#i will always be grateful for my friends who told me they wanted me to be alive. to anyone who actually told me they wanted me to keep livin

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

"Y/N?"

You scrunch your eyebrows, turning around.

Oh.

"Kento?"

He huffs in disbelief, his smile growing then fading. He clears his throat after a moment, covering his mouth with his fist.

"H-How are you?"

You don't know what to say. You didn't expect this. You didn't expect to see him ever again.

This felt weird.

"I'm fine. How are you?"

"I'm fine."

That didn't seem true. Although he was put together, you could see little hints. His eyes seemed more hollow than before, frown lines deepening on his face.

"I can help who's next!"

You turn back to the barista, giving Nanami a quick glance.

"Excuse me, just a moment."

You step forward and give your order, reaching for your wallet as you do so.

"Please," he steps beside you, card already out and handed towards the barista, "allow me."

"Wait, no, it's okay-"

"I know." He gives the barista his order, glancing at you after. "I want to."

You let him treat you, though it's hard. You've become so independent since you split up. You got your own car, your own apartment, your own cat. You felt like a real adult now, not relying on your boyfriend to drive you far distances.

It's awkward as you wait for your drinks. He stands surprisingly still, save for his fingers rubbing against each other, a shuffling sound being made. You're tempted to bolt out of there, to leave your drink and him behind, to gossip to your friend about it later. But you don't. You stay, waiting quietly, hands clasped together for strength.

Your drinks are placed on the counter, right next to each other. You let him grab his drink first, giving a soft smile when he grabs yours and hands it to you.

"I'm glad you're doing well."

"Yeah, you too," you say, still uncertain.

You keep standing there, backing up the line. You glance at the other customers waiting, preparing yourself to say goodbye and leave, when you feel a hand on your arm. You look back to Nanami, whose cheeks seem pinker.

"I know I have no right to ask, but... would you..." He trails off, licking his lip nervously before clearing his throat. "Would you like to sit and talk? Just for a little while. Ten minutes, if you're willing."

You nod hesitantly. You could survive for ten minutes.

You find a space near the back of the coffee shop, two chairs facing each other over a small table. You sit across from each other, silent at first.

"So, how have you really been?" he asks.

Oh. He still knows you so well.

You start slow, discussing the stresses of finding a new place to live, of getting a promotion at your job, of dealing with finding cat vomit in various places.

He listens, more attentively than he used to, smiling gently when you crack a joke about how your cat loves to impede on your freshly dried clothes.

It feels good to talk to him again, an old friend that you used to cherish coming back into your life. You feel a weight being lifted from your chest.

"But enough about me. How have you been?"

"Oh, well, there's nothing to say, really."

"Aww, that's not fair! I just told you about what a menace Pepper is; now you have to tell me what's going on with you."

He hesitates, but not like he used to. He sips his Americano, placing it back down and leaning a bit closer.

He remarks how things have been hard since you left, which you expected, were somewhat hoping for. He reminisces about how you used to make everything in his life so much easier, how you used to calm him after stressful days and how he was always grateful for that. He went through a period where he was drinking far too much, but he's gotten through that. He's been lonely, so he's tried making friends, all to no avail. He even admitted that he resorted to going out for drinks with Gojo, which he remarked as a terrible idea, which made you laugh. He smiles when you laugh, and it reaches his eyes.

"But I understand why you left."

"You do?" you ask, unsure.

"Yes." He looks down solemnly, like he's ashamed to meet your eye. "I neglected you, how you feel. I made my job more important than you, which it never should have been. I put you aside to worry about other things, which wasn't fair to you." He pauses, finally meeting your eye. "I'm truly sorry for how I treated you during the end of our relationship. You never deserved that."

You're touched. It was what you wanted this whole time, a heartfelt apology, but a bitter taste was building in the back of your throat.

"I'm sorry for ending things like that."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he replies, scratching at the side of his paper cup. "Your actions were justified."

"But I know it hurt," you kept going. "I know you must have suffered a lot as a result, and I'm sorry for putting you through that pain."

"I put you through worse."

"This isn't a contest, Ken."

He laughs, genuinely, making you smile.

"I hate how much I've missed hearing you say my name," he mumbles, not able to look at you.

"I've missed you too, you know." He looks at you after that. "Even though you were an ass." He scoffs, smiling again.

"Yeah... I was, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, you were."

Silence fills the space again. You both drink your coffee quietly, barely looking at each other.

"I..." he begins, stopping to sigh. "I wish I could make things up to you. I wish I could show you that I've really thought about my mistakes and I've changed."

You hum, unsure.

"It's been a year, Ken. Do you really want to reconnect?"

You swear you can see his eyes well with tears, but he looks away before you can comment on it.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you."

That. That was what you really wanted, to be missed by the man you love. Loved? No, love. There were still feelings there, feelings you couldn't quite get rid of. For the majority of your relationship, he had been so perfect he felt like a dream. It was just the end that ruined the two of you.

"Well," you start, putting your hand on the table, "dinner wouldn't hurt, right?"

He stares at you, unsure. Maybe he was wondering if this was a dream.

"And if I want to see you again after that?"

"I'll see you."

He swallows, puts his hand on the table next to yours.

"If I want to try this again?"

Your hand naturally slips onto his, thumb rubbing against him.

"I'd be willing, if you show that you've really changed."

He inhales shakily, rubbing his eyes under his glasses and sniffing sharply.

"There's just one problem."

You frown, worried.

"What?"

He removes his hand from his face, taking your hand into both of his.

"If you do bless me by starting our relationship again, I'm just wondering what day we should consider our anniversary date."

You laugh. You laugh the way you haven't laughed in a long time.

[sealeneee]

siiiiiiigh

[thedevotionaltour]

me when i have a 2 1/2 hour phone call with one of my best friends in the whole world someone who it feels like fate connected us who is everything i have ever wanted in my life and more and i know everything will be ok forever even on the worst days on earth because this is someone i see being in my life for the rest of the time i'm alive

[luveline]

Shy!reader and post prison Spence - the first time he calls her a pet name? I love that your Spencers always use “honey” or “dove” or “love” and we know she’d be a mess.

P.S. completely agree with how much I love the gentleness of your characters. The way you write Spencer in love is literally my favorite

ty for requesting <3 fem

“Are you sure it’s okay?” 

Spencer holds a hanging strap. You hold your own, core tense with the movement of the train. “I think I would’ve mentioned it before you got on the train if it weren’t.” 

You nod, glancing around the traincar at the other passengers. There's a stout lady wearing a large fluffy sweater, turquoise with two white kittens at her chest nuzzling one another in knit. A man with three bags of groceries sits just beside her. Further down, a teenage girl listens to music through leaking headphones, her phone reflecting blue light on her cheeks. 

“But are you sure I won’t be an imposition?” 

“You aren’t usually. I guess we won’t know until we get there.” 

“Maybe I should just find a hotel for the night.” 

“Y/N, I’m kidding. You’re not an imposition, it won’t be a problem. There’s enough room at my apartment for you to stay however long you want. Between all the books, that is.” 

It’s just not something you pictured asking him for. Your kitchen flooded in your apartment and the landlord had to put you up in a hotel until he could get someone in to make sure the stove wasn’t about to explode or catch light. But the idea of a hotel is rough torture —somewhere unfamiliar, living out of a suitcase, surrounded by people you don’t know without a door that locks properly. Spencer caught you sweating over it at your desk, pulling the story from you in reluctant drags with a hand on your shoulder. 

It’ll be okay, he said, you can just stay with me. 

Which is relieving and somehow a new can of worms to deal with. At least at a hotel there was no chance of seeing Spencer in a towel. Spencer seeing you in a towel, in your pyjamas, without your formal office protections. 

The worst part is the excitement. 

Terrified he’ll see it on your face, you stare at your shoes next to his. Spencer… Everyone told you he was a dork. When you joined the team in his absence, not once did you get the impression that the man who’d be coming back was like this. You feel like he’d been infantilised. Which isn’t to say he isn’t a dork, he is, he tells you the strangest things, facts or statistics to accompany each topic of the day, and he has all the manners and chivalry of someone who knows what it’s like to be as painfully shy as you are. But he isn’t shy. 

Autistic, he’d confided once. Probably. I’m better at dealing with it now. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“Nervous.” 

“I know.” He grasps your arm as the train screeches on tracks, turning a tight bend. You’re grateful, but immediately flushed with heat. 

“I don’t want to embarrass myself.” 

“You couldn’t. I think I know you too well already.”

“You’ve known me for less time than the rest of the team, but you were the first person to offer me a place to stay.” You clench the rickety handle of your suitcase. “Thank you.” 

“That’s okay, angel.” He says it simply and softly, like you really are an angel. Something breathless to wait with. 

Angel, you think, heart skipping a beat, pulse slow and then suddenly ramped. 

His arm slips behind your back. “I don’t want you to stay in a hotel if it’s going to scare you. Besides, it’ll be fun. Like a sleepover.” He laughs. And you, despite your flush, heat sinking across your chest like a bruise, manage to laugh back. “I’ve never had one before.” 

“What?” 

“Never had a sleepover. I didn’t have any friends in school, and I haven’t had a girlfriend stay the night before.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, expecting a retraction. Not that you’re my girlfriend, not that you’re anything like that at all. 

He smiles at you. “Should we get takeout?”

“What were you thinking?” 

“There’s an Indian restaurant between the station and my apartment? We can stop in. Or we can order something to come. Or I can cook, if you want home cooked.” 

“No, it’s fine, you don’t have to cook–”

His lips turn to a quizzical pout. “I don’t mind.”

You want him to call you angel again. You want him to take you home, make you dinner, and you want to sleepover. Like a girlfriend, you want to wake up in his bed. 

“Sorry,” you breathe, “I think I’m just tired.” 

“Are you sure?” You nod. “Alright. I was worried you didn’t like the pet name, but your pupils dilated when I said it–”

You can’t escape him. One hand in the hanging strap above, the over on your suitcase handle, you have no choice but to stand there with his arm around you to keep you from falling, face so hot with it that you’re sure you’d be feverish to the touch. “It’s fine,” you say, too afraid to look at his face that you end up staring at the nice shape of his throat, his black and purple tie. “Call me what you want. Um, I think we should get Indian.” 

“Good choice, angel.” 

[xo2dee]

ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ᴋᴀɪꜱᴇɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ʟᴀᴍʙᴇɴᴛ

⛧ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sukuna x (Fem)Reader

⛧ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: true form!sukuna, pregnant!reader, heian era customs, pregnancy, mentions of cannibalism, sukuna being an asshole (what do you expect)

⛧ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3767

⛧ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Carrying the King's of Curses child, you knew wouldn't be easy, but you were more than happy to have a baby of your own. Even if said baby was growing rapidly while being the source of your bad back and changing appetite.

⛧ᴀ/ɴ: sukuna fluff is hard to come by in my opinion and so sorry if he's ooc but i wanted him like this. also, this is for lemon and ava, two of my favorite sukuna babes 🤍

⛧twitter - ao3

Wrist flicking out, you fanned yourself, eyes heavy with the sleep you had been fighting as you pursed your lips and eyed the blooming trees of the garden. Spring was rounding itself off, the scorching weather approaching you knew in weeks as you could only prepare yourself to be practically bedridden due to your ‘condition’. You’d only arrived a year and a half prior, and you quickly realized you had not seen much of the palace still after taking a husband, be it due to the duties of a noble person who were bound to spend most their days inside and entertaining themselves another way.

You held back a snort, fanning yourself harder as you stopped and eyed a nearby bush full of bright fruit and as red as your husband’s eyes.

…Husband.

In your youth, you supposed the daydreams of living in nobility were only achievable through luck. Or perhaps told through a fortune told from the Omikuji you required as a teen, taking the fortunes of ‘blessing’ and ‘marriage’ with a grain of salt until you had grown into an adult and ran off to be elsewhere from the clutches on an arranged marriage. Into serving nobility, to becoming nobility wasn’t necessarily on your list, your marriage by all means was an unlawful one. Forged from blood and flesh when you remembered instead of sipping sake in front of the Gods, your husband-to-be curled his fingers around your wrist and bit into your palm to instead partake in you.

You had been enamored by him since you first met him, eyes memorizing every inch of his unusual face before taking his thumb into your mouth when he smeared his own blood across your lips. It had sealed your fate that moment, your love and lust for him bursting forth like a raging inferno then and during the commutation of your marriage. Something that had finally taken into effect and was weighing down on you heavily.

One you supposed was the reason for the wariness when it came to serving you.

Cutting your eyes to the side and slightly behind you, you held the sigh in, your attendant keeping her eyes on the ground (perhaps watching your feet when you walked) as to shield her pensive expression from you, however you were not the unobservant type and focused on the knot between her eyebrows. Mai, your first and most loyal attendant, was never one to shy away from pestering over you, speaking her mind and filling in for advice whenever you needed it, so to see her quiet and on edge grated your nerves more than you liked to admit. She had been your first friend when you arrived, and you absolutely despised when she reverted back into the meek and submissive attendant she played whenever your husband was around, and it was enough to make you frown and worry if you had done something wrong.

You sighed loudly, snapping your fan shut and turning to the woman slowly, “You look like you have something you want to say.”

Mai’s eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, long and curled as her doe-like eyes rose to meet yours. She seemed to mull over your statement, before bowing her head in submission and speaking quietly, “Permission to speak?”

A smile graced your lips, softening your expression and nodding to her in return, “You always have permission with me, Mai.”

And just like that, Mai’s entire attitude flipped at your nonchalance. Straightening herself up, she dropped the service act and eyed you with suspicion and wary, mixed in with tired disappointment at having to cater to your more… reckless wants. “It’s just that Lord Sukuna has told us to monitor you and keep you in the palace when he’s away. And you’ve disobeyed that… again.”

Ah, there it was. With a scowl threatening to mar your face, you turned your back to her and began to pick through the strawberries in the bush you had been eyeing before, “I’m in the gardens. That’s still the palace… Is it not?”

“Yes, but –”

“This one looks ripe…” you cut her off, not necessarily wanting to hear her prattle on about how your husband made it horrifyingly clearly that you were to say inside at all times when he wasn’t at the palace. You’d heard it all before so many times it had been practically engraved into your skull with ink, and you were fed up with sitting on your knees inside away from the outside world and learning calligraphy constantly. Lips downturned you plopped a good-looking strawberry into your mouth, humming at the juice and tangy sweetness that exploded upon your taste buds, before your stomach gave an abrupt twist and a foot kicked out against your ribs. You winced and rubbed at your belly while the fruit suddenly tasted foul, and you swallowed with a grimace, “I hate how hungry I get nowadays, especially when I seem to crave more than just human food.”

Mai had been watching you like a hawk, leaning forward to intercept you whenever you reached for another fruit, “Oh, let me get it for you –”

“Please, Mai, I can pick my own strawberries. You worry too much.” Batting her hand away, you plucked it, hiding it in your sleeve and turning to her with an exhausted smile as she took your fan from you.

“Yes, My Lady. But please consider my words, we can keep you entertained in the palace.” You watched the lines on her face carefully, creased at her eyes and wrinkles forming at her forehead, and you could only wonder if your pregnancy had been the cause of her newly formed stress (partly, you knew you could’ve blamed it on your husband, his aggressive and aloof behavior all in one keeping most of the servants on the tips of their toes, but you quickly squashed it whenever you remembered she tended to you entirely).

Of course, you knew she was only doing her job, however her job was also giving you a severe case of claustrophobia being cooped up inside all the time. It wasn’t like you were planning to ever leave the palace’s premises either, just small strolls in the garden or spending time by the pond to cool off. Honestly, you had reason to believe she and your husband were just worrywarts (yet for the latter, you would keep that strictly to yourself).

You nodded your head in the direction you wanted to go, signaling Mai to walk beside you as you sighed and lowered your voice, “The midwife told me exercise will help…” you caressed your palm over your protruding stomach, “The baby is already huge and only seems to keep growing. A little sun helps me too, Mai… I can’t stay cooped up forever.”

Mai took a few moments to respond, her shoulders relaxing and her voice regaining familiarity, “I’m only worried since the last time you fainted out here.”

Lips thinning outwards, you remembered it all too well. Not necessarily fainting, though you blamed it on the many layers you wore around the palace and how warm it was getting outside, but you remembered the aftermath and how your husband had all but slaughtered a few lowly servants in retaliation as to letting you out (and because of his temper). You had thought the gore would’ve had you running, but you’d grown so used to him murdering someone whenever they slightly pissed him off you could only sigh at the thoughts. Of course, you knew Mai’s worry also came out of fear, however you weren’t about to let him do anything to her. “I know, but I feel fine… Just swollen feet and my back aching every time I move.”

And the baby kicking at your body whenever something displeased him.

Mai sighed your name exasperatingly, dropping the formalities, “Please, given your condition I think it’s best if you return to the palace.”

Irritation began to seep in your muscles, your baby moving in response to your emotions as your feet marched faster to walk. If you wanted to walk around the garden, you were allowed to, you would deal with your husband later if he found out. “What my husband doesn’t know won’t hurt him… Just another stroll and we can go back in, I’m getting tired anyways.”

“My Lady – oh!”

Mai abruptly skidded to a halt, body bending quickly into a low enough bow for the towering sight of your husband appearing before you both. You spared her a quick glance, flickering back to your husband, Lord Sukuna, when you realized he wasn’t the least bit concerned over her. He kept all four eyes on you, a challenging glare in them and you nearly wanted to laugh at the sight of two of his arms crossed and the other two planted on his hips. He looked every part of a disappointed husband – a father in the making, and you could already feel the talking your ear was going to get. Ah well, you could always feign falling asleep on him, that seemed to always make him softer.

Bending slightly into your own bow, he spoke, addressing Mai with a singular command, “Leave,” and you only returned back to your own height whenever you peeked that she was gone. You held back the groan at the pull your spine gave, wincing slightly at the shine of the sun before his large form eclipsed it as he finally moved close to you with no one in sight. The familiarity of his warmth and scent eased some of your irritability, wondering why he was back to early and ecstatic that he came to look for you once he couldn’t find you.

You smiled up at him, rolling the strawberry around your fingers before gesturing with your head to the path you had been walking, “Walk with me?”

Sukuna was ever-so unwavering in his staring, watching you practically dawdle in your place with the world’s most unamused expression, “Weren’t you told to stay inside?”

You repressed a shudder at his rough voice as your skin prickled, another sigh leaving while your shoulders slumped; caught. “I might remember you telling me that.” He seemed to not be in the mood for your sweettalking.

A loud exhale made your smile turn sheepish. “You piss me off.”

You knew that was coming, pulling out your hand from the sleeve to produce the strawberry from before, letting his eyes follow the way you rolled it into your palm, “But you’re here now… Nothing could really happen now since I have you.”

Sukuna’s eyebrow furrowed, eyes narrowing inward before he scowled at you enough to let his upper lip slightly curve over his teeth, “Changing the subject won’t help you. Are you gonna walk back, or do I have to carry your ass and –"

In a bold move you silenced him, pressing the strawberry to his lips with two fingers and slightly pushing it forward in hopes he would eat it. His eyes couldn’t narrow or glare any further, shooting from you to the fruit, and holding them there for a few moments and you wanted to giggle because it nearly looked like he pouting. Your husband never really ate human food, perhaps to humor you before he would spit it out and complain about the horrid taste it gave him, however there were a few times his interest would peak and want a bite of whatever you had in your hand – especially when said food seemed to satisfy you so much. You supposed it was his curiosity to understand you better, having a human in such close quarters and as a wife was perhaps as jarring as it was to have him as your husband.

Toying with him, you said, “It gave me bad taste earlier… Want to try it?”

Sukuna’s lips twitched behind the fruit, a clear sign he’d indulge you that time and when you went to move your hand away from him, one of his hand snatched your wrist with a small squeeze. An unspoken word for you to leave your fingers on the fruit and indulge him. And you did so with coquettish blink, pressing the strawberry harder against his lips until they gave way and his teeth were biting into it with the juice from inside sliding down your fingers as he slowly and sensually ate the strawberry from your fingertips. It didn’t help that he kept his eyes on your own the whole time, your cheeks burning as you never were able to get used to your husband’s forward assertion on sensuality.

Your breath caught and eyes widened when his tongue slid over the length of your fingers before slipping in his mouth and sucking on them until they were free of any residue stickiness. You couldn’t help the rapid beat of your heart, lips parting as his thumb tapped in rhythm to your pulse point before he let go of your fingers with a loud ‘plop!’ and a satisfied hum rumbling out of him as you could only gaze dumbfounded at the saliva coating your fingers. After a few moments you cleared your throat and swallowed, eyeing him warily as you knew his stomach probably wouldn’t last long and he’d be hacking it up with loud complaining.

And on cue, you watched fascinated as the mouth on his stomach frowned.

Oh, here it comes. It never lasted long in his system.

You sighed as he spat it out, licking his lips and scowling at the ground, “You’re right, tastes like shit.”

“Would you like me to say something to the servants?” you asked, mentally cheering with a soft smile on your face when he fell into step with you to walk along the gardens. It was never hard to get what you wanted out of him.

“It’s not poor gardening skills, it’s you.” You opened your mouth, ready to backtalk at the insult, yet he silenced you with a hand raised before one of his fingers traced along your cheek, “Weren’t you waddling in and practically whining for some of my food?”

How could you forget, a week ago you’d been lured out of your bed chamber by the most mouthwatering smell and your baby kicking incessantly once your stomach growled. You had stumbled upon Sukuna and Uruame, the latter making Sukuna’s dinner and the dinner something you never were to partake in since his appetite did not quell your hunger. However, when you found yourself salivating with your stomach rumbling and your baby kicking, it was a jarring experience to come to realize you were indulging in cannibalism and liked it. Liked it so much your child never rolled in a fit that night and Sukuna had been extra attentive to you afterwards with his praising.

An answer was on your tongue, though you chose to neglect saying anything when your taste buds twitched at the thought of that dinner and instead enjoyed your walk in peace. Your husband only snorted, a slight laugh leaving him at your pout before he returned his limbs to himself and rolled his gaze forwards on the path you’d been on. Times with him were normally relaxing as he was actually rather lazy when he had nothing to do, his affections ranging from just enjoying your presence in silence to twirling your hair around his finger whenever you were close enough. You never minded, glad to spend time with him though it was equally as nice whenever he seemed get even clingier once finding out you were pregnant.

Even his soft, lingering touches moments ago set your heart ablaze, and you wondered if he felt the same whenever you ran your fingers through his hair whenever he felt like resting his head in your lap.

Minutes into your relaxing walk you felt it, an agonizing cramp pulsing in your back and the soles of your feet screaming in protest at being mobile for too long. Of course, you get some time to do something with him and your body halts that and screams at you to stop. You didn’t want to say anything, not wanting to bother him nor ruin the peaceful moment you were so grateful to have. Although the pain in your body had other plans, cramping upwards and throbbing whenever you tried to take another step so much you immediately had to double over with one hand resting on your stomach.

