#starting the new year................ WITH LOTS OF WORDS!!

[bytemee]

SUPER RICH KIDS — yu jimin.

"super rich kids with nothin' but loose ends."

synopsis. stuck on a miserable family vacation with the same rich elites you’ve spent your whole life trying to escape, you somehow become karina’s new favorite distraction—whether as her escape or just her latest source of entertainment. either way, trouble seems to follow wherever she goes, and you’re starting to wonder if getting caught up in it is a mistake… or exactly what you need.

pairing. rich!girlkarina x rich!girl!reader

warning(s). language, dysfunctional family (they're rich vro), drinking, impulsive/reckless behavior, kissing (OH EM GEE.), and let me know if there's more.

words. 3.4k

authors note. i got a lot of reqs to work on, but chat...im actually gonna go ghost for a bit...wanted to feed u before i left. NOT FOR LONG JUST A BIT.

masterlist. navigation.

the night had started with forced smiles and expensive wine.

a business dinner, your father called it—an important meeting with the yu family about a potential merger, partnership, or investment—something that only mattered to men who measured their worth in profit margins. you were there for appearances, another polished accessory at the table, sitting pretty in an outfit that cost too much and shoes that made your feet ache.

karina yu, seated across from you, was similarly dressed up and looked just as uncomfortable. she was a year younger than you and, like you, was being trained to follow in her father's footsteps. the yu heir, your father liked to say.

"so polite." your mother would smile. "a proper young lady."

and she was. always so obedient, so docile. her eyes lingered on you a little too long every time you refilled your glass, every time you made a face at the bitter taste of wine, every time you raised your arm to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand—the way a boy would.

somewhere between dessert and your father's third whiskey, he made a comment. something about the way you dressed, the way you ate, the way you spoke. the words came out slurred, and your mother didn't say anything, but karina's eyes met yours in a flash of pity. you weren’t even sure what you said back. maybe you laughed. maybe you just took another sip. either way, by the time the dinner ended, you were in the midst of an argument, your father's face flushed with anger, your mother's lips drawn tight with disapproval.

"fuck you!" you'd spat, legs moving of their own accord. "you're such a fucking bastard!"

and then you saw it.

your father’s porsche, gleaming under the valet lights, parked at the front like a monument to his self-importance.

before you could think twice, you were slipping off your shoes and hurling one at the windshield. the crack of impact was louder than you expected, and you watched in a daze as a spiderweb of fissures spread across the glass.

“have you lost your mind?”

you went around the car, popping open the trunk before grabbing one of his sleek golf clubs and bringing it down over the hood; the first hit dented the hood. the second left a long, jagged scratch across the side. the third—

"stop! are you crazy?" your mother yelled.

you barely spared her a glance, breathless as you adjusted your sunglasses, heart pounding in your ears as you brought the club down again and again, watching as the car crumpled under the force of each blow. and when you finally ran out of breath, you looked up and saw the doorman staring. your mother, too, her face pale and expressionless. even your father, still standing by the front door, hadn't moved.

even the yu parents watched with thinly veiled horror.

and then there was karina.

standing just a few feet away, hands clasped in front of her, head tilted ever so slightly as the faintest ghost of a smirk curled at the corner of her lips.

three years later, you weren’t supposed to still think about that night.

but the problem with rich people was that they never let anything die. your father’s car had been replaced by the end of the week, the dinner party swept under the rug, your behavior excused as a rough patch in polite conversation. still, the whispers followed you through every gala, every charity event, every hushed conversation between wives who sipped champagne and smiled like they weren’t enjoying the gossip.

and unfortunately, karina's family, along with others, joined you on this godforsaken vacation, this trip of torture and misery. this was a chance for your parents to play recruiter, and they weren't the only ones.

you try to avoid her. really, you do.

you sit at opposite ends of the dinner table, sip champagne like it might actually make this tolerable, and politely nod at conversations about stock portfolios and summer homes in monaco. but the whole time, her gaze is like a brand. you can feel her eyes on you, burning a hole right through the back of your skull.

"she's still staring," you murmur at some point, leaning into your best friend's ear.

"who is?" he whispers back, turning his head ever so slightly to glance around the room.

you sigh and look back down at your plate, idly playing with the food on your plate. you're not hungry. you haven't been hungry for the last three days. it's a wonder you've managed to keep any of it down. "karina," you say. "she keeps—"

"karina?"

"yes," you hiss. "karina yu. has been staring at me nonstop for the past twenty minutes."

he pauses and looks at you, his eyes widening in understanding.

"oh, right," he says, and then his gaze shifts to your left, and he raises a hand in greeting. "hey," he says, and when you glance up, you see her waving back.

you groan inwardly, and she must hear because the next moment, her gaze is on you again. you meet her stare and watch as she raises her wineglass in a small toast. "she's pretty," your best friend says.

you roll your eyes and look away. "i guess," you say.

she’s trouble, is what you really mean.

but you don’t say it, because then you’d have to explain. you’d have to explain the way she had stood there that night, watching you rip your father’s car apart like it was performance art, the way her lips had curled in approval.

you shift in your seat and pretend like the weight of her gaze doesn’t make your skin prickle. your best friend, ever oblivious, keeps sipping his champagne.

and then—she slides into the seat next to you.

she smells like jasmine, and her hair brushes against your cheek as she leans over to whisper in your ear. "you’re not even pretending to have fun," she says. when you turn your head, karina is right there, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she smiles at you.

you swallow thickly.

“i didn’t know i was supposed to be entertaining anyone,” you say.

she tilts her head. “that’s the thing about you. you always end up putting on a show anyway.”

your grip tightens around your fork. “what do you want?”

her lips press together like she’s holding back a laugh. “a little company.”

“i’m busy.”

“with what?”

you blink at her.

and karina smiles sweetly, cocking her head to one side. her hair spills over her shoulder in a glossy wave, and she tilts her chin up, just a little, her eyes dancing with challenge. she looks good like this—all sharp angles and smooth lines, her clothes tailored to perfection, accentuating every curve. you hate that you notice.

she licks her lips, and your stomach flips.

and just like that, you stupidly take the bait.

“fine,” you say, setting your napkin down with a sharp flick. “where are we going?”

karina grins, like she’s just won something.

the next thing you know, you’re in the driver's seat of some random convertible, the engine purring underneath you. it's not hers; it's yours, and it's not either of your parents’ because you both stole it from the hotel parking lot.

“you’re going to get us killed,” karina says, but she’s laughing, wind whipping through her hair as you speed down an empty road. you shoot her a grin, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the radio until it lands on some old r&b song you barely remember.

“wouldn’t be the worst way to go,” you muse. “at least the headlines would be fun.”

she gasps, clutching her chest in mock horror. “tragic demise of two rich idiots—local community breathes sigh of relief.”

you bark out a laugh, the sound cutting through the wind, and you feel a sharp pang of relief when karina grins back, wide enough to show teeth. you almost miss the turn for the beach, and she yelps as you swerve onto a side street, tires squealing against the pavement. it's late, well past midnight, and the roads are deserted. you can't hear anything over the roar of the engine.

it's electrifying.

"this is the stupidest thing i've ever done," she says breathlessly, and you throw back your head and laugh.

"isn't it?" you say. "and we're only getting started."

karina grins, white teeth flashing in the dark, and then you're driving down the coastline, music blaring, windows rolled all the way down. the ocean air fills your lungs, and you feel lighter than you have in weeks, months—years, maybe.

the beach is empty when you finally pull up, the sand stretching out under the moonlight, waves crashing in the distance. you kill the engine, and the two of you sit there in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of the wind, the water, and your own breathing.

karina shifts beside you, tilting her head as she looks out toward the water. “it’s pretty,” she says, her voice soft.

you follow her gaze, watching as the waves roll in, cresting against the shore, leaving foamy trails in their wake. you nod absently.

"yeah."

you clear your throat and reach for the door handle. “come on.”

she follows without question, slipping off her heels as soon as her feet hit the sand. you do the same, relishing the way the cool grains shift beneath your toes. it feels good after being cooped up all day, stuck in stuffy rooms full of people you couldn’t care less about.

karina inhales sharply.

you turn to look at her, and she laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she walks past you toward the ocean. the breeze catches her dress, making it ripple around her hips, and you follow without thinking, drawn to her like a moth to flame.

karina takes a deep breath, then exhales long and slow. “god,” she mutters, rubbing a hand over her face. “i needed this.”

you smirk. “the break from pretending to be the perfect daughter?”

she huffs out a laugh, but there’s something wry in her smile. “something like that.”

there's an awkward pause where neither of you speaks. karina stares out at the ocean, and you stare at her, watching as her eyes grow distant and thoughtful.

“what are you thinking about?” you ask.

she hesitates, then glances at you. “that night.”

you don’t have to ask which one.

“ah,” you say, stretching your arms overhead. “and here i thought we were avoiding the past.”

“i think about it sometimes,” she admits. “the way you just did it. no second-guessing, no hesitation. you just let it all out.”

you scoff, kicking at the sand. “and look where it got me. my dad replaced the car, my mom pretended it never happened, and i’m still stuck in the same stupid cycle.” you shake your head and run a hand through your hair. "all i did was make things worse."

karina turns to look at you, her eyes sharp as she studies you.

"but you felt better afterward, didn't you?" she asks softly.

you glance away, chewing on your bottom lip as you consider the question. you did feel better. for a while, anyway. but the feeling faded quickly enough. your parents were pissed, and they made sure to remind you how disappointed they were and how embarrassing it was to have their daughter act like that.

"i guess," you finally say.

karina hums thoughtfully, then takes a step closer to you. "would you ever do something like that again?"

you raise an eyebrow. "why? planning on watching again?"

she doesn't flinch. "maybe."

you snort and shake your head, “you liked it, didn’t you?”

and she smiles.

“i like when people stop pretending.”

and there it is—the real reason she keeps following you around, why she keeps pushing you, why she keeps testing you. it's not because she likes you; it's because she's curious. she wants to see how far you'll go, how much it'll take before you crack. you wonder if she's always been like this, if her family's wealth and influence have made her so bored and jaded that she'll do anything for entertainment.

you don't know what possesses you to take a step forward.

but karina doesn’t move away, doesn't even blink; her gaze flicks upward, meeting your eyes. you're taller than her by a few inches, and she has to tilt her chin up slightly to maintain eye contact, and for a moment, you wonder if she's going to kiss you. but instead, she reaches out and touches your cheek. her fingers are warm against your skin, and you swallow thickly as she brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

her thumb lingers near your jaw. "i'm hungry."

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden change of topic. "what?"

karina grins and lets her hand fall back to her side. "i said i'm hungry," she repeats, then nods toward the beach. "we should get some food."

you open your mouth to respond, but she's already walking away, headed toward the car, her dress billowing out behind her.

you take a deep breath.

then another.

and another.

and then you follow, because what else are you supposed to do?

an hour later, you were sprawled across the king-sized bed of a five-star hotel that you booked just for tonight with your dad's black card, karina curled up beside you in an oversized robe, giggling into her hand as you held the room’s phone to your ear.

you weren’t sure exactly what time it was, but you didn't care, forcing your voice to be deeper, which was totally not believable and made you sound like a fucking idiot.

"sir," the poor receptionist stammered, "the kitchen is closed—"

"do you know who i am?" you interrupted, deepening your voice even more as you mimicked your father’s business tone. "i could have this entire establishment shut down by morning. now, i want a steak, medium rare, and a bottle of your best wine on the table within the hour."

the line went quiet for a moment, and you could hear typing in the background. karina muffled her laughter against your shoulder before composing herself just enough to put on her best impression of your mother. "and do not forget the crème brûlée," she added, her voice sickly sweet. "my husband simply must have his dessert."

there was another long pause on the other end.

"…right away, sir," the receptionist finally said, defeated.

the moment you hung up, karina lost it, burying her face in the sheets as she laughed. you couldn’t help but grin, watching the way she absolutely delighted in your childish antics, how she encouraged them with her own impulsive ideas. it felt like a dream, something so outside the realm of reality that it was almost absurd. and yet, there you were, playing make-believe like children, stealing bottles of alcohol and ordering room service at 2 am.

"this is crazy," karina said between giggles, looking up at you with shining eyes. "absolutely insane."

you raised an eyebrow. "crazy enough to be fun?"

she blinked at you for a second before smiling. "yes."

you grinned. "good."

the room service arrives anyway (turns out, rich people always get what they want), and karina laughs when the waiter leaves, eyeing the table full of food. she looks like a kid on christmas morning, and you can't help but smile as she takes in all the options. the two of you sit side by side at the table, digging into the assortment of food.

it's probably the most delicious meal you've ever eaten.

karina laughs, taking a sip from her glass of wine as she watches you devour the steak. you try to ignore the way your stomach twists when she smiles at you, but it's hard not to notice the warmth spreading through your chest every time she looks your way. it makes your cheeks flush, and you're suddenly grateful that the lights are dim enough to hide it.

"i can't remember the last time i ate this much," you mumble around a mouthful of food.

"me neither," she admits. "i think i might explode."

"same," you say.

she leans back in her chair, swirling the wine in her glass before bringing it up to her lips. "what are we going to do tomorrow?" she asks.

you shrug. "dunno."

karina sets her glass down and watches you for a moment; the way she studies you makes your breath catch, and you quickly look away, suddenly too aware of how close you're sitting. her knee brushes against yours under the table, a light touch that makes your heart beat faster than it should.

"you've got some sauce—" she gestures vaguely toward your face.

you reach up to wipe it away, but she tuts, shaking her head. "no, here."

before you can react, she leans in, her thumb brushing against the corner of your lips, wiping away the sauce with a soft sweep. your skin burns where she touches you, and your gaze flickers up to meet hers. she smiles slightly, and your breath catches when her thumb lingers on your lip before she pulls away.

"there," she murmurs, licking the sauce off her finger, and oh god—your pulse spikes, and your whole body flushes.

you clear your throat and try to ignore the way the room suddenly feels warmer than before. it's too hot, and your clothes feel tight around your chest. you can't breathe. karina's gaze burns into you, and you swallow hard, trying not to squirm under her scrutiny.

"are you okay?" she asks.

"fine," you manage, reaching for the bottle of wine. your hands shake slightly as you pour yourself a glass, and when you glance back at karina, her eyes are still on you, studying you like you're a 400-page textbook.

you take a large sip.

"so," she says slowly, resting her chin in her palm, "have you ever had a girlfriend?"

you choke on the wine.

karina watches as you splutter and cough, her expression amused as you struggle to catch your breath. when you finally manage to compose yourself, she raises an eyebrow expectantly.

"well?"

"what?"

she smiles, "or a boyfriend? whichever one floats your boat."

"uh…" you trail off, trying to think.

"i haven't either," she says helpfully.

your face burns, and you take another sip of wine, hoping the alcohol will ease the sudden tension in your shoulders. "i haven't really thought about it," you admit.

"really?" she tilts her head curiously. "not even once?"

you shrug, picking at a loose thread on the hem of your shirt.

"okay," she says, and then she slides off her chair and moves around the table, standing next to you. you turn, startled, and she's right there, leaning against the armrest of your seat, her eyes dark as she stares at you.

"kiss me," she says.

your heart skips a beat.

"what?"

"you heard me," she says, smiling a little as she runs a finger along the edge of the table. "kiss me."

"i can't."

"why not?"

"because—" you start and then stop, not sure how to explain why this is a terrible idea. because your family will kill me? because my parents will disown me?

karina's smile widens.

"if you won't, i will."

you blink. "what?"

"i said," she says slowly, "if you won't, then i will."

she steps closer, her gaze locked onto yours. your breath hitches, and you lean back instinctively, but her hand finds your thigh, squeezing gently. she smells like jasmine, and her skin feels warm where it brushes against yours.

"kiss me," she murmurs, eyes dancing with challenge.

you swallow hard.

"okay," you say, your voice hoarse.

her smile widens, and she leans forward, her lips brushing against yours. it's soft at first, tentative, and then her hand slides up your thigh, and your brain short-circuits. she's gentle but persistent, coaxing you open, her tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you gasp. you let her in, tasting wine and strawberries and something sweeter.

your mind goes blank.

when you pull apart, her eyes are hooded, pupils blown wide. her lips are swollen and pink, and she licks them slowly, savoring the taste. she smiles at you, a lazy, satisfied grin.

"well?" she asks.

your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

"good," you croak.

karina laughs.

you wake up with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily. there's no one next to you, just an empty space where a person should be. the sheets are still warm.

karina left a note.

and a phone number.

call me when you want to have fun again. - karina <3

[literallyaflame]

i made this post with my tongue planted firmly in my cheek. i am, alas, both guarded and blasé about my profession. but every few weeks, i scroll through this thread to read all of the new stories. they’re mesmerizing to me.

the thing is, i am not the sort of person who gets to play hamlet. i’m a trans guy from rural texas who grew up in a trailer in the woods. i have the body of a ballerina, the personality of a court jester, and the backstory of a wattpad bad-boy. to this day, i feel strange about my relationship to—let’s be real—an art form with a steep and costly barrier to entry, one which i frankly had no business attempting to climb

so, in the spirit of vulnerability, i am going to take my tongue out my cheek and tell you all about my actual experiences playing hamlet

the pre-show featured the last minute addition of a stuffed penguin. the director wanted me in pajamas for the opening “claudius is king and hamlet is clearly pissed about it” sequence, but decided that the costumer’s efforts didn’t make me pitiful enough, so he handed me a stuffed animal. in the original pre-show, i was moping around the stage, rolling on the floor and watching the audience file in. i decided that the best use of the penguin would be—naturally—to have it mope with me. every time i adjusted myself on the floor, i adjusted the penguin alongside me. sometimes, i stopped to stare at it intensely. the audience fucking loved this so much—every night—which i was not expecting, but obviously leaned into. it did an effective job of depicting hamlet as unsettlingly calculated, but vulnerable

someone brought a little girl (6, maybe 7) to see one of the first few performances. she sat in the front row. during act one, i made a show of looking around at the (overwhelmingly adult) audience before leaning down to ask her—“am i a coward?” she, of course, laughed at me. the next line was an affirmative “‘swounds, I should take it,” which felt like a fitting response to being laughed at by a little girl

another little kid story—someone brought their 11 year old, who seemed a bit bored at first. by the end of act 1, he was on the edge of his seat, and during intermission, he moved down to the front row. i cannot help but humor children, so i (of course) looked directly into his eyes to say the “very witching time of night” speech as though i were telling him a ghost story. he lit up like crazy. (his guardians were obviously a bit confused by his enthusiasm, but pleased! so that’s good)

that kid wasn’t the only one who caught wise to my audience shenanigans. we sold out before opening night, but there were usually a handful of open seats—a lot of the reservations were for groups/clubs/whatever that didn’t end up filling every spot. people would avoid the first row for act 1, but invariably, act 2 would see it filled with eager participants, lol

on opening night, i was playing through the sequence where—spoilers—hamlet and horatio confirm that claudius killed king hamlet through the power of shenanigans and, in an exercise of pre-meditated audience interaction, went up to a girl in the front row (who seemed really into it) and asked for a high five. she paused in shock, so i begged “come on!” in my most encouraging voice and, of course, she did. the entire audience lost it

the audience (for obvious reasons) perks up in recognition for “to be or not to be.” i decided to lean into it, which was very fun for me. i would always start the speech and immediately flick my eyes across the audience to catch people gasping and (in some cases, hilariously) mouthing along with the words. as soon as i made eye contact, they’d snap back into the scene with me apologetically. one night, someone gasped loud enough that their friend shushed them

i could keep going, but those were the fun ones. here’s a picture of me with my penguin:

love shakespeare. did a hamlet run tonight, looked someone dead in the eye to say “am i a coward?” during a speech and the fucker shrugged and nodded

[whowrotethenote]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐞 𝐃𝐨

Summary: Alana has lived ten different lives since she met the infamous Tribal Chief. And once again, she finds herself entering into another phase of her life where things are ending and she has to make room for what’s to begin.

Warnings: NSFW // Smut // Profanity // Age gap // Angst // Themes of abortion // Mentions of disease // Adultery

Word count: 12.8k

Inspo: All We Do by Trey Songz

Disclaimer // Part Two // Biggest Fan Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist

Saturday, April 27, 2024

“Jesus, Anthony,” Demi cackles grabbing ahold of his wrist. “Leave some room for the damn orange juice.”

I shake my head at the champagne flute he has eighty percent full of the expensive house champagne. Saturday brunch at The Terrace and Outdoor Gardens—located in a very vibrant Manhattan. Outside feels like when Controlla dropped in 2016. The sun is unforgiving on my caramel skin, despite it only being the end of April. The table cloth is an unrealistic white, matching the aprons of the waiters strutting around, hands high with trays of fresh food.  Laughter of the wealthy, glasses clinking, and the background noise of a hot and moving New York fill the atmosphere. 

He purses his lips shaking her off. “It's a lituation. My two favorite girls are officially graduating.” He continues to fill my glass and soon after Demi’s. He follows the same pattern, blessing each of our glasses with only a splash of orange juice from the decanter. “And honestly—even that was too much.”

A lot has changed since the semester started. My life looks completely different. Feels completely different. I am completely different. It's almost unbelievable what time can cycle in and out of your life. I feel like I’ve lived three different lives since this time last year. 

The donation for my tuition was the seed planted that grew the forest. Now my reality is rooted and tangled in luxury I only used to dream of. The donations and compensation for my time and abruptly being tugged out of my life and into his, come more often than not now. 

So much so, Demi and I were able to wish the studio apartment a long awaited farewell. Twenty-eight hundred dollar rent would’ve made me choke on absolutely nothing just a few months ago. Now, it's the minor cost I pay to live comfortably, in our three bedroom condo planted in the heart of Manhattan. 

The space was a bit much for just two girls, who were barely there—by virtue of our packed schedules. So we took in a stray, as Demi would call him. Anthony—or as he referred to himself as, our Fairy Gaymother—was the perfect fit to our complicated puzzle. A twenty-four year old alum to Columbia, and the children’s hospital’s youngest surgical technician—who prides himself on dating the most giving and generous of foreign men, who only come to the city for business purposes. 

Only three weeks shy of graduation, we decided to take a much earned breather. Celebrating on the rooftop of this hotel, with an overflow of mimosas, conversation about men and the things we hate about them, consuming food at the highest prices inflation can convey. 

Dressed in all white, brown skins accentuated by the gold we decorate ourselves with, and champagne glasses held up to heaven.

“I’ve watched you two bust your asses for four months now. So, this is well deserved. I am so proud of y’all. Cheers to being young, black and educated.”

“Exactly,” Demi agrees.

“Raising the bar,” he continues. “And deleting that damn Canvas app… until med school.” A sharp clink of our glasses sounds off like a bold period to his cheers speech. 

Bzzz! Bzzz!

I place the glass down after downing half of it, to replace it with my phone.

Your Tribal Chief wanted me to let you know you’re needed in Miami next weekend. Flight information has been emailed. 

It's not even an inquiry anymore. They already know I’ll show. 

Butterflies erupt in my diaphragm nevertheless at the realization that I haven’t seen him since the beginning of the month. He was generous enough to provide Demi and I Wrestle-mania tickets. In the wake of our schedules, we were only able to attend night one. 

I’m sure he had desired to spend night two surrounded by family anyway. He took the pin and ended a legendary title reign. He’s been the top guy for so long—I’m sure it took a piece of him regardless of the preparation for the shift behind the scenes. 

Demi and I watched in horror from the condo. Mouths catching flies, even minutes after the fact. We had just been there. I had just been with him. He gave no signs of anticipated defeat. He wasn’t moving like a man ready to step down from greatness. Or maybe he did. Maybe it was in between the lines of him practically demanding I be waiting for him in the trailer immediately after his match. Or the unsolicited aggression as he took me from the back. The unforgiving grip on my neck. The scandalous and countless slaps to my ass, followed by painful grips of flesh. The fine lines that garnished his nose as his upper lip curved into a snarl in between strokes. The sharp bites like a feral python in place of kisses. 

Okay, thanks.

Call me if you have any questions. I’d pack very light. It’s scorching down here.

Miami…a city in such close proximity to his home. His real life. A territory nether of us touch as if it's poison ivy— opting to pretend it doesn’t even exist. But we know. It's all in the way I’m still only able to get in touch with Paul and not him. All in the days that pass between one getaway to the next. All in the routinely compensation for services. It’s disguised as a helping hand, but I already know it’s hush money. Insurance. A pretty bow wrapped on a box that guarantees his secret stays exactly that. 

This isn’t the first time he’s flown me out. Our arrangement started as him just dipping into me every time he was on this end of the map. Now, wherever he is, is never too far to get me to. 

The first time was in Green Bay, Wisconsin. Christmas was approaching. New York was covered and knee deep in snow. He was already in Wisconsin, preparing for Smackdown. Thursday, the night before, I received the regular text from Paul.

Locked away in another five star hotel, I waited all day for him. Watched the show air in real time as The Bloodline faced heat from none other than Mr. Voices In My Head himself—Randy Orton. The wee hours of the night crept up on me as I laid stretched out on the plush, king-sized hotel bed. The clock read 1:41 a.m. when the subtle buzz of the room key granting access, reached my ears. Like a dog awaiting its owner’s arrival, I shot up. Daddy’s home.

Lines of defeat and hard work all over his golden face. Rich beard, grayer than I had ever seen before. His bun, loose and not as pristine as usual. He was still the finest man I had ever laid eyes on. Every encounter—every late night as he shed another layer of Roman off to reveal Joe, it only made my attraction to him spread like wildfire. 

Still, always reeling myself back to the impenetrable truth, that this was just sex. An exchange. Bearing witness to the lessons of my business classes— his market has a need and I’m his supplier. I know my role. And for him I act it out with grace and confidence every time.

He removed his Nike hoodie and emptied everything from his sweatpants’ pockets on top of the dresser. Again, twisting the black band off and burying it in the drawer with the rest of his guilt.

“I need a massage,” he declared with hands rested on his hips. The expression on his face and his tone suggested it was a question, but I knew better. I sat planted on my knees that sunk into the mattress, longer than I intended because the sincerity sparkling in his eyes—the neediness shook me. 

Hastily, I disappeared into the ensuite bathroom as he took my place on the edge of the bed. The complimentary lotion and some type of oil, is what I return with. He’s shirtless laid out on his stomach. Eyes already shut in comfort. 

Situating myself on his butt, I squeezed what I thought was a sufficient amount of lotion and scented oil into my palms. Rubbing it into my hands before sliding it evenly across his defined back in erratic patterns. Digging deep and showing supplemental love to every ridge and dip I find. I didn’t think my small hands were making an impact until he released a deep breath paired with a moan.

“Mmm.” The vibration transmitted from his core, to my hands flattened on his back, landing in my hot center. I’m sure he could feel her heating up—but nothing came of it.

That was how the night carried on. Me kneading and caressing his hard back and soft skin, until I heard the soft snores I’m accustomed to dozing off to after a long night. We didn’t do our usual. No sex. No head. No lingerie. No dirty talk. Just a much needed massage to a man who offers his life to his fans and the mat—followed by sleep.

As expected, when the sun hit my face through the drapes, I found myself alone. No trace of him. Just the lingering and faint smell of his natural scent mixed with whatever he uses for his hair. And the note on the dresser. Same message every time.

Thanks for last night.

Followed by his name and the two R’s.

I learned quickly that this little arrangement between us was exactly as Paul described that first night. He was just in need of company. Comfort on the road. An outlet. I’m here to help him unwind. That’s going to look different some nights. Some nights we fuck. Some nights he just wants to be held in complete and serene silence. Other nights I'm his personal masseuse. I know the declaration I made that night in the Hamptons, but I can’t help but always wonder if he’s like this with the others. I deem it exhausting to be spread so thin, wearing different faces for all of us.

I keep those inquiries to myself now, though. The less I know, the better. The thicker the line between us, the better. For me and for him. He’s living a double life as is. I’m here to help ease the other one or ones—and pull him away from it all, even if just for a few days. Catching feelings defeats the purpose, not making me useful anymore. And I’m not in the business of not being useful to him.

Yet and still, it nudges the back of my conscience how the inevitable split will come. I know this won’t last forever. It can’t possibly. I do have my own life too. Maybe it didn’t seem that way to him because every time he puts a Bat signal out, I’m here at the ready. 

I yearn to be someone’s wife one day—yearn for love. Motherhood possibly. I can’t hang onto whatever this is forever. So yeah—the thicker the line, the better. That way when we have to break, it’ll be easy…Right?

“I’m actually a little tired of hearing about you and the Italian. All you two do is make love. Call me when y’all get into a scuffle or something.” Demi yawns.

“Well, someone has to share their mancapades. You’ve been single since Obama was in office.”He flicks a long finger my way. “This one here has a mystery sponsor she refuses to talk about.”

An unpremeditated grin adorns my me at the mention of him. Sponsor. I think I like that term better than Demi’s Sugar Chief.

“Mmph,” She catches my smile. I wish she’d get out of my head sometimes.

“I mean seriously— what is the big deal with him? I’m starting to think the man is famous…or married.”

Tight-lipped, I shrug, pulling my oversized Chanel shades over my face— to avoid lying straight to his. How has he hit in on the nail twice? Demi and I have been working like ants to keep Anthony at bay. He’s always interrogative of the secret phone calls, random deposits and last minute trips. I can feel his discovery creeping up like a lion on the prowl.

“You don’t worry about my friend and her mystery man. Her services have been keeping us all fed.” She gestures to the contents of the table. I shake my head at her mocking Paul.

“Yeah, well whatever the arrangement,” Anthony waves a hand. “Next time you see him, just whisper in his ear about me, would you?” I raise a brow. “Just tell him you have a roommate that’s on the hunt for a rich mantoy. And not one I have to hide.”

“Mantoy?” Demi’s face scrunches up.

“Yeah! I know baby boy has to have a cousin or something.”

“Yeah.” Demi chuckles bringing the mimosa to her lips. “It depends. You like seeing double?” I pinch her under the table, covering my laugh with my other hand.

“Oh, no. Maybe he prefers they come solo,” I add. We erupt into a fit of laughter together. coaxing Anthony’s wrinkly forehead as he looks between us both— smiling apprehensively.

“Wait,” Demi holds a hand up, lip quivering from all the shenanigans. “Twilight. Were you into the vampire or the werewolf?”

“Alright!” I reach into my purse pressing my lips together, barricading any more giggles. I pull  out six crisp hundred dollar bills and slide them to the middle of the table. “On that note, I’m gonna go. It’s been real, gal and gay.” I raise up to kiss them both goodbye.

“You’re insufferable,” I whisper into Demi’s ear after a kiss to her cheek.

“You love me,” she replies lowly, flashing her teeth.

“Whisper in his ear!” Anthony reminds me before I reach the elevator that leads to the rest of the hotel.

“Believe me I will!”

“Thank you for your services,” Demi waves the hundred dollar bills in the air.

In the back of the Uber, I decide to check in with Paul.

“Lana,” he greets me over the phone. My phone. Thats right—we’ve also wished the payphone a farewell. 

“Paul,” I greet back with the phone smushing between my ear and shoulder to shuffle through my purse. “I’m just calling to make sure it's only for the weekend?”

“Yes, the weekend is all he said.”

“Good.” Still with a million and one things in queue before graduation, I can’t afford to go M.I.A for a whole week.

“And you’ll be taking the jet again.”

“Lovely. Nice doing business with you.”

“Pleasure as always.” Ready to take the phone away from my ear to hang up, I hear my name again. “Oh—and Lana?”

“Yeah?”

“Congratulations.” For a man that presents himself as an evil, flip-flopping mastermind on screen, behind the scenes he sure is an empathetic softy. 

“Thank you.”

“I know the concept of graduation and the real world is quite scary, but trust me, before you know it you’ll be thirty.” I cringe. “Married, with babies, wishing you had these same problems instead.”

Babies…babies.

The energy in my walk-in closet was charged with nothing but irritation and the doom of dare I say it—judgment. She sat on the white ottoman in the center as I moved about—sharply hanging shirts and folding jeans, that on a normal day, would’ve sat in the hamper for weeks until I found the drive to deal with them. But it's not a normal day. Nothing is ever normal anymore.

It's one of those days that’ll stick with me. One of those days that I’ll think about on a random day when everything is seemingly fine. One of those days that if I’m lucky, I'll never have ever again.

