#no i will not pass up this opportunity to say silly words

[sysig]

He’s my little meow meow, my darling, my bbygirl (Patreon)

[finniestoncrane]

Virginal vault dweller reader you say?? I'd eat that up (and so would Cooper, heh) but seriously I would read the hell out of that if you're up for it <3

Different Up Here

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 6.3k anon thank you lmao i had already started drafting this, so vault dweller reader isn't quite a virgin but they are definitely inexperienced and have never known pleasure like the kind that cooper can offer 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: power imbalance, dubious consent because once you've said yes to cooper you can't change your mind, overstimulation, crying, oral sex, fingering, instructional, full penetration babiessss i realised i never tag that shit but yeah it's in here lmao, cumming inside, no protection, sweet coop afterwards but only briefly

If anyone else had asked you in that moment how you were, you couldn't have answered accurately without any hint of sarcasm and irritation. You were being worn down, like buildings by the sands of the desert. Each little molecule of your optimism being torn away from you, painful like plucking a hair. But when Cooper asked you, you tried your best to push down your knee jerk response.

"Let's see, shall we? Since leaving the vault a month ago, bravely in search of resources and supplies for my friends, I have killed, maimed, and eaten things I hope to never think of again. I'm in a constant cycle of very, very stressed and then very, very bored where there is no happy medium between fearing for my life and wishing for death. And oh, by the way, I'm sweating buckets the whole time because it's deathly fucking warm. Thank you for asking, Cooper!"

Instead, you shrugged and offered him at least a partial truth.

"It sounds silly... but I'm kind of bored."

A dry chuckle passed over Cooper's lips.

"Heh, that's a new one for out here."

Sensing an opportunity to at least get some conversation out of him, you sat up on the rusty bed frame, your body sinking into the almost entirely flattened mattress as you crossed your legs and did your best to get Cooper to talk more than a sentence at a time.

"Really? I would have thought you'd be bored a lot, especially when there's no raiders, or mirelurks, or scavengers, or feral ghouls, or super mutants, or roving gangs of-"

"See, this is why I'm never bored. Always somethin' or someone to be killin'."

"But what about like... now? When there's nothing else to do. There's no magazines, no books, no TV."

You watched as Cooper turned from you with a slight smile. You knew the one, the familiar grin that meant you'd divulged some information about your life in the vaults, something he always found so amusing. It was your naivety, your optimism. He was endlessly fascinated by it, as though listening to you talk about it reminded him of something he had before.

That fascinated you. It made you want to stay around him, the way he listened silently as you talked about the old films that were on the holotapes, the food that was still fresh and available, the music you could hear whenever you wanted to, not reliant on some two-bit radio host. He paid attention to you. And any time his deep, brown eyes focused on your lips it made your heart flutter in an admittedly unexpected manner.

Remembering that feeling, you tried again, hoping that your next approach might be something that interested him a little more than just conversation.

"You know how we used to pass time in the vaults?"

Over the sound of the evening breezes that whipped up the sand you could still hear Cooper sigh before he spoke.

"Now if you tell me that you wanna go out there again tonight to find an old blast radius board... well I am just going to have to shoot you."

You laughed at what you hoped was a joke and waved him off, despite the fact that he was still turned away from you, unable to see your gesture as he tried ignoring you in what you assumed was the hope that you might shut up and leave him alone.

"No, no no no no no. Just..."

The lump in your throat felt like it was about to choke you, so you swallowed the clump of nerves quietly, your voice trembling as you finished your sentence.

"... fooling around... y'know?"

Cooper turned to face you. You had piqued his interest, and you couldn't help but show the giddy glee on your face, the smallest smile crossing your lips as your eyes widened. But his words wiped away all hope that you had garnered in that short span of time.

"Oh... oh darlin'."

He laughed a little, each little sound of the short, sharp giggle like a slap to the face.

"I don't think you're ready for that at all."

You raised an eyebrow, defiant, irritated, and keen to know how he thought he had you pegged so quickly. You'd never talked about anything like that with him before. Was he assuming that you were a virgin based on how you behaved around him alone? Maybe he figured that the lack of flirting on your part was down to a complete lack of experience, when in reality, it was because every flirtatious quip he threw your way made you so nervous and flustered you felt like you might throw up.

"How come I'm not ready? I mean, I've... I've done stuff... I've done it!"

"The fat you're not saying it how it is makes me think that you are absolut-"

"I've had sex, Cooper. I've fucked before. I've been fucked."

Blinking off the irritation at being interrupted by you, Cooper pushed up the brim of his hat and stared directly at you, as though he was examining your, to see if you would stand up for yourself any further.

"By who? One of your little buddies underground? Fucking like little bunnies? I don't think that qualifies you, sweetheart."

"Why? Sex is sex..."

You said it with such confidence. As if you really knew. As if you hadn't spent your teenage years practising on your hand, holding a pillow close, lining up for that one girl in the vault who would sell practice kisses for extra bubble-gum. You'd had sex before, of course. You weren't a liar. Just because you'd only ever done it once didn't render it nonfactual. Just because it had only lasted for all of four minutes. Just because you weren't sure you even orgasmed, and your friend had told you that you'd know if you'd orgasmed. Just because it was all over so quickly, and he'd run off before anyone could catch you both, avoiding you at every opportunity after that.

"... Isn't it?"

"Oh no it ain't. Besides, like I keep telling you, it's different up here. Everything's different up here. And that includes fuckin'."

The way he said the word, consonants enunciated with such grit and vigour, filled your stomach with knots that began to tighten as you considered in what way things were so different.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Cooper sighed, exasperated, resigning himself to the fact that you were going to keep talking to him regardless of his short replies and attempts to end the conversation.

"You are a dog with a bone, huh? Ain't gonna let it go."

His yellowed teeth were exposed as his lips pulled back in a baring, mischievous smile. Those knots doubled, the ends being pulled by tension in your nervous system as Cooper's smirk put you into a dazed stupor.

"No, sir."

"Now, I don't remember signing on to be your personal tutor in all things apocalypse. Do I really need to show you how everything works up here?"

As your cheeks began to blush, you nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, sir."

You were hopeful for just a bit of a distraction. Something to help take the stress away. To relieve the tension that had been building up between you and Cooper as of late. You'd been studying him, watching the way he looked at you, fascinated by your perceived, and frankly obvious, innocence. The way his fingers moved, contributing to the skilful way he handled his gun and his ropes. The confidence, the charisma, the charms.

You wanted him, but you weren't quite sure how to broach the situation without it seeming desperate. But you were past that now. You were desperate For anything, just something. Something to cure the monotony of walking and hiding and fighting and surviving. You didn't want to just survive. You wanted to at least find a semblance of fun and pleasure in this nightmare you had found yourself in. And in the vaults, when board games and books and debates got boring, there was always fucking. That was what you desired most right now. The fact that Cooper happened to be the closest target for your desires was just a sweet miracle, or a cruel tease depending on how willing he was.

And luckily, he seemed agreeable.

"Well then, how about you come over here and let ol' Coop show you a little thing or two about how dirty you can really get up here in the mean, dusty Wasteland, hm?"

Your excitement was palpable, even though you were trying to keep your composure. There was no escaping the echo of the giddy squeal you let out as you jumped up from the bed and made your way over to Cooper. He waited in the far corner of the room, setting himself down on an old armchair as you stepped towards him, slapping his thighs as an indication of where he wanted you. And you did as you were told, following his instructions, knowing they hadn't led you astray so far in your time together.

It felt awkward at first, being so close to him. You shifted your weight nervously, trying to get comfortable while making sure Cooper was still at ease, which of course, he was. He always was. Nothing stirred him, he was forever at peace. Competent in any situation. Quick to adapt. And as you fidgeted and fussed, you felt his strong hands pushing you forward on his lap, until your chests were practically pressed together, his hands skirting over your lower back as he held you still. In command. In control. The sudden sensation of his hands on your body made your breath hitch, a soft, surprised squeal on the inhale that had Cooper raising his brow at you.

"Now... you agree that you asked for this, alright? Because I am not going to put my effort into entertaining your little whims if you're gonna get fussy and decide it's too much for you. I did warn you."

"Yes, you did, and I really don't think you needed to. I doubt there's too much different about it, and I've picked up what I needed to know pretty quickly from your other lessons, haven't I?"

Your retaliation to his insistence that you needed him to teach you everything, and that some things just might prove themselves a little too hard even for your levels of enthusiasm, had irritated him when he'd first met you. But now your optimism and sheer refusal to believe anything was too much for you were a source of entertainment for him. A challenge.

"That's fine then, darlin'. But I'll remember that."

His eyes bore into your soul, keeping your focus on him as he dared you to look away. They sparkled as he ran his tongue over his lips, the pretence of preparing for his next words covering the obvious flirtation in the way he dragged the flat muscle along his chapped skin.

"So, gimme a benchmark here, lil lady. How much foreplay was involved in your previous encounters? I'd hate to leave you high and dry."

"Foreplay...? What... uh, what is that?"

Cooper sighed, rolling his eyes before closing his eyelids over gently.

"Well, it's something like this."

He pushed a loose strand of hair back behind your ear, rough fingers following the curve and grazing over your neck as he let them drift down the front of your chest, tickling the exposed skin as far as your jumpsuit would allow before he took a hold of the zip at the front. A quick flit of his eyes up to you seemed to ask for permission, and your small, almost imperceptible nod, told him to keep going.

Slowly, painfully so, he pulled the zip down, watching as the centre of your torso was slowly revealed to him. Smooth skin, in comparison to his anyway, clear of any unnatural blemishes or war wounds. One calloused digit followed down your sternum to your stomach and back up, hooking under the left side of the fabric and pulling it over, then the other, exposing the top half of your body to him.

Cooper traced his fingertips over the top of your breasts, watching as your chest moved in and out, slowly, but exaggeratedly. The knots in your stomach felt like they might burst with the tension as his sharp, ragged nails crossed over your hardening nipples, a gentle tingle coursing through your veins.

"Well?"

"No... n-nothing like that... just grabbing..."

"Oh yeah? You like that? How about this?"

He closed two fingers around your nipple, one hand still on your back to keep you balanced as your body reacted to his touch. Between the two digits, you felt your nipples heating up, the slight, burning pain from the way he squeezed them sending a signal down your spine that seemed to affect every part of you. Tighter, tighter, and then as your eyes closed a little more, eyelids pressed tight, he would ease up to offer some relief.

"You like that? Like it rough?"

"I think... I think I like both."

"So, something like this?"

He teased your nipples once more, pressing harder with his fingertips, pulling them out and jiggling your breasts as he tugged at them, this lewder act interspersed with a gentle caress as he held your breast against the palm of his hand, carefully cupping it as he flicked his thumb over the sensitive and completely erect nipple.

You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, Coop's hand moved swiftly from your body to your cheeks, popping the lip back out as he pressed his thumb and forefinger into your face. Understanding the message, and seemingly showing this in your wide-eyed gaze, he let his rough, leathery hand make its way back down to your breast, cupping it once more as he spoke.

"Different, see? Pleasure is hard to come by out here. You gotta do it right when you've got the chance."

Cooper leaned into your neck, whispering the words low and slowly, his dry, chapped lips skimming over your skin as he continued.

"I bet down there they didn't know the first thing about real pleasure. Takes time, something like that. You gotta learn the body, gotta make it feel good."

His teeth grazed over your shoulder and back up along your neck before he pulled back, watching your eyes refocus from the haze of arousal.

"Did they make you feel good?"

"No."

You were confident in that statement. It hadn't felt good. It felt rushed. Clumsy. Shameful. And as you pondered it, your mouth remained open in a slight pout which trembled as Cooper asked his next question.

"And what about your pretty lips... did they kiss them?"

"A little..."

Cooper leaned in, his rough lips pressing onto yours with firm contact, his tongue staying in place as though he imagined that might be a bit too much for you right now. But that same level of restraint didn't keep him from letting his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, pulling it out, only letting go when you winced in surprise as the suddenness of the action.

"Didn't bite them either. Of course not, what am I thinking? That would be a little too adventurous for your kind."

His face took on a darker tone as he smiled knowingly towards you.

“And what about these pretty lips?”

Before you could piece together the question, his hand was diving into your jumpsuit, pushing down the front and past the waist, stroking against the front of your underwear which, by now, was soaking wet with your arousal.

“They touch these lips, huh?”

You gasped as he pushed your underwear to the side, stroking his fingers along your slick, plump pussy lips, withdrawing them soon after to taste you on his tongue, the way you had watched him taste the blood of enemies, the blood of victims.

“Stand up, darlin’… Why don’t you take that suit off, hm? Get yourself comfy.”

As you raised yourself up from his hips, your legs wobbled under you, not quite steady enough to support you so soon after being reduced to jelly by Cooper’s touch, his caramelised words that filled your ears, the sharp twang of his accent, the delicate cadence, the power rumbling underneath like an almost silent bassline.

“Do it slowly though.”

Cooper watched carefully as you stood nervously before him, shuffling out of your suit, stripping for him, your hips moving from side to side slow and steady, unintentionally sultry in the way you moved. Without taking his eyes from you he reached for his canteen, taking a long sip from it as you let your suit fall down over your legs, stepping out of it and pushing it to the side with your feet.

“That’s it, darlin’. Can’t do this half-hearted. I need to have access to all of you there. Now come sit back down.”

You held your arms in front of you, feeling far too exposed for the shelter you’d found for the evening. No windows, no locks on the doors. But it was difficult to focus on that worry for too long as you watched Cooper’s tongue flit back out over his lips, clear strands of drool sparkling in the light as he took you in, hungrily, dreamily.

“Turn around though. You face that way.”

The metal buttons on the front of his duster coat were cold against the skin of your back, but you leaned into them anyway. Cooper’s hand curved around your neck and up under your chin, holding your face forward.

“You keep an eye out, holler if you see anything coming. I’ll do everything else.”

A faint clicking sound, the safety on his gun being flicked to off, before those same fingers draped over your mound and down on to your lips, spreading them apart, the cool air of the decrepit room cooling the heat of your hot, aching cunt. With two fingers holding your lips apart, he let the middle digit tap against your clit, each tiny sensation turning your blood cold before heating it exponentially, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow as you felt a tingle in your abdomen.

The finger that tapped the sensitive bud began stroking it from side to side, laying flat against it length wise as Cooper strummed your body, still holding your chin in his hands, smiling to himself every time your back arched away from him in intense pleasure. Every nerve-ending was at his mercy. He was right, it was different up here. But you wondered how much of that was the Wasteland and it’s effect on sexuality and pleasure, and how much of it was just him. Cooper Howard, Wasteland bounty hunter, a past life he refused to talk about, the most charismatic monster you had ever met. His fingers, daintily crossing over your clit, as you felt his breath, silent except for an occasional hum of satisfaction in the form of a long moan. Maybe it was just Cooper who was different.

It was hard to focus on this new line of though as his hard fingertips clamped down on your clit, pinching it as he rolled it between his fingers. Even harder when he let his hand drop from your neck and instead began teasing at your nipples once more. Soft, cruel flicks over the hardened bumps, his fingers at work on your body, his lips kissing at the back of your neck. Moans growing louder, more frequent, as he let himself enjoy the act of making you squirm. You could tell he was having fun, as you rolled your hips back a little, feeling the thick bulge of his stiffening cock against your rear. You wondered how it might feel, how it might look, and what he could do differently with it.

“Cooper… Coop… I think I’m going to cum…”

His movements quickened, cock twitching against your body as he pinched tighter and pressed his fingers harder against your cunt.

“Don’t you dare, little lady.”

“Ok I’ll… I’ll try but… you have to… stop… please stop… Coop…”

He ignored your please, the whining, desperate begging as you tried to stop your body from the natural, encouraged reaction.

“Have some self-control, sweetheart.”

“Cooper, I really can’t… please… please stop touching me…”

“I absolutely will not.”

Your fingers dug into his thighs, but you noticed that you refused to move away from him. You wanted to do as he asked, wanted to hold yourself back from the brink of orgasm to prolong his touch, but you couldn’t risk him actually stopping, fearing that your body might crumble if his fingers left your quivering, pathetic body for only a second.

Each stroke against your increasingly wet and sensitive pussy had you trembling and shaking, and Cooper had to remove his hand from your breast to keep you steady, placing it under your chin and holding you steady by the neck.

“I am warning you, missy.”

“Cooper… I can’t stop…”

You shuddered and whined as your body gave in to the temptation, feeling a rush of heat and relief as you came on his lap, your arousal coating his pants, adding to the collection of stains and wear on them. But he didn’t stop then.

“No wait… seriously, Cooper… I can’t… I can’t take much more, honestly…”

“Listen, I told you. I said you better not cum. I wasn’t done with you yet.”

Your eyes began to sting with tears of exasperation as your body kept on pushing to its limits, conjuring up another wave of climax, tormenting you with never-ending bouts of arousal that kept you rutting against him, despite how painful it was to keep writhing into his body. You could feel your stomach knotting again, not much time between each orgasm to relax, and you dug your hands into his thighs, pushing your body up off of him as you tensed completely.

“Ok, this time, you do it on my command. You do it when I say you can, alright?”

“Cooper…”

“Don’t give me that pleading shit, you asked me to show you how things are done. Well this is how Cooper fuckin’ Howard does things. So are you ready? You gonna come for me?”

“C-coop… I’ll… I’ll try…”

“Good girl, now you keep that mouth making those whines and moans. I don’t need you to call out my name or anything, I know I’m all you’re thinking about.”

The praise, the self-confidence, the way his fingers seemed to be pulling your orgasm out, motioning for it to come closer to him.

“Come on, darlin’, come on…”

Your vision blurred as the climax came over you, body rolling and convulsing as you came once more at Cooper’s insistence, your cheeks stained with tears, salted water rolling through the layers of grime and clearing paths to your chin.

As you settled back down onto his lap with a shudder, you felt Cooper’s fingers stroking through your hair. He was surprisingly gentle, oddly calm, but you supposed that you deserved his kindness as you had done as he had asked, making up for your previous indiscretion. He was almost cooing, shushing you as you found your breath, establishing your sense of self once more after the overstimulating orgasm that shook your core.

“You seen enough of the big bad world for one day then?”

You probably had, but you still found yourself shaking your head, ignoring the way your body reacted with a violent twitch at the notion of Cooper’s hands delivering intense pleasure.

“A glutton for punishment, hm? Or just keen to learn?”

As you pondered your answer, Cooper seemed to have come to the conclusion for you, as he tapped your hips and began to shift underneath you.

“Alright then, get onto your knees.”

Positioning yourself at his feet, you couldn’t help but look up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at you with that unique brand of disdain and intrigue he had somehow mastered. You knew what was coming, what was about to happen, and your mouth began watering at the thought. What he might taste like. What he might look like.

You didn’t have to imagine for long though, as you could see his fingers working the belt of his pants, loosening it, unzipping his fly, and gripping his semi-erect cock at the base as he took it out, brandishing it. He kept close attention on your own eyes, a soft sigh of relief imperceptibly escaping his chest as he noticed your pupils widen, your mouth opening in preparation for him.

It was exactly as you had expected. The texture of the shaft was similar to that of his cheeks and his forearms, a similar colouring, though darker at the base and on the shaft which was tinted red. Thick, purple tinged veins covered it, winding around the length, cutting across the ridges of the scars.

“You can come closer, darlin’. I don’t know what they told you about mutations and radiation effects down there in your little utopia, but I can assure you… it doesn’t bite.”

The fear was palpable, clearly, but it was nothing to do with Cooper’s body and everything to do with your lack of experience, which, despite you arguing otherwise, was becoming plainly obvious even to you. You had only ever touched a cock with your hands outside of being quickly fucked. Several times you’d been cajoled into quickly stroking an erection under the blankets before your partner ran off to the bathroom, clean and tidy, flushing away the sins. And you were very well aware that there was always the option to suck on one, but it had never presented itself. It had never seemed that appealing to you. Until you were faced with Cooper’s.

He hadn’t even asked you to do either yet, but you found yourself curious, salivating over the thought of him, mind racing as you imagined how he might feel against your tongue.

“Can I taste it… you?”

Cooper smiled warmly, one of the few times you had seen him look at you with genuine pride.

“Now that is using your initiative. Of course you can.”

You kept your hands to yourself as you leaned in towards his body, content to let Cooper wield his length at you, his hand firm around the base as you inched closer, tongue pressed out over your lips. A strand of drool collected and spilled forward, hitting the floor in a soft patter just before the tip of your tongue came into contact with the tip of his cock.

A lot of the movements were instinctual, following your desires more than what you thought might be protocol as you dragged your tongue up the shaft and swirled over the blushing head of his cock. It tasted bitter, but in a pleasant way.  Savoury, not sweet. Salted, a tang that stayed there for a few seconds after your tongue had moved on to another spot. A flavour you found yourself craving now.

Cooper gripped tighter and pushed forward, taking you by surprise as he slid himself into your mouth, his free hand moving to the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. As the taste of him hit the back of your tongue, cock almost touching your throat, you coughed and spluttered a little.

“Fuck me, darlin’… do you need me to show you how to do this too?”

He looked down at you, filled with pity as he saw your face. Red cheeks, puffed out, lips stretched over the girth of his cock, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe.

“Breath through your nose… breathe in…”

You followed his instructions, instantly calmed when you found your lungs filling with air once more. Almost immediately back to enjoying yourself, the feeling of Cooper inside of you, the control he had as he held your head against him.

“Now… you don’t want to choke too much, so keep your tongue flat… yeah, just like that…”

It was so much easier like that, and you could feel your cheeks getting warmer and redder as you realised that not only had you embarrassed yourself with your spluttering and lack of knowledge, but that Cooper had clearly done this a lot.

“And your teeth… well, usually they’ll tell you to keep ‘em outta the way, but you know me… gotta be different…”

Taking the hint, you let your jaw close slightly, the pain of the stretch lessened, your teeth scraping along the top of his shaft as your tongue worked the underneath, sucking and rolling as much as you could while keeping it flat.

He didn’t say much else, and you couldn’t tell if he was particularly enjoying himself. It worried you, the fact that he had specific preferences, the way it was so clear how much more experienced he was than you. How many others had there been? And were they all better than you? As your mind wandered to your anxieties, you completely missed the fact that you had begun to drool all over yourself until Cooper relaxed his grip on your head and wiped at your chin with his thumb. Catching your eyes and sensing some of your worries, he was surprisingly quick to soothe you.

“You can swallow or spit or let it all spill out, I don’t mind makin’ a mess darlin’. But whatever you’re doing, you keep that up.”

You were so pathetically grateful for the encouragement, for the tiniest semblance of praise, that you felt yourself moaning involuntarily. The soothing motion of sucking on his cock, the taste of something new, the comforting knowledge that he was happy with your efforts. You could feel your clit throbbing, aroused by Cooper’s satisfaction, how pleased he was with the way you worked him over.

Which is why it surprised you so much when he pulled his cock from your mouth, your lips slipping off of it with a disgustingly lewd popping sound, drool spilling onto your chin in long strands which stretched from your lips to his cock and tore apart as he distanced himself from you.

And again, that sympathetic gaze, the way he could tell what you were thinking before you even said it.

“Oh, don’t you look at me with those big, sad eyes. You got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart. That was good, ‘specially for a first try…”

He winked to you as he spoke, causing your heart to skip enough beats that you thought you might die there and then.

“… It’s just that I’m all slicked up and ready to go now… so you wanna bend over for me? Or do you wanna come sit on my lap?”

“Uh… lap, please… I was kinda bent over for the last… first time.”

“Well, you come and take a seat then, darlin’, let ol’ Coop show you something new.”

You nervously settled your entirely nude body back down onto his thighs. Cooper’s hands were gentle against your shoulders as he pulled you backwards with him, leaning at a slight angle in the chair, his cock rigid and firm as it sat against your waiting cunt, coated in your drool which almost seemed to shimmer with the dancing light of the fire.

Then, so carefully, so gently, far more than you’d ever seen him be before, Cooper took hold of his cock at the base and slid it inside of you, one hand on your stomach as he braced you, keeping your body steady as he inserted himself further and further between your clenching walls.

“Bigger than before?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the distinct stretch, his rough, textured cock forcing its way inside your cunt, pressed up to the hilt, testing your limits.

“Better?”

“Mhm…”

“Speak up, darlin’.”

With your voice strained and breathy, you managed to form some words.

“Yes… it’s better.”

“That’s it, good girl. Now, I’m gonna buck my hips, ok? You just try and keep your balance.”

Below you, Cooper shifted a little, his hips rolling backwards, inches of his cock escaping your tight, aching cunt, before he rolled them forwards and upwards, back into you. A slow, steady pace that he focused on keeping until you felt warmer, more relaxed.

“You got this, it’s like riding a horse.”

“I’ve never… hm… ridden a horse…”

Cooper chuckled, a low and rasping sound that sent shivers over your skin and seemed close enough to you that it was coming from inside of your body.

“Never ridden a ghoul before either, but you’re handling it alright for a first timer.”

You were coping ok, you had to admit, but you could feel your stomach muscles tensing, the knots back in full force as they tensed and tightened, loosened and frayed with each pump of his cock within you.

“Ah… Cooper…”

“Too much, darlin’? Does it hurt?”

There was a sense of genuine care in his tone, as though he had taken it upon himself to show you that yes, things were different up there in the Wasteland, but that didn��t always mean they were worse. Some things were good, if not a little bit difficult to take at first.

“A little…”

Cooper tilted your chin up, forcing your head to lean back completely against his shoulder. In a delicate move, one far more romantic than you imagined from him, he ran his thumb over your lips, angling his neck to look at them, his own mouth open ever so slightly, a monotonous panting as he kept his hips moving, increasing the speed and the force at which he entered you.

His eyes flicked up suddenly, looking into yours, catching your gaze and holding unblinking eye contact as he spoke.

“I know… I know… Just a little longer, though…”

He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock pushing against your body, enveloped in your hot, wet, velvety interior.

“I know it hurts… but I ain’t stopping, so don’t even ask… here…”

You watched as he brought a finger to your lips, offering it up to you.

“…you bite down on that if it gets too much, ok… but don’t hold back on those sweet sounds… I wanna hear you scream.”

With that vaguely threatening remark, he thrust up into you, banging against your body, spurring on your orgasm but unleashing a dull ache that spread through every sensitive part of you.

“Won’t… be long… keep it together… good girl…  good girl…”

It felt good, the pain, the sting, the ache, the shivers. The fact that he was using you, finding pleasure in you. All of it culminating in Cooper’s nearing orgasm which you could sense was closing in on him. His movements were becoming more frantic, sloppier, and he was mouthing all manner of sweet nothings as he let his façade slip away.

And those soft mumbles opened up into a wide roar as he clung to your body, the hand on your neck cutting off the air to your lungs only briefly, one hand on your lap pressing sharp indents into your skin as he forced himself into you. The last few moments of his fevered thrusting, fucking you wildly, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he rutted into you in a dazed stupor before his body gave in. His cock throbbed, each pulse sending another rope of cum against your insides, filling you with his seed as he shuddered finally, slinking backwards into the chair and taking in a deep breath as you removed yourself from him.

You’d only managed to take a few steps forward before Cooper addressed you, opening his eyes to watch you standing there awkwardly, his cum dripping down your thighs, a warmth that quickly turned cool in the air of the room.

“Did I say you could get up?”

Panic settled in your chest, aware that you had waited until you felt his muscles relax, his body retreating from you, before you slid off his cock, expecting him to push you away anyway, like your first time. You assumed he was finished, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the idea that he might not be done with you.

“Are we… oh, Cooper, I really can’t take anymore.”

Even as you stood, you could feel your legs shaking, weakened by the intense orgasms, the way they tightened against his every movement.

“That’s different up here too then, I suppose.”

Cooper stood up from the chair, pacing towards you with a purposeful stride as he pushed his cock back into his pants, zipping them up as he reached you. You inhaled sharply as he placed his hand at the back of your head, those knots in your stomach beginning to form again, worried that a further, albeit pleasurable punishment was on the cards. But you were surprised as he slid his free hand around your back, tugging at your waist as he pulled you in close to him. A quick smile before his lips were on yours, the brim of his hat pushed upwards as he leaned into the kiss. Warm, gentle, the kind of kiss you’d seen in movies. Practised and confident, meaningful, sincere.

