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bucketbueckers · 8 days ago

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RECKLESS DRIVING

CHAPTER TWO

content: language, a cam roman crash out disguised as humor, mention of a panic attack (not an actual one, literally a mention), implied mental health issues, HORSE as foreplay, author won't pretend to know anything about the dallas geography

wc: 7.2k

notes: not gonna lie, this was lowk a rly tough chapter to write but im happy with how it turned out 🙂‍↔️ i love paige and cam so bad and i can't wait until we get to the heart of their relationship once the season actually starts. also i honestly wasn't gonna post this tn but somehow the wings won so why not. do not expect future updates to be this fast. shout out li yueru tho thats my goat fr. if i missed anyone on the taglist pls lmk !!! anyways i really appreciate the love on chapter one and i love hearing from y'all 🫶 as always i hope y'all enjoy this one ❤️

tags: @cowboybueckers @indigo491 @wnba-scotland @volleyballgirlsblog @sillystarv @middyprincess @intoblonde6ftwbbplayers @user1269 @fivest4rbuecks @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @lilpaigeyherbo

Before now, Cam isn’t so sure that she’s ever thought much about retirement.

She’s 26. She easily has another ten years left in her, but she’s always dreamed of having a long career that could rival Taurasi’s. She knows for sure that she’s not turning in her resignation papers without a league MVP, a championship ring, and an Olympic medal. Whether she retired as a Dallas Wing or whether she signed elsewhere was another story entirely. Maybe she’d spend her final season in the league as a Golden State Valkyrie, giving her last year to the city that had raised her.

Either way, the end wasn’t ever something that was a topic of thought for her. Cam liked to stay focused on the present – on her workouts, her training. The seasons always passed by so quickly that dedicating your energy to anywhere but the present was wasting the already limited time you had.

But now, as Cam stares at a very naked Paige Bueckers, whose face is wrought with a sudden shock and a damning realization, whose hair is mussed and whose neck is littered with enough marks that Cam has half a mind to call the cops and report herself for assault and battery, she sees her entire career flash by her eyes.

She recalls her draft night vividly. She still has the white, floral dress she wore to it hung up in her closet. She remembers her first rookie press conference and the reporter who backhandedly called her a “decent player, given the options the Wings had in the draft.” She remembers her debut, her lackluster thirteen points and five rebounds, how the media considered her a bust only five games into the season. Cam remembers how she fought to show up every day despite the fact that all she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and cease to exist.

Cam remembers how she made a name for herself in spite of it all. She remembers their winning season, and how it all came crashing down in 2024 when they only won nine games. She remembers the embarrassment of not being selected for the 2024 Olympics and how quiet the dinner table was after Coley only brought home a silver. Romans display their gold, her father had said, hardly sparing a glance at his youngest. Anything else is as good as a coaster.

They always say that, when you die, your fondest memories replay for you in one final surge of happiness. Cam is sure that’s what she’s feeling now because clearly her career is over.

She’ll have to request a trade. The Wings organization is already being held together by a thin piece of twine and the hope that Curt Miller, Chris Koclanes, and Paige Bueckers can be the one to pull them from the depths of hell and turn them into something that the rest of the league wouldn’t laugh at. Cam doesn’t know how anyone would be able to recover if word got out that she slept with Paige Bueckers – number one draft pick, Wings rookie (Cam’s rookie), future of the franchise, in case you’d forgotten – on the very same night that she lifted her jersey.

Okay. Maybe it wasn’t the same night, considering they didn’t make it back to the hotel room until well after midnight, and Cam was sure that the clock on the wall read something like 2:49 by the time the last of their energy was depleted and Paige spooned her from behind like they’d been in a position a time or two.

Obviously, that’s not the point – not if Camille’s ensuing panic attack has anything to say about it.

The point is this entire situation is a major conflict of interest. Morally, technically, probably legally. Cam was supposed to be the responsible one, the veteran. Granted, she and Paige aren’t so far apart in age, but she’s going on her fifth year in the league. She knows better. And everything is so fragile right now. She might have just risked the health of the locker room in exchange for one night that, admittedly, was nice.

The most terrifying part of this entire situation was that Cam was supposed to take care of Paige. Not in a coddling manner – Paige could handle herself. She was grown. But adjusting to the league, to the pace, to the expectations…that wasn’t something you should do alone. She was supposed to help Paige find her footing, support her, advocate for her. She was supposed to do what any good veteran would do for their rook, but somewhere in between all of that anxiety bubbling in her gut, she feels that ever present feeling of failure creeping in.

She hadn’t even made it back to Dallas before she fucked it all up. And this feeling – this fear, the dread, the overwhelming sense that she just did something she can’t take back, it feels worse than anything she’s ever felt before. It’s worse than getting blown out in front of a home crowd that gets quieter and quieter with every turnover, every missed shot, every collapse on defense that leads to an uncontested three.

Welcome to the league, Paige Bueckers. Bet you wished it really was an Alyssa Thomas screen, huh?

“Okay,” Paige says after a while, her voice surprisingly calm given the gravity of the moment. “It’s not that bad.”

Cam throws her hands into the air, overwhelmed and exasperated. “Not that bad?” she exclaims, her heart hammering against her chest. “Paige, we just slept together.”

The blonde swallows, her eyes flickering down, and it seems like it takes a genuine effort to lift them back to Cam’s face. “Trust me,” she says, her voice cracking a little. “I ain’t forget.”

Cam glances down, taking in just how fucking naked she is, too, and with a growl that borders on equal parts panic and humiliation, she rips the comforter off the second bed in the room and wraps it around her body. It keeps Paige’s gaze off of her chest, but Cam isn’t sure what’s worse – having Paige see all of her or the fact that, despite the early morning, Paige’s eyes are impossibly blue, alert, and trained on her face. Somehow, it makes her feel more vulnerable than having stood in front of her naked.

“Are you…okay?” Paige asks tentatively.

That makes Cam’s shoulders sag, a huff of air escaping her lips. It’s hard to tell if it’s a scoff or something more like amusement, and she takes a seat at the foot of the bed as she digs through the pile of clothes on the floor for her underwear. “Yes,” she says, the word sounding stale. Paige makes a soft noise behind her that sounds like disbelief. Cam sighs. “No. I don’t know, Paige.”

“Are you hurt?”

That makes Cam pause, drawing her lip between her teeth in contemplation as she slides her bottoms over her legs. “Sore,” she admits after a while.

“Yeah?” Paige goads, and it fills Cam with the urge to turn around and smack her head. She rolls her lips so as to not smile and doesn’t give Paige the satisfaction of getting a reaction. “I’d apologize, but…you seemed pretty okay with it.”

“Paige,” Cam stresses. The reminder of last night makes her walls raise again. “Be serious.”

“Sorry,” she says for real, and it sounds genuinely apologetic. “Do you, uh, regret it? I didn’t like – force you, or anything?”

Cam sighs again, reaching for her bra, dropping the comforter to slide it over her torso. She feels Paige’s gaze leave her. The respect is touching. “I was drunk,” she admits, listening for the hitch in Paige’s breath. “We were drunk. Not helpless. Or out of control. You didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t…want. Or consent to.”

Paige exhales a relieved breath. She’s silent for a few moments, her eyes tracing Cam’s figure as she slides into her baggy cargos, then her crop top. “Then why are you freaking out? You’re okay. Mostly.” She adds the last part as an afterthought, and it makes the ghost of a smile spread across Cam’s lips. “You’re not hurt. You don’t regret it. Please tell me what’s wrong, Cam. I’ll fix it.”

Cam takes a deep breath, twisting around in bed and leaning against the headboard. Paige adjusts too, keeping the comforter pressed close to her chest, the chain around her neck glimmering. “We’re teammates,” Cam states. “Like, you know that was the whole point of the draft last night?”

Paige nods seriously, trying not to smirk at Cam’s sarcasm. “Trust me. I ain’t forget that either.” Cam rolls her eyes, the humor helping to make her relax. “Plus, we’re not technically anything until I sign that contract. And, you know…teammates sleeping together isn’t a new thing. Look at Dee and Penny. DB and AT.”

“Are you also aware that those individuals are married?” Cam emphasizes, exasperated again.

“You don’t have to be married to sleep with someone,” Paige retorts, and it makes Cam bury her head in her hands. Paige sighs. “Hey – I’m sorry, okay? I’m tryna be reassuring. Emotions were all over the place last night. You found out you really liked Shirley Temples. And…I guess we have really good chemistry.”

Cam can’t hide her smirk this time. “Hopefully that chemistry translates to the court, or we’re screwed for this season.”

“Cam,” Paige whines, pressing her face into the pillow. That draws a real laugh out of Cam now. Their eyes meet again, both gazes softening. “Look, I’m just saying that it’s okay. It happened. Can’t change it. I don’t regret it, you don’t regret it, and we can be mature adults about it. Yeah, we’re gonna be teammates. This won’t affect the locker room, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Cam exhales sharply, trying to find the right words. It’s not just the locker room. It’s everything. Cam has no idea who was at that afterparty, if anyone has any clips of her and Paige dancing on each other or leaving the party together. It’s the fact that she feels like she has so many eyes on her, even though there’s nobody but her and Paige in this room right now. Between the realization that this entire situation is a moral landmine and how guilty she feels because she let herself be free and indulge in one night, all Cam feels is overwhelmed. That emotion doesn’t mix well with the residual exhaustion. “It’s just–”

Her alarm rings again, causing both her and Paige to flinch, and she silences it quickly with a ragged sigh. She closes her eyes tightly in an attempt to regulate her breathing and her emotions.