You stopped, the other hand moving to hold your aching back, and you were vaguely surprised he stopped at the same time. A wince and awkward bouts of silence later, you groaned and straightened back up, “I’m sorry, I think it gets worse every day.”

Sukuna remained silent and still, before a rumbling from his chest prickled the hair on the nape of your neck. “Hm, almost like you should’ve listened to me.” He was back in that disappointed husband stance, and you knew if you were to look into his face you’d see the smug grin at your misfortune. Gritting your teeth you didn’t give him the satisfaction, watching glumly as he sighed rather loudly and moved away from your side to continue walking in the direction of this palace.

You reaped what you sowed you supposed, having to walk back alone after being told not to be out of the palace when he wasn’t there. And your body complaints for moving about too much agreed, a quiet moan of frustration leaving you as you closed your eyes and counted to ten to calm your nerves, reopening them when the pain muted itself into a dull ache for the time. However, you completely clammed up at the sight of your husband bent down in front of you, the black of his haori draped over his shoulders shielding your view of his sculpted back and his face turned forward giving you no indication of what he was doing.

Yet, he did seem like he said something, though you were too befuddled to even understand what he had said.  

“What –”

“Are you deaf?” he interrupted, turning his head slightly and motioning with his head from you to climb onto him, “I said get on, before I change my mind.”

He wanted you… to ride… on his back? Never once did he ever engage in something like that with you (besides carrying you in his arms, but that had been the night of your wedding and he’d practically tossed you on your beds afterwards), though you weren’t about to pass by the chance for him to carry you. Though you weren’t too sure how to climb on his back and hold on so heavily pregnant, Sukuna didn’t have four arms for nothing you supposed.

Not wanting him to change his mind and keep him waiting, you clambered onto him to best you could dressed in several layers with your legs kicking free to slip underneath the lower set of his arms. You held back a squeal when your baby kicked at all the movements, arms flying forward to nearly constrict Sukuna’s airway off as he in return grunted and stood to his full height while beginning to move forward in a slow pace. You were grateful he was taking it slow, still trying to get comfortable and trying not to think about how bad it would hurt to fall off his back from his enormous height…

“Stop fucking squirming…” he grunted again, readjusting you with his arms as your body reclined higher up on his back and he continued walking, “Acting like I’ve never touched you before.”

“It’s not that. He – “ you cut yourself off, you hadn’t necessarily told him that you believed your baby was a boy, and you didn’t want to hear any of his teasing, “the baby kicks and squirms whenever I move too much.” Or whenever he hears your voice, you groused, further proving your point when he kicked at you again whenever Sukuna spoke once more. You wondered if he could feel the kick on his back.

“Damn.” A pause of silence and Sukuna was jostling you on his back, “How much does that prick weigh? Or is that all you?”

Your hand itched to slap the back of his neck, though you held yourself together and only offered him a scoff while making yourself comfortable, “He takes after his father.”

“And he wiggles like a worm, just like his mother.”

You had half a mind to say something about him referring to your child as a boy, your cheeks hot when you rested your chin atop his shoulder and eyes growing lidded with sleep while he inadvertently rocked you with his steps. You bit the inside of your cheek in a girlish thought that your husband was walking slower on purpose, rolling your ankles to stop you from kicking your feet at the idea he wanted to spend more time with you alone. Then again, he was doing all of it for you when he could’ve just left you alone, or not come out to find you at all.

Maybe some days he missed you as much as you missed him.

In a bold declaration, you pushed yourself forward until your nose was skimming Sukuna’s cheek, a chaste kissed you placed there seconds later whenever he didn’t say or do anything to push you away, “Thank you, my Lord.”

Sukuna hummed low in his throat, a deep rumbling that vibrated against your arms and soothed your aching ribs, “Don’t get used to it. I just didn’t want to wait around for your slow ass to waddle back in.” Though he sounded rather harsh, you knew he was just doing roundabout affection in his own way.

Your head lolled against his, the leaves on the trees above swaying you into a warm midday nap the longer you watched them through your eyelashes, “Take me to bed?”

You didn’t necessarily hear his response, though you weren’t dreaming it when his fingers tightened the hold he had on your thighs, the warmth he emitted doing wonders for the pains in your body as he secured you further into his back to ensure you didn’t fall off. You couldn’t help the smile, your cheek smushed into his shoulder as you took one final look at the sunlight path before you both and closed your eyes as exhaustion took its hold over.

With a last conscious thought, you reminded yourself to thank Mai later for allowing you a nice stroll in the garden – especially when you were doing it with your family.

[ckret2]

Chapter 51 of human Bill Cipher is once more the Mystery Shack's prisoner: Dipper and Mabel try to figure out what the Axolotl's poem means; Dipper gets the hang of astral projection; and... whatever's going on up there happens.

####

Ford and Dipper came back into the shack through the gift shop; Ford didn't want to risk crossing paths with Bill. While Dipper went into the house, Ford went down—returning to the safety of his subterranean study.

Once Ford had put on the old black trench coat he'd worn during his multiversal travels and gotten comfortable at his desk, he pulled out Journal 5 to document the events of the last few days. In a cheap ballpoint pen, he wrote, I've lost my #1 Grunkle pen (and favorite coat) to the waters of Lake Gravity Falls. And then, deciding this didn't adequately express his feelings, he drew a small frown. That coat had served him well for decades, and he'd really liked that pen. It did write excellently, and it had reminded him of his gniece and gnephew.

He spent three pages documenting the eclipse—what happened, what readings he'd taken, what he and Dipper observed—and then another four pages talking about Bill. What he'd told them, why Ford had dismissed it; his claims about a trans-dimensional axolotl distorting gravity with its migration; the statue, the rescue, the breakdown.

The act of writing always helped Ford clarify his thoughts and untangle mysteries; it wasn't until he was writing that he realized the limbs Bill had said he couldn't feel were the ones that had broken off the statue.

He listed the rules of the chess variants he could remember Bill inventing. He drew Bill huddled in front of the board, grim, tear-streaked, exhausted; and then scratched out his face, embarrassed at the thought of immortalizing such a raw moment for his private viewing.

He wrote, There's still a slim possibility that the entire "eclipse," start to finish, was Bill's masterfully-orchestrated scheme to make us pity and trust him; but it's unlikely. Although Bill is fiendish enough, he isn't currently powerful enough, and his lies certainly aren't elaborate enough. If he could pull off such a byzantine ruse, then he could just as easily escape—and if he can escape, why hasn't he? Bill may be insane, but he's never been THAT irrational.

And so, even as twisted as Bill's idea of "friendship" is... for the very first time, I'm convinced that he was telling the truth all along when he said he wants me as his friend. It's not an act. He risked his life to save someone who's an active threat to him.

And at the end of it all—though I'm grateful to be alive in spite of my own stubbornness—do I like him any better for it?

Ford leaned back and shut his eyes, sifting through the inner tumult of anger and old hurt that defined most of his memories of Bill, looking to see if anything had changed.

There was a sore, tender spot in his emotions, a place beginning to rot with remorse; when he prodded at those emotions, he found that it was shame over his own harsh conduct of the last couple of days. But he was only ashamed of how cruelly he'd acted; he wasn't ashamed that Bill was the one he'd done it to.

Outside of that tender spot—regret over his own behavior—nothing else had changed.

No. I still hate him. I'm grateful to be alive, but I hate him. He hasn't undone anything he did to my family and me, and he never will. Forgiveness can't be purchased with favors.

I'm only relieved at the certainty of it. Bill has committed an act that can't possibly be a lie. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's shown me the truth; and the truth is he'd rather see me alive than dead. Whatever other lies he may tell, I can hold on to that fact.

Bill's miserable eyes peered out at Ford between the scribbles he'd drawn across his face. It was truly a pity that Ford had to hate him. Pity that Bill hadn't been somebody better. He could have been better.

Ford couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed that he'd filled four pages talking about the monster he'd already wasted so many more on. Bill had been right about him: You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. The only thing Bill didn't understand was that hatred and obsession weren't mutually incompatible.

####

"Hey, Dipper," Mabel said, unfolding the living room sofa bed. 

"Hey, Mabel," Dipper said, passing through living room on his way to the stairs. He climbed up to the attic.

He came back down from the attic. "Mabel. Why's Bill asleep in your bed."

"He really needed a nap," Mabel said.

"Okay but why on your bed?"

Mabel pouted. "Dipper, do you realize he's never slept on a real bed? Ever?"

Dipper tried to imagine sleeping on a couple couch cushions on the floor every night. "Yeah, okay, that does kinda suck." Even if it was Bill's own fault he wouldn't sleep in the living room.

By unspoken mutual agreement, having a Bill in the bedroom followed the same law as finding a centipede in the bathroom. The law was "that's the centipede's bathroom now." So once the folding bed was set up, they sat on it to serve as their hang-out spot for the evening and caught each other up on what they'd done the last couple of days.

After Dipper & Co. had left, Grenda had come over to take advantage of the low gravity to retrieve the kite that had been stuck in a tree near the Mystery Shack since last summer (it was, tragically, too tattered to salvage), and then they'd gone over to Candy's house to photograph each other performing feats of impossible strength. (Mabel would be sending some pictures to their parents to confuse them, and adding the rest to her summer scrapbook.) She'd spent the next day breaking the trampoline world record until Soos came outside and said gravity was probably too low for it to be safe to be up in the air anymore, if Bill's warnings about being off the ground when gravity hit zero were true; at which point Mabel had hung around inside air-swimming until she suddenly slammed against the ceiling, and then the ground. She was fine. She just had a couple of bruises. She showed Dipper her bruises.

In return, Dipper told Mabel about how their quest had gone: the checks for micro-rips, Bill's increasingly frantic warnings, the lake—

("You got to see a bajillion magical axolotls and I didn't?!")

—the cliff, the Axolotl, Dipper's near-death experience, and what he now knew about his out-of-body dreams.

"Seriously?" Mabel hissed, eyes bugging out. "And he had us looking up lucid dreaming books! What a jerk!"

"I know! He could have just ignored the whole thing, we didn't even think it was anything but dreams."

"And I'd thought he was being so helpful, too! Like he was really trying to make up for giving you 'nightmares'!" Mabel laughed in disbelief and flopped down on the flimsy mattress. "All that because he just didn't want us to know how it was really his fault? Biiill, ugh."

His fault. Dipper hesitated, wondering whether he should tell Mabel what Bill had said about Mabel's Fault; then decided against it. Bill had probably been telling the truth when he'd said he only wanted all the credit for Weirdmageddon.

But—Dipper did tell her about Bill saving their lives. He would have felt like a liar if he hadn't—like he was trying to trick his sister into thinking Bill was worse than he already was. He hoped Ford wouldn't mind; but how could he not tell Mabel?

"He could have just let you die and didn't?" Mabel turned that over in her head, processing this sudden shift in Bill's behavior. "Wow. I'm impressed."

He also told her about their previous encounter with the Axolotl. Considering the other lies Bill had told recently, anything he said about them meeting the Axolotl was dubious at best; but Dipper could remember the Axolotl, so maybe some of it was true, even if Bill had twisted as much as he could. ("The Axolotl said hi, by the way." "Aww. Tell him hi back!" "Yeah, I... don't know how to do that.")

Dipper laid out his journal between them on the folding bed, and Mabel read over the couplet a few times. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches from within birch trees'..."

"It's got to be talking about Bill," Dipper said. "Equilateral triangles have three sixty-degree angles. I just don't know why the Axolotl wanted to talk to us about him."

Mabel frowned at the lines. "I think... I remember meeting him too," she said.

"You do?"

"Kinda. Like in a dream," she said. "We were in some kind of futury space race car. And he had a really comfortable beanbag chair."

"Yes! I remembered the beanbag chair, too!" And he hadn't mentioned it in his journal. "This is great! Talking about it must... must cause us to remember, somehow. Maybe since the universe where we met the Axolotl doesn't exist anymore, our memories of it are... detached or something? Psychically floating around between dimensions until we try to remember them?" He took in Mabel's skeptical frown and shrugged. "I don't know!"

She scrunched up her face. "Ugh. Last summer's first-grader time travel was complicated enough. This is like college-level time travel. Maybe we can ask Bill how it works?"

She said it so easily, like she thought it was actually a good idea. Right after she'd heard about the lucid dreaming thing, too. "I don't think he'd help." Dipper lowered his voice. "He really didn't want Grunkle Ford and me to find out about the Axolotl—and he kept telling me not to think about what the Axolotl told me. He's trying to cover something up."

"Oo-oo-ooh." Voice dropped to a whisper, Mabel said, "Do you think it's some kind of Space Axolotl conspiracy?"

"It could be," Dipper said. "All I know is he was trying to tell us something important about Bill. Some kind of prophecy, or... maybe a warning...?"

He trailed off. Mabel had stopped listening to Dipper. She was rereading the couplet Dipper had written, moving her lips like she was murmuring under her breath—but whatever she was saying, it was much longer than the couplet Dipper had written down. Distractedly, she said, "Do you have a pen?"

"Yeah, here." Dipper quickly handed over the pen he kept in his vest.

Mabel clicked it, went to the bottom of the page, and wrote: A different form, a different time.

Dipper sucked in a sharp breath as the words snapped into place in his mind. "That's it! That was the last line! What else do you remember?"

"That's it," Mabel said. "It was free form poetry with a bunch of rhyme pairs."

"I don't think free form poetry rhymes."

"Pbbbt." Mabel blew a raspberry and shoved Dipper's face. "Whatever! You know what I mean." She pointed at the last line. "Do you think the poem's about why Bill's here? He time traveled to the Mystery Shack in a new body..."

"Exactly! Bill must be back here for a reason. He's got all those powers—or, used to, anyway—and he knows more about the multiverse than anybody on Earth... Maybe there's some kind of big threat coming, and Bill's the only one who can stop it, and—and the Axolotl wanted us to know...?"

"I like the sound of that," Mabel said. "That'd basically make him a hero, right?"

Dipper grimaced. "I mean. I guess? But we're talking about Bill. If he does help us stop a threat, it'd be like if a serial killer picked up a hitchhiker and killed him, and then it turned out the hitchhiker was an even worse serial killer."

"That still sounds kinda heroic to me."

"Pfff, okay." He looked at his journal. "But... what is he here to do?"

Mabel considered what they'd already written. "Maybe we can use him to spy on our enemies through birch trees!"

"Thaaat's probably not it."

"No, I think I'm on to something. I can feel it."

There was a lot of empty space between his couplet and Mabel's line. "There's more we're missing, though. Maybe the rest of the poem describes the threat? Or what we need to get Bill to do?"

"I can't remember anything else, though."

"Me neither."

They stared at the page together, waiting for something to come to their blank minds. Mabel looked at the fish tank. "Hey, Primrose! Do you know anything?"

The pet axolotl in the tank ignored her serenely.

Dipper said, "'Primrose'?"

"Yeah, last summer Grunkle Stan said her name is Freakface, but I thought she deserved a cuter name. She's primrose color!"

"Ford says he originally named him Nikola."

Mabel gasped. "Nikki..."

Dipper twisted around to look at the axolotl. "Do you know anything? Do you... get messages from the Axolotl's heralds, or anything...?"

Nikola slowly opened his mouth, and slowly closed it.

Mabel said, "Hey. The Axolotl's one of those dimension-crossy time-travely guys, right? He probably wouldn't have given us a prophecy in the wrong timeline and then made us forget it unless he knew we'd remember it in time in the rightdimension!"

"I guess," Dipper said uncertainly.

"So we don't need to worry about it! We'll remember it when we need to."

"Unless this timeline's going to branch, and the only one where we survive is the one where we put all our effort into trying to remembering—"

"Shhh!" Mabel put a finger over Dipper's mouth. "Uh-uh. No college time travel. We'll be fine!"

Dipper pushed her over. "Okay, but we should at least try a little to remember what the Axolotl told us."

"What if we work on it separately?" Mabel propped herself up on an elbow. "Instead of just sitting around thinking about it. And whenever we remember a line, we can tell each other and see if it makes anything click."

"That might be faster," Dipper said, stroking his chin. "We're already remembering different lines."

"Yeah! And that lucid dreaming book said something about focusing on a problem before you sleep so you can figure it out in your dreams! We can just work on it in our sleep and we'll remember it all in no time!"

Dipper laughed. "What? No way, I think lucid dreaming is just one of those made up pop psychology things. I didn't get it to work at all." Either it didn't work or Bill had deliberately recommended a terrible book.

"I did! I can remember like... eighty percent more dreams. And I can tell when I'm dreaming a lot more often!"

"Huh." Or, maybe Dipper just wasn't doing it right. "Maybe I need to start over from step one. Do you know where the book we were using went?"

"Over here!" Mabel had set a couple library books on the end table next to the sofa bed; she pulled out the second one, which had a glittery pink bookmark with a cat on it stuck two-thirds of the way through. "Just don't lose my bookmark."

"Thanks." He'd reread the first step before bed. "We should probably be getting ready for bed anyway, huh?"

"Seriously?! It's barely bedtime!" And when the adults weren't watching, official bedtime was an hour and a half before Actual Bedtime.

"I'm exhausted. I just hiked up and down a mountain and faced down death."

Mabel pointed at Nikola. "You faced down a big salamander."

"Close enough."

They went upstairs, brushed their teeth, went to their bedroom...

And stopped in the door. Bill was still asleep. "Oh. Right," Dipper said.

He was curled into a ball on his left side, facing the wall, covered with only the zodiac blanket and his borrowed/stolen top hat sitting on the side of his head. He didn't use a pillow; he'd pushed Mabel's pillows and dolls behind himself to form a squishy makeshift fortress.

"Please don't wake him up," Mabel whispered. (She'd already set up the folding bed for herself; she'd clearly planned on this.) "He's had a really really hard time the last couple of days, and I think he needs as much sleep in a real bed as he can get, and it's just for one night, and I'm sure he'd rather sleep than do anything evil—"

"He said something, didn't he?"

Mabel paused. "Yeah. I think seeing his body really messed him up."

Dipper sighed. "We were trying to keep him away from it." He didn't want Mabel to think they'd forced him to stare his own death in the face. "But he did that... eye thing and looked through the trees, and..."

Mabel nodded.

Well. Dipper couldn't kick him out now. For Mabel's sake.

As children, occasionally when they got hotel rooms with a bed too few, their parents would stick them in one bed with a barrier of pillows in between them. At age thirteen and without two crabby parents trying to get them to just go to bed after a long plane flight, they unanimously vetoed that plan. Dipper decided against asking Stan if he could sleep in Ford's unoccupied bed, both because he suspected Stan would just go upstairs and drag Bill out of the room and because he didn't want Stan to think he was scared of Bill. He wasn't scared of Bill. Not anymore. He could handle one measly night in the same room as him. Anyway, somebody had to make sure he wasn't unsupervised in their bedroom all night, right?

Dipper and Mabel quietly set a floor mirror and old lamp next to Mabel's bed, draped a sheet between them, taped on a pink poster that said "WARNING! TRIANGLE ZONE!" and was covered in stickers of triangular objects, and decided Dipper was adequately shielded. If Bill did get up during the night, he'd probably trip through the sheet and wake half the house before he got anywhere near Dipper.

Dipper went to sleep with a baseball bat in his hands.

####

"Okay," Bill said, hands on his sides, "what am I looking at here?"

The feral band members of Sev'ral Timez turned toward Bill, eyes reflecting in the dim light. They were squatting around Bill's petrified corpse like a pack of apes examining a sleek black monolith.

"Hey girl," Creggy G. said.

"Hey," Bill said. He looked down at himself. His onyx black feet hovered over the ground and the yellow glow from his exoskeleton illuminated the clearing. "Lemme cut to the chase, is this gonna turn into a raunchy dream? My corporeal love life is about as cold and dry as Antarctica, I keep hoping one of my dreams will get a little hotter and wetter—"

"Nah, G," Deep Chris said. "Mr. Bratsman got us fixed."

"Aw."

"We're here to pay you reverence for freeing our minds from the chains of the conventional," Greggy C said, gesturing to Bill's corpse. Leggy P was kneeling and bowing to it and Chubby Z was posing for it. "We want to help free you like you tried to help free humanity."

Bill's eye narrowed. He tapped a finger against the edge of one brick as he considered this offer. Finally, skeptically, he said, "Fine. I'll bite. Why should I think you can help me?"

"Because we can give you the understanding your heart's been missing, girl. You're just like us," Chubby Z said. "A horror never meant to exist, born of a dream to construct the perfect golden idol, forced to dwell within an unnaturally-fabricated human shell."

Bill tilted his head thoughtfully. "I'm with you so far."

"We want you to join us," Deep Chris said. "Cavort with us in the silvan night, G. Shun the harsh light of the spotlight for the healing salve of moonbeams. We'll get drunk on the sweet fermented summer berries, uncaring of how the brambles prick our flesh. We'll dance in a frenzy of ecstasy and only sleep when the morning sun lifts the dew from the flowers and the sweat from our skin. It'll be straight Dionysian, boo."

"We can kiss the hot trees," Creggy G said.

Bill grabbed his shoulder. "Oh, you're the human that keeps making out with birch trees! I knew your face was familiar!" He paused. "So... are there any eligible ones around here?"

"Sure, girl, just downstream."

"If I'd known, I would've polished myself first."

"Say you'll join us, Bill girl," Deep Chris said. The band crowded around Bill to either side, posing around him—the backup dancers for the star singer. "You'd be one of us."

"We're already exactly the same," Creggy G said, holding up a mirror so that it reflected his and Bill's faces beside each other. In Bill's human face were two empty white eyes with pinprick pupils and pale blue irises, exactly the same as the eyes of the Sev'ral Timez boys.

He sat up with a gasp, hands flying to his face. There were still green boughs at the edges of his dreaming vision, blending into the wooden boards of the Mystery Shack's attic. Before sleep had fully fled his mind, he seized up the zodiac blanket draped over his body and stared into his embroidered eye.

The eye stared back at him. Through it, he could see his horrified sleepy face, and his normal slitted yellow eyes. His connection to the blanket's eye disappeared as he finished waking up.

He heaved a sigh of relief and flopped back down. He'd been lucid, but he hadn't been in control of that dream. He still needed practice.

He rolled toward the light of the window, groped around beneath it until he found his journal, grabbed up his crayons, and flipped pages blearily until he found the first blank one. He started writing down his dream, pausing only briefly as he tried to figure out how to translate "Sev'ral Timez" before settling on a sufficiently goofy way to misspell "several times" in Plaintext.

