#lock and key season 3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onlyswan · 10 months ago

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summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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v6quewrlds · 3 months ago

Text

TOO PROUD, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀lsu!fwb!joe burrow x reader. word count⠀⁎⠀8.3k.

summary⠀⁎⠀being friends with benefits with the cool, calm, and collected quarterback has been nothing short of a fantasy. but when he loses his cool in a way you've never seen before, you start to pull away.

author's note⠀⁎⠀happy one month anniversary to this request sitting in my inbox! ty to the anon(s) for requesting <3 not totally in love with the way this one is written, but it's been sitting around for long enough. warnings⠀⁎⠀one use of "y/n", joe pining after reader, features clyde, justin, and grant, 18+ mdni, smut & angst, oral (m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, public sex, wall sex.

You hummed to yourself as you folded your warm laundry, your eyes scanning the pile of clothes, searching for any pieces of clothing that didn't belong. Joe's clothing always seemed to find their way into your basket, but you weren't complaining. You enjoyed the scent of his cologne lingering on the fabric, a sweet aroma that reminded you of his laugh and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Sure enough, a stray LSU Football tee lay nestled between your own clothes, and you couldn't help the smile that appeared on your face as you held it to your nose.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the buzzing of your phone. It was late, the sky was pitch black outside, and you knew what that call meant. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks. You hadn't seen him - or fucked him - in almost a week. Between his season amping up, your classes, and your social lives, you had barely talked. But when Joe called, it was never just to catch up.

You threw the shirt aside and answered, your voice breathier than you intended. “Hey.”

“Hey, you busy tonight?” Joe's voice was strained, a clear indicator of what he had in mind. You felt a mix of excitement and annoyance. He never called this late unless he wanted you in his bed, yet you couldn't resist the allure of his deep, husky tone. You glanced at the time - 10 PM - and figured you could spare some time before heading to bed. Whether you'd fall asleep at his place or yours remained to be seen.

“Nah, just doing laundry. What's up?” you responded nonchalantly, trying to hide your anticipation.

Joe let out a sigh of relief. “Can you come over?”

You rolled your eyes, playing hard to get. “It's pretty late, Joe. What's so important?”

“You know what's important,” Joe said, his voice dropping lower, more insistent. You could almost feel the heat of his breath through the phone.

“Hmmm, not really. You should tell me why it's so urgent," you teased, your hands setting aside a pair of jeans to hang up later. You knew exactly what Joe wanted, but you enjoyed the thrill of making him ask for it. He was a man of duality - the composed quarterback on the field, the shy soul when it came to expressing his desires.

“Look, I just - I need you. Okay?” Joe sighed, and you giggled, your heart fluttering at his vulnerability. It was a side of him you didn't get to see often.

You bit your bottom lip, the sweet feeling of victory bubbling through you. “Well, when you put it that way... I suppose I can make an exception.”

Joe's sigh of relief was audible even through the phone. “I'll meet you downstairs, call me when you're outside,” he said before ending the call. You felt a thrill run through your body at the thought of seeing him. You pulled on a form-fitting long-sleeve, your cotton shorts barely covering your ass as you strutted out of the house with your keys, wallet, and phone in hand.

When you arrived at Joe's place, you parked your car in an empty spot just two spaces down from his. The building was quiet, the only sound was the distant murmur of music from passing cars. You sent him a quick text as you locked your car door. He appeared almost immediately, his eyes scanning the darkness until they found you. He wore a simple white tee that clung to his muscular chest and sweatpants that hung low on his hips, showing off the waistband of his boxers. You couldn't help but appreciate the view as you approached.

Joe's faint smile grew into a full grin as he saw you approaching. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a tight embrace, his nose nuzzling into your hair. You melted into the warmth of his body, your hands sliding around his neck as you kissed, a kiss filled with the familiar hunger that only grew with time apart. His hands traveled down your back, gripping your ass and lifting you slightly, making you gasp into his mouth. The chemistry between you was palpable, a silent conversation of passion that needed no words. Your legs wrapped around his waist with a giggle as he swiped his key and opened the door, carrying you into his apartment.

Inside, the room was bathed in a soft glow from the lamp by his bed, casting shadows across the floor. He kicked the door shut with a thud. You could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation thick as Joe carried you to his bed, he threw your body onto the soft mattress. He hovered above you, his eyes dark with desire, his hands skimming the bare skin of your thighs.

Your heart raced as Joe's hands moved with a confidence you had grown accustomed to, yet never failed to excite you. You watched as he peeled off his shirt, revealing the muscular chest you had admired from afar so many times. His abs flexed with each movement, a testament to the countless hours he spent in the gym and on the field. You reached up, tracing the lines of his torso with your nails, making him gasp. His skin was hot under your touch, and you felt a thrill of power knowing you could elicit such a response from him.

As Joe worked your shorts down, you sat up, eager to help. Your eyes locked, the air crackling with electricity. You slid the fabric of your shirt up over your head revealing your bare body. You wore nothing but a black lace thong underneath. Joe's eyes widened as he took you in, his hunger unmistakable. He leaned down, kissing you deeply as his hands found your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples, making you gasp. Your own hands were busy, pushing down his sweats, freeing his erection. You wrapped your hand around his length, sinking to your knees before him.

Joe's hand cradled your face as you took him in your mouth, your tongue teasing the tip before taking him deeper. You knew exactly how he liked it, the rhythm that would drive him wild, and you didn't disappoint. He groaned, his hips bucking slightly, and you felt his hands tighten in your hair. You looked up, your eyes locked in a silent challenge, and took him deeper still. His breathing grew ragged as he threw his head back, his grip on you tightening.

“Fuck,” Joe breathed out, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt your warm mouth wrapped around him. His body was on fire, the sensations you were giving him too intense to ignore. He knew he wouldn't last long with your skilled tongue working him over, and he didn't want to. He craved more of you, all of you.

“Hold on, get on the bed,” Joe grunted, his voice thick with desire as he pulled away from you. You complied, your legs trembling slightly as you climbed onto the bed, watching Joe as he fully removed his sweatpants and boxers. His cock stood proudly erect, the tip glistening with pre-cum and your saliva. You licked your lips, eager to taste him again. But Joe had other plans.

With a surge of roughness, he flipped you onto your stomach, his hands gripping your hips. You gasped, the sudden change in position sending a thrill through your body. You felt his warm breath on the back of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he whispered, “You want me to fuck you? You want this?” His words were gruff, demanding an answer from you.

“Yes, Joe, yes, please,” you whimpered, your voice muffled by the pillow. You felt the heat of his cock against your ass as he positioned himself behind you. The anticipation was agonizing, your body begging for release. His hand slid down, his fingers finding your slick folds, teasing your entrance before plunging into your wetness. You arched your back, your body eager to be filled by him.

Without warning, Joe thrust into you, the force making your cry out. The sensation was overwhelming, his length stretching you as he buried himself to the hilt. Your nails dug into the bedspread, your body tightening around him as you adjusted to his size. He didn't pause, setting a relentless pace that had your hips pushing back to meet his thrusts. Each movement sent waves of pleasure through your body, the friction of his skin against yours creating a symphony of sensation.

One hand pressed into your back, holding your flush to the sheets with no room for escape, while the other hand gripped your hip, guiding you to meet his every thrust. Your breaths grew shallow, your moans growing louder as Joe's rhythm quickened. His movements grew more urgent, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the quiet room.

“Fuck, Joe, harder,” you panted, your voice muffled by the pillow as Joe's hips pounded into you, each stroke hitting that perfect spot. Your body responded, your inner walls tightening around him, urging him on. The headboard banged against the wall, a steady rhythm that matched your breaths. You could feel yourself getting closer, the pressure building deep within you.

Joe groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he slammed into you. His own release was near, his muscles tensing as he felt your body responding to his every move. He leaned over, pressing his hips against your ass, pounding into you relentlessly. Your moans grew more urgent, your body writhing under his as you neared your climax.

“I'm gonna come,” Joe’s voice was strained, his breath hot on your skin as he whispered, his teeth grazing your earlobe. The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you pushed back into him, eager to feel his climax fill you. “Where do you want me, pretty girl?”

“On my tits,” you managed to say through gritted teeth, your body begging for the release you knew was coming.

Joe chuckled darkly and pulled out of you, the sudden emptiness making your whine. He flipped you onto your back, your thighs parted, and straddled your hips. The sight of his cock, glistening with your wetness, made your head spin. He positioned himself between your thighs, jerking himself off as he watched your breasts heave with each breath you took.

“Touch yourself, wanna see those pretty eyes roll back when I paint those pretty tits,” Joe instructed, his own eyes blazing with passion as he stroked his cock. You obeyed, your hand sliding down your body to your clit, your fingers circling the sensitive nub as you watched Joe's hand move rapidly up and down his shaft.

Your breaths grew shallower, your eyes fluttering as you felt the first wave of your orgasm building. “Close, Joe, so close,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Come for me,” he urged, his own release imminent. His strokes grew more erratic, his breaths quickening. You could see the veins pulsing in his arms, the tension in his jaw as he fought to hold back.

Your hand moved faster, your hips bucking off the bed. You could feel the tingle in your toes, the warmth spreading through your core. Your eyes locked with Joe's, and you felt the connection between them, the raw, carnally charged bond that had formed over your months of lowkey hookups. The room was a blur of heat and passion as you climbed higher, your body begging for release.

Joe's eyes bore into yours, watching you intently. With a growl, he gave into the pressure building in his balls and shot his load onto your chest and neck. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing under his as you moaned his name. The warmth of his cum painted your skin, your bottom lip caught between your teeth to keep from moaning out too loud.

As you both came down from your highs, Joe collapsed beside you, his chest heaving with exertion. He reached over, using his thumb to wipe a stray drop of cum from your clavicle, a gentle gesture that seemed out of place amidst the carnality of the moment. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of something more than just physical satisfaction. But you quickly shoved the feeling aside. This was just sex, a mutual agreement with no strings attached.

“Need a rag? Or do you like it like that?” Joe quipped with a chuckle, his eyes gleaming with mischief. You playfully pushed him away, laughing as you sat up to inspect the mess. The sight of you, flushed and satisfied, nearly gave Joe a headache from the dizzying satisfaction. He suppressed the urge to pull you back down for round two and instead grabbed his t-shirt from the floor, tossing it to you.

Wiping yourself off, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of something you hadn't felt in a long time: comfort. Sure, your arrangement was unconventional, and Joe could be a bit of an unaware dickhead at times, but moments like this reminded you of why you kept coming back.

You lay there in silence for a while, your breaths mingling in the air. Joe's arm was casually slung over your waist, his thumb idly drawing circles on your bare skin. You felt his eyes on you, but you didn't look over. Instead, you focused on the sound of his heart beating in sync with your own racing pulse.

“So, I accidentally met your parents yesterday,” you said, breaking the quiet. “They were tailgating before the game, and they spotted me in your jersey. They’re super nice, by the way.” Your voice was light, but there was an edge to it. You waited for his reaction, expecting him to laugh it off or maybe even be happy you’d made the effort. “I didn't tell them anything, obviously, just said I was a fan. I didn't want to make it awkward.”

Joe's expression tightened, his thumb pausing on your skin. “Why the fuck would you do that?” His voice was harsh, and you could see the annoyance in his eyes.

You stiffened, your eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean, why? I didn’t know they were your parents. And even if I did, I'm not gonna be rude. I said hello, talked about my major, and said I was a fan.”

Joe sat up, his expression darkening. “You had no business talking to them. You're not my girlfriend. This is just supposed to be us fucking around.”

You felt the blood rush to your face, the sting of his words cutting deeper than you expected. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you snapped, tossing the t-shirt aside. “I can't even say hello to your parents without it being an issue? You think I'm some kind of bitch?”

