even grabbed your waist at one point, spinning you into position like it was a choreographed number.

“Are you sabotaging me?” you shrieked.

“This is war,” she said, dead serious.

She won that round. You demanded a rematch. She won again.

“Okay,” you panted, doubled over. “You win this one.”

“Jealous.”

“You literally looked like you were summoning demons with your feet.”

“And?”

You played other games after that. Basketball hoops. Whack-a-mole. She tried to win you a prize at the claw machine and got so mad she almost kicked it.

But then— you saw it. The air hockey table.

You gasped. “Oh no.”

Ellie followed your gaze. “Oh yes.”

You both slammed quarters into the machine. Ellie narrowed her eyes, “I’m going to annihilate you.” she said.

You smirked. “You literally just lost the motorcycle race.”

Ellie sighed like a martyr. “Fine. But I’m not holding back.”

“You’ve never held back in your life.”

You both slid your coins in. The machine lit up with that familiar vvvvvmmm of the puck loading up. Ellie rolled her shoulders, cracked her knuckles, and positioned herself like she was about to defuse a bomb. You grabbed your paddle like it was a mortal weapon.

The puck dropped.

The first point? Yours. Quick and clean.

“Fuck yeah!” you whooped, lifting your arms.

Ellie pointed dramatically. “Beginner’s luck.”

The next round? She scored while you were still dancing from your previous win.

“Rude!” you cried.

“Focus up,” she said, eyes glinting.

You both got so intense. The puck clacked across the table like a bullet. Your knuckles started aching from the collisions. Ellie was muttering things like “calculated trajectory” and “this is physics, baby,” which was ridiculous and also extremely hot.

The score climbed. 4 to 4. 5 to 5. 6 to 6.

Final point.

She squinted at you over the rim of the table. “Winner gets a kiss.”

You blinked. “You just made that up.”

“So?”

“…Fair.”

The puck shot out again, and for a moment, everything slowed. Ellie lunged. You twisted your paddle. The puck bounced off the wall—

—and slid right into her goal.

You blinked. Slowly. Then looked up.

Victory.

Ellie just stood there, stunned. Paddle slack in her hand.

“I think you’re choking,” you said softly. “Want some victory soda?”

She groaned, dragging both hands down her face. “I hate this stupid game. This game is rigged. It’s broken.”

“You’re a bad loser, you know that?” you grinned, crossing your arms.

“Can I at least get a consolation prize?” she pouted, and gave her a small kiss on her cheek.

Those memories blurred together now. Warm and fast, like a highlight reel you couldn’t help but replay in your head. The way Ellie had looked at you in the planetarium, her face glowing with stars. The way her tongue poked out when she focused, sleeves rolled up, eyes sharp, and tattoo flexing. The way her hand gripped your waist during that stupid dance game, both of you laughing too hard to breathe.

You hadn’t slept together yet…not all the way, but the tension had started blooming between you in glances and lingering touches and shared hoodies, every moment a little more fragile. All of it, layered like sediment, the slow, quiet shift between friendship and whatever this had become.

Now, Ellie was lying on top of you like a human blanket, gallery prints long forgotten, the curve of her nose pressed into your chest. She was supposedly taking a break,though it had turned into her full-body flopping onto you with all the drama of someone who hadn’t slept in three days. You threaded your fingers through her hair, scratching lightly at her scalp the way you knew she liked. She let out a hum, breath slow and even against your collarbone.

“You’re supposed to be working on your gallery,” you reminded her softly, lips brushing the crown of her head.

“M’working,” she mumbled. “Just horizontally.”

“Ellie.”

She groaned into your chest. “Just five more minutes.”

“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”

“Well now I mean it.”

You smiled despite yourself, thumb brushing over her temple. Her whole body was warm and heavy and tangled with yours, one of her legs slung over both of yours, her arm wrapped lazily around your waist. She wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Ellie sighed dramatically, face still smushed into your chest. “Mmm. Don’t wanna do the gallery. Hate the gallery. Gallery sucks.”

You laughed. “You’re the one who’s been obsessing over it for weeks.”

“Yeah, but right now I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Laying on top of the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Very important.”

You rolled your eyes, heart doing the embarrassing flutter it always did when she said shit like that. You ran your fingers through her hair again, feeling her melt further into you.

There was a pause. Soft. Heavy.

Then Ellie looked up, that specific gleam in her eye that always meant trouble.

“What if we ditched this gallery prep bullshit for a little while?” she said.

You raised a brow. “And do what, exactly?”

“I dunno. Go for a drive. Kidnap a raccoon. Smoke a joint on the beach. Something not involving fluorescent lights and burn out.”

You bit your lip. Thinking about it. The clock blinked past 10 pm. The apartment was quiet. The weight of October air clung outside the windows, thick and chilly.

You sat up slightly. “Wait. Beach?”

Ellie grinned. “Beach.”

You both got up immediately, snatching your jackets and hoodies, slipping into your shoes in a rush. You grabbed your bag as Ellie tossed a blanket at you and snatched her keys before the two of you hurried out of the studio.

The windows were cracked. Your hair whipped around your face in the night wind. Ellie drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting absentmindedly on your thigh, her thumb tracing light circles over the fabric of your jeans.

She looked free, wind in her hair, face lit up by the passing headlights, radio humming low.

You couldn’t stop smiling.

The beach was mostly deserted, just the soft hum of the tide and the faraway glow of streetlights behind you. You hopped out of the truck, the sand sticking on your shoes damp beneath your feet.

Ellie tossed you her hoodie, hitting you straight to your face.

“Hey!”

“You’ll thank me later,” she grinned.

You pulled it on without protest. It smelled like her cologne, warm and familiar. “Thanks.”

“Race you to the shore!” she shouted, already kicking off her boots.

“Wait!” you laughed, fumbling with your own shoes before taking off after her. Your bag bounced against your side with every step, slipping off your shoulder as you ran, breathless and giggling as the cold air filled your lungs.

At one point, Ellie turned suddenly and knocked you off balance, wrapping her arms around you as she spun you both around. You tumbled to the ground in a heap, landing right on top of her, both of you breathless, your cheeks flushed from the cold and the rush of it all.

You turned onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow as you looked at her.

“It’s… really nice out here.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, brushing the sand from her jeans as she stood. Then she held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

You slipped your fingers into hers without hesitation, like muscle memory. Like saying yes to her had always been easy.

The two of you wandered toward the water, the waves stretching out endlessly before you.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you walked, a light breeze brushing over your skin, carrying the scent of salt and earth. Ellie’s jeans were cuffed above her ankles, feet bare, toes sinking into the wet sand beside yours.

She was quiet for a while, and you didn’t rush her. The silence was soft between you, not heavy.

Then, almost like she was thinking out loud, she said, “I think I’m burnt out.”

You glanced over, watching her eyes follow the moonlit waves. “From the gallery?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s like… the more I try to prepare, the more it feels like I’m running on empty. Like I’m squeezing everything out of myself and there’s nothing left to give.” She gave a small laugh, dry and tired. “Kinda pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic,” you said gently. “You’ve been putting your whole heart into it. That’s a lot.”

Ellie didn’t answer right away. She just kept walking.

���Maybe,” you added after a beat, “you don’t need to squeeze anything out. Maybe you just need to breathe a little. Let yourself recharge.”

She looked at you then. Really looked at you. And something in her expression softened.

“Maybe some fresh air is exactly what you needed,” you said, nudging her shoulder lightly. “Who knows—maybe the ocean brings back your inspiration.”

But her inspiration was standing right in front of her, with wide eyes and a soft smile, that same smile that reassured her from her doubts and fears, that made her believe everything was gonna be alright.

Ellie snorted. “Yeah maybe.”

You kept walking a little farther until the sand grew softer and untouched, the sound of the waves a little gentler here. Ellie paused, scanning the area before she pulled the blanket out from where it had been tucked under her arm.

She laid it down carefully, smoothing it out before sinking onto it with a sigh. You sat beside her, legs crossed, watching as she leaned back on her hands and tilted her head toward the sky.

The stars were scattered and quiet tonight. The kind you could get lost staring at without realizing how much time had passed. A breeze passed over you both, cooler now, but comforting. Ellie’s arm brushed yours as she shifted slightly to get more comfortable.

The sound of the waves filled the silence between you, steady and calming. You both had your jeans cuffed, ankles cold and damp from the water. The blanket was barely big enough for two. Your knees were touching.

Ellie was rummaging through the pocket of her jacket with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Boom.”

She held up a perfectly rolled blunt between two fingers like she was revealing a magic trick.

You blinked, then burst out laughing. “You’re gonna get me fired, you know that?”

“Please,” she scoffed, pulling out a lighter, “you can just live with me and be my muse forever. I’ll make you coffee in the mornings. Feed you clementines while you read on the couch.”

She lit the blunt, taking a painfully slow drag, and passed it to you. The smoke curled around her lips and you wanted nothing else but to press yours against hers.

“Muse salary probably sucks.”

“It does,” she admitted. “But the benefits include me and… me, and cuddling 24/7.”

“Wow. How could I resist.”

You took a hit, coughing just a little on the exhale. The haze settled slowly over your limbs, warmth spreading through your chest and cheeks. Time slipped a little sideways.

The blunt moved back and forth between you in a rhythm as natural as breathing. The stars were pinpricks above the ocean, shimmering, scattered, infinite.

Ellie leaned back on her elbows, gaze fixed on the sky. “You ever think about how the light we’re seeing from some of those stars started traveling toward us before the human brain even existed?”

You tilted your head toward her, confused, blinking slowly. “What?”

“Like… we’re looking at the past. Some of those stars could already be dead. We’re just seeing the ghost of them.”

You stared at her, momentarily forgetting about the blunt burning between your fingers.

“You’re literally the nerdiest person I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks. I try.”

The blunt burned lower in Ellie’s fingers, smoke curling around her jawline, eyes soft and half-lidded as she looked at you.

“You’re staring again.” Her voice was low and teasing but not like before. This wasn’t about calling you out. This was about pulling you in.

You didn’t look away. You didn’t even try.

“You look really pretty right now.”

Her brows raised a little, almost surprised. But she didn’t deflect it, didn’t joke it away this time. Just blinked, slowly, lips parting.

She kept going, voice soft and raspy from smoke and salt air. “And Earth moves through space at like, 67,000 miles per hour. Which means no matter what we do, even if we’re just sitting here, we’re still flying through the void. Isn’t that kind of fucked up?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at her. With her messy hair, jeans cuffed like a little boy, freckled face lit up in moonlight and awe. She looked like she belonged up there, with all the stars and the galaxies, floating above you like in a dream. And she kept gesturing toward the sky, completely unaware of the way her words made your ribs tighten.

You blinked slowly, a breath catching behind your teeth.

God. I’m really falling in love with her. Was all you could think about.

Not in the loud, crashing way. Not like the movies. No. This felt quieter. More dangerous. Like something blooming in the dark. Like the soft ache of knowing, really knowing…that if you let yourself, you’d never stop wanting her. Not just her body, not just her kisses. But her.

The way she got really quiet when she was focused. The way she always turned down the volume on her phone before coming into your apartment. How she knew the difference between your tired silence and your mad silence. How she never let your coffee go cold. The way she let you rest your head on her lap without making a big deal about it. The way she touched you like she didn’t realize she was doing it.

Something that always came back. The way she looked at you like maybe, just maybe, she already knew.

You passed the blunt back to her with a shaky hand, trying not to exhale your whole damn soul.

“You okay?” she asked, catching your eyes for a second too long.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to ground yourself. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

She smiled at you, all teeth and freckles and affection. And you were doomed.

You wanted to kiss her and tell her how far fucking gone you were, that she has already ruined you and there is no turning back. Instead, you just smiled, barely.

“You ever just… forget how good this feels?” Ellie asked quietly, her voice rough with honesty. “Like the world gets so loud, and you forget how simple it can be to just stop for a second?”

You turned your head, so you could look at her. “Yeah. I think we forget to stop because we’re scared everything will fall apart if we do.”

Her eyes flicked to yours, gentle and tired. “Yeah...”

You smiled faintly, the sound of the tide folding over itself again in the background. “Guess that’s what fresh air’s good for.”

Ellie huffed a small laugh through her nose, and without thinking, she reached for your hand in the space between you. Her fingers grazed yours before curling around them, warm and sure.

Neither of you said anything after that. You didn’t need to.

She took another drag and leaned her head back to stare at the sky. “Fuck man, I should’ve brought my camera, the view is unbelieveable,”

You sighed dramatically, then reached into your bag. “Oh, Ellie…”

She glanced over, puzzled, until you pulled out her camera and held it up triumphantly.

“No fucking way,” she laughed, sitting up straighter, her entire face lighting up. “You’re the best. Are you kidding me?”

“You think I don’t know you by now?” you said, handing it over. “I saw it sitting by your keys and figured you'd regret leaving it behind.”

She shook her head in disbelief, already adjusting the lens. “God, you’re unreal.”

You blushed, trying to play it cool, but it was impossible with the way she was looking at you—like you were some rare artifact she'd just unearthed.

Then she brought the viewfinder to her eye. “Don’t move.”

You froze. “What?”

“Stay like that,” she said, voice softer now, focused. “You look—just stay.”

The shutter clicked once. Twice. She shifted slightly, capturing you from another angle, then tilted the camera up toward the sky, the stars, the waves behind you. The sound of the shutter was rhythmic and careful, like she was trying to memorize every second.

She lowered the camera slowly, then looked at you again, really looked. The way the moonlight enhanced your features and the air blew your hair in all the right directions, like slow motion, she couldn’t hold herself back, she didn’t have to anymore.

Ellie leaned in, cupping your face in both hands, her thumbs brushing just beneath your cheekbones. Her touch was warm and steady, like she was grounding herself through you.

Then she kissed you. Firm and certain.

It wasn’t soft, not this time. It was hungry. Her lips moved against yours with purpose, urgency threading through every second. You melted into her touch instantly, your hands finding her waist and pulling her closer until there was no space left between you.

Her hand came up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, her blunt abandoned somewhere in the sand beside you. And you kissed her back like you could bury the ache under your tongue and hope she didn’t feel the way you melted against her.

She tasted like weed, salt and chapstick and something inherently her. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of her jacket, clinging to her like she was the only thing tethering you to the earth.

When you shifted, she followed, leaning into you as the kiss deepened, her hand slipping to the back of your neck, thumb still grazing your skin like she couldn’t stop touching you.

You broke apart just long enough to breathe, foreheads pressed together, your lips brushing as you smiled against her mouth.

She looked at you through half-lidded eyes, flushed and dazed. “You’re so fucking pretty,” she murmured. “It’s not fair.”

And when you finally pulled back, she didn’t move far, her forehead bumped gently against yours, eyes still closed. Neither of you said anything for a moment. You just breathed together.

“We should probably…” she whispered, voice hoarse, like she wasn’t sure where that sentence was going.

“Go home?” you offered, a little breathless, a little terrified.

Her eyes opened, hazy and low-lidded.

“Yeah. Home.”

But her fingers didn’t leave your cheek right away. And when you finally stood, brushing sand off your jeans, folding the blanket with shaking hands and adjusting your bag, you felt Ellie’s hand on your wrist.

“Wait.”

You turned just in time for her to grab your waist and hoist you up with a laugh, throwing you over her shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“Ellie!” you shrieked, kicking your legs, your fists beating half-heartedly against her back. “You’re gonna make me fall on my ass!”

“Relax,” she snorted. “I’ve got you.”

Your voice was muffled by your own laughter, face buried in the fabric of her jacket.

She finally set you down by the car, both of you breathless with laughter, your heart was still thudding from more than just the chaos. Her hand lingered at the small of your back as you climbed in, and you sat there for a second, staring out at the ocean one last time, still high from the weed and the kiss.

The car ride home was awfully quiet. But not the kind that meant nothing was happening. It was the kind of quiet that pulsed. That built up like crashing waves.

Ellie’s hand had been resting on your thigh the whole way. Her thumb traced slow, lazy circles into your skin over the fabric of your jeans, and the warmth of her touch was burning through you.

You shifted in your seat. Crossed and uncrossed your legs, then stilled, because the pressure of her hand there firm, warm, claiming, was making your brain short circuit.

The music was low. Just a beat, pulsing through the speakers. Her fingers flexed slightly against your thigh every time the bass dropped. You didn’t even know what song was playing. Neither of you said anything. But your skin was on fire, your mouth dry, and the only thing you could focus on was how badly you wanted her. Right here. Right now. And it was obvious, painfully, dangerously obvious…that she felt it too.

All you could think about was her mouth. The way she’d kissed you back on the beach. The way she tasted. The way her hand had cradled your jaw like you were precious and hers and ruinable all at once.

Your breath caught in your throat when her fingers squeezed your thigh a little, just enough. But she didn’t say anything. Just kept driving. Eyes focused on the road. Her lips parted, jaw set tight. Like she was holding herself back from something.

When she parked, neither of you moved.

A beat passed.

Then two.

And then you opened the door, heart hammering.

Ellie was behind you in a second, grabbing the blanket, your bag, the abandoned water bottle in the cupholder. And still, somehow, her hand found the small of your back as she guided you inside.

By the time she pushed open her apartment door, something had already shifted.

Because the second it clicked shut behind you…She dropped everything. Your bag hit the floor. The blanket was halfway off your arm when her hands grabbed your waist and yanked you in like she’d been starving.

Your back hit the wall with a soft thud. Her lips found yours instantly. Messy, hot, urgent.

You gasped, one hand flying to her shoulder, the other tugging at her jacket like it offended you that she was still wearing it.

The weed still in your system made everything so much more intense. Her mouth, her scent, the drag of her hands over your waist. It was like every nerve in your body had been rewired just for her.

She kissed you like she was burning up, rushed, teeth knocking, too much tongue, but somehow that just made it better. Sloppier. Desperate.

You smiled against her mouth, and her hand immediately grabbed your jaw, angling your face the way she wanted.

Your fingers dug into her shoulders, dragging her closer. “Ellie—”

“Yeah?” Her voice was ragged. Her lips brushed your jaw. Your throat. Your collarbone.

“Your room—”

You didn’t finish the sentence. Because she kissed you again, like she already knew.

You both stumbled messily toward her room, laughter and breath tangled between kisses. Ellie’s fingers tightened around your hand, grounding herself in the feeling of your skin. Her head was spinning, not just from the weed but from the fact that this was real. You were here, touching her like you needed her.

She silently thanked herself for tidying up earlier, the faint scent of cedarwood and laundry detergent curling around the space like an invitation. There were no distractions. Just you, her, and the electric charge buzzing between every touch. You kicked off your shoes without thinking, and she was already guiding you back, hands firm at your waist as she gently eased you onto the bed. Her body followed, urgent, reverent, starved—lips crashing against yours like waves meeting the shore. You didn’t hesitate. You pulled her closer. She hovered for just a beat, eyes devouring the sight of you, flushed and waiting.

No lens could ever even come close to capturing the way her eyes saw you, the glistening on your face, with your pupils dilated and lips puffy, something holy worth waking up to, like a small prayer whispered before risking everything you got.

She didn’t waste any second, she was all over you, like smoke lingering in the air after you’d shared a cigarette. Intimate. Sharing the object that had been around your lips and hers, she always inhaled a little too hard, like maybe she could taste you through the nicotine filling her lungs.

But now she could have you. In this moment, she laid on top of you, and you were looking at her with those wide, doe eyes. And right now, nothing else in this room, or in this world, mattered. You were waiting for her just as much as she had waited for you.

Your fingers grazed her collarbone, tugging slightly at the fabric of her shirt, pulling her in, as if you’d die if you didn’t taste her in this second, like your life depended on it. She reciprocated, lips hungry—slow, memorizing the crevices of your mouth, giving you entrance to her own, tongues swirling around, slow dancing together.

Ellie cupped your face, her calloused fingertips rough against your tender skin, tickling your flushed cheeks. She trailed kisses from your lips to your jaw, her mouth hot and open tingling on every spot, you sat up slightly, and Ellie took it as her cue to lower her lips to your neck, warm breath hovering the flesh of your neck, as she left open mouth kisses, like she was trying to memorize the rhythm of your pulse with her lips.

Your hands were tangled on her auburn hair, fingers pulling softly with each kiss.

A small moan slipped past your lips, you tried to cover it by snuggling your face into Ellie’s neck, but she noticed.

And oh lord—she wanted to replay that little sound for the rest of her life.

Something shifted in her. Primal. She was starving for you. She needed to cover every inch of your skin with her mouth, trace a map across your body, taking note of every sweet spot that made you squirm under her.

God she was high on you, just by kissing. Pathetic.

You pulled back to look at her again, and the look she gave you?

Fuck. It was unraveling you.

Slowly, you pressed your lips to hers again, the kiss deepened. Messy, sloppy, perfect.

Hands roamed slow and lazy, tangled in fabric and hair, fingers trailing like they had nowhere else to be. Then, suddenly, the weight shifted. You felt an arm slide beneath your back, the other steadying you both. And before you could say something , Ellie pulled you up, lifted like you weighed nothing and settled you gently into her lap. Your thighs bracketed hers now, knees sinking into the bed, your lips still locked together.

Now both of you were chasing dominance with your tongues, breathy moans and low groans spilling between kisses. Ellie's hands rested on each side of your hips, gripping the soft flesh, digging her fingers into your skin.

Meanwhile you lowered your hands down to her stomach, slipping under her shirt. Her skin was warm and soft, so soft. You traced little circles with your fingertips as your hands traveled to her back.

Ellie broke the kiss for a second, catching her breath, and when her eyes met yours, she knew—

You needed her as much as she needed you.

She gave you a small nod— permission, and you took it as a welcome sign.

You lifted her shirt slowly, as if you were giving her the chance to say something, to stop you. But she didn’t. She raised her arms letting you tug it off completely and tossed it aside. Bare freckled skin now only framed by the black sports bra she wore, muscles tensing from the shyness she suddenly felt.

She followed immediately, helping you out of your shirt, leaving you in your bra. Ellie had been waiting for this moment since that night she’d accidentally caught a glimpse through your door. The image of your bare back, the strap of your bra. It had been burned into her memory ever since.