He made it halfway down the page before he stopped. Hold on. This wasn't his beautiful journal. These were not his beautiful crayons. He checked the cover and grimaced in displeasure when he saw a pine tree rather than a hand. Dipper's journal. Bill ripped out the page, ate it, and set the journal and Mabel's crayons back on the table  under the bedroom window.

"What was that," Dipper asked, "some kind of Morse code?"

Bill yelped and twisted around. Dipper's soul was hovering above Mabel's headboard, watching over Bill's shoulder.

"Hey! Back, foul ghost!" Bill snatched up Mabel's pillow and swung it at Dipper.

"Ow—Hey! How did you hit me, I'm in the mindscape—"

"I said back!" Bill swung again, chasing Dipper off the bed. "Back into your fleshy tomb!" He climbed off the bed, stumbled into Dipper and Mabel's trap, tripped through the sheet and probably woke up half the house.

He yanked the sheet off and flung the pillow at Dipper by its corner. "Now get back in your body, go to sleep, and leave me alone."

"I don't know how to get back in it. I just wait until it happens by itself," Dipper said, floating irritably over his sleeping body, arms crossed. "Why do you think I just wander around every time I have this dream?" He paused. "Right—it's not a dream, is it."

Bill sighed heavily. "Try putting your body on like..." He almost said like an exoskeleton, remembered his audience, and amended himself: "Like it's clothing. I usually start with the hands. Just like putting on gloves!"

Dipper looked at the cold fingers wrapped tightly around the baseball bat. "How do I put hands on like gloves? There's no opening or—"

"Just try it, would you?" Bill sat tiredly on the edge of Mabel's bed.

Dipper shot him an irritated look, but pressed his ghostly hands against his fleshly ones, passing through the skin until one set of fingers rested inside the other. A fingertip twitched. 

Bill gestured with one hand, continue. "Now the sleeves."

"I know how to get dressed." Dipper laid down in his body, forearm into forearm, shoulder into shoulder—until he was wholly back inside. He sat up, awake. "Huh."

"There, see?" Bill said. "And if you want to take it back off, just do the same thing in reverse. Like degloving your body from your soul!"

"Did you have to phrase it like that?" Still, Dipper tried it, peeling out of his body from the fingertips up. He left his body sitting upright as he hovered over it.

Bill chuckled tiredly. "Lookit your face, staring at nothing. Stupid looking."

"Shut up." He slid back into his body, more quickly now that he knew what he was doing.

"Great," Bill said. "Now that you know how to get back in your body, never do that again." He flopped back onto Mabel's bed and rolled over to face the wall. "It's a pain in my base having you wander around all night."

"Then you should've thought of that before you ripped my soul out of my body," Dipper grumbled. "Can you reattach me to my body?"

"Sure, easy." He lifted a hand to point down at his regrettably human form. "Not like this, though. Wanna help reattach me to my body?"

"Never in a million years."

"Then come back in a million years. There's nothing I can do for you until then." Bill dragged Mabel's zodiac blanket back over himself. "So sorry. Go to sleep. Leave me alone."

Dipper bet Bill could do it and was only saying he couldn't to try to trick Dipper into helping him. But he lay back down—clutching his bat again—and shut his eyes.

After a moment, Bill asked, "Where's Mabel? Sleepover?"

"Sofa bed in the living room."

"Right."

And then there was silence.

Several minutes passed. Dipper nearly fell back asleep. He heard Bill climbing out of bed and creeping across the room; but the footsteps didn't approach Dipper's bed, so he didn't open his eyes.

A few minutes after that, Dipper heard him come back, walking more heavily. He cracked open an eye to see what Bill was up to.

He was carrying Mabel, who was still asleep; his arms were trembling from her weight, but even at that Dipper hadn't known Bill was that strong. With a quiet grunt, he set her on her bed, then haphazardly tossed her sheet and zodiac blanket over her. He picked up his top hat from the bed and put it on; and then he wandered off, footsteps quiet as a ghost, and Dipper heard the creak of the door as he left the bedroom.

That was a lot nicer than Dipper had expected from Bill. Maybe he did care about Mabel in his own way.

Mabel rolled over and latched on to one of her dolls. Dipper shut his eye and fell back asleep.

####

(My favorite part of writing this was Bill dreaming about Sev'ral Timez saying the most absurdly flowery things imaginable. Anyway, let me know what y'all think about this week's chapter! And reminder that I MIGHT skip next week or the week after because the next couple chapters need heavier editing than usual.)

[grapejuicenharry]

Angel

Harry and Y/N are best friends— except they have feelings for each other (4k words)

warnings : smut 18+, fluff, kissing, grinding, jealous h

read part 2 of angel here

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

Harry really liked—no, loved—Y/N, but he would never admit it to her. She was his best friend, and he couldn’t imagine a day without her. She was like sunshine in his life, someone he could always rely on.

“Harry, my feet hurt,” Y/N whined beside him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy from one too many drinks. They were walking back from a party thrown by one of Harry’s friends, Alex. It was his birthday, and even though Harry and Y/N hadn’t planned to attend, today had been their last exam of the semester. That called for celebratory drinks after all the hard work they’d put in. Sleepless, stressful nights spent preparing for exams, completing assignments, and submitting papers—it had all been overwhelming, and tonight felt like the ideal way to finally blow off some steam.

“Didn’t I warn you about those heels?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice as he raised an eyebrow. He knew those heels always gave her trouble and told her to wear something more comfortable, but Y/N, being Y/N, never listened.

“Yeah, but they make me look sexy, and I wanted to be tall enough to at least reach your neck,” she replied absentmindedly.

“Well, guess that means I’m carrying you the rest of the way,” Harry said, and before she could protest, he hoisted her up onto his shoulders.

“Harry, my dress is too short! I’m going to flash everyone,” Y/N laughed, though there was no real concern in her voice.

Harry chuckled, placing his hand carefully to keep her covered. Besides, the streets were almost empty at 2 a.m., and there was hardly anyone around to notice.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Y/N met Harry on the first day of college. She was nervous and eager to make friends. Hurrying to her seat, she noticed Harry sitting next to her. The first thing she saw was his mop of curly hair, and she thought he was incredibly cute. He looked so innocent and nerdy in his black-rimmed glasses. He was just too adorable.

He wore a white T-shirt that highlighted his bulging biceps, with tattoos peeking through. Suddenly, Y/N found herself wanting to see every tattoo that adorned his beautiful body. She was so curious and lost in her thoughts about him that she didn’t realize Harry was, in fact, looking at her.

Harry thought he was dreaming as he looked at Y/N. She seemed like an angel, a beautiful one at that. She wore a cute white hoodie adorned with pink bows, and her curly hair framed her lovely face perfectly. What captivated him the most were her eyes; they were alluring, radiant, and a luminous shade of dark brown. Next were her luscious pink lips, so full and plump that he suddenly wanted to kiss them and taste them. He wondered if they tasted like berries or cherries, secretly hoping they tasted like cherries, his favorite fruit.

“Do you have an extra pen?” Y/N asked in a hushed voice. “I forgot to bring my pouch,” she added with a little pout.

“Y-yeah, yeah,” Harry replied, fixing his glasses, clearing his throat, and answering in a hoarse voice. He couldn’t believe she was actually talking to him.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Later that day, they sat together at lunch, talking as if hours had passed. Y/N was so grateful to have found someone as kind as Harry, who listened to every word she said with such intent. They chatted about random topics, like their favorite TV shows and ice cream flavors. When Harry revealed that his favorite flavor was mint chocolate chip, Y/N made a weird face.

“Shut up—no, don’t you dare say it!” Harry exclaimed, amused.

“But it tastes like toothpaste!” Y/N whined playfully.

“No, it does not!” Harry shot back. Y/N made a mental note to convince Harry to try every other flavor until he grew to hate mint chocolate chip.

They soon became inseparable—best friends. Harry didn’t realize just how much he had started to like Y/N until it was almost too late. He thought frequently about confessing his true feelings, but there never seemed to be the right moment. He cherished the friendship they had, and the thought of losing her terrified him to his core. So he kept those feelings hidden, bottled up, and accepted her as his best friend.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry set Y/N down on the couch when they reached her apartment. He kneeled down to take off her heels. “Ouch, slowly please,” YN whined.

“I am never letting you wear these stupid shoes again. Your feet are all red and swollen,” Harry countered, looking genuinely concerned. He hated seeing Y/N in pain. He wanted to protect her from everything and keep her safe in his cocoon—just him and Y/N.

He then carefully carried a sleepy Y/N to her bedroom and started looking for a comfortable shirt for her to wear. After finding a suitable shirt, he went to the bathroom to grab her makeup wipes and returned to find half-asleep Y/N lying on the bed. “Sweetheart, this will only take two minutes, I promise.” He began wiping her face gently.

After getting Y/N all ready for bed, Harry changed his own clothes. Y/N had “borrowed” too many of his shirts, but honestly, he never minded it. In fact, he secretly liked when Y/N wore his clothes. She looked breathtaking in his oversized shirt paired with her tiny shorts, which made Harry lose his mind.

“Come to bed and cuddle me; I need to sleep,” Y/N grumbled, rubbing her tired eyes.

“Coming, sweetheart, just two minutes,” Harry replied with a smile. He knew how grumpy Y/N got when she was sleepy. He quickly climbed into bed, set his glasses on the side table, and pulled her to his side. Cuddled next to him, Harry didn’t mind being the big spoon. He loved having Y/N molded to his side—the sweet scent of her hair, which smelled like strawberries on a sunny day, and the soft skin that felt like vanilla sundae. He adored every inch of her. Whenever he was with her, he felt like he was on cloud nine. Everything around him was rainbows and sunshine; she made everything look like it was through rose-tinted glasses.

But Harry also loved being the little spoon. There were days when he just wanted to be held, and honestly, Y/N loved having him like that—clingy, needy, like a cute little puppy.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

One day, Harry arrived at Y/N’s apartment looking extremely worn out. Y/N was lying on the bed, comfortably engrossed in her favorite novel. She grew concerned upon seeing Harry. 

“I am so exhausted, and my head hurts,” Harry exclaimed, throwing his bag on the floor. “I had to sit in Professor Martin’s class for two hours, plus I had a psychology presentation today,” he stated tiredly while rubbing his drowsy eyes behind his frames. 

“Oh no, I’m so sorry you had such a long day, baby. Come on, lie down, and I’ll massage your head,” Y/N replied, removing the blanket from her lap. Harry immediately climbed onto the bed and dropped his head in Y/N’s lap. She carefully removed his glasses and placed them on the side table before starting to massage his head.

She threaded her fingers in his curls, scratching his head lightly, rubbing, and applying just the right amount of pressure. Harry let out a soft moan as he could already feel the tension melting away, his body instinctively relaxing further into her lap.

 “Feels amazing,” he murmured, his voice slightly muffled against her legs. 

As her skilled fingers glided over his scalp, working their magic and easing the stress that had built up after a long week. 

Y/N smiled, enjoying the way he melted under her touch. She varied her movements, alternating between gentle rubs and firmer pressure, focusing on the areas where he seemed to carry the most stress. Her fingers danced through his hair, and she leaned forward slightly to whisper, “You deserve this. Just relax.”

After what seemed like hours of massaging, Y/N realized Harry had fallen soundly asleep on her lap. His face looked peaceful, with his eyes closed and soft snores slipping through his pretty pouty lips. He looked so adorable, and Y/N couldn’t help but wish she could freeze time to savor this moment longer.

Knowing Harry would probably complain about his back in the morning, she gently shifted him, lifting his head from her lap and placing it on a pillow. His brows furrowed slightly, so she soothingly rubbed his forehead, trying to smooth away any lingering tension. Half asleep, Harry instinctively moved closer, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist and nuzzling his face against her boobs. His personal pillow: He always has the best sleep whenever she holds him. Y/N smiled down at him. His curls tickled her jaw, and she couldn't resist leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his head.

“Goodnight, sleepyhead,” Y/N whispered, smiling at Harry, who had already drifted back into a peaceful slumber.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry was never the jealous type—at least, not until Y/N came into his life. but right now he cant help but a bitter sensation rises up his throat when he sees yn with Jacob. A total douchebag who flirts with every girl in the college, Standing next to Y/N, too closely according to harry. Harry had come to find Y/N so they could grab tacos at their favorite spot, but instead, he’s witnessing this. Does Y/N like him? Does she have a crush on him that he doesn’t know about? What if Y/N is interested in him and wants to end her friendship with Harry? Will she forget about him? All these questions overwhelm Harry’s mind at the sight. No, no—Y/N was only his. His best friend, his angel, his sweetheart. She would never do something like this. His chest suddenly started burning at such thoughts. 

Jacob says something which makes Y/N burst into laughter. His chest tightens at the sight. He wants to be the only person to make yn laugh like that. He curses inwardly that jacob gets to experience the sweet melody of her laughter, her laugh that can instantly brighten up the room with warmth and sunshine. He thinks to himself, Does Jacob know her eyes crinkle whenever she laughs? or how the mole under her right eye disappears when she laughs because of the fullness of her cheeks? 

“Oi, whatchu looking at?” Y/N snapped her fingers in front of Harry’s face. He hadn’t realized she had come over and was talking to him. “You look like you could kill someone,” she teased, giggling as she spoke to him. 

“Was that Jacob talking to you?” Harry asked, trying to sound casual even though he was fuming inside. “Yeah, he wanted my chemistry notes because apparently he spilled coffee on his,” Y/N replied, wrapping her arm around Harry's as they walked together. 

“Did you give them to him?” Harry asked, mentally cursing Jacob and hoping she hadn’t. 

“No, obviously I know he just wanted an excuse to hit on me. I’m not dumb,” Y/N exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “Besides, you know I don’t like sharing my notes with anyone except for you, because you know how to take care of them.” She chided and planted a kiss on Harry’s cheek. His face instantly heated. 

“Good,” Harry whispered quietly, fixing his glasses, looking at the ground, too embarrassed to hide the blush of his cheek and unable to suppress a smile at the thought of Y/N rejecting that jerk. 

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry loves when Y/N gets touchy like this with him. When randomly she hugs him, kisses him on his cheek, forehead, or settles on his lap while watching a movie. Her spontaneous kisses leave a soft tingle on his skin, and he can’t help but smile every time she curls up in his lap. It’s in these moments he feels closest to her, as if every touch and every kiss is a silent confession of how much she means to him. His arm instinctively wraps around her waist, pulling her in a little tighter, enjoying the way she fits perfectly against him. The movie on the screen fades into the background; all he can focus on is the warmth of her body and the way she makes him feel—like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. It all feels so natural. And they never have those awkward moments because they both love these touches. Whenever yn touches him, he feels electricity buzzing through him, in a good way. His skin feels like jello and his heart is thumping loudly, His brain is all muddled with goo and sparkles. 

He wants to treasure those moments forever and constantly wishes for more and more. 

It was one of those rare evenings for Harry and Y/N, Where the world seemed to quiet down just for them. They had just finished with their midterms and needed this for the longest time. Dim yellow lights, a bottle of red wine sitting on the table, a soft record player playing in the background. Legs tangled under the blanket as Harry and Y/N sat closer to each other, just enjoying each other’s presence. The warmth of Yn’s body pressed against him felt like home.

Harry’s fingers absentmindedly played with a strand of Y/N’s hair, twirling it between his fingertips. His eyes traced over her face, taking in every detail — the curve of her lips, the soft rise and fall of her chest.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Harry whispered, his voice low and soft, his breath tickling her ear.

Y/N turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze with a soft smile and cheeks already flushed because of wine, changed into a deeper shade of red at his words. “You always say that.” Slurred her words lightly. 

“Because it’s true,” he murmured, leaning in closer, their faces just inches apart. His fingers gently tugging at her bottom lip, eyes flickering to her mouth. “And I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of telling you that.” 

For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with unspoken words and emotions. Y/N felt her heart race as Harry’s eyes locked onto hers, filled with something deeper than just affection.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Y/N tilted her head, her lips brushing against Harry’s in the softest kiss, testing the waters. It was brief- just a featherlight kiss- but enough to send a shockwave through him. Harry let out a quiet sigh, his hand moving to cup her face as he deepened the kiss, slow and tender. As he leaned in closer, Y/N gently pushed his glasses up onto his forehead, making it easier for them to get lost in each other. Suddenly, he realized what he had done.

Harry pulled back immediately, his eyes wide with surprise at his own action.

“Sorry,” he blurted out, his voice panicked. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Y/N blinked, her cheeks flushing, but there was no trace of anger or discomfort on her face. Instead, she smiled softly, a warmth blooming in her chest at his sudden vulnerability. “No, Harry… It’s okay.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean—”

“Harry,” Y/N interrupted gently, her voice barely a whisper as she moved closer, her hand resting on his cheek. “It’s okay, I want this, I promise.”

Harry couldn’t quite grasp what was happening—it all felt too surreal, like something straight out of his dreams. Yet, here it was, playing out in real time. In the blink of an eye, Y/N tossed the blanket aside and straddled his lap. Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt as she pressed closer to him, wanting to be as near as possible. Her fingers trailed up his chest, feeling the heat radiating through his shirt, before cradling his face. Without hesitation, she pulled him into a deep kiss.

Harry was still trying to make sense of it all, but instinctively, his hands found their place—one tangling in her hair, the other resting gently on her neck.

The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with all the emotions that had been simmering under the surface for so long. His lips were soft, and she could taste the faint hint of wine on them. Their lips molded perfectly, like it was meant to be. Time seemed to blur. It must have been five minutes, or five hours; neither of them knew. It was a heated blend of tongue, teeth, and lips. 

Y/N’s hand reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it. Harry pulled back, catching his breath, resting his forehead against hers. His heart pounded, blood rushing south; he was so hard, making him ache beneath her. 

“Can I take off your top, baby?” He whispered, his breath warm against her jaw as he kissed and nipped at it.

“Yes, yes, please,” she murmured, and that was all the permission Harry needed. He swiftly pulled off her shirt—his shirt—and eagerly ran his hands over her smooth, soft skin. 

“So soft, your skin is so soft,” he murmured, his hands working behind her, unclasping her bra. 

Her tits were a piece of art—Round, so full and perfectly perky. His large hands cup them, gently rolling the nipple between his fingers. 

Now she sat only straddling him in her thin, barely there sleeping shorts; she could feel his hard cock beneath her, thick and throbbing, nudging her entrance. Her dampness was seeping through both of their shorts. A delicious remainder, how much she wanted him. He could feel her cunt fluttering around nothing, desperate for him. 

 Harry had to shut his eyes and  take  a few steady breaths as his chest rose and fell with anticipation. Slowly, he leaned forward, prepping light kisses along the curve of her breast. Y/N moaned softly, arching her back, giving him more access to her boobs. He latched onto her nipple, sucking lightly, while his free hand teased her other breast, tugging and rolling the sensitive nub. Y/N hips began to move instinctively, grinding against him, writhing on his cock couldn’t help but start grinding, writhing on his lap.  

"Feels good," she murmured, eyes closed as  she gently took his glasses from his head and placed them on the couch next to them, her fingers threaded through his messy curls. His cock twitched beneath her, nudging her clit, and she could feel her body growing even wetter, soaking through the fabric that separated them. Harry kept switching between her breasts, his mouth worshipping each one as he sucked harder, sending jolts of pleasure through her core.

Making her more drenched 

“Just like that, ride me Y/N” Harry growled, his voice low and demanding. His hands slid from her breast to her waist, guiding her movements. Making her move forward and backward, her clothed, dripping core dragged across his cock, making them both shiver with need. His tattoos peeked through as he finally tugged his shirt off, revealing his inked chest - abs flexing under the butterfly, the black ink stark against his flushed, heated skin.

Y/N's fingers trailed down, dragging her nails across his chest, loving the way his tattoos twisted beneath her touch. She leaned down, biting his neck, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Harry groaned, loving the possessiveness of it—her mark on him. He was hers. 

“You’re doing so good, Angel” he murmured, nipping her ear. Harry was a complete mess beneath her. His eyes glossy, pupils blown away with lust, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, lips slick and swollen from their kisses. He looks so sexy, Y/N leaned forward, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, swallowing each other’s  moans while increasing her pace. 

He could not believe Y/N was on top of him, grinding against his cock, her sweet little moans filling the air. He was sure he’d reached heaven. He glanced down between them, seeing the wet patch her arousal had left on his shorts, mixed with his own pre cum. 

As Y/N ground herself against him, her clit dragged over the thick length of his cock, and each upward motion had his tip grazing her entrance. The feeling made them both shiver. Her blunt nails dug into his shoulders as her eyes squeezed shut in bliss, her lip caught between her teeth, trying to hold back a whimper. 

Harry slid his hand down, rubbing her clit with his thumb in slow, tight circles, giving her that extra bit of pleasure she craved. “I want you to feel good, baby,” he whispered, his fingers working faster, determined to push her over the edge. His angel deserved to feel good. 

Y/N threw her head back, overwhelmed by the sensation. “I’m gonna cum,” she whimpered meekly, her voice shaking. Harry quickened his pace, his fingers pressing into her clit with just the right amount of pressure. “Cum for me, baby,” he urged, his voice thick and desperate.

Y/N cries out as her orgasm rips through her, the coil in her belly finally exploding, sending waves of pleasure through her entire body. She felt like she was floating—fireworks and butterflies all at once. 

She has never cum so hard in her life. Her fingers never did the job, and vibrators were too boring for her. 

Below her, she feels Harry twitching. He buries  his face in her neck, biting down a patch of her skin to stifle his own moan as he reached the brink. Both arms wrapped around her waist, his eyes shut, loud and desperate whimpers falling from his lips. 

“That’s it, honey,” Y/N cooed, her voice soft and soothing, threading her fingers through his damp curls as she continued to ride him. She could feel him shaking beneath her as his orgasm finally hit, releasing with a loud groan as his body went rigid. His vision blurred, ears ringing, as the bliss overwhelmed him completely. He felt like he was in paradise, his body melting into hers.

For a moment, they just stayed like that—foreheads pressed together, hearts beating in sync, both of them coming down from their highs. Still trying to make sense of what just happened. Harry let out a breathy laugh, looking for his glasses and placing them again on his face. He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, still catching his breath.

Y/N smiled down at him, her fingers tracing the tattoos on his chest, loving how warm he felt under her touch. “And you’re a mess,” she teased softly, laughing with him. Harry grinned, pulling her closer.

"Yeah, but I’m your mess," he murmured, kissing her softly, the intimacy between them palpable.

They stayed like that, in each other’s arms, exchanging gentle kisses. “I want this with you, Y/N” Harry whispered, “I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel something for you. That I don’t feel this whenever I’m around you.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening as his words hit her. She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

Harry pressed on, the confession spilling out of him like a flood. “I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to ruin us. You’re my best friend, Y/N. The most important person in my life, and I was terrified of messing that up. But tonight... it just felt right. It always felt right with you.” 