She’s not talking anymore since I revealed my verdict. Demi and silence didn’t go together. It was an unlikely pair. One that gave you angst—a tornado in your stomach. Usually a context clue that something was deadly wrong. She didn’t need to speak. Four years now—living together, learning each other—loving each other. I already knew. I could already feel it.

The stinging sensation in my eyes expanded the longer she waited to speak. I knew it was coming, but the anticipation was useless. That lump in my throat grew, until swallowing brought physical pain.

“—I can’t believe you wouldn’t even just tell him.”

“What is there to tell? Huh?” My eyes widen at her even as she purposely avoided my heavy stare. “What am I supposed to do? Call Paul? And say what exactly?” I ridicule. “It won’t change anything. What do you think will happen here?”

I’d rather be anywhere else. Doing anything else. And talking about anything else. But I had been hiding already. I knew this was coming. The appointment was made days ago. And I had the nerve to walk around the condo, not even mentioning it. Leaving out whenever she came in. Eating in my room, instead of hers or the living room. Making it painfully obvious. There was nowhere else to go now. 

“You don’t think he at least deserves to know?”

“The appointment is already made. It's done.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it. Thats not for me to say. It’s your body—”

“So, what are you saying?”

“It’s half apart of him—”

“It,” I slapped the jeans in my hand against my thighs. “Is not anything. Okay? It is not even conscious. It has no cognitive abilities. It isn’t even the size of my fist. It's a fucking tumor— a parasite if anything.” I don’t know what took over me. All of the stares, bullhorns, signs with messages of hate and condemnation— the campaigns in the wake of all thats been going on with the laws surrounding it— was all starting to consume me. A problem I never thought I’d have to bear. But isn’t that what we always think? A problem isn’t really a problem, until it's our problem.

“And it's gonna ruin my life.” My voice cracks. “And his.”

I have things I want to do— accomplishments untouched collecting dust on the shelf, that I’d like to see through. This would put the ugliest blockade on that. I’m an absolute mess. Nothing that permanent would even fit into my life.

“It’ll change everything. This thing we have going—it's gonna be over and done with. I know it.”

“Thats what you’re scared of?”

The words get stuck in my throat—choking me. It's not about this new life and I really wish it had been. It’d be so much easier for me to just say I don’t want the perks to stop. But it's not about that. I hate that it isn’t. I hate that every time I wait in the five star hotel room, or his condo in Miami—that I’ve already forgotten about the lingerie, shoes, or bag he’s left on the bed—and my heart picks up speed when I see him walk through that door. 

“I don't know.” I lie through my teeth.

“I don't think he’ll respond the way you think he would.” 

“Let me guess,” I laugh mockingly. “He’s gonna come with me?” I raise a brow. “Come hold my hand? Tuh!” I shove the stack of jeans into a slot on the wall. It wasn’t fucking fitting, so I forced it— not having the capacity to figure out anything as simple as folding and putting clothes away. My mind too cluttered for simple every day tasks. “I know I don’t say what’s going on—mainly because I can’t. But you’re smart. You know exactly what’s been going on. I show you the lingerie—the shoes—my account. You see it all.”

“You’re a fool if you think it's still just sex, even now—”

“Demi, I don't need to hear this right now. Don’t you have to go to the hospital soon?”

“I told Miss Tonia I can’t come in today.”

Of course. Shaking my head, I lose the grip on the jeans in my hands. They slipped as I held the back of my hand to my nose, to ease that tickle. It started as one tear. Then another from my other eye, even heavier than the first, joined the race to my chin. Before I knew it my shoulders were shaking violently, and my vision was blurred.

I felt small arms encompass me from behind. Face pressed against my back as I came undone in the middle of the closet. If anyone was to walk in, they’d find two young girls, who had seen way too much, way too soon. Everything passing them by, but only one thing remained—stable and unwavering like a coast redwood tree. Their friendship.

“Right,” I force a laugh. “I have to go—thank you.” Without giving him an opportunity to respond, I press the red button and slam the phone face down on the leather seat. Breathe, Lana.

Tuesday, April 30, 2024

Brows turning down and nose turning up from the smell of books, books and more books—I stick a palm to my forehead, while jotting down the same notes repetitively in red pen. They say it helps to remember it this way. 

The library is ironically empty, considering it’s final’s week. On the top floor like always, I sit alone at the extensive shiny, dark-wood table. A single antique lamp in the center of it, giving life to this corner of the library.

I take my last final of undergrad tomorrow morning. Marking the official end of my best and worst chapter in life. College. 

They give all the trainings and seminars before they send you off, but they never really prepare you for the end. All month long, thoughts of what happens next sneak up on me. 

Where will I go? What will I do? Sure I have a plan, but if there’s anything I’ve learned about life in twenty-two brisk years—it's that plans are just suggestions. Nothing is definite in this life. The curse and the gift.

My pen hits the thick college-ruled notebook, watching my phone buzz. A picture of a baby Lana being held by her five year old, toothless brother overrides my home screen.

“Yes?” 

“You know—robbing banks even if you do it electronically—is still illegal.”

“The word you’re looking for is scamming, dickhead. And what the hell are you talking about?”

“There she is. That’s the Lana, I know. Not the one who buys me thirty-five hundred dollar paintings for my birthday.”

“So, you did get it?”

“Alana.”

“What?”

He chuckles. “Girl, where did you get the money for this?”

“Does it matter?”

“Uh— yeah, kind of? Especially since me and Chloe been throwing theories back and forth and all we could come up with was scamming or prostitution.” Well…he’s not completely out of range.

Something like a laugh escapes my throat. “How is Chloe?” I haven't seen my brother or his long-term girlfriend since Christmas. He didn’t show for the weekend I spent home on New Year’s and untraditionally of me, I didn’t come home for my birthday last month. 

I miss him in only the way siblings can miss each other. We can spend an hour together, at the most—laughing and reminiscing about how we grew up and things we miss about it—before we start fussing about nothing and disagreeing about anything. Then, I need distance again and maybe I’ll miss him again in another two to three months. 

“We broke up.”

“What?!” I shriek and immediately swivel my head to find I am in fact not the only person on this floor. Shit. “What?” I press in a fierce whisper.

His boisterous laugh fills my left ear, influencing my shoulders to drop a little. I shake my head—picking up the red pen I dropped again on the notebook. “I’m just fucking with you. Everything’s good. She’s good.”

“I can’t stand you. I don’t know how she does—willingly.”

“Don't try to switch the subject up. The painting?”

“You know—usually when people receive a birthday gift—especially a really expensive one—they say thank you.”

“I’m getting there. I’m just trying to figure out first, what my little sister has been doing to afford said really expensive gift.”

“Did you like it?” I side step his curiosity the same way I do with my parents. I plumule them with questions of my own. They’re still asking with every phone call,“how are you paying rent in a condo in Manhattan?” They bought the random donor for my bill. Everything else, they were absolutely not going for.

“You’ve never been this consistent with anything in your whole life.” It's not a secret that my brother is a nomad in careers. In high school, he fixated on basketball. In undergrad he wanted to get into tech. And now as an overgrown graduate, his new thing? Art. “Who’s paying you?” I probe.

“I don't know what you talking about…” I wait. “It's mommy. She said she’d pay my rent for the month if I got it out of you.” There we go. “She told me about you moving out the condo and going to Miami for your birthday. I didn’t believe her. Then I got the painting last week.” I exhale deeply. “She’s really worried, Lana.”

“Mommy starts her day worrying about something. How is me having money and living comfortably, cause for worry?”

“Because just last year you were asking to hold two hundred dollars and sharing a studio. Come on now. And when we ask—you do this. Deflect.”

“Make something up. I don’t know. Believe me—it's nothing to worry about.”

“I hope you’re leading with your head and not your heart.”

My face balls up. “You sound like your father.”

“That’s not good…” He’s quiet for a beat. Probably thinking of another angle. He can poke and prod like the detectives Benson and Stabler. I’m solid. He releases a breath through the phone. “Looks like I’ll be paying my own rent.”

“Damn.” It wasn’t just about the NDA. It was the weight of the judgment I anticipate. Hell, I look at myself sideways some nights thinking about this life I’ve created that’s sewn in lies and adultery.

“I saw your mans lost his title a while back. Shit crazy.”

I freeze up—pen stopping mid stroke at the mention of him. How does he find his way in every part of my life? “Crazy,” I agree with no inflation in my voice.

“You still watch wrestling?”

“Not really,” I lie. “Haven't really had that much time to, anyway.”

“That last lap is a bitch, ain't it?”

“Shitting me?” He chuckles.

“Don’t be expecting a thirty-five hundred dollar graduation gift. It’ll be more like thirty-five dollars. Seeing as I have to pay my own rent and stuff.”

“Still waiting on my thank you.”

“Thank you, Lana. I really do appreciate it.”

“There you go. Did that kill you?”

“Where’d you get it?”

“I went to this art show in Brooklyn. I saw it and it immediately felt like you.”

“So, this new Lana is paid and she has feelings? I don’t know who he is, but send ol’ boy my love and blessings.” 

Thursday, May 2, 2024

“Completely bald?”

“Completely bald.” Demi confirms. “Wasn’t a single hair left on that bitch. I almost asked him did he have business hours. My wax lady don’t even get me right like that.”

I shake my head, continuing the assault on my MacBook keyboard, racing to the finish line of this paper before 11:59 strikes. The last lap, I remind myself. Curling further into the corner of the cream-colored couch—toes sinking into the spongy cushion—I use Demi and Anthony’s pubic hair exchange as background noise.

Unfortunately, for my best friend, she’s experiencing another failed attempt of “getting out there.” Everything was seamless with the younger twenty-one year old quarterback, who plays for St John’s an hour away from us. Closing in on two weeks of thoughtful dates and suggestive texts, she finally decided to see what he was talking about in the bedroom. To her dismay, she discovered a whole lot more than a horse. The horse was bald.

Demi and Anthony sit on the carpet below me by the coffee table. Their lax game of Go Fish on complete pause after her revelation to the group.

“Wow.” Anthony puts his entire deck face down now, too invested in her dilemma. “Now, as a ponk—I prefer it. I didn’t know straight men did that shit too?”

“Neither did I! I mean he pulled it out and wham! Like am I fucking a seven year old?” My unsolicited snort causes her to swivel in my direction. “He could’ve at least left a little bit. A nice trim. I don’t need the whole forest.”

“So you like a little hair?” Anthony presses with dents in his brows. You would’ve thought they were sharing how they like their steak to be cooked. “Thats interesting. La, what about you?”

Demi leans back on both palms where she sits—face fixing with amusement. “Yeah, La. What about you?”

“This mystery man—he’s older isn’t he?” I nod. Nonverbal. “I feel like older men don’t even bother with that type of stuff. They just let it do its thing.”

My Samoan giant definitely trims. My mind is overrun by the soapy smell as he forces me all the way down until my nose is buried in the black hairs. “Trim,” I reveal. 

He gasps. “Really? Every thing I thought I knew is wrong.” 

Capping the last sentence on the screen with a period, I release the deepest sigh. Proofreading. Yeah, right. The graduation application has been accepted already. Clicking submit, I shove the pink device off my lap. “Well, was it big?” I break the silence.

“Eh.” She waves a hand. “Now that mouth? Something completely different.”

Anthony swats her leg. “You naughty girl. I thought y’all didn’t do anything.”

“No.” She beams. “I told you we didn’t have sex.”

“Did you return the favor?” I ask.

“I wasn’t putting my mouth anywhere near that hairless hotdog.” I feel a buzz underneath my outstretched leg. “Back to abstinence I go.” 

Without even knowing the contents of the message, a giddiness—girl-like and dainty—possesses me upon seeing the football and black heart emoji combo. 

i’m outside

Like I said—my life looks completely different now. 

“Uh oh.” Anthony retrieves his deck from the carpet. “I know what that means.”

Biting my lip between a smile— I stand, stepping into my Ugg slippers. “I’ll be back.” I regret to inform.

“Mmhmm.” Demi grins. “Tell him I said hi.”

Down the building elevator and through the lobby, the pit in my stomach grows with every advancement. Exiting my building into the night air of May—sounds of sirens and music from cars speeding by are powerful. New York is a different animal when the temperature rises. I spot the matte black Mercedes AMG a few steps up the block. Lights still on with a familiar sultry R&B beat, muffled and pounding from it. 

I knock on the tinted window, placing my hands in the pockets of my Spider hoodie. Seconds later the door is pushing open to reveal him.

Jaire Alexander. Twenty-seven year old cornerback for the Green Bay Packers. He sinks back into the leather seat, getting comfortable, marinating into all his five foot ten energy. The car smells brand new despite him having it for over a year now. Always carrying the energy of “chill, but still a big deal,” he’s dressed in a black Nike Tech, accompanied by something very sparkly on his wrist. His Creed cologne, overpowering the small space in the best way. A smoke signal to anyone near by, that a man—a well established one—is in the midst. 

I turn in my seat as we perform that same dance we do every time we see one another. Smiling like two teenagers who just passed the “do you like me,” note in class. His dimple is soft, a contradiction to his sharp jawline. He reaches to turn the knob on the radio—lowering the comforting sounds of Dilema by Nelly and Kelly Rowland.

“What you smiling at?” My shoulders rise and fall as my cheeks grow tender. His low chuckle fills the car. “Still not a woman of many words?”

“Still trying to figure you out, is all.”

A drunk night in Miami for my twenty-second birthday, had me literally colliding into him. I shut him down—like I do every man that crosses my path. But Jaire was consistent and charming as fuck. He was hard to sidestep and ignore. His laid back southern charm captivating me from the start. 

It's unfortunate what lies behind the curtain. My life just doesn’t call for whatever this is. It was a classic case of right person, wrong fucking time.

I really wish we had met at a different time. Under different circumstances. Maybe five years from now—when I’ve exhausted all my use to him and he’s retired the ring, ready to live out the rest of his days with his football team of kids and the one that actually makes his heart beat like mine is right now. 

“I could say the same thing about you.” He looks down—tongue sliding over his perfect row of top teeth. “Wouldn’t have to wonder no longer if you’d just let me take you out. A real date.” It's my turn to shy away from his intense stare. His pear-colored eyes with specks of brown, enough to make any woman fall to her knees. “Don’t you think this car thing is getting a lil’ old?”

This is as far as we’ve got. From Miami, to random phone calls and text messages, to unforeseen visits when his schedule permits—like right now. The most we do is talk about surface stuff.  School. Major news. Our favorite things. How our day is going. Nothing too deep. That’s my doing. I don’t want the strings to get too tight in the event I have to cut them altogether. The most intimate thing we’ve done includes him taking my small hand into his large one as he compare the size.

“Soon,” I promise for the umpteenth time. I can’t see a near future where this works with what else I have going on, but the way my soul relaxes when I’m around him just won’t allow me to cut this off. 

While in the spirit of disappointment—I release a deep breath in preparation to keep it going. “I’m gonna be M.I.A again this weekend.”

His head rolls back until it hits the head rest. “You killing me, Lana.”

“I know—I know.” I shake my head, fixing my gaze out the windshield, watching a couple hand in hand pass by on the street. “It's just the weekend.”

“And after that?”

My mouth opens and closes, because I have nothing for him. No plans. No good news. Just more words I can’t say. More half stories mixed with half truths.

This isn’t how any exchange between two potential lovers should start. A foundation built on lies, secrets, and deceit. No—thats reserved for him. This… This is something completely different. Or at least that’s how it feels. He feels good to me in a way that not just the other one doesn’t, but in a way no man ever has. It’s genuine. It’s organic. I’m myself. He’s hisself. There’s no angst— no looking over my shoulder. No confusion. No grey area with him. You know that feeling when you meet a man and you can just tell from the burn of your cheeks with every laugh, every word in that first exchange—that he’ll be in your life for a very long time? The heat—the jump in your heart when he says his name to you for the first time.

“Balls in your court…always has been.”

Friday, May 3, 2024

The cool water from his condo’s infinity pool is a soothing contrast to Miami’s humidity. Even now, at eleven at night. Paul was right. If the emerging heat in New York is unforgiving, then the heat ensuing down here is just relentless. 

The city is lit up below me. Lively and vibrant—leaving me to wonder what could be happening. I down the rest of the costly champagne he had waiting for me, wrapped in a pink bow on the bed. No note and of course he wasn’t there with it. I’m not sure of the occasion, but there never really is one when I’m greeted with expensive gifts from him. Just candy to keep the baby quiet.

I’m sure he’s oblivious or rather careless to my recent accomplishments. 

My insides heat up—face growing hot as I grow restless. Champagne bottle half gone. I push myself over to the opposite side of the pool where he’s seated. 

I waited all day as usual. Excitement diminishing when he finally entered just to be on a business call. What fucking business is there to discuss at eleven at night?

I missed him—or maybe the dick. Either way I’m feigning for something that’s lacking. I rest my chin on my forearms—holding myself steady on the edge. 

“That’s what I’m saying. If he wants more—the numbers have to go up.” He talks with a large hand. Legs spread apart, just begging for me to sit on him. Saying fuck the glass—I bring the bottle to my lips. A battery in my back to execute the plan in my head.

Reaching behind me, untying the knot of the colorful Pucci bikini top, I release the double D’s that never fail to steal his attention. The material pops as it comes undone, resting in between my now exposed breast. Nipples a shade darker than my skin and hard as rocks due to the cold water and stretching arousal. 

He didn’t even need to do anything. Just thinking of him all day—the anticipation built since Paul’s text letting me know I would see him soon—was enough to turn me on. 

His bottom lip sinks into his mouth as he squints in my direction. Shuffling in the lounge chair with a strong hand running down his thigh.

“Right,” he agrees with the other party of his phone call with a flat tone. I bite my lip failing to hide my amusement. I push away from the ledge to dive back. The water—cold and powerful swallowing me until I pop back to the surface. Fingertips wrinkly and chlorine invading my senses. Placing palms on the ledge— I push myself up and out. Breast bouncing freely with every step that leaves a trail of water on the stone flooring. 

He hasn’t blinked once. Eyes bright—the lights from the city and pool reflecting off them. Fixating like a movie projector lens, recording my every move. I pay him and myself a favor— untwisting the cap off with a loud pop and pouring a double shot of whatever brown liquid was housing the decanter he brought out with him and hadn’t even touched. It runs smooth into the glass—mimicking the much broader sound of the pool’s filter. 

I extend it to him. Tongue sliding over my teeth, watching him watch me. Instead of taking ahold of the glass itself, he wraps a large hand over mine—prompting me to pour the shot into his mouth. He doesn’t even react to the alcohol.

In the spirit of temptation, I turn to plant myself on top of his inviting manspread. Shifting to the side so both my legs can drape over his toned thigh. Dripping wet from the swim I took—he’s not even fazed. He just sinks deeper into the lounge creating more space for me to get comfortable. 

“Mmhm,” he hums in agreement. The strong and persistent voice echoing from the speaker of his phone, a straight cockblock. 

Sliding a wet hand up his black shirt, I find the soft skin of his abdomen stretched over his rippling muscles. Acrylic black French tips dragging up and across. Then down, brushing over the tent begging for attention despite its owner’s current distractions.

Rising to my knees, I maneuver one on the other side to straddle him. Making sure all of the heat from me brushes right up against the beast. All the while, leaning over to retrieve another shot from the decanter. This one is for me. 

It hits me right in my chest and spreads—not showing any mercy on the furnace that is already growing in pussy. Literally aching— I shift in his lap, creating much needed friction. Taking his free hand in mine, guiding it to my slim stomach. His fingers spread, damn near covering my entire mid section. Eyes locking on me. I slide it up so he’s covering my entire left titty. 

This is backfiring. Teasing him only makes me more antsy, feeling like a boiling pot of water with the lid shaking off.

His mouth widens—eyeballing the two thick fingers of his I slide all the way up to my warm mouth to suck.

“Sounds good…Yup—alright. See you soon, man.” In a rush, his thumb is on the red button and he tosses the phone to the table, not even looking to ensure its landing. Before it even hits the table I’m on him. Biting, licking, sucking everywhere that’s available. He’s no better. Gunning for my neck at the same time I angle to find his. 

“We don’t know patience tonight?” He smiles through a kiss. 

“I don't have any left,” I answer in between assaulting his mouth with licks. His smile deepens, advertising a single dimple peaking out from underneath the thick hairs on his cheek. Rough hands grip my face, stilling me. Everything pausing for a moment.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Hi.” I greet back—a small giggle ensuing. All confidence burning out under his immediate attention now. But he’s on me and there’s absolutely nowhere to hide.

He’s slimmed down a lot these last couple of months. I don’t know if it's intentional, but he looks damn good either way. Almost like his younger self when he used to run around with Seth and Dean. The ridges and valleys that map his body—from his arms, strong back and his core—more defined than ever. The grey in his beard a permeant staple now. Damn.

I look down between us—his stare too intense. I’ll never get used to this. No amount of alcohol—no drug can suppress the young Lana gawking at the one and only, Roman Reigns. 

My eyes make the trail back up to his. Smiling with his eyes and nothing else. “There she is,” he whispers.

My heart thumps just a little harder. A little faster. Yielding to the courage of alcohol—slow and deliberate—I lean in again, but not to kiss his lips this time. Once over his forehead. Another over the crinkle in the corner of his left eye. The definition of his cheekbone. Then, finally I arrive at his mouth. He takes the initiative to slither his tongue inside, after a drawn out peck. Our breath picking up again as another power struggle ensues. My hand sneaks behind him to tug at the bun until it comes undone. My wild Samoan. 

The kiss is sloppy and dizzying much like the alcohol is slowly but surely making me. So much so, I barely register the push of his hips, as he slides his shorts down just enough to release himself. The hand he has digging into my hip, unties one string on my bottoms, freeing me. 

A sharp gasp pulls from me as I crane my neck up at the feel of him—wide and strong filling every inch of me.

“This shit…” The wind he releases from his nostrils is heavy against my neck, before he sinks his teeth into my throat. 

I can’t wait to adjust. I need it now. My hips wind up and down chasing that feeling that’s closer than it usually is. Heat possesses me as I lean a hand back on his leg continuing to grind on him. Massive hands cover the entirety of my breasts, only heightening this euphoria. 

“So tight.” He strains with a locking jaw. The depth in his voice another brick stacking itself atop of my nagging climax.

His mouth falls open with shut eyes, relaxing as I do my thing. “Oh my god—I’m gonna cum already.” I pant. Thigh muscles aching, breathless and grip on his leg slipping—but I refuse to slow up. This shit just feels too good.

He grows unbelievably stiffer inside of me. My end so close if I reach out I can touch it. I whimper and nearly throw a fit when he rises all the way up, standing at full height with my legs wrapping around him.

Top row of pearly whites sinking into his plump bottom lip, while he lays me flat on the lounge chair. My frustration is snipped watching him lift his shirt up and off, exposing that masterpiece of a body. The ink on his arm jumping when he grips himself to sink back inside. 

“Unnhh!” A muffling moan erupts at the feel of him bottoming out, but as quick as he’s in, he’s back out to slide his full length between my lips. I jump at the tingle on my bundle of nerves where his head grazes. “Joe, please,” I beg. Vacant of any shame. One hand tangled in my wet hair, the other cupping my breast. Both our stomachs rising and falling at the thrill we’ve orchestrated.

My hole clenches around nothing and it’s enough to make me go mad like a woman possessed. Earning a full view of him and his naked glory will only make me spiral. I squirm against him and the soft cushion under me. Eyes inching down where he continues to rock on me and not inside of me. 

I quite literally take matters into my own hands, reaching to bury him where I need. My breath coming out shaky. He goes as deep as humanly possible—heavy hands on the back of my thighs, spreading me apart. My everything on display for him. Lips glistening under the moonlight, pink skin pulling him in, and even pinker nub distended completely. 

His eyes switch back and forth over my face and my center. “Touch it for me,” he urges not slowing his strokes. 

His obedient solder. I reach a hand down, eyes closing, mouth in an “O” shape. You would think I’m back at the condo, locked in my room during that small window on Friday afternoons, where Anthony is still at the hospital and Demi is in her last class. It's like he’s not even here. Just a silent passenger in the vehicle as I drive myself to the big bang. That is until the weight of him is crushing me as he accelerates, capturing my mouth in an invasive kiss. The hairs of his full beard scraping my face—a complete deviation from his delicate lips. I hum at the taste of him. Warm and commanding, just like the liquor he consumed. His tongue is everywhere. My neck, collarbone, shoulder, chest, nipples, the valley between them—until he finds his way back into my mouth. Warm, solid and wet.

He pulls back just enough to watch me. Brown pupils dancing over every inch of my face. Studying me. Every hit, loud and forceful. My whole body jerks with every entry up and down the long chair. 

Eye to eye—no words exchanging. No need for them. It's all seen and felt where we connect. The “i’ve missed you,” being pummeled deep inside me. The “i’ve missed you too,” tangled with my fingers in his fluffy mane, pulling his face as close as possible and making sure he stays here.

The orgasm comes like a meteor. Catastrophic. Once you realizing it’s coming—it's too late. It's already here. My own scream is cloudy in my ears as my whole world comes crashing down. His face is buried in my neck. My nails pressing into his scalp. Eyes pooling with tears of passion, pain and pleasure. The twinkling lights from Miami almost look like stars in the sky watching us. 

If sex was the equivalent to wrestling, he’d hold every title in the WWE universe stacked on his shoulders. He leaves no stone unturned.

The come down is cut short as I’m flipped on all fours. Full of him again. My back pressing to his front. His strong hand cupping my jaw. The other, squeezing the life out of my left titty—trapping me in his web of gentle dominance. He rocks into me. Slender nose pressing flush against the side of my face.

I take a hold of this wrist to get some type of grip on reality. I don’t know what to center on. I feel him everywhere he can possibly be.

Wet curls clinging to my neck and face—I gasp every time his hips snap against me. Huffs and pants in my ear, he breathes out like a dog. His tongue making shapes of every kind wherever it can reach.

In his strong embrace I feel untouchable. Nothing feels better than this. 

“Mine,” a gruff declaration. Ready to default it as a figment of my vibrant imagination—enhanced by alcohol— I hear it again with twice the aggression. “Mine,” he growls directly in my ear, making it impossible to ignore. His shallow breaths and forceful thrusts picking up in unison. Knocking the very wind from my lungs. I'm helpless to think, respond, or react. Bagging his claim and wrapping it to save for later.

“Where do you want it?” He begs to question low in my ear still. I’m helpless. Mouth opening and then closing tight in a twisting pout at him hitting the spot still sensitive from my first release. “Huh?” His choppy strokes snap me to my sense. Please, not in me.

“My mouth.” Looking up at him with pleading eyes, I urge again. “In my mouth.”

Face contorting in pain almost, he fits in four good thrusts before pulling out. I scrape my knees rushing to them in front of him. He stands grand and tall like a statue. I take him in my hand to finish what I’ve started. His balls jumping with every jerk of my small fist. Underside of his thick tip pressing against my tongue that I hold out to catch what he offers me when it comes. 

A much larger hand waves mine off his thickness so he can take over. His other hand gripping the top of my head—fisting a mess of wet curls, forcing my neck to crane harder as an intense wince escapes me. Still, I offer my mouth—wide and waiting at the ready. Eyes bouncing from his intense face to the head of his dick, so hard the tip is turning a pale color.

“Give it to me,” I plead. “Please—please. I want it.” Knowing exactly what sends him over the edge, I request desperately like I’m a woman in the dessert and he possesses the last ounce of water for miles.

“Ughnn! Aw, fuckkk!” It comes out heavy. Spurts of thick white fluid in my mouth. Strays landing on my chin and my chest. 

“Mmm,” I hum in satisfaction listening to his guttural moans. Fixating on his stare locked in on me, as he doesn’t let up his strokes until he squeezes the very last bit on my lips. 

“Damn,” he mumbles—fine lines forming in between his brows. A smug look resides over my face, right before I gather the saltiness from my tongue, allowing it to drip down to my chin. “Filthy.” He shakes his head. 

The night is long and busy. He makes up for the weeks spent apart, tenfold. Filling me in just one night, with enough to hold me over for another month without him, if I had to. From the lounge chair, to the pool, to the shower, to the bed. We break in the condo and make our mark the same way we’ve done a hundred times before. 

By the time we close our eyes, the Miami skyline was turning blue.

It’s not long before I hear the shower running. Morning’s burnt orange rays nearly blinding me from the glass balcony door. I groan, burying my head under the stack of fluffy pillows to drift back into slumber. 

Consciousness didn’t see me again until a couple hours past noon. This is how it is when I’m in his world. I sleep all day and come alive in the night time like a bat out of hell.

My body is aching, sore with all the evidence of merciless sex. Bruising on my hips, my neck and my knees. Tiny scratches in the most hidden places. I observe them all with a sadistic smile in the steam ridden mirror after a much needed shower. 

He left a key fob on the nightstand. I’m assuming it grants me access to the condo. Good. Theres no way I’m staying in here all day again.

The elevator dings as I exit into the lobby on the first floor. Three chandeliers in the center, looking like the price of my tuition. Ceiling high to heaven covered with artwork I didn’t even notice yesterday. I find myself staring up in awe and almost bumping into someone coming in my direction before I focus back on the task at hand.

I catch the eye of the young brunette behind the desk that’s almost as tall as her.

“Hello!” She acknowledges me cheerfully. I offer a closed mouth grin.

“Hi. Do you a have a phone I could use?”

“Eh—sure.” She sits on top of the counter a digital telephone that looks like it's never been touched, fresh out the box, with not a speck of dust on it.

“Thanks. I won’t be long, I swear.” She nods and I make my way to the other wall near the steel elevators.

I dial the number I was forced to memorize by heart. 

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

“Oh—bitch don't scare me like that. I thought you were that Iota from sophomore year calling me from another unknown number.” I stifle a chuckle in the eerily quiet foyer, with at best, only four other people.

“What’s going on back there?”

“Same shit—different day.” I return the stank face to an older lady eyeing my unkempt, “I just had sex,” hair paired with his t-shirt that only stops right below my butt. One raise of my arm and every one in this lobby would get a free show. 

“Any calls?”

“Mom called twice. I text her and said it's a really busy day at the hospital and I’ll call when I can.”

“Good girl,” I commend. Demi and I have a routine down pack. It's full proof and hasn’t failed us yet.

“Your dad called. I sent him a question mark. He said nothing—just wanted to check in on you. Uhhh… Mariah from your business policy class asked if you know anybody that takes good grad pics.”

“Send her the boy who took ours.”

“On it. And Jaire called last night…” My eyes flutter closed, running my nails along my forehead. The line is grotesquely silent. 

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly. When do you ever have nothing to say.”

I hear her huff. “What are you going to do about him? I don’t think it’s right that you got him hanging on like that—”

“Hanging on like what? You think this is on purpose? I already told him he couldn’t have came at a worse time.”

“So, then where do you go from here? Cause every time he pulls up you go outside.”

“I don't know,” I snap in an undertone. We don’t speak for a while. I marinate in this dilemma. I like Jaire. I mean—I really like Jaire. He’s charming, respectful, funny and patient. There’s no guess work with him—no mystery. He’s like a breath of fresh air in the line up of men who want nothing but to waste my youth and take what they can, while they can. 

“I can tell that you like him, Lana.”

“I can’t really do nothing about that— can I? What am I supposed to do? Tell him, ‘yeah I really like you and we can start dating as long as I can still fuck my Sugar Chief on the side and go missing for days at a time?’” I smile coyly at the front desk lady, praying she didn’t catch any of that before turning away from her.

“Something has to give. You don’t want this thing to last forever, do you?” If I’m lucky, it will. But lucky, I have never been.

“It can’t.” 

“You think Jaire will wait for you?”

“Honestly? No.” Great catches are hard to come by. I know in my heart theres another girl that actually deserves his time on her way to him. And when she crosses his path—what would make him choose me over her? “Say I do cut this off. What does that mean for us? Me and you?” It's no secret that it's not just I who benefits from this arrangement. Demi and I barely lift a finger these days. The strife of living paycheck to paycheck has been wiped away thanks to the head of our table.

