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cressidagrey · 2 days ago

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It's a Love Story - Chapter 8

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Racism against Illyrians/Lesser Faes?

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Sky didn’t have much of a temper.

Even if she was frustrated or annoyed, she rarely got angry or lost her patience.

It wasn't that she didn't have emotions. She did. She felt things deeply, passionately. However, she also believed that there was no point in wasting energy on getting angry. It didn't solve anything. It only made things worse.

So Sky had learned a very, very long time ago…that there was no need to start screaming, because her stutter didn’t allow her that anyway…and that maybe…maybe it was easier for her to just let go off her anger about being unfairly treated.

Getting angry wouldn’t help her.

That day however…it burst out of her. Burst out of her like somebody had lanced an abscess.

Her family could say whatever they wanted about her. But they were not going to say a single word about Azriel

It was Winter Solstice.

Azriel and her had spent the last month or so enjoying winter season in Velaris…even once trying to ice skate on their lake, which only ended with him kissing her skinned knees, because she was definitely not a natural at it.

They had bought Winter Solstice gifts, and baked cookies…had decorated their house with pine garlands and velvet ribbons…

She had knitted them socks and they had made rabbit stews out of rabbits Azriel had hunted in the forest behind their house. (It was…she had never really seen him as a warrior, even when he wore these black leathers and the blue stone that glinted off him…but she could see him as a hunter, when he came home with a couple of rabbits, ready for dinner. It had also resulted in a new fur lined blanket for her, all ready on the couch.

She had never outright asked…but he seemd to like it when she was cuddled beneath it, like it seemed to soothe some kind of instinct for him. Maybe the fact that it was the animal he had hunted?)

Sky and Azriel had both made the decision to spend the days with their respective families and have their own Solstice celebrations the next day…that would pretty much sonsits out of a lazy day in bed and nothing else.

It sounded amazing. Just what they wanted.

And it had made sense to celebrate like that. She hadn’t wanted to be the one to keep him from his family after all, even if the thought of not spending Solstice with her mate had hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Azriel had been up ridiculous easily in the morning for a snowball fight that was apparently tradition…but not before he had spent a good half hour making her scream his name with his mouth between her thighs…

Afterwards, she had gotten dressed and left the shadows to amuse Hector for the day… and Sky had left to help her mother with dinner preparations.

A nice, quiet family dinner. Nothing more and nothing less.

That’s what it was supposed to be. They didn’t even get that far.

It all went to shit before dinner was even in the oven.

From the moment she entered her parents house it was a barrage of barbed comments. About her appearance, her stutter, her lack of an boyfriend…her lack of a proper job. (Sellyn Drake was hers. Sellyn Drake was nothing they got to gossip about.)

Sky had bitten her tongue. She had ignored the comments, tried to enjoy herself. But Claire never knew when enough was enough.

Her sister kept at it. Kept needling, jabbing at Sky until the little bubbles of anger popped to the surface and boiled into something…bigger.

“I…I met my m…mate,” Sky finally said flatly, after anther jab at her lack of a boyfriend.

Take that Claire. Not just a fiance. A mate.

Finally in just one thing Sky had been faster than her sister.

A mate. That mystical rare mating bond had been a gift from the other for her and not for Claire.

It caught Claire off guard. She stopped pacing, and turned to look at her sister, brow raised. The look said ‘Oh is that so?’ as if it was the kind of nonsense she had come to expect from her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, clearly not believing a word Sky said.

But Sky wasn’t going to let this go. “His n..name is Azriel,” Sky said with a smile. “We are ver…very hap…happy.”

They were. They were so happy. So delightfully happy. (So delightfully happy that Sky had been wondering if maybe…maybe the should start trying. High Fae fertility was hit or miss anyway…why shouldn’t they simply start trying and see where it would take them. And if it took two decades, then it took two decades. If it only took a year or three…well, then they were lucky.)

Claire narrowed her eyes. She was about to say something mean, Sky could see it in the way her lip curled up.

“He…He's a g…good male,” she said firmly, cutting Claire off before she got the chance to spew out anything else.

Claire laughed. It was a harsh, biting sound.

"A good male? Really, Sky?" she sneered. "You actually fell for that line?"

It wasn’t a line. It was the truth.

Azriel was a good male. Patient and intense and loving. He had never raised a single finger against her.Azriel would never hurt her intentionally.

Claire just wanted to belittle Sky in front of their whole family.

"You must be even more naive than you seem if you believe that," she said, almost pityingly. "You really think he wants you? That he actually cares about you? Nobody could want you. I bet he just pities you."

It should have hurt her, she realised. It would have. Even just months ago, it would have hurt her.

But right now…right now it didn’t really.

She was supposed to believe that Azriel didn’t want her? The same male that had spent the better part of an hour on his knees in front of her that very morning, eating her out like a starved male? She was supposed that her mate, who’s arousal shot across the bond like an inferno any time she slipped off her clothes, didn’t want her? That the same male that stared at her like she was a goddess, that spent hours worshipping her body with his hands…that she had nearly made come simply by touching his wings a few days ago didn’t want her?

Still…Claire's words had their effect. She felt a small stab of doubt in her heart, and she hated it. She hated that her sister could still hurt her like this, still make her feel like that insecure little girl who stuttered and couldn't get a single word right.

“He…He l…loves me and I…I love him,” Sky said calmly.

That was clear in every single one of his actions, in every single word.

“Where did you even meet him?” Sky’s mother demanded. “And what kind of name is Azriel?”

“In…In a bar. Wh…When we went out for Cl..Claire’s Hen Do. And I im…imagine it’s an Il…illyrian name.”

Everything ground to a halt.

“He’s Illyrian?!” Her mother demanded sharply. “What’s wrong with you, Skylar!”

Sky flinched at her tone. It was harsh, angry. It was the same tone she'd always used when Sky was younger and got anything wrong or stepped out of line.

"Yes, he's Il…Illlyrian," she said, meeting her mother's gaze levelly. "What's…what’s wrong with that?" she asked.

She knew that her family wasn’t the…most open about Lesser Faes, but…but that hatred in her mother’s voice….she hadn’t expected that.

“Everything,” Admon gave back with a snort. “You seriously let that barbarian fuck you? I am surprised you actually survived that and he didn’t just rip you apart.”

Every bit of colour leeched out of her face, except her ruddy red cheeks at these crude words.

This was Admon. Once upon a time, she had wanted to marry him. To have his children. To spent her life with him.

And…and this was what he told her to her face.

“I can’t believe that you even let a creature like him touch you,” her mother breathed staring at her with utter disgust.

“He’...He’s not a cre…creature,” Sky bit out. Azriel was her mate.

“Is it true by the way?” Her brother wondered. “That Illyrian’s have a cat’s prick?”

"Orin!" her mother exclaimed, aghast. "Don't be vulgar! I don't want to know."

Orin shrugged, a smirk dancing across his face. "What? I’m just curious. I am sure Skylar knows. She must please him somehow when she’s still alive to enjoy their…couplings.”

Sky felt ill. She didn't know what to say, what to say in defense of the man she loved. She couldn't get a word out.

“Did you…did you let it touch you?” Her father demanded finally, his voice icy.

It. Not even him. It. Like Azriel was a thing.

Sky felt her heart drop to the floor, breaking into pieces.

"Yes," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Her father's face grew stony, and he took a step closer to her.

“How dare you?” he hissed. "How could you let a monster touch you like that?"

"He's not a monster!" Sky protested, her voice rising. "He's…He’s k…kind and gen…gentle, and-"

“And I am sure, he keeps you stuffed with his cat prick to keep you satisfied,” Claire drawled.

And Sky was done.

Somehow that was the last straw.

Somehow that made something inside her break, irreparable.

It snipped away every thread that ever kept her close to the family that she had been born into.

“At least I didn’t need to take my sister’s sl…sloppy s…seconds,” Sky said, her voice flat, meeting her gaze full on.“And yes, Azriel more than keeps me s…satisfied.”

Silence descended over the room, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. Sky felt the tension in the air grow heavier with each passing second.

"You…you didn’t just say that,” Claire said coldly. "You take that back, Sky.

Sky raised her chin defiantly. "No.” she said simply. “I'm…I’m not taking back the truth," she said, her voice ringing with unexpected steel.

"You do not speak to me like that," Claire hissed. "You have no right—"

Something inside Sky snapped. Years of frustration, years of feeling invisible and ignored, years of enduring Claire's taunts and jibes all bubbled to the surface.

"I…I have ev…every right," she shot back, her heart pounding in her chest. “Not so fun when you are on the re…receiving end, is it?”

“Either you end your…dalliance with…that creature, or you are no daughter of mine,” her father snapped.

He talked to her like she was nothing. Like she was worth less than dirt beneath his boots.

And somehow that made it even easier.

“You want me to turn away my mate…for what? This?” She asked him, cocking her head to the side. .

"For the sake of our family’s reputation," her father said. "You are an embarrassment to us all by associating with that…lesser fae barbarian.”

Barbarian. Lesser Fae. Thing. Creature. Monster.

All of that said about the male she loved. About her mate.

“He’s Illyrian,” Sky said, her voice icy.

“Oh come off it,” “Orin snapped. “He’s lesser fae. The only thing they are good for is being fodder for the armies during war times. Other than that, they are worthless.”

Fodder.

“We have Lesser Fae ancestry ourself,” Sky responded icily. “Our great grandmother was a River Nymph.”

"That was a long time ago," her father interrupted sharply. "It was one ancestor generations ago. And besides, her blood was not that strong to begin with."

Sky thought back to the eyes that looked back from her mirror each day. Blue and beautiful. The one trace of her that got passed down to her.

"Maybe it was her blood that made you think that opening your legs for that creature was in any way appropriate," her mother hissed.

And suddenly it was so easy.

“Azriel is my mate,” she hissed. “I will al…always chose him over you. You can spew what..whatever insult you want about him or his pe…peoople. He’s still a bet…better male than any of you could ever hope to be, has treated me better than any of you. I’ll gladly no longer be your daughter.”

She felt the sting of tears running down her cheeks, but she didn't try to wipe them away. She just stared back at her family, daring them to say more. There was a short moment of silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

She should have expected it. Her mother had always been quick to slap her if she did anything anything that she didn’t like.

Just this time…her hand didn’t make contact.

Sky stared at the tendril of shadows that jerked her mother’s hand back, having suddenly appeared.

*You. Will. Not. Lay. A. Finger. On. Her,* the shadows hissed menacingly.

Sky stared at the shadows, her eyes widening in shock. They were angry. No. Furious. Utterly and completely furious. Her mother seemed equally taken aback, her hand still outstretched in the air where the shadows had stopped her.

Orin looked like he was about to piss himself, and her father…her father stared at the shadows, his face ashen.

“Come here,” Sky said quietly.

The shadows left her mother to come swarming to her, brushing over her cheek in greeting before wrapping themselves around her neck in a clearly possessive move.

Sky felt the familiar warmth of the shadows sink into her, a small bit of comfort in this awful situation. She turned to her family, her jaw set.

"I’m…I’m never coming back," she said, her voice quiet but resolute. And with that, she turned and walked away, She had only taken a handful of steps when she stopped and turned back, one last thing needing to be said, before she closed the door on this chapter of her life forever.

"I never want to see any of you again," she said, her voice shaking only slightly. "And when we have children, don’t you dare come and ask to have anything to do with them. You don’t deserve to even breath the same air as my mate."

With that, she turned and walked away, her head held high.

***

Whatever went on between sky and her family…it wasn’t good. He could feel that in the bond slumbering underneath his breast bone.

He rubbed it absentmindly, staring in the flickering flame of the Birchin.

He had won that Snowball fight. Once more. One more victory to add to it. Not that he particularly cared right now.

*Is she alright?* he asked the shadows.

The shadows were…quiet. And that spoke volumes. Something wasn't right. Azriel's heart pounded against his chest, his instincts urging him to act. He had to make sure Sky was alright. He couldn't stand to think about her being in any sort of trouble.

*Physicallly unharmed,* the shadows promised. *Her family is horrible,* they told him distastefully.

Azriel's heart clenched at the shadow’s words. While it was a small relief that Sky wasn't physically hurt…her family being horrible made him want to grimace.

“Alright, I had it!” Cassian snapped at that moment. “What the fuck is going on with you two?”

Azriel turned to his brother, seeing Cassian watch Rhys and himself with an expression of…something. Exasperation maybe.

"What do you mean?" Azriel asked, his voice even, feigning ignorance. He was really not in the mood to get into that either. But apparently he wasn’t going to get that small bit of mercy.

"Don’t play dumb with me, brother," Cassian said, rolling his eyes. "You are both moody and more distant than usual. What the heck happened?"

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Azriel said flatly. Cassian rolled his eyes.

“Rhys?” Cassian demanded with a sigh.

“You want to explain or shall I?” Rhys addressed him and Azriel just looked at him flatly.

“You gave the orders, High Lord.”

If Azriel had been in a better mood, he would have smirked. But right now, he just wanted this whole conversation to be over so he could check on Sky. The thought of her made his chest ache. He longed to see her, to hold her, to make sure she's alright. But he knew that Cassian and Rhys wouldn’t let him go without an explanation.

“Azriel and I…had a disagreement about Elain.” Azriel just stared at Rhys blankly. Seriously, that was the best Rhys could come up with? That’s what he wanted to go with?!

"A disagreement?" Cassian asked, brows raised. "What kind of disagreement? A 'we came to an agreement' kind of disagreement, or a 'we punched each other in the face' disagreement?"

“A ‘Rhys sticks his nose into things that are none of his business’ disagreement,” Azriel gave back drily.

“Excuse me, you were going to kiss ELain while her mate was under the same roof two years ago. Did you ever even consider the political ramifications of that?” Rhys snapped. “For gods sake, Azriel!”

Azriel's jaw clenched at Rhys's words, his temper flaring even as he tried to maintain a neutral expression. "You think I didn't consider the consequences? Of course, I did," he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "But feelings aren't logical, Rhys. We don't choose who we fall for, and it's not as simple as calculating political ramifications."

“I told Azriel to keep away from Elain. She fell for Lucien. He’s still moping about it and giving me the fault,” Rhys said flatly. “Out of pure interest, how much longer do you want to keep up with that, Az?”

Azriel couldn’t help the laugh that burst out od his mouth at that.

“You didn’t just fucking tell me to keep away from her. You told me and I quote ‘If you need to fuck somebody go to a pleasure hall and pay for it’,” Azriel repeated viciously.

"And I stand by that," Rhys snapped. "The last thing we need is for you to pine over someone who has made it clear where she stands. Elain has her mate, and she doesn't return your feelings. She’s married for gods’ sake!”

“Whoa!” Cassian cut them off. “What the fuck, Rhys?!”

"What?" Rhys demanded, glaring at Cassian.

Cassian gave him an incredulous look. "You told Azriel to go to a pleasure hall? Seriously?"

"I was trying to be helpful," Rhys said, his jaw clenching.

"Helpful?" Cassian asked incrediously. "Helpful would have been to be a little more understanding towards your brother's feelings. He does have them, you know,” Cassian said sarcastically.

"I know that," Rhys snapped. "But he needs to move on. It's not healthy to keep pining after someone who doesn't return his feelings."

“Where was this opinion for the 500 years of me pining after Mor?” Azriel snapped.

Rhys's expression darkened. "Don't do that, Azriel. Don't bring Mor into this. She's not relevant to this discussion."

”Not relevant?” Azriel gave back with a laugh. “I think she’s very relevant. You don’t trust me to act like an adult about my feelings. You ordered me to behave like I am some kind of rabid dog. More than once, more than twice. Constantly. Like I would ever do anything to put Mor and Emerie’s relationship into jeopardy. Don’t worry, High Lord. I’ll behave. I’ll leave Mor and Elain alone. .”

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, his frustration clear. "This is not about Mor, Azriel. This is about keeping the peace within our Inner Circle. Elain has her own life and her own happiness to think about. Interfering could only bring pain, not just for you, but for everyone involved. That’s why I ordered you to keep your distance. Not because I don’t trust your feelings or your actions, but because sometimes even the best intentions can have unintended consequences."

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Don't give me any of your high and mighty bullshit, Rhysand. You don’t think I am good enough for Mor, and you certainly don't think I am good enough for Elain. But don’t worry, I'll keep my distance, as ordered. I wouldn't want to risk upsetting your perfect little court or ruining your plans for peace. Just tell me who else is off limits, so I know who else I'm not good enough for. Maybe Gwyn? Because remember, ‘don’t you dare to pressure her’?"

Rhys sighed, his gaze softening slightly. "Azriel, it's not about who you're 'good enough' for and who you aren't. It's about respecting people's choices and boundaries. Elain has made her choice in Lucien, and I just want to protect her and the peace we've worked so hard to maintain. And no, nobody else is off limits. You're free to…'seek your entertainment' as you please."

His entertainment.

Right.

Azriel snorted, the sound full of derision. “It warms my heart that you give me that permission,” Azriel said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Rhys rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by Azriel's reaction. "I'm not trying to 'give you permission,' Azriel," he said firmly. "I'm just trying to make sure you understand why I'm asking you to behave. I care about you and our inner circle. You're my brother, but I also care about Elain and her happiness. I don't want to see anyone get hurt."

“Have I done anything, anything at all that put her happiness in jeopardy?” Azriel asked, his voices harsh. “I kept away as you ordered. I fucking saved Lucien’s life, so she could be happy.”

"You haven't done anything wrong," Rhys acknowledged, his tone softening. "You've been a better friend to Elain than anyone could have asked. You saved Luicen because you are a good person, not just for Elain's sake. But I still think it’s best if you keep your distance. Not just for her, but for yourself too. Dwelling on feelings that can’t be returned will only bring you pain."

“For cauldron’s sake, Rhys,” Cassian said with a sigh.

Rhys turned his attention to him, the exasperation clear in his eyes. "What, Cassian?" he asked, his tone weary.

Cassian rubbed a hand over his jaw, shaking his head. "You’re so hell bent on keeping the peace you forget that the people in your court have feelings too," he said. "Azriel isn’t some emotionless soldier doing your bidding. He has feelings and desires, just like everyone else. And sometimes it’s not as simple as just moving on."

"I know that," Rhys said, running a hand through his hair. "But sometimes we have to put our own feelings aside for the greater good. As a High Lord, I have to think about the impact my actions could have on others. I'm not trying to shut down Azriel's feelings. I'm just trying to protect him from potential pain.”

“Yeah you did a shitty job at that,” Cassian said drily. “You could have told Mor hundred of years ago to have a conversation with him. You didn’t. But Azriel is supposed to tread carefully not to make her or Emerie uncomfortable. Azriel is supposed to behave?”

Rhys's eyes flashed in anger. "I know I've made mistakes, Cassian. I should have handled things differently with Mor and Azriel. But I can't change the past. All I can do is try to make the best decisions for everyone involved right now."

“You don’t even fucking realise how much of a self important hypocritical asshole you are, do you?” Azriel asked flatly. “It’s okay for you to pursue an engaged female that’s engaged to another High Lord, damn the consequences. But the rest of us…we are told to behave.”

Rhys bristled at Azriel’s words, his own temper threatening to flare. "That's different, Azriel," he said, his voice sharp. "That’s different and you know it. You would understand if you had a…” he hesitated.

"If I had a what?" Azriel prompted sharply.

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh, his fingers clenching around his mug. "A mate."

“Rhys,” Cassian said carefully.

"What?" Rhys snapped, his temper still simmering just below the surface. “He doesn’t have a mate, he doesn’t fucking understand it.”

Aaaaaand…. Azriel was done.

So fucking done.

“Where are you going?” Rhys demanded as he stood up.

“Home,” Azriel said flatly. “You have my gifts, hand them out. Wish Feyre a Happy Birthday, will you? I’ll be back to do your bidding in about 3 days, High Lord.”

“I highly doubt that your mother will enjoy your impromptu appearance at Rosehall,” Rhys said. Azriel’s hand twitched towards Truthteller. “Let’s just…”

“Rhysand!” Cassian snapped.

“What?” Rhys asked.

“I have talked to my mother once since the Sealing of Velaris was lifted,” Azriel said tightly. “One conversation where she told me that she found a new family and that I should keep away from her. So no, Rhys. I am not going to Rosehall.”

Rhys looked utterly shell-shocked by Azriel’s revelation. "Azriel, I..." he started, but Azriel simply shook his head.

"Don't," he said. "Just don't." He didn’t wnat to talk about it. He never wanted to talk about that. His mother could do whatever she wanted. he would leave her alone, just as requested. But he was not going to talk about it.

“Then I am coming with you. You are not spending Winter Solstice alone brooding at the House of Wind,” Cassian said quickly, standing.

“I am not going to the House of Wind either.” Azriel answered flatly. “I am going home to my house and I won’t be alone either.”

"What do you mean you won't be alone?" Rhys asked sharply.

Azriel just snorted, “My mate will be there,” he said simply. “She’s better company than any of you.”

“Your...your mate?” Rhys repeated, his eyes widening.

Cassian gaped at Azriel. "Your mate? Why didn’t you tell us? Who is she?"

“Why should I tell you? ” Azriel gave back his voice icy. “I may trust you with this court, Rhysand, but I do not trust you with anything I love. Not anymore.”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #it’s a love story

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celuere · 3 days ago

Text

blunt rotation

pairing: arlecchino x fem!reader x mavuika

context: attending a house party on a wednesday night maybe wasn‘t the brightest idea you ever had but the president of the entomology club and the captain of the boxing club will make sure your sacrifice wasn’t in vain.

cw: modern college au, threesome, usage of weed, high sex, reader getting passed around (like a blunt. blunt rotation. see what i did there?), arle is packing a few inches because i wanted her to, unprotected sesbian lex, might be a little ooc because i don‘t hc arle to be an asshole, backshots, cunnilingus (reader receiving and giving), capitalization sucks so i abandoned it. looks nicer.

word count: 3.8k

art creds: lilly of the valley

lots of yapping until we get to the nasty btw

nsfw utc, mdni!

house parties were a nice thing. especially when you were in college. somebody offering their house to a bunch of young adults to drink to their hearts contents and party until the sun decides to rise behind the horizon once again. usually those parties happened on the weekends where all assignments were long finished and classes didn‘t start again until the coming monday.

and today happened to be weekday. a wednesday, to be precise. only celestia knows why xilonen thought it was a good idea to invite everyone over. and only celestia knows why you still decided to come despite the two unfinished assignments that were due until midnight. maybe it was the fact that your best friend navia was nagging you all day to come along. or maybe it was the fact that arlecchino and mavuika were also attending tonight’s occasion that motivated you to throw on that low cut tanktop and your favorite low rise jeans you were currently wearing. arlecchino was… how do we put it… the crush of at least half the women on campus. including yours. the president of the entomology club was usually pretty stone-faced and normally never attended a party, which made this evening way more worth it. she kept her circle always relatively tight knit, you only ever saw her with columbina -a delicate and beautiful girl majoring in psychology- and rosalyne, the most elegant and graceful woman who probably ever walked this planet. you were pretty well acquainted with her since you both shared a professor in criminological research. men tended to usually avoid them for whatever reason, perhaps because bina has a really unsettling air around her and arle leans with her trained frame and choice of clothing more to the masculine side (or maybe it‘s just the resting bitch face she always wears. or the tattooed forearms. or the piercings. or-) okay enough salivating.

„[name]! I almost thought i‘d have to drag you out of the pits of your dorm again.“, tonight‘s host, xilonen, swung her arm around your neck the moment you stepped over the threshold of her already packed house. music busting from the living room throughout the halls as she dragged you along with her past the other attendees. some of them already drunk and high, some of them were shoving each others tongue down their throats and others were playing all kinds of drinking games. besides the music, xilonen‘s parties were always your favorite to attend. any arrogant douchebags were thrown out of the door immediately by her. that being said, most of the present people here were women.

„yeah… navia managed to change my mind last minute… you really owe me something for the two assignments i will miss in mr. neuvillette‘s class.“, you scrunched your nose when the sweet scent of weed hit your nostrils, „i thought you didn’t want any drugs on your parties ever since the cops showed up a few months back?“, entering the kitchen to get you something to drink. you both ignored alhaitham and kaveh bickering and nagging each other at the kitchen island.

„about that… kazuha and tighnari- hold on, do you want your usual mixture?“, she gestured with her manicured fingers over the whole assortment of alcoholic beverages and other drinks.

„oh uh- i‘ll just take my fire water with the fonta, thank you.“, watching xilonen grab a glass before looking for the bottle of snezhnayan liquor, she began speaking again.

„right, so… kazuha and tighnari got their hands on a good deal last week soooo… we thought it would be a good idea toooooo…“,

„to get wrecked on a wednesday night?“, you couldn’t help but watch her hands swiftly throwing everything into the shaker, the blonde haired woman didn‘t even have to look at her hands to know what she was doing.

„exactly. and since mavuika was in the mood for a „little get-together“�� it turned out quite fun, don‘t you think so?“, you could only make out the sounds of someone hurling up their guts, followed by kuki shinobu‘s angry yelling. that was probably itto. as usual.

„indeed. very fun, xilonen.“, a sigh escaped your lips as you took your finished drink from her hand, bringing it to your red-painted lips for a first sip as your friend guided you back out into hallway where itto was already kneeling on the floor with an angry kuki berating him as he wiped the floor clean of his lunch.

„that guy… will probably never learn it. anyways, [name] it still nice to have you here but i have to tend to mualani now before she attempts to drown in my pool again… you know were the basement is if you‘re looking for mavuika.“, she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before making her way outside.

right, mavuika. it‘s been a while since she attended a party so you were looking forward to meeting your friend again. since her major specialized in classical archaeology and ancient history, the woman knew basically everything about the old teyvat which came at the price of being barely available in her free time. she was either studying or boxing her stress away in the corresponding club of the college. saying you weren‘t sneaking a glance at her toned muscles whenever she showed a bit of skin was everything but not a lie.

but as you made your way down to xilonen’s basement, you noticed that you still haven‘t spotted the white haired woman you were so desperately looking forward to.

that worry was quickly washed away when you opened the door to the main hangout room that was neatly hidden away behind a bunch of xilo‘s old music equipment.

„oh [name]! i was wondering when you‘d arrive! navia already said you were coming, but none of us knew when…“, standing up from one of the various sofas and beanbags that scattered around a large table in the middle to greet you with a warm hug.

„greetings.“, arlecchino simply nodded in your direction before bringing her glasses to her lips… is she drinking wine? but seeing her outside the campus… in a turtleneck… with shoved up sleeves… was certainly a sight you didn‘t know you needed. you almost forgot to hug mavuika back.

„hello, you two… are you the only ones down here….?“, once released from mavuika‘s arms, you allowed yourself to take a seat next to the entomology student, her perfume immediately mingling with your own.

„certainly… rosa didn‘t want to come, columbina is somewhere upstairs probably playing one of these childish party games.“

„and the rest must be in the garden since xilo decided to uncover her pool again. we weren‘t really keen on joining so decided to just stay down here on our own. turns out arle can name every single spider in this room by just taking a look at it.“, a hearty laugh escaped mavuika‘s lips while arle looked as unmoved as ever.

„if i fail to identify something as simple as a house spider, you might as well throw me out of my program.“, rolling her crimson eyes at the stupid smile the red haired woman was giving her, arlecchino‘s eyes landed on you, giving your cleavage a short glance before finding your eyes again. that was exactly why you wore this specific top tonight.

„you share a few criminology classes with rosa, right?“, not breaking eye contact as her hand sneaked into the pocket of her pants to look for something.

did rosalyne tell her about you? oh, you‘ll make sure to help her pass the coming exams. what a godsend this woman was.

„o-oh yeah, we do… she is a really nice person to be around. i would probably bore myself to death in monsieur neuvillette‘s lectures without her…“, you managed a slightly nervous laugh, goodness you were probably sounding ridiculous to her. you planned your first proper conversation with her to be a little different. a little bit less awkward.

but much to your surprise, a slight smile tugged on arle‘s lips when her hand found what is was looking for in her pocket and she pulled out a packet of cigarettes. she actually didn‘t look like the type to smoke at all.

„is she now? my, rosa told me that you were quite the smart head but cute wasn‘t in any of her mentions…“, fishing out what you identified as a joint, mavuika let out a small gasp.

cute? smart head? the joints???

„you didn’t forget them! i almost thought i would be forced to smoke the stuff that kazuha and tighnari brought!“, the woman was almost beaming with happiness as arle placed the pack on the table in the middle.

they met up down here to smoke their own weed in peace?

„if i want to get high, i‘d at least do it with the good stuff and not whatever these two bought off a random dealer on the streets.“, almost scoffing, the white haired woman put the joint between her teeth before lighting it up, mavuika doing the same after grabbing one from the packet of the table.

and there you were sat. between two of your desired women. in the basement of your friend. alone. while they were getting stoned.

arlecchino was the first to exhale the smoke from her lungs, the scent of the weed slowly taking over the room, „hah… what about you?“, she gestured with her head to the table, implying you should also have a taste of salvation in form of marijuana.

„you’re at the wrong address with her. she never touched that stuff as far as i know, a good girl that always declined, didn‘t you?“, she wasn‘t being judgemental at all, mavuika never was. but she was right. alcohol? yes. weed? hm, rather not. but if arlecchino herself was already offering… and it was just the three of you…

„i mean… there is a first time for everything, right?“, winking at the redhead, you bend over to grab a blunt for yourself, offering her a good view on your exposed chest which she certainly didn‘t mind.

before you were about to reach for one, arle tapped your shoulder, „ah ah. before you end up not liking it, have a taste of mine first. then you can have your own.“, putting the already lit blunt into your hand as you leaned back.

„right… sounds reasonable… is it just like smoking a cigarette…?“, you asked as you inspected it between your index and middle finger.

„kind off. in my opinion, the smoke is a bit heavier so you have to be a little more slower and careful when inhaling. but don’t take in too much or else you‘ll start coughing. stop when your lungs tell you to.“, as demonstration, mavuika put the the blunt to her lips before you saw her chest slowly starting to rise. then after a few seconds she let the smoke carefully exit through her nose and mouth. you ignored the way it made your abdomen tighten.

„now it‘s your turn, sweetie.“

„a-alright…“, now you brought up the joint to your own lips and just like they told you to, slowly started to inhale. it was definitely different than smoking a cigarette. the taste reminded you off a good herbal tea, but slightly too sweet for your liking. but sadly your throat didn‘t like the itching sensation, causing you start coughing it out.

„dear me… you shouldn‘t really inhale it like it was normal air. let me show you.“, arlecchino‘s inked hand swiftly closed around yours, bringing it up her face.

„oh that method? in front of my very eyes? how bold of you to steal a kiss from [name] like that.“, if you didn’t know any better, you‘d say mavuika was jealous right now.

kiss?!?!?

„hmpf. if she doesn’t mind it, why not? would you, doll?“, gently cupping your chin to make you look up at her, Arle already started to inhale as she waited for your answer.

a technical kiss from her? right here? in front of mavuika? it couldn’t get any better than this.

„no… no i wouldn’t mind at all…“, and arle quickly closed the remaining gap between you, her tongue gently licking over your lips which you opened in order for her to exchange the smoke between and quite frankly. it was the hottest thing that ever happened to you. she was slow and careful with it too, thumb brushing soothingly over your cheek when she pushes her tongue into your mouth. wow. this was a little bit more than just „helping“. being you, incredibly turned on, you welcomed her tongue by nudging hers with your own, causing her to start moving her lips against yours. the smoke has already passed through your nose by that point.

it was only when mavuika loudly cleared her throat, that you pulled away from each others faces, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. and fuck, you wanted more.