“Hey,” Paige says softly, her hand extending to brush across Cam’s back. “You’re good. We’re good. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

Cam nods, not quite trusting herself to speak, and she sucks in a breath. She doesn’t meet Paige’s gaze when she says, “I have to catch a flight back to Dallas. When are you flying in for the rookie press conference?”

Paige sighs. “Fuck. I’on know.” She swallows thickly, nodding to the ground. “Can you…uh, grab my phone for me?”

“Yeah,” Cam says quickly, if not a little awkward, and she leans over to fumble with Paige’s clothes on the floor until she finds the blonde’s phone tucked into the pocket of her pants. She hands it over wordlessly and Paige breathes a sigh of relief when she finds that it still has some charge.

Paige scrolls through her phone for a few seconds before she clears her throat. “I’ll fly in on the morning of the 23rd.”

“That’s fine,” Cam agrees quietly. “We’ll talk after.”

Paige lifts her head ever so slightly as she watches Cam shuffle around the room, searching for wherever her shoes had ended up. She’s unlacing one just as Paige says, “What hotel are you staying at?”

“Hilton,” Cam answers. “Why?”

Paige hums, her attention back on her phone. “Getting you an Uber back.”

“Paige,” Cam sighs, standing up straight. When Paige glances back up, an amused smile is on her face – probably because Cam has only one shoe on, her clothes are rumpled, and her once neatly styled hair is out of place. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Least I could do,” she says, her tone a little softer. “I got you stressin’ for no reason on a Tuesday morning. What kind of rookie does that?”

Cam huffs out a laugh at that – a real one. She finds her other shoe and starts working on getting it on her foot. “A really annoying, yet really thoughtful one.” Paige pats her chest proudly as if to say that’s me. When Cam is finally dressed, she palms her pockets for her phone, keys, and wallet, exhaling in relief when she has them. “Hey.” Paige looks up, and Cam bounces on her heels, a sheepish expression on her face. “Sorry for freaking out on you. I just–”

“I know,” Paige interrupts gently. Cam’s shoulders sag, appreciating Paige’s understanding more than she probably knows. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you know that? It takes two to tango. It’s not like I was an unwilling partner.” Her cheeks are flushed when she admits, “Maybe a little too eager, though. That’s the last time I chase a shot with a Shirley.” Cam can’t help her laughter, shaking her head in amusement. “If there’s a blame, then we’ll share it. Or I’ll take it for you. Rookie duties or whatever. Just don’t freak out, okay? We’re good. We will be. I swear.”

“...Thanks, Paige,” Cam whispers, and Paige’s reassuring smile makes everything feel like it’ll be okay again. “See you next week?”

The reassurance falls victim to mischief, because something sparkles in Paige’s eyes when she says, “Don’t miss me too much, Cam.”

Cam rolls her eyes, pursing her lips to stifle a smile, and she and Paige exchange one last goodbye before Cam steps out. The door clicks shut behind her with a resounding noise and it takes everything in Cam to not pause and press her forehead to it dramatically. Instead, she sighs, and reminds herself of the Uber waiting for her, the flight she has to catch, and makes her way out of Paige’s hotel.

Maybe she overreacted a little. Truth be told, she still feels a little unmoored, like she’s not quite sure of her role anymore. She, the veteran, was the one freaking out in Paige’s, a rookie’s, hotel room as she reassured her and told her they didn’t fuck anything up. Cam can’t help but feel like that should have been her job.

It’s hard to understand why she’s fumbling so badly now. She didn’t have this issue last year with Jacy Sheldon – granted, Cam didn’t sleep with her, but Cam was confidently the veteran to Sheldon’s rookie. There wasn’t a single misstep. She coached the young guard, helped develop her, and did everything a veteran was supposed to do.

But Paige is something else entirely. An enigma. A challenge. Something Cam was prepared to be unprepared for because she knew that Paige was always a caliber above the rest. In her game, her mentality, her ambition.

As Cam slides into the backseat of her Uber, smiling politely at the driver, she realizes that she has to run a tighter ship. She has to be poised, professional, the exact things she was supposed to be anyways before she let Paige Bueckers unravel her.

She’s here to play ball, and as far as she’s concerned, making her relationship with Paige more complicated than it already is will be the reason why everything crashes and burns.

Cam lands back in Dallas around 10am. She takes an Uber to her apartment, where Bobby, her characteristic orange cat, and Gatsby, a very particular tuxedo, greet her at the door. She’d managed to squeeze a few hours of rest in on the plane but she feels ready to collapse as soon as she’s back in. Before anything else, she scoops up both Bobby and Gatsby and plants a long, dramatic kiss to their foreheads and diligently portions out some wet food for them.

She makes her way into the bathroom to get ready for her presentation at UTA, then she’s back out of the house as quickly as she’d made it there in the first place. The presentation is a breeze, holding enough of her attention that she doesn’t get lost in thought about the blonde rookie who she’d left in bed at 5am, and the subsequent workout with her trainer after lunch drains her to the point that she doesn’t think about anything that’s not how sore she is the entire way back home.

Cam doesn’t even make it to bed. She curls up on the couch, curls damp from the shower she’d taken at the facility, hoodie sticking to her skin, and promptly falls asleep with Gatsby stretched out across her stomach.

That’s how the rest of her week goes. She tries – and more often than not, fails, to keep her mind on task. She throws herself into workouts, into running mindless drills, but part of her still can’t help feeling anxious. Paige had said they were fine, but Cam wonders how much of that was true, or if it was just the easiest thing Paige could think of to stop Cam from crashing out in her hotel room completely.

Or – and this is the million dollar answer right here – maybe Paige was genuine, and meant it, and Cam had no reason to be freaking out like she was childish and ten years younger.

The return to routine had helped a little. She had no reason to catastrophize, anyhow. Paige was right. They weren’t really teammates – yet – and the whole teammates having sex thing was pretty accurate, too. As long as they were able to keep it professional, cordial, and responsible on the court, Cam didn’t think the front office would particularly care, unless they were at risk of being a PR nightmare. Although…considering Paige’s celebrity, they probably are bordering on PR nightmare territory.

Either way, both of them were adults. It was consensual, Paige was incredibly chill about it, which meant Cam could probably be chill about it, which meant she didn’t ruin the locker room chemistry before it had the chance to grow.

At risk of fucking up their own chemistry, Cam knew that night wasn’t something they were going to repeat. Like, ever. If anyone asks, Cam has developed a sudden allergy for alcohol and is getting too old to be up past 9pm. If locking herself in her room like a tower-trapped damsel is what it takes to keep her relationships clean, orderly, and distraction free, then she’d gladly do it. She was committed to being responsible. She and Paige would just have to be friends. Very platonic friends who, sure, slept together one time when they were celebrating the biggest night of Paige’s life and they were both drunk on Dirty Shirleys, but that doesn’t have to define the course of their friendship.

Cam’s fine. Everything is fine. She got scared, overreacted, and maybe took it out on a poor rookie who’d only had two hours of sleep and a hangover. They could move past this and work together on the court without blurring the lines. Just friends. Just a rookie and a vet. Nothing more.

When the day of the rookie press conference arrives, Cam feels as though she has a better grasp on reality. She’s up early, goes on a morning run, showers, and is out of the door by 9am, only stopping for a chai latte before she makes her way to the facility. The first part of the morning was set aside to introduce the rookies and Cam was planning on taking advantage of the empty courts to run some drills and clear her mind.

The court smells like wood and fresh wax, a scent that makes Cam relax immediately. She’s probably spent more time between the hoops than she has anywhere else. She can see the three point line when she closes her eyes, imagine the height of the basket in her sleep. If the world had no room for her, then the one place she can confidently say she belongs is on the court.

She started playing basketball at a young age. Story of any player’s life, she’s sure, but it’s been one of the constants in her life for as long as she could remember. Despite that, it took her a long time to find genuine love in it. Basketball was an expectation. Greatness was, too. Lacing up her sneakers and working with private trainers had become routine, a way to earn pride and affection. Her mother always told her – and Coley, too – that she and her father were proud of them regardless of whatever sport they played or what they didn’t play.

People have different aspirations, Valerie told her when she was seven, in the throes of a tantrum because she’d been invited to a weekend sleepover that she would have to miss because her father had signed her up for a basketball clinic in Brooklyn. Different dreams. But you’re allowed to make space for what you love to do and what you live to do. You’re allowed to be a kid.

But Cam was sure that her father only smiled when she had a ball in her hand. She just wanted to make him proud – she looked up to him in so many different ways and wanted to boast gold medals just like he did. She wanted a career and a life to be proud of. So she’d sucked it up and went to the clinic, even if she spent every water break thinking about what her friends were up to.

It took a few years. She struggled to differentiate whether or not she played for the love of the game or for the need for approval. If she played because she saw the court not as polished wood and painted lines, but as the X’s and the O’s and as rotations and cuts, or if she played because she just wanted to be seen by the one person she always looked for.