“I don't know…I’ve been meaning to bring that up. Like—what if he wakes up next week and decides it done and over with? That he wants to be a family man for real? I know we’ve been stacking the money we make from work and the hospital—but that’s chump change. We’d have to downgrade. Like a lot. Are we really ready for that?”

“Can we talk about this when I get back?” The high from the events of last night are slowly being seized by conceptions of the days to come. 

Too often I find myself wishing I can just stay in his world, and my world be the distant secret. But the thought leaves as quickly as it comes. I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t want this set up. Sneaking in and out of cities, never seeing him in the light of day and fitting in calls from a condominium’s front desk phone. The whole thing is like period sex. In the dark it feels good. Once you turn the lights on to get a clearer look at the mess you’ve made—my god.

“Okay—I’ll leave it alone. The moment. We’re still in it. Worry about that shit another time.”

“Right. Well, I guess if you need me you can call this number back. Just ask for me. I’ll give the girl at the desk my name.”

“Okay. See you when you get back. I love you. Be safe.”

“I love you too.”

He returns earlier than he did the night before. So early, I was taking my routinely nap so I’d have enough energy to tend to him when he comes. I’m woken up by the softest kisses mixed with the coarseness of his facial hair. On my back en route to my ass. I’m wiping the drool from my mouth and lifting my hips for him to slide my panties down. The appetizer to yet another long and restless night. 

Finally, we make it to my favorite part.

“Quizlot and all that other shit—we didn’t have none of that when I was in school.”

“Quizlet,” I correct. Tracing the lines of the intricate artwork on his chest piece where my chin is resting. 

“Yeah—that. I saw my daughter using that stuff and I couldn’t believe it. I’m like— you’re only in high school. It’s only gonna get harder from here on out.”

“Oh my god. What did y'all do if y'all didn’t study?” I ride over the mention of his daughter like a bad pothole.

“That depends. Now, if it was a big lecture hall?” He waves his large hand in the air. “Just send somebody in to take the test for you. I was a football player— I could do things like that.” He nods in contempt with a toothy grin, pulling an eye roll from me. Fucking athletes. “Or just go in and say a prayer. Hopefully my coach could work something out. Most of the times I really just had to study. Even for the electives I didn’t give a shit about.”

“Wow. You’re like a fossil.” His sour face has my stomach aching with laughter.

“I’m the finest fossil you ever seen, babygirl.”

"I won't argue with you on that.”

“Just stay the course,” he continues with his original point. Taking me by surprise, he brought up graduation. I guess he does pay attention. “Stay focused. Work hard. I’m telling you, it’ll pay off. What’s next? Medical school?” I hum and nod. “Survival of the fittest, I hear.”

“That’s what they say. When I do my residency, that’s when they say I’ll know for sure if I really wanna be a doctor. That’s the real test. No more books. It's time for the real stuff.”

“Mm. You can handle all that—cutting people open and stuff?”

“Well, I wouldn’t do that. The surgeon would. But I’m pretty sure I won’t make it out of med school without cutting some stuff.”

The noise of Miami, cars blasting music as they ride by, horns honking—fill the room distantly. I collect his chin hair between my index and middle finger, watching him. He really is beautiful from any angle.

He clears his throat. “Did you always want to go into oncology?”

His inquiry catches me off guard. My hand releases him as he angles his head to look down at me. 

“Um—no actually. I wanted to be a make up artist like my mom. When I was like twelve or something like that.” I shake my head laughing. “She didn’t have the heart to tell me I was shit.” He flashes a smile. That thumb running familiar circles on my bare hip under the covers. “And then—” My voice snags on apprehension. It's been years since I’ve talked about this. It's one of those things you bury inside. A block hidden all the way in the middle of a Jenga tower, that only if you’re skilled and worthy, I’d let you pull out of me. A story I choose not to tell to anyone who wasn’t there to live it with me.

“My uh—my dad was diagnosed with brain cancer. I was like fourteen when they sat me and my brother down to tell us. It was only stage two, but at that age—that didn’t mean very much to me. All I heard was that my dad’s brain was killing him.” He’s still as a statue. Gaze on me unwavering. “He’s good now, but we had a rough couple of years before he got to that point. My whole family fell apart. They got divorced. My brother left for school. It just…didn’t feel good.”

“But to answer your question—I wanted to get into oncology because I thought, yeah my dad made it, but he was lucky. Might’ve lost some other things.” I shrug carelessly even though it haunts me and has shaped eighty five percent of the attitude I’ve morphed towards life. “But he made it out with his life. Some other people aren’t so lucky. So—I thought I wanted to be one of the ones to change that. And I know I’m just one person and there’s been thousands of doctors before me. I probably won’t make much of a difference. I don't know.” I shrug again.

It's too quiet. The weight of his stare is heavy regardless of the fact that I can’t see it. I’m not looking at him so I can't gauge his thoughts. He’s almost impossible to read anyway. I should’ve just shut the fuck up. Made up some bullshit story about wanting to save strangers. My roots are way too deep for the shallowness of whatever we are to one another. 

“That’s beautiful,” he expresses in an octave as soft as the sheets we lay in. Bringing my heart rate back down to normal with the comfort and reassurance of his words. "So beautiful," he repeats. Pools of brown jumping around my whole face in a matter of seconds. His big thumb running over my cheek. A part of me, tangling in what he means to refer to as beautiful. Me or the confession?

Before I can think too deeply, his lips are on mine. Soft and deliberate. Not like all the other times. No, this kiss is a little different. It might be the shots we took earlier. Or just the fuzziness that comes with staying up at the wee hours back to back like this. I don't know and I don’t really care in this moment. All I can seem to care for is the way his tongue glides over mine, igniting tiny fires all over me. The way his rough hand grips my chin to keep me in place. The look in his eyes—a look I’ve never seen before on him as he pulls away. And finally, the way he pulls me closer up under him before we close our eyes and choose our dreams over reality. 

Sunday, May 5, 2024

“Uhn…Uhn…Eh…Uhn.”

Grunts and pants. Thats what pulls me from my slumber. I think I might be dreaming still. But the more cognizant I become, the louder they grow. My eyes shoot open. Big mistake. The shots taken the night before dig their nails into my head as I groggily lift up. “Mmm.” I groan in pain. 

I’m floored as my attention is drawn to the source of all the ruckus. All man—big, burly and covered in a sheen of sweat—he pushes himself up and off the floor repeatedly. The digital clock beside me reads 11:03 A.M.

What the hell is he still doing here?

Mesmerizing. Watching his large frame break a sweat. Veins pumping. The muscles in his back prancing while the cuts in his arms pump to their full capacity. Hair hanging loosely around his broad shoulders. The rhythm of his deep pants waking up other parts of me before my brain can catch up. 

I’m stuck in place, refusing to move on the bed even as he rises from the floor to his full height. It's evident that we shock each other.

“…Good morning.” He speaks first. 

His attentive gaze, a reminder that it is in fact morning and we sit in the light of day. I grow self-conscious with every second that passes, realizing what that must look like on me after a full night of drinking and fucking like a wild animal. I run a hand through my curls which are most likely wilder and out of place from air drying. I pull the sheet up tighter avoiding his stare. 

“Morning.” I clear my throat.

My eyes follow his every movement as he retreats and returns with a water bottle to his mouth. Basketball shorts hanging low around his waist. He moves in my direction and holds the half empty water bottle out for me.

 I look at it then him, and back at it again. “Thank you.” 

He’s gone right after passing it to me. The shower runs from the conjoined bathroom. “You getting in here?” 

We don’t have sex. He barely touches me. Just washes himself. We do a funny routine of looking and then looking away once we realize the other is looking too. It's a weird kind of intimacy. Void of any sexual guise. Just two people—comfortable enough in each other’s presence, in each other’s nakedness—showering together.

It's about that time. I’m zipping my carry on after gathering the last of the strays spread across his condo inside. I peak over where he’s sitting in the chaise lounge chair by the balcony door, fiddling with something in his hands. It's too small for me to see.

The room is decorated with silence. Not an awkward one. It's not comforting either. It's that same silence when everyone is packing the last night on vacation. All the memories from the days before spent drinking, partying and relaxing are on replay in your mind. All the things back at home waiting for you, flood your mind shortly after. Every one is sad to leave, but no one really says it because it obvious.

My mind drifts to the last time I saw him before this weekend. Wrestle-mania. 

I don't know what comes over me. Standing by the bed just a few feet away from him—I blurt out the only words that I can think of.

“You’re still my champion…”

Elbows resting on this knees he averts his gaze my way. Features twisting at first from my sudden outburst, but they soften after a beat.

He holds a big fist out. I don’t even fight the lazy smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth. The coolest motherfucker in and outside of the ring.

I take the necessary steps toward him to connect my minute fist to his larger one. He turns his hand so his palm is face up to reveal what I saw him messing with earlier. A dainty silver bracelet, adorned with charms that practically wink at me when the vibrant lights we sit under touch it for just a second.

Raising my brows—he mirrors my expression,  holding his hand out further, initiating me to take it. Surely, not.

The stones dancing on the hanging “A” charm are cold under my fingertips. Another charm—a graduation cap—shines even brighter. Too bright to be anything other than diamonds. “I left your name downstairs.”

“For what?” I question, still in awe of the fine piece of jewelry as I clasp it on.

“Whenever you’re in the city, you’ll have a place to stay.” He explains holding out the key fob I used earlier to return to the room. 

Twirling the key in between my fingers, I scan my brain for a reason not to accept the grand gesture, but I come up short. “Try not to have too much fun without me.” He adds, smirking. 

“I can bring people?”

“Long as you follow the NDA, I don’t see why not.”

“Thank you, Joe.”

I’ve grown immune to receiving hand outs from him. But, this time feels different. The bracelet has meaning. The “A” charm and graduation cap—maximizing a pivotal time stamp—makes it personal. It's not just a bag he thinks I’ll like. Not just a lingerie set with the intentions of taking it off. No—this is different. This is special. 

Saturday, May 11, 2025

I think about that last day spent with him all week. On the entire jet ride back to New York. The car ride back to my own condo. It's the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep every night. I can’t get that look he gave me as we laid in the bed, out of my head. It replays like a broken record.

Yet and still, it's not enough to ease the dilemma that was waiting for me back home.

The car thing is getting old… show me what’s new

Thumbs doing a little dance over the lit screen, I reread the same message for the twentieth time. 

I’ve decided to give Jaire a chance. After I walk across that stage in a week, I’d be entering into a whole new chapter—a whole new space. A new Alana. Which means I have to make room for new things to fit. Only thing is, starting a chapter with Jaire and it actually meaning something, would require me to end the one with him—Joe. I must be insane. Just delusional. There is no chapter. There is no anything. It’s just an excerpt. 

All we do is fuck, drink and sleep. He upgrades my life whatever way he sees fit. Not out of the kindness of his heart, but to make this arrangement more feasible. He doesn’t care about Alana. He doesn’t see me. He just sees a girl that looks at him like the star he is, so she’s willing to go the extra mile to stay in space with him. Well, not anymore. 

That night I keep replaying is a figment of my wild imagination. Just a blimp in his, that’s long forgotten. Fleeting. My life can’t stop for him. Surely, his doesn’t stop for me. I’m twenty-two. My whole life ahead of me. I should be getting flown out to Miami to see Jaire. Partying the whole weekend, in someone’s section not even dreaming of touching my own wallet. Throwing back shots and acting bad. Handing out my number like candy on Halloween. Not a care in the world. Doing what twenty-two year olds do. Reaping the benefits of youth while I still can. Not hiding out in hotel rooms, waiting for a man twice my age, grey in the beard—to come fuck me and dip in the morning before I even open my eyes and stretch. But damn—I’m going to wake up in cold sweats after dreaming about running my fingers through that beard while he sleeps. And damn—I am going to severely miss that dick like a man misses his family when he has to serve time. 

Just as I get a rush of confidence to press send, Demi’s call delays me. 

“Yeah?” I answer. 

“You gotta come back to the condo. Now.” My fight or flight immediately kicks in. Demi didn’t come into the hospital today because she didn’t feel well. God, what the hell is wrong?

“—Why? What’s going on?” I rise up from the nurse’s station briskly, making my way to get my stuff in the locker.

“Something’s…here for you.”

“Huh?” I stop jogging. 

“Just get here. You only have two hours left. Tell Miss Tonia you’ll make it up tomorrow.” Click.

Upon arrival to my condominium, I’m immediately bewildered at the scene unfolding through the window from the backseat of the Uber.

“Thank you,” I tell the older man before hopping out, but not before inspecting the matte black Mercedes G Wagon parked right out front. A pink ribbon plants itself on the hood. Someone is definitely loved. Probably the girl that lives across from us. I think her boyfriend is an actor or some shit like that. 

On the sidewalk, Demi, Anthony and a man I’ve never seen before meet me. “Is something wrong?”

“Are you Alana Floyd?” The man speaks first. I look past him before responding. Demi looks like she’s seen a ghost and Anthony looks like he might jump out of his own flawless skin.

“I am,” I finally answer.

“Do you mind showing me some ID?”

A chuckle escapes me. A product of discomfort and pure fucking confusion. When I see that he’s still waiting, I fish for my ID in the LV Neverfull hanging on my shoulder. He takes it. I look behind me. Every pedestrian walking by, gawks at the truck just as I did when I pulled up. 

“Here you go.” My head snaps back. He holds a clip board out. My ID and a pen sit on it. “Just need the signature at the bottom. Proof you received the delivery.”

“Delivery?” One brow shoots up.

“The truck ma’am.”

On cue, Anthony pops like a can of Pillsbury biscuits. “Joe!” He waves a card in the air, beaming down at me. “Aha! So that’s his name!”

Shaking her head, Demi snatches the card, offering it to me. I take it, not missing the smirk that tugs at her full lips.

Happy belated and congratulations.                    

                        — Your Champion, Joe

The card and everything else in my hand slips—hitting the pavement silently. The blood in my veins run cold in the heat of May. 

Someone must’ve hit the trunk button. And out falls the many pink roses that were stuck inside. They’re everywhere. Spilling from the truck. Onto the street. The sidewalk. Mimicking on the outside, exactly how whatever chakra is trapped in my heart is now overflowing and spilling out. 

This. This is special. 

A/N // in honor of Papa returning to work, i busted my ass tryna get this out lol. i wish i could post the warnings at the end lol they’re literally spoilers!

- any thoughts about Alana? any changes you noticed in her or her relationships with the other characters?

- any thoughts on the appointment Lana had to make?

- i know i didn’t reveal much about Jaire’s character, but that was on purpose. still, any thoughts about him?

- any thoughts on how Lana views what’s going on between her and Joe? do we think he sees it the same way she describes in her head?

- the graduation/birthday gifts? access to the condo??

- like her brother said, is Lana leading with her heart or her head?

- and just cause i’m nosy… trim, hairy or bald? lol

i would really love feedback. as always, if you read it or even just a portion, i am forever grateful and appreciative.

part 4 Desires is already in the works. depending on how y'all react to this, y'all might just hate me for some of the things i'm about to do lol

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[randomshyperson]

Butchered Tongue - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: The Halloween Disturbances separate Wanda from her wife, who, intrigued, begins to take a closer look at the anomalous activities in Westview. Or the one where you discover Westview isn't what it seems, Agatha loses her temper, and Death makes an appearance. 

Warnings: (+18), there’s smut at the beginning (sub!wanda, hints of power dynamics, enchanted strap, creampie, dirty talk), mentions of magical manipulation, Westview canon compliance, agathario being agathario, dark and traditional magic, mentions of attempted magical resurrection, a lot of canon angst ‘cause why not, nothing bad ever happen to kids denial is a river | Words: 7.060k

A/N-> “Why this has an open ending, mary?” Well for start, this is a test. I’m writing a long fic that rewrites and inserts reader into westview drama and I wanted to see how further I could dive into this subject and also bring agathario angst. I liked it very very much but this work here I actually had a lot of fun writing it and i wanted to share it with everyone. I hope people tell me what they thought of it, if you all would rather have a story for the beginning with all the scenes of them together or just a story that moves forward (i haven't thought of a plot after this yet). Honestly, this is just for fun people, I hope you liked this and I hope that I someday write more about this little variation of new characters and dynamics I wrote in this one. The new series will have hybrid!reader ‘cause i’m a TVD fan and i miss that shit daily (and witches and vampires/werewolves are a match). Ps. I suck at summaries and now I just copy-paste the show's official summaries haha

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | *Series Masterlist

*you can read the two first "chapters" for context but it's not really necessary, to understand the story. This is pretty canon-compliant

-&-

Pietro's presence just worsens the tension between you and Wanda.

Not that he's behaving inappropriately or anything like that - his flawed personality is probably his charm. 

The problem is that you had no idea Wanda had a bother in the first place. You were certain she didn’t, just two seconds before she opened that door, but by the same second she told you who that was, your mind went blank and a click of new memories was input into your brain. You could relax and pretend they were always there, and trust your wife but she must have been feeling strange about the whole thing as well, somehow sharing her hesitation through the magic that surrounded every corner and mind of that town.

That's why when Wanda came back to bed that night, she found you already asleep - or pretending to. Every instinct in your mind was telling you to run screaming, the image of your work colleague and his despairing eyes, begging for help, piercing all the new family memories you were getting now.

Children growing up years during one single evening, neighbors terrified subconsciousness, mystery brother. Things seemed to be getting out of control for Wanda as well, but she just kept saying everything was fine and you could trust her.

She didn't try to press you into a conversation, but you heard her tense sighing around the room while she changed into her nightgown.

In no time, there's a soft weight on the bed and a pull on the mattress. You feel her warmth behind you but don't move an inch.

Wanda shifts and you stop breathing when her fingers reach out for your back. Tentatively calling for your attention.

Sighting deeply, you slowly turn to face her. You don't know what you were expecting, maybe red irises that would take your doubts away. You weren't expecting to find teary eyes instead. The effect was nearly the same though - seeing Wanda crying knock down all your defenses all at once.

“Hey.” You start softly, one of your hands moving to her cheek. She leans into the touch immediately, a sad smile on her lips. “Why are you crying, darling?”

She shakes her head, and it looks like she won't explain further when suddenly, she sobs. “I can't believe he's really here.” 

Wanda looks so vulnerable but you're so confused. You don't stop your caress on her cheek but you stare at her in doubt. “Oh darling, tell me what's wrong? Didn't you two get along?”

Wanda chuckles sadly. Your words are not meant to be anything but curious and reassuring of her feelings but they pierce her heart nonetheless. The fact that this version of you has no idea of how much she lost, and didn't even know who Pietro was until tonight makes her feel so wrong about everything.

“We did. He, hm…” She dries her own tears when evading your touch. To lie to your face, she needs physical distance not just emotional. “We grew apart, that's all. It's really nice to have my brother around again.” She turns away, to gaze at the ceiling but you frown at the sudden change of behavior. Wondering what you might have said to upset her, you swallow as Wanda yaws. “Today was just a lot. Let’s just sleep, okay?”

Wanda turns her back to you without another word but less than a minute later, you hear her trying to shuffle her crying.

You don't ask her any questions as you adjust to hold her, feeling her body tensing before relaxing completely.

There will be time for questions tomorrow. Right now, you just hold your wife while she cries herself to sleep, hoping she knows in her heart you'll be there for her.

-&-

Pietro Maximoff could be a bit inconvenient. But so could be Agnes, the nosy neighbor who seemed to share a special affection for Wanda's twin. 

You couldn't really decide which one of them was the most cheeky.

With the daily routine falling into place again, you wanted to believe things were getting better but in fact, they weren't. That whole “foggy mind” sensation never left you, and you had the strong impression that the whole two weeks of Pietro sleeping on the couch and every other routine memory with the boys, Wanda and occasionally Agnes around the round was somehow implemented into your head during your sleep. It just didin’t feel like weeks had passed, but somehow everybody was acting like it did.

Without any proof to that, however, you found yourself staring at a colorful outfit in your shared closet.

Wanda got up early - She has been quite evasive about your agony. And her lack of interest just makes you more anxious.

But by the time you were ready to face another day, she was already dressed up in her red costume, looking way too pretty for someone you were supposed to be mad with.

“Hey darling good morning. Your outfit is right there, I'm gonna check if the boys are ready.” She spoke very quickly, hands busy with the last adjustments of her hair. But her little crown was slightly misplaced and you moved to her way before she could bypass you and leave the room. “What are you…?”

Without a word, your hands move to fix her appearance. Wanda stays put, eyes scanning your face as if searching for a hidden meaning behind your actions, and at the slight feeling of her presence in your mind, you chuckle.

“Is this what you do now?” You question and Wanda's cheeks grow red with shame. “Little peaks whenever you don't feel like talking to your wife?”

She gasps slightly at the accusation. But you're staring at her with anything but teasing behind your eyes and Wanda lifts her chin.

“I don't want us to fight.” She declares but she doesn't move away from your touch so you don't give her space either.

“Fight? You barely pay me a glance.”

“That is not true!” She defends herself immediately but you chuckle dry.

“How come is Halloween already? I could swear it was summer. Didn't we go to the local club just a couple of days ago?”

Wanda holds your wrist, moving your hand away from her red crown. 

“Could you just behave? Today, at the boy's first Halloween? Please.”

She was not only diverting the whole situation guilty towards you but also ignoring your questions. 

When Wanda decided that behaving so toxic towards you was acceptable you don't know.

What you know is that she needed to be reminded of a few important things.

“I'm afraid that your bother is having a terrible influence on me, darling.” You start, freeing your hand from her grip only to move both to her waist. She swallows hard but keeps an indifferent expression. “I'll be up to mischief all evening.”

She frowns, even if by instinct her hands find your shoulders to correspond to your touch, she looks tense.

“What… You're not sticking around for your son's first Halloween?”

You chuckle at her choice of words. Nowadays, every time you want to question something, Wanda goes for emotional appeal. 

“Is it? They are already ten. I'm certain we must have taken them to pick up candy at some point. It would be odd if we haven't.” 

Wanda narrows her eyes at you. So this is how you gonna play this game - by taunting her on everything that was weird about Westview, trying to see her crack on her indifference.

She takes a deep breath, fingers adjusting your pajama’s collar.

“You're trying to get a reaction out of me. I'm sorry, but I already said we're not fighting today. If you can't skip work, I'm taking the boys with their uncle.”

“As you wish, darling.” You retry with the same serious tone. 

Wanda stares back. And there's a pause and another. 

Then, a pull on her waist to bring her hard towards your chest. Wanda barely has time to blush or choke on her breathing when your lips meet her in an intense kiss.

She moans against her will into your tongue, her body melting as your hands squeeze her waist, that doesn't help her regain her posture one bit.

She feels her back hit the shelf when you push forward to press her against it, but that only makes her kiss you harder, the affected sighs during the kiss only making you crazier.

Your hands start to wander, and the bedroom door locks by itself, a spell of noise filling the wood as well. As your kisses go down her jaw, her trembling fingers try to undo the knot of your pajama pants. She ends up failing in the activity when you start biting a sensitive spot behind her ear, your teeth scraping the way down, and Wanda wonders if she should cause more fights to have such a mind-blowing turn-on like this; she feels like if you don't fuck her now she might combust.

She only realizes she's started begging because you give a sadistic giggle, which makes her cheeks burn.

"I might not let you leave the room, Wands." You tease, and she has trouble even understanding what you're saying because you've lowered your fingers to where she's already started leaking beyond her costume. "Making those delicious sounds, and dressed like that. I don't want to let you go." 

She forces her mouth to work, even though she's first letting out a little squeal when she feels your palm press against her covered pussy. "I'll be quick." She replies hoarsely, and you raise an eyebrow at the double meaning. She chuckles weakly, sighing. "You won't even have time to miss me." 

You hum absently, looking down. One of your hands caresses her ass and then her thigh, smoothing her pantyhose. Your fingers tease her intimacy, bringing the moisture she can't contain, and making her knees buckle. When Wanda shudders, in that sexy way she always does every time her orgasm is building properly, you sigh. 

"Sorry, honey, I really need to touch you." It's your only warning, and Wanda wants to pretend she doesn't like it when you rip her costume at the bottom, but she ends up rewarding you with a new wave of wetness running down her thighs.

You kiss her again as your fingers find her entrance, but Wanda has trouble even standing, let alone kissing you back when you’re touching her like this. Your fingers tease her hot entrance before you push two digits inside without ceremony, grunting at the warmth and the way she squeezes you. Wanda sighs contentedly and resists the instinct to close her eyes to meet your gaze. She holds on as you rest one hand behind her on the shelf, and adjust the angle of the other, going deeper inside her. It’s almost a challenge as your thrusts start to get more determined and harder and she has to grip your shoulders to stay upright, biting her lip to muffle the sounds that tear from her throat.

The climax builds so quickly, she might be embarrassed if you weren’t her wife, and you know her body so well. Just adjust the angle, press her clitoris with your thumb, and Wanda arches and comes hard, keeping herself standing only by holding on to your shoulders, while all the lights in the room flicker and the place shakes as much as your body.

You have a satisfied little smile on your face as she tries to stop shaking, and she can't hold back her moan when you remove your fingers from inside her only to suck them clean one by one.

You kiss her again as soon as you finish, and Wanda finds it so dirty and sexy that she starts scratching your belly, ready for another. You break off with a giggle.

"Weren't you the one in a hurry?" You tease, your pants loosening as Wanda starts to feel around you, pulling the item down with some urgency.

"Weren't you the one who wouldn't let me get out of bed?" She responds aroused, managing to make you giggle before pressing your hips together, her firm hands squeezing your ass.

When she kisses you next, sucking on your tongue, you grunt. "Fuck, you drive me crazy, Wands." You break the kiss, manhandling her back to the bed, and standing behind her. "You're gonna get on all fours and watch yourself get fucked like the slutty housewife you love to be. Come on, Wanda." A slap to her ass has her whimpering on shaking limbs until she finally exposes herself to you. The mirror in the corner of the room is ignored, but you force her face up, and she stares at the sight that leaves her dripping.

It doesn't surprise her to feel the hardness against her entrance, but it makes her break into a deep moan. The toy conjured in your pants that are still hanging at your knees slides in easily, and you both grunt at the sensation of the enchanted cock filling her up. Your first thrust is the only gentle one. Your hands grip her hips and then her hair, and Wanda is transformed into a pathetic mess of begging and moaning as you begin to fuck into her hard, the bed rocking with your movements.

You grunt between thrusts how much you love her. How much you love filling her, how much you love the way she sounds and feels. How much you want to fuck another baby into her.

Wanda comes without warning, her hands gripping the sheets in desperation, her body giving in to the climax as she cries loudly into the bed. You don't stop your movements, the creamy slickness making a dirty sound that makes you curse softly and Wanda blush deeply. She grunts at the overstimulation, but her hips move in time with yours.

You tell her that you're going to come, your thrusts becoming more frantic and uncoordinated, and she keeps her gaze on your reflection, watching with adoration the way your body moves against hers, your face contorted with pleasure as she barely manages to stay on her own limbs. When you come inside, the sensation is too delirious to begin with, so Wanda follows your climax, moaning as your body falls on top of hers, holding her to the bed as you pour yourself inside her.

But as your breathing calms and the arousal has subsided to deep intimacy, you sigh and pull out of her, throwing yourself next to her on the bed. Wanda frowns at the change in your energy and looks at you curiously.

"We can't end all fights like this," you murmur, and she raises an eyebrow.

"Can't we?"

But despite your dry chuckle, there's no joy in your eyes. It makes Wanda feel like the worst person in the world, even after what was probably the best sex she's had in a long time.

"I'm gonna go change. I promise I won't ruin anything for you today." You say, and she wants to pull you back and tell you that you never ruin anything, that this is all for, but none of that comes out.

She just stands there in silence, until she remembers everything she had planned for today with the noise downstairs.

She's already fixed her costume and tidied the room when you come back with a towel slung over your shoulders.

“I…” But the boys running and fighting with their uncle downstairs make Wanda sigh. She offers you a lingering glance once she touches the doorknob. “I love you, Y/N. Never forget, alright?” 

You give her a lopsided smile. “Don't start or I'm gonna kiss you again.”

She smiles and leaves without saying anything else. You don't know how her heart ached at the fact you didn't say it back.

-&-

The further you went, the less habited Westview became.

The realization gives you chills, and as the city turns into this creepy empty scenario, you start to consider giving up your little investigation and just go back to your lovely wife and children.

It's the neighbor's parked car at Ellis Avenue that makes you sigh determined.

You're surprised to find Agnes having a drink inside. The small bottle has an insight that looks strangely familiar to you but you can't put your heart on that. And you're busy speaking:

“Goodnight, Agnes, is everything alright?” You greet but upon your sudden arrival, she chuckles ironically.

Not even bothering to hide away the bottle that has something so strong that you can smell the alcohol from afar, she leans into the window to get a better look at you.

“And what are you doing here, sugar?”

Her attitude chocks you. Not only that but something about the ascent also makes you frown. But you decide to play along because things are weird enough those days.

“Hm, I was just going for a walk.”

Agnes lifts an eyebrow at you. “Oh, does she know you're out?”

You know immediately she's talking about Wanda but you have no clue what that means. So you swallow drily and stare at the older woman.

“Yeah, I… I tell my wife everything.”

Agnes giggles wickedly. “Is that what you believe? Truly? How lovely.”

“Agnes, I don't understand -”

“Stop this act for once!” She cuts off angrily, opens the door, and almost hits you in the process. You step back so she can get out of the vehicle, and she hits the door a second time. “I'm Agatha! We know each other! Stop this foolish act for once!”

You frown and shake your head confusedly. “Of course we know each other, you're my neighbor-”

She groans impatiently, giving your shoulders a hard push. “Do you know how worried I was when you disappeared? Do you even care?”

“Agnes, I don't-”

“When you said you wanted to do the right thing, I let you. I gave you the space you wanted. When you said you would play superhero with those lunatics, I said okay, do one crazy thing this century, we all have our phases.” She continues to vent, without caring about your confusion. “But then you were gone! They brought everybody back except you. There was a whole fucking memorial you know? And I thought, fuck that stupid asshole finally got what she was looking for. And yeah I took your body from those shitty agents like you made me swear I would do if you were ever treated like a lab rat, but then I came here for a job and here you are! Playing housewife with that witch as if nothing bad happened ever happened!”

You interrupt her: “What bad thing happened?”

“You died, your idiot!” She screams back, stealing the air from your lungs. But she sighs to keep her composure and then chuckles humorlessly. “Or at least that's what the news said, right?” She retorts, her eyes shining lit. You don't know if it's the tears or the challenge behind her iris. “What is this anyways, Y/N? Where even are you right now? Do you know? Does she?”

You step back, your heart racing in your chest. “None of this makes any sense. You're clearly disoriented, and I'm sorry but I can't deal with this right now.” You practically run away from her, but Agnes - or Agatha at this point you're not sure of anything anymore - stops following you. She shakes her head in disbelief and takes the small bottle from her pocket again. With a long gulp, it looks like she drinks all of it before turning back to her car.

You just keep moving. 

The Avenue limit is in front of you, and you don't have to make much of an effort to realize there's so short of energy there. Like a wall right in front of you.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand to the border moving forward with your fingers.

The second you're out, Westview disappears.

-&-

Before.

When Agatha Harkness decided her apprentice was ready for a real mission, she expected the witch she chose to spare instead of sacrifice once, to go for something simple, like killing a dragon or exploring a different realm.

She was not expecting an infinity stone.

“It's stupidly dangerous.” She said when you suggested but you didn't lose your posture.

“And when are we doing things that aren't dangerous?” Your argument started there just before you listed how inconvenient it would be if Hydra learned how to manipulate the stones for the actual magical community. Teasing Agatha by saying you might ask the Kamar Taj Mages for the same mission was the main reason she agreed with this.

In no time, you're heading off to a little place called Sokovia. Alone for your first mission, you didn't call for help when you got captured because that would be too humiliating. It was your first mission without Agatha, you could handle Hydra and their weird science.

You could handle their experiments and torture in search of truth. You could handle an infinity stone being carved into your skin as they tried to study the magic from your veins. If there was something that Agatha taught was that you should never fear power, no matter what, you should take it. And so you did.