She was so caught up in that thought, she didn’t even realize when you shifted your weight completely and she was now the one lying beneath you, with your knees caging her hips.

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat, her hands instinctively settling on your clothed thighs. You could feel her heartbeat pounding beneath your palms, a steady drum that matched your own. She looked up at you like you were a miracle. Her pupils were blown, partly from you and from the weed, lips parted, and you could see the faintest tremble in her chest as she tried to keep her breathing even.

You dipped your head, brushing your lips over hers, soft and slow. A kiss like a secret. One she’d never tell anyone else but you. You pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes—her lashes fluttered, lips chasing yours, already missing the contact.

Her hands moved, skimming up your thighs, slipping under the hem of your bra strap. Her touch was reverent, like she didn’t quite believe this was real.

“You’re so…” she whispered, voice barely there, but the rest of the sentence vanished in your mouth as you kissed her again. Deeper this time, your tongue sliding past her lips, tasting her like she was something you needed to survive.

Your hips shifted, rocking forward just slightly, and the sound Ellie made.

Fuck.

A soft, breathless whimper was enough to make your head spin.

Her fingers dug into your waist, pulling you closer, anchoring you to her. You could feel her muscles tense beneath you, her body responding to every inch of you.

“Tell me this is real,” she breathed, voice cracking around the edges, raw and so full of need it made your chest ache.

“It’s real,” you whispered against her lips. “I’m here.”

You leaned down again, trailing kisses along her jaw, down her neck, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. Ellie let out a shaky exhale, her hands sliding up your back, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine.

You smiled, teeth grazing her collarbone. Ellie groaned softly, arching into you as your kisses grew messier, more urgent, like you were trying to mark her soul with your mouth. She let you take your time, let you explore her inch by inch like she was sacred territory.

When you sat up again, her hands followed your movement. One trailing along your ribs, the other cradling your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek. The way she was looking at you then? Like you were starlight. Like she’d never let anyone else touch you the way she did.

You leaned into her touch and whispered, “You okay?”

Ellie nodded, eyes glassy, lips swollen, chest rising and falling like she’d just run a mile.

“Better than ever.” She looked completely undone, flushed cheeks, strands of hair sticking to her forehead, eyes drunk on the sight of you.

You leaned in slowly, like you were about to worship her. Your lips ghosted over hers, brushing once, twice, teasing. Cruel. And when you finally kissed her, it was all teeth and tongue, heat and hunger.

She groaned into your mouth, hands sliding up your sides and gripping your waist like she was trying to keep herself grounded to the moment. But she couldn’t, not while you were grinding down on her, slowly, hips rolling just enough to make her curse against your lips.

“Fuck—” she gasped, breaking the kiss as her head fell back into the pillow, exposing the long line of her neck.

You didn’t waste the opportunity.

You pressed your mouth to her throat, biting softly just below her jaw, then trailing your tongue over the spot like an apology. Her fingers slipped under the band of your bra, thumbs brushing over the underside of your breasts, breath coming out in shallow, desperate pants.

“You’re driving me fucking insane,” she muttered, voice rough and broken.

You pulled back to look at her, lips wet and a little swollen, eyes hazy.

“Yeah?” you whispered, breath brushing her cheek. “What are you gonna do about it?”

That lit something in her. She sat up just enough to crash your mouths together again, teeth clashing, tongue tangling with yours in a messy, frantic kiss. One of her hands slid down, gripping your ass, pulling your body harder against her lap, hips bucking up with zero shame.

You gasped into her mouth, nails dragging down her back, and Ellie cursed again. Low, and filthy.

“Can I?” she whispered into your mouth, hands moving to unclasp your bra, her voice trembling with restraint.

You let her—let her strip you bare, skin flushed and burning. She stared for a second, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, then she leaned forward and kissed the top of your breast, slowly, her mouth trailing lower. Her tongue flicked across your nipple and your head fell back with a moan, hips grinding down on instinct, desperate for friction.

Ellie groaned when she felt it, her hands grabbing your waist and helping you move, guiding you to rock against her in slow, aching circles.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her voice wrecked. “Just like that.”

Your hands tangled in her hair, tugging with each roll of your hips. Every kiss got sloppier, every sound louder, every breath more frantic. Ellie was everywhere—mouth on your chest, hands gripping your ass, hips thrusting up into you like she couldn’t fucking help it.

You felt drunk on her—on the heat, the pressure, the want of it all. And when she looked up at you again, eyes glassy, lips slick, it was over for you.

“I need you,” you said, barely audible, but it was enough.

Her hands stilled, holding you there. “You have me.”

Ellie was already breathless beneath you, her cheeks flushed, lips kissed swollen, chest rising and falling like she’d just run for miles, but it was nothing compared to what you were about to do to her.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against hers again, slower this time. A whisper of a kiss, soft and drawn out, like you were trying to memorize the way her mouth felt…like you had all the time in the world. And you did. This was yours. She was yours.

From her lips, your mouth began its descent, trailing to the edge of her jaw, to the spot just beneath her ear that made her inhale sharply. You kissed down her neck, stopping at the hollow of her throat to leave a lingering, open-mouthed kiss there. Your tongue grazed the skin, slow and warm. She whimpered, her hand instinctively gripping the sheets.

Your kisses continued down, over the curve of her collarbone, across the center of her chest. You mouthed over the black fabric of her sports bra, feeling the way her breath hitched when your teeth grazed her nipple through the fabric.

“Fuck,” she whispered, squirming slightly beneath you. “You’re—teasing.”

You didn’t say anything. You just smiled against her skin and kept going.

You pressed soft kisses down her stomach. Pausing just above her belly button, letting your breath tickle her skin. Every inch you touched left her gasping, her muscles twitching under your mouth. You looked up at her then, eyes locking with hers. She was already gone. Lips parted, gaze completely fixated on you.

Still not breaking eye contact, you reached the waistband of her pants. Your fingers toyed with the button, and you watched her nod without saying a word.

You undid them slowly, dragging them down her legs, eyes never leaving hers. She lifted her hips to help you, the soft hiss that left her lips making your thighs clench. You peeled them off, tossing them aside, leaving her in nothing but her dark boxers. The sight in front of you left you in awe, legs trembling, laid out just for you—was enough to make your core ache.

But you weren’t done yet.

You leaned in again, kissing along the sharp lines of her hips. One side, then the other. Slowly. Warmly. Her hands fisted the sheets, a sharp gasp escaping her lips when you mouthed at the sensitive skin right at the waistband, trailing down to place an open mouth kiss to the wet spot of her boxers. You looked up again—still holding her gaze, and hooked your fingers into the fabric.

“Okay?” you murmured.

She nodded quickly. “Yes. Fuck—please.”

Still keeping your eyes locked with hers, you reached for the waistband of her boxers and pulled them down, slow and careful, exposing her inch by inch. Ellie lifted her hips again, obedient and trembling, and you slid them down until she was bare in front of you.

You could’ve stopped just to stare. Her thighs were slightly parted, her breathing ragged, her tattoo curling along her forearm as she gripped the sheets. She looked like she could cry just from the anticipation.

You settled between her legs and let your fingers slide through her folds, wet, warm, already soaked. She gasped, hips jerking slightly.

“This all for me?” you asked, fingers teasing but not entering.

“Shut up,” she rasped, her voice thin, wrecked. “You know it is.”

You smirked, leaned in, and kissed her hip again, just to be cruel. Then, slowly, you pushed two fingers into her.

The way her mouth dropped open, the way her brows pinched like it physically hurt to feel this good, you never wanted to forget it. You curled your fingers just slightly, hitting the spot that made her whimper.

You kept your eyes on hers, and when her lips parted in another moan, you leaned in close, your voice a whisper. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

Ellie looked ruined with her hair spread across the pillow, hand covering her mouth now, trying to quiet the sounds that kept spilling out of her. But she couldn’t stop them. Not when you were fucking her this slow, this deep, your palm pressing against her clit with each thrust.

“Don’t hide,” you murmured. “I wanna hear you.”

You fucked her slow, deliberate, dragging your fingers in and out while your thumb circled her clit. Her hips moved with yours, chasing the friction, her thighs twitching with every movement.

“God—fuck, that’s it—don’t stop,” she breathed. Her voice was high, strained, like she was barely holding it together.

You sped up just slightly, enough to make her cry out. Her hands clutched your forearms now, nails digging leaving half crescent moons in your skin. She moaned again. Loud, desperate, and you knew she was close.

“Come on, Els,” you whispered. And somehow that made her walls clench harder against your fingers, pulsating with every thrust.You started speeding up, hitting just the right angle, her back arched and she choked on your name.

“I’m—fucking—fuck—” Her whole body tensed, then shattered. Back arching off the bed, head thrown back, a moan breaking open in her chest. You leaned in, kissing her as she came, swallowing her moans, keeping your rhythm until she was trembling beneath you. You only pulled out once her body stopped twitching. Then, with your eyes never leaving hers, you slipped your fingers into your mouth and licked them clean, savoring her orgasm

You grinned as you dragged your fingers out with that small “pop”.

Ellie choked on a gasp, eyes wide, pupils blown.

She didn’t waste a second.

After your little display and those fucking eyes locked on hers while you tasted her off your fingers…Ellie snapped. She rolled you onto your back like a rag doll, with a roughness that wasn’t aggressive, just desperate. Her mouth was on yours immediately, hands framing your jaw, tongue sliding in as if she couldn’t get deep enough.

“Mine,” she murmured, almost to herself, between kisses. “You’re fucking mine.”

Ellie hovered over you, flushed and breathing hard, her skin glistening, her eyes blown wide with lust and awe and something deeper—something that cracked you open just by looking at you like that. You were still panting from making her come apart on your fingers, but that didn’t stop her from slipping her hands under your thighs and flipping you onto your back, her mouth crashing against yours in a hungry, lingering kiss that tasted like heat and desperation.

“You think I’m gonna let you get away with that?” she rasped against your lips, her voice low and breathless. “No fucking way–”

Your breath caught. Your legs instinctively parted around her hips, your hands clutching at her arms, the muscles flexing beneath your fingers. Ellie leaned in, pressing kisses to your jaw, then your throat, open-mouthed and wet, letting her tongue drag along the curve of your neck.

You arched into her instinctively when her lips brushed your collarbone, then went lower. She kissed between your breasts, and you felt the cool air and her hot, roaming gaze, addicting.

“So pretty,” she murmured, her voice gone thick. “Fucking perfect.”

She wrapped her lips around one of your nipples, sucking slowly, letting her tongue flick over it before biting down just enough to make you gasp. Her hand came up to play with the other, thumb circling, pinching, teasing, until you were whining, thighs rubbing together beneath her.

And she wasn’t even close to done.

She switched sides, kissing the curve of your breast before giving the same treatment to the other nipple, slower this time, messier. Her teeth grazed your skin, and then she trailed lower…tongue dragging down your ribs, over your stomach, leaving tiny wet patches and hot breath in her wake.

But she didn’t rush. She took her time, leaving small hickeys on your chest, just above your heart, another on the soft swell beneath your breast, and one lower, just to the side of your belly button. She wanted to mark you, and she wanted you to feel it every time your shirt brushed against those spots later.

By the time she reached the waistband of your jeans, you were trembling.

She looked up at you from between your thighs, and fucking hell you could’ve just cummed at the sight of her beautiful green eyes looking at you like that, all desperate and needy, hands sliding to your hips.

“Still ok?” she smirked.

You could barely form words. Just a breathless, desperate nod.

She undid your jeans slowly, dragging the zipper down with purpose, fingers teasing at the waistband as she leaned in to kiss your lower belly, just above the fabric. You lifted your hips so she could tug them down, and she did—carefully, kissing every new inch of exposed skin. Your thighs, your inner knees, the dip just above your underwear. You were soaked already, and Ellie saw it, smelled it, her breath hitching.

“Fuck, look at you.”

She pressed a single kiss to the front of your panties, right over your clit. You whimpered, bucked into her mouth, and she just chuckled low, mouthing at the wet fabric. Her tongue dragged over it once, then again, leaving it wetter with her spit. Then she sucked at it, lightly, then harder right through the cloth, until you were gasping, your hips twitching beneath her grip.

“Tastes so fucking good, even through this.”

She hooked her fingers in the waistband and tugged them off in one smooth motion, tossing them aside without looking. Then she kissed your thigh again, and again, and again, until you were practically begging.

Then finally—finally, she spread you open with both hands and dove in.

Her tongue flattened against your pussy and dragged up in one slow, singular motion, like she wanted to study your body with her mouth. She moaned into you at the taste, low and guttural. Like it relieved something inside her. Her tongue flicked against your clit, soft and rhythmic, then she pulled back just long enough to spit on it, watching the mess drip and smear as she dove back in.

Your head fell back against the pillow.

“Ellie—fuck—”

She hummed again, arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you still, her face buried so deep you could feel her breath inside you. Her tongue teased your entrance, then pressed inside you, slow and firm, while the tip of her nose rubbed against your clit with every movement. Hitting just the right angle.

You gripped her hair hard—really hard. And she just groaned into your pussy like it made her wetter, grinding her own hips into the mattress while she fucked you stupid with her tongue and sucked your clit in between.

The tension coiled fast and hard in your stomach, your thighs beginning to tremble. Ellie felt it. And added two fingers without warning, curling them up just right, and doubled down with her tongue until you broke, cumming hard with a growly cry, hips jerking on her face, your hands pulling her impossibly closer.

But Ellie didn’t stop.

She didn’t even slow down.

She fucked you through it, licking up every drop, moaning into you like she’d drown there happily.

When she finally pulled back, her chin and lips were shining. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, breathing heavy, pupils dark and starving. Then she crawled up your body and kissed you, deep and messy, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

“Didn’t get enough,” she panted against your lips. “Need you again.”

You felt her hips roll down into yours, and then again, more intentional, needy. You looked down.

She was already grinding against you, bare now, both of your slick combining. Your thighs instinctively spread wider, and Ellie settled between them, her cunt sliding against yours, hot and sticky and so fucking wet.

You gasped. “Oh my God—”

The friction was instant. The way your clits brushed together made you both cry out. She grabbed your thigh, threw it over her hip, angling you just right. Then she started to move, grinding slow and deep, her forehead pressed against yours, her breath stuttering every time your bodies slipped perfectly together.

“Feels so fucking good,” she groaned. “Shit—you’re perfect—”

You couldn’t even respond. You were too caught up in it. In the slippery, desperate rub of her cunt on yours, the raw eye contact, the sweat and tension and whimpers she couldn’t hold back.

Your hands clutched her back, your legs wrapped around her waist, and you met every grind with one of your own. You were soaked, overstimulated, and yet completely insatiable.

Ellie’s voice cracked as she picked up the pace, her hips stuttering, her sounds getting louder, higher.

“You gonna come again with me?” she begged, voice strained. “Please—*fuck—*I wanna feel you come on me.”

You nodded frantically. You could already feel it—your second orgasm, rolling in fast. Your muscles tensed, your thighs clenched around her, and then—

You both came.

Harder than before. Together.

Her body collapsed onto yours, her face buried in your neck, both of you shaking and soaked and breathless.

The room is quiet, save for the low hum of the fan in the corner and the echo of your breaths slowly syncing again. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and skin, heat still clinging to both of you, but you’re not in a rush to pull away.

Ellie’s lying on her back, arm stretched out, inviting, and you settle into her side without thinking, thigh slung over her hip, your chest rising and falling against hers. Her skin is still warm. Damp in places. You let your fingers wander on her skin, tracing the soft, faded scars scattered across her stomach.

She doesn’t flinch.

Instead, her hand finds your waist, and she’s holding onto you like she needs the reassurance that you’re real. That you’re still here.

Your fingertip drags in slow circles, skimming across her ribs, then trailing down again, stopping to gently trace the outline of a small mark near her navel. You wonder where she got it. If it hurt. If she ever thought to tell you.

Still, neither of you says anything. You shift slightly, arm draped across her middle now, and your other hand finds her forearm, the ink there familiar beneath your touch. You trace the edge of her tattoo, carefully, like you’re memorizing it with your skin.

Ellie’s breathing deepens. You feel it in the way her chest rises under your cheek, the way her thumb starts brushing gentle lines across the bare of your back.

And then, softly, almost like a thought slipping out by accident, she finally speaks.

“You are the most beautiful girl on this planet—” A pause. A breath. “No. This universe.”

You scoff, letting your lips curve into a smirk against her skin.

“Pffft—You say that to every girl you sleep with?” you mumble, teasing, but your voice comes out quieter than you meant. Too full of feeling.

Ellie huffs a laugh, but you feel the shift in her body. She’s still smiling, but there’s something quieter behind it, more serious. Something heavy in her chest that she doesn’t quite let out yet.

“No girl has gotten lucky enough.”

You lift your head, just slightly, eyes meeting hers.

She’s not grinning. Not smirking.

She’s looking at you like she wants to kiss you all over again, but not in a way that’s messy or frantic or lustful.

She’s just there. Staring. Open. Soft.

And you don’t say anything back.

You just curl into her again, one hand resting on her chest where her heart is beating like a marching band, the rhythm of her palpitations calms you down. And she lets you stay there. Quiet. Wrapped in each other like neither of you know how to ask for more. Even though it’s already written all over your skin.

Sunlight slips lazily through the slats in the blinds, casting pale golden stripes across the tangled sheets. Ellie stirs, arm reaching out instinctively to the other side of the bed, but it’s empty now. Still warm, just barely. She blinks groggily, eyes adjusting to the morning light, her limbs heavy with sleep and muscle ache.

There’s a second where panic flickers through her.

Did you leave? Was everything just a dream?

But then she smells you on her pillow. Faint traces of your shampoo, your skin, your sweat from the night before, and the corner of her mouth tugs upward, soft and slow.

She turns her head and sees it.

A little piece of paper on her desk, scrawled in your handwriting.

“Headed to work. U looked too cute to wake up. Pass by the diner if ur not busy ;)”

Ellie stares at it for a minute, then flips onto her back, one arm thrown over her eyes as a smile overtakes her entire face. It’s the kind of smile she couldn’t hide even if she tried.

Stupid. Giddy. Lightheaded.

You.

Her mind plays it all back in bits, your mouth, your hands, your body pressed to hers like it had always belonged there. The way you looked at her like you were afraid to blink and miss her. The way you touched her, so safe and sure, like you were tracing art into her skin.

And now you were just… gone.

Gone, but not far.

Her eyes flutter open again. The note’s still there. The sheets are still messy. Her chest still feels full in that unfamiliar, aching way. She sighs, long and dreamy, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

When she finally sat up, her hair was a mess, body sore in the best way. The note is still clutched between her fingers, and she reads it once more for no reason other than the way it makes her stomach flip.

She stretches, smiling like an idiot, already thinking about what she’ll say when she sees you again. Already wondering how she’s supposed to act around you now. Already imagining the way your face lights up when she walks into the diner.

Had she mentioned how irrevocably fucked she was? So completely, irreversibly, stupidly fucked for you.

How she felt like she dug a grave for herself, how this would either be the best thing ever or the worst heartbreak of her entire fucking life. And she didn’t wanna think about it, because she’s scared as shit.

She’s scared of herself more than anyone.

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

taglist ♡‧₊˚₊✧

@liasxeatt @80saturn @eleanorsghost @youusunshineyoutemptress @jazzyxox @lesoulew @fangirlinc @hitmehardmommy @liztreez @chwekriz00 @vahnilla @elliespotion @haithone @stwolfhardimaginez @thxtmarvelchick @purinukie @lavenderseedling @elliesfavwife @mikellie @iadorefineshyt @thebadwritersposts @gayandsuffering26 @flynnph0bias @adoreasellie @wwefan2002 @pinkcloudsmmr @ellliewilliamssgf @hufflepuffin92-blog @madsxh1022 @elliepoems @finnthehumanjakethedog @oneinameliann @sulliefimmie @lunshimmer @theangelwaltz @morticeras @elliessavagestarlight @ssijht @oatmatchalatte @sunflowerwinds

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a beautiful little lie. [chapter 8] l Harry Castillo

Summary:  you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand

Warnings: sexual innuendos and mentions of sex, kissing, tension, secret admirer, Lucy shows up, some talking, lots of feelings

A/N: I've had this chapter in my head for a few days now and I've been trying to write as much as I can. If you'd like to share your thoughts…

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]

“You’re a terrible liar.”

You almost jumped, spilling coffee on yourself, but after a moment you turned towards the door. Harry. His hair was a mess and his eyes were sleepy, but he smiled as he watched you stand in his kitchen, dressed in his robe, drinking his coffee from his mug.

“Why do you say that?” you asked as he slowly approached you. He was wearing boxers and a t-shirt that smelled of the remnants of his cologne and the passion of the previous night.

“You’ve been telling me for over a year that you don’t know the layout of this penthouse,” he muttered, your smile fading as you bit your lip. Caught! “You kept calling me, saying you were lost and I was supposed to send a rescue team for you, and you…”

“I lied, I admit it,” you replied. Colossal hands gently grabbed your waist as Harry stood in front of you. “But you were always so cute when you were nervous. I couldn’t help myself.”

“And I couldn’t help but pretend I didn’t know about your trick.” Harry mumbled and your eyes immediately widened in surprise. “Sweetheart, I never doubted your intelligence. After the second time I realized you were messing with me.”

“How dare you!” you slapped his shoulder but you couldn’t stop laughing.

Harry leaned down and quickly captured your lips in a sweet kiss. You tasted like coffee and mint toothpaste, delicious. He wanted to tell you how he woke up in an empty bed and for a moment he was scared that it was all just a dream, that you were a dream. But then he saw your clothes on the floor and realized that you must have woken up before him, it brought him relief. It was still early, before eight, and the morning sun was shining brightly through the kitchen windows. When he saw you - he would give anything to feel that way again.

“It’s good to see you here,” he said quietly, resting his forehead against yours and pressing you harder against the counter.

“It’s good to be here,” you replied, setting your mug down and placing your hands on the back of his neck. “I had to go to the bathroom, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“I appreciate that, but next time you have to go back to bed and not make me look for you.”

