#this is a long ramble of remember to write for yourself and to love writing instead of dread it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hanllucination · 28 days ago

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keep me. bang chan (18+)

Chan comes back like clockwork, like muscle memory, like something inevitable. But routine doesn’t mean permanence. And you’re starting to wonder if he only ever stays long enough to remember what it feels like to leave.

PAIRING. bang chan / f! reader GENRE. smut, angst, break up fic WORD COUNT. 8.8k WARNINGS. strong language, subtly toxic relationships, explicit sexual content: emotional sex, light d/s dynamics, fingering, oral sex (m! receiving), a little face fucking, unprotected sex (it’s a long established relationship), a little bit of manhandling, use of petnames (baby, love), dirty talk & praise (good girl), shower sex, color system

NOTES. i’m very excited to share this with you all, it’s the first i’ve written after a very long time ♡ writing this was an emotional rollercoaster lol let me know if i missed any tags or warnings! happy reading ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

READ ON AO3. / MASTERLIST.

It’s three knocks on your door that finally sink the heartbreak into the pit of your stomach.

Only Chan would do that—knock on your door softly, wait for you to let him in despite being told that the door is unlocked. Despite you leaving it unlocked for him, every time.

I’m free today, he had written in the text. Can I call you? But you had invited him to your apartment instead, and you shouldn’t even have to ask him to come over. Wednesdays were always for you and him.

Silly, you don’t even have to ask, you had told him, a half-empty laugh following after.

You had heard the sound of his breathing for a moment, and with the silence just a hitch away becoming too uncomfortable, too tense, he had said on the other side of the line, right. I know that.

“It’s me,” he knocks on the other side of the door twice more. “Can I come in?”

You stare at the coat hanging on one of the hooks by the door for a moment, feeling a sigh in your chest. You try to hold it in, reaching for the knob instead.

“Of course it’s you,” you tease when the door opens. “Of course you can.”

Chan seems worn out and tired, but he offers you a smile anyway. It’s warm and familiar and… and something else you recognize but can’t begin to think about. He holds his hand up by your ear and tucks your hair behind it.

“Hi,” he breathes.

You nuzzle into his hand, subconsciously stepping forward, further, responding in the same manner, “Hi. I’m cooking dinner for us.”

It’s so easy to fall into step with him. He finds his way into the middle of your apartment, immediately setting down everything in his hands down the old coffee table. You glance at the paper bag (“That’s just some leftover snacks, if you want it!” he says without you needing to ask), crumpled at the top where Chan had held it, his phone beside it. His small pouch rests at the corner of your small couch.

(He sets them down gently, carefully, methodically, in the same way he set down his heart, some years ago, in the middle of the street after a few drinks at a small, snobbish club. I love you. You held onto his arm, seeking warmth. I love you.)

“It smells good,” he sniffs exaggeratedly, walking towards the stove. “What are you cooking?” he asks as he lifts the glass lid, steam wafting through the air and the aroma of the food becoming stronger.

“Just some veggie soup. The temperature’s starting to drop, don’t you think?” you tell him, chuckling to yourself a little. “Are you hungry? It’ll be ready in around ten minutes. Could you wait a little longer? I have some snacks in the fridge, if you want.”

His lips break into a grin, and you think it’s beginning to form a small laugh on his tongue. You rambled again, and years ago you would’ve been embarrassed, covering your mouth in shame. I love the way you talk, he had told you. You don’t have to hold anything back. I hope you can be comfortable with me.

“It’s fine,” he shakes his head, cheeky and teasing. You sigh jokingly, and he puts the lid back onto the pot before turning back to you. “I’m actually less hungry and more—icky? I need to wash up, I mean. S’been a long day.”

“By all means,” you nod, gesturing to the bathroom. It says a lot more than, yes, you can do that. It also says, your clothes have been in the same place they’ve always been. Your toothbrush, the soap you specifically use because your skin is a lot more sensitive than mine, your towels, everything… they’re still here. “Food’ll be ready by the time you’re done.”

Chan scratches the back of his head, looking down at his feet before he looks back at you, sheepish. He takes a few steps towards you until his hands reach your shoulders—he does just that, rubbing his thumbs on the exposed skin of your collarbone before tilting his head.

“Help me wash up?”

Your face immediately burns up, lips tensing at the suggestion. He knows you weren’t one to like showering together; it’s cramped, a waste of water, and overall impractical. You’d sometimes join him, sure, but the majority of the time you’d politely decline. Chan respects that. He always does.

There’s something about this suggestion now. Something different, something… greedy. A plea, almost. You think he starts to breathe a little heavier with each passing second of your silence, and his hooded eyes wait for the answer on your face.

You think you need this, too.

You nod at him, quickly closing in the gap and placing a small, brief kiss on his lips. He immediately gets his arms around you, but before he could make anything out of it, you pull away. You don’t know if he realizes it but you feel the way his lips chase yours when you move back. Your chest swells at your realization.

“Ten minutes, Chan,” you tease, placing another kiss on his cheek. “Don’t wanna burn the apartment down.”

“I don’t like the veggies too cooked, though,” he clicks his tongue. “Here.”

He suddenly squats down, pulling you by the back of your thighs before carrying you in his arms. A small squeal leaves you before you could even process a reaction, and you had immediately grabbed onto his shoulders in fear of falling. He buries his nose into the skin of your neck and places his warm lips on it.

“Bang Chan! What the hell,” you scold him, hitting his shoulder with furrowed brows. “Impatient.”

Wriggling your way out of his hold proves no use. He holds onto you so firmly that you could only wrap your arms and legs around him tighter. You slap his back weakly, still startled from him carrying you without warning. He laughs onto your skin and you feel its tickle down your spine, flinching slightly with a laugh of your own. You feel his arms pull you tighter.

“We can do all that we need to do later,” he mumbles. “It can wait.”

There it is again. You hear it. A plea, but only subtle. Smooth in his voice, soft and supple. Like the thumbs that rub the skin on the sides of your thighs. He hikes you higher up his torso, and another breath leaves at the sudden little movement. You’re so tempted to give in.

“No. We eat first, then we wash up,” you insist, words leaving no room for argument. You hear a soft whine so you steady yourself with one hand on his shoulder, the other on his cheek. “Okay?”

He presses his lips on yours in response, deep and heavy. Its plushness moves against yours, and suddenly you’re down in your worn out barstool, back in the kitchen. The metal of the old seat creaks and Chan pulls away from you, breathless.

“Stay there, I’ll take care of this,” he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You know,” Chan starts, as if you just know. “Cooking for me. You didn’t have to.”

He doesn’t turn to you when he says it. The clicks of the stove struggling to reignite its flames resound and deep within your chest you think you also hear the same. Click click click. He grabs the wooden spoon just beside the sink and he stirs the soup, lifting it up once just to let the liquid dribble back down into the pot. You rest your cheek against your hand, elbow propped on the countertop.

You stare at his back and wonder how much of its dips and curves you’ve already memorized—how much of it you need to get to know more, the way they move and twitch and tremble under your touch. Beneath his black, slightly tight-fitting shirt, his shoulders visibly loosen up. He grabs two bowls from the cabinets above him and carefully spoons a hearty amount of soup into each.

It doesn’t take long before he sets up your dinner and finds himself on the stool beside yours. Neither of you say a word, tension still warm in the air, comforting—but toeing the line of awkward. The skin of his thigh brushes against yours sometimes, and you’re almost tempted to ask if it’s intentional. If he means it.

Contrary to his earlier impatience, Chan takes his time eating. He smiles when he catches you looking, and you laugh when he hums in satisfaction of a pleasant, albeit simple, dinner. The anticipation is prickling the skin on your shoulders, but you can’t seem to say a word. Chan finishes with a kiss on your cheek and a quiet mumble of another ‘thank you’ before he gathers the dishes to clean up.

It’s awful, thinking about this. You have no idea what’s on his mind right now, and you’re so close to breaking. This won’t do. You have to say something, or he has to say something. What was that all about earlier? What happened? Is he mad? Is he disappointed? What should you—

“Baby,” he calls gently, snapping you out of it—whatever it was. A detachment from the moment, from reality? A fear, maybe. Overthinking.

You barely realize that he’s in front of you again, standing between your knees, dishes forgotten in the sink. He brings a hand to your head and rubs a finger between your brows.

“I can almost hear you thinking,” he clicks his tongue. Then he presses a firm kiss on where his touch lingered. “I’m sorry. We’re fine. You can get in the shower and I’ll be with you in a second, hm?”

No words come out of your mouth. You shudder at the implication, at the tone of his want.

Maybe you’re thinking too much about this. Maybe it’s just another Wednesday of yours, just another time he’s here. A sharing of each other’s company in the quiet routine you’ve fallen into, built over the years. So you nod at him before padding over to your bathroom.

One by one, you strip off your clothes. It doesn’t take long; you’re in your most comfortable, anyway, since your plans were to just stay home. You never needed to impress Chan either. Whenever your fingers brush against your skin, a shiver crawls beneath your bones. There is warmth pooling in your chest—a desire that would burn you if it boils over.

But something feels… different. Like it’s all building to something neither of you is ready to name. The shower opens with a stutter and it’s hot the moment it touches your skin. You don’t mind, though—but Chan will, and you know that. You twist the tap ever so slightly, knowing exactly where it should turn for it to be warm enough to his liking. The temperature should calm you, but it doesn’t.

The way the water thrums against your skin, the tiled floor, the glass door… it’s all too much. It irks you—feeling every drop, reminded of his touch: gentle, deliberate, lingering. Then, you hear your blood pulsating in your ears. You tilt your head back, letting the water cascade over your face. It should calm you, but it doesn’t.

The door creaks open and you feel a slight breeze of chill from behind you, like a wind passing, carrying with it an odd mix of anticipation and vulnerability. It’s not like Chan is trying to be quiet. He knows you’d expect him. He asked for you to be there. There’s a moment of stillness, save for the water pattering around you. Then, the faint rustling of clothes, a slow whistle of fabric sliding down the floor. Your pulse quickens.

It doesn’t take long before you feel him behind you, close enough to stir the air around but not yet touching you. You don’t turn to look at him—your breath catches as if doing so would make the moment too real, too raw, like everything would cease to exist with one wrong move. But you feel him. His warmth is unmistakable, radiating through the steam, undeniable and grounding, a stark contrast to the chill that had briefly brushed your spine. It couldn’t be anything or anyone else. It’s him, always him, cutting through the steam like sunlight through fog.

And maybe that’s how his presence has always been, how he really is: sun, sunlight, sunshine. A warmth you can’t help but lean into, even when it burns.

Chan is the first to break the silence. “Hi,” he simply says before he kisses the skin where your neck and shoulder meet. His hands soon follow, soothing the soreness of your muscles with a gentle massage. You whimper quietly.

“Hi,” you manage to respond moments after.

Chan rests his forehead on the back of your head, stopping you from turning around when you make that first little step. He pulls you closer to his body, your back flush against his chest and you feel it heave in along with his breathing. With every exhale through his nose the air grows heavier.

“Don’t,” he breathes. “Stay there. I’ll wash you.”

“I want to see you, though,” you try to complain, but the words fall weak on your tongue. “Chan?”

“Later.”

You feel him stretch his arm to the side, and your peripheral catches his hand reaching for the bottle of liquid on the small shelf mounted in the corner of the shower, just a bit of an arm away from your head. You lean innocently onto him but his breath hitches, taking you a bit by surprise.

As if that would stop you.

You continue to rub your behind onto him under the guise of needing warmth and seeking softness, and his breathing falters with each minute. He rubs his hands together, soapy and slippery, before rubbing it all along your body in seemingly random but nonetheless tender patterns. He starts with your arms, then he moves to your shoulders, your back, your legs, from back to front—leaning forward to reach further, then to your waist. His hand inches to your center, where you need it most, and you could almost feel the tease in his touch. He reaches for another pump of soap before he brushes his fingers onto the skin of your abdomen. It twitches with the gasp you couldn’t catch before it’s out of your mouth, and you suddenly jolt your hips back towards his, a movement you couldn’t control.

And Chan whimpers. It’s low and hushed, almost too quiet if his lips weren’t all up in your ear. The moment halts and the warmth that pooled in your chest moves down and you like it. So you do it again, pressing back into his body further. And again, wiggling until his cock catches against your lower back. And again, feeling him holding himself back.

Then he grips your arms to steady you. That doesn’t stop his hardness from pushing against the dip of your lower spine. Then you whimper. He still keeps you turned away from him.

“Stop moving,” he grits. “You’re so needy, aren’t you?”

You don’t even try to deny that. How could you, when he moves his right forearm to wrap around your chest, his left hand just below your abdomen. Close, but not enough. He toys with the skin that it frustrates you. It’s so close. You try to stand on your tiptoes, moving yourself closer to where you need his hand to be but he holds you with his arm firmly enough to keep you in place. His hand leaves your abdomen to catch the water from the shower, washing off the soap.

“I said,” he whispers into your ear, tone rough, “stop moving.”

Then he finally, finally touches you. His finger traces your slit lightly, the stroke almost too subtle to feel. Your legs immediately draw close together, and Chan supports you when you almost lose balance. He sighs in your ear, a short, small laugh following the prod of his finger into your core.

In a desperate attempt to stop his teasing, you could only cry out his name. “Chan,” your voice shakes, and you hold onto the arm around your chest in an attempt to ground yourself, to keep yourself together. “Please.”

“Just a little more, my love,” he starts, still moving a single finger—God fucking damn it, only a single one—up and down your folds. “And I’ll give you what you want.”

Your chest quivers with deep, uneven breaths. You hold out as best as you can, keeping your desire from bursting and it burns you. Please. There is only a word in your head, clouded and hazy. Like a mantra, a chant. Please. Please.

“So good,” Chan praises, and you swear you could hear the smile in his voice which only sharpens the greed clawing at your core. Desperate to feel more, to take more.

But between you and him, it’s not your job to take more. That’s Chan’s. That’s him, since the beginning.

So he takes.

He pushes a finger into you and right then and there you feel that you could just give everything you could ever offer for his taking. It feels as if he belongs there, as if you are shaped for nothing but his touch. He pulls his finger out a bit before pushing it back deeper, into a place you’ve never reached for the past month on your own, or the past year, or ever.

Chan finds a steady pace, slow and deliberate strokes exploring your wetness. Still only a single finger, and you are so tempted to curse him out, to demand more—but you know how patience drives pleasure. There is no choice but to wait. He recognizes it and he whispers another praise in your ear, “You are doing so good, baby.”

You feel another finger teasing your sensitive bud, and not long after there are two fingers parting your slick folds with practiced ease. Your knees buckle in surrender to the pleasure. It feels so hot, as if each movement fans the flames in your core and with every touch Chan leaves trails of pleasure. You’re almost gasping, like you’re running out of breath.

It’s not your job to take more, but this is something only Chan could give. He is giving it to you right now. What else are you supposed to do but take it?

You move your hand from his forearm around your chest to the nape of his neck clumsily. He shifts slightly, letting go of your torso and gripping your thigh to hold it up and oh. Your grasp falters and his fingers remain relentless in giving you the rhythm your body demands. He curls them inside you and you almost choke.

Despite still having your back flushed to his chest, you crane your neck to at least feel his lips against your cheeks. Soft moans are hovering at the edge of your mouth, cries on the verge of slipping out. You struggle to find your voice, lost among the steam, but you try nonetheless.

“Chan–ah,” your voice wavers with a moan. “Please, Chan… I– kiss. Please, kiss.”

You feels Chan’s body tremble behind you, hips bucking that his cock brushes against the curve of your ass. You whimper, and you let it out freely this time.

“Fuck, you’re so…” Chan falters, fingers erratic in your heat. “How sweet you sound, begging like that.” He presses himself against your back, again and again, a desperate attempt to chase his own pleasure too. His breath is hot against your skin, hovering your jaw. The water from the shower does nothing to regulate the temperature of your body. “I just can’t get enough of you.”

Then he kisses you. It’s a little awkward, with your lips not fully slotting or fitting, your necks turned as much as you comfortably can but none of that matters. It’s all teeth and spit and some water gets into your mouth and none of that matters. He kisses you and he curls his fingers in you and you’re almost at your limit. A moan vibrates in your chest, wanton and needy, then Chan pulls away to let you breathe. As if that helps, as if his lips and tongue moving to your jaw doesn’t leave you breathless and writhing in want.

He pulls your thigh closer to him, opening you up further. A guttural sound leaves you and you would be embarrassed at how dirty it sounds but you’re reaching the highest peak of your desire—the roar of the flames in your core now at its full.

“Chan,” you cry out. “Chan, I’m near—ah… please. I’m cumming, please.”

The air is filled with steam and the sound of water, his skin on your skin, his fingers not stopping. Your hips buck against his hand and it drives deeper. He holds it there and you tremble in his arms. You whimper, again and again and again.

“Good,” he coaxes. “You’re almost there, my love. Come on.”

His voice is heavy and rough. He licks the shell of your ear and it sends you over to the edge. His fingers twist inside you and he just takes, drinking up your cries with his lips just hovering yours.

There is a gradual, methodic way in which he slows his fingers, letting you ride out your high until your lungs find a steadier pace, each breath more controlled. He kisses the top of your head before he gently holds your chin—with the very same hand he used to bring you pleasure—turning your face to his.

How filthy, him rubbing your slickness on you. So filthy, and it’s arousing you. It’s surprising because you just got fingered out of your damn mind and you still want more. You’re still willing to give more.

Chan captures your lips in a soft kiss, biting your lower lip lightly before he pulls away just enough to speak, “You did so well.”

He reaches upward to cup water in his hands, using it to wash your chin and your neck. Then again to wash your abdomen and center. You gasp at the touch, and he whispers an apology immediately.

“I know, I’m sorry. Sensitive, hm? Let me just wash you, okay?”

You nod at him, closing your eyes and choosing to rest your forehead on his shoulder as he rubs you clean. When he finishes with a soft pat to your thigh, your eyes open only to be greeted by the sight of his cock, rock hard and almost flushed red. God. Fuck. You pull back, searching his face for something—anything, whatever it is, and he just offers you a lopsided smile.

“Hmm?” he hums in question, curious about the way your brows furrow. “What is it?”

“You,” you simply say. “Are you…?”

“I’m fine.” He brushes it off like it’s nothing. He has given you pleasure and he has taken your pleasure. You want to do the same to him. He shakes his head, “I swear. It’s fine.”

But he doesn’t stop you when you go down on your knees, facing his cock with a hunger you couldn’t fathom. He caresses your hair, whatever he could reach, but he doesn’t even pull you away. “You don’t have to. We can take this to bed,” he still says.

There’s uncertainty in his voice. A crack, an opening he doesn’t intend. He wants this, too. You know it. Anything you could give, he wants it.

“But I want to.”

And he will take it.

He places a finger under your chin to guide you and raise your head, looking you in the eye. You could almost see yourself in the depths of his gaze, a reflection of something shameless, almost jarring. You couldn’t believe you’re liking this—let alone getting intoxicated in arousal for this. It’s like something changed in him in a blink.

“You do?” Chan laughs, almost mockingly. A shiver runs across the expanse of your shoulders, the sound sending another spark of heat through you. Deeper this time, scorching. “You want my cock that badly, huh? Suck me off ‘til your lips grow tired?”

His finger moves, grazing your skin until it reaches your ear. He tucks your wet hair behind it, just like he did by the apartment door when he arrived earlier. His gaze holds you captive, and that feeling of being exposed, vulnerable, it surges again.

Your breath catches as you nod, unable to form any word. He’s always had that effect on you—making you forget your own control, like you’re just a thing for him to take. In the absence of words, you hold his length with a hand and he inhales sharply at your touch. It doesn’t take much to arouse him; with a few nimble strokes his shaft gets hard again. Perhaps even more so.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, firm but gentle, and pulls you closer.

“Good girl,” he whispers, and the praise, laced with an almost indistinguishable amount of contempt, has you reeling. You lick a bit along his tip, testing the waters. His fingers weave through your hair with a slow sigh. “Show me how much you really want it. Give it to me.”