Agatha was supposed to be proud - You did not only succeed in your mission when you interrupted the experiments by stealing the stone from Hydra to give it to the Avengers (who were not supposed to do the same with it to be clear), but you were also much more powerful than any witches your age and beyond due to the experiments. But instead of being proud, Agatha got jealous. She was worried too, but mostly jealous. It's just who she was after all - the most ambitious person you ever met. And having her apprentice overcome her power in one mission didn't make her feel very good about herself.

After the fight that escalated with this jealousy, you two departed for years. You became an Avenger, and Agatha kept doing what she did best. The stone craved at Vision’s head kept whispering fears into his mind until finally, the mad Titan came to Earth to retract what he believed belonged to him and kill anyone who stayed in his way.

You were given a proper and public funeral organized by Natasha Romanoff, so Agatha knew you were gone. She saw the news, then she visited the grave. 

The Avengers didn't know the old ways of witchcraft, so she felt she was in her right to steal your body without giving any explanation. Leaving an empty and destroyed grave behind. It was not the witch community problem that a new tension surfaces with that, whispers of government organizations or criminals wishing to have your body for their own experiments. The talk of men was of little importance for a 300-year-old witch anyway.

Five years came and a flick of fingers brought everybody back from the dead. All but you.

Agatha had your body magically preserved - untouched by the lady of death as one last favor from Rio - she made sure you were buried in her family land as well. 

You must rest with your kind she would say.

But everything changed one afternoon. She felt a powerful magic emission from afar and left her property. Unaware that you heard the same calling.

The connection you held with the witch calling whatever was deeper than the dark roots of that cursed magical ground your body was buried in. 

The stone that was used to amplify Wanda's and your powers created a magical bond between you two that not even death could break. That, and well, you loved each other very deeply. The second her heart screamed your name during the Creation of Westview, you moved to her. 

Your poor stitched body couldn't do the travel - the fight with the Titan weakened your flesh to its limit. You crawled into the Harkness Residence while its owner flayed to answer the magical calling before you could.

The only way you were able to reach for Wanda was with your mind. The preserved connection of the stone to yours and her power brought your conscience all the way to Westview but weakened by the distance and your wife's grief, all memories were gone. 

You were there, but not really.

And while Agatha's employees woke up and freaked out about a body in the living room, your Hex version and her were locked inside Westview, following up fantasies for what felt like a lifetime but in reality barely a week had passed.

That until of course, you stepped outside.

The first person you see is Darcy Lewis. But she's nothing like you remember her.

Just like everybody around, she had circus outfits and even some handcuffs and chains around her that made you frown.

Getting up from the ground you didn't even realize you fell into, you take a moment to clean up the amount of dirt from your clothes.

“Darcy, is that really you?”

The brunette let out a nervous laugh. “I'm sorry, am I the only one who saw this woman appearing out of nowhere? Hello, guys? Okay, I'm out of here.” She moves away nervously but you stumble behind her. 

“Wait, Darcy, is me-”

“Get away from me, stranger!” Darcy shouts back, almost running but you focus on using your abilities. It's painful, as if your mind and body - and the Westview version of yourself are -  getting used to magic again, so when you teleport to her way, your knees give up and Darcy is kind enough not to let you fall to the ground. “What the hell was that?”

You balance yourself with her help. “Darcy is me. How can you not remember me?”

“Sorry, I'm not good with names.”

You chuckle weakly. “Not even Jane Foster? Or Thor?” She blinks, suddenly more uncomfortable than before. When she hesitates, you reach for her head. The magical subjugation is forced away by your magic and Darcy gasps in chock. 

“Oh my god, is really you is it, Y/N?” She finally recognized you, her memories coming back to her at high speed.  You sigh in relief, moving closer to free her from her chains. You hug her back as her arms lock around you tightly. “I knew they were wrong when they said you were gone.”

You break the embrace to give her a small smile. “Well, about that…”

You had to tell the story very quickly; your goal was to get back to the city, to your wife. Who needs to explain to you how the hell you were here and not buried in New York. If Wanda wouldn't talk, Agatha would have to do it.

Darcy, fortunately, managed to get a car.

"[...] do you really think she resurrected me?"

Darcy shrugs, she's driving and even though she's not a witch, she seems to take the whole story very seriously.

"Look, it's like I told you, SWORD called all kinds of experts to this place. No one really knows what the Hex is made of, much less how you're here. But what we do know is that your body was stolen about three weeks ago, and no one has been able to locate you anymore."

You imagine how Wanda would have done it, and the image of her digging your grave and dragging your body through the city gives you chills. But it also has nothing to do with Wanda, and makes you sigh wearily.

"I don't know, Darcy. It doesn't sound like anything she would do."

The woman with the glasses forces a sad smile at you. "Grief is a strange feeling, my friend. We often do surprising things."

There's a pause, but when Darcy speaks again after a whistle, her tone is much lighter than before.

"Now, talking about your body, are you sure you don't feel... you know, physical?"

You laugh, scratching the back of your head awkwardly. "It's hard to explain. I don't think I would notice if I weren't a witch, and well the spell is strong and capable of fooling everyone here. But I can feel that I'm not complete." You try to explain. "I only noticed when I left the Hex. It was like a tug, behind my head, as if my mind is the only physician thing here somehow. I don't know how Wanda brought me back, but I have a few guesses. A lot of them involve necromancy, but I don't know where she would have learned that. Although, the presence of a friend here in the Hex gave me some pointers."

Darcy frowns. "Friend? Who?"

She has to brake suddenly, because there's a sheep crossing in the way. It's your turn to grimace.

"What the hell...?" The herd lingers and then gives way to children crossing the street and an old lady with walking sticks.

Wanda is keeping you away. But why?

"She's doing this, Darcy." You mutter irritably, looking out the window at the next distraction on the road - roadworks - before unbuckling your seatbelt. "This is ridiculous. I am dead, and my wife would rather arrest me on the road than talk about it. We'll meet downtown, Darcy. And thank you for coming here to help Wanda." You get out of the car before your friend can protest, and fly away without waiting for anything else.

It's time to have a grown-up talk about things.

-&-

Your sudden departure, although short, was enough for your physical body to gain the little vigor it needed.

Just enough to call the only person who could help you in this state.

Agatha had few trusted employees, but they all liked you. Worried and attentive to every movement, to every weak breath of yours, while they stitched and healed your body, they heard you whisper the name that had not been pronounced under this roof for hundreds of years.

“Rio Vidal.”

Harkness Mansion grew cold at once, and the employees shrank in fear but also lowered their gazes in respect for the personification of death that had just appeared at the entrance.

Rio walked unhurriedly to the stone bench where your body rested. She touched your face and hoped you had some strength to open your eyes.

Completely white irises stared back at her. An empty, soulless cocoon.

"Poor child." The woman whispered, tracing your cheek carefully. "Agatha never learns."

She made to move away, but you managed to move your hand to hers. "Help me." The mansion's servants left the two of you alone, but Rio didn't care if she had an audience or not. She sighed sadly, her free hand resting above your ribcage. 

"Agatha asked me not to take your body, but this is inhumane. You're suffering, Y/N." You shake your head, tears escaping the corners of your eyes. Rio looks at you in confusion and insists: "Of course you are, child, look at you. You're empty. You're not even here anymore." Your fingers intertwine with hers in desperation. "We..West...view."

You struggle to get the words out, until finally, Rio understands.

"Westview is a town in New Jersey. That's where Agatha anchored the preservation spell, isn't it? Tell me where. I'll set you free."

You shake your head and your words change. "Wanda."

The woman frowns. "Wanda? Your wife? What does she have to do with...-"

One of the servants comes back into the room, a newspaper in hand. He seems too scared to interfere, but he still manages to hand the item to Rio.

When she reads the headline about Westview and a mysterious Hex that has quarantined the town, she laughs in disbelief.

She comes back to you only to pull you up in a sitting position, ignoring your grunts of pain.

"Our wives are insane, honey. Get up, let's clean up their mess."

It's a quick trip with Rio's skills, of course.

And you arrive for a very ugly fight, which your body certainly couldn't handle. That's why Rio keeps you both hidden, watching from a distance.

Agatha - as always - takes impulsive actions and this time, she can't win.

In any other situation, Rio would have intervened on her wife's behalf. This time, having to help your body stand up, prevented from decaying by spells because Agatha refused to let you die, she doesn't do it. She just watches Wanda take her power.

After so many centuries of watching Agatha do the same to other witches, it's definitely an interesting scene.

The limit is drawing in imprisoning her. That Rio can't allow.

"May I interrupt, ladies?"

Rio's sudden appearance makes Wanda go on alert and prepare for a fight. But her entire posture collapses when she locks eyes with you.

With a sob, Wanda calls your name and then runs to meet you.

You have trouble staying upright with the hug but you don't dare complain.

Billy and Tommy look at the scene with confused faces, and it is Billy who whispers his version of Hex:

"Why is mom hugging that zombie?"

You laugh softly, ruffling your two children's hair. Wanda is crying, unable to let go of your body, and you sigh tiredly. You feel the tug coming from there, but you have no idea how to regain a physical form. The connection seems impossible.

Agatha starts to cause a commotion with her ex-wife.

"You're so irresponsible, I told you a million times that breaking the natural order of things is impossible, and it's temporary. You don't listen, and you don't learn!" Rio accuses, trying to reach Agatha who is running away from her until she reaches your Hex version.

"Here’s the proof that it's not impossible!" Agatha retorts in despair, ignoring the looks in her direction. "Look at her! She lives! It's her soul! Wanda brought her back. She could-"

"Agatha." Rio cuts her off, tears in her eyes for the first time. She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. And when she speaks again, her voice is much softer than before. "Not him, okay?"

And the witch who is holding your shoulders tightly, sniffs softly, trying to hide her own emotions. "Why? Why can't you give me the only thing I want?"

Rio swallows hard. "He found peace, Agatha. There is no return for his soul. Y/N is still here because you imprisoned her. And Wanda was able to call her back. And now." She gestures to your two versions and your wife. "It's time for goodbyes."

Wanda didn't want to let go of you, but you gave her a reassuring smile.

Your physical body couldn't speak, and she noticed it immediately. She touched your cheeks and stared into your completely white, lifeless eyes.

"I'm sorry for doing this to you." She whispers, sniffing softly. "I'm going to let you go."

The boys don't listen, having been taken away from the confusion by Monica as soon as Agatha and Rio start arguing. And Wanda needs to leave your body with Lady Death, even if it breaks her heart into a thousand pieces.

"Will you take care of her?" She asks, swallowing the urge to cry again. She looks at Agatha, sulking in a corner as if she would also start crying at any moment, and sighs. "Of the two of them?"

Rio nods and looks at Wanda curiously. "We'll meet again, Wanda Maximoff. I'm at the end of all journeys."

The younger witch can't smile back, she just looks at Rio with such deep sadness that it makes the entity regret having been present in so many moments of Wanda's life.

With one last look at your body, the Scarlet Witch joins her family from the Hex, and leaves towards their house, while the magic fades in the sky and around everyone.

-&-

You turned on the lamp just as Wanda had turned off the opposite one, and she smiled as she looked at you.

The boys were sleeping upstairs, and from the window, you could see the Hex closing.

"Sorry, I remembered..." You start awkwardly, out of breath. "That it's bad luck to say goodnight in the dark."

Wanda smiles, approaching in small steps. "Is that so?"

You nod, your hands in your pockets because you don't know what to do with them. You didn't know what to do with anything.

"It's the name of a song, isn't it? One of the many you used to listen to in the Avengers Tower."

Your wife sighs, giving you a sad, almost guilty smile. She's finally close enough to touch.

"I'm sorry about your memories." She asks softly, her hands moving to your wrists. So that you take your hands out of your pockets, and place them where they belong. Around her. "I would have told you the truth from the beginning, but I didn't know-"

She trails off when instead of wrapping your arms around her waist, one of your hands reaches for her cheek, caressing it with a tenderness that makes her melt and gasp.

Wanda can't do this. She can't. She doesn't want to say goodbye, and she can't say goodbye to you again.

"I'm so sorry for making you cry." That's what you say, which just makes her break down into a sob. You give her a tearful smile, your other hand also reaching for her face, to hold her tenderly. "You, Wanda Maximoff, are by far the best thing that has happened to me in 345 years on this earth. The fact that I get to die knowing that I was loved not just by anyone, by  you, is the epitome of a fulfilled life.” You say, caressing her skin with your thumb. You take a deep sigh, as your wife tries to hold your hands in her face. “I love you, Wanda.”

“Please.” She cries, falling into your embrace when you move your hands away. She holds you as tight as she can, but she can feel the fading of the spell. “Please come back to me.”

With all your heart, you wished to fulfill her request. And with the end of Hex, the last sensation you felt was Wanda's embrace, and her tears wetting your shirt.

It made all the sense that you woke up with a jump, calling her name.

The place you were in looked nothing like Westview or any place you had been in years.

But it wasn't completely unfamiliar. It looked a lot like a forested area you hadn't been in since the last century.

And the little boy picking flowers near the river where you emerged from took all the air from your lungs.

Little Nicholas Schatch looked back as if he had guessed you were awake.

"Hi, Aunt Y/N."

You gasped with excitement, sitting up. He came closer and didn't complain when you pulled him into a tight hug. Even though you came from the water, your clothes were not wet.

"Hi, Nicky." You cried, holding him until he laughed at the tightness and tried to escape the grip. "Look at you, boy. You look so handsome, so grown up."

It had been so long since you had seen him since you had helped Agatha bury him. He didn't seem to have aged a day, but he had looked so small when he passed, that you had the impression he had grown. "It's so good to see you again, dear." Nick smiled, sitting down next to you on the dry grass. 

"You didn't bring Mama with you." You give him a sad smile, shaking your head. 

"I'm sorry, little prince, your mama isn't ready yet." He nods in understanding, upset but not insisting. You look around, recognizing that scene, the cabin in the background, the river. You sigh before looking at Nicholas again. "Where's your other mother?" He shrugs, gathering the flowers in his lap. You realize he bound them together with magic, not with knots. You frown, touching his hands. "Can you do magic now, little prince?" He nods, smiling. 

"My mother taught me." You stare at him in surprise and then look around again. 

"Where are we, Nicky? Do you know?" He gives a confused laugh. 

"Home, Aunt Y/N, of course."

You accept the flower necklace he made for you but don’t get up when he walks away back to the lake.

“Nicky.” You call after a moment of thought. He hums, signaling that he’s listening. “Did anyone else come with me? Two other little boys?”

He doesn’t look up from the new necklace he’s making. “No, Aunt Y/N. My mother said Billy and Tommy ran away.”

Your stomach drops. You choke. “W-what… Ran away? Where?”

He shrugs and finally looks at you again.

"She doesn’t know, Auntie. But my mother keeps me here safe, away from the disease. She said she could keep you and Billy and Tommy too. But she needs to find them first."

You freeze and try to hide your reaction from your step-nephew. He gives you a smile before going back to playing, and you force your body to work and stand up.

You take one last look at him before heading towards the cabin, and as soon as you arrive, you realize that it is exactly as you remembered, how you visited Agatha and Rio for decades before Nicky was born - when their life was calm, happy, and peaceful.

Everything that time has erased, photos, paintings, and furniture are fully preserved here. You lean against the walls until you sit in one of the empty chairs at the table.

You notice the pots of food and frown.

Since when do the dead need to eat?

Raising your hand in the air, your first attempt is a simple conjuration. Anything, even a spark. And you end up having to suppress the grunt of pain as you try. Nothing.

Maybe the passage took away all your magic, or maybe it was the river’s doing. Either way, you're dry.

You look through the half-open door at the child playing in the river and bite the inside of your cheek. Your fingers find the flower necklace in your pocket, and even faintly, you feel the magic in them.

Well, a few dozen more, and you'd have enough to get you home.

Hopefully it would be a trip for two.

[captainthisshipinmyhead]

A Helping Hand- S. Aizawa

Shota Aizawa x AFAB!Reader

Summary: It's a sex pollen fic, I think we're all familiar with the concept at this point.

CW: smut, coercion/dubcon (since it's sex pollen, but swear they want it), unprotected p in v sex (don't be dumb), missionary, oral (f rec), NSFW!!!! DNI if you’re a minor WC: 6,991

A/N: Yayyyy I worked on this one for so long!! I have the most trouble with ending fics so it took me a long time and idk if I'm totally satisfied with it but it's the best I've got. Picture found on Pinterest but unfortunately could not find the artist name... so sorry but please comment/tag the artist if you are able! **Y/H/N= your hero name, Y/N = your name but I'm sure you're aware ;)

You walked along the barren city street, with swinging arms and a tune in your brain as you patrolled the practically empty area. The section of the city you were in really only sees business and foot traffic midday, when the corporate buildings on the outer parts of the city are open and the people working in them come out to get refreshments from the small mom-and-pop cafes dotting the streets. By sunset, this area is usually clear- businesses locked up and lights off. This is the scene you were surveying now. You couldn’t wait until you had more than just a year’s experience under your belt as a pro hero, then maybe you would be recruited for patrol in more interesting parts of the city- maybe you’d stop a lot more villains! The thought snapped you back to the present, as you realized that in order to get where you want to be you had to be vigilant in the here and now, no matter how boring it may be. 

You thought of the faceless villain that was currently on everyone’s radar, and who everyone wanted to put behind bars at the moment. There had been reports for a few weeks now of a villain hitting some heroes in attacks with a very, very strange quirk. This villain is suspected to be working alone, and with the little that is known about him it is unclear if he has any intentions other than incapacitating the heroes he encounters. The quirk they possessed was……well, to be quite honest, still kind of a mystery to you.  Everyone who had previously been affected by it and lived seemed to be so…secretive? No, no that wasn’t the right word. Ashamed? Ashamed seemed more like what the poor pro heroes who had suffered the quirk felt when their experience was over. A few had died from the quirk when the villain had first gotten on the scene. The unfortunate martyrs had taught the doctors what was needed to eliminate the effects on the body and save the lives of those that came after them. You didn’t know exactly what it was the cure was for being struck by the quirk, but you knew that it was commonly known above more higher-ranking heroes as well as any healers that worked with heroes, so you weren’t too concerned. If you or someone you knew got hit with it, someone would be able to help you, you were sure. Ever since those first unlucky few, those that followed had all pulled through with this “cure”. Being as new as you were on the scene, you didn’t get told every little detail of everything that went on on the streets, not yet anyway. You knew that one day you’d work your way up the hero rankings and be a role model for kids around the world, but you’d start slow. Which was why, for the time being, you didn’t care if you were a newbie on some “need-to-know basis” status– one day, you’d be high in the rankings and save countless lives.

You began walking around the corner of a building onto the next city block. You had still had your head turned to the street you were leaving, however, so you bumped into someone seemingly walking in the opposite direction. Apologies were leaving your lips before you’d even brought your eyes up to meet theirs. You’d barely been able to get out two words before you began to choke, though. 

When your gaze focused on the person standing in front of you, still choking, you watched a too-wide grin spread devilishly across a sunken face. The reddish-pink cloud of– smoke? Dust?-- was still thick in front of your face, but it had dissipated just enough to see their large teeth glint in the late afternoon sun. You grabbed at your throat as if you were truly choking, trying to capture a breath that didn’t suck down another mouthful of that tainted air. You were utterly useless, pathetic, as your knees buckled and you took staggering steps toward the person you were SURE was the villain who had claimed so many victims as of late, fitting the description of his attacks to a tee. Normally, you were much more lithe and quick- having the speed and agility of a cheetah has its perks. But it appeared as if the substance he emitted had affected not just your respiration, but your body seemed weak as well. He slipped away easily, your brain barely registering your disappointment in yourself that you couldn’t do more. Your vision was going black around the edges, so you slumped to the cracked street, hoping that you could calm down enough to ask for an assist. 

After about a full minute of slowly pulling in clean air, your vision was beginning to clear and you were able to activate your earpiece to call for help of any nearby heroes on patrol who weren’t too occupied at the moment. Your voice was gravelly from the amount of coughing you’d done, and it began to take on a strange breathy, husky tone that you weren’t sure you were intending. You almost sounded sultry. But that’s ridiculous. You also couldn’t help but notice how hot your body was starting to feel. As if you had a bad sunburn, your skin was warm to the touch and felt like it was burning from the inside out. It was becoming painful, you realized. And your breathing… oh god, again your breathing was changing- speeding up to short breaths and gasps, feeling as though you couldn’t get quite enough oxygen in, but it was different than a few moments before. It wasn’t so much as if you were choking anymore but like you were exerting yourself. You figured you’d hold off to tell anyone that until they arrived in person…. You were sure the entire city’s hero network on patrol and on call didn’t care for you to drone on about details when they were probably all busy themselves. 

So you kept it short and sweet, and you let them know you suspected an attack from that villian who’d been going on a rampage lately and you just needed someone to help you get to medical to get fixed up.

With a truly impressive speed, you heard the comms activate in response. A man’s voice burst to life in your ear. “Y/H/N? Stay where you are, I’m close to you. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.” That voice, it was familiar… It was broody and deep, it was….sexy. You shook your head and reprimanded yourself internally. That voice that was so familiar, sexy as it was, shouldn’t be distracting you at the time. You should focus on getting your breathing under control and taking a hold of your senses in case any other villains popped up in attack. You couldn’t stop replaying the timbre of the man’s voice though, thinking it sounded almost like Eraser- 

No, you cut your thoughts off forcefully, You’re thinking with your-rather feverish- body at the moment instead of your head. 

Surely the hero coming to help you out wasn’t the one man you had a disgustingly desperate crush on- that had to be wishful thinking, some fantasy conjured up by your love sick mind. He’s your coworker, and while he’d been nothing but nice to you each time you’d seen him you’d only had a few conversations that you severely overanalyzed in your head. When some of the pro heroes went out for drinks after shifts some evenings, it’s like he got awkward when you arrived and drifted to the sidelines, choosing to watch rather than engage. It made you wonder if he didn’t quite like you, and the thought of that being a possibility made you sad.

“Eraserhead? You sure? If you need backup I think I’m only a couple blocks behind you, just let me know,” a female hero’s voice in the comms responded to the one before it.

 Oh god. Oh god, oh shit, oh fuck. It was him. Exactly as you dreaded, the man who was currently on his way to your aid was Eraserhead of all people. If you didn’t keel over and die from the quirk’s effects themselves, you might just die of embarrassment from knowing that your personal hero, and man that you had a not-so-small crush on, was coming to help you in such a vulnerable and powerless state. You felt so puny and helpless, you could almost cry. You also felt…. turned on. God, were you sick in the head? Why were you getting turned on at a time like this? And… and had your cycle come early or was that increasingly damp spot between your legs coming from something else? Your mind was running circles, thinking desperately of ways to just calm the fuck down before Eraser showed up that you hadn’t been paying the most attention to your surroundings, and the dark figure who dropped onto the sidewalk merely 2 feet from your burning hips startled a squeak out of you. Taking in the person, you sighed in relief and also internally went into panic mode as you saw that it was him, peering down at you warily, as if he weren’t sure if the quirk you were under was contagious or something. You were able to get out a “thank you for coming” before he knelt down and softly placed a hand on your elbow. 

“Can you stand?” He asked, and you nodded shakily. As he helped you to your feet, a soft breeze blew from behind him, picking up his hair and scarf and wafting his scent right into your face. It was musky, and slightly sweet, a little bit spicy and so very manly. Your teeth ground against each other and your thighs clenched tightly as you just barely concealed a whine from your companion. God, you needed to get yourself TOGETHER. Your silly little crush on Eraser had never been this bad, you’d never been so unable to control your inappropriate thoughts in public like this before. You’d certainly never had such a visceral reaction. You could feel Eraser’s eyes on you, studying your features from closer than he’d ever been before. You saw in your periphery that his eyebrows were pinched together in the middle, concern shattering his usually cool expression. That was worrisome to you, so you began to babble out questions.

“Eraser? What is it? Do I look really bad or like– I, I mean like, as in the quirk attack! Does it look bad?”

He didn’t meet your eyes for a second, his own still making its rounds across every crease in your skin before coming to rest on your gaze. He took his time in answering, making your anxiety spike. 

“You don’t…. Look bad, Y/H/N, but I can tell you’ve been hit by the quirk hard. Here, let’s get you inside. Somewhere cool, huh? You’re probably burning up.” 

You nodded in agreement, lips coming together in a small pout as Eraserhead looped an arm around your waist and pulled your arm over his shoulder. You felt like a child, but at the same time, a sick little part of your brain whispered at the edge of reason that you liked it, that this felt good. Every inch of his body that pressed up against yours felt like a fire poker sticking you in the point of contact. You’d never felt such heat in your life. Your knees were wobbling, thighs trembling from the effort of trying to walk while keep them tightly together, for fear of anymore… untimely arousal leaking out. The last thing you’d want was for him to notice. Not only would that be embarrassing but he’d probably think you were a perv, too! You didn’t think you could handle that. Eraser was so mature and no-nonsense, he’d instantly lose respect for you if he knew your…predicament. 

But what if he likes it?  

The voice came from a dark corner of your mind, and you gave your head a tiny shake as if to make the thought dissolve. The effort was futile though, as the voice came back stronger. 

What if it turns him on to know how wet you are just thinking about him? What if he wants to fuck you too, you little perv? You act all coy and innocent but all you really want if his big fucking fat di- 

You shook your head again, a tiny whisper of the word “no” fell from your lips. You could see Eraser again in the corner of your eye, face still a mask of concern as he noted the sweat breaking out at your hairline. You still hadn’t  been able to control your breathing fully, and you’d been walking slowly with his assistance for a few minutes now. He gently tugged you toward a new apartment building that hadn’t quite opened to the public yet, though it appeared to have finished construction. He continued to guide you until he reached a completed room with a door that he closed behind the two of you. 

“Okay, Y/H/N, talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling currently.” He loosened his grip on your waist, helping you prop yourself against the wall. 

You couldn’t possibly tell him how your pulse picked up into overdrive because he smelled sexy. You gulped, thinking of something to say that would satisfy him that wasn’t lying. 

“It’s.. so hot… and I’m… it’s sticky. No, no! Not like, me… like, like the air… because it’s so fucking… fucking hot…” You panted, bending at the waist and bracing your hands on your knees. You couldn’t help how wanton you sounded. You also couldn’t help the tiny moan that escaped you when Eraser rolled his sleeves up and you saw his forearms, corded with lean muscle from years of hero work. God, had he always had that vein there? Your mouth watered as the thought of biting down on it entered your head. His hand came up, snapping in front of your eyes to bring your focus back to him. To the conversation at hand, really. 

“Eraser….” you panted, trying to meet his eyes. “Do you know what’s happening to me? Please…. Please, I just… I don’t feel right. It’s starting to hurt.” 

“Y/H/N, this question might seen odd or out of line considering we’re coworkers, but are you also feeling… aroused? Sexually?”

Your pulse jumped and your eyes flew up to meet his as he gazed steadily at your face. Was he asking because it’s related to the quirk, or was he asking because he wanted to fu-

You gulped and nodded your head, not seeing any reason to lie. 

You noticed the subtle twitch of muscle near his eye. He had winced, but he gave a brief nod in return as he set his jaw. 

“The villain that attacked you has a lust quirk. It makes the victim be overcome with lust until it’s unbearable. If you don’t receive a cure in time, the quirk raises your body temperature and heart rate so much that your body can’t handle it and begins to shut down. It’s not fatal to anyone gets the cure after being infected as long as you’re taken care of within a few hours of being hit. You aren’t feeling great now, but if we delay getting you care then your chances of survival are lower.” 

You- what?  A lust quirk? Well that certainly did explain how your body was reacting to being in the presence of your hero crush. Normally, you weren’t this disgustingly horny outside of the sanctuary that was your bed. 

“Oh… okay, so… get me to the cure. P-please,” you croaked, barely slurping back the saliva that your mouth was producing as you stared at the handsome man in front of you. 

“It’s… the quirk requires that the person who is affected engage in- ehm- sexual relations with another. Until completion, sometimes from both parties. I can take you to Recovery Girl, but I stopped to give you a brief breather while I gathered the contact info of someone that you may be able to call to… help you… deactivate the quirk’s effects. A boyfriend or girlfriend?” Despite Eraser’s no-nonsense manner, he still stuttered a bit with explaining the “cure” for the quirk. It pleased you to know that he still had some shame regarding such a sensitive situation. And if you were fully within your right mind, you also would have noticed the faint pink coloring creeping up the sides of his face as he let you absorb what he had just said.

Your eyebrows furrowed together, and you hung your head as you uttered out a defeated, “no one,” to the floor. Even though your voice had been low, he nodded and reached back out to steady your wobbly form. 

“There are some who are aware of the effects at Recovery Girl’s place, maybe one of them can help with the situation. They’re very professional from what I’ve heard, and discreet. You have nothing to be–” 

Your voice, breathy and whiny even to your own ears, cut him off. “What about you?” 

He faltered in his speech, and shook his head. “No, I haven’t um.. Been someone who has relieved anyone of this specific quirk before. It’s probably best if we get-”

You interrupted him again, this time by keeling over and falling onto your knees with a groan. Your arms clutched tightly at your midsection, which was burning worse now, so much worse, and the reproductive organs you possessed…. God, why did they ache so badly? It felt like they were twisting around one another, so tightly it was cutting off the circulation inside. Your eyes still squeezed shut in pain, you whimpered and began to beg. 

“Please, please…. Eraser, I won’t tell anyone, just PLEASE I’m begging you… everything hurts so bad.., want it to stop, please stop it. I need it, I need you to… I need you, please…” You were babbling, and your distress had risen to a point where you couldn’t bring yourself to care about how you were coming off to him.  His eyes were wide as he listened, arms frozen in the air, outstretched toward your frame. 

“I… I don’t want to be taking advant–” 

“You’re NOT, Eraser, I swear I NEED you to fu–” 

“Okay! Okay, alright. I understand what’s at stake here. It seems your body is progressing rapidly and time is of the essence anyway. We are going to have a conversation about this when you’re fully recovered but… Okay, I’ll help you.” 

His hands softly cupped your elbows and guided you to sit on the bare floor. He quickly unwound his scarf from around his neck, extending it out to you. 

“To put under your head. Lay down and get comfortable.” 

Your thighs clenched once again at the suggestion of the command. You could tell he noticed, his eyes flicking down to the movement for just a millisecond. Another tiny whimper fell from your lips as you grabbed the scarf from him and bunched it up behind your head, lying down as he had instructed. He kneeled in front of you, noting the way your body squirmed uncontrollably. 

“I’m going to start slow, okay?” 

Your head nodded frantically as you hummed. You wanted to close your eyes and savor the feeling when his fingertips landed lightly on your ankles, but you couldn’t resist watching him touch you with such reverence. His fingers skated up the sides of your legs, so slowly your hips were wriggling with anticipation as they came to the waistband of your form fitting hero pants. 

His eyes had never once left yours while he’d done this, and now he raised his eyebrows at you in question– asking for consent. 

“Yes, yes, please. Please touch me, do… do anything you want,” you said breathlessly. It spilled out of you before you could worry that you sounded too desperate. If you had been more aware, you’d have noticed how his eyes darkened and his mouth went slack at your words. But you didn’t notice. No, all you could look at was the fingers that were now on either side of your hips, hooking into the fabric bunched up there and sliding the material down your legs. 

There was a brief moment of relief when the cool air inside the building touched your sweaty skin, now exposed. But it quickly vanished as the heat caught back up to you. You resumed your wriggling, and Eraser brought his hands back to your hips, tightening his grip and holding them in place. 

“Stop moving so much, Y/H/N. I know it’s hard, but let me help you.”

You nodded, trying to quell the movement. One of his hands made its way down to your core, now bare. Look, there’s no room in that tight hero suit for panties, okay? 

You shuddered as his fingertips ghosted down your slit and then up again. Your mouth began to form pleas again, but before you spoke, he did. 

“Shhhh. Let me help you. Let me take care of you, sweet girl, okay? Let me make you feel good.”

Holy shit. Holy shit, holy fuck. That was definitely doing something to you. Sweet girl ? If his fingers had lingered on your soaked slit a second longer you thought that might have sent you over the edge, even after barely having been touched. 

You shivered again, moaning a little. He took this as a sign of encouragement, and pressed his thumb on the underside of your clit. FUCK. That… that was heavenly. You moaned again, and again as he began to circle your clit, building up a slow rhythm. Your eyes fell shut, your hips began circling against his hand as he worked you up. 