On her own terms, she found herself falling in love with basketball in a way that was hers completely. She lived for teamwork, for the fact that playing good basketball meant knowing your teammates completely. The box score shows an assist, but doesn’t reflect how years of practice, study, and playing together prepares you to anticipate how your teammates move. She lived for the sisterhood of it all, the trust built between people who had the same goal and the same dedication to achieving it. She lived for the stillness on the court when she was at the line and the only thing between her and the hoop was fifteen feet of surety.

But Cam blinks back the memory, exhaling calmly as she laces up her sneakers on the bench. She ties them the same way every time – tight, double knotted, the ends tucked into the mouth. She doesn’t like practicing with music because it throws off her focus. There’s a rhythm to basketball that you only become privy to after years of breathing the game. The rubber echo of the ball against the court, the squeak of her sneakers, her own heartbeat – it grounds her, keeps her locked in.

When she’s satisfied with her shoes, she stretches out her legs, not doing anything too insane since she stretched before her morning run and was still feeling loose from it. It’s more to settle the residual noise in her brain.

After she picks up the ball, palming it between her hands, everything fades to a distant hum. It’s just Cam, the ball, the swish of the net. She runs a few drills just to get reacclimated with the feel of the ball in her hands, the way it bounces between her legs as she dribbles.

She moves onto shooting drills about ten minutes later, starting with a classic five spot drill. She doesn’t move on to the next spot until she makes ten in a row, but when she finds herself at the top of the key, three makes into her routine, the sound of the door pushing open causes her shot to clang off the rim.

She sighs, having found a rhythm, but steps off to pick up the rebound. Cam is only partially surprised to find Paige standing at half-court with a sheepish expression on her face and a pair of basketball shoes clutched between her fingers. The blonde has her hair up in a sleek ponytail, donning a black and white striped Nike sweatshirt (looking something like the Hamburglar, if Cam has to be honest), and a pair of matching black pants.

“Already trying to escape from the media?” Cam asks teasingly, holding the ball to her hip.

Paige shrugs, a little smile on her face. “I was tryna be good and mind my business, but I heard you dribbling. It was calling to me.”

Cam laughs. “Oh, I’m sure,” she says. “You sure you didn’t peek in, see it was me, and decide that annoying me was more worthwhile than getting to the press conference on time?”

“I still got thirty minutes,” Paige argues smugly. “I’m punctual and shit. Plenty of time to make you reconsider which rookie you actually wanted first dibs on.”

Cam hums, noting how comfortable she truly feels with Paige. She was expecting their first time seeing each other again to be a little more awkward considering how they left things, but their casual banter and teasing makes Cam feel like nothing had truly happened at all. Maybe she didn’t actually have too much to worry about. They would be fine, and she’s sure that the conversation they’ll have later would truly round it all out.

Then, she smiles, the curve of her lip indicating a challenge. She checks the ball over to Paige, who grabs it reflexively, her eyes wide in question. “How about some HORSE, then? Prove to me that you’re worthy of being the Camille Roman’s rookie.”

Paige scoffs, but she grins, setting her shoes down on the polished wood as she dribbles the ball. “What, was the natty not enough for you?” she teases. “Or going number one? Or buyin’ all your drinks?”

“I seem to remember those drinks of yours getting us into a lot of trouble,” Cam retorts, but the reminder doesn’t fill her with as much anxiety as it used to.

“You call it trouble. I call it vet and rookie bonding.”

Cam raises a brow. “Yeah? You gonna bond with Arike, too?”

Paige flushes, losing the handle on the ball as it bounces off her shoe, and Cam grabs it instinctively as she laughs. Paige, to her credit, recovers quickly, and she’s smirking when she says, “Nah. My vet says I’m off limits. I’m a one woman kind of girl.”

“Good answer,” Cam says. She checks the ball back with a loose, carefree smile. “First shot’s yours, rook. Make it count.”

Paige dribbles it once, twice, the smile never leaving her face as she inches closer to the three point line. She sets her feet shoulder width apart, crouching slightly, and she throws the ball underhanded towards the net. It sinks in gracefully, and Cam shakes her head in amusement at her over the top celebration as she tracks down the rebound.

“Don’t miss,” Paige says unhelpfully as she and Cam swap places. Cam rolls her eyes, not bothering with a response, and she steadies herself for her shot. Just before she gets it off, Paige adds, “You gonna repay me for all the concealer I had to buy last week?”

Her words startle Cam, but the shot is still money – it bounces off of the rim into the net, and the blonde sighs when her distraction effort fails. “You are such a cheater,” Cam gripes.

“What?” Paige cries, feigning innocence. “It was just a question.”

“Yeah, right,” she mutters under her breath, but her cheeks hurt from grinning. She scoops up the ball and shoves Paige out of the way with her hip. Paige huffs, moving, and Cam sits flat on the ground. Cam can feel Paige’s gaze on her as she lines up her shot and sinks the ball in with ease. “Two for two.”

Paige extends a hand to help Cam up, shaking her hand, and Paige grabs the loose ball and takes her spot on the court. The blonde readies herself to shoot, but just before she flicks her wrist, Cam steps up next to her, her calf barely brushing Paige’s shoulder.

The ball sails off course, clanging harmlessly off the rim, and Paige looks at her with a betrayed expression. “You’re cheating for real!” she declares, gazing forlornly at the hoop, and Cam laughs as she helps her up.

“That’s H,” Cam states simply, a mischievous smile on her face. Paige doesn’t respond as she tracks down the basketball and studies the court to look for her next shot. “I don’t know, P. I think Aziaha would have made that one for sure.”

“Nah, don’t piss me off,” Paige grumbles, which makes Cam giggle. She steps up behind the hoop, squares her shoulders, and Cam is peacefully silent as Paige shoots the ball over the backboard. It circles around the rim once before falling in and she exhales a breath of relief.

Cam raises an impressed brow despite herself, grabbing the ball as it bounces back towards her, and Paige pats her on the hip with a smug look when she passes. “Make this next shot if I’m your favorite rookie,” she declares.

“How old are you?” Cam asks as she lines up her shot. “Twelve?” Paige grins in a way that makes Cam regret asking, having spent enough time at youth camps to know that Paige’s retort would sound a whole lot like twelve inches deep in your mom. “Don’t answer that.” She exhales to calm her mind. Paige, thankfully, watches in silence, but it’s for naught as the ball bounces off the rim, anyways.

“How’s that H taste?” Paige is beaming as she checks the ball back to Cam, who rolls her eyes in amusement.

“Like you’re not my favorite rookie,” Cam chirps sweetly.

Paige squawks in indignation, which elicits a round of laughter from Cam. They go back and forth like that for a few more rounds, trading buckets, misses, and banter that gradually decreases the distance between them. Before a shot, Paige would pretend to massage Cam’s shoulders like she’s a fighter in a boxing ring. Cam would nudge her elbow before she shoots, attempting to throw her off her game, but she pats her hip when she makes it regardless.

Cam didn’t think it could be this nice. She thought that night at the hotel would have ruined her and Paige’s friendship and chemistry – both on and off the court – but she’s finding that, in a way, it’s brought them closer. She would never call it a mistake. She would be the first to admit that she wanted it – in the moment. Paige is good company, keeps her on her toes, and is obviously attractive, although there are some things you can’t have twice.

She’s closer to making her peace with that night. The conversation that she and Paige plan to have later would hopefully give her some more clarity and comfort in it, but she knows without a doubt that they can’t have a repeat of it. They can’t let the lines blur or push the boundaries more than they already have. That’s enough for her.

Both her and Paige have accumulated HORS twenty minutes later, and the both of them know they have to wrap it up soon so Paige can freshen up before she actually has to head out for media. The thing about Cam is that she’s not going to bend over and let Paige win just because she won’t concede the game. She and Paige both nailed the half court shot, which meant that game point relied on whether or not they could make it from full court.

“I don’t even think I have the arm strength for this,” Cam admits, standing as close as she can to the back wall so she has plenty of room to run forward. “The fact that you’re a point guard gives you an unfair advantage.”

“You tappin’ out?” Paige goads, grinning, and Cam has to bite her tongue. If there was anything Paige was good at besides basketball, it was baiting Cam.

“Rookies first,” Cam states.

“You don’t want the smoke,” Paige responds. Cam has to fight the urge to shove her, but she’s sure that would only motivate the blonde more.

Paige glances up at the hoop, nearly one hundred feet away, and she readies her shot. With a running start, she plants her feet at the baseline and grunts as she lobs the ball across the court. Cam’s eyes track its movement, the clean arc, and her jaw drops in complete and utter disbelief when it hits the backboard and swishes in without further fanfare.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” she groans, not really enjoying the taste of defeat on her tongue, but she can’t really be mad for long as Paige grabs her by the shoulders and shakes in excitement. She rolls her lips to stifle her smile.

“Just go ahead and take that E,” Paige says, passing over the second ball they brought to the baseline. Cam takes it with an eyeroll. “You don’t gotta embarrass yourself in front of me.”

Cam doesn’t dignify that with a response. She palms the ball in her hands, pushing herself closer to the wall, and takes a deep breath like she’s about to sink a free throw instead of launching a ball almost one hundred feet across the court. With a running start, she plants at the baseline and lets her right hand do most of the heavy lifting, and the ball sails out of her grip.

Both her and Paige watch with a bated breath as it arcs in the air. It flies closer, and closer, and closer, until it circles around the rim once, then twice, and falls out unceremoniously.

As Paige celebrates for the second time that afternoon, all Cam can really think about is how badly she wants to fucking retire. Paige jostles her as Cam stares at the hoop, deadpan and unblinking.