You press a kiss to the side of his cock, soft at first, as if tasting the moment before plunging in. His body shudders. The saltiness lingers on your tongue as you part your lips wider, slowly taking him into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathes, the word barely audible, more an exhale than speech. His hand slightly tightens in your hair, not pulling, just holding, grounding himself. You hollow your cheeks, sliding further forward, and the groan that rumbles in his chest sends a thrill through you.

The weight of him is heavy on your tongue, and you let yourself sink into a languid pace, drawing him in, inch by inch, savoring the way his body reacts. His hips jerk, just a little, involuntarily, and you can’t help the slight moan that leaves your throat. The sound and vibration seem to undo him.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” Chan grunts, his voice rough around the edges, raw with need. His hand cups the back of your head, guiding you—not forcing, but encouraging—as you take him deeper, working with a mix of tongue, lips, and a shit ton of spit.

Water slides down your cheeks and occasionally finds its way to your mouth. Not that you care. You glance up, catching his gaze. A carnal glint is in his stare, and he smiles. Fuck. The sight of him nearly takes your breath away. His jaw falls slack, his lips part, and his eyes lock on you—heavy-lidded and burning with something primal.

The tension in his thighs grow as you continue, a gradual acceleration in the way you take him in. The soft, wet sounds fill the air, almost louder than the water hitting the walls and floors, mingling with his labored breaths and low groans. His thumb brushes your cheek, a fleeting touch that feels oddly tender amidst the heat.

“Just like that,” Chan murmurs, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t stop. You’re—perfect.”

You give an experimental hum, letting it thrum in your mouth. Chan whimpers and it’s an absolutely beautiful thing to hear. You hum again, louder this time. Your chest heaves at the limited breathing but Chan is slowly losing his sense of control and it rouses you. There is another pool of warmth in your core, and you’re trying your best to rub your thighs together in your position, hoping to relieve a little bit of your need.

“You’re killing me,” Chan laughs to himself, head thrown back, words thorny with lust. His hands move to your shoulders, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he fights the urge to thrust into your mouth. “I won’t last if you keep going like that.” His voice cracks, betraying the thin line of self-control he’s holding onto.

You pull back slightly, just enough to take a breath, and your lips glisten with the evidence of his pleasure. A mischievous smile tugs at your lips and you glance up again, locking eyes with him. The hunger and greed in his gaze sends your mind into a frenzy of heat, something deep and wild, as though you’re caught in the storm of his desire.

“Do you want me to stop then?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper, teasing in its softness. There is a scratch in your words.

His lips curl into a grin, but it’s strained, the desperation clear in the way his eyes darken. “Hell no,” he clicks his tongue. “Just–don’t stop. You’re so fucking good at this, baby. You know what to do, right?”

There is no need for words. You nod at him, eager and wanting.

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Good.” His hand finds its way back to your hair, pulling just enough to keep you in place. His cock lingers on your lips, and you open your mouth wide, waiting for him to push it in. “Hold on tight.”

He waits for you to gain a steady grip on the back of his thighs before he thrusts forward. The tension in his body snaps as you give and give and give. The taste of him, the sound of his labored breaths, the way he tenses under your touch—your lips, your tongue, the wetness in your slit. You give and give and give and he takes and takes and takes.

Just like he did earlier, when he indulged you. Your pleasure laid out, vulnerable and he just takes. Or the past 3 years, with your heart out in the open, unguarded and he just takes.

It all becomes a blur, this moment. He fucks your face so lewdly, desperate to reach his own high. One hand of yours moves downward, to your own clit. You rub in frantic patterns, aroused out of your damn mind.

His movements begin to stutter, thrusts sloppier. You hum in pleasure, of yours and of his, as your fingers move faster on your wet skin. Chan doesn’t even try to stop the filthy sounds rolling off his tongue and you’re sure he is nearing his limit.

He thrusts a few more times before he pushes in deep—reaching farther than he ever had for the past ten minutes of his cock being in your mouth. His tip brushes against the back of your throat and he stays there for a moment. You couldn’t help the obscene moan and Chan’s whole body shudders. His cock throbs in your mouth before he pulls you away, letting his cum release all over your chest.

Your mouth remains open, breathless and trembling. The moment falls heavy between you, and Chan takes a second before he brushes his fingers through your hair and guides you to stand up. He doesn’t say a word, immediately beginning to wash his cum on you. He grabs another pump of soap, letting it bubble in his hands before cleaning you with it.

“Chan,” you begin, the silence getting to you.

“Hm?” he hums simply. He doesn’t stop his hands, but he raises his head to look at you, pupils still blown wide. His breathing is slowly coming down. He offers you a gentle smile before leaning forward to kiss your cheek. “You did so well. I’m sorry if I went a bit rough.”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his waist in an almost embrace. “It’s okay,” you assure him. “I like it.”

“You like it?”

His hands stop and his attention is now fully on you. He raises an eyebrow at your statement, confused. You feel a bit of shame but you continue. “I like it when you… when you just—take.”

Chan stays silent. He doesn’t react, or say a word. It’s hard to read his expression when it’s almost blank, and he continues washing your body until he just says, “Get on the bed and wait for me. Don’t bother putting anything on.”

Then it dawns on you. Whatever you just told him was dangerous. You’re not quite sure how, and to what extent, but something weighs on your chest when he turns the shower off and waits for you to step out. You don’t even need to be told twice.

You take your time drying yourself off with your towel, lingering for a minute on your slit. Still fucking wet. Heat creeps up your face at the realization and you immediately throw the towel into the basket of dirty clothes. There are extra towels, fortunately, stashed inside the small cabinet by your bathroom sink. You hang it up the shower door for Chan to use, not needing to inform him because you know he knows.

Stepping out of the bathroom bare naked lets you feel the temperature change in full. You realize how warm it was when you were in the bathroom with Chan. You shiver, feeling cold—the loss of a warm body, a presence, the slow decrease of arousal.

You walk your way to your bedroom, making sure to keep your feet light. The shower opens and you hear the water pattering again, then suddenly your arousal comes back in full force. Your bed is cool and unmade and you have half the mind to start toying with your pussy again, to feel at least half of what Chan had made you feel with his fingers. But that’s not what you were told to do.

The sound of the shower persists, steady and hushed, a stark contrast to the chaos in your chest. You spend the next minutes staring at the ceiling, waiting. It feels excruciatingly slow. Time doesn’t feel real, when the bathroom is right next door and you still hear Chan in there. You bite your lip, trying to focus on anything but the ache between your legs or the growing weight in your chest. It feels like he’s taking forever, like the space between you is widening with every drop of water hitting the floor.

Your mind betrays you, replaying the way his hands had felt on you, the way his voice dipped when he whispered praises in your ear. You wonder if he’s thinking about this. Thinking about you. You wonder if he regrets it. Or worse—if he doesn’t.

You close your eyes, willing the thoughts to stop, but they only grow louder. What does this mean? What are you supposed to feel? The heat of desire clashes violently with the icy grip of doubt, and suddenly you’re not sure which will win.

When the water finally stops, you sit up abruptly, heart pounding as if you’ve been caught doing something wrong. The sound of the door creaking open makes you swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. You hear his footsteps, soft but deliberate, and then he’s there, standing by the doorway of your bedroom.

Chan doesn’t say anything first, just looks at you, his gaze unreadable. He’s towel-drying his hair, the damp strands sticking to his forehead, droplets sliding down the sharp line of his jaw. You can’t look away, even though every part of you feels like you should.

“Couldn’t wait, huh?” he says finally, his voice low and teasing, but there’s something in it—something wavering, like he’s waiting for you to tip the balance, unsure if he should pull back or push further.

You manage a weak laugh, though it feels hollow. “Not exactly.”

He steps closer, the tension in the room thickening with every movement. “You okay?” he asks, his tone softer now, almost gentle.

The question lingers in the air and for a moment, you think about lying, about brushing it off like you always do. About giving what he wants to take. But the words are stuck in your throat, you feel. You lean back on the pillows, enough to be comfortable but not fully lying down.

“I don’t know,” you admit, palms up on your thighs. The answer comes out frail and delicate.

Something shifts in his expression—concern, maybe, or guilt. He sets the towel aside, crossing the room in a few quick strides, and sits beside you on the bed. His hand hovers for a moment before he places it on your knee, his touch warm and grounding.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and you hate how earnest he sounds, how much you want to believe that he cares.

You don’t doubt that he cares a little bit. Not as much as you do about him, though. Not as much as he thinks he does, nor as much as he did before, in the middle of the street. I love you, he said then.

“This isn’t going to change anything, is it?”

Such weight hanging heavy in the air feels suffocating. It feels like you have to grasp for air. For a moment, he looks like he might say something, but he closes his mouth, jaw tightening, and you choke.

It’s unbelievable, really. After all that, he just kisses you. His lips are on yours without warning and you melt into his arms. The kiss is careful at first, tentative, like he’s trying to find the words he can’t say in the press of his lips. But it’s not enough—not for you, not for what’s bubbling up inside you. Your hands grip his shoulders, turning your torso to him for a more comfortable position. You pull him closer, as if proximity could mend this. His hands move up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away tears you hadn’t even realized were falling.

He guides you to sit on his lap, and you feel his hardness on your bum again. You swallow a sob back and Chan pulls away in surprise.

“Hey,” he murmurs against your lips, breaking the kiss but keeping his forehead pressed to yours. His voice is shaky, not like the teasing confidence from before. “Talk to me. Please.”

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper. “Not without…” Your voice trails off, but he seems to understand.

He presses, though. “Without what?” His tone is urgent yet gentle, his thumb grazing your cheek.

“Without losing you.”

Your body betrays you as you feel the heat back in your abdomen. It’s a filthy mix of hunger and misery. It boils down into something you’re all too familiar with: desperation. You roll your hips onto him and he whines. You harshly wipe away your tears with the back of your hands before pushing Chan’s chest down onto the bed. He seems taken aback, hesitant with the way he pulls his hands away. You had to grab it yourself, place it on your hips for him to hold onto.

“Make me feel good, Chan,” you plead. Another roll of your hips has you keening, his tip catching just by your entrance. “Please. Take me. Take everything that I am, I will give it to you.”

His eyes meet yours, searching, as if he’s trying to commit every detail to memory. You lean forward to let your hands touch his back, taking your time to go over every dip and curve. Then he nods, his hands moving to slide under your thighs and pulling you closer before flipping you over. He lays you down on the bed, and his gaze roams every bit of your face before he dips to kiss you again, until there is no more space left between you.

What follows isn’t rushed or frantic. It’s deliberate, every touch, every kiss, every movement laden with meaning. It’s like he’s trying to piece together what’s been fractured, even if it’s just for a fleeting moment. A hand slips between your bodies until it reaches your pussy once again. He feels your slick, not needing to prod as much as he did earlier.

Then he leans away, stroking his cock a few times, his head thrown back with the contact. It doesn’t take long before he lines it up on your entrance, and he moves down, almost putting his whole weight on you.

It’s raw, it’s tender, it’s everything you’ve been longing for and everything you know will never last. Not anymore. Funny it took you three long years to feel this. Funny it would be the first and last you’ll ever get this from him.

There is no resistance when he thrusts inside you, deep and slow and whole. He stays put for a minute before you tap his back, letting him know you want him to move—you need him to move. He doesn’t deny you of that, so he pulls back until only the tip lingers inside you before pushing in again heavily.

A visceral sound leaves your lips as your jaw slackens. Chan continues his pace, growing faster with each passing minute and he keeps whimpering in your ear that it sends your mind into haywire. You’re not quite sure how to handle the crashing wave of lust your body is being washed over so the best you could do is hold onto him, fingers gripping the flesh of his back tight enough to feel hot. He moans louder.

Whether it takes thirteen minutes or three years doesn’t matter. It all comes down to the warm tears you feel on your jaw, and you’re not even sure if it’s still yours or if it’s already his. Your fingers tangle in his damp hair, pulling him back to your lips. This time, the kiss isn’t soft or tentative—it’s consuming. It’s every unsaid word, every broken promise, every ounce of love that lingers between you.

He withdraws, lips finding your ear instead before placing a chaste kiss on it. You’re sure now, his tears dropping onto your skin, burning and heavy. Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou. It comes quickly. Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou. He whispers it in your ear, like a prayer. What you once had with him felt sacred, untouchable, and yet here you are, unraveling it thread by thread. Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou.

A long, drawn out cry sounds in your ear as Chan comes undone. You feel every bit of him inside you, and you body twitches as you finish with him. You hear a choked out sob from the man on top of you, and your chest tightens impossibly. You don’t know what to do with your hands. Not now, not before, and never after he leaves.

He stays inside you, cock tucked in your warmth, twitching a little. His cries continue for an amount of time you can’t even comprehend. Your eyes have long dried out now, but the space between your neck and shoulder remains wet with his tears. Your hands try to comfort him by rubbing his back, drawing circles in patterns you hope he recognizes. Soon, he turns quiet.

You feel his chest heave with yours. He stays on top of you, putting his full weight but careful not to suffocate you. As if this whole thing wasn’t suffocating enough. It takes a moment for him to calm down completely, then he pulls out. He falls back away from you, sitting on the edge of the bed by your legs for a moment before you see him visibly relax.

He stands up to walk outside of the room. You don’t even dare to ask, to look at him and follow his movements. Chan comes back before you could even piece back your head with a towel in his hands. The bed dips where he sits before he leans forward to wipe the slick moisture on your folds. You hiss at the contact, realizing that the fabric is damp. He shushes you gently, continuing his ministrations with utmost care.

When he seems satisfied, he sets the towel away in the same place he did with his earlier. Silence lingers and you almost wish you were still in the shower, where at least the sound of water would fill in the empty air.

Chan returns to the bed, but he remains seated, his back facing you. It feels like a wall—strong, unyielding, and unreachable. You think it’s ridiculous now, realizing that there is a wall. There has always been a wall, hasn’t it? There is no way to climb it, to move past it. Invisible that it might as well not exist, yet it stands, separating you. You bury yourself under the blankets, the chill in the room seeping into your bones. You feel so small and cold and fragile. You could only stare at the ceiling, his presence beside you frustratingly overwhelming, yet so distant.

You’ve grown so accustomed to seeing his back facing you. You’re always behind him, following him along, wherever he goes and whatever he does. Always in front of you, always leading, but never turning to face you unless he’s searching for reassurance. You realize now how much you’ve relied on those fleeting glances back. They were your only proof that he still cared, still saw you. He looks back to take and you give. Sometimes you wonder which part of you is yours anymore.

“I can’t give you what you want,” he says, very quietly, like almost to himself in realization.

You almost don’t realize he said something. You heard every word, but your mind refuses to process it until a second later. And when it did, the room stills.

His words hang dull in the air, filling the room with a bittersweet ache. It’s like every sweet moment this room witnessed for the past three years disappears and there is only grief and misery in it. You want to reach for him, to cross the divide and tell him something—anything. But his back remains turned, and all you can do is fixate on the outline of his shoulders, tense and unmoving.

You mustered a small, mocking laugh. It’s weaker than you intended, but you’re in utter disbelief regardless. “You just fucked me on this very bed, Chan. I came twice today. Is that the only thing you came here for? A quick fuck?”

There is no use in making sharp remarks, but there is nothing else you could say. You’re grasping at straws and you know that.

“No, I…” Chan starts, then he sighs. He roughly ruffles his hair in frustration. “I’m sorry.”

Then it goes quiet yet again. Your mind is scrambling for words, but then, after a minute, you could only really ask, “Do you mean it? Is that what you really want?”

“No,” he answers almost immediately, shoulders heaving. Then he slackens again, almost like he’s curling into his own body, making himself small. “I don’t know what I would do if I look back and you’re not there.”

His voice is withdrawn, as if he’s confessing something he hadn’t admitted even to himself.

“Then why?”

“You’re always behind me,” he continues, words strained. “You’ve always been the one thing I could count on.” There’s a pause, and it feels like the weight of the moment is crushing him. “But what if you’re gone one day? What if I look back and you’re not there anymore?”

His admission stings in a way you weren’t prepared for. The vulnerability in his tone should comfort you, but instead, it exposes a deep-rooted wound. He only looks back to make sure you’re still following, doesn’t he? Never to meet you halfway, never to let you stand beside him.

And as fucked up as it seems, you’re willing to let that be until you can no longer understand what distance means. You’re willing to do all that, over and over again, just so he could stay.

He takes and takes and takes. And you give.

“Then why are you pushing me away?” You couldn’t help the bite in your words, angry and confused. “If you’re so scared, why leave?”

You want to scream. You want to clench your fists and punch a wall and hurt. Yourself, him. But it doesn’t come. The exhaustion overcomes you, and an ache in your chest swells. You wonder if it’s already too late.

“Because you’re like this!” he raises his voice, now matching your exasperation. “I’m giving you a chance to save yourself from me and you’re not taking it!”

Chan’s words hit like a slap, sharp and final. Your chest tightens in a mix of emotions you’re far too dizzy to comprehend. Hatred? Grief? Love? It’s all warring within you. You sit up, the blanket sliding off your shoulders and exposing your vulnerability as much as his words have exposed his.

“Save myself?” you scoff, incredulous. “I think I am way beyond saving, Chan.”

He stiffens. You don’t even give him a chance to respond before you continue, “And what about you?” you ask, your voice trembling. “When do you save yourself, Chan? When do you stop running from everything? From me?”

His hands curl into fists at his sides. “I’m not running,” he mutters, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than you.

“You’ve been running this entire time,” you counter, voice threatening to rise again. “From us. From what this could be. Three years. And now you want me to be the one to end it? To carry that burden so you don’t have to?”

His head drops, shoulders sagging under the weight of your words. For a moment, the silence between you stretches unbearably, like the final frayed thread of something you both know is about to snap.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he whispers, hoarse. “I thought… I thought letting you go would hurt less than holding on and breaking you completely.”

You let out a bitter laugh, louder this time. You meant for him to hear the distaste in it. Tears sting your eyes. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Chan. You don’t get to decide how much I’m willing to give.”

His head lifts slightly, and for the first time he turns to face you. His eyes are glassy, full of a pain you’ve rarely seen him allow himself to show. It breaks something inside you, seeing him like this. It breaks you even further, realizing he turns just like he always did: to see if you were still behind him, following.

“Then what do you want me to do?” His voice cracks when he asks.

You pause, your heart hammering. What do you want? The truth is, you don’t know anymore. You want him, but not like this—not as someone who sees you as a safety net, as a fallback. You know that now, regretting the thought of tolerating his bullshit just to keep him with you.

“I want you to want me the way I want you,” you say finally, voice soft but steady. Resolute. “Not as someone to hold you up when you’re falling. Not as someone to look back on when you’re scared. I want to stand beside you, Chan. I want to move forward with you, not be left behind.”

He shuts his eyes tightly, and your resolve almost falters when a tear slips down his cheek. “I don’t know if I can give you that,” he admits.

The words shatter the last bit of hope you were clinging to. You nod slowly, the realization settling over you like a cold, heavy blanket.

“Then maybe you’re right,” you say quietly. “Maybe I do need to save myself.”

And this time, you turn your back on him. You shift in your bed, lying on your side and staring at the clock by your bedside table. It’s hard, trying to pretend your legs aren’t shaking under the covers, trying to hide the quiver of your lips. Chan doesn’t move, doesn’t reach out to you, and that, more than anything, feels like the final nail in the coffin.

You pause, thinking of any words to say. For finality, for an end. All you could muster is, “I hope one day you stop running, Chan.”

If he leaves later that night or the next morning, you don’t even know. It’s not like you could feel past the weight of the whole ordeal to even feel anything else.

That’s for you to find out tomorrow.

#*hanllucination #bang chan smut #chan smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan fanfic #chan fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan imagines #chan imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines

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httpknjoon · 1 month ago

Text

satellite | jjk

plot | Your friend, Jungkook, offers to help you while you review for your human anatomy exam.

w.c | 3K

genre | fluff, slight angst, fwb (but nothing 18+ happened)

pairing | jungkook x medstudent!reader

note | written from my own swamp of academic-related activities

main masterlist | playlist

u up?