When he pulled back, your body following him a little before you settled back onto your feet, he smiled warmly.

“Sweet with the sour, darlin’. You gotta keep ‘em wanting more.”

“M-more?”

More as in now? Or more as in the idea that Cooper had enjoyed himself and would be willing to offer that kind of pleasure to you again. And he answered with a wink.

“Definitely. There’s a still a lot you’ve got to learn.”

[onlygarden]

[daddy's cock is all you need!] - lee heeseung, sim jaeyun

genre: smut

description: daddy kink, rough sex, dom heeseung, dom jake, stomach bulges, some harsh words but not quite degredation

a/n: it is almost five fucking a.m. but. i got smacked by the inspo to write this and how could i ever pass up the opportunity to write about getting pounded down. it was sudden inspo to write jake's, but i had previously written part of heeseung's, so i decided to finish it and combine the both of them in one post : D i hope u all enjoy it, took jungwon's cock out of my mouth just so i could write this

HEESEUNG ⟢ heeseung was thoroughly peeved when you found yourself drunk earlier in the evening. by any normal means, he found your silly drunken antics hilariously endearing, but there was a striking difference in you tonight. he brought you along to enjoy a meal with him and the other members, but the amount of alcohol you decided to gulp down mindlessly quickly began to show itself. the giggles that normally tickled all of his senses only grated sickeningly on his nerves; your loud banter and outlandish jokes continued to earn you admirous gazes from the other members, and heeseung’s tolerance scurried from his body before he could even attempt to gather his composure. 

the tension was immobilizing during the car ride home, and your feeble attempt to appease his temper even a fraction announced itself with a — “heeseung, i…” — and was quickly met and destroyed with an unyielding “shut the fuck up.”

his hand against the back of your head forced you to bury your face into the mattress, your desperate pants and stuttered moans hardly suppressed, and the sheets beneath you flooded with a steady stream of pitiful drool spilling from your mouth. heeseung was lodged inside of you, plunging into rapidly, and the lavish squelches of your pussy warred with the sharp slaps of his pelvis against the plump flesh of your behind as both sounds mingled in the room.

the fury traveling rampant in his body made no stranger of itself, and his hand tightening carelessly in your hair as he rammed his cock furiously along the spongy patch of your pussy did nothing to disprove it. 

“you’re mine… you’re all mine, fuck baby…say it…” he demanded roughly, his hand yanking your head a few inches away from the bed as his grasp tightened to an alarmingly painful degree in your hair. 

in a miracle that you even manage to utter a syllable as heeseung bullies your wimpy, defenseless pussy uninhibitedly, a hardly spoken whine of “y-yours, hee!” tumbles from your lips. 

he raises his hand, smacking your ass with the utmost intention of leaving a harsh welt, he responds with a grunted, “what do you call me, sweet girl?” the pleasant description of you leaving his lips in such a condescending manner, it sounds more like he’s insulting you. 

“daddy! oh god, daddy!” 

a chuckle dances from his lips, a breathy moan quickly following, as he feels every fiber of himself completely enveloped by your sweet silk. 

“mmm… fuck, that’s right, baby,” his hand rains down on your ass as three swift spanks follow one after the other. 

“you’re sucking daddy’s cock in so good…” his delicious grunts only increased in volume as he reduced your body to pleasured mush. 

JAKE ⟢  “you’re dripping for daddy, aren’t you?” 

jake utters cruelly, the sentence leaving his lips as though it didn’t send another surge of arousal slopping out of you, forcing past the pathetic material of your thong. 

his fingers crawl deviously underneath the waistband of your thong, dragging the flooded mess of material down the trail of your legs. 

as a shiver racks gently through your body, a satiated smirk decorates your boyfriend’s face. 

“mhm, yea… you are. you’re so fucking…” he trails off as he sinks hurriedly into your warmth, the plush skin of your thighs pillowing around the unforgiving grip of his fingers. any other words he had for you would be proven in the way he fucks you, he thinks. 

his aching, hungry cock tears through you, splitting you open in a demonstration of pure, unquenchable need. he destroys your pitiful little pussy without a single fragment of hesitation in his mind. he’s taking care of you, the conditions of his ownership making themselves known with each movement of his hips, each peek of his cock under the flesh of your stomach. 

as the tears begin to crawl down your face, and his name begins to fall from your lips in a series of helpless whimpers, jake coos, squeezing your thighs harder as though he was comforting you, his eyes locked stubbornly onto yours. 

“it’s a lot, huh, baby? just keep taking it… yea, baby… just like that…”

the pleasure piles on rapidly, profusely, your stomach ignited until his cock is threatening to shatter each of your senses. you tap his shoulder insistently, urging him to pause, just for a moment. 

god, he’s not going to stop. how could he even muster a single intention of stopping, when he’s already so wrapped up in the indescribable ecstasy of your lustrously slush pussy...

“no, baby,” he starts, his voice husky and hushed. “i’m gonna fuck you how i want, and you’re gonna keep squeezing me, just like this…” 

as though he were intending to jeer at you for even suggesting something as repulsive as stopping, he marginally increases the pressure of his thrusts, the dizzying thumpthumpthump of his cock inside of you causing your whimpers to transform into tortured cries.

“d-daddy, please!”

you force a pathetic response out in a hurry, feeling like you have to speak quickly, otherwise your words would run silent due to the force of jake pounding into you and snatching the breath from your lungs.

jake only leans closer to you, his weight adding pressure to your body, pressing you more forcefully against the bed. “uh-uh, baby… good girls keep going when their daddy wants it…” he utters, his voice so deliciously gruff. 

the only thing your body manages to do is lie there and allow him to pursue his conquest of obliterating you, your throat tossing out whiny cries and squeals with each swift passing of his cock through your mushy insides. 

[guksvault]

THE TIDES OF US | JJK

Oneshot

pairing: firstlove!jungkook x firstlove!(f.)reader

synopsis: returning to Busan was never meant to be anything more than temporary. but when you’re faced with the boy who shaped your heart and engraved his initials upon it, are you able to pick up where you left off or will the tides of Busan wash away everything you once knew?

w/c: 8.6k

warnings: first love reunited, angst, angst snd some more angst, coffeeshopowner!jk, two dummies who apparently can’t communicate!, eventual smut (just one scene!), titty appreciation, unprotected sex (dont be silly!!), yummy make outs, crying :(, actually no! sobbing!, so many questions, matchalover!reader, both 22!!!, um um um, jjk has a shaggy mullet bc i cant help myself!!!, too many emotions that both characters r overwhelmed by! i think thats it lol idk, enjoy pls <3 mwah

!minorsdni!

It had been a total of 1614 days since you last walked through the city of Busan. Four years and six long months since your parents had uprooted your lives and moved to London after an opportunity to expand your father’s company at the age of 18.

The sun warms your skin, the scent of sea salt lingers in the air. It's all familiar, yet somehow all so foreign.

Passing by street food stalls where you once spent your last bits of change, benches where you watched sunsets over the sea with your first love, and photobooth stands you’d drag them into at every chance. It was all so familiar, yet distant, flooding you with a wave of emotions—nostalgia, longing, and a twinge of sadness for how those days had slipped through your fingers, leaving only memories behind.

You find yourself frozen inside a beachfront café, convinced the sun has given you heatstroke and that this is just a hallucination. It couldn’t be him. There’s no way.

A tall, doe-eyed boy stands across from you, one arm adorned with intricate tattoos, a shaggy mullet framing his chiseled face. He’s frozen too, staring right back at you.

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook watches as you approach the counter hesitantly, his gaze fixed on you. He wants to reach out, to touch you, to see if you’re really here—or if you’re just an illusion his brain conjured up after that extra cup of coffee today.

“Shit- No fuckin’ way? What the fuck?” Is all his pretty little lips that were now adorned with a silver ring could say. His brain was racing, eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“You speak to all your customers like that?” you say playfully, a small laugh escaping your lips.

The smile that forms on Jungkook’s lips is almost painful to see—his old bunny-like teeth on display, the way his nose scrunches and forms those little wrinkles just like it used to, and that little dimple that peeks out, the one he used to say was from all the kisses you pressed to his cheek.

“Still a smartass, huh?” Jungkook teases, biting the corner of his lip and toying with the metal ring.

You hum in response, words getting lost. You’d forgotten you were standing in line, the sight of Jungkook in front of you after so long making you forget the patrons waiting behind you.

“I’ll just take a—”

“Iced Matcha, hm?” Jungkook finishes your sentence, not meaning to, just an instinct. Back when the two of you were inseparable, you’d always push him to try it, but it never worked. He still didn’t like it—at least, not until you left. Now, he ordered it on the days when loneliness got the best of him, or when anniversaries would roll around, the ones that you used to spend hand in hand.

You take a seat at a nearby table, staring out the glass windows that frame the view of the beach. Your thoughts are scrambled, knots forming in your stomach from the situation at hand. It had only been 15 hours since you’d returned to Busan, and already the world felt like it was playing some sick joke on you. Torn between wondering if this was fate or if the universe was rubbing everything you had lost in your face.

A takeaway cup, adorned with a sleeve that reads ‘Golden Hour,’ is placed in front of you.

Your eyes meet Jungkook’s as he stands there, a tight, closed-lip smile on his face. He looks down at you, half-thinking he might actually pass out if you keep looking at him like that—eyes round and innocent, like nothing has changed. When you stand up, only inches away from him now, there’s no counter between you. He could reach out, touch you, and see if this is real—or just another one of his recurring dreams. He decides not to, not wanting to risk it and find out this is all just his subconscious fantasies playing out.

Your lips wrap around the straw, the sweet liquid filling your taste buds—just how you always liked it. Sweet, not too bitter, with extra whipped cream.

“Pretty fucking good,” you say.

It’s silent for a moment, neither of you sure what to say or do next.

“When did you get ba—”

“I should get goi—”

An awkward laugh escapes from both of you, hands fiddling with the straw in an attempt to keep busy, while Jungkook rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, of course, I should get back to it. Coffee won’t make itself,” Jungkook rambles. You nod, he nods. You give an awkward smile, and he mirrors it back to you. It’s all a little juvenile, reminding you of when you were both in high school—too awkward to communicate, too caught up in the butterflies that fluttered in both of your stomachs.

You thank him again, turning to leave and heading back out into the heat of Busan’s air. Half of you thinks you should ditch the drink and dive headfirst into the ocean, trying to rid yourself of the emotions bubbling inside you.

“Hey—” Jungkook catches up with you just before your hand touches the door to leave. “Can we—like, catch up? I finish at 8:30? If you want… I know you’re probably busy. Could do it another time. If you want—”

Jungkook had always been a rambler—he’d ramble on and on whenever he was nervous, excited, or hiding something. It was a habit you picked up on early in your relationship, a tell that always gave him away. His words would get all jumbled and his speed of speech would increase, right before he’d admit something weighing on his mind.

“Did you change your hair? Did you curl it? Or is that more of a wave? Is your hair naturally like that? Did you have to wake up early to do that? Sorry—I mean, you look pretty.”

“The waves are big today, right? Wonder why. Probably something to do with the moon or something. Hey—did you know that sometimes female crabs eat their own babies if they get too stressed? Shit, sorry. I’m in love you.”

“You’re leaving? Okay, well, London is nice, apparently. Did you know Big Ben isn’t the name of the tower, just the bell inside? Weird, right? Fuck, please, stay.”

“8:30? By the benches?”

Jungkook lets out a small breath of relief. He doesn’t need to ask you to specify which benches—there were plenty along the beachfront, but he knows exactly which one you mean. The same one where he first told you he loved you.

“8:30. Benches. Perfect.”

Your fingers scrolled mindlessly over your phone as you sit on the bench, your foot tapping lightly against your other foot out of nervousness as you wait for Jungkook.

Two hands come to cover your eyes from behind you, skin cool against your warm cheeks, “Boo!”

Your own hand attempts to reach behind you, blindly trying to swat Jungkook, “Little shit.” You giggle.

Jungkook laughs, and the sound fills the air like a familiar melody you didn’t know you missed so much. He lets his hands fall away, stepping in front of you with that trademark half smirk.

“Wanna go sit on the beach?” Jungkook smiled, he was dressed in an oversized black tee, matching baggy jeans to match, his apron that was tied around his waist a few hours prior long gone now, dressed so casually yet, eyes from anyone passing by would automatically be drawn to him.

He’d always been that way—the main attraction in any room he entered. Girls would swoon over his doe eyes and pretty smile, boys would try to replicate his style and confidence, and grandmas would pinch his cheeks and slip in a good word for their granddaughters. You’re sure the attention’s only grown since then. He’d shed that baby face, swapped it for a bad-boy look with tattoos and piercings, and it only seemed to suit him more. You’d bet the creator of Jeon Jungkook had spent extra time perfecting him, as if to apologise for all the other men they had created. There was only one Jeon Jungkook, and he stood before you now, cocking his head towards the beach, waiting for you.

You find a spot on the sand to sit, the small waves washing onto the shore not too far from the two of you. Your hands dig into the sand beside you, letting the soft sand pour from between your fingers.

“Didn’t know you were back. Are you?,” Jungkook asks softly, his own fingers dragging back and forth through the sand in front of him, “Are you back?”

You let out a small laugh, “For a little I guess. Dad’s got a project in Seoul, so I decided to join him. Staying in a hotel just over there.” Your forefinger points to the side a little lazily.

“So, not back?”

“Back for a little.” You counter.

Jungkook lets out a small laugh, “Does anyone know? Surely Jimin or Hobes would have told me.”

“Nah, it was a last minute thing, just got here last night.”

Jungkook hums in response, was a little bummed that you weren’t here for good. He had secretly hoped that you had moved back, found his café, and came to find him.

“Can’t believe you own a fucking Cafè Kook.” You spoke with pride, he had always said he would open his own one day, and you knew he would, just didn’t expect it to be at the age of 22.

Kook. The nickname rolls off your tongue so easily. It fucking punches him in the gut. He could barely handle making eye contact with you, or how your hands brushed against his when you took the cup of Matcha from him. But that? No that was too much, he loved when you would call him that. It always sounded so delicate, so sweet. Memories of you calling out to him when you would spot him at the exit of the subway, how when the two of you would argue you would still say it with a tone so gentle, or when you used to whisper it into his ear late at night when he wasn’t being as gentle with you.

“You look good,” Jungkook almost whispers, his eyes moving towards you. When your eyes meet his, he physically cannot look away, locked in, whether he likes it or not.

“Yeah?” You smirk, a light warmth rushing to your cheeks. “You look like absolute shite.” You bite your lower lip, fighting the laugh threatening to escape.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Was tryna have a moment, you fuckin’ idiot.” He laughs, tossing some sand onto your lap as he shakes his head.

An hour passes, then two, then three. The two of you sit on the beach, a place that once defined the bond between you—where you spent the majority of your free time together. Holding hands as you walked the shoreline, chasing each other down the beach after one of you kicked cold water at the other unexpectedly.

Three hours lost in conversation, answering questions about London, Jungkook filling you in on the latest drama with your old friend group, reminiscing about the times you both shared.

“Did you get to meet the queen?”

“Remember when you got dunked by that wave and your fuckin’ swim shorts fell off?”

“Jimin is still a slut. Hoseok is still dancing. Joon owns a fuckin’ reading café with Jin—pricks are heavy competition.”

“You didn’t have to walk me all the way here” you giggle, fidgeting with the swipe card for your hotel room.

Jungkook scoffs, playfully. “Always have walked you home.” The glow from the lobby lights highlights his face, and you can’t help but notice the way his tongue toys with his lip ring. You know you should turn around, but that small action stirs something, turning the butterflies in your stomach into something more chaotic.

You hum, a soft laugh escaping. “Night, Kook.” You walk backward toward the door.

“Tomorrow. Don’t forget. Benches. Lunch.” He smirks, raising a brow.

You stop in the doorway, hesitating. “Goodnight” doesn’t feel like enough. Turning back, you catch him watching you, hands buried in his pockets, looking as if he’s watching you leave again, back to a place where he can’t follow you.

You walk toward him without thinking, wrapping your arms around his neck in an embrace that feels like slipping back into a dream. His hands find your waist instantly, like they’ve been searching for this moment just as long as you have. He holds you tight—too tight—but you don’t mind. Isn’t letting you slip away again.

His head tucks into the crook of your neck, and you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. The scent of his shampoo, the same one you used to lather into his hair during lazy mornings together, fills your senses. Your fingers tangle into the soft strands, and for a second, it’s like no time has passed at all.

It’s dangerous, how familiar this feels. How easily you could sink back into this, into him. The weight of four years, the ache of everything unsaid, presses against your chest. You’re not sure if this hug is healing you—or breaking you all over again. But right now, you don’t care. All that matters is him, here, holding you like he’s trying to rewrite the past.

Neither of you move. Neither of you speak. The silence feels fragile, like if one of you breathes too loudly, the moment will shatter. You close your eyes, trying to memorise the way this feels. The warmth. The safety.

“Fuck—I’ve missed you.” His voice is muffled, but you feel the words more than hear them. They vibrate against your skin, settling deep in your chest.

Your throat tightens. “Me too, Kook.” Your arms tighten around him, just for a moment. “So much.”

For a fleeting second, you allow yourself to believe that this could be enough—that holding him like this could somehow fix everything. But then his phone buzzes in his pocket, a sharp reminder that the world outside still exists. You feel him tense, the hesitation in his hold. And when you pull back, his hands linger for just a second too long, like he’s reluctant to let you go.

You meet his eyes, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. Just watch each other, silently wishing for the other to not leave.

“Goodnight,” you whisper.

It’s been 9 days of feeling the warmth of Busan’s sun kiss your skin. 9 days of savoring authentic food that you missed in London. 9 days of hearing the sound of Jungkook’s laughter fill your ears.

The last week has been nothing short of a dream you once wished for. Most of your days are spent beside Jungkook—revisiting your old hangout spots, splashing in the cool water of the beach, or even letting him try to teach you how to use his extremely overpriced coffee machine at his café.

Today was no different. You both left the café side by side, iced lattes in hand, no real destination in mind—just happy to be beside each other.

“Ah! Kook! Look! We have to go, we have to!” You beamed, your finger shaking toward a photobooth stand just a few meters away.

Jungkook doesn’t need to look to know exactly what you’re pointing at. He already knows—your excitement was always a dead giveaway whenever a photobooth was in sight. He’d let you drag him in, spend too much time taking way too many photos. Would never say no, he loved it too, capturing moments between the two of you, sometimes he would purposefully plan dates in locations he knew would have a photo booth close by.

He laughs softly, shaking his head, “You haven’t changed a single bit. You know that, right?”

“That’s not true,” you tease, “My tits have at least doubled in size.”

Jungkook’s face freezes for a moment, a slight heat creeping up his neck. He’d noticed. Hell, he’d caught himself staring more than once, but he always tried to focus on your eyes instead, failing most times, told himself you hadn’t noticed. You had.

You slap the brim of his black cap gently, snapping him out of his daze. “Hello? Stop thinking about my tits. Can we please?”

“Wasn’t thinking about your tits, freak,” he laughs, his cheeks flushed. “Go.”

You slide into the cramped photobooth after Jungkook, closing the curtain behind you. It was an older booth, no fancy filters or props for you to use. Two options; Colour or Black&White.

Jungkooks fingers pressed against the screen, knowing you preferred black and white.

The first few shots are a little awkward. A small space forcing you and Jungkook to enter one another’s space, you had one of your legs hooked over his thigh, one of his arms around your back to stop you from sliding off the metal seat of the booth.

“These are all ridiculous, my fuckin’ eyes are closed in half of them” Jungkook whines, flipping through the strips of photos. He wasn’t wrong, they mostly were of you both laughing or pulling some very unattractive face.

“Fine, one more. Proper one.” You smile, sitting a little straighter in the booth.

Jungkook presses the settings again. The countdown begins. Your head leans against his softly, both of you smiling.

Snap.

Jungkook looks at you, takes in your side profile, the way your hair falls so effortlessly around your face, the small lines that form around your eyes as you smile and laugh.

Your eyes turn to meet him, he almost looks pouty. Taking all of you in.

“What?”

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty. Still so fuckin’ gorgeous.” He whispers.

Your eyes widen slightly, lips resting ajar slightly ready to say something but no words form to escape. His teeth tug on his lower lip ever so slightly as his eyes search yours.

Snap.

It's silent, both of you searching in eachothers eyes for something, anything. You swallow lightly, your eyes dropping to his lips where his teeth tug slightly, his lip ring flipping and causing your stomach to flip in unison.

His hand around your back moves to the side of your jaw, his thumb caressing over your cheek so softly you can only just feel it. You move in closer, your lips inches from his. Need this. Need you. Kiss me please.

Jungkook’s eyes shift to your lips, and his breath hitches for just a second. The usual confidence he carries falters, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. His hand, resting near your cheek, twitches, as if torn between pulling you closer or pulling himself away. The silence between you stretches, heavy with unspoken words, but his eyes lock with yours again, and before either of you can think, his lips are on yours.

Snap.

Whatever thoughts had been running through his mind were quickly discarded. His lips crash against yours, you freeze for a moment, before your lips begin to work in partnership with his.

It doesn’t take long for Jungkook’s tongue to softly run against your lower lip, seeking entrance. When he’s met with your lips parting as an invitation he wastes no time. His tongue slides against yours, the way they work together makes it feel like no time has passed at all. So in tune with one another, knowing exactly what each other needs, exactly how one another like it.

The kiss grows heavier, soft grunts, light tugs of teeth against lips, pulling each other closer. No care for anyone passing by or if the curtain had moved. All either of you cared about was savouring this moment. Becoming one. Fuling eachothers fires.

Snap.

The faint sound of the photostrip being printed faded into the background, a distant reminder of the world outside. Neither of you moved, lips still entwined, reliving the taste of what once was. Touches so frantic yet familiar, hands grasping like they were afraid to let go, like holding tighter could stop time.

This was home.

Not a place, not a city—but this feeling. Safe, consuming, and so full of passion. London never offered that to you. And Jungkook lost the feeling of Busan being home as soon as you boarded that plane four years ago. But right here, in each other’s arms, it all made sense again. Like coming back to something that was always yours.

It isn’t until Jungkook’s phone starts to ring, the vibration rattling loudly in his pocket, that the moment shatters. His forehead rests against yours, as he lets out a quiet hiss of frustration.

“Fuck—sorry,” he mutters, eyes still half-lidded, voice low. “It’s probably work. I should take it.”

It’s not the first time his phone has stolen him away. You’d noticed it all week—calls that made him step aside, texts that pulled his attention mid-conversation. You told yourself it was just work, the demands of running a business.

Jungkook lingers a second longer, his hand brushing your knee as if reluctant to leave, before he finally slips out of the booth, leaving you alone with the aftertaste of a kiss that had ignited a fire that had been yearning for a flame for years.

You take the photos, pausing for a moment to flick through the dozen strips of memories captured on film.

Stepping outside, your eyes squint as they adjust to the bright sunlight above the beachfront. You scan the area, looking for any sign of Jungkook. It doesn’t take long before you spot him by a small gift shop, his fingers absentmindedly tracing over little beach-themed trinkets and keychains—miniature waves, seashells, and beach umbrellas.

“Everything okay?” you ask, stepping up beside him. Your fingers instinctively start to trace over the small ornaments, though your mind is still replaying the moments his lips were pressed against yours.

He slides his phone back into his pocket, offering you a soft glance before letting out a small sigh, which he quickly masks with a chuckle.

“Yeah, all good. Work,” he mutters, his lips tugging into a half smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry, again.”

You smile lightly, dismissing it with a wave of your hand. “It’s fine, Kook. Really.”

Then, with a small tilt of your head, you give him a silent cue to follow you. You turn and start making your way back along the strip.

He follows beside you, his usual confident, bubbly persona dulled slightly. His hands don’t reciprocate the small touches yours give him, and his laugh comes out flatter than usual.

It ties your stomach in knots. Maybe the kiss was a bad idea. Maybe he’d already come to regret it—scared of being left by you again, or maybe he’d come to the conclusion that you just weren’t his cup of coffee anymore.

His feet follow for a few steps, but then he falls behind again. “Shit, I’m sorry.” His eyes meet yours as you turn to face him, tilting your head slightly in confusion. “I gotta go take care of some stuff back at the café.”

“Oh. Yeah, no, of course,” you smile, though it feels strained. When Jungkook sees the corner of your lips upturn, he thinks he can physically feel his heart twist. “I get it, go.”

Jungkook goes to speak but bites down on his lower lip to stop himself. He lets out a quiet huff of breath through his nose before making his way toward you.

His long, muscular arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head. “Tomorrow? We’ll go to that hotpot place you used to froth over.”

His lips are gentle as they press a kiss to your forehead, and his hand holds your cheek as he gives you one last look before turning to head back to the cafè.

You wandered through the city, your feet tracing the familiar paths, but nothing felt quite the same. Every turn you took, every glance you stole at the places you had once visited with Jungkook, only deepened the ache in your chest. The weight of the kiss—the heaviness of the aftermath.

Jungkook’s absence was noticeable. The way he’d distanced himself after the kiss, the way he’d pulled back, had left you questioning everything. Was it something you imagined? Maybe he didn’t feel the same. Maybe for him, it was just a fleeting moment, a mistake.

You’re overthinking this, you told yourself. Maybe he just needs time. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m just reading too much into it. But deep down, you knew you couldn’t leave it like this.

The thought of leaving things unanswered felt wrong. You couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when you felt like something wasn’t. You needed to know if he had regretted it, or if he had changed his mind. The idea of him slipping away without ever acknowledging what had passed between you was something you couldn’t stomach.

With a deep breath, you turned towards the café. You didn’t know what to expect, but you knew you had to go. For closure, for peace, or maybe just to hear his side. You told yourself it wasn’t about getting back what you once had, but about understanding what this all meant now.

The small bell above the door chimes as you step into the café. It’s lively, filled with groups of friends and couples, some snapping photos of their colorful drinks and beach themed pastries, others simply enjoying the ocean view that stretches out in front of them.

“Hi, welcome to Golden Hour! What can I get you started with?” A perky brunette greets you from behind the counter.

“Is Jungkook in?” you ask, trying to keep your voice casual, but there’s a slight tightness in your chest that you can’t shake.

The brunette tilts her head, brows furrowing. “Jungkook? He hasn’t been in since this morning. Can I leave a message for you or something?”

A sudden weight settles in your stomach.

“Oh, no. That’s alright. I’ll just… come back later. Thanks anyway.” You force a smile, but it feels off—like you’re holding your breath, not quite sure what to do with the information.

Your mind races as you leave the café, your brows furrowed in confusion. He said he was going back to the café… So why hasn’t he been here? The questions circle in your mind: Is he okay? Why would he lie? Was it just an excuse to create some space between you two? Maybe he has an office away from the café? The doubt gnaws at you, leaving an uncomfortable feeling as you head back to the hotel, your mind nowhere near settled.

You chose to spend the rest of your evening wrapped in blankets, munching on some takeaway watching terrible reality TV, desperate to escape your own.

It had been working, your eyes and ears were glued to the catfight playing on the flatscreen on the wall opposite your bed, until your phone had chimed beside you.

| 8:40pm

kook: u free? need to see u.

A simple straightforward message, one that you didn’t need to read into, but you did. Perhaps he had come to the conclusion that he needed his lips on yours again, or was ready to tell you that it was something he didn't want to partake in again.

| 8:42pm

You: level 7, room 613 :)

A simple straightforward reply. You wonder if Jungkook was reading into all your words and actions. Questioning them and romanticising them too.

A soft knock echoes from the opposite side of your door 20 minutes later. You’re quick to make your way towards the door, opening the door to see Jungkook, his hair messily falling around his face, dressed in sweats and a tee that was complimenting his figure a little too well.