Premonition might be a curse. She just had to tell Rickea that the 2025 class was all about energy and how they’d be welcoming vets to the league. Cam just can’t believe she got welcomed by Paige during a game of HORSE that started as a joke more than anything else.

Cam just sighs, extending her hand, and Paige daps her up with unadulterated glee on her face. “Say the thing,” she requests sweetly.

Cam’s tone is flat as she states begrudgingly, “You’re my rookie.”

Paige pumps her fist in the air, looking nothing like the nonchalant final boss she claimed she was. Then, if only to add salt to the wound, Paige nudges her with her elbow and says, “Welcome to the league, Cam Roman.”

Cam can’t find it in herself to be upset. She supposes Paige did earn it, and hypothetically if she does get tagged in a few press conference clips later about Paige claiming she welcomed Cam to the league, she only reposts the clip out of integrity on her Instagram story.

When Cam told Paige that they’d talk after the press conference, she wasn’t really expecting it to be over takeout at Paige’s barren apartment, but she figures it’s a good venue as any.

Paige welcomes her in with a sheepish expression and the smell of Chinese in the air. “I’m embracing the minimalist lifestyle,” she declares, gesturing minutely to the cardboard boxes sprawled around the room. There’s one in front of her couch, overflowing with a few trinkets like lego sets and framed photographs of Paige and her family and friends. Cam winces a little, briefly wondering who supervised Paige and her diabolical packing, but Paige’s apartment door clicks shut behind her and draws her attention back to the present.

Despite being lived in for only a few hours at most, Paige’s apartment is cozy and open. She has floor to ceiling windows in the kitchen overlooking the skyline, a cornucopia of takeout boxes littering the counter, and a few candles burning in the living room. They’re both dressed in casual clothes – Cam’s opted for a pair of comfortable, white gym shorts and a Wings t-shirt, while Paige has a loose pair of grey sweatpants hung low enough to reveal the band of her boxers and an old UConn tee.

“You’re doing better than I did when I first moved out here,” Cam admits, toeing off her slides and following Paige towards the kitchen. Paige throws a smile over her shoulder to let Cam know she’s listening as she sorts through the boxes. “I think I had takeout for a week straight because I didn’t have time to go buy pots and pans.”

“Shit,” Paige says instantly. “I knew I was forgetting something.”

Cam snorts. Paige passes a container to Cam, a simple order of lo mein and orange chicken, while she keeps the white rice and sweet and sour chicken for herself. There’s a bag of crab rangoons and eggrolls to share.

Almost absentmindedly, Paige pulls out the barstool at the counter for Cam before settling into the one next to it. Cam raises her brow but doesn’t say anything, taking a seat in the chair next to Paige, who passes a packet of plastic silverware and chopsticks like they’ve been in this position a hundred times before.

“You settling in okay?”

Paige shrugs a tired shoulder, shoveling a forkful of rice into her mouth. “Getting there,” she confesses. “Got a lot of shit to unpack, but…didn’t want it easy, right?”

Cam smiles knowingly at her. “I meant challenging as in getting your shot blocked by BG a couple of times. Not getting your ass kicked by cardboard boxes and IKEA instruction manuals.”

“I happen to be very handy,” Paige sniffs. “Don’t need no instruction manual. Or all those extra screws they pack in there.”

Cam stares at her unblinkingly. Paige stares back, something like mischief in her eyes as she spears a piece of chicken with her fork. The corner of her lips twitch ever so slightly. “Please tell me I’m not sitting on a chair that’s gonna collapse.”

“If you fell, I’d make sure you were okay before I laughed at you,” Paige offers unhelpfully.

Cam huffs. “Thanks. Just what any girl wants to hear.”

Paige smiles, and the two of them settle into a comfortable rhythm as they eat their dinner. Paige shares a couple of stories from media, telling Cam all about the embroidered cowboy hat she got and how done she is with random reporter questions about the Dallas heat and TexMex. That makes Cam laugh – it’s fitting to see that the reporters hadn’t gotten any better questions to ask besides food and the weather.

The peace lasts for a few moments until Paige’s fork hits the bottom of her takeout container and the last of her chicken is done. She clears her throat, taking a sip from her water bottle. “Elephant in the room?” she asks hesitantly.

Cam nods, pushing her leftovers away, and pauses for a moment. Finally, she settles on her words. “I think I might have overreacted a little,” she admits.

Paige offers a gentle smile. “I think it was a pretty valid crash out,” she states. “You were concerned about the locker room and making things awkward. I also get that the entire world would probably explode if word got out.”

“Yeah,” Cam agrees. She rests her chin in her palm. “I mean, I’m also…your vet,” she says carefully. The blue of Paige’s gaze is intense, but Cam forces herself to meet her eyes. “That night was out of character for me. I’m not usually so…”

“Carefree?”

“Reckless,” Cam supplies, and Paige nods, understanding. “I don’t regret it. You don’t either. That’s something we’ve got to stand on. I just wasn’t really thinking about…you know, the consequences of sleeping with my rookie.” Her words are dry, which makes Paige chuckle. “I don’t wanna deal with red tape from the front office. Definitely not the media. And I definitely didn’t want to make things weird with us.”

Paige’s smile turns a little crooked. “We’re good. I told you. We’re responsible adults.”

“Friends, if you will,” Cam adds.

Paige sounds all too smug when she pipes in with, “Best friends.”

Cam scoffs, rolling her eyes in amusement, feeling the final bits of tension leave her shoulders completely. They were good. No more issues. “Don’t push it, rook.” Paige raises her hands in surrender, a coy smile on her face as she slides out of the bar stool to start grabbing their trash. She waves off Cam when she tries to help, her expression far too adamant, so she bites her tongue and stays seated while Paige cleans up. “Paige?” she asks hesitantly.

“What’s up?” She glances at Cam briefly over her shoulder, the diamond studs in her ears glinting in the light as she turns, and Cam’s fingers drum lightly over the granite of Paige’s countertops.

Her voice is small when she says, “We can’t let it happen again.” It gives Paige pause, and she turns fully, leaning against the countertop. Her gaze is imploring – not offensive, just as though she’s trying to understand. “We’re friends. I’m your vet, you’re my rook. Nothing more. No need to make a good thing complicated, yeah?”

Paige raises a teasing brow. “You sure you can handle that, Cam?”

She narrows her eyes, which draws a laugh from Paige. “Can you?” she retorts. “You’re obsessed with me. It’s sickening.”

“I’m keeping you young,” she emphasizes. “Big difference.” Cam exhales, the noise sounding more like a breathless laugh. Paige clears her throat, fiddling with the towel in her hands. “I hear you,” she says, just so it’s absolutely clear, and the expression on her face eases when Cam meets her eyes. “I care about you and the team. We’ll keep it clean. But don’t think for one moment I’m gonna make your job any easier. You chose me on draft night – you’re stuck with me.”

Clean. Cam could work with that. There wasn’t any reason to change who they were or how they bantered, and if Cam was being honest, she didn’t want to. She liked this relationship she had with Paige, the slight push and pull and how they challenge each other. The mutualistic getting on each other’s nerves.

“Easy’s boring, right?” Cam reminds her, and a grin grows on Paige’s face, matching the sly one on Cam’s. Paige returns to the dishes, throwing jokes over her shoulder that Cam can’t help but laugh at. They’d keep it clean. Orderly. No chaos.

But entropy has to increase or remain constant. There was no circumventing that – it was a law of the universe. Ease wasn’t, though. Ease wasn’t just boring, and for Paige and Cam, they’d realize that it would be downright impossible.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #dallas wings #wnba #wnba x reader #paige bueckers fic

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4rticbolt · 5 months ago

Text

Death Of Pizzaz |Master-list|

Trafalgar Law x !Fem!Reader, fluffy, spicy, first kiss, yearning Law cause why not, make-out, he's a tease fr, you test his patience, bickering

You have some sharpies to your 'arsenal' and your dear captain is your victim...

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

It was creeping into a late evening on the Polar Tang. The crew had tiredly retreated to their rooms after night watch had taken over in navigation. You quietly walked through the halls to your captain's room, surrounded in a dark hue from the seal covered windows and the dark sea. Small circular lights lit up your path, following from the floor to the stairs, overcasting a soft white glow throughout the sub.

You hopped down the final step, gently knocking on Law's door as you couldn't be bored any longer. You had spent an hour trying to fall asleep, but ultimately you gave in and craved the presence of your lover. A muffled "Come in," sounded through the door and you casually strolled in, stuffing your hands in your pockets. An unmistakable clink of sharpies hit against your hands, and you tightened your grip hopefully muffling them.

A little decor couldn't hurt, could it?

Your captain was the unsuspecting victim, as he hadn't taken his attention off the comic he was reading, something he'd have tossed and hidden if it wasn't for your familial gaze. You'd picked up on his nerdy tendencies a long time ago, and Law eventually excepted his fate, giving it up to share with you. His hair was unkept and messy, something you’d come to love along with his flimsy tank, praising the view it gave you.

“What are you doing?” Law asked, reclining silently against the couch. His infamous hat, and sword had rested close by, propped against his desk.

“What I can’t have quality time?” you smiled, feigning absolute innocence as you'd crawled into his lap, soaking up his touch. You always loved these relaxed moments. As it wasn't often he let go, more-overly stressed and constantly planning for the future, he was barely at ease.