You

yep

i'm studying

exams tomorrow

can i come over

You

yes but don't be a distraction

u know i can't help it 😪

You

🙄

i'm busy stop texting me

will be there in five

You

door's open no need to knock

see u 😉

Maybe you should have just pursued a course in creative writing... Or maybe culinary arts. Maybe something connected with baking. You love baking, right?

Maybe if you picked a college program based on your hobbies, you have better sleep. Maybe you are happier. At 11:51 PM, maybe you are already sleeping soundly on your bed, next to your emotional support stuffed toy, with your favorite weighted blanket on your exhausted being.

But you didn't. You can't.

So here you are, sitting in a swamp of written notes, books, and colorful post-its (that you haven't found any helpful use yet), having a crisis over your career choices.

"You want this, YN." you remind yourself, shaking your head.

Your digital clock on your study desk just ticked the time to 11:52 PM. It has been almost three hours since you began your planned all-nighter for tomorrow's exam.

"I want to cry." you sighed, your forehead softly hitting your desk. "But I don't have the time for that."

Groaning, you opened one of the textbooks you borrowed from the library. You tried to process every word you came across. But considering that you went straight from your eight-hour shift from your part-time job, you only managed to comprehend half of the sentences you read.

"I wish I was born as a nepo-baby."

Another random thought rolled off your tongue instead of understanding where the hell the spine of the scapula is. Admittedly, you find it hard to locate the muscles in the human body when you only have a 2D version of it. But you don't have those 3D models that can help you to learn and remember better, so you will settle for pointing your index fingers at flat images on the book pages.

"Trapezius... Acromion... Deltoid..."

Reciting the muscles in the familiar tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star", you began pointing to certain areas of your body. It was one of the studying techniques you have been using since you were younger. So far, it's helping. You keep doing it for the other parts.

"Subscapularis..."

But the longer you sang, the words slowly rambled in your tongue and your eyelids got heavier. You were so close to drifting away until you heard the familiar click of your door. Your head snapped up instantly. You hear his voice greeting your roommate who's probably watching her favorite show in the living room.

"Pizza and ice cream. Want some?" you heard him offer.

He brought food?! Of course, he did. He's Jungkook. For the first time since you sat in front of your study desk, a smile formed on your lips. Shaking your head, you just read your notes again. It didn't take long for your bedroom door to open. The scent of a freshly baked pizza filled every corner of your room. And there, you see him coming in with a smile on his pierced lips.

"Oh, hello, gorgeous."

Jungkook was surprised to see you already looking at him when he entered your room. Usually, he would find your nose dipped between your textbooks when he visits during your study sessions.

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, "I know, I looked like a mess right now. Just give me my prized pizza and ice cream please."

He laughed, not because he agreed with you, but because you are always quick to turn down his micro-flirting. He sometimes thinks that it keeps him grounded.

"And you got the coffee ones! This is why you're my favorite hookup buddy." you quipped before kissing his cheek, elated by the ice cream he got you.

"I'm honored. Thank you." he replied, before getting a slice of pizza.

Both of you know that you don't have any other hookup buddy. You're not that adventurous. It's just something you joke about.

"How's the studying going?" he asked before sitting on your bed.

"Shit." you shake your head, tired. "But this ice cream makes me feel a little better."

Jungkook smiled at that. He listened as you went on telling him about something that happened in your shift earlier today. But he ended up studying you. Because contrary to what you said earlier, you are too pretty, he finds it distracting. You were tired, it's written on your face. But the way your eyes light up as you share your story makes your face glow. With your desk lamp being the only light in your room, it perfectly highlights the small smile on your lips after you take another spoonful of the cold dessert.

"Why did you come here anyway?"

Your sudden question snaps Jungkook out of his daze. He cleared his throat.

"I-I'm bored and you're up."

He was not bored. In fact, he missed a party he was invited to tonight because it has been four days since he last saw you. He was busy with his training and practice, while you were working two jobs and studying. You two were just texting each other these days and with how rare you reply during the daytime, he knew that tonight is probably the best time to see you.

You sigh, "I told you, I'm studying for tomorrow. I can't do anything with you right now."

"And I didn't say we have to do anything. I'm just happy to be here. I'm like little Bear right there." he replied, pointing to your stuffed toy who was sitting next to him.

"Okay, I'll go back to studying. Is that okay?" you asked, putting on the lid of your half-finished ice cream.

He winked, "Of course."

Jungkook is that person you probably know for too long. Like, someone you should have met only once or twice or occasionally. Not like this, in which you see each other almost every day.

When Liz, your roommate, introduced you two to each other during some Halloween party, in which you came as Dorothy from The Wizards of Oz and he was Peter Pan, you did not expect to start any kind of connection with him. You remembered thinking to yourself how exhausting it was to have him around with how he seemed so full of energy, not knowing then that he also enjoyed the same little things you did. You two became real friends after bumping into one another in a record store an hour away from your uni.

Because you feel that you two always stood on opposite ends of any scale. You were a reserved working student with introverted tendencies while on the opposite, Jungkook is a known varsity star, who's rumored to be a CEO's son (He is. He admitted it to you), on campus with a charm that works for everyone. Just like how great he is at playing basketball, he is equally good at socializing and making new connections. That charm definitely worked for you a year ago because one thing led to another and now, he is in your bed, casually scrolling on his phone.

"Why do you have a camera with you?" you broke the silence after reading for god knows how long. Yet, you are unsure if you picked up anything from it.

He looked up, reaching for the camera bag he brought with him earlier, "It's a new one, my dad brought it to me as a gift."

"For what? Your birthday was like three months ago," you asked even though you already had an answer in your head.

"I helped him with some documents," he replied, knowing that you would say something after.

"Spoiled." you teased him.

"Haters gonna hate," he responded with a sassy roll of his eyes, you laughed. "Anyway, I'm kinda testing it out. So, if you don't mind..."

He placed the camera in front of him, aligning its viewfinder to his left eye. You put the back of your hand under your chin with a tight smile on your lips, posing. Click. A shutter sound and a bright flash followed. You see Jungkook look down at his camera to check the outcome. A small smile forms on his lips.

"You have too many pictures of me," you told him.

Every single time you two are together, he takes a picture of you. You don't really mind even though some shots are candid. Some of the pictures of you he took are the only ones you have on your Instagram. He's good at it, but sometimes, you worry you will get used to being his muse.

"I'm thinking of making an exhibition out of it." he said.

Sensing his sarcasm, you ride on with it, "Yeah, you can title it with something like, The Life Of An Overworked Twenty-Something Student. I looked exhausted in all those photos. An ugly, dry potato."

"I think you look pretty in all of them."

And it didn't help that he complimented you a lot after taking pictures of you. It just scares you that you feel a light feeling in your stomach when you see him smile after taking a shot of you or when he calls you gorgeous or pretty.

But instead of letting the giddy feeling show, you just smiled, "Of course you do, you're sleeping with me. You will always find me attractive."

It was almost an hour later when Jungkook paused the video he was watching on his phone to once again try his camera. A camera nerd, he was watching a clip about his new camera's settings. Of course, he was in his earphones so that he wouldn't get to distract you.

After modifying some parts of the settings, Jungkook placed his camera in front of his right eye, ready to capture another picture of you. But before he could click the button, he noticed your shoulders shaking.

His right eyebrow raised as he slowly put down his camera.

"YN?"

He heard you hiccup before humming, "Hmm?"

"YN, can you look at me?" he asked since you kept your back turned to him.

"Not now, I'm busy." you sobbed, failing to hide from Jungkook.

He frowned, getting up from your bed, "YN, baby..."

"No, I said-"

Before you could continue denying, Jungkook already pulled the swivel chair you were sitting on closer to him. You covered your face with your palms since you hated crying in front of anyone. Jungkook tries to remove it softly but you shake your head.

"Please, let me see your face. It's okay," he whispered while his thumbs drew circles at the back of your hands. Finally, you listened and let him hold down your hands.

"Shh..." he hushed you, wiping the tears on your cheeks. "What's going on? Are you okay? Is there any way that I can help you?"

"I-I cannot remember anything and I'm just so tired." you broke down, feeling the exhaustion from both studying and working finally creeping up in your body.

"Then, take a break. Let's nap." he offered, knowing how much you need it.

You cried even more, "I can't nap. My exams are tomorrow and I can't understand anything I've been reading so far."

He clicked his tongue in disagreement, "I'll wake you up in thirty minutes. How about that?"

While his offer seemed ideal for you, the pressure for what is coming tomorrow is heavily sitting on your shoulders. But you're really tired.

"Just nap?" you asked, making sure that it won't lead to anything else.

"Yeah— Okay, maybe cuddle." he shrugged.

"Okay." I kinda need that.

"Okay. C'mere, my snotty baby." He cooed.

You glared at him before slapping his chest. He laughed, catching your hand and pulling you to him on your bed. You fell on top instead of your mattress, feeling his toned body under you. His chin rests on the top of your head as he draws circles on your lower back.

"Let's do anything you want after your exams," he mumbled.

You exhaled, "Why celebrate? I am not even sure if I can pass it."

"You will. You're the smartest person I know."

This isn't the first time Jungkook saw you broke down over academic reasons. He knew how much you value your studies as someone who has always been an achiever since you began studying. It didn't help that your mom expects quite a lot from you, based on what you told him.

You looked up to meet his eyes, "Thank you."

He simply kissed your forehead, "Of course, babe."

You did find yourself feeling much better after your 30-minute rest. But, you also found something else when you woke five minutes ago next to Jungkook. It's something that can probably help you study.

"Take off your shirt," you whispered as you rested your head on his arm.

"Why?" he asked, suspicious.

"I think you can help me study," you said, sitting up on the bed.

Jungkook sat next to you, "I thought we were just cuddling."

"Jungkook." you called him. "Please, just do it."

"Okay, I will. You know I can't say no when you beg, babe." he teased.

You watched him reach for the back of his shirt and remove it over his head. With how cold your room is, Jungkook immediately crossed his arms over his chest, making his muscles bulge before you. You were quiet, squinting your eyes on his arms.

Feeling a little conscious and confused, Jungkook spoke, "It's a little chilly here. What now?"

"Wait, let me get my sticky notes."

"You know, I should be paid for this," Jungkook spoke, covered in neon-colored sticky notes from his neck to his back and arms. "I am like your model."

"You are my 3d model." you laughed while tracing his body with your finger to look where you could stick your next label. "I'm too broke to buy one so just be my friend and let me put some sticky notes on you."

"I'll just buy you one." he offered and he's serious. If it's something that can help you, he'll buy it for you.

"You sound like the spoiled kid you are." you joked.

"I like it when you keep me humble and grounded," he reacted sarcastically. Out of a hundred people he knows on the campus, you are the only one who always reminds him of his privileges. He found it annoying at first but now, he just finds it funny.

"I know, it shows especially when you get all submissive sometimes." you joked again, scrunching your nose at him.

"Why won't you just let me spend money on you?" he asked, recalling the other scenarios he tried buying or doing something for you. But you were quick to decline him, especially if it's connected with money.

You stopped and stared at him, "For the tenth time, Jeon, I will not be your sugar baby."

"Or you can just be my... baby," he whispered, but since you are the only awake people in this house at this time of the day, you still heard that.

Your eyebrows scrunched, looking at him. Visibly cringing at what he said, you pushed his face with a laugh. You hear him chuckle lowly.

"If you want someone to be your baby, you should be asking girls out, not signing up for a friends-with-benefits-type of relationship with me," you mumbled while writing a certain body part on your notepad.

It is part of your agreement that this thing you two have will end once one of you starts dating again. But the idea of him asking girls out after literally sleeping on your bed for the last twelve months still made your heart sink a little. You cannot imagine how your future will be without him, you still haven't thought that far.

"I know..." he whispered. But you're not up for any commitment. He wanted to say that. Instead, he replied, "But you give the best blowjob ever. How can I look for someone else?"

You laughed again. God, he loves making you laugh. It's like a melody playing in his head.

"Yeah, I know. It will be hard to find someone better than me. I'm the best."

Yes, you are. He agreed, almost saying it if you haven't spoke to soon.

"Now, please, can you stop moving? My notes are falling everywhere."

"Hi, I'm Mabel."

It's been days since that night. Now, a blonde, blue-eyed girl offered her hand to Jungkook while he prepared to leave the campus with his car after his basketball training. Jungkook, being polite, introduced himself even though he was not really interested. He continued making sure he got all his stuff in his backpack as the girl continued saying that they had two classes together. When he was done checking, she spoke,

"I think you're really cute and was wondering if we could go out sometime? Maybe we can grab some coffee together?"

Jungkook scratched the back of his head, feeling bad for what he was about to say to this seeming freshman before him. A tight smile forms on his lips. This isn't the first confession he got in his lifetime, but rejecting someone is always hard.

"Wow... uhm... I'm sure you're a really wonderful person, Mabel. But I'm not really interested in dating anyone right now. I'm sorry."

The familiar flustered face instantly showed up on Mabel's face, "Oh, okay. Uhm, thank you for your time. Nice to meet you though."

Jungkook was not even able to reply before she ran away. It didn't took him too long to dwell on that interaction when he got a message from you.

YN 🩺

I PASSED

COME OVER!!!!1!

Jungkook smiled after reading that, feeling your relief and excitement. He typed in a reply before hopping in his car.

I KNEW U CAN DO IT

SO PROUD OF YOUUU

WILL BE THERE IN FIVE ;)

note | scheduled as my first post for 2025 :) thank you so much for reading!

ps. will probably delete this later on

taglist rules

PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 1 year ago

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katsuki’s masterlist ♡ !

lil blurbs ! ( i'm just talkin'):

katsuki likes to make you laugh

katsuki's love language

katsuki is so dramatic

katsuki likes to bite you

childhood bodyguard! katsuki

katsuki x popstar! reader

katsuki is fun to mess with

katsuki really likes the way you smell

hockey player! bakugou

sleepy kisses w katsuki

katsuki and compliments

katsuki doesn't give a fuck

goodnight kiss (or the one where katsuki isn’t good at asking for, well…anything.)

suck up katsuki

could've fooled me ( or the one where you peel your orange yourself and katsuki is not happy)

katsuki and your naps (or the one where katsuki hates kaminari)

katsuki is a big baby

katsuki and your arm

katsuki and (non sexual) hickies ! more !

no good thief ! (or the one where katsuki finds out who’s been stealing his clothes)

sleeping on the couch

katsuki and petnames…kinda

katsuki in a suit

katsuki is dramatic again (or the one where katsuki isn’t worried..really.)

katsuki and ice cream

katsuki and changing

katsuki doesn't give a fuck, again !

your almost boyfriend katsuki

baby suki

katsuki accidentally hurts you

the outside world

katsuki and goodbye kisses

katsuki and i miss you's

katsuki's scarf

katsuki the comedian

katsuki and your birthday

katsuki texting hcs !

crybaby katsuki

get me some ramen pls!

katsuki and physical affection

kitsuki :3

lil fics ! ( i ramble a little longer) :

katsuki is in trouble

katsuki's extra clingy when he's sleepy

from the start (or the one where you've been katsuki's for as long as you can remember)

you are not the father ! (or watching the maury show with katsuki)

katsuki hates seeing you cry

unchanged apologies (or the one where katsuki's childhood habits remains the same)

fire-breathing roommate chronicles (or living w dragon bkg)

baking cookies with katsuki

can't love anyone more than you

katsuki can't say no to you (not that he wants to) (or the one where katsuki takes care of you after you get drunk) part two !

déjà vu : ( or the one where katsuki thinks about you) bnha manga spoilers !!

the bet (or the one where your classmates make a bet.)

this night has opened my eyes (or the one where katsuki cleans up your injuries)

valentine's day troubles (or the one where katsuki's friends help him out for valentines day )

boyfriend for sale ! (or the one where your boyfriend forgets to ask you to be his valentine) feat. shoto todoroki !

ewww, katsu's got cooties ! (or the one where katsuki is too cool for cooties)

two of hearts (or the one where katsuki wakes up) bnha manga spoilers !!

31 days (or the one where katsuki surprises you)

habits (or little habits katsuki's developed ever since he's met you) slight bnha manga spoilers !!

while i search for the way to your world, leave a mark on your way (or the one where katsuki has his first real fight with you)

jealous, jealous, jealous girl ! (or the one where your boyfriend gets too much attention)

half return (or the one where katsuki decides to go home for the weekend and brings you with him) bnha manga spoilers !!

black coffee (or the one where katsuki hates it)

power outage (or the one where katsuki always lights up the way for you)

sick days (or the one where katsuki takes care of you when you’re sick)

operation : trouble in paradise ! (or the one where katsuki tries to get his bf privileges back)

memory box (or the one where you take katsuki on a trip down memory lane)

tell me why..your hands are cold (or the one where katsuki is definitely better than the heater)

coming home (or the one where things are just more convenient with katsuki)

chicken scratches (or the one where katsuki's hand writing is atrocious and you love it) slight bnha manga spoilers !!

the way things go (or the one where izuku midoriya is your number one shipper)

longer fics / mini series and events ! ( get comfy 'cuz this one's a multi-parter !) :

♡ fire-breathing roommate chronicles !♡ when an injured, mysterious, and incredibly handsome dragon man blasts through the wall of your apartment, you decide to let him stay with you until he's fully healed. despite the struggles of co-habitating with a mythical beast, his mysterious past and annoyingly sharp tongue, you find you can't help feeling drawn to him..

♡ fire-breathing boyfriend chronicles ! ♡ some short ‘n sweet little extra’s following the events of fbrc starring our favorite now dragon boyfriend bakugou !

ring pop proposal ♡ 1 2 3 ♡ the three times where mitsuki realizes that her katsuki is in love with you (and she realizes you love him back)

♡ ring pops, chocolates proposals ! ♡ katsuki loves you throughout the years.

an explosive birthday (collab event for the days leading up to katsuki's birthday !) see masterlist

shadows of affection : orphaned at a young age, katsuki knows nothing but endless violence and the feeling of his bruised and bloody knuckles. until he gets taken in by a mob boss and is tasked to become his daughter's bodyguard..

is it love ? katsuki ! (cashmoneyysstuf's big 6k event !) : uh oh ! looks like your boyfriend's been hit by a quirk that turned him into. . a bunch of otome game character archetypes ?! will they be able to win your love—and most importantly, will he ever get back to normal ?!!

and then some more ! ( extra's !)

the morning after : katsuki confronts you about what you told him the night you got drunk

♡ fire-breathing boyfriend chronicles ! ♡ some short ‘n sweet little extra’s following the events of fbrc starring our favorite now dragon boyfriend bakugou !

♡ ring pops, chocolates proposals ! ♡ katsuki loves you throughout the years.

#the masterlist is here !#cash's list <3

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kissbyoon · 1 month ago

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( 🌲 ) ݁₊ “I ALWAYS COME BACK.”

╰┈ Jeonghan knows how to make you relieved and smile.

₍ 𝑓𝘵. ₎ 𓈒 정한 ˶ fluff, angst, comf * kissing, petnames (love, baby) ⎯⎯ 1.2k ꒱ ✦ husband!jh x wife&f!rea

♪ A/N : this was completely based on this reel I suddenly came across in my highlights and I knew I had to do this !! big thanks to @wonkierideul ღ hope u enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!! (◠‿◠)

"love?" You called out.

Wiping your eyes, you tried to clear your vision as a yawn escaped your mouth.

You move your blanket to get up, but as soon as the cold air hits your skin, you're under the comfort of your blanket again.

Sighing, you wrap the blanket around yourself and groan as you use all your strength to lift yourself up.

The weather was undoubtedly not suitable for outings, but you're sure you hear some rambling coming from the next room and you panic.

“No, he can't be…” you murmur, immediately getting up and dragging your feet along the floor towards the living room.

As expected, your eyes landed on your husband, Jeonghan, who was stuffing clothes into a suitcase. It hadn't been months since his military discharge yet the company is already putting him on work.

You halt, observing his every move; when you have no idea, your eyes start to tear up.

Jeonghan leans back and rests his hands on his hips with a sigh. Just as he begins to zip up the suitcase, he feels someone staring at him.