“Hi stranger.” You tease, pushing the door to open wider to let him in, “Long time no see.”

He enters, his eyes darting around the room. It’s a decent-sized hotel suite, the soft light from the bedside lamp casting a warm glow over the cozy seating area. The hum of the TV buzzes through the room as it flickers softly in the dim room. His eyes flicker between the bed and the small chair in the corner, unsure where to take his seat.

“I’m currently way too invested in Khloe Kardashian going to jail, so bed it is.” You laugh as you make your way into the room, sitting back into your side of the bed.

He rolls his eyes playfully, letting out a soft chuckle as he makes his way to the opposite side of the bed.

You both let silence fall upon you, eyes glued to the TV but neither of you are really listening.

“You still watch this shit?”

“If ‘this shit’ means ‘incredibly addictive and entertaining cinema’, then yes. Absolutely.”

This was probably the 9th time you’d watched this season. You could probably (no, definitely) recite the dialogue of the scenes yourself.

It was a quirk of yours to rewatch the same shows, the same movies, over and over again. You liked knowing how things ended, hated the suspense of being in the dark about the things you enjoyed—just like now, not knowing where things stood with Jungkook. It was easier to replay the past than to deal with the uncertainty of the present.

“Was everything okay at work?” You muse softly, eyes still on the TV, your eyes avoid Jungkooks, don’t want to see him lie to you.

He hesitates for a moment, adverting his gaze back to the TV, “Yeah, yeah. Was a bit of a shitshow, but it's fine.” He mumbles, shifting against the bed.

You hum softly in response, silence falling upon the both of you again. Jungkook is the one to break it this time.

“I’m sorry,” He turns to face you, “For having to dip, know we had plans and all.”

Your eyes meet his, they take in the look that’s rested on his face. His hair falling around his face, his hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt, his eyes are locked on yours. All big and doe-eyed that you get lost in them, forget that he left, forget that he lied about going back to the cafè, forget that he had been standoffish after his lips crashed against yours.

“Do you regret it?” The words leave your lips before you can stop them, “The kiss, I mean.” You almost wince, your head inches back slightly as if you’re bracing yourself for the answer Jungkook could give you.

Jungkook’s brows furrow, his chest tightening slightly at the thought that you had been thinking that he had been avoiding you because of regret.

“Oh fuck— No! Fuck, no of course I don’t regret it,” He sits upright, turning his body towards you and runs his hand through his hair, he can see your eyes searching his own for any reason to not believe him, “Are you kidding? Do you know how long I’ve been wanting that? I fuckin’ dream about it, have since you left. No, fuck, I promise, I would never regret it.”

You let out a shaky breath, not sure what to say or do. The answer he gives you puts to rest any anxiety you had been harboring about him regretting the kiss, but a feeling of uncertainty still lingers in your chest. Why then?

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

When Jungkook’s gaze falls over your face, a sick feeling coils in his stomach. Sick to his stomach? Maybe love-sick too? You look so conflicted—your eyes darting back and forth between his. A small smile graces your lips, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and that sends a sharp jolt of self-hatred down his spine.

His hand reaches out, takes yours into his, “I promise you. I fuckin’ swear, I have never and will never regret you. Never.”

“That makes one of us.” You joke, a playful tone in your whisper, your own fingers intertwining with his, a perfect fit.

Jungkook laughs, shakes his head and squeezes your fingers between yours, “Fuckin’ idiot.”

The air between you feels lighter, hands staying locked together. There isn’t much conversation, not enough words that feel significant enough to truly convey how you both feel.

As the mood shifts, the air grows hotter. Tension rises between you, one that could rival the heat of Busan’s sun. You inch closer, your eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips, both of you subconsciously leaning in. Your hands grow bolder, silently roaming over each other.

"Kiss me," Jungkook whispers, his lips barely grazing yours. "Fuck-please."

No need to be told twice. You've heard him loud and clear. Your lips meet his, softly at first, applying just enough pressure to let him know you're all in. His hand quickly finds the back of your head, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

Your tongue slides gently into his mouth, tangling with his in a rhythm that feels like it's been building for ages. His hands move to your waist, tugging you closer, pulling you into him. Without hesitation, you straddle his lap, your lips never disconnecting. The feeling of your body pressed against his, the heat intensifying, sends him into overdrive. A soft grunt escapes his lips, muffled against yours, as his grip tightens.

Your hands move to the hem of his shirt, bundling the fabric into your palms and pulling it up and over his head. As your lips pull apart to help remove his shirt, your eyes connect, his normal doe eyed look replaced with his eyes narrowing, desperation and need shining from them.

Jungkook's lips leave a trail down your neck, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer as you straddle him. You can feel his breath against your skin, shallow and quick, as if he's trying to steady himself.

"Wait, I-" He pulls back for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. There's something in them. Something he wants to say. But before he can, you pull him back to you, your lips crashing against his again, desperate for the taste of his lips.

He groans against your mouth, his hands pulling you in closer . The words from before, the hesitation in his eyes, are forgotten as the moment swallows both of you whole.

You can feel the firmness in Jungkook's pants pressing up against you, your hips begin to slowly grind back and forth against him, desperate for friction, desperate for some kind of release.

"Fuck, Kook," you whisper breathlessly between kisses, "Want you. Need you." Your words stir something in him, a tension so thick it makes his chest tighten with need. He groans low in his throat, hands moving to your waist to pull you closer.

His hands move from your hips up to your back, roaming chaotically, they come forward, they press against your chest and squeeze lightly. He pulls his head back, watches as his hands slightly dig into your breasts.

“Shit- Look at you,” He hisses between his teeth, his hands coming to squeeze again. His eyes lift up to you, your cheeks flushed with a soft blush from the heat of it all, lips slightly ajar, thinks you look so perfect. Too perfect. It makes his stomach flip, “Fuck, I need to te-”

His words are cut off as you lift your own shirt over your head, revealing your bare chest to him, his hands immediately coming to cup them again. A low, raspy groan leaves his lips, squeezes them again, harder this time.

Any words that were threatening to leave his lips are long gone, washed away in the tsunami of desire and adoration he has for you. Forgotten, swept away by the tide. The only words he’s able to muster up now are whispered curses through his teeth as you pull his head softly towards your chest.

His lips press against your skin, hungrily. He simply can’t get enough. You, you, you. It’s all he hears. All he wants. His eyes peek up to look at you as his lips wrap around your nipple, softly sucking.

The feeling of his soft lips wrapped around you makes you whine softly, your fingers tugging slightly on the ends of his hair. When you look down to see his round eyes looking right back at you, you’re sure you’re going to melt. Happy to let the tide consume you, will become one with the waves if it means having Jungkook like this.

He sucks, kisses, tugs slightly over your sensitive nipple, going back and forth between each one. Can't get enough. Is all in, all for you.

Your hips lift slightly, a silent plea for him to rid himself of his sweatpants. He notices-of course, he notices-but for a split second, his hands falter at the waistband, a thought flickering in his mind. It vanishes almost as quickly as it comes, overpowered by the pull of you. His hands move quickly now, tugging his sweatpants down and kicking them off in one fluid motion.

Grabbing your hips, he pulls you back toward him, his grip firm yet tender, presses a soft kiss against your lips. With a soft grunt, he flips you onto your back. There’s urgency in the way Jungkook moves, showing you just how badly he needs you right now.

He watches as your hips lift slightly, your thumbs hooking under your waistband, sliding off the last barrier between you and him.

He swallows, hard. Is in awe of everything that is you. His eyes trace every curve, every detail he had once memorised. He almost marvels at how well he remembers your body-every point that makes you tremble, every spot that leaves you breathless. But is he really surprised?

How could he be? He has carried you with him in every way possible, mimicking how he used to love you with everyone after you, always chasing the high you had once given him. It's always been you, all he's known.

As your hand comes to rest against his cheek, your thumb gently ghosting over his lower lip, you send him a small nod. Please. Let’s do this. Need you now. You, you, you.

His eyes search yours for a brief moment, as if to confirm this is real, that this is really happening. Then, with a softness that contrasts the heat between you, he tilts his head, pressing a delicate kiss onto the pad of your thumb.

The warmth of his lips lingers there before he lowers his head into the crook of your neck, where he pauses. He inhales deeply, letting your scent ground him. His lips press against your skin.

Your legs part, as he slowly lets himself fall into you. A low, desperate moan leaving his lips. “Ah—Fuck.”

The whine that leaves your lips is made up of a thousand different reasons— The slight burn of Jungkook sliding inside you, the release of built up tension of waiting for this moment, and above all, the most powerful: Love. All the feelings you had sworn you had moved past during the distance are back, as if they had never left.

His hips slowly begin to rock back and forth, finding a steady rhythm as the familiarity of your walls tightens around him. Heavy breaths fill the room, and he feels your nails dig into his biceps, a soft yet desperate plea. He wants you to leave your mark, to scar him, so that he carries a permanent tattoo made from you.

His hand moves from beside you, to your chest, cupping onto your pillowed tit. Is brave enough to look at your face now, and when he does and see’s your lips parted, brows furrowed— He’s done for.

His hips slam into you, the pace quickening, desperate now. Your legs part wider, your back arching against the mattress as the rhythm shifts.

"Fuck, Kook. So good," you whimper, almost pathetically, your hands gripping his arms. “So, so good, Kook."

He curses through his teeth, lifting his upper body between your legs as he keeps thrusting into you. His hand moves down your stomach, his nails grazing lightly, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

He watches himself sink in and out of you, the new angle making his heartbeat race. His finger continues its journey down your torso, finally finding your clit.

Soft, delicate circles are drawn over your sensitive bud. He wants to push you to the edge, overstimulate you, but he's not sure how much longer he can last like this. He's overstimulated himself, finally feeling you wrapped around him again-and it hurts. It hurts because it's been so long, hurts because he knows nothing will ever compare to this, and it hurts knowing he might never have this again.

"So fuckin' pretty like this, my baby," he grunts, the pet name slipping from his lips so naturally, it only pushes you closer to the edge. "So, fuckin' perfect for me, aren't you?"

Baby. It shouldn't sting, but it does. It reminds you of the tattoo needle that had pierced your skin five years ago, a thin line replicating a wave on your ribcage. The kind of sting that leaves you sore, but somehow addicted to the pain.

"Fuck, Kook, you're gonna-Ah, shit. You're gonna make me cum." You moan, your elbows digging into the bed as you struggle to hold your weakening body up.

His free hand presses against your inner thigh, pulling it forward as his other continues to rub tight, precise circles over your clit. "Cum," he groans, his brows furrowing so deeply you swear they'll leave a mark. "Cum for me, baby. Show me. Let me feel you, hm?"

Your stomach tightens, your elbows giving out, sending your head crashing back against the mattress. You try to push his hand away from your overstimulated clit, want to stay like this forever but it's no use-he's never been one to lose.

Your moans grow louder, more desperate, mixing with the wet sound of his skin slapping against yours, each thrust desperate and bold.

He feels you tighten around him, your walls pulsing in small, desperate spasms. Soft whines of his name leaving your lips that send him into overdrive. The sensation drives him wild, completely lost in the sin that is you.

It doesn't take long before Jungkook follows suit, his teeth digging into his lower lip as his eyes squeeze shut, his orgasm washing over him, emptying deep inside you.

His hips rock slowly, still moving against you as he rides out the waves of pleasure, his lips pressing desperate kisses against yours, drinking in your whines.

Your hands wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, his face finding comfort in the crook of your neck once more. The room falls silent, filled only with the sound of both your heavy breaths, struggling to regain normalcy.

"Shower?" You whisper into his ear, pressing a soft kiss against his lobe. He doesn't answer, only nodding against your skin.

You start the shower, letting the warm water cascade over your body. It tries to wash away any trace of his lips on your skin, but it's no use-his marks are invisible now, etched into your memory, and ones that only you two will ever know are there.

You’ve washed your body, your hair, your face, but Jungkook still hasn’t joined you in the shower. You dry off, throwing on the oversized tee that was hanging in the bathroom, and make your way back to the bedroom.

Jungkook is sitting on the bed, his figure dimly lit by the changing flashes from the TV screen. His back is to you, but his head hangs slightly between his shoulders.

“Kook?”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t reply. You walk towards him, kneeling down in front of him, positioning yourself between his legs. Gently, your hands reach for his wrists, pulling them away from his hanging head.

“Kook? Hey—what’s going on?” Your voice is soft, barely above a whisper, the reassurance in it only making Jungkook feel worse.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “So, so fucking sorry, my baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your brows pinch together in confusion, your face full of concern. “Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. Kook—talk to me.”

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, letting his hands fall limply against his lap. His eyes are glassy, bloodshot, and his lower lip trembles as he tries to speak. “I fucked up,” he breathes out, almost choking on the words. “I’m so fucking sorry. You have to believe me, I’m so sorry.”

Your hand gently cradles his face, your thumb wiping away the stray tears as they fall. His face leans into your touch, a small kiss pressed into your palm, and that simple gesture sends him into a sob.

“What are you talking about, Jungkook? Talk to me— I can’t help you if I don’t understand.” Your voice is soft, trying to soothe his panic, but there’s a hint of fear to it.

“Kiss me. Please,” his voice cracks, eyes locked onto yours with a desperate plea. “Please, kiss me.” His words are broken by sobs.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure how to navigate this. He’s never been this vulnerable, and you’ve only seen him cry a handful of times—never like this. Gently, you kneel, brushing stray hairs from his forehead.

Your hand lifts his chin slightly, and you press your lips to his. It’s slow, painfully slow. Jungkook’s hands find their way to your face, gripping it with force, as though grounding himself. He tries to deepen the kiss, but all that escapes him is another sob.

You pull back slightly, sitting back on your knees, but just as you start to pull away, his hands catch yours, holding them gently before they can drop to your sides.

“Please, Kook.” You beg softly, your voice a mix of confusion and desperation.

“I didn’t mean to fuck this up. I really didn’t, my baby. I—fuck, everything just happened so fast. Everything’s been a mess, and then you showed up, and it just got even more fucked. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You’re still trying to make sense of what he’s so sorry for—kissing you? Sleeping with you? Regretting it? Not wanting this anymore? You have no fucking idea.

“Kook…I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to say.”

His eyes meet yours briefly before they dart away, unable to hold your gaze. His lips part to speak, but another sob escapes him, followed by a curse that cuts through the air.

“I— I have,” his voice cracks, “Fuck, I have a girlfriend.”

Your body freezes, stone cold. Your hands go limp in his, your chest tightening as your breath quickens.

His eyes meet yours, tears falling down his face, lips trembling as he tries to find anything to say. “Please— I can explain, I swear. I— Fuck, you know that’s not who I am.”

Your hands rip away from his, standing up and stepping back, your brain completely void of thought, overwhelmed by a gut-wrenching scream that echoes through your mind.

“What?”

He stands up, his hands reaching for you again, but you take another step back. The small distance between you feels painfully familiar.

“Please— me and her, we were already on our last breath before you showed up. I just didn’t have the balls to do anything about it. But then you, you came, and I—”

“You’re fucking joking, right?” You almost laugh, tears brimming in your eyes. “Tell me you’re fucking joking.”

His head shakes as he searches for the right words, hating the sight of your tears, but feeling utterly helpless. Seeing you cry because of him makes him want to dig his own fucking grave.

“Is that why your phone’s been blowing up? Is that why you didn’t go back to the café today? Because she was waiting for you?”

“Stop— Please, baby, I promise. I was going to end it tonight, but I needed to see you first, and then— Fuck, I got lost in you again, in feeling you. I— Please, baby.”

“Oh, it’s my fault?” Your voice cracks, bitterness cutting through the air. “I’m the reason you cheated? I’m the reason you lied?”

“Baby, no. It’s all fucking mine. I fucked it up. I wanted to tell you, was going to when we first hung out. Fuck—I just got so caught up, seeing you again, then I kept pushing it back, avoiding it. Didn’t want to ruin us.”

“Get out.”

He sobs, his voice breaking, “Please—fuck, please. We can figure it out. Please, baby.”

“Stop fucking calling me that, Kook!” You push at his chest, feeling like you’re being suffocated by the weight of his presence. London doesn’t sound so bad now. In fact, maybe it’s even too close.

He lets you push him, knowing he deserves it. Knows this is probably the last time your hands will ever press against his body. He stumbles back, letting you shove him toward the door as his sobs echo, watching helplessly as your tears fall.

“Please, get the fuck out. Fuck off, go. Leave.” You spit between the shoves. His back presses against the door, your pushes no longer having the same effect. Instead, you let your head drop against his chest, your shoulders shaking as you cry.

Your hands grip the shirt that clings to his frame, your voice quiet but cracked, laced with sobs, “Why the fuck did you do this?” You’re barely holding it together. “Why fuck me over? Why did you fucking do this?”

Jungkook’s hands wrap around your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over them softly, but nothing can ease the hurt between you. He can’t say anything to make this right, can’t justify why he kept this secret, why he didn’t tell you sooner.

He wants to—God, how he wants to sit you down and explain everything. He wants to tell you that his relationship with her had been hanging by a thread long before you even walked into his life. That it was a ghost of what it had once been, both of them too scared to be the one to end it. They hardly spoke anymore, both just avoiding the inevitable end.

But he knows there’s no point now. He fucked up. He’s still in a relationship, even if it’s nothing but a shell, and that’s a reality he can’t escape. He knows what he did was wrong. And even though the feelings for you that had resurfaced swallowed him whole when you walked into his coffee shop, he was greedy. He let himself want you, even though he knew this situation cursed any chance of a future between you two.

“I love you.” He whispers, broken.

And you know he does. You’ve felt it, felt what it’s like to be loved by Jeon Jungkook.

His hand reaches for the door, twisting the handle. Your hands fall from his shirt, your arms hanging at your sides as your breath shakes in your chest. You take a step back.

His hand gently cups your face, brushing away the tears that keep falling. When you look up at him, his sob is painful, raw. It only grows louder when your own hand rests over his.

He presses his lips to yours one last time, desperate, consuming. He breathes you in, as if trying to make this moment last forever, but the kiss ends too soon.

“I love you,” you whisper, your voice barely a breath.

The only response is the sound of the door locking behind him, his departure sealing the silence of your suite.

[queenpiranhadon]

what are your thoughts on katsuki's reaction when he finds out his partner has the same spice tolerance as him...

A/N: Oh, anon don't worry I have MORE than just thoughts... I actually love this prompt so I'm gonna write it a little differently than usual :) Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Cursing, reader likes spicy food, second or third year-ish, fluff, pre-established relationship, standard partner nicknames are used - dummy, babe, baby, etc, reader is gn but is written with f!reader in mind, double dates but it's just silly goofy

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader, Mina Ashido x Ejiro Kirishima

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴡᴀꜱᴀʙɪ ─────•°•☁︎•°•────•

So from your wording, Bakugou finds out about your spice preferences at some point during your relationship, instead of before, which I don't think is as plausible because of his insane perception skills (he probably knows more about you than even you do before you guys even start dating- my man is a closeted nerd and you can't convince me otherwise). But if he did find out while you two were dating, the outcome would be hilarious.

Let's say you're in the UA dorms, whether you're in the hero course on not, you're just chilling in the kitchen waiting for your boyfriend to meet you downstairs. Class 1-A loves you a ton, and even though they tease you and Bakugou a lot, you both end up having a lot of Netflix and chill dates in the common room since the TV there has a shit ton of streaming services.

You put down your phone, sighing, and decide to be a little more productive instead- making your way to the common room to pick out a movie. It was tradition, between you, Katsuki, Kirishima and Mina to watch movies together every now and then as a double date- something Katsuki was adverse to but you knew he secretly enjoyed the chaos that ensued whenever the four of you were together- also realizing that if they weren't in his line of sight, they'd probably end up blowing up the dorms by accident anyways. He'd only said this once though, face turning bright red as you teasingly called him a mother hen.

Mina and Kirishima had started dating a few months ago (you and Katsuki had celebrated your 1 year anniversary two weeks prior to it ) and being the friend group you were, who could pass up an opportunity?. Kirishima and Katsuki very best friends, as were you and Mina, so it was a no-brainer that the four of you would have regular get togethers like this in the first place. You thought it was nice, seeing Katsuki interact with his friends as he relaxed, even if only a little, around his close friends.

You settle yourself down in the plush couch across from the TV screen, and feel the cushions dip as a new weight is added, seeing Mina Ashido plopping down next to you.

"Movie night!" she cheers, and she nudges you with her shoulder. "Some day we gotta ditch the boys and get through a movie marathon together- I swear Eji has the worst taste in movies, if I have to watch another Star Wa-"

"Hey! My taste isn't that bad!" Kirishima whines, coming up behind the both of you with Katsuki in tow. "Plus you keep asking to watch those K-dramas that get your mascara running."

Mina raises an eyebrow. "Eji, you cry more than I do during those."

Katsuki sighs and raises his hand in an attempt for peace. "Oi, shut yer mouths and go grab the pillows and blankets. Y/N and I will order food and pick out the movie."

Mina groans but relents, looking at you pleadingly. "Please chose a good movie - no ‘to be continued’s PLEASE"."

You snort, remembering how one time Kirishima had chosen Captain America: The Winter Soldier, which prompted the four of you to binge the entire MCU on a day without classes.

Scrolling through movies, you decide to choose a classic- the Matrix, something action packed enough to keep Kirishima (and Katsuki's) attention, and something with enough romance to keep Mina hooked.

As you navigate through the countless streaming services, Katsuki's voice pops up behind you.

"Oi, babe what do ya want to eat? Got some rolls dipped in wasabi for myself...I already know Shitty Hair's gonna ask for some chicken wings- an I got some tacos for Pinky cause I know she was whinin about cravin Mexican food earlier..."" He trails off, embarrassed when you grin knowingly in his direction.

You decide to be merciful though, shrugging and returning back to the TV. "I know very well that you're going to order from three different places just so all of us get what we want so I'll just share with you." you smile, and Bakugou's heart thumps softly from your thoughtfulness.

"Tch- whatever dummy. What do ya want in them- I know my rolls are pretty fuckin spicy - avocado, shrimp, cr-" He asks, but you cut his off with a bewildered look.

"What? Why wouldn't I get it with wasabi??" You ask dumbfounded. "That's like 85% of the flavor - plus it's kinda boring without it." you say, and your boyfriend's jaw drops open- as if you'd told him you were pregnant of something.

"Marry me."

You want to burst out in giggles, but stop when you see the deadass look on his face.

"Kats-"

"Jesus Christ baby, of all the shit ya hide from me, ya hide the most important one?!" He asks incredulously and that's when you start laughing.

"If ya told me this shit sooner I would've asked yer ass out the moment I met ya."

[reverieblondie]

Summer Vacation

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Fingering. You and Miguel have to be sneaky.

Summary: College has been stressful and your finally off for summer vacation... But then you receive a surprise visit...

A/N: Ya'll thought I wasn't writing for Miguel anymore... oh how wrong you all are... If this dose well I will make it a mini series! Just let me know! Enjoy!

Word count: 3,242

So much for your plans for a quiet vacation…

It had been perfect in your mind. Your parents were out of town, and their house was so close to the beach that you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have a nice and relaxing summer vacation all to yourself. School had been hectic, and you needed some serious relaxing time lounging out under a shady umbrella, cutting down on your TBR list with a frozen drink at your side and maybe a summer fling on the other.

But now... that’s not going to happen, not with the little surprise visit you received…

As you had settled in last night, you heard the sounds of a slamming car door. Your first thought was your parents made a surprisingly short trip, but that’s when you saw him entering through the front door. 

Your brother? What is his goofy -

But before you can finish the thought, you saw him following in. You haven’t seen him in years, but as soon as you see those familiar eyes, you know exactly who he is. Miguel O’Hara, your older brother’s best friend. The last time you remember seeing Miguel was the summer before he and your brother graduated. Lots of people assumed Miguel was a grumpy jerk from his quiet nature. Still, you always found him funny and kinda charming. You especially loved when he gave your brother a hard time: Miguel was definitely your favorite out of all your brother’s friends.

In contrast, the others ignored you, where Miguel was always friendly and looked after you in his own way. Sure, he wasn’t stopping you in the halls to talk to you your freshman year, but you would catch how he would be subtly watching you, and without fail, every time you were doing homework at your dining room table, Miguel would slide in next to you to whisper what questions you got wrong. Okay, sure, you planned it out to be there when he came over, but could you really blame a girl? Miguel was top of his class, plus it also helped that Miguel was quite cute.   

You ended up developing a bit of a crush on him, but he was off-limits, and that was only a silly little freshman year crush. You are way past that. So, as you sit here lounging on your couch, watching him walk in looking taller, buffer, and undoubtedly cuter, okay, he’s actually sexy as hell now…

As soon as Miguel walked in, his eyes met yours. At first, he was equally surprised to see you, but his shock quickly turned to a smile, like he was actually excited to see you. Though the smile was short-lived, as when your brother turned around to grab his bag from him, Miguel went back to his ever-stoic look. 

After your initial surprise wore off, you told your brother about disrupting your plans. He was quick to assure you that he wasn’t going to ruin them as he walked over and ruffled your hair, “Don’t sweat it, sis. Me and Miguel won’t bother you too much.” 

“Too much?”

He laughs as he saunters into the kitchen, “Well, I am your older brother, and I can’t just not mess with you!” 

The audible groan you give only earns a laugh from your sibling. Older brothers… 

While your ruined vacation plans are flashing before your eyes, a clearing throat catches your attention. Turning around, you see Miguel looking down at you with a bit of a smile back to his full lips, 

“Guessing you’re not too excited to see us…” 

Well, if it had just been Miguel….that's a different story… “Let’s just say I had plans for a stress-relief vacation and can’t exactly do now with an older brother lurking around…” 

Miguel chuckles and quickly looks you up and down for a moment. His eyes go to your brother as he leans down and whispers, “You could… if you know how to be sneaky about it…” 

For a moment, you don’t think this is happening, but… is Miguel flirting? You look at him, confused but very intrigued… you haven’t seen him in forever, and this is how he acts? Maybe you’re just reading too much into it; Miguel always gave you homework advice. Perhaps this is just him doing that, but your horny brain is misinterpreting… But just in case….

You look into his eyes, seeing that once warm brown now, has a tinge of red to them. “How do I know you won’t rat on me to my brother? Get me in trouble?” 

“Let’s just say I can keep a secret… troublemaker.” 

Troublemaker? You could be a troublemaker if he’s going to be the one that’s going to spank-

No, No, No! Off limits! Brother’s best friend, I don’t care if he’s built like a god and has a nose that you would pay good money to grind against. You can’t be the one to stick your neck out. Maybe Miguel is just a flirt now; all talk, but it doesn’t mean it. Off limits!

While your brain can still form some rational thought, you rush off to bed before Miguel can notice the blush rising to your face. As you make it to your door, you think you see Miguel leaning back to look down the hall at you with a smirk. Being a sane person you quickly scramble through your door and slam it shut, you go and flop down in your bed, cursing your brother for having brought with him Miguel. Out of all his friends, he had to get the one who makes your insides scream. 

Now here you sit, completely forgetting about the book in your hands as you stare at Miguel, looking so damn distracting! You know you shouldn’t be staring at him, but watching him running shirtless with his bulging biceps, massive chest shining in a sheen of sweat, and his flexing abs. Don’t even get started on his ass and legs in his swimsuit. You quickly slam your face in your book; stop sexualizing him… off-limits…off limits! 

Though you never were one to have good self-control. So, peering up from your book, you look at him. Sweat has never looked so good. 

Miguel just looked so effortless in his movements, and from the looks of the others staring, you’re not the only one to think this. Something in your chest tightens with that thought, the thought of him swarmed by admirers. For as long as you have known him, you have seen how people trip over themselves to fawn over him, but he always remained single from what you knew… you are sure he has had girlfriends before, but every time he was around you… he didn’t bring one up, he always was single, or at least appearing to be.

Then lost in your staring, his eyes meet yours.

You want to blame the sudden rush of heat to your face on the summer heat, but you know it’s from him… that same auburn gaze that always makes your stomach flutter and your insides ache. 