Joe sighed, his eyes searching yours. “No, that's not it. It's just - I don't want them getting the wrong idea. They're already worried about me with all the pressure from the team and school. They don't need to know I'm messing around with someone, especially when it's not serious. You know how they are.”

Your anger flared up. “No, I don't know how they are. I don’t know them!” You stood up, the sheets falling away from your body. “What the fuck’s your problem?”

Joe looked at you, his eyes filled with frustration. “My problem is that you don’t understand the situation. You don’t get what it took for me to get here. My parents think I’m focusing on football and school, not screwing around with random girls that might try to take advantage of me. My parents don’t need to know about my sex life!”

Your eyes narrowed. “So that’s what I am to you? A random girl trying to take advantage of you?”

Joe’s sigh was filled with irritation. “What the fuck? Does it matter?” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “We agreed on this. The whole point of this is that you’re not my girlfriend. You don’t get to meet my parents unless it’s something serious, and this isn’t serious.”

You felt like you’d been slapped. The room grew colder, and you felt your eyes water. You didn’t know why his words hit you so hard, but they did. You quickly grabbed your clothes and started to get dressed. “Fine. I’ll make sure to keep my random ass away from your precious family next time, Joe.”

Joe watched you, his expression shifting from annoyance to regret. He knew he had crossed a line, and he reached out to stop you. “Come on, don't be like that.”

But you were already dressed, your eyes blazing with anger. You slammed the bedroom door behind you, leaving Joe sitting on the bed, his erection gone and replaced with a sinking feeling in his gut. He had screwed up, big time. With a huff he fell back onto the pillows, running a hand through his hair. He had gone too far, said too much, and now he had to deal with the aftermath. He knew you had blossoming feelings for him, even if you never admitted it. But he didn't know how to deal with them, not when his life was so fucking complicated already.

He threw on a pair of sweatpants and a clean shirt before going into the living room. He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his messages, hoping you had sent him something, anything, to ease the tension. But you had blocked him everywhere. The cold realization hit him hard. You were really upset, and he had no idea how to fix it.

Days went by, and Joe felt like a zombie. He went through the motions of practice, classes, and life, but without your fiery energy to fall back on, it was all just a blur. His friends noticed the change in him. Justin and Clyde exchanged worried looks when Joe barely reacted to their jokes, and Grant kept asking him if everything was okay. But Joe just shrugged them off, not ready to admit that a simple no-strings-attached arrangement gone wrong had left him feeling so lost.

“Burrow, you look like shit, man. What’s going on?” Clyde's voice cut through Joe's foggy thoughts as he stumbled into the locker room after a particularly grueling practice.

Joe grunted, not bothering to look up. “It’s nothing.” He reached for his phone, contained in his duffel bag. Nothing from you. Your messages, your snaps, all gone. It was as if you had disappeared.

“If you tell me this pouty bullshit is because of a girl, I’m gonna have to intervene,” Clyde said, smacking Joe on the back of the head. The quarterback scowled at him, but the running back only laughed. “Come on man, spit it out. Maybe my psychology classes are good for something.”

Joe sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s Y/N. We had a fight after the last time she came over. She’s not taking my calls or anything now.”

Clyde whistled low. “Damn, that’s harsh. What did you do?”

Joe looked up, his eyes tired. “Why do you think I did something?”

Justin jumped into the conversation, his smile only serving to irritate Joe further. “Because we know you, Joe Cool. You probably said something dumb and now she’s showing you how cool she can be.”

Grant looked confused. “Wait, huh? What’s going on here?”

“It’s nothing,” Joe mumbled, stuffing his phone into his pocket. He didn’t want to get into it, especially with Grant. The safety had grown to become pretty close friends with you, and Joe didn’t need him to know how badly he had fucked up. He especially didn’t want to hear about how unaffected you were by it all.

“Look, man, if you need to talk—” Clyde started, but Joe cut him off.

“I’m fine. It’s just a misunderstanding, that’s all,” Joe said, trying to sound more convincing than he felt. “I’ll fix it. I just need to talk to her, figure out what I can do to fix it. She’s just upset about something, she’ll come around.”

Justin and Clyde exchanged a knowing look, but they didn’t push further. They had seen Joe like this before, and they knew better than to get in the way when he was dealing with his emotions.

The weekend rolled around, and Joe found himself at a loss for what to do without you. Normally, the two of you would be planning your next meet up, sending each other flirty texts and pictures that sent your pulses racing. But now, there was only silence, and it was deafening. He tried to focus on the game coming up, but his mind kept drifting back to you, to the way you had looked at him, hurt and angry, before you stormed out.

During Saturday's game he searched the student section, hoping he'd catch a glimpse of your dark hair and those brown eyes, but you were nowhere to be found. You never missed a game, even before you started hooking up, but Joe knew you were avoiding him now. The win didn't feel as sweet without you cheering him on, without the promise of hot victory sex waiting for him afterward.

Monday rolled around, and Joe couldn't ignore the pit in his stomach as he walked into class. He had hoped that maybe you’d be there, that you would have cooled off and you could talk things out. You were sitting at the back of the class with your headphones on, ignoring him completely. He attempted to take his usual seat next to you, slowly stalking up the row to the empty seat to your right. But as he approached, you turned to look at him, your eyes cold and unyielding.

“I didn't see you at the game,” Joe said, trying to keep his voice steady as he sat down next to you. You didn’t even look at him, keeping your gaze focused on your laptop screen.

“I had other plans,” you replied curtly, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you typed away, clearly not interested in his attempt at conversation.

Joe felt a pang of regret. He should have known better than to push your buttons like that. He leaned back in his chair, watching you from the corner of his eye. You looked incredible, as always, in an oversized Saints jersey with an edge tucked underneath your bra and a pair of cutoff jeans, ones he had watched your cut from an old pair of jeans several weeks ago. Your hair was neatly styled into a high puff, showcasing your beautiful features, and Joe couldn't help but miss the way you used to lean into him, your head on his shoulder, while you talked about your weekends in his bed.

The professor began the lecture, and you removed your headphones, but you didn’t acknowledge Joe’s existence. He felt like an outsider in a class you had shared for months. The tension between them was palpable, and Joe's mind drifted from the lecture to your last heated exchange. He had never seen you so upset, so hurt by his words. The silence stretched on, and Joe felt the need to fill it with anything, even if it was just noise.

The lecture seemed to drag on forever, Joe's thoughts consumed by your icy demeanor. He couldn't remember the last time you’d gone this long without speaking. His mind raced with apologies and explanations, trying to formulate the perfect words to make things right between them. As the class ended, students began to pack up their things, chatting among themselves as they prepared to leave.

“Hey,” Joe said tentatively as you stood up, your backpack slung over one shoulder. You turned to look at him, your expression unreadable. “Can we talk?”

You rolled your eyes with a sigh. “There's nothing to talk about, Joe,” you replied, your voice flat. “I'm not your girlfriend, remember?” You started to walk away, but Joe reached out and grabbed your wrist, trying to halt your retreat. You snatched your hand away, eyes blazing as you continued on your path, pushing through the doors of the classroom and then of the building.

“Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to make it seem like you're just some random girl to me. You know you're not. I just... I'm stressed, man. The team, school, everything's riding on me. I don't need my parents getting involved in my personal life, making things complicated.” His words came out in a rush, desperation lacing his voice.

You paused. You felt a flicker of something that might have been understanding, but you quickly squashed it. You couldn't let him off the hook that easily. “Well, maybe you should have realized that before you opened your mouth and said something stupid.”

Joe's eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of forgiveness, but all he saw was anger and hurt. He knew he had to do something big, something that would show you he was serious about fixing this. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Look, I know I fucked up, okay? I miss you. I miss this. Us. Let's go out tonight. Just us, no strings, no pressure. We'll talk, I'll apologize properly, and maybe we can move on from this shit, okay?”

You hesitated, the mention of your previous intimacy sending a shiver down your spine. You missed the way Joe made you feel too. But you weren't going to be swayed so easily. “Why should I? You're just going to say whatever you think I want to hear to get back into my pants, and then we're right back where we started.”

Joe leaned in closer, his voice earnest. “Because I mean it. I do. I miss the way we laugh together, the way we talk about nothing for hours. And, yeah, I miss hooking up. But I miss you, all of you. I know I hurt you, and I want to make it right.”

You stared at him for a long moment, your emotions warring within you. “You don't get to decide when we're just fucking and when we're not, Joe. You don’t get to treat me like that and then expect me to come running back when you decide you miss me.” Your voice was firm, but Joe could hear the waver in it, the hint of vulnerability you were trying so hard to hide. “I gotta go.”

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving Joe standing on the sidewalk, feeling like an absolute asshole. He watched your retreating figure, your hips swaying as you disappeared into the throngs of students moving between classes.

For the rest of the day, Joe's thoughts were consumed with you. He couldn't focus on his schoolwork or his football strategies; all he could think about was the pain he saw in your eyes when he called you a “random”. He knew he had to do something to make it right, but he didn’t know where to start.

It was the Tigers' bye week so he figured he had about a week to make this right. And Joe Burrow was not a man to let things slide. He knew he had to act fast before you completely wrote him off. He spent the rest of the day in a daze, his mind racing with grand gestures and apologies he could make to win you back. But as the hours ticked by, he realized that maybe it wasn’t about the grandeur of his apology, but the sincerity behind it.

“Hello?” Alani, your roommate, waved a hand in front of your face, snapping you out of your daze. You had been staring at your phone screen, replaying the conversation with Joe over and over in your mind. Your thumb hovered over the unblock button, the temptation to reach out to him almost too much to handle.

You looked up, shaking your head. “Sorry, this shit with Joe is just... I don’t know. It’s fucking with my head, Lani.”

Alani nodded sympathetically, crossing your arms. “Well, you can’t miss what you never had. Maybe it’s time to move on, girl.”

You rolled your eyes. “Easy for you to say, you’ve been dating the same guy for three years. You don’t know what it’s like to have something so intense and then have it just... not mean anything to the other person. I've never cried in front of him, and when he said that bullshit, I almost did.”

Alani sighed, sitting down on the bed next to you. “Look, I get it. But maybe he just doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings. You guys have always had this... complicated situation. Maybe he needs to spend a little time without you to realize what he’s missing.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, because that’s totally what’s going to happen. He’s going to sit in his room, mope around, and suddenly realize that I’m the love of his life.” You tossed your phone onto the bed, the frustration in your voice palpable. “Why did I have to fuck the quarterback? Why couldn’t I just find literally any other guy to hook up with?”

“Because Joe Burrow is hot as fuck. And because he’s obviously into you, even if he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to show it.” Alani said, her voice filled with a blend of amusement and annoyance. You couldn’t argue with that. Joe was the epitome of gorgeous, and you had been drawn to him like a moth to a flame from the moment you had met. But his emotional cluelessness was starting to wear on you.

The week dragged on, and you threw yourself into your studies and workouts, trying to keep yourself busy. But every time you saw someone wearing an LSU jersey, or spotted one of Joe's teammates, your thoughts drifted back to him. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t ignore the gaping hole in your life where he used to be.

Finally, Saturday night arrived, and you had had enough of moping around. You were going out with Alani and Portia, your other roommate, to blow off some steam. You all got dressed up in your sexiest outfits, ready to conquer the Baton Rouge nightlife. Per advice from Portia, you tugged on the shortest skirt you owned and paired it with a tight tube top that left little to the imagination.

As you were leaving your apartment, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was a message from Grant.

You still pregaming with us?

The words were a reminder of the world that Joe had brought you into, and how you were now being invited to it without him. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

Yeah, we’re on our way.

When you arrived, the bass of the music hit you like a wall, vibrating through your chest as you entered Grant's apartment. There were a handful of guys from the team that you knew by name, eagerly taking advantage of the bye week to let loose. You spotted Grant immediately, his broad smile lighting up the room. Portia skipped over to him first, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him, leaving you and Alani to exchange gagging noises before you were also swept into the rush of pregaming before hitting the frats.