But with you in his arms he could make an exception.

He let out a hum in response. "Depends what your after," he mumbled, adjusting himself under your weight, shifting back against the couch's armrest. Law brought his hand to soothingly rub over your shoulder, closing his eyes for needed peace.

You quietly watched as he closed his comic in hand, unknowingly knowing he was listening to your heartbeat, which thudded softly against his upper thigh.

You didn't know it, but your captain tended to listen to your pulse for a sense of comfort, remembering you were there with him: that you were real. That it wasn't some dream, and that he wasn't in some nightmare where you weren't.

He adored when you were like this, needfully resting by his side away from prying eyes—though he'd never admit it. Law would let his guard down with you, settling still in your innocent embrace. He opened his eyes to watch you shift, taking in the way your head gently rested against his hip.

He thought it was a heartfelt gesture really, but when you grabbed his arm and pulled it to your chest he thought otherwise. A soft click emitted, and a cold swipe crossed his skin, leaving him confused.

"What the hell are you doing?" he muttered, quickly pulling away your wrist.

"Nothing, just gimme your arm," you replied, trying to grab it again.

"Seriously? ____ I'm not you're coloring book, no."

"Oh don't be so stuck up, it'll wash off eventually," you stubbornly grabbed his arm again, tracing his tattoos as you ignored him completely. You were off in your own world now, leaving your captain to a very grumpy demise. You didn't pay attention to the way he'd grumble or keep to his lingering gaze.

A few minutes passed and you'd finally fucked up, scribbling over your design, "Okay, that's enough." Law cut sharp to your name, quickly grabbing the pen tossing it aside to his table.

"Really?" he deadpanned, taking in the scribbled pieces.

"What? It'll wash off."

"Yeah, in a few days, it's literally black sharpie you idiot," Law scolded, flicking your forehead with a scoff.

You let out your own huff, shifting in his arms to sit comfortably against him, leaning into his chest. Your head personally thunked against his shoulder, though you eased when his arms wrapped around you again. His lip quirked in amusement as your masked mumbles were only so long-lived.

He often was firm with you. But it could never stay that way. His irritated expression relaxed, and he called your name taking in his scribbled arm.

“You realize these are permanent tattoos, right?” He asked, swiping him thumb across your hip.

"Yeah, I just enhanced em' though." You said absentmindedly.

"I think you should get it re-tattooed like that."

. . .

Law snorted, manhandling you to face him, "I love your artwork and all but I think I'll post-pone that." he remarked, bringing his hands to your sides. You immediately faked a hurt look and he cracked. He couldn't look you straight in the eyes when they grew glossy like that.

“You're serious?" he muttered, swallowing unbelievably hard. You shattered his resolve, and he feared he might not be able to say no.

"You broke my heart Law, I put my soul into that." you said dramatically, seemingly putting an ease to his inner torment, but it only irked him. He flicked you again creating a red spot, and you quietly yelped��covering it.

He really thought you were serious, and he'd been a sucker enough to believe it.

"It just looks better," you retaliated, squirming in his arms as he'd reached a ticklish spot.

"Better? Really? You must've borrowed that soul from one of Bepo's maps then," he snarked, cracking a smile as he'd finally gotten a laugh out of you. He'd come to love that sound the more and more he knew you, every day and every moment he loved to hear it, to see it.

Your chaotic remarks and energy were his livelihood, and he'd at times been too dense to see it. It had taken years before there'd been an ounce of romance in your relationship, and that was after years of trustworthy hardships.

Law had finally backed you off his lap, putting an end to your 'assault,’ which only brought you to hide between his thighs with a muffled "Shut up!"

“Oi, don’t do that,” he stumbled, feeling a pit in his stomach. His arms quickly came up under your's, sliding you upright, which seemed to relieve the strange tension in his stomach. He'd been a fool to say it wasn't a common feeling.

It’d always been a strong feeling, specifically and only for you. And he'd usually been the one to try and ignore it.

He wasn't sexually inclined, as he said he didn't have time for it. It wasn't his main goal, and he didn't have time for that lust and desire—meaning it wasn't his strong suit. You'd been the flirty type in the past, but if he simply wasn't ready—he wasn't ready; and you had never held him to that.

“Don’t what?” you deadpanned, glaring softly.

“Don’t pout,” he sighed, brushing off his blush as he grabbed your chin, tilting your head back. Law couldn’t tell if you were being dense or doing it on purpose. Either way; it was infuriating.

“I’m not.”

"You are," Law interjected, taking in your form atop him. His mind wandered and he knew he was in trouble. Because he knew that no matter what he tried to ignore, he was always wrapped around your pretty little finger. Regardlessly…that's all you were, trouble.

You for once, seemed to quiet. Finally put at a loss for words. Your voice practically died in your throat and you couldn't help but question his intense gaze, you hadn't seen him look at you like that before.

Maybe once or twice but never like that. And it’d always pissed you off when he could put you in your place, before you could even begin to argue.

"I. am. not." you challenged, leaning closer—attempting to hold your ground. But it faltered when he drug his hand to your throat.

“Mm, yeah not anymore,” He whispered, overthrowing your little flirty act with a gentle squeeze your throat. He saw your face light up and he let out a whispery laugh. Law was enjoying himself.

On the other hand, you were internally panicking, opting to lean back, because Law had never been this forward with you. He'd been dense about that kinda thing, but obviously this was not the freaking case.

You swallowed against his hand, leaning back, but his lips caught you before you could own up to it. You heard a groan leave his lips before it swallowed your own, leaving your head spinning. You leaned forward, shifting your hips, and it only encouraged him.

His free hand squeezed your hip, and the hand around your throat tightened, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was more like a handle for him to hold. Your breath shuddered, and you forced yourself to breathe through your nose.

He'd caught you off guard and you couldn't seem get a grip.

You finally parted to breathe and his own blush matched your own. He gave a whole lotta' talk and do behind his pose, but deep down he was just as flustered as you.

"Don't be a smart ass," you muttered, bringing his hand away, but it only tightened around your smaller hand.

“Then don’t stick your head where it doesn’t belong.”

. . .

"What?—I didn't--"

"What?" he asked impassively, keeping a firm hold. He shifted causally beneath you and you knew he was doing it on purpose...that sarcastic bastard.

"Don't what me you know what!" you snapped, trying to pull your hands away, but he held on. His smirk grew and your blush heightened.

"What? That you like my hand around your throat? I figured, I didn't know it'd shut you up though." he leaned forward, attempting to whisper in your ear.

"Trafalgar Law!"

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ameriize · 6 days ago

Note

Pt2 of that Anton smut please😩😩 need them to fuck

pt1 pt.3

content! mentions of masturbation, touching ding dong indirectly, whiney anton, he just wanna be dommed fr, no sexuuuu!!! that’s next, but a whole lot of tension (my fav) esp at the end

no fucking in this one, i love a good buildup beforehand, but it will be in the next one🙏

i have no idea how to do warnings/content sorreh

it’s been about three weeks now since you last heard from your friend, anton. however, it’s not like you haven’t seen him around. he’s still in the same class but now he’s changed seats. he no longer sits two rows diagonal to your back, but right at the front. or all the way in the back. like he was trying his hardest to get further away from you.

lucky thing is you’re not stupid. you knew he was avoiding you but the only problem was why. why was it that when the lecture was over, he would always be the first to leave? it became a rare sight for him to be engaged in conversation with the group after class, and this bothered you. a lot.

you tried to text him but he would either leave you on delivered for an abnormally long amount of time or give you a response that was impossible to reply to. when you would text him asking what’s wrong, he’d reply with “nothing” after a couple of days. you thought it best to leave it alone, i mean after all you two weren’t really that close and only studied together a couple of times.

but why did it bother you so much? you knew you were definitely attracted to anton, cmon who wouldn’t be. i mean your cunt was definitely not foreign to the idea of being stimulated because of him. especially during those late slow nights. but you never thought it would bother you to this extent. not to the extent that you’d spend so much of your day, no matter what activity you were doing, wondering what it was that you did, or maybe you started it first with your horrid reply time?

either way, whatever it was, it was starting to piss you off. why couldn’t he just address the issue rather than ignore you? you knew he was a soft spoken individual but it reaches a point. something was boiling up inside you that needed to be released. and you chose today.

today, you arrive 15 minutes early to your lecture and sit right at the front, closest to the door. when anton comes through, he avoids your eye, as usual, but this time you let it go. because you know you’re going to get your answer.

so, the lecturer dismisses the class, and you, slightly imitating anton, bolt out the door. however, you wait by the side. then when he comes through, you grab his arm.

“what are you doing?! let me go!”

not listening, you continue to drag him to an empty room, also ignoring the looks from others around.

you close the door behind you, walk further into the room past anton then turn to face him. you sit on the edge of the lecturer’s table, setting your bag down, while anton remains standing, still avoiding your eye.

“so what the hell has been your problem these past few weeks.”, you start, then let out a heavy sigh “listen i know we’re not that close but i think i deserve a little more than just plain ghosting just because there may be an issue. i don’t know how you operate in other friendships but this can’t run here. if you don’t wanna be friends, then anton please just say that. but atleast tell me what i did.”

he tries to ignore how good it sounds when you say his name. it’s exactly how he imagines you’d say it when his face is buried in your wet core and you’re getting close, with your hands gripping his hair, or when you’re riding his dick with your hands tight around his neck. anyway.