There was something natural in his voice and words. Something like a question if this would happen again, but also a promise – I want it to happen again. He wasn’t expecting an answer either, he just wanted to hold you in his arms and enjoy this moment.

“So…” you started, “What now?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Breakfast? You already had your coffee, so toast and maybe scrambled eggs would be nice.”

“How the hell are you real?”

“I should ask you the same thing.”

This was better than he could have imagined. You sat down at the kitchen island and kept him company while Harry prepared breakfast. The radio played soft music and you talked about everything and nothing at the same time, laughing and bantering like it was the most normal thing in the world. Was it any wonder he dreamed of moments like this?

Harry was perfectly aware that he was at a point in his life where most people already had families. Or were starting new ones with their second or third partners. However, he was one of those hopeless romantics who believed in love for the rest of their lives and unfortunately, after all these years, he hadn't found it. There had been a few women in his life, a few serious relationships, but nothing that could last. He also wanted to propose twice, but unfortunately, it didn't work out. Maybe it was his fault, Harry didn't deny it. He wasn't perfect, although he tried very hard to live up to the expectations of others. It was hard, though.

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

You looked up from your glass of juice. “I thought it was time to go home.” You replied.

“Come on. It’s going to be a beautiful day. We can go for a walk around the neighborhood. There’s a great pastry shop nearby, you’ll like it. They also have delicious coffee.”

You looked at him with a smile. You’d never met a man like Harry Castillo before. He treated you like you were the most important person in the world, he really saw you and listened to you, and you still didn’t understand how he could be a real person.

It had been a good day. He hadn’t been able to stop smiling since he’d dropped you off at your apartment building that evening, and he suspected it would be a long time before he regained control over his facial expressions. The walk had stretched into a nice lunch near the park, and then a lazy nap on the couch in the living room.

It was damn nice to wake up to a living room filled with the setting sun while you were fast asleep on his chest. You were wearing one of his shirts and sweatpants and you looked like you totally belonged to him.

He was doing it again. Harry's brain was working overtime again, giving him new ideas. You could go on vacation together, or go to the cinema to see that new movie they were advertising so aggressively everywhere, or go out for sushi or something. He rubbed his face with his hand, sighing quietly. It was always like this. Even you told him that once, when he almost kissed you - he jumped headfirst into the water without checking the depth.

But it was you! You, the you he had known for over a year, the one he had talked to for so many hours, the one who had seen him in a thousand different situations. You had been with him on bad days and good days, and Harry had thought you really liked him.

Meanwhile, his apartment felt strangely empty and vast without you in it. He lazily made his way to the bedroom, where the bed was still unmade. The satin sheets, though cold, still carried your scent and Harry knew he would smell it when he finally went to sleep. The phone in the back pocket of his jeans twitched and Harry pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

[You]: Thank you for every minute. Can I just say I miss you already?

He smiled to himself and quickly typed a reply.

[Harry Castillo]: You won't be alone in this, sweetheart. Good night.

No, he won't screw this up this time.

Susan almost jumped when he appeared in the office and with a huge smile on her face, she moved away from your desk, revealing a very pretty bouquet of flowers sitting in a glass vase.

"What's this?" Harry pointed at the bouquet with interest, pretending not to notice your amused look.

"Someone has a secret admirer." Susan replied in a melodic voice as she sat down behind her desk, "And she doesn't want to reveal his name."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And he sent those flowers?"

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" you replied, moving the vase to a safe spot away from the edge of the desk.

He nodded. "That guy has good taste. Susan," he turned to her desk, "can you go to Mark in accounting? He was supposed to prepare something for me?"

The girl quickly stood up, "Sure, boss."

"And you," Harry pointed at you, "take your planner and come to my office."

You exchanged quick glances as Castillo disappeared through the door. You gathered your things and followed him, but as soon as the door closed behind you, you felt someone roughly pull you deeper into the office.

Familiar lips found yours and soon Harry was kissing you like he hadn't seen you in at least a month.

“Wait.” You found it hard to speak between kisses, taking a step back as Harry was clearly steering you towards his desk. “Someone might come in.”

“Susan won’t be here for at least fifteen minutes.” Harry mumbled. He took the notebook from your hands and threw it on the desk. One of his hands came to rest on your neck as he kissed you hard again. “Damn it, I missed you.”

“It was only one day.” You giggled quietly, sliding your hands under his unbuttoned blazer, feeling his warm body under his shirt.

“Too long.” Another kiss. You were almost sitting on his desk when his other hand grabbed your thigh, squeezing it. “Will you come over tonight? I’ll make dinner. I hear I make really good pasta.”

“I’ll think about it. I don’t know what the man who sent me flowers will think of it.”

Harry smiled. “Do you like them?”

"They're beautiful." You kissed him now, tenderly and lovingly, because you really missed him too.

When he pulled away from you, his eyes were looking at you with awe, as if he couldn't believe that you were really in his arms, that what he was experiencing with you wasn't just a dream.

"I want our dates to be romantic," he said, and he noticed with concern how you frowned.

"You don't have to prove anything, Harry," you replied, stroking his cheek affectionately. "You're enough and I like you the way you are."

"Do you like me? How did that happen?"

You shrugged, smiling. "I don't know. Maybe you just don't treat me like I'm too much to handle."

"You'll never be that to me."

He leaned in to kiss you once more when his phone suddenly rang. You exchanged glances and smiles before carefully sliding off the desk and reaching for your notebook while Harry exchanged quick comments with Mark. Your mind was a beautiful chaos.

Shopping bags fell to the floor as soon as you crossed the threshold of his apartment. That wasn't important. The most important thing was your lips, which Harry kissed like he needed them to live. You quickly slid his jacket off his shoulders as he pressed you hard against the wall.

“I thought you’d wait until dessert,” he murmured softly, kissing your neck. You moaned, sliding your hands into his soft hair.

“It’s an appetizer,” you replied, sighing.

You didn’t make it to the bedroom. The guest room fulfilled its role perfectly. And when you were lying next to each other, when you felt his hot body next to yours, his calm breath on your shoulder, you felt full of feelings that you couldn’t even name. But it was good. You were good.

three weeks later

You were living on cloud nine and you had no intention of coming back. There was no point. Even though you kept your relationship a secret, Harry couldn’t stop himself from sending you flowers at work or sending you text messages during the day.

Susan did everything to get at least the name of your admirer from you, and you could see that perfidious smile on Harry’s face. Professionalism at work was necessary, but the sidelong glances, the accidental touches, the sneaky kisses when no one was looking—you couldn’t control it.

“I don’t want to be called into HR,” you said every time his office door closed behind you and you were alone.

“I’m the boss here,” Harry replied, reaching for your hand so he could at least feel your touch.

“And I’m the assistant.”

“You know that many relationships start at work?”

How could you fight it? You couldn’t. Harry was a man who tried to fulfill your every desire, even anticipate it. You told him many times that you didn’t expect that from him, that what you had was enough, that he was enough.

For Harry, this was new and exciting too. He was a mature and responsible man, but with you he felt like himself, truly and probably for the first time. Soon he convinced you to leave some of your clothes in his closet, because getting up earlier to go to your place and change was getting tiring. An extra toothbrush took its place in his bathroom, and a few cosmetics and perfumes seemed to find their rightful place next to his.

Every time he looked at it, he smiled. Yes, everything was still fresh. You had been dating for a month, but Harry kept reminding you that you had known each other longer and what had happened hadn't happened too quickly. As he claimed, the scope of your cooperation had simply expanded.

However, Harry knew one thing - it was good to belong to someone. Now you spent your evenings together, watching some stupid reality show or movies, or going out together, or...

Damn, the sex was amazing. He would definitely never look at the dining room table or his desk the same way again. And when you first went down on him, he was ready to do anything for you. The possibility of waking up next to someone, simple everyday activities like drinking coffee together or cooking, everything was more exciting now. He felt like his life had taken on new colors.

"I've never been here. How do you know this place?" you asked as Harry led you towards the doors of some pub.

"Someone showed me once," he replied, grabbing the handle and opening the door for you. "Ma'am."

"Thank you." You smiled as you entered.

The place was spacious and really elegant. Not stiff and inaccessible, but with velvet couches, warm lighting and nice music. There were quite a few people inside, but Harry led you to the bar and you quickly found a seat for the both of you. Soon the waiter placed your drinks in front of you, Harry's warm hand rested on your knee and you thought that this was a really nice end to a long week. The thought of the upcoming meeting with clients next week gave you shivers, but you didn't want to think about it tonight.

"We could go to the movies this weekend." Harry suggested, taking a sip of his drink. "Would you like that?"

“Yeah, that would be nice. But I have to do laundry and clean my apartment. I’ve been putting it off for days.” You sighed, resting your chin on your hand. “We had a lot of work.”

A warm hand squeezed your thigh affectionately. "That's why I think you should move more of your stuff to my place."

You rolled your eyes. "We talked about it, Harry. It's to-"

"It's not too soon at all." He interrupted you, smiling. "You're just scared. But it's okay, I won't push you." He came closer and kissed you lightly on the lips. "I love how stubborn you are sometimes."

You opened your mouth to answer when suddenly you heard a woman's voice. "Harry? It's so nice to see you."

A tall and slim girl with long dark hair with bangs and green-blue eyes appeared next to Harry. She smiled friendly, and when Harry stood up, she hugged him like a long-lost friend.

"Lucy, you look great." Harry greeted you, pointed at you and introduced you. "How's it going?"

“Good.” Lucy smiled. “I’m here with my friends. We’re having a little celebration. What about you?”

“Let’s just say we’re celebrating the end of the week.” Harry replied. He seemed a little tense to you, though he hid it with a smile and polite demeanor. He exchanged a few words with Lucy when their conversation was interrupted by his phone. “Sorry,” he mumbled, glancing at the screen, “I have to take this.”

“Sure,” she replied, and soon you were both looking at him as he briefly went out to the pub.

You were sure Lucy would go back to her friends, but she just stood there, swirling her drink in her hands. She was really pretty, and you knew she didn’t have to put much effort into it. She glanced at Harry, who was walking in front of the pub and still talking, and then finally spoke.

“So you and Harry are together?”

“Yeah, we are.” you replied.

“That's nice.” Lucy smiled again. “Harry’s a great guy. Where did you meet?”

You swallowed a sip of your drink. "At work."

"Oh!" Lucy perked up. "Do you work in finance too?"

You were a little confused. "I'm... I'm an assistant."

Lucy's eyes widened slightly. "Oh! Oh, I see."

You were both silent for a moment, sipping your drinks. Finally, you decided to overcome your fear and ask. "And have you known Harry for a long time?"

Lucy thought about her answer for a moment. Her long fingers twirled the glass of drink in her hands. "We met at his brother's wedding." she finally answered. "But we haven't talked in over a year, I think."

You nodded, letting her know that her answer was enough for you, although certain thoughts were already starting to circle your mind. The way Harry reacted was quite clear. Soon Lucy's friends called her and she said goodbye, disappearing among the guests of the pub. Harry returned a moment later and sat down next to you, sighing quietly.

"I'm sorry. It was about next week's meeting." He downed his drink in one gulp.

"Anything important?" you asked, concerned.

Harry took your hand and kissed the back of it. "Nothing we should worry about right now." he replied. "Do you feel like another drink or should we go eat something?"

"Eat, definitely."

He smiled gently, approached you once more to steal a kiss from you and after a moment you both left the pub. The evening was pleasant, although a bit chilly. You slowly walked forward, holding hands and wondering what you would like to eat. Harry was thinking about the Italian restaurant when your voice reached his ears.

"Can I ask you something, Harry?"

He looked at you immediately. "Of course, sweetheart."

You stopped and, not letting go of his hand, you thought for a moment how to put your thoughts into words. Finally, you decided. "Did you take me to this pub because you wanted to make Lucy jealous?"

Brown eyes stared at you intensely, but Harry remained silent. It seemed that you surprised him with the question, but he expected it on some level. You were still holding his hand, so you couldn't get mad or anything. "I thought you'd rather ask me if I loved her." he finally said.

"It seemed pretty obvious to me. She's beautiful and smart." You shrugged, but you didn't take your eyes off his face. You wanted him to be honest with you.

Harry took a deep breath. “I think I loved how I imagined her.” he replied. “The way I wanted to see her. But no, I didn’t take you there to make her jealous. Even though she was the one who showed me the place, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t expect her to be there.”

You nodded. But that wasn’t enough for him. It seemed like he had to explain everything to you, because if he didn’t, well, you might misunderstand it and it would break the bond between you. But you were still holding his hand, still there for him. He stood closer so the group of laughing young men could pass you by and he spoke again.

“Me and Lucy dated for a while before we started working together. It was a painful breakup.” He sighed. “I used to want her to be jealous, but now I don’t care what she thinks. You’re the one who really matters to me. You’re much, much more.”

You knew Harry wasn’t lying. His eyes looked at you as if he was waiting for the verdict and begging for mercy.

"I'm sorry someone hurt you," you said quietly, lightly squeezing his hand.

He smiled sadly. "We've all been hurt at some point, right, baby? You're not mad?"

You shook your head. "I couldn't be. You're honest with me and I trust you, Harry."

Now he really smiled, and you smiled back. A weight lifted from his heart, because somewhere in the back of his mind the thought was already circulating that you could disappear and he wouldn't want that.

"Maybe we should just go home and order something to eat, what do you think?" you suggested, changing the subject of the conversation to something lighter.

"Yeah, I think that's a brilliant idea, baby." Harry replied with satisfaction, wrapping his arm around you and kissing your temple. "Let's go home."

Home.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @nrschuster30 @maried01 @lunariantears @thatesqcrush @suzysface @youkeeno @legoemma @nuo0n @sarahhxx03 @hazzzy418 @pedrofan @peepawispunk @readingiskeepingmegoing @maryfanson @anoverwhelmingdin @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @axshadows @picketniffler @underneath-the-sky-again @kaysfanficcorner @noisynightmarepoetry @xmaykeca @orcasoul @sincerelywithheartt @southernbe @chaoticfestninja @telumendilsoul @hermionelove @paleidiot @lemon-world1 @diabaroxa @scarcetti @thatoneperson38747 @pascal-mynightlyobsession @sunnytuliptime @krystal---meth @nikoanna @capuccinodoll @titlee78 @goodvibesonly421 @crlsummer @chewie-bars @dean-and-baby343 @warmdragonfly @harriedandharassed @speaktothehandpeasants @pasc4lfuzz @darkheartgatita @deesparticus @beezusvreeland @sunnytuliptime @theoraekenslover @secretlettersfromyourlove @yassspose @pinkblackbra @avengersfan25 @kakiki3

[yelenasbraid]

TONIGHT, YOU ARE MINE / JB9, TRACK 1

summary / she’s studying. he’s being annoying. in his defense, he hasn’t seen her all day.

warnings / fem!reader, fluff, smut (MDNI), down bad!joey

note / this is kind of an introductory part to their relationship and the vibes they give. this series will follow his second year with LSU and his time in the NFL. it won’t go game to game, but just be aware of that timeline :)

tags / @willowsnook @ebsmind @iosivb9 @hotburreaux @joecoolburrow @hannahjessica113 @irishmanwhore @wickedfun9 @softburrow @kazsbrckkers @starsinthesky5 @joeyburrrow @joeyfranchise @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @blairsworld22 @sportyphile

THE SUN WAS SETTING. Purple and orange hues cast into the apartment, illuminating the scene. A cream colored couch sits in the living room, blankets strewn across it. The coffee table is somewhat clean; used cups from a couple hours ago sit on coasters. The kitchen lights are off; she said that she was picking up dinner with a friend.

“You will not believe the day I had,” she barged in, words barely held as she stepped over the threshold. Her hair was messy; strands falling pitifully out of the bun she wrapped her hair into. The wafts of her perfume filled the apartment, the sight of her a breath of fresh air.

He hadn’t seen his girlfriend all day. Nor had he texted her. She said it made her smile too much.

“Tell me about it,” he offered, patting the place next to him, “but first, I want a kiss,”

She laughed, an airy sound that made her cheeks red. She locked the door, tossing her keys onto the coffee table. She set her bookbag down on the floor, climbing onto the spot next to him.

“How could I forget?” she smiled. She rested a soft hand on his shoulder, leaning over a planting a soft kiss to his lips. It was electrifying, as it always was. There weren't enough kisses in a day. There weren't enough touches in a day. Joe cupped her cheek, sighing into her lips. He pulled away, keeping his lips inches from hers.

“I missed you today,” He confessed, “it was hard not to kiss you when I saw you in the student union earlier,”

“You probably didn’t want to anyways,” she giggled, reaching down to her bag, “I just finished an entire caramel latte; my breath wouldn’t have been nice,”

No one knew that they were dating. To the outside world, they were strangers. They interacted some when it came to the same classes or sitting at the same table at the student union, but no one could know. The media would lose their minds, invading every crevice of privacy. His mother would find out, and she was as protective over him as anyone.

To his mom, dating someone like her would be a slap in the face. Y/N wasn’t the athletic type. Sure, she played softball in high school, but college was all about academics. She strived to make a name for herself, to keep that precious 4.2 GPA that she’s had since she was a sophomore. Joe was proud of her, immensely so. He wished he could go to her paper presentations or the dinners that were held by the history department. But he couldn’t. They loved each other behind closed doors while the outside world waited with pitchforks.

“I still would have liked to at least sit with you,” he hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist. His weight pushed her back against the arm of the couch, his body laying on top of hers. She knew that it was hard for him, and it was hard for her too. She wanted to be there for milestones, to celebrate wins, but she had to wait for him back at his apartment or hers. She had to love in private, even when that was the last thing she wanted to do.

“I know,” she hummed, running her hand up and down his back, “I would have loved to have you sit next to me,”

For a moment, they just enjoyed each other’s presence. The day brought its own challenges, its own fountain of problems, but together, the worries washed away. Joe felt at home with her, he felt at ease. He didn’t have to put up a front around her, he didn’t have to be the quarterback that everyone relied on. He was just Joe. Her Joey.

“I have to study, bubs,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. A groan rose from the back of his throat, his arms tightening around her waist. She was always studying, his little genius, but he wanted her attention all to himself. He’d missed her, he was tired of having to avoid talking about her. That’s all he wanted to do.

“For how long?” He groaned into her neck. She chuckled, the sound soft and rumbling. Joe didn’t budge; he kept his weight pressed on her, his limbs tangled with hers.

“I don’t know,” she answered softly, “however long it takes me. I haven’t memorized the different ciphers yet,”

“But you know all the names. You recited them to me last night,” Joe argued. He knew that it was deeper than that. Her classes didn’t just ask for her to know the names of each type of cipher, it required that she could provide an example. It required that she knew how to interpret the cipher. It just took her a lot of time, and he wanted all of her time and attention.

“I did,” she agreed, running her fingers through his scalp. Her fingers dug into his scalp, pulling a soft moan from Joe’s throat. He pressed a kiss to her neck, his hands tightening around her body.

“I’ll study for an hour,” she compromised. Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, curling the longer strands around her fingers. He doesn’t move, his nose brushing against the soft skin of her neck. The warmth that spreads through her body is overwhelming. It’s soft, casting gentle rays across her muscles. She missed him, even when she had him all to herself.

“Okay,” he murmured. He slowly pulled himself out of her neck, eyes bleary. He leaned down and kissed her one more time, letting his lips linger on hers.

“It’ll go by faster than you realize,” she promised, a sparkle in her eyes. She sat up, sitting cross-legged on the couch. Joe grabbed a book, What if?: Serious Scientific Answers to Absurd Hypothetical Questions. A gift from her. He’d started it, and he was halfway through it.

Minutes passed. Silence spread between them. The tap of her fingers against the keyboard and the whisper of pages turning broke the silence. Joe kept himself close to her, his shoulder leaning on hers.

Joe was a physical touch guy. He found comfort in it, but that was also how he expressed his affection for her. Many people wouldn’t guess he was a physical touch person because of his reserved personality, but he was, at least around her. So, it didn’t surprise her when he started aimlessly dragging his fingers across her thigh, sending warm shivers down her body.

His fingers danced on her thigh for a few moments, his other hand holding his book. He wasn’t focused on it though, the words on the page blurring together. He was too caught up in how her body felt under his touch. She was a drug to him, something that once he got a taste of he’d never be able to let go of. He didn’t want to let go of her, to ever forget her taste.

“Joe,” she hummed, flicking her eyes over to him. He looked back up at her, blue eyes sparkling.

“Hm?” he hummed back, feigning innocence. She smiled, that bright and award-winning smile. Her fingers intertwined with his, pressing them to her lips.

“Just wait a little longer, okay?” she murmured, placing his hand back on his lap. He wanted the contact, the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her leggings. He found pride, though, in that he was distracting her. He nodded, giving a dramatic sigh as he returned to his book.

But he didn't read the pages.

Time slumped by. He read a couple more pages, but his mind was too occupied with her. Her hair was still messily pulled back, t-shirt clinging to her body, and her leggings sticking to her skin. She looked effortless, like a goddess. She expected him to sit by and not do something?

He set down his book, reaching his hand out. He untangled her legs from being crossed under her and pulled her closer. She nearly yelped at the surprise, but managed to compose herself as he dragged her closer to him. Now, she was sitting right next to him, facing him. Her eyes told him all he needed to know. I need to study. He was treading dangerous waters, he knew that, but at the same time, he’d been neglected of time with her. Of course, if she seriously told him to cut it out, he would, no questions asked, but something told him she didn’t want him to stop.

“Joseph,” she warned. Her laptop was still in her lap, open and glowing against her face.

“Baby,” he answered, a smug look on his face. He gently shut her laptop, his hand grabbing it and setting it on the coffee table. Tension blossomed, and the sounds that filled the room now were just the sounds of their breathing. Though she swore he could hear her heart slamming against her ribcage.

“I’m not done yet,” she reminded him. His hand wandered up her thigh, caressing the inseam of her leggings. She inhaled, holding her breath. Joe knew what he was doing.

“Please,” he whispered, “just wanna spend time with you.

His pout always worked. His blue eyes sparkled, bottom lip jutted out. He was ridiculous, but she loved him.