„are you done making out in front of me? or can i join in on the fun at least?“

„why, of course. you wouldn‘t mind that, right? also letting her have a taste of those sweet lips…“, arle cooed as she bit down on her lower lip as mavuika already rounded the table and sat down next to you. caging you between her and the entomology student before you.

„i-i… no… why should i ever decline…“, it was just now when you noticed the bulge that formed beneath her belt. good fucking hell.

you lowkey felt like a bunny being preyed at by two hungry wolfs with the way arle shoved you back against mavuikas chest and got to work on opening up your pants. or the redhead shoving your tanktop over your braless boobs.

„fuck, look at those pretty tits…“, maybe it was just effect of the weed but you were a literal waterfall by the time your soaked slip was pulled aside.

„and? how is the situation down there?“, mavuika placed a soft kiss behind your ear as she took in your boob into her hand, tugging slightly at your hardened nipple and a forcing a whimper to slip past your lips.

„soaked. i don’t even think i have to prepare her.“, her tattooed fingers gliding over slickness, your clit already aching but she left the sensitive bundle of nerves out on purpose when she pulled her hand back that was now covered in your juices.

„don‘t look at me like that. i‘ll give you something better than my fingers, sweetheart.“, inked hands wandering over to the belt of her black pants before mavuika clicked her tongue, earning an irritated look in response to her interruption.

„save it for last… what did she do to already deserve it? let‘s make her work for it…“, the smile was evident in her voice as you felt her fingers spread your outer lips apart, „have a taste first, won‘t you?“.

was it the weed? were you starting to hallucinate? when did a harmless blunt turn into you getting passed around? but you didn‘t complain. had no reason to push arlecchino away when the woman bent down until her face was on the same height as your drenched cunt that was spread open by mavuikas fingers.

„what a brilliant idea that is. keep her pussy open like that.“, she barely finished her sentence when her tongue dived into your aching hole, lapping up the juices on your folds, a groan being swallowed up by your soft flesh at the taste of you. you, on the other side were quite literally melting into mavuikas arms, moaning and whimpering soft pleas under your breath as your hand found home in between the soft strands of arlecchino‘s bun. you almost didn’t notice how she made an effort to pepper gentle kisses all over your neck and shoulder, hand still taking care of your pretty tits, nipples already perked up.

„such a good girl… taking us both so well… continue like this and we‘ll make sure to reward you accordingly. right, arle?“

„mhm…“, she was seemingly too busy with eating the living daylights out of you

it was too much. arlecchino treating your cunt like her last meal, one leg thrown over her shoulder and her tongue fucking you along to mavuika whispering all these sweet praises right into your ear… is this what heaven truly looks like?

what sent you truly over the edge was mavuikas middle finger tending to your aching clit, applying gentle pressure to it while moving her digit in slow, careful circles around, „let me help you out there. does that feel good, yeah? surely look like it does.“, the only answer you were capable of was a nod of your head followed by a moan ripping through the tense air.

„what a cutie… come here…“, releasing your tit to grab a hold of your chin, her lips closed up with yours. the bittersweet taste of the grass still lingered on her tongue. maybe that was all it took for you fall apart over arle‘s mouth, squeezing her head between your thighs when your orgasm forced your legs together. sadly your sweet moans were swallowed up right by mavuika‘s mouth.

but the white haired student took her sweet time, allowing you to suffocate her as she was too busy swallowing your sweet cum up that spilled right over tongue as her hands gently stroked over your thighs.

„mh…“, she slowly rose back up, obviously licking her lips clean of any remains of you, „truly an amazing appetizer… i think you deserved a little more than my tongue.“, eyeing down your pathetic state, she did not hesitate to pull you up against her, away from mavuika‘s soft lips and plunging her own right back down at yours. wow. you did taste quite good.

„usually you don‘t interrupt two kissing people. but well… if you think she is worthy of the real deal.“, some rustling noises were to be heard behind you followed right after, „you can flip her now.“, but arlecchino didn‘t bother to stop kissing your lips stupid, „now.“

„tch. you‘re annoying sometimes, you know?“, gentle hands turning you around to face the redhead, your cheeks flushed in an ever brighter color if that was even possible. you did not expect to stare right at the bare pussy of your friend and suddenly you were only mere centimeters away from it after arles pushed you right down. of course with your nicely perched up for her to plunge her cock into.

„stay like that, doll. makes it easier for me to fuck you.“, oh god this woman was fast with freeing her raging boner and pressing her tip against your slit. and she wasn‘t small. at all.

but she didn‘t enter you yet. instead she bent over to the table to grab another two blunts and handing one to mavuika, „that stuff was expensive, you better be grateful.“

„oh will forever in your debt ms. snezhevna.“, they exchanged lighters with each other and soon the sweet smoke started to surround your nose again.

„can i also have a-“

„if you will give us a good performance, then you can have one.“, pressing your head into mavuika‘s warmth from behind, arle pushed the first inch of her inside you. and god she was big. definitely not your first but lord it felt like she was stretching you out for the very first time in your life with each centimeter she added into your clenching pussy. and not wanting to disappoint the boxing champion you acted like a good girl and licked her folds up before sucking her clit in your mouth.

„f-fuck you‘re tight…“

„hah… but her mouth knows what to do…“, inhaling from her joint as her hand gently tucked your messy hair away from your face, mavuika leaned her head back to exhale along with a soft moan of her escaping with the smoke.

once completely buried inside of you, arlecchino spared no time to plow into you, quickly finding out where and how to hit that sensitive spot inside of you. she was skilled like that. but you were loosing your fucking mind, barely able to concentrate on mavuika‘s pleasure with how deep she reached inside of you with each thrust of her hips back into yours. hands grabbing a hold of your ass to easier glide you on and off her dick and her groans. she wasn‘t moanig out your name like mavuika was. she was full on groaning at how tightly your walls gripped her cock.

„i-i might be coming sooner than i‘d like if you keep on squeezing me to death, doll… ugh…“, only pushing your face further between mavuika‘s trained legs with how harsh her thrusts became. or rather more desperate.

sadly you couldn‘t look up to see the utter pleasure etched into the redhair‘s facial features, joint hanging between her lips as her hips practically dragged themselves up and down over your face.

if things were going after arle, she would have already pulled your head back out from her so she could drown herself in those moans that werde muffled by mavuika, she will definitely come back to you sometime later. in private. oh for how long she was aching for this moment, to get closer to you. she was almost jealous at rosalyne about your shared subjects, how she gets sit next and talk to you almost every day. and even now she was even forced to share you. Peruere didn‘t like this. at all.

Mavuika and you were the first to come, her juices spilling right into you mouth which you greedily slurped up as if you were on the brink of dehydration, she tasted so fucking good. it was almost addicting. you didn’t have to wait for arlecchino any longer either, her warm cum painting your insides in a beautiful white shade as the woman probably cursed out every single word under the sun while you took her cum all in.

„such a good fuckin‘ girl… i hope you dont mind that I allowed myself to come inside.“, you whimpered softly at the loss of her dick inside you.

„n-no… hah… i-i don‘t mind… oh fuck…“, resting your head on your friend‘s abs as your lower half got let down, you closed your eyes when you felt mavuika gently stroking your hair.

„r-rest now, we‘ll make sure to clean you up…“

you should definitely grab a blunt with the two of them some other time.

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moonchildstyles · 1 day ago

Text

pomegranate

pomegrante part one: harry and y/n are roommates and she doesn't want him to feel lonely

wordcount: 14.2k+

—————

Harry's brows knitted together as he lifted his eyes from the avocado he was slicing, eyes flitting to the television from where he stood at his kitchen island. Truthfully, he didn't know why he kept watching this show when he never agreed with any of the contestants' decisions. More often than not, he came away frustrated when he watched these singles fumble budding relationships in favor of the near-mythical 'something better' they were convinced was out there. He couldn't understand why they prioritized sex with someone they didn't even know existed yet over someone right in front of them, that was more than enough.

Shaking his head when he saw another shirtless, spray-tanned man with a head of permed curls on the top of his head pull a beautiful girl to the side for a "chat", Harry directed his attention back to the strokes of the knife under his hand. His sushi bake would be out of the oven soon and he needed to get all of his fix-ins in order before the timer ran out.

Just as he stowed away his slices of avocado and started on the edamame pods he planned on salting and marinating, the humming of the garage door rolling up rumbled through the house. A slight smile touched at his cheeks, already anticipating the clicking of heels he would no doubt hear before the door leading from the garage to the kitchen would be swung open with a huff.

(Y/N) had been on a date tonight, and there was no way it had gone well if she was already home. Only an hour away didn't make for a particularly fun night.

As expected, only moments after the garage had been closed and he heard the slam of her car door, (Y/N) trudged in from the extension with a tired expression on her face.

"Hey, H," she sighed, already bending over to take her shoes off despite barely making it onto the tile of the kitchen floor.

"Hi, (Y/N)," he greeted, turning around with his avocado slices left behind, "Bad night?"

He didn't have to see her face to know she was rolling her eyes.

"The worst." She stood up to her full height—sans high heels, of course—with a flick of her hair. "I should've just stayed home with you. I wouldn't have been bored to near tears with you."

For a second, Harry felt his heart sitting in his throat. Did she have any idea what it did to him when she talked like that—joked like that? Years into this friendship with no shortage of her sweetened comments, he doubted she did. He just hoped that she didn't notice his cheeks reddening and the way his hands suddenly didn't know what to do.

"'M sorry," he murmured, "Was he nice at least?"

(Y/N) shrugged, the silk straps of her top shifting over her smooth shoulders. "Nice enough—he just likes talking about himself, I think."

Harry's lips thinned at her comment. He couldn't imagine being anything but the best listener for (Y/N); who wouldn't want to hear everything that was going on in her head and the piles of stories, however mundane, she could share?

"Well, unless you're too tired, we could watch our show? Dinner will be ready soon if y'were still hungry."

It was the way she seemingly inflated, light in her eyes with her hands brought to her chest all to match the bubbly smile on her lips, that had his heart springing in his chest.

"You'd share your dinner with me?"

You can have everything of mine, as long as you keep looking at me like that.

A mild smile curled his lips in hopes of concealing everything bubbling underneath his skin. "Of course. 'S a salmon sushi bake, if that sounds any good to you."

"That sounds so good, H. You're the best, thank you."

Her smile was dazzling when she turned it on him. Thank god he had set his knife down, or he would have lost a couple of fingers at this point.

This time, he couldn't shake the smile that bloomed over his lips, however sheepish it was. "Of course—um, thank you."

A peal of laughter left her lips as she traipsed out of the kitchen, heels in hand. "You're so sweet. I'm gonna change, but I'll be right back!"

As if in a swirl of cherry blossoms and white lace, (Y/N) was gone. Along with her went the sparks that flooded his bloodstream and tremors in his fingers.

God, he'd have thought knowing her since university days he would be used to her at this point. It was as if becoming roommates those couple of months ago did the opposite of acclimating him to her presence. He wasn't sure there was anything about her—the way she looked, the way she acted, the way she talked—that didn't hold even a bit of magic in his eyes.

The sound of the oven timer going off brought Harry back to real life. Now that he was planning on sharing this dinner with (Y/N), he wanted to ensure everything was perfect. One of his favorite things about living with her was being able to take care of her through simple things like cooking dinner or making coffee in the morning. Every night she went out on a date or took a night off to go out for a girls night, he was there to get the rundown of her time away and feed her toast and water to lessen the blow of the morning hangover as much as he could. He was there for any and everything—even if he wasn't necessarily in the mood to hear about her feelings for another. He would rather be on her side even if she was on someone else's arm, than not be there at all.

All while (Y/N) was readying herself for a night in with Harry, he was focusing on his knife strokes and mixing the different sauces to be drizzled over the bake. By the time she emerged with a set of pajamas on and her hair twisted out of her face, Harry had crafted the perfect dinner to be shared over an episode of their tropic reality dating show.

He didn't wait for her before he was putting together her plate, dressed the way he knew she liked, sheets of nori off to the side along with a pair of chopsticks he taught her how to use years ago.

"There's extra in the kitchen if y'want more," he murmured as he passed the plate to her hands, taking the spot on the couch at her side.

"This looks so good, H," she beamed, looking at him with something he liked to think of as affection in her eyes, "Thank you again, really. You're already making my night so much better."

"Good," he swallowed, dropping his eyes to the tip of her nose, "'M glad I could—um—make y'happy."

He could have cringed at the sound of his fumbling words, but that was only cut off when (Y/N) shot him a beaming smile and gave him a hug in the form of wrapping her arm around his own and resting her head on his shoulder for a lingering moment.

"Wait! Wasn't he paired with Amber an episode ago?"

(Y/N)'s bubbled outrage was the perfect cover to the way his heart had landed in his throat. This way, he could concentrate on anything but himself and the reactions he was having over someone who was supposed to be just his friend.

"Yeah," Harry murmured, wrapping a bite of crispy rice and marinated salmon on a sheet of nori, "He pulled Lissa over for a chat at the start of this one."

"Of course, he did," (Y/N) grumbled.

While he would never wish anything but pure joy on her, Harry couldn't help the way his own happiness sprouted in his chest. He would never pass on a night like this.

—————

"Can I lay on you?"

Harry blinked back to earth at the sound of (Y/N)'s voice over the familiar episode of a long ended reality show they'd already watched hundreds of times. Looking to her end of the couch, she was already slouched into the corner cushion, eyes heavy and hair tucked not a mess away from her face.

He didn't think before he nodded his head, uncurling his legs to allow her space to lay her head. She murmured her gratitude in a sleepy voice as she stretched across the cushions to rest her head on his thighs.

It was a familiar move, something that (Y/N) had done many times even prior to their roommate situation coming to fruition. She'd spilled to him more than once that she was a cuddly person—touchy-feely, was the way she put it—taking and loving all of the physical affection she was able to collect. Including from Harry, who always seemed to take the whole thing entirely too seriously. It was cute, she'd said, cute enough she couldn't help but to laugh.

Tonight, she was already heavy-eyed and loose-limbed by the time she settled against his legs. Her hands were tucked under her cheek, a small barrier between his thigh and her cheek though he could still feel every ray of her warmth no matter what.

He did his absolute best to stay relaxed despite the instinct to straighten his spine and tense his muscles at the affectionate way she laid over him. He wanted to be the best pillow he could be for her, and that wouldn't be possible if he resembled a wooden plank more than a fluffed case of feathers.

Harry's win came in the form of a languid sigh that left her lips, (Y/N) practically going boneless against him.

"You're the best, H," she murmured, just barely audible over the club music sounding from the television. "Thank you."

Swallowing, he allowed his eyes to glaze over her form without her own watchful gaze on him. Hearing those words attached to that mouth from this gorgeous girl, was going to make him burst.

"You're welcome," he whispered, urging his eyes to move on from the sliver of her midriff on display from the ruched hem of her top.

As expected, a breathy laugh came from (Y/N). "You can touch me, you know," she said, twisting just enough to look up at him through flared lashes, "You don't have to keep your hands up like that."

He hadn't even realized he froze with his limbs hovering over her, resting away as if there were a barrier holding him back. "Oh," he sounded, blood burning behind his cheeks, "Sorry."

Could he be any more pathetic? Embarrassment surged through his veins. Was there any other way he could make it that much more obvious just how nervous (Y/N) made him?

In a set of cautious movements, his hands floated back down to her form. He gently settled his palm on the cuff of her shoulder while the other rested near her head, where strands of hair brushed the stretch of his fingers.

"It's okay," she said, the smile evident in her voice despite Harry not seeing the curl, "You're so silly, H."

It was the way her voice trailed off, taking on a deeper octave than before, that showed him just how close she was to finding the other side of her eyelids. He instinctively began running his thumb along the ball of her shoulder, a circuit that had him skimming her soft skin with the sleeve of her top pushed out of the way.

There was something about seeing her skin being dented by his touch, a touch that wasn't particularly strong or even rough at all. She wondered if she was able to feel the whorls of his print, the creasing of his knuckle. It was an innocent enough feeling, his hand upon her arm, but he felt his heart beginning to thump. His throat was thick enough he felt his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

This was another facet that only took on a life of its own, the casual intimacy that had been sparked between them now that they shared a home. Laying her head on his shoulder in a passing hug, resting her head on his lap, practically asking him to put his hands on her as she was lulled to sleep. Logically, he was sure this was supposed to get easier as it went, the more it happened the magic was supposed to lessen. But, that just didn't happen.

His heart still thumped heavily. His stomach tightened and pitted and warmed. His... well, other parts of him appreciate the touching too, even if he resented focusing on those parts of himself.

It felt more than wrong to acknowledge his baser interests in her, not when she was such a kind and loving friend to him. If that boundary between them was meant to be crossed, there were plenty of times both during their university days and the years that followed, that gave perfect opportunities for that line to be wiped away and crossed in favor of something new. Instead, they were still just friends—best friends, even.

You're not supposed to get hard over your best friend. Not when she was doing nothing but falling asleep in his lap. Not when she was relaxing in her own home in comfortable pajamas—even if they were comprised of a soft t-shirt and pair of shorts just a touch too small that rolled up at the hem, giving more and more skin for his eyes to feast upon. Without a bra, of course. A fact evident in the way her nipples would peak against the material.

No, he was not supposed to be hard over that. Not to mention the glaring fact that she spent nearly every weekend on a date with someone or going out with the express purpose of having fun and meeting other people.

There was also, of course, the most prominent issue: he's a virgin. Even if he somehow managed to see more than just a friendship in him, he would have no idea how to take care of her. (Y/N) was someone who had experienced enough physical affection that she no doubt knew what she enjoyed and what she didn't; there was little to no appeal to teaching the one you're in bed with how to do the most basic of acts.

So he would keep his distance, even if the rest of his body refused to get on the same page.

"Are you okay?"

(Y/N)'s mumbled voice shook Harry from his thoughts. Blinking back to the real world, she was tipping her head up to look at him with sleepy eyes.

"Hm?" he hummed, aware of the way his hand had gone still on her arm and his bones had grown stiff.

"Do you want me to move or something?" she murmured, "So you can get comfortable? Sorry if I made your leg fall asleep."

Harry's skin warmed to a flushing red. Of course, he would grow restless when she was on his mind. Taking stock of his body, at least he knew he wasn't that hard; any longer in his mind and he may have had a problem.

"'S alright, 'm alright," he rushed out, "Jus' think 'm getting tired. Sorry."

She smiled up at him, her hair haloing around her head in his lap. "It's okay," she laughed, "Do you want to go to bed? We can keep watching tomorrow instead."

That was what he needed at the moment: distance. Some peace and quiet and a moment to get his head on straight. "Let's go to bed," he affirmed, mimicking her soft smile.

Her movements were lethargic as she moved off of his lap. A curling stretch had her raising her arms above her head, the hem of her top lifting just enough to show a sliver of skin above the waistline of her shorts. Harry quickly retracted his eyes, settling his gaze to his feet instead.

Turning to him, with eyes slightly hooded and limbs languid, (Y/N) gave him a smile. "Goodnight, H," she mumbled, "Thanks for making my night better."

Collecting him in her arms, Harry didn't have to think before he was reciprocating her hug. The scent of her perfume twisted around him, stray hairs tickling the tip of his nose. Her words echoed in his head.

He made her night. She made his life.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he crooned, melting into her hug for just a moment longer before unwrapping himself from her hold. "'M happy I could help."

Her smile was sweet as she turned on her socked feet towards her bedroom. "See you in the morning."

He watched as she pushed open her bedroom door, her eyes glanced over her shoulder at him. Her pretty, pretty eyes.

"See you in the morning."

With that, the night ended as she closed her bedroom door behind her.

Though she stayed just where she was on Harry's mind.

—————

Harry wiped his hands clean now that the sink was cleared of all dirty dishes. The clock on the stove detailed the time as eleven thirty-two, a half an hour longer than he meant to stay up tonight. But, he supposed that's what happened when he decided to take a nap instead of cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.

Quiet voices sounded through the living room from the show running on the television though Harry didn't pay it any mind as he swept through the space. (Y/N) was out for a girls night, leaving it Harry's turn to take care of the common spaces to ensure neither of them would have to tidy anything in the morning. Plus, he didn't think it would be very nice of him to leave her stumbling over his pile of shoes when she came home after a night of drinking and crashing on a friend's couch.

He could still see traces of her scattered about the space in the form of stray glitters from her outfit, a pair of loose hair ties left on the table by the door, right next to her usual handbag ransacked with only a few random items left in it from the essentials she pulled from it to take out on the town with her. He hoped she was having a fun night—she deserved it.

After cleaning up and turning off the television and lights, Harry retired to his bedroom upstairs. Turning on some music through his headphones, he started on his nighttime routine. It was definitely less extensive than the one he'd seen (Y/N) do night after night, but there were a few serums and techniques he'd stolen from her—including the lavender room spray he was addicted to misting through his room before laying his head down. It turned his dreams decadently sweet, he thought. (Or it could be because he always fell asleep with (Y/N) on his mind, the lavender scent reminding him of her every night without fail).

But, this time, when he laid his head on his fluffed pillow, delicate music filtering through the space from his bluetooth speaker, Harry wasn't ready to go to bed. He had known the evening nap he took wasn't the smartest idea, leaving his limbs restless and eyes wide open. As soon as he knew (Y/N) was home safe in the morning, Harry planned on running all of the errands he'd pushed off this weekend, and a late wakeup time wasn't going to be the most productive move.

There were only so many things he could think of doing to tire himself out. Scrolling on his phone was a no-go considering how he knew the blue-light would only urge him to stay awake, his book was too riveting to be a useful bedtime story, and going for a run this late wasn't the best option. He just needed to tire himself out.

Fitting his bottom lip between his teeth, Harry figured there was another option.

He wasn't quite in the mood at the moment, he could put himself there he figured. He doubted it would take much work, really.

As if this were a laborious task, Harry kicked his comforter from his hips with a sigh. He reached for his phone on instinct, opening up a familiar application to help color his imagination. Without much ceremony, he pushed his sweats down just enough to fit his hand down his underwear. He would do this quickly, he decided; fast and hard, to put him to sleep sooner rather than later.

It didn't take long to feel himself harden in his grasp, photos and videos of various couples wrapped around one another and those in solo situations fueling his head. His breathing grew heavy in his chest, mouth falling open as a particularly titillating video of a woman with her hands between her legs filled his screen.

With the audio still playing, Harry's head fell back against the pillows. His eyes fell closed, a sigh leaving his lips. Pulling his hand from his length, he brought the appendage to his mouth before spitting against his palm. With his hand now slick, the wet pumps of his fist along his cock now filled the air. His toes curled in his sheets, free hand tightly gripping his phone.

While it wasn't something he wanted to do, it was terribly easy to let his mind wander to the pretty girl that had left him home alone tonight. The fit of her dress had been hard enough to process when he was clear minded, now that was a nearly impossible task.

The dress was new, a silky piece with embroidered flowers and thick straps cuffing her shoulders. It was tight along the bodice, cupping her breasts and curve of her waist before flaring out along her hips. The hem cut off at the mid of her thigh, leaving the length of her legs on display down to the comfortable shoes she chose for the night. (The high heels from the weekend prior had been shoved to the back of her closet for the time being, the blisters on her feet enough to have her avoiding them at the moment).

It was a terrible, horrible, repulsive thought to have about his roommate, but Harry knew that all it would have taken was a bend of her hips and he would have seen the curve of her bottom. If he had been bold enough to look, he was sure he would have caught a glance down the bodice of her dress when she came to him to say goodbye for the night.

His cock twitched at the reminder of her body pressed against him when she hugged him goodbye. If he was a different man and they were in a different situation, he would have grabbed her hips and held her close. He would have found the line of her panties through her dress, felt the curve of her bottom over the silk.

He liked to imagine she would hold him back, that she would lean into the angles and muscles of his body. He could see her tipping her head, leaving him the room to drop his lips over the curve of her neck and shelf of her collarbone.

He liked to imagine her wanting him back. That he would be able to satisfy her and take her expertly, tying her to him as he pushed his hand between her legs—or, god, his head—and brought her to the edge. What he wouldn't give to know what the melody of her voice sounded like when steeped in pleasure.

Harry pumped his hand that much harder along his length, the put of his stomach growing tight like the thick bands of muscles on his thighs. His breathing was harsh, wheezing out against his clenched teeth.

"Fuck," he panted, hips bucking against his hand when he thought of what could have happened had he pushed (Y/N)'s dress up to her middle. Precum dribbled from his tip, streaking down to his shaft and mixing with the slick of his spit.

He was going to cum, he could feel it. His muscles were bunched tight, eyes screwed shut with his own personal pornography projected against his eyelids.

"Harry, are you awa—Oh! Oh my god, bye!"

In a second, Harry snapped from the throes of pleasure just to see the tail-end of (Y/N)'s silken dress flashing out of his doorway. Behind her, his door slammed shut, cutting her words in half.

She wasn't supposed to be home. She was supposed to be spending the night at Rue's house. What was she doing here?

Oh, god—fuck—she's home. (Y/N) came home and saw him jerking himself off to the thought of her. Shit, fuck, shit.

His movements were fumbling and disjointed as he pulled his pants back up and attempted to wipe his hand of the evidence against a dirty t-shirt that should have been in his hamper. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was he thinking? He was so lost in his head, he didn't even hear the door open? Didn't hear her footsteps stomping up the stairs?

Was he supposed to talk to her? Or were they supposed to avoid each other until someone inevitably broke the lease and they never spoke to one another ever again?

The latter option hurt his chest, but the former cast his body in a sweat.

He sat on the edge of his bed, eyes trained on the floor beneath his feet.

Why couldn't he have just gone to sleep? Why did he have to take that nap and leave him thinking he needed to tire himself out? Why did this have to happen?

Did she know he was thinking of her? He wasn't entirely mindful of his words, had he let out a call of her name? How long had she been home before she barged in?

Harry hung his head, shaking his head as he attempted to spool himself back in. If not for the fact that he was concerned about the fact she'd made her way home instead of staying with her friends, he's sure he would have spent the entire night hiding in his home. But, unfortunately, his heart still beat for her and he needed to know that she was okay, at the very least.

Summoning the courage, Harry stood from his seat at the edge of her bed, his hands shaking before curling into fists. They were best friends—she'd seen him with his head hung over the toilet with chunks being hurled from his mouth, with greasy limp hair until he figured out the right products for his strands, the puffy-eyed, snot-nosed sobs he let out when he failed his first mid-term their entry year of university. There were few more embarrassing situations to be found in.

He was telling himself that, anyway.

Steeling himself, Harry moved to push open his door and seek out (Y/N) only to be stopped in his tracks when he ran right into her.

"Harry!" she bubbled, wobbling in her spot as she reached out to grab his arms. She steadied herself with the grip. "Are you okay? Sorry, I didn't know you were there."

It was then that he noticed the slur to her words. Her eyes, ever pretty and with only remnants of mascara remaining, were glassy. More than being startled as she ran into him, she had reached for him to keep her steady on her feet. She smelled of perfume, a dark bar's worth of smoke and cologne, and the sting of alcohol.

"'M alright," he mumbled, reaching for her arm across his chest as he scrutinized "Are you?"

"Mhm," she hummed, blinking up at him, "Are you?"

A small smile touched the corner of his mouth. She almost made it easy for him to forget what had happened just moments earlier. "'M alright," he repeated, "I didn't know y'were coming home tonight."

"Oh yeah. I was supposed to," she sighed as if there was a length of story behind her words, "But, Rue got busy, so Kim said I could stay at hers, but honestly I just wanted to come back to you. I felt bad leaving you to have dinner by yourself, and I missed you so I just had her boyfriend drop me off here."

God, had his blunder even happened? Hearing her say I missed you so flippantly all while clutching his arms and blinking right up at him was enough to bring him to his knees. She wasn't acting at all like she'd just walked in on his private moment.

"Oh," he sounded, finding his words, "I hope I didn't make y'feel like y'needed to come back."

She shook her head before he even finished talking. "No, no, no. I wanted to come home—I wanted to be with you. I wish you'd come out with us sometime, you'd have so much fun."

While Harry was reeling over her words, the sentiments she was sharing so freely, (Y/N) traipsed past him. The ghost of her grip on his arms stuck around in the moments after she left him behind to approach his bed. He turned to face her with his lips rolled between his teeth in an effort to keep anything embarrassing from spilling off his tongue, only to see her slipping off her shoes.

She left them in an unceremonious pile by his bed when she caught him looking. "What?"

"What—um—what are you doing?" He hoped he didn't sound as rude as he did in his head. Truly, he didn't know what she was doing, beginning to shed the night while in his room.

Unabashedly, she looked up at him with a flutter of her lashes. "Can I stay here with you? Like a sleepover?"

His heart stopped in his chest only to leap up to the base of his throat. "A sleepover?"

"Yeah," she sighed, pulling at the hem of her dress, "Is that okay?"

Logically, with how intoxicated she was, it was the safer option to keep her with him tonight. In case anything were to happen, of course.

(There was everything else bubbling in his stomach, too. All the bubbles popping with whispers urging him on to keep her just where she was amongst all of his things, where he can take care of her.)

"Y'can stay," he murmured, offering a soft smile as he gazed at her. "Do y'want me to grab some clothes for you?"

"Sure," she chirped, already blindly dealing with her hair, "Thank you, Harry."

He gave her another smile before he left towards her bedroom a floor below. Somehow, within the confines of his home, fresh air entered his lungs and cleared his middled head. Being around her right now was making Harry feel just as drunk as she actually was.

Maybe she hadn't seen what he was doing when she walked in? While he couldn't imagine he wasn't being completely obvious with his hand at his groin and head thrown back, she may have been too drunk to realize what he was doing. Otherwise, Harry just couldn't fathom how he was being so normal afterwards—asking if she could have a sleepover in his room, even.

Pulling out a set of pajamas from the stack of laundry on the end of her bed, Harry tried not to dwell as he started back up the stairs to his bedroom. If she didn't want to talk about it, neither would he. (If he had any luck on his side, she might not even remember what she may or may not have seen. The memory might be one of the few that went fuzzy for her).

Heading back into his bedroom, (Y/N) was sat crossed legged on his bed, eyes decidedly much heavier than when he had left her. Her hair was now tied up and out of the way of her face, shoes and socks in a messy pile on his floor. She perked up when he entered, eyes brightening though still glassy and tired.

"You're back! You were gone for so long, I was scared you forgot I was home."

Harry could only laugh at her declaration. How could he ever forget about her, let alone when she was asking to spend the night in his bed?

"Couldn't forget about you," he admitted, his smile soft as he dropped his eyes from hers, "I hope these are alright to sleep in."

He passed off the sleep clothes he picked for her, watching as she unfurled the pieces without even looking at them. "They're perfect, H. Thank you so much."

Standing up from her spot on his bed, she didn't hesitate before wrapping him in a hug. Harry stood motionless for a brief moment, attempting to process the affection. All while clad in the tiny dress he had just been fantasizing about barely twenty minutes prior, the full of her soft body was pressed against his.