Miguel watches you as he pushes back his sweat-drenched hair before he lets a smile form on his full lips and gives you a slight wave. You work up the nerve to wave back, then quickly hide behind your book again. You’re stuck rereading the same line over and over, trying to hold onto the words, but that smile and those eyes…

Perhaps another peek won’t hurt…

Going for it, you take another look and see your brother, Miguel, and two pretty girls. The girls are all perky and smiles as they chat, something your brother is eating up, while Miguel has returned to being stoic—his ever-trustworthy defense mechanism. 

Looking away, you’re going through a swell of emotions. Well, more like one bitter emotion…

Jealousy…

You have as prided yourself on being a supportive girl; when you see a girl shooting her shot, you always wish silent good luck for them, but right now, seeing them talking to Miguel… It’s making you feel bitter. In no way is Miguel yours, hell he’s off limits for what you’re concerned, but watching this… hurts. This is ridiculous. Jealousy? Really? With a sigh you try to just forget it, though your skin is feeling hot, and you’re fighting the urge to stare.

To calm yourself, you place your book to the side and strip off your cover-up, the material that was once comfortable now irritating. You hadn’t planned on swimming or being out of your cover-up, so of course you make this the day you wear your smallest bikini. It’s funny how things always turn out like that. Stripping off the material, you instantly feel some relief. However, you have that distinct feeling of someone looking at you, watching you. 

With a glance, you see Miguel looking over everyone’s heads to make eye contact with you again…

Getting back to your book and swallowing down your jealousy, you keep your eyes on your book to keep yourself out of trouble. Finally, after a bit, when you're just getting lost in the text, there’s a nudge on your leg. 

“Uhhggg, please tell me you didn’t come here just to sit around.” Narrowing your eyes at the complaining source, you see your brother nagging you. 

You look down at your book, “You enjoy your time your way; I will enjoy mine my way.” 

Your brother rolls his eyes before grabbing his water bottle, “Goes to the beach and doesn’t swim or play soccer with her big bro. Are you depressed or something?” 

More like irritated… and frustrated… 

Before you can give your rebuttal, Miguel silences Your brother by bouncing the soccer ball on his head, “Stop messing with her.” 

Your brother, as dramatic as ever, holds his head and whines, “Ouch! When did you get so overprotective?” 

Miguel looks surprised and almost guilty for a moment before the mask comes back. “I’m not overprotective; just… let the kid relax like she wants.” 

KID?!

As soon as the words leave his lips, they are ringing in your ears. A kid? He’s older than you, sure, but calling you kid? What the hell? Is that how he sees you? You don’t know what’s the worst label: best friends little sister, or kid? 

Your brother pats your head, “Aw, got to be nice to the baby!” 

The words sting deeper. It’s not like you’re not used to your brother’s teasing; that’s actually how you two play with each other and show affection, but today…

You quickly stand, swatting his hand away. Your brother pauses and looks at you, confused. “Wow, what’s your damage?”

“I’m not in the mood…” You bite back, grab your bag, and walk off. 

“Where are you going?!” 

“None of your business!” 

You’re not even sure where you are going, but with your chest burning with embarrassment and annoyance, you just don’t want to be somewhere you’re labeled as a kid. 

You ended up at the concession stand to get some ice cream. Okay, not precisely screaming, mature lady. But your irritation at the situation is reaching a peak, and you need a nice cold comfort snack to cool you down.  

A kid… he sees you as a kid, you’re a woman in college, and he calls you a kid… and here you thought he was staring at you. Fooling yourself to think he’s interested. Looking down at yourself, you feel worse, wearing this bikini revealing your body secretly hoping to grab his attention. Ugh! Maybe you should go home, hide in your room till they leave… And why is this line moving so sl-

Suddenly, the feeling of a giant hand grabbing you close startles you. You’re pulled into what feels like a brick wall. Looking up at the sudden grabber, you see that familiar strong jaw and that dark wavy hair, but not his gaze. No, Miguel is looking off at a nearby table at a group of guys who are visibly avoiding eye contact and sweating bullets. 

You look between them for a few more minutes before you ask the million-dollar question, “What are you doing?” 

Miguel doesn’t take his eyes off the group, “Just... keeping an eye on you…”

This only seems to piss you off more; now he’s watching over you like you can’t handle yourself.

You push yourself out of Miguel’s hold, getting his attention to your huffy face, “What’s your problem?”

“I don’t need a babysitter!” You bite back. 

Miguel furrows his eyebrows at you, “I didn’t say you did!” he says, equally frustrated.

“Then stop treating me like I’m some kid!”

Miguel looks at you, confused, before he remembers what he said. “Look… I didn’t mean it like that.”

Before Miguel can finish, he’s being pushed past, you’re doing your best to show how thoroughly pissed off you are. You ignore him the best you can as he walks after you. Trying to ignore how his voice makes your skin tingle as he says your name. But right now, you can’t focus on that. You’re just wanting to slip away and hide! What you were not expecting as you slipped into one of the colorfully painted private changing sheds was for Miguel to follow behind you.

Miguel locks the door behind himself, and you groan. “I was trying to get away from you.”

“Will you at least listen to what I have to say? And stop acting like a brat?”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, so now I’m a brat!”

Miguel continues to get irritated with you, and you’re not listening, so he has to listen to your ranting. You go one about how you're not a kid, how they ruined your summer vacation, and what was the deal at the concession stand.

Miguels finally had enough. If you won’t listen to you he will just have to take the risk and show you.

So, during your rant, you feel two large hands gently grabbing your face. The gentleness of the touch sends currents of desire through your body. His eyes are steady on yours as he watches you lose your words, and your anger die down. Slowly, his thumb moves from your jaw to trace over your lips softly.

“Can you pause for a minute so I can kiss you?” 

You didn’t have to say yes; all you had to do is close your eyes and stand on your tiptoes to let him know you want it as badly as he does—to kiss him.

Miguel touches his lips to yours; their soft fullness blurs your thoughts. All that tingling turns into a back-arching static as Miguel guides you through the kiss. The intensity of the kiss grows with every second, with every careful caress, and as Miguel finally presses his warmth against you, you’re fully lost in him—lost in each other.

The feel of Miguel’s hands dropping to your hips makes your lips part with a gasp, allowing Miguel to slip in his tongue. The taste of him was completely intoxicating, making your thighs tighten and your pussy get wetter with every pass of his experienced tongue.

 Before he can completely lose himself in your kiss, he quickly turns you around so his chest is pressed against your back, and his hard cock is against your ass.

Miguel brings his lips to the shell of your ear, his warm breath softly panting over your skin, making you lean into him. Reaching behind you, you grab a hold of his dark hair between your fingers.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the second I saw you again.” he whispers in your ear.

Miguel slowly moves his large hand to the hem of your bottoms, his fingers teasing the material,

“Then... I’m forced to look at you in this tiny thing, which is driving me even more crazy.”

You can hardly think coherently as you let out a trembling whine, “Crazy…”

Miguel lets out a low purring hum as he slips his finger under the material, his fingertip softly teasing your slick folds. Tempting you to beg. How badly you want to beg... but the feeling of his rough fingers on your soft flesh as your hips slightly rolling against him. It’s all the begging Miguel needs (or that he can handle...) before he finds your slit and starts to tease your opening.

You can’t help but squirm, sick of the teasing and needing to feel him. With a shuddering pled, Miguel finally gives in to his lust, and your lust, and he sips in his finger. The stretch makes you rise to your toes, and your breath gives, the feeling of that curling pressure making you want more. Miguel presses his lips to your neck, his erection growing harder the deeper his digit goes. Miguel can’t help but grind his clothed cock against your ass as he whispers sweet words into your skin. Then right as your pussy is adjusting to his thick finger, he adds another, pushing in deep, all the way down to his rough knuckles. Your sticky arousal dripped down his thick fingers and pooled into his palm.

A sheen of sweat forms on your skin that Miguel eagerly licks up from your neck. Your core is starting to burn, and right as you think you can’t take anymore, his other hand comes down and starts rubbing your clit. Your legs tremble, and you begin to lose yourself in the feeling. Miguel’s breath matches your own as you start to approach that eye-crossing pleasure…

You feel yourself clenching on him, your whole body quivering. This feels like a dream: Miguel, the man you have been silently pining for, is touching you... kissing you... something he has equally wanted as much as you. The girl who was always so close... but off limits... Though now, you both couldn’t take it anymore how you needed each other…

Right as your bottoms are dropping to the floor and a moan is breaking from your throat, Miguel’s lips are on your rapid plus... then a ringing...

You both pause, gazing at each other, then at your bag thrown in the corner during the start of your rant. The ringing continues. You both knew who it was, but you didn’t want to leave this moment. At this moment, you two didn’t have to hide your wants, but if you didn’t answer, your brother would come looking.

Begrudgingly, you two part, with an irritated groan from the both of you. Bottoms back on your reaching for your bag, but your wrist is caught by Miguel before you can pick it up. Looking up at him confused, you see that classic stoic look,

“Wha-”

“I don’t want this to stop here.”

You’re completely dumbfounded. Here he is, the man you want saying the thing you want. “What if...” You don’t finish the sentence or want to think of any possible consequences.

Your Phone is still ringing, but you’re too entranced by him. Miguel leans his forehead against yours, “Be sneaky with me, trouble...”

Your summer plans might not be completely ruined after all…

“Think about it... and get back to me... Miguel gives you a chaste kiss, and before you know it, your bag is in your hands, and he exits the changing room. 

In your Miguel daze, you answer your Phone, reassuring your brother that you’re no longer mad and that you and Miguel are on your way back.

[gilverrwrites]

How are you? I love your fics ❤️ and kept having this idea in my head.

Dick Grayson when he discovers early in their relationship, she never had someone give her head before. Like she’s getting all shy at her confession and says it’s nothing, but Dick doesn’t undermine her and says when she’s ready, he will make it SO memorable. This conversation always is at the back on her mind and after some time pass in their relationship, she is ready and he makes her sit on his face??? Like why is this so hot? Ofc, she will be insecure at first and wouldn’t want to suffocate him , he just really guides her through it but like more in a gentle rom way. Just imagine her experiencing like the most intense orgasm while also gaining self confidence and squirting for the first time too ?! 🤭

Memorable

Dick Grayson/F!Reader, 2.1K words AN: I’m well, thank you for asking, I hope the same can be said about you. Thank you for sharing, this is such a hot and sweet idea. When I started, I was just planning short blurb type response, but I guess it kind of got away from me. CW: First time cunnilingus, soft dom Dick (if you squint), dirty talk, swearing, hair pulling (Dick receiving), praise, squirting/female ejactulation, petnames: baby, good girl, pretty girl, perfect girl.

18+ MDNI

On the surface, Dick is the perfect gentleman about it, excluding his flabbergasted initial response.

“What? Never?” Followed by the even denser question; “Because you never had the opportunity? Or just never wanted to?” As if it mattered a whit either way.

But after that, he apologises for his reaction. He takes your hand, stares at you with those deep-set blue eyes that have always seen you, with that smile that soothes you and promises; “When… if you let me be your first, I promise I’ll make it worth it. We’ll make sure it’s memorable together.”

And then it’s ’forgotten’, he doesn’t bring it up, doesn’t talk about it unless you do. Ostensibly, the perfect gentleman, not wanting to scare you off with his enthusiasm, because on the inside he’s feral, obsessed with the idea of potentially being the first man to savour the taste of your hot, wet folds, to make you coo and pant and wither with just his mouth, to make you cum all over his face, fuck. All of it makes him hard as a rock in an instant.

The night you finally commit is nerve-racking for you both because you’ve built the moment up in your minds for so long. But Dick is determined to make this one of the greatest sexual pleasures of your life, and you trust him completely, that still, however, does not absolve all of your unease.

You’re already curled up together on the bed, in repective states of undress when you tell him you’re ready. His body immediately grows stiff, radiating excitement. He abandons his attack on the soft spot of your neck to examine your expression, you stare at each other, searching for reassurance, and find only dilated pupils and heavy lids.

“You’re sure?” He checks, and you instinctively nod. His eyebrow twitches upward, and you know he’s going to say something about using real words, so you beat him to the punch. “I’m sure!”

He grins at you, sparkle in his eyes before he’s climbing into position, moving all the pillows away from the headboard and settling in the now empty space, he taps his cheeks and instructs you to; “Come on up.”

It’s a silly attempt at adding humour to the situation, but you find yourself suddenly filled with doubt and stuttering. “You want me to sit on your face?” You’d thought you might start with a less constraining position. “Won’t that be uncomfortable, for you?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “And if it does get uncomfortable, I’ll tap your leg 3 times, sound good?”

“Okay, sounds good.” You agree, still hesitant, but Dicks eagerness is contagious, the way he’s watching you with those lust-filled eyes makes you want to give him whatever he wants, and he’s never failed to deliver in the bedroom depart previously, so you hitch your leg and situate your knees either side of his head, your cunt hovers just above his face.

It isn’t until you feel his long, calloused fingers hook into your underwear and shift them to the side that you even realise you’d forgotten to remove them. You make to apologise, but he distracts you by running his index finger between your folds, lingering over your clit, he adds his middle finger and pulls apart your lips, exposing your entrance.

“Fuuuckk.” He breathes, “Such a pretty pussy. Can you bring it closer for me?”

Fuuuckk is right. The genuine affection in his voice has you nearly trembling as you lower yourself until you feel his warm breath brushing between your legs, the combination of air on moisture making the area tingle, but Dick’s still not satisfied.

“You don’t need to worry. It’s not too different to things we’ve done before. I’m only going to put my fingers in here.” To demonstrate his point, he sheaths one finger inside you in one quick motion and pumps it in and out, gradually building speed each time. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Oh, god, yes!” You confirm, unconsciously rocking your hips, trying to coax him deeper inside you.

“Yeeahh.” He hums, pressing the bud of his thumb against your clit, immediately sending a wave of pleasure through you in a way that makes you flinch. He chases your body with his hand, maintaining the friction between your legs. “And I’m gonna use my mouth here, sometimes I’ll swap but it’s gonna feel just like this, only better. I promise.”

Then his hand is gone, its withdrawal leaving you ten times needier than you had been when he’d started. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself before settling further down, you don’t stop until you can feel his nose poking between your lips. You’re rewarded by the muffled sound of Dick’s voice praising you from below; “Good girl.” Then one hand locks onto your thigh, not hard enough to force you in place, but firm enough to convey the message.

From there, you’re partly expecting an assault, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Dick slowly works his tongue from your entrance to your clit, letting out a lewd, glutaral groan in the process. “You taste so sweet.”

If you weren’t already flushed, that would have done it. You open your mouth to thank him, but as you do so he latches his mouth around your clit and sucks. That does not feel like anything you’ve done before, but it does feel fantastic. All you manage is a whimper as you clench your fists into the top of the headboard to ground yourself.

You hear a wet pop as Dick releases his suction, and returns to lapping at your sweet spot, eliciting shorter and raspier pants from you with each flick and circle of his tongue. He’s experimenting, changing up the pressure, alternating between slick darts with the tip of his tongue, and wet, sweeping motions that seem to consume your entire core until he finds the perfect move-set that has your toes curling and your hips bucking. An orgasm is quickly building, blood boiling, clit aching when he pulls back, sinking lower on the bed to slip his tongue into your entrance before you hit your precipice.

Stunned at the sudden change, you look down at him, he peeks out from between your legs, eyes fierce, amused in a way that sends a chill down your spine. Without warning he replaces his tongue with two fingers, plunging much deeper than he had the last time, and spreading them out to push against your walls despite their resolve to clench around him.

He loves the way you look right now, flustered, frustrated, lost to anything but his touch. He wants to push, to tease you more, wants to refuse to let you cum until you really ride his face, until you beg, but he’s worried about taking things too far on your first time, because most of all he wants you to feel good and comfortable. Not to mention, if he plays his cards right, makes this easy and unforgettable; you’ll want more, and then he can have his way. So, he settles for ghosting kisses along the soft skin of your inner thigh and says the only other thing that’s on his mind without filter; “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna make you cum. I’m gonna make you cum so hard no one else will ever compare.”

You’re so blissed out, rocking back and forth on his fingers, he’s not even sure you heard him. He wells with pride for a moment, his pretty girl so fucked out already, glowing under a sheen of sweat, all because of him.

“Did you hear me?” He accentuates his point by slowing his fingers and you whine as you lazily nod at him, upper body heavy and disjointed as your lower half keeps trying to fuck itself.

“Yes, Dick.” The distress in your voice is music to his ears, it makes his already hardened cock throb. Pleased by your reaction he presses his thumb to your clit, simulating the motions he’d used earlier. “P-please.”

“You don’t have to beg, baby.” But it's highly appreciated, if your mind was less fuzzy from the dual simulation you might have noticed the way he laughs when he talks. “Have you ever squirted before?”

It’s so hard to answer when he makes you feel so good, when all you can think about is how much better this would feel if he used his mouth again. Knowing the only way that will happen is by answering, you muster all the brain capacity you have left to shake your head and stammer; “No… Tried but couldn’t do it myself.”

“Can you shift onto your feet for me? That’s it.” He coos. It kills you to pull away because you already feel so good, but he watches you with so much adoration as you follow his instructions it makes your heart feel as fuzzy as your puffy clit, makes it bearable. “Just like that, perfect, my perfect girl.”

You can’t lower yourself as much in this new position, but that doesn’t seem to bother Dick who latches his mouth back onto your clit, re-finding this rhythm in an instant and filling your swollen centre with a third digit.  He moans repeatedly into your folds as he works, loudly savouring your taste, memorising every fold and spasm. He alternates between sucking and lapping until the most incredible, white-hot feeling begins to surge through your body. You throw your head back, eyes squeezed shut, hands haphazard abandoning the headboard in favour of Dicks soft black hair.

Just when you think things can’t possibly feel any more intense you feel the turning point, the undeniable feel of Dick smiling into your folds is followed by the deliberate curl of his fingers, brazenly rubbing your g-spot in long, fast strokes, exiting you completely and plummeting right back to the bundle of nerves each time until it hits you.    

“D-Dick I-” Your climax washes over you before the words can leave your lips. Your muscles grow tense, nails biting into your palms through the trestles of Dicks hair you’re clinging onto. Your chest is heaving, and you couldn’t lift your lids long enough to look at the stream of watery cum flowing out of you if you wanted to.

You know it’s a lot, it’s wild, because you can feel droplets of it splash back onto your stomach, can feel it pooling into the limited space between your searing, sensitive skin, and Dick’s face. He hasn’t let up for a second. Intent on riding you through your high and soaking up as much of you as he can manage. Even when you’re over the hump, he keeps going, noisily slurping at your dripping, oversensitive heat. It’s hard to tell if you’re shaking from the intensity of your orgasm, or the continued abuse of your oversensitive cunt.

“Dick?” You call, weakly pulling at his scalp. He gets the message, finally detaching from your southern regions and shuffling from between your legs until you can get a good view of his face.

His hairs askew, cheeks pink, pupils seemingly even more dilated than they had been when you started, if at all possible. Every inch of skin from the tip of his nose to his nipple’s sheens under a mixture of spit, slick, and cum, and he’s staring at you like he’s a man starved. “I’m not done yet.”

Your bedroom flies by in a blur as Dick plants his hands on your thighs and uses them to support you while he rolls you back and between his legs. His member brushes against your folds briefly, sparking yet another ripple of arousal you didn’t think your body could muster amongst its already frenzies post-orgasm overexcitement, but as soon as you feel it, it’s gone again. You catch a glimpse of Dick rearranging it, tucking it low and out of the way before he crawls between your open legs again.

“I promised you it would be memorable.” He reminds you, leaning in closer. He grips onto the now drenched pair of panties he’d hiked to the side earlier and finally removes them before licking a testing strip from bottom to top just like the first time, enjoying greatly how wet and puffy it is, how you can’t keep from shivering, how you breath catches. “You did so good baby, but I’m not gonna stop eating your perfect pussy ‘til one of us can't stand it any more, an’ it’s not gonna be me.”

[pbaz7]

AGAINST THE TIDE: PART FIVE

paige x azzi

word count: 8k

A/N: Alrighttyy here’s the next chapter as promised. I am so sorry in advance for the beginning it was needed for the plot and I’ve kinda been following the accuracy of their season 😔. I swear I make up for it by the end of the chapter so you guys won’t hate me. They’re taking steps that’s all I’ll say 🙂‍↕️

—————————————————————————

December 2021 - Connecticut

The next two weeks were a noticeable shift for both Paige and Azzi. With Azzi sidelined by her foot injury, Paige took it as an opportunity to grow closer to her outside of basketball, though it often came with a bit of dramatic flair. Paige would still FaceTime Azzi at all hours of the night, her voice playful but a little over the top as she begged, "Please come to the gym, it’s so boring without you." Each call, Paige would act like the gym now felt empty without Azzi as she showed her on the camera, exaggerating how she couldn’t get anything done without her presence.

Azzi, pretending to be annoyed, would respond with something like, “You’re dramatic, Paige,” but there was always a smile hidden behind her words. She’d act like she wasn’t going to answer, rolling her eyes at the screen, but it never took long before she found herself grabbing her shoes and dragging herself over to keep Paige company.

Sometimes, she’d help her shoot around or go through drills, other times they would just sit, talking about everything and nothing at all. Paige loved to come up with silly games to pass the time, and Azzi would play along, even if her foot wasn't fully healed. It wasn’t that Azzi didn’t mind taking it easy for a while; in fact, being with Paige made it a lot easier to forget the frustration of sitting out. There was something about Paige’s energy that kept her entertained, and it made the quiet moments in between practice feel a lot less lonely.

The rest of the team noticed Paige’s shift too, though they didn’t mention it directly not wanting to mess anything up. While Paige had always been intense and all about basketball, now there was a certain lightness in her. She was taking care of herself more—spending time with Azzi, relaxing instead of overworking. She had found a balance she hadn’t had before, and it didn’t go unnoticed by everyone.

…

The clock was ticking down, and UConn was firmly in control of the game against Notre Dame, leading 73-54. The tension in the air had long lifted as the final seconds of the game wound down. Paige was dribbling the ball up the court, her focus on running out the clock. But suddenly, as her left foot hit the floor, there was a sharp stumble, and her knee buckled in a way that sent a jolt of concern through the entire arena.

Pain flashed across Paige’s face, and despite her obvious discomfort, she kept dribbling, fighting to push through it. She passed the ball to Caroline, her right leg taking the brunt of the movement as she hopped on it, trying to stay upright. With every move, her limp grew more pronounced before Paige fell just in front of the UConn bench, clutching her left leg as she hit the hardwood floor hiding her face from view.

Azzi’s stomach dropped at the sight, her eyes widening in shock. It felt like the world around her paused, the entire arena quitting as her focus narrowed only to Paige. The gym’s noise fading as she heard nothing but her heart racing.

Geno immediately called a timeout, signaling for the trainers to rush over. Azzi’s breath hitched, her legs frozen in place as her gaze remained locked on Paige, the moment causing her chest to tighten slightly. Her mind was racing, wondering what had happened, how bad it was. She was on her feet in an instant, but the trainers were already around Paige, and Azzi hesitated, not wanting to crowd them. Why did she feel like this? She had seen plenty of teammates get injured before and she was fine but right now she felt sick to her stomach.

The trainers were around Paige, speaking to her softly, trying to calm her down as her breathing was uneven. But Paige’s face was twisted in clear discomfort as she kept repeating, "My knee," her voice shaky and urgent. Azzi's gaze didn’t leave her, watching even as Evina and Amari gently lifted Paige, one on each side, helping her off the court and to the end of the bench where the trainers could work on her.

Azzi stayed back, knowing she couldn’t talk to her yet. She had to wait until the game was officially over. Her mind kept replaying the moment Paige fell, and the worry was gnawing at her. Her stomach was in knots, but she knew better than to add to the chaos.

The final buzzer sounded, and the team went through the usual handshakes with Notre Dame, but everyone’s mind was far from the celebrations. Azzi’s eyes constantly flicked over to the bench, still keeping an eye on Paige as the trainers helped her up.

Paige limped toward the locker room with the help of the trainers, frustration and pain evident on her face. She was clearly trying to fight it, to stay composed, but her limping gait told the story. Azzi could feel her chest tightening again as she followed her into the locker room.

Once inside, Paige reached for her jersey, pulling it off roughly in frustration, and tossed it across the room not caring where it landed. Azzi could see the discomfort written all over Paige’s face, her frustration clear to everyone as she threw the piece of clothing away.

Evina, not knowing what else to do but be the leader she always has, stepped in with a scolding tone. "Paige, you know that’s not how we do things here," she said sternly, her voice filled with authority though there was a hint of uncertainty this time.

Azzi, however, knew that wouldn’t make anything better. So she moved closer, stepping in between Paige and Evina, her voice softer but firm. "She has to get it out, E. You gotta let her.”

Evina paused, glancing between Azzi and Paige. She looked like she wanted to argue but finally sighed, understanding. She nodded and stepped back, giving Paige the space she needed to process everything that just happened. Azzi knelt beside her, her voice low but filled with concern. "You okay?" she asked, her hand gently resting on Paige’s knee, though she wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. But she couldn’t stand seeing Paige like this—frustrated, in pain, and clearly overwhelmed.

Paige didn’t respond immediately, but her shoulders slumped slightly as if the weight of the situation had finally caught up with her. Her eyes welled up with tears, and her body trembled as she whispered, "I think it’s broken, Azzi." Her voice was small, barely audible, but the fear in it was unmistakable. "I heard it crack... pop... I don’t know... it hurts like hell."

As the words left her mouth, the tears started to fall, and her shoulders shook. Azzi immediately moved closer, her arms wrapping around Paige, pulling her into a comforting embrace. The hug was a little stiff at first, the two of them never being this close in this kind of situation. But eventually Paige sunk into Azzi’ chest trying to let the younger girl soothe her as she continued to cry. Azzi didn’t say anything at first—she didn’t need to. The team, watching silently from a distance, could only stand by, understanding the gravity of the moment. Everyone knew how much this game and the season meant to Paige. To see her like this, in pain, and terrified was something none of them had even thought to prepare for.

Azzi kept her hold on Paige, gently rubbing her back, whispering soft words of reassurance. "You’re gonna be okay, Paige," she murmured, her voice steady and calming. "We’ll figure this out. It’s going to be okay."

The sound of the door opening cut through the tension, Geno entered, his presence commanding the room. He didn’t waste any time on post-game talk, his focus solely on Paige. "No talk just get changed, everyone," he ordered, his voice curt but concerned. His eyes flicked to Paige, the worry clear in his eyes.

Before anyone could move, the trainers entered with a wheelchair, approaching Paige with gentle but firm insistence. Paige, still in tears, looked up at them, her stubbornness flaring despite her pain. She shook her head violently, her voice hoarse as she snapped, "I’m not using that shit."

Azzi, who had been holding Paige, leaned back slightly and looked at her with a mix of concern and understanding. "Paige..." she began softly, trying to coax her to let the trainers help without saying it directly. But Paige, her face contorted with frustration and fear, shook her head again, this time more vehemently.

"I’m fine. I can walk," she said, but the words were more defensive than convincing. Azzi stayed quiet, knowing Paige’s stubbornness well at this point, but she wasn’t sure how to get through to her at this moment. The last thing Azzi wanted was to push Paige further into herself, but she also knew they couldn’t let her walk out on her knee.

"Paige, let them help," Azzi said quietly, her voice full of empathy but still firm. "You’re not going to get miraculously better by fighting it." She gently but firmly squeezed Paige’s shoulder, hoping to make her understand.

The rest of the team remained silent, a heavy tension hanging in the air as everyone waited for Paige’s response, not knowing how she was going to react. Finally, after a long, drawn-out moment, Paige let out a frustrated sigh, her defiance still burning but her body sagging in defeat. She didn’t speak but slowly, reluctantly, she allowed the trainers to assist her into the wheelchair.