“You’re ridiculous,” she shifted, her eyes sparkling. Studying could wait, she supposed. She didn’t get to see Joe that often, and when she did, time flew by.

“You love me,” he grinned. Excitement filled his chest as she shifted towards him, the movement of her body slowly leaning him to rest his back against the couch. Her hands slid up his torso, a soft hum rumbling through her chest.

“I do,” her voice was smooth, shifting with her attitude. She studied all the time, always focused on the next document or the next cipher. She wasn’t able to let her mind go, to indulge in the pleasure her boyfriend could offer her.

So every time they had sex it felt like it was the first time all over again.

She kissed him. Slowly. Their lips danced together, joined in an intimate tango. His hands found their way to her waist, his thumbs pushing up the material of her t-shirt. His body shivered, the overwhelming sense of her body and her being filling him to the brim. He was the cup she poured herself into, and he’d let her overflow.

Her lips parted from his, trailing down the warmth of his neck. He tilted his head, soft breaths leaving his lungs. Her kisses were tiny fires, igniting the embers of his desire deep within him. He kept his hands on her waist, swallowing the moans that threatened to spill over.

She sat up, the coolness of her lack of touch making him groan. His eyes took her in, watching her. She removed her shirt, revealing her tits cupped by a beautiful yet simple bra. His hands roamed over her stomach, up to cup her breasts.

“You’re a masterpiece,” he murmured, his eyes taking in every piece of her. The outline of her cleavage, her collarbone shadowing her neck, and the soft skin of her stomach. His hands drank her in, committing every line and every curve to memory.

She slid her hands up his torso, easily peeling the shirt from his body. She leaned back down, her lips meeting the meat of his pec. He inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering. Her touch was a drug, it powdered his skin and fueled his desire. Her lips kissed his body, taking in every hard-earned muscle.

“This what you wanted?” she murmured, her lips hovering over the bulge of his sweats. His mind was on fire, any rational thought burned down by the image of her staring down his bulge.

“God yes,” he exhaled. Her fingers pried away his sweats, taking the material of his boxers with them. He was left bare and aching, his cock twitching against the skin of his stomach. Her mouth watered, her arousal building with every passing moment.

But she didn’t take him into her mouth. Not like he wanted.

She slid her leggings down her hips, pulling her panties with her. Her panties peeled from her pussy, her arousal sticking to the material. She tossed them aside. Crawling up his body, she let her lips hover over his. Joe was in a daze, his chest heaving with his breaths. He was under her spell, wrapped around her little finger.

“Baby, please,” he whispered, blue eyes blown with nothing but desire. He wanted her, needed her, to fill his system. She was his constant, his girl. Not having her how he wanted killed him, and that meant more than sex.

“I’ve got you, sweet boy,” she promised. Sliding a hand between them, she grabbed the base of his cock, lining him up with her entrance. He was hot, the velvet of his tip easily pushing into her soft walls. It was as if her body was welcoming him home.

She sunk down onto his cock, her hands settling down on his stomach. He filled her up perfectly, stretched her walls, causing her head to tilt back. She shifted on his cock, rocking side to side before she lifted her hips again. Joe released a breath, the feeling of your pussy clenching around him making him dizzy. His hands explored her body, all while feeling himself come closer and closer to his budding orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, chest heaving with every breath. Her movements started slow, memorizing every inch, every curve of his cock. She shuddered, her body godly above his. His hands held her hips, grounding himself against her electric pleasure.

“I’ve needed this,” she admitted, her hips flexing against his. She leaned down, her heart hammering in her chest. Her arms rested over his shoulders, nose brushing against his.

Her classes had been torture. Day in and day out she studied books, old documents. She translated secret messages and wrote back in the same code. She analyzed patterns to recognize new ones. As much satisfaction as she got from her grades, nothing compared to Joe.

“I’m right here,” he promised her with a groan. He thrusted up into her, meeting her pace. His eyes never left hers, drinking her in like he was parched. With every thrust, a whine bubbled out of her mouth. Joe buried his face into her neck as he snapped his hips to meet hers, creating more passion and roughness between the two of them. She could barely focus, ecstasy blinding her as his cock slammed into the sweet spot deep within her. Moans rode on her exhales, and she could feel the beginnings of a climax building. Her hips met Joe’s with every thrust, the aching feeling in her pussy building. She needed more.

“Fuck, baby,” she exhaled, her hands digging into his taut shoulders. His teeth scraped her neck, quiet whimpers leaving his parted lips. He kept his pace, snapping his hips and helping her ride him. Joe pants in her ears, his whines and moans were enough to teeter her on the edge of the knife. Her walls clenched around him, aching as they were continuously thrusted against.

Her whole body exploded, a grinding moan leaving her lips as he thrusted into her one, two more times. She shuddered, her hips loosening and coming undone. Her orgasm ripped over her, a tidal wave of pleasure and heat. This wasn’t something her grades or honors college status could give her.

It wasn’t much longer before Joe let go, his arms wrapping around her. Thick, hot ropes of cum coated her walls, painting the grooves of her pussy. He stayed buried inside of her, his whines muffled by her neck. His cock twitched, jumping at every movement. Their bodies stayed connected, riding on the wave of pure ecstasy and wild passion. Their breaths hung in the air, thick and heavy. It’s what they needed.

Slowly, he pulled himself out of her. She hissed, but rested her body against his. Their eyes met, hazy with pleasure and exhaustion. She kissed him, tenderly, resting her forehead against his.

“Now you can study,” he teased with a hoarse tone. She laughed, kissing his cheek. There’d be no studying after that.

“How about a shower?” she suggested, slowly sitting up, “think we could use one, hm?”

“What, you saying I smell?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. She gave him a look, scoffing. Was he serious?

“Round two, goofball,” she ruffled his hair, “unless you aren’t up for it,”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” he grinned. He scooped her up, and with shared giggles, he carried her off to his bathroom, where they’d continue in their bliss.

[sluttywonu]

trigger𖤐

pairing: nana tour!dino x f!reader

theme: smut mdni!!

synopsis: running into you while shopping (literally) was one of the best things to happen to dino so far this trip.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: below the cut

-

-

-

- a/n: so sorry for the delay, my son had a procedure (he’s ok!!) and it was a bit hard getting anything done this past week </3

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

-

-

-

-

warnings: pwp, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do!!), oral(m rec), slight hair pulling, slight scratching, multiple positions, hickeys & love bites, lmk if i forgot anything????

i saw this tweet and giggled

while some weren’t loving this trip, dino was loving it. this was everything he wanted, even if he did have to work.

he had the best time playing stupid games with pd and his hyungs, going to the wine festival and seeing all these sites in a city he’s never been before.

he was lucky today— he didn’t need to film content until later this evening so he, joshua and scoups (yes he’s here!) went out to explore and do their own thing for a while, beginning with breakfast.

the entire time, joshua’s on his phone texting… someone but dino and scoups are calling the shots, finding a few stores to shop and then ending on lunch out in the town.

while shopping, dino is busy browsing a few racks, not really finding anything he loves. he’s more-so just window shopping at this point— just trying to avoid being stuck in the airbnb.

scoups called his name, making him abruptly turn around only to bump into you.

you stumbled a bit, apologizing right away while trying to pick up your fallen bag. dino reaches down to grab it, handing it to you with a smile. “i’m sorry, are you okay?” he asked, finally getting a good look at your face.

wow, you were beautiful.

“yeah, i’m okay. thank you!”

he reached to rub the back of his neck, “yeah, not a problem..”

your eyes took him in, smiling softly. he was cute, had a great smile, cute blonde hair, kind eyes.

you two stood there checking one another out for a moment, your smiling creeping up more.

“din— oh.” a smirk grew on scoups face, a blush on dino’s. “hi. i’m seungcheol.” “y/n. nice to meet you.” even scoups was captivated by your smile.

he looked at dino who was silently telling him to fuck off but what kind of hyung would he be if he did that?

“hope i’m not interrupting here.” he said as he still held his smirk.

“no, not at all. just talking to your friend here.”

your tone was already so bubbly and flirty.

“well, i’ll leave you two at it then. dino— we’re headed to lunch soon.”

when scoups walked away, you went back to eyeing up dino.

“dino. cute name.”

“it’s a nickname. real name is chan.”

“i like dino~” you mused back.

he smirked at your playful banter. “say, wanna join us for lunch? if you’re not doing anything.”

you bit your lip and nodded, “i just need to pay for these and i’ll meet you outside?” he smiled back and nodded, turning on the balls of his feet to meet shua and scoups.

outside, scoups was filling joshua in on what dino was doing, both men smiling like fools. they just love their little brother. “did you get her number? if you don’t, i will.” scoups cockily said, earning him a laugh from joshua. “even better. i invited her to lunch.” scoups looked impressed. not that he didn’t think dino had game, just the sheer thought of dino being so forward with you.

you came out to meet them, introducing yourself to joshua briefly and then start walking to find a spot for lunch.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

lunch was great. the four of you talked but you were still more interested in dino. scoups and joshua are great but they’re not who you’re feeling.

“lunch was delicious! thank you for paying.” dino smiled, “don’t mention it. hey, what are you doing for the rest of the day?”

“nothing,” you replied, seeing dino’s eyes light up a bit. “you?”

“same. would you want to keep hanging out?” you bit your lip and nodded, “want to come with me to one more store?”

“yeah! that sounds fun!”

you guys said goodbye to scoups and joshua and left. on the walk, dino grabbed your hand and held your bags from the previous store, really

making you feel something with how kind he was.

you just met the guy and he’s already such a gentleman towards you. love.

even after shopping, you didn’t want to end your hangout with dino. leaving the shop, he grabbed your hand again and smiled down at you. you were quick to initiate, getting on your toes to give him a small kiss.

“would you wanna come back to my hotel with me? whatcha a movie?”

a smile crept on his face, nodding quickly. “yeah, i’ll hangout for a bit.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

the air was cold inside your hotel room. that’s how you ended up snuggling with dino while a movie played, you couldn’t help it. it was very platonic, truly.

well. at first.

your back is pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close while he stared off at the movie. unintentionally, his hand crept up your stomach, beginning to dance his fingertips over your exposed skin as your shirt bunched up. the teasing manner caused goosebumps to trail your skin and desire to pool between your legs.

he was smirking feeling you squirm in his hold, your body pressing more into his as his hands grew higher.

once they reached your chest, he cupped your breasts in both of his hands while he pressed a simple kiss to your temple. “this okay, baby?”

you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, “y-yeah..”

his fingers traced over the top of the cups, pulling them down to started tweaking your nipples between his fingers. you let out a small gasp, melting into him while his name left your lips.

he kissed the side of your head again, teasing “so sensitive, huh?”

each pinch of his fingers made your mind spin while pressing your thighs together desperately.

“d-dino.. want you.”

your tone sounded so desperate, feeling like just putty in his hands while inflating his ego.

“gonna make you feel so good, y/n.” he mused with another flick of his fingers, your back arching off his chest.

next thing you know, you’re moved to be sitting on his lap, your ass right against his hard length. his lips attacking yours, you pushed yourself down into him, smiling against his lips at the little groan he made. his hands found the dips in your waist, feeling like his hands were meant to sit there. his fingertips squeezed your skin as if you were going to disappear any moment.

you rested your hands on his shoulders then slid them to be around his neck, playing with his hair at the nape of his neck.

feeling you tug against his hair, he let out another groan and started to kiss down your jaw to your neck, breathing heavier into your skin, “love having your hands on me.” he then groaned.

he nipped and kissed your hot skin until he found your sweet spot, the spot that made you feel like you were melting. a small whimper left you, making you push down into his lap once more.

“fuck, you cant keep doing that, baby. big tease.”

you absolutely were a tease.

“i told you i wanted you.” you flirted back, letting out a blissful sigh at him biting a mark into your skin. “fine. then why don’t you get me ready, baby?”

you for sure weren’t going to complain. quickly, you got off his lap and made yourself comfortable between his legs, looking at how his cock was strained behind the athletic shorts he was wearing. you looked up at him with innocent doe eyes, reaching for the waistband to tug them down which, he quickly obliged. his length was impressive, making your eyes widen and mouth practically drool.

his dominate hand found your hair, caressing your head gently while he held his length up to your lips. you took the base in your hand, offering him a few pumps while licking a a bold stripe up his shaft. he groaned, eyes rolling back in his head briefly to finally get some relief he’s been needing.

you took his tip in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks and looking up at him briefly. his eyes grew darker seeing yours, grabbing a bit tighter hold in your hair as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“shit, you look so pretty.”

he pushed the hair out of your face and let you work, taking him deeper in your mouth so he was threatening to hit your throat. you were stroking off what didn’t fit in your mouth. dino’s big, beautiful thighs were tensing off and on, showing he was close to finishing.

not wanting to finish yet, he gently tugged your hair and pulled you off of him then helped you back onto his lap for a rough kiss. you two made out, getting lost in one another briefly until he grabbed your hips and flipped you two over so you were on your back. he pulled away from your lips and smirked down at you while his hand ran up your leg and to your center. you gasped, pressing your chest up into his when he found your needy clit through your thin shorts.

luckily the teasing didn’t last too long and he tugged your shorts and underwear down in one go, leaving your bottom fully exposed for him. his fingers dipped into your slit, really showing just how turned on you are. he bit his lip and leaned down to kiss you again while his finger tips rubbed tight circles into your sensitive bud.

“d-dino.. need you. now..” you breathed out against his lips.

“fuck, you kill me, baby…” he growled and quickly positioned himself between your legs, rubbing the tip of his cock through your slick then deep into you, both of you letting out a moan.

dino leaned down and caged you under his frame, settling his hips to allow you to get used to the stretch.

once you felt comfortable, dino started thrusting into you, still slow at first, just enjoying the way you hugged his length. wrapping your arms around his neck, you lightly scratch his shoulders, fueling him to move faster, hitting your sweet spot right away.

sweet moans we’re falling off your tongue over and over, saying his name like a prayer as he fucked into you steadily.

you were a desperate mess, moaning and groaning while your hands held onto dino for dear life. you went front his shoulders to his hair to wrapping your arms around his neck just to keep him close and he fucking loved it. the more you grabbed onto him, the more he wanted to just give it to you— let you take it.

to stifle his moans, he was kissing and biting on your neck, aiming to leave dark marks in his wake. your skin throbbed hot while your pussy clenched around him, feeling closer and closer to your orgasm.

“dino.. s-so close!” you cried.

“cum, y/n. show me how good you feel.”

you came hard against him, loudly moaning through your high as dino slowed his hips down to let you ride it out peacefully.

after, he move you two into a new position— you on your hands and knees.

the second you’re bent over for him, his hands are squeezing and rubbing against your plump ass while lining himself up to thrust back into you.

his hands found your waist again, holding you close while he picked up the speed he left off on. your fists grabbed the bed sheets tight, your knuckles turning white from how hard they were grabbing. your brain was foggy, just pure bliss taking over you.

“i’m close, baby. where do you want it?”

“i-in me, please!!”

he bit his lip and gave you a few hard thrusts before he came deep inside of you, digging his blunt nails into your hips while he came down.

he grinned when he pulled out of you and saw your juices mixed with his making a mess down your thighs.

this is the best vacation he’s ever had.

dino quickly grabbed a rag to clean you up and helped you get dressed then himself before you two resumed cuddling atop the mattress.

“you think i can see you again before i leave?”

he smiled, “i think seungcheol will be pissed if i don’t.”

[whisperedmeg]

TERMINAL VELOCITY ―.✦ s.r. soft animal series ∘ part viii

pairing: spencer reid x fem!nurse!reader

summary: after a panic attack and a broken lamp lead to days of awkwardness, they fall back into each other — not carefully, but completely. this time, they don’t slow down.

genre: smut, angst (and hurt/comfort too I guess? not sure how to properly classify this, it’s kinda everything)

w/c: 3.7k

tags/warnings: post-prison spencer, panic attack, spencer throws something (but not in a violent way i promise), argument/tension, emotions dialed up to 100, oral (f receiving), protected p in v, aftercare/cuddling, 18+ MDNI

a/n: buckle up friends, this one is a bit of a roller coaster. but the payoff is well worth it!!! as always, appreciate all comments/likes/reblogs more than I can even express! thank you sm to everyone who has followed this series so far 🫶🏼 I’ve been sick as a dog for the last week so I’m a lil behind schedule on finishing writing the remaining chapters, but part 9 is ready to go and will be posted in a few days after this one has had some time to simmer 🥰

series masterlist

It started out as a good day.

One of those soft, normal Sundays that didn’t feel borrowed or fragile. Spencer had been home for a full two weeks since his last case, and we’d returned to an easy rhythm. We walked to the farmer’s market that morning. Split a peach, warm from the sun. I kissed juice off the corner of his mouth and called him “adorable.” He rolled his eyes in that bashful way he always does when he doesn’t want me to know how much he likes something.

The plan had been simple: an early dinner at my place, something lazy and comforting. Pasta. Records playing low. Maybe a clumsy, giggly slow dance in the kitchen, if I could talk him into it.

I had just pulled the garlic bread from the oven when I heard the crash.

I froze. My first instinct was to think it was an accident — a dropped mug, maybe — until I heard the sound again. Sharper this time. Splintering.

“Spencer?”

No answer.

I walked toward the bedroom, still holding the oven mitt like some useless shield. As soon as I reached the doorway, I saw him — bent over at the edge of the bed, breath heaving, both hands clenched in his hair. The lamp on the nightstand was shattered, pieces of it scattered across the floor. His knuckles were red.

“Hey—hey, what happened?” I dropped the mitt and rushed in.

He didn’t look at me. Just kept pulling at his scalp, eyes squeezed shut like he was trying to trap something inside.

“Spencer,” I said again, softer now. I crouched down, careful not to touch him yet. “Talk to me.”

His voice cracked when he finally spoke. “I can’t—I didn’t mean to—God, I thought I was past this.”

“What happened?”

He shook his head hard, like he could erase the moment. “The blinds were drawn. I walked out of the bathroom and it was so dark and for a second I couldn’t—I thought I was back in there. I couldn’t breathe. And I—I panicked. I just—” He looked at the broken lamp with something close to shame.

I sat beside him, heart pounding. “Okay. Alright. It’s okay. It was an ugly lamp anyways.”

He flinched when I reached for him, so I stopped.

“I don’t want to scare you,” he said. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”

“I’m not scared of you,” I said softly.

“You should be.”

The words hit like ice water. “Don’t say that.”

“I threw something.”

I shook my head. “You were having a panic attack. That’s not the same as being violent.”

He turned away, shoulders hunched. “It’s not fair. You shouldn’t have to manage this. Me. My damage.”

“I’m not managing you,” I said. “I’m loving you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

I stood up too fast. “Don’t do that,” I said, louder than I meant to. “Don’t push me away and call it mercy. I know what I signed up for.”

“You think you do.”

I stared at him, throat burning. “That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” he said. “And neither is asking you to watch me fall apart and pretend like this is some fairytale love story.”

My stomach dropped. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Are we not a love story?”

He didn’t answer. That said enough.

I stepped back. “Okay,” I said. “Okay. So what, then? You want to push me away before I see anything too raw? Before I find out that your trauma didn’t magically evaporate the second they let you walk free?”

He winced, and I regretted the sharpness immediately. But I couldn’t stop.

“Newsflash, Spencer, but I already know what prison did to you. I know it didn’t end when you got out. You think I haven’t woken up to you gasping in your sleep? Do you think I don’t see how you check every lock twice, every window? You don’t have to pretend with me.”

“I don’t want to need you like that,” he said. “I hate that I do.”

My voice cracked. “Needing someone doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. It’s not a bad thing to need me — I’m your girlfriend, Spencer. And you’re allowed to not be okay.”

His eyes finally met mine, raw and red and wide. “But what if I never am?”

I stepped forward slowly, kneeling again in front of him. This time, he let me take his hands.

“Then we figure it out,” I said. “Together. On the days when it’s easy. On the days when it’s not. But you have to let me be here.”

He looked at me like he wanted to believe it, but he was too terrified to.

I lifted his hand to my cheek. “You’re not broken. You’re healing. And healing isn’t linear. It’s loud and messy and painful and sometimes, you’re gonna throw a lamp. That doesn’t mean I leave.”

He pulled me into his arms then, hard and sudden, like the contact was the only thing keeping him tethered. I wrapped around him, holding tight.

We didn’t fix it all that night. Some things don’t get fixed in one conversation.

But we sat in the wreckage and didn’t run from each other.

That had to count for something, right?

—

The next few days passed in a kind of fog.

Not tense silence — worse. That kind of too-polite distance where everything is technically fine but nothing actually feels okay. Where the way someone says “hey” when they walk into the room feels different. Where every word is measured and careful, and every look is shadowed with a question no one wants to ask.

Spencer stayed over the night it happened. But it was a cold kind of closeness — backs turned, breaths held, too much space in a bed that had felt so full the night before.

By morning, it was like we were playing house in a world that had already started to fall down.

He made coffee. I made toast. We didn’t talk about the broken lamp, or the fight, or the way I’d cried in the bathroom with the water running because I didn’t want him to hear.

I went to Millburn. He went to Quantico. We texted a few times — little things. Logistics, mostly. “Did you remember your phone charger?” and “Leftovers are in your fridge if you’re hungry.”

No I miss you.

No Are you okay?

No Please talk to me.

I didn’t know if I was giving him space or abandoning him. I didn’t know if he needed a partner or a lifeline or just… quiet.

On the third night after the fight, I came home to find a new lamp on my nightstand.

It was simple. Modern. Matched my furniture perfectly. The tag was still on it, and he’d even installed a bulb. That small, thoughtful act — a silent attempt to fix something he didn’t know how to name — undid me more than the fight had, even if it was never really about the lamp.

So I called him.

“Hey,” he said when he picked up on the second ring.

“Thank you for the lamp.”

I could almost hear the way he searched for words before replying. “Oh. Yeah. I, uh, put the receipt on your dresser, so if you don’t like it, you can exchange it for—”

I cut him off before he could finish the thought. “Are you busy?”