Would he ever not react like a teenager with a crush when it came to her? How much longer would he feel with the racing heart and sweaty palms until his instincts caught up with the reality of her disinterest in him in that way?

Reciprocating her hold, Harry hugged (Y/N) to his chest. She all but melted into him, the effect of the alcohol in her system weighing her down (though he would like to imagine it was because she liked holding him as much as he did her). He was sure she could feel the rapid beat of his heart under her cheek—hopefully a distraction from the touch of his unsure hands hovering across her back.

"You're so warm," she mumbled against the material of his shirt, the words slurred and nearly unintelligible. "You should've come out with me tonight; I forgot my jacket but I would have at least had you."

Harry's fingers tensed over her back. The pumps of his heart throbbed down to his fingertips, his lashes fluttering in a blink. She had to stop talking like that; he was already well into losing his mind over her, there was no need to keep piling it on.

"Sorry," he breathed, the word feeling lame as it fell from his tongue.

He made no move to recoil from her until she did, making the first move to unwrap her arms from around his middle. His eyes followed her as she focused then on trudging to his bathroom and dressing for the night. She tossed a noncommittal promise to be right back over her shoulder before disappearing behind his bathroom door.

Left alone, Harry sat on the edge of his bed. He looked at the floor to where her mess of discarded accessories lay in a rumpled pile, a visible cue of her presence.

She'd never asked to stay in his bedroom like this before. Even on other nights where she clamored home with alcohol in her blood, she'd never stumbled into his room with the intention of having a "sleepover" with him.

But, of course, the one night she does, is when she walks in on him with his hand down his pants.

The reminder of the moment had a heavy sigh heaving his chest. He wished he was just as drunk as (Y/N), that way he had a chance of possibly forgetting the incident in the morning. Instead, he had a feeling he was going to be dwelling on it for at least another week, if not more. On the plus side, it didn't appear she had any intention of talking to him about it.

In a clumsy string of movements, (Y/N) made her entrance back into his bedroom with a strong swing of the door. Her clothing was rumpled as she padded across the floor on bare feet. She only barely acknowledged him before she threw herself onto his bed.

Harry let out a breathy laugh. "Do y'want anything to drink or eat before y'fall asleep?"

"No," she moaned, wriggling her way into his bedding. "Tired."

"Do y'need to take off your makeup?" he pressed, standing to help her adjust the layers of sheets and comforter over her form.

"I already did," she countered, tugging the bedding up to her chin as she gazed up at him. Truthfully, he couldn't tell if she really did remove her makeup given the shadows still around her eyes, but if that's the story she was going with, he wasn't arguing.

"Alright," he sighed, knotting his hands together as he stood beside his bed as if it wasn't his own, "Y'really want to have a sleepover tonight?"

(Y/N) didn't even blink before she was nodding her head. "Yeah. Your bed is bigger than mine."

Harry hummed, now seeing the root of her new fascination with spending the night with him. "And y'want me to stay with you?" he asked, wanting to ensure they were both on the same page.

"Duh," she laughed, turning until she was comfortable with her head on the pillow he'd just been laying against. "Lay down, we're supposed to talk before we fall asleep like a real sleepover."

While he found humor in the whole situation, his hands still held a slight tremor as he turned down his side—his side—of the bed.

Was this how he was supposed to do this? How did one share a bed? Other than true sleepovers as a kid, where he and friends would squeeze into beds too small after staying up way too late, there was never a time he'd shared a bed with another. Especially not so with someone he held... extra feelings for. Feelings that he hadn't quite shaken if the way his briefs were just a touch tighter than they should be was anything to go by.

Working on autopilot, Harry slid into bed. He could feel the dip in the mattress from (Y/N)'s body, a certain warmth spreading across his sheets he'd never experienced before. The scent of her night still clung to her, though now the fragrance of fresh sheets and Harry's own cologne swirled between them. Sleepy blinks were offered to him as he stiffly laid among his bedding, (Y/N)'s tired eyes trained on him.

He swallowed, feeling the weight of her attention on him. "What are y'th—"

His line of questioning was cut off when (Y/N) sloppily rolled towards him, lying flush against the line of his body. She molded herself to him with a sigh, her head snuggled into the cove underneath his chin.

"What did you do tonight?" were her mumbled words, slurred and fuzzy against his neck.

Harry, stunned for the moment, laid still. Those moments with her head laying on his lap or a press of their shoulders together could do nothing to prepare him for this. (Y/N)'s slight shuffle against him was enough to knock him back to earth, his limbs carefully laying around her in a delicate hold.

"Um, what?" Harry asked, mind having been wiped of the last handful of minutes.

"What did you do while I was gone?"

"Oh," he sounded, aware of the way his arm fell across the curve of her waist and smooth planes of her back he could feel through her top, "Nothing really; jus' took a nap and cleaned the kitchen. Nothing exciting—not like you, it sounds like."

(Y/N) hummed from her hiding place in his neck. "Nothing exciting at all?" she sang, a teasing lilt to her drunken voice.

Harry swallowed. She wasn't hinting at anything in particular, right?

"I mean, I started a new book before I took m'nap," he hedged, eyes stuck on the concert poster he had pasted to his wall. "But that's really it."

She shifted in his hold, pulling out of his arms just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were still swimming and glossy, but she didn't shy away from his gaze. There was a small tick at the corner of her lips.

"Are we not going to talk about it? Because we don't have to, I just want to know."

His muscles wound tight as he listened to her. She kept her voice decidedly quiet, as if there was anyone else around that could overhear.

Were they going to talk about it? That wasn't really a decision Harry wanted to make, but he couldn't turn away the option now that it was served up to him.

"Um," he fumbled, his mouth lagging behind his racing mind, "I—Uh—I... 'M sorry."

Canting her head, (Y/N) blinked at him. "Sorry?"

His throat bobbed, tongue suddenly too thick in his mouth. "'M sorry, I... I didn't know y'were coming home, I wouldn't have... you know. I didn't mean for you to see or... hear."

Please god, he hoped she hadn't heard a thing—that he said or thought.

(Y/N)'s features cracked into a smile when she finally processed what he'd said. It only took a moment for that smile to bloom into a peal of laughter.

"Harry, it's not that serious," she got out in-between giggles, "You didn't do anything wrong—it's not like I don't think you do that kind of stuff. I just didn't know if we were going to ignore that I walked in or if we were going to laugh about it. You're not supposed to be sorry for anything; I should have knocked, anyway."

Harry's mouth went dry. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction this was. Was this only because of the vodka in her system? Or was she really this comfortable with the events of the evening? If it were the other way around, Harry didn't think he would be able to speak let alone laugh at the situation for at least a whole week.

(Though that could be entirely attributed to the fact that he had that thorny crush on her stuck to the chambers of his heart).

The lump in his throat cracked and allowed a breathy laugh to come through after a heartbeat. Maybe she was right, it wasn't that serious. It's not like she could have known he was thinking about her. They were both adults, people who were more than able and accustomed to pleasuring their bodies—there was no reason to be weird about it if she wasn't going to be.

"Jus', should have locked m'door at least," he laughed, joining her as he sagged into the mattress.

"Yeah," she pressed, settling against him once more now that the seal was broken between them, "I always lock my door, you're too brave."

He hoped she didn't notice the way his hands pulsed when she so casually brought up her own moments in her bedroom. He wasn't strong enough to broach that subject just yet.

"Maybe," he agreed, "Sorry, anyway. Not the nicest thing to come home to, that's for sure."

"I mean," (Y/N) started, her voice breathy as she sunk into his arms, "It wasn't that bad. More embarrassing for you than anything else, I bet."

The laughter from his chest died down then. His brain caught on her words. "Not that bad?" he parroted, unsure of what or why he was even asking.

"I mean, you're cute, H. You know that," she said oh-so casually. "I feel bad I walked in and scared you, but I can't act like it was the absolute worst moment of my life or something." She spoke with amusement, a touch of laughter carrying out her words as if this was all so easy.

"Oh," Harry started, swallowing around his dry throat, "Y'think 'm cute?"

She rolled into him, tucking herself against him once more. Harry didn't doubt that she was well acquainted with the pounding of his pulse at this point. "Of course I do, you know that. You're, like, the cutest guy I know. I mean," she sighed, voice slurring even more with the dredges of sleep tugging at her words, "you didn't have to stop earlier, if you didn't want to. I could've helped."

Harry's body stopped working in that moment. Time was moving too fast around him while he was seemingly stuck in that moment.

What? Is that a normal thing to say? Is this what happens when you share a bed with someone, even if they were only a friend?

His palms grew clammy. "What do you mean?"

"You know," she yawned, "Just... I know you don't go on dates or bring anyone home or anything, so I could help you if you ever wanted. You're too cute to be by yourself, H."

What the fuck? What was even happening at the moment? Was he delusional? Or dreaming so intensely he couldn't be sure if it was real or not? But he swore, crossing his heart and all, that this was real and completely happening all while (Y/N) was tucked in his arms with her mouth hovering by his throat.

And she was offering to jerk him off sometime. Because he was too cute to do it by himself.

What the fuck?

"(Y/N)?"

Harry received no answer. Her chest pressed against his and receded in even paces, puffs of air fanning across the slope of his neck.

Staring once more at the poster on his wall, Harry didn't feel a single sleepy bone in his body. If he had thought he was restless before, there was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.

—————

Exhaustion shackled his limbs as Harry moved through the kitchen. Just as he figured, there wasn't more than an hour of sleep in his system, his mind running too fast to allow him any kind of relaxation. Not when there was the extra presence in his bed.

By the time the sun cracked through his curtains and (Y/N) had rolled to show her back to him, Harry forced himself out of bed. He doubted she was going to have an easy wakeup after the night she'd had, and he was already in shambles, making breakfast essential for the both of them to get through the morning hours.

That didn't make it any easier, though. A large part of him wanted to stay tucked amongst his sheets, cozy and warm with the best view he could imagine available just before him. Despite that urge, a smaller part of him was still drenched in the complication that came with the slurred words she offered just before dozing off.

First of all, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be embarrassed that she noticed he'd never really dated before and definitely never brought home anyone. It was bad enough that he was well aware of his lack of dating and sex life, he wasn't comforted at the idea of (Y/N) taking note. Second, what did it even mean to be too cute to be by himself? It brought a flush to his cheeks, the implication. But, was it really a compliment to be cute? He'd never heard (Y/N) describe any of the people she was interested in as cute; they were always pretty, and glowing, and handsome, and—of course—hot as fuck.

Harry didn't want to know where he placed on her scale of attractiveness.

Then, lest he forget, there was the whole offer of her taking care of him. If he ever wanted, of course.

Even just the memory of her words was enough to have his limbs going robotic as he moved through the kitchen. He was going to burn his croissant if he wasn't careful. It was enough to even overshadow the moment she had walked in on him, it was that monumental to him.

But, Harry had a feeling that she wasn't going to remember much of the night before, let alone a throwaway comment right before falling asleep. And that was going to be better for the both of them.

Once he had twin plates of scrambled eggs with cheese, buttery croissants, and cut up fruit, he was daring to step back up the stairs to his bedroom. He felt like an intruder, knowing (Y/N) was still asleep, wrapped up in his bedding. Even if it was to wake her for breakfast, he felt reluctant to pull her from much needed rest.

Though, as soon as he pushed open the door, Harry realized he wasn't going to have to worry about waking her up. Not when she was already looking at him, blinking the sleep out of her eyes with the creases of his pillow etched in her cheek.

"Harry," she sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at her eye, "You're awake."

"You're awake," he parroted, "I didn't think I'd see y'until this afternoon."

She nodded absently, missing the amusement in his voice. "Me neither. Where did you go? I thought you'd left me here."

It was the pout on her face and the downward lilting of her voice that had him taking a step towards his bed. "'M sorry," he murmured, feeling guilt pinch at his heart, "I was jus' downstairs making dinner. I was about to come get you and see if y'were hungry."

"Breakfast?" she chirped, waking up that much more at the offer of food.

"Eggs and those croissants," he confirmed, words coming out in a song as he tempted her with the offer.

"That sounds so good, thank you," she muttered, voice genuinely warm as her gaze wrapped around him from across the room, "Will you come lay with me for a few more minutes, though? I don't want to get up yet."

"I can bring your plate up here, if y'want," Harry offered, though they both saw him taking those quiet steps towards her.

(Y/N) simply shook her head. "Just you."

Those two syllables launched him back to the night prior, where she couldn't continue her night without telling him just how much she had wanted only him through her night of bar hopping. Just him—the one on her mind, supposedly. He was too cute to be by himself.

Harry didn't respond before he was slipping into bed beside her, taking up the dented spot where his body had laid stiffly the night before. She took her spot against his form wordlessly, as if it were a part of the norm to snuggle up to him in the morning.

"Thank you for letting me sleep in here last night," (Y/N) murmured, her chest expanding against his as she peered up at him through her lashes, "I know I was kind of a mess."

"No, no," he shook his head, "Y'were jus' fine. 'M happy y'came home instead of staying somewhere y'didn't want to."

A small peal of laughter fanned across his skin. "I think everyone was getting annoyed anyway," she started, "I kept telling them that I shouldn't have left you home alone, so I think they were ready for me to just go back."

Harry could feel his skin going warm. With his eyes closed, he attempted to keep his breathing from hitching. She was going to kill him one of these days.

"Y'dont' have to worry about me when y'go out, (Y/N)," he insisted, voice as quiet as the grazing of his hands across her back. "'M fine, you go have fun."

If not for the fact he was hyper aware of her body and just how close she was, he doubted he would have noticed the small shift she made across the sheets to land further in his arms.

"You're just," she sighed, pausing between her words, "I don't want you to feel left behind or lonely. You're a good friend and you deserve to have fun and feel good."

Her proposition that he had pushed to the back of his mind was suddenly roped right to the front. Of course, there was the damper of being such a good friend to her that she felt this way, but there was the rest of the statement to contend with first.

"I—um—'M fine, (Y/N). Really. 'M actually pretty good company, if y'ask me." He had hoped she would join him when he let out a breathy laugh, but he made the only sound in the room.

The pause lasted just long enough Harry wondered if (Y/N) had fallen asleep again before he heard her voice:

"Like last night?" His heart all but stopped in his chest. For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, time seemed to stand still while everything in his body went into overdrive.

She wasn't supposed to remember that. She was supposed to be too plastered to remember anything, let alone the one moment with her he's ever regretted. What was he supposed to say to her? Was she teasing him, was he disgusted now that she was sober enough to have an opinion, was this one big joke that he was going to hav—

"(Y/N), I—" He started unraveling himself from her before she popped up with wide eyes.

"No, no, I'm sorry," she rushed out, "That wasn't—I'm not trying to—I'm not making fun of you or, I don't know. I just mean..." She looked at him with uncertain crinkles by her eyes, her lips pursed as if she wanted to speak but had to hold back.

"'M fine," he started again, sitting up amongst the rumpled bedding, "'M sorry if I ma—"

"Do you remember what I said last night?"

As soon as the question tumbled from her lips, Harry swore the room became five degrees hotter.

"Do you remember?" he attempted to joke, though neither of them cracked a smile.

She gave a nod. "About... you know. I could... help, if you wanted. So you're not by yourself."

His mouth ran dry. There was much more power to the offer in the light of the morning with (Y/N)'s clear eyes directed to him. There was no slur of alcohol to her voice or liquid to her bones.

She was entirely serious. So serious, she was asking him again.

"You don't have to do that, (Y/N)," he murmured, dropping his gaze from hers. This was too much, to have to decline her—decline her pity offer after walking in on him with his hand down his pants the night before. "Really, 'm alright. I have no problem being... by myself."

(Y/N) looked away with her lips rolled between her teeth. "I know I don't have to, but I want to. You deserve someone to look after you the way you look after me."

"I don't think I look after you quite like that, though," he tired again, his light-hearted tone attempting to ease the tension. (Y/N) didn't grab the lifeline.

"At least let me set you up with someone then?" (Y/N) offered this time, "I want you to meet someone you care about, then. At the very least, then we could double date."

"I really... I don't want anyone. I'm okay." Anyone, but her was the right thing to say, but that wasn't something he was willing to admit at the moment.

"There's this girl I know, though," she chattered off, suddenly coming to life, "You would really get along with her, H. She's super pretty, she's tall, and I don't think she likes Italian food, but we could work on—"

"'M really okay, ser—"

"No, H, she always loves reading—it's actually kind of funny how much she talks about all these books and—"

Harry felt his stomach beginning to twist and turn. She could be the nicest woman in the world, this friend of hers. But there were many reasons why he was never going to take (Y/N) up on this offer.

Starting with the fact that the one girl he had his eye on was right in front of him, and ending with the glaring truth of his virginity. He doubted (Y/N) or any of her friends like her were going to be very invested in that.

"And, not to get gross, but she's super hot. Like her body, H, you have to see her—"

"I'm a virgin."

A flush ran up his skin, blooming his veins and reddening his skin. Why did he say that? Why did he share that? Is he suddenly an idiot? Was he now lacking a verbal filter and had to say everything that came to mind?

At the very least, (Y/N) finally stopped. The many wonderful and hot attributes of her friend had stopped. There was only a blanket of silence floating between them now.

His heartbeat sounded in his ears before (Y/N) had any kind of reaction

"Oh," was all that fell from her lips.

Peeking through his lashes, he was waiting for her to recoil. To look at him a little funny—the way the few that had learned that information looked at him. That moment of questioning how someone could have avoided sex (as if that was what he was up to), then wondering if there was something wrong with him, if there was something hiding under his skin that he was unwilling to share. Most people tried to recover as quickly as they could, brightening and telling him that it was alright. Plenty of people were waiting until marriage, they couldn't blame him of course!

It was an uncomfortable conversation, one Harry let the other party lead. He never really felt like getting into the why's and the moments that he decided to turn down a potential warm bed. Or why it wasn't within his capabilities to have sex outside of a relationship with trust in the mix, or the fact that he'd never been in a relationship that met those qualifications.

But, (Y/N) didn't do that. She looked at him with appraising eyes, not in search of something wrong. She looked at him like there was so much to be seen, to the point she couldn't believe it just because he was... him.

"I didn't know that," she muttered, canting her head, "I always just kind of figured that you weren't." Her eyes widened then. "Wait, I've said so many things, why did you never correct me?"

Harry shrugged, the sheets rustling around him. "I know 's not... normal, so I jus' don't really talk about it. 'S easier if I jus' let y'assume."

Her expression fell a little then. "I hope I never made you feel like you couldn't tell me," her eyes were soft as she gazed at him, "You know it didn't change anything to me, right?"

A small smile cracked his lips. "Thanks."

She relaxed a touch then, her muscles untensing from the tension he injected with his admission. "Is it weird to ask you why? Like, why you've waited and everything?"

"I wouldn't really say I've waited," he clarified, "I jus'... I've met people I wanted to be with and all of that, and I've had opportunities but I didn't take them." He paused, rolling his lips between his teeth; this was one of the harder bits to admit. It sounded silly even to his own ears, even if it was something he believed in. "I've never had anyone I trusted enough to share that... experience with. So I've just never."

(Y/N) listened intently, eyes clear with a cant to her head. God, even with the harsh beating of his heart as he exhumed his secrets, she really was the absolute prettiest.

"I get it," she muttered, "It's easier to wait than to spend the rest of your life regretting it."

"Exactly," he exaggeratedly murmured, "'S like y'live in m'head, (Y/N)."

His attempt at joking was enough to pull a small laugh from her chest. (Y/N) relaxed further into his bed, carving a dent into his mattress just at his side. Finally, that comfortable silence he lived in with her returned.

He couldn't believe he'd been so flighty about this whole thing. This wasn't one of the things he needed to be nervous about, not compared to what she had walked into last night. And even that incident was less earth shattering than he made it out to be.

(Y/N)'s tone was much less trepidatious when she spoke again, a decided difference than even a moment before. "Have you done anything else, though? Or have you waited for the whole thing?"

"Haven't done anything," he responded, with a heaving sigh, "'M waiting on the whole experience I guess."

"With someone you trust."

A small smile bloomed over his features. "With someone I trust."

A beat of silence passed between them. (Y/N) fiddled with the comforter tangled at her waist. "Can I ask you one more thing?"

Harry hummed an acknowledgement. He should have agreed to get back into bed with her, he was beginning to consider leaving breakfast for this afternoon in favor of a quick nap.

"Do you trust me?"

It was the way she said it less than the actual words she said that had a pang echoing through Harry's chest. Of course, he trusted her; she was his best friend. Though, Harry doubted that was what she was trying to get at.

He gave a small confirmation in the form of a quiet yes.

(Y/N) twisted in the sheets, looking up at him with clear eyes. Her lips glistened, the tip of her tongue having grazed over the pillows. "I know you said you're waiting and everything, but if you wanted to... change that, and you trust me...we could do whatever you wanted."

As startling as the proposition was last night, this one inspired a twist in his stomach. This wasn't a drunken idea gone rogue. She was looking at him with a steady gaze and lips worried between her teeth. She was serious. She wanted to "do whatever" he wanted. With him.

Despite there being no visible traces of pity on (Y/N)'s face, he truly could barely fathom the idea of her offering herself up to him so willingly. Especially after learning that there would be little he could offer in return—his skills were more than lacking.

"(Y/N), you don't want to do that," he started, "'M alright, I d—"

"I do," she cut him off, the words tumbling from her mouth without thought, "I do want to, I mean. You know I care about you right, Harry?"

His mouth ran dry. "I know."

A small smile touched her mouth. "You don't have to, obviously. I just wanted you to know that if you ever don't want to wait or kind of just want to get the pressure out of the way, I'm here."

Was Harry going to explode? Was he going to flick through the room like a balloon deflating of helium? Or was his stomach going to swallow him whole and leave behind only the sticky tar of his feelings?

And she was being so casual about it. She offered it as if there was no gravity to her words.

"You don't have to say anything, though. Just remember that," she said with a soft smile, sitting up in bed with eyes on the door, "You said break—"

"I want to."

As soon as the declaration choked out of his throat, Harry wanted to cringe. He wanted to retract every breath, every thought, every twist of his tongue against his teeth that brought him here. Sure, she was offering, but there was such a thing as being over eager.

(Y/N) paused, glancing back to him. A light graced the hue of her irises.

"Really?"

He didn't trust himself to say another word. Harry only nodded.

"You don't want to wait, anymore?" she prodded, forgetting the cracked door and the food downstairs.

Now wasn't the time to give her the full list of why this exact moment was a dream come true (just short of having her as his girlfriend and holding her hand as they went to the movies), but she had offered a few good points.

"I mean," he started, swallowing as his eyes dropped to the tip of her nose in avoidance of her eyes, "I do trust you. If there's anyone I know I wouldn't regret sharing this with, 's you."

"I suppose we are best friends," (Y/N) added, layering her voice with a smile, "But, you're sure?"

"I am," he said without a moment of hesitation, "Maybe jus' not... everything? I think that might be a bit much for me."

"Of course, of course," she rushed out, waving her hands as if to wipe the pressure out of the air, "We'll only do what you want."

Maybe Harry was a bit too much of an open book, unable to truly hide whatever it was that was running through his head, but he couldn't help the way his eyes immediately dropped to her hands.

Harry knew just how soft her hands were. He'd seen the hand creams she used every night, and felt the plush skin every time they grazed hands or she made the dangerous decision of just laying a hand on his arm every time he made her laugh just a little too much. There was even once, way back when they'd first started becoming friends, that she had him to compare hand sizes. Even now, he vividly remembered just how soft her palm was against his, the stretch of her fingers that didn't reach up to the tips of his own. It was a memory he held onto and one he couldn't get out of his head at that moment.

He'd thought more than once what it would be like to have her hand on him instead of his own between the sheets. What the visual of her pretty manicured nails, digits of her fingers, the softness of her palm would look like fisted around his length. He didn't have to know to be certain he wouldn't last very long if he ever had the chance to find out.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the wide smile mold (Y/N)'s features.

"Really?" she coyly asked, stretching out her fingers from the cover of her sleeves.

"Hm?" he hummed, forcing his eyes back to her own.

A peal of laughter fell from her lips as she crawled back to her spot at his side. "My hands. That's all you want?"

His skin felt flush as he nodded, his bottom lip wedged between his teeth. "Only if you want."

She hovered above him, the tips of her hair hanging around them like a curtain. She looked like a dream there, only slats of light working across her face. Shadows sliced over her cheekbones and the length of her lashes with the pretty color of her eyes gleaming in the sun and the curve of her lips highlighted.

He must be dreaming, but he was never this anxious in his dreams. Especially not one so lovely.

"No one's ever done that for you before?" she asked, taking up a spot on the mattress at his side with her eyes grazing over his features.

"Never," he confirmed, feeling his stomach stir at the feel of the heat of her body at his side.

God was this really about to happen?

"You're okay with me being the first?" Her voice suddenly had dropped a few octaves, a murmur in the air between them.

He didn't have to think before he nodded. "I want you to be the first."

Her eyes were bright, sparkling in the slat of light shining through her hair. "Right now?"

"Right now."

She looked entirely too gorgeous to be normal when she smiled at him. "Just show me what you like, then. I'm all yours."

His stiffening cock jumped at her words. She needed to stop talking like that if she didn't want him to embarrass himself.

With that, (Y/N) wiggled her hand under his own on his abdomen, amusement in her eyes. Harry felt his breathing hitch at the simple touch. Just as soft as he thought.

In an effort to preserve some semblance of his sanity, he closed his eyes before wrapping the length of his fingers around her hand. It was a moment, a full heartbeat pounding through his ears, before he pulsed his hand around hers in an affectionate squeeze and traced her hand down his middle.

He could feel the tense of his muscles under his shirt, his legs spreading just that much wider. The ghost of her touch was a stark reminder that he never finished the job last night.

Amongst his rumpled bed sheets, Harry couldn't be sure that this was even real life. Not that he spent any specific amount of time picturing what this first time would be like, but he could admit that he never really thought it would be like this. Not in sweatpants that had a stain from the eggs he had scrambled only twenty minutes prior. Not with his hand being the guiding force down to the waist of his bottoms. Not with (Y/N).

His cock stirred when their joined hands reached the elastic band of his sweatpants. Despite not even feeling her bare skin on his, goosebumps were raised. Was he going to embarrass himself by finishing within seconds? Harry had a feeling that was going to be the scenario at hand.

(Y/N) wiggled her hand out from under his, hooking her fingers in the waist under her own volition. "You're still alright? With all of this?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed out, his voice a hair above a whisper in hopes of disguising the tremor.

"Okay," she said, looking up at him for a brief moment with a reassuring smile, "If you don't want to anymore, though, just let me know. We'll have breakfast and pretend nothing happened."

His heartbeat sped up at her declaration. He knew he could trust her—with his body, with his delicate feelings, with his life, even.

Harry didn't move his eyes from her even when she directed her attention to her hand. He watched her as she pushed his sweatpants down, the band falling just far enough down to hit the end of his boxer-briefs. His mouth fell open as he attempted to gain any insight into what she might be thinking, this being the first time he'd ever been this exposed to anyone before. Even with the layer of his underwear on, he'd never been in front of anyone in an undergarment like this.

(Y/N) didn't give much away, only the cautious pace of her movements indicated the gravity of this moment. She skated her palm over the jut of his hip, easing him into the feel of her touch; he doubted she missed the way his cock jumped. His body reacted readily to each of her touches: goosebumps on his skin, bunched muscles in his abdomen, lungs squeezing in his chest, and the bruising hold of his teeth over his bottom lip.

His hip was only the first step before she continued her path. She grazed the top of his thigh, nails denting into his skin in gentle pressures. His breath caught when she touched the lump of his cock, enough so that his chest shuddered. She lingered there, going so far as to give a slight squeeze, only causing him to harden more in her grip.

"I'm going to put my hand underneath, okay?" (Y/N) shared, voice quiet before he felt the first touch of her fingertips.

"Okay," he answered involuntarily, tongue thick in his mouth. He was so gone for her in the moment, it was hard to think straight.

Harry lifted his hips to help her pull down his briefs, leaving them bunched at the mid of his thighs. His cock bobbed free, flushed and ruddy already. He doubted any other person in the world would have gained a reaction like this one.

This time, he caught (Y/N)'s first real reaction. Her eyes widened, grazing over the length of him as she pulled her bottom lip between his teeth. She laid her hand on his abdomen for a beat, absently curling her fingers in the hem of his shirt she'd only pushed up and out of the way.

Suddenly, she seemingly shook herself out of her head, looking up at Harry with a blink of her eyes.

"Is it alright if I move a little?" she murmured, "I want to get more comfortable, if that's okay."

She asked as if he had the power to deny her of anything, especially something so inconsequential.

As soon as Harry nodded, she shifted at his side. Kicking the comforter off of her legs, she rolled to lay on her side next to him. He instinctively wrapped an arm underneath her, his palm landing just between her shoulder blades. The cuddling felt a little more inconsequential now that she had a hand traveling down his form, even if the feel of her chest pressed against him was enough to have his blood pumping faster.

Now that she was settled, (Y/N) resumed her ministrations with both of their eyes trained on the movement of her hand. Harry swore it was just the fact that she was looking at him at all that had the blurt of precum seeping from his head, a pearl glistening in the morning light.

"Just—um—if I do something you like, tell me and I'll try to keep doing it," she spoke distractedly, a slight rasp to her voice he hadn't anticipated in his fantasies.

His mumble of okay was lost as soon as he saw her bring her hand to her mouth. He watched on as she dragged her tongue across her palm, slicking the skin before wrapping her fist around his base.

"Oh, fuck," he let out, barely audible over the heavy sigh that carried out the words. He fought to keep his eyes open, spying the way (Y/N)'s features curled into a smile with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

She did a precursory drag of her hand over his length, the pacing slow and aching. Harry could feel every crease and pillow of her palm. God, she was just as soft as he imagined.

His chest shuddered as he watched her pretty nails sparkling in the light. The pink polish seemingly mimicked the flush of his head, glimmering and sparkling like the slick of her spit over his shaft. If that wasn't bad enough, seeing the fact that her fingers didn't even connect around the girth of him was going to kill him. Were her hands that small or was he bigger than he thought?

As if hearing his thoughts, a mutter came from (Y/N), "You're so big, H. I had no idea."

He wanted to say something (was it corny to say "thank you" to something like that?), instead only a rumbling groan came from his chest. The pillows under his head were the perfect cushions when he couldn't handle keeping it up anymore. He was already flushed and warm, muscles too tight for comfort, and stomach tightening into a burn. And she'd barely even started.

Hearing his reaction was enough to spur her on, dragging her fist over and over his length. Periodically, she swiped her thumb over his crown, spreading the pearls of precum he let out. The slick passes of her hand rang out through his bedroom, competing with the puffs of his heavy breathing as the most erotic sound filtering through his bedroom.

"Ti-Tighter," he choked out, his arm around her back holding her flush to his side.

(Y/N) didn't respond, but he immediately felt the vice of her hand tighten that much more around his length. Another string of curses fell from his lips, his throat thick.

"Is this good?" she asked, turning until she was looking up at him with wide eyes. Her pupils were dilated, darkening the hue of her irises.

Harry wasn't able to think as he looked at her. She was his dream, the ultimate fantasy. Looking up at him with glossy eyes, her manicured hand squeezing around his cock. And for the first time, he noticed she was rubbing her thighs together as she took care of him. His free hand clutched the mess of his sheets; he wouldn't be surprised if he found holes in the fabric later.