But Joe was nowhere in sight, and you felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Maybe this was for the best, you thought. Maybe you could finally have some fun without the weight of your unresolved issues hanging over you. The three of them took shots, danced, and flirted, the energy of the party building like a crescendo. And then, like a cruel joke, Joe appeared, his eyes locked on yours from across the room.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a sudden urge to flee. But you couldn't. Not with the way he looked at you—like he hadn't seen you in months rather than days. He was dressed in a vintage-style Kendrick Lamar T-shirt and jeans that hugged his muscular thighs, and you couldn't help but remember the last time you had seen him undressed, the way he felt inside you. You took a deep breath, tipping back a shot of tequila to steel yourself for whatever was about to come. Your hair was different from the last time he saw you. Your natural coils exchanged for a sew-in of some sort. He tried to sift through his memories of your conversations, knowing you had to have told him the exact name of the style you frequently reverted to at some point.

Joe instantly recognized the tiny little skirt that barely contained your ass, and his jaw clenched. You had intended on wearing it at least half a dozen times before. But, you had never managed to make it past the threshold of your apartment before he had torn it off you. The sight of you in it now, surrounded by his teammates, made his blood boil with a mix of anger and desire.

He stalked over to you, his eyes never leaving yours as he approached. You felt your body heat up under his intense gaze, the alcohol in your system doing little to dull the effect he had on you. You knew you were playing with fire, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to keep your walls up.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Joe’s voice was low and gruff.

You rolled your eyes, taking another shot. “Clothes, Joe. It’s a revolutionary concept, I know,” you said, your voice laced with sarcasm. You didn’t miss the way his eyes raked over your body, and you felt a thrill of satisfaction. You knew you looked amazing tonight.

Joe’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he took in your outfit. “You've never worn that out,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice thick with accusation.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Well, I guess there's always a first time for everything, right?” you said, your voice dripping with challenge. You could feel the eyes of the other guys on you, and you knew Joe could too. It was like a silent battle of wills played out in the middle of a crowded room.

“Joe! Get yo ass over here, boy. We ‘bout to head to the frat!” Clyde’s boisterous voice cut through the tension, slapping Joe’s hand against his back as he pulled him away from you. You smirked at the interruption, enjoying the frustration on his face.

The group spilled out into the cool night air, the scent of spilled beer and sweat mixing with the sweet aroma of a great season that hung over the city. You felt Joe’s eyes on you as you swayed to the music, the beat of the bass echoing through your body. You knew you were driving him crazy, and a part of you reveled in it. The anger still smoldered within you, but you couldn’t deny the thrill you felt at having his attention solely on you.

As you all made your way to the frat house, you felt a gentle nudge against your back, and you turned to see Justin smiling down at you. “You know you a lil' asshole? I ain't seen you show out like this in a minute,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Don't play with me, I had a shitty week and I'm just trying to get loose,” you said, taking a sip of your vodka lemonade.

Justin chuckled and shook his head, “You tryna get turned loose.” You threw your head back with a cackle, taking another sip of your drink. The warmth of the alcohol spread through you, and you felt a bit more relaxed. As you approached the frat house, the music grew louder, and the lights grew brighter, casting a neon glow over the rowdy crowd.

Joe, unable to keep his eyes off you, watched your dance with a fiery passion that had his heart racing. He wanted to stride over and pull you into his arms, but he knew better. Instead, he found himself glaring at every guy who dared to look your way. His friends noticed his mood and tried to include him in your conversations, but Joe's mind was elsewhere.

Inside the frat house, the air was thick with the scent of cheap beer and the promise of a wild night. Your hips moved to the rhythm of the music, drawing the gazes of the intoxicated partygoers. You felt Joe’s eyes on you, a silent battle of wills playing out across the crowded room. With each sway of your hips and flick of your hair, you felt a surge of power knowing you had his attention. Every so often you’d have to pull your skirt down and your top up, giving him a teasing glimpse of what he was missing.

Alani and Portia danced beside you, occasionally whispering in your ear, egging you on. But you didn't need encouragement. The beat of the music and the burn of the alcohol in your system fueled your need to push Joe's buttons. You knew you were playing a dangerous game, but the thrill was too intense to resist.

Joe’s patience grew thinner with every passing second. His eyes followed you as you danced, your body moving in ways that had his imagination running wild. He took another shot, trying to dull the ache in his chest, the guilt and frustration melding into a toxic cocktail. He knew he had to talk to you, to explain himself, but you remained elusive, conveniently dancing away whenever he approached.

The night grew wilder, the music louder, and Joe's resolve stronger. He'd had enough of this dance. He wove through the crowd, the alcohol giving him liquid courage, until he was right behind you. He placed his hands on your waist, his touch firm as he pulled your ass against his crotch. Your eyes snapped up, surprise and anger flashing across your face. You tried to twist away, but Joe’s grip was like steel.

“What the hell, Joe?” you snarled, your voice barely audible over the music.

“You’ve been fucking with me all night. What did you expect?” he shot back, his voice a gruff hiss in your ear.

Your body stiffened against him, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and arousal. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. You turned to face him, pushing him back with a look of pure defiance. “Fuck off,” you spat, your voice low and full of warning.

Joe stepped closer, his blown out blue eyes burning into yours. “You want to play games, fine. But know that every time you dance like that, every time you give me that look, I'm going to want you more. So, I'm not playing around anymore. We're going to talk now.”

You felt the heat of his body against yours, and you couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine. You wanted to push him away, to maintain your cool façade, but his touch was too much. You nodded curtly, and Joe led you through the sweaty, pulsing mass of bodies, his hand tightly gripping your waist. You found a quieter corner of the frat house, the music a distant throb in the background.

Joe took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. “Look, I know I said some fucked up shit that I didn't think through. And I was wrong, okay? I just... it scared me, the idea of you meeting my family. It's not that you're not important to me, but I'm not ready for that shit yet.”

Your eyes narrowed, the anger in your voice clear as day. “I didn't plan to meet your parents, Joe. It just happened. And you know what? It's not fair of you to get pissed at me for it.”

Joe nodded, his expression earnest. “I know. I get that now. I'm sorry. I just... I don't know how to handle all this shit.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes up to the ceiling. “What does that even mean, Joe? What is there to handle?” You crossed your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts up and causing the tight fabric of your top to stretch even more.

Joe raked a hand through his hair, his eyes lingering on your exposed cleavage before meeting yours again. “I wanted to handle this the right way. I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me without all this bullshit. I wanted to introduce you to my parents when I was ready, not because you bumped into them. But here we are, and I'm fucking it up like always.”

Your anger began to dissipate, but the hurt remained. “Well, you had your chance. And you blew it.”

Joe stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours. “I know. But I'm asking for another one. Please. Give me another chance to make this right.”

Your resolve wavered, the warmth of his hand sending a jolt through you. You stared at him for what felt like an eternity, your eyes searching his for any sign of insincerity. Finally, you sighed, “You're lucky you're hot, Burrow. That's all you got going for you right now.”

Joe cracked a smile, his thumb brushing against your palm. “Is that a yes?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away. “It's a don't be fucking stupid.”

Joe leaned in. “So that's a yes?” His voice was back to its baseline, deep and dark, sending a shiver down your spine. You rolled your eyes again, but the heat between them was undeniable. He licked at his lips, hands sliding down to cup your ass firmly. Your breath hitched, your body responding despite your mind’s protest. Your hands snuck up into his hair, pulling him closer to you as you bit your bottom lip with a smile.

The music swelled around them, a pulsing beat that matched the tempo of your racing hearts. Your skirt had ridden up even further, and Joe aching for a greedy look at your barely covered pussy, shimmering from your dance and your desire for him. His cock grew hard in his pants, and he knew that if you didn’t find some privacy soon, you’d be fucking right there in the middle of the party.

“Come on,” he murmured, tugging your hand as he led you through the frat house, ignoring the curious glances thrown your way. The two of you found an empty bedroom, the door barely hanging on its hinges. He pushed you inside and slammed it shut behind them, the sudden silence deafening. The room smelled faintly of weed, booze, and perfume, a scent that only served to excite him further.

You leaned against the wall, your breathing ragged. Joe stepped closer, his hands sliding up your thighs to your hips. He kissed your neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his lips. “Is this what you wanted? To get me all riled up in front of everyone?” His voice was a low growl, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear.

Your hands found the hem of his shirt, your nails digging into his back. “Maybe,” you whispered, your voice thick with lust. “You're sexy when you’re mad. Gonna be good and say sorry?”

Joe smirked, his hands sliding around to squeeze your ass again. “I'm sorry. I fucked up. I was an idiot. I just... I don't know what I was thinking,” he murmured, his voice thick with need. “But you look so fucking good in that skirt, I can't think straight when you're around.”

Your breath hitched, your body responding despite the lingering anger. You knew you should be mad at him, knew you should keep your walls up, but the way he was looking at you made your knees weak. “You're still an idiot,” you murmured, your voice betraying your own desire.

Joe leaned in, his nose brushing against yours. “But you want me anyway,” he said, his voice a low growl.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your resolve crumbling. “Unfortunately,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper.

Without warning, Joe’s lips were on yours, hard and demanding. Your anger melted away, replaced by a white-hot desire that you hadn’t felt since the last time you were together. Your body responded eagerly, pushing into him, your legs wrapping around his waist as he picked you up, your skirt riding up even higher. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, and you moaned into his mouth, feeling his erection pressing against you.

“Fuck me, right here, Joe, please,” you panted against his mouth, the urgency in your voice making Joe’s cock throb.

He didn’t need any more convincing. He moved to rip through your panties, tearing them away from your body. The sound of the fabric ripping seemed to echo in the empty room. He fiddled with his jeans as he pressed you against the wall, dropping his pants just enough to free his cock. You were already wet, and Joe took a moment to appreciate the sight before he plunged into you with a groan that was half-moan, half-curse.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he began to thrust, each movement sending waves of pleasure through your body. The friction was heavenly, his thick length filling you up as you wrapped your legs around his waist. The room spun around them, the music from the party a distant echo as your bodies found a rhythm that was uniquely yours. Joe's teeth grazed your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and you moaned his name, the sound muffled by his hungry kisses.

You were lost in a whirlwind of passion, the anger and frustration of your recent fight forgotten. Your movements grew more frantic, your breaths mingling in the small space between them. You felt the beginnings of your orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that had your nails digging deeper into Joe's skin. His grunts grew louder, his strokes more forceful as he chased his own release.

Your eyes locked, and in that moment, the air was charged with something more than just lust. It was a silent understanding, a connection that transcended the tumultuous dynamics of your relationship. Your body tensed as you climaxed, your muscles clenching around Joe’s cock, pulling him over the edge with you. You came together in a symphony of gasps and moans, your bodies shaking as you rode out the intense wave of pleasure.

For a moment, you remained entwined, your hearts hammering in your chests. Then, with a sigh, Joe lowered your legs to the floor, keeping you against the wall. He kissed your glossed lips, his breathing ragged. “I meant it. I’m sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you like that. I just... I don’t know how to do this whole relationship thing without fucking it up,” he confessed, his voice filled with vulnerability.

You looked up at him, your eyes softening. “I know, Joe. But I'm not gonna be the one to fix it for you. If you want this to work, you need to be honest with me. And if you can't handle the small stuff then maybe we shouldn't be doing this at all.”

Joe nodded, his gaze intense. “I’ll do better, I promise. I don’t want to lose you.”

You studied him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But if you mess up again, I’m not playing games. You get one more shot, Burrow.”

Joe’s expression grew solemn. “Understood,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Your hand found the back of his neck, and you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Your anger had dissipated, but the sting of his previous words remained, leaving you feeling vulnerable.