A pause. “Not really.”

“Will you come back over, please?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I’ll be there in ten.”

—

Spencer showed up exactly 9 minutes and 45 seconds after the phone call ended. We didn’t talk right away — he sat at the end of the couch, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. I curled into the opposite corner and watched him with my heart too high in my throat.

He was the first to speak.

��I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For what I said. For what I did. I’ve been trying to find the right words all week and I don’t think there are any.”

“I’m not looking for the perfect words, Spence. I’m just looking for you.”

His eyes met mine. And I saw it again — that ache he tries to hide. The guilt. The shame. The slow-burning fear that he’s too much or not enough, or somehow both at once.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” he said. “I just… I’ve never needed anyone the way I need you. And that terrifies me.”

My throat tightened. “Why?”

“Because if I ever lose you…” He trailed off. “I don’t know what I’ll do. And part of me still believes that I will lose you. That it’s only a matter of time.”

I reached out, finally, and took his hand. “You’re not going to lose me.”

“You say that now.”

“I say that always.” I crawled across the couch until I closed the remaining distance between us. “Spencer, I’m not asking you to be healed. I’m not even asking you to be okay most of the time. I just want to be with you in it, however messy it is.”

He was quiet for a long time. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Okay.”

I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. He turned and kissed my hair — soft and lingering, like it was something sacred.

We didn’t say much after that. Just sat there, side by side, wrapped in a kind of peace that hadn’t been possible a few days earlier.

—

We mostly went back to our regular routine after that. Quiet dinners, walks through the neighborhood, reading comfortably on opposite ends of the couch. Things had started to feel somewhat normal again.

But he hadn’t touched me since before the fight. Not really. Not the way he used to.

It wasn’t a punishment, and I didn’t take it as one. It was more like… hesitation. A space he was still afraid to fill. Like he didn’t trust himself not to break something delicate if he reached for it. And I didn’t know how to tell him I was already cracked open, waiting.

We brushed our teeth side by side in his bathroom like we always had, and he handed me a hair tie from the little trinket dish on the counter, like he always did. I wore one of his old cotton shirts that hit mid-thigh, and he wore the soft plaid sleep pants I loved on him, low on his hips.

Everything about this night was familiar. Routine. But there was a tension beneath it, like a held breath just waiting to be released.

I slid under the covers first. He followed, flicking off the light before he settled beside me. He turned on his side with his back to me, his arm thrown over the edge of the bed like he was trying to take up less space.

I hated it.

I rolled towards him. “Spencer.”

He turned slowly, eyes catching the faint light from the moon. He looked tired.

“Are we okay?” I asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes searched mine, then he nodded. “I think so. Aren’t we?”

I nodded. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I know,” he said. He paused, and then added, “I just… I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” I whispered. “You had a panic attack. We had a fight. But you didn’t hurt me. There’s a difference.”

He nodded slowly. “Still.”

I reached for him, fingers brushing over his wrist. “You haven’t touched me since before that night,” I said quietly. I hated it — I felt like I was pathetic, begging for him.

His breath hitched. “I didn’t want to assume it would be okay.”

“You don’t have to assume,” I murmured, sliding closer. My leg slipped between his. “You can just ask. I would’ve told you I want you to touch me.”

He didn’t move at first. Just looked at me, eyes soft and unreadable. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for me, but was still fighting some invisible tether inside him.

“I’ve wanted to,” he said finally. “Every night. Every morning. But I kept thinking… what if I can’t handle it? What if I ruin it? What if you see something in me I can’t take back?”

His voice cracked on that last part.

“I’ve already seen everything, Spence,” I said gently. “And I’m still here.”

He blinked at me. “Why?”

“Because I love you, and I want you. All of you. Even the parts that are still figuring themselves out.”

He exhaled like it physically hurt to believe me — but then surged forward and kissed me anyways. Not cautiously, and not even with his usual restraint. It was like something inside him finally gave in.

His body pressed to mine, tentative at first. Then firmer. Bolder. The quiet heat of something long withheld.

We’d touched before — more than touched. I knew the sound he made when I grazed the inside of his thigh with my fingertips. I knew how his mouth felt between my legs. He’d seen me unravel in his hands. I’d memorized the catch in his voice when I pushed him to the edge. There was no learning curve left, no firsts left to cross off except the big one we’d been cautiously working up to.

But this wasn’t like any of the other times. This was different.

This felt like all of it.

He kissed me slow, deep, one hand cupping my cheek while the other settled at my waist. When he touched me, it was like he was asking and answering a question at the same time. His fingers drifted under my shirt and up my ribs — familiar, but also searching, like he needed to make sure I hadn’t changed in the last few days.

I arched into him.

His mouth moved down to my throat, warm and open. His other hand slid around my thigh, pulling me closer until I was flush against the thick heat of him.

Clothes came off slowly, like we were peeling back the final layer between hesitation and yes.

When we finally lay skin to skin, breathing hard, I reached up and framed his face with my hands.

His jaw clenched like he was holding something back. Then he dipped down to kiss me again, mouth soft but needy.

When we broke for air, our breathing was uneven.

“I’ve missed this,” he said softly. “Missed it every second. I just didn’t realize how much until right now.”

I smiled at him, my cheeks warming. “Then don’t stop,” I whispered.

His eyes roamed me slowly, reverently. “You’re so beautiful. It still doesn’t feel real sometimes that I get to have you.”

His mouth followed the trail of his hands — down my collarbone, across the swell of my breasts, lower. I moaned as he sucked one nipple between his lips, his tongue teasing while his hand kneaded the other. I tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled him closer.

“God, Spencer.”

He groaned softly, then moved to the other side, lavishing it with just as much attention. By the time he kissed his way down my stomach, I was already soaked, already aching.

When he reached my hips, he paused. “Still okay?”

“Still okay,” I breathed. “Please.”

He spread my legs gently and settled between them like he belonged there. Which, at this point, he did.

His tongue met me softly, just once. Then again, firmer, deeper. I whimpered. My hips arched off the mattress and his hands caught them, held me down.

He worked me open with his mouth, his tongue relentless and skilled. Every flick and swirl felt personal. Studied. Practiced. Precise. He knew exactly how to pull me apart.

“Fuck,” I whispered. “Spence, I—”

I came with a cry and a gasp, trembling through it as he held me close, moaning softly against me like he couldn’t get enough. When I finally pulled him up, I kissed him hard, tasting myself on his lips. I felt desire still burning low and insistent in my belly, but I didn’t push for more — I never did. I just kissed him again and let the moment hang in the air.

He pressed his forehead to mine, breath warm and ragged.

“I want you,” he whispered. His voice was barely audible, like it might break if he spoke any louder. “I… I want to be inside you.”

My breath caught. My heart stuttered. The ache that bloomed in my chest wasn’t just arousal — it was relief. It was love. It was months of careful, patient waiting, finally exhaling.

“You can have me,” I whispered, voice thick. “You always could. As long as you’re ready.”

His expression cracked wide open. He kissed me again, slower this time.

“I’m ready,” he murmured in reply. “Ready to let myself have this. To let myself have you. Finally.”

He paused for a second longer, brushing his nose against mine. Then, quieter:

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

My heart clenched, and I cupped his cheek. “Hey,” I whispered. “Spencer, no. Don’t be sorry. You were healing. You took care of yourself,” I murmured softly. “That’s not something you ever have to apologize for. Not with me.”

His expression cracked again — something raw and grateful surfacing. He kissed me, soft and slow, like he didn’t have the words yet but wanted me to feel them anyway.

He reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled out a condom, opening it with careful hands. I watched the way his jaw flexed as he rolled it on, then pulled him back down to me, threading my fingers through his hair.

“Wait,” I whispered. “One second.”

He froze. “Everything okay?”

I cupped his face. “Mhmm. Just wanted to look at you.”

His expression softened, a soft smile curling at the corners of his mouth. “You’re everything,” he whispered.

He lined himself up, and I held my breath.

He pushed in slow. So slow. Stretching, filling, pressing against the deepest parts of me. My nails dug into his back. We both stilled as he sank into me fully. Our eyes locked. His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable.

“You okay?” I asked softly, brushing his cheek.

“I don’t want to move yet,” he said. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

Tears pricked at my eyes. I kissed him.

We stayed like that for a moment — joined, breathing in sync, everything silent but our hearts.

When he started to move, I wrapped my legs around him and met every slow, deep thrust with one of my own. He kissed me as we rocked together, one hand buried in my hair, the other gripping my waist like he couldn’t let go.

It wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t rushed. It was everything else — tender, aching, patient. Like we both wanted to feel every second of it. I found myself thinking back to our first night together, how badly I wanted this then, and suddenly I was overwhelmed with gratitude that we hadn’t pushed things this far that night. If we had, it wouldn’t have been like this.

His forehead dropped to mine.

“You feel—fuck—you feel like home,” he whispered. “Like nothing’s missing anymore.”

Tears pricked behind my eyes again. I kissed him, slow and deep and full. “Spencer,” I breathed. “I love you.”

His hips stilled, just for a beat. Then he kissed me again, harder this time.

“I love you too,” he whispered against my mouth. “So much.”

Pleasure fizzed and pulsed like a low tremor in my spine, a slow unfurling heat that built with every movement of his body against mine. He was moving deeper now, each thrust less about rhythm and more about need. He was searching for the exact place inside me that made the entire world go quiet.

My hands were everywhere — his shoulders, his back, tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck. I wanted to memorize the feel of him, the weight and warmth and tension, every shiver, every breath. He was whispering things, fractured little syllables that barely made it out— my name, and oh god, and I love you.

The pleasure coiled inside me, thick and pulsing, pulling tighter, tighter, tighter. My thighs clenched around his waist, and I arched up into him, gasping his name like I was drowning in it.

And then it happened — slowly, and then all at once.

It wasn’t loud — rather, it was quiet and endless. A white-hot bloom behind my eyes, every nerve alive and wide open. My whole body convulsed, wrapped around him, everything contracting and expanding in one bright, blinding instant. It felt like dissolving. Like turning into the stardust we were both made of. Like being completely seen and still chosen.

“Oh,” he groaned, thick and desperate, his face buried against my shoulder. His body stilled, then shook. “I—I’m gonna—”

And then he let go.

I felt him come undone, felt the last of his restraint snap as he poured himself into the space between us. He moaned my name like it meant something holy, like it was the one thing tethering him to this world. His arms wrapped tight around me as if he was afraid we’d lose each other in the aftershock.

I held him just as tightly.

And when the tremors passed — when we finally stilled and our hearts slowed and our breathing returned — I pressed my lips to his temple and closed my eyes.

We clung to each other, sweat-slick and breathless, hearts racing in tandem.

Eventually, he took care of the condom and rolled to the side, pulled me with him, and tucked my head under his chin.

We didn’t say anything for a while. There wasn’t a need. But when he finally spoke, his voice was raw.

“I don’t think I even knew what love felt like before this.”

I pressed my hand to his chest, right over his heart.

“Me neither,” I whispered.

And this time, there was no space, no hesitation — just two bodies, one breath, and the quiet aftermath of saying yes.

ᝰ.ᐟ

[hereforuconnwbb]

Foul Play - Chapter 2

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

word count: 4.1k

warning: language

hey guys tysm for showing the love for chapter 1 !! i appreciate it sm 🥹 i went straight to working on this chapter a bit after i woke up bc of the motivation from u guys😭 anyways i hope this chapter is alr cs i did get a bit stuck but js came up with smth quickly so it might not be that great and i dont rlly like it... anyways hope u guys enjoy !!🫶🏽

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Paige blinked up at her phone screen, the brightness nearly blinding after a shit night of sleep.

Aubrey: u alive ? 

Aubrey: meet me at the cafe before class cs i need caffeine and u need to not look like u wanna kill someone when we show up

She groaned, rolled out of bed, and muttered a curse as her feet hit the cold floor. Her shoulders still ached from yesterday’s scrimmage, but she wasn’t about to admit that out loud. Not after making Marcus look like her bitch.

Paige finally arrived at the cafe, Aubrey was already at a table near the back, sipping something with way too much whipped cream and scrolling through tiktok.

Paige slid into the seat across from her. “You’re disgusting.”

Aubrey didn’t look up. “You’re late.”

“I showed up. That’s enough.”

Aubrey finally looked at her, 1 brow raised. “So, now that your lil murder haze wore off—what’s up with you and Marcus ? I didn’t wanna ask yesterday while you were still heated.”

Paige sipped her coffee, grimaced. “We knew each other back in high school.”

Aubrey leaned in. “Knew each other, like friends ?”

“Yep. Close friends til he slept with my girlfriend at the time.”

Aubrey blinked. “Oh.”

“Yea. Oh.”

“Ok, that explains… everything.”

“He’s lucky I only ghosted him,” Paige said, then took another sip, letting the bitterness settle behind her teeth.

Before Aubrey could respond, a voice behind them cut through the low hum of the cafe.

“Seriously ? This place has like, two clean tables and you had to take mine ?”

Paige didn’t even need to look. She already knew.

Azzi was standing there in a uconn soccer hoodie and leggings, hair still wet from a morning shower, looking pissed about everything.

“Wow,” Paige said without missing a beat. “Didn’t realise seating arrangements were part of your lil dictatorship.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t realize transferring here came with a superiority complex.”

“Trust me, mine’s earned.”

Azzi gave a slow, sarcastic smile. “Yea ? By standing in the middle of the damn path like it’s yours ?”

Paige’s eyes narrowed. “You ran into me.”

Azzi scoffed. “Maybe move next time.”

“Maybe watch where you’re going.”

They were locked in now. Neither of them blinked.

Aubrey glanced between them and made a face. “Okkkkk,” she said, dragging out the word, “I think the real issue is caffeine withdrawal, and not whatever weird little rivalry yall are doing.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m leaving.”

“Yea good, run along,” Paige said under her breath.

Azzi turned back just long enough to shoot her a look. “Your ego’s not gonna fit through the classroom door.”

“Guess I’ll just have to squeeze in next to yours.”

Azzi stormed off, and Paige blew out a sharp breath, fingers curling around her coffee cup.

Aubrey whistled low. “Damn. You two got heat.”

Paige glared. “Don’t even start.”

Aubrey paused, then winced. “Shit—I forgot to tell you something yesterday.”

“What ?”

“…She’s dating Marcus.”

Paige blinked. Once. Twice.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I wish,” Aubrey muttered, stirring her drink.

Paige leaned back in her chair, let out a humourless laugh. “Of course. Makes sense. Two egos, one toxic-ass couple. They deserve each other.”

Aubrey gave her a sideways look. “You’re really on one today.”

“I’m calm,” Paige said with a flat smile. “I just know shit when I smell it.”

“Cool. Just maybe don’t say that out loud in class. They’re both in our 9:30.”

Paige’s smile dropped.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Azzi walked out of the cafe with her jaw tight and fists buried in the front pocket of her hoodie as she pulled out her phone and opened the gc with Caroline and Kaitlyn.

Azzi: js ran into that stupid transfer again

Azzi: the one from yesterday

Azzi: paige wtv

Kaitlyn: WIAT what happened ??????????

Kaitlyn: did she say smth ?

Caroline: az wdym ‘again’  

Caroline: u never told us there was a first time 😭

Azzi exhaled through her nose, fingers flying across the screen.

Azzi: she was standing in the middle of the damn path yesterday like a traffic cone

Azzi: shoulder checked me

Azzi: acted like it was my fault

Azzi: whole lotta attitude like she runs campus or something

Kaitlyn: no way thats crazy 😭

Caroline: i love her game but like… not her thinking this is HER skl when she js got here 😭

Azzi: and js now she had the nerve to start shit in the cafe

Azzi: sat at my usual table

Azzi: mouthy asf

Azzi: shes got a real chip on her shoulder

Kaitlyn: omg

Kaitlyn: ok but this sounds kinda juicy

Caroline: definitely sounds like theres a lil tension 👀

Azzi: theres nth

Azzi: shes js annoying

Azzi backed out of the chat and opened her messages with Marcus.

Azzi: can u meet me at the cafe ?

Azzi: we can walk to class together

He replied a minute later.

Marcus: yh almost there

Marcus: u good ?

Azzi: fine

Azzi: js meet me out front

She tucked her phone away and leaned against the outside wall of the cafe, exhaling slowly.

Marcus showed up 2 minutes later with his uconn basketball hoodie on, chain glinting in the morning light, and that cocky grin like he didn’t know how to walk normally.

Azzi spotted him weaving through the early class crowd and stepped off the wall.

He leaned in, pecked her on the cheek, then pulled back to look at her. “Babe, you sure you’re good ? You texted like you were ready to murder someone.”

Azzi sighed. “That new basketball transfer ? Paige ?”

Marcus rolled his eyes before she could finish. “I fucking hate her.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “You know her ?”

“Unfortunately.”

There was something in the way he said it so fast and bitterly but she didn’t press. Just raised a brow. “So you also think she’s the most arrogant person on this campus ?”

Marcus huffed a dry laugh. “Always has been. Bro walks around like everyone owes her something.”

Azzi nodded, arms folded. “She shoulder checked me yesterday and then acted like I got in her way.”

Marcus’s jaw clenched. “Yep. Sounds like her.”

Azzi tilted her head. “So what happened ? Why do you hate her ?”

He waved it off. “Old shit. High school drama. Doesn’t matter.”

That made her pause. “Wait… you guys went to the same high school ?”

Marcus hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Yea. Different crowds though. She was always doing her own thing.”

Azzi stared at him a moment longer, then let it go.

They started walking toward class together, falling into a comfortable enough silence.

The room was already half full when Azzi and Marcus slid into the back corner row, claiming their usual spot. He slung his arm casually around her shoulders pulling her in close. She let him, leaning slightly into his side, but her eyes drifted out the window as he launched into a story about pickup runs a few years ago at the gym and how he “cooked” 3 guys who are now playing pro. Again.

Azzi nodded at the right parts, hummed in acknowledgment, but mostly tuned out. It wasn’t new. Marcus talked a lot about himself. She used to think it was charming. Now it just filled the space with static.

She was about to check the time when the classroom door opened, and Paige walked in like she owned the place.

Aubrey followed right behind, phone still in hand, looking barely awake. The moment Paige’s eyes landed on Marcus and Azzi cuddled up in the corner, her expression twisted like she’d just smelled something grot.

Paige muttered under her breath, loud enough for half the back row to hear, “Shi I didn’t know this class came with live pda. Gross.”

Aubrey pinched her lips to keep from laughing. “Can you not ?”

Paige didn’t stop. “It’s like watching a bad teen drama in real time.”

Azzi’s head snapped up, her jaw clenching instantly. Marcus looked over too, mouth twitching like he was ready to throw hands if he had the range.

Paige and Aubrey took the opposite end of the back row. Paige threw her bag down and dropped into the seat like the room itself exhausted her.

1 of the girls in front of them turned around with a sweet smile. “You’re Paige right ? The transfer ?”

Paige gave a slow blink. “Unfortunately.”

The girl giggled like it was charming. “I saw your highlights online. You’ve got such good handles.”

“Thanks,” Paige said flatly, not even trying to sound interested.

Another girl chimed in from the row over. “You in a relo or anything ?”

Paige tilted her head. “Nah.”

“Oooooo, so you’re free then ?”

Aubrey groaned and rested her head on her arms. “You guys are bold.”

“I’m just saying,” the first girl said, undeterred, “you’ve got like, main character energy.”

Paige smirked, eyes still cool. “And yet I’ve never been this bored.”

That shut them up. Mostly.

Azzi shifted in her seat, watching it all from across the room. She didn’t know why it irritated her. She shouldn’t care. But the way the girls kept trying, and Paige kept rejecting, like no one was good enough it made her want to say something.

Then Paige leaned over to Aubrey and said, “Maybe I’m just cold cause I haven’t gotten laid in months.”

Aubrey made a sound between a snort and a cough. “Honestly ? That would explain a lot.”

“Probably,” Paige said with a crooked grin, sipping her coffee like she hadn’t just said it in a room full of people.

That’s when a new voice cut in. “Well, if that’s the problem, I’m available whenever.”

They turned to see her leaning back in her chair a row ahead, looking over her shoulder with a soft smile. Dark braids in a high bun, deep brown eyes, tan skin that glowed under the shitty lecture hall lights. She wore a uconn volleyball hoodie and the confidence of someone who was used to being noticed.

Paige blinked. “What’s your name ?”

“Jayla,” she said. “Senior. And, like I said… available.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Got a phone ?”

Jayla tossed her a slow, deliberate smile. “You wanna put your number in it ?”

“Sure,” Paige said, holding out her hand. Jayla passed her the phone.

Aubrey watched this unfold like it was live theatre. “Oh now you wanna be social.”

“I’m adaptable,” Paige murmured, tapping her number in and handing it back.

Across the room, Marcus stiffened. His jaw locked, and his grip around Azzi’s shoulders subtly tightened.

Azzi didn’t notice. She was still staring at Paige.

Jayla winked as she turned back around. "Thank you superstar.”

Paige leaned back in her chair with a smug little smirk.

Marcus muttered, “That girl’s a fucking joke.”

Azzi frowned. “What ?”

“I said, she’s pathetic,” he repeated, louder.

Azzi narrowed her eyes, watching Paige again. “You sure you’re not just mad she didn’t flirt with you ?”

Marcus scoffed. “Why would I care ? I got you.”

From across the row, Paige’s voice floated out lazily, not even bothering to look at them. “Might wanna keep your boyfriend on a leash, Soccer Barbie. He’s foaming at the mouth.”

Azzi sat up straighter. “Say that again ?”

Paige finally turned, eyes sharp. “Didn’t stutter.”

Aubrey sighed. “Here we go.”

Azzi twisted in her seat. “You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh I think I do,” Paige said with a small, cold smile. “I’ve known him for a while and I’ve seen guys just like him my whole life. Big talk, small… game.”

Marcus sat forward. “Try me, Bueckers.”

Paige’s smile didn’t flinch. “Thought I already did. On the court yesterday. Remember how that went ?”

Azzi looked between them, confused. “Wait—what ?”

“Nothing,” Marcus snapped. “She’s just running her mouth again.”