"So good," Harry breathed, the words broken on his tongue, "So, so good, (Y/N)."

The smile she gave him was devastating.

Was she crazy? Was she trying to send him over the edge this quickly? He was starting to think so.

"I was going to ask if you wanted it tighter, but I think we've found it," she teased, entirely too light-hearted for one of the most monumental moments of his life.

"Y-Yeah," he answered, feeling delirious, "(Y/N), I-I'm close. 'M sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" she asked, a pinch appearing between her brows, "This is about you, you don't have to be sorry. Cum whenever you want—as long as you feel good, I don't care."

Her pace was unrelenting, the slap of her hand hitting his base mimicking the beat of his heart.

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he muttered, voice strained, "Let me—I don't want to make a m-mess on you, I can grab—"

She shushed him, shaking her head against his chest. "I can handle a little mess, H, it's okay. Stop thinking about me, this is about you."

Stop thinking about me, as if that were ever an option for him.

Still the sentiment stuck the same, especially her willingness to allow him to leave any kind of mark on her, including one so primitive.

He spared a glance down at her. Her features were mostly hidden give the angle and the wisps of her hair in the way, but he could still see the flutter of her lashes as she watched herself getting him off, he could see the pinch of her nose and the gape of her lips. He could see her thighs squeezed tightly together, the shirts covering her modesty turning tight and especially short around her hips.

God, this was (Y/N) on him. That was her pretty, soft hand on his length. That was her chest pressed to his ribs, only layers away from feeling the heavy beating of his heart. That was her wrapped up in the sheets holding his scent and so eagerly and happily fisting his cock.

"Shit," he moaned, his voice rumbling and deep as he threw his head back, "(Y/N), 'm cumming, love."

There was a void in the pit of his stomach that tightened and popped in that moment, unraveling him from the inside out. His balls tightened at his base just before the first rope off is cum spurted from his tip. The mess he'd worried about came to life then, white ribbons projecting as far up to the chest of his top, others dripping down his length and further wetting (Y/N)'s hand.

Guileless moans echoed from his chest, filling the room as he came for the first time at the hand of another. His body urged him to close his eyes, the visuals before him being too much for his fragile psyche. But Harry fought the instinct. There was no way he was missing even a single frame of this; there was likely never going to be another time he had the privilege of laying with (Y/N) like this, he wasn't going to let anything get in the way. Including his eyelids.

She didn't slow down as she helped him through the throes, her own breathing turning rough and off-kilter. Her toes curled in her socks, thighs pressed tightly together.

Harry could have been up in the stratosphere for hours with the way he slumped against the bed exhausted by the time the final drop of his release slithered down his cock. (Y/N) slowed, though she kept going until the final aftershock left his spine and Harry had to pull her hand away before he burst into flames.

His breathing came in heavy puffs, lips parted and swollen. He didn't need to see himself to know that his cheeks were cherry red with a nose to match, his curls pasted to his temples with sweat, and his eyes just a bit wild.

Despite pushing her hand out of the way, (Y/N) didn't think before she laced their fingers together. Her touch was a bit sticky now, but there was no way Harry was going to complain. He kept his arm aprons her back tight, fingers denting the soft plane between her shoulder blades.

He could have laid there for days, feeling the warmth of (Y/N)'s body and her soft hand in his. If not for the fact his cum had begun to dry and go cold. At the very least he needed to clean (Y/N) up—he doubted it was good bedroom etiquette to leave her to clean up after his mess.

Forcing his eyes open, Harry blindly reached for the tissue box he kept on his bedside table (truthfully, it was for the hay fever he always seemed to have, but the sheets definitely had their convenient uses. Uses he would never admit to, of course). Reluctantly, he peeled (Y/N)'s hand out of his, wiping the streak of his cum marring her palm.

A breathy giggle fell from her lips.

"What?" he asked, his voice bubbled and cracked.

"Nothing," she smiled, "You're just sweet."

For some odd reason, he flushed harder than he should at something so mundane.

"Thank you," he peeped, cleaning the stray strings that reached up to her wrist.

As soon as (Y/N) was free from the traces of him, he took care of his own thighs and the streaks that hit his shirt. The pile of tissues he had to take to the trash made a little mountain on his bedside table by the time he had himself tucked away and sweatpants laying against his hips once more.

"Um," he started, unsure of what to say after an experience like that. What even qualified as pillow talk, and how did one start it with someone that was just his roommate? "I'll be right back," he settled on, reaching for the mess of tissues, "'M going to cl—"

"Harry."

He didn't think before he looked at her. Her eyes were still full of dilated pupils with swollen lips, but the way she looked at him held more tenderness than he thought capable in a moment like this.

"Stay with me for a second," she requested, her voice a soft coo.

There wasn't a second thought to be had as he listened to her command. If he thought he was gone for her before, that was nothing compared to the endorphins coursing through him every time she looked at him in that moment.

(Y/N) didn't wait before she was rolling to wrap him in a hug. It was a bit awkward, the way she had to stretch up to loop her arms around his neck and the way their legs tangled in the sheets. But it was more than worth it.

Harry had always pictured himself to be the kind of guy that would want a cuddle after sex, but he never could have imagined just how vital this kind of contact would be after something so intense. Despite this being levels below the real act, Harry still clung to her.

Every time his chest inflated with a whiff of her hair and sullied perfume, she deflated with a breath that fanned across his neck. Kicking free of the sheets, (Y/N) opted instead to curl her legs between his in a welcome tangle. Her warmth radiated through the material of her shirt, a soothing heat that brought him back down to earth.

He didn't think before the words were being whispered into her hair: "Thank you."

The smile on her face was audible when she spoke, "You're welcome, Harry."

He couldn't help but squeeze her that much harder. "I'm sorry I can't offer anything in return," he admitted, a frown etching its way onto her lips, "I-I could try, I jus' don't think I'll be very good or—"

She shushed him with a press of her lips to his cheek. It was an act that took his already fragile breathing out of pace once more. The tip of her nose grazed his skin, the plush of her lips hitting right where he knew his dimple to be when he smiled.

"Stop talking," she laughed when she finally—regretfully—pulled away. "This was all about you, Harry. I'm just happy that you felt good, and trusted me enough to let me do this with you. That's all I need."

He could only hug her harder.

Harry would have laid there for hours, happily so, even when he could feel the strength returning to his muscles and the beat of his heart leveling out, but (Y/N) was the first to pull away. She pressed another soft kiss to his cheek before she untangled herself from him.

Her eyes practically glimmered as she looked down at him. "You said there was breakfast downstairs, right?"

That was enough to get a full laugh echoing from his chest, his lungs squeezing in the best way possible.

He was never, ever going to be free of this crush on her. Not now.

—————

pomegranates, an ancient roman wedding gift; the fruit hades offered to persephone to keep her in the underworld. with him.

ahhhhhhh thanl u sm for reading! so sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any fun ideas or anything please send them in!

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starmapz · 3 days ago

Text

what you know - ch1: fallen angel || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. mutual pining. smut. slow burn. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 12.1k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter - coming soon

You make a point of not judging a book by its cover. So, when paired with the college’s resident bad boy for the literal most important project of the year, you just nod to yourself. Of course, you’re aware of his very poor attendance record among other things you’ve heard about him. At the end of the day, the rest is all hearsay, so you’ll treat him the same as you would any other group project partner.

Searching around the lecture hall until your gaze lands on him, you shoot him a kind smile. You don’t expect him to return it, he practically always sports a disinterested or aloof expression and now is one of those times, it would seem. He’s wearing his usual oversized but fairly stylish shirt, baggy cargo pants and a leather jacket, even though it’s quite warm inside. One airpod sits in his ear, only half paying attention.

The two of you are practically polar opposites. You, who shows up to class ten minutes early, jots down every note you possibly can, and turns in projects a week early, not to mention your fairly preppy style, makes the two of you about as different as it gets. On top of that, there were moments where Sukuna would dip into a room late and you would wonder why he bothers paying for college at all. Does he even want to be here?

Turning back to your laptop, you decide you’ll set up some documents for your project to get ahead of everything and stop worrying about someone else’s life. You’ll just have to make the most of the project. Besides, Sukuna could be the best project partner you’ll ever work with.

Upon dismissal, you wait a moment for the room to clear before slinging your pale pink bag over your shoulder, holding your books to your chest and making your way up the lecture hall to where Sukuna’s seated.

“Hey, nice to meet you, I’m-”

“I know who you are,” he sighs. “I’m Sukuna.”

Rude. “Right,” you swallow, blinking twice as you attempt to clear your mind of the less than ideal first impression. “So, I was thinking since we need to analyze three paintings, I can choose one, you can choose one and we can do the work separately and then work together on the last one-”

“Sure, whatever.”

You purse your lips. That was easy. Or does he just not care? Brushing off the thought, you nod slowly. “Okay. Great,” you mumble somewhat nervously, unsure if the reason your voice is wavering is out of fear that you’re doomed from the project, or the fact that Sukuna is hardly giving you the time of day and it’s somewhat imposing.

Finding the nerve to meet his gaze, you find that it seems he’s barely paying attention. His deep near-crimson eyes accented by tattoos are trained off to the side, one hand in his pocket and the other is fiddling with an unlit cigarette. You have half a mind to wonder if he’s heard a damn thing you’ve said given the airpod still hanging from his pierced lobe.

“Do you, um,” you worry your lip between your teeth as you mentally reset to stop yourself from stammering. “Do you want to go over anything before we do our parts?”

“Nah.”

Nah? Oh my god, you’re doomed.

“Okay. No problem. Um, why don’t we just meet after class next Friday?”

Sukuna balances the unlit cigarette between his lips, shuffling to pull out his phone and open his calendar. “Sure,” he agrees, his words muffled by the cigarette.

“Great! I think we’ll want to start working on the third piece next week so I’ll choose the first painting and get started on it and then we can choose the last painting next week,” you say, putting the date in your calendar as well. “Oh! And we should exchange numbers.”

He hums in agreement, not even giving you the time for words now but he does give you his number. Realizing you aren’t about to get anywhere else with him, you shoot him a wry smile and make your way out the door.

Oh Shoko is so gonna hear about this.

–

Before you know it, next Friday comes around and when you turn your gaze to where Sukuna usually sits, you realize he just isn’t there.

Well that’s… lovely.

Leaning forward on your elbows, you groan with your face in your hands. This project was sure to be a nightmare at this rate. You could already see yourself going to talk to the professor about how Sukuna hadn’t done an ounce of work and it was all done by you.

Opening your laptop, you stare at the document you’d put together for Persistence of Memory, which may be an obvious choice but you love the painting too much to choose a different one.

Maybe you should just choose the third one on your own.

Maybe you should just choose the second one on your own…

Fuck.

You sigh, glancing back at Sukuna’s empty seat once more, and to your surprise just as you begin to give up hope upon seeing his seat empty, he ambles through the door in an oversized hoodie and sweats as though the lecture didn’t end fifteen minutes ago.

His gaze meets yours and he tilts his chin upwards at you, a silent message for you to take a seat near him.

Gathering your belongings, you take your laptop over to him, setting it on the table beside him in the mostly-empty lecture hall.

“Hey,” you greet him, receiving a grunt in response. “I was starting to think you were gonna flake out on me,” you joke with a somewhat nervous laugh when you meet his striking gaze. His disinterested eyes bore into you as he examines your nervous expression, and it’s then that you notice that- “are you okay?”

He sighs, heavy with exasperation, running a hand over his sharp features. His hair is still damp, not spiked up as usual as it hangs over his forehead, he has dark circles that make him look like he hasn’t slept in years, and his leg is shaking up and down like he’s got somewhere else to be.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, unimpressed that you’ve noticed how horribly disheveled he looks, but he brushes it off. “You got somethin’ to show me?”

“I, um-” you pause, casting him one last uncertain glance at the fact that oh my god, he looks sick? “Yeah, so I chose a Salvador Dalì piece,” you tell him, nudging your laptop towards him so that he can see your analysis.

He casts a glance at it, and it’s then that you realize that he doesn’t seem to have a laptop on him. Hm.

He seems to have noticed your confusion as he pulls out his phone, fiddling with it for a moment or two before setting it in front of you. “Had to do something before our meeting, so I don’t have my computer right now, but here’s what I’ve got so far.”

You flash him a curious glance before staring at his phone screen, reading through his notes quietly. The Fallen Angel painted by Alexandre Cabanel. You can’t say you’re shocked, but it’s a good choice. His analysis is short and needs more detail, but it’s a good start and fairly insightful. Sukuna lacks elegance with his words, but this is just the research phase anyway. Okay, not a bad start.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

To your surprise, although he’s mostly quiet, he gives you some input on your analysis and hums in agreement when you ask him to write a bit more in certain areas to match your research. He doesn’t even seem that bothered by it, only mildly inconvenienced. You would almost argue that he was agreeable if you couldn’t feel the side-eye you were receiving from him.

When you finally settle on C. Allan Gilbert’s All is Vanity for your final piece, Sukuna excuses himself quite quickly and makes his way out, grunting in agreement when you ask him to meet you at the same time next week. You had hoped to get some research done with him but this would have to do, and hopefully you would have more time next week.

Only… when next week comes, he doesn’t show. You lean over the desk where Sukuna usually sits, figuring maybe he’s just late again, but as the clock rolls past the thirty minute mark, you begin to lose hope. Tapping your fingers rhythmically over the desk as you stare at the clock, you resign to texting him.

3:39 PM || You: hey! just wondering if youre on your way

Another twenty minutes of staring at the sent text does you no good and you can’t really get much done without Sukuna’s portion, so with a sigh, you push yourself up and call Shoko to go out with you. At least now you can make the most of your Friday night, even if it’s a bit earlier than intended.

–

“He just completely no-showed, huh?”

“Not even a text,” you confirm with a groan, keeping your attention on the road as you make your way to the bar by Shoko’s house. The afternoon sun glints on the windshield of your car, warming the interior of the vehicle rather comfortably for the early autumn day.

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Shoko hums at the thought.

“I really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, I mean honestly his research wasn’t too bad,” you sigh, casting a glance at your best friend.

“Could still be salvageable. Maybe try asking him what works for him?” She suggests with a shrug, leaning back in her seat as she stares blankly out the windshield.

“I don’t know. I think if I leave things up to him, he just won’t do it.”

“Oh, because he’s been so good at showing up when you organize things?” She chides with a raised brow.

You suppose you can’t really argue with that, so you groan in response. “At least he has a good taste in art.”

“Yeah?”

“A little edgy, but yeah. He chose The Fallen Angel, you know the one that-” you pause, moving your arm over your face to mimic the famous painting while keeping your eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel.

“Oh yeah, I think I know the one,” she agrees with a chuckle at your description. “I think I’ve seen-” she pauses as your car comes to a slow halt at a stop light. You shoot her a questioning glance when she remains quiet. “Speak of the devil. Isn’t that him?”

“Sukuna?” You question, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of whatever Shoko’s looking at.

Sure enough, the pink-haired man in question is on the sidewalk along with two young kids. He seems frustrated, his hand flying in the air in obvious exasperation and you wonder what his relation to them is. Your first thought is that they could be his, but the older of the two kids is just a bit too old to make that assumption.

Still, you didn’t take Sukuna as someone enthusiastic at the thought of being a babysitter.

“Shit, that is him,” Shoko confirms for herself. When the light turns green, the car jolts forward as you pull through a lane abruptly to turn and grab street parking very suddenly. “Woah, what are you-? You can’t be serious.”

“I-” your words die in your throat. Are you serious? What are you doing? It’s not like you’re friends. Are you here to confront him about not showing up? No, you aren’t really even mad, just frustrated at most. Your mind flashes back to how he’d looked the week before, like he could pass out at any moment, and you wonder if you’re here out of concern. “I don’t know,” you mumble, parking your car and hopping out.

“You are serious,” she mutters more to herself than you as she watches you leave the car with a sigh, following a short distance behind you.

The day is relatively warm for the early fall, the sun shining high overhead and providing a comfortable escape from the brisk breeze. Leaves are losing their vibrant green colors overhead, replaced with beautiful hues of yellows, oranges, and reds, and the sound of them rustling in the breeze is refreshing.

From around the corner, you can just barely make out Sukuna’s words. You were right to assume he was frustrated.

“Give it back to your brother,” he instructs, his voice a near-growl, but as the younger of the two kids whines in complaint, you can tell neither kid seems all that intimidated even by the almost seven-foot-tall man made of pure muscle who towers over them.

“No!”

“C’mon brat, I don’t have time for this,” he hisses out, voice rife with irritation. As you round the corner, lightly jogging up to Sukuna, you watch his gaze slowly turn to land on you and Shoko, his eyes widening for a moment as his expression shifts to surprise. For a moment you even think you see horror flash through his eyes, but he masks it all with his usual disinterested expression before you have time to think much about it.

“Sukuna?”

“That’s me,” he grumbles, running a hand through his tousled hair in exasperation.

“Hi! I’m Yuji!” The younger of the two boys bounds up to you, blatantly ignoring Sukuna as he waves to Shoko behind you.

You grin at him, kneeling down to his height as you greet him with your name. His eyes are filled with delight and as you get back to your feet, you put the pieces together. These must be Sukuna’s little brothers. Although the older of the two doesn’t particularly look like him, the youngest is a near carbon copy of Sukuna, only lacking his tattoos, piercings, and his signature attitude.

“What a cutie,” you coo at the little boy, who can’t be any older than five. The older of the two boys doesn’t resemble Sukuna in the same way Yuji does, with sunken eyes and unkempt long brown hair, he looks to be about eleven… and he also looks like he’s about to burst into tears.

“Don’t feed his ego,” Sukuna huffs, watching you interact with Yuji with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Look! Look!” Yuji excitedly holds his hands out to you. You recognize an old GameBoy in his hands, something you’re sure you have hidden away somewhere in your own apartment from your childhood.

“I had one of those when I was young,” you tell him, glancing up at Sukuna whose left brow slowly raises.

“Really? Do you like Pokemon?”

“Yuji, that’s enough. Leave her alone and give it back to your brother,” Sukuna instructs, his frustration laced within his words.

“No! Choso’s playing it wrong,” he argues.

Sukuna looks like he’s about to burst. If he were a balloon, he’d be floating dangerously close to a pin, and it’s in that moment that you finally get a good look at him. If you thought he looked sickly last week, he looks like he’s about to collapse now.

His eyes are sunken, skin pale, and although he’s making an effort to mask it, his focus seems as though it’s drifting while he simply stands there. His hair is disheveled in a way that doesn’t look intentional and there’s a stain on the abdomen of his shirt. Which, to your surprise, is also a uniform for a local food distribution warehouse. He’s wearing cargo pants, steel-toed boots, and a blue polo shirt. It’s a strange look for him, but you’re more concerned about the fact that he seems to be swaying, he’s so tired.

“I wasn’t playing it wrong!” Choso argues back, leaping at his brother as they get into a scuffle, and it’s barely a split second before Yuji is in tears alongside Choso.

“Fucking-” Sukuna cuts himself off, taking a step forward.

Instinctively, you step in before Sukuna needs to. “Hey, hey!” You coo softly, leaning back down to them. “Why don’t you both play together?” Yuji’s sobs don’t stop at your suggestion, although Choso backs away from the younger boy, listening to what you have to say with a heartbreakingly sad expression over something so simple. Life was so much easier at their age.

“How?” Yuji asks through sobs.

“Why don’t you take turns? It’s Pokemon, right?” You ask, earning a nod from Yuji as he sniffles and wipes his face, his sleeve absolutely covered in tears and snot already. “Why don’t you pass it over between each battle?”

Yuji stares at you skeptically, as though the little boy cannot possibly fathom sharing. Choso quietly waits for his brother to come to a conclusion as his sniffles subside, all the while Sukuna just watches the entire scene unfold with a furrowed brow.

“Okay,” Yuji finally agrees in a small voice. “But I go first!”

To your surprise, Choso seems fine with this as they both crowd around the game.

When you stand back up, you’re happy to find that Sukuna looks absolutely relieved.

“Fuck, thought I’d never hear the end of that,” he mumbles, making you wonder if that’s his begrudging way of thanking you.

You chuckle quietly, crossing your arms over your chest with a small shrug. “I’m good with kids,” you tell him. He eyes you for a moment, humming, but doesn’t say anything. After a brief silence, you glance back up at him to find the tall man’s tired gaze still boring into you.

“Ask,” he instructs.

Your brow raises. “Ask?”

“You wanna ask where I was today, right?”

That obvious, huh? “I did wait for an hour.”

A hint of a smirk graces his lips as he snidely comments, “y’know, I’m sure I’ve had other women wait longer.” You aren’t sure how he expects you to react, but the way you raise a brow and don’t entertain his lewd implications clearly doesn’t encourage him to continue. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he clicks his tongue and turns his head away from you. “Had to pick up a shift at work. Was gonna text but the little brat broke my phone yesterday.”

“Sorry, Kuna,” Yuji’s voice is small as you realize he’s been listening the whole time now that Choso is holding the GameBoy. His cheeks are puffy and red still from crying, but god he sure is a mini Sukuna.

“Kunaaaa?” You coo teasingly at the absolutely adorable nickname.

“He can’t say my name,” Sukuna grumbles, suppressing his irritation as best as he can, given that you did save him from further arguments with his brothers and he did already test his limits with you anyway. Still, his nose wrinkles in distaste at the nickname as he stares at the ground with a huff.

“That’s so cute!” You practically squeal, eyes bright as you grin at the hulking mass of anger and maybe even embarrassment as his cheeks heat up before your eyes.

“Shut up,” he hisses, still avoiding your gaze.

“It’s alright, by the way. We can figure out another time to meet.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll text-” he cuts himself off, blinking at the realization that he has no phone. “I’ll email you or some shit.”

“Email. Right,” you sarcastically tease with a tilt of your head. A muscle in Sukuna’s jaw visibly twitches and he huffs.

“Take it or leave it.”

You raise your hands in the air defensively, unable to help your amused smile. As silence falls over the both of you, interrupted only by Choso’s quiet commentary to Yuji about their game, you let your expression morph to one of concern again. Your lips part to ask if Sukuna’s alright, but he beats you to it.

“I’m fine.” His voice is low and strained and you both know you don’t believe him.

“You look it,” you challenge him sarcastically.

Sukuna’s jaw tenses as he stares you down as if daring you to challenge him again. Luckily for him, you’re willing to let it go.

“Do you guys need a ride somewhere?” You ask, glancing back in the direction of your car. Shoko is probably itching to get to the bar, though surely she won’t mind your offer given that the man in front of you looks like he could melt into a puddle if it only meant he could sleep.

“No.”

“Yeah!”

Sukuna and Yuji stare at one another as they both respond at the same time.

“No. We’re fine,” Sukuna growls, narrowing his eyes at the young boy.

“I don’t wanna walk anymooooore,” Yuji complains, shooting Choso a pleading look. Catching on, Choso shoots Sukuna a pair of puppy dog eyes. God the two of them are just adorable.

“No, both of you. Cut it out. Now.” Sukuna’s voice drops an octave as he hisses the last word.

“I really don’t mind,” you say quietly, leaning closer to him in an attempt to keep your words between the two of you.

“I don’t need your help,” Sukuna protests, taking a step towards you with massive muscular arms folding over his chest as his polo shirt is pulled taut from the movement.

“So if I give you a little push, you won’t fall over and pass out?”

“No.” He scowls defensively as he stares back at his two brothers, not noticing the way you slowly reach your hand out before shoving him lightly. He sways backwards slightly, catching himself before he actually does fall over as he swats at your hand. “Fucking- What the fuck is wrong with you?” He grouses, voice dripping with irritation and anger, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. He just looks tired.

“Let me drive you where you need to go and I’ll stop,” you taunt, moving your hand forward to shove him again.

Now paying attention, he grabs your wrist before you can push him. “Christ, you’re almost as much of a brat as my brothers,” he huffs, fiery eyes hyper-focused on your cheerful demeanor in spite of the fact that he’s been nothing short of snappy with you since you first showed up. “You’ll stop because I said so, not because I’m agreeing, got that?”

You shrug, shooting him a smile that says you won. “Whatever you say, Sukuna.”

He drops your wrist with a dramatic sigh before ushering his brothers after you as you turn to make your way back to your car.

“Can’t say I know what just happened,” Shoko whispers in your ear as she walks alongside you to your car. “But I’m surprised he agreed.”

“I’m not. He’s barely awake,” you tell her as you both cast a glance back at him. He doesn’t seem to notice as he bickers with his brothers, telling them to keep up if they want a ride from you.

“Yeah, he looks like shit,” she chuckles with a shake of her head. Never one to beat around the bush, but she is right.

Unlocking your car, you open the back door as Sukuna lifts his youngest brother into the backseat, grumbling about the two boys needing to behave before he climbs in himself, completely blocking your view through your rearview mirror.

He huffs and puffs as he gives you his address, choosing not to say a word throughout the ride as he listens to you chat with Shoko, muttering only the occasional “cut it out” or “stop that, brat” to one of his brothers.

Rolling up to what you assume is his apartment, you put the car in park and turn your attention back to the boys, putting on your best radio voice.

“Thank you for riding, please exit to your left and have a greeeeeat day!” You earn a sweet laugh from Yuji and a calm smile from Choso for your antics. You can practically feel Sukuna’s exasperation as it comes off of him in waves, clearly done with the world for the day, but you don’t miss the silent relief gleaming in his eyes.

“What do you say?” Sukuna gruffs, nudging the youngest of his brothers who you’re obviously putting on the show for.

“Thank you, miss!” He grins brightly as Sukuna opens the door and lowers him to the ground. He hands Choso a pair of keys, nudging them along to the door of the run-down building. To your surprise, he shuts the door and comes around to your side, knocking on the window.

You tilt your head as you roll down the window.

“Thanks…” he trails off as though the word is sour on his tongue, shooting a glance at Shoko in a silent gesture of thank you to her as well.

“No problem. Go get some sleep,” you tell him softly. Frustration flashes through his eyes as you tell him what to do but he’s not about to lash out at the person responsible for his grade who also gave him a ride home. Even he’s not that much of an asshole.

He sets a hand on your hood, pausing for a moment before he runs a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up more than it already was. “Do me a favor and don’t mention this to anyone, yeah?”

You tilt your head, exchanging a glance with Shoko as he looks between the two of you. “Yeah. No problem.”

His hand slides off your car as he rounds the vehicle to follow after his brothers. He pauses to cast a glance at you, before pushing into the front lobby of his apartment building and out of sight.

Silence falls over both you and Shoko as you watch the tattooed man disappear into the building when Choso holds the door open for him.

“That was fucking weird,” Shoko comments.

“Hm?” You hum as you pull out of the apartment, unsure of what she means. Of course Sukuna would have a life Shoko had never thought about, it’s not like they were close, you aren’t sure what she was expecting.

“He wasn’t a complete dick.”

Shooting Shoko a confused glance, you purse your lips. “Is he known for that? I thought he was just a bit of a delinquent.”

“Yeah, that too, but he’s pretty well-known for being snappy with people and snarky to profs.”

“Oh,” you blink twice in thought, keeping your eyes on the road. “I don’t know. He’s pretty quiet in Art History, this project is the first time I’ve ever talked to him. I figured I’d give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Huh,” Shoko shrugs, “guess you’re on his good side, then.” She sighs, leaning back in her seat once again. “Oh well, you have blackmail on him anyway, so there’s no way he’s bailing on you now,” she grins with a teasing smirk.

Your eyes widen and you move your elbow to nudge her. “Absolutely not, and don’t you think about it either!”

Shoko chuckles, though you know she wouldn’t anyway. Much like you, she’s too kind to spill Sukuna’s secrets to the school, regardless of her opinions or thoughts on him.

–

As you return home from the bar late that night with a comfortable buzz that had left you needing to keep your car at the bar overnight, you pour yourself a glass of water and open your laptop on your bed, letting it boot up while you change into an oversized cozy beige hoodie with little bows adorning the sleeves.

Pulling the sleeves of the hoodie down over your hands and throwing on a pair of shorts, you run a hand through your hair and log into your laptop, pulling it onto your lap to browse social media, when something catches your eye.

You don’t pay much attention to your email inbox most of the time. Maybe you should, after all the college sends you a fair amount of emails and you’ve missed some in the past, but what catches your eye is certainly not from the faculty.

It’s a response to the document you sent Sukuna via email last week.

Oh shit, he was serious about sending you an email.

Maybe it’s because you're drunk, or maybe it’s because the idea of the nearly seven foot tall tattooed man who you’d watched leave class once just to smoke sending you an email of all things is a truly funny thought, but you snicker to yourself as you open it.

[email protected] - Saturday, 1:17 AM hey. you around this weekend

Your snicker turns to a full laugh as you read the message. You can’t decide if the message feels like a sad attempt at a booty call, an old man attempting to text via email, or an embarrassing attempt to save his bruised ego since he can’t text you.

You’d learned from Shoko at the bar earlier that Sukuna has quite the reputation. Supposedly he’s known for bringing a woman home at every party, for being able to smooth talk his way into the bedroom in spite of his usually grumpy and ill-mannered demeanor, and for being able to always get what he wants even though he has a reputation for being an asshole. So it’s hard not to laugh when that same man is the one who just sent you the most awkward email. At one in the morning. On a Saturday.

Oh my god.

[email protected] - Saturday, 2:12 AM Hey Sukuna! I’m around tomorrow afternoon and all day Sunday. Did you have time to work on the project?

You hit send and shut your laptop, deciding to brush your teeth and begin getting ready to get some rest. Taking off your makeup and brushing your hair, you finish up your nighttime routine and decide on a whim to see if your project partner has responded to you.

Getting under the covers and leaning against the headboard of your bed, you open your laptop again. To your surprise, your inbox has gone up by one.

[email protected] - Saturday, 2:19 AM cool. come by mine tomorrow whenever

You snicker to yourself as you read the message again. He’s certainly not fighting either the sad booty call or old man texting via email allegations.

[email protected] - Saturday, 2:23 AM Had to leave my car at the bar, did you wanna come by my place?

To your surprise, it’s only a couple of minutes later when he replies.

[email protected] - Saturday, 2:25 AM uhhh i gotta watch over the brats

[email protected] - Saturday, 2:26 AM Bring them!! They’re so cute :)

You can practically feel his irritated grumbles through the screen when not even a minute later he responds.

[email protected] - Saturday, 2:26 AM fine. address and time

With a satisfied smile, you let him know to drop by at two in the afternoon and send him your address before shutting your laptop.

As you lay down in bed, you can’t help but wonder what a strange little world you’ve somehow managed to squeeze your way into. Sukuna’s world. Maybe it’s because he’s easy to tease, maybe it’s the undeniable fact that he’s a good looking guy, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s actually surprised you more than once now and you’re somewhat enjoying the project more than you initially thought you would, but you can’t help but find yourself fascinated by him.

Come to think of it, you wonder if maybe Shoko’s comment has something to do with it. You think back to the way that she mentioned that he was oddly agreeable and, well, not a dick, and you wonder if it’s a curiosity to get to know this side of Sukuna that no one seems to know that compels you to be laying in bed at two in the morning thinking about the situation.

Regardless, you fall asleep with a calm little smile.