“and furthermore-” , you continue until he interrupts you with a call of your name.

“wait, i don’t- i-i already told you that there was nothing wro-”

“anton. taken that you’ve not been speaking to me for three weeks, you can manage to stay quiet right now. so shut up and listen then i’ll let you speak.”

ohhhhhh fuck. he’s almost 100% sure he just came a little with that tone of yours. oh how he wished you ordered him around like tha-

so you continue to rant on about how crazed you’ve been over this whole issue. you tell him about your constant worries of potentially hurting him and not knowing, then telling him how avoidance is a stupid way to deal with issues. and you stress, like really stress, how much you wish he had just talked to you. then you slowly stop speaking, realising that you had stopped him from speaking in the first place, when that was the whole reason you brought him here. you were slightly taken aback by how honest you were being with him, and how much this issue had affected you. you didn’t imagine you’d go on for about 10 minutes…

“well, now you can speak. so… care to tell me what’s really up”

just for the record, anton listens. for the whole 10 minutes. first off, because he loves your voice, second because of how hot you look when angry, and third because he had no idea you even cared.

but now that your rant was over, he has to face the real issue. he knows he can’t lie to you, not after that. but how is he meant to tell you that he could no longer look at you without instantly getting hard. that the thoughts of you choking him, fucking his mouth with your slender fingers, while aggressively riding his dick, completely clouded his brain. even worse, was that he would spend almost everyday jerking off to your insta pics where your boobs were a very frequent guest feature. he craves every part of you, and that makes him feel guilty. you’re nice to him. you’re nice to everyone. you always talk to him if he’s around, whether it be in the cafeteria or in the library or at a friend’s party. sometimes you get him cute little gifts or snacks because you know he likes things like that. and here he was having these lustful thoughts of you. he feels so ashamed. so he had no choice but to ignore you. because maybe if he did, then his guilt would go away. and he’d stop thinking about you. but boy was he wrong. anton thinks he hasn’t craved you more than anytime, since knowing you, than in these weeks. his whole body ached for you, longed to be touched by you. essentially, he was having withdrawal symptoms. he came (😏) to the realisation that all those times you two interacted actually soothed down the urges. because then at least he’d actually be hearing that voice he’d imagine, and be seeing that figure he’d dream of fucking. but he just couldn’t handle how disgusting he felt for his thoughts. like some sort of sex-craved, lack-of-impulse-controlled perv.

“i can’t tell you.” he looks down at the ground.

“what? why can’t you tell me if it’s something i’ve done!”

“because it’s not you! it’s me. i’m fucked up right now and i can’t be around you anymore”

it may be a bit of an understatement to say your heart took a deep dive down when you hear that.

“anton, i don’t get it. is it specifically me you can’t be around? do i trigger something in you that others don’t? because i know you still talk to the rest like normal. so if it’s not a thing where you isolate from everyone then it must be something about me.”

he doesn’t speak.

you stand up fully from the table. you take a step closer. and another. then another. until there’s nothing but a breath in between you two. you stay looking at him, while his eyes are glued to the ground.

now you realise you really care for anton. you don’t want to hurt him. you want to make him laugh, smile, be happy. and if it’s something about you that’s stopping that then, as painful as it is, you’ll let this friendship end. shame really, you were hoping you could be more than that.

“i masturbate to the thought of you. almost everyday.”

silence hangs in the air.

“i-” you begin to say. but no words come out. instead…feelings. emotions…arousal. straight to your core.

“anton-”

“fuck. i’m so sorry. i don’t do this. i’m not someone who just stays home doing that. i know this is gonna sound so fucking creepy to you, because i’m just some guy you talk to sometimes.”, he rambles “i feel like a kid who can’t control his hormones, and i try. i really try. but it’s like my brain short circuits when i see you. and i just feel so- so- disgusted with myself. i’m sorry. i’m really sorry. i just hoped i would never have to tell you so you didn’t think i’m some sort of perv who just wants to nail you. so i ignored you because i thought all the thoughts would stop and this would just end. but it hasn’t. and i don’t know if it will. so i completely understand if you want to stop being friends. i would too. i’m so sorry. shit.” he places his face in his hands. well it’s done now, he thinks. but his heart is still hurting with the possibility of losing you.

you listen. it’s only right since he did the same for you. but you really wish you could just shut him up with a kiss on those plump pink lips that you had always low-key been dying to taste.

you can’t believe he’s been thinking about you the same you do too. on the off chance you have nothing to do in the evening, you’d normally lay in bed with your hands between your legs, rubbing your clit, trying to relieve the pressure.

9 times out of 10 it was anton who had set it off. but you always brushed it off as him just being exceptionally hot rather than any sort of feelings being the underlying factor. however now it’s different. it’s mutual. and you want to take advantage of that. you have to.

“anton. look at me”

he slowly lifts his head out of his palms and his eyes land on yours.

you miss this. you miss the feeling of his eyes landing on yours. you miss his handsome face, with his cute brown doe eyes. and he misses this too. he always thought you were pretty, from when he first saw you.

“do you hate me?” he says, lips slightly quivering.

“i don’t think that’s possible.”

“what do you think of this? of me thinking about…stuff like that about you”

“i’d much rather it be that than lose you as a friend”

now, he was going to take a big risk with what he’s about to say. but he just needs to know if you feel the same way about him like he does of you. and the fact that you haven’t run away makes him feel just that bit more confident.

“is friends… all you want us to be?”

“i want to fuck you. so…i think no.”

anton can feel his dick getting more stiff, stiffer than it was when you were angrily ranting. he feels his fantasies and desires getting close to being realised and he’s excited. so fucking excited.

you both stare at each other, then you look down at those lips of his. and he notices. he smirks slightly then leans in, with his eyes closed.

but then you hold a finger to his lips.

“what did you think about?”

“huh?”

“you heard me.”

“uh i- fuck do i have to say this here? in public?”

“there’s no one here tonnie.”

he’s going to forever remember the feeling he just got when you called him that nickname.

“just give me one thing you desperately thought of”, you continue. heat is increasingly building up in your core as you press and press for anton to say his desires. you just want to tease him, tie him up, bite him, suck him, lick him, mark him. fuck him. you really really want to fuck him. right now.

“please don’t make me say it. i really don’t want to. i think i might die”

“too bad.”

he runs his hand through his hair, trying to keep composed despite being as red as a cherry. you think it’s so cute.

“and look at me while you say it.”, you say, wanting him to feel even more embarrassed.

he takes a deep breath in. looks at you. then speaks.

“i- i always think of you… making me suck on your fingers and then thrusting them in and out of my mouth. hard.”

“just making you take it?”

“just making me take it.”

“i bet i could make you cum just by doing that.”

“i already have.”

fuck. if you get even a single bite of anton, you may never recover from the addiction that’s laid ahead.

you look at your phone and check the time. you remember you have another lecture later in the day, and while fucking a boy up is fun, studies take priority. and also you just want to make him wait.

“i have a lecture at 5 so meet me in my dorm at 9.”

“wait but we have time though. we can do something before your lecture”

“you’re too eager” you laugh out, and hit his shoulder lightly. you turn around to get your bag from where you left it and walk back up to anton.

when he realises you were actually serious about doing nothing, he gets a little bit sad. mainly about his raging boner and the fact that he just wants to be with you even longer.

“fuck you can’t leave me like this. please. look how hard i am for you” , he pleaded, with a whiney tone and furrowed eyebrows.

he starts to palm himself through his joggers and lets out the tiniest whimper. but not too tiny for your ears. he’s putting on a show for you and desperately hoping you indulge.

you walk up closer to him, and slightly tiptoe to place your lips close to his ears.

“oh anton, i didn’t know you were such a slut”, you say seductively in his ear, “makes me wish i could take you right here and now” you lightly tug on his ear with your teeth.

he whimpered, eyes fluttering shut. having your voice saying such dirty things that close to his ear was almost too much for him.

“so do it. please.”

he takes your hand, while keeping intense eye contact, and places it on his hard on. you indulge just a little, and give his dick a small but effective squeeze.

anton rolls his eyes shut, and bites his lip. his hips buck up a little, desperate for more.

“mnngh! fuck please do that again.”

“i will. at 9.”

you move past him and go towards the door, acting as if it didn’t take all your strength to walk away and not fuck him on the student desk. he pouts a little, completely unsatisfied that his plan didn’t work.

“think of grannies or whatever it is that you do to calm your dick down. but just don’t touch my dick. if i find out you do, i just won’t touch you for, let’s say… three weeks? be a good puppy for me, okay anton?”

and with that, you leave the room.

anton’s unsure of how well he’s gonna be able to calm down his throbbing dick, when he’s just experienced the most sensual thing in his life, that will almost definitely be on constant replay. but all he knows is that he wants to be good for you.

so he’ll wait for whatever it is you’re going to do to him at 9.

a/n: hii guysss. i hope you like this one. imma wrap it up in the next chapter, idk when that’ll be bc i wanna write for other people aswell, but it will definitely happen. this is soooo long, i got a little carried away in the details and story, but it’s only because i’ve had this thought before (except i was daydreaming about gojo lol) and i just wanted to make it exactly like it, with a couple add ons. idk if it’s acc good tho bc i was jus writing and writing but hopefully it is !! again, ask away for any riize members. i’ll make a pinned post soon detailing who i’ll write for and what i won’t write, all dat all dat. lemme know what you think in the comments pls!!! :33

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mona-risms · 8 days ago

Note

Also in way less wholesome thoughts about Rumi, I think she has a insane breeding kink.