Paige gave a mock pout. “Nawwww you’re still mad I crossed you up in front of our teams ?”

“You got lucky.”

“I got buckets.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Azzi cut in, her voice rising. “Both of you shut up.”

A tense silence fell over the back corner.

Paige just leaned back again, eyes on the ceiling. “Gosh. This school’s full of clowns.”

Aubrey nudged her. “You’re gonna fight someone before we even get to midterms.”

Paige muttered under her breath, “Don’t tempt me.”

Jayla turned back around just enough to whisper, “I text you or you text me ?”

Paige smirked. “You text me.”

—-------------------------------------------------

The rest of class dragged on. The professor rambled on about economic systems, but no one in the back row was paying attention except Aubrey, who half-heartedly took notes just to avoid getting roped into more drama. Azzi stayed tense, arms folded, lips pressed together as she glared holes into her notebook. Marcus tried to whisper something to her, but she brushed him off with a short shake of her head.

Meanwhile, Paige sat back with her legs manspreading, spinning a pen between her fingers. Every so often, she glanced over at Jayla, who was doing an impressive job of pretending she wasn’t glancing back.

As soon as the professor dismissed class, Jayla stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. She didn’t even wait for Paige to move first—just turned, leaned in with that same easy smile, and said, “So… are you free tonight ?”

Paige gave a slow nod. “Yea. But just so we’re clear…” Her tone flattened slightly, not cold but firm. “I’m not looking for anything serious. Strictly casual.”

Jayla didn’t flinch. “Good. Me neither.” Then she smiled again, bright and warm. “I’m not the clingy type.”

Paige gave a small, appreciative smirk. “Then we’ll get along fine.”

Jayla tapped her phone. “I’ll text you. See you tonight, superstar.”

Paige watched her walk off for a second before turning to grab her own stuff. Aubrey had already stood and was slinging her bag over her shoulder, giving her a look.

“What ?” Paige asked.

Aubrey blinked slowly. “You. Jayla.”

“What about us ?” Paige asked as they started walking out together.

“She’s like… sunshine. You’re not.”

“She said it’s casual,” Paige said with a shrug. “I’m not gonna fall in love with her or whatever. It’s just gonna be a hookup.”

Aubrey gave her a skeptical look. “You don’t even like people. What makes you think you’re gonna enjoy this one ?”

“I don’t have to like her,” Paige replied dryly. “I just have to like what we’re doing.”

Aubrey made a face. “tmi, bro.”

Then she glanced sideways at Aubrey. “But did you catch Marcus’s face when I gave her my number ?”

Aubrey’s expression shifted. “I did, actually.”

“Looked like someone spat in his drink.”

Aubrey nodded slowly. “It was definitely a look.”

Paige exhaled through her nose. “Wouldn’t even be surprised if there’s something weird going on there.”

Aubrey narrowed her eyes. “Like what ?”

“I dunno.” Paige shrugged like she didn’t care, but her voice had that sharp edge again. “He got real twitchy the second I started talking to her. That’s like ‘I’ve got secrets’ behaviour.”

“You think he’s messing around with Jayla ?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t not say it.”

Paige smirked. “Exactly.”

They walked in silence for a few steps.

Then Aubrey said, “You planning on saying anything ? Like to Azzi ?”

Paige scoffed. “Fuck no. That girl hates me and I hate her too.”

She pushed the door open, let the sunlight spill over them, and said, “Plus, I’ve got better things to do than get caught in someone else’s shit.”

Aubrey didn’t press. But she saw the way Paige’s jaw flexed as they stepped outside.

—-------------------------------------------------

Later that day they settled onto a weathered wooden bench beneath a tree after deciding to get some air instead of staying in their rooms all day. Aubrey pulled her phone out and started scrolling, while Paige absentmindedly drummed her fingers on the bench, still simmering from the morning’s tense class.

“So, what’s your take on this season ?” Aubrey asked, breaking the silence. “You think the team’s gonna be better this year ? Cause you know, with you coming in all ‘transfer superstar’ and all that.”

Paige snorted. “I’m not about the hype. Just wanna run it back on the court and kill it. No distractions.”

Aubrey smiled knowingly. “Yea, no distractions. Like your little hook up with Jayla tonight and Marcus and Azzi being up your ass after two days into being here on campus.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

They fell quiet for a moment, eyes drifting across to the walkway where a familiar figure leaned against a lamp post nearby.

Marcus. 

He was talking to Jayla, who looked frustrated, arms crossed, lips moving fast like she was telling him off. Paige tensed, her gaze sharp.

“I don’t like what I'm seeing,” she muttered, nudging Aubrey. “What the hell are they doing ?”

Aubrey squinted. “Looks like they’re arguing. Jayla’s pissed about something… maybe because of tonight ? Ion know.”

Paige’s stomach tightened. They edged a little closer but stayed behind a low bush so they wouldn’t be spotted.

Marcus’s voice was low, clipped, and though they couldn’t hear the words, his gestures were sharp with his finger jabbing, then a hand raised like a warning.

Jayla shook her head, then suddenly pulled out her phone, fingers flying over the screen. Paige’s phone buzzed right then.

She pulled it out, eyes narrowing as she read.

Jayla: hey i changed my mind about tn. im not interested anymore

Paige’s mouth tightened, the words stinging more than she wanted to admit. She looked back at Jayla and Marcus—Jayla’s expression was tight, eyes flicking nervously toward Marcus, who looked like he was watching every move like a hawk.

“Bullshit,” Paige muttered under her breath.

Aubrey put a steady hand on her shoulder. “Forget it, Paige. Let’s just go do some weights to forget about this. Don’t let this shit ruin your day.”

Paige shook her off with a sharp edge. “He’s always fucking everything up for me. He can’t stand me. And now he’s doing this to piss me off even more.”

Aubrey sighed but said nothing. They watched as Marcus gave Jayla a final stern look, and she reluctantly slid the phone back into her pocket. Neither of them noticed that Paige and Aubrey were watching as they were too caught up in their own conversation to suspect anyone could be watching.

Paige’s jaw clenched as she stared after them, a cold fire sparking inside her.

“Mark my words,” she whispered. “I’m not letting that asshole ruin this year. I will literally ruin his year.”

—-------------------------------------------------

Azzi was already on the field, cleats digging into the turf as she moved through a warm-up circuit alone. Her passes were sharp, her touches clean, but her jaw stayed tight, focus narrowed more out of tension than discipline. She barely looked up when she heard voices approaching.

Caroline and Kaitlyn strolled over from the far side of the complex, both in training gear and mid-laugh about something. Caroline spotted Azzi first and gave her a wave. “Damn, you’re early. Grinding already ?”

Azzi slowed to a jog, grabbing her water bottle from the ground as she met them at the sideline. “Needed to clear my head.”

Kaitlyn raised an eyebrow, glancing between her and the goalpost Azzi had clearly been aiming at. “Judging by the way that net’s getting bullied, I’m guessing something’s up.”

Azzi hesitated for a second, then exhaled through her nose. “I already caught you guys up. It’s just… that situation. Me and Paige. The whole beef.”

Caroline didn’t say anything, but the flicker in her expression said she understood.

Kaitlyn gave a low whistle. “Yea, that’s the kind of drama that’ll make you wanna kick something. Or someone.”

Azzi gave a dry half-smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yea, well. I’m trying not to let it mess with my game.”

Caroline bumped her shoulder gently. “Good. Keep it that way. We got a trial game in two days so no time for distractions.”

Azzi nodded, jaw tightening again as she tied her hair back with a quick motion. She didn’t say it, but the distraction was already there.

“Alrightyyyy, let’s start.” Kaitlyn clapped her hands. 

The 3 of them jogged toward the cones laid out on the field for their session that they planned on. For now, Azzi forced the thoughts out of her mind. Just touches. Just drills. Just the ball and the work. Everything else could wait.

—-------------------------------------------------

A few minutes later, Paige and Aubrey cut across the campus walkway that ran alongside the soccer field, heading toward the gym. Paige still had a storm in her eyes with her jaw locked.

Aubrey kept glancing sideways at her. “You good ?”

“No,” Paige muttered. “But weights will help.”

They neared the edge of the field where Azzi, Caroline, and Kaitlyn were locked into a sprint-drill circuit. Azzi spotted them first locking in Paige’s tall frame, blonde hair, and that infuriatingly calm walk beside Aubrey. Her stomach turned. The irritation she’d been working to bury all afternoon resurfaced in an instant.

“Yuck,” she muttered under her breath, eyes locked on Paige like she’d just seen something offensive.

Caroline glanced at her sideways. “Ignore it.”

But Azzi didn’t. Instead, she took a sharp touch on the ball during their next passing drill and, with a flick of her foot and a bit too much heat, sent it sailing straight towards the path where Paige and Aubrey were walking.

The ball skidded across the grass and thumped to a stop right in front of Paige’s feet.

She paused, glancing down, then up at the field. Her eyes found Azzi almost immediately.

Aubrey raised her brows. “Was that—”

“Yep,” Paige said coldly.

Without hesitation, Paige bent down, picked up the ball, and turned to the opposite direction of the field. She booted it hard, sending it flying across the grass toward the far end of the field.

Caroline and Kaitlyn both froze, wide-eyed. Azzi’s head snapped toward the ball’s route, her hands lifting in disbelief.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” she muttered, storming off in that direction with quick, frustrated strides.

Kaitlyn turned to Caroline.

Caroline just sighed. “It’s gonna get worse before it gets better.”

Meanwhile, Paige didn’t look back. She just kept walking beside Aubrey, who shook her head, both amused and mildly stressed.

“You’re playing with fire,” Aubrey said under her breath.

“I’m done playing,” Paige shot back, voice flat. “She wants to start shit ? She picked the right day.”

And with that, they disappeared into the gym entrance, the tension they left behind still crackling across the field.

—-------------------------------------------------

Paige and Aubrey had just left the gym, muscles burning and clothes damp with sweat from their weight session. The late afternoon sun was dipping lower, casting long shadows across the campus as they headed back toward the dorms. The air was cooler now, but Paige still felt a fire burning under her skin.

They rounded a corner near the soccer field, and suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Paige spotted Azzi, Caroline, and Kaitlyn, walking slowly together, their faces all pulled tight with frustration.

Azzi’s jaw was clenched so hard Paige could practically hear it. Her fists were balled at her sides, and her strides were sharp, like every step was trying to shake off the shitty mood that clung to her.

“Shit,” Aubrey muttered under her breath, slowing down. “Looks like tonight’s gonna be rough for her.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed as they drew closer. She caught the tail end of Azzi snapping at Caroline and Kaitlyn, her voice low but heated. “Marcus bailed on me. Again. Said he’s ‘busy’ or some bullshit. Like, who the hell gets ‘busy’ on a free day that we had plans on ?”

Caroline exchanged a quick glance with Kaitlyn. “That sucks, Az. He’s been weird lately.”

Azzi threw her hands up, then stopped mid-step when she spotted Paige and Aubrey approaching.

Paige kept her expression neutral, even cold. Aubrey gave a quick, awkward smile and stepped forward slightly.

“Hey guys… Sorry about earlier,” Aubrey said softly, glancing between them. 

Caroline forced a smile but didn’t say much. Kaitlyn nodded, eyes wary but understanding. “It’s ok. We get it.”

Azzi’s glare didn’t soften as Paige passed close by. “Whatever,” she snapped, voice sharp.

Paige didn’t respond. Instead, she kept walking, muscles tense but refusing to give Azzi the satisfaction of a reaction.

Aubrey caught up beside her, muttering, “You and Azzi are really building something special.”

Paige huffed out a humourless laugh, eyes still hard. “Yea. Mutual hatred. It’s beautiful.”

As they disappeared down the walkway toward their dorms, the weight of the tension between the 2 groups lingered in the cooling air unspoken but undeniable.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[nhmkhnh]

POISON.

PAIRINGS: DOM!VI X SUB!FEM!READER

PREFACE: "you are the poison i can't help but addict, baby."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: okayy mega jumbo headcanons about perv + obssesed vi i kept for myself out now! enjoy <3

WARNING(S): lowercase, explicit content (minors & men dni) TAGS: perv!vi ;; obsessed!vi ;; stalker!vi ;; jealous!vi ;; possessive!vi ;; filthy thoughts 24/7 ;; clothes sniffing ;; jerking off ;; shrine of your things ;; toxic obesession ;; horny thoughts ;; breaking point energy ;; protective but perverted.

navigation.

1. vi knows your entire daily routine down to the minute—and not because you told her.

she’s memorized what time you leave for class, what drink you always get from the same shitty café, and even how long you spend in the shower. she doesn't just notice it—she schedules her whole day around it. not because she has to. just because it’s you.

"you take exactly twelve minutes to brush your hair, sweetheart. you always skip your bottom lashes on tuesdays. yeah, i pay attention—what, surprised your little stalker takes notes?"

2. she steals your clothes like a sick little habit.

not the cute ones, not the fancy ones—the worn-in ones. your favorite hoodie? gone. that pair of lace panties you thought you lost in the laundry? in her pillowcase. she doesn’t even try to deny it. just smirks when you ask.

*"dunno what you're talkin’ about, baby… but if i *did* have 'em, maybe i'd just be keepin’ ‘em warm for you.”*

3. vi’s phone gallery is 90% you.

you asleep. you eating. you laughing at a meme she didn’t even send. some pics are sweet. some are… well, taken through a cracked doorway while you changed. she gets off to them on lonely nights, biting her knuckles, whispering your name.

“fuck… look at you. you’ve got no idea how bad i wanna wreck you.”

4. she jerks off to your voice.

a voicemail, a saved video, even a muffled recording from a café where you were talking to a friend. vi’s hand’s already down her sweats before she hits play. her forehead pressed to her screen. whimpering like you’re there.

“say my name, c’mon… baby, just one time. fuck—please—”*

5. she fantasizes about ruining you in public.

bent over a sink in a club bathroom. up against a brick wall in an alley. in the backseat of your friend’s car. she dreams of making you cry her name through clenched teeth, knowing people are just a few feet away.

"you’d let me, wouldn’t you? be a good girl, take it all while they pass by, clueless to how fucked-out you are…”

6. vi loves when you wear skirts.

not because they’re cute (they are). but because it’s easier access. she’s touched you under restaurant tables. at bars. even while you were on a zoom call once. and you tried so hard to keep your voice steady—god, she lives for it.

“keep talkin’—pretend nothin’s wrong, c’mon. let me feel how wet you are for me, baby.”

7. she’ll lose her fucking mind if she catches you flirting.

even if it's innocent. even if it's just you smiling too long at someone. her voice gets low, hands on your hips, jaw clenched like she might bite you. jealousy makes her primal. possessive. dangerous.

“you wanna make me mad, sweetheart? you wanna see what happens when you act like you ain’t already mine?”

8. vi dreams about breaking you in.

your thighs trembling. your voice going hoarse from screaming her name. you limping the next day. she wants to be your first thought every morning and the ache between your legs every night.

“i wanna fuck you so good you forget anyone else exists. just vi. just me, in that pretty little head of yours.”

9. she has a list of things she’ll do to you…

a literal list. scribbled in a beat-up notebook, hidden under her mattress. everything from tying you up with her wraps to edging you for hours until you cry. some pages are so smudged from her fingers she had to rewrite them.

“you wanna see my favorite entry? the one where i keep you cockdrunk for a week straight, unable to speak without moaning my name?”

10. vi doesn’t just want your body. she wants to consume you.

every laugh, every breath, every little secret you’ve never told anyone else—she wants it all. and once she has it, she’ll never let go. not gently. not softly. she wants to be the reason your legs shake and your trust breaks.

"you're mine. and if i have to fuck it into that pretty head of yours every night to remind you… so be it."

11. vi sniffs your scent like an addict in withdrawal. your pillow, your gym towel, your half-worn sweater you forgot at her place. she’ll hold it to her face, inhale like it’s oxygen, hips grinding down on nothing as her brain short-circuits.

"you smell like heaven and sin, baby. no wonder i can’t fuckin’ think straight around you…”

12. she has a secret playlist full of songs that remind her of you.

some are sexy. some are sad. some she fucks herself to while mouthing your name like it’s a prayer. she’s even written down the timestamps of parts where she imagines you begging for her.

“this part right here—yeah. that’s where you’d be moanin’ my name into the sheets, huh?”

13. vi gaslights herself into believing you want her just as twistedly.

you looked at her once for a second too long? you’re in love. you asked for help reaching something? you’re submitting. she reads everything like a sign.

“don’t act shy, baby. you’re the one who started this… remember? you asked me to come closer.”

14. she watches you sleep.

not in a cute way. in a sick, slack-jawed, pupils-blown way—her hands creeping up your thigh while whispering how perfect you are. sometimes she touches herself beside you. quiet. careful. possessive.

“so sweet… so fuckin’ good like this. you don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

15. vi fantasizes about ruining your dates.

if anyone else tries to get close? she's already planned how to humiliate them. show up. drag you out by the wrist. maybe even kiss you so hard in front of them you can’t breathe.

“they can’t fuck you like i can. can’t make you scream, can’t make you cry. you know that, don’t you, baby?”

16. she leaves hickeys where no one can see—yet.

she marks you up under your clothes, down your thighs, on the insides of your wrists. her favorite? right over your heartbeat.

“let ‘em look at you and not know who you belong to. that’s our little secret, yeah?”

17. vi records herself moaning your name.

she’ll send it to you when she’s extra feral. or worse—she’ll play it into your voicemail box so next time you check your phone all you hear is her breathless, whimpering “please, baby… fuck, please let me taste it.”

18. she’s made a drawing of you. naked. and not from imagination. from memory. from every second she’s seen you stretch, yawn, bend over—she pieced it all together in a fucked-up masterpiece she keeps in a locked drawer. sometimes she jerks off to it. sometimes she just stares.

"my dirty little muse. you make it so easy, baby.”

19. vi edges herself to the thought of you crying her name.

no orgasms unless she earns it. that’s the rule. she pictures you tied up, shaking, begging for more. she teases herself until she's panting—then stops. again and again.

“not until she says my name like she means it. not until she breaks.”

20. she’s already imagined your wedding night.

but not the romantic part. no—vi dreams of dragging you into the honeymoon suite, ripping the dress, fucking you face-down until you sob into the sheets from overstimulation.

"you’re mine now, baby. for real. for good. ‘til death do us part—and even then, i’ll crawl outta the fuckin’ grave for you.”

21. vi has a dedicated shrine drawer of your things. not an altar. a shrine. hair ties. half-used chapstick. a receipt with your lip print. your doodles. she lays them out like relics. sometimes just stares at them and murmurs “mine” under her breath.

“it’s not weird. it’s not. you left it behind—you wanted me to have it.”

22. she reads your old texts like porn.

even innocent ones. "hey can u help me carry this?" her brain twists it instantly: "can you help me get off, vi? please? i need you." she scrolls and scrolls, one hand between her legs, the other clutching the phone like it’s a lifeline.

23. vi masturbates with your stuff.

that silky sleep shirt you forgot? wrapped around her fist. that lip balm? on her mouth before she moans against her pillow. she wants you to find out. wants you to walk in and catch her in the act, shameless and slick and ruined.

"c’mon, baby… just stand there. watch what you do to me.”

24. she’s obsessed with your mouth.

the way you pout. bite your pen. lick frosting off your finger. every time she sees it, her brain shorts out. she’s not thinking about kissing you—she’s thinking about you gagging on her strap while tears line your lashes.

“you’ve got no clue what that mouth could be doing, do you, angel?”

25. vi practices dirty talk in front of the mirror.

like some pervy little theatre kid—fingers in her hair, hips rocking, whispering what she’d say while you’re crying under her. she tests out phrases, intonations, smirks. she wants to destroy you, and she wants to say it right.

“nah… not that one. needs to sound meaner. filthier. like i’m gonna break her.”

26. she’s memorized the sound of your moan—even if she’s never heard it.

she imagines it every night. different tones, different pitches. she'll lie back, eyes shut, headphones in, playing some random porn while pretending the voice is yours.

“that’s it, baby. sound so sweet when you’re desperate. bet i could make you scream for me…”

27. vi’s favorite position is the one where she can watch your face while ruining you.

missionary? only if she’s got your wrists pinned. cowgirl? only so she can slap your ass and yank your hair. she needs to see your tears. hear your whimpers. taste your surrender.

“look at me. i said look. i wanna see your face when i break you.”

28. she gets turned on when you cry.

not sobbing. not pain. but when you're overwhelmed—flushed cheeks, trembling hands, lips parted in a whimper? she can’t help it. something about the way you come undone makes her want to kiss your tears and fuck you senseless.

“aw, baby… look at you. so sensitive. you want me to stop? or you want me to go deeper?”

29. vi doesn’t dream about vanilla shit.

her fantasies are feral. you on your knees, leash around your throat. you tied to her headboard, begging to cum. you wearing nothing but her dog tags while she fucks the possessiveness into your throat.

*"say it. say you belong to me. that you're mine and you *like* when i’m fucked up over you.”*

30. vi jerks off to the idea of you getting scared of her.

not in a cruel way. but in the oh god, what did i just awaken kind of way. she wants to watch you realize how deep her obsession runs. how dangerous it is. and how much you like it.

“you don’t even know what you’ve done to me, baby. and now? it’s too late.”

PHEWW PLEASE DON'T JUDGE ME IM JUST A GIRL </3

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

She has never considered herself someone who dates a military man. Truthfully, the idea scares her –even now, a month and half into the relationship. Thoughts of long distance over deployments or uprooting her life sit in the back of her head. Is she willing to relocate if he asks? Is she okay with him being gone for weeks, months, even years at a time if she can’t join him? She doesn’t know. 

100% understandable idk if I could either

Bob seemed reluctant at first, warning her that they can be kind of rowdy. But she reminded him she spends most of her time with high schoolers —nothing a few Navy pilots can do will bother her.

Fair comparison lol

 She’s looking around for Bob, holding her purse strap a bit tighter than usual. She’s not sure why she’s nervous to meet his friends; she’s already met Jake, and Bob promised he’s the worst of them.