“That’s it, such a good girl. So wet, you’re so soaked baby. Do you wanna feel something in that tight little cunt of yours? It just looks so fucking good, I just wanna…” 

You felt one of his fingers prodding at your entrance. You began chanting a series of yesyesyes’s when you felt him press inside and crook up right into the spongy spot that made you cry out. Fuck, it was like he knew exactly where to touch you; like he’d already mapped your body out without you knowing. The thought of his pure skill at working your pussy made you even more wet as he added another finger and started fucking them in and out of you. Your fingers weren’t long enough to reach all the spots he was hitting inside you with ease, so you whined like a bitch in heat, which you supposed you were in the moment.

Your eyes were still closed, so you were totally unprepared when you felt something slick and warm start to circle your clit. The second you realized it had to be his tongue, your mouth fell open in a gasp. You fluttered your eyes back open and looked down between your legs, where his face was now buried, eyes barely visible beneath messy hair- though you could see that he was looking directly at your shocked face. You felt his lips twist against you… into a smirk? Oh, you thought, he’s filthy.

Your hips were now gyrating wildly, and one of his hands came up from where he’d been cupping your ass to press you back down to the floor. Once he had you situated, he sucked hard on your clit, practically making you scream. 

“Eraser, yes yes, oh my god–”

“Shota,” he’d pulled back for a second, just to gruffly correct you on his proper name, and then dove right back in as if he were starving for it. His enthusiasm alone was making your thighs quake- it was so fucking hot. Your thighs began to tighten around his head and let out a breathless cry of his name. Your fingers snaked down to tangle in his hair, needing to ground yourself through the immense pleasure you felt.

Your head fell back into his scarf again as your back arched, the motions of his tongue against you turning you into a pathetic mess. You weren’t sure if it were due to the squeezing of your thighs or the hair pulling, but you heard him grunt and felt his fingers dig in a little tighter where they rested on your stomach. You let out another moan in response, and felt more fluid gush from your pussy. You couldn’t help it- a sexy man being vocal between your thighs was like your own personal wet dream. 

His fingers inside of you sped up, hitting your spot with a wicked precision as his tongue alternated between suckling and licking around your sensitive bud. You began to tighten around his fingers, knowing you were nearing orgasm. You couldn’t form any words at this point, just panting pathetically and moaning as you approached the edge of your pleasure. 

“Sho- Sho-ta, I’m– I’m gon-” tried to garble out, to let him know, but he nodded before you could try to fully finish your sentence. You took that as permission, and came harder than you ever had before. Your eyes were tightly shut as your body trembled. His mouth had transitioned to lightly kissing the plump skin of your inner thigh, and his fingers continued to move slowly inside you, working through your ecstasy. You looked back down at him again as he pulled his fingers out completely and sat up on his heels, taking in the sight of his face that was soaked with the evidence of your orgasm. A shudder went through you as you watched him suck his fingers into his mouth to clean them of your release. The sight of him like this was almost enough to make you cry out again.

Your relief was short lived as a pang of the pain and heat from earlier returned, quickly making your loose body tense up again. Your whimper this time was one of pain, and Aizawa’s sharp gaze flicked back down to your face. 

“It’s not gone?” he questioned, shuffling forward and laying a comforting hand on your knee. You shook your head violently, groaning at the burning in your abdomen and curling in on yourself. 

“Fuck…” he muttered, barely audible. “We have to… we have to try something else, Y/N, is that okay?” 

Your hazy mind barely picked up on the fact that he had used your real name, not your hero name. You didn’t even think he knew your real name, not really. The surprise of this realization lasted barely a second as you groaned in pain again and quickly nodded your head in response to his inquiry. You felt him shift even closer to you, then he was leaning over you and filling your watery vision completely. His hand that wasn’t rubbing soft circles into your knee came up to your chin, which he tilted up in a silent command to meet his eyes. You complied, and waited for him to speak or touch you or do anything that might help. 

“Y/N,” his voice came out, soft and sure with a gravelly edge, “I think we have to have sex for it to stop. For some, just an orgasm can bring an end to the effects of the quirk but for others, if there aren’t two parties who orgasm from some type of penetrative sex, it continues. I don’t… I don’t know why, but I think we have to do this if you’re still feeling the quirk.” 

You felt like your ears were ringing– did you hear him right? He was going to have sex with you? You knew that the situation you were in was dire, but you almost could’ve laughed at the fact that you were about to be in your own personal heaven. As your mind wandered off, you felt him give your chin a tiny, gentle shake to capture your attention again.

“Hey, Y/N? I need you to focus okay sweetheart? Is that okay? Are you okay with doing this?” He asked you, concern pinching together the features of his handsome face. You nodded, and tried to voice your consent, but you could only mouth the word yes. He nodded back at you in confirmation, and released his grip on you to lean back and start unbuckling the belt around his waist. “I don’t have any protection, but I can pull out if I need to.”

You managed to find an ounce of strength remaining in your body and used it to push up on your shaking elbows, trying to look at his face so you could address any concerns. “N-no, I’m on the pill. It’s okay. And- and I get tested regularly, I’m g-good.” 

He nodded, the picture of seriousness, as he responded with a simple “me too,” and continued fumbling with his belt.

You reached one hand out, barely grasping the bottom hem of his shirt and making an upward motion with it before supporting yourself with your arms again. He glanced up, and you whispered into the quiet room.

“Take it off. Please,” you tacked onto the end, hoping you didn’t sound too demanding and also hoping that he was even half as into this as you were. He followed your request without hesitation, and you took in the sight of his pale torso, muscle rippling under his skin as he pulled the fabric up over his head. You bit your lip, not wanting any noises slipping out at the mere sight of him and revealing how much you secretly wanted all of this. With him mostly undressed, pants around his knees and shirt discarded, he leaned down toward you again. 

“Is it okay if I touch you here?” he asked while trailing one of his large hands up your ribcage, running below the swell of your breast. You released a small whimper and nodded quickly, reaching up to help him remove the tight fabric of your top. Once it was pushed up over your head and you were settled again, his fingers ghosted over your right nipple, already hard with your arousal. Once he’d run his fingers over your pebbled, sensitive skin a few times, he pinched, causing you to yelp in surprise. His face had a deliciously sexy smirk on it. 

“Please… Please, Shota….” you begged, not for anything in particular, but just more of him. 

“Please what, princess? You want me to touch you over here too?” He asked teasingly, trailing his other hand over your left breast and bringing that nipple between his fingers. As he rolled both nipples, he ground his clothed and already hard cock against your core. You tried to fight your eyes rolling back again at the relief you felt from that little bit of friction, and heard him stifle a breathy laugh. 

“Shota… Please, I want… I need you to fuck me,” You panted out, proud of being able to get out a full sentence, and simultaneously nervous that you were too forward. 

His eyes darkened, and any hint of teasing that was flitting across his expression lifted. Faster than you could process, his hands were on either side of your face, pulling you slightly up to him as he pressed his mouth over yours. You’d thought his hands were divine? They were nothing compared to his lips. You’d never been kissed as passionately as he was kissing you. No, devoured was a better word for it. 

Your lips parted underneath his, teeth clashing messily as you returned his fervor. His tongue slipped into your mouth and circled your own, and you both moaned at the sensation. One of his hands left your cheek, slipping down between your gyrating bodies to circle your clit with his fingers again, his mouth swallowing the moans this brought forth. Your hands dropped to the waistband of his underwear and pushed it down, just enough so that his cock-definitely above average, you noted mentally- bobbed out, fully at attention, the tip gleaming with precum. He sucked on your bottom lip as you felt him line up with your entrance. 

He pulled back slightly, pupils blown wide in what you were sure was a reflection of your own. He searched your face for any hints of hesitation he could find. 

“What will be most comfortable for you? Do you want to move-” you cut his sentence off with another deep kiss. You pulled back very slightly, lips still brushing his as you responded that you wanted it “just like this”.

He wasted no time. He entered you fully, and you felt the tip of his cock nudge your cervix. Fuck, how big is he?, you wondered, feeling like you were nearly being split in two despite the preparation you’d had prior and the arousal that continued to seep out of you. He rested his arms on his elbows, encircling your head. His hand tangled into your hair and formed a pillow in addition to his scarf that still lay beneath you. His hips were unforgiving, slamming to meet yours over and over again, making you moan out with each thrust. But your moans were muffled, since all the while his mouth hadn’t left your lips. His lips caressed yours, in a gentle way that didn’t match the pace of his thrusts at all. His tongue moved in slow, sweeping motions as if he were mapping out the interior of your mouth. Everything felt so good, so fucking good. 

You knew you were under the influence of a quirk that made you this stupid horny in the first place, but you were certain beyond a doubt that you’d never been fucked so well before. Every point where his skin touched yours was on fire, but in a completely different way than the heat that consumed you because of the quirk. This heat was good, it was delicious, and you wanted to feel as much of his skin as possible. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder and tugged him down slightly, closing the small distance between your torsos. Your nipples pressed against his pecs. It was good, but you needed more, so you brought your legs up and wrapped them around his hips, digging your heels into the small of his back and forcing him deeper inside you with the new angle this created. 

He moaned into your mouth, and slowed his pace, grinding into your pussy, barely pulling out. Fuck, it was like his cock was made to fit you, the way the tip brushed over your g-spot when he did that. It was nothing short of euphoric. You pulled away from his mouth with a gasp, reluctant to release his lips, but needing to suck in some oxygen. He plunged his head down to your neck, suckling the soft skin there, moving down until he reached the junction of your neck and shoulder. He nipped at the spot, and you cried out and arched your back in response. You were close now, and you clenched around his cock uncontrollably. You felt his hips falter for a second as you clenched, but he picked up his bruising pace again quickly. 

“Shota, Shota I’m close,” you panted into the heavy air, nails digging into his shoulders. 

“I know princess, I know… feel you clenching around me… so fucking tight. You feel so good, sweetheart. So fucking good for me. Let go baby, come on me,” he rasped into your ear. 

That did it. His filthy words had you coming hard, shaking almost violently and squeezing your eyes shut. You couldn’t help but cry out as you came, Shota’s thrusts not slowing through your climax. You weren’t sure if it lasted seconds or hours, but your breathing began to even out again and you felt Shota’s hips still pistoning inside you, losing the rhythm and pace he’d built up. 

He brought his head up so that he could meet your eyes again. 

“I’m close, where…?” he questioned. 

“Please, come inside me. Fill me up,” you whispered, and watched as his face screwed up with pleasure once you’d uttered the words. His hips pressed tightly to yours and you felt his release fill you, warming you from the inside. His load was huge and you felt it begin to leak out around his cock, still pressed in to the hilt, as the last of his load spurted into you and his body shuddered. 

When it was over, his eyes met yours in an almost sheepish manner. You tightened your legs, not ready to let him go yet. 

You both began to speak at the same time then. Both of you seemed to be apologizing though, so you clamped your mouth shut and furrowed your brows in confusion. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N,” he spoke first. “You couldn’t help that you were attacked by this quirk, and I was not going to let you suffer or die from it. I’m happy to help you, please don’t feel ashamed.” 

You let the kindness of his words soak in for a moment before you giggled. Now it was his turn to furrow his brows. 

“I could definitely tell you were happy to help me,” you responded, wiggling your hips slightly, his softening cock still inside you. What? You couldn’t be expected to be the most eloquent at the moment, you’d just had the best fuck of your entire life. 

He groaned in (what you were hoping was) feigned annoyance, and rolled off of you, pulling out slowly. He gathered the rumpled pieces of your hero suit, handing them delicately over to you. He began to dress also, the shuffling of fabric the only sounds for a moment before he cleared his throat. 

“I imagined the first time I kissed you to be different in my head.” 

You blinked, pulling your hair out of the neck of your suit. Had you heard him correctly? He’d imagined kissing you before? Maybe this entire exchange had been a drug induced illusion, and you were actually in a hospital bed right now. But the hard floor beneath your knees was real, and the brush of his fingers against your hip as he reached around you to grab his scarf was definitely real, sending a shiver down your spine still in spite of what had just transpired between you. 

You blinked again, feeling dumb from the silence on your part. You quickly rushed out the only thing still rushing through your brain which was, of course, “You’ve thought about kissing me before?” 

Color flooded his cheeks as looked intently at his scarf, taking his time in untwisting it. 

“Of course I have. You’re…. You’re wonderful. I… I really admire your hero work, Y/N. You’re good at what you do, and you’ve only been doing it for a year” His eyes raised to meet yours. “And I’m sure you know already, but you’re beautiful. Breathtaking, really. Of course I’ve thought about it.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You didn’t think you’d be able to form words, so you did the only thing you could think of doing in response and lunged toward him again, bringing your lips together in a sweet kiss. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as his circled your waist. You kissed each other gently this time, no fire underneath, just a curious exploration of one another. When you broke apart, you smiled widely at him. 

“Thank you for helping me. I know you’ve said you’re happy to, but really, thank you. I’m just… really glad that it wasn’t something I forced on you. I don’t know if I could have forgiven myself for that.” 

His eyes softened, still holding yours, as he nodded. He released your waist with a sigh, opting to take one of your hands in his as he stood. You followed suit. 

You hadn’t put your comm unit back in yet, but Aizawa had, and you heard his blare to life. A tinny and very, very loud voice on the other end spoke up: “Yo, Eraser– where are you man?? I’m here with Recovery Girl at the school and we’re super worried! What’s got you guys caught up?” 

Shota winced at Present Mic’s volume but answered awkwardly, “We uhm- so Y/N’s okay right now, because we uhm- were able to deactivate the effects of the quirk. So she’s all good I think.”

After a moment of silence in which you both blushed bright red at the revelation, you heard a cackle break out from Mic. Shota ripped the unit out of his ear and turned back to you, muttering that he “can go without that for a second”.

“We should probably go get you checked out with Recovery Girl anyway, just to make sure your vitals and everything look good. It shouldn’t take long, and as far as I know in previous cases once the quirk is gone you don’t need to take any sort of precautionary measures or anything so…” You nodded your understanding as he scratched the back of his neck with the hand not loosely holding yours. 

“And then maybe, afterward…” He began speaking again as you both started walking toward the UA campus, “We can grab dinner together? I know we’re doing this all backwards here and normally people start dating each other before they get all intimate but uh-” He cleared his throat, as you felt your heart shoot up into your own and get lodged there. 

With a slightly bashful but elated smile, you agreed and squeezed Shota’s hand. He returned the gesture, silently promising himself to never let go of your hand from that moment forward.

[w2soneshots]

harry smau or one shot or anyyythiinggg

i don’t know if you’ve written anything similar to this so i’m sorry if you have )’:

you and harry are going through a rough patch while he’s become super busy with filming across europe & you’ve been stuck at home

Miles apart -W2S

words: 0.9k+

warnings: angst, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of loneliness.

summary: while Harry’s away for a sidemen video -once again- you find something out that will change your lives forever, but with how busy he’s been you worry about how much he will be there for you.

notes: hi! Angst is genuinely one of my favourite things to write… there’s just something about it🙈. Also added some spice (a whole ass baby) to add to the angstyness, tehehe. Anyways, enjoy lovely and thank you for requesting!!💝🫶🏼

Liked by wroetoshaw, tobjizzle and others

y/username: home💐🛁✨

-comments-

calfreezy: sandwich looks delish, bog is a lucky man

-> y/username: haha it was unbelievably good

taliamar: obsessed with you💓

-> y/username: I'm flattered T🤭

y/nfanpage21: cutie!!🫶

user: where's Harry?🤨

-> user: he's away for a sidemen Sunday

A few days ago your boyfriend, Harry, left on a trip for a new video that the boys are filming. Lately he's been gone what seems like a lot, for days at a time or on a shoot from early morning to late at night, meaning by the time he gets home you're already fast asleep.

"Hi, how was filming?" You asked Harry on facetime, while he sat in his hotel room. "Pretty shit to be honest. Boring," he replied before yawning. You signed then spoke again after a moment, "you look tired. I'll let you sleep." "Alright, love you," he smiled softly into the camera. "Love you, sweet dreams."

You put the phone down and got comfortable in your bed, since you felt unusually tired you fell straight asleep, completely unaware that the next day your whole world would change forever and Harry wasn't going to be there.

"I'm fucked," you whispered as you stared at the positive pregnancy test in your hands, the obvious pink lines glaring at you. You weren't sure how to react, meaning you just stood there contemplating your life choices.

You and Harry had only been together for two and a half years, which felt like absolutely no time at all. You'd spoken briefly about kids but it definitely wasn't something you were planning in the near future, but now it was happening and honestly, you were concerned he wasn't going to react well.

"What am I going to do?" You asked yourself quietly as you sat down abruptly on the toilet seat. Then the tears started to flow and they didn't stop until your phone rang, breaking the rush of thoughts whirling around your mind.

Quickly, you got up, wiped your tears on your -Harry's- jumper sleeve and reached for your phone. Harry... fuck, act natural.

"Hi," your voice was slightly horse as you answered, thankfully it wasn't a video call. "Hello darling, you okay?" He asked cheerfully. "Mhm, you?" He paused for a moment before speaking again, "sure you're alright? You sound a little... weird."

You took a deep breath and tried to control yourself. "I'm fine, just woke up from a nap," you lied. "Okay... call me if you need anything. I'll be home tomorrow, around eight o'clock," He told you, leading you to feel a mix of relief and worry at telling him about your predicament.

The next day you woke to the same feeling you did the morning prior, nausea. The sickness you felt was what made you go and buy a test in the first place, along with the fact your period was late.

You spent the day going over how on earth you were going to tell Harry that your going to have a whole ass baby, that you'll be fully responsible for and will have to keep healthy and happy for eighteen years... jeez.

You'd felt like shit all day so by the time your boyfriend finally arrived home you were exhausted. You were sat on the couch when he came in. As usual, he immediately dropped his bags and all of his focus turned to you.

"Hey-" "Harry," you stood and interrupted him, you needed to just get it out, "I'm... pregnant." He turned pale and his mouth dropped open. "You're- I- what?" He stumbled on his words, his hand moving up to rub the back of his neck.

You both sat down on the couch and remained in complete silence for a good ten minutes, while Harry processed the news. Anxiously, you twiddled your thumbs while you awaited his response.

"When did you find out?" He eventually asked, breaking the silence and slightly startling you. You cleared your throat. "Yesterday. Yesterday morning," you answered, the both of you still looking ahead at the empty, black tv screen.

"So you've had time to think?" "I guess so... I mean, all I've really been thinking about is how you were gonna react and that you've been so busy- I don't want to be alone," you said quietly before finally looking at him, the tears in your waterline threatening to spill.

In an instant he moved closer to you and wrapped his arms around your body. Relief filled your senses as you felt slightly reassured by his actions. "I've always wanted a family with you... maybe not so soon but we'll figure it out. I know you're gonna be an amazing mum y/n and hopefully I'll be half decent, but I'll always be there," he whispered into your hair.

You smiled as you let out a sob. "Soppy twat," you chocked out. He chuckled, the air in the room now considerably lighter. "So, in nine months we'll have a kid then yeah?" You cleared your throat and sat up. "Technically seven months, since I'm already eight weeks." "Even better."

Two months later...

Liked by sidemen, mollymae and others

y/username: We've been keeping a secret...

-comments-

wroetoshaw: b- b- b- buzzin

-> y/username: Harry's new favourite word ladies and gents⬆️

faithlousiak: ahhhhhh!!! Adorable😊

y/nfanpage21: WHAT?! I was not expecting to see this today... sooo happy for you though😭💝

-> y/username: haha thank you hun

user: this is insane omfg yall

[buckmaddies]

coming up for air

BuckTommy, episode 8x11 coda, 1.9k words. Spoilers for the episode.

Buck and Tommy have a much needed conversation. Episode coda for 8x11.

Buck leaves Maddie’s place in the morning with a new plan in mind. He doesn’t call Tommy, instead texting him to come over so they can have a proper talk.

He doesn’t want to have this talk in public, where they could run into any one of their friends. He wants it to be private, where they don’t have to try and mask their emotions or their reactions.

He’s been thinking about the Eddie of it all. He really took stock of his feelings. He even called Eddie in the middle of the night out on Maddie’s porch so he wouldn’t wake them up with his talking.

He told Eddie everything that happened with Tommy, and throughout that conversation, all he could think about was Tommy, how he could get back together with him without having to compromise.

Eddie means a lot to him.

They’re family. Eddie is as important to him as Maddie, as Bobby, and Christopher is like the son he never had. He feels the same about Chris as he does about Jee-Yun, and the new baby coming soon.

It’s all his family, and he is not about to minimize that just because it makes Tommy uncomfortable, or makes him think there’s any competition.

Eddie told him point blank that he loves him, but not like that. They’re family, yes, but they’re not in love. Eddie even admits, in a broken voice, that he doesn’t think he can be in love with anyone until he works through his issues, the Shannon of it all.

He’s only just started to mend things with Chris.

Buck had left that conversation with an ache inside. Sure, he misses his best friend, of course he does, he got used to having Eddie around almost every single day for the past eight years, so of course it hurts to have him leave.

But the ache he’s feeling isn’t for Eddie to kiss him, hold him, or be in his bed with him.

No.

That ache belongs to Tommy.

Read the rest on AO3

[tkomptgoedluv]

toothpaste kisses.

joost klein x f! reader

request: “could you write a fic with joost x reader where they get intimate and everything is fine and then the reader starts crying, but not because of sadness, but because of how safe the reader feels in their relationship, how loved he makes the reader feel and etc..(just overwhelmed with positive emotions). a lot of angst, but also a lot of fluff, comfort, happiness… like they dont stop being intimate, they continue and its like the best therapy. also aftercare!!!”

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, established relationship, literally the most in love two people have ever been, like if twin flames are a thing then it’s them, two freaks get freaky but it’s romantic <3, lil sprinkle of angst, lots of hurt + comfort, even more fluff, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 5,496.

warnings: mentions of past abuse, a very very vauge + brief description of sa, smut, rpf.

notes: hello my lovelies!! i hope you enjoy this one just as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 thank you so so much to the anon who requested it, i hope you don’t mind that i put my own lil spin on it!! and also a big thank you to my gorgeous gorgeous @joosthead for already being this fic’s number #1 fan — i love you my junipoo!! 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

your fingers itched with the urge to rip out your own hair as you felt your stomach twist itself into another knot.

you’d done this to yourself, completely. you’d gotten yourself into a total, utter mess because you’d seen him again, after so many years of trying to pretend that he never even existed at all.

five years ago, you’d been seeing this guy, this absolute asshole of a man, and it had almost been the death of you. as always with guys like him, the first few months had felt dream-like; he was an angel incarnate and yet somehow, he was all yours. the perfect man, heaven sent, and yours.

you had been so sure of it — you were going to marry this guy one day.

but by the time that those rose-tinted glasses of yours had started to fade and you were finally starting to see him for who he truly was, it was too late. you had just moved to a whole new city for him, left your job for him, cut off each and every single one of your friends for him. “they just wanna see us fail, baby.” he’d said, “you’re better off without them.”

and for far too long, you’d believed that. for almost two years, you had put up with his bullshit willingly, because you’d loved him. even after all of those fights he’d started over nothing, all those things of yours that he’d broken because “it’s either that or i give you a fucking black eye or something.”, you still loved him. you only left once he eventually ran out of things to break and staying true to his word, started putting his hands on you instead.

looking back, that was the only promise of his that he’d ever fucking kept.

being without him had made you realise that you actually knew nothing about where you lived now, even though it had already been years by this point. that was why you had gotten so lost that day, that one and only birthday of yours that you’d spent all on your own.

venturing out of that shitty little studio apartment you used to live in had been brave, considering you had no idea where to go or what to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay indoors anymore. knowing you, it should have been a disaster and it honestly almost was, had it not been for that pretty blond stranger you’d stopped for directions. without him, you probably would’ve ended up god knows where.

luckily for you, though, you just wound up in his bed instead, and three years later you were still there. three years later, you’re celebrating your anniversary with him.

there was never any need for those rose-tinted glasses when it came to joost. no excuses or exceptions that you ever had to make for him. there were no more nights spent crying, locked away in your bathroom, far too afraid to come out because you had no idea what he would do if you did. no more days spent laying in bed because you were still far too sore to move after what he’d done to you the night before.

now your entire life is just travelling around the world with someone you never thought could be real, someone who’s talked you down from just a few too many ledges for you to count, determined to undo all of the damage that the guy before him had done. truly, joost was your best friend; the only person you’d ever met with such a pure heart of gold. the absolutely undisputable love of your life.

and he’d done everything possible to make today as special as he could for you, considering it was obviously also your birthday.

every year you tell him the exact same thing; that the day’s just as much about him as it is you, and that he really doesn’t need to make such a big fuss. and every year he never listens, always clearing out the whole day despite how hectic his schedule always is, just so he can make it all about you. one year he even turned down a spot on a festival lineup because the dates clashed and he deemed you far more important.

earlier in the morning, joost had woken you up with an orgasm so strong that you couldn’t walk for the first hour or two that you were awake. as always, he’d carried you to the bathroom after and gotten you all cleaned up, giggling at how your legs were still shaking, and helped you get ready. you’d laughed with him when he insisted on trying to do your makeup for you too, and had then proceeded to somehow get your eyeshadow everywhere.

cleaning up all of your now pink-stained towels had taken a little longer than expected but you still both made it in time to get breakfast at your favourite cafe. you’d had no idea that booking out an entire section of the place, just for the two of you, was even an option, but that’s exactly what he had done.

then it was back to the marketplace where you’d first met, and joost had let you browse every single one of the stalls. he’d bought you every single little thing that had caught your eye, only stopping when neither of you could carry anything anymore. you’d headed home only once the summer air had started to turn colder and spent the entire uber ride back gushing over the silly girl-stitch plushie he’d bought you in secret, just so you could have one to match his own.

in a way, that was kind of what had led to all of this. why you had gotten yourself so worked up, all teary-eyed and in such a state, whilst joost had you pinned down underneath him.

you really hadn’t seen him in years, not since you’d broken up with him, and he’d looked unrecognisable to you as he’d sat down just a few tables away. because that was just your luck, wasn’t it? seeing your ex at the same restaurant joost had taken you out to for dinner, dressed up all nicely in the suit that you had bought him all those years ago.

from that moment on, you’d been stuck with this dark, bitter feeling that had your stomach tied into all of those knots. your fingers itching with that urge to rip out each and every single strand of hair from your scalp. every bite of your ravioli suddenly started to taste off, almost sour, and you really hadn’t wanted to be there anymore.

it wasn’t because you missed him, because of course you didn’t — not even a little bit. you hated him, despised him actually. you couldn’t stand the very thought of him because for as long as you had been with him, he’d put you through hell and then some. it had taken years of therapy to get to this point where you weren’t having so many nightmares about it all anymore.

it was just that seeing him all of a sudden with someone new, a girl that he was absolutely fawning over, it had done something to you. from the corner of your eye you had seen how he was holding her hand on the table, looking at her with so much adoration that you’d realised that not once had he’d ever looked at you like that. not even once, not even at the beginning.

it never should have bothered you as much as it had. from the inside out, like a parasite, it was eating you alive.

and then joost, in the most wonderful way possible, went ahead and made it all so much worse without even meaning to.

because despite how disappointed he was that you so badly wanted to skip dessert, the milk chocolate cheesecake on the menu having already caught his eye, he’d taken you home the moment you’d asked. he’d been so soft with you as he’d helped you out of your dress, slipping the burgundy silk so carefully down your shoulders and holding your hands as you’d stepped out of your heels. he’d picked you up and laid you down on the bed that you shared as though you’d break if he was too rough, and kissed you everywhere that you’d needed him to.

he already knew that something was wrong — had done since the restaurant because more than anything or anyone else, joost knew you. you weren’t one to ever leave a plate half finished and you’d barely made a dent in your pasta. in a blink of an eye you’d gone from all giddy and energetic to solem, only just about managing to keep up with the conversation that you had been the one to start.

you just weren’t yourself anymore and he had no idea why, so whatever it was that was on your mind, he was going to do everything he could to help you forget about it.

and in the end, it was all too much.

the feeling of joost on top of you, weighing you down as he took such good care of you. the way he was being so unbelievably gentle as he fucked you, his strokes slow but still deep enough to hit all of the right spots. how he was holding himself up with one of his hands as the other grasped your hip and pulled you down onto him with every thrust.

at first it had you whining, mewling, and your nails carving straight lines down the skin of his back. you’d been louder than the creaking of the bed-frame, whimpering sweet, dirty sounds right into his ear. he always loved it when you were vocal like that — he’d told you so the very first time he ever had you caged underneath him like this.

but for the past few minutes you’d fallen uncharacteristically quiet, those near-pornographic moans of yours quickly turning into sniffles as tears began to wet your cheeks.

they weren’t the happy kind. they were the tears that people only ever shed when they’re too caught up inside their own heads.

how kind he was being with you, how kind he always is with you, all it did was remind you of just how safe you are with him. that to joost, you’re something so unbelievably precious and worthy of all this warmth. you’d been so silly earlier to get so upset over your ex, so stupid to have let it almost ruin your evening together.

joost had been too distracted to have heard your first couple of cries, too concentrated on watching it slide in and out to have noticed all of the tears spilling out of your eyes. he was a bit of a perv like that; always will be when it comes to you.

but then he lifted his head up, a grin tugging at the very corners of his lips, desperate to see that doe-eyed, cock-drunk look on your face. he wasn’t expecting to see you look so sad of all things, your eyes already all red and watery as you wept. he stilled immediately and moved his hand from your hip up to brush the hair out of his worried eyes.

“hey, what’s the matter? you okay?”

he hoped to hear you laugh then, reassuring him that you were alright and you were just feeling too many good things all at once. he didn’t like that you tried to hide away from him then, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you mumbled a quiet plea for him to keep going, because you were ‘fine’ and he didn’t need to stop.

“honey, no, you’re crying.” as gently as he could, joost pulled out of you and rolled off, leaning back onto his side of the bed. “what’s going on?”

you were sobbing into your hands now, still laying flat on your back with the duvet all bundled up around your waist. there was still so much of you out on display for him but for a reason that you couldn’t quite explain just yet, letting him see you cry like this felt like far too much. even as he gently tried to pry your hands away, you were fighting to keep them there.

“you’re scaring me, baby. what did i do?”

“no no no, jesus, no, you haven’t done anything, i promise.”

only then did you let him see you, not bothering to stop and wipe your eyes before you dragged him back down to you and curled up as far into him as you possibly could. you felt his arms wrap around you and pull you almost entirely on top of him, letting your legs all tangle together with his own. thick fingers raked through your hair as you laid your head down on his sternum, listening to the strong, heavy rhythm of his heartbeat.

“then what is it, schat? what are you feeling right now?”

a small, blubbering giggle came out when you went to speak, a few more of your tears falling and dampening the blonde hairs on his chest.

“i just…i really love you a lot and i don’t always know what to do with that.”

the short pause that followed had you holding your breath, knowing that he wouldn’t but still expecting him to be at least just a little annoyed with you. with how badly you’d spoiled the moment, you wouldn’t blame him if he was.

“damn, i must be a lot better at the boom-boom than i thought.”

joost couldn’t even finish his sentence without laughing and how you groaned at it, nestling your face in the skin between his pecs, turned that laughter into a high-pitched squeaking.

“joost! i’m being serious.”

“i know, honey, i know, i’m sorry — was just trying to lighten the mood.”

you felt his fingers back in your hair, tucking random pieces behind your ears and brushing loose strands away from your eyes. each movement of his was somehow softer than the last until his hands were cradling your jaw and tilting your head up, your chin resting on his chest.

now that you could see how was he looking at you, with stars all in his eyes and an aching smile on his face, you felt your bottom lip start to quiver again.

“you know i love you too, right? so much.”

the noise that you’d made as you tried to nod your head, a quiet “mhm.” mixed with a sudden, sharp hiccup, made joost laugh again. he swiped each of his thumbs along the very tops of your cheekbones, wiping away all of the water that was still trickling down your face. you were yet to look away so you saw how something in his eyes changed and how that soft smile of his waivered.