You broke apart, your breaths mingling in the quiet space. Joe’s eyes searched yours, looking for any lingering doubt. “I’ll make it right. I swear to god,” he said, his voice thick with sincerity.

You nodded, your own eyes still filled with a mix of lust and wariness. “I hope so, Joey.” You stepped away from him, straightening your skirt and smoothing your hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

You stepped out of the room, back into the pulsing heart of the party. The lights seemed brighter, the music louder, and the energy of the room washed over them like a wave. Joe's hand rested on your ass, you shot him a look that was both a warning and a promise. When you finally rejoined your friends, Justin and Clyde started a round of applause, their expressions marked with amusement. Alani and Portia were grinning, sipping on their drinks, and Grant looked like he was trying not to laugh.

You rolled your eyes. “You're all disgusting,” you said, though the smile took the sting out of your words.

Clyde grinned. “Look who’s talking, Miss 'I just got fucked in a frat house bedroom'.”

You glared at him playfully, but you couldn’t help the heat that crept up your neck. “Shut up,” you said, though the corner of your mouth twitched with a smirk.

“Y'all were gone for almost an hour, what were you doing in there?” Alani teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You shot her a withering glare. “None of your business,” you replied, though the smugness in your voice gave you away.

#&. cassie writes.#joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut #joey burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow angst #x black reader #black!reader #black fem reader #black reader

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neuvilette-tea-party · 3 months ago

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˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎ Il faut être deux... Part 1 ❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Steb x F!reader

You get home, excited to visit the Montains like you are sure Steb does each year for his leave! But when you discover your lover, you realize you're going to climb something different...

Tags: Some fish anatomy quirks, established relationship, heavy making out, pining, sexual tension, caresses, mating season (yeah, I'm going that route, sue me!), Steb is selectively non-verbal and that never prevented him from asking/respecting consent, lovey-dovey

Request open for Best boy Steb <3

You sigh entering your little house, unclipping your helmet. You throw the house keys in the bowl and put your helmet next to Steb’s who did not move an inch the entire day.

You plan your leaves whenever you feel like it, but Steb goes like clockwork and always takes two weeks of leave at the same time of year. Everyone at the barracks knows that those two weeks are his and he will not leave them to anyone else no matter their arguments or urgencies.

He goes completely no-contact and vanishes without a single trace.

What does he do during those two weeks? Beats you! He does not speak, and especially not about that. The first year under his tutelage you got to his home for a friendly chat, trying to break the ice with your mentor, but you found his house completely locked, shutters closed and mail piling up in the mailbox.

Your best guess is that he goes to the mountain to bathe in the rivers and lacs of fresh, pure water to soothe his scales bruised by the water of Piltover soiled with chemicals.

But now that you live together, you will discover his little secret! You have already put some clothes discreetly on the side for packing. When you got home a minute ago, the shudders of the second floor were already closed, just an inch ajar to let pass a thin ray of sun for you to finish packaging this evening and then swiftly jump into a train, to the Mountains you go!

You turn your head as you open your boots, hearing piano music from the living room. Steb must be playing.

You smile to yourself, taking off your boots. You love listening to Steb’s music, you could spend hours doing nothing but listening and watching him play his electronic piano. You always wanted to learn music and Steb patiently teaches you short simple melodies that you play on repeat until you can’t bear a single more note.

Steb doesn’t mind it, he appreciates the waves and vibrations of music with his sensible Vastaya ears, apparently, it feels pretty close to sounds underwater for him, helping him relax after a long day.

“Hi, Steb!” You chant entering the living room as you take off your harness holster, “I managed to take one week’s leave matching yours!” You announce your little surprise.

You stagger as you hear Steb slams his hands on the key brutally. You turn to him to see him, his back turned to you, frozen still, shirtless, his large shoulder moving up and down like after an intended exercise.

“Steb?” You ask gently, cautiously approaching the Aquatic Vastaya.

You frown. What the...?

You get closer, squinting.

Is that...?

“Oh my goodness, Steb! Are you all right?!” You shout.

You grab his shoulder to make him turn towards you. Red scales all over! Steb’s deep green stripes are now invaded with a deep red shade, the same for the tip of his fins and ears. You’re no aquatic Vastaya expert, but a sudden change of scale color patterns cannot be a good sign.

Steb looks at you with eyes rounded in surprise, cheek rosy, and with a feverish gaze.

“Are you sick?! Since when?! Did you go to the hospital?! Did you visit a physician?!” You drown him questions as he slowly gets up, grabbing your hand in his.

You detail his chest, covered in sweat and new red scales, parasitizing his lovely green stripes. His chest rises up and down deeply and when you raise your gaze to look into his ocean eyes, you discover them febrile and dark.

“Oh Steb... Are you all right?” You beg.

Steb details you, remaining silent, slightly disheveled, his cheek fins waving repeatedly. His gaze lowers slightly to your lips and he licks his teeth. He raises your hand to his mouth and reverently kisses your fingertips and your palm, closing his eyes as a purr starts resonating in his chest.

“...Steb? I am worried for you!” You insist, voice cracking in fear for your lover.

Color change so swiftly is surely the prelude to a blood disease or even an organ failure... You know he pushes himself so much! Never allows others to see when he is tired or in pain, preferring to suck it up for his team’s benefit, but now it catches up with him!

You try to resonate with him but he looks... out of here, like in some sort of daze.

His large hand sneaks around your lower back and pulls you close to him, pressing his forehead against yours, purring deeply. You try to control your breath as he only blinks with his third eyelids, his attention solely on you.

He starts to cradle you, swaying your hips together gently, intertwining your fingers together. He brushes the tips of your noses together as he slowly dances with you in your small living room.

“Steb... Is that an illness?” You ask, recovering your calm to think logically.

He slowly shakes his head, blue eyes dead focused in your eyes.

“Should I be worried?” His eyes lower down to a corner as he thinks, before returning to yours and shrug, his purr deepening.

You gulp and nod, rationalising the situation.

“Can I know what this is all about now?” You put your hand on his pec, strangely warm to the touch and vibrating with the purr.

He takes a fistful of your hair and kisses your forehead, squeezing your hand in his. He lowers himself to kiss the tip of your nose tenderly and he releases your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your lower lips fondly, parting them just a bit.

This is his usual move to ask for a kiss.

Patiently waiting for your consent, devouring you with his blue eyes.

You gulp, feeling his heartbeat against your palm, beating rapidly but steadily in his ribcage.

He releases your cheek to take your chin between two fingers, still playing with your lower lip, and tilts your head as he brushes your nose tips together again, his lips hovering tantalizingly over yours, teasing you as you think he will close the gap several time, feeling his breath on your lips.

But he remains patient.

Simply toying with you, but never trespassing the limit without a clear ‘Yes’.

His eyes are dark, a storm rages on inside of them, but an emotion pierces the fog.

Imploration

Despair

Begging...

You never saw him in such a state...

You weakly nod once and close your eyes. Maybe acceding to his demand will relieve him a bit...

He releases your hand to circle your hips and press them hard against his loins as you feel the ghost of his lips on yours.

As to taste the water he leaves a single, trembling peck on your lips.

Then another

And another

And one more

Soon enough he is devouring your lips, giving demanding kisses, licking your lips to earn access. You open your mouth for him and his tongue enters, hugging and dancing with yours like a first time.

He kisses you deep like he never did before, robbing you both of your oxygen. He bites down your lip with a growl as he pushes you until the back of your knees hits the sofa, unbalancing you and you fall with a yelp of surprise.

Steb follows you easily, never letting go of your lips, you feel his weight pining you down the sofa, keeping you caged under him as his hands explore your back freely.

You grab his side, his shoulders, his arms, his cheeks... You have no idea what to do with yourself when he treats you in such a way...

You try to breathe in those demanding attentions while he lets escape a deep, rumbling sound between a purr and a growl, coming from the very depths of his chest. You start feeling dizzy, you have never been kissed like that by anyone, especially by Steb who prefers delicate touches and soft little attentions as he is a tender soul himself...

Your ears are full of your gasps and pants and his subtle growl, your nose is invaded by his natural salty musk, getting straight into your head and making your heart palpitate even harder! His ears shake, and all his fins are coursed by a shudder, making him hiss.

You take an immense breath when he finally lets go of your lips, a string of saliva connecting you together. He observes you panting, caressing your cheek with his knuckles so delicately. He reverently kisses your forehead once more before kissing your temple, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, and then taking a big lap with the flat of his long tongue on the entire length of your exposed throat.

You lower your gaze as you feel Steb pulling on your jacket. He is looking at you while fiddling with the buttons, awaiting your go.

You feel a fire in your cheeks and one starting between your legs. He never was so forward and demanding. Steb likes to take things slow for both of your comfort.

He likes taking his time, appreciating each little step of the way...

You just started exploring each other’s body after moving in together and if at first you felt frustrated it took so long to move things on, you started to get used to it, and even appreciated his method, reveling in the simple little things with delight.

And now he is the one being impatient, confusing you in your newfound pace!

The thought of stopping everything to get a straightforward answer crosses your mind, but you only have to dive into the agitated waters of his eyes to know.

He had to hide from everyone in the dark each year, dealing with that storm all alone, without the warmth of a lover or a friendly shoulder that could understand his turmoil without judging him.

Him always so composed, irreproachable, so well put together...

What would they say if they ever saw him in such a state? Like an animal?

They already have so little respect for non-humans...

You cup his cheek tenderly, tracing the quivering gills on his jaws with the tip of your fingers and all his fins and ears tremble terribly instantly as he grits his teeth. You do it again and he exhales deeply, brushing his cheek In your hand with a relieved expression. Instinctively, you bite down the tip of his ear, licking the frills teasingly and you feel his grip tightening around you with a deep rumble, threatening to tear your clothes apart entirely.

You release his ear, your hand cupping his cheek lowering down to the gills on his throat, and start caressing them as he captures your lips again, opening your jacket’s button expertly with one hand, your tongues entangled in a sensual embrace.

He opens your jacket rapidly and opens your blouse a bit, just enough to create a cleavage that he tenderly kisses, before pressing his ear to your sternum and closing his eyes.

Savoring your heartbeat while hugging you tight.

You circle his shoulders and kiss the top if his head, diving your nose in his green strands.

Steb did not close the shudder of the first floor, letting the sun’s rays bathing the living room illuminate his large back, making his red scales shine like they were real flames. You admire his powerful muscles rolling under his skin, creating waves of light on his scales, hypnotizing you entirely.

He is absolutely stunning with theses shiny shades of red and green.

You caress his hair as he deeply inhales, nudging his face between your bosoms, listening to the melody of your heart as you feel his finger digging into your flesh. He rolls his shoulders, agitated but evidently trying to control himself the best he can.

You close your legs to hug him tight inadvertently putting pressure on his groin, which you now realize is really warm despite his pants and considerably swollen, making him hiss in response, his cheek scales shaking in tandem with the sound.

Everything comes to a halt as Steb curls into your embrace, tightening his grip on you while you press your smaller body against his on the small sofa of your home.

For a fleeting instant, both of your hearts beat at the same rhythm, like a single being.

“I love you, Steb...” You confess, inhaling his salty scent deep into your lungs as you caress the top of his beautiful head, “You are my everything.”

His purr peaks to higher notes at your words and he spins his head to reverently kiss your sternum again, soft pecks like butterfly wings, going higher and higher until he reaches the crook of your neck and he bites down the sensitive skin, nibbling it between his teeth, sucking on it, making you gasp.

He parts from you, brushing his lovebite you feel flourishing on your skin. A chance you are on leave, you would have difficulties explaining this one to your colleagues.

Steb tightly smiles, satisfied with what he sees on your delicate skin. You purse your lips and lunge forward to bite down his own neck, paying him back in his own coins. He lets out an audible gasp of surprise and a long moan as you suck the crook of his neck, holding the back of your head to keep you there.