As one of the trainers began to push the wheelchair forward, Paige’s hand hesitated at her side before reaching out. Her fingers brushed against Azzi’s, almost tentative, as if she was unsure whether she should ask for that comfort or if this was even ok to do. Azzi didn’t hesitate when she saw it. She immediately took Paige’s hand causing the blonde to let go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

The subtle exchange didn’t go unnoticed. The rest of the team exchanged glances but said nothing, the weight of the moment pressing them into silence when they would usually make a joke.

Azzi remained close, walking beside her as they left the locker room, her heart aching as she watched Paige, trying her best to hide her tears. Azzi stayed silent, squeezing Paige’s hand, knowing it wasn’t the right time for empty words that wouldn’t change anything.

…

A few days later they were sitting together in Paige’s room, the tension of Paige’s injury still hanging slightly in the air, though there was a quiet calm between the two of them. Paige had her knee elevated, a heating pad resting on it, her face a mix of frustration and exhaustion. The injury was worse than she’d expected. It wasn’t just a sprain or a twist like she hoped—it was a fracture and a torn meniscus. She’d need surgery and would be out for at least two months. The weight of it all had hit her hard when she found out, and while she didn’t mind being surrounded by her teammates, right now, she only really wanted to be around one person. This thought process only added more to her confusion and frustration.

Azzi, understanding the gravity of the situation from when she tore her ACL, had been quietly sitting with her everyday, offering her presence without pressing for details. But now, as Paige spoke about her surgery, Azzi could see the hurt in her eyes.

"I’m scheduled for surgery next week,” Paige was saying, her voice quieter than usual. "They said I’ll be out for a minimum of two months. I know it’s not that long and I’m kinda lucky but it still feels like forever."

Azzi, trying to lighten the mood a little, cracked a joke. "Well, perfect timing then. You’ll be back just in time for March Madness. Look at that, you can’t even make a dent in our run!" She grinned, trying to ease the tension that was in the air.

Paige’s lips curled into a small smile, the tiniest spark of humor returning to her face. She kicked Azzi with her right leg—her healthy leg—and laughed a little, shaking her head. "Yeah, perfect timing," she muttered, her tone still tinged with sarcasm but a little lighter than before.

Azzi held her hands up in mock surrender, exaggerating her defensive stance at Paige kicking her. "Careful there, I’m mobile," she teased, easing back against the headboard of the bed. "This would be a losing game for you. You’re stuck on the bed."

Paige’s grin widened slightly, her eyes glinting with the playful defiance Azzi had grown to know so well. "You think so, huh?" she challenged, though it was clear that the teasing had pulled her out of the heavy space she’d been in for the last couple of days.

"Oh, I know so," Azzi replied, her voice playful and teasing, her smile matching Paige's as she leaned back against the headboard without a worry in the world.

Without warning, Paige’s hand shot out and she tickled Azzi’s side. Azzi squealed in surprise, instantly breaking into laughter and hopping off the bed, trying to get away from Paige’s relentless fingers.

"Hey, that’s no fair!" Paige muttered, her face lighting up with amusement as she tried to push herself up, wincing slightly at the discomfort in her knee. "I can’t get over there that fast."

Azzi pouted exaggeratedly, her laughter still bubbling out as she stood just out of reach. "Tough luck," she teased, grinning widely. "You’ve got a bum leg, so I’ll win the next few rounds."

Paige huffed, settling back into her spot on the bed, though she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "You’re lucky I can’t chase you," she muttered, looking at Azzi like she was plotting her next move.

Azzi stuck out her tongue in mock defiance, still standing just out of range. "I’ll take my win. But don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you next time," she teased as she sat back on the bed, crossing her arms with a satisfied grin.

Paige muttered something under her breath, her eyes downcast as she crossed her arms, her mood shifting slightly.

Azzi smirked, leaning in closer with a playful glint in her eyes. "What was that?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

Paige shot back, pouting slightly, her voice almost a whisper, "Nothing, leave me alone."

Azzi couldn't resist teasing her further, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Aww, did I make the big baby sad?" she cooed, her voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness.

Paige rolled her eyes, trying to hide the small smile threatening to break through. "Stop," she muttered, though the lighthearted teasing was clearly exactly what she needed.

Azzi grinned, enjoying the little back-and-forth, and leaned back into the bed, her eyes softening as she watched Paige. "Okay, okay. I'll stop for now," she said, giving Paige a break from the teasing, though she was clearly pleased to see the faint smile tugging at the older girl's lips.

A while later, the two of them had settled into a comfortable silence. Paige, however, found herself looking at Azzi once again, unable to stop the way her thoughts seemed to linger on her. Azzi noticed, her eyes glancing toward Paige before raising an eyebrow.

"What?" Azzi asked, a teasing edge to her voice.

Paige’s ears flushed pink, and she quickly looked down, feeling the warmth of embarrassment flood through her. "Nothing," she murmured, avoiding Azzi’s gaze. "Just thinking."

Azzi’s curiosity piqued, and she leaned in slightly, her tone soft but insistent. "About what?"

Paige didn’t immediately respond, just shook her head with a light laugh, trying to dismiss the moment. "Nothing," she repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Really."

Azzi studied her for a moment, a smile forming as she relaxed back into the bed. "Alright, keep your secrets weirdo," she teased.

Paige couldn’t help but steal a few more glances at Azzi here and there, her gaze drifting over her without meaning to. Azzi definitely noticed, but she didn’t comment, merely raising an eyebrow at Paige the few times their eyes met. Paige quickly looked away, her heart beating a little faster each time Azzi caught her staring.

She didn’t know when it started—this acute awareness of Azzi, these small details she found herself noticing more and more. Small details that shouldn’t really matter to. Her dimples when she smiled, how her laugh made Paige feel lighter just hearing it, the way Paige couldn’t help but enjoy seeing Azzi’s smile and her brown eyes light up, like they somehow brightened the entire room, how Paige just always wanted Azzi around. Maybe it had started during all the late nights in the gym or maybe it was when Azzi would drag Paige to get a “sweet treat” despite the blonde grumbling everytime. All Paige knew was she liked having Azzi around a lot more than she would admit to anyone else.

December 2021 - DMV

Paige sat on her bed in the quiet of her room, the only sound being the occasional click of her phone screen as she scrolled through her social media absentmindedly. She was struggling a bit because she missed Azzi more than she wanted to admit. Despite talking every day since they left UConn for the break, the physical distance between them made the days feel longer.

She glanced at the clock. It was still early, but she couldn't stand the silence any longer. She reached for her phone and opened FaceTime, her thumb immediately hitting the call button. She leaned back against her pillows, the soft hum of her thoughts swirling in the background, waiting for Azzi to pick up.

The call rang twice before Azzi's familiar face appeared on the screen, her expression laced with that playful, sarcastic grin Paige had come to like a little too much. "Wow you almost made it to a reasonable hour before bothering me today. Bored already?" Azzi teased, raising an eyebrow.

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. "What you doing?" she asked, shifting slightly on her bed to get comfortable.

Azzi panned the camera down, revealing she was lounging in bed, a pile of blankets surrounding her. "Nothing," she said casually, her voice lazy. "Just enjoying the quiet."

"Hm," Paige hummed. "What you doing today?"

Azzi’s eyes glinted with mischief. "Aww, does Paigey miss me?" she teased, her lips curving into that knowing smirk. "You’re all about me now, huh?"

Paige groaned, rolling her eyes again. "No, I’m just bored. That’s all. I’m literally stuck here with nothing to do because I can’t drive."

Azzi chuckled softly, then raised her eyebrows as if she had an idea. "Well, I’m going to a kickback with some friends from high school later. You should come with me."

Paige paused, the offer hanging in the air for a moment. She didn’t know anyone from Azzi’s high school, and she was still recovering from her surgery a week and a half ago, which made her hesitate even more. She bit her lip. "I don’t know, you know I just had surgery. And I don't really know anyone there. They probably hate me for whooping your ass all the time anyway."

Azzi rolled her eyes at the last comment before her face softened into a reassuring smile Paige had grown to be comforted by. "It’s gonna be chill, I promise. Plus you don’t gotta worry about your knee. I’ll be with you the whole time. You know I got you."

Paige’s heart fluttered at the thought of spending time with Azzi, even though she was still a little unsure. The idea of being around a bunch of strangers didn’t sound all that appealing, but the thought of being by Azzi’s side made everything feel a little more manageable.

"I don’t know..." Paige started again, but Azzi interrupted her with a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Come on," Azzi coaxed, her voice playful. "Don’t be boring. I’ll take care of you I swear. And if you’re worried about the knee, I’ll literally carry you if I have to."

Paige laughed, shaking her head, though she could already feel the excitement building despite her reluctance. "Alright, fine. I’ll come. But I’m not doing anything but sitting down."

Azzi’s eyes widened, feigning surprise. "Oh, you’re so gonna dance. I’m dragging you on that floor with your stiff knee whether you like it or not."

Paige groaned, though there was a smile on her face now. "Yeah, we’ll see about that."

Azzi’s grin softened, the playfulness replaced with something warmer. "You’re coming, and that’s all that matters. I’ll make sure you’re good the whole time. Nothing you can’t handle."

Paige felt the butterflies stir in her chest as she met Azzi’s gaze through the screen. "Alright, I’m in. But if I get too tired, you’re carrying me out of there."

Azzi laughed, her eyes lighting up with amusement. "Deal. But don’t think I won’t drop you if you start complaining too much."

Paige grinned. "You’re so kind to me. Really."

"Only because you’re special," Azzi teased with a smirk

Much later the conversation had gone on longer than either of them had planned, but it felt impossible to hang up. Even now, with their plans for the night set, neither seemed ready to end the call.

Glancing at the time on her screen, she groaned softly. "Alright, I really need to eat and get ready before I’m late picking you up. My phone’s about to die, and you can’t watch the magic happen."

Paige raised a brow, leaning closer to the camera as if challenging her. "Magic? Azzi, I see you every day. What could possibly be so—"

"Uh-uh," Azzi cut her off, wagging a finger at her through the screen. "This is party-ready Azzi, Paige. Not practice Azzi. There’s a difference, and I’m not giving you a sneak peek."

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her grin. "You act like I’m going to be taking notes or something."

Azzi tilted her head, a sly smile spreading across her lips. "You might. Gotta keep some mystery alive, Paigey."

Paige let out a laugh, shaking her head. "Fine, fine. Go charge your phone. Leave me here. Alone. Abandoned."

Azzi grinned, leaning closer to the screen for a moment before softly saying, "You’ll survive. I’ll call you back when I’m on my way."

And just like that, the call ended, leaving Paige staring at her reflection in the now-blank screen. She let out a long sigh before tossing her phone onto the bed beside her.

…

Azzi pulled up outside Paige’s house, her headlights cutting through the early evening darkness. She grabbed her phone and shot Paige a quick text: I’m here. A few minutes later, Paige stepped out, in a hoodie, her crutches tucked under her arms. Azzi hopped out to help, her lips quirking into a teasing smile as she opened the car door for Paige.

“You know, I’m not helpless,” Paige muttered as she settled into the passenger seat.

Azzi smirked as she slid back into the driver’s seat. “I know. But it’s fun watching you try to act tough.”

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at her lips.

The car ride was casual at first, filled with light chatter. Azzi talked about her old teammates and how she wasn’t sure who’d actually show up tonight. Paige mostly listened, her responses short but warm.

After a while, the conversation lulled, and Paige found herself sneaking glances at Azzi. The way the dim light from the dashboard highlighted Azzi’s features—her sharp jawline, the curve of her lips, the casual way her hand rested on the steering wheel—it was almost unfair.

Azzi caught her once, her eyes flicking over for a moment before she stopped talking and smiled. “What?”

Paige’s ears turned pink, and she looked out the window. “Nothing. Just… listening.”

“Hmm.” Azzi’s hum was teasing, but she didn’t push it, much to Paige’s relief—and frustration.

When they arrived, Azzi helped Paige out of the car, steadying her for a second as she adjusted her crutches. They walked inside together, the hum of chatter and music growing louder as they stepped into the living room. A few heads turned, and someone called out Azzi’s name.

“Azzi!” one of her old friends greeted her, pulling her into a quick hug. “Yo nice to see you. You want a drink?”

Azzi shook her head. “Nah, I’m driving. Thanks, though.”

The guy turned to Paige, his eyebrows lifting slightly in recognition. “What about you?”

Paige shook her head. “No, I’m good.”

Azzi led Paige to a couch where a few of her former teammates were sitting. They greeted her warmly, the conversation flowing easily as they caught up. Paige mostly stayed quiet. She chimed in here and there when prompted, but for the most part, she sat back, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her hoodie.

Azzi noticed and leaned closer, her voice soft so only Paige could hear. “You good?”

Paige nodded, glancing at her. “Yeah, you know me. Not the most chatty if I don’t know them.”

Azzi smiled, her voice taking on a light teasing tone. “Mmm ok. I’ll make sure I keep you company then.”

The quiet exchange helped Paige relax a little, and soon the two of them were chatting quietly, their heads close together so no one else could hear. Azzi leaned back on the couch, her arm draped casually over the backrest, while Paige leaned in slightly, her knee bouncing as they talked.

At some point, Azzi stood. “I’ll grab us some water, you look parched.”

Paige nodded, watching as Azzi disappeared into the kitchen. For a moment, she was content to sit alone, scrolling idly through her phone. But it didn’t take long for people to notice she wasn’t occupied anymore.

It started with one or two people approaching her hesitantly asking for pictures, but within a few minutes, a small crowd had gathered around her. Paige smiled politely, answering their questions and posing for pictures, though her knee started to ache from standing without her crutches that Azzi had propped up on the wall.

After talking to someone in the kitchen for a bit Azzi returned to the living room, holding two bottles of water, only to pause when she saw the scene. A smirk tugged at her lips as she leaned against the doorway, watching for a moment. Of course, she should’ve known this would happen.

Still, Azzi’s smirk faded slightly when she noticed the tightness in Paige’s smile, the way her weight was shifted entirely to her right knee.

Azzi shook her head and made her way over, weaving easily through the people standing near Paige. “Alright, alright,” she said, her voice cutting through the chatter in a playful way to not draw too much attention. “Give her some room, y’all. She’s gotta rest that superstar knee.”

The crowd dispersed almost immediately, some people backing away sheepishly while others gave her a grin, clearly recognizing her from school as well. Paige glanced at her, relief flashing in her eyes as Azzi handed her one of the bottles.

“Sit,” Azzi said firmly but gently, her hand brushing Paige’s shoulder as she guided her back to the couch.

Paige exhaled as she sank back down, her fingers wrapping around the bottle. “Thanks,” she murmured, glancing sideways at Azzi.

Azzi dropped down beside her, leaning back casually. “No problem. You’re the one who decided to be famous, though,” she teased, earning a soft laugh from Paige.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t sign up for this part,” Paige muttered, though her tone was light.

Azzi chuckled, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Welcome to the life, Bueckers.

As the crowd thinned out around them, Paige and Azzi settled back into their own bubble of conversation. Paige leaned back against the couch, her bottle of water balanced on her knee. Azzi, ever relaxed, stretched out beside her, one arm resting along the back of the couch.

“So,” Azzi said, her voice soft but teasing, “you having fun yet?”

Paige smiled faintly, glancing at her. “I guess. It’s... different.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Different good or different bad?”

“Good,” Paige replied quickly, then hesitated before adding, “Probably because I’m here with you. If it was anyone else I would be miserable.”

Azzi froze mid-sip of her water, her eyebrow arching higher as she set the bottle down. “Wait a second,” she said, her tone dripping with playful suspicion. “Are you trying to flirt with me, Paige?”

Paige’s eyes widened slightly at the accusation, her ears turned red as she stumbled over her words. “No! I—I was just saying—”

Azzi leaned closer, giving her an amused, knowing look. “Mhm. Sure you were.”

Paige groaned, looking away to hide her flustered expression. “I wasn’t,” she mumbled, though her voice lacked conviction.

Azzi let it go—for now—but the teasing smile never left her lips as she leaned back, clearly picking up on Paige’s reaction.

A little while later though Azzi knew she wasn’t making things up in her head.

One of Azzi’s friends walked by, their arm brushing against Azzi’s as they held a drink, and in the process, the liquid sloshed over the edge, spilling onto Azzi’s shirt.

“Dude you’re drunk!” Azzi exclaimed with a laugh, pulling her shirt away from her skin as it stuck to her chest uncomfortably.

“Sorry!” her friend called back, but Azzi just waved it off.

Paige, however, couldn’t help but glance down. The damp fabric clung to Azzi’s chest, highlighting the curves beneath. She quickly looked away, but it was too late. Azzi had caught her.

Azzi didn’t say anything at first, but her eyes glinted with something as she grabbed a napkin to dab at the spill. After a moment, she set the napkin down and turned toward Paige, her movements a little slow.

“What were you looking at Paige?” Azzi asked, her voice low and teasing as she leaned in slightly

“Nothing!” Paige said quickly, though her voice cracked slightly, betraying her.

Azzi smirked, inching closer until Paige instinctively leaned back against the wall, Azzi made her stand by in the name of getting her knee used to standing. Azzi placed a hand on the table beside Paige, her other hand reaching up to twirl a strand of Paige’s hair around her finger.

“Hmm,” Azzi mused, tilting her head as she studied Paige’s flustered expression. “You sure? Because it kinda looked like you were... distracted.”

Paige swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “I wasn’t.”

Azzi’s smirk deepened as she fluttered her eyelashes, leaning just a fraction closer. “Paigey...” she whispered, her voice almost a purr. “Do you have a crush on me?”

The words sent a jolt through Paige, and she found herself nodding before she could think, her brain short-circuiting under Azzi’s gaze.

Azzi blinked, momentarily surprised by the response, but then her expression softened into something almost unreadable. Her hand stilled in Paige’s hair, her thumb brushing against the strand lightly before she pulled back with a smile.

“Well,” Azzi said softly, her voice carrying a mix of amusement and something else Paige couldn’t quite place. “Good to know.”

Paige stared at her, still trying to process what had just happened, as Azzi settled back into her seat on the couch, acting like nothing had happened. But the glint in her eyes and the slight curve of her lips said otherwise.

Azzi kept her teasing smile as she leaned back into the couch, picking up her drink and taking a casual sip. Paige, still frozen against the wall, tried to compose herself.

“So,” Azzi said after a moment, glancing sideways at Paige, “what’s going on in that head of yours, huh?”

Paige forced a laugh, her voice slightly shaky. “Nothing. Just... thinking about how weird this party is.”

Azzi smirked, clearly not buying it, but she let it slide. “Weird, huh? I don’t know—seems pretty normal to me.” She raised an eyebrow, her tone playful. “Or are you just feeling weird because I called you out?”

Paige groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Azzi, please. Don’t start.”

Azzi chuckled. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

Before Paige could respond, someone called Azzi over to the kitchen. She excused herself, leaving Paige to sit there, her thoughts swirling.

When Azzi returned a few minutes later, she plopped back down beside Paige with two more fresh waters. “Here,” she said, handing one to Paige.

“Thanks,” Paige muttered, her cheeks still faintly pink.

Azzi grinned as she twisted the cap off her own bottle. “You’re welcome. You good now, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

Paige glared at her, but there was no heat behind it. “You’re the worst.”

“Nah,” Azzi said, leaning back lazily and tossing her arm along the back of the couch, close enough that her hand brushed Paige’s shoulder. “Apparently you like me too much to think that.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched, betraying the smile she was trying to suppress.

As the night went on, the two of them fell into their usual rhythm of casual conversation as if nothing happened. Paige occasionally chimed in when Azzi’s friends asked her a question, but for the most part, she stayed content in her role as an observer.

It wasn’t until they were heading home that Azzi brought it up again.

The car ride was quiet, the hum of the engine and SZA playing quietly in the background filling the space between them. Paige stared out the window, her knee bouncing slightly in a restless rhythm.

“You’re awfully quiet for someone who talks so much,” Azzi said, breaking the silence.

Paige glanced at her, her fingers tightening slightly around her phone she was holding. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi replied, her tone dripping with skepticism.

Paige shifted, trying to focus on the passing streetlights. But then Azzi glanced over at her, catching the faint way Paige’s eyes flickered toward her hands on the steering wheel.

“You keep looking at me,” Azzi said suddenly, a sly grin tugging at her lips.

“I am not!” Paige said, her voice shooting up an octave as her ears turned red.

Azzi laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “It’s okay, you know. I don’t mind. I actually kinda like it.”

Paige groaned, sinking into her seat. “Can we not do this right now?”

Azzi shrugged, her grin never faltering. “Fine. I’ll save it for later.”

Paige sighed, but her lips twitched despite herself hanging on to the way Azzi said she liked it. She glanced at Azzi again out of the corner of her eye, noticing the way the passing streetlights highlighted her profile—her relaxed grip on the wheel, the faint smirk tugging at her lips, the calm confidence she always seemed to carry now.

Deciding to be a little bold and before she could second-guess herself, Paige blurted, “You looked really good tonight.”

Azzi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and for a moment, the car was silent except for the hum of the music. She glanced at Paige briefly, her expression unreadable, before a small smile curved her lips.

“Thank you Paige,” Azzi said softly, her voice quieter than usual.

Paige’s ears burned, and she quickly turned her gaze back to the window, biting back a nervous laugh. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head.”

Azzi chuckled, the warm sound filling the space between them. “Too late.”

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, but Paige couldn’t shake the small, knowing smile Azzi wore the rest of the way home.

As they pulled into Paige’s driveway, Azzi shifted the car into park. She glanced at Paige, her earlier teasing replaced by a softer expression. “Well, here you are, safe and sound.”

Paige hesitated, fiddling with her seatbelt. “Do you, um… do you want to stay over? It’s late, and I’d rather you not drive home alone.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her gaze. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Paige rolled her eyes, already pushing the door open. “Azzi, just come in. It’s not a big deal.”

Azzi chuckled softly, unbuckling her seatbelt and following Paige to the door.

When they stepped inside, the faint sound of video game explosions filled the living room. Drew, was sprawled on the couch, controller in hand, his eyes glued to the screen.

Paige sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “Yo what are you still doing up?”

Drew jumped up, his boundless energy kicking in as soon as he noticed her. “Paige!” he exclaimed, jumping toward her before his attention shifted to Azzi. His eyes widened slightly, and he hurried to put the controller down, becoming more calm.

“I’m Drew,” he said confidently, holding out his hand like a little gentleman.

Azzi smiled, shaking his hand. “Azzi. Nice to meet you.”

Drew grinned up at her, his voice brimming with admiration. “You’re really pretty.”

Azzi laughed softly, her gaze flicking to Paige. “That seems to be a thing for the Bueckers family tonight.”

Paige groaned, already starting to head toward the stairs, albeit slowly due to her knee. “Oh my god, Drew, go to bed,” she called over her shoulder.

Azzi followed behind her, suppressing a grin as Drew called after them. “Goodnight, Azzi!”

Azzi’s laughter echoed softly as they climbed the stairs, and Paige shook her head, muttering, “I don’t know where he gets it from.”

When they reached Paige’s room, she pushed the door open and gestured for Azzi to come in. “You can hang out in here for a sec I’ll grab you something to drink.”

Azzi stepped inside, taking in the trophies, photos, and basketball memorabilia that decorated the space. “Nice room,” she said, settling onto the edge of Paige’s bed.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Paige teased, disappearing to the kitchen.

Azzi leaned back slightly, her gaze lingering on the doorway where Paige had just disappeared. Her smile softened, and she shook her head, amused at how easily the night had taken such an unexpected—yet intriguing—turn. Anyone with eyes could see that Paige was attractive but Azzi never let thoughts linger too much of anything beyond that. But now Azzi sat there thinking about her and Paige’s dynamic, it definitely wasn’t lost on Azzi how much time they had spent together. How Paige was able to get her out of the bed at all hours of the night with just a FaceTime call. How easily they had fallen into each other's orbit after breaking past the tension they once had.

When Paige returned to her room, she found Azzi standing by her shelf, studying a framed photo of Paige with her teammates. “You were tiny in this,” Azzi commented with a small smile, glancing over her shoulder.

Paige set the drink down on her nightstand, rolling her eyes as she started undoing her bulky metal knee brace. “I wasn’t that small. You were just as scrawny back then.”

Azzi smirked, turning to face her fully. “Yeah, but now I’ve got muscles. You’re still trying to catch up.”

“Whatever,” Paige shot back with a grin, adjusting her leg with a slight wince as she set the brace aside. She got up and moved to her dresser, rummaging through the drawers until she found a soft hoodie and a pair of shorts. “Here,” she said, holding them out to Azzi. “I already put a toothbrush for you in the bathroom.”

Azzi walked over, taking her time as she crossed the room. When she reached for the clothes, her fingers deliberately brushed against Paige’s. The subtle touch lingered just a second too long, and when Paige glanced up, Azzi’s eyes were unreadable but warm.

“Thanks,” Azzi said, her voice light but carrying a hint of something Paige couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” Paige mumbled, quickly stepping back as if the proximity was suddenly overwhelming.

Azzi’s lips curved into a faint smirk, and without another word, she turned and headed for the bathroom. Paige watched her go, her stomach twisting in a way that was both confusing and exciting.

The soft click of the bathroom door brought Paige back to reality, and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She flopped onto her bed, pressing her hands over her face as her mind replayed the look in Azzi’s eyes

When Azzi emerged from the bathroom, the sound of her footsteps was soft but enough to draw Paige's attention. Glancing up from her phone, Paige’s eyes immediately caught on Azzi’s figure as she crossed the room. The oversized hoodie hung loosely on Azzi’s frame, her toned legs visible beneath the hem of her shorts. Her damp curly hair tumbled around her shoulders in an effortless way that made her look almost ethereal.

Paige gulped, quickly averting her gaze before she got caught staring. She swung her knee over the edge of the bed slowly and stood, grabbing her clothes. "I’m gonna hop in the shower now," she said, her voice sounding a little too rushed. "Be right back."

Azzi, who was checking her phone, gave a nonchalant hum of acknowledgment. "Take your time. Don’t hurt yourself, though."

Paige shot her a playful glare. "I’m not that helpless, you know."

Azzi smirked, not looking up. "Sure, you’re not."

With that, Paige escaped into the bathroom, closing the door and letting out a long breath she didn’t know she was holding. What is wrong with me? she thought as she set her clothes down and began the careful process of getting in the shower.

The shower helped clear her head, but it took longer than she anticipated with her knee, which was stiff from the day. By the time she emerged, dressed in her own oversized hoodie and shorts, her hair still damp, she felt a little more composed. That composure, however, faltered the moment she stepped into the room.

Azzi was laid out on Paige’s bed, her hair in curls sprawled everywhere as she scrolled through her phone. She looked entirely too comfortable, her body stretched out and her face lit by the soft glow of the screen.

Paige froze for a moment, her stomach fluttering. Something about seeing Azzi so relaxed in her space made her heart skip a beat. "You look a little too at home," Paige teased, trying to cover the nervousness in her voice.

Azzi turned her head, a slow grin spreading across her face. "You’re the one who invited me in. What did you expect?"

Paige scoffed, moving toward the bed with her hands tucked into the pocket of her hoodie. "Just don’t hog all the pillows," she muttered, sinking down onto the mattress.

Azzi let out a soft laugh, her eyes glinting with amusement. "No promises. You know I sleep a little crazy sometimes."

Paige rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she settled against the headboard. Despite the teasing, the air between them was warm, and Paige found herself relaxing, even if the butterflies in her stomach were stubbornly refusing to settle.

Azzi’s gaze flicked down to Paige’s leg, the faint furrow of concern returning. "Hey," she said, her voice softer now. "Before we knock out, let’s switch spots. You should be on the inside, where your knee’s by the wall."

Paige blinked at her. "I’m fine, Azzi. You don’t have to—"

"Humor me," Azzi interrupted, sitting up and giving her an expectant look. "I’d rather not accidentally knee you in the middle of the night."

Paige hesitated for a moment before sighing dramatically. "Fine. But if I wake up smooshed against the wall, I’m blaming you."

Azzi grinned, already shifting so Paige could scoot over. As Paige moved, Azzi reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a cozy darkness. The faint light from the street outside filtered through the blinds, casting soft patterns on the walls as the two of them settled into place.