The air hung heavy between them, the weight of his confession pulling her down, making her chest tighten. Y/N swallowed hard, her mind racing. She had always felt something too—always pushed it aside, too afraid of what it would mean for them and for their friendship. But now that it was out there, she couldn’t run from it anymore.

Harry’s eyes softened behind his glasses,  his heart racing a mile a minute. He had finally said it—the words he never thought he’d be able to voice, yet they spilled out of him because he couldn’t hold them in any longer. He had to tell Y/N everything. 

But he still didn’t know if she felt the same, if she liked—no, loved—him back. And though the thought of her rejecting him terrified him, he was ready for it. His heart would shatter into a million pieces, but he would respect her decision, even if it meant she wanted him out of her life completely. It would hurt—of course, it would—but the idea of staying by her side and making her uncomfortable hurt even more.

He braced himself for her response, never expecting what she would say next.

 “I love you, Harry. I think I’ve loved you for a long time... but I was too much of a coward to confess it,” Y/N murmured, her eyes glistening with tears. “All this time, I didn’t want to lose you, so I just... ignored it. But tonight? It meant everything. I want this with you too.”

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. She could hear his heart pounding beneath her ear. 

“I always thought you had a thing for Emma from our sociology class,” Y/N added with a teary giggle, realizing how silly it sounded now.

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion. Emma? He had never thought of her as more than a classmate. His friends had mentioned once or twice that Emma might have a crush on him, but he’d never taken it seriously. His focus had always been on Y/N.

Before he could explain, Y/N cut him off. “But now I get it—you don’t like her. It was probably just my insecurities talking,” she said softly, her eyes dropping to her lap as she fidgeted with her fingers, a nervous habit of hers.

“Baby, Y/N, look at me,” Harry gently commanded. “I had no idea you were worrying about all of this. Emma? I’ve probably spoken to her five times at most, and I don’t like her that way at all. You have nothing to be insecure about.” He cupped her jaw tenderly, his thumb brushing her cheek. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, my angel. The only girl I love and care about.”

Harry's thumb continued to stroke Y/N's cheek gently, his eyes soft and unwavering as he held her gaze. “You’re everything to me, Y/N. I’ve never even thought about anyone else the way I think about you. It’s always been you.”

Her breath hitched at his words, the insecurity that had weighed her down for so long now starting to lift. She opened her mouth to say something, but Harry wasn’t finished. His other hand slid down to cradle her waist, pulling her more closer if that was possible. They were basically molded together. 

“I love the way you say my name; I love how you play with my rings whenever you get nervous; I love the way you get excited over little things; I love the way you get grumpy whenever you are hungry; I love the way you look at me when you think I am not paying attention. And I love you; don’t ever want you to doubt that, okay?” 

Y/N felt warmth flood her chest as his words washed over her. She’d spent so long overthinking everything, never realizing that Harry had been feeling the same all along.

She blinked back the last of her tears, smiling up at him. “I don’t know why I thought otherwise,” she whispered, her voice shaky but full of emotion.

Harry pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there. “Because you care so much,” he murmured against her skin. “And that’s one of the things I love about you.”

Y/N leaned into his embrace, feeling safe and cherished in his arms. the tension in her body melting away.

Harry resting his chin on the top of her head. “But now, no more hiding, yeah? No more overthinking or doubting. It’s just us now. I’m yours, and I’ve always been.”

Y/N tilted her head back to look at him, her smile widening as her fingers laced through his. “Just us,” she repeated softly.

Harry’s heart swelled as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. “Just us,” he echoed, his voice a gentle promise.

[chalk-homunculus]

There's a few good irl friends we have that we unfortunately don't live very close to, but every time we do see them I can tell a part of our brain feels relieved in the sort of "home with my people" type of way. It's just that, on some level I also realize that's just us. We've always felt a bit like an outsider, even in groups where we're technically "allowed in" if that makes any sense. It's like... I can see the complicated, colourful strings that connect all those people to eachother, histories, inside jokes, and all- but for us, at best, we'll have one or two of those strings, connected to maybe one or two people, while theirs are fully woven, like fabric. We may be developing a few spider-silk like threads with some of them if we're lucky, but we're still obviously just a frayed edge, something to either burn off or patch over. And we're all too aware of this, and it makes us overthink. Interacting with people, even when we WANT to, is exhausting and stressful, because we think over every single thing we said, every single reaction we picked up from people around us, every single topic- and even the slightest perceived negative reaction (oh gods, did the way we worded this upset person 1? Oh no, did the way I explained that annoy person 4? What if the way I talked about this other thing was unclear, does person 2 think badly of us now because they think we were describing our own opinions?) Becomes a ghost in our head that keeps haunting us until we either know for sure it's been sorted out (which often annoys people, that we want to go over the same damn things a million times out of insecurity) or it cracks us and makes us entirely sabotage and burn that bridge ourselves, before anyone else can (because we've fooled ourselves into thinking that if it's us that burns the bridge, it won't hurt as much and it's better for them that way). It's the way we've become so flighty and quick to flee and run from people, that's in contradiction with the constant desire to make meaningful connections and have close friends. It's just another thing we're working on in therapy, but it feels like this one is one of the biggest struggles and I feel bad about it, not for our sake, but for those few actually strong bond friendships we have, where those friends have to put up with us being terrified of their larger friend group because no matter what we feel like a disconnected outsider

[ellecdc]

I’ve been thinking about a Remus (or ig any ship that includes him?) x metamorphmagus!reader who is always turning into other people in order to mess with people. despite them being very good at acting and visually/audibly indistinguishable from their target, once the moon comes close and his senses are heightened Remus is able to recognize them from scent alone. I also think he’s observant enough that even when his senses are as normal as they can be, he is able to notice little ticks and habits that break through the disguise. I don’t think he would ruin their fun, observing and if he isn’t in pain even helping with their mischief.

It’s just such a cute little concept to me, and I think it could be fun to play with, so I would love to see if you can come up with a little Drabble or something about it! Thank you mother ❤️ I love confident and mischievous readers with quiet but enabling characters

this was a cute concept! thanks for the request! also, I didn't intend for this to be Potter!reader, but with the way the story went it ended up feeling like it had to be potter reader hahaha

Remus Lupin x Potter!reader who is a metamorphmagus [800 words]

CW: fem!reader, 'your mama' insults, talking about students getting it on in a broom closet

“Never thought I’d find myself happier to see this Black than the other one.” Barty Crouch Junior drawled as he sauntered into the library looking innocent for all intents and purposes - but Remus knew better.

“Sod off, Junior.” Sirius sneered back as he glared at the Slytherin from behind his book. 

“Oh, someone’s getting off, I can assure you.” He jeered; a mischievous sparkle shining in his eye giving Remus not nearly enough time to prepare for the coming theatrics. 

“Oh? Could you hear me and your mum last night?” Sirius replied haughtily, turning a page of his book for show. “I’ll try to make sure we’re quieter next time, but she’s a screamer.” 

Barty simply hummed as he dragged a finger across the back of a chair; expression glowing like he was simply loving this. “Are family members not off limits then, Black? Because if that’s the case, someone really ought to tell Reg and Potter that there's no need to be rutting against each other in the third floor broom closet like a couple of ne’er-do-wells.”

Sirius was standing in record time; his chair grating across the floors before landing with a thunk and his book (prop) laying long forgotten.

“You’re not serious.” Sirius spat menacingly, a true testament to how riled up he got over his brother and best friend (even though the two had been publicly dating for almost two months now) that he didn’t even bother censoring himself against the verb form of his name.

“Deadly.” Barty smirked, and that was all it took for Sirius to go racing off into the castle to cause a bigger scene than either Regulus or James had been prior to the announcement of their secret tryst. 

The library returned to its prior volume as Remus watched 'Barty' simply stare after the last place Sirius could be seen. 

“That’s not nice, dove.” Remus chided gently, though he didn’t bother hiding his smirk as he stared back down at his book.

“Whatever do you mean, Lupin?” You sneered back, but you were wearing a beaming smile that told him clearly you knew the ruse was up. 

“James has been trying very hard to make sure he isn’t throwing his relationship with Regulus in Sirius’ face.” Remus explained tiredly, though it was all for show. 

“And James has been making it very hard for me to not want to stab myself with a quill during quidditch practices.” You pouted as you took the seat across from him.

“All this over quidditch drills?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

You didn’t break his gaze nor the pout of your lips as you added “and he ate the last of my fizzing whizzbees.” 

Remus hummed in understanding. “An egregious crime, certainly.”

“Right? What would you have done if he’d eaten all your chocolate?”

“Nothing short of murder; he’d be out the dormitory window.”

“See, I knew you’d get it.” You replied with a smirk, though your eyes turned soft as you looked him over.

“Be nice to your brother.” He murmured quietly, earning a dramatic groan as you threw your head back in exasperation.

“I don’t have to be nice to him, he’s my brother.” 

“What would your mum say?” He asked as he leaned back in his chair and held his book against his lips to hide the smile on his face.

You groaned again and looked over at him nonplussed. “To be nice to my brother.” You offered back in monotone.

He lowered his book so you could see his beaming smile, causing you to launch forward in an attempt to swipe his book from him only for him to catch your wrist instead.

“How did you even know it was me? I thought I had the impression down pat.” You murmured quietly, face now inches from his.

“You certainly look like Junior.” Remus conceded as he gave you a once over. “But he would have never let that comment about his mum fly.”

You let out a bark of laughter that Remus knew to be only yours. “That’s true, I suppose. I’ll do better next time.”

Remus gave you a shake of his head in faux admonishment as he leaned closer to you. “I’ll always recognise my sweet girl.” He murmured, massaging the inside of your wrist that he was holding captive with his thumb. “I’d recognise you by smell alone.” 

Your gaze turned hungry as your eyes flit down to his lips and then back up again. 

But Remus pulled away before you could connect your lips to his.

“Do not kiss me as Barty Crouch Junior.” He deadpanned, causing you to let out raucous laughter that got you more than a few shush’s from surrounding tables before he watched you melt back into yourself.

Remus loved your mischief, but this was by far his favourite version of you.

[punkshort]

A Christmas Miracle

Thank you anon for this prompt!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Years of tension after a failed hook-up attempt with Joel boil over at your office Christmas party, but not in the way you expect.

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, enemies to lovers, smut (18+ MDNI), hate sex that turns soft in the end because it's shortie writing this, fingering, unprotected piv sex, semi-public sex

WC: 4.6K

"Goddamnit, why did he show up? He hates shit like this," you grumbled to your friend, Tina, when the elevators slid open to reveal the latest batch of co-workers trickling inside the hotel ballroom your company rented out for their annual Christmas party.

Tina glanced over her shoulder, scanning the crowd of well dressed men and women before her eyes landed on the one in question.

"Who, Joel?" she smirked, turning back to you.

"Yes, Joel," you seethed. You bellied up to the bar to flag down the cute bartender for another martini. If you had to listen to Joel share horrible stories about his latest conquests, sales or otherwise, then you had to make sure you had a decent amount of alcohol in your system first.

"Oh, come off it. Why don't you just fuck him already and get it over with?" Tina joked. You gasped in disgust and covered your mouth.

"Do not even joke about that. Who knows what kind of diseases that sleaze-bag is carrying around."

Tina tossed her head back and laughed, the sound dancing in the air like music. She was one of the prettiest women in your office, but much to everyone's chagrin, she was recently married and officially off the market. But that didn't stop the men in your office from harmlessly flirting with her now and again for the ego boost.

"Nah, he's all talk," Tina said with a wave of her hand.

"Not true - Lainey in the mailroom slept with him two years ago, remember that fiasco?" you shot back instantly before taking a grateful sip from your glass. Tina raised a suspicious eyebrow at you and propped one hand on her hip.

"You're keeping track?"

"No," you replied defensively. You rolled a shoulder and shifted your weight before taking another sip. "I just remember her crying over it every chance she got. Couldn't eat lunch in peace for weeks."

"Uh huh, sure," Tina said, rolling her eyes. She scanned the room again, hips lightly swaying to the music while you sat next to her, determined to have a miserable night. "Didn't you guys kiss once, though?"

You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut. "Don't remind me. Worst mistake of my life. Thank god I didn't fall for his shit and go home with him."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because believe it or not, I had standards," you clipped. "I didn't want to sleep with him after a sloppy office happy hour. I wasn't dumb enough to put out the first time we kissed."

"Alright, so if you were into him enough to kiss him and potentially see him again, what the hell happened?" Tina pressed. You sighed and let your chin rest in your propped up hand. Tina hadn't worked at your company as long as you and sometimes it was easy to forget she didn't know the full history.

"He took someone else home from the office that night, instead," you muttered under your breath. Tina whistled and shook her head.

"Damn. Alright, dick move, you win."

"Told you. Ever since then, I can't stand being in the same room with him. He's such a smug douchebag, always trying to push my buttons and piss me off just for the fun of it. Like the whole thing was a game to him."

"But it wasn't a game to you," Tina said, slowly connecting the dots. You nodded sadly and took a long sip from your glass.

"Nope."

Tina's expression softened when she saw the look on your face. "I'm sorry. I had no idea-"

"It's fine," you said, cutting her off. "I'm better off. It didn't mean anything, anyway. It was just one kiss," you chuckled, trying to play off the hurt you still harbored somewhere deep down.

"But still-"

"Evenin', ladies," a familiar drawl came from somewhere behind Tina. You didn't need to look. You knew who it was.

"Oh," Tina said when she swiveled around and saw Joel standing against the bar. "Hey, Joel."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and adjusted his tacky red tie.

"Apologies. My reputation seems to have preceded me," he said, glancing once in your direction before giving her a dazzling smile and stretching out his hand. "What's your name, gorgeous?"

"Tina, and give it a rest, I'm married," she said, holding up her left hand with her massive diamond while shaking his hand with her right.

"That's a damn shame," Joel said with a flirty smile. You rolled your eyes and tossed back the rest of your drink but it didn't matter. You were essentially invisible. "He must be one lucky fella. He treatin' you right?"

"Fantastic," Tina replied, pulling her hand out from his grip before turning to you. "I need to use the restroom," she murmured. You stood to follow her but Joel stopped you.

"How 'bout you? You seein' anyone special?"

You huffed and shook your head. "Kiss my ass."

Joel howled with laughter before sliding onto the stool Tina vacated.

"If I recall, few years back I was willin' to do that and more, but you shot me down."

"Yeah, thank Christ for that moment of clarity," you grumbled. You swept your eyes around the room, pretending to lose interest in the man sitting beside you, but unfortunately you couldn't bring yourself to get up and just fucking leave.

Joel held up two fingers, signaling for the bartender in a frustratingly effortless way that set your teeth on edge and had your thighs pressing together.

"Whiskey, neat. And-"

Joel turned to you, waiting for your drink order, but you shook your head.

"I'm good."

"Shot of tequila," Joel told the bartender with an award winning smile.

You glared at Joel as the bartender walked away.

"Tequila? Really?"

Joel chuckled and swiveled in his stool to face you. "You thought I forgot what loosened you up that night?"

"You're a pig," you snapped, and you should have grabbed your purse and left, but your feet refused to move. "You're a pompous asshole who doesn't give a damn about anybody's feelings so long as you're getting your dick wet. I can't fucking stand hearing you walk around the office gloating like you're hot shit. Tell me, Joel," you said, leaning forward now that you were on a roll. "When you go home to your empty apartment at night, who listens to your bullshit? Hm? The fucking plants?"

Joel didn't say a word but you could tell by the look on his face that he was taken aback. For once you had the upper hand, and you weren't going to let it go.

"Enjoy this schtick while it lasts because one day you're gonna wake up and it'll be a thing of the past. One day, they'll hire a new Joel. Someone younger and hotter and probably nicer than you and suddenly you'll be all alone wondering where the fucking time went."

"You got a real mouth on you, huh?" he shot back. "Think you know a goddamn thing 'bout me? You got no fuckin' clue, sweetheart. But maybe if you gave me half a chance all them years ago, you'd know a thing or two."

You laughed, voice dripping with sarcasm as the bartender placed his whiskey and tequila in front of him.

"What are you saying? Do you even hear yourself?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. He scowled and took a long sip from his whiskey. "How the hell would I ever have known anything about you, Joel? Can't learn much about a person after a few drunken hours and a half-assed attempt at foreplay because let's face it - that's all you're willing to offer anyone."

As a last second attempt at a power move, you grabbed the tequila and tossed it back with a wince before slamming the glass onto the wooden bar top and grabbing your purse.

"Thanks for the drink. It's been lovely catching up," you sneered, then finally forced yourself to leave his orbit before you lost yourself completely.

You slid through the crowds of people mingling and laughing in the ballroom, eyes darting this way and that as you tried to either find Tina or the nearest exit. When you eyes began to blur with unshed tears and you were about to resign yourself to crying in the middle of your fucking office Christmas party, you felt a strong hand wrap around your bicep.

"C'mon, this way," Joel's deep voice murmured before hauling you in a completely opposite direction.

For some unknown reason, you let him lead you from the packed ballroom towards the stairs. It was quieter, the sound from the Christmas music dulled against the walls, the only people around to hear it were you.

"We need to set some shit straight, once and for all," Joel said when he pulled you into an empty hallway. From the looks of it, it was an area meant for the hotel staff. One door was labeled laundry and the other maintenance. The elevator bank was right there. You could have easily tapped the button and left, but instead you crossed your arms and defiantly scowled up at him.

"Yeah? This should be good," you told him. He growled under his breath and you had to stifle the primal reaction the sound caused between your legs.

"That night... the happy hour. When we... y'know..." he trailed off and you sighed dramatically.

"Yes, Joel. Unfortunately I remember."

"I didn't go home with anyone else," he said. You blinked, unsure if it was the alcohol or if you were truly losing your mind. Did he really just say what you thought he said?

"What?" you whispered.

Joel shrugged. "I didn't. I might've spread that rumor 'cause my feelin's were hurt but I didn't go home with anyone else. I only wanted you."

"Me?" you sputtered.

"Yeah, you," Joel repeated, annoyance lacing his voice. "You'd been drivin' me crazy for fuckin' months. Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you. Ask Harris, he'd tell you. I talked 'bout you non-fuckin'-stop. Then that night, I got 'nough liquid courage in me to make a move and, well..."

He trailed off and ran his fingers through his hair.

"You shot me down. Ruined all the confidence I had 'n left me heartbroken."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," you said. "I didn't want to sleep with you that night and you took that to mean I wasn't interested in you? At all? Did it ever occur to you some women don't sleep with men the very first night they're shown a little attention?"

"Did it ever occur to you I wasn't tryin' to sleep with you that night?" he shot back.

"Oh, please!" you exclaimed with a dry laugh. "'Lemme walk you home, baby,' and, 'my place ain't too far from here'." You snorted and shook your head in disbelief. "Don't try to rewrite history. I was tipsy but I fucking remember."

"I was worried 'bout you!" he practically shouted in despair. "You'd been drinkin' and I wanted to make sure you were safe! Goddamnit, I didn't expect you to freak out 'n fuckin' shove me in front of the whole damn bar!"

The more Joel talked, the more the pieces began to slide into place. Maybe you did misread his intentions that night.

"W-well... y-you still continued to sleep around with the entire office," you stammered, gathering yourself again and shaking off his bombshell. "You had sex with Lainey from the mailroom and god knows who else! You might not have gone home with someone that night, but who cares? It's obvious you were just looking for a quick fuck."

"There's that fuckin' mouth again," he grumbled angrily. "Yeah, alright. Fine! I slept with a few women but Jesus fuckin' Christ, what'd you expect me to do? You clearly had zero goddamn interest in me. I couldn't sit 'round and be miserable forever."

"I never said I had zero interest in you!" you exclaimed before you had a chance to catch yourself. But your admission was out there. It was too late, and Joel's eyes darted up to yours in surprise.

"What's that mean? You... liked me?"

"What is this, high school?" you scoffed, crossing your arms. When he just continued to stare at you, anxiously waiting for you to answer, you sighed and dropped your arms to your sides in defeat. "Yeah, fine. I like you."

"Wait, wait, wait," Joel said excitedly. "Like or liked?"

"Oh, my god!" you cried out before turning on your heel to storm back down the stairs towards the party. "I'm not doing this with you! I'm fucking not-"

In the blink of an eye, Joel snatched your arm and twisted you back around to crash against his chest. You gasped right before his other hand cupped your cheek and pulled you in for a deep kiss.

For one blissful moment, you let yourself forget it all. You forgot all the anguish you felt when you heard about Joel's latest conquests. You forgot about the way it felt watching him breeze around the office without a care in the world, completely oblivious to the way he hurt you. And you definitely forgot about the way you turned down a perfectly good date just two weeks prior because he wasn't what you were searching for and you fucking knew why.

"I'm not some cheap, quick fuck," you panted when you pulled away for air. Joel had managed to turn you so your back bumped up against the wall. Your eyes slid shut and a soft moan escaped from your lips when he began to drag his mouth down the column of your throat.

"We can go fast or slow, whatever you want," he mumbled into your skin. Your hand connected blindly with his shoulder and gave him a forceful shove, making him chuckle. "I know what you meant. I don't want that, either," he said before straightening up so he could look at you. "I don't want this to be a one time thing. Never did. That's what I've been tryin' to say."

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to come up with a response. The way things had changed so quickly left you scrambling to keep up, and although you couldn't deny the reaction your body was having to Joel crowding you aggressively against the wall, your mind couldn't give in as easily.

"I can't stand you," you growled before pulling him back down to your level. Your mouth crashed hungrily against his, chasing the taste of peppermint and whiskey on his tongue. You were so lost in the feeling of his surprisingly soft lips pressed against yours that you hardly noticed when his hand skated down your side. With a muffled yelp, he yanked you off your feet, using his broad body to pin you against the wall while his hand began to travel up the skirt of your dress. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him with your legs curled around his waist so you didn't fall.

"Fuck," Joel groaned when his fingers brushed against where your underwear should have been had you not chosen to forgo them for the evening. You smirked against his mouth and grabbed roughly at his hair.

"Didn't want panty lines," you breathlessly explained.

"Yeah, can't have that," he murmured right before plunging his tongue back inside your mouth. At the same, his thumb grazed over the slit of your cunt, pulling a moan from you both.

"You like yellin' at me, huh? That why you're already this wet, baby?" he purred, nipping at your earlobe while his middle finger teasingly probed at your entrance. You dropped your head back against the wall with a thud, hips chasing his hand, eager for more.

"Shut up," you whispered, then gasped when he finally slid one long, thick finger inside you. Joel chuckled against your neck, curling his finger inside your tight heat every time he dove back in. Your chin was tilted towards the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape as he slid a second finger inside with ease. You were vaguely aware of your compromising position, knowing full well anybody could turn the corner or exit one of the rooms at any moment, but neither of you cared.