You part from him spitting little scales off your tongues, trying to scrub them off with your fingers, prompting him to chuckle, thoroughly amused by your demeanor, as he loudly purrs. You look up at him, leaning domineeringly over you, but his eyes spill love and adoration.

”Mon amour...” He whispers like a secret, for your ears only.

You nudge your noses

But the storm still rages on in his ocean eyes... and between your legs.

He looks into your eyes as one of his hands takes a handful of your thigh, slowly slipping under the fabric of your skirt, asking a silent, fated question

You circle his shoulders and hips, locking him in your embrace and peck his nose, and extra sensible part of his face, like all aquatic Vastaya, and his purr skips a bit, like a hiccup.

“Take me to our bedroom, Steb...”

He reverently kisses your lips and lifts you up from the sofa, easily carrying you up the stairs toward your bed, both hearts palpitating in anticipation...

#steb #steb my love #steb imagine #steb x reader #steb arcane #steb smut #arcane imagine #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane smut #arcane fic

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cursedyuri · 5 months ago

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a soft n smutty piece for fall coziness… <3 the changing seasons always make me feel melancholic and i feel like ellie would take care of r if she was the same :)

tw: depression, nsfw, 18+ only

the sun filters into your bedroom through the half-drawn curtains, a warm glow that paints everything golden. you stretch out under the covers, hand reaching for sunlight, palm open against the blankets as warmth envelops your fingers. numb with cold, you defrost.

even as your hand soaks in the warmth of the sun, guilt twists inside you, ice cold. the phone in the kitchen has rung out three separate calls today, shrill and blaring in the silence of your apartment; you've melted too deep into the mattress to answer. the kitchen may as well be miles away.

she’s probably worried, you fret. what if she thinks i’m dead? i need to call her back.

but as much as you want to force yourself to leave the comfort of your duvet, the you-shaped crater in the bed, you can’t do it. you just can’t.

you’re not surprised when you hear the sounds of your girlfriend’s arrival, ellie’s key scraping the lock before she swings the door open. you’d given her your spare key months ago. she’d only used it on days like this.

you hear the rustle of plastic, the harried zips and thumps of ellie removing her boots at the front door. and then she’s appearing in your doorway, her face twisted with worry; brows drawn together, lips turned downward. she looks heartbroken.

“baby,” she says, voice tinged with a cocktail of equal parts relief and concern, “god, i thought you were—”

“dead?” you interject. your voice softens when you add, “i’m okay, el. i’m sorry i didn’t pick up the phone.”

“no, it’s okay, don’t worry.” she pads over the worn carpet, plastic bag crinkling at her side as she approaches you on the bed. “i brought breakfast.”

she holds up the bag for emphasis; you can see three to-go boxes inside. the smell of hash browns and scrambled eggs and pancakes wafts out towards you, and you hate the way it makes your mouth water. she knows breakfast is your favorite. you can hardly resist it, even this late in the day, as the sun sets outside your window.

“thank you.” you smile up at her. it’s forced—it doesn’t meet your eyes. she notices, because she always does.

“you don’t have to eat right now,” she clarifies. hazel eyes swoop over the bed, appraising the blankets splayed out over you in disarray, and she hesitates. you hold out your hand for her in encouragement. “come here, ellie.”

so she does. she sets the bag of breakfast food on the nightstand, then climbs over you with a clumsiness that seeps through her caution. you smile. genuinely. and then she’s kissing you, soft lips pressed to yours as her auburn locks tickle your cheeks. the kiss is gentle and languid, slow and soft and encouraging. she tastes like home, and you realize you’ve been aching for this feeling all day, body numb in the confines of your bedroom. you lose yourself in her kiss, sighing deep through your nose. her tongue is warm and wet against your lower lip; she works your mouth open and licks into you, sending heat rushing to your belly where it pools like molten gold.

you’ve found yourself in a haze lately: a fog so thick that it blurs out all feeling, leaving you spent in the silence of your apartment even after days of doing nothing. days of just thinking.

but ellie breaks through the fog as her hands cup your face, thumbs brushing soothingly over the apples of your cheeks. her tongue slides deliciously over yours and you moan without thinking. she freezes for just a moment. she draws back and you nearly whine, eyes barely opening to peer up into his.

“we don’t have to do anything,” she assures you as she leans forward to kiss the bridge of your nose. “not if you’re feeling down.”

your heart swells with affection for her: her disheveled hair, her soft gaze, her flushed lips swollen from kissing. her consideration for you. her love.

“but i want to,” you breathe. “i want it, ellie.”

so she disappears into the crook of your neck, the warmth of her mouth sending a shiver rocking through you as she presses kisses to your sensitive skin. each kiss gets more heated, her lips parting to suckle on the flesh right over your pulse. you moan and she pauses before murmuring against your throat, “are you sure?”

you nod almost frantically. “i’m sure, i’m sure.”

it doesn’t take long for her to undress you, which you’re grateful for. she works your shirt off and rolls your panties down your thighs, her hands smoothing back up over the supple skin.

on days like this, when you’re hardly afloat in the tidal wave of your melancholy, she tends to hold you with gentle wariness, as if you’d shatter if she moved too quickly. and you love it. the obvious adoration in her gentleness, in the need to take things slow.

but you decide you don’t want that today.

when her face is within reach again, you pull her in for a heated kiss. it quickly evolves into all tongue and spit and teeth, your lips smacking audibly as you trail your hands down her sides. you grip the soft cotton of her shirt and slowly pull it upwards, exposing inch by inch of pale, freckled skin, and when your fingers brush over her ribs, you feel the slow shudder that afflicts her. her body responding so instantly to your touch makes you dizzy with arousal; that pool of heat in your stomach grows ever-larger. it doesn’t help that she’s touching you too, the calloused pads of her fingers delicious against your skin. she grips and squeezes you in all the right places, drawing sharp breaths and high moans from your throat as her hands explore every inch of you.

suddenly, it’s hard to remember what came before this. the haze that had lingered over you for days. all you can think about is the feeling of ellie’s body against yours, her jeans scratchy as she rocks her hips down to yours. you hook your legs around her waist, bare cunt desperate for friction, even through a layer of denim.

you pull back from rushed, sloppy kisses to gasp at the sensation—you shamelessly rub yourself against her through her jeans, unable to find it in you to worry about the mess you’re making. ellie watches you in awe, your eyes half-lidded as your hips roll upward, your pretty lips parted in a delicate “o” shape.

“fuck it,” she rasps, and she’s lurching back to sit up on her heels, ripping her clothes off in a blur of fabric. her shirt falls off first, and then she works her way out of her jeans, so eager she stumbles a few times. you beam at her, eyes clouded with lust, and when she finds her way back between your legs, the feeling of her bare skin against yours has you gushing impossibly wetter. you find yourself in the same position as before, only now without the barrier of ellie’s clothes between you. you grind yourself up against her, twitching and gasping each time her pelvis glides over your clit; you can feel how wet you are, how messy you’re leaving her. and she can feel it, too, evident each time she moves her hips against yours and moans with her head tucked against your shoulder.

your impatience is a balloon that’s been filled and filled and filled, and it finally pops. you reach between your writhing bodies to ellie’s cunt; her teeth close around your shoulder when you give her clit a few slow strokes, fingertips pressing hard into the bundle of nerves. she soothes her bite with her tongue and then laughs under her breath, uttering lowly, “i’m sorry, fuck, just feels good.”

you hum in response, pausing to reach into the nightstand drawer, where you keep a harness and strap for situations like this. she draws in a shaky breath, turning her head to kiss your neck again, tongue circling your skin before she pulls back to slip into the harness. then she’s back on you, pulling you in for another heated kiss as she drags the tip of the strap through your folds and up to the bud of your clit. you’re soaked everywhere, and her cock feels so smooth as it glides effortlessly over you; you’re barely breathing.

ellie’s voice is in your ear, quiet but thick with lust. “let me eat you out first.”

and it sounds amazing, it really does. any other time, you’d relent, let her mouth at your cunt for hours until you’re so fucked-out you can’t think straight. but that’s not what you need right now.

“i need you inside me,” you tell her, voice low and sultry, almost unrecognizable from its usual timbre. ellie hears it, too, the husk in your tone making her grit her teeth with a low, gravelly moan. “shit, baby—can’t say no to that.”

she slides into you so easily, your cunt opening smoothly around her as she pushes in to the hilt. you both sigh in pleasure, you at the feeling of being so deliciously full, her at the satisfaction of watching your expression dissolve into pure bliss.

“so fuckin’ wet, goddamn,” ellie murmurs. she draws back only to fuck into you again, and you whine when she brushes up against the end of you. the spot that only she can find. that only spurs her on—she starts fucking you in earnest without much buildup, too pent up to be patient and slow and intentional. she knows what you want, you realize, flooded with arousal as her hips slam into yours. her strap drags perfectly through you, so deep you see stars behind fluttering eyelids.

“ellie,” you moan, brows pinched together, mouth hanging open.

she doesn’t slow down, skin smacking against skin as she fucks herself into you. “what do you need, baby? i’ll give it to you. i’ll give you anything.”

another moan tears out of your throat at her words, your arms moving up to snake around her neck and reel her in for another sloppy kiss. “more,” you gasp, your foreheads pressed together, slick with sweat. “more, please, more.”

ellie gives you one last, searing kiss, then pulls back to readjust. she stills inside you while she grabs hold of your legs, palms squeezing the doughy flesh of your thighs before she pushes them toward your chest. your knees are up by your shoulders like this, and you reach your hands around to support yourself, though your own touch can’t rival her. “good girl,” she praises when she notices what you’re doing, allowing your hands to replace her. she instead brings her attention to your hips, holding them still while she pulls almost all the way out and fucks back into you. and it’s rougher, now, more intentional. ellie moves faster, harder; you cry out a blissful oh my god, tears burning in your eyes from the sheer pleasure of it.

this is it—this is what you needed. and ellie gives it to you exactly how you want it, her body smacking against your ass and the backs of your thighs, her cock hitting that sweet spot within you so rhythmically that you find your brain is entirely empty. the ceaseless noise in your head has quieted, in its place is sheer pleasure.

your release sneaks up on you; you’re not thinking straight, overwhelmed with lust and the warmth it floods through your veins. you come suddenly but with so much force it nearly knocks the wind out of you. squirming and shaking under ellie’s towering form, your cunt spasms around the silicon cock and she groans out in delight.

spent, ellie lowers her weight on you, still careful not to crush you beneath her. you’re both catching your breath, but she can’t drive away the urge to kiss you. slower, this time. more loving.

“hey,” she says, “i love you.”

you smile against her lips, giving her another few pecks before you tell her, “i love you too.”

her arms are warm, lithe, and strong around you, holding you as close as she can. but when you start to wiggle underneath her, she groans in disapproval.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i just—i really wanna eat some pancakes.”