It was quiet for a moment, the only sound was the faint rustling of blankets as they got comfortable. The tension was noticeable, though not unpleasant. This was different from the other times they’d ended up in the same bed—those moments had been accidental, born of exhaustion or laziness. The two of them falling asleep watching a movie or Azzi throwing a pillow at Paige in the middle of the night after the blonde fell asleep on Azzi’s beanbag telling her to get in the bed. But now, they were both wide awake, fully aware of each other’s presence in the shared space.

Paige lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Azzi beside her. She could feel the faint warmth of Azzi’s arm, just inches from her own, and it took everything in her not to glance over.

"Well, this isn’t awkward at all," Azzi said suddenly, her soft chuckle breaking the silence.

Paige turned her head, giving her a mock glare. "You saying that made it awkward."

Azzi smirked, rolling her eyes. "No, it didn’t. I was just stating a fact."

"It was fine until you opened your mouth," Paige teased, her voice light but edged with humor.

"Okay, so if I stop talking, we’ll be back to normal?" Azzi challenged, her tone playful as she shifted onto her side to face Paige.

Paige’s lips twitched upward. "I don’t know. I feel like the damage is already done."

"Wow," Azzi said dramatically. "Way to make me feel self-conscious."

"Good," Paige shot back, smiling now.

Azzi shook her head, grinning as she propped her head up on her hand. Her dark eyes studied Paige for a moment before she asked, "So, was today exhausting for you? Or are you secretly a robot and just pretending to be tired?"

Paige laughed softly, glancing at the ceiling. "No, it was exhausting. My knee’s sore from all the moving around, and my social battery is completely drained."

Azzi’s brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering across her face. "Your knee’s sore? Why didn’t you say anything?"

Paige shrugged. "It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ve had worse days."

Azzi hummed, not entirely convinced but letting it slide. Her gaze lingered on Paige’s face as the faint light from the window shifted, casting a soft glow that made the blue in Paige’s eyes seem impossibly bright.

For a moment, Azzi found herself captivated, the vivid color catching her off guard. It reminded her of the sky after a storm, a striking clarity that was hard to look away from.

"You’re really pretty, Paige," Azzi murmured, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.

Paige turned her head fully toward Azzi, her cheeks flushing slightly. A shy smile crept onto her lips as she whispered back, "You’re really pretty too, Azzi."

Azzi’s heart skipped at Paige’s response, the quiet sincerity in her voice making the moment feel heavier in the best way. Neither of them looked away, the stillness between them now filled with an unspoken understanding.

"Do your eyes always look like that?" Azzi asked softly, almost to herself.

Paige blinked, confused. "Like what?"

"That blue," Azzi said, her voice barely above a whisper. "They seem…different."

Paige’s blush deepened, and she bit her bottom lip to hide her growing smile. "I guess… I don’t know they’re just eyes, Azzi." Paige said, trying to hide just how much those words affected her.

"If you say so," Azzi said, the words so quiet they barely reached Paige’s ears.

The softness of Azzi’s tone settled over them like a blanket, and neither of them spoke again. Paige slowly turned onto her side to look at Azzi, her exhaustion catching up with her as her eyelids began to droop. Azzi stayed where she was, her gaze lingering on Paige’s relaxed features until she finally let herself sink into the quiet comfort of the moment, her eyes closing as she softly held Paige’s forearm.

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about Rin Itoshi with a partner who's an oldest sibling.

Well, he didn't even know you had a little sibling at first, since that topic never popped up in your conversations (actually, he probably avoided the topic family altogether). It just happened to slip up during an outing at the mall. You both just passed through a shop you knew your sibling liked, which made you remember their birthday was coming up. So, you grasped the opportunity to buy their gift beforehand to prevent you from forgetting it like you did last year and making your family member mad (again).

"Rinnie, let's stop here!"

"Huh? Why? I don't remember you mentioning you liked this shop before"

"It's not for me silly! It's for my lil sibling!"

"....you have a younger sibling?"

"Yeah!"

"And you buy them gifts?"

"...you don't buy your sibling presents?" (Of course, you didn't know about what happened between him and Sae and their strained relationship at the time)

"...no"

He looked really uncomfortable, so you just left it at that. You knew he would tell you eventually when he finally felt like he trusted you enough.

After that, Rin actually got pretty curious about you and your sibling. How was your relationship with eachother? Do you treat them well? (he knows you do, but the trauma he got when Sae left still haunts him to this day) Do they treat you well? (He hopes they do, because he won't take it lightly if they don't). Sadly, he couldn't go to their birthday becsuse he was playing abroad, but you gushed about the party while in call with him, talking about how "Your little baby was growing too fast" and how "You weren't ready for that". So, that answered (a part of) his questions: your relationship was just great. Amazing, even. And that only made him more curious and more anxious to meet them.

The opportunity to actually meet your sibling presents itself in an unsuspected night. It was one of Rin's rare day offs, which you both usually spend cuddling in the couch, eating tons of chocolate (actually it was you eating chocolate and him watching, because he had to follow a strict diet. More for you, I guess!) and watching some horrible horror movies that had such bad script, acting and special effects that they looked more like comedy movies.

You were finishing the popcorn when you heard the doorbell ringing. Since your hands were full, you asked Rin to open the door.

"Rinrin, sweetheart, could you please open the door? I'm busy with the popcorn right now!"

Without saying a word, Rin got up from the couch (where he was picking the movie for the night) and went straight to the door, wondering who could it be. Maybe you ordered take out. Maybe it was that sweet old lady that lived next door offering brownies again. Maybe a scout selling cookies. It could also be--

Oh.

He was NOT expecting this.

"...I think you got the wrong house" The striker said after opening the door and finding a teenager, probably not a lot younger that him (5 years at most). They were crying badly, with snot running down their nose and looking absolutely devastated.

"So, who is it--" you said, blissfully unaware that someone was having a breakdown at your front door. However, when you finally got to the door and saw who was there, you quickly put your hands over your mouth, muttering your sibling's name with a worried "Oh dear! What happened?" following right after.

You quickly ushered your sibling inside, told them to sit at the couch and went into the kitchen to make them some tea to help them calm down, not knowing Rin was right behind you ever since you closed the door, wondering "Who the hell is this person?", but not quite knowing how to ask.

"You're probably wondering who they are". There you were. Always knowing what he wants without him even needing to utter a word. That was probably one of the reasons your relationship worked so well, Rin thought.

"Yeah"

"They're my little sibling, the one I went to that birthday party last month"

"...ah."

"I don't know why they're crying tho. I hope I can figure it out."

"I'm sure you can"

"C'mon, let's go to couch. They're waiting there" You said, holding the tea in your hands. But, before you both got out at the kitchen, you stopped and turned to him with a smile "Actually, could you please grab some napkins at the bathroom stall? I'm sure I'll need some"

"Sure, no problem"

Then, you both parted ways. While Rin was searching for the damn napkins that Itoshi was sure were actually straight up hiding from him, only your sibling's sniffs and your soothing words filled the house. He gradually heard the crying disappearing though, so you must have done a very good job at comforting your family member.

Rin must have spent a long time searching for the napkins, because at the time he finally got to the living room, he could no longer hear sniffs or hushed whispers.

"Honey? I found the napkins." He said while getting closer to the couch.

When he did get to where you were, he understood why he wasn't hearing anything anymore. No wonder the sniffs disappeared: you and your sibling were both sleeping, with their head in your lap and your hand in their hair, as though you were passing your hand through their locks to soothe the pain they were feeling. You both had calm expressions on your faces (well, as calm as a face of a person who probably spent more than 1 hour crying could be) and the cup of tea sat empty in the table beside the armchair.

"Oh."

Rin looked at the scene in front of him with a sad sparkle in his eyes, wondering how his life would be if Sae was a sibling like you in the past: a caring brother, that wouldn't call him lukewarm and wouldn't say he makes him wanna vomit.

Shaking this thoughts out of his mind since they were going to make him more harm than good and it was no use thinking about Sae now, Rin grabbed the blanket you both use during movie nights and threw it over you and your sibling, looking at the scene one last time before heading towards your shared bedroom, your movie night long forgotten. He wasn't sad though, because what happened today made him be sure of something:

You were the perfect match for him, and he would be damned if he let you go.

A/n: Did this based on me and my little brother's relationship. His birthday was yesterday, so I got creative. A great idea, not so great execution. Wish I could've done a better job on my Rin debut fic, sorry Rin 😔

Masterlist

[hard-core-super-star]

i'll be home for christmas [K.Bishop]

pairing: top!kate bishop x bottom!reader

summary: even though you wake up alone on christmas day, kate finds a way to make it up to you the only way she knows how.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> kate is technically the top but also very needy; very brief daddy kink; vibrator use; some grinding; fingering {R receiving}; lots of praise; went crazy with the dirty talk, my bad; slight overstimulation; AFTERCARE; NOT proofread 😅

wordcount: 2.4k

a/n: would it really be a rubix fic if it wasn’t posted far later than originally planned? the answer is, sadly, no. christmas time always reminds me of kate so of course, i had to write a little something before the year ended. this fic does technically take place on christmas but shhh, i’m only…five days late 😭 anyway, I already have my first fic of the new year planned out and i can’t wait to share it with you all. i don’t want to get too sappy here but, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for all the support this year. you have no idea how much it means to me. anyway, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

As much as you loved Kate's unrelenting devotion to her job, you absolutely hated how consistently she had to leave you. Especially during the holidays.

Sure, it wasn't the end of the world, you could survive a few weeks without the archer, but it didn't mean it wasn't difficult. Although maybe that was your fault for watching so many silly romcoms. In your defense, Yelena had never seen most of them, and you couldn't pass up the opportunity to watch her completely berate the stupid men in said movies.

Spending time with the Russian was entertaining, especially when she took you to the Rockefeller Center just to tell you how dumb your girlfriend was when they fought there, but it wasn't what you were craving. The freezing days and loud streets only served to make you miss Kate more than you thought possible. It wasn't even about the holiday, not really, it was simply about how much you hated being without her.

You understood why she preferred being away for most of December, though. Christmas and the weeks leading up to it hasn't been the same since her mom went to jail. What happened wasn't her fault, but that didn't stop her from feeling guilty. As difficult as it was, all you could do was let her work through things on her own. It wasn't your place to tell her how to feel about the situation.

That being said, it still sucked to wake up alone on Christmas morning. Kate was supposed to fly in before the 25th, but the mission got complicated, and she had to stay a few extra days. She'd gone silent after letting you know she'd have to stay a few extra days so you had no way of knowing when she'd be back.

So, even though it felt incredibly depressing, you made your peace with spending the day by yourself, lounging around in your girlfriend's clothes, eating junk food and watching silly movies.

It wasn't until the sun had started to set on what had been a pretty lonely day that you heard the sound of the front door opening.

In an instant, you jumped up quicker than Lucky, barely concealing your excitement as you rushed to the front door.

Standing there, looking exhausted yet handsome as ever, was your favorite archer.

"Kate!" You run right into her, causing her to drop her bags in order to wrap her arms around you. "You're back!"

The sound of her warm chuckle fills your ears as she picks you up. "I couldn't leave my favorite girl without her present."

You wrap your legs around her waist, even though she's more than capable of using her strength to carry you. "I thought it was the other way around."

"Oh, I'm not your present, baby," she says. "I got you something."

Her words shouldn't be surprising, considering how much she loves spoiling you and yet you find yourself gasping. "When did you even have time for that?"

Your reaction is exactly what she's looking for and you feel her smile against your skin as she presses a string of kisses to your temple. "A lady never tells."

"You're such a dork," you mutter, leaning forward to bury your face in her neck. It's mainly to hide your embarrassment, even after all this time you haven't gotten used to receiving so many gifts from her. It's also an excuse to be close to her. There's no denying how needy you are for her affection.

"I'm your dork, though."

Despite her words, nothing about her attitude screams dork right now. Sure, she's always a little dorky, but there's a particular fire in her gaze that you instantly recognize. One that makes your stomach fill with butterflies.

Without a word, Kate carries you to your shared bedroom, her hands roaming up and down your back and sending sparks of excitement wherever she touches. Her intentions are more than clear, but you pretend not to notice, instead indulging in the warmth of her embrace.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked what your present is, princess," she teases before sinking down onto the bed with you in her lap. "Do you not want to know?"

"I'm kind of busy," you reply with a teasing tone of your own.

The archer huffs, but before she can complain too much, you're attaching yourself to her skin. Her huff turns into a groan as you attack her neck with kisses and soft bites.

One of her hands drifts up to tangle in your hair, holding you against her while you continue your ministrations. "Someone's a little eager for some time with me, huh?" 

You know she's simply being a tease because she can, but she's just as desperate to be with you. Maybe even more, considering the way her hips can't seem to stay still. You can't lie, though, you love watching her slip into a more dominant personal, even if you both know she's way needier than you most days.

You're fine with pretending for the night. It'll be your Christmas gift for her.

"You've been gone for weeks, can you blame me?" You ask, a pout pulling at your lips.

The second she feels you pout against her neck, she tightens her grip on your hair and pulls your head back. You barely manage to suppress a whimper at the feeling. "No, I can't. I've left my good girl needy for far too long, haven't I?"

Even though you secretly crave her dominance, you can't stop yourself from pushing her buttons a little bit. It's far too fun.

"Are you gonna make it up to me..." You trail off with a rapidly growing smirk. "Daddy?"

"Fuck," she groans, her grip tightening on you for a few seconds. "You're the worst, y'know that?"

You shrug. "I thought I was your good girl."

"Good girls are patient, baby," she reminds you as her hands make their way to your waist once more. She gives you a teasing squeeze, her hips subtly grinding up against you. "And that's not you, is it?"

"You're one to talk," you reply with a scoff. "I can feel you trying to hump me."

The noise she makes this time is closer to a whine than anything else. There's something about the push and pull you have going on that drives you absolutely wild. As much as you want her to simply drop you onto the mattress and rail you until you're sobbing, you love this side of her. The one that so desperately wants to please you in any way you want.

"Oh, shut up. Just let me be in control...pretty please?"

Teasing her is tempting, but you're far too needy by now to keep the nonchalant act up.

"You're always in control..." You trail off, going right back to peppering kisses across her jaw. "...Daddy."

"That's what I like to hear, princess...do you want your present now?"

All you do is nod and before you know it, you're wrapped up in one of Kate's "brilliant" ideas. And wrapped up is a very literal way to put it.

 The real present, you quickly find out, is the set of purple lingerie now hugging your body. Her present, though, is tying you up with matching rope, pretending like the knots she makes are cute little ribbons. To top everything off, she pulls out your favorite vibrator, wordlessly turning it on and slipping it under the waistband of your new, lacy panties.

"You look so pretty like this, angel," Kate says, her eyes practically shining with glee as she watches you squirm for her. "My pretty little princess all tied up and perfect for me."

"Kate," you moan, your back arching almost subconsciously.

If she notices your slip, she doesn't comment on it. Instead, she reaches a hand out to soothe your squirming thighs. "Shhh, let me enjoy the view, baby. Just stay right there for me."

You watch with wide eyes as she takes her phone out, a breathtaking smirk on her face while she circles the bed, taking picture after picture of your vulnerable form. Knowing her phone is incredibly secure and fortified does little to quell the warmth that spreads along your face.

You know that's exactly why she does it. Because even though you'd never admit it, you love being on display for her. Showing her just how good you can be for her.

She takes her time, though. Watching as your hips buck more and more, as your legs shake with the effort of keeping yourself in place so the vibrator doesn't move away from your clit. As sweet as she is, she loves getting you like this.

"Katie, please," you whine once you can't take it anymore. As good as the vibrator feels, you need her. Need to feel her skin against yours and hear her voice in your ear as she makes you fall apart for her.

"I know, baby, it just feels so good, doesn't it?" Her words are soft but no less teasing. "You don't have to hold back, let me make you feel good."

She drops her phone before climbing onto the bed and crawling her way up to you. Her fingers trace a teasing path up your thighs before landing on the wet crotch of your panties.

"Such a messy girl," she mutters, more to herself than anything. "So wet for me."

You nod mindlessly, shifting your hips toward her. She takes the hint and presses her palm against the vibrator, making sure it's pressed right against your clit.

The sudden pressure makes you gasp and there's no way to stop your orgasm from crashing into you. If you had any thoughts left, you would feel embarrassed. Unfortunately, there's nothing but pleasure in both your body and mind, even as you cum far too quickly for your liking.

Kate doesn't seem to mind, though, considering the way her eyes eagerly drink up the sight of you. "Fuck, look at you, such a good girl for Daddy."

Her casual use of the title makes you gasp. Your walls clench desperately around pure air as she draws out more pleasure from you.

Even though a part of you wants to ask for a break, your body has other ideas. It's like you have no control over yourself or the way you keep bucking up into Kate's hand.

"Dirty girl." The archer chuckles as she leans down to press kisses to your neck. "I guess you're needier than I thought."

"Shut up-" You gasp, squirming underneath her in a shitty attempt to get closer to her.

Her hand sneaks inside your underwear just to turn the vibrator off and leave you shaking. "What was that? Is someone being a bit of a brat?"

The only response you can form is a whine. "Kate."

"Try again," she murmurs against your skin, her soft kisses turning into sharp nips.

Your squirming does little to quell the desperate flames your girlfriend has ignitied inside you. "Please, Daddy. I need more."

"Mmm, good girl. You sound so pretty when you beg for me."

She's technically going easy on you, but you can't tell if it's because you're needy or because she's needy. Either way, it doesn't seem to matter and, thankfully, the result is the same.

The result being her hand removing the vibrator and replacing it with her fingers.

Her touch is so soft it borders on teasing as she rubs slow circles on your swollen clit. You don't need much of a buildup after the strength of your last orgasm, but that doesn't seem to matter to her.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," she says, seemingly unaware of her torture. "How much I thought about you like this. Underneath me, making the prettiest noises for me."

"Don't tease."

Your slightly bratty tone seems to fly over her head. Or maybe she's just too excited to get her hands on you to really pay attention to your distate for her antics.

"I'm not," she replies. "I'm just taking my time."

You open your mouth to argue with her but she beats you to the punch by plunging two fingers into your tight heat. Your gasp gets buried by her loud groan and the sound has you clenching far too hard on her digits.

She feels it too because she drops the slightly infuriating, albeit extremely attractive, act and focuses her efforts on the thrust of her fingers. Her movements speed up, but she makes sure to stay close to you, peppering kisses on whatever part of your face she can reach.

The duality in her movements, the push and pull between her sweet side and her dominant side, has you plummeting toward the edge faster than you can even process.

Kate knows, she always seems to know, and she works you through the overwhelming sensations. Her pace doesn't let up, though, pushing you closer and closer to your release in the way only she can.

"Come on, baby, I can feel you clenching around me. Don't hold back, princess, cum for me."

Her words seem to be exactly the shove you need and before you know it, you're knee-deep in your second orgasm of the night. The pleasure quickly becomes overwhelming, though, and you trash around slightly, wanting to soak in the aftermath wiithout any extra stimulation.

For all her teasing and impatience, the archer is right there when she notices how sensitive you become.

"Shhh, hey, breathe for me, you're okay, princess. Everything's okay."

Her fingers make quick work of the rope tying you down and before you know it, your positions are flipped. She lifts you into her arms, carefully placing you on top of her and allowing you time to ground yourself, even as you still tremble with the aftershocks of so much pleasure.

It takes a little while for the ringing in your ears to fade, and even longer for your limbs to stop feeling like jelly, but Kate doesn't seem to mind. She simply holds you close, her arms wrapped snuggly around your waist.

"Kate," you mumble as you shift until your head is comfortably resting on her shoulder.

"Hey you, welcome back," she says, her voice like a warm caress. "How're you feeling?"

"Mmmm, sleepy."

"Yeah, I can tell." She chuckles. "Does this mean you liked your gift?"

"I loved it," you correct her. "And I love you."

"I love you more, y/n."

This time, you don't have the strength to correct her. Instead, you simply soak up the feeling of being in her arms again. 

[tetzoro]

MSBY BUSINESS — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. kuroo tetsuro !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : kuroo goes out with the guys to give them his proposal.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : f!reader, alcohol mention, kuroo is tipsy + silly , fluff ! — WC : 2.6k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : the next installment for the all star project ! just something fun and silly hehe enjoy ! dividers by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

ᯓ★ masterlist

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

“hey sweetheart.” kuroo slurred into the phone. you could hardly suppress your giggle. he was still out with some of the guys from MSBY, trying to secure them as players for the all stars match.

“hi tetsu.” you smile, folding the last of the laundry away. kuroo had begged you to come with him tonight, but you figured the deal would go better if it was kept just between the guys. besides, you had your own stuff to do and drinking on a thursday night was not on your list.

“you sound so pretty.” he dramatically sighs into the phone, the noise so loud you pull it back from your ear for a second. whenever kuroo drank too much, he’d exaggerate everything, especially with you, behaving like a toddler who needs your undivided attention.

“thank you.” you walk towards the living room, debating if you should start getting ready to pick him up. “are the guys taking care of you?”

kuroo wasted no time in gathering the guys for tonight’s meeting, wanting to jump on the project as soon as possible. only a week or so after the proposal had been approved, he set up a time to talk to them. MSBY would have a big pull for this match, especially because they were centralized right here in tokyo. but getting the bulk of the olympic players was on the table, as well as a few stars who moved out of the country to follow their dreams in volleyball.

“yeah i guess they are.” he mumbled, bokuto shouting something in the background. “but i want you to come take care of me.”

“well-“ you start before you hear bokuto shouting some more at your boyfriend. kuroo yaps back at him, the two bickering as kuroo sets the phone down for a minute.

“fine!” kuroo scoffs. “bokuto says hi.”

“hi bokuto.” you laugh.

“no!” kuroo groans. “don’t pay attention to him, pay attention to me.”

“i am, don’t worry.” you coo softly. on that note, you decide to get him. “why don’t i come get you?”

“you’d pick me up?” he sounds surprised. 

“duh.” you roll your eyes, grabbing your coat and keys.

“guysss.” kuroos voice sounds further away from the phone. “my amazing girlfriend is coming to pick me up so i gotta go.”

“hold on, don’t go running off yet.” you laugh, “i’ll be there in 15.”

“okay, fine.” if you shut your eyes tight enough, you could practically see the pout on his face. “drive safe.”

after exchanging your goodbyes, or as kuroo insists — see you soon, you quickly get into the car and head over to where he said he was going to be for the night.

the drive over was seamless, city lights blurring past you as you made your way to him — your heart. music filled up the car, your favorite playlist spinning through the songs that you hold dearest to you.

pride swelled in your chest the closer you got to the bar. judging by the way kuroo’s voice sounded — and the fact he was drinking a smidge more than usual — tells you that maybe the deal went off without a hitch.

but who were you kidding, of course it did. kuroo was a man that would go after whatever he wanted, not stopping until he achieved it. and bokuto, atsumu and sakusa couldn’t pass up this opportunity even if they wanted to, their pride couldn’t handle it.

excitement fills you as you get to the parking lot, finding a suitable spot before heading inside. you couldn’t wait to hear how the night went, ready to hang on to every word kuroo told you.

as soon as you walk in, you hear a shout of your name. in a blink of an eye, bokuto is running towards you at full speed and your eyes widen as he sweeps you up off of the ground in a bone crushing hug. 

“it’s been so long!” bokuto roared, holding onto you as your arms are stuck by your side, unable to bring them up and properly hug him back.

“oi!” kuroo quickly zips towards you both, his brows furrowed as he makes his way over. “put my girlfriend down!”

“but-“ bokuto looks at you and deflates, reluctantly letting you down. 

“and it hasn’t been that long, you saw her 2 weeks ago.” kuroo slinked around a pouting bokuto and next to you, his face flushed as he presses his lips against your forehead, arm quickly wrapping around you. “hi sweetheart.”

“hi tetsu.” you beam up at him before looking back near bokuto as a flash of bleach blonde hair caught your eye. atsumu bounced over with sakusa shuffling behind. you exchanged greetings, kuroo wearing a proud smile as you did. 

“how are you guys getting home?” you asked, looking concerned at how atsumu was swaying side to side, the effects of alcohol clearing weighing on him. you whisper over to kuroo, “how much did you let him drink?”

“what? we were celebrating!” kuroo cheers, bokuto and atsumu enthusiastically agreeing.

“to answer your question, a lot. but then again miya can never hold his liquor.” sakusa sighs, ignoring atsumu making an offended noise of protest. “unfortunately, i’ll be the one driving them home.”

“good luck.” you offer him a sympathetic smile, your hand squeezing kuroo’s side. “i’ll take this one off your hands, though.”

“appreciate it.” sakusa nods. as much as he oozes annoyance around these two, you know better. the fond look in his eye tells you all you need to know about how he truly feels about his teammates.

“oh wait! i saw your interview with nagi.” atsumu speaks up, interested to hear more. “he didn’t give ya much to work with, did he?”

“he didn’t seem interested in talking about how they’re preparing for the next olympics.” you shrug, feeling kuroo’s gaze on your face. “some of them are more open to it than others but i guess we’ll find out with the rest of the world.”

“i wonder if they’ll do another blue lock project.” kuroo wonders outloud.

“y’know, i thought training camps were already fun enough but blue lock sounded like a paradise, i wish they did it for volleyball.” bokuto looks off into the distance, probably imagining how it would play out in his head.

“imagine if we got to do that before the last olympics? we definitely would’ve beaten oikawa.” atsumu joins in, looking off in the same direction. 

“did you guys actually read the interviews? it sounded like hell. sharing that space with people you hardly know for days on end, not seeing the sun—“ sakusa started. 

“alright, alright, i hear ya.” atsumu’s face morphs into a scowl, crossing his arms and looking like a dejected kitten.

sakusa gave him a smug look before side eyeing bokuto who started bobbing his head along to the music playing overhead at the establishment. “did you idiots forget that we have practice tomorrow?”

bokuto and atsumu freeze, clearly answering his question by the dumbfounded look on their faces.

“see?” atsumu practically screeches at sakusa, who only took a slight step back with the raise of his eyebrow. “i told ya kuroo was a con man! made us drink all this stuff just to get us in on whatever scam he’s trying to pull.”

“what?” bokuto’s eyes widened, turning to face kuroo. 

“hey, you guys were the one to order the sake bombs. plus, you already agreed to doing the match so,” kuroo said, a smirk lining his lips in victory. sakusa shook his head as atsumu kept babbling about how kuroo was going to take all their money next. 

“alright!” you bounce on your heels, taking this as your cue to go. “well, i’ll be taking him home now, goodnight guys.”

bokuto’s confused look melts into a frown, throwing you and kuroo into a hug before whispering to him, “i’d let you steal my money anytime kuroo.”

kuroo laughed loudly, atsumu looking on in horror as sakusa realized he could enjoy this little ploy on the way home, an evil glint in his eye as he looks at atsumu.

“goodnight guys.” you wave as they exchange their goodbyes. with your hand still wrapped around kuroo, you guide him towards the door. it’s a quick walk to the car, but kuroo starts walking towards the drivers seat. “just what do you think you’re doing?”

“opening the door for the most beautiful person in the world.” kuroo says, unlocking it and swinging it wide open with a soft expression. he was such a dope when he was tipsy. 

“thank you tets, but i think i’m the one that needs to help you get in the car, not the other way around.” you giggle, opening up the passenger seat. kuroo sighs in defeat and jogs over to his side. he gives you a kiss on the cheek before he slides into his seat.

“all buckled up and ready to go.” he nods with a little thumbs up. you close the door and make your way to the drivers seat, settling in before turning the car on, casting him a glance — eager eyes already set on you. 