"Ohmygod, fuck! Keep going," you begged, rolling your hips as best you could with your legs wrapped around his waist. The palm of his hand began to slap steadily against your clit each time he thrusted his fingers into you, driving you to the edge embarrassingly quickly.

"How 'bout you talk a little sweeter to me if you want it so bad?" Joel countered, yet his hand never stopped between your legs. He pulled away from your neck to watch your face contort with pleasure, and when you opened your eyes to look at him, you saw the flush in his cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. You smirked amidst your gasps for air and rolled your hips faster.

"Why? I think you like it when I'm mean to you."

His eyes darkened a shade and his hand began to move faster, fingers curling and brushing against a spot inside you that stole your breath. His free hand was pressed against the wall next to your head for leverage, but his fingertips curled with the desire to grab you fucking anywhere.

"Least lemme hear you say my name when you come," he said through clenched teeth. And that defiant streak inside of you really didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but his skilled fingers were making short work of your resolve.

Joel got what he wanted. A few quick snaps of his hand had you loudly coming undone with his name on your lips. He laughed before shushing you and pressing his mouth tenderly against your own to keep you quiet while slowing the rhythm of his hand between your legs.

For a few minutes, you each forgot where you were and all the bullshit you were arguing about moments before. Joel kissed you so softly through your high that it had you melting against him. Your fingers were no longer tugging at his hair. Instead, you found yourself gently raking them through his dark brown curls almost affectionately while your tongues slowly danced together.

You gasped when he carefully pulled out his hand, breaking the kiss. With glassy eyes and swollen lips, you stared at one another while trying to catch your breath. It was almost too soft, especially with the way his eyes searched your face, desperately trying to figure out where things stood after what you just did. He was so fucking hard that his stomach hurt, but he couldn't tell if you wanted to take things further or if you were having regrets.

"So that's all it takes to shut you up?" he finally teased when the silence had gone on too long for his liking. You huffed and rolled your eyes before tightening your legs around his waist, tugging him closer. Joel smirked when his hips collided with yours and you felt the massive erection he had been fighting with for the past fifteen minutes.

"Hmm, no I don't think so," you breathed while allowing a hand to fall between your bodies. Your fingers brushed against the outline of his cock straining against his black dress pants and you grinned. "But maybe this will."

"Thank fuck," he groaned in relief. His breath instantly grew more shallow at the mere prospect of feeling you wrapped around his cock, but when you nimbly undid his pants and pulled out his throbbing length, his chest was practically heaving with anticipation.

"Easy," you murmured when he leaned forward, sinking his teeth into a sensitive spot on your neck. You relished in the way you managed to make him so weak with just a few strokes of his cock. His entire body had pushed forward, chasing your hand. You felt short of breath from the pressure of his body pinning you against the wall but you didn't make him move. You liked the feeling of his broad frame caging you in far too much to make him stop.

You lined him up with your entrance and pulled your hand away, but just as he began to press forward, a squeaky door opening and closing around the corner from your hallway made you both freeze.

"Shit," you whispered. Joel locked eyes with you and quickly shook his head, signaling for you to be quiet. Both your shoulders were rising and falling fast but your mouths remained clamped shut so your heavy breathing couldn't be heard by whoever was walking down the tile floor with high heels. You squeezed your eyes shut and turned your face when the footsteps sounded moments away from turning the corner, then by some miracle they stopped in their tracks.

"Oh dear, I forgot my phone," a woman's voice said softly to herself. You both began to relax when the footsteps turned in the opposite direction and finally disappeared all together.

"Jesus Christ," Joel laughed shakily. You smirked and wiggled your hips, impaling yourself further on his cock.

"Better hurry up," you told him with an arched brow after his eyes locked with yours in surprise. Then a slow smile stretched across his face, positively gleeful that almost getting caught didn't change your mind. With one swift thrust, he sunk inside you the rest of the way, pleased with the way your jaw silently fell open and your head tipped back against the wall.

"You told me to hurry," he reminded you as he began to move his hips. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you hung on for dear life.

"Fuck... you..." you whispered with your eyes closed and brows knit together. Joel chuckled and nipped your chin.

"Yeah, baby, that's the idea," he grunted, snapping his hips faster. "Fuck, wish we had more time. Feel so fucking good."

"I thought you'd be used to - shit - thought you'd be used to quickies by now."

Joel grabbed your chin and stilled his hips, forcing your eyes open in surprise.

"Knock it off. Told you I don't want that. Not with you."

You were surprised to hear the seriousness to his voice. You fumbled for a moment with how to react before saying, "Guess we'll see about that, won't we?"

"Yeah, you will," Joel replied. He released your chin and began to move again before he added, "I'm a lot of things, a liar ain't one of 'em."

He sounded truthful, but it was difficult to reconcile what he was saying to what you'd been hearing over the past few years. But since time was of the essence, you chose to let it go. After all, how long could it possibly take for someone to grab their phone?

"What? Got nothin' else to say?" Joel chided. You could see the flush creeping up his neck and even a little sweat beading just above his collar. The urge to drag your tongue across his tanned skin was growing impossible to ignore, so instead of answering his question, you decided to lunge forward and do just that. He groaned and began to grind into you, the coarse hairs at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit fucking perfectly.

You whimpered and buried your face against his neck, doing your best to stifle your sounds as the heat in your belly grew once again.

"Just like that," you gasped into his skin, hands grappling at the back of his neck, trying to draw him closer. "Oh, god, Joel... I'm close," you whined. It was building up too fast after your last orgasm. Your eyes began to water the harder he ground his hips and you bit down harshly on your lower lip to keep yourself from crying out.

"That's it, just let go," he whispered in your ear. The intimacy of it sent a shiver down your spine. "Lemme have it. Say my name again, baby, please... I-I need it," he added, voice strained.

You lifted your chin so your lips could find the shell of his ear, moaning his name without your voice being muffled. What felt like just a second or two later, with your orgasm still rolling through you, Joel stilled and groaned softly into your shoulder, hips stuttering as he came.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he rasped as he pumped the last of his release deep into your cunt.

Panting for air, you slid your eyes shut and pressed your forehead against his. You felt his nose nudge against yours and you smiled before searching for his mouth and brushing your lips tenderly over his own.

"Look at you," Joel whispered against your mouth. "All soft 'n sweet now that you finally got fucked right."

"Do you ever stop talking?" you asked, trying to sound irritated, but the smile tugging at your mouth gave you away.

"You fuckin' love it," Joel said right before his tongue slipped past your lips with a groan.

The door around the corner opened and once again the familiar tap of high heels echoed down the hall. You sprung apart and hissed under your breath after Joel pulled out of you too fast.

"Sorry," he whispered while he tucked himself back into his pants and you adjusted the skirt of your dress.

You had just enough time to run your fingers through your hair and swipe a finger under your lip to catch any smeared lipstick when a woman neither of you recognized turned the corner.

"Oh! Good evening," she said after she slid to a halt. Joel cleared his throat and adjusted his tie before reaching for your hand.

"Evenin'... Dolly," he replied, squinting at her nametag. "My girlfriend's lookin' for the bathroom, could you point us in the right direction?"

"Of course! Sorry to say you've gotten yourself quite turned around. If you just go through those double doors there, you'll find the restrooms up the stairs and to the left."

"Thank you," you called out over your shoulder when Joel tugged you back in the direction of the ballroom. Once you were out of earshot, you dissolved into a fit of giggles, the sound making Joel grin ear to ear.

"Didn't take you for bein' such a naughty thing," he teased before holding the door open for you to step through.

"Yeah, me either," you replied with a little shake of your head. "You must be a bad influence on me."

"Care to join this bad influence for dinner tomorrow night?" he asked when he found his place back at your side. The ballroom was just on the other side of the wall. You could hear clearly now the drunken voices of your co-workers singing Christmas carols off-key.

"What, like a date?"

"Yeah," Joel said, grabbing your arm and spinning you around before you entered the room. "Like a date."

His dark eyes were sparkling as he gazed down at you. You noticed some of your lipstick had transferred under his ear and you grinned before using the pad of your thumb to swipe it away.

"Yeah. Okay. Let's do it."

Joel couldn't resist ducking down to your level for one more kiss, but it wasn't quick enough. To your left you heard a sharp gasp and you pulled apart to find Tina and two other co-workers staring at you like they just saw a ghost.

The tension was thick for a moment. Nobody knew what to say or do until finally Tina whooped and cheered before shouting, "It's a fucking Christmas miracle!"

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[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Post war/coma comic about Gai struggling with his recovery

Since tumblr hates long form comics, I have to split this into 2 bc its 36 images. This is the first part, part 2 i'll either do as a reblog or a separate post right after this, stay tuned! Links to support me in pinned post <3

tw: s*icidal thoughts, injury, a little blood

Bisuke: Gai's Back!

Gai: GRAAH!

Kks: Im home Gai: Welcome back Kks: [wheels rolling] Hey,

Kks: Ga-!? Gai: Im fine. The tile is cool on my face. Kks: Wanna go lay down in bed? Gai: I am so /sick/ of lying down. Kks: Ok. What do you want for supper?

Gai: You're not going to comment? Kks: I already know what happened. You overdid it again. I should be able to keep up with chores, kakashi. Kks: You can. Just don' bull through it all in one go. Do you want to end up in the hospital again? Gai: Please don't. Kks: I know sitting still is hard for you, and "too much" is in your DNA, but you have to take this slow so you don't exacerbate your injuries, Gai. You went from hyper-aware to pretending your body limits dont exist. Gai: Like you haven't done the same.

Gai: You've proved your point. Kks: It's not about that. And you've dragged me to bed and out of bed repeatedly when I needed it. You were burning alive from the inside. Tsunade told you your immune system is out of whack. You need to take it easy. /I/ know you're capable, but are you trying to prove to /yourself/ you are? Gai: You want me to admit my embarrassment? Kks: If something serioud happens, You'll be even more embarrassed then

Gai: How could you possibly know how I FEEL?! How could you EVER KNOW HOW I FEEL?! Kks: I DON'T! But I've /been/ the one ouking and sobbing on your bathroom floor because I couldn't take living anymore! And I don't want that for YOU!

Kks: I'm sorry, Gai. Gai: I'm sorry

Kks: I can't stand knowing you're in pain, and I can't get you help. If there was a way, I'd do anything. Gai: You do so much to help me already.... And I yelled at you Kks: I've screamed at you so much, that was pretty tame. I wish I was like you with things like this. Not great with what to say...... But I can listen.

Gai: I hate feeling so weak. I'm tired all the time, in constant pain, I can't even walk-..... I can tell tenten and the boys worry despite my efforts to appear positive. Kks: They're just not sure how to react. They know you hate being babied, but don't want to push you into hurting yourself. You hate being told you can't do something. They love you. You get stronger everyday, everyone is cheering you on.

Gai: I know it's irrational, but... I feel like you gave up the Hokage position to take care of me. Kks: Haa!? I'm grateful if anything. I'd be retired too if I could. That'd be amazing. I'm dreading just helping Tsunade but as long as you're by my side, I'll be fine. We're still equals, rivals, friends, partners

Gai: Even if I can't- Kks: /Always/ wil be, dickhead. Gai: You worry about me hurting myself? Kks: I know you think about it

Kks: We're the same in that regard Gai: I would never act on this, please believe me, these thoughts are rare........... Kks: It's ok, Gai. Gai: Sometimes I think i should have just died. I feel so out of place on the streets I used to feel so at home at. I never asked to live. I didn't plan to. I just don't know how to-...

Kks: I understand that. Though, dying didn't feel any better. Gai: I know I didn't fully pass like you did. I didn't see papa. Just for a moment, I wish I could have seen him.

Kks: As much as I'm sure he wants to see you again, It's too soon. Dai'd slap the shit out of you for wanting to waste your youth just to see him. Gai: [chuckle] probably. Kks: I have those thoughts less and less now, but they're still there. "why am I the one who survives?" "Burden" "Gai will come to his senses eventually"

Gai: FALSE!! None of my grief is with you! I love living here with you! My love for you only burns hotter each day! You're so lovely inside and out! Kks: Maa What did I do to deserve such praise from teh mouth of the hottest man in Konoha?? Gai: YOU STILL THINK I'M HOT?! Kks: YOU-! [CACKLE]

Kks: Your bad taste is the only reason I had a chance before someone snatched you up. Gai: The worst. Kks: Thought we'd irritate eachother, but it's been pretty smooth. Even though you still get played by the dogs. Gai: You really wanna throw those stones?

Gai: They play you just as easily. don't lie. Kks: My point is, whatever you need from me, you have it. No questions asked. Even if you yell and scream, i can take it. You held me together when I was unraveling, and I'll never forget it. Didn't trust anyone else to see me like that. Broken

Gai: I never saw you as that. Kks: I'll never see you as that

[vanillakook]

DOPAMINE (PT. 1) ꔫ - JJK

synopsis: mingyu’s little sister has a question for jungkook

parings: brothersbestfriend!jk x fem!reader

warnings: dirty talk and explicit language, dom!jk, sneaking around, car sex, oral sex, (f. receiving), tones of corruption, self masturbation, guided masturbation, established crush/unrequited love, sexual tension, slow burn sort of, reader and jk already have a great relationship, touch her you die trope, brothers best friend trope, big!muscley!jungkook obv, might be a series?! im just saying stuff now?!!

“can you make me cum?”

usually when you asked jungkook for a favor it was for a few bucks or when you needed a ride somewhere. so he was trying to make sense of what he was just asked. he blinked. once, then twice, then a third. he blinked until his eyesight finally got back to seeing one of you, and not five. he blinked at you, who just so happened to be his best friends younger sister. kim mingyu’s younger sister.

“what?”

“can you– are you really going to make me repeat it?” your lips pursed and your manicured hands went up to rest on your hips. you lowered your voice before asking again, “i said… can you make me cum.” you said more of as a demand now, making his tip leak a bit. the kitchen you both resided in felt like it was closing in on him.

“i’ll just pretend i didn’t hear that, and you pretend you didn’t say it, cool?” jungkook just shook his head with a laugh. as his footsteps moved back towards the garage where mingyu and the rest of his friends were hanging out, you followed after. as he put his hand on the knob to exit the kitchen, he stood there when your voice began flowing through him again.

“i won’t tell him. promise, it’ll be between us koo.” your voice lowered.

“where is this even coming from?”

your eyes squint. “a girl just asked you to make her cum and that’s what you’re worried about? i need help!” liar. help with what exactly? because he’s heard you. you like to play with yourself in the dead of night when you think everyone’s sleeping. this would actually be the perfect opportunity for jungkook to tell you to keep it down. you should be grateful for your family of heavy sleepers. he hears you plunging your fingers into that sweet pussy, always making the sound fall into a pattern with your staggered moans. he’d be lying to himself if he claimed it wasn’t the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard.

but enough of that, you were very off limits.

“no, a girl, actually my best friends little sister, is asking me to make her cum.” he tilted his head in that sarcastic manner that he’s been annoying you with since you were children.

“come on,” you rolled your eyes and popped your leg out. “i already told you i wouldn’t tell him. it’s a favor, you do me favors all the time, what’s wrong with this one?” oh you were serious. his best friends little sister wanted to get fucked by him. jungkook had enough on his plate as is.

“sexual favors?”

“you always tell me you’ll do anything for me, no matter what it is, no questions asked. and now you’re asking questions.”

jungkook couldn’t even hold his laughter until this end of your sentence. he let out a deep and heavy sigh. he wiped his hand over his face, cock strained and heart racing. “why are you asking me this y/n? out of all people?” he should have never asked that question either.

you sulked against the kitchen counter. “i was with this guy last night– what?” jungkook was already giving you the stink eye. just like your brother he was highly protective of you. guys knew not to fuck you over since you had two guys who were ready to step about you. yet whereas mingyu’s protectiveness was more so on the brotherly side, jungkook’s leaned toward a possessive nature. jungkook knew he couldn’t have you due to… circumstances. but that didn’t mean anyone else could.

he shook his thoughts away. “continue.”

“okay… well i’m just so tired of hooking up with people and being let down– i just– i think im broken or something. i can’t cum!” you threw your hands up. “like okay, yes i can make myself cum, but i can’t cum at the hands of someone else. and–and– last night that guy told me i was the problem. you’re mad because you can’t make me cum?” you stopped yourself before you yapped the man’s head off.

“stop fucking guys with trash dick.”

jungkook has been telling you to stop messing around with little boys that don’t do anything for you. you definitely weren’t the problem, and he was going to find the guy who said that bullshit. it wasn’t your fault they didn’t know what they were doing.

“hence why i want you to fuck me.”

“yeah?” he said, slowly, and slightly more raunchy than intended. “and how do you know my dick is good?” even more raunchy than he intended. he matched your stance, leaning against the counter and folding his arms across his chest. the tattoos covering his arm and bicep taunted you, making your panties pool with something hot.

jungkook knew he was a goddamn stud. he had every girl across campus lining up to try it for themselves. including most of your own friends. you sort of hated it, considering people would only get close to you to either fuck jungkook or your brother. most times you already knew why a girl was speaking to you, shit even most guys. you almost made business cards with mingyu and jungkook’s numbers on there just for people to leave you alone. however you weren’t this innocent little thing that jungkook and your brother made you out to be. you knew jungkook could make a girl come, you knew he could fuck. you’ve only ever heard good things. you’d rather hookup with someone who you knew was good rather than a random who you’d have to guess with and end up being wrong. yeah, that’s what it was. someone had to convince you that you weren’t the problem and he was perfect for the job. he knew how to navigate a body, from what you’ve heard.

you gulped. “i’ve just… i’ve heard things. and i’d rather it be you that makes me cum than another random.”

“what did you hear?”

“you’re asking so many questions yet still can’t answer my one and only for you?”

“jeon! get your ass in here!” a muffled voice called through all the laughter. the voice which could be identified as jaehyun’s made you and jungkook’s jump a total of ten feet apart. this conversation alone made him feel guilty although you were doing nothing wrong. you didn’t even realize how close you had been drifting to one another. but if anyone knew what obscene things were coming out of your mouth right now you’d both be screwed, so maybe he was guilty.

“look y/n… you know you can ask me for anything and i’ll give it to you, but this? no. one hundred percent no.” he hated to tell you no. he didn’t want to tell you no, but in this instance he had to deny your wants. it would be cutting it way too close. he didn’t live with you guys, but he was pretty much integrated into the family with how much he was there. your parents saw him as their son. he even saw your family as his own. although jungkook could never deny the attraction he’s felt for you while growing up and even today. so he couldn’t ruin you like that. you practically grew up together, he’s seen you through every phase of your life. including the one you were in now, at twenty one years old and in your wild college phase. he couldn’t be so ruthless and dirty with someone he holds at such a high regard. he could treat the daughter of his second family like that. what he did to women in bed was–

“is it really a no? or a not right now?” you still egged on, snapping him from his thoughts.

he said nothing. the silence between the both of you had been loud, raking your eyes across each other before jungkook tugged himself away and opened the door finally. you were out of sight now and no longer disturbing his being. he stepped over beer bottles and other miscellaneous items scattered across the floor as his friends welcomed him back with a loud uproar. he tried to enter back into the group and wipe his mind of that question you asked, but nothing worked. all he could think about was that cute pout on your lips while you begged him to fuck you. he just had zero shame huh, getting hard to the thought of you right in front of mingyu’s face.

so now jungkook had a problem. you were like an itch that he couldn’t scratch and it was now bleeding into his everyday activities. he couldn’t go anywhere he knew you’d be. which was with mingyu, in mingyu’s home, going to his and mingyu’s university. so now it was to where he was avoiding his own best friend. he couldn’t be in the same atmosphere with you right now. he didn’t know what would transpire if he was alone with you again, especially in that kitchen. that kitchen where he could bend you over that marble and show you how you were supposed to be pleasured. he couldn’t avoid you for long though, especially not when mingyu was blowing his phone up in the middle of his workout set.

he immediately dropped the weights, slamming them slightly to take the call. “what’s up?”

“you ignoring me kookie?” mingyu cooed through the speaker in a whine. “i miss you, who are you with? you’re fucking someone aren’t you? it’s serious?” mingyu went on and on like the possessive girlfriend he acted like.

it was actually the opposite. he was trying not to fuck someone.

“just studying for finals baby, you know i can’t get rid of you.” he played into it.

“better be,” he started again. “but hey… could you do me a favor and pick y/n up? she’s at some shitty frat party.” he started. by the sound of a girls laughter in the background, it was evident mingyu definitely could pick you up himself, if jihyo wasn’t with him. mingyu’s long term fuck buddy and borderline girlfriend. at least when they finally confessed their love for each other. is it really still friends with benefits if both of you haven’t been with anyone else in over a year, go on dates, and established that you’d kill the other if they did as much as look as another person? eh what did jungkook know though?

“and why can’t you?” mingyu could picture jungkook in his upset dad stance right now.

“because jihyo’s showing me something.” he murmured. jungkook wasn’t stupid. he heard her shuffle to her knees. “plus she’s uh– she’s closer to you, i checked her location.”

“yeah yeah i got her, can you just hang up, don’t wanna hear your ass getting head.” he joked while slipping his car keys into his sweats.

“whatever. anyways cod and beers soon? i miss you. pretty sure y/n does too.”

jungkook choked on his spit. “hell yeah, i’ll stay over for a bit after i grab her.”

the line went dead and jungkook mentally cursed himself for accepting this favor. now he had to last a whole car ride with you. jeon jungkook who fucked circles around girls couldn’t even trust himself to not cream his pants when sitting next to you. just perfect. when he pulled up in front of the party you were already standing outside and ready. your arms were wrapped around your body, occasionally pulling at your tiny dress when it would rise above your thighs. you could do nothing but smirk when you watched jungkook’s sleek car roll up on you. he rolled the window down, tipping his head back and gesturing you over to the car.

“well what a pleasant surprise.” you slurred. he leaned over and pulled the passenger side door open, watching you climb in. “where’s my brother? jihyo i’m guessing?” you loved jihyo personally. she was slowly integrated into your family more and more. not only was she good for your brother but fun to hang out with. at the end of the day your brother was a man, therefore he couldn’t tell that that woman wanted him in a way that wasn’t just being friends with benefits.

“where are you coming from?” he ignored your question. he scoffed even, looking you up and down and taking in the tiny dress you wore.

“a guy invited me to this party, he ended the night making out with some sorority bitch, i ended it at the drink table.” oh jungkook could tell.

“i keep telling you about these little boys y/n, they don’t know what to do with a woman.”

“okay well it sounds like you do.”