–

Glancing at the clock, you have half a mind to wonder if Sukuna will actually show up. Sure, he was the one who reached out, but maybe you should have just bussed to your car rather than waiting on Shoko to drive you to it and gone to his place on your own given that you can’t text him to ask where he is and it’s almost two thirty in the afternoon.

You could email him.

No… no. You aren’t about to email him.

You almost laugh to yourself at the thought.

Returning to your coffee, you keep at your work, refining your notes until you have something you think you can confidently write a full thesis about, when finally there’s a buzz at your door.

Speak of the devil. You buzz him up and there's a knock at your apartment door a few moments later.

“Cut that out,” Sukuna hisses practically the moment you open the door. You raise a brow at him and he sighs. “The brat, not you,” he clarifies, nudging Yuji.

You shoot him a sweet smile, suppressing a chuckle. Sukuna is dressed in a leather jacket, a plain white V-Neck and a pair of ripped jeans. In comparison to his usual baggy cargo pants and hoodie, he almost seems like he’s dressed up a bit and you can’t help but smile at the thought. More importantly though, the dark circles beneath his eyes are just a bit faded in comparison to when you had spotted him yesterday and you can tell he was able to get a bit of rest.

Yuji is excitedly looking up at you and attempting to tug on Sukuna’s hand while Choso stands behind his brother silently, his expression neutral.

“Hey guys, c’mon in.” You grin as you open the door for them, watching Yuji bound in ahead of his older brothers. He begins looking around with wide eyes, so full of wonder and excitement that you can’t help but smile.

“Such sweet kids,” you comment as Sukuna stands beside you, sighing as both brothers practically run to the sofa, looking around your little apartment excitedly.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You giggle at Sukuna, nudging him playfully. The glare he shoots you as he grunts seems to lack the usual malice his expressions hold and he runs a hand through his well-groomed hair, motioning for you to lead the way.

You show him to your little desk at the back of the apartment, pulling up a kitchen chair for yourself as you give him your office chair. He silently obliges, sitting down with his legs spread.

“One moment,” you mumble, heading into your room briefly before reappearing with none other than your old GameBoy, complete with a copy of Pokemon Ruby. Sukuna’s gaze is tethered to you and although his expression doesn’t change, you see surprise flash across his crimson irises as you walk up to the boys, kneeling in front of them.

“Choso, do you want to use my old GameBoy?” You ask the brown-haired young man, holding it out to him. His eyes are wide with surprise as Yuji’s jaw drops open. Choso nods, not saying a word as he flips the device and eyes the game. If it’s even possible, his eyes widen further and he smiles shyly.

“Are you sure?”

“More than sure. I bet there’s some neat Pokemon on that file,” you tell him.

The two boys exchange a grin and Choso thanks you profusely as he turns on the system.

“No problem. There’s a TV in my room, why don’t you two hang out in there and you don’t need to listen to your brother and I talk about boring art, hm?”

Yuji nods excitedly, bounding to his feet and grabbing your hand. Your heart swells at the action as you lead him and Choso to your room and hand them the remote. It takes all of a moment for both of them to begin bickering about what to watch, though you notice their arguments are fairly one-sided, with Choso being much quieter than his younger brother.

Leaving the two of them to their own devices, you make your way back out to Sukuna, who’s set his laptop on your desk and draped his jacket over the back of his chair. He’s wearing a white band tee with a deep V-neck for a metal band you aren’t familiar with, though the sleeves are torn off. With arms crossed over his chest and tattooed muscular arms on display, it’s undeniable just how attractive he is.

The real surprise is when he turns his head to look at you and his sharp eyes are, strangely, filled with… well you aren’t quite sure. Uncertainty? Confusion?

You subtly tilt your head when you take a seat on the kitchen chair beside him. His chair spins to face you as he examines you.

“Is something wrong?”

Sukuna’s adam's apple bobs as he swallows, before shaking his head. “Nah. Let’s just get this shit over with,” he grumbles, opening his laptop and turning his research document towards you. He’s clearly taken a look at yours, because his notes are in a similar format and he has about as much written as you, not to mention he’s put some work into research on the third painting you two had chosen.

Your brows raise as you read through it. “Wow, this is really good.”

He scoffs. “Don’t sound so shocked.”

You chuckle in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to come off that way, I just-” you pause, leaning back in your chair. Aside from the subtle sounds of Pokemon and the TV in the background, the only sound that breaks the silence as you pause is the squeaking of your chair. “I don’t know. When you were late and then you just didn’t show up, I…” you trail off, not wanting to accuse him of something that clearly isn’t true.

“You assumed the worst.”

Your mouth opens but any words you had in your defense die on your tongue, casting your glance to the side as you search for something, anything, to explain your thought process. No matter what way you try to word it, you’re definitely the bad guy here.

“It’s fine. Everyone does.”

Your brow furrows but before you can ask what he means, Choso is surprising you as he taps on your arm. You turn your attention to the young boy, who’s looking up at you with gleaming eyes.

“You have Rayquaza,” he states, arms outstretched to show you a serpentine creature on the GameBoy.

Your curiosity twists to easy mirth as you smile at him. “I guess I do, huh?”

Choso’s arms fall back down in front of him as he stares down at the Pokemon. His eyes flicker up to you briefly, then back down. “You have Groudon too.”

You can’t help your amused laugh. He’s such a sweet and shy little boy, but he talks just like Sukuna. Straight to the point, blunt, and rather short. He may not look like Sukuna like Yuji does, but his speech is just like his older brother’s.

“Leave her alone,” Sukuna mumbles gruffly from beside you. Choso smiles up at him before bounding back to your room. You can hear the two of them gearing up to play the games together from across the apartment, the game’s music heard in mismatched double as they both turn up the volume.

Turning back to Sukuna, your trail of thought is completely gone. “What was I saying?”

“You got any music? The brat’s game’s been drivin’ me crazy,” Sukuna mutters. “Yuji broke my laptop’s speakers,” he sighs.

“He’s on a hot streak for breaking things, huh?” You giggle.

“Don’t get me started.”

You turn in your seat, pointing towards the wall where a table sits with a fairly nice record player on it, and a shelf of records. They’re organized by artist and their sleeves range from new-looking to clearly well-loved.

Getting to his feet, Sukuna follows to where you point, curiously staring at the spines of the records. He’s not exactly shocked by most of the choices, but a few of them do stand out to him, and you’re thankful when you hear him sliding something off the shelf and putting it on the player.

You recognize the melody in the air instantly, and grin when Sukuna sits down beside you again. “The Eagles?”

Sukuna doesn’t move as his eyes slowly trail to you. He hums after a moment. “It’s a good album. You have… alright taste.”

In truth, he doesn’t mind your taste in music. Sure, he may not be fond of all of your choices, many in fact, but it would seem the two of you are making a habit out of surprising one another as he has his next album choice in mind already.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you chuckle at his dry attempt at being nice. The corner of Sukuna’s lips twitches up into a hint of a smile. It suits him.

As Hotel California blankets the air in warm strings and simple drum beats, the two of you are able to get a good amount of work done, putting your research together into one well-written and coherent thesis, one to be proud of.

Of course, you still need to put together an actual visual presentation to go with the thesis to be presented, but at least the bulk of the work is over with and you can feel confident in your project without concern anymore.

You have half a mind to get started on the visual portion now as well to get it all finished, but one glance at Sukuna tells you he’s tapped out, and either way you’ve gone through three records at this point as the final track on a Pink Floyd album comes to a close.

As silence falls over your project group, Sukuna lets out a sigh. It’s fairly dark in the room too as the sun sets, and when you check the clock to find it’s already six, you realize that’s likely why your stomach’s been making noises for the last twenty minutes.

“Why don’t you guys all stay for dinner?” You suggest, mostly out of politeness, but you can’t help but feel as though you’re drawn to him. You want to get to know him, know why he’s late so often, why he stays in school just to not show up for classes when it’s his money being blown. After all, it can’t just be his brothers or work, he likely only takes care of them while his parents are at work, surely.

Sukuna wearily glances between you and the door where his little brothers are, before shaking his head. “Nah, I can just make us somethin’ when we get back.”

“I insist,” you grin at him, watching the way a muscle twitches in jaw. “There are some great places nearby, we can just grab takeout while they play games, we’ll only be gone for a moment.”

He remains silent, arms crossed disdainfully over his chest before grimacing, giving in to your overly kind grin.

You settle on a curry restaurant just down the block and grab the boys’ orders, letting them know you’ll be right back. You’re sure you can trust Choso to look after his younger brother for twenty minutes.

As the chilly evening air hits your face, you let out a content hum, peering curiously back to see Sukuna falling into step with you. The two of you are a sight to behold, your appearance preppy and sweet decorated with autumnal colors fitting for the season, while he’s clad in leather and punk attire, the tones of his clothing purely grayscale.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, keeping his mild gaze locked in front of him.

“How old are they, your brothers?”

“Five and twelve,” Sukuna replies, fighting off a yawn and failing.

Amused, you smile up at him. “I’m glad you got some rest last night. I was worried about you.”

His brow twitches as he meets your kind smile. “Worried? About me?” He shoots you an incredulous look, scoffing. When you pout at him, he’s unable to hold back a smirk. It’s the first time you’ve seen him truly at ease and now that you’re alone with him, you notice that he actually seems to be somewhat relaxed.

“Yeah, maybe I was. Shoot me,” you shrug, playfully rolling your eyes.

He snorts, entertained, growing silent although the air that settles over you is comfortable now. Sukuna’s presence is surprisingly calming now that he isn’t constantly regarding you with disinterested gazes and irritated huffs. His expressions remain mild, but his brooding is more infrequent and the tension in his gruff voice has dulled. You would almost think he likes being around you.

As you come up to the curry restaurant, you lean into Sukuna with a point of your finger, silently telling him to enter the restaurant to your right. He pulls the door open for you, trailing closely behind. The atmosphere of the restaurant is busy, the employees behind the counter moving quickly to fulfill orders. Sukuna can only imagine how good the food must be given the line waiting to order, though you assure him it won’t take long.

He casts a glance up at the menu and frowns as he takes in the prices. He can afford to pay for himself, Yuji, and Choso, but not you. He has half a mind to say something, but his pride causes him to choke on the words. He inconspicuously pulls out his phone to take a look at his bank app to see if he can swing anything, but catches a glimpse of an employee not paying attention as he moves quickly towards you, all the while you’re not paying attention either, idly staring at the menu.

The employee about to barrel into you is holding a massive steel bucket and while Sukuna can’t see what’s inside, he doesn’t love the idea of you covered in water or worse.

With an annoyed click of his tongue, he lowers himself slightly, locking a strong arm around your middle and lifting you off the ground. You yelp in surprise, eyes wide as you latch onto his arm for purchase, head whipping around in confusion until you find the employee now walking past the exact spot you were in with boiling hot oil in a bucket.

Your lips purse, a shiver running from the base of your spine up to your nape just as Sukuna drops you to the ground unceremoniously in front of him. Your heels land with a clack on the ground as you catch your balance, your eyes still trailing after the employee that hadn’t been able to see you over the jug of hot oil they carried.

“Pay attention,” he scolds you with a frown.

“Oh my god,” you mutter mostly to yourself, your heart beating out of your chest as you finally look up at your savior. Your eyes flicker down to his arms. Even covered in leather, the way his muscles ripple beneath the fabric with each movement he makes doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Thank you, S’kuna.”

He shoves his hands in his pocket, nodding. The way you abbreviate his name is painfully close to the nickname he avoids as much as he can, but he can’t bring himself to correct you and in all honesty, he’s not sure why. He lets it slide, clearing his throat as he clears his mind of the way the name seems to shake him.

“Don’t make a habit of it.”

His words feel like they should be scolding, but his tone doesn’t hold the same meaning. As he stares back up at the menu with a stitch in his horribly handsome brow, you can’t help but find yourself confused by the meaning of his words.

You don’t have much time to think about it as your turn to order comes and you find yourself at the counter, giving the employee your order before glancing back at Sukuna. His mouth parts and he hesitates.

“I- uh-”

You’ve never seen him dither in such a way and you tilt your head, blinking in confusion.

“I can’t-”

Frustration flashes through his eyes and you can see his jaw clench as he trips over his words. Flustered isn’t the right word, but his pride is certainly hurt as he finally manages to force out the explanation you need.

“I can’t afford to- uh-”

Again he pauses, his expression burning with irritation as his cheeks heat up, the admission coming at the cost of his ego.

Your face softens in understanding and your soft fingers wrap around his tattooed wrist, pulling him up to the counter.

“I’ve got it. I invited you to stay, it’s on me.” You hold your card out with a kind smile, but Sukuna doesn’t share your sentiment, anger flashing across the crimson of his eyes as he grits his teeth at you.

“I don’t need help,” he hisses, eyes narrowed as his walls go back up right before you.

“That’s not-” your eyes widen as you try to salvage the situation when Sukuna recoils suddenly. You hadn’t intended for him to take your words so personally, you’d just felt it was the right thing to do given that you had invited not only him, but both of his brothers over as well, and suggested the place to begin with. “You can get the next one,” you tell him in hopes of mending the bridge between you.

He examines your expression, finding no traces of malice or ill-will in your features. Frowning, he huffs as he turns to give his order to the poor employee who’d had the displeasure of witnessing Sukuna’s outburst. In his silence, you order for his little brothers as well.

With a dour sigh, the tattooed man moves along to the side to wait for the order, the fact that you paid leaving a sour taste in his mouth. You make your way over to him, leaving a small distance between you.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine.”

“Really, I- I-” you stumble over your words as he glares at you. You suppose Shoko had warned you that Sukuna was notoriously an ass, but you hadn’t witnessed it first hand until now. Still, you can’t help but feel like what you’re witnessing isn’t that. At the end of the day he isn’t lashing out for no reason, it’s clear you struck a nerve and you can’t blame him for being hurt by it, even if it’s not what you intended and you don’t fully understand where he’s coming from.

“Drop it,” Sukuna growls, though his anger has subsided somewhat, his gaze cast to the wall.

You blink up at him, hating the way the world seems to hold its breath around you.

You can’t deny that the man who towers over you, covered in tattoos and piercings is intimidating. Between his gruff voice, his mild mannerisms and his disinterested demeanor, he’s tough to read and you really can’t afford to let a rift come between you when you still have to work on your project.

Your lips part to say something but one striking glance from those crimson eyes has the words dying in your throat. Your mouth goes dry as you wrack your brain for anything to stay, but draw a blank.

Sukuna’s brow knits together at the sight of your anxious expression and he shuts his eyes for a moment, sighing.

It takes him a moment to fully cool off and collect his thoughts, but he can see in your eyes that you genuinely meant no harm and he supposes it’s the right thing to do to give you a break for that. You’re just naturally kind and he finds that he needs to remind himself of that.

“It’s… fine,” he murmurs in a strained voice, nudging you with his elbow. You crack a smile at him, thankful when his body language seems to relax somewhat again.

You don’t dare say anything as you wait for your food, fiddling with your phone in your hands as you contemplate his reaction. You obviously hurt his pride unintentionally by offering to pay, but between skipping school for work and the fact that this restaurant isn’t by any means expensive, you have a guess as to why he might have been so affected, one that makes Sukuna’s entire demeanor and his exhaustion click into place like a puzzle.

Before you have a chance to ask him, unsure if you even want to, your name is called and Sukuna is grabbing your order. You reach out to grab one of the bags but Sukuna swiftly holds it overhead with a smirk that doesn’t quite meet his eyes as you pout playfully. He continues to hold the food overhead as he leads the way outside. Watching you trail closely behind him, standing up on your tiptoes in an attempt to reach the bags, he raises a brow.

“Walk, brat.”

You shoot him a look, brow furrowed, before giving in and falling into step alongside him. He brings his arms down, holding the bags on his arms opposite you.

With your mind still preoccupied with thoughts of Sukuna’s earlier outburst, you bring your lower lip between your teeth, mindlessly chewing on it as you stare at the sidewalk beneath your feet.

Sukuna eyes you from his peripherals, taking note of the way you’re deep in thought. “Just fucking ask your question.”

Much like yesterday, Sukuna easily notices the way you glance at him uncertainly, the question on the tip of your tongue. It catches you off-guard how easily he reads you and you fall out of step with him, taking longer strides to catch up after you falter.

“I- um- do you-” you hesitate, casting a glance at his aloof expression. He seems at ease again and you don’t want to burn the bridge you’ve only just managed to mend, out of fear that another fire wouldn’t be put out so easily.

“Yeah.”

You stop in your tracks, blinking in surprise with pursed lips. Sukuna raises a brow at you, only a short distance ahead as he stops too, turning to face you. You can’t read his expression as it remains mild, his questioning brow the only sign that gives away any hint of his thoughts. In a few short strides, you’re back at his side.

“You’re… their guardian?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Sukuna chews on his tongue piercing mindlessly as he watches the gears turn in your mind, putting together the pieces of the puzzle that had been laid out for you.

Of course Sukuna’s tired if he’s taking care of two young boys, going to college, working, cooking, cleaning, god the list can only go on. You wonder if the reason he seems so at ease right now, so quick to forgive you, is because he’s thankful for the break. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s had time to himself.

“That’s why you missed yesterday.”

He shrugs. “You knew that already.”

“I guess, yeah.” Your turn to shrug. “I just thought it was a temporary thing.”

Sukuna lets out a humorless laugh. “Well it’s not.”

You’re not really sure how to react, in all honesty. You don’t want him to think you pity him, you can’t offer sympathy, you certainly can’t offer help. In your uncertainty, you find yourself continuing to fiddle with your phone, avoiding his gaze.

Sukuna quite simply… turns to leave, deciding to spare you of your discomfort, and him of any more blows to his pride. You jog after him, falling into step again. There are questions left unanswered and sympathies you want to extend, but you can’t bear the thought of hurting him again, even if it’s unintentional, so you bite your tongue.

The sounds of the city surround you, filling the silence. Sirens blare in the distance, trees rustle above you, and casual chatter comes and goes as you pass other groups of people on the way to your apartment. It’s all a welcome distraction as you continue to fiddle with your phone, the air between you two neither tense nor comfortable. It lies somewhere in between and you don’t dare tip the scales out of fear of making your counterpart uncomfortable.

“You play a lot of Pokemon growin’ up?”

Your eyes light up as Sukuna starts a conversation, finally tipping the scales back towards being comfortable.

“My best friend growing up really liked it, we played a lot of Ruby and Sapphire.”

“Same as the brats.” He scoffs playfully.

“Are you gonna pretend that isn’t your old GameBoy?”

He tilts his head in your direction, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “And if it is?”

“Dunno, I might think you’re a bit of a nerd,” you tease, mindlessly chewing on your lip.

Sukuna’s eyes flicker down to your lips. He catches himself immediately, averting his gaze. “Tch.”

You giggle when he doesn’t refute your claim. He shoves his hands back into his pockets, your takeout bags dangling from his forearm.

As you arrive back at your apartment, Sukuna lets you unlock the door before grabbing and holding it open for you. His eyes trace your figure as you tread ahead of him with a skip in your step. When you turn back to him, realizing he hasn’t followed you yet, he blinks in surprise as he realizes exactly what he’s doing, shaking his head to clear it.

Why in the hell was he checking you out anyway? He doesn’t make a habit of hooking up with people who know him beyond face value. He mutters a ‘sorry’, relieved when you don’t seem to notice the way he’d so shamelessly checked you out.

Closing the door behind him, he sets the food on the table, tossing his jacket aside as you call his brothers, setting up a little dinner around your coffee table. Sukuna groans as he slips down onto the floor to eat, remaining quiet as he simply watches the way you cheerfully entertain both of his brothers’ antics.

Shoveling rice into his mouth, Sukuna stares down at his curry, contemplating the strange sense of warmth blooming in his chest. The feeling is so unfamiliar to him that he can’t place it. He has half a mind to drown the emotion in nicotine and the need to smoke grows quickly.

He’s so preoccupied in his thoughts, Sukuna doesn’t realize his little brothers have both run off back to your room, leaving the two of you alone.

“S’kuna?”

Striking pupils suddenly meet yours. He straightens from where he sits across from you on the couch, taking notice of the fact that you’ve already finished your dinner.

“Are you alright?”

Sukuna nods. “‘M fine.” Yet he can’t help but to drink in the sight of you, the way you look at him with so much care and he can’t understand why, the way your lips move so softly when you speak. The way your figure and curves would feel under his hands, the way you keep biting your lip… Sukuna shakes his head suddenly, getting to his feet as he chalks it up to lust. He’ll get over it at the next party he goes to. “Balcony?” He asks suddenly, pointing at the door at the back of your apartment.

You nod, watching in confusion as he rises suddenly and rushes out the door, pulling out a box of cigarettes. You hum to yourself, deciding to give him a moment. You’re not sure exactly what came over him, he seemed flustered even if only for a moment, but there was something else you noticed in his eyes, something darker you couldn’t identify.

Pushing that aside, you put the lid back over his food to keep it warm and check your phone to find Shoko’s been trying to reach you to go pick up your car. You let her know you’ll have to pick it up tomorrow since you’re with Sukuna as you wait for him to finish smoking.

After a few messages back and forth, you glance back outside at Sukuna. The way the muscles along his back ripple just from the act of breathing is eye-catching enough, but when he stubs out his cigarette and leans over the railing of your little balcony, your eyes trail to his shoulder blades protruding from the white material of his shirt.

Catching yourself holding your breath, you take a step forward and decide to check on him, closing the balcony door in your stead as you slip onto the small overlook behind him.

He doesn’t acknowledge you even as you lean beside him, his tired expression fixated on the street below. You rest a hand on his bicep as you tilt your head quizzically. “Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Ever aloof, you aren’t able to tell what he’s thinking as he turns to look at you. You, completely unaware that your touch has set his skin alight. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes have darkened a shade as his pupils dilate at your touch. Unsure what’s come over him, he simply hums affirmatively as an answer to your question.

Your brow knits together but you accept his response. He wonders if you know that you’re rubbing circles into the skin of his bicep and it’s driving him crazy. What the hell is it about you that’s got him horny like it’s his first year of college again? It frustrates him beyond belief, but maybe it’s just been too long since he’s slept with someone. That has to be it. It’s just lust. He swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing with the action when you finally bring your attention out to the road in front of you both, removing your hand from him.

“Hey, um, what do you do at the supermarket?” You ask in an effort to create conversation with him.

“Stock,” he replies shortly, his tone as stoic as his expression.

“That’s not too bad,” you murmur thoughtfully, giggling to yourself suddenly. Sukuna’s brow raises. “Sorry, I just can’t imagine you as, like, a cashier or something.”

“Why not?” He sneers, standing up straight and facing you, offended.

“Come on,” you giggle, “you’re not very talkative.”

“I can be,” he insists, taking a step towards you.

“Is that your way of proving it?” You provoke him with a grin.

He scoffs. “I just don’t have anythin’ to say,” he grumbles with a tense jaw, staring down at you. “‘Sides, I work with customers at my other job.”

Another job? You frown at his admission. How the hell is he managing this? How hasn’t he flunked out? “What other job?”

“Mechanic,” he states blandly.

“Really? Are you a big car guy?” You ask, genuinely curious.

Sukuna’s somewhat taken aback by the way you lean in, your full attention directed towards him. You seem to take such a genuine interest in him and he isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

A smirk pays at the corners of his lips as he decides to mess with you, loving the idea of keeping you on your toes and pushing your buttons. “Nah. ‘M just good with my hands,” he drawls as you present him the perfect opportunity to tease you back given how much of a hard time you’ve been giving him.

Your eyes widen at his euphemism, cheeks heating up as you grip the balcony railing harder. You avert your gaze in an attempt to save face, willing your heart to slow down to no avail.

You clear your throat. “I-I um, th-that makes sense,” you stammer, mentally facepalming at just how nervous your words come out. He has no right to be this hot.

“Not so talkative now, are ya?” He chuckles lowly, sliding from his position leaning on the railing beside you to rest his opposite hand on your other side, effectively trapping you.

You flip over to face him, leaning back against the railing with pursed lips. Sukuna grins at your mousey behavior, thrilling in the way you squirm trapped between him and the railing. “Sukuna?”

His heart pounds in his chest at the sound of his name coming from your lips and his smirk falters. Why the hell is his heart beating so fast? He forces his smirk again, moving his face down to your level in an effort to push away the strange feeling blooming in the pit of his stomach. “Yeah, woman?”

Focusing on anything other than the man in front of you, you can only manage to mumble out a few ‘um’s and ‘uh’s. Sukuna chuckles at just how flustered you are, freeing you from the cage of his arms as he rests against the railing beside you again.

You clear your throat, trying to ignore your spiraling thoughts. And boy are they ever spiraling as you stare out at the street beneath you, attempting to focus on the passing cars and not your pounding heart. “Why are you in Art History?”

Sukuna’s lit another cigarette in the time that you’ve used to recover your thoughts. He looks calmer once again as smoke spirals from the glowing embers. “Required class.”

“R-Right.” You swallow, moving past your stammer. “What do you want to do?”

He pauses for a moment, taking a languid drag from the cigarette. A puff of smoke leaves his lips before he replies. “Dunno. I’m a history major.”

You wouldn’t have imagined the college’s resident bad boy to be a history major, if you’re being honest with yourself, but you remind yourself not to judge a book by its cover.

He runs a hand through his hair as you contemplate the idea of Sukuna as a history major and what he might do with that major given that you can’t envision him as a historian or a museum curator, and certainly not as a teacher.

“I’m thinking of swapping majors,” he admits. You examine his expression as he taps the edge of the cigarette with a finger. He shrugs, shifting his gaze to stare at the sidewalk beneath the both of you. “Starting to think history doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, what do you want to do, Sukuna?”

He casts you a glance, examining your attentive face. You’re so wholly invested in his words that it causes a pang in his chest. He subconsciously brings a hand up to his chest, scratching at it as if to cast the strange feeling away.

Setting the feeling aside, he finds himself scowling in thought. When he was considerably younger he’d wanted to pursue graphic design but he hadn’t had the luxury of thinking about his future for a while now. In truth, he’s not even sure why he’s in history right now. It interests him enough to keep him attentive but the career options are… few and far between and he can’t exactly afford to fuck around and swap majors constantly.

His minor in business makes more sense, at least he can do something with it, but… in truth, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s another page filed under ‘uncertainties’ in the book that is Sukuna.

You take his silence as an answer and shoot him a wry smile. “You don’t have to answer, I’m sorry to pry.”

“It’s fine,” he sighs. “I just dunno that either.”

Admitting to it feels shameful, almost, and frankly, Sukuna thinks he’s had enough of making a fool of himself in front of you today. Stubbing out his cigarette, he stands up and makes his way back inside. You follow after him, blinking as he begins packing up.

“I should go,” he mumbles, shutting his laptop and tossing it into his bag. He picks up his keys from your desk, shoving them in his pocket as he zips up his backpack. “Oh,” he stops his movements, hesitating for a moment. “I… Appreciate dinner.”

Your expression softens and you smile wholeheartedly. “No problem. You can take your leftovers, too. They’re still on the table,” you point over to the box you’d set the cover over. He nods, shutting it and tucking it in his bag as well.

With a tired sigh, he gathers his brothers, ushering them towards the doorway.

“Got anything to say?” Sukuna utters, staring down at both kids expectantly.

“Thank you!”

“Thank you, miss!”

You grin at both kids, kneeling down. “I hope you two had fun. You know, maybe you can convince your brother to come over again and I’ll pull out my old GameCube.”

With the expressions of jaw-dropping awe you’re getting right now, you would think you’d revealed to them the secret to happiness or something. Yuji leaps into your arms immediately, nearly toppling you over as he shoots a pleading stare at Sukuna.

Sukuna’s expression shifts to one of irritation as Yuji pleads with him, “Kuna! Pleeeease pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” that has you giggling at the way a vein in his forehead seems to pulse.

“Brat. Brat! Shut up, I’ll think about it, alright?”

Yuji nods cheerfully, counting straight to Sukuna’s leg to hug him, and the clear irritation on your classmate’s face immediately falters. Maybe he’s a bit of a softie after all.

Sukuna sighs heavily, reaching a long arm down to ruffle his brother’s hair. “Yeah, alright, kid. If she invites us.”

His voice is tired, albeit strangely soft. It’s almost like he’s a different person, and suddenly you can see why it is that he’s pulling such a terrible schedule. Despite the clear stress being a twenty two year old parent to two young kids is, he clearly loves them.

But this is Sukuna we’re talking about, so he doesn’t always know how to express that.

It’s sweet, really, and your heart melts at the sight.

“Go wait outside, you two.” Both kids run down the hall to the elevator as they excitedly ponder what games you might have, leaving you and Sukuna alone as he leans on the doorframe.

“You free next Saturday?” You ask once his attention returns to you.

“I can let you know. Depends on the auto shop’s schedule.”

“We can always do another day, whatever works best for you, Kuna.” Your voice holds a teasing lilt as you mimic Yuji’s entirely too adorable name for him.

“Don’t start with that,” he snarls, mumbling something about the name being annoying. Before turning to walk away, he decides to pay you back for all of your teasing with a jab of his own. “Don’t make a habit of getting oil dumped on you, yeah?”

What Sukuna isn’t expecting is for you to be able to match his teasing without a second thought. “What, I can’t email you for help?”

He snorts, smirking at the ground as he pushes himself off of the doorframe and begins to turn away. “See you around,” he says, raising a hand in farewell as he follows after his two brothers. Your eyes trail curiously after him until he’s out of sight, shutting and locking the door quietly.

In truth, you don’t expect to hear from him until maybe next Friday if you’re lucky, but to your surprise when you check your email later that night, your inbox has a new email from Sukuna. It’s still funny, to think that you’re communicating via email, but at least you aren’t giggling to yourself as you open this one.

[email protected] - Sunday, 12:04 AM brat stole your gameboy. meet at the fountain at noon monday

[email protected] - Sunday, 12:23 AM That’s alright!! He can keep it :)

[email protected] - Sunday, 12:27 AM no he needs to learn. noon at the fountain

With a sigh, you realize he isn’t about to relent and give in.

[email protected] - Sunday, 12:28 AM Okay I’ll see you then Kuna lol

And oh if you could see the way Sukuna is guffawing and huffing at his screen, slamming his laptop shut as you call him the nickname he doesn’t want anyone to know. Yet here you are, barging into his life on all fronts and learning more about him than he wants.

The way his heart stutters, it actually stutters when he sees his inbox go up by a notification because he just knows it’s you and fuck why is it actually cute when you use that nickname?

Sukuna rubs a hand over his face and pulls his comforter up over his shoulder, sinking into the plush of his mattress as he tries to get some rest before his shift the next morning. He’ll deal with his other issues later.

main masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter - coming soon

❦ a/n ; hello!! thank you so much for reading i've been having an absolute blast with this. i've been working on this for a long time and it was initially intended to be about 25k, but after working on it for a month straight it hit that pretty quickly and i'm nowhere near done. aaaanyways, thanks for all the love and support and as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are super appreciated <3

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

@yenayaps @rinachains @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut

@hellish4ever @creamflix @theonlyhonoredone @catobsessedlady @timetoletmyimaginationfly

@clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki

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riflebrass · 5 hours ago

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Yeah that was basically it. Walt was an absolute genius chemist. In grad school he and his friend Elliot started a company called Grey Matter. The idea was that Walt develops incredible chemical compounds and Elliot markets them. Walt's girlfriend at the time, Gretchen, left him for Elliot. He was pissed at both of them so he left the company and sold his half of the company for practically nothing. The company would manage to be a huge success and Elliot and Gretchen would become billionaires.