He turns around, a bright smile spreading across his face as his eyes land on you—standing by the door in his clothes. But it soon vanishes when he realises that you were crying.

You don't remember for how long you've been standing by the doorway of your shared bedroom, sniffling and sobbing, using the sleeve of your (Jeonghan’s) t-shirt to wipe your tears away.

“Wha— baby?” Jeonghan was quick to throw his phone on the bed and rush to you, his face painted with concern. His one hand held yours, with the other on your cheek.

“Baby? Look at me, please?” He urged, his touch gentle as he stroked your cheek.

Raising your head, you tried to look at him, but it only made you burst into tears loudly, and Jeonghan tried to hold in his chuckle at the sight of you crying like a toddler.

Which, by the way, he found adorable.

You buried your face in his neck, crying out loud—your husband wrapped his arms around you, softly patting your back to calm you down.

“Shh… it's all okay, I'm here.” kissing the crown of your head, his words came out in a comforting tone; soothing the trembling of your body.

But your crying continued.

“Baby—”

“Don't go… please.” Your words came out as a plea; desperate and helpless. Jeonghan paused, staring at the floor.

He was expecting it, but not in this way.

He looked at you—who was clutching onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart, and it broke him.

“I'm not going anywhere, my love.” He inhaled deeply, and looked at you with a softened gaze.

Jeonghan was patient. He was patient as he waited for you to calm down before he could talk to you; gently holding you in his arms, swaying your body with his. Something that Jeonghan always did to relax your mind.

When you finally calmed down, your heartbeat and breathing steady—he placed one of his hands on the back of your head, slowly leaning back so he could face you.

As soon as your eyes met, the same beautiful smile spread across his face and he tilted his head. “So, that was the thing bothering you?”

His voice was comfortingly soft, with a hint of amusement that he always carried around to lighten the mood.

Nodding, you maintain eye contact with a pout on your face, sniffling. “When was the last time you stayed home?”

Jeonghan paused, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh, before… military…?”

“Exactly,” you choked out those words, puffing up your cheeks while a bright shade of red dusted your face.

He breathes a laugh, tightening his grip around you. Leaning down to bury his face in your neck, he rubbed your sides and smiled when your familiar sweet scent hit his nose.

“I'm sorry~” he cooed in a soft whisper, a hint of teasing in his voice that you could never miss.

“This won't make me happy by the way.”

Jeonghan pecked your neck, leaning back to kiss your cheek and jaw. “Now?”

“No.” you simply huffed, not even hugging him back as you kept your arms folded against your chest.

He lifted his head, eyes locked with yours and a gentle smile played on his lips that you wish you could snatch away with a kiss—

“It's just for a week, love. I'll come back and I'll not go anywhere else.” He widened his smile, cupping your cheeks that made you smile faintly. For a few seconds, you both stared at each other, his smile never leaving—he suddenly leaned in, pecking your lips.

“Wait here, okay?” In such a sweet voice, he said. It melted every part of you that was mad at him as he quickly ran towards your shared bedroom and soon returned with something in his hands.

Doljjongie. His pet rock, whom he often refers to as ‘our child’.

“Tada!” He squealed, taking your hands to hand you Doljjongie. You let out a laugh, holding it so gently as if it was alive and moving.

Your face brightened with a smile as you caressed Doljjongie—the silly face Jeonghan had drawn, making you giggle.

Jeonghan was satisfied.

He took a few steps behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pecking your shoulder. His hands reached out to rest over yours; caressing Doljjongie as you did so too.

“Take care of mom, okay? Protect her like I've taught you!” Jeonghan pressed his lips into a thin line, furrowing his eyebrows like he was lecturing a child; it made you burst into laughter.

He chuckled when your laughter echoed in his ears. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he kept his eyes fixated on you; the look of relief on his face accompanied by his boyish grin.

“Feeling better?” You could barely hear him, his tone hushed and soft, like you're the most gentle thing. Tilting your head to look at him, you nod; your smile growing when you made eye contact with him.

“I'm sorry,” you sighed, moving one of your hand over his to caress it. “I overreacted, didn't I?”

Jeonghan shook his head, not leaving you with any more questions.

“You didn't, my love.” He simply stated, sighing in contentment as he closed his eyes; settling deeper in the peaceful moment shared between you two.

His words were out quick but it was reassuring.

“I always keep you waiting, don't I?” He broke the silence.

“Hm, you do.”

“But I always come back, right?” He peeped his head a little forward to look at your face, and when you did turn your head towards him; he smiled with his eyes closed. You did too.

Jeonghan pecked your cheek, taking your hand to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Don’t skip meals and sleep well while I'm away. Call me everyday, text me about your day, send me your outfit of the day. I'll be waiting, hm?”

You nod, putting doljjongie aside on the couch, turning around to face him.

“I'll be waiting too.” Smiling, you press a quick peck to his lips and pull away—to which he immediately responds by pulling you by the waist to deepen the kiss.

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haologram · 2 months ago

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stairway to the stars ☆ l.jh [m]

⤷ part of 'a very seventeen christmas' secret santa event! synopsis: your husband has always been supportive of your dreams - from the sidelines. he stays to himself, he keeps his mouth shut. it's you that can't stop running yours when your co-star is all over him. genre: established relationship au, tiny bit of angst, fluff, smut? pairing: husband!lee jihoon x actress!fem!reader word count: 1.5k...it pained me to stop it here. rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: mentions of jealousy, ideation of infidelity, general relationship dynamics. clit play, kissing, in the backseat...you know the vibes. what to listen to: stargirl interlude - the weeknd, lana del rey ; never lose me - flo milli ; the boy is mine - monica, brandy. author's note: hi baby @monamipencil ♡ i hope you enjoy my little segment for you! i did 1000% pull this out of thin air but please let me know if there is ever anything else i can write for you. much love from your secret santa. ♡

"Don't forget about me, sweetheart." It was one of the few phrases your husband burned in your brain when your career really started taking off. He'd only been your boyfriend then, trying his hardest to prove himself worthy of your affections and time. You promised you wouldn't, over shared bottles of heady Cabernet and stolen kisses. The following years proved most difficult – from fighting over not spending enough time together because of your jobs, to vacationing for months on end without repercussions – you were rising to the top way too fast for him to wrap his head around it.

But never once did his love, loyalty, or respect for you falter. He watched quietly from the sidelines, silently supportive of all your endeavors. He'd grimace inwardly a bit if your lipstick stained anyone else's lips on the big screen, he'd clear his throat one too many times if you shed any tears during a scene. He held your waist at events, a silent reminder that your ascend up the stairway to the stars was in good company.

When you finally got a bit of time for yourself, he made it his priority to become someone more permanent in your life. With eyes that never strayed and a heart that only beat for you, he proposed softly as the two of you took a midnight stroll for the first time in a long time. He apologized for not making it something grand, promising your wedding would be to die for and he'd pull every string possible to give you the honeymoon of your dreams – only for you to stop his rambling with a teary kiss to his lips. Telling your friends the news of the proposal was an exciting feat, until it fell on the ears of multiple of your co-stars. You hadn't ever even spoken of a boyfriend (you had, they just didn't remember), and a few of the men you'd worked with questioned the validity of your engagement, of your relationship – and it eventually got back to Jihoon. Whispers of the startup CEO dating an actress filled his office, side-eyed glances made him uneasy in his own skin and he hated it – he hated that people wouldn't mind their own business.

Needless to say, it pissed him off. He'd never been openly possessive, but a part of him knew that neither of you had an issue understanding where you stood in each other's lives. From dating, to girlfriend, to wife – you'd always been open about who Jihoon was to you and what his presence meant. You never shied away from answering his questions if any, and you proudly presented him as your significant other if he managed to attend any of your events. This alone was enough for the two of you to realize that people in your industry didn't take relationships too seriously, and enough for you to hard-launch your relationship by posting your wedding photos on social media.

The industry did not like that, but you didn't care. You and your agent continued to book role after role, your husband continuing to grow his business and make a name for himself in the world of music production…a stepping stone for him, and the first moment of blood-boiling jealousy you'd ever experienced at the side of Lee Jihoon.

Her hand was on his shoulder as they spoke music, and he swiftly moved out of her grasp, sure. The dance floor was full of couples, a dance floor you'd intended to whisk him onto after reapplying your lipstick in the washroom. Someone Like You by Van Morrison played as you stood a few feet away, your face contorted in a fit of envy as you saw your husband push her hand away, the words I'm married, please don't touch me falling from his lips. The woman grimaced – the same woman you'd starred alongside for three seasons of the very same show you were all celebrating a renewal for tonight – and she shrugged her shoulders, before the dreaded words fell from her own red lips.

"So? She doesn't have to know."

Jihoon looked taken aback, and it was almost like he was a moth drawn to a flame – his eyes landed on you, and the way your jaw was tight with anger as you made your way over.

"Soyoung, nice to see you. Did you lose something here, dearest?" You speak softly, staring at your co-star with eyes of fire. She gave you a sleazy smirk, shaking her head. "Not at all, Y/N. Enjoying the party?" "It's lovely, isn't it? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm feeling a bit under the weather." You gave her a tight smile, your hand wrapping around Jihoon's wrist watch as you pulled him away. He'd never seen you in such a state, eager to get him out of the venue and into the backseat of the black car waiting for you. Your arms were crossed as you sat facing away from him, before he made eye contact with the driver. He raised his brow, and the driver nodded, swiftly raising the partition as Jihoon turned to face you.

"Something bothering you, sweetheart?" He saw the way your shoulders tensed under the wine red straps of your dress, your legs crossed at the knee baring the skin of your thigh under the slit of the skirt. You gave him a glance through the corner of your eye, your lip jutted out in a pout as he cooed at you, making you huff in embarrassment.

"I don't like her." You mutter, "I don't like what she said and I don't like how she was all over you. She's literally my co-star. She knows we're married." "As much as I like your little pout and think you're adorable, I don't like that you're upset. You know I'd never wrong you, especially not like that." He tilts his head at you, making you pinch the bridge of your nose. "I know, Ji. I know." He's not satisfied with your answer, his hand reaching over to graze your knee, biting back his smile at the way your shoulders lose their tension at his touch. Your jaw remains tight, shaking your head in disbelief. "We've been co-stars for three years. You'd think she'd have some fucking respect for me." You were always so calm and collected, never too outwardly expressive of your disdain for people or their actions. He feels almost guilty for the growing tightness in his pants as you click your tongue, facing him as his fingers trace circles into your skin. "You're literally my husband. That's how I introduced you. My husband, Jihoon. Not Lee Jihoon, not the CEO of Ruby Productions, my husband. She's so shameless, I almost pity her." You tongue your cheek with a humorless laugh, and he can't help but feel his cheeks heat at the visual. He's silent as you run a hand through your hair, your earrings swinging as you shake your head again, giving him a pitiful smile.

"I'm sorry, I know this is out of character." You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. He nods, shifting slightly as your hand splays across his thigh. You press a kiss to his cheek, stamping your lipstick on his pale skin when you notice the flush on his cheeks. He clears his throat as you stare at him, a look of disbelief glossing over your eyes as you gape at him.

"You liked it?" "In my defense, you're hot when you're mad." He scoffs embarrassedly, making you huff out a laugh. "Jihoon." "I'm sorry." He presses a kiss to your temple as you roll your eyes. "Are you?" "No." He smiles against your skin, and you feel your cheeks heat as he trails his lips down your neck. "I love you, sweetheart. Just you." "I know, Ji." You sigh, feeling a bit of heat pool in your lower belly as he nips at your shoulder with a hum. "I don't think you do. Maybe I should remind you." Your cheeks grow hot as he gently pulls your thigh over his, his teeth nipping at the shell of your ear as he snaps the waistband of your underwear against your hip. "Now you know how I feel. Everyone always has their hands all over you, like you're not spoken for." You shudder as he slips his fingers under the cotton fabric, smirking against your skin as your hand wraps around his watch. You bite down on your lip as his finger traces your clit, your nails barely digging into his wrist. "Ji, not here." Your body betrays your words, your grip on his wrist loosening as he pulls your thigh higher on his lap. "Why? Aren't you mine?" His voice is sultry as you shiver against him, slim fingers collecting your arousal while he nips at your ear.

"Yes, but-" "Oh, there's a but?" He slides a finger inside you easily, your words getting caught in your throat as you whimper. "Hoonie…" "Tell you what, pretty." He slips his hand out as the car slows to stop, the front of the hotel you're staying at coming into view. "We're going to go upstairs and you're gonna take this dress off for me, and I'll show you who the brightest star in my sky is. Go."

You nearly stumble as your husband walks out behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he bids the driver goodbye. You feel his teeth on your shoulder, his voice low as he speaks into your ear.

“And keep those heels on for me."

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brattyspence · 2 months ago

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hellllllllooooo! i've had this idea for awhile and nobody else has done it when i've requested it ? pretty much spencer is super old fashioned (as everyone has seen in the show) but he kinda takes it to the next level by making a sex tape with reader on a video camera because he doesn't wanna use his phone!! and it could start off with spencer taking pictures of reader on a polaroid camera because she's wearing pretty lingerie and he wants to capture the moment :)) have a great day !!

take a picture, it'll last longer | s.reid

summary: spencer is welcomed home from a case by reader's new lingerie set, and he decides to take a picture to capture the memory.. tags: suggestive fluff, reader wears lingerie, uhhhhhh. taking nudes. not beta read a/n: hi anon sorry this took 12 years to publish and also sorry that it sucks and only hits part of your request. i'm not ready to write actual smut again idt but were getting there. love u and thank u for requesting! word count: 700+ masterlist

You were only half listening to his ramblings as you stepped backwards into the doorway of the bedroom.

“You wouldn't-” kiss “believe how-” kiss “rare this-” kiss “kind of case is,” he rambled. His fingertips pressed against your hips, guiding you backwards. With a final step, you felt the back of your knees brush the bed, and with practiced ease, you found yourself suddenly hoisted up, falling back against the comforter.

“Mhm,” you mumbled. He swiftly kicked off his shoes, and then removed with watch with a single motion, tossing it somewhere on the nightstand. You felt the bed dip underneath you as he climbed over you, his nose brushing yours to encourage you to tilt your head back.

“And it was truly-” kiss “a complete improbability that-” kiss “we caught him when we did.”

You were growing impatient with his ramblings. Spencer had been away for four days, somewhere in rural Ohio, and you'd had ample time to clean the apartment, wash the bedsheets, shop for a new matching set, and then finish the day with the longest shower you'd had in recent memory. You were scrubbed and lotioned and done up just for him, and he was taking his time.

“Yeah?” You replied, linking your arms over his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he nodded, this time trailing his kisses down your jaw and along the side of your neck. “Because statistically-”

“Spence,” you whined. “Come on.”

“I'm getting there,” he chuckled. He let his fingertips trail up and down your thighs for a moment.

“Taking too long,” you huffed.

“And when-” kiss “have I ever not made that worth your while?”

“But there's a surprise,” you huffed. You looked up at him, a hint of a pout on your lips, which was only met with another soft chuckle.

His fingertips trailed further up your side this time, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake, stopping when they met the lace edge of your bra. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly in acknowledgment. The palms of his hands warmed your skin.

“This surprise?”

You nodded emphatically, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as he thumbed over the fabric for another moment, his eyes still locked on you in thought.

In an instant, he drew your shirt over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor somewhere. His hands settled back into their spot against your hips, his touch still warm and possessive.

“You don't want to see the bottoms?” You asked.

After a moment, his fingers looped around your waistband, gently tugging away the fabric of your shorts and again discarding them somewhere to the abyss that was the bedroom floor. He watched you carefully, studying eyes working to remember every detail as he always did.

“I don’t want you to take them off,” he said, lazily looping his fingers into yours.

“That’s no fun,” you smiled. “The whole point was that you would take them off.

“Yeah, but… you look so pretty like this,” he replied. He looked away for a split second, and you saw a hint of mischief in his gaze. It was a rare sight for him.

“What’re you thinking?” You asked, tugging his hand.

He leaned over you one more time, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping away.

“I had an idea.”

You watched him make his way across the bedroom, where he quickly sifted through a drawer. He returned a moment later, instant camera in one hand, quickly configuring the device as he stood at the foot of the bed.

It was a gift, one he’d accepted reluctantly. You’d insisted that he needed something to capture moments with, especially if he would continue to refuse a smartphone. He had always insisted it was useless to him; an eidetic memory could work just the same.

“That was not why I bought you that,” you giggled, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“So?” he replied. “Lie back down.”

You huffed, falling back into the comforter. You tossed an arm over your face as he raised the device, angling it towards you, quickly snapping the picture.

“You're ridiculous.” You giggled. “I thought you didn’t need a camera.”

You listened as the camera dispensed the picture, which he quickly put away for safe keeping.

“No one needs anything. I’m not allowed to take pictures of my beautiful girlfriend?”

“You can do whatever you want,” you smiled, watching him climb up onto the bed. You took his face in your hands as he hovered over you. “I just want you to admit that I was right.”

“You were right,” he sighed. “But you know what they say. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid #criminal minds #fluff #smut #asks #requests #my things!

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cyberjam · 2 years ago

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E!42 MILES DATING A SHY!SOFT READER . . . ☆

warnings - black fem!reader in mind but you can imagine it however you'd like, miles having a soft spot for you, pink coquette vibes from reader, profanity, slightly suggestive.

word count - 2.2k | lowercase intended.

main masterlist | proof read?: kinda😭

song rec for fic?: yo love - from "queen and slim: the soundtrack - vince staples, 6lack, mereba <3

ᘏ⑅ᘏ

. . HOW YOU FIRST MET . .

ఇ . . . you two were assigned as partners for a science project that would play a big part in your final grade. you knew of each other but never fully interacted until now.

ఇ . . . miles knew you as quiet, only speaking when spoken to. you were an approachable person with a warm smile. you carried yourself well, and treated others kindly, even if they were undeserving. he was entranced by you to say the least. with how things were currently going in new york, he was surprised that the city hadn't dimmed your light. miles wanted to know more about you and this project gave him the perfect opportunity to do so.

ఇ . . . you knew of miles as well. he had the reputation of being an unapproachable person. easily intimidating others without trying, and keeping his circle of people small. you took a small interest in him as well. you'd catch yourself glancing at him every now and then, trying to break down his character. he didn't seem as mean as everyone claimed but now was finally your chance to see for yourself.

ఇ . . . that project was only the beginning of your and miles' relationship.

ᘏ⑅ᘏ

. . CRUSHING STAGE . .

ఇ . . . miles protectiveness increases the more your relationship grows. he'll cut into situations and defend you before you can fully form a thought. he never hesitates to step in-front of you as a human-shield and tell someone off with a simple phrase.

"ay, watch yo mouth." | "huh? repeat yo'self." | "i know you not talkin'-"

ఇ . . . he starts eating lunch with you. his friends get on him for being a simp but he brushes it off every-time. he enjoys the convos you two have during lunch and would rather sit next to you than a rowdy group of boys who use the lunch food as science experiments.

ఇ . . . he seeks you out. during school, after school, on his nightly patrols, etc. without even fully knowing it himself, miles is always looking for you no matter where he is. he just naturally gravitates towards you. you bring something to miles life that he hasn't had in a long time. peace.

ఇ . . . let's you mess with his hair. when he's over your place he'll let you put your cute baby pink hair clips in his braids and even tie in some hair bo-bo's at the end of them. but only if you take them out as soon as you're done and don't take any pictures. (you still take pictures)

ఇ . . . let's you draw on him. you can't remember when it exactly started but it's became a routine for you to doodle and write on his hands in every class you two share. he'll return the favor, if you ask nicely. he copies whatever drawing you did on his hand to yours so you'd be matching. (he dreams of getting matching tattoos with you.) <3

ఇ . . . scares classmates away. whether it be a glare from across the room or an arm slung around your shoulders, miles is always scaring your classmates away. even if they show the smallest romantic interest in you.

ఇ . . . maintains eye contact. he's always looking for your eyes and trying to remain in contact with them when you talk. he just loves staring into your pretty doe eyes while you ramble about something you like.