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ozzgin · 5 months ago

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Day 1: Yandere School Doodle

Day 2: Balinese Folklore, Brazilian Folklore, Romanian Folklore

Day 3: Secret Collection, AI [Yandere Android]

Day 4: Yokai Harem Doodle, Homemade Meal [Yandere Serial Killer]

Day 5: Deep Sea Monster, Yandere School Doodle

Day 6: Unorthodox Gift [Yandere Yakuza]

Day 7: Dear Alice [Cute!Yandere]

Day 8: Chimera [Deer Monster]

Day 9: Heart on a platter [Demon King]

Day 10: Dragon!Guardian

Day 11: Dragon!Guardian Doodle, Medieval Menace [Vegetable Lamb Hybrid]

Day 12: Devilish Charm [Zzy]

Day 13: Mating Season [Lion!Hybrid & Tiger!Hybrid]

Day 14: Eyes Everywhere! [Internet Monster]

Day 15: Monster Streaming Doodle

Day 16: A piece of me [Angel], Idolatry [Angel]

Day 17: Razor Sharp Smile [Vampire Clown]

Day 18: Yandere School Doodle

Day 19: Wings, Under Lock and Key [Fae] (Postponed)

Day 20: Fear of the dark [Ghost Harem]

Day 21: Undead [Zombie x Grave Robber!Reader]

Day 22: Mommy's Little Monsters [Spider Horde]

Day 23: Aftercare [Yandere Circus]

Day 24: I put a spell on you [Succubus]

Day 25: Tainted Love [Naga]

Day 26: Full Moon [Werewolf]

Day 27: Android Caretaker

Day 28: Dullahan [Pumpkin Assistant]

Day 29: I come with knives [Slasher]

Day 30: Alien [Xenomorph Queen + Hive], Monster Hotel Guest

Day 31: Art the Clown x Reader

[Navigation]

#ozztober #october event #masterlist

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brionysea · 7 months ago

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when it comes to the umbrella academy, a lot of people seem to think that the first half is great and the second half is terrible. personally, I think only the first *season* is great, or even good. here's why:

the mission statement at the end of season 1 is fixing viktor, but viktor isn't the only broken one, so you can infer that they're all going to have to fix *each other* - as a family, the one thing their abuser never let them be. and the world's burning down around them because of the most dramatic sibling confrontation to ever grace the earth, but they're holding hands and escaping together and surviving the impossible with the intent to move forward, even if that means momentarily moving backwards. it's a masterful allegory for finally growing up, accepting responsibility for your personal trauma and tragedy and how they shaped you, and the moment you take that power back by choosing to heal your inner child, only after being slapped in the face with the fact that if you don't, it *will* destroy everything you've ever built, ever cared about, and ever could.

and then the rest of the show forgets all of it. as it were, it goes in the *exact opposite direction.*

on the surface, the second season isn't *as* bad as the subsequent ones are. but season 3 and 4's faults can be traced back to season 2 by how it pivoted away from the serious subject matter that the story (not the plot - the *story*) was heavily baked in, leaning hard into the goofier elements instead, without ever understanding the contrast that those conflicting elements served to highlight. it made them both more powerful; the jokes were funnier because you were just devastated, and the trauma was more devastating because you were just in tears laughing. the emotional roller coaster is key to understanding these people, and you *have* to take the serious stuff seriously for it to work. at least half of the show doesn't, and as a result, the emotional moments feel hollow.

controversial opinion: as a character, luther is better in season 1 than he is anywhere else. he's more unlikable, but that's because he's implicitly there to show what *not* to do - even if he'd succeeded narratively by locking viktor up and saving the world, he still failed thematically by emulating their father and continuing the cycle of abuse - so luther's a character that's being very effectively used to add to the core theme of the story. he feels like a real, frustrating person, whose brain chemistry got messed up by years of abuse and isolation, all for the crime of thinking his father loved him and wanted the best for him. not like a made up guy on your screen doing silly stuff solely for your entertainment.

season 2 was also the start of the characters getting love interests instead of storylines, which season 1 never would have *dreamed* of; klaus and dave's tragic romance only served to further klaus's character arc, viktor's creepy boyfriend was actually manipulating him the whole time, five's fractured-psyche-mannequin was a narrative tool to let us see into the head of such an emotionally reticent character, and so on. the romance served the character, but fairly quickly into the show's progression, it felt like the character started serving the romance. five was immune to this curse for a long time due to aidan gallagher's age, which is why he's (for the most part) the best, most consistent character across the show, because they had to use their *imagination* for him and actually *write an arc* instead of falling back on tired romance tropes that any selection of characters could slot into to fill the dead space.

after season 1, the umbrella academy is entertaining, but it doesn't have anything to *say.* which is extremely disappointing when the show initially made such a strong case for what it wanted to be.

#the umbrella academy #tv: tua

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xyywrites · 2 months ago

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Subtle Foreshadowing: Leaving Breadcrumbs

Foreshadowing is like seasoning—too much, and it overpowers the dish; too little, and the story feels bland. When done subtly, it’s a literary breadcrumb trail that readers can follow and later admire when they realize everything was right under their noses.

1. Use Everyday Details

The best foreshadowing hides in plain sight. Something that seems unimportant now can hold major significance later.

Example: A character mentions that they always lock their bedroom door at night. Later, it becomes crucial when someone tries to break in but fails.

2. Leverage Symbolism

Objects, colors, or recurring imagery can subtly point to future events.

Example: A withering plant in the protagonist’s room mirrors their deteriorating mental state, foreshadowing a breakdown.

3. Play With Dialogue

A seemingly casual line can become significant in hindsight.

Early in the story: “You’d have to be crazy to hike that trail alone.” Later: The protagonist ventures down the same trail, setting up a tense, isolated confrontation.

4. Introduce Red Herrings

Foreshadowing doesn’t mean making the ending obvious. Throw in details that distract or mislead while keeping the real clues subtle.

A character keeps looking at their phone nervously, making readers suspect they’re hiding something. The twist? They’re planning a surprise party, not plotting betrayal.

5. Use Minor Characters

Minor characters can be the perfect vessels for foreshadowing. Their insights or actions may seem trivial but later connect to the main plot.

A street vendor tells the protagonist, “Storm’s coming,” as they pass by. Later, this line doubles as both literal and metaphorical foreshadowing for the chaos ahead.

6. Drop Inconsistencies

Small contradictions in a character’s story or behavior can hint at hidden truths.

A character says they’ve never been to a certain city, yet they recognize its landmarks in a photo. This inconsistency later ties into their secret past.

7. Use Setting Details

The environment can hint at future events.

A creaky floorboard that annoys the protagonist early in the story becomes critical later when they use it to detect an intruder.

8. Plant Emotional Seeds

Foreshadow not just plot twists but emotional arcs as well.

A character who lashes out at small inconveniences foreshadows a larger anger issue that causes them to make a catastrophic decision later.

9. Utilize Themes

Tie foreshadowing into the story’s overarching themes for subtle yet powerful hints.

In a story about trust, repeated mentions of locked doors, broken promises, and hidden diaries all build to the climax where a betrayal occurs.

10. Trust Your Readers

The key to subtle foreshadowing is restraint. Trust your readers to connect the dots without spelling it out for them.

Instead of saying, “The cracked photo frame symbolized their fractured relationship,” simply describe the frame and let readers infer the connection.

Foreshadowing is an art of balance. It should enrich your story without pulling readers out of the narrative. Think of it as a game with your audience—leave just enough breadcrumbs so that when the twist hits, they’ll gasp and say, “Of course!”

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homestylehughes · 10 months ago

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shower sex

pairing(s): luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: after a terrible day, luke knows just what y/n needs. because what's a better relaxation than shower sex?

wc: 1.7k

warnings: smut 18+. little plot, mostly smut! pure filth, no use of y/n. cussing, pet names, dirty talk. oral, fem receiving. unprotected sex, p n v. hints of some angst, and cute fluffy boyfriend luke.

authors note: hiiiii!! luke smut! luke smut! luke smut! i loved writing this, i love luke, going through a luke phase rn badddd. i got this idea when i was writing the headcanons for him earlier. so here it isssss. i loved writing this. like and reblog if you enjoy<3 as always much love<3

happy reading<3

I've actually had the worst day ever. Everything. I mean everything is going wrong today. I was late for work today because I missed my alarm, even with me sprinting throughout our apartment, and speeding to the office. I was still late.

Then, I spilled my coffee all over me. That was my second straw. The worst part about it was that I had to work in my coffee-covered clothes the whole day, not being able to afford to leave work, which would cause me to be even more behind than I was.

I had so much work to do, i stayed 3 extra hours over, not pulling out of the parking lot until almost 8 p.m. everything hurt, each part of my body was exhausted. To make things worse, if they could get even worse, I haven't seen Luke in almost a week.

The hockey season is wrapping up but Luke has been busy with spending time with his family, after Jack's surgery and training for the worlds.

We both had hoped that I'd be able to get time off from work to spend time with him and his family, taking a little break for myself. That obviously didn't happen.

So now, im driving back home to our apartment, in coffee cover clothes, with a pounding headache and empty stomach. The tears are threatening to fall over my waterline.

Parking quickly in the lot, I get out and grab my things, making my way through the lobby to the elevator. The ride to the 8 floor feels like 30 years before the door opening signaling its floor.

I slowly trudge down the hall to our door, pushing my key in and turning the lock, the refreshing smell and sense of being home felt in my body. Immediately I drop my things by the door, kicking off my shoes as I do.

There's three things on my mind right now: shower, eat maybe, and bed. Luke is also on my mind but I'm so exhausted I can't even bring myself to message him back from earlier.

Making my way to the bathroom, turning the water on to the highest it can go, wanting to burn and wash away the aftermath of the day. Peeling off my clothes, my body quickly relaxes as soon as the hot water hits my body. Leaning my head back letting it run all over my face.

I can't tell if the wetness on my face is just water or a mix of tears, at this point I'm not sure I care.

After five or so minutes of letting the water run along my body I reach for the shampoo, starting to wash my hair. The scrubbing on my scalp and the smell of my shampoo is enough to send me into a daze. Wash and rinse and wash and rinse again, the same action repeated with conditioner.

As I'm rinsing the last bit of conditioner out of my hair, my back turned away to the door of the shower, my eyes closed in relaxation. I feel a hand slowly trail around my waist, my eyes quickly open in confusion, my body fast to move away from the person behind me.

“Hey baby its just me” luke chuckles from behind me, pulling me back into his body from behind, his hands circling my waist rubbing small circles on my hips.

“You scared me '' I say as I lean back into his body, “sorry baby didn't mean to”, he says, breathing into my neck, his warmth on my neck is enough to make my knees weak.

“How was your day?” he says, face still nuzzled in my neck. I sadly laugh before i speak “my day was terrible so fucking terrible.” I can feel my eyes begin to fill with tears again.

Luke is quick to turn me around, grabbing my face in his hands holding it to look at his. “Hey baby, don't cry, it's okay. I'm here now, i'm sorry i haven't been here recently” he says while his eyes are locked with mine, wiping his fingers under my eyes where tears have now fallen.

Feeling stupid for crying i mute out a small “sorry” to Luke, feeling bad he has to watch me cry like a baby.

“Hey no, don't feel sorry. It's okay to cry". I don't deserve him, I say to myself. Not knowing what else to say, I push my face to his, locking our lips together. It's been almost a week since i've kissed luke, i missed the feeling of his lips, i've missed the feeling of him around me in general.

Luke is quick to respond by pulling my hips closer to his body, his other hand on the back of my head. Taking control of the kiss by pushing my lips harder against his.

His tongue pressing against my lips, begging to be let in, opening my mouth slightly against his, lukes hot tongue slides into my mouth. I don't even try to fight for dominance, I just let him take control.

Our bodies moving together against the stream of hot water, the glass door fogging up around us. My body feels like it's on cloud nine just from that. Lukes the first to pull away, his pupils blown with lust, lips swollen and pink.

“Fuck i missed that” he says, hes hands begin trailing up my body grabbing at my hips, tracing his hands along the under neath of my breasts, the action alone causing me to shutter.

“Luke” I breathe out, now looking up at him, “what baby” he smirks down at me, now trailing one of his hands to my left nipple, rolling it in between two of fingers.

“I need you now” I say quietly, “what do you need baby?” Luke says, bringing his face close to mine.

“I want you to fuck me, please” luke wastes no time smashing our lips back to together, walking us backwards and turning us around. My back hits the cold tile, the sensation causing me to moan into lukes mouth, our tongues began to move against each other again.

Luke suddenly pulls away from me, I whine at the loss of contact. “Be patient baby” he says, as he tails his hand between my legs, pulling my thighs apart, caging me in by putting one of his legs between my thighs and the other on the outside of my other leg.