“so, how’d it go?” you smile before putting the car in drive, getting on the road back to your shared apartment.

kuroo excitedly fills you in on everything. how he barely finished his proposal before bokuto was already signing everyone up. sakusa looking mildly interested at the prospect of ushijima showing up — asking if he joins that they play against each other. atsumu casted kuroo sketchy looks until the two drinks he had caught up with him, going on and on about how kuroo needs onigiri miya to work the event too if he really wants it to be a success.

and then the sake bombs came out. you’re not entirely too sure if kuroo is telling the truth when he says bokuto was the one who suggested it but you go along with his story anyway.

once he’s finished with his tale, the ecstatic buzz in the car settles and he’s quiet. you quickly look over to check on him and see him dozed off, head resting against the chilled window — the sign of a successful night you suppose.

after a bit, you stopped at a red light, having time to properly cast your glance over to kuroo, who was still peacefully snoozing. the color kisses his skin, waves of scarlet and maroon flowing over his features. the warm glow suited him, red was always his color.

only a few more turns and you made it back to the apartment, throwing the car in park and swiftly exiting the car to make your way to the other side.

“tetsu.” you whisper, crouching through the passenger door as soon as you open it, face close to kuroo’s as you prod him awake.

“hi baby.” he smiles, eyes still shut but he had the sweetest smile on his face. you couldn’t help but melt a little at the sight.

“come on mr. con man.” you giggle, tugging on his sleeve. “let’s get you to bed.”

“just let me sleep here.” he nestles deeper into the seat.

“you’d make me sleep inside all by my lonesome? wow…” you playfully sigh, feigning a step away. kuroo’s eyes bolt open, hand reaching out for your waist.

“never.” he smiles, getting up and haphazardly throwing his arm around you. “take me to bed, please.”

“well, since you asked so nicely.” you shake your head softly, overly fond of the man you’re half carrying into your apartment. 

“my savior.” he giggles, slightly tripping up the steps.

“you’re ridiculous.” you tease, smiling as you enter your shared space. “now get changed and go to bed.”

“im on it, boss.” he gives a lazy salute before stumbling into the bedroom. you shake your head with a smile, following him in there. 

the house was just as you left it an hour ago, the empty laundry basket still sitting on the bed. as kuroo undresses, you take the basket off, holding it as you watch him.

“don’t be a perv.” he teases, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders before unbuckling his belt and doing the same with his trousers.

“why not? you do it all the time.” you smirk back, holding the basket just a little higher. he gets the message, bundling his clothes from the day into a ball and tossing it toward the hamper.

it lands in perfectly.

“score!” he cheers, throwing his fist victoriously up in the air, pride shining over his features. “i still got it.”

“easy tiger.” you roll your eyes, as you put the basket down. “lets get you to bed, okay?”

“okay.” kuroo moves so he's behind you, arms wrapping around you tightly, ready to wobble over to your bed like a penguin. 

“i still need to change, tetsu.” you try to move but his hold on you is surprisingly strong for his current state.

“let me help then.” he purrs in your ear, pressing his lips against your ear. a shiver runs down your spine as his fingers run along the hem of your shirt, sliding under it and smoothing his hand along your skin. 

“nuh uh, you need to sleep tonight if you’re gonna get up for work in the morning.” reluctantly, you grab his hand and pull it away from you, freeing yourself from his clutches.

“but—“ kuroo starts, looking absolutely pitiful. “i just wanted to help you get ready for bed. no funny stuff, promise.”

“yeah?” you raise a brow as he vigorously nods his head. “somehow i don’t believe that.”

“rude.” he pouts and looks away, nose high up in the air as if you’d ever question his integrity. you just roll your eyes.

“come on, you need to brush your teeth.” you take his hand and pull him with you, flipping on the blinding light.

“you’re so bossy sometimes.” he stands behind you in the mirror, looking at you through the glass with a smirk. his arms wrap around your waist, kissing your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder. “i like it.”

you just laugh, your palm reaching up to gently pat his cheek. the two of you quickly do your nighttime routine, full of kuroo stealing glances in the mirror and trying to wink at you with a mouth full of toothpaste. 

“i’m going to go change but lie down, okay?” you say after you both finish and walk back into the bedroom. kuroo turns around and quickly pulls you in for a minty fresh kiss, letting himself melt into it for a moment before he pulls away.

“okay.” kuroo smirks and lays down on the bed, propped up on his elbows as he watches you get changed. “hurry up so i can hold you.” 

“now look who the bossy one is.” you roll your eyes, changing out of your clothes and into one of kuroo’s old shirts before slipping into bed with him.

in the blink of an eye, kuroo scoops you in his arms, tangling his limbs with yours and burying his face in your neck. 

“i love you.” the sound is muffled but you hear him loud and clear, heart swelling at his proclamation. 

“i love you.” you whisper back, kuroo’s soft snores already filling the room as he dozed off once again, more than content to be in your loving arms after the next step of his plan had gone off without a hitch.

your fingers weave themselves into his hair, lightly brushing out the strands as you feel sleep trying to claim you as well. but there’s a nervous pit in your stomach that evades you from giving into your slumber, something that’s telling you things are going to be changing soon. now that the ball is officially rolling, you hope it doesn’t topple over everything you and kuroo have built together over the last two years.

thank you sm for reading ᰔ — next part

[ikkyfics]

hi im so in love with your writing! I was wondering if I could request an angsty remus fic? maybe with an unrequited love theme where reader has a massive crush on him but he notices and rejects reader before they can even confess? its not that’s ok! mwah tyy <33

Unrequited Love

Remus Lupin x f!reader

Summary: It wasn’t just a crush. It was deeper, more desperate. Every day beside him was a mix of silent happiness and growing pain because, deep down, you knew he didn’t see you the same way. And yet, you clung to any shred of attention. A smile in the hallway or the sound of his name on your lips, which he always responded to with that infallible kindness. You knew you were drowning, but you couldn’t help it.

Warnings: angst

A/N: hi love, you are so kind, thank you so much for the sweet words. I hope I did something that meets your expectations - and gosh, maybe, just maybe I am a little devastated, it's two angsts in a row with my boy Remus (that said, of course I loved doing it)

Masterlist

You couldn’t quite remember exactly when it all started, but at some point between shared classes and comfortable silences in the library, Remus Lupin started occupying every thought of yours. Maybe it was that afternoon, weeks ago, when he noticed you were struggling to understand the theory behind a complicated spell. He approached, gentle but not invading your space, and said: "Can I help? I think I have an easier way to explain this."

You accepted, of course, your face warm and words stuck in your throat. He sat beside you, his voice low and firm as he pointed to the lines of the book with a slender finger. Every time he explained something, he’d end it with a quick glance, as if he wanted to confirm you were following along. You were so captivated by the sound of his voice that the actual understanding of the spell came later, when you were alone.

That’s when you started noticing the details. The way he furrowed his brow when reading something particularly complicated, or how he smiled to the side, a subtle smile, but enough to light up your whole day. He was different. He didn’t draw attention like his friends, who were usually the center of any room, but there was something in the restrained gestures, the care in his words, that made him seem more... real.

You began seeking opportunities to be near him. Not that it was intentional at first, but you always seemed to end up at the table next to him in the library or choosing the same time to study in the empty classroom. He never seemed to mind. In fact, he always nodded or gave a polite "good afternoon" before returning to what he was doing.

There was that day, though, that stayed engraved in your mind with almost painful clarity. It was an ordinary afternoon, and you were in the library. You had mentioned, without thinking, that you loved chamomile tea because your mother used to say it had a "comforting taste." He chuckled softly, a sound that made your heart stumble in your chest. A few weeks later, while you were sitting in a class, he casually leaned in and murmured: "Did you know chamomile tea was used in Ancient Greece as medicine? Seems fitting, doesn’t it?"

Your head spun to him, surprised. He remembered. It was just a silly sentence you had said, but he remembered. The rest of the class passed in a blur as you replayed each word, each glance.

It wasn’t just a crush. It was deeper, more desperate. He seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, but you wanted so much to be the one who could ease some of that. Every day beside him was a mix of silent happiness and growing pain because, deep down, you knew he didn’t see you the same way.

And yet, you clung to any shred of attention. A smile in the hallway, a "Are you okay?" after a tough test, or the sound of his name on your lips, which he always responded to with that infallible kindness.

You knew you were drowning, but you couldn’t help it.

The weeks dragged on like a dream, but a dream that never became reality. With every encounter with Remus, you felt like you were floating, but there was always an invisible weight pulling you back to the ground. He was kind, considerate, but never crossed the line. Every gesture, every word, was filled with a cordiality that you desperately wanted to interpret as something more, but you couldn’t ignore the voice in your head whispering, "He's just being polite. It doesn’t mean anything."

It was in this tension that an idea formed. A letter. If you couldn’t say everything you felt to him in words, maybe you could put it on paper. You had already rehearsed so many times, in your mind, the perfect phrases, the declarations that could, perhaps, make him see you differently. But every time you opened your mouth, the words died before they took shape.

That night, sitting on your bed with the curtains closed around you, you held a piece of parchment. The quill trembled in your hand as you stared at the blank page. Your heart was pounding, a mix of anticipation and fear. What could you write that would capture everything you felt? How could you translate in words the impact he had on you, the way he made the world seem lighter just by being in it?

After minutes that felt like hours, you began:

"Remus, I know this might seem strange or unexpected, but I need to say something that I’ve kept to myself for so long that I can’t keep it in anymore. Since I met you, something inside me has changed. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s something in your gestures, in the way you look at the world, that makes me want to be a part of it. You’re more than kind; you’re someone who makes everything seem... possible. I don’t know how to put it any other way, so I’ll be direct: I like you. More than as a friend. And I needed to tell you. Because holding this in is starting to hurt more than having the courage to say it."

You stopped, looking at the words you had just written. Your breath was heavy, and silent tears threatened to fall. It was a relief, in a way, to see it all there on paper. But the weight of what could happen next was almost unbearable.

For a moment, you considered handing him the letter. Not that night, of course, but maybe the next morning, or during the next class. The idea gave you a spark of hope, but also brought an overwhelming fear.

What if he didn’t feel the same?

That question echoed in your mind, over and over, as you carefully folded the letter and hid it in the pocket of your coat. Your hand stayed there, feeling the weight of the parchment like a bomb about to explode.

Remus knew. He had known for some time. There was no way he couldn’t notice.

There was something in the way you looked at him, a hesitant and hopeful gleam, that didn’t go unnoticed. He noticed the moments when you got closer than necessary, like when you sat beside him in the library even when there were empty tables. He noticed how you seemed to hold your breath whenever he leaned in to explain something, or how your words sometimes faltered, as if the weight of something unspoken was too much.

He wasn’t a fool. The subtleties of the heart, however, were a territory he preferred to avoid. Especially when he knew he couldn’t return the feelings.

You were smart, dedicated, kind in a way that made people want to be near you, and you were beautiful. He genuinely liked your company, but not in that way. Not the way you seemed to desire. Remus felt a tightness in his chest every time this reality pressed upon him, because he knew what needed to be done. He knew that the longer he let things drag on, the worse it would be for you.

That’s why, after Potions class that afternoon, he waited for you to finish gathering your things. He didn’t know exactly what he would say, but the words had been weighing on his throat for days.

“Do you have a minute?” His voice was calm, but there was something in his expression, the way he avoided eye contact for a second longer than usual, that made your heart stop.

“Of course.” Your response was automatic, but the nervousness crept into your voice. He was serious, more serious than you’d ever seen him before, and that sent a chill through your stomach.

As you walked beside him, the hallways seemed longer, quieter. You noticed he didn’t look directly at you, and that only made the nervousness grow.

He stopped next to an empty window, where the late afternoon light fell in soft angles. You held your books to your chest, as if they were armor, while he finally turned to face you.

“I... I think we need to talk.”

Your heart seemed to beat too fast, as if trying to prepare itself for whatever might come out of his mouth. You knew he wouldn’t say this lightly. “We need to talk” was never a casual introduction, it never preceded something good. Still, you tried to hold on to the faint hope, that quiet voice in the back of your mind whispering: Maybe he feels something too. Maybe he wants to say he noticed...

“I... I need to be honest with you,” Remus began, his voice low and serious, his words carefully chosen, but they still fell like stones upon you. “I don’t think it would be fair to let this continue without saying anything.”

Your fingers tightened around your books against your chest. Without saying what? Anxiety ran like fire through your veins, and you couldn’t look away from him, even though part of you wanted to run.

“I’ve noticed that...” He paused, biting his lower lip slightly, as if the words were hard to form. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, looking away for a brief moment before meeting your eyes again. “You’ve been... very kind to me, and I appreciate that. Truly. But I... I don’t want you to think that... there’s something here that isn’t.”

The world seemed to silence around you. Only his words echoed in your mind: “Something that isn’t.” It was as if he had ripped the ground out from under you with a single sentence.

“I don’t understand.” Your voice came out quieter than you expected, almost a whisper. You knew what he was trying to say, but at the same time, you refused to believe it. It couldn’t be this. It couldn’t end like this.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He took a step closer, his gaze filled with something that seemed like guilt. “But I think you feel something for me. Something more than friendship.”

You felt your face burn, your chest tightening as if being compressed by an impossible weight. He knew. All this time, he knew.

“I...” You tried to deny it, tried to find some word that could save you from the abyss opening up, but your voice failed.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupted, his voice softer now, but somehow, that only made it hurt more. “I just... I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re amazing. You’re kind, you’re smart, and anyone would be lucky to have your attention.” He sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly, as if the weight of the situation affected him too. “But I’m not that person. I can’t... see you that way.”

It was as if he had pulled the air from your lungs. Every word felt like a blade, cutting slowly but deeply. You felt tears burning in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not in front of him.

“You’re saying that...” You stopped, swallowing hard, your throat too tight to continue.

“I don’t want you to have hopes where there’s no space for them,” he said softly, as if trying to minimize the impact, but the pain was already there, overwhelming and absolute.

You didn’t know what to say, how to respond. All you could feel was the crushing rejection, the weight of knowing he would never look at you the same way. It was worse than you had imagined, because he wasn’t being cruel. He was being honest, and his honesty hurt more than any cruelty ever could.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, almost in a whisper, and those three words were the final stone that fell upon your heart already in ruins.

You nodded quickly, unable to trust your own voice, and took a step back. You wanted to say something, wanted to pretend you were fine, but there was nothing that could be said. So, you just turned and left, feeling his eyes on your back but not looking back.

The first tear fell before you even turned the corner.

Each step echoed like a drum in your ears, blending with the disordered sound of your thoughts. You pressed the books to your chest so tightly that your fingers began to ache, but it was better to focus on the physical pain than the agony that was boiling inside you.

The students around you laughed, talked, ran. The castle was alive, pulsing with the energy of carefree teenagers, but everything felt muffled, distant, as if you were walking through a bad dream.

You turned down a random hallway, not even knowing where you were going, just needing to get away from everything and everyone. Your heart pounded in your chest, and the knot in your throat seemed to tighten with every passing moment, as if it were impossible to swallow the weight that kept building there.

Finally, you found an empty corner, behind a worn tapestry that no one seemed to notice. It was a temporary hiding spot, but it was all you needed. You threw yourself against the cold wall, sliding to the floor, the books falling from your hands as the tears you had held back for so long finally overflowed.

They came hot and relentless, streaming down your face mercilessly. You tried to stifle the sobs, biting your fist, but it was useless. The pain felt like its own entity, growing and spreading inside you.

Your chest ached, a physical sensation of emptiness and tightness that almost made you gasp for air. Your hands trembled, gripping your knees as if they were your only anchor. He knew. Those words echoed repeatedly in your mind. He had known all along.

Worse yet, not only did he know, but he had decided to tell you in such a careful, gentle way that the rejection became even more painful. He hadn't looked down on you, hadn't mocked you, but that only made it crueler. He had looked directly at you and said, without hesitation, that there was no space for you in his heart.

You closed your eyes, trying to breathe deeply, but all you could see was his face. The calm expression, the soft tone. The contrast between his kindness and the brutality of what he was saying was unbearable.

What had you done wrong? The question burned like fire, consuming everything around you. You replayed every interaction, every glance, every word spoken. There was no way to erase the moments when your heart raced for something he said or did. There was no way to turn back time and rip the feelings from yourself that you knew he would never return.

In the distance, you could hear other students passing by, carefree voices, laughter filling the hallways. Life continued as if nothing had happened, as if your world hadn't ended in that moment. The contrast was suffocating, a reminder that your pain was yours alone.

You hugged your knees, trying to diminish the feeling of falling apart. All you wanted was to disappear, to become invisible. Maybe, if no one saw you, no one would know how broken you were.

Time seemed to drag on, but it also slipped through your fingers like sand. You couldn’t tell how much time had passed since that conversation. Days? Weeks? Every unavoidable encounter with him felt like tearing the scab off a wound that hadn't even started to heal.

Classes became a kind of silent torture. He was always there, just a few meters away, and you could feel his presence like an electric current pulsing in the air. Sometimes, your eyes would meet for a brief moment, and he’d smile hesitantly, almost as if he were trying to offer some form of comfort.

But there was no comfort to be found.

You started changing seats in classes, picking places farther away. You walked through the hallways with your eyes on the floor, avoiding any chance of crossing paths with him. When he was with James or Sirius, laughing and talking loudly, you found some excuse to leave. Seeing that smile, hearing that laugh, felt like a cruel reminder that his life was going on without interruption while yours was in ruins.

You knew he noticed. Remus Lupin was perceptive, perhaps more than anyone you knew. And that’s why, on an ordinary afternoon, he came over.

The hallway was empty, and you were organizing the books in your bag with slightly trembling hands. When his shadow fell over you, your stomach tightened instinctively.

“Hey,” he began, his voice low and cautious, as if he were walking on glass. “Can I talk to you?”

You didn’t want to. You wanted to turn and run, wanted to scream for him to leave you alone. But instead, you just nodded, because running now seemed useless.

He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I... noticed you’ve been avoiding me.” He ran a hand through his hair, a habit you knew all too well. “I don’t want things to be like this between us.”

The bitter laugh almost escaped your lips, but you swallowed it. “Like what?” Your voice came out harsher than you intended, but your heart was pounding so hard that it was hard to control.

“Distant.” He took a step closer, but stopped when he saw you recoil, even if it was just a little. “I... hope we’re still friends.”

The word pierced like a sharp blade. Friends. Of course. That was what he wanted from you. What he always wanted. And hearing it, said so gently and sincerely, made it hurt even more.

You wrapped your arms around your body as if that could contain the emptiness spreading inside you. “Friends,” you repeated, testing the word on your lips. It felt strange, bitter, as if it didn’t belong there.

“Yes.” He gave a small, hopeful smile. “I really... I’m so sorry, you know? For everything. I never meant for you to feel like this.”

“I know.” Your response was barely audible. You knew he didn’t want to hurt you. That made it all worse.

There was an uncomfortable silence between you. He seemed to be waiting for something, maybe a confirmation that everything was okay. But you couldn’t give him that. Not now.

“I... I need to go,” you finally said, your voice trembling as you slung the bag over your shoulder.

“Of course,” he replied, a little hurriedly. “But... we’re okay, right? I just want you to know, if you need me, I’m here.”

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, trying to breathe, trying to stop the pain from overflowing once more. When you opened them, you forced a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine, Remus. Thank you.”

Before he could respond, you turned and walked quickly, feeling the tears threatening to fall.

As you turned the corner, you leaned against the wall for a moment, your eyes burning and your breath heavy. He wasn’t cruel. He would never be. And maybe that was exactly what made it all so unbearable.

Night had fallen over Hogwarts, and the castle was immersed in a heavy silence. You were in the farthest corner of the common room, where no one seemed to notice your presence. The only company was the fireplace, its flames flickering irregularly, casting shadows that danced across the walls.

In your hands, the letter you wrote weeks ago trembled slightly. The parchment was crumpled and worn at the edges, as if it had been handled countless times but never read by anyone other than you.

You remembered exactly the moment when you wrote it, the words flowing like a confession from your heart. It was everything you wanted to say to him. All the feelings that had been growing, gaining strength and life of their own. You had poured out every thought, every heartbeat, with the naive hope that he might feel the same.

But now, all that remained was a useless piece of paper.

You smoothed the parchment carefully, your fingers tracing the words written in your hesitant handwriting. Each sentence seemed to mock you now, like a cruel reminder of everything you felt and everything that would never be returned.

The flame of the fireplace seemed to call to you, its warmth offering a final solution to the weight you carried. With a trembling sigh, you stood up, feeling your heart tighten in your chest.

You hesitated for a moment, the letter still firmly held in your hands. Part of you wanted to keep it, hold onto it as a reminder of something that once mattered. But another part of you knew you needed to let go, even if it meant releasing something you never truly had.

"I could never be enough for you, could I?" you whispered to no one, your voice barely above a thread.

Finally, you brought the parchment closer to the flame, and it began to burn slowly. The edges darkened and curled, the fire consuming the words that once seemed so important. You watched each line disappear, one after another, until all that remained was ash and embers.

The pain in your chest was unbearable, but you stood there, motionless, watching as the last particles of the letter were carried away by the wind from the fire. It felt like watching the end of something that never had the chance to begin.

You sat on the floor, pulling your knees to your chest, the tears finally falling freely. They burned, hot and relentless, as you wondered how it was possible to feel so much for someone who would never look at you the same way.

Despite everything, you knew you still loved him. That was the cruelest part of all. Even after all the pain, all the rejection, you couldn’t simply turn off your feelings. He was still the one who made your heart race, who inhabited your dreams, who carried the weight of your hopes and fears.

But he would never be yours.

[sister-lucifer]

Eager Hands On Soft Flesh

Ticci Toby x Chubby!Transmasc!Reader 

My half of a trade with @pompeiisystem !

Genre: Smut

Summary: After you let slip that you’ve got your fair share of insecurities about your body, Toby simply can’t pass up the opportunity to appreciate every bit of you. 

Content/Warnings: Body worship, Reader’s body is focused on but I specifically chose NOT to use the word “fat,” Reader is insecure about their weight but Toby is there for reassurance, fucking against the kitchen counter, unprotected penis in trans masc vagina sex, fingering, oral sex (reader receiving), messy pussy eating, cumming inside, praise, use of “cunt,” “pussy,” and similar variations to describe Reader’s genitalia, Toby has a dick piercing but it’s only briefly mentioned 

“Toby, be honest, do you think this outfit would look better if I…you know, lost some weight?”

The sudden lurch of his body followed by sputtering and coughing as he chokes on his drink makes you jump. Your eyes widen a bit as you watch him struggle to regain his composure, wiping his mouth and trying not to spit. His tongue clicks involuntary, neck jerking in all directions as he tries to process what he’s just heard. 

“Wh— W-What the hell are you t-talkin’ about?” He stammers, speaking through the discomfort of off brand soda in his windpipe. 

“I just mean…you know,” You reply, suddenly feeling sheepish as you look down at the crimson sweater keeping snug against your top half, “I was just thinking…maybe I should—“ 

“Did I s-say something?” Toby says quickly. He rises from where he was sitting at the kitchen table, wiping his chin with his sleeve one last time. “Did I m-make you—shhhrk!—make you— m-make you think that you h-had to?” 

“Oh no, of course not!” You’re fast to reply, gently putting your hands on his arms and giving a small squeeze. “No, no, it’s not you at all, I promise. I was just thinking—“ 

“W-Well you shouldn’t d-do that anymore.” 

You sigh softly, moving your hands down go grasp his. You run your thumbs over his knuckles as his fingers tense and twitch despite his best efforts to hold onto you, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“Toby, come on, I didn’t mean anything bad about you. I’m just saying…I want you to be honest with me, that’s all.”

You look down at yourself, at the knit sweater and jeans you’ve put on. They’re comfortable, yes, but there’s something about the way you look in them that just doesn’t add up. You shouldn’t have expected to look exactly like the model on the website, really. You didn’t think you did. 

You’re starting to feel foolish for spending your money on this. It was silly, really, to be so excited about something as simple as a cute sweater, but at the time you thought you couldn’t live without it. You have plenty of other perfectly good outfits in your closet. Really, what reason did you have to think— 

You gasp softly when Toby suddenly pulls you in, ripping you from your thoughts with hands on your waist, gently grabbing at your love handles and pushing you back against the counter. His lips find your neck in a split second.

You moan softly, the sensation surprising but not unpleasant. You grasp at the back of his sweatshirt with one hand and run your fingers through his hair with the other. He groans under his breath when you tug just a bit.

“Please, baby,” He whispers against your skin, “P-Please, let me love on y-you just a-a bit…” 

“Toby, what are you—“ 

“Nothing, baby, I-I’m not doing a-anything…Just l-let me…”

Your cheeks are getting hot fast. You make no effort to push him away, but you can’t help getting flustered. 

“Toby, c’mon, you don’t have to do all this…” 

“I-I want to, though,” He says quickly, starting to nip and suck at your neck between kisses, “I’m not v-vvv-very good with words, I-I…I just—j-just wanna show you—shhh!—s-show you what you f-feel like…to m-me…” 

He pauses with a sigh, pulling back slowly. He looks up at you almost hesitantly, an expression you rarely see on his face. He’s always the first to act on an impulse, rarely ever thinking twice about anything; what’s slowing him down now? 

“…i-if you’ll let me, I-I mean.” 

The words come out far too gentle for Toby, and it makes you melt against him a bit. He’s always so eager to get his hands on your body, but something in him is sensing something unsure in you. You look back into the mossy color of his hazel eyes with contemplation. 

You can’t stop the gentle smile that spreads over your face. 

You pull him down to give him a slow kiss, and he happily returns the gesture. When you pull back again, there’s no hiding the anticipation on his face as he awaits your answer.

“…Of course, Toby.”

He takes only a split second to process the words before suddenly he’s roughly suckling and nipping at the flesh of your neck. You yelp in surprise, but not discomfort. You bite your lip as you grip his hair, trying to keep him against you. 

His hands freely wander your body, moving up and down your sides before slipping beneath your sweater. You suck in a breath when he gives an affectionate squeeze to your love handles, fingers greedily grabbing at the warmth beneath your skin. He groans as he feels you, entire body shuddering at the sensation of you beneath his hands. 

He moves so quickly, as if he’s worried you’ll disappear at any moment, like some invisible clock is counting down and the moment is reaches zero you’ll fade away. He grabs at you and sucks at your neck like he’s feeding on you, like your body heat is the only thing sustaining him. He needs you, and you can feel it in every touch. 

He pushes your sweater up to your chest before hands slide down towards the waistband of your jeans. Twitching fingertips fiddle with the button and then the fly, yanking down the zipper with such speed you were worried it would break. He pulls the jeans down around your ankles, not bothering to pull them off before moving on to your underwear.

He looks up at you, fingers tapping anxiously at the waistband. He licks his dry lips, mouthing a silent ‘Can I?’

“Yes, yes, please,” You reply without hesitation, nodding quickly. You gasp softly when he tugs your underwear down to your knees, exposing your now soaked pussy to the cool air and making you shudder. He can’t stop the breathy moan that slips from his lips at the sight. 

“S-So fucking beautiful…” He mutters through crooked teeth as he lowers himself slowly. Normally he would be eager to drop to his knees and service you, but just this once he’s taking his time. He’s methodical as he leaves a warm trail of kisses down your belly, letting his lips linger for a long few seconds before he moves down just a bit more. You watch with bated breath as he makes his way down until there’s no further to go. 

“…You know I-I love this-sss-s pretty tummy, don’t you?” He mumbles against your skin, looking up into your eyes. Your heart skips a bit when you nod. He doesn’t seem satisfied.

“Say it.”

“…I…I know, Toby.”

One corner of his mouth briefly quirks up into a smirk before an involuntary jerk of his neck and scrunching of his nose pulls it back down again..

He pauses then, eyes widening slightly with something you can only describe as admiration as his eyes trail down to your sweet cunt, wetting his lips on instinct.

You don’t have a second to wonder what he’s doing before suddenly his warm mouth engulfs your cunt. In a split second it seems all semblance of patience has left his body. You cry out, throwing your head back as your back arches. You instinctively push your hips against him, grinding into his mouth.

“T-Toby—!” 