ఇ . . . nicknames. miles doesn't want to scare you off by being too forward, so he'll limit his nicknames. the ones he does call you while crushing on you are ma and princesa.

ఇ . . . passes notes in class. he's a bit of a "model student" in class (not talking back, not interrupting or disrespecting classmates, turning in his work early on time. he just wants to be left alone lmao) but he's more than willing to pass notes with you throughout the entire period. you'll catch him up on the newest gossip and he'd update you on the stuff him and his homeboys get into.

ఇ . . . he'll help you study. if you don't know spanish or you're just a struggling student, he'll teach you everything you're having a hard time with at a comfortable pace. he'll quiz you every once in awhile just to make sure you fully understand and don't feel behind in anything. if you've shown a significant amount of improvement he'll treat you by taking you out for your choice of dessert. (it's really just an excuse to take you out on a date without using the word date)

ఇ . . . there's an unspoken rule that you are his. classmates know, your friends know, his homeboys know, hell, even the teachers know. you're the only person miles gives the time of day. you're the only one who gets to walk around with his arm on your shoulders, have his undivided attention, as well as be the reason for his smile. you are his and he is yours.

ᘏ⑅ᘏ

. . DATING STAGE . .

ఇ . . . late night facetime calls. you two are truly never apart. when you're not together physically you're on facetime with each other. he loves when you call him and showcase the cute things you bought for yourself using his card. he also just loves the comfort those calls bring him. seeing you engulfed in a warm blanket fast asleep while he's doing his own thing just makes him feel content. you're able to be there for each other without physically being there and that's enough for him to wait patiently until he's able to hold you again.

ఇ . . . clingy as hell. although, he'll never voice out his wants for your touch he will initiate it. miles will be the one to commence 80% of affection. partly because you're shy and mainly because he can't keep his hands off of you. miles is always touching you in some way. whether it be an arm around your shoulder, a hand resting on your thigh, or a hand rubbing your ass while you're cuddling. he can't resist kissing you either. his lips always finding any available part of your skin to kiss when he feels like it.

ఇ . . . compliments. every chance he gets he'll remind you how good you look. always hyping you up and telling you how beautiful you are. whenever you get overwhelmed by the flow of affectionate words that smoothly flow out of his mouth, you'll cover your face with your hands and turn away from him. it only gives him more fuel in the long run because he loves to see his girl get all shy and cute for him. sometimes he doesn't even use his words. a simple look up and down while licking his lips will leave you weak in the knees.

"that's all mine right there."

ఇ . . . genuinely hates arguing with you. he hates when you're upset with him. there are plenty of times where miles has provoked you to the point you've gotten upset with him and that's usually when he knows he's gone too far. you're his girl, his everything. he can't have you sulking because of him. although, miles does have a bit of a short-temper, he remains calm throughout these situations. he lets you both voice your sides and he won't let the situation go until you come to an agreement. he tends to avoid arguments at all costs. usually murmuring a "you got it, ma." before it turns into something more. after settling long disagreements, he'll engulf you in a hug and give you a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"love you. don't want my girl goin to bed mad at me."

ఇ . . . nicknames! his nicknames will consist of mi vida, mi reina, ma, mami, baby, etc. any term of endearment you can think of he's most-likely called you. usually consisting of 'my/mine'. he's very possessive. your contact name in his phone is 'mi corazon 💘' and you're the only one with an emoji next to your name.

ఇ . . . spoils you. you want it? you got it. although, miles isn't incredibly wealthy, he does have money. he uses it to take care of you and his mom, providing help for the both of you. he helps rio with actual necessities, while with you he provides you with gifts. ranging from shoes, eyelashes, lace fronts, plushies, clothes, or electronics. the most expensive gift he's gotten for you is an ipad and apple pencil. it was for your birthday and he knew he had to get it for you after hearing you fangirl about it nonstop.

ఇ . . . lets you do his hair. he usually only lets rio do his hair, he's a major mama's boy. so, when you were granted the privilege to do his hair you felt honored. he also just loves when you take his braids out and give him scalp massages. he's fallen asleep on occasion because of how gentle and soothing your hands are. he's also tender-headed as hell so, please be careful or you'll get a earful of him complaining.

"damn, ma. why you gotta pull so tight?"

ఇ . . . buys matching sets. he buys you both matching shoes, clothes, and jewelry. he likes the simplicity of being able to match with you and show everyone you're his without voicing it. you two are the couple that matches on christmas. matching christmas tree pants, and santa hats...rio thinks it's adorable. for your 5 month anniversary you were gifted a gold necklace with his name written in cursive and once he helped you put it on he revealed the necklace that was under his shirt that had your name in gold written in cursive. only time you two take it off is when you're in the shower/pool. he'll take it off during prowler business as well, he doesn't want to disclose any of his personal business at work, it's very dangerous for the both of you.

ఇ . . . cant sleep without you. once miles gets a taste of what life is like keeping you close and holding you to sleep, it's hard for him to go without it. he loves cuddling with you and if there were any instance where you two wouldn't be together he would toss and turn all night and look at the ceiling until his body physically shut down itself. it's not the healthiest way to go by so when he starts to show up to school with deeper eye bags than usual, you decide to give him a plushie of his own. he'll buy the plushie little clothes and change them every now and then. he names it after you, and he even bought the exact perfume you wear and sprays it on the stuffed animal before going to bed and cuddling it. he's embarrassed to admit it, so he'll never tell you how much he pampers it. (you don't need him to tho, you've caught him kissing the top of the stuffed animals head before cradling it in his arms and murmuring 'goodnight, mi vida.')

ఇ . . . will go to the barbie movie with you. he'll thrown on a pink hoodie, black jeans, and pair it with some jordan's while you're decked out from head to toe in pink. he's gonna cry at one point during the movie and you have to pretend you didn't see. when you ask him if he liked it he'll shrug his shoulders while sniffling. he def gave his mom a big hug when he got back home. :')

"yeah, yeah...it was alright, i guess."

ఇ . . . talks about you to his mom. mile's didn't speak much of you when he had a crush on you, but he really didn't have to. his mom knew there was something or more so someone occupying his mind whenever he'd come back from school with a slight dazed expression and the tiniest smile.

ఇ . . . graffiti's your initials together. whenever he's bored and has a little extra time on his hands he'll graffiti his and yours initials together. sometimes replacing your last initial with an 'M' for Morales..

ఇ . . . treats your stuffed animals like they're your children. he scolds you if he catches one of them on the floor, he'll name them future child names he has in mind because he def wants to get married and start a family w/ you, he gives them hugs and buys cute little tutu's for them. lowkey will throw a fit if he finds out you gave some of them away.

ఇ . . . buys/sends things that reminds him of you. he'll buy you your fave bag of chips if he sees it in the store, he'll pick up a keychain with your name on it and attach it to his bookbag, he'll send you memes or recommend a tv show because the character reminded him of you. you're really on his mind 25/8.

ఇ . . . bakes with you. he loves baking with you. you two will bake the hell out of some chocolate chip cookies or some brownies. nothing that takes too long or a lot of preparation though, he'll get antsy and kinda touchy which leads to burnt products and a ruined cake pan.

ఇ . . . shows you off/brags about you. his friends and close family members know all about you and your achievements. if you play sports he'll cheer you on and brag about your wins, if you're an artist he'll post your artwork, if you have a small clothing brand he'll wear it and tell people to buy from your store if they ask, if you knit/crochet he'll ask you to make him a bucket hat or a mini version of you and him, if you dance he'll stay up all night on the phone while you show him your new choreography. it doesn't matter what you do, miles will continue to support you and brag about any and every achievement you accomplish. big or small.

ఇ . . . miles morales loves his sweet soft significant other.

currently re-writing my miles morales fic that was 6k words because tumblr decided to randomly delete it 🥲 i'll try to get it out soon! <3

also sorry for inactivity, i've been busy w/ school and work but i'll try to shoot out fics faster when i get the time :) !!

#miles morales headcanons #miles morales fluff #e42 miles #earth 42 miles fluff #miles morales x reader #prowler miles fanfic #miles morales x black!reader #prowler miles x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x y/n #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles 42 x reader #miles morales x you #prowler miles #miles morales prowler

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earthtooz · 1 year ago

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x : CALL ME BACK : *+ﾟ

in which: ratio has been waiting for your call since you left.

warnings: FLUFF i promise, 1.6k wc, gn!reader, ratio being horribly in love and pining so badly, reader works as a space researcher, reader is a sunshine so this is basically sunshine x grump/asshole, written during his first release/ v1.6.

a/n: the way i wrote the synopsis made it sound like it was sad. maybe i'll write an angst version of the same prompt. anyways i listened to 'she calls me back' by noah kahan on loop when writing this, enjoy!

Dr. Ratio is not happy with you.

It has been three weeks and three days since he last received any sort of notification from you, any sort of indication that you were healthy and alive whilst traversing the universe. Typically, you would send daily updates of how your exploration was progressing, or new intergalactic discoveries of yours, regardless of whether or not he cared.

(He cares. He cares more than his indifferent texts lead on. There’s a reason he always responds, after all, and it’s not just because you’ve been friends for almost two decades now.

To him, your constant messages and calls told him that you were thinking of him, and the more space he occupies in your mind, the happier he is; that is a theory he discovered years ago.

He happily listens to all of your rambles. He'll listen whilst in the middle of grading various papers or writing one of his own, he'll listen whilst eating, he'll listen to you as long as you reach out.

So where are the messages he was waiting for?)

Today is the arranged day for you to return from your new mission. Ratio has been counting down the days since he first marked it on his large desk calender, your return being the first event on his list.

He is undeniably excited to see you, yet he feels petty enough to not make the trip down and welcome you by the docks, even if your ship’s landing zone is just outside the University.

It’s irrational of him to hold your inactivity against you. Perhaps you just encountered an inconvenience and lost your phone, or wherever you are does not have good reception to send a text halfway across the galaxy. He understands that your safety comes first on these missions, but he can’t help but feel neglected, and he curses the fragility of his ego for making him this way.

The clock strikes another hour. From his office, Ratio cannot see the ships and come and go, but his ‘scholarly instincts’ are telling him that you are on your way.

Not even ten minutes later, a figure comes barrelling into his office.

“There he is!” You exclaim exuberantly. It seems that the length of the mission did not erode your enthusiasm, and he’s grateful that it is as contagious as he remembers. “And here I was wondering where you were, did you dig your nose too deep in those encyclopaedias you love to memorise?”

You’re still in your research gear, hips and legs buckled to the brim with various equipment that are necessary to your work, and his heart beats guiltily at the sight.

You came to see him as soon as you landed. He was your first destination after a tiring three and a half weeks away from home, not the comfort of your home or bed or shower; him.

“Ha. Ha.” The purple-haired laughs dryly, getting up from his chair and rounding his desk. “Good to see you still alive.”

“What’s with the lack of energy? Didn’t you miss me, Veritas?”

He did. More than you could ever imagine. “Of course I did.”

Opening his arms for a hug, you all but run into his embrace, throwing your arms and anchoring yourself to the sturdiness of his torso. After not seeing you for so long, your familiar frame and warmth provides nothing but comfort.

“Welcome home,” Ratio murmurs into your hairline.

Your arms squeeze him tighter. “Good to be back.”

After a few beats of silence, you step away from him and he reluctantly detaches himself from you.

“I got you something,” you say whilst setting down your bag. Pulling out a suitcase, the purple-haired looks at you inquisitively. “It’s a chess board! I got you a new one to add to your collection!”

Ratio doesn’t bother correcting you that his ‘collection’ only has seven boards at most, but that does not negate his gratitude.

Even whilst away, you thought of him, and that is a great victory.

“Thank you. We can play together, sometime,” he proposes.

“Oh, please. I could never beat you.”

“Giving up before you even start? That does not sound like the Y/n I know.”

“It’s not ‘giving up’, it’s picking my battles wisely. I could never best you in a game of chess, or any competition of intellect,” you laugh as if the idea itself was ridiculous.

“You shouldn’t discredit yourself based on your own assumptions. I think you make a very capable opponent.”

“I know your tricks, Veritas. Buttering me up just so you can chip at my armour and knock me down when I’m weak, have you no shame?” Your voice is light, with an air of joviality to it, and the purple-haired is enchanted.

It seems that you don’t know him as well as you think. He finds no shame in hogging as much of your time as possible, even if it is through a game of chess that he will beat you at. He also hopes that you don’t know him well enough to hear the subtle desperation in his voice when he enquires if you’ll be leaving for another mission soon.

“I don’t believe so,” you tell him nonchalantly. “I’ll be stationed here for about two months. They’re expecting a detailed, twenty-page length report from me, so I guess I’ll be locked in my study until that’s complete.”

Ratio clicks his tongue. “Pity.”

(It’s not a pity. He gets to spend two months with you in compensation for the month that he was robbed of.)

“Not to sound self-absorbed, but why weren’t you there are the dock to pick me up?” You ask.

“Were you disappointed?”

“A little. You’re always the first face I see whenever I come home. It was jarring to not see you amongst the crowd.”

Jealousy slashes at his chest, and he turns away from you to hide his sour expression. “I apologise, I must have lost track of the days.”

“You’re Doctor Veritas Ratio. According to your crazy schedules, there are 72 hours instead of 24 in a standard day, you never lose track.”

Truth is a fascinating thing. By nature, it is black and white, but it’s perception is what traps fools. Humans have strived to discover an uncontested truth for as long as they have existed, but as long as opinions exist, it will constantly be revised and put together again, ambiguity heavy in the air that surrounds it.

You, however, are even more fascinating with the way you can deconstruct him so easily.

“If you must know, I was… upset with you because you were not messaging me.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Your laughter is even more so.

Hubris can really kill a man. Ratio does not need to consult the texts of ancient philosophers to confirm that.

“Really?” You choke out in between cackles. “I didn’t think such menial things mattered to you!”

“Normally, they don’t.”

“So, I’m a special case then?”

“I shouldn’t need to spell it out for you.”

“Veritas!” You coo, placing your hands on either sides of his face. “I am so flattered!”

Dr. Ratio is a renowned scholar with eight doctorate degrees. The mere mention of his name will inspire hundreds, if not, thousands, of people who have the faintest lust for academia, spreading marvel and fear amongst students and professors alike. His achievements will be engraved and celebrated by the university for centuries to come, and his classes are so notoriously hard that the passing rate is 3%.

And yet, here he is, reduced to putty in your hands.

Perhaps that is who he is at his core. Rid from him the alabaster head, the codex, and pride, you’ll be left with a man who is ardently in love with his best friend.

“Stop it, this is ridiculous!” He mutters, hoping to salvage his image at least a little.

You listen to his demands, separating from him with a hearty laugh. “So you really do like me, that’s nice to know.”

(It is far beyond ‘like’ now. Can you come back and hold his face again?)

“I like you when you’re quiet.”

“Clearly not if you loathed my virtual silence! Which, by the way, was caused because the planet I was on had horrible reception. I really need to switch cell providers, mine doesn’t even reach to half way across the galaxy, apparently.”

“Well. I am glad you survived the three weeks without reception, it must have been a formidable challenge for you.”

“Were you worried for me?”

Of course he was. Whilst you freely roam the expansiveness of the universe, the only thing that anchors him to you across the span of light years is a message. “You should stop asking questions you know the answer to.”

“Boo, you’re no fun.” You lean down to grab the bags that lay at your feet, swinging them over one shoulder. Do you have to leave so soon? “Well, I better get going. I’m aching for a shower and a nap. Now that I have proper data and Wifi, rest assured that I will be texting you soon.”

“Cannot wait.”

“Goodbye, Veritas! I shall see you soon!”

‘Soon’ is a relative time frame. He can only hope that you won’t keep him waiting again.

The door clicks shut behind you, and not even five seconds later, his phone buzzes with a call.

“Sorry!” Your voice greets from the other end of the line. “Was just testing if my reception actually worked.”

“There is a reason your day job is a Space Researcher and not a comedian.”

“Can’t you at least laugh? Let’s grab dinner tomorrow at half past six, make yourself free, Veritas!”

You hang up before he can even get a word in, and he’s left to stare at the blank screen of his phone with an idiotic smile.

Everything’s alright when you call him back.

#earthtooz: honkai star rail #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff #dr. ratio x reader #tumblr please show this in the tags

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onlyhereforthestories · 5 months ago

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Worth It? Or Not? (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Hi guys! It's been too long. Please enjoy this long ramble that slightly resembles writing 😂. I have a few more things written and I am trying to finish Chica for you all. Happy weekend.

It was a new season, and you were so ready for what it was going to throw at you. The last season you participated in had been your best yet you think, although that was most likely due to the fact that it was your first with your girlfriend. You and Alexia had been dancing around your feeling for each other for a few years and in the off-season last year the older woman had finally asked you out. By the time the season just gone had started you were already official, and it had made last year that much more special. You got to share your achievements with the one you loved and that really was wonderful.

Now for a new season and possibly a new step for your relationship with Alexia, she had been hinting at moving in together for the last few weeks. Little off hand comments like “That would look nice in a master bedroom.” And “I wonder if we would have a feature wall if we had our own living space.” You thought it was about time you started hinting back. You needed to be sure it was something she actually wanted before you out right asked her if she was ready to move in together.

You were currently waiting for Aitana to pick you up, Alexia had to be in earlier than everyone else this morning for a meeting and so you had slept separately, at your own apartments last night. This was the first time in weeks that you could remember not sharing a bed with the older woman. She said she didn’t want to wake you as early as she needed to be up and after trying to argue with her for 10 minutes you had given up, she just wasn’t getting that you would happily wake up early if it meant spending the extra time with her.

“So why do I have to come get your whipped ass? Where’s the wifey?” You rolled your eyes at the woman as you climbed into the passenger seat of her car. Aitana had been one of the first people you had talked to about your crush on Alexia and now the slightly younger woman took every opportunity she could to tease you about your obvious love for the team captain.

“I’m telling her you called her that, but in answer to your poorly asked question, she had an early meeting and didn’t want to wake me up at the early time she had to be up.” You shrugged your shoulders in a gesture you knew was for your benefit not hers, you had been up half the night letting your anxiety get the best of you.

“It’s Alexia, you know her, she is probably just nervous for the new season and how the new signings will fit in.” You knew that Aitana was most likely right but you also couldn’t shake the creeping feeling that she was already getting bored of being with you. You knew you shouldn’t let these thoughts get the better of you but that was easier to say than actually do, it wasn’t that you doubted Alexia at all, it was more your growing anxiety over your own worth in your head. In fact you knew it was you and your head and that just made it even more frustrating, it was another thing that made you question yourself.

“Yeah, you are probably right, she has been feeling the captain pressure a lot over the last week or so. She has been watching tapes of the new girls and talking a lot with the staff after weights. Sometimes I wish she would just switch off from work and be a little more present with me, but she’s Alexia queen of Barca. She puts 110% into this club and that’s what I signed up for happily.”

After that the conversation switched to a lighter topic and by the time you pulled up at the training ground you were feeling a lot lighter and laughing with one of your best friends. Any thoughts of Alexia not wanting you any more were long gone and all you wanted to do now was get your cleats on. Football would always be a great escape for you, it was like your mind could relax whilst you had a ball at your feet.

After getting ready in the changing room, without the appearance of your love, you headed out with the rest of the girls to find Alexia in the middle of the field with another woman you didn’t recognise. Your attention was pulled from them when Pere spoke, “Okay ladies, we have a new signing starting with us today. Alexia has been getting to know her a little bit so it’s easier for her to settle in. Please be welcoming.” You all nodded your heads in agreement and followed him over to the two women.

“Hi it’s nice to meet you all, I’m Chloe.” You could tell the woman was nervous and so could Alexia as she moved everyone onto warm-ups rather quickly. Over the course of the session everyone introduced themselves to the new girl individually so that she felt as comfortable as possible.

You had just got out of the shower and was putting the last items in your bag when Alexia approached you for the first time today. “Hola, can I ask you for a favour por favor?” You could tell she was sort of in a hurry by the lack of affection she gave you. You would normally at least get a peck to the cheek, but she barely even got close enough to you for you to hear her properly.