“so then why all the tears, baby?”

you stiffened, your muscles tensing under his touch as you finally broke and turned your face away. “i saw koen today — back at the restaurant.”

and just like you had joost also froze, because he knew exactly who koen was; knew every last detail about the guy, in fact. he knew that koen was the reason why you hardly slept during the first few months that you were together, those nightmares of yours keeping you awake for far too many days straight. why you used to never really eat anything, either, because he’d conditioned you to believe that it was somehow ‘unattractive’ if you did. joost also knew that koen was the reason why you’d had hand-shaped bruises around your neck that very first day you’d met.

“that’s why i wanted to leave. as soon as i saw him i just…i couldn’t stay there knowing that he’s not rotting in that shithole apartment like i thought he’d be.”

you took a moment to sit up, the duvet falling off your shoulders as you wiped your runny nose on the back of your hand.

“i know it’s stupid, but seeing him there with a girl and the both of them looking so happy, i just, i never thought that he would change, you know? that he could change, because if so then why not for me? why wasn’t i enough to change for?”

joost copied your movements and sat up as well, taking your hand in his just to play with your fingers as he listened to every word.

“but then you happened, like, you’ve been so perfect to me today, just like how you always are, and it made me think about how lucky i am to have you. i should have never, ever cared, not for a second, about whatever the fuck koen’s up to now because i have you and that’s more than i’ll ever fucking deserve. i meant it when i said i was only crying because i love you too much to know what to do with the feeling -”

your little monologue, your sappy, word-vomit rambling was cut short when joost kissed you hard, his hands holding you steady on either side of your face. as gently as he could he guided you to lay back down, your spine meeting the mattress as his silver chain started to dangle in your face.

this was his way of shutting you up because you were doing it again. you were getting so caught up in the little things, so overwhelmed by your feelings, that you were just upsetting yourself, really. and you do that a lot. for good or for bad, you always let yourself feel such big things that it pulls you apart at the seams sometimes.

like that one morning a couple months ago; you saw a mouse on your walk to work. it’s little pink tail was missing, small clumps of it’s grey fur had been ripped out of it’s skin, and it had just been laying there, unmoving. you’d cried so hard over it that you got sent home before you ever made it in.

or like last year, when joost showed you an early demo of ‘last man standing’ and you’d wept in his arms for god knows how long afterwards. everything he expresses in that song the two of you had talked about before, you knew that was exactly how he felt, yet hearing him sing it had felt far more catastrophic.

“mijn meisje, you don’t ever have to do anything, okay? you’re already ‘it’ — you’re my dream girl.”

with a wobbly bottom lip you nodded, only barely holding yourself together as he grinned down at you, each of his hands beside your head, holding himself up.

“i mean it, baby. can i prove it to you?”

you could have melted right then and there. the way he was talking to you, his voice all low and breathy in your ear as he kissed you up and down your jaw, it was making your head spin. you nodded again, running your hands up and down the skin of his sides until he pulled back a little, that silver chain of his hanging in your face again.

“need to hear you say it, schat. we don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“no no, please. i’m alright, please don’t stop.”

sitting up on his knees, joost took each of your thighs in his grasp and pulled you down closer to him, wrapping one of your legs around his waist and resting the other on his shoulder. with that gentle grin still plastered across his face he held his pinky out towards you and wiggled it, his eyes softening when you giggled.

“okay, but if you change your mind at any point, you gotta promise me -”

“- i promise i’ll say something.” you hooked your pinky around his and squeezed it before bringing his hand up to your mouth, planting a kiss across his knuckles.

you were going to be the death of him one day.

letting your head fall back against the bed, a small moan slipped past your lips when joost pushed himself back inside, easing himself in all slow and steady. he left soft, wet kisses along the skin of your calf and drew small circles on your clit as he quickly found his rhythm again.

it was cruel, really, the way he was moving oh-so painstakingly slow — how he was purposefully going too slow because he knew that it would have you like this. sweat already dripping down the sides of your forehead, handfuls of the white bedsheets in a tight grasp, begging him to give you more as you writhed on his cock.

you were just so sensitive to it all, weren’t you? so reactive to each and every single one of his touches. you didn’t exactly make it hard for him to taunt you like this, for him to keep dragging it in and out with a thumb still rubbing circles on your clit, knowing full well what it was doing to you. joost could see just how wound up you were getting, could feel you trying to pull him in closer by your leg that curved around his hip.

“fuck…you’re…you’re being mean, joosti.”

with that smile still firmly on his face he chuckled and stilled inside of you, moving his hand away from your clit to readjust both of your legs. your ankles were resting on his shoulders now, and the warm palms of his hands were caressing the skin of your shins.

“am i, baby? i’m sorry.” he placed another kiss onto each of your calves, his hands trailing down until they were squeezing your thighs. “how do you want it, baby? tell me.”

every muscle in your body clenched then, as a singular, sharp breath caught in your throat.

“h-harder.”

you felt him start to move again, his hips thrusting at that same, agonisingly slow pace.

“yeah? think you can handle it? think you’re ready for the boom-boom?”

the noise you managed to produce, something in between a snort and a cackle, was unlike anything you had ever made before. joost was in utter stitches over it above you, his head thrown back in laughter as he wheezed, tears welling up in his eyes. in a mere matter of seconds, both of your faces were bright red, your laughs turning silent as the pair of you struggled to breathe.

bringing your legs down and your knees up to your chest you wrapped your arms around your stomach, feeling that tightness in your tummy grow the harder you laughed. with your eyes squeezed shut, you hadn’t seen joost make a reach for his phone — hadn’t seen him snap a quick picture of you all red in the face and smiling, before playing the song on full volume.

he could barely hold himself up as he began to sing along, hiccuping over every other word as he giggled.

“this is my boom-boom; my love and desire!”

“no, no stop — you can’t do this.”

shaking your head, you were trying to push him off of you before he tossed his phone to the side and caught your hands, holding them together and keeping you firmly in your place.

“this is my boom-boom; set it on fire!”

“absolutely not! you can’t…you can’t sing that song whilst you’re still inside of me.”

he pouted, feigning a quiver in his lips. “but i haven’t even gotten to the good part yet!”

you tried to be stern, tried to stare him down with a frown on your face and a furrow in your eyebrows, pulling your hands free to cross your arms over your chest. you tried to pretend to be annoyed, but after a single moment of silence, the both of you broke. all over again, you were laughing hard enough for it to hurt.

making another reach for his phone, joost finally turned the song off as you wiped the last few stray tears of joy away from your eyes. you wrapped your legs back around his hips and pulled him down until you could weave your arms around his neck too, and moaned when he immediately attached his lips to that sweet spot of yours behind your left ear.

“hey.” his voice was quiet, coming out all muffled as he sucked, licked, nipped at the skin of your neck. “think you can give me one more?”

you felt him smile against you as you shuddered, your nails digging their way back into his spine. “make it two.”

you were waiting to hear him say it, some kind of sassy remark about how ‘you should be careful what you wish for’ or something along those lines, when he knocked a breath out of you. with a hand now holding one of your knees back as the other stayed beside your head, holding himself up, he slammed his hips against yours over and over again.

the sounds were obscene. you were biting into his shoulder, whimpering and whining from every thrust as other parts of you squelched around him, sucking him in. there was no begging for him to go any faster this time around, not when he was already pounding himself into you hard enough to have the headboard banging against the wall.

you were close to delirium as your eyes rolled back inside your head, the rest of you falling limp against the bed. the air around you was hot, almost too hot, and joost’s warm breath fanning against your neck really wasn’t helping. with how wonderfully out of it you were, you had to grip onto each one of his biceps just to feel as though you were still in the room.

“how you doing, honey? talk to me.” joost was grinning again, having finally parted from your neck now that he had left behind a dozen heart-shaped spots along your pulse-point. “does it feel good?”

he already knew that it did; he could tell simply by the look on your face. that gorgeous, brainless, cock-drunk look that he had been so, so desperate to see all evening.

you only just about managed to cry out his name, having long forgotten every single other word in your vocabulary. your mind was blank besides that because all you could think, all you could feel, was him. you felt him drop your knee and slip a hand underneath the base of your neck, cradling your head as he gave you no other option than to meet his eyes.

“you still with me?”

you couldn’t answer him — couldn’t form a sentence, couldn’t even nod your head ‘yes’. at first it worried him, made him call out your name as he slowed down just the slightest bit, until he felt it. you were squeezing him tighter than you had been all night, your legs all tensed up and shaking, still locked firmly around his waist.

small, babbling noises fell from your lips as your stomach began to twist itself up into a much different knot than before. the crease in your eyebrows deepened, your eyes widening as you stared back at a beaming joost. something inside of you, something new, was building up, and up, and up, and you were doing everything you could to keep it all in, too scared to find out what would happen if you didn’t.

“no no no, baby, shh, no it’s okay.” joost had seen the fear start to creep its way into your eyes, the corners of your lips start to droop down into a frightened little frown. prying it away from his arm, he took one of your hands in his and laced your fingers with his own, giving your knuckles a sweet kiss and your palm a soft squeeze. “i’ve got you, it’s okay. you can let it go.”

you hesitated; the cramping in your tummy making you wince.

“let it go for me, schat.”

and with a squeal, you did. you let whatever that thing was inside of you snap as you screamed out his name, clutching onto his hand tight enough to have both of your knuckles turn white.

the sheets were sodden from where you had gushed all over his cock. your lower back quickly began to feel all warm and damp the longer that you stayed laying in the puddle of your own mess, your legs twitching and your chest still heaving. you couldn’t hear him over the ringing in your ears but joost was talking to you, whispering gentle, saccharine praises as he smoothed your hair back and away from your eyes.

“i’m so proud of you, mijn meisje. look at you — you did so well for me.”

the best you could do was hum in response, your cheeks all wet again from the tears that you hadn’t even realised were falling. though you still managed a small hiss when joost pulled out of you as carefully as he could, still half-hard and leaking from his swollen, red tip. confused, you grabbed his wrist when he sat up and went to reach for his boxers, immediately shaking your head ‘no’.

“but you haven’t…i promised you one more.”

you were so good to him; honestly a little too good. even after all of that, after you’d just given him the biggest ego boost of his life by doing the hottest thing known to man and squirting all on his cock, you were happy to give him more. you were already starting to doze off as you tried to pull his underwear out of his hands but was still so eager to continue, just so he could get off too.

joost just smiled down at you, holding his boxers out of your reach as he bent down to kiss you, his free hand grasping your jaw as he gave you a big ol’ wet smooch right on your lips.

“hey, don’t worry about that, okay? you’ve already done so much, been so perfect for me. just rest now, baby — you’ve earned it.”

by the time that he finished speaking, your eyes were already fluttering close.

you fought your hardest to stay awake as joost took the chance to stand up, only a slight stumble in his step as he slipped back into his underwear and a random pair of sweatpants. in fact, you were so focused on not falling asleep, you hadn’t even noticed that you’d drifted off until you suddenly felt an arm slip underneath your knees and another under the curve of your back.

you hadn’t been out too long, just long enough for joost to have gotten you all cleaned up. with one of the only towels from earlier that he hadn’t managed to stain with your makeup, he’d wiped up whatever mess remained between your legs and helped you into something a lot more clean and comfortable. despite all of the pairs of cute pyjama sets that you own, he’d decided that his old ‘i (heart) joost klein’ t-shirt and nothing else was better.

how you’d stayed asleep through all of it was a mystery to you, usually you weren’t such a heavy sleeper like that. but it had taken joost picking you up off of the bed, holding you tightly to his chest as he carried you out of the room for you to come back around, your eyes heavy with sleep.

“where are we going?”

you yawned and tried to stretch, whining when you felt just how sore and achy your legs really were.

“we’re gonna go for a nap on the sofa, baby — bed’s too messy to sleep in tonight.”

even with how tired you felt, you still felt a pang in your chest. your sofa wasn’t uncomfortable by any means; it was big enough for most of your friends to all sleep on at once and comfy enough for them to not complain about it the morning after. but still, you’d made a mess. ruined a set of perfectly good sheets, probably stained the perfectly good mattress, too.

“sorry.”

“don’t say you’re sorry, oh my god.” joost wasn’t having any of it. if you hadn't of shut your eyes again, you would’ve seen him glance down at you, absolutely bewildered that you felt the need to apologise for such a thing. “i’m not kidding, don’t even try it.”

the soft cotton of the sofa cushion dipped underneath your weight as he laid you down on it, carefully manoeuvring himself beneath you before pulling one of the blankets down, tucking the both of you in. with his chest as your pillow now, you were already barely conscious when you heard him whisper in your ear, his arms wrapping around the dip of your spine.

“love you, goodnight.”

you were going to have to wait until the morning now to get his full, in-depth explanation as to why it was now his mission to have you do what you did tonight, every night.

“love you too.”

[ultravi0lence14]

WHAT TO EXPECT WHEN YOU’RE NOT EXPECTING

DEAN WINCHESTER X LITTLE MONSTER

SUMMARY: dean and his little monster have their hands full when their foster babies start growing up and bringing home girlfriends and boyfriends.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

soft spring air floated through the kitchen window, and you found yourself being more content than you had been in a while.

all the kids were growing up, and as time moved on, so did growth spurts and challenging moments.

clara had just come back from her first year in university, and everything was becoming so surreal. lincoln was leaving for college in a couple of months, and the twins were going into their final year of high school.

it was all so jarring, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the screeching 13 year old barreling into the kitchen.

“alert! alert!” marley screamed, hands cupped around her lips as she called out to the entire house. “thatch is bringing another girlfriend back home!”

your body went rigid, hands frozen in the pizza dough you were making. stomping feet came parading down the stairs, and the sight of dean slipping in through the back door with his eyebrows raised was not missed by you.

it was common knowledge around the house that thatcher had awful taste in girls. and that was saying a lot considering he’s only ever brought one girl home.

both you and dean give each other a look, and as he sidles behind you, an arm protectively going around your collar, you turn around and give dean a look that he reciprocates with ease.

screaming dulls out around you two, and you both remember the shit show that was thatcher bringing his first girlfriend home.

her name was sydney, and she was definitely. . . something!

in the first five minutes of her being over, both you and dean could tell that none of the kids liked her. scarlett was never easy to please, so it wasn’t surprising that she was shooting the girl daggers from across the room.

“scar! be nice!” you chided after her third snarky remark, but you honestly couldn’t disagree with the girl; sydney was extraordinarily rude.

a snippy remark at sadie had marley “accidentally” spilling her drink on the girls skirt, and no one batted an eye to the matter.

dean had to be held back by your comforting arms when your family dog, whisky, went to nuzzle his head into sydney’s lap, for the girl to rudely and aggressively push his head away from her with the palm of her hand.

from the corner of his eyes, dean kept catching lincoln giving thatcher a furtive glance, eyes conveying his screaming words that said, ‘thatch, dude, what the fuck.’

in current time, dean smiles at you with a playful grin as he remembers the pandemonium that struck after thatcher closed the door behind his new girlfriend.

an uproar was caused, and you and dean both remember standing back as voices played over each other.

“dear god thatcher, she’s awful.”

“you’ve got terrible taste man.”

“i don’t usually like using this word,” sam spoke up tentatively, voices quieting and all eyes turning to him. “but she was a bitch.”

“i don’t mind using it,” scarlett butted in, hands on her hips. “she was a massive bitch.”

a whistle broke through the room, and you remember the rush of heat that burst through you when dean made the noise with his fingers to his lips. each kid stared at him instantly, and it shouldn’t have been so hot to you that he could command room so easily.

“everyone, quiet!” the room was blanketed in silence, and in that moment, dean looked over at a wide eyed thatcher, still standing by the door. hands crossed over his chest, dean spoke his first words on the matter of thatcher’s girlfriend.

“thatcher, buddy. i’ve got too many questions, but they all boil down to what the actual hell goes on in that head of yours? because she was definitely not a treat to be around.”

this was all around eight months ago, and both you and dean held on to each other a little tighter, mentally preparing for the girl that would walk through your front door.

after countless attempts to calm everyone down, giving them tasks to do in the kitchen as everyone (you and dean included) waited for thatcher to come home, the squealing sounds of tires on the gravel driveway made everyone freeze.

marley was obviously the one to break the silence. “if she’s like the last girl, i don’t know if i’m going to be able to hold my tongue.”

“don’t worry, you won’t be alone.” scarlett retorted, harshly tossing a salad, her hands gripping so tightly on the wooden spoons that her knuckles were white.

everyone was rigid as the front door clicked open, thatcher’s tall and lean frame coming into view. his arm was outstretched behind him, holding the mystery girls hand, leading her into the metaphorical lions den.

“guys,” thatcher called out, eyes blazing as he stared down every single person in the kitchen with a ‘be nice’ attitude. “i want you all to meet hazel.”

spoons clattered in the salad bowl as the girl came out from behind thatcher’s body. dean heard a soft ‘holy shit’ from lincoln, and he swore sadie’s jaw actually dropped.

the girl standing in front of them was far from the mean girl who came over to their house all those months ago. hazel looked like the sweetest thing; eyes nervously bugging behind the large frames of her glasses, hands nervously fiddling with one another.

thatcher practically dwarfed her. the boy standing at an even 6’4 like his uncle sam while hazel couldn’t have been more than 5’5

she had crazy curly hair, neatly pulled back with a thick black headband. her white cardigan fit her perfectly; not too big, yet not too form fitting.

her black skirt was meticulously placed, white socks peaking out of mary jane shoes as her one foot overlapped the other.

thatcher’s arm wound tightly around the girls waist, holding her back against his body as the shell shocked expressions from his family members made the girls body shake. she was nervous, and thatcher had to softly calm her down on the car ride over.

dean watched as his son ducked his head down and rested his chin on the girls shoulder. he whispered something softly in her ear, and hazel visibly relaxed at the calming words coming from his lips.

it reminded dean so much of you and him from back in the day, and it was making him so nostalgic he wanted to vomit.

the silence was becoming too much, and finally, it was his doting wife who broke the silence. “well she’s just adorable!” you squealed, hands clapping together as everyone’s heads swiveled to your happy expression. “c‘mon girls! let’s go make hazel feel welcomed!”

clara, scarlett, marley, sadie, and lily all followed as you scampered over to hazel, softly grabbing the girls hand and pulling her over to the couch. as you all settled in, thatcher walked over to where dean, lincoln, sam, luke, and milo were standing, all eyes placed on him.

“what?” thatcher snapped, staring at each of his male family members and daring one of them to say something bad about his girl.

lincoln just shook his head, a grin pulling at his lips as sam spoke up. “nothing thatch. we’re just a little. . . surprised.”

“why?” he snapped again, instinctively leaning towards where hazel sat in the living room.

luke spoke next, smirking alongside link as milo clutched onto dean from his spot on the kitchen island. “this is exactly why thatcher. we never expected you — brazen, cold, ‘i will kill you if you even step one toe out of line’ — to be with a sweet girl like hazel.”

“yeah,” sam chimed in, snacking on a carrot. “she’s in my math class. i don’t even think i’ve heard her speak once. her head is always down. probably trying to avoid mark wilder-"

“mark wilder!?” thatcher snapped, body immediately going rigid. “what the fuck did that asshole do to her? i swear to god, i’m going to fucking kill that pompous prick if he so much as looked at my girl-“

lincoln cut thatcher off with a laugh, patting his brother on the shoulder with an ease that only brothers had. “and this is exactly what we meant.”

dean just smiled at his boys, loving how his little family melded together. he tried to take a peak over at the couch where you and the girls were sitting, but he couldn’t quite hear what any of you were saying.

“so!” you smiled brightly, squeezing beside hazel with clara on her other side. “how did you and thatcher meet?”

pushing a rogue curl behind her ear, hazel looked at all the girls expectantly, trying to gage each of their expressions.

clara’s eyes were soft, hand delicately placed on hazel’s shoulder in comfort. you were basically bouncing on the spot, lily’s eyes were wide, staring at hazel like she was a princess, and both sadie and marley looked expectant, too excited to hear what hazel had to say.

scarlett was too impassive to figure out.

she was overly protective of her twin brother, both growing up to be dependant on each other. but even scarlett could admit that hazel was perfect for thatcher, so her icy resolve melted a bit and she smiled softly at hazel, encouraging her to go on.

“umm,” hazel started, hands fiddling together. “i’m not even sure how to happened. i was walking out of school and he kind of just ran over and started talking to me. i had no idea he even knew i existed to be honest.”

“how couldn’t he?” you beamed, eyes glowing with warmth. “you’re beautiful hazel.”

“yeah!” lily chimed in. “like a princess!”

“i love your hair.” sadie sighed, stroking her own strands dejectedly. “i wish mine was like yours.”

hazel blushed, but to her shock, her voice came out softly, directed to sadie. “your hair is beautiful, sadie. honestly, you all are gorgeous.”

you beamed, and scarlett couldn’t help but look over at clara, both girls silently nodding to each other in agreement.

this was the girl for thatch. and if he fucked it up, they would kill him.

dean caught your gaze, and he mouthed a quick, ‘we’re getting old’ from where he stood. you smiled, just happy that your kids were happy and with people who made them feel as so. it was a lovely evening, and both you and dean couldn’t help but anticipate the next time one of their kids brought a date over.

TAGS: @titsout4jackles @starzify @daylighted @deansbeer @bluemerakis @figthoughts @haunteres @h8aaz @sunsbaby @littlesoulshine @honeyryewhiskey @cowboysandcigarettes @j2archives @florchids

NAT BABBLES: bree and i have been freaking out over little monster and dean all night it’s not even funny

[keoriwnch]

( 🧸 ) — NOT SO: FAST, COWBOY — DEAN WINCHESTER

summary! ── After a grueling hunt, Dean convinces you to take a “quick” break at a roadside motel. What was supposed to be a brief pit stop turns into a day of lounging around, eating junk food, and avoiding the next case. Dean, ever the laid-back guy when he gets the chance, uses the opportunity to slow down and take a much-needed break from hunting. As the hours pass, you find yourself giving in to the comfort of doing absolutely nothing—aside from teasing Dean, of course. What was once a practical decision turns into a day of unexpected relaxation and stolen moments of peace amidst the chaos of life on the road.

notes! ─ Focuses on the quieter moments in Dean’s life, highlighting his need for a break from the endless hunting. The story will explore the playful, teasing dynamic between the reader and Dean. The chemistry between the reader and Dean will be more lighthearted and fun, without the pressure of saving the world. Can include moments of light-hearted banter, cuddling, and quiet bonding over simple pleasures like junk food and a movie marathon.

warnings! ─ Mild language and suggestive content (but no explicit scenes). Lighthearted teasing and playful romance. Some fluff and banter, but no heavy angst.

( 🧸 ) — WORD COUNT: 649

The Impala hummed softly as it cruised down the highway, the only light from the moon reflecting off the chrome as you both drove through the quiet night. After a long, exhausting hunt, the last thing Dean wanted was to jump straight into another one. But the next town was still a few hours away, and the exhaustion on his face was enough to make you agree when he suggested a stop.

A run-down motel with a flickering neon sign appeared ahead, and Dean pulled into the parking lot, his tired eyes glancing over to you.

“Quick stop,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I need some sleep.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sleep? You’ve been saying that all week.”

“Yeah, well, today’s different. I’m taking a break, whether the world likes it or not,” he grinned, half-heartedly as he parked the Impala. You knew better than to argue with Dean when he had his mind made up, so you followed him inside the motel, both of you barely even unpacking before flopping onto the bed.

Dean stretched out dramatically, groaning as his muscles protested. “I swear, hunting’s taking years off my life.”

You flopped beside him, propping your head on your hand. “You make it sound like you’ve been through a warzone.”

He looked over at you with a lazy smirk, his green eyes twinkling in the dim light. “Well, when you’re constantly fighting monsters and saving the world, it starts to feel that way.”

You chuckled, but the humor faded as you saw the exhaustion on his face. It wasn’t often you got to see him this vulnerable, and it made you soften. The tough exterior Dean carried with him every day was cracking now, revealing a man who was just… tired. Tired of the hunting, the constant moving, and the never-ending battle against the supernatural.

“We’re staying here, huh?” you asked, trying to shift the mood.

“Yeah, unless you’ve got some grand plans for a new hunt?” Dean’s tone was playful, but you could tell he wasn’t interested.

You stretched lazily and rolled over, pulling the covers up to your chin. “I think a nap sounds like the best idea right now.”

Dean gave a mock gasp. “A nap? That’s your big idea? How about some pizza and a movie marathon?”

“You’re really making this a vacation, huh?”

Dean shot you a half-smile, already digging around for his phone. “Why not? We’ve earned it. Plus, who needs sleep when you’ve got junk food and a classic John Wayne film marathon?”

A playful laugh escaped you. “Alright, fine, we can have our own little vacation. But if we’re doing this, you’re staying awake long enough to watch at least one movie.”

Dean flopped back onto the bed dramatically, sighing. “One movie. After that, I’m out.”

You shook your head, chuckling as he began ordering pizza, never one to miss an opportunity for food. As the evening passed, the two of you sank into the lazy routine you both needed. Dean finally let his guard down, relaxing enough to joke, tease, and even fall asleep halfway through a western.

When the pizza arrived, the two of you settled in front of the TV, food in hand, neither of you saying much. The quiet comfort of being together was enough. Dean had the rare opportunity to be just a man and not a hunter, and you relished in it—because, for once, you weren’t rushing to save anyone or fight monsters. You were simply enjoying the silence, with Dean’s soft snores in the background.

You glanced over at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. His exhaustion had turned into contentment, the weight of the world temporarily lifted off his shoulders. You couldn’t help but feel grateful for this small, quiet moment between the chaos.

And maybe, just maybe, this would become more than just a “quick stop.”

Thank you for reading! ─── I hope this story brought a little light and warmth to your day. If you enjoyed it, feel free to leave a note, reblog, or share your thoughts. Your feedback means the world to me and helps keep the magic of storytelling alive. Stay safe, be kind, and see you in the next tale. <3 - keori

[butlervibesonly]

Ok,so hear me out: Austin being the biggest supporter(and not so stuble fangirl) of the reader who's a very succesfull book author. She's a childhood friends with Callum, and he knows about his not so subtle crush and introduces them, and when they reveal their relationship to the fans, he can't hide his admiration for he📚

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 | Austin Butler

• Pairing: Austin Butler x writer! reader

• Warnings: like fluff and typos maybe !! The Twitter posts are FAKE and made by me for fic uses only!!

• Proofreader: my darling @eternal-love ! 🤍

• Note: THIS REQUEST?! I absolutely loved it and enjoyed writing this! Thank you!!

Whenever Austin finds free time to do something else besides working and acting — he is reading. And… well, no lies, all of us have some favorite author whom books we love deeply. Sometimes we maybe even love the author themselves. And Austin? Gosh, he adores Y/n L/n… Now very popular and New York times best selling author.

He has almost every book you have ever written, and he also starts to show off his “obsession” on socials. In not happened only once that he shared the new book you written or any other exciting new on his Instagram. And? You couldn’t be happier about it.

You know Austin because of your dear friend who you know since when the two of you were kids — Callum. When he started to work on Masters Of The Air, you heard nothing but talks about Austin. And not going to lie, you like that guy… quite a lot.

One day, when Austin eventually posted some other buzzing news of your work, Callum decided to make it real. To make his friends happy. And maybe… in love? Callum is sitting in his apartment, when he takes his phone and searches for Austin’s contact. With a grin he texts him;

“Dude, you know she’s my childhood friend, right?”

When Austin gets that message, he just scoffs and amuses it’s a joke. Until Callum sends him a picture of you and him together from earlier years. And that, my dears, begin Austin’s crises.

Callum just takes the opportunity and takes Austin to your book singing event. The bookstore is buzzing with excitement. A long line snakes around the shelves, filled with fans clutching their copies of the latest novel that you wrote. Austin is standing somewhere in the middle of the line, not even caring about people recognizing him, while gripping his book like it might fly away.

“Okay, Austin, you got this. Just say something normal. Compliment her writing. You like her after all… Don’t be weird. Don’t confess your undying love for her writing. And for the love of… everything, DO NOT FAINT!”

Callum is standing beside him is scrolling through his phone, utterly unimpressed by the chaos around him. He glances at Austin and smirks. “Are you… shaking?” Callum teases him, knowing Aus is a bit shy person.

“I’m. Not. Shaking.” Austin hisses, trying to calm down and don’t let everyone else around him how deeply he loves your writing. And you too. The line moves forward, and Austin takes a deep breath. He can see you now—his favorite author. You’re sitting behind a table, chatting with fans kindly as you sign books, looking effortlessly perfect. He swallows hard.

“She’s just a person, Austin! A person who wrote the greatest books ever. No big deal. Totally normal human interaction happening here. Is it…? Actor and author. Hah..”

Finally, it’s Austin’s turn to get his book signed by you. As soon as you lift your head and see him with Callum by your side, you smile warmly. “Hi! You must be Austin! Callum told me a lot about you!” you say, trying to keep your cool. You are talking to the guy who is literally breath taking, played Elvis Presley and Feyd Rautha and…

Austin nods with nervous smile and opens his mouth to say something. Nothing comes out. He panics. Then, unfortunately, his brain decides that words need to happen—right now. “Your book changed my life-“

Callum faceplams himself, knowing this just had to happen. You blink, trying to recognize if he meant it in positive or negative way. “In a… good way I hope?” Austin lets out a slightly manic laugh. “YES. Yes! I mean, emotionally. I almost cried. A lot. It was beautiful. Not that I like pain or—”

Callum slaps his hand over Austin’s mouth and smiles at you. “What he means is, he’s a big fan.” Callum raises his eyebrows in a smirk. Austin just nods frantically behind Callum’s hand. At that you chuckle, signing the book Austin brought. “That’s sweet. I’m glad you liked it.” You sign the book in way you never did to anyone…

‘With love to Austin, Y/n L/n xx’

Austin finally gets his signed copy back and stumbles away in a daze. He doesn’t register Callum grabbing his shoulder until they’re a few steps away from the table. “I need to introduce you two together properly…”

As soon as Aus hears that, he turns to him, still processing. “What?” Then he sees as Callum takes out his phone, and suddenly gets a very, very bad feeling… or maybe good one, who knows.

No longer after Austin is standing in front of the café nearby the bookshop. All fans are gone, no more rush or excitement from the fact you were there or Austin is there. “This is just bad idea, Cal-“

“This? This is amazing idea.” Callum says with complete calmness, while Austin clutches his signed book as if it’s gonna grow legs and run away. “I… I am nervous and she will think I am weirdo or something…” Austin murmurs.

“She is going to love-“ As Callum says that, Austin’s eyes widen, absolutely not believing his words. “What?” Austin groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Maybe I should just go—” Before he can escape, you start approaching them both. You are wearing jeans, with beige pair of jeans and white cardigan.

You smile when you see Callum. “Hey, you!” Callum gives you a one-armed hug. “Hey, book lover! Thanks for coming.” He gestures to Austin. “You remember this guy?” You look at Austin, seeing his shy smile.

“How couldn’t I? It’s Mr. Austin Butler himself.” you hand out your hand to offer him some proper introducing. Austin takes it and holds your hand – and it fits as if it was made for it. “Yeah, Austin, nice to meet you.” you smile warmly.

“Please is mine,” Austin smiles, staring at you, as if world around him fated. “Yeah, Austin’s basically your unofficial hype man. The guy won’t shut up about your books.” Callum chimes in with a smirk. To that Austin just nudges his arm and hisses his name.

“Oh! I noticed…” you chuckle, warmth spreading through your chest. In a while the tree of you go into the café, only some people sitting by tables, enjoying their coffee. “So… you like my books?” you ask while walking beside Austin, following Callum who searches for spot to sit.

Austin takes a breath and nods. “I mean, uh, yeah. I really admire your writing. It’s… brilliant. You have such a wonderful way with words, and the way you build characters and emotions, it just mesmerizing.” When he says that, you smile warmly. He is actually first person to ever talk about your books like this.

As soon as Callum finds perfect spot — table for two — he claps Austin on the back. “Alright, I’ll leave you two nerds to it.” Austin blinks. “Wait, what?” Callum grins, already backing toward the door. “You’re welcome.”

Austin watches in horror as Callum abandons him and disappears outside. He turns back to you, watching the exchange with clear amusement. “He was always like this…” you chuckle nervously. You are left in café with Austin Butler himself.