I gasp as a feel his fingers slide in between my folds, “fuck baby, who got you this wet?” “you luke, you.” I say trying to push my hips to meet his fingers, my body craving some type of release.

“Youre a needy little thing tonight arent you baby” he says to me in a teasing tone, “yes i am, and i need you to fuck me now please luke, stop teasing me” i say finally finding my voice.

“You want me to fuck this little cunt huh?” Luke rasps back to me as he begins to slowly enter two fingers inside of me, I'm so wet, that they just slide right in.

“I think i might just tease you for a little while longer baby” still slowly moving his fingers in and out of me. My body is rocking against the motion of my fingers thrusting in and out of me.

“Fuck i need more luke, please” i say moaning out to him, hoping he can see how desperate i am for him right now.

“Since you asked so nicely” he says, quickly removing his fingers from my pussy. Grabbing one of my legs pulling it up against his hip.

I pull his face against mine, my hands finding his hair tugging and pushing his mouth against mine, our teeth and tongues clashing against another.

Luke takes a hold of his cock, giving it a few quick pulls before he pushes into me completely. “Oh fuck luke” i moan against his mouth, “you feel so good around me fuck baby” he groans out from above me pulling our lips apart, as he begins thrusting in and out of me.

Each roll of his hips feels like a gift sent from god, his grip on my things hurts so good. I begin to roll my hips to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck yeah right there baby” luke moans out “keep fucking yourself against me” he says dropping his face into my neck leaving bites in his wake.

Luke brings my leg higher against his hip, the new angle causing my vision to fog over. “Luke fuck. Oh my gosh,” “right there baby please”. My hands running over the landscape of his back, my nails definitely leaving a trail of red hot marks in their wake.

The sound of the shower running, and the sound of our skin slapping together fills the shower. I can feel the sweat forming on my body, as luke continues to fuck me. His hand sliding inbetween our bodies, to my clit.

“Fuck luke, yes right there” i moan out loudly. “That feels good baby, right there yeah? You want me to rub your pretty clit as i fuck you?”. Fuck him and that dirty mouth, “yes luke please, dont stop im close” my eyes falling shut in pleasure. “Fuck baby, i can feel you squeezing against me”

Luke's thrusts began to speed up, I can feel my high approaching. “Fuck luke, dont stop” “im almost there” i say, pulling our lips back together, moaning into each other mouths.

One last snap of Luke's hips hits right against my clit, causing my whole body to start shaking. “Im coming fuck” i can barely get out as waves of pleasure taking over. My vision is completely white, as my climax racks through my body.

Luke drops his face against mine, as he comes his moans filling my ears, his hips still snapping against mine, as we both ride out our highs.

Luke's hips stop moving, trying to catch his breath, as he pulls his face from my neck, I open my eyes slowly to see Luke looking back at me with a slight smirk on his face, our chests still rapidly falling.

“I think the shower is cold ”Luke says to me while smiling, “I don't care.” I whisper back, pulling our lips together once again in another kiss. Already forgetting about the terrible day, once his lips are back on mine.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #new jersey devils #luke hughes smut #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes

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vaaaaaiolet · 2 months ago

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Your seasonally available secret-agent roommate got too into the holiday punch this year, and he's bursting with a secret you're not too keen on coming to terms with.

secret santa fic for @crsssie!! roommates + mistletoe + one serving of cuddling <3

HUGE thank you for setting up Leon Secret Santa 2024 and a HUGER apology for messing up the time 😭 i love you LOADS cressie and i hope this fic has banter that lives up to the wonderful dialogue in your fics <3 MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

gn / m, romance, fluff, BANTER, leon is SO BAD at feelings, roommates au, angst / slight miscommunication trope + drunken confessions, close your eyes and ignore canon for me <3 no mention of pronouns but reader has bobby pins in their hair cw: alcohol / drunkenness

word count: 1.5k // read on ao3

“Shit, I didn’t-”

“Open your eyes, Leon! You’re going to fall, just hold on to me, we’re almost-”

“...don’t need you to,” he slurs, “I got it!”

Leon, of course, has got nothing at all besides shitfaced drunk. Your key is currently deciding not to fit into the convoluted lock he’d decided was absolutely necessary for your shared apartment. It was something about you having the fighting talent of a bedbound sloth (completely subjective opinion, you’d argued) and him being out of the country every few weeks.

The snow must’ve frozen it over while you two were out tonight, and between shouldering 165 pounds of muscle mass while manifesting a bobby pin into existence from your now-bedraggled hairdo to work into the keyhole, the start of Christmas Day is starting to look like Mission Impossible.

“Don’t make this harder for me,” you plead to both your problems.

The lock seems to be the only one to listen. Please, please – yes! The mahogany door to the apartment swings open, and you shoulder in your precious cargo, tracking snow all over the floor that’s sure to melt into sludge come morning. Luckily, the chore chart’s on your side tomorrow: Leon’s due for mopping.

Once he wakes up from his alcohol induced nap, that is. And then you’ll have your fun.

You deposit him on the couch faster than your paycheck, and your lungs inflate three sizes once his back makes contact with the cushions. “God, you’re heavy,” you pant, wiping your forehead.

“‘Cause you don’t go to the gym with me. Gotta get stronger.”

“I’ll quit my job and get buff once you start paying more than a third of the rent, yeah?”

Leon snorts. “‘m only here a third of the time anyway,” he says under his breath.

He’s right, of course. The rent split was your idea, fair and square. But you pretend he isn’t. Pretend that it doesn’t hurt, either, like his punches when he tries to teach you self-defense whenever he’s free.

A cherub ornament must’ve fallen from the Christmas tree in the kitchen and crashed on your couch. Frosty blue eyes flutter open to gaze up at you from the cushions. There’s roses in Leon’s pale cheeks, flushed from the outdoors combined with him drinking his head off tonight, and when a wistful, angelic expression spreads across his face, you wish the snowstorm outside would’ve frozen over your heart instead of the door lock.

He crooks a finger at you. Whispers like it hurts him, “Got somethin’ to tell ya.”

Your breath hitches. “Yeah?”

“‘s goddamn freezing in here.”

Unbelievable. You throw a couch cushion at his chest and he has the nerve to giggle while you stomp away to shut the front door. “You shouldn’t have gotten so drunk, Leon, what were you thinking?” you scold the subzero air.

“I can handle my drinks!” he shouts back.

“Then why are you passed out on my couch?”

And despite having your back to him almost ten feet away, you can practically hear his brow scrunch at your words. “Thought it was our couch.”

You wave a flippant hand. “You know what I mean.”

“But you’re right,” he barks out a laugh. “Should be yours. All of it, I…I shouldn’t be here.”

He might be the one drunk tonight, but you’re the one feeling that telltale nausea all of a sudden. Leon’s laugh never makes your stomach roil like this. Screw all the little catches and springs – you twist the biggest one on the door’s lock closed and power walk back to the living room, taking a kneel on the couch next to Leon’s head. He’s turned to the other side now, broad back facing you. Tit for tat.

“What are you talking about?” Digging your fingers into his right delt, you pry him back to look him in the eye, barely keeping the alarm out of your voice.

“Uh, coins. Lotsa coins in the couch.” Leon fishes out a dime, shoots you a plastic excuse of a smile like you were born yesterday, “Yours?”

You shake his shoulder. “Don’t play dumb with me, come on. What did you say about you not being here?”

“Mistletoe too, so much stuff in here…”

You don’t even spare it a second glance, snatching the sprig out of his fingers. “What’s going on?” you ask, voice trembling.

Because truth be told, security obsession and his pain-in-the-ass work schedule besides, you really can’t imagine living with anyone else.

It’s been a year with Leon, your mysterious government agent roommate, the one who you’d spent nights hunched over the kitchen counter with corner store ramen. You’d gripe over your shitty coworkers, he’d threaten to tear them each a new one, and you’d half-pretend to beg him not to. And then you’d both couch surf until the sunrise, with you ending up cuddling into his chest and magically tucked into bed the next morning with your share of the chores done before Leon left for the day.

Leon’s shoulder was always there for you to cry on after failed first dates. It was the one favor you couldn’t pay back in kind; the man seemed to have zero interest in dating with a curious tendency to grow quiet whenever the question got brought up. But for him, you kept your first aid kit stocked. You’ve lost count of how many times you’d stayed up past two AM cleaning his cuts and icing his bruises upon his return home.

It was a shared agreement. He kept his secrets, you got a built-in best friend. Or at least you thought you did before now.

Your throat stings. “Is this why you drank so much? You didn’t have the guts to tell me you hate living together?” You crumple the hem of his sweater in your fist.

The faraway look in Leon’s eyes clears instantaneously once he registers what’s starting to spill down your cheeks.

Your next demand comes out riddled with cracks. “You have to be h-honest, Leon, promise me. Why don’t you want to stay?”

“Then you’ll stop crying?”

Leon’s hands clumsily drift up to cup your cheeks, but the world’s gone full snowglobe through your haze of tears. You don’t pay them any mind, nodding fervently.

“It’s you,” he breathes.

You smell the mulled wine in his breath. Your holiday once-favorite, sweet and and now sickening. You’re a bruised peach, frostbitten and smashed under his Timberlands. Leon had it all wrong; it wasn’t the front door that needed to be padlocked, it was your stupid heart and the creeping realization that you’d tried to stave off with all those horrible dates and more excuses to fall asleep in his arms.

The thing Leon did get right, though, was that you had no fighting chance. How could you let him break his way so completely into your life? He wasn’t even here half the time and here you are, fighting the clock to greet him home like he even wanted you there.

You shake your head, interrupting the thumbs trying to wipe away your tears. “That’s fine. Yeah. Totally fine,” you sniffle, putting on your customer service brave face.

“No,” Leon frowns.

“If I’m such a horrible roommate, we can sto-”

“No,” he repeats firmly. “Don’t…ugh,” he claps a hand to his forehead, the alcohol headache hot on his heels.

“Don’t what?” you cry.

“Not helping,” Leon grits.

“Sorry for being sad that I’ll miss my best friend? I don’t know what you want me to-”

There’s a sharp pull on your wrist. With an exasperated sigh, Leon lifts the fist at your side with the sprig of mistletoe still in it above your head. You get one, maybe two seconds to wonder how he remembered it was there before his lips collide with yours, his calloused palm guiding your cheek towards his cherry-flavored mouth. The wind knocks out of you – more than that time you dared him to throw you over his shoulder.

The mistletoe falls out of your fingers. Leon’s thumb brushes the last tear out of the corner of your eye and mulled wine becomes your favorite again.

“Didn’t have the guts to say I liked ya,” he mumbles, and your heart skips. Leon’s smiling.

“You’d rather move out than admit you like me?” you tease, breathless, arms circling around his neck the way they always do when he princess carries you.

“Sweetheart, y’know me.”

And yeah, you do. Nobody else does quite like you.

“Stupid.” You let him kiss you a moment more before pulling away; you can’t help that his frowny face is your favorite expression on him when he’s drunk. “And you know what happens when you pull stupid stunts like that?”

Leon blinks at you, the consequences of bad backflipping flashing through his head. “Don’t want plunger duty!” he groans, flopping back onto the couch.

He’ll be wishing the toilet rats a Merry Christmas, poor guy. Your guy. You’ll just have to wait to cuddle him after he takes an hour-long shower.

@leonsecretsanta MERRY CHRISTMAS Y'ALL!! link to my masterlist lol

dividers by @/strangergraphics!

#leonsecretsanta2024 #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #vaaaaaiolet #ao3 fanfic

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mystic-writings · 9 months ago

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closing time | robin buckley

PAIRING — robin buckley x fem!reader

SUMMARY — robin has a crush on you. what happens when you're locked in keith's office after the store closes?