“right.”

the alcohol was strong in your system, ready to start speaking for you. you made yourself comfortable, shifting your body towards him and giving him a look that was heightened by sin. he needed you to stop. to stop looking at him like that, fuck he needed you to stop looking like that. he could see you from the corner of his eye, batting your lashes, smiling drunkenly at him… at his strained cock. “so if i wasn’t mingyu’s sister? would you then?” your velvety voice asked. it was obvious you didn’t care, you never considered mingyu for a minute. you weren’t the one that would be in trouble here, you didn’t have anything to care about. there was something disgustingly hot about it. it was wrong and fucked up.

“would i do what?” he was just as wrong for making you tell him how you wanted him to take you. “got this dirty mouth all of a sudden so let me hear you say it.”

“you know… how you fuck all of those other girls.” you shrugged. “sloppy and raw, skin to skin and stuff.” your words went straight to his cock, hard and aching for a girl he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about like that. who the fuck told you this? who taught you this? you weren’t supposed to be coming to him with vulgar language, he was supposed to be filling you with it. someone had gotten to you first all because jungkook cared about hurting his best friend. and that was your example? sloppy and raw was nothing compared to how he’d fuck you.

“you know why we can’t do this?”

“i know why i just don’t care. my brother this, my brother that.” that mouth that you had on you? you were asking for it weren’t you? he’d been letting you off the hook too much recently. if you kept going at him like this he wouldn’t give a fuck about mingyu anymore, he’d show you exactly what he did to brats that think they’re high and mighty.

“right smart ass, but wrong.” he pulled up at a red light, the color bouncing off of both of you and painting your skin a lustful red. he turned to see you were already staring, at his lips, back to his eyes, then his prominent dick print that you just couldn’t pry your eyes from. “eyes up here.” he lifted your chin up with his finger, his finger that turned into the entirety of his hand being wrapped around your throat. “i know you won’t tell. but i respect your brother, i respect your family. get over this little crush that you have.”

get over him? get over him when he was touching you like this? you were melting, this felt surreal. this was surreal. it wasn’t a lot, just a hand around your throat but holy fuck his hand was around your fucking throat. the man you’ve been wet dreaming about for years. the man who derails your train of thought entirely when he’s around, the man who’s making your pussy drip on his seats and he fucking knows it. “jungkook..” you whimpered and pleaded. your body began grinding against his leather seats on its own. what a pathetic little slut, he didn’t even have to touch your achy parts to get you going. “i know you respect them, but i want you to disrespect me.”

“fuck.” his hand dropped when the light changed to green, speeding down the road to get you home. it took everything in him not to rip that thin excuse of a dress off and slap you around on his cock before then. “you need help right? let’s make that pussy cum.” his words moved without his thoughts. you nodded with need. this was it, this was finally it. he was going to touch you, take away all this built up ache from your needy cunt. he was going to wear you out and claim you as his. at least you thought. he smirked when he saw your expression. you looked at jungkook as if he built the pyramids, with so much wonder and hope.

“please koo, need it… n-need you.”

“i know pretty girl, i know.” he cooed. “can’t touch you, but you can.” he never said he couldn’t help you verbally. “go ahead, spread those legs and get started. want that nut before you get home?”

despite your disappointment you did as you were told immediately, sinking into the passenger seat and getting started on the place where all that liquor went anyways, your puffy clit. you rubbed through your underwear, head thrown back, toes curling and heels kicked off. all while jungkook kept his eyes on the road. he wanted to break that barrier, he wanted to plunge his fingers in that tight pussy but he knew once he touched you he’d need more. he’d need too much.

“pull ‘em to the side, no need to be shy. you know me.” his voice was like honey, dripping down your throat in corruptive goodness. it was so simple but so lewd, nothing like you’d ever done before. your sexual experiences were fairly vanilla, you weren’t used to the kinkier, more nasty side of sex. “do i have to do it for you?” he knew he shouldn’t overstep, but he needed to help you in another type of way. it was amusing to see how your body reacted when all he did was hook his fingers on your cute undies and pull them to the side. the cool air hit your clit, strings of slick stretching from your pussy and making your panties glisten.

“oh fuck-“ you whimpered. your legs were spread the farthest they could go. your knees were resting on your shoulders with your gooey pussy all warm and exposed for the man driving. jungkook had his left hand on the steering wheel, the right hand holding your soaked panties to the side. his knuckles brushed over your wetness and you jerked. “oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck– mhmmmm fuck…” you moaned, so pretty for him. you smacked your pussy around, a few harsh slaps coming in contact with the wetness and making a nice big mess.

“sloppy pussy, who knew lil gyu had such a sloppy little pussy?” you rolled your eyes at the nickname, the one you earned just for being related to mingyu. “fuck your fingers for me. let me see how deep you can go.” your fingers slipped in and instantly your hole puckered around them. your legs shook and that’s when jungkook knew he couldn’t take this any longer. he had to see his baby cum for him, not focus on a fucking road right now. he turned on his hazards and pulled over, parking and diverting his being all to you.

“wanna cum koo, wan’ your help…” your voice phased out and became muffled over the sound of your fingers moving faster inside of your cunt. the car filled with the pretty melody of your creamy pussy, gripping all on your fingers while you looked drunkenly at the cause for your sopping cunt. him.“touch me koo, we’re so far gone can you just– please…” this is what didn’t feel right. watching you play in your pussy without him. looking wasn’t hurting, so maybe a touch or two would be fine? if it was with his mouth it shouldn’t be too wrong. mingyu wasn’t even here for christ sake. you weren’t anything more than an incoherent mess of moans and wetness now. you needed him. jungkook promised mingyu he’d always be there for you. yeah, gyu would understand.

“your brother is going to fucking kill me.”

all you did was give him that brain dead giggle. god he really was screwed.

so jungkook decided to overstep one last time. after all a pussy kiss wouldn’t hurt, neither would a thumb on your wet, puffy clit. it was your little secret. something you could both be fucking killed for, but you had been so so good for him. so understanding and patient. “take those fingers out for me,” you obeyed, eyes widening when jungkook took your fingers into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around your digits and sucking yourself off. “juust like that baby, look at all that slick, all for me? all for your brothers best friend? tasting so fucking perfect.” he finished up, leaving your fingers clean. he was going to have so much fun with you.

jungkook leaned his body over the console, ducking down to face your pussy and diving in without wasting a second. your back arched off the seat and you clawed around for anything you could hold. he was so fucking ruthless. your mouth hung open, trying to process how good he was eating you. you deserved the pair of lips that were wrapped around your clit right now. suddenly a string of thank you’s were spilling from your mouth. for picking you up, for putting up with your mouth, for breaking his personal rules for himself and eating your pussy out, and for making you spill into his mouth after a few more licks, grinds to his tongue, and tugs to his hair.

you panted while he kept lapping at your pussy, making sure to clean up the mess he caused. you watched him with stars in your eyes, stroking his tossed hair and rubbing at his strong shoulders.

“why can’t i just tell you no.” he whispered against your clit, giving it another kiss before sealing you back up. “let’s get you home. bet you had a really long night of fucking with dudes that can’t make you cum.” there he was. arrogant as ever.

“you sound jealous.” you pulled your dress back down and over your thighs. jungkook watched for traffic before pulling back onto the road.

“jealous? of guys that i know aren’t better than me? you’re funny. that orgasm got you feeling gassed up now huh?”

“an orgasm i could have given myself, thank you.”

“an orgasm you begged me for.”

“when will you stop running your pussy munchers and just fuck me?” you pouted at him mockingly. the respect he had left you for was dwindling. he was probably going to take you up on that disrespect part. while he did get too close tonight, it still wouldn’t be that easy for him to betray his best friend. no matter how taunting you were, he wasn’t going to fuck you. as much as his dick was aching for you, it wasn’t happening, not yet. he pulled up outside of your house and walked you up to the door. he walked several feet behind with his hands stuffed in his pockets. if you were to ever get caught for this he would be the one making it too obvious.

once you pushed the door open both of you tip toed through the living room and into the kitchen. you flicked on the light and came face to face with a startled mingyu who was standing by the microwave, the light bouncing off of his face.“ kookie!” mingyu sprung up from his spot and engulfed his best friend in a hug. he was just slightly taller, so mingyu did suffocate him a bit. “missed your lil cute ass, jihyo’s upstairs too if you wanna say hi.”

“your sister is here too by the way.” you rolled your eyes and went for the stairs. you were ready to just hit your bed right now.

“yeah yeah i see you everyday, don’t pull anything like that again though.” of course you couldn’t get away without getting scolded. “you’re lucky jungkook was able to grab you, you love going out on nights i make plans.”

“yeah sure, whatever. but thanks koo, for giving me a ride and all.” you said, underlying your words with a thanks to something else.

“anytime, you know i’ll always give you anything, when you need it.” in front of mingyu too? where did this bold side of him come from? you both locked eyes briefly, mingyu was busy pulling his food from the microwave. you looked away, dissolving the tension between you two and saving it for another time. meanwhile jungkook had been watching you walk up the stairs in that skimpy dress that wouldn’t stop rolling up your ass. your hand did little to cover it, very purposely at that. he only took his eyes away when you disappeared into your room with a slam of your door.

“thanks for getting her seriously,” mingyu shook jungkook from his trance. he held out two beers that he must have opened during jungkook’s staring contest with your pussy. “i’m just starting to hate when she goes out without us you know? this campus is getting too dangerous. i’m glad we live with our parents at least.” mingyu explained.

“i feel the same way, these guys are getting fucking weird.” jungkook sighed, taking a swig of the bottle.

“that, and the fact that jaehyun has been talking to her more, like around the house and shit when he’s here. it’s weird, he knows i hate that.” jaehyun was one of many in their friend group. but how every group had sub units to break off from it, jaehyun, jungkook, and mingyu had formed into their own little trio. it was weird, how he was all of a sudden asking shit like your favorite foods and movies. jungkook thought so too. you didn’t know him like that. they didn’t know why he was trying to get to know you like that.

mingyu made sure that you knew none of their friends, with exception of jungkook. he knew jungkook would never betray him in that sense. he listened to mingyu ramble on about how dead jaehyun was if he touched you, how he’d better pray for his life to be spared if he did as much as think about you.

“i don’t think jaehyun is that dumb. can’t be.” jungkook said sternly, yet with undertones of guilt.

“better not be. god i’d fucking kill him. anyone who tries to touch her i’ll– ugh, fuckin’ swear.”

he and jungkook raised their bottles at the same time, both taking long sips before resting them on the counters again.

masterlist

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 8

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.  WC: 5.5k TW: I will put them below the cut for those who want to avoid spoilers. This is more of an original character, there have been some descriptions of reader throughout the series. A/N: How can I make a note when I have words?! I'm just so grateful for how many people have fallen in love with this story this year. It's crazy to me that I posted my first fan pic on December 23rd 2023, expecting about 3 people to see it and waking up to 100's of notifications. 2024 has literally been whirlwind, I've made so many wonderful ladies here and have grown more and more confident in my writing abilities. Thank you @lotusbxtch for being my forever beta for this series (probably an unhealthy crutch, but so be it haha). Thank you @for-a-longlongtime for letting me bounce ideas off of you and giving me a new insight to how sweet girl or Joel would think. @mermaidgirl30, @alltheirdamn and @littlevenicebitch69, what would I do if I couldn't scream about this story with you?! Ok eww, I'm done being sappy. Enjoy! Dividers and headers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: use of sex toys (vibrator and butt plug)

You

When you walked into your small apartment on Sunday, Odette was wrapped up in a blanket watching TV. She looked you up and down with a knowing smirk. It was pretty obvious based on the way Joel’s sweats and hoodie hung off your body that you were with a man all weekend. So, after she agreed to keep it between the two of you, you told her absolutely everything. It was freeing to finally be able to discuss Joel with one of your friends. The two of you spent almost six hours going over every detail of the last few weeks, and after ordering pizza and splitting a bottle of rosé, you had all the validation you needed. He loves you. And you love him, too. 

As the weekend rolls into the week, you still have not come down from your happy, little Joel Miller-shaped cloud. There’s not a single doubt in your mind that he is it. You have never let your walls down with someone like you have with him. It was always easier to just do it on your own; you could always count on yourself.  For the first time in your life, you can confidently say that you’re ready to let that go. It’s time for you to let someone take care of you for once. When he texts you on Monday to make plans for the following day, you decide that you’re going to tell him how you feel.

When Tuesday finally comes around, you practically skip up to his house. You have a duffle bag of items in one hand: your outfit for this evening, make up, and a change of clothes in case you spend the night. Wearing his clothing home was fun and all, but you won’t be doing any sort of walks of shame again. Clasped tightly your other hand is your company-provided caddy full of cleaning supplies. Just as you’re about to place the supplies on the front step, the large front door opens.

“Hi, Freckles,” Joel's voice coats every inch of your skin in warm honey. He shines an absolutely knee-weakening smile down at you. As per his usual JMKink attire, he’s in perfectly fitted black dress pants, expensive looking black dress shoes, and a pressed, crisp white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows and your mouth waters at the way his bare forearms look.  

“Hi,” you beam up at him, not holding back your ear-to-ear grin as you glow under his attention. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here!”

“I have to leave soon, but I have something for you.” He steps out onto the front steps and grabs everything from you before you follow him inside. You change into the white keds that Jamie gave you on your first day at Maid Discreetly before heading towards where he’s standing in the kitchen. There are three boxes on the kitchen island; two small black ones and one white one that you recognize immediately. He pushes that one towards you first. 

“This is your new iPhone,” he says with a wink and you feel your cheeks flush.

“Thank you,” you say shyly.

He shakes his head, “No, thank you for not fighting me on this. That cracked screen...”

“I know,” you say, raising a hand to stop him. You deepen your voice, “It’s a hazard, sweet girl.”

He laughs like he did that night at the Shibari class, deep and from his gut; it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard and your heart swells at the possibility of getting to hear that laugh for the rest of your life. “Exactly. These other boxes…well, they’re for you, but also for me.”

You raise your eyebrows curiously as he slides the smaller of the two black boxes across the smooth marble of the island. His bottom lip slips between his teeth as you pull the top off of the first box. Sitting on a bed of white tissue paper is a small metal plug with a pink heart-shaped diamond on the end. 

“Mister Miller! Scandalous!” You gasp, feigning shock and surprise.

He laughs again as he asks, “Is that ok?”

“Very much so,” you respond with a smile before opening the next box, which is slightly bigger than the last. A black, U shaped piece of silicone sits in the box, along with a small plastic rectangle that looks similar to a key fob. “What’s this?”

“That, my sweet girl, is a remote vibrator. I was thinking that maybe you could wear both of those while you clean my house today. I can control that with the remote from a close distance or from my phone anywhere in the world.” 

Every hair on your body stands on end as your clit throbs in excitement. “Yes, I would really, really like to do that!”

“Good girl,” he says with a wink, holding a hand out to you. His fingers link with yours and just the slightest touch from him sends sparks up your wrist and straight to your racing heart. He grabs your new toys and leads you up the stairs. Your giggle is laced with arousal when you come to a stop in his enormous ensuite. After placing the toys on the counter he pulls you in, his free hand cupping the back of your neck before he slams his lips into yours. He kisses you hungrily, and you meet his energy, kissing him back as if you’re drunk with passion. His teeth nip your bottom lip as he pulls away. You’re so insanely, maddeningly in love with this man that you almost forget how to stand as he steps back.

“Take off your pants, sweet girl.”

You do as he says, eagerly unbuttoning your company issued black dress pants before sliding them down your legs. He stops you before you remove your thong, breathing out a heady ‘fuck’ before hooking his thumbs through the bright pink lacy waist band and sliding them down your legs. 

“Put your hands on the vanity and bend over for me,” he instructs with bated breath. He watches your reflection in the mirror, looking right into your soul as always, as you follow his instructions.  

You smile lovingly at him, clocking the way his throat works as he swallows hard at the sight of you bending at the waist, pushing your ass out for him. “Fuck, how did I get so lucky? All of this, just for me?”

“Just you, Joel,” you breathe, slipping your bottom lip between your teeth. 

He slides open a drawer and takes out two small bottles before turning on the water. He pops the top of one bottle, using the contents to wash both toys, then steps back behind you with the second bottle in and the plug in his hands. A warm laugh leaves your lips, “Always so prepared, Mister Miller.”

“With a pretty little thing like you in my life, I better be.” He clicks the top of the lube open as he continues, “Ready? I’ll go slow.”

“Mm-hm, I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you coo, your body thrumming with the anticipation of his touch. 

“I know you will. No safeword right now, okay? Just say stop, and I will.” He spreads the lube around your tight ring of muscle with his thumb. Every muscle in your body goes slack under his attention and you sigh as your lashes flutter against your cheeks. “Good girl, just relax for me.”

After a few minutes of teasing you with the pad of his thumb he switches to the plug. The cold metal makes you jump. He reassures you by squeezing your hip as he murmurs, “You’re ok, baby.”

He swirls it gently at first, slowly applying more and more pressure before it slips in on its own and you whimper at the feeling. “Does that feel okay, sweet girl?”

“Mmm, yes,” you smile at his reflection in front of you. The amber glow of the LED lighting behind the mirror accentuates the honey flecks in his eyes. Everything about the way he’s looking at you feels overwhelming. It’s like when you first step foot into a hot tub on a cold winter's night. The sting of the swirling water is almost too hot as you sink further in. For a second you consider getting out, but then every single cell in your body adjusts and you can’t imagine not being wrapped in that heat.

“Now this one,” he says, holding up the black u-shaped vibrator. He adds a bit of lube and then guides your hips further back with one hand before kneeling. Your pussy clenches against nothing as you glance over your shoulder seeing him on his knees behind you. He practically whimpers, “God, Freckles, this pussy. She’s so gorgeous.”

A shy smile turns your lips upward. Joel starts to work the toy inside of you and you gasp out a moan. He moves the bulbous head of the toy back and forth until it slips in on its own accord, just like the plug did. Your breathing quickens at the pressure on your g-spot and clit; the toy isn’t even on yet and it already feels so good. Joel’s lips sponge against the globes of your ass, then your hip as he stands. “Are you ok, sweet girl?”

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you respond, your breath catching in your throat as you stand. 

“Good. Now put your clothes back on and get to work.”

Before you can bend to pick up your discarded clothing, he pulls you into his arms and brings his lips to yours. The kiss is so soft that it steals your breath, and you almost blurt your feelings for him right then and there. He keeps one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the other snakes up your body until his large palm cups the side of your face. This kiss, compared to the one from earlier, is different in every way. Where that one was rough and passionate, this one is gentle and almost lazy; a content moan rumbles from his chest. Before pulling away, his warm tongue swipes sweetly across yours. 

 “See you later, honey,” he whispers, then kisses your forehead and walks away.

Honey, he called me honey. Everything about the last few seconds feels so goddamn domestic, and your potential life five years from now flashes through your mind. 

You're standing in this bathroom, getting ready to head to the law firm you work at. Joel, no longer just your dom but also now your new husband, puts a fresh latte on the counter for you, then helps you with the clasp of your necklace before kissing that sensitive spot behind your ear. ‘See you later, honey’.

The rev of Joel’s Jag pulling out of the garage snaps you out of your daydream. You get dressed and walk back downstairs while opening the Maid Discreetly app. To your surprise, cleaning Joel’s office isn’t the first task. Instead, you’ve been asked to wipe down the kitchen, then vacuum the main floor, stairs and upstairs rooms, and finish off by dusting his bedroom. All of it seems very doable in the next four hours, and just when you think you’ll probably be done early and have time to properly get ready for your night out, Mister Miller reminds you that he has the remote to a very distracting detonator. 

The first few times the vibrator comes on it’s subtle, just a light buzzing against your clit. It’s enjoyable, almost like a tickling massage, but after almost an hour and half of being gently teased at random you can feel your frustrations start to reach a boiling point.

You: Mister Miller, you’re torturing me Joel: Oh, sweet girl. We’ve only just begun. You: *pouts* Joel: That’s not going to get you what you want. Be a good girl and get back to work. I have a meeting. 

You check off the kitchen and main floor tasks and then move to the stairs. You decide to start at the top, sitting on the stair below it and scoot down to save your back. You’re also hoping that the pressure on the toy will make it strong enough that you can finally come. Joel turns the vibrator on again and you whine out in frustration when your plan fails. The slight hum against your clit stops and you mutter something about Joel being a sadistic bastard under your breath and continue your backwards ride down the stairs. As you reach the halfway point the vibrator comes to life at an intensity so strong that you drop the hose of the vacuum and dig your nails into the plush carpet of the stair tread. 

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, squeezeing your legs together as he brings you right to the edge. Your orgasm builds quickly, and just as it’s about to take you, the vibrations stop. 

Joel: You better not have come You: Please, Mister Miller. I was so close Joel: Not yet, babygirl  

Joel continues this throughout the afternoon. Every ten minutes or so, the black u-shaped torture device inside of you comes to life; always at different intensities and for varying times. 

Torture device might be a bit strong, the discarded box of feelings says from the back of your mind. We both know you’re enjoying it. You don’t know when she decided to come back, but at least she’s keeping you honest. 

It’s been about three hours by the time you get to your last task of the day. The vibrator buzzes gently as you grab a duster and head into Joel's bedroom. You bite back a smile seeing his bed, the white fluffy sheets neatly tucked in. You can’t help but run your fingers across the soft duvet, remembering how it felt against your skin, remembering how he felt above, behind, below and beside your naked body.

Joel: You doing ok? Do you need to use your safeword? You: I’m okay, Mister Miller. I REALLY need to come, but this is the best day I’ve ever had at work.

When 3:30pm hits, you’ve finished everything in the app, and are so wound up from being teased that you’re fighting from taking the vibrator out and making yourself come. Everytime the vibrator comes on, you break out in goosebumps, the hair on your body standing on end, but when he turns it off, your cheeks flush in frustration and a wave of heat rolls through you. You know Joel will take care of you when he gets home and sees how badly you need it. He talks a big game, but you see the way he folds when you beg. 

Joel: I’ll be home in about 40 minutes, Tommy won’t shut up about concrete. You: I need to come so badly, Mister Miller. I’m throbbing, please!  Joel: Soon. Just breathe, sweet girl. You can do this. 

You need to distract yourself, and you know Joel’s office usually gets pretty dusty, so even though it’s not on your list, you grab your cleaning supplies and slowly open the door. It’s as it usually is: small piles of papers on the desk and a few things out of place on the book shelf. You put the books back and dust the shelves, then run the duster over the blinds before cleaning the window.

Joel: Goddamn, he’s still going on about fucking concrete. How’s my baby doin? You: Horny, I’m trying to distract myself

The vibrator comes to life at the lowest setting. Once again, it’s not enough to make you come, just enough to tease and taunt. You could cry at the frustration of it. 