“Si of course.” You would do anything for the woman in front of you and everyone knew it.

“I’m taking Chloe out to see the city so she knows her way around a bit better, but I didn’t get to walk Nala this morning. Can you run round mine and do it for me? I asked Alba but she is working.” There was a lot to pick out of that passage of one-sided conversation. First you were hurt that she had gone to Alba first when Nala was like your own dog too. Second, she must have forgotten your lunch plans with Claudia and Patri that had been made a while back and you knew was on her calendar as you put it there. Something you decided not to bring up, she was just trying to help the new girl settle in you understood that.

“Yes of course. Do you want me to make dinner tonight?” You thought at least you could have some time with her that evening being as you’ve barely interacted all day.

“I won’t be back for dinner, I told Chloe I would help her sort her apartment out after showing her the sights. I don’t know what time I’ll be back y/n so maybe we should sleep in our own apartments again tonight.” You really didn’t know what to say to this, so you just nodded. You got a lot of the women’s time, so you didn’t think it was fair for you to be upset over a couple days, especially not when she was just trying to help someone out.

“Okay, I’ll see you at training tomorrow then.” You turned round and walked out of training with a slight weight on your chest and your mind running with thoughts you wish you didn’t have.

After you walked Nala and dropped her back into Alexia’s apartment, an apartment that started to feel like your own until the last 24 hours. Part of you knew this was silly to think but you couldn’t help it, you are always an overthinker and this was something that you struggled with. You didn’t even take the time to make sure Nala was settled you just open the door let her in, checked her water bowl was full and left again. Being there just felt wrong today. Deciding that your mood was really not good enough to go out and have a lunch with your two friends you texted Patri to cancel, and after assuring her you were okay just a little extra tired today, she wished you a good evening and said she would pick you up for training if you needed the next morning.

An offer you ended up taking when your texts to Alexia the next morning went unanswered. You were tired and starting to get a little annoyed with the older woman, you were trying to reason as to why she wasn’t replying to your texts and even when she did it was so spaced out it felt like she didn’t care or want to talk to you. You were trying to change that thought process, but it was hard when that’s where your mind had gone.

“Hola, you don’t look so good. Should you be coming to training.” Patri’s concerned voice almost sent you into a wave of sobs, but you held it together, your thoughts were stupid so you know you couldn’t show you were sad. You didn’t want Patri to think you were an idiot for the way you were feeling about your current situation, if it was even a situation.

“I’m just tired Pats, I’ve not slept well the last few nights and I think its just caught up to me a bit today.” You sighed in relief when she didn’t push you any further just gave you a once over and then pulled away from the outside of your apartment complex.

You were hoping the journey to training would help your mood and thoughts, but it didn’t much. Patri tried her best to cheer you up and you really appreciated the younger woman’s efforts, but you were struggling. You made your way into the changing room behind your best friend and didn’t both to look up as you made your way to your cubby. You placed your stuff down and changed into your boots, leaving the changing room straight after as the first out.

You decided some air and keepy ups might help sort your head out before training. Pere and the staff were out setting up when you went to ask for a ball, they gladly gave you one and you headed to the far end of the field to have your space. The sun beating down on you felt good and a ball at your feet always helped.

Your peace was short lived as you heard the chatter of the rest of the girls and Pere calling you all in. You grabbed your ball and headed over, looking at the group for the first time. What you saw hurt your heart more than you would say to anyone, Alexia was stood near Pere like normal. That obviously wasn’t the upsetting part, the upsetting part was that Chloe was pretty much pressed against Ale. You tried not to look too long or think too much but you struggled. You really struggled.

Training started and your thoughts just kept going. You couldn’t concentrate, you couldn’t pass right, your touches were off and none of the shots you took even went close to the goal. By the end of the first half of training everyone could tell something wasn’t okay with you, so much so that Pere called you over in the drinks break.

“What’s up today? This is very unlike you. If your sick you should have just let us know I don’t want to see you get injured if you are pushing yourself too much and then end up being out for longer than you need to be. Health is important y/n.” The way he said it wasn’t scolding which you were thankful for, you were slightly worried that he would be annoyed with you for your performance.

“I’m sorry coach. I’m not feeling my best today, I thought I’d be okay to train but I think maybe I was wrong.” You wouldn’t normally miss training unless really necessary, but you were too far gone mentally and staying here wasn’t what you needed right now.

“That’s okay some days we just need the break and to rest. Go home and we will see you hopefully tomorrow. Please pop and see the medical staff on the way out to check in with them.” With that he patted your shoulder and went back to call the team back to training.

As you walked past the group Patri caught your eye and gave you the are you okay look. You waved her off with a half-smile and continued to the changing rooms. You decided that a shower at home would be the best for you and so just changed your shoes, grabbed your stuff and headed to the medical room.

They just did some basic checks on your temperature and blood pressure before sending you off with the promise to come in first thing tomorrow if you were planning on training just to have another check before you did.

You half expected Alexia to be waiting for you outside the medical room when you walked out but she wasn’t. You walked out of the grounds to remember that you got a lift, you were just about to walk home when your name was called. For a second your body warmed thinking it was who you really wanted it to be before your shoulders slump slightly. You knew that was Patri.

“I’ll drive you home come on.” You didn’t argue you just hopped in the passenger seat. You were quiet the whole way back to your place, the only words you said to the younger woman was thank you when you got out the car.

You took your shower turning the water to as hot as you could handle. Going for comfort after that you changed into your (Alexias) comfiest hoodie and a pair of tracksuits that you really weren’t sure whose they were. You settled yourself onto your sofa and turned on a random old show you didn’t need to concentrate on.

You have no idea when you fell asleep, but you must have at some point because you were blinking yourself awake in the now pitch blackness of your living space. The only light you had was coming from your phone on the table that you now realised was ringing and must have been the reason you were currently waking up.

You reached over to grab it off the table to see who it was, glancing at the screen you were faced with your favourite photo you had ever taken. Ale had this smile that reached her eyes as she stared at you through the camera, it was taken last month when you were on vacation before the season was due to start.

You were stuck in a sort of daze so you didn’t answer the call, after it rang off you were faced with 5 miss calls from the woman. You noticed the time, you had missed lunch and dinner. You almost missed bedtime if you were being truthful to yourself, so you got up off the sofa and turned the tv off. You grabbed your phone again and headed to your bathroom to clean your teeth and get into your pjs. Once in bed you called Alexia back, who picked up after a couple rings.

“Y/n where did you go? Why did you miss training?” Her words were rushed as soon as she answered, which you felt a little bad about as she had been trying to get hold of you for a while now.

You took a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts before answering Alexia’s question. You could hear the concern in her voice, which only made your heart ache more. It wasn’t anger or frustration—it was genuine worry. And yet, the events of the past couple of days had left you feeling vulnerable and disconnected.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you started quietly, not wanting your voice to crack. “Pere told me to go home, and I guess I just needed some time to rest. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls before I fell asleep on the sofa.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. You could hear Alexia shifting slightly, probably trying to figure out the right words. She was good at taking a moment to make sure she said the correct thing, that she said everything she wanted and in a way that would be understood for what it was.

“I would’ve come with you if I knew,” she said softly. “Why didn’t you talk to me? Or at least text me when you got home?”

“I did try to talk to you,” you replied, a bit sharper than you intended. You quickly softened your tone before continuing. “I was going to tell you before I left the training grounds but when I went to go over, I saw you were in a conversation with Chloe and I didn’t want to interrupt. I know what making her feel welcome into the team means to you so I just left, Patri dropped me home.”

Alexia was silent again, and you hated that your mind immediately went back to the image of Chloe standing so close to her earlier. You knew it was unreasonable to feel threatened, but the distance you’d been feeling from Alexia over the last couple of days was making everything worse. You knew Alexia and you knew that if she was even thinking about someone else in the way she thought about you, she would end things. It was a conversation the both of you had had very early in the relationship, it was better to say and end things than cause more heartache with something like cheating.

“You’re right,” she finally said. “I’ve been caught up with the new signings, especially Chloe. I wanted to help her settle in, but I didn’t realize I was neglecting you in the process.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat as you listened to her. The fact that she acknowledged it made you feel a bit better, but it didn’t completely erase the weight that had been sitting on your chest. It still has happened.

“I get it, Ale. You’re the captain, and you’ve got responsibilities, but…” You trailed off, not sure how to express what you were feeling without coming across as needy or insecure.

“But what?” she asked gently, encouraging you to keep going.

“I just… I don’t know. It feels like we haven’t really been us these past few days. Like we’re slipping apart, and I don’t want that.”

Alexia sighed softly, and you could almost picture her rubbing the back of her neck the way she always did when she was thinking hard about something.

“I don’t want that either,” she said after a moment. “I’m sorry, really. I’ve been so focused on the new season and everything happening with the team that I haven’t been present with you. That’s not fair.”

Tears stung your eyes at her words. You hated that you had been feeling so anxious and unsure about where you stood with her. The logical part of your brain knew that Alexia loved you deeply, but sometimes, your emotions got the better of you.

“I just miss you,” you whispered, finally letting a bit of the hurt spill out.

“I miss you too,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. “I promise, when I get back, we’ll spend some real time together. Just the two of us.”

You wanted to believe her, to hold onto the comfort her words should have brought you, but as you lay there, phone pressed to your ear, something still felt off. The doubts that had been swirling in your mind all day didn’t vanish—they just simmered beneath the surface, waiting for another moment to creep back in. You tried to smile, to let her words sink in, but it felt hollow.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice weaker than you intended. There was a pause on the line, and for a second, you wondered if she could hear the uncertainty that was sitting heavy on your chest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Get some rest. I love you,” Alexia said, her tone soft but distant, and somehow it made you feel even worse.

“I love you too, Ale,” you replied automatically, though the words felt like they got caught in your throat. You wanted to believe them, wanted to believe her. But as you hung up the phone, the heavy silence in your room returned, and with it, the creeping feeling that maybe things weren’t as solid as you hoped.

You curled up under the covers, pulling them tighter around you, but instead of the calm you craved, a lingering unease settled deep in your chest. The conversation hadn’t been enough to ease your mind, and the distance between you two felt more real than ever. Alexia cared, you knew that, but it didn’t stop the doubts from pulling you under.

As much as you tried to push it aside, the little voice in your head that had been whispering insecurities all day grew louder. What if she’s getting tired of me? What if this distance between us is because she doesn’t want to be with me anymore? The more you thought about it, the more it felt like Alexia was slipping away, even though she’d just promised to spend more time with you. The doubts began to swirl again, faster now, and the pit in your stomach deepened.

Sure, Alexia had apologized, but what if it wasn’t just about her being busy with the new signings? What if she was using that as an excuse? You started picking apart every little detail from the past few days—how she barely interacted with you this morning, how she chose to spend time with Chloe instead of you, how easily she’d forgotten your plans for lunch with Patri and Claudia. Maybe she wasn’t as invested in the relationship anymore. Maybe she was realizing that being with you wasn’t what she wanted.

You buried your face in your pillow, fighting the creeping sense of rejection. No, this is just the anxiety talking. She loves you. She said she loves you, you reminded yourself, but it felt like a hollow reassurance. Even as you repeated it, the lingering doubt wouldn’t leave you. You wanted so badly to believe her words, to take them at face value, but the overthinking was louder than reason right now.

The phone in your hand vibrated again, pulling you out of your spiral for a moment. Alexia had sent you a text: I really don’t like how we left things. Can I come over? I’ll bring dinner. We can talk.

Your heart skipped at the message. On one hand, you wanted her here. You wanted her arms around you, her presence to quiet the storm in your mind. But on the other hand, you felt like having her here would only make your insecurities worse. What if she could see right through you? What if she could tell that you weren’t okay, that you doubted her? What if she was already tired of dealing with your anxieties, your overthinking?

Before you could stop yourself, you typed back: I think it’s better if I stay alone tonight. I might be getting sick, and I don’t want to give you anything. You’ve got enough on your plate with the new season and all.

You stared at the message, second-guessing every word. It wasn’t entirely a lie—you did feel off, emotionally and physically, but that wasn’t the real reason you didn’t want her to come over. You were scared. Scared that spending time with her would only confirm the worst of your fears. That she was growing tired of you, tired of your relationship.

After a few moments, your phone buzzed again with Alexia’s response: Are you sure? I can bring soup or tea, whatever you need. I don’t mind at all.

Her willingness to drop everything and come over only made you feel worse. How could you doubt someone who was so thoughtful, so caring? But the voice in your head persisted—what if she was just doing this out of obligation? What if she felt guilty? It wasn’t long before you convinced yourself that Alexia was only offering out of a sense of duty, not because she actually wanted to be with you tonight.

Yeah, I’m sure. You replied, forcing yourself to hit send before you could change your mind. I’ll be fine. Just need some rest.

You stared at your phone, waiting for her response, hoping she would fight harder to come over, hoping she would insist. But her next message came quickly, and it felt like a punch to the gut. Okay, rest up. Let me know if you need anything, cariño. I’ll see you tomorrow at training.

Simple. Kind. But it wasn’t the push you had been hoping for. She wasn’t coming over. Maybe she was relieved, you thought bitterly. Maybe she didn’t actually want to spend time with you after all. You hated that your mind kept going there, but the doubts kept clawing at you, relentless and cruel.

Curling up tighter in your bed, you told yourself that some space was good. Maybe tomorrow would be better, maybe by then, you’d feel less overwhelmed, and Alexia would feel closer again. But as you lay there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, the weight of your insecurities was heavier than ever. You didn’t want to lose her, but right now, it felt like that’s exactly what was happening, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

you need anything. I love you. Get some good sleep, okay?

You read the message over and over, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Relief, because Alexia wasn’t pushing you to talk when you didn’t feel ready. Disappointment, because a part of you had hoped she would sense your need for more; more reassurance, more connection, more confirmation that everything between you two was still okay. But she didn’t press further, and that left you with an emptiness that was hard to shake. Part of you knew that was silly, she had texted after your call and that should have helped but it just left you with a half full feeling. Like you were only worth that small extra effort.

As you lay there, your mind kept spiralling. You wanted to believe that this was just a rough patch, a phase, something that would pass after the season got into full swing. But the fear that something had shifted between you and Alexia lingered. You tried to push it away, to focus on the fact that she had said she loved you, that she was willing to drop everything for you. But the overthinking kept creeping back, whispering that maybe this was the beginning of the end.

You closed your eyes, pulling the blankets tighter around you, willing yourself to sleep. But even as exhaustion tugged at your body, your mind wouldn’t let go of the nagging doubts. You kept replaying the last few days in your head, every moment where Alexia had seemed distant, every conversation that had felt stilted or rushed. You hated how insecure it made you feel, but you couldn’t help it.

Alexia sits on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone, fingers hovering over the screen. She wants to call you, wants to check in, but hesitates. There’s a lump in her throat, a weight in her chest that won’t shift. You’d asked her for space, asked her not to hover, and she’s been trying, really trying, to respect that. But it’s hard. It’s so damn hard. It feels wrong to stay away, especially when she knows you’re not feeling well.

She runs a hand through her hair, frustrated with herself. She’s been distant lately and she understands that she’s not been around as much as she should have. Training, media obligations, new signings, everything’s been pulling her in different directions, and now, when you need her the most, she’s afraid she’s failing you. Alexia’s not used to feeling this way, like she’s not enough. But here she is, second-guessing everything and wondering why she let it get to this point.

What if you don’t even want her around anymore?

The thought hits her harder than she expects, and she feels a pang of guilt. You deserve someone better, someone who can be there, be present, and she’s been anything but lately. And now, with you sick, the fear creeps in even more. She worries that her attempts to give you space that you asked for might just be making things worse, that you might feel abandoned, even if that’s the last thing she ever wanted.

She presses her palms against her knees, trying to calm the whirlwind in her mind. The idea that she might not be enough, that she might not be the perfect girlfriend you deserve, gnaws at her. She’s scared she’s messing this up, that every move she makes might be the wrong one.

What if she’s not what you need right now? What if she’s been too caught up in her own world, too wrapped up in everything else to see what’s really going on with you?

Her phone buzzes, and for a moment, she thinks about texting you. But what would she even say? She feels torn, pulled between wanting to rush to your side and the fear that doing so would push you away.

She exhales sharply, setting the phone down, her hands now trembling slightly. She loves you, that much is very clear to her. But loving you and being there for you the way you deserve; it feels like two different things right now. She’s scared of being inadequate, of not living up to what you need.

In her heart, she wants to be the perfect girlfriend for you, the one who knows how to navigate all this with ease. Wants to know what you need without you having to say, wants to show you that there isn’t anyone better for you than her. But she’s scared, scared that she’s already failed.

That night, Alexia drives to your place. The streets are quiet, dimly lit by the occasional streetlamp, and the familiar route feels strange tonight, like she’s seeing it through a different lens. Her heart races the closer she gets, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual.

When she finally pulls up outside, she kills the engine but doesn’t move. The silence in the car feels thick, almost oppressive, like it's pressing down on her chest. She knows she should get out, knock on your door, and just be there for you. It’s why she came, after all. But something keeps her glued to the driver’s seat, eyes fixed on the dashboard, mind spinning with uncertainty.

What if you don’t want her here?

She takes a deep breath and glances up at your window. The lights are off, maybe you’re already asleep, maybe you’ve had a long day. Her mind starts to drift even further. Maybe she’s too late. But even if you're still awake, there’s that nagging voice in her head that tells her she’s crossing a line, that you’d rather be alone. That she should have done this a few days ago not now, not when you asked her to stay away.

I shouldn’t have come.

She exhales, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her jacket. Every part of her wants to be close to you, to show up the way she should have sooner. She even reaches for the door handle, her heart pounding as she tells herself, Just get out, Ale. Just go inside and talk to her. Be there for her.

But her grip on the handle loosens, and she pulls her hand back.

What if showing up makes things worse? What if you’re still upset, still needing space, and all she does by being here is prove that she can’t respect that?

She closes her eyes for a moment, willing the doubts away, but they only get louder. She’s scared, scared that you’ll see right through her. Scared that, no matter how hard she tries, she’s already failed you.

With a frustrated sigh, she pushes the door open and steps out of the car. The night air hits her, cool and crisp, and she stands there, staring at your front door. Her feet move her a few steps closer, but then she stops, frozen halfway across the street. To any passerby she would look slightly crazy, standing in the middle of the street, car door open behind her and staring at a closed door. But alexia didn’t care, she couldn’t think about anything else other than you.

She could knock, could tell you everything that’s been going through her head, but what if it’s too much? What if it’s too soon?

Alexia takes a deep breath and steps back, retreating to the safety of her car. She sits there, hands resting on the wheel again, feeling like a coward. But the thought of doing the wrong thing, of making things harder for you, keeps her from getting back out the car.

Tomorrow, she thinks. Tomorrow I’ll speak to her.

It’s a promise she makes to herself, hoping that maybe, with a little more time, she’ll find the right words.

The next morning, you woke up feeling no better than the night before. If anything, the pit in your stomach had only grown. You glanced at your phone, half-expecting to see a message from Alexia, but there was nothing. No good morning text, no follow-up to check on you. That left a really bitter feeling inside of you, one that you hated feeling for two reasons. One, you knew in your heart she wasn’t trying to make you feel that way, and two because you felt that way.

As you dragged yourself out of bed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You tried to convince yourself that Alexia was just busy, that she was giving you space like you asked. But deep down, the doubt gnawed at you. What if the space you asked for was pushing her further away?

You knew you needed to talk to her, to clear the air, but the thought of confronting your feelings made you anxious. What if she confirmed your worst fears? What if she said she wasn’t sure about the relationship anymore? You weren’t sure you could handle that.

Still, as you got ready for training, you decided to talk to her today. No more avoiding the conversation. You needed to know what was happening, you needed to clear things up. Not only for your relationship but for your own mind. There was a small voice at the back of your head telling you that speaking to Alexia about why this has happened might be a good idea, but you ignored that for the moment. That would mean showing those deep insecurities. And you weren’t sure if you were ready for that yet.