I don’t even think she would know it until she slept with someone. But I feel like that would send her into a feral frenzy.

Like, all that shame and guilt her whole life from being a demon, and all the other repressed emotions she had to bottle up would explode if she was fucking someone and they told her they wanted to have kids with her.

I feel like for irony sake that may just turn her into a succubus. A simple fuck would turn into a day long feral mating marathon.

Like it would probably work it’s way through the whole living space, starting in the bedroom, for an hour or two until the bed is completely ruined, tears from claws, a broken bed frame, stained with sweat, squirt, and seed.

Moving on to the couch eventually that would get much of the same treatment.

Pressed against those big windows, juices seeping down the glass.

On the kitchen table with claw marks in the wood from Rumi.

Using the cabinets to keep her standing as you rail her eventually pulling them off the walls.

But neither of you care.

It’s not pretty sex.

You’re both flushed, scratchs, bite marks, squirt, seed, spit, and sweating all over. Ran ragged like you just ran a triathlon.

Rumis hole looks like a glazed donut from how much seed has been put in and spilled out of her at all angles.

By the time you are halfway through moans have just devolved into her shrieking from overstim.

But she just can’t stop herself. And you don’t wanna stop either.

People are calling phones… Rumis missing a interview rn.

Eventually the girls just find you both passed out in the middle of the apartment covered in all the fluids that could possibly come from sex passed out from exhaustion.

Sincerely

Tsaritsa Pyro Archon Anon

I have a breeding kink too there we go we're Perfectly compatible! And this is obviously why me and Rumi should be married!!!!

But fr shit would go CRAZY HELLO 😭😭😭😭😭 I mean tbf a demon's gotta have their sustenance somehow 😜😜😜😜 JOKING JOKING maybe not joking shhh you're out here doing my job for me fr though actuallg LMFAOOAAO

Her bedroom must be so fucking wrecked before you two migrate to the balcony, a mix of fluids everywhere as she finally lets out the loudest fucking noises instead of her biting it down and restraining them, and then to the shared living space. Like Zoey and Mira are both out for promotional material they'd probably have to do individually, so they left much earlier and now the penthouse is empty as hell, save for the two of you

NOTHING survives in the shared space though you're right in this—EVERY surface is thoroughly defiled and utilised. Should Rumi care? Yes. Would she care under different circumstances? Definitely yes. But right now the only thing in her mind is making sure she drains you dry, everything else blurs away from the sheer intensity of your coupling

If you're using an ejaculating strap then ugh FUCK yes it makes no difference to her as long as she feels full and thoroughly bred. If anything? She'd probably want you to get the strap with the most capacity. But is it a good idea, if you have a working dick and could Potentially get her pregnant? No, probably not, but the way you fucked her and never let go, the way you were so achingly sincere in the way you'd Want to have kids with Her. Even despite the whole half-demon thing, the main insecurity she's had for her entire life? She'll take the risk for once either way, after avoiding risks on herself for so long

Mira and Zoey most likely got contacted by Bobby in a panic bc "WHERE IS SHE??????" so they come back home.....and SCREAM at the state because JESUS FUCKING CHRIST??????? SORRY didn't REALISE they needed HAZMAT SUITS????????????? You probably get woken up and honestly good luck trying to explain why the Fuck there's so much damage and. Fluids. EVERYWHERE. They're never letting either of you live this down, ESPECIALLY Rumi considering she caused most of the extreme damage (thanks demon heritage!!!!) and how she's stained and dripping nonstop 😭

If you even dare try to explain what happened to Bobby the poor guy might faint. But it's okay it's why they're paying him the 3% right.....though he might need to be compensated via 4% GAHAHAHAHA

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adelliet · 3 months ago

Text

Joel Miller x f!reader

MISS MY EX

Summary: It’s been a while since you and Joel were together, and you don’t even live in Jackson anymore. He’s fine with it—or at least, he thought he was. That is, until you come back with a ring on your finger, reminding him that he’s not as okay as he claimed to be.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, strong language, engagement, jealousy, cheating (come on, you saw it coming), unprotected sex, nicknames, mention of masturbation, obsession (not in a creepy way), corn with a plot

A/n: Hi! So, this is once again ridiculously long (I am giving up fr). Anyway if you have any ideas, suggestions, or anything else, feel free to text me. Also, I apologize for any grammar mistakes or phrases that might not make sense—English isn’t my first language :3 But I hope you enjoy the story! <3

Masterlist

“Come on, Joel, give me a hand with this,” Tommy groaned, his arms trembling under the weight of a heavy crate of beer.

Joel exhaled sharply, stepping forward and lifting the box with ease. He barely even had to try. Tommy just shot him an unimpressed look as they made their way toward the bar.

“Alright, are you finally gonna tell me what the hell is going on?” Joel asked, narrowing his eyes at Tommy, who seemed unusually focused.

Tommy hesitated for a second before simply saying, “Someone’s arriving.

Joel let out a frustrated sigh. He was really starting to lose patience. “Yeah, you already told me that. But who the hell is coming?!”

He pushed the door to the bar open with his shoulder, expecting an answer, but Tommy completely ignored him. Instead, he strolled past him, heading straight for the bartender and striking up a conversation like nothing had happened.

Joel clenched his jaw, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. Fine. His gaze swept across the bar, and that’s when he noticed it.

The walls were decorated with 'Welcome Back' signs, their bold, hand-painted letters standing out against the rustic wood. Ribbons were wrapped around the chairs, the kind of detail that felt too thoughtful for just anyone. A few tables had been rearranged, pushed together to accommodate a larger group. Someone had even gone through the trouble of lighting candles, their soft flickering glow casting warm shadows across the room.

Whoever was coming back…they weren’t just passing through. They were someone important. And Joel didn’t know why, but something about it made his stomach tighten.

“Where do you want this?” Joel asked once he finally took in all the decorations.

Tommy barely spared him a glance before gesturing toward the floor beside the bar, too preoccupied with whatever he was doing to give a proper response.

Joel set the crate down with a quiet grunt before straightening up, his gaze flicking back to Tommy. “You still don’t wanna tell me who’s coming?” His voice was calm, laced with mild curiosity. And why wouldn’t he be curious? Anyone would be, considering how much effort had gone into this setup.

Tommy finally paused his conversation with the bartender, turning back to Joel with a grin, one that was just a little too smug. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, patting Joel’s shoulder in a deliberately teasing way before disappearing.

Joel’s jaw clenched as he watched Tommy slip through the storage room doors, leaving him standing there with nothing but more unanswered questions.

Whatever. If Tommy didn’t want to tell him, then Joel didn’t need to know. Even though his curiosity was eating away at him, he didn’t need to know. He didn’t.

Joel sank onto a barstool, his gaze settling on the bartender as he tried to read him, see if he knew anything. The man wiped a glass with a rag, not even glancing at Joel. Yeah, he knew something. Or at least, he knew more than Joel did.

Letting out a slow breath, Joel shifted his attention toward the front doors, watching every person who walked in, analyzing them. None of them seemed out of the ordinary. None of them explained why the place was decked out like it was waiting for royalty.

Then, suddenly, Tommy shot out of the storage room like a damn bullet, walking briskly through the bar before heading straight outside. Joel just watched him go, amusement twitching at the corner of his lips. He hadn’t seen Tommy this stressed in a long time.

As time passed, more and more people gathered in the bar. Joel would even go as far as to say that half of Jackson must have been crammed inside. The place was packed, people chatting, some holding drinks, others nibbling on snacks.

Joel had nothing.

He hadn’t moved from his seat, hadn’t ordered a drink, hadn’t even considered eating. He just sat there, gaze locked on the front doors, curiosity simmering beneath his otherwise calm demeanor.

Then, just like that, Tommy burst back inside, breathless and sweaty, his hair damp like he’d just sprinted a damn marathon.

“She’s here.”

The words tumbled from Tommy’s mouth in a pant, loud enough to catch the room’s attention. A murmur spread through the crowd, voices overlapping as people turned to one another, sharing glances and hushed conversations.

Joel still had no fucking clue who the hell was arriving. All he knew now was that it was a she. Like that helped him figure out anything.

Tommy plopped down next to Joel at the bar, still trying to catch his breath. In the meantime, he ordered two whiskeys, showing two fingers to the bartender.

Joel raised an eyebrow, eyeing the two drinks before glancing back at Tommy. “Two whiskeys? You planning on getting double drunk or just trying to drown whatever’s bothering you faster?”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. He didn’t even flinch at Joel’s jab, just gave him a knowing look. “Trust me, you’re gonna need this,” he said, his voice low, almost like he was trying to prepare Joel for whatever was about to happen.

Tommy grabbed both glasses of golden liquid, handing one to Joel and taking a sip from the other. His face was a mix of provocation, impatience, and curiosity, as if he was silently daring Joel to react.

Joel hesitated for a moment, eyeing the glass in his hand before glancing up at Tommy. His brow furrowed in confusion, but before he could say anything, the sound of the main doors swinging open cut through the air.

Everyone in the bar fell silent for a moment, their heads turning toward the entrance. And in that brief, tense silence, Joel’s heart skipped a beat, the mystery finally about to unravel.