Your fingers find his untamed thatch of brown hair in an instant, gripping tightly just how he likes. He moans as you call out his name, his voice sending vibrations through your cunt. He’s an excitable, messy eater, lapping at your cunt with need and not bothering to try and hide the wet squelching sounds his mouth makes as his tongue slides in an out of you, lips curling around the mound of your pussy and the tip of his crooked nose bumping your swollen clit. 

“Fuck…mmh…” He groans under his breath, not once losing contact or pulling away, “Y-You have no idea how m-much— m-mumble, mumble— much I-I love this boycunt…t-tastes sooo, s-so— so sweet…could just…just— j-just eat it for hours…”

He’s slurring his words already, speech messy and scattered at the words carelessly flow between his lips and down his chin like water over the edge of a cliff. His mouth is already soaking, drool leaking from his mouth and gash combined with your slick arousal. 

You squeal when you feel his two of his fingers prod at your entrance, anxiously pushing through and wasting no time reaching as deep as they can. Your entire body tenses and your back arches involuntarily against the counter as his digits twitch inside of you, slipping in and out at an excited pace. 

“C-Careful, Toby,” You stammer. He gives only a quick nod in reply before pushing in a third finger, the tip of his tongue now flicking at your clit. A thick mixture of his own spit and the juices leaking from your cunt is dripping down his chin and running down his neck. 

The hand not nestled in his hair is bracing you against the counter, gripping the marble hard as you struggle to keep yourself steady. You’re resisting the urge to just collapse with each shockwave Toby’s tongue and fingers send through your throbbing pussy. His free hand is grabbing at your sides and hips, half trying to keep you up and half groping you for his own pleasure. He spreads his fingers out inside of you, stretching you as much as he can as he readies you to take his cock.

When he finally pulls away you’re struggling to breathe, chest heaving with heavy gasps as you recover. He stands back up to his full height, towering over you and not even bothering to wipe his mouth before he captures your lips in a heated kiss. You could care less about the feeling of your own viscous arousal against your lips; there’s no room for disgust in your lust-filled brain. 

Toby’s panting as well when he pulls away, licking his lips before speaking.

“You s-sss-see how sweet you t-taste?”

You mimic his gesture, tongue darting out to lick over your own lips. You shyly nod, and a crooked smile spreads across his face. 

“C’mon, b-bend over f’me,” He says, giving your side an encouraging pat.

You happily comply, laying yourself over the counter and arching your back a bit. You shiver at the familiar sound of his belt unbuckling, then his fly coming down, and then that wonderful sigh of relief he lets out when he pushes down his jeans and boxers in one go. Not even a second later his tip is pressing against your cunt. 

He leans over you, nuzzling into your neck and wrapping his arms around your middle. 

“You ready?” He whispers, and you nod without thinking. 

He immediately pushes inside of you, groaning into your ear as you tense, nails digging into the flesh of your palm as his cock stretches you. The bulbous head manages to bully its way into your cunt, and you can feel the veins on his shaft as they brush against your walls. The crooked Prince Albert piercing adoring his tip scrapes against your cervix and pulls a drawn out moan from your glistening lips. 

Toby curses to himself as he bottoms out, finally pushing in as far as he can go. You can feel his cock twitching with need inside of you as it acclimates to your tight hole. He’s clinging to you like his life depends on it, fingers pressing into the ample flesh of your soft tummy and sides. 

A choked noise claws its way out of your throat as he slowly pulls back, your cunt squelching and dripping as his cock recedes to the head, pausing for a moment before pushing back in. You cry out with a broken call of his name, your plump body pushed hard into the counter that’s currently keeping you from collapsing into a heap on the floor beneath your lover. 

Toby’s lanky body practically engulfs yours as he ruts into you over and over again, slowly but surely getting faster with each thrust as he faces less and less resistance from your pussy, the slick canal gradually being molded to the shape of his cock. He’s huffing and moaning in your ear, not at all shy or ashamed to be vocal for you. 

“Nngh…I-I don’t think I’ll—Fuck! Shit!—I’ll ever— e-ev-vvv-ver get used to t-this perfect fff-fuckin’ boycunt…Goddamn…!” 

He’s grabbing all over your body, hands moving feverishly between your chest and stomach and hips as he squeezes every inch of hot skin he can find. 

“Sooo fucking h-handsome,” He sighs in your ear, “I’m s-so fucking lucky that I-I get to— t-to love you like this-sss-s…”

He can hardly get the words out between his desperate mewls, needy sounds that he couldn’t keep at bay if he tried. He’s drooling again, unable to focus on muscle control as his base instincts take over, screaming at him to just forget everything else and fuck you like you deserve to be fucked. 

You reach up to gently push his cheek against your own, pressing a kiss to his jaw and making him whine. He turns his head to kiss you once more, tongue pushing past your lips and allowing you to taste the last remnants of your soggy cunt on his tongue. 

His cock reaches every bit of your insides, pushing in so far you swear you can feel it in your stomach. With each thrust he only speeds up more and more, rambling on and on about how amazing you feel and how badly he needs this perfect boypussy.

“So beautiful,” He chokes out, eyes starting to roll back in his head, “S-So fucking beautiful…all thick and p-perfect…fuck, a-ah—!”

He’s starting to lose his pace, and fast. One of his hands slowly slides down your stomach, his middle finger pawing at your clit. You cry out at the unexpected stimulation and your knees nearly buckle beneath you, prompting Toby to tighten his grip on you just in case you can’t stand yourself up anymore. He rubs your clit in soft circles, just the way you’d taught him all that time ago. Just the way you like. 

“Nngh—! T-Toby,” You stammer, barely able to get the words out, “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna…!” 

“I-I know,” He replies in a rush, “I-I wanna—want it! want it!—w-wanna feel you cum around me…p-please, please…?”

God, how can you deny him when he begs like that?

You start to push back against him in time with his thrusts, assisting him in sheathing himself inside of you and savoring the wonderful fullness. Your legs are shaking obviously now, and you have to fight to keep yourself up even with Toby’s help. He’s not too steady himself. 

He’s started to rub your clit a bit harder, no longer able to focus on keeping his pace steady with his fingers nor his thrusts. The constant shifts in pressure and speed are only pushing you to your release faster. 

He’s whining endlessly in your ear, slurring his words as he drones on and on about how handsome you are, how much he loves you, how grateful he is that he’s the only one who gets to fuck this precious little cunt. 

He’s barely keeping time now, any sense of rhythm forgotten as he desperately ruts into you over and over again. He’s almost at his limit, not far behind you. 

“Toby,” You gasp, “Please, I-I’m gonna—!”

“Do it,” He growls, “D-Do it, please, lemme f-fff-feel that pussy tighten around m-me…”

Just his words, the clear desperation and need in his voice, is enough to push you over the edge. You manage one last cry of his name before you cum around his twitching cock, cunt squeezing and convulsing as you struggle to cope with the wave of pleasure washing over you with more force than you were ready for. 

Toby curses under his breath and sputters out what you think is a warning, but you can barely hear him with the way your head is spinning. That’s what makes it all the more jarring when suddenly he’s releasing inside of you, the fullness of his cock replaces with the thick warmth of his seed spilling into you deeper than you ever thought possible. He groans as his thrusting lazily slows to a stop, leaving you both sweaty and panting. 

He releases his death grip on you, but keeps his arms around your middle. He nuzzles against your cheek with a sigh. He shifts slightly, and you cringe a bit when you feel some of his cum dripping out of you. 

“You’re s-so beautiful baby,” He mumbles against your skin, clearly just as fucked out as you are, “So fucking…p-perfect…my h-ha-handsome boy…”

You give him a tired smile, pressing a little kiss to his warm cheeks. 

“I know, Toby. I know.”

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

[tasteracha]

a/n: my comeback in the form of a disorganized half silly half poetic felix. thing. inspired by him looking divine enough to lick after walking the runway.

warnings: lix is a little mean and condescending, fem!reader

your lips are on his before he makes it through the door, a sweet smell from the roses crushed between the two of you erupting into the room. you’d been all but waiting at the door since he left for paris, too busy with work and life to take him up on his invitation to join him, though it hurt more than it should have to see him there without you.

“you looked so good, still do, oh my god,” you say against his lips, kisses complimenting every word. 

“thank you, darling,” he pulls away to set the flowers down, and there’s so many. what were you even going to do with all of that? a problem for later, you decide, instead prioritizing entering his personal space once again. 

you take his face in your hands, gentle as to not smear the careful swipes of makeup there - that would be a task for later. it seemed like he didn’t have the opportunity to change and shower before he came home to you, and in your head it had more to do with his desire to see you than the timing of his flight following the after party. you take in the browns brushed across his eyelids, the gentle flush of blush highlighting his cheekbone, the shininess of his eyes as he lets your eyes feast on the delicacy of his features. he’s dressed smartly in a crisp white button-up shirt and high-waisted black slacks that sat around his waist and curved perfectly around his ass. you brush one hand through his wavy, iridescent hair and it’s so feather soft that you can barely feel it passing through your fingers. specks of glitter fall out of it like angel dust and the urge to call him pretty passes through the forefront of your thoughts. you don’t think you will ever get tired of telling him how beautiful he is. 

“never cut your hair again,” you demand, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and twirling the strands between your fingertips. “you look like an angel, lix.”

“okay,” he grins, nuzzling his hand into your palm. “you might have to work it out with the stylists on that, though.”

“i’ll fight them with my bare hands,” you’re completely serious, and fondness takes over his features when he sees the sharpening of your brow and the set of your mouth. “if they bring a pair of scissors near you they’ll face my wrath.”

“down, baby,” he chuckles and removes your hands from his face, holding them in his and keeping you close. “let me get out of these clothes and i’ll let you tell me all about how you’re going to dismantle the stylist empire, alright?”

“no,” you whine, and you’re almost embarrassed at how needy you sound. you were desperate for him, sure, but you weren’t a child. “wanna stare at you forever. everyone else got you for so long, now you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” he echoes, love and affection dripping off of his words like syrup. “but in five minutes, i’ll be yours but wearing a hoodie. how does that sound?”

“fine,” you relent, releasing him completely so he could scamper away at the chance he was given. he was smart like that. 

five minutes, he had said. it took you about one and a half to lose patience and pad over to the bedroom. the door was open, all thoughts of privacy gone after you had reached the first year of your relationship. 

you find him in his boxers, wiping his shoulders with a damp towel and you pounce, trapping him underneath you on the bed. your hips are lined up with his from where you’re straddling him and you can feel his cock jump with interest against your core. 

“this is surprising,” he starts, and you have snark waiting on your tongue about how he should have expected this before he continues. “i thought you would have come in earlier, at least i had time to get undressed.”

“lix, you’re just so beautiful,” embarrassment rushes to your cheeks as you duck your head, ashamed and delighted at having your desperation for him verbalized like this. “can you blame me for wanting you?”

“of course not, darling,” he soothes you with fingertips to your forehead, brushing off tufts of hair that fall back into place right after. “i want you just as much.”

“good,” you grind down on him, savoring how he hisses at the contact. you get a moment of satisfaction before he switches, flipping the both of you over in one practiced move. you end up beneath him, your wrists pinned over your head and his thigh wedged between yours. 

“but i think you may benefit from learning a bit of patience, hmm?” he ghosts his lips over your cheek, running the top of his nose against yours. his hands leave your hands to wander over your sides, running up the hem of your shirt and towards your breasts; you weren’t wearing a bra, so he had easy access to your nipples and he took full advantage of this. 

the sensation isn’t enough, heat already pulsing in your core at just the look of him. you try to buck your hips up against his thigh but the angle is all off and you give up in frustration after a few attempts. you hated and loved when he got like this - teasing, controlling, edging on condescending. it was so unlike him in any other way that it sent sparks of excitement tingling up your spine. 

“giving up so easily?” he smirks, and even that is soft around the edges in a confusingly adorable way. you never know what he wanted, and that made it even more fun. did he want you to act desperate or be patient?

you voiced as such, and he tutted and moved to get off of you with a shake of his head. his hands leave your shirt and you grasp for him, nails scrabbling against his bare chest and leaving lines of red in their wake. he pauses, leaning over you like a fallen deity and you almost falter, but the need to get one over on him wins over. 

“if you don’t touch me, i’ll just do it myself,” you reach one of your hands towards your shorts, fully intending to go through with your word. it wasn’t much of a threat, but you knew it would work on him. or well, you hoped it would. 

“but darling, i am touching you,” he moves his thigh, still flush between your legs and you jolt. of course he would get the angle right. “you’re this worked up and you haven’t even told me what you wanted from me yet.”

“you know what i want,” you mumble, fire rushing to your cheeks again at having been outsmarted by him again. you should be used to this by now, but it ignites feelings inside of you as if they were the first time you were experiencing them, time and time again. 

“i want to hear you say it,” he purrs, falling back against you and pressing a soft kiss to your jaw. “i want to hear how badly you want me. i want to know what you were thinking about when you were touching yourself while i was gone.”

you want to deny his words, want to tell him that you didn’t think of him at all, but you knew he would see right through you. you loved him with every aching beat of your swollen heart, you couldn’t deny anything even if it was just to keep up the dynamic he had started. 

“i thought of you inside of me,” he pinches your side and compliments it with a nip to the shell of your ear, his breath hot on your skin. not good enough, he says with his actions. “nothing else feels like you. i couldn’t finish without you- ah.”

your breath is pushed out of your chest as he begins to kiss down your neck, his lips finding every sensitive spot on your skin like he was tracing a line that he had drawn on you.

“t-thought about the first time we had sex, when i knew i wouldn’t fuck anyone else for the rest of my life,” you might have been laying it on a little thick, but you knew he would fall for it. he might have teased you for being possessive, but he returned every inch with a mile, even if he was better at hiding it. he groans against you, tightening the hold he had around your waist, and you knew you had him. 

“flatterer,” he says, less of a tease and more of a statement. he rewards your efforts by slipping his hand into your shorts, rubbing at your pussy through your panties. you had a second to worry about the wetness that had been collecting there, but it fizzled out with the pressure of his fingertips. 

“wanted you to be here, to keep me full all day,” you were babbling now, saying anything to keep him going. as slow as he was being, you had no doubt that he would walk away just to keep up the act he had put on tonight. he was stronger than you in that way, one step ahead just by sheer force of will. “was hearing your voice in my head, telling me how good i was, how good you felt.”

“my darling is always good,” he murmurs, pushing aside your panties to slide his fingers against your clit. you never understood how a man who couldn’t tell the difference between a fruit and a vegetable was such an expert in your anatomy, but you weren’t one to complain, at least not about that. “even when you’re being a brat, you’re good.”

too soon, he removes his fingers from your core, wiping them against your shorts and shushing you when you open your mouth in protest. 

“i’m not going anywhere,” he assures, staying close as he kneels over you. “just let me get you undressed, unless you want to stay like that?” 

“dick,” you narrow your eyes, “i’m not going to answer that.”

“do you want my dick or am i a dick?” he pauses his hands, shorts and panties halfway down your thigh from where he had pulled them and you huff out a laugh.

“you’re hilarious,” you deadpan, kicking your foot to urge him to keep going as you lift your shirt off to quicken the process. you needed his dick inside of you like, yesterday. preferably. 

he pulls off his own briefs and they float to join yours on the floor and you can finally see his cock, half hard and pink and flushed and perfect. 

god, everything about him was perfect. 

you spread your legs a bit, smiling when his hungry eyes land on your pussy, now fully on display. you could see the fight in him fizzling out; for all his talk, he was apart from you for so long, and as strong of a man he was everyone had a weakness. 

he crawls back over you, stroking himself until he’s fully hard and leaking. he braces himself with one hand by your head, the veins on his arm popping at the exertion of keeping himself held up, the other hand guiding his cock into your folds to swipe against the wetness that had built up there. 

“c’mon, lix,” you turn your head to press a kiss to his wrist, the delicate flesh feeling fever hot against your lips, and you can feel him trembling. “i’ve unintentionally edged myself for days, take me.”

“what did i say about patience?” he grunts out, but there is no bite in his words and despite their implication he presses the head of his cock against your hole. 

you can’t help but tense up in excitement, the one thing you’d been craving for several nights finally within your grasp. he ducks his head to kiss you, mumbling a relax, baby against your lips and at once your body melts into the mattress. 

when he finally slides into you it’s like coming home, the feeling of two imperfect pieces slotting together to create a masterpiece. everything else in the world fades away and it’s just him, the feeling of him inside of you and on top of you, his face taking over your vision and his scent invading your nostrils like a drug. 

on another day he might have spent hours taking you apart with his mouth, teasing you with his fingers in ghosted touches and playful dancing. on another day he may have prolonged the game, made you recite every single thing you wanted him to do to you before doing it. but today, he stays like this for a moment, buried inside of you and panting into your neck, savoring the feeling of your tight heat around his aching cock. when he starts moving it’s like fireworks are bursting beneath your eyelids, sparks shooting out every time he hits your spot. 

you try to match his thrusts with your hips, lifting up to meet him halfway, but you end up exhausted after just a few moments. his movements were getting more intense, quicker and harder until he was fucking into you without abandon and you couldn’t keep up even if you wanted to. this is what you were waiting for, the wildness of his body and the sharp possessiveness glinting in his eyes, the teeth he bared before sinking them into your neck and the harsh grip he kept on your waist. 

you both finish fast, but what else could one expect from two beings completely obsessed with each other? time was fickle in the face of the two of you together, every minute felt like an hour. and besides, now that he was home you could do this over and over. 

he fucks you through your orgasm, whispering i love you’s and my darling’s into you as he follows you soon after. he ends up collapsing against you for a moment, and the breath you lose is worth you feeling his chest heaving with exerted breaths and the way he nuzzles into whatever patch of your skin he can find. 

“lix,” you mutter out, totally spent even though this may have been the tamest sex the two of you have had in a long while. 

“hmm?” he scootches over to the side and gathers you in his arms, holding you like you’re something precious. 

“do you still want to teach me about patience?”

[tbyfandoms]

I Smell Snow | Joe Burrow x Reader

Pairing: joe burrow x f!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: the first cincinnati snowfall of the season leads to a night full of magic and love

Warnings: literally a single swear word if you can even call it that

Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request

A/N: my first ever published joe fic! this is literally such a self indulgent fic, I won’t lie. it spawned after I was standing outside and it started snowing and then the next day I watched ‘love actually’. plus couple that with my love for ‘gilmore girls’ quotes and needless to say, this is a big ball of fluff. even if it’s not the best fic, I love it, and I hope you all do as well :) <3

When you step outside into the crisp air, a smile breaks out across your face. The sky is a soft grey, a color you'd otherwise dread if not for the time of year, and the sight alone causes excitement to stir within you.

You've been waiting for this since the moment the temperatures started dropping. The weather is of course unpredictable and you can never truly trust what the weatherman says on the news, but you're sure of it this time. You'd swear up and down you could feel it coming.

It's going to snow.

The click of the handle turning on the patio door tears your eyes away from the sky, and instead of soft grey, your eyes are now met with a soft blue color. The color of your boyfriend's eyes. A color you could get lost in if given the opportunity.

"Hey," you say softly as Joe steps outside and tries to piece together in his head what it is that has your undivided attention out here. He got the pool covered months ago and all the furniture is tucked away into different corners of the patio. He doesn't see any deer or other animals out in the yard either. There's nothing of interest and yet Joe understands that knowing you, it's gotta be something, and the thought alone has him amused.

"Hey, baby. Whatcha doin' out here?" You shrug your shoulders a bit, a tinge of pink coating your cheeks due to something else entirely than the cold.

"I smell snow," you whisper. A phrase you've come to love and use religiously when it is that time of year. You know it might seem stupid to some people, but you genuinely feel like you can always tell when it's going to snow. Weather reporting it or not. It's s silly thing between you and your friends, but somehow you're never wrong.

When you first started dating Joe it was during the spring. The snow had long since melted and the chill in the air was long gone. You've mentioned in passing before your little inside joke, but never once have you said it to him before. Saying it out loud to him has you feeling a little silly, but the look on his face quickly extinguishes it.

Joe's eyes are crinkled at the corners, his smile taking up half his face, and his perfect white teeth are on full display as a deep chuckle escapes him.

"Do you now?" The Bengals quarterback teases as he takes a few more steps towards you. As he does so, you bask in the sight of him. Your boyfriend looks so cute and cosy in his hoodie, sweatpants, and beanie. All Bengals branded, of course. Joe Burrow is nothing if not proud of his city and his team. You feel the same about him and all he's accomplished.

"I do, Burrow. And the minute that first snowflake hits the ground, I'll be telling you I told you so." You nod your head in finality before lightly giggling and turning your head back up to the sky.

Joe gazes fondly at you as he takes in every inch of your body. There you are, this beautiful girl standing before him, not having a care in the world besides knowing whether or not it's going to snow. He thinks you're ridiculous in the most loving way possible, and that's when it hits him. That's what this is; love.

The two of you have only been dating for just under a year, but the Cincinnati resident has never been more sure about anything else in his life (besides maybe football) than he is about how he feels for you. About how seriously he cares for you and wants you in his life for years to come.

Joe Burrow is completely and utterly in love with you.

A sharp intake of breath leaves the man's lips, but it's mixed in with yours as you gasp up at the sky and watch as a single snowflake drifts slowly towards your face. At first it's just one and then suddenly it's dozens of little flakes flurrying around you.

A bemused laugh shakes your body and you nearly squeal at the sight. There's always been something so magical about snow to you. You don't know whether it's the nostalgic child-like wonder and excitement of it all or if it's something else entirely, but you've never quite been able to shake it. You're not sure you'd ever want to, really.

"Joe," you start, awe completely evident in your tone as you lightly flit your eyes to your boyfriend and then back to the sky. "Look at this! It's so pretty, I can't believe I was—"

"I love you." The blonde's confession slices through the air and suddenly it feels like nothing else matters in this moment, not even the snow you were so desperate to see because—

"What?" You question, wondering if you just imagined what Joe had said. Surely you misheard him, but part of you hopes to God you didn't.

"I love the way you care so deeply for everyone. I love the way you support me and my career completely and yet still keep that fierce independence and confidence in yourself and your own career. I love that you don't let anyone or anything get in the way of your dreams, but yet you still stay kind through it all. I love the way you've accepted me and all my stubbornness no matter how irritating it may be at times. I love how smart, funny, beautiful, and a million other adjectives I could continue to list, you are." A laugh slips past your lips and it's in this moment you realize tears have begun to trickle down your cheeks, mingling with the soft snowflakes that have landed there. "But most importantly, I love you, Y/N. Completely and unconditionally, I am in love with you. And I know we haven't been together for that long, but I'm hoping that just maybe you feel the same."

Wasting no time, you practically jump the few feet it takes you to reach your boyfriend and immediately wrap your arms around his neck, his warmth engulfing you instantly as he holds onto you.

"I love you too, Joey," you smile as you pull back and lock eyes with those pale blues from earlier. As the sky begins to darken, you revel in the way his eyes shine as they reflect the patio lights. You'd debate with anyone that Joe's eyes rival the stars themselves. He'd definitely say the same about yours.

A beat passes, the two of you so wrapped in each other's presence and revelations that most definitely have now altered the courses of your lives. The thought of falling so deeply in love with someone the way you have with Joe both terrifies and excites you, and all you know for sure is that you're in this for as long as he'll have you. Something tells you though that that's going to be a very long time, and you wouldn't want it any other way.

Joe reaches up and cups your cheek in his palm, his thumb swiping over your cheekbone and brushing away a few snowflakes that have settled there. It doesn't take long for him to lean in. Dying to connect his lips with yours and craving the way you taste.

His lips mold perfectly with yours, the way they have for all these months and the way you're sure they will for months to come. As the first Cincinnati snow of the season continues to fall, you smile into Joe's mouth as you feel the flakes begin to melt between you. The warmth of your lips fighting off any of the cold trying to reach you.

You're sure you'll feel the effects of ice cold water seeping into your skin later, but right now all you can focus on is the man before you and how happy you are to have found him.

Joe pulls back and you nearly giggle at the sight of him. The tip of his nose and his cheeks are a bright pink, and you're sure if he wasn't wearing his hat that his ears would appear the same. Even though he looks like the happiest man alive right now, you can tell he's cold. Although you can admire the snow for how it looks and how it makes you feel inside, it doesn't always make you feel the greatest on the outside, especially after a long period of time.

You decide now is a good a time as any to head back inside. You're confident the first fall of snow lived up to all the hype and then some.

"C'mon, let's go inside and warm up. I think I've had enough of the snow...for now," you chuckle.

"Thank God," Joe breathes out before bringing his hands up and rubbing them together, trying to create some warmth between them. "I know you love this stuff, but I won't lie, I'm freezing my ass off."

The two of you laugh as Joe leads you back inside through the patio door. The familiar click of the door handle echoes behind you and you hum in satisfaction as the cold gets shut out and the warmth of Joe's house welcomes you with open arms.

"Hey, freezing or not, you have to admit the snow is pretty magical." Joe watches as you begin to take off your jacket, a bit of snow that clung to you falling to the ground. Some of it is still in your hair, slowly melting away, but the sight of it makes his heart swell. The snow glistens, almost sparkles, and all it does is add to your beauty in his eyes. You're so blissfully unaware of it all too, and it only makes Joe fall for you that much more.

"I think I'm gonna have to agree with you on that one, sweetheart," he replies, genuinely believing it.

Magic snow powers or not, Joe adored seeing you in awe like that tonight. He can't wait for many more instances like it, and who knows? Maybe during next year's first snowfall, he might be on one knee, confessing his love for you in a different way.

[itaipava]

— lando norris falling in love with you

he is actually timid about liking you and tries to treat you like just another friend because he doesn’t want to be too obvious; but the more he tries to hide that feeling, the more he feels.

he gazes at you a lot; he looks at you with his eyes shining because for him you are the most beautiful artwork ever. he never tires of admiring you. and he also likes to learn your little quirks and habits, and he finds them so, so cute and unique. but he quickly looks away when you look back at him.

he loves making you laugh; making silly faces from across the room, or making comments in your ear about something he noticed. he laughs along with you or stares at you with major heart-eyes while you laugh until your cheeks hurt. he also always laughs at your jokes — whether they’re good or bad.

he becomes more talkative and tends to ask a lot of questions about you. he tries not to overdo it but he’s just genuinely curious and interested about you; and he genuinely loves to hear you talk, it could be about anything, he puts his chin in his hand and looks at you fondly, encouraging you to say more and more.

he also hangs on your words. one day, you casually complimented him by telling him that he looks good in blue and you were pleasantly surprised to see he wore different shades of blue for the next whole week. even when you make a passing comment that you want to go to a certain artist’s concert, he goes online to check and secretly buys two tickets in advance so that he can surprise you.

he becomes more physically affectionate. there’s a sense of innocence in the way he touches you, whether it be something small like; touching your hand when you walk side by side, or knees touching under the table or a playful, casual pet on your head

he also tries to find excuses to hold your hand; subtly holding your hand a little longer after a high-five or asking for your hand so he can “read your palm” or compare the size of the hands for the hundredth time, or also to draw a small heart on the palm of your hand - letting you do the same to him later, so you guys have the same ‘tatoos’

he likes to look at what you’re listening to on spotify or what you’re saving on pinterest; because that way he learns a little more about your favorite things. and whenever he gets the opportunity, he starts talking to you about it, and he’s completely in love with the face you make when he asks you about your favorite band or something.

he also tries to like the same things as you, to understand you a little more and so that you have more to talk about; he always gives another chance for that movie or song he hated but you said you loved.

he constantly includes you in his future plans. he wants to hang out with you more and in hopes of you sticking around, he makes plans in advance, sometimes a few days in advance, sometimes a week, sometimes a month, sometimes even a whole year as he talks about about how he’ll help you decorate the christmas tree next december. and he’s always so conscious about whether you’re having fun to the point it seems he might be trying a little too hard and when you bring it up and reassures him, he sheepishly says, “i don’t want to bore you i guess, i want you to keep me around,“

he starts wanting you to stay the night. and he starts holding your hand more because although words may not leave his mouth, he really wishes for you to stay — to stay the night, to stay with him, beside him. and he holds your hand a little tighter each night and starts developing a habit of squeezing your hand before every goodbye.