Fast forward about 20 years and Walt is now a chemistry teacher and he absolutely fucking hates it. The chemistry itself is so basic is boring because he's teaching entry level stuff to teenagers. The job might be rewarding if he were reaching some kids who were fascinated by this stuff and eager to learn... but they're teenagers. They don't give a fuck about any of that. Worse yet this job pays so little that it's not enough to make ends meet. Walt has to work a second job at a car wash that he fucking hates. Being a cashier isn't so bad, but when they're shorthanded they need him to work outside washing the cars and he finds that demeaning especially when a customer is one of the kids from class. Absolutely disgraceful.

So if Walt is such a genius chemist why doesn't he work for some other R&D company? Why did he completely give up on that dream and settle for a life he absolutely hates? The series doesn't really ask that question let alone give a direct answer so fan theory here. If you watch Walt work he has a toxic and volatile personality. He is aggressive and belittling to everyone around him. The guy knows his shit but he will do anything he can to get his way except play nice with others. My guess is he developed a reputation in the industry that he was so awful to work with that everyone decided he was more trouble than he was worth.

So enter the cancer diagnosis. He doesn't have money for chemo, he doesn't have health insurance, he is taking a long hard look at his own mortality and how he's wasted his life doing things that made him miserable. Before he even tells his family what's going on his brother in law comes to visit. Homeboy's in the DEA and brought a slideshow to show off a meth lab he just raided. Something clicked for Walt in that moment. Cooking meth is chemistry. The local talent is laughably bad at it. He could very easily be the best meth cook in the world. Despite the challenges of making the best crank out there the job itself isn't very respectable in modern society. People would hate him if they ever found out, and honestly a part of him still thinks it's wrong, but if he has cancer he's doing something really shitty for a good reason. He is living on borrowed time and when he finally dies his family will be in a really bad spot financially between his medical bills and funeral expenses. If he can just scrape enough money together to cover his expenses and maybe leave them with a little something for the future is that really such a bad thing?

And then we come back to Elliot and Gretchen. It's Elliot's birthday and Walt's wife makes him attend the party. By now Walt has told his family about the cancer and his wife thinks with all their money they can help him. Elliot knows Walt. He's a very prideful man. Just offering to pay his medical bills outright won't work so he offers Walt a job. It's just what he wanted. A big R&D think tank job where he can think of all the ways to save the world and discover new chemical mysteries. There's just one problem. Walt is not the boss. He's still bitter at Elliot for what happened and doesn't want to work for him. He also quickly realizes that his wife told them all about the cancer and it's just a pity job. This infuriates Walt so he tells Elliot to go fuck himself.

In the very last episode Walt's final conversation with Skylar he admits that he did it all for himself. He was good at it and it made him really feel alive. The idea that he was trying to afford cancer treatment or even trying to provide for his family was all a load of crap. When presented with a way out he refused because he wanted to be the big man in charge.

When I see Breaking Bad memes and people making jokes like "lol if only they had universal healthcare" I get it, but I always just go:

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hereforthehitsbaby · 3 days ago

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Careful, Bub | DP&W!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Synopsis: I showed my friends, then we high-fived / Sorry if you feel objectified / Can't help myself, hormones are high / Give me more than just some butterflies

Warnings: Mutual Pining, Masturbation, Sexting, Nude Photos, Mentions of Sex Toy Use, Dom!Logan, Logan Talks You Through It, P R A I S E K I N K ! L O G A N, Choking of the Sexual Variety, Shoving, Claws Come Out, Age Gap (Reader is in their late 20’s – Logan is 200 years old), Reader used to have confidence issues but worked through them,

Rating: M – No Minors

Word Count: 8.5k

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

It’s fun to relate to the people that live in the same place as you, something about it deepens the connection. Whether it is a mutual bonding over music, entertainment, or even sports – it always makes you feel closer, comfortable. In this day and age, it can be almost lonely if you aren’t connected with others through your phone, making the world feel a bit glummer. Having that safe group is necessary to be one with the world, to feel like you’re going to be okay – like everything is going to pan out. You happened to luck out by living in the same building as some of the most heinous, and hilarious characters the world has ever set eyes on. You have the fortune of calling them your friends.

The group chat was originally Wade’s idea. His way of bringing you into the crew when you worked late, not missing a moment of meet ups you couldn’t make it to. It was a sweet gesture, but with how many others were in there – it overwhelmed you. Out of the twelve people who are constantly messaging the chat, you found safety within two of them. Negasonic and Yukio happened to be your solace when the chat was too loud. Yukio wasted no time in creating a Girls Only chat for you three, where nothing was held back. You three could express yourselves in every way possible, without the guys being weirdos – mainly Wade but still. It was great to have women friends around your own age, that was something you were not used to.

Any inside joke about the guys or about events being organized was ran through your three separately, making small bets here and there on what Al would say, who Peter would try to have grab his chain, how many times Logan told Wade to fuck off. Logan, that made you tune in real quick. The possibilities were endless and made it eventful to say the least. But the one thing you loved the most about your friendship with Nega and Yukio is how open they are with you; Honest, encouraging, your own personal cheerleaders. When you initially met them, you were a shy little wallflower – getting by on just being a listener over a talker. Always the encourager, never getting encouragement. Shying away anytime someone was nice to you, never accepting it as truth. Yukio and Nega were the opposite of what you were, and everything you wanted to be.

Having a safe space with them meant you could send them anything and they’d listen, give advice, be the best friends you could’ve ever asked for. It was with them that you found your confidence, something you always struggled with. It was one photo you sent them of the dress you were wearing – both ladies telling you how beautiful and gorgeous you are, how hot you looked in it. That small little omission altered your brain chemistry. You hadn’t been called hot before, so it invigorated you to hear that. It was a long dive into the endless pool below, and you were ready for the journey down. Months and months of slowly getting out of your shell with them turned you into a little vixen, the compliments they gave you caused you to thrive. You always reciprocated for them as well, hyping them up through and through. It felt good to feel like you were worth it, like you weren’t just there. It changed the way you saw yourself, and you knew you’d never go back to how it was before.

Tonight was no different, after all you had just gotten back from hanging out with them. A trip downtown to the mall was a call for chaos when it was you three, Wade forcing Logan to stay home with him and reenact The Greatest Showman with Mary Puppins. It bummed you out for a bit, not being able to chill with Logan like you wanted, but when Wade called – no one told him no. It was a secret to everyone who wasn’t Yukio and Nega that you had a thing for Logan. Something about the older man burned right through you in the most sensual way possible, something deep and longing you never wanted to leave. Little glances you two would have together always caused the girls to giggle, teasing you about it later but, it was only a matter of time before the chord snapped, before you gave in. Still that fear sat at the back of your mind, the what if’s. What if he doesn’t want me? What if he doesn’t want anyone? What if? What if? What if?

As you sit on your plush rug right in front of your wall length mirror, you leaned against the side of your bed, humming as you thumbed through the earlier group chat messages. Behind you on your duvet sat the bag full of clothing you had gotten, trying to add more color into your wardrobe. Beneath it all sat a spicy little number you nabbed whole Yukio and Nega were changing, something that felt so right you needed to have it. It wasn’t a secret that you would buy yourself things like these every now and again but, this time around you felt empowered holding this little secret just for yourself, to surprise your friends with. They always said that color duo made you look fearless, powerful, gorgeous – and you’d be damned if you’d pass it up, especially on sale.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you contemplated getting up to take a shower or put on your new set, feeling yourself out, getting some prime photos then showering. The toss up between the two left you unable to choose, wondering if you could go hang out with Wade and Laura instead, maybe even sneak your way into Logan’s room. The thought made your body shiver, needing to close your eyes for a moment to brace yourself. Taking a deep breath in, you let your mind wander, your hand grabbing the bag off your bed instinctively. It was a given deep down you wanted to prance around your room in the set, spicing up your night. Something about wearing it underneath your clothes while hanging out with everyone felt taboo, downright sinful – but you craved it.

Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, you gently grabbed each piece of lingerie out of the bag, the rustling of tissue paper filling the air as your music droned low in the background. The bra was placed carefully against the bed first, followed by the lacy things and garter set; Your eyes quivered with arousal as you saw it, knowing how it was going to make you feel. There was no wasted effort in stripping completely naked, tossing your day clothes into the laundry basket. The slight cool breeze coming from your central air, mixing with the intoxicating smell of the candles lit around you made your eyes darken, your nipples pebbling against the air. You understood why you were excited and giddy to be putting it in, but in the back of your mind you also felt nervous. It was confusing you.

Pushing it out of your head, you ignored the nagging in the back of your mind, solely focusing on the task at hand. Sliding the soft lace of the thong up your thighs, you reveled in how it felt – how it glided against your skin so softly, like it was a lover. How supportive it felt cupping your front whilst holding your behind helped to quell some of the nerves lying low in your belly. Snapping the elastic band against your hip, you giggled as you grabbed the bra. Even though it was lacy and covered almost nothing, it had good support for your breasts, holding them perfectly to show the most amount of cleavage, but also leaving some to the imagination. In between the small bits of detailing, you could see the color of your nipple, which caused your smirk to grow. Biting your bottom lip, you smoothed your hands over the apex of your breasts, watching as the flesh spilled over slightly.

All that was left was your garter belt, sitting across the middle of your stomach and hooking onto your stockings. You worked quickly to pull them up as you let the music take over you, swaying to the beat so it was less intimidating. As the final strap was hooked to the top of your stockings, you let out a shaky sigh, silently prepping yourself for what you would see once you turned around. Keeping your eyes closed you spun around slowly, letting the anticipation eat away at you until you couldn’t take anymore. Usually you were so confident when it came to trying these pieces on, not giving a second worry to them – this time around you were nervous, as if this particular color scheme made you scared. You couldn’t let that hold you back, not after how far you have come, it wasn’t worth it.

Slowly you opened your eyes as you faced the mirror, the blue tint of the strip lighting giving a whimsy glow to your room. The focal point of your vision started to become clear as you looked at your face, makeup still immaculate and beautiful from earlier. But as your eyes panned down to your body, you felt a fresh wave of goosebumps flood your skin, a shaky moan leaving your lips. The yellow of the bra and thong complimented your figure wonderfully, amplifying the gorgeous glow of your skin. But truly it was the navy blue of your stockings and belt that made your body quiver; The royal deep color punctuating your sensuality with how you stood. You couldn’t believe this was you, in all your baren glory – a fucking goddess amongst men, you could send one to the hospital just with this set. You couldn’t keep your smile back any longer as you stared at yourself, admiring your body and its shape against the lingerie. All the worries, all the small doubts instantly fell away, your confidence skyrocketing.

You knew for a fact Yukio and Nega would hype you up, thinking this was totally you¸ and probably ask if you got it today. But those could wait, you needed to take photos – you needed to see what you looked like on screen. The giddy nature of what you were doing sent shivers through your body, the thought of what positions would look best making you grow excited. You decided that your go-to for new outfits would fit perfectly in this scenario. Who knows, you could save this photo for a rainy day when you wanted to tease someone. You grabbed your phone off of the bed as you dropped to your knees, the plush shag material of your lilac rug feeling lovely against your legs.

Parting your thighs, you left a good gap between both as you sunk yourself down. One hand came to press against the floor directly in front of your clothed core, tossing your hair over to the opposite side. As you held your phone in position with your free hand, you noticed how your arm was pushing your breasts together deliciously, deepening the cleavage, sending your eyes a shade darker. Pouting your lip as cutely as you do, you snapped a few quick photos, getting every great angle you could as you changed your hair direction. A blur of photos filled your camera roll as you felt yourself, “Juno” by Sabrina Carpenter coming across your playlist at the best time.

As you laughed to yourself, you finally stopped taking photos, sitting with your back against the bed and crossing your legs. Each photo you took was a masterpiece, amplifying your beauty by tenfold. But out of each one, it was the very first one that felt real, authentic to you. The others you were playing sexy up, trying to get the best fuck me look going, but it felt too artificial for your taste. It was the first one, the one where your eyes were dilated, where your nipples perked beneath the fabric, where your thighs trembled that made you feel like a God. It was a no brainer that this is what Yukio and Nega were getting, there was no way around it now. Clicking the share icon in your camera roll, you clicked on the first green bubble, eyes blurred from how excited you were about this risky photo. I’d be a lot tougher with claws.

You sent off the cheeky message without a second more thought to it, locking your phone instantly. As you tossed the device on your bed, you put on the silk bathrobe hanging off of the corner of your mirror, wrapping yourself up quickly. All that thirst-trapping made you thirsty, the dry mouth you were getting was too much for you. As you opened your bedroom, making it around to your kitchen of your apartment, you opened your fridge up quickly to grab a water bottle. The cold plastic in your hand brought you back to Earth, your body coming back into itself as your reality started to slip back in. The cap was popped off easily by you, finding its way across the quartz top. Bringing the bottle to your lips, you let them wrap around the opening, gulping down the cold liquid. It felt nice with how hot you felt, bringing your internal temperature back down as your mind cleared.

Ding. The tone of your phone going off made you stop drinking, catching your breath as you swallowed down the water. So lost in bringing yourself back to the present time, you forgot you had messaged the chat. You screwed the lid back onto the bottle as you set it on the countertop, promising to come back to it. As you made your way elegantly back to your room, that pull of nausea and nerves made you stop. Your stomach churned as you stood in the doorway, the threshold keeping you upright. That same feeling from earlier was back as you put on the lingerie, not knowing why you felt so nervous and scared all of a sudden. It made you confused, weary as to what your body was trying to tell you. It’s just Yukio and Nega, why are you being so flighty? Groaning to yourself, you rolled your eyes as you made your way back to your bed.

Plopping down onto the duvet, you sprawled out on your stomach as you grabbed your phone, using your face ID to unlock it. Yes you would. Colors look good on you. You cocked a brow at the message, reading the lines over and over again. It didn’t sound like Nega or Yukio to be so short-worded. Usually, they would send a plethora of emojis before screaming in all caps. But that was just the thing, your last message open wasn’t to the group chat, but one individual instead. It all made sense now, why you felt so scared and nervous. Your eyes went wide as you read the contact’s name, not seeing your groupchat. No, instead it read Logan. It wasn’t the groupchat that received the photo, it was him.

You screamed as you threw your phone across the floor, palms shaking as you sat up silently. The noise in your brain was too loud to focus, the intake of your breath and blood pulsing through your ears made everything too much. Anxiety was sitting in the back of your throat, threatening to spill your stomach out. You scrambled across the floor on your hands and knees to grab your phone, still unlocked from a few moments ago. Shaky fingers worked to unsend the photo, blessing the tech gods for that feature. You were too anxious to type, opting for speech to text instead. “I’m so sorry about that! I meant to send that to Nega and Yukio.” Seeing the wording typed out didn’t feel right, as weird as that sounded. Admitting it felt like a sin, more so than sending a sexy photo to The Wolverine. After all, wasn’t this your endgame anyways? It’s not like you haven’t deep infatuated with him since he became Wade’s friend, since you started hanging around him a lot more. Wasn’t it you who stated that by the end of the year, you’d kiss him? Wasn’t it you who said you would fight tooth and nail to make him yours?

Being sucked into your mind by your thoughts caused you to delay in sending your message, instead removing the text with your finger to completely disappear. Ding. Right as you were thinking of your response, you saw another message come through from Logan, one you didn’t anticipate. Put it back. Now. There was no way he said that, right? Oh, but there was. As your eyes shook from excitement, nervousness, and fear you could make out the small letters of Logan’s message, feeling his desire through the text. He wasn’t a big texter, he even said that himself – but to see him say more than two words was insane to you, even now when he was clearly enamored with you. There was no right or wrong way to reply, but no words you could think of held a light to the dominance Logan is showing.

Incoming FaceTime Call: Logan. The red and green buttons at the bottom made you stir, wondering if it would be a good idea to answer. This was one of his favorite ways to communicate, to see how things were going and what you were up to. Granted they never lasted more than two minutes because Wade would always hijack it but still – the little slivers of time you got with Logan was special. This time around though? It felt wired, like if you answered you’d get the shock of a lifetime. But what was life without a little self-indulgence? Looking up at yourself in the mirror, you fixed a few strands of your hair, pulling your robe a bit tighter around your chest as you sat back against the bed, letting your butt hit the floor as you got comfortable. Dragging your thumb along the green answer button, you positioned your phone a few inches away from your face, enough to get your collarbone up in the shot. A slow, pregnant pause caused by your phone’s connection delayed seeing Logan. But once it came to be, you were taken aback.

The dark of the early night was cresting behind his head, the sun starting to descend into the horizon. His eyes glittered against the holiday lights, causing your heart to swell. Once he looked back down at the camera, he couldn’t help himself but by staring at you, a small smile threatening to take over his lips. “Hey,” he let out with an airy breath, the slight chill of the night causing it to puff out. You felt yourself suck in a breath, the energy already charged. Reflecting his own smile, you sent your own through your phone as you waved. “Hi.” Usually you were a lot more talkative, teasing him to make him smile but – none of that felt right in this moment. Even with seeing his face on your screen, you could tell he was hiding something – not really saying what he wanted to. His eyes were black against the horizon behind him, no sight of hazel coming through.

“How’re you?” You managed to let out, your voice lower than usual as you let your legs stretch out, leaning further back against the side of the bed. Logan didn’t miss a second of your movements as he walked down the street, the light bustling of cars filling the sound barrier. From the buildings behind him, you could see he was downtown, more than likely heading to the bar for a quick drink. You silently wished he asked to meet you there, to hang out privately for once. But that playful glint in his pupils told a different story as he rounded the corner, staring down at you. “Did Wade tell you about my suit?”

Logan asked with a slight smirk, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he watched for your reaction. Cocking a brow in his direction you tried to understand what he was asking, not sure what suit he meant. You knew that Logan was The Wolverine, it was no secret. But you never saw his suit, only meeting him a week after he jumped into your timeline. Shaking your head at his question, you pulled your lower lip between your teeth, gnawing on the skin to help combat the butterflies in your stomach. The swishing of your hair from side-to-side aiding in cooling you down. “Then what made you choose yellow and blue?” His smirk never let off as he asked, prying. He wanted to fully talk about the photo, he wanted to see if it was truly accidental or planned. Your mouth went dry when he asked, not having a concrete answer for why you chose that color scheme. Shrugging you tightly laughed, releasing your lip as you focused on your mirror. “I thought it was a pretty combination.”

Pretty, by association it was like you were calling Logan pretty. Even if you didn’t know about his original suit, still he associated himself with those colors. Logan mirrored how you were before, pulling his own bottom lip between his teeth as he chuckled. Struggling for a moment, Logan managed to flip his camera around to pan at his legs – the clean yellow and blue pants is all he had to remember his original suit. It caused your heartrate to pick up again, hammering in your chest as you got a brief glimpse at his clothed crotch. It took every fiber of your being to contain yourself, to hide the whimper clawing up the back of your throat. Lost in thought of what he could be hiding under there you didn’t notice how the screen flashed a few times – a text bubble popping up you couldn’t focus on. Logan took screenshots of your reaction.

The camera flipped back to Logan’s face, the heat cresting its way up your neck as you stared at him, your own pupils blown out. “Do you still think so?” He teased, dropping his voice down a few octaves. You could tell he was wearing his headphones to talk, making it more intimate for him to hear than everyone else. It sent your body up in flames at how you could say anything, and it would be only for Logan. “More than ever before.” It was a no-brained response, you didn’t have to think in order to speak. Your mind was already as alert as it was going to be, the filter around Logan you had previously no longer existed on this call. Logan stopped his walking to stare down at you, narrowing his eyes with a genuine smile as he licked his lips, nodding to himself.

Logan jutted his chin out towards the camera as he started to walk up another well-lit street, never taking his eyes off the camera. “You wanna show me what my colors are hiding under there?” He nodded towards your bathrobe, a sliver of the bra showing against the fur collar. There was one of two ways this could’ve gone, either play into it or shy away. This was clearly an attempt from Logan to see how far you’d want to go with him, really a test for if this was accidental. Mutual pining after one another for so long burnt you both out, so if it kept going there would be no tell when it would stop. The power was now in your hands, there wasn’t much else you could play with. Putting on your best innocent eyes, you let the pretty little smile fall to your mouth, puffing your lower lip out slightly. “Dunno – you sure you can handle it?” Game on.

The sassy tone you let on with your question had Logan’s pants tightening, his breath coming out in sharp bursts as he tried to control himself. Having animalistic tendencies meant that anytime he was aroused, he needed to stake his claim. Show the world who you belong to, who his mate was. Even if you didn’t know, he did. He could smell it on you any time you went past him, or when you looked at him. In another life, in another world you were his – and he planned to make you his on Earth-10005 as well. Huffing out a disbelieving laugh, Logan snorted as he stopped in his tracks, pressing his back against the brick wall of one of the local pubs. “I can handle you, missy.” Logan hissed, letting his eyes go naturally wide to signify how serious he was. The low growl seeping up from his throat made your body shiver, made your fingers work slowly to undo the ties on your bathrobe. “Don’t get it twisted.”

You couldn’t help but snort to yourself as you heard Logan say that, never expecting the 200-year-old man to say something so modern. Laughing lowly as you stripped out of the bathrobe, you let a sliver of your chest show, how your robe fell off of your shoulder. Logan’s eyes narrowed in to watch you take it off, the silk falling behind you. All that he could see was the plush skin of your breasts hanging slightly over the cups, nothing more. A weak moan slipped past his parted lips as he watched, needing to shut his eyes for a moment so he wouldn’t cum in his pants. You knew you had Logan right where you wanted him, letting you take the control back of the situation. It made you feel powerful knowing he was so weak for you, even if it was for a short period of time. “Ew, Wade needs to stop teaching you catchphrases of the early 2010’s.” You weren’t a tease all the time, you could see Logan’s labored breathing through the call, could tell he needed a distraction.

Your remark was enough to make Logan open his eyes again, staring at you with a predatory glint in his eyes; The whites almost impossible to see. “Why are you changing the subject?” He panted, standing upright again as he pressed his covered back to the wall, cocking a brow in your direction. You weren’t prepared for Logan’s retort, thinking you may have the upper hand while he was aroused, yet he always managed to surprise you. Sucking your teeth, you shook your head in confusion, rolling your eyes away from his gaze. “Aw, is someone flustered?” He pouted, smiling with a hint of smugness. Your mouth falling open in a silent gasp made him chuckle, finding it quite adorable how you’re trying so hard. The burning across your face was a clear indication to you that Logan was getting under your skin, trying his hardest to truly break you. It wasn’t in a callous or mean way, but more to show you who you belonged to. Putting the phone closer to his face so you could see only him, he made sure he was loud and clear. “Don’t worry princess, I’ll be nice and gentle.”

“Fuck off, Howlett.” You laughed as you rolled your eyes, exposing your cleavage to the camera without realizing it, your cool slipping through your fingers. The dead giveaway of how he was affecting you came in the form of your camera shaking, your fingers betraying you as you tried to suck in a deep breath. Looking away from the camera didn’t help when Logan stared like he was going to eat you alive, devouring you with every glint his eyes gave. You had to admit it to yourself, your confidence reserve was running out, completely going dry the longer you sat and talked with Logan. If he didn’t act now, he was forever going to hold his peace. “I’d rather fuck you.” It flowed off his tongue so elegantly, never deterring his steps as he managed to walk again. At first you thought you may have misheard him but, you heard him loud and clear, perfect in fact.

The shock written across your face, mixed with desire caused Logan’s restraint to snap. He moved away from the bars entrance and instead kept straight, letting the cold November air nip at him a bit longer. For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. Mouth hanging open, brow creased with a mix of shock and anxiety, you were going through it within seconds, all because of dear Logan. The confidence, the bravado, the je ne sais quoi you have held on the up and up finally slipping. Revealing itself when the shy version of yourself you thought you buried. The submissive angel, Logan had you wrapped tightly around his hand, reminiscent of his old cage fighting wraps. “Eye-fucking can only get you so far, princess.” Logan knew you wouldn’t pull away now, you were putty in his hands. But he could have a little fun with you, and boy did he plan to. It was a sure thought that you weren’t as obvious as you may have thought when staring at Logan, silently begging him to fuck you. The whole time, he knew.

“You’ve known?” It was a silly question to ask but Logan wasn’t stupid. He’s been around for more than 200 years, he could see through stuff as it came through. He is also very well known for retorting back no but I do now, pretending to know a secret as a way to coax you into telling him. You had to make sure this wasn’t like that – or else you’d implode. Logan nodded at you as the lights started to dim around him, a gentle glow from afar lighting the edges of his face. He was still outside but away from the light pollution, an alleyway most likely. Propping his phone up on the closest discarded shelf near a door, he nodded as he pulled out his flask. “No shit I’ve known, you can thank Yukio for that one.” Yukio, your friend. There was no malicious feelings towards her for telling Logan, in fact she may have done you a favor. But it got you thinking, who else did she tell? Was it one giant secret that the whole group knew, hence why they tried to push you both together constantly? “She tells Wade everything.”

And there it was, the shot heard ‘round the world. It made sense that she told Wade, and Wade blabbed to Logan – Yukio would never face the conflict head-on, it went through a source. Releasing the breath you were unaware you were holding, you nodded into the open air as you sunk further against the bed, a bead of sweat gathering on your hairline. The back of your throat felt tight, dry, highly uncomfortable for your own liking. Trying to swallow was like trying to fit a watermelon into a wine bottle, impossible due to how high your blood pressure was. Now that the light pollution of the city wasn’t creating streaks of orange across his screen, he could fully take in your shocked state – seeing the tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. “What? You didn’t think I’d feel the same way?” Logan asked honestly, no longer keeping up the teasing. Seeing the distress on your face caused him to pull back, wanting you to tell him when it was good. He wasn’t going to push further; He didn’t want to ruin this.

The chord of your neck worked to string your words together, trying to find the best match to speak. Nothing felt, nor sounded right on your tongue; It drove you mad. “No, but I thought it was a fantasy more than anything.” You squeaked, coughing to bring some moisture back to your throat. Adjusting yourself on the floor, you brought the camera down a bit, pulling it further back for comfort – a typical position for you. Logan noticed though, how he could see you bright and clear as day, in your pale-yellow bra, that you had just for him. The slightly darker color of your nipple crept through the fabric, causing his pants to tighten, but he wouldn’t tease you further unless you felt better. “Can’t fantasies come true?” It was Logan’s last-ditch effort to ease the anxiety rising in your stomach. It helped, hearing him say that. It didn’t feel awkward anymore, it didn’t feel scary. It was beautiful, the start of something more.

“Are you sitting on the floor?” You pulled your camera back to pan it around yourself, showing off your little number as you sat, pulling your legs into a criss-crossed position. “Yeah, I got spooked off my bed thank you very much!” You stated with a smirk, showing how you were teasing. Logan liked how you said it, acting all sassy as you puffed out your bottom lip. It was cute, you looked precious to him. Everything about you made Logan feel alive, like his life was worth living instead of drowning it with the bottle. You made him want to be a better man, to settle down, start a family – anything you wanted he would give you even if you asked. That, is how much he loved you. “Flip your camera around.” He motioned, twirling his finger as he drank from his flask, groaning at the taste.

Obeying his command, you flipped your camera around as you showed him the mirror right in front of you. Waving cutely through it to him, you fluttered your legs as you sat, anticipation eating its way through you. Seeing the softness of your belly against your thong sent his mind spiraling, his eyes flickering to the fabric down further, hoping to God he could see your arousal. For a moment he took you in, how shy you were getting under his gaze. Hell, he could see the goosebumps forming themselves on your thighs, wanting to sink his teeth into the plushness of your flesh. Nudging his head towards you, his next command was on the tip of his tongue. “Spread your legs, c’mon.” The way it rolled out of his mouth like warm honey had your eyes wavering, threatening to roll back.

Slowly you began by uncrossing your legs, sticking your feet up absentmindedly towards the mirror, making sure to wiggle your toes under the stockings. It was a good tactic for teasing; Logan was living for your control. As your clothed claves hit the rug, you started to swing your legs open, letting each inch of the fabric rub against your soft legs. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, which didn’t go unnoticed by Logan, reveling in how responsive you are. “That’s it, good girl.” The fated words that made you lose yourself every time, fell out of Logan’s mouth so naturally. As he spoke that blissful name to you, finally your legs were fully open, able to see every little bit of you. It felt good, right to have his eyes on you. He wasn’t someone who could hide his emotions well nowadays, utterly losing it the longer he stayed with Wade. But in this moment you saw the true reserve on his face, the realization that even though he’s in some back bar’s alleyway, anyone could see him. The arousal coating his face, how his eyes focused harder to make out that tiny banana-yellow stain of your wetness on your panties, he was so lost in this moment. “Lean back, get comfortable. Eyes on me.”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded as you leaned back fully against the side of your bed. Reaching to your left, you grabbed at the tripod Nega got you for your birthday this year, shortening the neck of it to sit perfectly to your side. Shaky hands did not make for stable camera work. Something in the back of your mind said this would be the best thing for him; No shaky cam as he directed you, all hands free just for him, it was the perfect pick. Pushing your phone quickly into the top slot of the tripod, you placed your hands on the inside of your thighs, tickling the soft flesh as you awaited Logan’s next words. Beneath the lace, he could see your perky nipples pebbling at the mere instructions he was giving you – silently berating himself for not going over to your apartment and showing you why they call him an animal.

“You’re such a good listener. Don’t think, just do.” You weren’t even trying at this rate, you naturally fell into the submissive role so easily. A commanding personality like Logan always made you fold, obeying each word like it was spoken from God. It’s the reason it made you so special in the bedroom; It’s the reason Logan became obsessed with you. Seeing your submissive side slip through the cracks every now and again made him yearn, a man starved. He could have anyone and all he needed was you. “Listening so well for me.” It was what you could do well in this moment, even with the steady flow of blood pumping through your ears. The whooshing and thumping making it difficult to hear anything other than Logan; The current making room like Moses parted the Red Sea, only he shall walk on through. “Show me, sweetheart.” You felt like you were burning up, from the inside out. Cooking hotter by the words Logan was saying, not able to keep your cool anymore. The husk of his voice, mixed with the lucidness of the alcohol slipping around his tongue made you see stars. If it was possible, you’d cum just from his voice.

Antsy was a perfect descriptor of how you were feeling at the moment, suspense eating right through your chest as the insinuation in Logan’s voice. “Show you what, Lo?” Ah, yes. Your last semblance of control before Logan completely shit-stomped it. An irritated groan fell between Logan’s mouth as he slammed his hands against the wall, the shelving where you were propped up on shaking. His head dangled between his shoulders as he breathed heavily. “Show me how you touch yourself when you think of me.” That was the final straw, the endless teasing towards one another had finally broken. There would never be a way to go back from this, and you fucking thanked whatever or whoever was listening. Check fucking mate, Logan Howlett. That was all you needed to push forward.