“You are left in café with Y/n L/n, Butler. Get yourself together.”

“So… wanna sit?” Austin nods to your question —probably a little too fast—but sits down. You two settle into a corner booth, his hands still tightly gripping his book. “So… aside from reading my books… do you read something else?” you ask, almost awkwardly but enough to break the embarrassing silence.

“Oh—uh, a lot, actually. I mean, obviously your books are my favorite, but I love anything with strong characters and emotional depth,” Austin says, smiling. “Sometimes even classics.” Your eyes sparkle with amusement. “Oh really? Me too! What are your u favorites?”

“Basically anything. I really liked Oliver Twist, Great Gatsby let’s say Harry Potter,” Austin smiles and leans forward, suddenly too excited to be nervous. You nod enthusiastically. “Same! I mean, I love there’s gotta be something about how the classics were written.”

Austin’s whole face lights up. “Exactly! That’s what makes your books so good. I think it’s pretty visible on your books, it’s just… the way you write and transform words into almost too good to be true sentences. It’s truly something!” With a wide smile you listen him talking about your books.

It’s evident he has read your books. Austin Butler has read your books. “Thank you! You’re seriously good for my ego.” you joke and Austin laughs. “No really, I admire your passion not only for books but for… everything. Callum told me a lot.”

“He did…?” you ask surprisedly. Austin’s cheeks turn a bit red. “Yeah, well. You are childhood friends after all…” he tries to save the situation, and hide the fact he asked about you countlessly.

“What about movies? Are you as obsessed with storytelling in film as you are in books?” Austin asks, trying not to fail completely. “Are you kidding! I love movies!” you smile widely. You like this conversation more than anything right now.

“I analyze everything—structure, dialogue, character arcs. It drives me crazy. And I also love your movies too.” Austin’s jaw drops. “Aw… thank you so much. I’m glad when people admire the passion I give into roles.”

“Oh you so do! I mean, c’mon… The Elvis performance? Feyd? Benny? Loved that.” you blush a bit and so does Austin. “Okay, another question I am curious about —favorite movie that destroyed you emotionally? But in good way?”

“I adore The Notebook.” Austin doesn’t even hesitate. “The fact Noah built Allie her dream house while she was completely clueless? And the ending? Oh man…”

“You gotta be my twin or something! I absolutely love The Notebook!” you smile widely. It’s not always when you meet someone with same passions as you do. And Austin being the one? It’s like a dream. “You’re joking.” Austin stares. You shake your head, smiling. “Nope. The romance, and the conclusion? Nicholas Sparks is brilliant.”

Austin places a dramatic hand over his heart. “I think this is the greatest day of my life.” You snort happily. “You're exaggerating!”

“Nope, just passionate for person who is like me,” Austin corrects, then immediately regrets it. “Oh god, that sounded weird.” You just grin, loving the way he talks. “Nah, I like it. Passionate people make the best conversations.”

Austin feels his brain short-circuit. He quickly takes a sip of water to stop himself from saying something even more embarrassing.

The two of you talk for what feels like hours, your conversation flowing effortlessly from books to movies to random things that make you both happy—favorite rainy day activities, dream travel destinations, the best comfort foods. Eventually, you lean back in your chair, stirring the ice in your iced latte. “You know, I was kind of nervous about this.”

Austin blinks confusedly. “Wait… You- you were nervous?” You nod with shy smile. “Look, you are Austin Butler, I am me. I thought this will be filled with fans buzzing over us, or that I will sound like pathetic fan… I am your big fan tho. But this? I enjoy our time.”

Austin tries not to combust on the spot. “Well, I guess Callum does have good ideas sometimes.” You laugh and shake your head in amusement. “Don’t tell him that. He’ll never let us live it down.” Austin laughs, and for the first time all day, he feels completely at ease.

During the next months you and Austin became inseparable. You visited each other, spent a lot of time together, and texted each other. Now you are at the café where Callum introduced you both. The café is quiet tonight, it’s quiet Wednesday evening, the hum of espresso machines and soft jazz music filling the space. The usual crowd has dwindled, leaving just a few late-night readers and students buried in their laptops.

Austin and you are in usual booth by the window, two half-empty coffee cups between them. “Okay, controversial take— Mr. Darcy is most romantic man ever written.” Austin nearly drops his coffee. “Excuse me?” You smirk, leaning back in your chair. “I said what I said!” Austin mocks offense, playfully grin on his lips. “I feel personally attacked.”

“Oh, why? I mean can you blame me?” you laugh, loving the playful banter between you. Austin groans. “C’mon, L/n... I thought I was the most romantic man ever written.” If you know Austin enough already you would even say he is flirting.

You raise an eyebrow, and chuckle. “Well… That is high statement, you know?” Austin just scoffs and takes a sip from his coffee. “I am just messing around.. You really like that book, don’t you?”

“I mean… yeah. I just think it’s cool when a story can take a character you hate at first and make you root for them by the end. It’s good writing.” you confess with a smile. Austin could listen to your talking about books and writing all the time and you could listen to him talking about acting.

You two make a good pair without even realizing it… Austin takes a slow sip of his coffee, trying to hide the stupid grin creeping onto his face. This was supposed to be just another night at the café. But somehow, it feels like something is changing.

It all happens so slowly that Austin doesn’t even realize it at first. The lingering touches. The way your calls stretch late into the night, neither of you wanting to hang up first. The way you tug on the sleeve of his hoodie when you walk together, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And then there are the looks. Austin catches himself watching you when you’re animatedly talking about your books. You catch him staring when you’re focused on writing, biting your lip in concentration. It’s happening. And you’re both so in trouble.

One night Austin invited you on some movie event where Callum is as well. Austin and you are sitting beside each other, a little closer than just friends do, but not quite anything more. You eventually get up to use the restroom and Callum takes the opportunity to talk to Austin. “Alright. You two need to just make out already.”

Austin almost chokes on his drink. “Callum, for Gosh sake!” he sets his drink down, cheeks red. “Look, I saw this coming from miles away.” He points at Austin. “You’ve been obsessed with her books forever.” Then Callum points at you leaving to restroom. “And she gets this look when you talk about them or anything else!”

Austin feels his cheeks burning with blood. He feels like a 15 year old boy being teased about his high school sweetheart, but deeply in his heart, he realizes that Callum is right. “If you don’t start dating tonight, I am not talking to you anymore!”

It may sound like a threat, but Austin takes his words really seriously and the same night he confesses his love for you, and by all surprises so do you. After months and months of sneaking glances at each other and absolutely loving the way you both are together, you’re finally dating.

You were nominated for The Inkspire Awards as best author of the year and you attended with Austin by your side where the two of you confirmed your relationship. It was so beautiful to address Austin as your boyfriend and biggest supporter.

Austin is now at interview due to his new project — The studio lights shine bright as Austin settles into the plush chair opposite the host. The crowd cheers as his name is announced, and he flashes a smile, waving before the applause dies down.

“Austin, welcome! You’ve been having an incredible year— new movies, award nominations, and, of course, a certain romance that has everyone talking!” the host grins warmly. Austin smiles widely as hint of you is being mentioned

“I knew you’d bring this up.” he chuckles and sits more comfortably in the chair. “Well, how could I not? You and the incredibly talented Y/n L/n. She is one of the most celebrated authors lately! You two make a powerful couple now!” host grins excitedly. Austin rubs the back of his neck, trying and failing to play it cool. “Yeah, she’s amazing.”

“You’ve been a fan of her work for years, right?” Austin brightens instantly. “Oh, way before we even Austin rubs the back of his neck, trying (and failing) to play it cool. “I mean… yeah, she’s pretty amazing.”

“You’ve been a fan of her work for years, right?” Austin’s smile brightens instantly. “Oh, way before we even met. I was obsessed! Like, full-on, day-one fanboy. Her books are brilliant. The way she builds worlds, her character arcs, the emotional depth—just, everything. It’s unreal.”

The audience goes ‘awww’. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone this excited talking about their partner’s work.” the host teases. Austin laughs, shaking his head. “I can’t help it. I’m still in awe. Every time I see her writing, I have this moment of like, ‘Wow, that’s my girlfriend. She’s creating stories that people will love forever.’ And I am lucky to love her forever.”

More awws come from the crowd and Austin pretends not to blush. “And I need to ask, how did the two of you actually got together?” the host asks, leaning forward to Austin. Austin groans, already knowing where this is headed. “Oh god, Callum is never going to let me live this down.”

The host and audience laughs at the mention of Callum. “So it’s true? Your mutual friend Callum Turner set you up?” Austin hides his face into his hands and laughs. Austin leans forward, grinning. “Okay, picture this—I’m at a book signing, being a total nervous wreck because I finally get to meet my favorite author. Callum, being absolutely obsessed with the fact of setting us together, just throws me into an introduction like, ‘Hey, this is Austin, he’s obsessed with you. Anyway, bye!’.”

The audience bursts into laughter “That’s… incredible.” the host laughs. Austin grins, being actually grateful to Callum. “Yeah, I wanted to die on the spot. But somehow, she didn’t run away. We started talking about books, movies, all these things we both love… and we just clicked.”

Austin takes a breath and smiles warmly. “I remember the first time I picked up one of her books. I was totally immersed. It wasn’t just the way she writes, though her prose is stunning. It is the stories she creates. Flawed, real, raw. Characters who made mistakes, who learned, who changed. And I just…man, I fell in love with the way she sees the world. The way she turns thoughts into words, words into stories that feel alive…”

The host smiles softly, loving his truthful and love full words. “So, yeah. I was a fan of her long before I met her. But now? Now I get to see the person behind the words, and she’s… Gosh, she’s everything. She’s my favorite story. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop reading thank to her."

[usedpidemo]

March Update - the end...?

Hi everyone, π here! 

Hope everyone has a wonderful start to their year already and is doing well. 🙂

This update comes from rather uncertain times right now, so please bear with me.

—————

Commissions Update:

Request Link

I’ve gotten a handful of inquiries asking me for fics in the high 20 to 30k word count range, and while not a single deal has been put to paper, it does mean there is a demand, so I have introduced 3 new commission tiers to cater to said requests. So for those of you wanting me to write a grandiose epic, here's your opportunity! Please bear mind that many of my rules when commissioning a fic still apply, so please read this post first and message me privately before ordering.

With that said, I have the executive decision to adjust pricing to the current available tiers. Previously ordered commissions prior to the change will not be affected in any way. I understand that the price jump might seem a bit much, but please understand that I’m also juggling with plenty of stuff right now—from college to IRL stuff in-between writing fics. There’s a lot of commitment into putting out a work, so please understand. I’m trying my best to stay sane in the meantime.

And speaking of personal issues—

The future of this account:

I wish I could tell you that everything’s fine on our side, but the reality is far grimmer than I’d like you to believe.

The family shop we’ve been running for almost 3 years closed down back in late February. The reasoning being that there’s a big renovation of the mall our shop is based in, specifically a parking and walkway extension connecting the current shopping mall with a new one that will open sometime in 2028-2029. Previously they closed off the parking, now they've decided to close off the entire stretch where our shop lies in as well. So yes, the corporate overlords forced us out of a job and livelihood with no compensation whatsoever. 

This has put us in a severe financial bind. We’re currently going through a bit of a corporate and brand restructuring, already in talks about setting up shop elsewhere. But the lack of a monthly income has begun to chip heavily into our monthly utilities and expenses. Basic necessities seem like a huge expense. Already lost electricity and water twice because we couldn’t pay on time. We’re literally just surviving day to day, only enough to get by, but just barely. Thank God we’re all perfectly healthy, but I can only imagine having to bear medical expenses as well.

In short, worst case scenario, we get financially buried, and this account is killed in the process. Not because I wanted to leave or retire—far from it—but because of circumstances beyond our control. It would be a damn shame because even four years on, I still really love writing and in a way, it’s become a lifeline for me. Met so many friends, got to experience my first events, and made unforgettable memories that I would gladly redo in another lifetime when given the chance. It may not seem apparent, given our current predicament, I’m barely hanging on—emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. It's hard to remain positive when all you see around you is darkness and uncertainty.

But I’m not gonna give up. Any little thing I can provide for my family, I’ll do the best I can. I know this is only temporary, a minor setback, but faith needs some action as well.

Of course, I also understand that most of you are probably reading me because it’s entertainment and a form of escape from your own respective troubles, so I won’t beg, force you to feel sorry for us, or paywall my content. Anything I write and release publicly will remain freely available in some capacity, but I also have to look out for myself during these uncertain times. I may consider doing a monthly based subscription/memberships where I can chat with you through a private Discord and give previews to upcoming work, but I don’t know if that’s worth anything, so commissions will make do for now. But if you feel obliged and compelled, any amount/form of donation will be graciously accepted. Hell, even a reblog or repost to spread the word is more than enough to help greatly.

To leave on a more positive note, I should have two releases in the coming weeks, so please look forward to that. If it hasn’t been made any clear, your continuous support is one of the few positive things I can celebrate right now, and I sincerely appreciate each and every one of you. Thank you for sticking through both great and hard times.

With grace,

Peter / π

[insidekatmind]

New Professor~Hwang Jun Ho

Wearning: +18,smut, age-gap.

The start of the school year is always a mix of excitement and anxiety for you. You’ve always been the shy and reserved girl, the one who sits at the back of the classroom and prefers the soft sound of pages turning to the loud chatter in the hallways.

This year, however, it seems like the whole school is in an uproar over a new thing that everyone is talking about: the new literature teacher. Word spreads fast and wild among the girls in your year, painting him as some sort of divine apparition.

“Have you seen him? He’s beautiful!” Minji exclaims one morning as she emphatically places her tray on the cafeteria table. “Tall, muscular, and that chiseled jawline… he doesn’t even look like a teacher!”

You barely look up from your book, curious but not too convinced. However, when you finally sit down in the literature classroom for your first class and he walks in, you immediately understand what they mean.

Hwang Jun Ho is young, probably in his mid-thirties, with dark, intense eyes that seem to scan every detail of the room. His black hair falls lightly over his forehead, and his perfectly pressed white shirt highlights his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He certainly doesn’t have the stern look of a typical literature professor.

“Good morning, everyone,” he greets in a deep, warm voice. “I’m Professor Hwang, and I’m here to take you on a journey through classic and modern literature. I hope we can learn a lot together.”

The girls in your class seem to have lost the ability to speak. Even Jisoo, who is always ready to launch into frivolous chit-chat, is left speechless, her cheeks flushed.

You, however, only care about the way he speaks. His voice glides smoothly over the words, as if each sentence has been carefully chosen. There’s a genuine passion in the way he explains that impresses you more than any appearance.

In the days that follow, it becomes clear that your classmates all have a crush on him. The classroom seems increasingly crowded, especially during his lectures. Girls you’ve never seen interested in literature now sit in the front rows, smiling enthusiastically and asking questions that don’t seem to have anything to do with the program.

Yet, he never seems to be truly distracted by their attention. His eyes, dark and piercing, always end up lingering on you, as if trying to understand what you’re thinking as you carefully take notes.

One afternoon, after class, as you gather your books more slowly than usual, he approaches you.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, with a gentle smile that seems to melt away all your defenses. “You have a way of looking at things that’s different from others. As if you read more deeply. Have you ever thought about writing something of your own?”

The question takes you by surprise. No one has ever asked you something like that. You blush and look down, stammering out an answer you don’t even remember. But he smiles again, and his gaze remains fixed on your face.

“If you want, we could talk about it someday. Maybe over coffee. Not as professor and student, but as… literature enthusiasts.”

Your heart is racing. You don’t know if it’s a professional invitation or something else. But a part of you wants to find out.

And that’s just the first of many conversations that will change everything.

As the weeks went by, you and Professor Jun Ho ended up sleeping together many times. Each time you told him it was the last time but there you were again, bouncing on his cock in his empty classroom.

Jun Ho's eyes darken with desire as he watches you, his gaze trailing over your curves. He leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Is that so?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you can't get enough of me."

He stands up, his tall frame towering over you. In a swift motion, he pulls you close, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. You can feel the heat of his body, the hardness pressing against your stomach. "You say it's the last time," he whispers in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, "but your body tells a different story."

His hands roam over your back, your sides, your ass, squeezing and kneading. He grips your hips, lifting you easily onto his desk. Papers scatter as he spreads your legs, stepping between them. "Tell me again," he demands, his voice firm, "that this is the last time. Look me in the eye and say it."

But you can't. You're too lost in the sensation of his touch, the smell of his cologne, the way his eyes burn into yours.

"You feeling so good, so big" you whimpered as you clung to his muscular shoulders.

Jun Ho's smirk widens into a grin at your words, his ego clearly boosted. "That's right, baby," he murmurs, his hands sliding up your thighs. "I'm the biggest you've ever had, aren't I?"

He leans down, capturing your lips in a rough kiss. His tongue pushes into your mouth, dominating you completely. One hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back to deepen the kiss.

"You love it, don't you?" he growls against your lips. "Love the way I fill you up, stretch you out. Love the way I make you scream."

He reaches between your legs, finding you soaked. He chuckles darkly. "Look at you, so wet for me already. You're insatiable, you little slut."

Jun Ho's lips close around your nipple, sucking hard as his hand guides your hips, impaling you on his thick shaft. He groans against your skin, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you.

"That's it, baby," he encourages, his voice strained. "Take every inch. Fuck, you're so tight."

He starts to move, thrusting up into you as he pulls you down onto him. The desk creaks beneath you, papers flying off the sides as he fucks you harder, faster.

"Look at you," he pants, his eyes glued to where you're connected. "Taking my cock like a pro. You were made for this, weren't you?"

His thumb finds your clit, circling the sensitive nub. "Come on, sweetheart. Scream for me. Let the whole school hear who you belong to."

“Jun ho” you moaned scratching his back. “I’m coming."

Jun Ho's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he feels your walls clamp down around him. "That's it, baby," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Come for me. Milk my cock."

He buries his face in your neck, biting down on your shoulder as his own orgasm crashes over him. He fills you with his hot seed, each pulse sending a shudder through his muscular body.

"Fuck," he pants, collapsing back onto the desk. "Every time is better than the last. You're going to be the death of me, woman."

He pulls you down onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you possessively. "But what a way to go," he murmurs, kissing your forehead. "My little student slut."

You cuddled up to him, sighing softly, your legs shaking with pleasure.

Jun Ho holds you close, his large hand stroking your back soothingly. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling deeply. "You're so beautiful when you come apart in my arms," he murmurs.

He shifts slightly, his softened cock slipping out of you. You both groan at the sensation. Jun Ho reaches for some tissues, cleaning you up gently before tossing them aside.

"We should get dressed," he says reluctantly, helping you sit up. "Someone might come looking for me soon."

He starts to gather your clothes, handing them to you with a wink. "But don't think this is over, sweetheart. I'm not done with you yet."

He pulls you in for a deep, passionate kiss before releasing you. "Tonight, at my place."

[monstersflashlight]

Yo I was talking to a friend of mine about the coexistence of aliens and humans living together in a sci fi and cyberpunk world and thought about the porn film makers industry making big money from hiring aliens and having an alien coworker to help with the scripts. Thus making aliens have human kinks like we humans do with monsters and aliens lol— just wanted to share this with you! And perhaps give you a writing idea? OwO( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) especially for like dubcon/noncon roleplays they’ll have the actors play lol

A/N: Hope you both like this, I don’t (generally) do non-con and I think this worked better without the dub-con, so here we have it. Enjoy!

Movie worth

Alien x trans!male reader || degradation (light), praise kink, exhibitionism (but not really), size kink (light)

When you signed up to the alien app, you didn’t know what to expect, definitely weren’t expecting to match instantly with a big hulking alien that was pretty much all your fantasies in a pretty green package.

You hit it off immediately, meeting for dinner and lunch and breakfast and a few snacks… And you were dying to get your hands and cunt all over him. But he wanted to wait… Until your overactive libido discovered why he was so closed off… Your alien boyfriend was a porn actor, and his movies were next level hot. You saw a few of them (and jerked off a lot) before your brain started to make it weird. The sweet alien who made you dinner and bought you popcorn at the movies clashing with the hot alien fucking monsters filthily over video. So you stopped, and planned how to tell him that you knew. But your mind (and your cunt) were trembling thinking about having that inside of you. And a bit concerned. Because he’s that big.

You invited him over to watch Spacefix and chill, and he immediately agreed. You weren’t sure how to break the news about the porn stuff to him, so you just… blurted it out when you were staring at the microwave with the popcorn.

He stared at you for what felt like a light-year. When he opened his mouth, nothing came out, and you ended up giggling at his shocked expression. The tension broke with that, and before you realized, you were being pressed against his huge body and he was claiming your mouth like he was desperate to devour you. And good goddess if you didn’t want to be devoured by him…

And that’s how you find yourself naked on your bed, your big hulk of an alien parting your legs and staring at your wetness with such hunger in his eyes that you are clenching over nothing, so empty. Fuck… But when you look down and see how fucking hard he is, you can’t do anything but whine.

“I- I don’t know if I can…” You tell him, looking at his dick hanging there. He’s just… so big. Bigger than any human you’ve been with, bigger than that minotaur you hook up with once. He’s just fucking huge.

“Of course you can, look at that boypussy… You are drenched, aren’t you?” He rubs his fingers through your wetness, making you feel a bit embarrassed. He’s right, you are dripping wet and he has barely touched you. “You are more than ready to be a good boy for me and get fucked right here.” His words make you choke a gasp, your mouth dry all of sudden, your clit tingling. You nod, your mouth firmly shut. “Words. Do you want me to fuck your tight cunt? I won’t do it if you don’t ask for it.”

You can feel your face burning hot as you mutter: “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” The jackass smirks, eyebrow raised as he keeps rubbing your wetness with his fingers.

You hate him a little for making you say it, but at the same time, the embarrassment and degradation of having to say it is turning you on like crazy. “Yes, I want you to fuck my… my…”

He kisses your sternum, his eyes still fixated on your face. “Say it,” he coaches.

“My boypussy,” the term makes your face even hotter, your whole body reacting as he chuckles over you, his weird dick pointing at your cunt, a big drop of precum already shiny on the tip.

And then he starts running his mouth as he presses the tip of his dick against your opening, not going in, just resting there and making you go insane with desire. “Now that you know… Do you like that idea? You like thinking of people watching you? Do you want to give them a show? That’s what you want? To be a good boy and be fucked in front of a camera? Everyone watching as you fall apart around my dick and moan like a slut?”

You make a lewd sound that makes your face flush harder and his smirk to get even bigger. He rubs your opening, your cunt so wet it makes a sucking sound when he pushes the tip of his dick inside of you.

“Such a good boy, already ready for me.” You preen at the compliment. “Now, now… Are you ready for me?” You nod, eagerly. “Good boy,” he says before rubbing your clit with his thumb and pushing his dick in bit by bit inside your waiting cunt.

You moan loudly, and he grunts, pushing and pushing and pushing until you feel you are about to be split in two. You try to talk, but the only thing out of your mouth is an incoherent “Ughg…” He chuckles, stopping when his hips are flushed against yours.

“Tell me when you are ready,” he whispers. You can see his pulse beating fast on his neck, and it makes your inside twist.

You are sweating, and your brain is slowly turning into goo. “Move. Move, please.”

“Good boy,” he mutters before hell breaks loose.

He starts moving, pumping his hips against yours, hitting your deepest points and rubbing against all the places that make your insides turn. You are moaning and groaning like a slut and he keeps repeating how good you are, how pretty your boypussy is and how fucking stunning you look taking his cock. And with each word you get closer and closer to release.

“Come for me sweet boy, make a mess for me.” And that does it.

You close your eyes and see white as your whole body explodes into a million pieces. You can hear the bells of heaven as he praises you, and you feel his thrusts become erratic, his dick making your orgasm last longer as he ruts into your G-spot when he explodes inside of you. It’s like a domino effect, the second he releases inside of you, you are coming again, not knowing when the first orgasm ended and the second has begun.

After a while, he sighs against your neck. “Well, good luck sweet-boy,” he mutters.

“What?” You ask, confused, your brain still not completely online.

He points down to where his dick is still nested inside you. “After that, you are stuck with me.” You smile, not really worried about that.

[leriexoxo]

FOLLOW MY LEAD

pairing: bff! Jeongin x Afab reader

genre: fluff, smut, best friends to lovers

tags: first time sex, 18+ content, noona reader, unprotected sex, oral (m,f), fingering, breeding, idol Jeongin, inexperienced Jeongin, corruption kink, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, feelings realization.

word count: 7.5k

summary: Jeongin finally decides to get a girlfriend and start doing things idols his age did, but the only problem was that he was a very inexperienced virgin, but feeling too embarrassed to seek advice from his band mates, what happens when Jeongin decides to ask his older best friend for advice on how to please a girl?

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Jeongin have been best friends for almost four years now, the first time you met him was in the elevator in the building of your new apartment, you had just moved in a couple days ago and you still had new furniture deliveries coming even days after. You could remember vividly that afternoon, you were trying to balance two boxes in your hands as you tried to hit the button for your floor when some pretty boy rushed to stick his foot between the closing doors.

He had looked pretty nervous when he came in and probably realized he was in the elevator alone with a face he had never seen. Jeongin stood quietly beside you after pressing his floor which you noticed was one above yours, he glanced at you curiously from the corner of his eye, eyeing the boxes in your hands.

“Hi, I’m your new neighbor in case you were wondering. I just moved in a few days ago” you offered a smile when you saw he wasn’t ready to do anything but glance at you.

“Oh h-hi, I wasn’t informed that someone was moving in” he responded with a small wave.

“I didn’t know they made announcements about stuff like that,” you mused, “I’m y/n”

“Jeongin, nice to meet you, and welcome to the neighborhood I guess” he said while flashing the prettiest dimpled smile you had ever seen on a guy, he was cute.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around Jeongin, this is my floor” you said as the elevator beeped and came to a halt, stepping out and waving at him before the door closed back.