With the decision made, you grabbed your things and headed out the door, hoping that today would bring some clarity and maybe, just maybe, the reassurance you desperately needed.

Stepping out of the building, you're caught off guard. Alexia is there, leaning against her car, arms folded, sunglasses perched on her nose. She straightens up the moment she spots you, waving casually as if this is the most normal thing in the world. Which a week ago it would have been.

"Hey," she says lightly, her tone casual, maybe a little too casual. Stop reading so much into it y/n.

"Hey," you respond, trying to hide your confusion. "Didn’t expect to see you here."

She shrugs, unlocking the car with a beep. "Thought I’d give you a lift to training. I know Patri picked you up and dropped you home yesterday. I also wanted to check on you properly. How’re you feeling?"

There’s a pause, you are unsure if she’s asking about how you're feeling physically or mentally. "I’m... fine. Maybe a bit tired." Short and sweet, that will do for now.

"Yeah, it’s been a long week," she comments, sliding into the driver’s seat. You follow, buckling in, and the car hums to life as she pulls out onto the road. For a moment, the silence sits between you two, neither of you quite sure how to fill it.

"Traffic’s light today," she notes, glancing briefly at you. "Should get there in no time."

You nod, grateful for the small talk. "Yeah, that’s good."

Another beat of quiet passes.

"Did you see the new kit design?" she asks, her tone light, as if she’s trying to keep the conversation safe.

"Yeah, I did. Looks pretty sharp, though I’m not sure about the neon stripes," you reply, relaxing into the seat a little.

She chuckles softly. "Not a fan?"

You crack a small smile. "Not really my thing. Maybe it’ll grow on me."

The conversation fades again, but this time it feels easier, more comfortable. She’s not pushing, not prying into anything deeper. It feels like both of you are skirting around something bigger, but for now, the surface level is just fine.

Before long, you arrive at the training centre. Alexia leads you inside, where the trainers are waiting. The check-up is routine, some stretches, a few prods here and there and soon, they clear you to train.

"You’re good to go," the head trainer tells you with a nod.

As you step out onto the pitch, Alexia lingers nearby, not hovering, but subtly making sure you’re all right. During the water breaks, she’s quick to hand you a bottle, reminding you to stay hydrated. It's nothing overt, just small gestures that don’t go unnoticed by you.

Training passes, and as you finish up, wiping the sweat from your face and stretching out your tired muscles, you see her approaching again. This time, there’s something different in her expression.

"You did well today," she says with a small, approving smile.

"Thanks," you reply, sensing the shift in the air, the conversation about to take a more serious turn.

She hesitates for a second, then takes a deep breath. "Look... do you want to come back to mine? We need to talk. I think we’re overdue for it."

Her words hang between you both, but the way she says it feels less like a confrontation and more like an invitation. There’s no pressure, no demand, just a simple request.

You meet her gaze, unsure of what this conversation will bring, but knowing it’s inevitable. Whatever is currently going on with you two needs to be addressed and soon. Neither of you enjoying your current situation and definitely not wanting it to continue on this way.

"Yeah," you say, surprising yourself with how quickly the word comes out. "Let’s go."

You hesitate to take the hand Alexia reaches out in front of you, but when she gives you that small smile and slight tilt of her head you can’t help but grab on. You are once again conflicted when she lets go once you are on your feet, but when she awkwardly scratches at her neck as she gestures for you to start walking you can’t help the affection for her that rises in your chest.

The drive to Alexia’s is quiet, not awkward, but there’s a tension that hangs in the air. The radio plays softly in the background, a low hum of noise filling the silence as neither of you speaks much. You glance at her now and then, noticing how her hands grip the wheel just a little too tight, how her jaw seems tense. She’s trying to seem calm, but you know her well enough to see the nerves beneath the surface.

When you arrive at her apartment, Alexia unlocks the door and once again gestures for you to go inside first. You step in, and the familiarity of her space washes over you, a space that’s been shared so many times, but tonight feels different. She lingers by the door for a moment, taking a breath before following you in.

You both sit down on the couch, a little distance between you. Alexia fidgets with her fingers, playing with her rings, clearly trying to gather her thoughts. Finally, she speaks, her voice softer than usual, almost unsure.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” she says, her eyes not quite meeting yours. “I wanted to, but... I didn’t know if you’d want me there.”

You sit quietly, listening, waiting for her to continue. You know it is only fair to let her finish without interrupting, your time to speak will come.

“I know I haven’t been... the best lately. I’ve been distant, and I can’t even explain why in a way that makes sense,” she admits, her voice wavering slightly. “And then when you got sick... I wanted to be there for you. I should have been there, but you asked for space, and I didn’t want to make things worse.” You could hear the sadness and longing in her voice as she spoke, it made your heart hurt a little more thinking about how this has negatively affected her as well as you.

She looks down, her fingers twisting together nervously. “But I just kept second-guessing everything. Like, if I showed up, I’d be doing the wrong thing. And maybe... maybe you don’t even want me around anymore.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy with uncertainty and vulnerability. She’s never said anything like this before, never doubted herself like this when it came to your relationship. When it came to you.

You feel the weight of her worry, and it’s clear that she’s been wrestling with this more than you realized. Had you not been the best girlfriend either? Had she been worrying about this for more than just the last few days? There’s a long pause before she speaks again.

“I’m scared I’m not the girlfriend you deserve,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like I’m failing you... like I haven’t been there when you needed me most.”

Her eyes finally meet yours, and they’re filled with doubt, something you’re not used to seeing in her. Alexia, who’s always so composed, so sure of herself, now looks like she’s bracing for something, maybe rejection, maybe confirmation that her fears are true.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. You know this talk has been coming, but hearing her say it, seeing her so vulnerable, hits you differently. There's a part of you that wants to just reach out and hold her, to tell her it’s all okay, but you know this conversation needs to happen. You know that the both of you need to communicate these feelings and work on how you can do it without it getting to this stage again, if there is going to be again.

“Alexia...” you start, choosing your words carefully, “I never said I didn’t want you around. I asked for space because I needed it, not because I wanted you out of my life.”

She nods slowly, but her expression remains uncertain. You continue, “I’ve been going through a lot, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you here. It’s just... sometimes I need to figure things out on my own. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

Alexia exhales, her shoulders sagging a little in relief, but the tension is still there. “I just... I feel like I haven’t been enough lately. I’ve been so focused on everything else that I haven’t made time for us, for you, and then when you needed me most, I just... froze.”

You shift closer to her, your hand gently resting on hers. “I know you’re busy. I never expected you to be around all the time, Ale. I don’t need you to be. I just need you to be... present. To be you.”

Her eyes soften at your words, and she looks down at your hand that is soft on top of hers, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m sorry,” she says again, her voice steadier now. “I’ll do better. I want to be better, for you. For us.”

You nod, understanding the weight of what she’s saying. It’s not about perfection, not about always getting it right. It’s about showing up, about trying, even when it’s hard, even when doubts creep in.

“I just need us to be open with each other,” you say. “If you’re feeling off or distant, tell me. If you’re unsure about something, we’ll figure it out together. But don’t shut me out, and don’t shut yourself down thinking you’re not enough. And I’ll do better too. I have had so many insecure thoughts over the last few days and I’m sorry for those. I’m sorry that you get affected by them and I’m sorry I didn’t communicate with you about them. That wasn’t fair of me.”

You take a second to think about what you want to say next. Alexia’s eyes stay locked on yours, her expression softening even more as she listens. Her hand tightens just slightly around yours, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of what you’re both sharing. The tension between you eases further, but the conversation isn’t over yet.

You take a breath, choosing your next words carefully, wanting to make sure she understands where you're coming from.

“I’ve been in my head a lot,” you admit, your voice steady but full of emotion. “I thought that maybe you weren’t showing up because I wasn’t... worth it. That you were pulling away because I’ve been too much to handle. And instead of talking to you about how I was feeling, I just let it build up. I guess I was scared that saying it out loud would make it real.”

Alexia’s brow furrows as she shakes her head gently. “You’re never too much,” she says quietly, her thumb still brushing softly over your hand. “I never want you to feel that way. I hate that you’ve been carrying that, and I didn’t know. That I couldn’t help.”

You nod, grateful for her words but also aware of how important it is to keep the lines of communication open moving forward. “I know you care, I do. I just... I need to trust that more. And I need to talk to you when I’m struggling, not shut you out. I’m sorry for that.”

Alexia leans in closer, her voice filled with sincerity. “We’ll both do better. We’ll figure this out together. You’re not alone in this. I want to be there for you, and I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like I wasn’t.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you, and for the first time in days, it feels like the distance that had crept between you is finally closing. There’s a warmth in the room now, a sense of mutual understanding and a willingness to do better, together.

“I don’t need us to be perfect,” you say softly. “I just need to know that we’re in this together. That we can lean on each other, even when things aren’t easy.”

Alexia nods, her eyes shining with emotion. “We are. I promise. I love you, and I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you lean forward, pressing your forehead against hers. The silence that falls between you now isn’t heavy or filled with uncertainty. It’s peaceful, comforting.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

For now, the words are enough. There’s more to work through, more conversations to be had, but you know that you’re both committed to making this work. And for the first time in a while, you both feel like you're on solid ground again.

Alexia pulls you closer, wrapping her arms around you, and you sink into the embrace. The weight of the past few days begins to lift, replaced by a quiet sense of hope for what comes next.

After the heaviness of the conversation finally lifts, you and Alexia share a soft smile, the tension replaced by a quiet, comforting peace. The air between you feels lighter, and as if sensing the shift, Alexia’s lips curve into a small grin.

“How about we get some takeout?” she suggests, her voice playful yet warm. “I don’t feel like cooking, and I think we both deserve a break tonight.”

You chuckle, nodding in agreement. “That sounds perfect. I could definitely go for some comfort food.”

It doesn’t take long before you’ve both decided on your usual, something easy and satisfying. The soft glow of the kitchen light reflects off Alexia’s face as she places the order, her expression more relaxed than it’s been in days. You can’t help but feel a sense of relief, like things are finally settling back into place.

Not long after, the smell of freshly delivered food fills the room, and you both settle on the sofa, plates balanced on your laps, the comfort of being together in the small, familiar space wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

“Movie?” Alexia asks, already flicking through the streaming options.

“Nothing too heavy,” you say with a smile. “Something we can just zone out to.”

She nods in agreement, finally settling on a classic comedy that always makes you both laugh. As the opening credits roll, you finish your food and tuck yourself into her side, her arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

As the movie plays, the light from the screen flickers softly against the walls, casting a warm glow over the room. You’re snuggled close into Alexia’s side, her arm still draped around your shoulders, fingers lazily tracing small patterns on your arm. The comfort of it all makes you feel more at ease than you’ve felt in days.

At some point, the film becomes background noise. You’re more focused on the way Alexia’s thumb brushes your skin or the occasional glance you catch of her watching you instead of the movie. You shift slightly, turning your face up toward her, and her gaze softens as your eyes meet.

Alexia smiles, a tender warmth in her expression, and you can’t help but lean in. The first kiss is soft, almost shy, like you’re both still figuring out the rhythm after the tension of the last few days. Her lips linger against yours for a moment longer than usual, and when you pull back, you see the quiet joy in her eyes, a silent thank you for being open and honest with her, for being here.

Without a word, you lean in again, your lips meeting hers in a series of soft, gentle kisses. They’re unhurried, sweet, filled with a quiet kind of affection that says more than words could in this moment. Alexia’s hand comes up to cradle your cheek, her thumb grazing your jawline as she deepens the kiss slightly, but it’s still slow, still soft.

When you finally pull away, her forehead rests against yours, her breath mingling with yours as you both smile, the movie all but forgotten now.

“I missed this,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the quiet moment.

“Me too,” you whisper back, brushing a kiss on the corner of her lips, your hands finding their way into hers.

She presses another kiss to your lips, this one lingering, and you both relax into the warmth of each other, the world outside fading as the night slips by.

There’s no rush, just the two of you, lost in the soft comfort of being close, the rest of the night spent in quiet kisses and shared smiles, wrapped up in each other as the movie plays on in the background. There is no need for more words tonight. You both know you’re in this together, that the promise made earlier will be something you will both work at together. And for right now, that’s enough.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #woso fic #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

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joelsdagger · 1 year ago

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all the things i would do || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

masterlist | ao3 | resources on how to help Palestine here <3

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: porn no plot. joel finds an article of clothing that belongs to you and there’s nothing holding him back once he gets his hands on them.

rating: explicit, 18+ MDNI

content warnings: [Post Outbreak], jackson era, established relationship, implied age gap (25+ years), joel is canon age, slightly domestic joel (blink and it’s gone), joel has a panty kink, panty sniffing, masturbation (m), soft dom!joel, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, pet names (use of baby, sweet baby, sweetheart, love), smidgen of fluff (these two are so in love it’s sickening), an inkling of a size kink (but in my head joel’s at least 6’5, he’s a BIG big man in my brain), joel’s filthy mouth, praise kink, hint of sub!joel, nipple play, one use of the word ‘Daddy’ (moots don’t look at me I couldn’t help it), slight tummy kink/tummy worship, cum eating. Joel’s POV. No use of Y/N. No physical descriptions of reader other than having hair long enough that it’s past her shoulders.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: so, a few things before we get started. i’m new to writing fics and this is my first time publicly putting out a fic that wasn’t just for shits and giggles for my friends and i and i’m so fucking nervous like the amount of times i’ve panicked over this is a little embarrassing to admit but we ball. shout out to @skrunkly-scrimblo for encouraging me to actually write this all those months ago and for all your brilliant ideas and encouragement and practically holding my hand through it since day one. another big thank you to kat, aura, and naya for beta reading and helping me during the editing process. okay i’m done rambling, enjoy some of the filth that constantly plagues my brain <3

Joel’s eyes blink open slowly, the sun peeks into the bedroom through the curtains across the room. For a moment he searches for you beside him, but remembers you’ve already left for the day out on patrol duty. Joel harrumphs, still bothered over letting you and Ellie bully him out of his patrol duties. “You’ve been hurting yourself too much baby,” You had told him a few weeks ago over breakfast. “Yeah, you’re an old man now. You fall over one more time and you’re done.” Ellie snickers from her seat in the kitchen. Joel just rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the dishes, but you had caught the small grin on his face when he turned his head back to the sink. Against the two of you, Joel never stood a chance.

Joel drags himself out of bed towards his dresser to grab a new set of clothes. He throws on a blue shirt that fits a little snug on his well built form, the thin material stretches over his broad shoulders, across his strong back, and pulls taut over his biceps and he grunts as he pulls a pair of dark wash jeans over his strong, thick thighs, securing them in place with a distressed leather belt that he’s had for years. Once he’s dressed, he takes in the mess in the room. He notices both of your clothes from the night before are still scattered around the room. He bends down to pick them up, he grunts as his knees pop when he stands back up. He starts gathering them up to toss them into the hamper already overflowing with clothes. The last article of clothing out of place is yours. Your black lace panties on the armchair in the corner. He grabs them and his eyes widen when he feels it, the center still wet from him making you come earlier. His cock instantly hardened in his jeans.

Joel turns on his heel and in just a few long strides he’s in your shared bathroom. He deliberately avoids the mirror, knowing that if he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror he’ll disgust himself even more. Briskly, he sets the laundry hamper on the tile near the bathtub. Joel brings the thin black lace up to his face, closes his eyes and he sniffs them, breathing you in completely. He groans at the scent of you. His cock painfully hard now. He knows he shouldn't but he can't help it. He’s addicted to you and he knows he can’t wait til you get home. He knows he can’t wait to have his way with you, dig into you any way that you will let him. So, without another second of hesitation, Joel unbuckles his belt, a clink from the metal hitting the edge of the counter, unzips his jeans and takes his thick, heavy cock out, and then brings your soaked panties to his angry, leaking tip. His precum meets the wetness of your panties and he hisses at the feeling. With the wetness of the gusset of your panties acting as a lubricant, Joel begins to slowly stroke himself, wanting to take his time, savoring every feeling, relishing in it. Joel soon becomes too desperate for release, he quickly loses control, his hips moving faster to fuck his hand, his hand tightening around his cock, the grip almost painful now. His eyes are screwed shut, as he throws his head back, the night before instantly replaying in his head.

He had just gotten out of the shower to find you sprawled out on your stomach on your side of the bed, ankles crossed in the air. He rakes his eyes over your form until his eyes land on your ass. You were wearing the panties he was currently fucking his hand with. You didn’t notice him stepping out of the bathroom, too busy looking at the photo album you had just put together. It’s relatively new, most of the pages empty, yet you were looking at the photos you had taken earlier that week at the Tipsy Bison. The one that had your attention was a photo of you and Joel that Ellie had taken. Neither of you looked at the camera, the photo had captured you mid-laugh, head tilting back, eyes shut, it was a full belly laugh at something Joel had said. Joel’s arm was around your shoulder tucking you into his side, smiling down at you, a rare type of smile, one reserved only for you.

Leaning on the entryway, his arms crossed over his broad, tanned chest, he smiles at the view. You’re in nothing but your panties in his bed, in his home. His feet move without thinking, walking over to you. He brushes your hair over your shoulder, tracing his fingers over your soft supple skin down your back and over the lace of your panties, and lightly pinches your ass. “So pretty sweet baby,” he says shyly, almost like he’s speaking to himself. You turn your head to look up at him, smiling. Wordlessly, he took the photo album from your hands, placing it on your nightstand. He gets in the bed, carefully sitting on his knees while attempting to avoid loosening the off-white towel around his waist. You roll onto your back to face him, his silver curls still damp from the shower as water still drips onto his strong shoulders. He combs his hair back after a shower and the ends tend to curl up around his ears. It’s been months since you last cut his hair but you like his hair longer, you had whispered to him in the darkness of your bedroom, your naked, sweaty limbs tangled up together between his sheets. From that night on he hasn’t asked you to cut it for him. He likes it because you like it.

While you’re busy ogling him, Joel’s hands immediately reach to trace the floral lace pattern before toying with the little satin black bow at the center front. His rough, calloused hands slide up your bare thighs, wrapping his large hands around your thighs and he pries open your legs, his hazel eyes locked in on your center like a bullseye and you notice the cocky smirk he’s got plastered on his face, pleased with himself that he’s already got you wet for him.

He brings two thick fingers to slide over your covered cunt. He feels the wetness on the material and he pulls back to look up at you and finds your attention on his fingers. “What a mess you made, pretty girl,” he murmurs. You’re watching the movement of his fingers, entranced by his fingers teasing your pussy as he glides them up and down your slit. He clicks his tongue at you, “so wet for me huh baby? Always so wet for me. So perfect,” he smirks to himself as he gently pulls your panties to the side, revealing your aching, needy cunt. He lowers his head placing gentle kisses on the soft skin of your inner thigh, his lips tracing and peppering your skin all the way towards your center, his mouth hovering over the place you need him most and you shiver beneath him.

“Joel,” you whisper, he chuckles seeing you all worked up for him. “Baby please,” you whimper.

“What is it baby?” he tuts, “use your words, sweet girl,” he tilts his head slightly with a smug grin on his face. His fingers move up and down your folds.

“N-need them inside me, p-please,” you whimper as you claw at his forearms, clutching them for stability.

“Alright baby, lemme taste her first,” He lays flat on his stomach, moves his arms under your legs, and hoists them up over his broad shoulders. He lowers his mouth onto your cunt and the tip of his tongue licks through your folds. He hums at the sweet taste of you on his tongue. He flattens his tongue and licks a long thick stripe and he groans lowly, the vibrations making you squirm under him.

“Fuck, more baby,” you beg. You gasp at the hook of his nose bumping your clit. Your hands fly to his hair, eyes closing swiftly, brows furrowed as you let out a loud moan.

“There she is,” he smirks. He flicks his tongue over your clit. His eyes slip closed as he relishes in the noises leaving your mouth, like music to his ears. Your hips buck up into his face, selfishly grinding your cunt for more. Joel’s eyes flicker back up your face, “eyes on me sweetheart,” he murmurs. Your eyes snap open to watch him as he brings his fingers back up to your cunt, two thick fingers dip into you and you can hear the wet squelch as he eases his fingers in, simultaneously, he circles his tongue around your clit. He pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you, his tongue lapping at your cunt. You feel the pressure building up more intensely inside of your belly and then you’re chanting his name as he curls his fingers inside you, petting at the spongy spot he knows will break you. He closes his mouth around your clit and he sucks hard.