You pulled at the side of your panties, swinging it onto the other side of your cunt as you opened your thighs up a bit more. The delicious stretch was aiding in the opening of your folds, letting the crisp air of your room lap through them. Logan drew his head up as he heard your silence, a painful growl slipping through his lips as he drew his brow together in pain. Nothing in this world could’ve prepared him for the sight he sees in front of him, the picture perfect gorgeousness, the thing he wanted tattooed on his brain. It was the purest form of Logan you could’ve possibly gotten; Veins of his neck bulging, eyes slanted so close to being closed, labored breathing like he ran a marathon. This was The Wolverine.

The sight on your phone made a fresh wave of your slick run out of your cunt, seeping onto the thin fabric between your cheeks. Using your first and forefinger to part yourself, you made sure to keeps your eyes on the mirror, eyeing the camera as you rubbed your pearly nub. The bead erect with arousal, begging to be touched. A simple flick of your finger across it had your entire lower half jolting. The sensation almost too much for your sensitive clit. Chewing on your bottom lip to help calm you down, slowly you began to make tentative circles with your first and middle finger, getting used to the sensation as your other hand slipped right under your bed to your secret box, one that no one would suspect.

Logan didn’t miss how you rubbed yourself so tenderly, loving yourself in the greatest way possible, while watching the perverse side of him come alive. He felt so naughty watching you masturbate, listening to his directions in the fucking alleyway. If he ran fast enough, he could be at your apartment before you made yourself orgasm, able to eat you out until you were crying for him to stop. No, this’ll do. He also didn’t miss how you reached frantically under your bed, eyes still on him as you grabbed a velvet bag. The purple glistened against the LED strips lights in your room, the multichrome coloring reflecting rainbows against your fingers. Quickly you worked the bag open, trying to grab at the first toy you could reach. Of course, it was not only the biggest dildo you had, but also happened to be yellow and blue. When Logan saw that, girth and all, he was roiling.

With how wet you were, you didn’t need lube to push your toy into you. Needy didn’t even touch upon how you felt. “Easy there baby, inch at a time. Ease it in, that’s it.” Logan cooed as you struggled to stretch around your toy, the burn already aiding in your arousal. Nodding at Logan’s words, you slowly inched the toy within your tight hole, never letting up on your clit to aid in the stretch. “L-Lo,” you moaned out quickly, eyes rolling back as your head lulled. If Logan was anything like this toy, you’d be unable to walk in the morning, you were hoping for that. “What, sweetheart? Feel too good?” Logan mewled as he gripped his tented cock through his pants, reveling in the harshness at which he was grabbing it. The bark he let out made your body shake, the thickest part of your dildo fully sheathed inside of you. “You deserve to feel this good honey, you’re the best girl.”

The praise was too much as you reached the base of the toy, your lower belly feeling so full of it. Carefully you pulled back on the toy, letting half of it out before you pushed it back in. The rigidness of the silicone rubbing against your spongy spot made you gasp, a throaty moan slipping into the night’s air, echoing throughout Logan’s headphones. “That’s my girl, nice and steady baby.” Logan had no idea what he was even saying anymore, or where he was going. All he knew was that his mouth was going and his feet were moving. Where they’d end up? He’d find out sooner or later. Palming himself as he steadily walked, Logan cut down the corner of the alley, making his way left. “Stretch that cunt out for me honey. I’ll fill you real soon.” Looking down at his screen all he could see was your blissed out face, the hearty stretch of your pussy around your toy, and the absolutely hot sight of your glistening body in his colors. “Just keep going, focus on my voice.”

Nodding at his words, you started to move the toy faster inside of you. The grip you had on the base helped it to conform to your cunt, filling in every ridge. Words escaped you in this moment, all you could do was focus on Logan’s face on your phone, watching how he never looked up at he walked, eyeing you like you were the World Series. Cresting behind your eyes was your orgasm, threatening to take you out with one swipe of your fingers. You couldn’t finish so soon, you wanted Logan to see exactly how it was for you. But there was no use, your arousal was so high, you were going to cum one way or another. The small squeak you let out caused Logan to stop in his tracks, glaring down at the phone will his full, undivided attention. “Look at the mirror baby, watch how sexy you are when you cum.” The breathy moan to which he released those words caused you to unleash the deepest groan you could muster, eyes blown out to nothing as you looked in the mirror.

Just like that, like the snap of your fingers, that string tethering you and Logan together snapped. Everything went white. Your ears rang as your throat became raw – yet no sound broke through. The sweetest coaxing could be heard miles away but yet it faded quickly. The world wasn’t spinning or moving for that matter. Instead, it was just staying still, letting you soak in this orgasmic bliss. Slowly the fog began to clear for you, your vision turning solid again as you watched the mirror. Heavy panting made up the sound coming back. The shaking of your body slowing down the longer you twirled the toy inside of you, rubbing your fingers deftly across your clit. Little by little, the blissful nature of your orgasm satiating that deep hunger looming in your chest. “That’s my good girl, making me so proud.” Logan’s tender voice cut through the staticky sound as your breathing steadiest itself. Licking your lips as you let your eyes wander around your room, you noticed that your tripod was a lot taller than you initially realized, almost looming over you as your fingers never stopped. Only that wasn’t your tripod, and that voice you heard was coming from directly beside you.

“Hi, princess,” Logan smirked into the mirror, meeting your gaze as you realized what was happening. It took a moment for it to register, wondering why he looked so much bigger now. Watching the figure of Logan reach between your legs in the mirror, it only clicked to you when you felt his grip close around the base of the dildo, pulling it out of you with cautionary ease. Shivering from the loss of girth within you, you snapped your head to the right as Logan caught your eyes. Smirking, he waved the wet dildo at you, chuckling as he threw it onto the bed. “H-Hey Logan,” you managed to let out, gulping down the pool of saliva in your bed. Nudging his chin behind you, Logan ran his calloused fingers over your chin, gripping your skin firmly. “Get on the bed.” It wasn’t an ask, it wasn’t a question. It was an order.

“Logan-“ you began, but were stopped when Logan grabbed at your throat, pushing against your pulse point with two fingers. The new sensation made your core clench around nothing, pulsating openly as you looked into Logan’s obsidian eyes, trying to make out what was going to happen. “Now.” Logan ordered, grabbing you by the neck and waist as he helped you up. Standing on wobbly knees was not a good idea, but damn it if it didn’t feel good. It took a moment to acclimate back into your body, Logan’s bodyweight kept you upright as you struggled. “Don’t make me tell you again, you won’t like that.” The threat made you want to break it, break him. Playing a brat for him would be a fun adventure, but the desperate nature of your arousal made you reconsider. Yet you were naturally doing it, and Logan was going to love punishing you later. “Very good girl.” Logan praised as you slowly sat back onto the bed, letting the silky material of the duvet caress your body.

How did he get in here? That was a question crossing your mind, nothing else but how. He wasn’t there all the time and you knew it, remembering that you were FaceTiming him. Narrowing your eyes in the direction of the bedroom door, you thankfully had a clear view to your front door, seeing that it was shut but – not quite perfect anymore. A smirk laid across your lips as you noticed the claw marks on the door, specifically around the doorknob, you assumed on both sides. Plus, the small splinter on top of his hand that he is currently picking out was enough tell for you. Logan had used his claws to unlock your door and get into your apartment. He was never going to the bar, this entire time he was walking to your apartment. It made sense now. This whole time he was coming to make you his. The revelation caused you to whimper out of pure love, no longer lust. Of course though, that didn’t last long. For what you saw next, shook you to your core.

Standing in between your legs was Logan fucking Howlett. The Wolverine. No longer did he wear his TVA jacket he was given earlier this year, but instead stood shirtless over you. The sweat on his body caused his chiseled physique to glisten in your room, his natural musk making your hornier by the second. His pants you had seen earlier of the same color scheme you are wearing, brushing wonderfully against your baren thighs. The reinforced nylon feeling like silk across your skin. Panning your eyes up to his hands, slowly Logan started to release his claws, inch by inch. A pained expression crossed across his mouth at the extension, but he fucking loved it. Why can I only see half of his face? As your eyes made their way upwards, no longer could you see his darkened eyes, instead replaced with something that shouldn’t have been considered hot. Across his eyes, around the top of his head was The Wolverine cowl, complete with, as Wade called them, blowjob handles. The animal himself, standing right between your legs.

You sunk back slowly on your elbows, stretching your legs open wider to fit all of him. Biting your lip, you looked up at Logan between your lashes, panting like a bitch in heat as you take him all in. “You want to see the real power yellow and blue really holds?” He growled, lightly tracing the dull edge of his claws against your sides. Yes, you do. Needless to say, this was the start of you wearing his colors, especially if this would happen every time.

----

Tagging: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444 @begaytotallygay @tezooks @hughj1d @pinkanonwriting @craziersarah98 @actuallybridgetjones

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fastandcarlos · 1 day ago

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Little Boy Growing Up : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: you can't contain your emotions as your son attends nursery for the very first time

As the car came to a stop, a lump ran down your throat as you studied the building that you had toured a couple of weeks ago. Next to you, Daniel was just as nervous, knowing what was about to come, not quite sure he was fully prepared for it.

“Shall we go in?” You smiled, turning back in your seat to look at your son. “This is the place where you’re going to be staying today sweetheart.”

“Let’s go!” Your son cheered, hurrying to get out of the car.

Daniel climbed out and walked around to help him get out, unfastening her seatbelt and lifting him out of her seat. “I can’t believe my baby boy is growing up.”

“Daniel,” you chuckled, climbing out of the car too and giving your son a hug. “He’s only going to nursery, he’s not going to prom or anything just yet.”

Since you agreed to start taking your son to nursery, Daniel had been relatively calm. But now that he was here, he was struggling to contain his emotion and not let it get the better of him.

“Baby,” you whispered, pulling your son closer to you. “Do you think you could go and give daddy a really big squeeze, I think he’d love that right now.”

Your son did as you asked, sprinting over to Daniel and leaping into his arms. “Are you excited?” Daniel asked him, forcing a smile onto his face. “What am I going to do without you by my side today?”

“You’ll have fun too,” your son assured him.

Your eyes were drawn to the tight hold that Daniel had on him, refusing to let him go. “Come on, we can’t stand out in the car park all day,” you tried to tell them both.

Daniel reluctantly let your son go as you took his hand, Daniel deciding it was best for him to wait in the car. A member of nursery staff was immediately at the door with a warm smile, especially as she saw how excited your son was.

“Hi sweet boy,” she chimed, kneeling down so that she was at his height. “It’s lovely to have you here with us.”

Your mouth opened to say goodbye, but your son was already off and beginning to explore the place. You handed his bag over, standing in astonishment at how easily he took to nursery, quickly finding the toys that he liked and talking to the other children who were with them playing.

“It’s nice not to deal with tears for once,” the staff member joked. “I’ll make sure to keep an extra close eye on him today and see how he settles in. If we have any problems, I’ll make sure to give you a call.”

You waved goodbye before heading back across to the car. As you opened the door, Daniel quickly wiped underneath both of his eyes before smiling across at you.

“Everything good?” You asked, watching Daniel closely. His head nodded, but the look on his face told you a completely different story.

You stayed still for a moment before reaching across and taking a hold of Daniel’s hand, silently reminding him that you were right there with him.

“I didn’t think I’d find this so hard,” he admitted in a whisper, “especially as he’s found it all so easy.”

“It’s nice to know he’s excited,” you responded.

Daniel hummed in agreement, “I’m glad that he was looking forward to this, I guess I just wasn’t looking forward to losing him.”

“You’ve not lost him Daniel, you’ll see him in seven hours.”

The two of them had always been undeniably close, when Daniel was home every second was spent with your son, hanging out, doing whatever they wanted to do, making as many memories together as possible.

Daniel had worked hard on preparing your son for nursery, prepping him with skills, conversation starters and teaching him about sharing too. Daniel wanted his son to be liked, he knew that he would be popular, he was a mini Daniel after all.

Your hand squeezed against Daniel’s tightly, “I bet he would want for us to enjoy ourselves whilst he’s at nursery you know Daniel.”

Daniel’s eyes widened, “I can’t believe I have to spend my day with you now, can’t I go and get him back and hang out with him instead?”

“Excuse me, we’ll have a great time together.”

Daniel’s eyes rolled as you hit against his arm, encouraging him to put his foot down and get driving. You knew that he was only messing with you, but at the same time, you knew no one could fill the void that your son left in his life when he wasn’t around.

“He’s going to learn a lot being at nursery, he’ll grow as a person,” you told Daniel.

“There’s plenty that I could teach him though,” he argued.

Your head shook as Daniel continued to protest. Although he had taught your son plenty, there were some things in life that a parent couldn’t teach their child.

“He’s going to be around kids his own age, not around stinky drivers who are sweaty and gross,” you teased, “and it means we get more time together too.”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed back across at you, “there’s nothing wrong with hanging out with racing drivers, we actually happen to be pretty cool guys.”

“I know, I was stupid enough to marry one of them.”

As the two of you pulled out from the nursery, you could see Daniel arguing with himself. There was a small part of him that wanted to run in and take your son, but he knew that he couldn’t, eventually listening to you and driving away, as much as it killed him.

Despite his protests, Daniel knew that nursery was going to be good for your son, it was a chance for him to see more, do more, meet new people, everything that Daniel had ever wanted for him.

After a few minutes he began to relax again, leaning back in his chair as he focused on the road, trying to forget about the fact that he had lost his little man for a few hours.

“What are we going to do now that it’s just the two of us?” You asked him.

Daniel’s eyes flickered across to you, “well, seeing as I’ve essentially just lost a child, there’s a bit of a void in my life now that needs to be filled.”

“You’ve not lost your child, he’s just growing up, that’s what we all do Daniel.”

His shoulders shrugged, but still his eyes looked suggestively across at you. Now that your son was growing up, the two of you had more time on your hands again, and Daniel definitely wasn’t happy just settling on having one child.

“We’ve been blessed with one incredible child; would it be so bad if we thought about another one?” Daniel quizzed, offering you a wide smile. “Doesn’t now seem like the perfect time to start thinking about these things, like you said, we’re not getting any younger.”

“How long have you been planning this?” You chuckled, shaking your head across at him. “We’ve just said goodbye to one child for the day and now you’re planning the next one.”

Daniel’s shoulders shrugged, an innocent expression etched upon his face. “I’m not necessarily thinking about having a child straight away, but it’s important that we get lots of practice in for it beforehand.”

“Is that really where your mind is at? You’re impossible sometimes Daniel Ricciardo.”

“Hey, look at you! Can you blame me?”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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blue-moon-echo · 24 hours ago

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"One hour ago is yesterday's news" has killed more than research.

coherence: notice how we have new abbreviations that you have to learn, no one spellchecks, punctuation is scare. and it all amounts to less coherence because otherwise it takes too long.

patience: this new status quo isn't restricted to the online space. sometimes you don't have time to take a nap or someone will think you're dead. a timely manner has gone from half a day to ten minutes.

attention: yeah we've all heard cellphones are ruining kids' attention spans. its not inaccurate. folks have shorter attention spans because; the longer something takes, the less time you have. shorter is better, and if it isn't shorter, its not worth taking the time.

efficiency > quality: coherence and patience could've gone under this, but they feel like separate issues. attention too, but same reason for not. it no longer matters how well you do something, as long as you do it quick. time is no longer a retroactive measure, its preemptive. in 'v' amounts of time, you should do 'w' amounts of 'x'. notably different from the how it used to be that 'y' has taken 'z' amount of time.

manners: let me sound like a boomer again for a moment. people treat others worse. you don't have time to be polite or consider others, you have things to do *now* and of you don't you'll be left behind. funny that I mention sounding like a boomer for the one older folks seem to struggle with more (in my personal day-to-day experience, I'm sure your grandma is lovely). this and a lack of patience has lead to quite a few... moments... at work while my voice didn't want to.

nuance: why write with nuance when no one will take the time to read for it? why have a detailed opinion when only the first three words matter? why think more in-depth about what other people say when that takes too long? this ties in nicely with research.

there's probably more, and I'm also not saying I am immune to this. these are just observations. I'm sure your grandma is lovely.

Rage. In my heart. All-consuming. FUCK AI.

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butchvamp · 1 day ago

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i finished Harding's quest... whew... i don't like Harding. or i should say i don't like how nice the game treats her. she gets all of the emotional beats around the lore revelations while the elves are left to go kick rocks.

i pointed this out previously in another post, but the dwarves (and Harding specifically, and thus by extension Andrastians, too) get so much more sympathy from the game than any of the elves. you can clearly see it just in these two screenshots-- compare dialogue choices when comforting Harding after the reveal about the Golden City (and also important to note that the game assumes my elf is Dalish multiple times before this choice, but for some reason i can suddenly make her Andrastian):

versus the first real discussion you get to have with Bellara about the truth of the elven gods:

Bellara implies that everyone is right not to trust the elves, actually, because the elven gods (the same ones that enslaved her people btw) are bad and we should all feel bad about it.

and Davrin is unfortunately distanced from the Dalish, remarking that they're too traditional and stuck in the past (a racist trope that Dragon Age really loves for the elves), and only seems to care about how the elven gods make elves "look bad." we do get to see Davrin reconnect with one of the members of his clan later, which is a sweet moment that shows us a new side of him, but it exists more so to push along the griffon storyline than anything to do with Davrin (a problem i find quite annoying when it comes to Davrin's writing... they care more about Assan and "turlum" than him or his feelings. but that's a different post)

when we finally get to Heart of Stone, Harding has her big, emotional confrontation with a titan, and gets granted the memory of the titan's loss and all of their pain. she says some Choice lines, here.

who is thriving? the elves that were enslaved en masse by the Evanuris? the elves that are still enslaved and live in alienages? that are wholly, systemically oppressed throughout Thedas? then to follow it up with both of these lines, spoken to an elven Rook:

and i understand that this is the titan speaking through Harding, and we can be generous and say that they are addressing the Evanuris, and not elf Rook personally. but. uh. why doesn't my elf get to Say Anything. it's repeatedly insinuated that everything is the elves' fault, that the elves should feel guilty and that they should be held responsible for what happened to the dwarves (and by extension, the blight and everything bad that's ever happened including what's happening right now), and that they deserve to suffer because of what "they" did to the titans.... and there's no option to challenge this line of thinking at all.

and it's really frustrating that none of the elven companions are allowed this kind of emotional catharsis with the Evanuris. up until that one (bad) dialogue with Bellara, all of Bellara's comments/her reactions to the gods are treated as comic relief. none of them get to grieve their gods like Harding is allowed to grieve the titans-- they're not even allowed to be as angry with Solas as Harding is in some scenes. even Andrastians, in that one single dialogue choice, were afforded more sympathy and grief than the elves in this game.

it's a baffling choice, considering the plot, that elves are given so little grace or consideration. and i do think part of it has to do with the way this game has tried to distance itself from previously established lore as well as scrub itself clean of anything morally dubious-- it's all black and white and the game needs someone to blame, so the elves are bad because the Evanuris are bad, nevermind all that other stuff, because see, the elves actually deserved it all along! i don’t even think it’s unreasonable that Harding may have these feelings (even if they’re racist lol) but the fact you just have to accept Blame and the narrative never challenges her or Bellara’s guilt or Davrin’s apathy and instead just agrees with all of them and forces Rook to agree as well is shitty and takes it from “this character feels this way” to “the game is implying that everyone feels this way, and also that they’re right.”

it's really unfortunate because i do think this reveal about the titans and why the dwarves can't dream or use magic is exciting, it could cause some compelling conflict between the companions (but that's not allowed in this game at all unfortunately and you especially Cannot be even slightly rude to Harding, ever). and i do like the idea of her quest and what they're trying to convey here-- confronting this old, repressed trauma, and finding a way to reconcile with it and move forward.... but not at the expense of the elves, who also suffered massively at the hands of the Evanuris (and continue to suffer. right now)

bioware has been criticized repeatedly about their depiction of the Dalish and even the mages, too, and i really do not understand what they were thinking with this, because it's just racist (and exactly what people have repeatedly criticized them for). this is why a lot of "fantasy racism" fails. you can't write a marginalized group as being responsible and deserving of their own oppression, that's not how it works!

#datv spoilers #datv critical #i think. im over the hurdle at this point with the majority of my criticisms. unless something else really horrifically racist happens #but hopefully this is the last of my insufferable posts #im completely blind going forward i havent seen any other spoilers beyond this point (i checked out harding & taash's quest preemptively #after seeing people criticizing them)#kinda scared.#im finishing up lucanis's questline next i think. im p sure i have his final quest already and it's the last one i have before #blood of arlathan. besides the crossroads quests

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stxrslut · 1 day ago

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WAITING FOR YOU ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

pairing; rafe x sweetie reader

summary; rafe has been neglecting you recently, putting his work before all, you haven’t had any attention for yourself. you finally reach a breaking point on the night where you prepare everything, make everything perfect, and he doesn’t even bat an eyelid.

content; emotional neglect(?), argument

authors note; decided to rewrite an old blurb. I’m really happy with how it turned out

tonight will be perfect, you’re sure of it. ever since rafe had taken on more responsibilities at work you had been pushed to the sidelines a little, but tonight you can’t wait to be his centre of attention.

you have everything ready, you’ve made a lovely meal and set it out on a candlelit table with his favourite bottle of wine ready to open.

you’re dressed up too. a cute little dress on, and underneath some even cuter lingerie. your makeup is done nicely, all waterproof of course, if all goes to plan, you expect to be in floods of blissful tears by the end of the night.

you hear rafe come through the front door just as you add your final touches to the dinner table. you immediately stand up and scurry down the hallway to meet him.

“good evening rafe,” you beam, ready to see him, though your smile falls a bit when you come into contact with him.

he’s got an armful of paperwork and he looks run down, like has constantly for weeks now. you push past it though, this night is going to be good for him too, he needs the break.

“hey sweetheart,” he mumbles absently, immediately making it clear that his mind is on other matters, “look, can you give me like half an hour? just got somethin’ I need to sort out real quick.” he doesn't even wait for an answer, he's already making to climb the stairs towards his office.

you stop him of course, placing a hand on his arm. “wait, I made dinner, it'll go cold.” you feel crestfallen, sure you knew he'd want to work, but right in the door? he didn't even take a moment to look at how nicely dressed up you are.

rafe stops and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose he speaks in mild frustration, “yeah, yeah I'll eat with you okay? but then I do really have to work.”

you nod, leading him towards the kitchen where the table is set. you pull out a chair, urging him to sit and he does, watching you idly as you walk round and take your own place. “I made your favourite,” you beam. in honesty, making his favourite isn't that much of a feat, he's a very basic eater. but it's the thought that counts.

it's a quiet meal. rafe doesn't pay that much attention, only giving absent and short answers to the questions you ask. his day was fine. work was fine. his plans are to do work stuff. he's feeling fine. the meal is fine. if he could have bothered to ask, you would have told him that you are not fine with any of those answers. it's like he doesn't care that you did this for him.

the moment he’s finished he rises, scratching the back of his neck he speaks, “I gotta go.. do some admin.. food was good.”

“rafe wait…” you stop him from where you still sit at the table. you’ve not even finished your food yet and he’s already leaving. “I thought that we could maybe go upstairs.. spend some time together.” you make it so obvious in your tone as to what you’re suggesting.

he sighs, “maybe later okay? maybe later.” and just like that he’s walking away, just like he has been doing for weeks on end.

later, you are laying on your bed, half asleep, waiting for him.

the candle on the bedside table is almost burned out, it’s ugly now. you are undressed, still putting up with the uncomfortable underwear on your body, just so you can look good when he comes in.

it must be nearly eleven o’clock at night when you finally hear his footsteps coming down the hallway. you quickly do your best to wake yourself up and reassume the position you were laying in before.

when rafe comes through the door he stops, looking a little stunned, “why aren't you asleep?” he asks bluntly. that certainly wasn't what you were expecting. not even a little bit of praise, not a thirsty look, nothing.

“are you serious?” you sit up, now you’re frustrated. he’s been pushing you aside for so long, and he can’t even acknowledge what you’re doing for him.

“what do you mean, am I serious? what the fuck is all this?” he gestures to the room, the lowered lights, the candle, you.

“it’s for you.” you frown, “I thought you’d want- I thought you would like this. I thought you’d be happy.”

“baby I didn’t ask you to do any of this.” he says crossly, “I have other things to focus on.. I- I’ve got work! I don’t have time for this.”

this is your breaking point, tears begin to slip down your cheeks, “you never have time for this. that’s the problem.”

his eyes land on you, “problem? you have a problem? I’m a grown man now, I have responsibilities.. I have to make priorities.”

“well they’re wrong! your priorities are wrong!” you snap, sitting up on the bed to lock eyes with him, “I should be a priority. but— but you’ve just been pushing me away all because of work! we haven’t had sex in weeks and.. and you barely talk to me anymore!” you start to rant, “I’ve put so much effort into making tonight perfect and you haven’t even bothered to thank me! I’m tired, and I want to spend time with you. I miss you rafe!”

It’s silent for a few seconds before he lets out a weary sigh, “that’s what all this is about huh? I’m neglecting you.”

you sniffle pitifully, “that’s not what I said.”

he shakes his head and comes to sit down on the bed with you, “what you meant though,” he looks down at his lap for a moment before patting his leg, “c’mere.”

you reluctantly crawl into his lap, resting your messy cheek on his covered chest. he starts to speak again, “I’m sorry. I.. I will admit that I haven’t been paying enough attention to you.. okay.. I’ll change that. promise.”

part of you wants to snap again and say ‘see! how easy was that to admit! why did it take you so fucking long!?”

you don’t snap though, you don’t have the energy. instead you murmur and go closer to him, “m’sorry for gettin’ mad at you rafe.”

he shakes his head, “just missed me, I know.” he rubs your back, before pulling you to face him. “hey.. think it would be a bit of a shame for you to have got this dressed up for nothin’ huh?”

#rewrote an old blurb!#rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron concept #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron outer banks

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think-like-a-poet · 2 days ago

Note

lando x reader where they are on holiday and enjoying the city, just cute moments

Sightseeing

Lando Norris x reader

--------------------------------

The sun was shining on the back of your head as you were making your way down the street. Landos hand was inside yours as he looked on his phone following google maps directions.

"I understand nothing from this app. It says we need to go every direction at once." He sighs. You laugh as he puts his phone back.

You squeeze his hand, "Don't worry, babe. We will just walk around till we see a nice place to eat."

He stops in his track, pulling you with you to the side to not be in the way of others, "Alright, but you wanted to see Pisa first. It is only twelve."

You smile and give him a quick peck on the lips, "I am sure a tower isn't hard to miss. We just follow the rest of the people."

"Alright, lead the way." he hold out his hand and together you walk further down the street.

Around thirty minutes later, you finally reached the leaning tower of Pisa. It could have been earlier if Lando hadn't insisted on going a side way to be their faster, even though he had never been here before, and you came out were you started

"Alright, not the right way," he had muttered and you had shook your head.

Now, you were trying to get Lando on the right place with his hands held out, "Bit to the left. You are standing in front of it."

Lando shuffles to the side and stretches his hand out so that it looks like he is the one pushing the tower, "Like this?"

"Yes, don't move." you cheer and take a lot of pictures, hoping on of them would at least be good enough, as Lando changes his face expressions from normal to weird, mimic almost all emoji's.

You laugh and hand the phone to Lando, "Could we do a selfie"

"For you, always." he jokes and takes the phone to put it into his pocket and grabs his camera from around his shoulder You roll your eyes playfully at his comment.

He holds the Camera into the air and you smile at the red light. "Beautiful."

He puts it around his neck, "Lets get some gelato instead. I saw a shop a couple streets back."

"You sure your trainer is alright with that?"

Lando shrugs, "I am on holiday. What he doesn't know, doesn't hurt him." he takes your hand back in his and walks towards the ice cream shop.

Youruser

Youruser: Bella Vista @ landonorris

Iiked by: Landonorris,lilyzneimer and 382.827 others

Landonorris: you are my bella vista❤️

Liked by creator

Lilyzneimer: How did you not fall?

Youruser: lots of practise

Landonorris: she did fall the first time

Youruser: shhh, don't tell my secrets

User: to go on holiday with lando norris

User: my favourite couple

User: now i want ice cream

LandoNorris

Landonoris: eat pasta,drive fasta @.youruser

Liked by: Youruser, oscarpiastri and 978.273 others

Oscarpiastri: stealing my qoute

Landonorris: We drive faster together

Oscarpiastri: alright

Yourusername: are we interrupting @.lilyzneimer

Lilyzneimer: i say we run away together

Yourusernane: Lets do it

User: love how he posted a pic of her, but not himself

User: We need a landojpg post

User: please

User: the hand on her leg

User: i am to single for this

#lando norris #ln4 #ln4 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x fem reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 smau #smau #lando norris smau

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threeacttragedy · 3 days ago

Text

Entry 4 – The One About the Red Bag of Chaos

One of the things that never ceases to amaze me about this fandom is that Whenever Something Good Happens it ALWAYS torpedoes into Something Bad Happening.

Every.

Single.

Time.

And, that’s why we can never have nice things.

Case in point: “Brb” and the elusive Red Bag.

On October 4, we were graced with Luke’s Instagram story of luggage with the caption “Brb.” His picture included two pieces of luggage, a small metal carryon case, and a red bag. The red bag was interesting because it appeared to be – let’s face it, we all stereotyped this into being – a woman’s tote bag of some leathery sort. Lukola Sleuths tracked Luke’s image down to the first-class lounge for British Airways. I mean, we even got a not-so-blurry reflection of Luke in the corner of the luggage. We should have been ecstatic, right? Luke had posted two days in a row (with the first post being the cutesy “Mean Girls” reference to October 3), and Nicola had been peppering the trail with Lukola-laced yumminess since early August. I mean, we should have been biting our nails in excitement waiting to see what Luke or Nicola posted next.

But, no, that’s not what happened.

Instead, hysteria struck fast and hard. Why? Because at some point in her relatively short life, Antonia had danced in front of a red bag at – oh my God, wait for it – an airport! Oh, how the Conscientiously Stupid seized this tidbit of outdated information to terrorize the Sincerely Ignorant straight into shark infested waters!

The problem with this plotline was that (a) the video of Antonia was old, possibly even a few years old; and (b) there was absolutely no evidence the red bag Antonia was dancing in front of even belonged to her! The argument that this was Antonia’s red bag was simply one being pushed by assholes who enjoyed riling up the weaker parts of the fandom. And, let me tell you, these assholes succeed every time.

But, what was dismissed and ignored was the fact Nicola had a red bag in the background of her June 15, 2024 Tatcha post. If you need to see it for yourself, the video is still up on her Instagram grid. In the video, there is a shelf full of handbags of all sizes, and on the bottom of that shelf is, what appears to be, a large red bag (we can deduce this by acknowledging (a) it is red; (b) it is on a shelf full of other bags; and (c) it appears so large it needs to be tucked into the shelf). Is it THE red bag? Who the fuck knows? That is not the point. The point is, it is a red bag of some sort, and this fact should have outweighed the argument that the red bag belonged to Antonia.

But, it didn’t?

Why?

Because the fandom enjoys hysteria?

No, I don’t think it does. I’ve spoken to too many people on the verge of a meltdown to believe they enjoy spiraling.

So, what is it that causes good things to go bad so quickly in this fandom?