After that first encounter, you bumped into him a few more times in the building and ended up exchanging numbers and your friendship grew from that point on. You found out that he was a singer and dancer in a band with 7 other people, he had a room mate who was also in his band but was like an older brother to him, you also found out that you were a few years older than Jeongin and that he was a very adorable and innocent little guy. Since you became best friends, Jeongin came around your apartment a lot, he said it was his escape for when he needed a break from work which was very often.

~~~~~~

He was over at your house that evening, it was a rainy day, one for doing nothing at all except maybe watching a show. You were lying in your bed together, you on your stomach as you struggled to keep your eyes open while he was on his back next to you. There was some ghost hunting show playing on your TV, but you'd both stopped paying attention to it. The sound of raindrops beating against your window was far more fascinating.

  "Can I... ask you... something?" he asked, breaking the silence eventually.

  "Hm?" you reply, propping yourself onto your elbows so you could stare down at him next to you. He was staring up at the ceiling, brown eyes pensive, his expression ever so hard to decipher.

He opened his mouth to speak, but just as quickly closed it again. A moment later he opened it, and then closed looking like a fish out of water.

  "Today would be nice," you teased, but regret took over instantly when you watched him gulp. He didn't shoot back with an insult of his own, something which was very uncharacteristic of him.

  "How do you... you know... pleasure a girl?"

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped your mouth. Jeongin’s face burned bright, a mixture of humiliation and annoyance. It was the last thing you ever thought he'd ask and you still couldn't tell if he was teasing you or not, although something in his tone told you he was being dead serious.

  "Shut up," he says, glaring at you. "Minji invited me to her house this weekend. She keeps reminding me that her roommates aren't going to be home so I think she wants to... you know?"

Your eyebrows shot up. You felt a swell of pride grow in your chest because your best friend was finally getting some action, but you couldn't also ignore the pang of jealousy that lingered either.

His original question made sense now—Jeongin had never gotten further than kissing anyone. If he had, he would have told you. He literally told you everything, after all.

  "What, you want me to teach you?"

It was a rhetorical question, not meant to be anything more than a joke. But your best friend stayed quiet. The ‘no, dumbass’ that you expected from him as a reply never came.

  "Innie?"

  "Well, how else am I supposed to learn?" he grumbles and that's when your heart skipped a beat. He never looked this vulnerable, like he was one second away from disappearing through the floorboards of your bedroom.

  "Have you watched porn?" you asked, not really knowing what else to say.

  "Obviously," he says, and his cheeks becoming tinted with pink. "But I want to try do it myself."

Well, that was a given. Taking notes was actually different from putting them to practice. Plus, he was a boy. You doubted he ever made it past the trending page where all of the porn was scripted and fake.

You pushed yourself onto your knees, sighing as you considered where to start. You were older and more experienced than him, yes, but that didn't mean you were an expert by any means.

  "Well, all girls are different. They like different things, want different things. Some like to be in charge, some don't. But as general advice," you say, throwing one of your legs over Jeongin's waist so you could straddle him, "don't be afraid to touch her."

The younger boy's eyes nearly flew out of their sockets as you settled on his crotch. His entire body tensed up. He stayed frozen beneath you, so you took him by his wrists and guided his hands to your thighs.

  "The most important part is foreplay. If you don't get her warmed up, you won't be able to penetrate her," you tell him. Your voice dropped an octave or two to set the ball rolling, all husky unlike anything Jeongin had heard from you.

Slowly, delicately, you dragged his hands up your thighs. He was nearly panting as he tried to relish the way your soft flesh felt under his palms. You guided them along your hips, making him trace your waist, and ignoring the doubt at the back of your mind before you brought his hands up to your chest.

With your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you squeezed Jeongin’s hands that were beneath yours, subconsciously letting out a soft moan as he cupped your breasts. You were sort of scared he would pass out underneath you. His eyes were even wider than before somehow, his mouth opened forming a circle, breaths so shallow now—you were not even sure if he was breathing at all.

  "Relax, Innie," you rasped.

It was when you ground your hips down in an effort to loosen him up that you felt it—he was hard. His length poked against your thigh, straining against his sweatpants as you dragged your clothed pussy over it. You felt like you were going to melt. A Cheshire cat grin formed on your lips knowing that you had just made your best friend hard.

In all his stubbornness, however, he still wouldn’t relax. You'd had your fair share of stupid ideas in your life, but you didn't think any of them came close to the one that formed in your mind in that moment.

  "Can I kiss you?" you ask, bending your body towards him. Your hands kept moving his over your clothed chest, groping and kneading at your tits. He gulped at your question before nodding, and then you were leaning your face in against his.

You came in slow, teasing. Your hands had stopped moving as your breath mixed with his. You were so close, and yet Jeongin still didn't have the courage to pull you in or meet you halfway, he was so... pliant. He just kept staring at your lips looking dumb struck.

With a grin, you finally put him out of his misery, pressing your lips to his in a soft, sweet kiss. You couldn't ignore the way your stomach fluttered, but you were too enraptured by the younger boy's plush lips to question whether it was lust or something else that was making you fuzzy.

The kiss was innocent—at first with you softly massaging his lips with yours but then you pushed your tongue against his bottom lip seeking for entrance and the moment he parted his lips; hunger took over and he deepened the kiss eliciting a moan from the base of your throat. Your hips rolled against his lap harder than before and Jeongin let out a tiny moan against your mouth.

You never were really the needy type. Sex wasn't something you craved too often. But in that moment, with Jeongin underneath you, rutting his hips against yours, and letting you lick into his mouth, you needed him.

Jeongin had always been good at reading you (not that you even hid your emotions well anyway), but you had grown close enough to the point where he could practically read your thoughts. He could sense that you were desperate for him, and his hands started to move downwards on his own accord. He was hesitant, wondering when you would stop him or give him his next directions. But you never did. You just let him act purely on his instincts, his large hands following the curve of your body until his fingers find the top of your sweatpants. You pulled away then, your lips puffy, your mind dizzy from being breathless.

   "Take them off," you instructed him, and that was enough for him to commit, he hooked his thumbs in your waistband pushed the fabric down your legs. As he struggled to get them past your knees, you lifted your body slightly off him to assist him before you threw yourself onto your bed, lying on your back so you could kick your pants off the rest of the way.

For a moment Jeongin's eyes widened, then he was flicking his gaze between your lacy black thongs and your face. He had turned a pretty shade of red and you wondered if he really had never seen a female body so up close before.

  "Go on," you say, seductively parting your legs as if both inviting him to settle between them and encouraging him to strip you entirely.

The kiss must have worked, even if a little bit because he scooted forward into the space you created for him, curling his fingers around your panties and tugging them down slowly. The cool air hit your dripping cunt immediately as he exposed you, and you gasped because how were you this wet already?

  "See this?" you say, your index finger landing on the nub above your hole. Jeongin nodded intently as if he wasn’t staring at his best friend's pussy. "That's called the clit, got it? Now you have no excuse. Don’t neglect it. Even when you're fucking her. Most girls can't cum unless you stimulate their clit."

There was a flash of panic across his face. Crap. He was not ready fuck you this soon, his brain still hadn’t caught up with his current situation.

  "Noona, but... what about foreplay first?" he said, speaking for the first time since your lecture started.

  "You wanna eat me out?" you didn’t know why the fuck you just asked that.

Jeongin's dick twitched in his pants. Yes, he definitely wanted to eat you out. He wanted to devour you until you were shaking, wanted to taste your juices (he could bet you tasted sweet and heavenly), wanted your thighs wrapped around his head. He nodded, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

You sighed. "Okay, well, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to instruct you on eating pussy. Let me see, I guess you just— oh."

He cut you off when he dove between your legs, his tongue licking a long stripe between your folds. He had watched enough porn to think he at least had an idea of what to do. And he was right—his lips wrapped around your clit and the quiet moan you gave when he sucked told Jeongin he was actually on the right track.

His tongue moved experimentally against your heat, licking at you with a precision that left you surprised by the way your eyes roll back. You'd always liked it when boys were sloppy eating you out. No rhythm, no pattern, just flicking their tongues in whatever way made you arch your back. Lack of experience could make you overthink your technique—your movements turned static. But somehow, and maybe it was because it was Jeongin, there was no denying the heat that steadily built up in your abdomen.

  "Fuck, Innie," you whined.

He pulls away for a second, blinking back at you with fear. "What?"

With a pout and a roll of your eyes, you tangle your fingers into his raven hair and push him back down between your legs. "That means you're doing good, aegi."

Jeongin's hands instinctively came to wrap around your thighs at the sound of the nickname usually you called him when he was being adorable, he gripped the soft flesh as he held your legs in place, spread you apart for him. His tongue swirled over your bud ceremoniously. Each circle he drew against your clit sent pinpricks of pleasure throughout each and every one of your nerves. The flame in your stomach grew stronger and stronger with every second.

If you weren't so entranced by the way he worked his mouth against you then maybe you would have made fun of him for having his eyes closed. Instead, you tugged at the roots of his hair, and his gaze meets yours in an instant.

  "Eye contact. Don't be scared of it," you say, and the end of your sentence morphed into a moan. It was tough to remember that you were supposed to be 'teaching' him, not just getting free head.

From that point on, Jeongin's piercing foxlike eyes never left yours. He felt himself easing into it a little bit, his tongue and lips moving almost by themselves now. It meant he got to focus on your face, how your eyebrows rose a little, how your eyes twinkled, how your lips parted ever so slightly. How you looked so fucked out and you hadn't even cum yet. You looked this gorgeous because of him.

The heat in your abdomen started to pulse. Your breathing turned ragged and your eyes rolled back again. Jeongin knew what was happening. You telling him just confirmed it.

  "I'm close, Innie—oh, fuck... Please, Innie, please..." you moaned, throwing your head back.

And just like that, your back arched off the bed as the flame erupted and you finally made it over the edge. You cried out as you hit your climax, letting out a high-pitched mixture of a curse and Jeongin's name. He tried to pull away, maybe unsure of whether it felt better to continue through an orgasm or not, but you refused to let him. Once you had come down from your high, your hand released his hair and he sat back watching you.

  "Congrats, Yang Jeongin," you chuckled, sighing. He hated it when you called him by his family name, but something about you using it in this moment made his heart swell. "You just made a woman cum."

The expression he stared back at you with was so adorable. His cheeks were flushed and there was a dazed look in his eyes. He looked shocked and in disbelief, but there was a little bit of pride there, perhaps exaggerated by the sight of your cum glimmering all over his lips.

  "Come here, aegi" you say smiling, you patted the space beside you as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

Ever so obedient, he moved to take the spot while you tugged your panties back up your legs. He was staring at you, so you leaned towards him, slowly in case he backed away. But he didn't, so you connected your lips with his again. It's a soft, careful kiss; your body was too weak from your orgasm to make it into anything more, but you didn't want anything more anyway.

Subconsciously you shifted closer to him until you were pressed flush against him, and it was then that you were reminded of his erection which still hadn't been dealt with. Poor boy was probably in agony.

You pulled away from Jeongin's lips, a string of spit following as you did. It was your turn to crawl in between his legs with a devilish grin on your face.

  "Wait noona, what are you...?" he started asks, frowning as you toyed with the waistband of his sweats. In the back of his head, he knew, he had seen this in porn before but he didn't want to assume.

  "Paying you back," you tell him, I mean you thought it was pretty obvious. "Unless you don't want me to. Oh, my god, I just presumed." You panicked.

  "No," he cut you off, his voice cracking. "Please..."

This time there was no reluctance whatsoever when you pulled his sweatpants down his legs, followed by his Bottega boxers. His cock was a shade darker than his skin and bright red at the tip, veiny, swollen and looked so enticing that you started drooling. It was also huge. That was the real shocker, it was one of the biggest cocks you had faced. Maybe even the biggest. All this time you couldn’t believe he'd been packing.

He jolted when your hand wrapped around him. "You need me to stop, I’ll stop, just say the word" you assured him, waiting until he nodded to resume.

You started with slow strokes up and down, collecting the pre-cum that dripped from his sensitive tip, smothering it all over the rest of his length. Briefly you pulled away to spit in your palm before wrapping them around him again. Your hand memorized each ridge that ran along his cock and all you could think was how pretty it was. How you couldn't wait to gag on it.

No, literally, you can't wait any longer. You leaned forward, your lips wrapping around his tip, tongue lapping at the slit to get a taste of his arousal.

The thought that this was his first time ever getting sucked off had you reeling. You were dizzy just thinking about it, really. You could probably even half-ass it and he'd still cum. Or you could put your all into it and he would cum so hard that no one would else would be able to compare and you would be the only one who could possibly make him feel that good. That seemed like a better option to you.

All of it spurred you on, and one look at Jeongin's blushing fucked out face had you slowly taking him inch by inch into your mouth. You struggled as you made your way down to his base, tears brimming in your eyes once he hit the back of your throat. You stayed still for a moment, adjusting to the intrusion in your wind pipe.

In that moment, Jeongin's cock twitched and with a gasp, he came, and it was as unexpected to him as it was to you, but you'd never been a quitter, so you let him spill every last drop of his thick cum down your throat while his head spun and he watched you with awe and embarrassment gracing his features.

  "I'm s-sorry," he mutters as you pop off of his cock, spluttering a little as you catch your breath.

  "For what?" You knew, you just wanted to hear him say it.

  "I didn't last." He said sheepishly.

A smile spread over your face, one that you could only hope was reassuring. You helped him pull his boxers and his pants back up and for a fleeting moment you were tempted to cuddle up next to him, until the lustful fog in your mind cleared and you remembered once more that this was still meant to be platonic. A friend teaching another friend. So, you just sat crisscrossed next to him instead.

  "Didn't know I was that good at sucking dick," you quipped, joking around to hide the possessiveness that had sprouted within you. You'd sucked off boys who were inexperienced before yet none of them had cum so quickly. It was not a coincidence. Jeongin wasn't just worked up—he was worked up for you. You just knew it.

Your best friend sat up, ever so subtly he moved an inch or two away from you, but you noticed. You noticed how he swallowed thickly. You noticed how he could barely look you in the eye.

  "Um...I’ve never told Minji that I’m a virgin, you know," he admitted after a few moments of silence. He twiddled with his fingers in his lap, looking everywhere but at you.

Was he asking you what you thought he was asking you?

  "Are you going to?" you say carefully.

  "I... I want to have experience with that too," he shrugs. “I think?”

I want you to take my virginity, is what you hear.

Your lips curled into a knowing smile again. It took everything in you not to grab him in your arms and squeeze him and hold him tight and kiss him all over. He was so precious!

  "Well, I'm always here to help if that’s what you want. Isn't that what best friends are for?"

~~~~~~

Later that night, Jeongin was back in his apartment. After he left your apartment, he silently had his dinner and avoided running into his roommate. He had showered and gotten ready for the night when his mind started to wander.

Jeongin thought he was a terrible person.

He was finally seeing someone, a pretty girl who was not intimidated by him like everyone else was. She was so sweet to him, and funny too. She made him laugh without even trying.

So why were you the only thing that was on his mind?

He laid in his bed and his mattress had never felt so uncomfortable. He had practice in the morning, so he needed to rest, but every time he shut his eyes to try and sleep all he could see was the image of you, his best friend, with his cock down your throat.

He still remembered your taste, so sweet as it dribbled onto his tongue. He remembered your lips, warm and plush against his. How your mouths moved together so... naturally, even though they shouldn't have. Best friends didn't kiss like that. Jeongin ignored this, of course. He distracted himself by thinking about your eyes, peering up at him as he came in your mouth or rolling back as his tongue moved against your clit, your irises shining like he'd never seen before. He remembered the feel of your tits, so soft, so heavenly through your t-shirt. His felt like hands were made for touching them.

He couldn't wait to be inside you. Oh, the thought made his head spin and the sooner he fell asleep the sooner it would happen. Jeongin shut his eyes, and now he welcomed your face that was there, and when he drifted off to sleep, he was dreaming about you.

Two days later, you get a text from your best friend.

Innie: hi noona.

         can I come over?

In an instant, you replied.

You: of course, :)

Moments later, a message pinged again.

Innie: can you teach me?

You couldn't hold back the smile that took over your face, knowing full well that his hands were sweating after sending the text.

You: only if you know you're ready

Innie: I am

You: ok then hurry up :P

Twenty minutes pass before there's a knock at your front door and you're shuffling over to open it. When you did, Jeongin was standing there, his body tense yet his face not betraying a single emotion as usual. His eyes glint for a moment when you appear before you're dragging him inside and to your room.

He remained by the bedroom door after you've shut it behind him, even after you'd launched yourself onto your bed with the assumption that he'd follow you, because he practically lived here anyway and after practice it was always straight to yours and you usually made him dinner or ordered take out while he showered here and spent the night binge watching dramas with you.

Now he stood there, frozen, as though he was in an unfamiliar place.

  "Innie? What's the matter?" you ask, a little worried.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of his grey hoodie, he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, staring down at the carpeted floor as he contemplated. When you didn't get any response from him other than a dejected huff, you pushed yourself off your bed and shuffled over to him.

  "You that nervous?" you ask, low. His breath quickened when your hand settled on his cheek and you forced his eyes to meet yours.

  "I'm... scared," he admits.

It was so unlike him to say something like that that it made you shiver. Jeongin never got nervous. Not before games, not before shows even. So, for him to confess that he was more than nervous was frightening.

  "Of course, you are. It's your first time," you assured him. "We don't have to do—"

  "No! I want to," he rushes out, his sudden eagerness giving you a whiplash. "I'm scared, but that doesn't mean I'm not ready."

His words instantly put any sparks of doubt in your mind to rest, and you smiled at him fondly.

  "Okay, but you still need to relax a little," you say, swatting your hands at his raised shoulders until they fall. "Don't worry, I'll help you."

You take his hand, guiding him to your bed to sit him down at the edge of it before you crawled into his lap, placing your thighs on either side of him.

  "Gonna kiss you, okay?" you tell him.

He blinks, and instead of giving a response he brings his mouth to yours. There's a swell of pride in your chest that only grew when you felt the weight of his hands resting on your hips. You kissed him back promptly, hands reaching up to grip his shoulders as your mouths mingled together. Somewhere along the way your tongue shoved against his and Jeongin squeezed at your waist in response.

Out of instinct, your hips started to roll against the younger boy underneath you as the desperation for friction began to grow between your legs. To your surprise, you felt his fingers begin to inch downwards, pulling at the band of your shorts and you couldn't help but grin against his lips.

The moment he pulled away, you pouted, but it was seeing his cute, blushing face that eased the disappointment.

  "I wanna try using my fingers this time," he tells you and you almost screamed because he was so sweet. Your thumb stroked his cheek, your eyes taking in his facial features: his pointed nose, his pouty, full lips that are so soft, his pretty brown foxlike eyes adorned with a thick set of eyelashes, his carved high cheekbones...

Maybe he wasn’t yours yet, but he would be. You were going to make sure of it.

With one last peck against Jeongin's lips, you crawled out of his lap and laid back against your pillows, waiting patiently for him. A voice in your head screamed at you, telling you to strip and open your legs for him and let him finger you already, but the more sensible part of you figured that he would never learn if you did everything for him.

Delicately touching you, he nudged your knees open, kneeling between the space they created before his hands were pulling your shorts down your legs along with your panties. The look in his eyes was something you would never get tired of. What was usually nonchalance was replaced with a twinkly daze as Jeongin licked his lips at the sight of your pussy.

He reached forward, fingertips just shyly teasing your hole, taking some of the arousal that's dripped out of you before he migrated to your clit. You gasped as he spreads your slick over your bud, drawing circles as he started to stimulate your nerves.

  "Innie..." you whine, curious as to how he'll react. "Please, your fingers."

He stared at you, blinking, and for a fleeting moment you could swear that the ghost of a smirk appeared on his face. The pads of his fingers kept tracing circles into your clit for a while, but after another pleading whimper from you, he slid them down to your entrance once more, but never dipping inside. He glanced up at you, and it was clear what he was asking of you.

  "Always start with one finger," you tell him. "When she asks for more give her two. Keep them curled up and move your whole arm. In and out." you explain, demonstrating the motion with your fingers, the same ones that had never even gotten you close.

Jeongin gave a determined nod before he slipped his finger inside, eyes widening at how little resistance there was from how soaked you are. He did as you instructed, crooking his digit upwards against your soft walls. He drew it back out and there was something so teasing in the way he watched the string of arousal that was attached to his finger as it came out. To your surprise, your entire face burned with humiliation.

  "I-innie," you breathe, begging but you weren’t sure what for. In any other case you would never be so flustered, but because it was Innie, it made you grow hot.

With a hum, he slid back in, curls it up again and finding a steady pace with his arm, one that had you squirming around in no time. He urged the knot in your stomach to grow with every push and pull, tiny gasps and pants leaving your mouth as he brushed against your sweet spot repeatedly. He was a natural,

  "Feels so good," you keened, your hips moving against Jeongin's hand. The cogs were visibly turning in his brain, and before you knew it there's a second finger dipping inside you. A high-pitched moan that slipped from your mouth let him know that he was doing good, giving him the confidence to keep going and he dared move a little bit faster than before.

While Jeongin's fingers were slender, they were still thicker than yours, and boy were they far longer. He reached a part inside of you that your fingers could only dream of reaching, and it turned your brain to mush. Tiny pants leaving your lips, broken ever so often by a whine of Jeongin's name. He felt it between his legs—the way you breathed the syllables out so softly, so desperately, it was starting to get him worked up too.

You were starting to squirm more. Jeongin's attentiveness proved extremely beneficial because he noticed it immediately. He picked up speed again, moving his arm now with the undying determination to get you to your edge. His eyebrows knitted together for a second as he contemplated. Then one glance at your pleading eyes and your hanging mouth and he brought his thumb to your clit to move it in tiny circles.

  "Innie... fuck," you moaned. His face was scrunched into concentration, narrowed eyes flicking back and forth between watching his fingers sink in and out of your cunt, and your pretty face as he dragged you closer and closer.

  "Gonna cum soon, Innie," you breathe. Each pump of his fingers sent jolts of pleasure to your core, every flick of his thumb sending shivers down your spine. Then before you knew it, your orgasm hurtled towards you in a wave of tight muscles and a burning heat in your abdomen. Your eyes rolled all the way back, your back arching high into the air, and Jeongin kept on fucking you with his fingers even as you gasped and cried out with pleasure.

He stared at you, a mix of awe and pride behind his dark eyes. His heart was pounding, close to leaping out of his chest as something stirred within him. This satisfaction was the same one he felt when he made a perfect set; when he scored a perfect goal; when he won. That sensation of being untouchable, of having adrenaline flowing through his veins—he had it, knowing he was the one that made you writhe, made you tremble, made you whimper, made you cum.

As you laid there, recovering from your orgasm, you were just as surprised as Jeongin. Sure, it was possible to mimic things from porn, and it was possible to follow your instincts, but aside from the timidness in how Jeongin slid his fingers within your pussy, it almost seemed like he knew what he was doing.

What he'd never confess to you was that he had spent the last few nights doing 'research'. Out of curiosity and the eagerness to impress you, he had found himself searching up tips online—in-depth explanations behind the female orgasm. Jeongin knew there was only so much you could explain to him, so he turned to the internet and absorbed some of the more basic pieces of advice, the ones he felt were imperative to making you feel good without you telling him.

As Jeongin withdrew his fingers, your hand latched onto his wrist and you brought it to your mouth. He was awestruck as you wrapped your lips around his digits and taking them down to the knuckle, making a show of swirling your tongue all around them. You gazed at him the entire time, your tummy fluttering because he looked so nervous, all flushed as his lips parted and he breathed hard. He shifted a little as his sweatpants suddenly became too tight.

You swallowed down your own arousal, pulling his fingers out of your mouth with a pop and an innocent smile and Jeongin was convinced he'd died and gone to heaven because if you were not an angel then what were you?

  "You did so good," you say with sincerity, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips. "Thank you, Innie. Now get on your back for me."

You pushed at his chest until you'd swapped places with him and you're kneeling between his legs, pulling at the top of his sweatpants until they're off and tossing them onto the floor somewhere. His boxers came off next, his pretty cock springing up when you tugged them down his legs.

As if your hand was drawn to him, your fingers wrapped around his thick length immediately, mouth drooling at the thought of swallowing him. Before you could bend forward and wrap your lips around him however, Jeongin grabbed your hand and panic set into your chest in an instant.

  "W-wait," he says. "I don't think you should do that noona."

  "Why? Are you okay?" you ask. Subconsciously your hands move to his thighs, moving gently up and down them in an attempt to soothe him.

  "I'm fine. I just... um..." He grew silent then, eyes breaking away from yours to look around the room instead. You sat back onto your knees, away from him.

  "What is it, Innie?"

  "I just... wanna make sure I last this time," he finally admits. "For you."

Your heart nearly bursts. Jeongin, who hated being vulnerable in front of other people. Jeongin, while he'd never struggled being vulnerable in front of you, had never looked so vulnerable as he did now.

You dove forward, smashing your lips against his because you couldn't phrase your adoration for him in this moment if you tried. "Are you sure?" you ask a moment later.

He nods.

  "I owe you one though," you wink, giggling as he swallowed hard. "I still need to get you ready first. Always got to have some sort of lubrication, especially with your size."

You brought your palm to your mouth, spitting into it swiftly before taking Jeongin's cock in your hand and pumping it a few times. It was sweet the way he flinched a little and his thighs trembled at your touch, and you even heard the faintest groan from him. It made you clench, the urge to have him inside you increasing with every second that passed.

You climbed on top of him, straddling his lap so you could guide his cock between your folds. With your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you bucked your hips up, eyes locked on the way his length gleamed with a mix of your spit and your slick. Pre-cum drooled from his tip in globs, adding to the sticky mixture. It's all so lewd, and he's not even inside you yet.

  "Please... I can't," Innie whispers, and it's then that you noticed how his hands were twisted into your sheets so hard that his knuckles turned white.

  "Touch me first. Then I'll put it in," you say, maintaining the slow roll of your hips against his needy cock. You lifted the bottom of your t-shirt up, just enough to expose your tits to the cool air, and Jeongin's eyes nearly bulged out of his head when you did.

God, he couldn't get over how pretty they were. He was drooling, and he knew he'd touched them before, but not like this. Slowly, he reached up, no longer focused on your dripping cunt grinding against him over and over. Instead, all he could do was observe in wonder as his hands cupped around the soft mounds on your chest and squeezed. His stomach fluttered at your moan, so he squeezed again, moving his fingers in circles until he mustered up the confidence to tweak at your nipples.

  "Oh, Innie," you sigh. "Fuck! That's good."

He gave a proud smile—it was something he read about. He pinched at the peaks and kneaded your tits, no longer held back by any sort of hesitation.

  "I'm gonna put it in now," you breathe out, waiting until he nods. "Try to hold out, yeah?"

To your delight, Innie rolled his eyes, and a playful grin forms on his lips. It's wiped away the moment you tease your entrance with his tip, his eyes screwing shut, his hands flying to your hips.

This is it; you think. One swoop and he was all yours. He gave a shuddered breath when you sank down on him slowly, while you shivered at the sensation of him stretching you out. Every inch was heavenly, leaving you spiraling as he bottomed out inside you, until you're finally sitting on top of his pelvis.

It was even better than you could have expected.

You leaned in, kissing him softly as Jeongin relished in the way your pussy hugged his cock. It was everything all at once—soft, warm, wet, tight. You weren’t even moving yet. How on earth was he supposed to last?

  "Can I move, Innie?" you ask, smoothing your hands up his defined chest until they settled on his shoulders.

  "Y-yeah, it's just tight," he says, eyes finally fluttering open again.

Slowly, you lifted your hips, then bring them back down again, zeroing in on his reaction to your first movement. His jaw clenched a little and he pinched at your waist, and then his own hips bucked up against yours so you did the same thing again until you found a steady pace and before long, you were bouncing up and down on your best friend's cock.

  "You like that, aegi?" you ask him, bending forward once more to kiss him. This time you brought your lips lower, trailing along his jaw, down to his neck, leaving a flurry of small pecks against his flesh there. So badly you want to mark him up, cover him in purple little bites—show Minji he's yours... But you restrained yourself. You were better than that.

  "Yeah," he breathes, the end of his word morphing into a moan. "Feels really fucking good."

  "Yeah?" You lean in close to his ear, bringing your voice down to a mere whisper. "I've been waiting forever for this, you know." You confessed.

You leaned back with the sudden urge to see his face as you kept your ass bouncing on him, letting out high-pitched whimpers as his cock dragged against your walls deliciously. He was so big that you were quickly growing breathless from the sheer effort it took you to raise your body up and back down on him, and paired with the pleasure that bubbled deep inside you, your limbs were starting to turn numb from bliss.

  “Fuck really?” he groaned. “you’re gonna drive me mad noona! God…”

The sight of Jeongin beneath you was one you would never get tired of. His eyes shone with a dreamy haze, his lips parted as tiny gasps left his mouth and a peachy blush spread all over his face and neck. He looked like a mess. Worse than after any three-hour long stage performance, and it was all your doing.

  "Close, Innie?" you ask, dragging your long-manicured nails down his chest, relishing in how his cock throbbed within you when you did. He answered with a hum and a nod and despite the burn in your thighs, you picked up even more speed.

  "Me too," you tell him, clenching around him with a devious smile. Your hands moved to where his hands rested on your hips still, and in one swift movement you pinned them to the bed. By now you were fucking yourself back onto him with no intention other than to cum, all morals thrown out the window as you basked in the sensation of Jeongin's cock pulsing against your sweet spot. "Wait for me, okay? It's rude to cum before a woman." You pant wistfully.

It was mostly a joke, but Jeongin knew you were also half serious. He freed one of his hands from your grasp, attaching his thumb to the bundle of nerves right near where his cock slams in and out of you, rapidly tracing circles there, the way he knew would get you weak every time. Your clit was all swollen, so sensitive from your prior orgasm that you practically collapsed the moment he stimulated it.

  "Oh my- fuck, Innie," you squealed, curling your fingers into his t-shirt as you clenched around him involuntarily this time.

Next thing you knew, your lower abdomen erupted with heat and your entire body pulsed. Your brain short-circuited as your orgasm washed over you, legs aching and trembling but it felt so good. Despite how fuzzy your mind was, you found that you were still grinding against Jeongin however you'd lost all previous momentum and force, now just shallowly bucking your hips to get you through your climax.

Jeongin was twitching underneath you, struggling to hold out for much longer from how your cunt squeezed around him.

  "Cum for me, Innie," you mumbled, nuzzling against his neck. "Inside please."

And that was all he needed to hear—a second later and he was spilling inside you with a strained grunt, his cock spurting out white, warm, sticky ropes until you were filled up. His chest heaved against your cheek where you lay resting.

The next few moments were silent, occupied only by soft breaths as you and Jeongin recovered from your orgasms.

Eventually, you broke the silence with a yawn when you reminded yourself again that this was supposed to be a lesson. "Aftercare is key," you say, voice cracking.

  "Especially if you go at it for a while, you have to check in on each other and make sure you're both okay." you added.

 "Are you okay?" Jeongin asks, so much irony in how innocent he seemed while his cock was still buried inside you.

You giggle. "I am. But I meant now is the time to communicate your needs. For example, I always get super thirsty."

You sit up, wincing as you slide Jeongin's soft cock out of you, already missing the fullness that was akin to a hug.

Jeongin glances to the left, spotting a water bottle on your bedside table. He grabbed it carefully and handed it to you after screwing the cap open. You were melting over him again, a common occurrence recently, but he was just so compliant.

  "Thank you, Innie," you say, taking the bottle so you can sip at the liquid that was deliciously refreshing as it slid down your throat. "So good for me." You lovingly praised him. Jeongin just watched you closely.

After, you handed it back to him and he placed it back in its original spot. Jeongin tucked his hands behind his head, gazing up at you with stars in his eyes.

  "I also like being held after sex," you tell him. Slowly you lower yourself back down against his chest, nuzzling your face into his shirt so tenderly that Jeongin flinches. He was used to you being touchy, used to the way you always had your hands on him; hell, he was even used to cuddling you. But something about this was different, it was new. It got his heart pounding, and it was not from his climax.

It felt so natural when his arms came around you and they held onto you tight, tighter than he'd ever held you. Your heart swelled with so many emotions as you settled into him.

  “Me too,” Jeongin suddenly muttered, you tilted your head to look at him. He was gazing at you with an expression similar to what you knew you were feeling. “I’ve been waiting forever for you noona… and thank you for being my first”

Your mouth fell open as you processed what your best friend had just said to you, Jeongin smiled down at you happily and closed your mouth in the sweetest kiss yet that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: I was up all night trying extract this whole scenario from my head, I know I'm not the only noona who has a thing for innocent Jeongin ;). I want to listen to all your feedback on this one and give me suggestions on who I should write next!

Don't forget to like, comment and reblog!!!

[yvesssssssss]

Ajnwwkwijw, I'VE BEEN LOVING YOUR WRITING! And I wanted request a

Nagumo x reader, where the reader has been in a coma for some years and nagumo would always visit her, then during one of his visits the reader woke up, and didn't remember him

He made it his mission to make her remember him by going to their favorite places and meeting old friends

Until the reader finally remembers him and they kiss at the last.

(diko na kaya mag English😭)

That's my request thank you!!!

(⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

Remember me

(nagumo x reader)

Thank you so much for loving my writing—it really means a lot to me! I’m sorry if this feels rushed or took a while, but I truly appreciate you and your support. Your requests are always amazing, and I love bringing them to life. Let me know if you ever want more—I’m always happy to write for you!

Nagumo Yoichi had never been one to stay in one place. His life was a whirlwind of disguises, fights, and narrow escapes.

But for you, he stayed.

Every week, without fail, he came to your hospital room. He talked to you, brought your favorite flowers, left small trinkets on your bedside table—little things that reminded him of you.

Years passed, but he never stopped.

Then, one day, when he was least expecting it, you woke up.

And you didn’t remember him.

Nagumo Yoichi had survived gunfights, assassins, and death traps, but nothing had ever hurt quite like that.

Still, he only grinned at you, as if you hadn’t just shattered his heart.

“Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Didn’t think I was that easy to forget.”

You blinked at him, confusion in your eyes. “I… do I know you?”

He could have told you everything right then and there—how he loved you, how he had waited for you, how he had never once given up hope.

But that wasn’t his style.

Instead, he smirked, tilting his head.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to make you fall for me all over again.”

And so, he did.

The Journey Back to You

Day One: The Café of Memories

Nagumo showed up the next morning with a box of pastries, setting them on your lap with a cocky grin.

“You used to love these,” he said, popping one into his mouth. “Always made me buy extras, even though you could never finish them.”

You stared at the delicate pastry, hesitant. But when you finally took a bite, your lips parted slightly. Something about the taste—sweet, warm, comforting—stirred something deep in your chest.

“You okay?” Nagumo asked, watching you closely.

You frowned. “I… I don’t know. It feels familiar, but—”

Nagumo only smiled, as if he had all the time in the world.

“Don’t worry,” he said, tapping the tip of your nose. “We’re just getting started.”

Day Five: The Rooftop Under the Stars

The rooftop was quiet, the city lights twinkling below.

“You used to drag me up here all the time,” Nagumo said, leaning against the railing. “Said it was the only place you could hear yourself think.”

You gazed out at the skyline, fingers absentmindedly gripping the railing. A breeze swept past, and for a second—just a second—you felt like you’d been here before, standing right where you were now.

“…It’s nice,” you murmured.

Nagumo hummed in agreement. “Yeah. But you used to say it was even better when I shut up.”

You let out a soft laugh, surprising yourself. He chuckled too, nudging your shoulder playfully.

Maybe you didn’t remember everything yet, but this—this felt good.

Day Ten: The Dance in the Rain

It started with a drizzle. Then, in seconds, the sky opened up, drenching you both.

Nagumo laughed as he grabbed your hand, pulling you under the awning of a small shop. “Guess I should’ve checked the forecast.”

You laughed too, breathless, water dripping from your hair.

He stared at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze.

“You know,” he murmured, brushing a wet strand of hair from your face, “you once told me you liked the rain because it washed everything away. Made you feel new.”

Your heart clenched. The words sounded right, like something you might have said.

Slowly, hesitantly, you reached out, fingers grazing his cheek. “Did I?”

Nagumo’s breath hitched slightly, but he didn’t move away.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You did.”

Your hand lingered against his skin, warmth despite the cold rain. Something was there—a whisper of memory, a feeling you couldn’t quite name.

And for the first time since waking up, you wanted to remember.

Day Fifteen: The Touch of Familiar Hands

The moon was high as you sat beside him on a park bench, a comfortable silence settling between you.

Nagumo had been patient—far more patient than you imagined a man like him could be. He never pushed, never asked too much. He simply stayed, always smiling, always teasing, but never letting you feel alone.

You glanced at him, your chest tightening with something you couldn’t quite place.

He caught your gaze and smirked. “What? Finally realizing how handsome I am?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “You really never change, do you?”

His smirk softened. “Not when it comes to you.”

Your breath caught.

And then—

Flashes of memories.

His laughter. His voice calling your name. His hands, warm against your skin. Nights spent talking until dawn. The feel of his lips on yours.

You gasped, hands flying to your head. The memories came rushing in so fast it made you dizzy.

Nagumo’s arms were around you in an instant. “Hey—hey, take it easy.”

Your fingers curled into his shirt, clutching onto him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stared up at him.

“I remember,” you whispered.

Nagumo stilled, his hands tightening on your waist.

You let out a soft, tearful laugh. “I remember you.”

For the first time, his composure cracked. His smile trembled, his eyes dark with emotions too big to name.

“Yeah?” His voice was barely a breath.

You nodded. “You stayed all this time?”

Nagumo exhaled sharply, like he had been holding his breath for years.

“Of course I did,” he said. “How could I ever leave you?”

A tear slipped down your cheek. Without hesitation, he reached out, brushing it away with his thumb.

And then, slowly, he leaned in.

His lips hovered over yours, waiting—always waiting.

But this time, you closed the distance.

The moment your lips met, everything fell into place.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him. The kiss was slow, deep, filled with years of unspoken words. His hands cradled your face, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

And to him, you were.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested together, breath mingling in the cool night air.

Nagumo let out a shaky laugh. “Took you long enough, sweetheart.”

You smiled, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of his lips. “I guess I just wanted you to prove you really loved me.”

His laughter rumbled against your skin as he pulled you into his arms. “I would’ve waited forever.”

And somehow, you knew he meant it.

Because even in the time you had forgotten him, Nagumo Yoichi had never once forgotten you.

And now, neither of you would ever have to wait again.