You: That’s not helping, Mister Miller Joel: What’s not? You: Hilarious. Please? Joel: Nope. I love watching you come, hearing the whiny little gasps you make, so not until later

You move towards the desk. Just as you reach to tidy the stack of papers, the vibrations against your clit hit at an intensity you haven’t felt yet today. You fall forward, gasping for breath, as the papers scatter to the floor. You’re about to fall into the pleasure, feel those waves of nirvana that you so desperately need when the vibrator turns off and you’re left with nothing. You bite back an agitated yell. 

Joel: See you in less than half an hour, sweet girl. You better not have come.  You: I didn’t. I promise. 

You’ve never read anything on Joel’s desk before, but you notice a familiar emblem on the first piece of paper you pick up. It’s a short, handwritten note, and as your eyes scan the few sentences, your heart leaps into your throat as your stomach simultaneously falls to the floor. You read through it once and then twice, trying to make sense of the information in front of you. After blinking hard a few times, you read it again. 

You feel like you’re being ripped in two. 

Joel, Thank you for your generous (and anonymous) donation to the law library. I’ll be sure to find her application and review it myself. See you at the club's anniversary party in a few weeks.

You flip the note over and back again, reading it through one last time. It’s not signed by anyone, just black ink on eggshell white, the University of Austin letterhead at the top. The letter and the room start to spin. You stumble towards his desk chair and breathe through the wave of nausea that hits you; your mind reels at what you’ve just learned. Anger, disbelief and sadness all push against your prefrontal cortex, fighting to be the winning emotion. You want it to be anger – anger is so much easier to deal with. Yelling and telling Joel to fuck off would make you feel so much better, but overwhelming sadness and disappointment ultimately become the victors. 

He doesn’t believe in me.

The realization feels like knives along your skin. Everything he said about how you could do it, or that you’d get in…that was all bullshit. He paid for you to get in, and then – and this is the part that hurts the most – he made you believe that you did it all on your own. Your lungs feel like they’re filled with glass as you force yourself to take slow, controlled breaths. 

He doesn’t believe in me.

Tears prickle behind your eyes but you force them back. You will not cry, not when you’ve been through this before and came out stronger. Your parents didn’t believe in you, and you proved them wrong, graduating early and making it on your own in Texas for the last four years.

I can prove Joel wrong, too.

You shut your eyes tight. You don’t need him; you don’t need anyone. But if that’s true, why does his sexy smirk flash behind your eyelids? The glass moves from your lungs to your veins; everything hurts, and you scold yourself for letting him get this intertwined in you. 

Never again, you tell yourself. Stick to your plan. Law school. Get in with a good firm, pass the bar and become partner; then worry about a love life. 

You walk to his bedroom, removing the toys and cleaning them off before changing into the black leggings and beige crew neck sweater you brought. You gather your hair into a claw clip and head downstairs. With your bag by the door and the letter still clutched in your hand you lean back against the kitchen island and wait for Joel. 

He doesn’t believe in me. 

Joel

The drive home feels like it takes forever; granted, Tommy talking about fucking concrete for almost an hour felt longer. At dinner tonight, he’s going to explain from the beginning. He prepares himself for the worst, for your anger or hurt. He won’t be able to live with himself if he’s hurt you, but anger he can deal with. He knows it’s selfish, but you yelling at him over this would make him feel better. 

Finally, he turns into his neighborhood. The sight of your slightly rusty SUV parked on the street spreads a familiar warmth from his heart to his toes. Mine, he thinks to himself as he pulls into his garage. He knows you’re going to be so tightly wound from all the teasing you endured today, and he plans to very slowly unwind you before you go for dinner. The way you fall apart for him is so beautiful, and after almost four hours of being brought to the edge over and over again, he can’t wait to have your writhing and shaking with a simple flick of his tongue against your clit. But first, he’s going to kiss every inch of your skin while occasionally clicking the vibrator on at its lowest setting. He almost trips over your bag as he comes into the house, and when his eyes meet yours, he knows something is wrong.  

“Baby?” His voice cracks in concern at the look on your face. He mentally runs through the rolodex of facial expressions he’s seen from you, and he hates that he can’t place this one; it’s not anger or sadness, and it most definitely is not excitement or curiosity. Your soft lips are turned down in the corners, arms crossed and eyes soft. “What’s wrong?”

Your arms uncross and you hold out the letter he should have shredded weeks ago.

His stomach does a free fall. Disappointment. The look on your face is disappointment, and that is so much worse than anger or sadness. 

Fuck. 

You

Joel walks towards you with slow, measured steps while carding a nervous hand through his curls. You force yourself to continue breathing, fighting against the tears that threaten to appear. He takes the letter from you and rips it in half; you drop your eyes, watching as the two halves of paper flutter to the ground and then slide away from each other along the marble. You shake your head at the symbolism of it, hugging your arms tightly against your body again.

“I thought you believed in me,” you say, trying not to sound as gutted as you feel. 

“I do, sweet girl,” he says, stepping so close that his black leather dress shoes line up with your socked feet. You look up as he continues, “I swear I do. You - you got in on your own. Please, just let me explain.”

His eyes line with tears and moments that you overlooked over the last few weeks playback like a movie. The first day in this kitchen he said he knew the dean of admissions. The flash of anger when you went to the Shibari night and his response of “all of them?” when you said you didn’t get in. The way he insisted you open the letters before the anniversary party. He knew, he fucking knew all along that at least one university would accept you. Dread settles in your stomach, turning the shards of glass under your skin to icicles. Berkeley.

“Did you pay off Berkeley, too?”

“I didn’t pay anyone off.” He’s calm but firm in his response, which just seems to piss you off more. 

You roll your eyes, gesturing to the ripped paper on the floor and scoff. “Did you pay off Berkeley, Joel?”

The two of you stare at each other for a few heartbeats, and you don’t back down as more tears gather along his bottom lash line. He shakes his head in defeat, burying his hands in his pockets and breathing slowly a few times before whispering, “No.”

“Why would you do this to me? This could have ruined my entire career.” You try to keep your voice calm, but how dare he stand in front of you holding back tears. 

“I’m sorry, sweet girl. I wasn’t - I just…I’m sorry,” he flounders.

“Why, Joel?” Your eyes dance along his face. You aren’t sure what justification you're looking for or hoping for. The dream of staying here died the moment you picked up that note, but you can’t go to California without knowing why he did it. 

He opens his mouth, shaking his head slightly and then closes his mouth. He takes a deep breath through his nose, blinking away the tears. “Because I don’t want to lose you, Freckles. I should have told you, I was going to tell you tonight. That donation isn’t the reason you got in…you did that on your own. I just…well, I just sped up the process. And I’m so sorry you found out like this.”

You scoff again. “I thought my consent was the most important thing to you.”

His eyes widened in shock. “It is, sweet girl.”

“I didn’t ask you to meddle in my life, Joel. And I certainly didn’t ask you to speed along the process. What happens if I become a Supreme Court judge and someone finds out that you bribed a university to get me?” He goes to speak, but you raise a hand to stop him and continue. “And don’t tell me that you didn’t bribe anyone, because that’s exactly how this looks and you know it. You wouldn’t be looking at me like a guilty puppy if you thought what you did was right.”

His hands come to cup your face. The warm coffee eyes that usually dance rhythmically around your face are replaced by shifting dark glass beads laced with fear and loss. The warmth you normally feel when he touches you is gone. His eyes flick to your lips and then back to your eyes before he speaks. 

“Freckles, I lov-”

Your still raised hand covers his mouth, clamping tightly to his face to stop him. 

“Please don’t,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat and keeping your palm pressed to his soft lips. Your heart pounds behind your ribs in response to what he was about to confess. If he tells you what you so desperately wanted to hear just hours ago, you know you’ll crumble. You’ll let him take you up to his bedroom and apologize in a way that only he can. You’ll spend the night planning how you can do long distance while you’re in California. You’ll let him interfere with the plan…again.

“Don’t say that to me right now, I can’t hear that.”

He nods into your hand slowly, his eyes soften, and you try to memorize every bit of amber in his otherwise black brown eyes. This will be the last time he looks at you like this, and the realization seems to suck the air out of the room. You wish you could bottle up how it makes you feel when he looks at you like that; the way it comforts you and shuts off the narrated to do list in your mind that’s always growing in your mind. 

“Joel, if…if you feel that way, then you’ll let me go,” you tell him, voice just above a whisper. He lets out a shaky breath through his nose, the heat of it warming your hand. One of his hands leaves your face to wrap around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull your hand away or step back out of your grip. Instead, he runs his thumb in small circles along the soft, smooth skin there, and you swear you can feel the whorls of his thumb tattooing themself on you, trying desperately to stay with you forever. 

“You’ll understand why I have to go to Berkeley now,” you continue. “I have been working so hard for this. And for years, I have been doing it all on my own. I’m so close, Joel…so close to finishing what I started when I was, like, seven years old. So, please, I’m begging you…please do not finish that sentence.”

You drop your hand from his mouth, his grip going weak as he lets you slip out of his grasp. He looks small, almost deflated in front of you as he stumbles back a few steps. The silence between the two of you feels heavy. 

It’s over. Whatever this was, or could be, is over, and you both know it. 

When he finally speaks, it’s a sad whisper. “What about when you’re done?”

“A lot can change in three years, Joel,” you respond, mostly to extinguish the flicker of hope in your chest. It’s better for you to push him away now than to hope that he’ll be there when you graduate. No one has ever been there for you, and this is proving to be no different. You step around him and head to the front door, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek as the tears threaten to reappear while you get your shoes on. 

“Freckles, wait.”

You close your eyes, facing the door with your hand on the matte black knob. His dress shoes click on the shiny marble before his large hand comes to rest on the door beside your head. This is the exact position you were in after accidentally catching him in his office. You keep your eyes glued to the door and after a sniffle, a quiet clearing of his throat and a whispered, heartbreaking ‘fuck’, he continues. 

“I really am sorry,” he says, his voice hoarse. “This is not how I wanted this to go, but you know what you need and I respect your choice. These last few weeks have been so much more than I could have imagined, more than I deserve. You have brought me back, sweet girl. I know you probably don’t believe a word of what I’ve said tonight, and that’s ok, but with you, I felt that pull that I’ve been waiting for. I felt it the minute your cleaning caddy fell to the ground and I locked eyes with you. If you were anyone else, I would have let you run out of here and then had you fired. I chased you and I’ve been chasing you ever since, even though I know you are meant for more and that this could only ever be temporary for you. This was always going to be the end for me and a well-deserved, hard-earned beginning for you.”

He takes a shaky breath in and you open your eyes, but you don’t look back at him. “Regardless of all that, I meant what I said in my office that day. Starting this with you would be it for me. A lot can change for you in three years, and I want you to experience everything in California. But for me, it’s you. It will always be you.”

Your chest feels like it’s going to cave and your knees threaten to buckle. “I have to go, Joel,” you grit out, forcing your voice past the boulder that’s formed in your throat.

“I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl,” he whispers, dropping his hand and stepping back. The heat of his broad body and leather-and-ash scent disappear from behind you, and it feels like you’ve been plunged into freezing, uncharted waters. 

You get in your car and drive, unsure of where your final destination will be. After driving around Austin for a while, you find yourself parking outside of the Maid Discreetly office. You take a minute, deciding what you are and aren’t going to tell your best friend before heading in. Jamie’s office is impeccable as always, not a single smudge on the glass desk as she types on her laptop, looking effortlessly perfect.  

“Hey, babe!” she says with a smile as you cross the threshold.

“How’s your dad doing with the California office?” you say, trying to act casual.

“Oh my god!” she practically shrieks as she jumps up from her chair. “Did you get into Berkeley?”

“That depends,” you say, raising one shoulder. “Does he have a job for me there?”

“Holy shit!” She runs around the desk and wraps you in her arms. How she can move like that in stilettos is beyond you.

“Careful, you’re gonna break an ankle,” you deadpan. The weight of what just happened with Joel almost dissipates. Jamie pulls back to look at you, her eyes scan your face and you feel exposed.

“Why aren’t you more excited? What’s wrong?”

Shit. 

A sob leaves your throat and you collapse into Jamie’s open arms. She pulls you into her office with one arm and closes her door with the other, then leads you to the couch along the far wall. As soon as she gets you seated, you manage to explain everything between sobs and very unattractive nose blowing.

This is supposed to be one of those exciting moments of your life. You did it: you got into the school you always dreamed of and you're moving to California; a place you always felt most at ease in. Yet, it’s all clouded over by having your heart wholly shattered by a man that you actually thought was going to be the love of your life. Someone who showed you he cared, showed you that he’d always be there. 

But it was all a lie. 

[helen-with-an-a]

Beautiful Girl - New Year’s Eve(18+)

Happy New Year, everyone. I hope all your dreams come true, and I wish you well for the next year. Here is a totally indulged, dirtier-than-I-intended New Year fic with Alexia to help you welcome the new year in the right way. Also, will I ever learn how to write short smutty things? Probably not. This is the fic that started the Beautiful Girl series and yet I've already released so much for it ahahaha. For the anon back in August who told me I need to make my fics less ambiguous, this is for you. R IS A WOMAN. Have the day u deserve anon 😘✌️

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Beautiful Girl Masterlist

Description: Thank god the New Year's party was cancelled.

TW: Smut, 18+, cunnilingus, strap (R giving - dom R; Sub Alexia)

You had never been more grateful for food poisoning. Watching Patri and the rest of the girls fall sick was hard, it seemed almost cruel to relish in their misfortune. Whilst is was undoubtedly horrific to feel so ill over Christmas, it did mean one thing. One thing you were so, overwhelmingly happy about.

Missing Patri's New Years' Eve party.

With so many of the team members now laid up with various degrees of illness, it was quickly decided that the party wouldn't be happening. Given the circumstances, it was the best choice for everyone, but it also meant you could spend the evening with Alexia alone.

It wasn’t your first year ringing in the New Year with Alexia – this would actually be the fifth you were welcoming in together. Up until now, each new year was brought in surrounded by friends, clinking glasses and a swift kiss at midnight before munching on some grapes. Whilst you loved the parties, the thought of just snuggling up at home was always niggling at the back of your mind.

This year, however, was different. For the first time, you had the chance to bring in the New Year alone.

“Ale,” you called gently, your voice barely above a whisper. She was engrossed in the countdown on the TV, her gaze locked on the screen as they ticked away the last minutes of the year.

“Hm?” she responded, lifting her head from where it had been nestled comfortably against your chest.

“Will you be my New Year's kiss?” you asked softly. It might have been a silly question – but it was something you asked each other every year, a small tradition of your own. It had started your first year together, when you were unsure about how the Catalan celebrated New Year's. The next year, she asked you - the pair of you celebrating in England this time, surrounded by your friends and family and Alexia had been unsure of whether you wanted to kiss in public. By Year 3, it felt strange not asking, even though you knew she would never say no, it felt odd, just assuming.

Alexia's heart softened as she met your gaze. A wide, warm smile spread across her lips, a dusting of pink settling on her cheeks.

“Sí, mi amor,” she said, her voice gentle. “I will be your beso de año nuevos.” Her smile was radiant now, a wide, joyful grin that seemed to light up the room. She added, with a playful glint in her eye, “As long as I can be yours?”

“Of course, my beautiful girl,” you replied, your fingers carding through her hair. “No lo querría de otra manera.”

“Good,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle hum of the TV. She leaned closer, moving up your body with a grace that seemed almost dreamlike. As her lips brushed against yours, the world outside dissolved, leaving just the two of you, curled up in bed, without a care in the world.

She tasted like honey. Warm and smooth nectar that eased your soul. It was the perfect remedy for any issue. Her lips were soft as they worked in time with yours. A throaty hum bubbled up in her chest as you tightened your fingers in her hair.

As you finally pulled away from the kiss, the sudden burst of fireworks outside startled you, their vibrant explosions lighting up the night sky. You couldn't help the smile that spread across your face as Alexia's hand drew you back to face her.

“Feliz año nuevo, mi amor” Alexia whispered against your lips.

Alexia’s eyes sparkled as she looked down at you, her expression full of love. “Happy New Year, my beautiful girl,” you replied softly, tugging her back to you, your lips finding each other again with perfect ease.

When she finally pulled away, her breath came in ragged, deep gasps. She took a moment to let her gaze wander slowly over the length of your body, her eyes moving with deliberate slowness. You watched as she took in your form, bare legs intertwined with hers, a hoodie she was fairly sure used to belong to her on your top half. To Alexia, you had never looked more beautiful. You were the epitome of quiet beauty - a radiance from within that made you glow.

You gently lifted a hand to her chin, your touch tender and deliberate as you guided her back to face you. Her gaze met yours with an almost innocent intensity, her eyes wide and doe-like.

"T'estimo molt, Alèxia Putellas i Segura." You mumbled, your voice thick. It was true, you had never felt like this before. So loved, so safe, so happy.

"I love you, Y/N Y/S/N, so much." Alexia whispered back, her words just as emotional.

You didn't know how long you spent, lying there kissing Alexia. But you didn't really care. All that mattered was the woman above you, the way she rocked her hips against yours, the way her hands explored your body, the way she gasped and moaned as you tugged at her roots and trailed your fingers under her pyjama top.

“What do you need, Ale?” you asked gently in between kisses.

“Tú,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “Te necesito.”

“What about me do you need, my beautiful girl?" You smoothed her hair away from her head, eyes searching hers. "How can I give you what you need?” Y

“I need … necesito … I …” Alexia’s words faltered. She was slipping into a state of mind that only you could bring out in her – a headspace where she shed all her external responsibilities. She wasn’t Alexia Putellas, the captain of Barça, or the face of Spanish football. She was simply Ale, your Ale, your Beautiful Girl.

“I need your cock, por favor.” Her eyes slid sideways, avoiding your gaze. You hated how she hated being vulnerable around you. It was something you had been working on together, her voicing her desires to you, whether it be as simple as what to make for dinner or as hard as voicing her deepest fantasies. She was doing a lot better, in the early days it had been exasperating to watch her flounder whenever you asked what she needed. But now, the pride welled in your chest as she spoke with relative confidence. You smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Okay, beautiful,” you said softly, smoothing your hand against the skin on her hip. “Do you want me to get the strap? Or would you prefer to?” You reached up to push a stray piece of blonde hair out of her eyes, and pressing a light kiss to the tip of her nose.

Alexia's response came with a hint of hesitation. “You,” she said, her voice wavering slightly as she made her choice, taking a steadying breath as she did so.

“Alright,” you acknowledged, nodding with a soft smile. “The big black one or the smaller purple one?”

“B-black one,” she whispered shyly. There was a noticeable blush on her cheeks. The black one was her favourite, the one that stung in the best way, the one that made her arch and squirm as you split her open, the one that could leave her limping for the next few days.

A smile spread across your face at her words, your heart swelling with affection. “Okay,” you said gently. “Take off your clothes while I get the strap.” You let your fingers wander underneath the hem of her joggers.

“When you're finished, lie back on the bed with your head on the pillows,” you continued.

Normally, you knew her favourite way to take any strap was on her knees, you lying back beneath her, taking in the glorious sight above you as she moved without restriction. The way she would roll and rock, bounce and shift. The way she seemed so free as she took what she needed from you, as your hands rested on her hips or trailed up her body to grope and squeeze as you pleased. But you had other plans for tonight.

You reached up and pressed your lips against hers in a deep kiss. The kiss was slow and deliberate, you let your lips linger on hers a moment longer, savouring the taste of her before gently unwinding yourself from her embrace.

As you moved away, you went to the wardrobe, shedding your hoodie as you went. The cool air of the room met your skin as you tugged the material over your head, feeling her eyes follow your every movement as she went about her tasks. The sensation of her gaze on you made more goosebumps appear on your skin than any cool breeze ever could.

You opened the drawer and began to gather what was needed. You smiled as you looked down at the contents. The big, shiny black strap with a wider girth and a fake vein running underneath that she needed time to work up to glinted up at you in the dim glow of the lamp. You shuddered at the image of Alexia, hair splayed against the pillow, her eyes screwed shut in pleasure as you sunk into her again and again.

Turning back around, you were met with the sight of Alexia having perfectly followed your instructions. Her t-shirt was folded neatly on top of the dresser, the soft fabric arranged with meticulous care. Next to it, her joggers were laid out in a similar fashion, creating a small, organised pile. You couldn't help the smile, Alexia, ever the neat freak.

What immediately caught your eye, however, was the unmistakable sign of her arousal: her knickers had been removed and set aside. The grey fabric was marked by a noticeable wet patch. You hummed appreciatively as you clambered onto the bed next to her.

“Well done, beautiful,” you said, your voice filled with admiration. “Such a good girl for me."

Alexia’s response to the praise was immediate. She visibly preened, a soft flush spreading across her cheeks as she absorbed the compliment. Her eyes lit up with a mix of pleasure and satisfaction as her body relaxed into the bed below her.

“So pretty,” you cooed softly as you moved to position yourself above her. The warmth and tenderness in your voice made Alexia feel even more cherished and adored. As you spoke, your gaze lingered on her, your eyes raking down her body with reverence.

Your eyes took in every detail with a slow, deliberate appreciation. You started with the swell of her breasts, noting how they were perfectly shaped and inviting, their natural curve accentuated by the soft light of your bedroom. Your gaze then travelled down to the ridges of her abs, the defined muscles revealing the strength and dedication she put into caring for her body. Each contour and line told a story of her commitment and vitality, making her all the more captivating.

Continuing your exploration, your attention shifted to the strong muscles of her thighs. You observed the powerful yet graceful curves, appreciating the balance of strength and femininity they represented. The way her thighs connected with her hips and the subtle play of light on her skin added a golden glow to her already-tanned skin.

“G-gracias, mi amor,” she stuttered, her voice tinged with a mix of appreciation and shyness.

You responded with a warm, affirming smile, “look at you, using your manners. Una niña buena y bonita.”

You shifted closer, your face centimetres from hers. “Can I kiss you, Ale?” you asked, your voice laced with a tender reverence.

She met your gaze with a shy but eager nod, her eyes shimmering with anticipation . Her fingers, warm and reassuring, slipped around your hips, gripping them lightly. You slowly leaned down, your movements deliberate and unhurried, valuing the moment.

She hummed softly as your lips met hers, a contented sound that had your heart quickening. The warmth of your touch was immediately reciprocated, her hips pressing up against you eagerly. The contact of your lips made her skin tingle with anticipation.

As you continued to kiss her, you allowed yourself to ease more of your weight onto her. The gentle pressure of your body against hers helped ground you both. Alexia’s fingers, still resting on your hips, tightened slightly trying to draw you even closer. The world outside faded once again, leaving just the two of you.

You let your hands explore her body with thoughtful slowness. The touch was gentle yet deliberate as if you were memorising every curve and line of her form like you were discovering her for the first time. Each movement was tender and explorative, your fingertips lightly grazing her skin, leaving a trail of warmth and anticipation in their path.