In my opinion, the answer lies somewhere between (a) the fandom believing that Lukola is too good to be true; (b) the fandom questioning their own intelligence and intuition; and (c) the fandom doubting the two people at the heart of this ship – Luke and Nicola. It’s strange to me that we would rather trust online bullies pushing their own deranged narratives than trust, at the very least, ourselves.

Whenever a Conscientiously Stupid tries to derail you, or an adjacent (ugh, there’s that word I hate again) pops up trying to make waves, take a moment to take a deep breath, roll your eyes, and have a good laugh (because I’m not going to lie, some of the shit that gets put out there is laugh-out-loud funny). But, most importantly, trust yourself and your intelligence because, if you're still in this fandom, your deductive reasoning skills are a chef's kiss.

And, to finish this story about the elusive red bag, just remember that Nicola posted an amazingly happy picture of herself the day after Luke, on an airplane, in first class on Aerlingus, an affiliate of British Airways that shares its first-class lounge. If these weren’t coordinated posts, I may as well say, “Screw it all,” and go live on a deserted island. Alone. With no phone. And no mascara.

Oh, and let me just slip in here that the elusive red bag quite possibly made an intentional reappearance in Nicola’s October 11 Olaplex story. But, I’ll leave any further speculation about that for a different day.

#lukola #luke newton #nicola coughlan #red bag of chaos #my opinion #my thoughts #speculation only

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pboogerswbb · 1 day ago

Text

TOO LOST IN YOU - part III

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

playlist, part I, part II

Warnings: toxic!paige, SMUT, language, cheating lowkey...

Wordcount: 6.6k

A/N: SURPRISE!! enjoy this please, someone was asking for more fluff and i promise the next one will have more!! i appreciate all the love and support, please again tell me which parts you enjoyed the most and what you want more of!! i appreciate all of it ty guys (AND HAPPY UCONN HOOPS DAY)

“Riri…”

My fingers move over the keyboard, typing faster than my brain could keep up with. After hours of studying my brain worked on autopilot.

“Babe..?”

“Gimme a bit,” my murmur is barely audible as Jay sighs next to me, rolling her eyes and falling back down on the bed we’re sitting on. I’m curled up in the corner, my laptop on my knees, eyes bloodshot from the hours of work I’d been doing. The sound of a show I didn’t like blared in the background from Jay’s laptop, breaking my concentration. I wanted to shut her laptop and tell her to leave, but telling the person whose room you were in to get out seemed a little rude. Instead I shut my eyes for a moment and sigh.

“Could you grab headphones or something?” I suggest, as nicely as I could but some annoyance makes its way through.

Jay looks at me, her blonde hair in a messy bun on top of her head as she sighs dramatically. She had been wanting my attention all day but I was seriously behind on some school work. Studying and writing essays was pretty much all I’d done for the past week. That and Jay. It was for the best, I didn’t need any time to overthink or dwell on… well… “the Paige situation” is what my best friends called it. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Valerie, you've been working all day again…” Jay says in a slightly whiny voice, the tone of it hits my ear uneasily. She wraps her arms around my bare thigh and hugs it tight. The pressure of her touch against my skin irks me - everything she did irked me. I blamed the overstimulation of everything going on . I peel her hands off me as gently as I could. Couldn’t she see I was busy?

“Just a little more I promise,” I mumble absentmindedly. I had been sitting on this corner of the bed since this morning, obvious from the state of me. My brown hair was up in a clip, half of it falling out messily, my face was bare of any makeup, and the light pink oversized t-shirt I was wearing had a picture of Tweety on it. I hadn’t even bothered to put on any pants all day.

“Babe you said that like an hour ago,” Jay points out, letting go of my thigh and sitting up next to me, brushing my hair off my face. I push her hand away, huffing a little bit, trying to let her know it was time to leave me alone.

“I need to work,” I remind her, a little annoyed by the neediness.

“But the party,” she sighs and closes my laptop, forcing me to look at her. I look into her brown eyes, as she raises her brows at me expectantly. I pout at her, looking at the freckles on her face before I sigh.

“I promised, didn't I…”

“You did,” Jay chuckles and grabs my hand. I let her. We had been seeing each other for a couple weeks now, ever since I finally let go of the foolish hope that someday Paige would actually care about me. God was I naive.

Jay was sweet, she always let me sleep over which I wasn’t used to. She loved to touch me, her hands were constantly on me. Sometimes it was a little frustrating but I think I just wasn’t used to it yet. Like when we walked around campus, she always wanted to hold hands. It made a knot grow in my stomach, but I knew I’d get used to it eventually. It just felt like a little too soon, we weren’t officially dating even though Jay certainly behaved like we were.

“I don’t feel like partying,” I sigh, glancing down at my shirt, knowing I looked like a mess.

Jay rolls her eyes but smiles a little, her lips pressing against mine. Absent-mindedly I kiss her back, not even bothering to close my eyes. It was just a peck anyway, I didn’t feel like it was a kiss worth closing your eyes for.

“C’mon Riri… everyone’s going,” she tries to convince me but she’s not doing a very good job. I almost felt sorry for how she thought she could talk me over.

“I look like shit.”

“No you don’t.”

I let out a chuckle and climb out of the bed over Jay, checking myself in the mirror. I really did. I raise my brows and look at her, still on the bed.

“Well… just put on a little bit of mascara and we can go,” she chuckles, climbing out of bed, wrapping her hands around my waist as she approaches me from behind me. I watch in the mirror as her chin rests on my shoulder. I feel my stomach stir, wanting to push her hands off me again, but I think I had done that one too many times today already.

“You really wanna go? Like… really?” I ask with a frown, meeting her eyes in the mirror. She nods and looks at me pleadingly. It irked me, the way she was looking at me. But she was good to me, so I decided to give in.

I had barely brought any clothes to her dorm so I head to the party with Jay, wearing black yoga pants and the Tweety shirt I had slept in. A little bit of makeup and brushing through my hair had been as much effort as I was willing to put in.. I didn’t want to go to the stupid party anyway. The sooner we were in and out, the better. I didn’t care about impressing anyone on campus, not anymore.

The muffled sounds of music fill the hallway as we walk towards the right dorm. Jay’s hand is snug on the small of my back, guiding me. She looks at me and laughs a little, grabbing me a beer from her bag. I hated beer.

“Turn that frown into a smile,” she suggests with amusement. It only annoyed me further. I open the can and take a few sips.

“Gonna take a lot more beer,” I complain. She kisses my cheek and I see a girl walking past us, and realise we must look like a couple right now. The thought makes my chest tighten in the worst way.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” Jay laughs, fixing the collar of her orange sweater that clashes horribly with my pink shirt. I suggested she should change into something else but she refused, which got me in an even worse mood. Her cheesy sayings weren’t helping.

I smile at Jay and knock on the door, the golden bracelet on my wrist dangling as I do. The door opens fast as my eyes widen seeing the amount of people they had managed to pack in this tiny dorm.

“Uh… where did you hear from this party again?” I ask a little hesitant and Jay laughs and guides me in confidently.

“It’s just some guy Brent who’s been throwing crazy parties in his dorm every february since he came here. I guess the word’s been going around huh?” She yells over the loud thumping of the music. By the time we’re inside I must’ve bumped into at least 12 people already, working hard not to spill my beer. I was already overstimulated and in a bad mood, not to mention stressed from all the due dates of my assignments sneaking up on me. The thumping of the music, the hot, humid air in the dorm and the sweaty bodies of students around me, spilling drinks all over the place was only making my mood worse.

“Jay I don’t know if I-” I start but she’s already walking past me, hurrying to her friends. I sigh and follow her, smiling awkwardly to the group of people greeting Jay. I didn’t really like her friends but I knew I should give them a chance. Jay was good to me.

“Bro, forreal I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you play Drake,” I hear a familiar voice from behind me. I feel the way my stomach drops, the way my hands immediately sweat a little as the tighten around the can of beer.

“It’s the principle, I’m team Kendrick,” some guy argues.

“Please dude I’m serious… she’ll flash you for it,” the familiar voice yells over the music and this statement is enough to make me turn around.

What I see proves what I had already known to be true. Paige is standing a few feet behind me, in black cargos and a white Nike t-shirt, the number 5 dangling on her silver chain. Of course she looked perfect, with her blonde hair down - I always loved it when she wore it like that. My fingertips tingle when I remember what it felt like to brush my hands through that hair.

“Oh my gooooood PAIGE!!” the brunette girl standing next to her squeals and only then I notice Paige’s hand wrapped around her hip, rubbing circles on it as they both laugh. My mouth parts as I blink at them stupidly, a painful squeeze taking over my chest.

“Valerie!” Jay yells over the music, and Paige turns to our direction. Her eyes widen in recognition as she sees me, softening for a moment. Her hand drops from the hip of the strange girl next to her, as she stares into me. I felt a wave of electricity run through my body as I felt her eyes on me, like I was coming alive for her again. I was so in shock from seeing her here I felt myself forget why I had even been upset with her in the first place.

Jay grabs my waist and pulls me close, but my gaze remains locked on Paige. Her brows furrow as she sees Jay’s hand squeezing my ass gently and suddenly I feel sick for the way Jay’s touch felt against my skin. No, it wasn’t that. It was Paige’s fault, all of it, the way I felt, the way I was being a bitch to Jay when all she did was good to me. Struggling to do so, I finally turn my gaze to Jay and offer her a warm smile, leaning my head into her shoulder. I quickly down my beer, frowning at the taste but grabbing another one anyway.

Why was she even here? Who was that girl? Why did she stare at me like she hadn’t called me a slut straight to my face just last week? I quickly glance behind me, not at Paige who was joking with a big group of her teammates, but at the girl. She was only a little taller than me, brunette, and she seemed to giggle a lot. I feel my stomach twist as I watch her reach her hand up to Paige’s hair and brush through it, like I had so many times.

I already hated her.

I downed another beer as one of Jay’s friends, Em or something, pointed behind me and Jay and whispered something to her. Jay looks behind us, her eyes widening and mouth falling open when she saw who it was. She leans into my ear, her lips brushing against my skin but I don’t feel anything.

“Babe omg, that’s Paige Bueckers,” she whispers excitedly into my ear, nodding toward the tall blonde and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Jay had no idea how familiar I was with Paige Bueckers.

Jay glances behind us again and giggles in a giddy manner, looking around the circle. “And that’s Jana and Allie and Azzi too, right?” she gasps and looks at me expectantly. I glance behind us too dismissively.

“Oh wow,” I murmur, my tone flat.

Jay rolls her eyes. “Oh c’mon who doesn’t love Paige.”

“I don’t,” I say matter of factly, shrugging at the blonde girl next to me, her hand still rubbing my side. I ignore the way her touch did nothing to me, didn’t leave any spark at all.

“Oh right she won’t even go see a game with me can you believe that,” Jay tells her friends who all chuckle. I fake laugh with them, trying to ignore the way I could feel Paige’s eyes boring into the back of my head. I knew the feeling far too well from all the times she had come to ogle at me at Ted’s, all the times I turned to look at her to find she was already staring.

“I just don’t like basketball,” I explain, shaking my head. It was a huge lie, but a harmless one so I didn’t feel bad about it. Sure, I could tell Jay that me and Paige had history - but why worry her over nothing? Trust me, I was lying for her sake.

“I’m gonna go ask for a pic,” Jay nods to herself and my eyes widen. I immediately shake my head, wrapping my arm around her.

“No you’re not,” I chuckle, my face turning hot.

“Why not?”

“Because!”

Jay looks at me, waiting for me to continue. I meet her gaze, my mind blanking.

“Becausee… she probably just wants to be left alone!” I mumble and press a kiss on her cheek, plotting a distraction. “C’mon Jay let’s get you another drink.” I try to sweet talk her but it’s pointless. Jay shakes her head at me with a laugh, her hand returning to her side as she turns to the group of Uconn Huskies behind us, chatting in a circle.

Embarrassed, I cover my face with my hand, cursing at the universe for making me go through this over and over again. I just needed a break from Paige fucking Bueckers.

I try to sneak away but Jay’s hand pulls me to her as she taps Paige on the shoulder. The easy conversation between the Huskies goes quiet, and all their eyes turn to Jay. I feel myself wanting to melt away, maybe to self implode or something to get me out of this situation.

With a lick of her lips, Paige turns to me and Jay, her eyes meeting mine first. Suddenly I hated myself for not running to my dorm to grab a nicer outfit earlier or at least some false lashes and foundation. I flip my hair over my shoulder, praying it made me look a little more presentable. She must’ve thought I looked awful. I had been replaying a fantasy in my head of me looking flawless, perfect the next time she’d see me after our “situation” at Ted’s. I guess the universe truly despised me. I must’ve been an axe murdered in my previous life. I need to make sure I’m desperately good in this one

“Hey sorry I don’t wanna bother you guys but I’m such a big fan, like I come see every game,” Jay says, a slight nervousness apparent in her voice. I chew on my inner cheek, feeling my insides turn as Paige’s eyes move from me to Jay, tilting her head back as she sizes her up. Suddenly I’m aware of how much taller Paige was than Jay. How much broader her shoulders were. I swallow, watching a smug smirk spread on Paige’s face.

“Of course bro let’s do it,” she says in a friendly tone, but I could recognise a hint of arrogance in it. I grab my phone, tapping on the camera app, trying to ignore the way my lower abdomen was stirring with unease but it was no use. The people bumping into me and the loud thumping of music wasn’t helping any of it. I felt sick to my stomach.

Paige throws her arm around Jay’s shoulder, looking from her to me with that arrogant smile on her face, that made me want to slap her and kiss the hell out of her at the same time. I was praying she’d play along, pleading with my eyes for her not to say anything about our history.

“You don’t want a picture?” Paige grins teasingly, her eyes landing on me. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out, all I felt was my throat going dry.

“Ohh she doesn’t like hoops, never goes to a game with me,” Jay complains which makes Paige nod knowingly, her tongue running along her lower lip, clearly trying to hold in a laugh.

“Oh is that so?” Paige asks, our eyes meeting again in a stubborn staring contest. My cheeks turn red and a heat pools between my legs but it doesn’t make me look away.

I scoff and nod. “Yup, hate it actually,” I lie, my tone lighthearted. From the corner of my eye I see KK and Ice watching the interaction, snickering. The thought that they were laughing at me and how stupid I had been thinking I could have Paige all to myself crosses my mind, and it makes me finally break eye contact. I bet they all thought I was an idiot. Poor girl who really truly believed that Paige could someday love her.

“I’m sure I could change your mind,” Paige argues and Jay nods next to her as they clink their plastic cups together.

“See?” Jay laughs, and I felt a little bad for her. Here she thought she was bonding with someone she admired, no idea what was really going on.

“Let’s just take the pic,” I sigh and watch them through the screen, seeing the way Paige’s rings decorated her fingers, the way her jawline sharpened as she tilted her head and smiled. I don’t even notice Jay next to her in the picture, all I could see was Paige.

“Got it,” I murmur and hand the phone back to Jay. My mind was spinning in a way I didn’t like, flashing with memories of what happened at the back of Ted’s with Paige, the words that were said, everything I had blocked out. I knew my only option was to leave or drink a lot more, quickly.

“I need another drink,” I murmur, and push past Jay, Paige and the rest of her team, taking hurried steps towards the kitchen around the corner. To my relief, I find it empty and quiet, giving me time to calm down. I brush my hand through my long, thick hair and place my palms on the kitchen counter, watching the cups and the liquor bottles on the table. I don’t understand why I couldn’t escape her. It felt like a hopeless battle, like a war I couldn’t win - if I let myself get consumed by her I got hurt, and if I tried to forget, she was everywhere. I simply could not win.

Paige steps into the desolate kitchen through the doorway, carefully watching me. I notice her and immediately turn my back to her.

“Don’t,” I tell her sternly, knowing how easy it was for her to make me forget all the bad that she had done. Each way that she had hurt me.

Paige raises her hands in surrender, a little amused by my dramatics. “Relax, just needed a drink,” she chuckles and starts looking through the liquor bottles on the table. I take a deep breath and turn back to watch her, her broad back facing me as she reads through the label of a bottle. She had always been horrible with mixing drinks.

“You want one too?” she asks carefully, her voice hoarse from having to yell over the music.

I take cautious steps towards her, stopping next to her but making sure I leave plenty of space between us. It was like my body was screaming, every inch between us too much, every cell in my brain trying to lose all sense.

Paige’s fingers wrap around a bottle of vodka, carelessly pouring it into a cup.

“Whoaa, okay no, let me,” I stop her abruptly, snatching the bottle from her. Paige lets me, a smirk on her face as I take lead, dividing the generous amount of vodka between two cups. She leans one hand on the counter, the veins on her hand popping, making it hard to think straight.

“So… your girl’s a fan huh?” She asks complacently, leaning down slightly to speak into my ear. I feel her body heat radiating off her, turning my breathing laboured. I shake my head, not wanting to speak in case my voice shook. I reach to the other corner of the counter for the passion fruit liqueur, feeling Paige step back a little. Her hand was still resting on the counter though, as I slid between her body and the counter, my back brushing against her chest. I swallow hard, a knot appearing in my stomach. My ears felt like they were burning.

I stand still between Paige and the counter, as I pour some liqueur in each cup.

“Why’d you tell her you hate basketball hm?” she asks teasingly, her eyes looking down on me.

“Because I do,” I lie, my breath hitching when I felt her front press closer to my back the tiniest bit.

“Right… what’s her name anyway,” Paige asks with a chuckle.

“Jay.”

“Jay?”

“Yup.”

“What kinda name is Jay?” Paige laughs a little and I roll my eyes.

“It’s a nickname,” I explain, filling our cups with some mixers.

“For?”

I shift a little, placing the bottle of juice down. Paige’s proximity was making me dizzier than I already was.

“Justine,” I say matter of factly and Paige lets out a loud laugh, her hand finally falling off the counter.

“Justine?” She asks astonished and amused, her brows raising and mouth fighting a smirk as I turn to face her, leaning my back against the counter.

“Shut up!” I scold her, feeling the way my mouth wanted to twist into a smile too. She had one of those laughs that just made you laugh. It was one of my favourite sounds in the world.

Paige grins and nods to herself, trying not to laugh. “Justine huh…” she murmurs to herself. She steps in closer to me, her eyes heavy, locking on my lips as she reaches behind me for her drink. I lean back, pressing my back tight against the counter, having to tilt my head back to look at her.

Paige sips the drink and smirks, not moving away.

“She’s short,” she says with a grin.

“No she’s not!” I scoff, watching the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed, the heat between my legs growing. Having Paige this close to me was making me feel more than Jay had done in all of the last two weeks. I hated realising that.

“She short,” Paige repeats smugly, still looking down at me, towering over my frame. I’m all the way pinned against the counter, not able to back up any further.

“You’re just freakishly tall,” I murmur, feeling her move closer, her front pressing against my chest, hand sliding to my waist. I felt like my knees might give out.

Paige looks at me for a while, her eyes roaming my face. I realise she has never seen me with this little makeup on, this undone. Embarrassment and the effects of the alcohol make my cheeks flush red. Paige bites on her lower lip as her eyes soften.

“You look so beautiful ma,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. And I snap.

My hands wrap around her body and I pull her in, her front flush against mine as our lips clash in a hungry, starved kiss. Her hands are everywhere, my waist, my chest, cupping my ass, pulling me closer by my hair. Paige tilts my face just right to deepen the kiss, her tongue sliding into my mouth with urgency.

I feel the counter digging into my back painfully but I felt too euphoric to mind. She tastes like passionfruit, and most importantly like herself, and her kisses send sparks everywhere. As I moan into her mouth, pulling her closer by her hair, Paige takes it as an invitation and slides her leg between mine, pressing her thigh into my core. I wanted more, needed to feel all of her. It was too late now, I was too far gone. I couldn’t bear to be away from her. I was too weak to try.

Suddenly it rushes back, the nights I spent crying over her, the way she would rush me out of her bed telling me she didn’t like sleepovers. The words she had said to me last I saw her and how it had torn me apart when I got home after my shift. A panic took over me, I wasn’t strong enough to go through that again.

In a rush I push Paige off me, my chest heaving. She wipes her lips, looking at me confused. Grabbing my drink and my mind spinning, I rush out of the kitchen looking for one thing only. I needed to forget.

“Hey where have you be-” Jay starts but I shut her up by kissing her roughly, my hand wrapping around the back of her neck, tongue sliding into her mouth. It felt like nothing compared to Paige, but I tried to forget. I needed this to stop. I needed to force myself to forget.

Jay is taken aback, her blonde hair falling out of the bun she was wearing as I tuck on it. When my lips kiss along her jaw and neck, I hear her chuckling a little, hand rubbing up and down my back. “What’s all this about?” she asks.

I had told her I hated PDA - which in a way was true. With her I did hate PDA. But now my mind was spinning and I was desperately clinging to her like she could help me stay afloat, like she could save me from the depths that were trying to lure me in.

“Just kiss me,” I say breathlessly, returning my lips to hers. Paige walks past us, her arm bumping into me in the tightly packed living room as I kiss Jay in a way I had never kissed her before - with real hunger. Only it wasn’t hunger for her.

As the song switched to the familiar beats of Heartbeat by Childish Gambino, Jay gasps, pulling away from the kiss.

“I love this song!” She shouts over the music, pulling me towards the area where people were dancing. My stomach turns as I’m reminded of all the times me and Paige had fucked while this song played in the background, how many times I had been between her legs, buried into her, the sounds she made, the way her perfect hands gripped my hair.

“You thinking that the songs coming on to tempt me

I need to be alone like the way you left me

You start calling, you start crying

I come over, I'm inside you

I can't find you”

The lyrics blast into my ear when I see Paige in the corner of the room, her hands kneading the ass of that girl she was with, kissing her roughly. It made me sick to my stomach. The way I could see the girl was putty in her arms, Paige’s eyes tightly shut as her lips slid against hers. I hated knowing that other people knew the way her lips felt, the exact pressure of her kiss.

I wrap my arms around the back of Jay’s neck and swing to the song with her, moving my hips as she sings the lyrics, her hands gently on my sides. The red tint of the led lights was making my vision blurry, and the people all around us bumping into me would’ve annoyed me if I hadn’t been so focused on Paige and this girl, still staring straight at them.

“Stupid, so dummy

Say the wrong thing and wrong girls come runnin'

I'm paranoid that these girls want something from me

And it's hard to make a dime go one hundred”

“Thank you for coming here with me,” Jay murmurs into my ear, her tone blissful from how touchy I’d become with her suddenly. My eyes flick to hers and I smile weakly, pressing kisses on her lips when I feel that all too familiar burn of Paige’s eyes on me.

Jay’s lips move to my neck as we keep dancing, and I can’t help the way my eyes flick over her shoulder, to find Paige already staring at me.

”I miss the sex when you kiss whenever you through

Sixty-nine is the only dinner for two”

It’s not the kissing on my neck but the intensity of Paige’s gaze, dark and hungry, that makes me let out a small whimper. Jay smirks against my neck satisfied, thinking it’s all her doing as her hands travel to my hips.

The brunette dancing with Paige says something to her, the eye contact finally breaking, making me feel like I could breathe again. I felt all my emotions swirling in my head, making me feel confused - hate, lust, anger, love, jealousy all overwhelming me. I felt myself sinking.

It feels like the room is spinning when Jay grabs my jaw, her lips pressing into mine harshly as her hands rub up and down my sides. But I had to see Paige. As Jay keeps kissing me I open my eyes, seeing Paige kissing the brunette on the other side of the room, but her eyes are wide open staring right back at me. It’s so hot I nearly moan.

“So we're done? This the real shit?

We used to hold hands like field trips

I'm a jerk, but your dude is a real dick”

The girl clings onto Paige’s t-shirt for dear life, her hand snaking around the back of her neck to pull her in closer. Jay’s hands tighten on my hips, her tongue sliding against my lower lip but I barely notice. My mind is woozy, never breaking eye contact with Paige as the song comes to an end, my core aching with how bad I needed her. We didn’t need any words, we both knew the thoughts going around our heads.

“Are we dating? Are we fucking?

Are we best friends? Are we something in between that?

I wish we never fucked, and I mean that”

“Excuse me,” I murmur to Jay in a haze, pulling away from her kiss and hurrying towards the bathroom. I close the door behind me, about to lock it when I hear a firm knock. Chest already heaving from anticipation, I open the door to find Paige pushing herself in, just as breathless as I was.

Before I have the time to think whether any of this was smart, I’m being backed into the sink, Paige’s lips urgently attacking mine. I immediately whimper into her mouth, my eyes squeezing together involuntarily as my hands slip underneath her white shirt, the need to feel the warmth of her bare skin taking over me.

“Mmh,” Paige moans softly, her hands sliding down my back to my ass, squeezing roughly. Her lips move from my lips to my neck, sucking underneath my ear hard enough to leave marks but at the moment I couldn’t care less. The want I felt for her took over everything, my anger, jealousy, any sense I had.

I throw my head back and look at the ceiling, breathing heavily as Paige’s hand slides to the waistband of my pants, fingertips dipping beneath the fabric already making my legs feel weak.

“Didn’t think you were into short girls,” Paige grins against my neck, her hand itching closer to where my need for her was pooling desperately, aching for her.

“She’s not sh-” I start but an involuntary gasp interrupts me when two of Paige’s fingers slide into me suddenly. Her brows furrow in lust when she feels how wet I am, the way I swallow her fingers up with ease. My hands grip the sink behind me trying to steady myself as Paige’s skilled fingers started pumping in and out of me, curling just right.

“Oh god,” I moan, my head thrown back. Paige grabs my hair and pulls me into a kiss, getting as much pleasure out of this as I did. Her thumb brushes against my clit making me hiss, but she swallows the sound with a needy kiss, other hand holding me up and steady by my hips.

“So wet,” she gasps against my mouth, the speed of her fingers making my head spin. “You this wet for Justine?” Paige whimpers, her breathing laboured against my lips.

I shake my head, my eyes opening for a moment to meet hers as she watches me in awe, like she could never get enough.

“Who you this wet for then?” Paige asks, her pupils dilated and dark as she towered over me. Her fingers were making a quick mess of me, already making me throb around her.

“Shit, ah - for you Paige,” I moan and Paige’s eyes flutter shut at my words, from how bad she had needed to hear that.

“Fuck,” she moans, her fingers pumping at a rapid pace now, the veins in her forearm popping out. “That’s right ma,” Paige coos leaning down and kissing my neck roughly as I felt the familiar knot in my stomach quickly grow. My mind spinning I bring my hand to Paige’s abs, feeling them flex as she worked hard to get me to my peak.

I was gushing around her fingers, surely dripping down her wrist and arm as she quickly worked me to the edge. It was dizzying, when she had me like this - she could’ve made me do anything she wanted. I hadn’t felt like this since the last time we slept together. No one could do what Paige Bueckers did.

Suddenly there’s a knock on the door and Jay’s voice rises over the thumping of the music.

“Riri you in there?”

Paige quickly covers my mouth, but her fingers don’t stop. My eyes widen as she looks at me sternly, telling me to stay quiet with her eyes. I felt myself tighten around her fingers, the tremble in my legs letting Paige know I was close.

Jay tries the door handle, and I thank God Paige locked it. The knocking stops and Paige lets her hand fall away from my mouth, brows furrowing as she looks down between our bodies, hissing.

“Shit, I can feel how tight you are baby,” she murmurs hoarsely, and I feel my eyes roll into the back of my head as her fingertips hit just the right spot to make my orgasm build up fast.

“Oh fuck P-” I whimper, but my mind was spinning too much - I couldn’t come up with anything comprehensible.

“I know Val,” Paige murmurs into my ear, keeping the steady rhythm of her fingers as she pumps them in and out, thumb rubbing against my clit just enough to bring me to my peak. I don’t have to tell her, she knows.

“Come for me ma,” she coos into my ear, leaving wet kisses on my neck and groaning hoarsely. “S’ wet and tight, all for me.”

With that, an involuntary gasp spills from my lips as I release all over Paige’s fingers, dripping down her hand, my body trembling desperately as I moan as quietly as I could. It was the way the air smelled just like Paige, the pressure of her kisses on my neck, the familiar, perfect way her fingers worked me, all of it made me unravel.

“Oh shit,” I mumble breathlessly, leaning my head forward and resting it against Paige’s chest. Slowly, Paige pulls her hand away and brings it to her mouth, her tongue licking her fingers clean of me, groaning a little as she tastes me.

I look at her and giggle a little at the way she was savouring the taste, licking her lips hungrily. If Paige Bueckers was anything it was a munch.

“You better wash those hands too,” I tell her, my voice a little whiny from the way she had just made me fall apart, all for her.

Paige smirks a little, licking her lips and leaning down to kiss me. But this kiss was different, it wasn’t hungry, or demanding - it was gentle and soft, I would’ve called it loving if I knew Paige Bueckers loves nothing but basketball.

“Val,” Paige starts. Her nose nuzzles against mine, hands holding my waist when I feel my phone ring in my pocket, interrupting the moment. I quickly pull away and answer, Jay’s voice coming through the other line.

“Riri where are you babe?”

“Uh,” I mumble and move away from Paige’s grip suddenly realising what we had done. I step away, watching her start to wash her hands, jaw clenching as she listens to me speak. “I had to find another bathroom.”

“Well where you at this party’s getting a little crazy,” Jay asks, clearly drunk.

“Umm, just wait there and I’ll find you,” I tell her and hang up, my cheeks reddening in shame. What was I doing?

Paige dries her hands and fixes her shirt before looking at me. “Let’s head out then?” she asks and I nod, feeling myself start to freak out. I was fucking everything up for a person who couldn’t care less about me. I was raised better than this.

Just as I reach for the lock, the guilt begins to take over. Noticing, Paige grabs my jaw and presses another kiss on my lips. A tender one again, the kind I wasn’t used to getting from her. I feel all the guilt and shame trickle away as she hums against my mouth.

“Okay, let’s go ma.” she murmurs and opens the door for me. The party’s even more packed than before so no one notices when we slide out of the bathroom together. Her hand is on the small of my back as she guides me through the crowd, pushing people away to make sure no one bumped into me.

“Babe!!!” Jay calls out and forces her way over to me and Paige. I quickly push Paige’s hand off the small of my back as Jay reaches us and wraps her arm around my waist urgently.

“Sorry I uh… got a little lost,” I lie looking at the ground and then at Paige. The lie was written all over my face, but Jay was way too drunk to take note of that. Or the brand new purple bruise on my neck.

“Ye, she was knocking on some poor freshman’s door. Prolly scared the shit outta her,” Paige quickly backs up my story, grinning convincingly. My eyes are heavy, still staring at her, unable to look away.

“Of course she did,” Jay giggles and pokes my cheek. I wanna slap her hand away. “Well thanks bro.”

“No problem,” Paige smiles at her. Jay’s hand reaches over to dab her up and I watch, red cheeked and flustered at their hands, me and Paige both knowing that her fingers had just been inside me not more than a few minutes ago.

“Uh we should go I’m tired,” I murmur and offer Paige a weak smile. Her blue eyes stare at my narrowing back as me and Jay push our way through the crowd, into the hallway of the building.

Jay kisses my cheek and wraps her hand in mine as my stomach twisted in guilt.

“She’s so nice,” Jay gushes rubbing her thumb against my skin.

“Huh?” I ask absentmindedly.

“Paige. She’s really nice, who would’ve thought huh.”

I swallow.

“Yeah, she is.” really nice.

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