Bob is not holding back hahah

 The bartender practically beams at her, pointing at her. “Oh, you’re the teacher. Bob mentioned you’d be coming by —I’m Penny. Your drinks on his tab, then.” Penny points over towards the back of the bar, grinning at her. “He’s back playing pool with the rest of the squad.”

I love how she instantly is like: you definitely don't pay for any drinks 😅

Bob is leaning over the table, stretching out to make a shot. She leans against the banister, unable to help herself as her eyes trail over his arms down to his hands. He's lean, but there’s a strength under that uniform that can’t be seen. And she loves how he feels against her. They’ve gotten pretty handsy in the last month and half, but they’re taking their time. Enjoying learning how the other ticks. But that certainly doesn’t mean she doesn’t like to stare a little. Or imagine those hands on her thighs or in her hair when she’s dropped off at home and alone in her bed.

Sometimes you just gotta enjoy the view and let your mind run free a little 😌

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to my girl like that,” he states, voice low. He puts his hand on Hangman’s shoulder, and she watches as his knuckles turn a little whiter as he squeezes. That motion –this side of him that she’s not seen yet –does something to her. Feels it in her stomach, between her thighs. 

Hot 😮‍💨

“Don’t apologize to me,” Bob counters, nodding to her. The pilot turns to her, nodding. “Apologies, ma’am. Wasn’t trying to offend.” “Yet you always manage,” Bob says, dropping his hand from Jake’s shoulder and taking her hand. He pulls her over towards the rest of the team, his usual demeanor returning as he introduces her to everyone. 

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

She laughs as Bob pulls up a chair for her, his hand never leaving her lower back. He’s always been a perfect gentleman with her; but now he’s…well, she doesn’t want to think possessive but that’s certainly how she feels. And she would be lying if she said she isn’t kind of into it. Or a lot into it. 

I would say A LOT 🤤

One, she can put in the actual effort it takes to be decent at pool –and she is pretty good at it, really. Knock these Navy boys down a few pegs. 

That's the right choice in my eyes!!

The teasing came just soon after she “tries” again, but she passes the game off to Natasha in exchange for her drink. Feeling bold still, she moves to sit on Bob’s lap, perched on his knee. He immediately pulls her against him, resting his chin on her shoulder.  “I might be,” she admits, setting her glass on the counter behind them. Then she shifts some, draping her arms around his neck and sits sideways in his lap. “Is that okay?” “I like that you’re flirting with me,” he confesses, his hand finding itself resting on the top of her thighs. His thumb rubs circles dangerously close to the inside. “Didn’t do a lot of that before you agreed to be my girl.”

He is just so sweet 🥰

“I do,” she grins, one of her hands reaching up to hold the back of his head so he can’t get away. “Couldn’t help it. Between the uniform and how you stood up for me earlier…honestly, it was hot.”

Facts 👏🏻

“Oh yeah?” His hands find her hips, pulling her against him –a knee pressing between her legs. She gasps at the friction it causes, unable to control it. “I wasn’t doing anything but stickin’ up for my girl.” “Still the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” she sighs, hips bucking involuntarily against his thigh.

Truly the hottest thing 😮‍💨🥵

Begging for more future fest bob amd reader

Future Fest | b. f. | 3

Bob Floyd x teacher!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Making out in public, Hangman is an asshole, suggestive content and allusions to sex

Author’s Note: Only because you asked so nicely, anon. Here’s another dream I had about Bob and his teacher, meeting the squad officially. GIF from @tomundsen

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

After the second date, there’s a third. Then a fourth. Even a fifth. And by the end of the month, she and Bob are full blown dating. Not that it came as a surprise, given after the first date he’d asked her to be his girl. 

She likes that –being his girl. 

She has never considered herself someone who dates a military man. Truthfully, the idea scares her –even now, a month and half into the relationship. Thoughts of long distance over deployments or uprooting her life sit in the back of her head. Is she willing to relocate if he asks? Is she okay with him being gone for weeks, months, even years at a time if she can’t join him?

She doesn’t know. 

Of course, these are thoughts she keeps to herself. It’s too early in the relationship to even think about those things, let alone ask Bob. She thinks this might be it for her –and she told him she’s not dating just to date; he agreed –but she doesn’t know what Bob is thinking. She can assume but she doesn’t want to scare him off if she’s wrong.

Tonight, however, they’re taking a step forward. She’s going to the Hard Deck to meet his squad. Bob seemed reluctant at first, warning her that they can be kind of rowdy. But she reminded him she spends most of her time with high schoolers —nothing a few Navy pilots can do will bother her. 

She’s already met Natasha, outside of the recruitment event. Bob insisted they meet pretty soon after their third date, wanting to make sure she knew Natasha was his partner and their jobs relied on trusting one another. She wondered at the time if he was worried she’d be jealous or something –but she was secure in herself and her relationship. 

Natasha also pulled her aside at one point and reassured her that there was nothing there except familial love. 

The Hard Deck is loud when she walks in. She’s been here once before, during a teacher appreciation event where they served teachers a free round. It isn’t exactly her kind of place; not anymore, at least. Ask her 21 year old self and this place would have been tame for her. 

She’s looking around for Bob, holding her purse strap a bit tighter than usual. She’s not sure why she’s nervous to meet his friends; she’s already met Jake, and Bob promised he’s the worst of them. But she is, and she slips up to the bar to find something solid to lean on for a second. 

“Need a drink?” The bartender asks, and she’s smiling at her. 

“Uh, yeah. Cranberry and vodka? Probably make it a double.”

“Can do.”

“You wouldn’t by chance know where Lieutenant Floyd is, would you?” She asks, leaning against the bar as her drink is slid in front of her. 

The bartender practically beams at her, pointing at her. “Oh, you’re the teacher. Bob mentioned you’d be coming by —I’m Penny. Your drinks on his tab, then.” Penny points over towards the back of the bar, grinning at her. “He’s back playing pool with the rest of the squad.”

She blushes at the idea that he’s talked about her to the bartender of their favorite bar. But she thanks Penny, taking her drink and taking a long drag of the cocktail. Then she weaves through the crowd, only stopping when she comes to the top of the short steps.

Bob is leaning over the table, stretching out to make a shot. She leans against the banister, unable to help herself as her eyes trail over his arms down to his hands. He's lean, but there’s a strength under that uniform that can’t be seen. And she loves how he feels against her. They’ve gotten pretty handsy in the last month and half, but they’re taking their time. Enjoying learning how the other ticks. 

But that certainly doesn’t mean she doesn’t like to stare a little. Or imagine those hands on her thighs or in her hair when she’s dropped off at home and alone in her bed. 

“You gonna stand there and eye fuck Baby on Board or you gonna go introduce yourself?” Hangman asks, loud enough to announce her presence, and puts a hand on her shoulder. She feels heat rising to her ears as she looks up at the pilot in disgust. 

Bob finally looks up though, eyes falling on her. He’s smiling at her brightly, handing his pool stick off to Natasha, whose glaring daggers at Hangman. As he approaches, Bob turns to Jake, and his smile fades to be a little more dark.  

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to my girl like that,” he states, voice low. He puts his hand on Hangman’s shoulder, and she watches as his knuckles turn a little whiter as he squeezes. That motion –this side of him that she’s not seen yet –does something to her. Feels it in her stomach, between her thighs. 

Hangman, to his credit, doesn’t seem surprised by this reaction. He just pulls away and puts his hands up. “Apologies, Bobby.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Bob counters, nodding to her. 

The pilot turns to her, nodding. “Apologies, ma’am. Wasn’t trying to offend.”

“Yet you always manage,” Bob says, dropping his hand from Jake’s shoulder and taking her hand. He pulls her over towards the rest of the team, his usual demeanor returning as he introduces her to everyone. 

“You’ve met Nat and Bagman,” he continues without missing a beat. Then he motions to everyone else –and she’s taking mental notes as he does. Rooster, Coyote, Fanboy, Payback. All call signs, all names she’ll easily remember on top of their actual names.

Rooster –Bradley –extends his hand and smiles at her politely. “Pleasure to meet you finally.”

“Finally being the key word,” Fanboy –Mickey –teases, taking her hand once Bradley lets her go. “He’s always on his phone when he’s not workin’ now –definitely can see why though.”

She laughs as Bob pulls up a chair for her, his hand never leaving her lower back. He’s always been a perfect gentleman with her; but now he’s…well, she doesn’t want to think possessive but that’s certainly how she feels. And she would be lying if she said she isn’t kind of into it. Or a lot into it. 

Crossing one leg under her as she sits down, she takes in the faces of the people that seem to mean a lot to her boyfriend. They’re all grinning, teasing one another like they’re a family. And maybe they are, she thinks. They have to rely on one another like a family –probably even more so, honestly. 

“You play, miss teacher?” Rooster asks, holding the pool stick to her. 

“Oh, uh,” she pauses, then nods, setting her drink down and taking the stick. Bob immediately picks up her glass, holding it close –protecting it. “I do. Not well –it’s been a while.”

“Well rack’em up. Let’s go.” 

“Bobby can show you if you need him to,” Hangman teases, though she shoots him a warning look with a smirk on her face. 

There’s two options now. 

One, she can put in the actual effort it takes to be decent at pool –and she is pretty good at it, really. Knock these Navy boys down a few pegs. 

Or two, she can feign ignorance and have Bob “teach” her to play pool. Let him lean over her and put his hands on her. 

The only downside –the only one –is the teasing she absolutely knows will come from option two. She doesn’t mind the teasing, but she knows Bob gets a bit riled up from it. He’s mentioned it before, how sometimes it goes a little too far.

She decides that option two is far more fun, and she can make it up to him later. 

“It’s been a hot minute,” she admits, looking at Bob with a flirty grin. “I could do with a reminder.”

“Oh, uh,” He hesitates, just a second, before handing Natasha her drink and standing up. “Yeah, of course.”

She suddenly regrets wearing jeans as he stands behind her, taking the pool stick to help her line up the shot. He’s explaining what to do –actually explaining it, bless his heart –before leaning her over the table. One of his hands is guiding down hers, holding the pool stick carefully. The other is on her lower back. 

Someone wolf whistles. She has no idea who. She doesn’t even care, honestly. Because even though her shot is bad, she’s pressed back into Bob when she stands up and his hand moves to rest on her hip, right where her shirt rides up. 

“Woops,” she sighs, looking up at him from over her shoulder. She stands on her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Guess you’ll have to give me some more lessons.” 

He’s blushing brightly, nodding some as he sits back down. She wants to take a picture so bad. He’s cute like this; even cuter when she considers how he was acting just barely half an hour ago. 

The teasing came just soon after she “tries” again, but she passes the game off to Natasha in exchange for her drink. Feeling bold still, she moves to sit on Bob’s lap, perched on his knee. He immediately pulls her against him, resting his chin on her shoulder. 

“Having fun yet?” She asks, taking a sip of her drink. 

“Oh yeah,” he grins, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I think you’re having more fun than I am, though.”

“I might be,” she admits, setting her glass on the counter behind them. Then she shifts some, draping her arms around his neck and sits sideways in his lap. “Is that okay?”

“I like that you’re flirting with me,” he confesses, his hand finding itself resting on the top of her thighs. His thumb rubs circles dangerously close to the inside. “Didn’t do a lot of that before you agreed to be my girl.”

“I can flirt more, if you’d like,” she offers, running her fingers over the hair at the nape of his neck. “Could go to the bar, you can pick me up.”

He chuckles at that, squeezing her thigh gently. “No, no –I am perfectly fine with this.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” she teases, guiding his face to look at her so she can kiss him softly. 

His grip on her thighs tightens as he returns the kiss, unable to help himself. He doesn’t seem to care that anyone else is around, especially as his hand slides further up her thigh. Her hand is tugging at his hair and he holds back a sound that she can feel in his chest. Someone clears their throat, and they pull away from each other, both a little out of breath but grinning. 

Reluctantly, she pulls away from him and stands. But she extends her hand to him, nodding towards the door. There’s no hesitation as he takes her hand and follows her lead –with his squad hollering and whistling after him. Risking a peek over her shoulder, she sees the flush on his cheeks but he’s smiling as they slip out the back door of the bar. 

She’s about to ask him where he wants to go but he’s on her before any word can get out, pressing her up against the wall outside. There’s no helping the moan that escapes her lips as she grabs at his belt to pull him flush against her. His hands are on her jaw, holding her in place as he parts her lips with his tongue, slipping it in without argument from her.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes, lips brushing over hers as he pulls away just enough to press his forehead against hers. His glasses are fogged over, and he’s trying to catch his breath. “But I think you know that.”

“I do,” she grins, one of her hands reaching up to hold the back of his head so he can’t get away. “Couldn’t help it. Between the uniform and how you stood up for me earlier…honestly, it was hot.”

“Oh yeah?” His hands find her hips, pulling her against him –a knee pressing between her legs. She gasps at the friction it causes, unable to control it. “I wasn’t doing anything but stickin’ up for my girl.”

“Still the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” she sighs, hips bucking involuntarily against his thigh.

“Think you can wait ‘til we’re back at your place?” He asks, voice low in her ear as he holds her still. “I’d rather our first time not be against the wall of the Hard Deck. Was kinda hoping to make it special.”

“I think this is very special,” she teases, a breathy laugh escaping her lips. “But I can wait, I promise.”

He grins himself, pulling away from her entirely. Though he keeps one hand on her hips as he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“Should we say goodbye?” She asks, looking up at him as she smooths out her shirt. She’s certain she knows the answer though. 

“Absolutely not.”

[st0nerlesb0]

girl you louddd

a/n: anon requested this and i lobe it. me personally, if your asking tits or ass, best believe im going for titties😚

• you literally love billies boobs, like it might be an obsession.

• anytime she wore a tank top and i mean anytime, your eyes would be locked with them. you didn't mean too, it was just inevitable. (peep peep the 2nd picture🙏)

billie was talking about a song her and finneas were making for a movie and you were listening but you looked lost in thought. billie thought that was strange until she followed where your eyes wre and started laughing.

"babe are you even listening? hellooo?"

she says snapping in your face, making you blink your eyes, regaining consciousness, focusing back on her.

"uh yeah, i was."

"okay what was i talking about?"

she says looking smug at you, waiting for an answer.

"uhhhh..."

you obviously didn't know, so you didn't say anything. she chuckled, shaking her head, getting back to telling you about the song.

• even in big tshirts you could see them, especially after she showered. she usually didn't wear a bra to bed so you could tell how they sat and where they were.

• anytime youd see them, it looked like you had hearts in your eyes.

• every single time yall would makeout, you would be massaging them like it was your life. or just feeling them. doesn't matter if your top or bottom, youd still do it.

• in probably every. single. picture, you guys have with friends, your behind her with your hands holding her tits. she'd laugh but hold your hands tighter against them. you'd be respectful in front of her parents but with everyone else? ouhhhh they getting the full package. (my fav one)

• when you and billie would have sex, youd suck her tits and play with them, moaning like your the one getting it.

her back arches from you sucking her tits, leaving dark hickeys, fondling them so rough, but she fucking loved it.

when youd get too into it, she'd laugh, playing with your hair.

"you enjoying it baby? you like em?"

she said, eyes low, voice low and literally the most gorgeous face ever. you would look up at her nodding, with big doe eyes, moaning against her tits. she'd arch her back, moaning from the vibrations.

"pretty, your so loud, you love em, don't you?"

she'd ask, teasing, and the tips of your ears would get red but you still nod yes.

• at parties, she'd sit on your lap and you'd find some way, to touch her tits. especially when a girl or a guy tries to flirt with her.

they'd be sitting beside you and they'd be trynna get her number or get her to go upstairs and you'd slide your hands up her stomach to rest your hands on her chest.

"you look pretty, could i get your number?"

"uhhhh.."

billie would be laughing and look at you then the person, hoping they'd see you gripping her chest and take the hint. when they did see, theyd be like

"oh my bad, didn't know."

and walk away, ashamed.

[loveharlow]

can u write a fic with jealous!jj ur blurb was soooo good

idk why i had this idea and i just thought it was so jj, not really a part two to the first jealous!jj blurb because they're together in this one

swearing (probably), jealous!jj, sexual innuendoes

You were sprawled across JJ's bed, phone in hand, a soft smile playing on your lips as your thumbs flew across the screen. Beside you, JJ was engrossed in his game, controller clutched tight. The only sounds filling the room were the simulated gunfire and his shouts at John B and Pope.

Once the current round ended, he glanced over, catching the gentle glow of your phone illuminating your face. He loved seeing you happy and smiling, but curiosity gnawed at him.

"...Who's got you all giggly?" he teased, though there was a hint of something else in his voice—something a little offended, shaky, and uncertain.

You glanced up at him for a moment before looking back down. "Oh, just Liam, the foreign exchange student," you replied casually. "He was confused about the group project, but I explained it to him. Now he's telling me about his family back home."

Liam. The name had been popping up in your conversations more frequently lately. He was the new kid at school, and you, being you, had naturally gravitated toward making him feel welcome, especially when you realized he was struggling to catch up. He was nice, a little awkward, and definitely harmless. But JJ didn't know that.

A silence stretched between you. You could feel JJ's gaze on you, heavier now. When you finally looked up, he wasn't starting another game. He'd even muted his mic. He was just watching you, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"Has he made any other friends,like... besides you?" he asked, scratching his head. "You two talk a lot..."

You chuckled softly, setting your phone down. "I mean, I would hope so. I see him talking to other people sometimes." Sitting up, you crossed your legs and scooted closer to your boyfriend, running your fingers through his hair. "What's up, J? Why do you look like that?"

He sighed, setting the controller down beside him. "Nothin', it's just… every day it's 'Liam this, Liam that.' And you get all smiley, and it's like I become invisible to you..."

There it was. The subtle, adorable jealousy. It wasn't an accusation, just a quiet confession of his own insecurity. JJ Maybank, the fearless Pogue, a little bit possessive over you. It made your heart ache in the best way.

But it also made you frown. The last thing you'd ever want was to be a source of any kind of pain for JJ.

So, an idea sparked in your mind. Picking up your phone, you went to your conversation with Liam, scrolling all the way to the top as JJ stared, confused. Once you got to the very first message, you held the phone out in JJ's direction. "Read it," you urged, pushing the phone further toward him.

"I—I don't need to go through your phone, baby—"

"I know," you said simply. "I want you to."

A silence fell between you two. JJ trusted you, and you trusted him. He didn't want to feel like he was pressuring you or doubting you. But despite that, he took the phone from you, eyes scanning the messages.

They were harmless—introducing yourself, talking about meeting with the rest of the group for the project, answering his questions. It was nothing concerning.

But one thing did catch JJ's attention.

His name, mentioned multiple times throughout the text thread at random points.

You Hey Liam, you doing okay? I noticed you weren't talking that much today.

Liam Yes, I'm alright. Just a bit homesick. Thank you for asking.

You Oh, that sucks, I'm so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?

Liam No, no, that's okay. I don't want to bother you.

You It's okay, you're not. I'm watching my boyfriend fix his bike, so better to distract myself before I try to jump his bones lmao

Liam Oh, you have a boyfriend? How long?

You I didn't tell you? That's odd, he's all I talk about lol. But his name's JJ, you've probably seen him around. We've been together for a little over 2 years.

Liam That's nice. It makes me miss mon amour back home in France. She sends me pictures and things everyday, but it's not the same... [1 Attachment] This is her, her name is Cami.

You Aw, she's beautiful! Hey, I'm pretty sure there's a program that help foreign exchange students reconnect with their families. They'll fly them out to you, I think, but there's probably some kind of criteria. I'll send you the link, though.

Liam Really? Dieu vous bénisse, Y/N!!

Something in JJ's heart swelled. He never truly doubted you or suspected anything, but seeing the way you talked about him—just because you wanted to talk about him—made him feel impossibly loved. You loved him, and you never failed to make sure everyone around you knew it.

You weren't all smiley because you were talking to Liam. You were all smiley because you were talking about him.

Dropping the phone on the mattress, JJ's hands took hold of your face and brought you in for a kiss, kissing you like he'd never have the chance to do it again. Lips slipped against one another, tongues dipping in between as you struggled to breathe.

When he finally pulled back, he had the dizziest grin on his face.

"I love you, munchkin."

You rolled your eyes, pushing him by the shoulder despite the sheepish smile on your face. "Stop calling me that," you scoffed, picking the device back up. "Come here," you urged, waving JJ over.

He obeyed, scooting close enough across the mattress so you could go behind him, slinging your arms over his shoulders, the phone in front of both of you as JJ tried to figure out what you were doing.

"Look at the camera, genius," you laughed, one hand gripping his chin and turning his face to look at the camera. You dipped down, placing a wet kiss against his cheek as he laughed, his face turning a dangerous shade of red just as the camera clicked. "There," you smiled, arms still over JJ's shoulders as he watched you send the picture to Liam, typing out a message underneath.

You [1 Attachment] This is JJ, my boyfriend I was telling you about.

"...You didn't have to do that," JJ said, though his heart was beating outside of his chest, one of his hands resting on your arm.

"I know," you smiled once more, planting a kiss to the side of his temple. "I wanted to. Whatever I can do to make you worry less."

JJ smiled to himself as he watched Liam's response come through.

Liam Ohhh, that guy? I was wondering why he'd glare at me when I passed him in the halls. I guess I know now lol. You two are cute. Tell him I said hey!

"See?" you told JJ, holding the phone up. "There's nothing to worry about." You assured, throwing the phone back on the bed as JJ turned to look at you. "I love you, Maybank. And if it makes you feel better, I have no problem talking to him less."

"...Thank you," JJ said softly, brushing your hair behind your ear.

"That's what I'm here for," you smiled brightly, pecking him on the lips. "Now, go back to the lobby! It's me and you time now, only us," you piped up, unwinding your arms from his shoulders and leaning half of your frame off the mattress to get your Nintendo Switch that had fallen off the bed.

With your ass in the air, JJ took the opportunity to squeeze it — you immediately popped back up and swatted his hand away. "Stop that, unless you plan on doing something about the problem it always causes," you glared playfully at him.

"Hey, you know I'm always up for it."