As your hands made their way across her skin, a delicate shiver of goosebumps followed in their wake, spreading out like a ripple of water. Her breath hitched slightly, a soft, involuntary sound that had you smiling against her lips.

“Por favor,” she whined softly as you parted, your lips trailing down from her mouth, moving with careful slowness down her jawline until they found their way to her collarbones. The touch of your lips on her skin was a teasing promise, making her shiver.

“Apresúrate,” she urged, her tone full of frustration and desire.

You leaned back slightly, a playful glint in your eye as you raised an eyebrow at her. “Patience, Ale,” you said. “If you’re going to rush me, I’ll stop.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and a flicker of panic crossed her face at your teasing warning. “Ho sento, ho sento,” she stammered quickly, her cheeks flushing.

You softened your expression, letting a reassuring smile light up your face. “It’s okay, beautiful,” you said soothingly. “Just relax for me.” Your touch was gentle as you placed a tender hand on her cheek, guiding her focus back to you. “Focus on what you’re feeling,” you continued, your voice warm and encouraging. You added a playful wink, watching as she nodded eagerly.

As she closed her eyes, settling into the sensation of your touch, you took a moment to appreciate her trust and vulnerability. With her eyes shut, you began your descent down her body again, your movements slow and sensual. You placed a series of delicate pecks along her skin, each touch a soft whisper of affection. Gradually, you shifted to sharper nips that made her breath hitch, and then to more fervent, intense sucks that drew out a deeper response from her.

You relished the way her chest heaved with each breath, the subtle quiver of her smooth stomach rippling beneath your touch. The contrasts between your tender pecks and the sharp bites you applied created a rhythm that had Alexia writhing beneath you. You cherished every reaction, every shiver, and every sigh as you made your loving way down her body.

“Mi amor,” Alexia gasped, her voice breathless. The sound of her voice sent a thrill through you as you settled between her thighs.

“Yes?”

“I love you,” she whispered, her eyes shining with sincerity that made your heart swell.

“Te amo,” you replied with a soft, heartfelt smile.

You watched with careful curiosity as Alexia moved her hand hesitantly, as if uncertain whether she was doing the right thing. Smiling, you took her hand, letting your thumb smooth over her knuckles. “Hand or hair?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“Hand,” she answered, her voice slightly trembling. With a loving smile, you gripped her hand tightly. It always amazed Alexia that you knew exactly what she needed. She had never had a partner that understood her so well, that knew everything she could even want without her having to ask. It overwhelmed her sometimes, thinking about how much she loved you.

“Am I okay to carry on, or do you want a moment?” you asked. Your eyes searched hers for any sign of hesitation.

“Un momento, por favor,” she replied, her voice a little unsure.

“Of course,” you said immediately. You nodded reassuringly, placing a gentle kiss against her thigh.

After a few heartbeats of shared silence, she gently squeezed your hand. Her eyes met yours with a shy but confident smile, a silent affirmation of her readiness.

“Are you sure?” you checked.

“Sí,” she replied with a definitive nod, her voice firm and steady.

“Ok,” you said, your face lighting up with a warm smile. You leaned in and pressed a quick, affectionate kiss to her hip bone, right above the little '66' tattoo. As your lips touched her skin, you let them linger for a moment longer. You took in a ragged breath, inhaling the salty-sweet scent of her skin mingling with the coconut of her moisturiser. The smell was dizzying in the best way.

Leaning down, you took your time to savour the moment, your movements deliberate and tender. You placed a long, gentle stroke across the entire length of her pussy, your touch firm yet soft. The caress was slow and purposeful, your mind relishing in the taste of her against your tongue.

You repeated the action with careful speed. As you ghosted across her clit, you took a moment to appreciate the way her hand gripped yours, her fingers tightening as she sighed.

You decided to show a touch of mercy on Alexia, with a gentler approach, less teasing than you normally would. Your lips carefully enveloped her clit, the warmth of your mouth a welcomed contrast from the cool air outside. As you began to suck softly, your lips moved, alternating pressure and occasionally swiping over the nerves with your tongue.

Her reaction was immediate and visceral. She gasped sharply, the sound escaping her in a breathless rush as her body responded to the new, more tender touch. Her hips bucked instinctively, lifting toward you as you continued your ministrations.

You loved eating Alexia out. The way she enveloped your senses, the mix of her arousal on your tongue and the softness of her thighs around your head as she twitched and writhed beneath you, succumbing to her body's desires. You had never had that before, the casual hookups you had had before Alexia weren't the same. Going down on them had felt like an expectation from you, an accompaniment with your fingers, or like you were returning the favour. But with Alexia ... with Alexia, you were more than happy to spend the rest of your life between her thighs.

It didn’t take long for Alexia to transform into a moaning, squirming mess. You revelled in the rich sounds that filled the room, each one a unique note in the melody that was her pleasure. The gasps that punctuated the air, the moans that rose and fell in rhythmic waves, and the soft, needy whines. You could feel the sticky mess growing between your own thighs. The warmth that spread through you was a deep, satisfying heat.

Carefully, you eased finger into her, your movements precise and slow. You took your time, allowing her to adjust to the intrusion You slowly drew it back out until just the tip was still inside, before pushing back in again, trying to find that perfect spot.

When you finally found it, her reaction was immediate and intense. She squeezed your other hand tightly. From your angle, it was difficult to see the full extent of her expression, but you could vividly imagine her face – her eyes tightly shut, her features contorted in a mix of bliss and focus. One hand clutched yours with a desperate grip, while the other twisted into the sheets, her head pressing down on the pillows beneath her as she succumbed to the pleasure filling her body.

Sensing her increasing need, you added a second finger with practised ease. You could sense that she was nearing the edge of climax when her body began to twist and turn. The way she started to clench around you more forcefully. Her breathing, once steady and controlled, became fast and shallow. The grip on your fingers tightened as well, her hand's clasp around yours becoming almost painful.

“Si us plau,” she begged, her voice strained and trembling as she fought to hold back the powerful wave of her impending orgasm. Her tone matched the tightrope she was walking between control and surrender.

You didn't stop, humming lightly as you continued to work your fingers against her. She shivered at the sensation, her toes curling as she teetered closer to the edge. Her body tensed and arched in response to the wave of ecstasy that swept over her in a series of shudders and spasms. "Amor," she moaned, her voice hoarse.

You guided her through the aftermath, your fingers moving rhythmically in and out of her. You moaned softly, the sound escaping your lips as you savoured the taste of her. The tanginess of her essence was a distinct and cherished flavour. It was one of your favourite tastes – something that only you got to experience.

“Good, my beautiful girl. So, so good for me,” you cooed softly, your voice dripping with affectionate praise as her body finally stilled.

Her cheeks flushed deeply at your praise, the colour spreading across her face as she turned her head, avoiding your intense stay.

“Don’t go shy on me now,” you chuckled with a warm, encouraging smile, waiting for her to look back at you.

“Do you still want the strap?” you asked, your voice low as she locked her eyes with yours. The intensity in her gaze was unmistakable.

She nodded eagerly, but you weren’t going to let her off that easily. You raised an eyebrow at her, she knew your rules.

“Sí, your cock, por favour,” she finally replied, her voice laced with a hint of that earlier shyness but also with the undeniable need that only you could satiate.

“You want my cock, Ale?” you teased, each word dripping with lust. “You want me to fuck you? You want me to put my dick in you? Split you open? Make you cum for me?”

As you spoke, you slipped into the harness with practised ease, the leather straps sliding smoothly around your hips. The click of the buckles echoed in the room, a final, satisfying sound.

“Sí, mi amor,” she replied with quiet confidence.

You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips as you positioned yourself between her legs. “Bend your knees for me, beautiful,” you instructed gently, hands rubbing gently up and down her thighs. She complied without hesitation, drawing her legs up and opening herself to you with a trust that made your heart swell.

With a careful hand, you lined yourself up, the smooth plastic gliding through her wet folds with ease. You took your time, dragging it up and down. The slickness made the movement easy, but you were in no rush – this was all about her.

“I’ll go nice and slowly,” you promised, your voice soft and soothing. “It’s the big one, remember? Take as much time as you need.”

You offered your spare hand to her once again. She gripped it eagerly, her fingers intertwining with yours, the warmth of her hand in yours was grounding you both.

As you began to press forward, you kept your gaze fixed on her, every subtle change in her expression magnified in your focus. You moved with deliberate care, inching forward slowly, ensuring that every movement was as comfortable for her as possible. Her breathing quickened slightly, and her eyes widened as she adjusted to the sensation of the strap inside her, the stretch more intense than she had anticipated.

“Grande,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. Instinctively, you froze, your concern for her immediate and palpable.

“Do you want to stop? I can get the oth–” you began, already preparing to ease back, ready to swap out for something smaller, more manageable. Before you could finish, she interrupted, her hand tightening around yours in reassurance.

“No, no,” she insisted quickly, her voice a little firmer now, but still soft. “Me gusta,” she said conspiratorially.

“Is that so? You like being stretched out, Ale? You like feeling every inch of me?” you teased, relaxing at her words. Your voice was playful as you began to push forward again, ever so gently. You drifted your thumb up to brush against her clit, smiling as she sighed softly.

You could see the effect your teasing and actions had on her immediately. Her breath hitched slightly, and her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as she absorbed the sensation, the deliberate, slow stretch filling her completely. The way her body responded, the subtle arching of her back, the way her hips shifted to accommodate you, was all the confirmation you needed.

As you moved deeper, your voice remained soft but teasing, an intimate whisper that kept her focused on every inch of movement. “Tell me how much you like it, Ale,” you murmured, your tone still playful. You wanted to hear her say it, to make her voice the pleasure that was clearly written all over her face.

You continued your slow movement, watching her closely, gauging her every reaction as you pulled back only to push straight back in again. The way she responded to each stroke was mesmerising, making your breath hitch just as much as the way the strap rubbed against your own clit.

“So … so much,” she finally gasped, her voice trembling with the effort to speak through the waves of sensation coursing through her. “I need it, mi amor. It’s like I can’t breathe without it. A veces… when we’re both away… en el camp ... campamento…” Her words were coming in halting breaths now, each one laced with raw emotion. “Sometimes ... Yo tomo ... I take it with me so I can immmmmm" she broke off in a moan. "Imagine you're with me.”

Her confession hung in the air between you, a revelation that sent a thrill of heat down your spine. You sped up your thrusts, torn between watching the pleasure on her face or where the plastic met her flesh, seeing her stretched out around you.

“It hurts so good, mi amor,” she continued, her voice trembling, her legs moving to press against your arse. “And when I sit down the next day and I can still feel the sting, me hace feliz por dentro. At night ... sometimes I sit on it for hours ... and I can barely walk the next day.” She pressed her heels into your arse again, urging you to go deeper and faster.

Her words ignited something deep within you, a fierce pride and possessiveness, The image of her, away at camp as she worked herself up, so desperate for you, burned into your mind's eye. You thanked the lucky stars you were an athlete as you picked up your pace.

You dropped forward onto your hands, your chest pressing up against hers.

“Please, mi amor. Make me yours. Use me. Lo necesito por favor.” Her voice was raw, trembling with desire, a sound that sent a surge of heat through your entire body. You could feel her desperation, her deep, unrelenting need for you, and it only fuelled your own arousal to new heights. You had never been this turned on in your life, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming.

You leaned down, bringing your lips close to her ear as you continued to move, your hips rocking forward with a steady, controlled rhythm. “You’re already mine, Ale,” you whispered, your voice husky with emotion. “Every inch of you belongs to me. And I’m going to make sure you never forget that.”

With those words, you increased the pressure, thrusting deeper, more deliberately, each movement pushing her further into the pleasure that was building inside her. You smiled at the the soft moans that escaped her lips growing louder, more frantic with every stroke.

Her hands gripped you tightly, one hand twisting into your hair while the other squeezed your bicep. You could see the tension in her body, the way her muscles trembled as she fought to maintain control, and it drove you to push her even further.

“You feel that?” you asked, your tone dark and possessive as you leaned back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. You pressed down gently on her stomach, thrusting into her determinedly. “That’s me inside you, my beautiful girl. Filling you up. Owning you.” You watched as her eyes fluttered shut, a shiver running through her as your words sank in, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Don’t hold back,” you urged, your voice a commanding whisper. “I want to hear you. I want to know how good I make you feel.”

Her response was immediate, her hips bucking up to meet yours. The sounds she made were intoxicating, each moan, each gasp sending waves of pleasure through you as you continued to thrust, your movements precise and controlled, drawing out every bit of pleasure you could from her.

You could tell she was close. Her walls clenching around you tightly, her hips meeting yours with every thrust. You were close too, the strap providing just the right pressure against your clit. Her moans were breathier now, toes curling against the small of your back."So sexy, Ale," you breathed, your voice hitching at the wave of pleasure that buzzed through you.

You moved against her, you lips brushing against her ear as you whispered, “Now, Ale. Cum for me. Show me how much you need this. Cum with me.”

The effect was immediate. Her body tensed, her back arching off the bed as she finally let go, her orgasm crashing over her with a force that left her trembling beneath you. The sound of her release, the way she called out your name, was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard, and it sent you spiralling into your own pleasure, the intensity searing itself into your memory.

You held her through it, your movements slowing but never stopping as you rode out the waves of your orgasms together, your bodies entwined. As the tremors of her release gradually subsided, you felt her body soften beneath you, her limbs going limp with exhaustion and the kind of satisfaction that made everything else fade away. The room was filled with the suddenly deafening silence; the only sounds were your mingled breaths as you both caught your breath.

You leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, a kiss that was gentle and tender, a total 180 what had just happened.

Breaking the kiss, you hovered just above her and smiled down at her. Her eyes fluttered open, a lazy, content smile spreading across her face as she gazed up at you, her fingers still lightly tracing patterns on your back.

You pulled out gently, using one hand to release the snaps on the harness and throwing it somewhere in the room to be dealt with later. “If this is what it’s like every New Year,” you murmured, your voice playful but laced with sincerity, “We are never going to a party again.”

She chuckled softly, the sound a low, throaty hum that made your heart swell.

“I think I can live with that,” she replied, her voice sleepy but filled with contentment. “Sólo tú y yo, mi amor. That sounds ... maravillosa.”

You brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, your thumb gently caressing her cheek as you leaned in to place another soft kiss on her lips. “That sounds absolutamente perfecta,” you whispered against her mouth, your heart full of the quiet joy that only moments like these could bring.

She sighed in contentment, snuggling closer to you as you lay down, her body fitting perfectly against yours. “T'estimo,” she murmured, the words barely audible as sleep threatened to take her.

“I love you too, Ale,” you whispered back, holding her close as the world outside faded away once more, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

“Happy New Year, my beautiful girl.”

[bbydoll18xx]

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

Paige Bueckers x reader

KK tries to set you up on live, and things between you and Paige go south.

Word Count: 1.7k

Themes: angst, maybe some fluff?

This is heavily inspired by my love life, so yes, please feel free to feel bad for me thanks xoxo

~

“And oh, my god, he was so fucking stupid,” you exclaim exasperatedly, your longwinded rant having no ending in sight. “Like you’re literally in college and you can’t even hold a basic conversation? And don’t even get me started on his fucking mustache,” you add, gagging dramatically for good measure.

Hands were flying in the air as you spoke, and the girls of UCONN’s women’s basketball team listened amusedly as you complained about your latest failure of a date. You had promised yourself you’d get back out into the dating world after your two year relationship with your high school sweetheart had ended, but that was nearly three years ago. And now that you had gone through every stage of grief and were now (mostly) mentally stable again, you had begun dating to find ‘the one.’ 

However ‘the one’ seemed to be hiding among the frat boys and useless idiots you had been spending your friday and saturday nights with for the last six months. And you were quickly growing tired of their bullshit. 

“And then,” you dragged out the word theatrically, leaning forward to the group of girls listening, “he told me he wanted to do a line of cocaine off my ass! Like who even says that?”

The girls erupt in a fit of giggles and gasps, disturbed by your most recent date. 

You shake your head in mild embarrassment and place your head in your hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” you sigh, trying to avoid Paige’s stare. 

She was always staring, as if she could tell what you were thinking. And to be honest, it freaked you out because if she actually knew what you were thinking, you’d be in some deep shit.

You had feelings for Paige from the first day you had met her, and the battle was certainly an uphill one at that. A little voice in your head whispered mockingly that the reason you had been going on all these dates was to distract yourself from the harsh reality that Paige was just a friend. Nothing more, nothing less. 

And it really fucking stung. 

KK cuts through the silence, placing a soothing hand on your back. “I know what to do,” she says with a knowing smile. You meet her smirk with a confused look, wondering what the younger girl had in mind. “Let’s go on live and find you a boo!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together.

The other girls erupt in laughter at the idea, nodding their heads in agreement. The only one who is uncharacteristically quiet is Paige, who has a funny look on her face. Her nose scrunches slightly, and because you had spent years memorizing every part of Paige, including her moods and facial expressions, you would almost say she looked pissed.

Glancing back over to KK, you let out another long sigh, throwing your hands in the air defeatedly. “Sure, why the hell not?” 

She whoops excitedly, grabbing her phone and propping it up on the table in front of where the two of you were sitting. She clicks on the live, and it was not long before hundreds of people were flooding in with comments. 

“Hey, y’all!” KK greets the fans with a small wave and a huge grin. You try to hold back a grin of your own, but her excitement was infectious, and you felt grateful that your friends cared about fixing your sham of a love life. 

“We’ve got a special guest tonight,” KK explains, and you wave shyly at the camera. You typically did not love all the attention, and you tended to stay in the background when the other girls would go live. 

“Okay, so boom, we are looking for a date for my girl over here,” KK begins, explaining the situation to the people on the live. “Serious inquiries only!” She adds, wagging a finger towards the camera. “She is precious, and some of y’all are straight up freaks.”

You giggle at her words, trying to read the comments. Many of them we’re trying to gauge your sexuality, and upon reading another ‘is she gay’ comment, you decide to clarify. 

“I’m bisexual,” you murmur shyly. It had been nearly 6 years since you had realized you like girls, yet you still struggled with enunciating the fact. 

“Oh girl, they love you,” KK sings, patting herself on the back for her idea. “How about if y’all have some talent, join the live and woo my girl.”

Paige has since moved from her chair opposite you to sit next to you on the couch. Her leg is pressed up against yours, the warmth of her body radiating onto yours, and you bite your lip. 

“Yeah, yeah Paige is here. This ain’t about blondie today,” KK scolds the fans. “Now I want to see some good talent.” 

You turn your head to look at Paige, and she rolls her eyes at KK. “KK, don’t be mean to them,” she laughs, waving to the live. 

In your head you’re thinking that you honestly can’t even blame the fans. Paige was hot. You wanted to see her too. 

KK lets in the first girl, who upon seeing Paige, shrieks and throws her phone onto the carpet of her bedroom. You laugh, and KK lets out a huff of annoyance, deleting her immediately and moves on to find another person.

“This one seems promising,” she mutters, and you play with a piece of hair nervously. Being in front of the camera felt ridiculous, and you wonder how you got yourself into this situation. You are quickly pulled out of your thoughts by another young girl, desperately trying to serenade you and the other girls with a song. You try your best to avoid cringing, but the performance left you with bad secondhand embarrassment. 

A whole twenty minutes pass before someone promising pops up on the screen. A girl about your age with long dark hair and piercing green eyes is waving flirtatiously at the screen, causing you to sit up a little straighter. Next to you, Paige stiffens, and your eyes flit to her on KK’s phone, jaw clenched in a way that has your stomach rolling. You look down and notice her hand was closed in a fist, the other picking at a piece of lint on the couch. 

You avert your eyes back to the girl who was still smiling widely, and you make casual smalltalk with her, feeling warm from the attention of a pretty girl.

Comments are flooding in, and while you’re glad to see that many of them are about what a cute couple you and the mystery girl would make, you also notice an influx in comments regarding how mad Paige looked.

Before you could look over to check on her, she was flying off the couch and stomping out of the room. You hear her door close loudly, and you meet KK’s eye with a confused look. Paige’s departure has the fans going wild, and you whisper to the younger girl that she should end the live. 

“Okay, y’all, we gotta go. Feel free to DM her, though,” KK tells the dark-haired girl with a devilish grin, and she signs off quickly.

“What the fuck was all that about?” you ask no one in particular, eliciting shrugs from Aubrey, Ice, and Jana. 

“She’s been moody all day,” Aubrey says casually, and you pout, thinking about your best friend who was clearly unhappy about something.

“I’ll go check on her,” you mutter, heading towards the closed door of Paige’s bedroom. Standing in front of it, you take a deep breath before knocking.

“Come in,” you hear her mutter, and you enter the dark room, the only light shining from the tv and reflecting off the glassiness of Paige’s eyes. 

You sit on her bed next to her, placing a comforting hand on her thigh. “What’s wrong?” you ask gently, not wanting to spook her. She rarely opened up about the way she was feeling, and you did not want to rush her into admitting anything if she wasn’t ready.

She shrugs, quickly wiping at her eyes, and your heart nearly crumbles at the sight. You rub soothing circles onto her leg and reach up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. The intimacy of it all is almost overwhelming, and you bite your bottom lip to keep in the feelings bubbling inside of you, threatening to expose everything.

“Just tired,” Paige mumbles, and you peek at her face, studying the beauty of her features. 

Your phone lights up in your hand, alerting you to a DM you had just received from the girl from the live, and you attempt to hold back a wide smile at her boldness. Paige looks down at your screen as you text the girl, Scarlett, back with a giddy expression. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” she says coldly, already moving to get under the covers. 

“Want me to stay?” You ask hopefully, trying to sound casual. Sleepovers between the two of you had become a cherished ritual, and you needed the simple proximity to make you feel whole again. 

“Nah,” she replies flatly, eyes closed and back turned in harsh finality. 

“O-oh, okay. Well, goodnight,” you stutter, temporarily stunned at her poignancy, and you flee her room with your head hung low in rejection.

“Is she okay?” KK asks. You don’t even know how to answer that.

“I have no clue what her deal is,” you mumble. “She’s never not wanted me around, so I think I’m just going to go. I’ve got a girl to get to know,” you add, trying to make yourself feel better.

“We’ll let you know if anything happens,” Ice responds kindly, and you nod gratefully in her direction before you take your leave.

You ignore the anxiety as you walk back home, instead focusing on the flirty messages Scarlett was sending to you. ‘This is what I need,’ you think. Paige was never going to be yours, and now you finally had a real chance at getting over her. 

With your head held high, you vowed that your feelings for Paige Bueckers would disappear. But would they really? Time could only tell. 

~

Part 2

Part 3

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you would be interested in a second part to this!!

[unyearn]

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