“Fuck, Joel, yes yes,” Your hips bucking up into his face, your legs start to shake as you come on his face and your cunt tightening around his fingers, a loud strangled moan filling the air.

“That’s my girl,” he says as he watches you gasp above him, pressing a quick kiss to your clit. Your eyes flutter open just in time to see him removing his fingers, all wet and shiny, and putting them in his slick covered mouth, sucking them clean.

Softly, he grabs your ankles, pulling you down towards the edge of the bed eliciting a giggle. His favorite sound…well one of his favorites. His favorite being the next sound that comes out of your mouth when he quickly pulls your panties down. He sees the wet shine of your cum in the center and his face lights up with glee. “You made such a mess ‘a your panties, baby,” he tuts before tossing them across the room. He unties the towel from his waist and lets it fall and it pools around his legs, revealing his thick, heavy cock, the tip angry and beads of precum seeping out of the slit. You place your hands around your thighs, slowly pulling them apart, presenting your already spent pussy to him once again and he groans roughly.

He leans forward, his fingers running through your folds once more, and you quiver at his touch. He gathers your cum on his fingers and strokes himself twice before he dips the wide tip of his cock inside of you. A whine leaves your lips. That. That was his favorite sound. He doesn’t push in further… he doesn’t move an inch. He’s teasing you…wants you to ask nicely for it. Like clockwork his voice laced with honey he says “Ask for it baby, ask for my cock.”

Desperate, you whine again “please joel… I need your cock.” Your needy fingers trail lightly over his soft belly, sitting up slightly, you place soft kisses from his belly button down to the dark patch of hair above his cock, his body trembles at the feeling of your lips ghosting over his belly and a breathy moan escapes his lips. He laces his fingers with yours, bringing your hands near your head, his large form encompassing your smaller frame, he lowers himself down over you, his lips brushing against yours. “Baby, please. Please fuck my pussy” you mewl. He pushes his cock deeper, deeper, and deeper til the head of his cock kisses your cervix, provoking a loud groan from him against your ear as he nestles himself into you, where he belongs.

“See baby all you had to do was ask politely” Joel cooes. He drags his hips back, leaving only his tip inside you once again and you clench around him. “Fuck, goddamn you’re fucking tight,” he grits. Slowly he starts thrusting his tip in and out.

You whine again, “Baby don’t be mean. I want all of it.”

“Shh..I know baby, I know,” he soothes. Then in one long single thrust, he wedges his cock back inside of you to the hilt, bottoming out into your cunt, hitting the spot that only he knows with a loud ragged groan into the crook of your neck. His cock is stretching you out, feeling every twitch, he’s everywhere and it’s overwhelming. He hitches your legs up towards your chest, opening you up more, your chest pressed tightly against his, he drags the weight of his cock languidly between your slick, moaning at the wet sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room.

When you look up at him it’s like you can see a lightbulb go off in his head and before you know it, Joel’s large hands grab the swell of your ass, he picks you up, and repositions you both so he’s on his back and has you sitting on his thick cock. He wants you to ride him. In this position you can feel him in the deepest parts of your belly and it hurts just a little bit but you find pleasure in it, you always have.

Leaning forward, you place your hands on the headboard and arching your back a bit more, Joel's head falls back down onto the pillows. At the sudden change of the angle, his eyes shut for just a second before he’s snapping them right back open. He doesn’t want to miss a single thing. He wants to see it all. He watches how your breasts bounce as you move and quickly, he leans up to catch a nipple in his mouth. He’s licking and sucking all over your pebbled nipple and then his teeth graze along the hardened peak before swiftly pulling it between his teeth. He moves onto the other and he flicks his tongue over your nipple, he sucks and nips at it lightly before he lets your tit fall from his mouth, admiring the slight bounce of your breast before his eyes lock in on your face, watching your face contort and your mouth open while you seek your high. It's his favorite thing, watching you like this.

“Jesus Christ, look at you, you’re takin’ me so well,” he groans.

The grip of his hands on your hips tightens but doesn’t guide you, just seeks some ounce of control. You lean forward more so your clit brushes ever so slightly against the dark patch of curls at his base. The friction makes you approach your orgasm quickly. Joel’s eyes flicker down to where you two are connected, taking pleasure in seeing his cock splitting you open, watching as it disappears deep inside of you.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck….use me. Fuck yourself on daddy’s cock, atta girl,” You roll your hips faster, grinding harder on his cock, greedy and desperate to come again. “C’mon baby, come all over my cock.”

His words and your clit repeatedly pressing against him make your hips stutter and you clench around him as your orgasm finally washes over you, harder than before. Your body goes limp on his chest. Joel doesn’t let up, he grabs your thighs and lifts his hips, relentlessly fucking his cock up into you. His cock slams into you so hard the wet slapping sound of your bodies fills the room.

You turn your head and press your lips to his ear, nipping at his earlobe, you spur him on “c’mon Joel, come for me baby,” you softly rasp. “C’mon baby, for me, do it for me love,” you whisper and he whimpers, his thrusts becoming faster, more erratic. You bite down on his shoulder to muffle the whines that leave your mouth as he fucks into you harder, your walls tighten around him, his cock twitches inside you before he hastily pulls out with a long pained groan and with his cock between your bodies, his cum spurts out, thick and warm, coating his stomach. A moment passes and you lower your lips down his chest, feeling the rough edges of his skin underneath your lips as you pepper open mouthed kisses along his strong torso, the soft skin of his belly, over the jagged scar on his lower abdomen, all the way down his happy trail, you feel him shiver beneath you.

You sit up on his thighs, locking your eyes with his, you bring your fingers down to his cum on his stomach. You look back up at him, your gaze meeting his as you swirl your fingers twice in his spend and bring your shiny, sticky coated fingers up to your mouth, closing your lips around your fingers, sucking them clean. His mouth agape, he’s staring back at you while you use your fingers to lick up his cum, “dirty girl, one’a these days you’re gonna gimme a heart attack woman,” he groans.

The memory of it all…you riding him, your naked breasts bouncing, his cock impaling you, watching it disappear inside you over and over, your cunt clamping down around his cock and the echo of your moans as you came last night playing in his head sends him hurtling over the edge.

His cock twitches in his hand, his other hand slamming down on the counter, he groans your name raggedly and his thighs quiver as he comes hard into his fist, harder than he ever has when jerking himself off. He pumps his release into your panties, hot, thick ropes of his cum painting the gusset. His cum spurting out seemingly endless for a man his age.

If you were here in front of him he would pull the fabric up over your thighs, making you wear your cum filled panties before going about the rest of your day.

But you’re not here so instead he brings the cum soaked panties up to his face, eyeing his spend and your wetness for a moment. He stops himself and contemplates the idea in his head as he eyes the glistening sheen over the center. Just as quickly as the thought infiltrated his head, he decides against it and bunches up the thin material and tosses them in the old laundry basket sat in the corner of your shared bathroom. Joel tucks himself back into his jeans, washes his hands, limping slightly as he walks out of your bedroom and closes the door behind him leaving your laundry for another day.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #tlou fanfiction #tlou one shot #the last of us fanfiction #jackson!joel x f!reader #jackson!joel x reader #noelle's workshop

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xoluvx · 5 months ago

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Can u write a fluff one where Billie and reader are best friends but Billie has a huge crush on reader. And one day Billie is hanging out at readers and they r lying in bed but reader accidentally falls asleep cuddling into Billie and Billie gets really flustered. When she eventually calms down she does an insta live or something and the fans r like “that’s not your house” “wait where are you” and Billie accidentally tells the public that she has a crush on reader.

enjoyyyy ily <3

her heart was racing. your head nuzzled into the nook of her neck, arm draped around her body like it was the most natural thing in the world. like you were always meant to lay like this.

billie watched you. her heart was beating rapidly and she wondered if you could hear it even while slumbering. she watched the way your lids fluttered. brows furrowing as if you were having a nightmare and she just wished she could make it go away.

with a shaky hand, she caressed your eyebrows as they detangled from their furrowed state. the action only made you snuggle into her further. soft noises escaping your body. her own body tensed and her cheeks turned bright pink when you squeezed her. her heart was in her throat, pulsing. prying. trying to jump out. trying to jump out and hold you. love you.

then your soft breathing filled the room and the little noises calmed her nerves and she felt peaceful. so warm and calm.

until she remembered she was suppose to do a live tonight. she'd promised it and you were suppose to be the one who reminded her. yet somehow you ended up in her arms fast asleep and she didn't feel the need to wake you.

she pulled her phone out of her pocket. finger taping careful not to wake you. careful not to move too much. her body was half raised on the headboard. she figured she'd angle the camera so you wouldn't be seen.

the comments started flooding in as she watched the screen. eyes big and twinkling with the reflection of the fluorescent screen. she felt you stir, looked down, but you were fast asleep.

she cleared her throat before speaking.

"hi," she whispered.

comments about not being in her familiar space crowded the chat. comments wondering where she was flooded the screen.

"we have to be quiet tonight," she whispered leaning closer to the screen, eyes looking down to scan the chat. she smiled cheekily at the double meaning already seeing fans who were eating it up.

"you can stop asking where i am, i'm not home" she scolded like her fans were children, but playfully of course. she felt you stir again and looked down.

"so cute," she whispered mainly to herself watching the way you pouted your lips. it was clear you were starting to wake. the bright light and talking certainly didn't help.

when she looked up at the screen everyone was wondering what she was looking at. who the hell was she calling cute? then her hand slipped and her camera caught a glimpse of you and you stirred and whined letting go of her body, stretching and covering you face.

billie cursed and grabbed the phone.

"wait, i'll be back" she whispered and set her phone down. the screen going black.

"what's happening?" you ask, voice groggy still laced with sleep.

"the live," she leaned into you raising her brows.

"oh my god, i forgot. shit, billie i'm so sorry. how long was i sleeping for?" you were rambling oblivious to the fact that her phone was still very much live.

"it's okay. you looked so cute sleeping, i couldn't wake you up."

she'd forgotten she was on live too. the moment so intimate as you whispered and exchanged words. she was so soft with you. so reassuring, hand on your cheek as you melted into her. the moment taking an unexpected turn. you swallowed feeling yourself grow flushed.

"so the live?" you ask with a small laugh. billie nods pulling her hand away. then she picks up her phone. confusion and chaos in the chat. then you're leaning into her as she holds her phone up and the pieces to the puzzle are coming together and hearts are decorating the screen and billie's face is so obviously obviously flushed.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish fic #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish blurb #billie eilish request

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churipu · 1 year ago

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Idk if u take requests rn, but if you do, could you write fluffy moments with jjk men (pls include toji, i rlly wanna see him w fluff because there is like none) you fav would be cuddling, but you do whatever you want <3 Also, don't stress yourself when writing i, and please take breaks <33

JJK MEN + FLUFFY MOMENTS (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

featuring. toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, nanami kento x reader

warnings. jjk men being softies

note. i just read the most heart wrenching nanami fic, i think i'm not okay at all </3 but hi anon, thank you for requesting this — this is exactly what i needed after reading angst. i apologize if it took a long time to get this out omg, i hope you like it.

and guys, omg???? 700+ followers? i genuinely never expected my works to be recognized by so much, and meeting new writers here and there, making friends, makes me so happy (i'm not crying) i love u all so so so so much, u guys rock, ily all <;33

TOJI FUSHIGURO

hated talking about the future, but ever since he met you — he rambles about it.

toji has always thought his future was nothing interesting, he kills people for a living, gets money off of it and he gambles. that's about it, so what was there to think about in the future?

meeting you was the firsts to a lot of things in his life.

toji grew up in a loveless household full of anger, and lust for power. which is why he is who he is today. distant, aloof, detached. people tell him he'd be nothing without his strength and face, there is no denying that toji fushiguro has a face card. he knows that.

so when he first met you, all he expected was like every other day. people caring about his face, and only that — and he'd play along although he's had enough of it, but no; you didn't care about all that.

face, money, strength. none of that.

he vaguely remembered the first time you spoke to him: "hey, mind helping me grab that box of cereal?" and he expected you to hit on him after, but you left it at that, muttering out a thanks and then leaving him in the aisle alone.

then for some reason he meets you again, the very next month. asking him the exact same thing, asking for help to take the cereal box which happened to be on the very top of the shelf. god knows why, both you and him just made it a routine every month after that. no communications about meeting and all. you both kind of just, met right in the cereal aisle on one particular day in the month, and then leave.

on the fifth month, he finally asks for your number.

"toji, is that your way of asking me out? because if it is, i'm disappointed."

"maybe."

and then you both kind of just sealed it; you're dating. nothing much changed, every month both you and him still go to the cereal aisle — he still helps you with grabbing the box from the shelf. the only difference was that now the two of you leave together.

toji hates talking about his future. but with you? he could go on for a whole day. he rambles about what he thinks and what he wants in the future with you.

"i wan' to get married. i wan' to marry you," did it caught you by surprise? yes. yes it did, "i wan' to have a family with you, a nice little family. i wan' to have a son so i could throw him around — but a girl is okay too, i can protect her from boys, i'll love them both equally. but i don't think i'll be a good dad to them. i'm scared they won't like me."

"toji, what? where did that come from?"

his back was pressed to your chest as you both lay down on the bed, one of your leg draped over his torso and he has his hand on your plush thigh, squeezing it every once in a while.

"i don't know. just a thought, i never talked about my future with anyone before," his body vibrated as he grunted, leaning his head back a bit, "i just don't think i'll be a good father, y'know?" he squeezed your thigh.

"why do you think so?" you asked him, placing your chin on the crown of his head.

"i just think so."

"stop thinking then," you chuckles, draping an arm around his neck, caressing his throat so softly it made the male shudder under your touch — but he didn't mind, he took comfort under your skin.

"can't." his voice was not stern or bold, it was soft and serene. he laced his fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles gently, "i can't believe 'm saying this, but 'm worried about my future. 'm a little scared."

just the fact he was admitting that he's scared about something was mind boggling, because the toji fushiguro? who kills people? was admitting that he was actually terrified of something, which wasn't even the strongest sorcerer. it's his future.

you were silent, letting him talk because when else would he be able to be like this?

"'m terrified. 'm scared i won't make you happy. what if i don't make you happy? what if my kids hate me?" so many questions that you don't even have the answer to, but you placed your hand over his lips, shutting him up.

toji grumbled, he swiped his tongue over your palm.

"ew!" you laugh, wiping your hand on his shirt, "but why're you suddenly talking about this all? which videos have you been watching again?"

"nothing, can't i think about my own future with you?" he shuffles, turning to face you, prepping an arm under his head as he stares down at you. not in the condescending way — he stared at you with so much desperation for love, he slowly blinks, the glint in his eyes never changing.

"why out of the blue?"

"jus' because."

you poked his cheek, "liar."

he sighs, latching his hand onto your hips, pulling you close. he buries his head into your shoulder in content, "jus' worried about it, i never think about my future in the past. but now — with you, i jus' worry about it because i didn't think i'd make it 'till now."

you chuckled, rubbing the back of his head lightly, "you remember that one time in the park when you see that little boy crying over spilled ice cream?"

he hums softly.

"and you bought him another ice cream, but asked me to be the one to give it to him because you were scared you'd scare him off instead?" you ask him, your fingers tangling with his hair lightly.

"yeah."

"you'll be fine, toji." you tell him.

"y'think so?" he retorts back, squirming a bit.

"i know so."

GOJO SATORU

he has to know about everything that you like, he needs to know why you like them. every. single. thing.

gojo chased after you. you were one tough cookie, he likes a chase. he's so used to people fawning over his looks that when you didn't — he just has to know your name.

the curiosity to know your name ended up pulling him in a spiral of this little thing called "love". gojo swore it was just curiosity, but everyone else besides him thinks otherwise, he promised himself and people around that he didn't like you, he was just, well, curious.

but curiosity doesn't look like that. gojo finds himself asking people about what type of boys you like, and when he finds out about it — he tries his best to be your type. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite flower is, and when he finds out about it, he's out there sending big bouquets of it to you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite genre of music is, and when he finds out, he listens to them so he could talk about it with you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite series or movie is, and when he finds out, he watches them all intently so he could talk about them with you and hate on characters together with you. and he still promises that he was just curious.

he was just curious, he kept telling that to himself. so why does it bother him when you were out with another guy? another guy that's not him. not gojo satoru.

gojo asks you about who it was, and when you tell him it's nobody important, he gets upset about it.

"why are you so upset?"

"i'm just..curious."

"it's none of your business."

he left it at that. his whole week was ruined, he couldn't stop thinking about it. about you. and then he finally realizes, he wasn't curious — he was in love. so there he was, in front of your door at two in the morning.

"what?"

"who was that guy?"

"gojo, you're still onto that?" you ask him, tired, "i said it's none of your business. you're here at two just to ask me about that?"

"it's my business because i'm in love with you, damn it!"

gojo was half grateful when you told him it was your distant cousin, but half embarrassed as well. all's well ends well. he gets you in the end, and he doesn't have to worry about anything else — nothing in the world matters to him but you.

"baby, what do you recommend?" was one of the most spoken phrases he has delivered to you.

in restaurants, dessert bars, convenience store, movie theaters, anything you could recommend him, he'd ask for it.

"why do you always ask? don't you have your own preference, satoru? i'm not even sure if you'll like my recommendations though," he smiles at you, tracing small circled on the back of your hand.

"i want to know about everything that you like, and why you like them. i want to know everything about you," you look at him and smiled, honestly, what did we ever do to deserve him?

"why?"

"because i love you." yeah, he wasn't just curious. he's in love. and deep.

NANAMI KENTO

he always orders food that you like, and shares some with you — even if you didn't ask for it.

nanami never expected to be in relationships. in fact, relationships was the last thing in his mind — but when he met you, he just kind of felt attracted. he seeks for your comfort whenever he's tired, and when you weren't there, nanami just sort of drowns in himself until he could see you or hear your voice.

at the beginning of your relationship, nanami was never the one to initiate things because he wasn't an experienced male in relationships. you ask him and he just sort of do it without any other complaints.

but as time goes on, he get the hang of it. what he should do and what he shouldn't — it's adorable, he's started doing things that he never thought he would do in his life, but here he was sitting by your side; peeling apples for you because you wanted them.

"kento, eat some. it's going to be finished by the time you finish peeling every one of them," you joked, your legs on top of his thighs.

nanami hums softly, "it's okay. as long as you like it."

nanami doesn't realize the weigh of his sweet words sometimes, he does it and asks himself to why you were reacting like that. sweet talk is his vocabulary. he says it with no worries, telling you things you've always wanted to hear but never say.

but one thing that always stuck to him and you from the first time you got close up to now was: nanami always orders things that you like. you never understood the reason behind it, and when you tried asking him about it, he just tells you he was craving it.

it didn't seem odd at first — but as time goes on, his whole taste was just an exact copy of yours.

if you get something different than your usual menu, nanami will get your usual menu because he knows damn well that you're going to end up wanting them. although you don't tell him when the food comes, nanami makes it his job to share with you. and that's really sweet of him.

but when you get your usual menu, nanami orders something with elements that you like in them and shares them with you even without you asking for a bite. and not only that, he didn't share a spoonful — he shared a lot.

"ken, you don't have to share with me. i have my own food." you tell him, despite your heart tugging you to just let him share because you were too shy to say that you wanted a bite.

"it's alright sweetheart. i'm a little full." he lies. he ends up snacking on something on midnight, and it's now a routine.

so in exchange for that, you always make it your job to stock up foods ranging from small snacks like biscuits, chips, up to instant or pre-heated food. even cutting up fruits so nanami could snack on it, and he caught on to it pretty quick.

but he didn't complain, he likes it when you do it.

"ken, i cut out some mangoes and dragon fruit. you can eat them if you're hungry."

"thank you y/n."

mutual wins.

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