WARNINGS — fluff, banter, love confessions, mentions of panic/anxiety & season three

WORD COUNT — 2,353

NOTES — something short and sweet for my beloved robin!! i hope y'all enjoy and don't forget to leave feedback please! also, this was very loosely inspired by sparks fly by taylor swift

masterlist | navigation

Robin Buckley was utterly, helplessly, in love.

There was no denying it anymore; Robin was completely in love with you. She would light up every time you walked into class; her heart stopped every time you smiled at her, and spluttered back to life when you’d say her name. Her mind ran away from her every time you shared a shift at the video store, full of daydreams of what you and her would even do if you dated, only to be shut down by the brutal fear of rejection.

But you didn’t know that.

As far as Robin Buckley was aware, you only thought of her as your anxious, rambling friend who, more often than not, spent her shifts making fun of your co-worker Steve and his almost inexplicable lack of game.

Most of the time that she was around you, Robin was forced to ‘act normal’, as if she’d ever done that before. It usually resulted in useless rambles about something weird she’d read about, like gingivitis or how most of the backdrop scenes from Star Wars were actually just still paintings. But you usually seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, and that took some of the uncomfortable anxiety away. And sometimes, you’d even laugh. A genuine one, too, and it would make Robin’s day.

Tonight was a lot like that. It was Friday, and the typical customer buzz around the store was enough to keep you, Robin, and Steve occupied for a while. But by 9pm, the clientele died out, and the three of you were behind the counter playing a round of Crazy 8s.

“Hah!” Robin said, slamming her palm to the pile of cards. She pulled it back to reveal an 8 of clubs, a proud smile on her face. “Suck it, Steve! Last card,” she huffed, leaning on the counter as you and Steve stared expectantly at her. “Oh, right. And it’s hearts now.”

Steve huffed, glancing at his cards before taking one from the pick-up pile. “Dick move, Buckley.”

“Dick face, Harrington.”

“What does that even mean?” You asked, looking at yours before placing a 3 on the pile.

Robin just shrugged, her lips forming a smirk as she placed her final card down. “I win!”

“Alright, I’m out,” Steve huffed, tossing his cards on the pile. You couldn’t help the overwhelming amount of clubs he had, causing you to stifle a giggle. “See you losers tomorrow.”

“Good luck with that, Steve, ‘cause I won’t be here.” You mentioned, scooping the cards into your hands. “Mom’s taking me to Indianapolis for some family thing. Had to cancel my morning shift, which means…”

Steve, who had been retrieving his jacket and car keys from under the counter, turned back with what you could only describe as a look of horror painted on his face. “No,”

“Yep,” you said, popping the ‘p’.

“No! You can’t do this to me, Y/n!”

“I already did, Steve.” You began shuffling the cards.

“But Keith always smells like eggs in the mornings! And he hates me,” Steve whined. “I can’t believe you.”

“Sorry,” you shrugged half-heartedly. “Can’t un-cancel my shift now, Keith’ll be pissed if I call him this late.”

Robin scoffed, arms folded across her chest as she watched you shuffle the cards intently. “No, he won’t. He’s practically in love with you.”

You shuddered at the thought. “Ew, gross. Please never say those words to me again, Robin. I beg of you. I think I’ll die, or… contract something if I think about it for more than 30 seconds.”

“Okay, okay, I’ve gotta get outta here,” Steve said, spinning his keys on his finger. “See you weirdos later.”

You and Robin shouted farewells as he exited the store, the bell ringing, signifying his departure. Glancing up at Robin from your focus on the deck of cards, you asked, “Another round?”

The girl nodded, a shaky exhale leaving her lips. You were closing together, and while it wasn’t uncommon, time alone with you was something Robin treasured. And the way you looked up at her through your eyelashes… Robin was going to be combating the butterflies in her stomach all night, it seemed.

The next hour seemed to fly by with no issues.

No customers came by after Steve left, so you and Robin played cards and watched a movie on the big TV hanging from the ceiling until your watch beeped, signalling 10pm — closing time.

The pair of you worked in tandem, one of you counting the cash and working out what the deposit would be while the other made sure that everything looked nice and that the return carts were empty — of course they were, Steve had done them long before he left.

Disaster struck when you went into Keith’s office to finish closing for the night.

The analog clock on Keith’s desk read 10:18pm when you passed it, Robin just behind you. All that was left was to write up the deposit in an email and send it to the regional inbox. It was a delicate procedure, to say the least, but with Robin reading everything out to you as you typed it up made things a lot easier.

“You got that?” Robin asked, hopping off the desk beside you.

You glanced at her, fingers typing away. “Yeah, Robin, I think I can remember how many five dollar bills were put in the deposit envelope.”

Robin snorted beside you, the already-open safe door creaking as she pulled it. Slipping the envelope inside, along with the deposit slip, she shut the door with a loud clang, causing you to flinch slightly.

“And…” you pressed a few final buttons on the keyboard, the computer trilling as the email finished sending. “We’re off! Let’s shut this place down and get the hell out of here.”

“As if I’d actually want to stay,” Robin grimaced as you powered down the computer. “This place smells like…” Robin sniffed the air, her face scrunching further. “Cheetos and B.O.”

You giggled, pushing the chair into the desk. “Gross,”

Robin made her way to the office door, a giddy smile on her face. “What? I’m right! It’s like Keith doesn’t know what air freshener is. Or a shower.”

She pulled on the door, her smile falling as she twisted the knob.

“What? Robin, what is it?”

“I— I don’t know,” Robin twisted the doorknob again, pulling the door toward her, to no avail. She twisted again, frantically, panic setting into her gut. “I think it’s locked!”

“No,” you nearly gasped. “It can’t be locked!”

“Okay, well, I’m turning the doorknob and it’s not moving, so…!” Robin said, voice shaking as she turned to look back at you.

“Let me try, Robin. Maybe it’s just stuck.” You suggested. Robin relented, stepping to the side as you grasped the cool metal. You twisted and pulled, your movements growing frustrated and frantic as you realised that the door wasn’t stuck — you were, in fact, locked in. “Damn it!” You exclaimed, kicking the door. “I can’t believe this,”

Robin’s hands flew to her hair, grasping at her scalp as she tried to calm herself down. She watched you begin to pace, chewing on your thumbnail, thinking of something, anything you could do to get yourselves out of this office.

You were suddenly beginning to feel cramped, like the walls were closing in on you. But you took a breath, eyes scanning the room, landing on the phone conveniently placed on Keith’s desk. “Ha!”

Robin watched you rush to the other side of the desk, picking up the receiver and beginning to dial a number. “Are you calling the police?”

“The police?” You scrunched up your nose, holding the receiver to your ear. “No, that’s stupid. I’m calling Steve.”

“Calling the police when we’re locked in a room with no way out is stupid?” Robin scoffed, taking up your previous state of pacing.

The phone rang in your ear as you sat down on the chair. “Of course it is, Robin. Steve has a set of keys, and there’s pretty much a guarantee that no one’s going to answer a Friday night call. They’re all out busting parties and pulling over drunk drivers. They’re gonna put us on the back burner. But Steve won’t. Besides, he’s not doing anything tonight, his date cancelled on him this morning.”

Robin barely acknowledged your words, mind running wild with the thoughts running through her head. Steve would help, of course he would. Ever since Starcourt, he knew how much Robin hated being stuck somewhere with no way to get out. She just hoped he’d get here quickly. Being stuck in a room with no real way out was one thing, but being stuck in a room with the girl you’re practically in love with was something entirely different.

“Steve!” You practically shouted with joy.

“Jesus,” Steve groaned. “Tone it down, please! What’s up?”

You huffed, leaning back in Keith’s chair. “Look, Robin and I locked ourselves in the office, somehow, and we need you to come by with your keys and let us out.” Steve sighed on the other line. “Pretty please? I’ll buy you Burger King on Sunday.”

“Fine. But I’m taking my sweet time getting there. I’m on the other side of town, if you even care to know.”

“I know where you live, Steve.” You rolled your eyes. “Just hurry up. I think Robin’s losing her mind in here.”

“When is she not losing her mind?”

“Steve,” you warned, sighing a farewell as he hung up on you. “Okay, he’ll be here soon. I think.”

“God,” Robin groaned, palms pressed to her forehead. “My mom’s gonna kill me. My cousins are coming into town for the week and I’m supposed to clean tomorrow and instead I’m stuck here, in a room that smells like death, where I’ll probably actually die! Of, like, dehydration or starvation or something meanwhile my cousin Evan is happily sitting on my mom’s couch eating cookies or something!”

“Starvation?” You asked yourself as you stood from the chair. “Robin, it’ll be fine. Steve’s on his way,”

The girl barely acknowledged you, still pacing, arms flying around as she spoke. “And, by the way, starvation? A really painful way to die! It hurts, Y/n, a lot. Or, at least, that’s what I’ve read, but who am I to judge! I mean, I’ve never starved to death before! Not until now, at least!”

You sighed, stepping in Robin’s path, making sure to grab her shoulders firmly, eyes locked onto hers. “Robin,” you said, eyebrows raised as the girl fell silent. “Steve should be here anytime soon. We won’t starve to death. All we have to do is wait out the half an hour before he gets here, max. We’ll be fine.”

Robin’s eyebrows cinched before she shook her head. “But what if something bad happens, Y/n? Then what are we gonna do? We’ll die! And I can’t die! I haven’t seen Evan since I was 9! He lives in Pennsylvania! Hershey, Pennsylvania! Do you have any idea how far that is?”

“It’s, like, an 8 hour drive, Robin,” you said, voice quiet. Your eyes stayed locked on hers, watching the anxiety swim through her green irises. It was like you could see the gears turning, clicking and grinding to form more anxious thoughts for her to spew out in a breathless panic.

“Not to mention the smell in here! It’s horrible! I mean, seriously, could Keith not afford a fan, or-or some sort of air freshener! And the windows! They’re so small, and they barely open, and—”

Robin’s words ceased when you pulled her forward, crashing your lips onto hers. Her muscles tensed for a moment, eyes wide, until she realised you were kissing her. You were kissing her. Robin barely had the time to kiss you back, to place her hands gingerly on your waist before you were pulling back, sucking in air.

“What was that for?” Robin asked, voice squeaking.

You only smiled. “I really needed you to stop talking.” You joked, a hesitant hand reaching up to brush some of Robin’s hair from her face. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to do that for, like, 6 months.”

“Oh,” Robin said, nodding briefly before she smiled, cheeks burning red. “Can you do it again?”

You smiled wide, nodding ecstatically before placing your hands on Robin’s neck, pulling her closer so that you could kiss her again.

It was slower this time, a test of the waters as you both melted into one another’s touch. A delicate kiss, one that said a lot more than either of you could find the words for. Robin’s fingers dug into the flesh of your waist, her mind barely comprehending what was happening right now.

The rest of the world seemed to fall away at that moment, so much so that neither of you paid attention to the soundscape around you, failing to hear the sound of keys jingling in the lock — the door to the office squealing as it opened, and the subsequent screams of Steve Harrington.

“What the hell, guys!” Steve screamed, covering his eyes as you and Robin jumped away from one another, lips swollen and cheeks burning. “I leave you by yourselves for an hour and a half and you’ve got your tongues down each other’s throats!”

“Thanks, Steve,” you said, sheepish as you took Robin’s hand, leading her past his gobsmacked form.

“You owe me a hell of a lot more than just Burger King for making me see that.”

“Sure thing!” You called out as you and Robin slung your bags over your shoulders.

“Thank you, dingus!” Robin shouted over her shoulder, smiling wide at Steve, following you out of the store.

You huffed a laugh and smiled at Robin, swinging your hands as you grabbed your keys from your pocket. “Want a ride home?”

“Sure,” Robin smiled, relishing the feeling of your hand in hers. She made sure to keep it there during the entire drive to her house, and as often as she could after that, too.

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