You scoffed, powering on the device in your hands. "I'm aware, hornball," you smiled, leaning back against his pillows. "You can turn me every way but loose after we run 2v2s with Pope and John B. We have to redeem ourselves from last time," you declared. "Invite me, blondie."

JJ Maybank Taglist in replies!

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow

[stilinskiandthebanshee]

Fratboy!Natalie x innocent!reader

A/N: NSFW at the end!!! I couldn’t get this idea out of my head and truly I still don’t feel I did it justice… these two are infecting my brain so if I post a part two to this… just let me suffer here

WC: 4.5K

Warnings: Smut, Smoking, classic college shit.

The house was sweltering—heat from a million bodies and the stench of stale beer swirling thick in the air as you stood frozen in the corner, wishing the wall would just swallow you whole. Drunk kids stumbled past, bumping into you, throwing arms around shoulders, shoving their tongues down each other’s throats without a care. You raised the cup in your hand to your lips with a slight shake, taking the smallest possible sip of whatever horrific liquid Jackie had shoved into your hands before disappearing into the crowd.

Truly, you had no idea why you were here.

Well—okay. That was a lie.

You knew exactly why you were here.

And the reason was currently standing across the room, surrounded by a loud crowd of guys and girls cheering her on as she shotgunned a beer.

And you didn’t even really know her. Not really.

You’d seen her, of course. Everyone had. The type of girl you didn’t forget once you did. All shaggy blonde hair and ripped denim, eyes lined in thick black that was always a little smudged like she’d done it in the backseat of someone’s car. Always laughing, always loud, always with someone hanging off her arm. She existed in a way that felt untouchable—like she wasn’t meant for people who lived their lives in syllabi and library study guides.

Hell, she’d only learned your name this semester, thanks to a shared lecture hall. First day, she’d walked in late, of course, her boots echoing down the steps like a challenge. And then she locked eyes on you—second row, two desks to yourself, highlighters in a chaotic rainbow spread. She smirked like it was funny. Like you were funny. And then she shoved her way into the seat beside you like she already owned the place. Like she could eat you alive.

You’d barely been able to hear the lecture.

She told you she liked your “whole organized chaos thing.” That you were “cute, in a you-make-your-bed-every-day kind of way.” You’d laughed—nervously, awkwardly—and she’d just smiled like she’d already won.

You spent the entire week after that waiting just to see her again. And the week after that pretending not to care when she didn’t show up.

So when she cornered you after class—perched in the doorway, leaning in close enough that her breath danced over your lips—and told you to come to the frat house Friday night?

Who were you to say no?

And maybe you had a crush on her. But what did that even matter?

You knew you shouldn’t. Everyone knew about Natalie. She had a reputation. The kind that clung to the air. Her name floated around campus like the common cold—unavoidable, whispered between laughs and bedroom walls. Girls, boys, even a few professors… everybody seemed to have a story. The kind of stories that turned your cheeks red and your words into a stuttering mess.

She was a walking rumor, a fire you weren’t supposed to touch.

And yet—

She asked you to come.

And, almost like she could feel your eyes boring into the side of her head, she turned.

Her gaze locked on yours from across the room, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

You looked away immediately, but it was too late. She’d seen you. And before you could even figure out what to do with your hands, she was already in front of you.

Natalie leaned in next to you, casual as ever. That dangerous smirk played on her lips, mischief written all over her face.

She knew your reputation—or, rather, your lack of one. She’d done her research. Checked in with a few mutual friends. What she found had only made her more interested: straight-laced, honor-roll perfect, not a single party on your record. She was almost certain you’d never even been kissed.

And she loved that.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” she said, voice low, amused.

You raised your drink again, like courage might be hiding at the bottom of the cup. Another tiny sip. Another cringe.

The music pounded around you, turning conversation into a near-impossible task. So you stepped closer—up on your tiptoes—to reach her ear. Her hand slid to your waist like it belonged there, pulling you in until your bodies touched.

“Well,” you said softly, “I did promise you.”

Her fingers slipped just under the hem of your shirt. Casual. Like she was steadying you. But her eyes told a different story.

Her eyebrows lifted, and she leaned in, her lips grazing the shell of your ear, her voice all heat and honey. “Let’s go somewhere quieter, yeah?”

You nodded—shakily.

Natalie’s grin only widened, somehow, as she slipped her hand more firmly around your waist and guided you through the crowd like it was muscle memory. Her touch never left you. It was possessive, steady. A brand.

You kept your eyes down, heart hammering, trying to ignore the way people looked at you—at her, at you with her. A few wolf whistles rang out as Natalie dapped people up, unfazed, swagger in every step.

Eventually, she stopped in front of a door. The moment you stepped inside, the air shifted.

The subtle click of the lock made your heart lurch as you spun around to face her. You tried to mask the fear you knew was written all over your face.

Natalie just smiled—feral, dangerous around the edges—as she stalked toward you. Every movement was slow, deliberate. Like a lion circling something soft.

Her hands found your waist again, fingers pressing gentle, grounding circles into your skin. “Relax,” she murmured. “Just needed a little… privacy.”

And then she was gone again, crossing the room to the nightstand beside the bed. She glanced back at you, eyes glinting. “Don’t be shy. Sit.”

You obeyed on trembling legs, practically collapsing onto the bed.

You weren’t even sure how you’d stayed standing this long—not with her hands on your skin like that, searing their memory into you.

Natalie rifled through the nightstand drawer like she owned the place. You weren't sure if she did, and you didn’t dare ask. Instead, you sat frozen on the edge of the bed, trying not to look like you were bracing for impact.

She pulled out a tiny silver tin, rattling it once before flipping it open. “Knew I had something stashed,” she said, casually. Like this was any other Friday. Like you weren’t melting from the inside out.

You swallowed, unsure if it was the nerves or the beer still churning in your stomach. “You, uh… roll your own?”

She smirked without looking up. “Wouldn’t trust anyone else with it.”

Of course.

A few quiet seconds passed as she worked, nimble fingers twisting the paper with ease. The lighter flicked once. Twice. A soft inhale. And then—

“You ever smoked before?” she asked, leaning her hip against the dresser, one eyebrow cocked like she already knew the answer.

You shook your head, cheeks hot. “Not really.”

Her grin returned, slow and wicked. “Perfect.”

She took another drag, slow and smooth, and then crossed the space between you with all the ease in the world. Your heart stuttered as she knelt on the bed, close enough that your knees brushed.

Her hand came to rest on your thigh again, light as a whisper. “Open your mouth.”

You blinked.

She waited. Amused. Expectant.

And you—God help you—you obeyed.

She leaned in, lips barely a breath from yours, and exhaled. The smoke filled your lungs, warm and heady, her eyes locked on yours the entire time. You coughed a little, startled more by her proximity than the burn in your chest.

“Good girl,” she murmured.

You weren’t sure if it was praise or provocation. Maybe both.

But it worked.

You were already leaning in for more.

Natalie was eager to meet you in the middle, her hand curling behind your neck as she pulled you in. Her lips bumped against yours, messy and uncoordinated, just enough contact to make your breath hitch before she blew the smoke straight into your mouth.

It hit hard—hot and sharp down your throat, blooming across your chest and curling into your toes. You sputtered, coughing as the burn crept up your spine, and Natalie just giggled, already turning to ash the joint like nothing had happened.

She settled beside you again, somehow even closer than before. Her thigh pressed harder against yours. Her hand found your back, rubbing slow circles as you wheezed your way through what felt like the last remaining oxygen in the room.

Only when your breath returned did she speak.

“Gotta say. I’m impressed.”

You rolled your eyes, the cup in your hand crinkling slightly beneath your grip. The room felt thicker now, like the air itself was syrup, everything just a little heavier.

“As if,” you muttered. “I nearly died.”

Her laughter was soft and smug, brushing against your ear as she let her head fall gently against your shoulder. Her hand slipped a little lower on your back—not pushy, not rushed, just… deliberate.

“Yeah, but I think that was from something else.”

Your breath snagged in your throat. You stared down at your drink, pulse suddenly loud in your ears. She hadn’t moved. Her fingers still traced lazy patterns over your spine like she hadn’t said a word.

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

But Natalie, of course, wasn’t finished. She leaned in a little closer, like she was just thinking out loud.

“I could be wrong, though.”

It sounded casual. It wasn’t. Not with her hand burning through your shirt. Not with the silence stretching thick between you. Not with the way your skin prickled at every small movement she made.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

And you both knew it.

You released a quivering breath, heart thundering beneath your skin. Your eyes dropped to the cup in your hands like it might anchor you, something—anything—to hold onto.

You raised it to your lips, barely ready for another sip, when Natalie’s hand shot up, tipping the cup higher. The liquid rushed into your mouth too fast, a wave crashing over your tongue. You swallowed quickly, choking it down with a grimace as some of it spilled past the corner of your lips.

You turned to glare at her, your protest half-formed, only to freeze when her fingers reached up, slow and sure. She caught the dripping alcohol from your chin with a soft swipe, her thumb trailing to the corner of your mouth.

And then, without breaking eye contact, she brought it to her lips and sucked her thumb clean.

Your breath caught hard.

All the tension you’d been holding scattered, replaced with something heavier—hotter. You were suddenly very, very grateful for the weed and the alcohol humming through your veins, keeping you from combusting where you sat.

Because with the way she was looking at you, like she already knew what you tasted like?

You didn’t stand a chance.

The words died on your tongue, stumbling out as nothing more than a mess of, “Uh—I—I—”

Natalie cut you off with ease, leaning in until her nose brushed against your cheek, her breath warm on your skin. She knew exactly what she was doing. She had you.

“You taste so sweet,” she whispered, smug and lazy. “And you know what?”

Her hand slipped under your shirt again, fingertips dragging up the line of your spine, slow and deliberate. Her lips hovered near your jaw—so close, so soft you could barely breathe.

“I think,” she murmured, “you’re not as innocent as you want me to believe.”

You sucked in a breath so sharp it caught in your throat. The cup in your hand was nearly crushed between your fingers. Your heart pounded louder than the bass thudding through the walls outside, your palms slick with sweat.

“I—wha—I mean—”

But your brain was fogged, words slipping through your fingers like smoke. Natalie didn’t wait for them. She pressed her lips to your jaw, soft and slow. Your body reacted before you could think—tilting your head, offering her more.

You didn’t need to open your eyes—when had you even closed them?—to feel the smirk curling against your skin.

“I think,” she whispered, voice low and intoxicating, “you walked in here looking like sin and let me drag you into an empty room. Let me press my mouth to yours. Let me touch you.”

Her hand splayed wider against your back, holding you like you were something precious—and dangerous.

“You’re not clueless,” she breathed. “You’re too smart for that.”

Her lips trailed lower, nipping at the skin of your neck with a softness that somehow made the heat behind it even more unbearable. Her other hand slipped to your thigh, fingers splaying, rubbing over the warm, flushed skin she found. Everything felt magnified: her touch, the sound of your own breath, the faint bass pounding through the floorboards beneath you.

The liquor was still clinging to your tongue, something harsh and cinnamon-spiced, burning faintly down your throat and settling in your stomach like embers. The weed had your head wrapped in gauze, everything feeling soft at the edges and slow, like the room tilted just slightly with every breath. You weren’t used to this—any of this—and it was all hitting you at once, heavy and warm and dizzying.

“You told me to come. You shotgunned me. I—”

Natalie just hummed against your skin, low and amused, huffing out something close to a laugh. “Uh huh. Wasn’t bad for a first kiss. Or…” Her voice curled around the thought, teasing. “Have you done that before with someone else?”

Her lips never stopped their attack, finding that perfect spot just below your jaw and sucking gently until you gasped. Little huffs escaped you without warning, your grip on the comforter tightening like it could anchor you through the haze. You couldn’t speak—not through the way your thoughts tangled up and melted together—so you just shook your head, eyes fluttering closed.

Natalie grinned against your neck, her breath sticky-sweet from beer and smoke. Her lips trailed upward again, slow and deliberate, until they hovered at the corner of your mouth.

“Wanna try it again?” she said easily, casually, like she wasn’t already unraveling you. “Without the joint this time?”

Your eyes won’t open, too dazed by everything brewing inside you—the liquor buzzing low in your belly, the weed softening the world into a dream you weren’t quite ready to wake from. You feel your head nodding yes before your brain can catch up, your body moving on instinct alone. You part your lips to say something—anything—but Natalie’s on you before a single syllable can slip out.

Her lips crash into yours, hot and heavy, her hand sliding higher up your thigh with devastating ease. She kisses exactly how you thought she would—like fire. Every press of her mouth is full of heat and hunger, deliberate, rough around the edges, like she’s trying to consume you one breath at a time. And God, you’d let her.

Natalie’s teeth catch your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp. Her fingers tighten on your thigh, grounding you even as your head spins from the cocktail of her mouth, the weed, and whatever was in that drink—cheap, burning vodka maybe, mixed with something too sugary, sticky against your tongue.

You barely register the moan that slips from your throat until you feel her smile against your mouth, smug and knowing.

“God,” she whispers, voice low and a little rough, like even she might be affected now, “you’re so responsive.”

You can’t think of anything to say. Words feel useless anyway. They wouldn’t stand a chance in the thick, heady heat between you. So instead, you let yourself melt further beneath her, one hand fisting the comforter, the other unsure of where to land—her waist, her back, anywhere that might ground you.

Natalie slows the kiss—not because she wants to stop, but because she knows exactly what she’s doing. She lets it linger, softer now, just her lips brushing over yours, like she’s testing how much you’ll chase.

And you do.

Without even thinking, you lean up into her again, needing more. Her hand catches your jaw, gently tilting your head back.

“You sure you haven’t done this before?” she asks, breath warm and teasing as it ghosts over your mouth.

You giggled against her lips, eyes still squeezed shut, the reality of the moment settling heavy in your chest. Natalie let you chase her mouth, crashing into you with enough force to guide you down against the mattress. Her body followed easily, moving like she’d done this a hundred times before, like she already knew exactly how to touch you. She bracketed you in, her presence surrounding you, pinning you down without pressure.

One hand slipped around the back of your neck, not tight but firm enough to tip your jaw where she wanted. Her mouth was hot against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, each one sharper, needier than the last. Her other hand found its way beneath the hem of your skirt, fingers digging into soft skin like she was mapping out a path she already owned.

“I didn’t just bring you in here to smoke and kiss, y’know?” she murmured against your pulse. “I think you know that.”

And she was right.

Even if you wouldn’t dare admit it out loud, you had shown up wearing the shortest skirt you owned, let her press close in the crowd, let her guide you to the furthest room in the house. You hadn’t said no when she locked the door. You hadn’t stopped her hands.

You knew exactly what Natalie was about—and still, you’d wandered straight into the lion’s den.

Her lips continued their descent, ghosting down to your collarbone.

“And while I’m definitely trying to get you naked,” she added, voice rougher now, teasing but careful, “I’m not an asshole. I need an enthusiastic yes.”

Her fingers edged higher, brushing along the sensitive skin at the crease of your thigh, making your breath stutter. Your back arched into the touch, your body responding faster than your brain could keep up.

Natalie just chuckled, low and dark, like she already knew the answer, but she didn’t push.

You turned your head into the pillow, trying to focus, trying to find your voice through the thick cloud of smoke and nerves. You could still taste the sugary burn of the liquor she tipped into your mouth earlier, mixing with the heat still buzzing under your skin from the joint. You felt a little drunk on her, and a little drunk from her—warm, loose, dizzy.

“I—” you croaked, then swallowed hard. “I think I…”

She stilled above you, the kiss she was about to place suspended in the air.

“You think,” she echoed, “or you know?”

You opened your eyes. Really opened them. Her gaze met yours—sharp and knowing but patient, steady, like she was willing to wait forever for that yes if she had to.

And something about that broke the panic apart inside you, just enough to let the truth slip through.

“I know,” you whispered, breathless.

Natalie grinned, slow and predatory again, but she kissed you softer this time—almost sweetly, like you’d just given her something sacred.

“Good,” she murmured against your lips, her hands finally moving with intent. “That’s all I needed.”

Then she was on you—really on you—her lips crashing into yours with intent. The softness vanished, replaced by something rougher, needier. Her teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging just enough to make you gasp before her tongue slipped inside, claiming you with ease. You melted under her, helpless to the pressure of her mouth, her body, her everything.

The moan that slipped out was entirely involuntary, born from sensation alone. From the unfamiliar slide of her tongue against yours. From the way her hand skimmed low across your waist, fingers brushing the waistband of your underwear.

Your skirt was long forgotten, bunched uselessly around your hips, leaving you exposed to the cool air of the room and the heat of Natalie’s stare. But she didn’t touch you. Not quite.

Her hand hovered—anchored there with maddening precision, close enough that your skin sparked from the proximity, but still not close enough. Like she knew exactly what she was doing. Like the anticipation, the wait, the ache was all part of the game. She watched you, lips slightly parted, pupils blown wide.

She looked like she could wait forever just to watch you fall apart.

And you? You were already halfway there.

“Natalie…” you whined, the sound muffled into the pillow beside your head. Your voice barely carried, part desperation, part disbelief, all heat.

Her lips dragged along your neck, biting and sucking until the skin burned, and her fingers still hovered, infuriatingly patient. But it must’ve been the magic word, because finally—finally—her hand moved, swiping softly between your folds.

She stilled against your throat, lips parted as her fingers came away wet.

“Jesus,” she breathed, low and ragged, like the realization physically knocked the air from her lungs. “You’re a fucking mess already.”

The sound that left you was almost a sob, pure need straining in your throat. She kissed you again, harder this time, tongue slipping back into your mouth with purpose. You let her take it—let her take everything.

The high from the weed had started to mellow, but it lingered in your blood, a warm, slow haze that made every touch feel a little deeper, every sound a little louder. You could feel yourself unraveling under her.

Natalie didn’t even bother removing your panties—she just shoved them to the side, impatient, like she couldn’t be bothered with the details. Her fingers slid back through your slick folds before circling your clit with lazy precision.

The moan that escaped you was loud, raw, and immediate—your back arching off the mattress like you had no control over your body anymore. Before another sound could escape, you bit down on your fist, sudden awareness crashing back in as you remembered the chaos of the party still raging just outside the door.

Natalie only smirked, like she loved the thought of getting you off with people just a few feet away. Like it made it even better.

You whimpered again, biting down harder on your knuckles, but it didn’t help—not when Natalie pressed in closer, like she was trying to crawl inside your skin. Her fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, dragging over your clit with just enough pressure to make you twitch. Your legs tried to close on instinct, but her other hand came down to push them apart again, her grip bruising in the best way.

“Keep them open,” she whispered, her breath hot against your cheek. “I wanna see all of it.”

Your thighs trembled as you forced yourself to stay spread for her, your chest rising in uneven bursts. You felt dizzy—maybe from the weed, maybe the cheap liquor still swimming in your stomach, maybe from the way she looked at you. Like she’d waited for this, imagined it, even if she’d never admit it out loud.

Your eyes fluttered open, and she was already watching you. Face flushed, pupils blown wide. A soft curl of hair had fallen over her eyes and her lips were swollen from kissing you senseless. Her hand hadn’t stopped moving. It didn’t feel like it could stop.

“I knew you’d be like this,” she murmured, almost to herself. “So fucking sensitive. Like no one’s ever touched you right before.”

Your cheeks burned, humiliation and something darker twisting in your stomach, because—god—she wasn’t wrong.

“N-Natalie…” you whispered, not even sure what you were asking for. Maybe for her to slow down. Maybe not to stop. Maybe for something you didn’t know how to say yet.

She leaned in and kissed your temple, her voice softer than before. “It’s okay,” she said, her fingers easing their rhythm, soothing and tender now. “You don’t have to say anything. Just feel it.”

And you did.

Every touch. Every throb. Every shaky inhale as she whispered filth into your skin and made you feel like the center of the universe.

“Be the good girl I know you are,” she whispered against your neck, “and come for me.”

The words slammed into you, your orgasm ripping through you like a shockwave. Your scream caught in your throat, muffled into the curve of her neck as your whole body arched and shook. Natalie didn’t look away—not once. Her eyes were dark and wild, locked on you like she was starving. She worked you through every last tremble with steady fingers, her free hand anchoring you to her chest until your body finally gave out.

When she did kiss you, it was soft. So much softer than you ever would’ve imagined—sweet and slow, like she knew she’d just taken something she wasn’t sure she deserved.

The edges of your vision glowed white, your body too heavy to move, too dazed to speak. The weed clung to your brain like a fog, but it was the liquor that sank its claws in now—warm and dizzying and relentless. Your breath slowed. You felt her fingertips brushing gently over your waist. Her lips moved against your forehead.

And then darkness crept in.

Your eyes fluttered shut.

The sun crept through the crooked blinds, warm and uninvited as it dragged you out of a heavy, hungover sleep. You groaned quietly, the ache behind your eyes pulsing with every beat of your heart. Your mouth felt dry, your limbs like lead, and the sharp scent of old beer still clung to the air like a warning.

Blinking against the light, you rolled over on the too-thin mattress beneath you. The sheets smelled vaguely like cologne and weed—faint traces of the night before refusing to let you go. You reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing over the empty space beside you, still warm but undeniably vacant.

Natalie was gone.

No note. No “had fun last night.” No soft goodbye whispered against your skin. Not that you really expected her to stay—of course she didn’t. That wasn’t her style. You were surprised she hadn’t vanished into the haze of the party before you’d even fallen asleep.

But as your eyes adjusted to the dim, chaotic mess of the room, something caught your eye on the floor near the nightstand. A crumpled piece of paper, torn and half-soaked in condensation from an abandoned beer can. You reached for it with trembling fingers.

It was a receipt—from a liquor store, of all things—cheap whiskey and off-brand soda scribbled across the faded ink. And right across the top, in thick, dark pen, unmistakably hers:

908-304-0057

Call me if you ever want another good time ;)

Your stomach flipped. A number. A fucking receipt. No name, no context—just the kind of lazy, smug charm that screamed Natalie. She didn’t need to sign it. You already knew.

Of course she would leave like this. Of course she’d leave just enough to keep you thinking about her.

And goddammit, it was working.