Then you appeared in the doorway.

Oh, so that was the reason Tommy hadn’t told him. That was why actually no one had said anything. His ex had come back. What an event this is.

When Joel saw you, his heart shattered into pieces and sank deep within him. He froze in place, the noise around him fading into nothing as he focused solely on you. The anxious feeling inside him grew stronger with every passing second that his eyes stayed on you.

It had been half a year since you broke up. Joel had taken it in stride, acting like everything was fine. He’d been normal, never overreacting whenever your name came up in conversation. He didn’t dwell on it, didn’t let it affect him, at least, not when he wasn’t alone. But now, seeing you, it was like you triggered every single feeling he had buried. The sadness, the sense of loss, the anxiety, it hit him all at once.

He was fucked.

You looked so happy. Your laughter filled the air, a genuine smile that stretched from ear to ear, and you waved at everyone around you, completely at ease. Joel couldn’t help but pause for a moment, watching you, as his heart skipped a beat.

He had forgotten just how beautiful you were. The way your hair shimmered in the light, each strand looking soft and healthy, like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. The way your eyes sparkled with mischief, always so full of life. Your skin, smooth and glowing, like you had been kissed by the sun itself.

And then there was the scent. The fresh, citrusy aroma that always lingered around you. It was like a breath of fresh air, light and refreshing, yet comforting at the same time. And that’s when it hit him. Lemmy.

It was probably on your second or third date when you both decided to grab a coffee at a small café. Joe went for his usual black coffee, and you chose an iced lemon tea. As you were sitting at the table, chatting and laughing about random things, you took a sip of your tea, but you misjudged it, and the lemon tea splashed all over your white, cute, short dress.

Joe looked at you, his eyes widening a bit, and then he laughed. “I knew you had something tangy about you, but this is a whole new level…” he teased, nudging you playfully. Even though you felt a bit embarrassed, you couldn’t help but laugh too.

That was the moment he started calling you “Lemmy,” and it became something just between the two of you. From that day on, even though you wear perfume, you always smelled like lemon to him. And in that moment, he realized just how much he missed you, how much he still cared.

When your eyes met Joel’s, his heart raced, he didn’t know how to react. Whether to smile or wave. Instead, he just kept a stoic expression. Everything felt like it was in slow motion, and he could see how your nose twitched when you noticed him. There was definitely something in your eyes when you saw him, but it quickly faded when another man appeared behind you.

The man wrapped his arms around you from behind, placing a kiss on your cheek, and waved at everyone just like you had moments ago. Who the hell is this? Is he your—

Suddenly, the guy lifted your hand, and Joel’s gaze immediately locked onto the sparkling, large diamond on your finger. The crowd erupted in cheers, clapping, standing up from their seats, and some even made their way over to you, ready to congratulate you. But Joel stayed frozen. In that moment, the world around him shattered.

He saw nothing but darkness, his insides twisted, and he felt an overwhelming wave of nausea. Without another word, he set his glass down on the bar and headed straight for the bathroom. He needed to escape, from everything, from you.

Tommy handed Joel the whiskey from before, noticing how tense he had become. Joel’s hands were clenched into fists, his fingers pressed tightly against his mouth. His eyes, dark, filled with anger, made everyone who met his gaze look away, intimidated by the storm brewing inside him.

He didn’t even look at Tommy when he took the glass from his hand, lifting it to his lips in one quick, almost reckless motion. The liquid burned his throat as it slid down, but it didn’t even register to Joel.

“Get me another,” he growled, pushing the empty glass toward Tommy without meeting his eyes. There was no gratitude in his voice, no acknowledgment of Tommy’s effort, just raw need, the kind of need that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

Tommy hesitated for a moment, feeling the tension in the air, but sighed and took the glass to the bar. Joel’s gaze was fixed on you the entire time, his body trembling with a combination of nerves and something far darker. His foot tapped against the floor, restless, as if the anticipation of seeing you and that guy together was slowly eating him alive.

The sight of you laughing, the carefree way you interacted with everyone around you, it was almost like you weren’t the same person who had been so close to him. The way you were looking at that guy, with a smile Joel used to be the one to receive. It made his heart tighten in his chest. The way that guy touched you, the way he leaned in close to whisper in your ear, it wasn’t right. Joel’s mind screamed at him.

That guy had no right to be that close to you, no right to touch you, no right to kiss you. He hadn’t earned that, not the way Joel had.

“Here’s another—” Tommy’s voice broke through Joel’s thoughts, but it didn’t seem to register at first. Tommy placed the glass on the table, but Joel didn’t waste a second. He grabbed it and drank it down quickly, as if he could drown the feeling in his chest, as if the whiskey could erase the image of you with someone else.

“Whoa, easy there. You don’t want to get drunk while she’s here—” Tommy warned, but Joel barely registered the caution in his voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Joel snapped, his voice low and tight with frustration. He finally turned to face Tommy, his anger unmistakable. His eyes burned with the sting of betrayal, but it wasn’t about Tommy keeping the secret. It was about you, about the feeling that he had been kept in the dark.

“Because I thought it would be better this way,” Tommy sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“Better? Exactly what do you mean by that?” Joel scoffed sarcastically, his voice thick with frustration and anger. “I just didn’t want you to suffer before she would even arrive…” Tommy’s words sounded like he was trying to justify himself, but Joel wasn’t buying it.

Joel shook his head in disbelief, biting the inside of his mouth to keep himself from saying something he might regret. “Uh-huh, sure,” he muttered, his tone dripping with mock agreement.

Every word Tommy said only made Joel more angry. The feeling inside him was a mixture of disappointment, hurt, and a complete sense of betrayal. And the worst part? Seeing you, happy and carefree, with someone else, someone who had the right to touch you in ways Joel didn’t anymore. The anger bubbled up inside of him, mingling with an overwhelming sense of regret.

“Heyy!”

The familiar voice immediately pulled both Joel and Tommy’s attention. Their heads snapped toward you.

The moment Joel saw you, something inside him softened. Seeing you in person after all this time, so close, looking even more beautiful than he remembered—it did something to him. His clenched jaw, his tense muscles, all of it eased, and for a second, the hard exterior cracked just enough for a faint smile to appear on his face.

“Hey,” Joel greeted back, his voice no longer carrying the anger from before. It was calm, warm, until he noticed him.

The man standing behind you, smiling just as wide.

And just like that, the warmth vanished. Joel’s blood boiled as he watched the guy place his hands on your waist, holding you so casually. His own fists curled tight, knuckles turning white. If he could, he’d land a punch right across his smug face.

“Heyy, so who are these people?” The guy asked, his hands casually gripping your sides as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Joel felt his teeth grind together.

You turned slightly, gesturing towards Joel first. “This is Joel, my ex-boyfriend.”

Joel only nodded stiffly, his eyes locked onto the guy with a glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

“Ah, hi! I’m Ted. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The man stepped forward, extending a hand toward Joel, but Joel barely even looked at it, making it very clear that he had no intention of shaking it.

“O-kay…” Ted awkwardly retracted his hand, turning his attention to Tommy instead.

“And this is Tommy, his brother.”

This time, Tommy shook Ted’s hand without hesitation, though he side-eyed Joel, knowing exactly what was running through his mind.

For a moment, silence settled between you and Joel. When your eyes met again, you swallowed the lump forming in your throat before offering him a warm, almost nervous smile.

Joel, despite every raging emotion inside of him, somehow found it in himself to return it, barely.

Then, of course, Tommy spoke.

“So, when’s the wedding?”

Joel’s stomach dropped.

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckled, glancing at Ted before turning back to the Miller brothers. “We were actually planning to have it this week. Here.”

Tommy’s jaw nearly hit the floor. Joel, meanwhile, clenched his.

“You’re getting married here? In Jackson?!”

You laughed, nodding. “I have good memories here.”

Your eyes flickered back to Joel, as if expecting him to say something. But Joel wasn’t smiling anymore. He looked away, jaw tight, chest heavy, his entire body suddenly feeling too hot, too restless.

You noticed and for the first time that night, your heart ached. You had a feeling, no, you knew, how hard this had to be for him. Seeing you again after all this time, not just with someone else, but with a ring on your finger. Six months wasn’t that long, yet somehow, you had moved on. Found someone. Got engaged.

Meanwhile, Joel had been alone.

You glanced at him, a quiet, almost apologetic look on your face. But if he noticed it, he didn’t show it. His expression remained unreadable, his eyes trained on the floor, on his drink, anywhere but on you.

“That’s amazing!” Tommy’s voice broke the moment, his excitement bursting through. “Oh man, this is gonna be the best, most unforgettable wedding in Jackson history!”

His eyes shone with genuine happiness, completely oblivious to the way Joel’s grip on his glass tightened.

Even after everything, after you and Joel fell apart, no one in Jackson had ever stopped caring about you. You were still the kind-hearted soul everyone adored. The one always willing to help, the one who rarely ever had conflicts with anyone. That was just one of the many things Joel used to love about you. And still do.

“We need to announce it to everyone—”

“Wait.”

You stopped Tommy before he could get too carried away with his excitement.

“I just got here. Let’s hold off for a bit.”

Tommy gave you a nod of understanding, but when his gaze shifted to Joel, his enthusiasm dimmed. The joy over your wedding seemed to fade the moment he saw his brother’s face.

“Hey, Ted, how about we grab a whiskey? My treat.”

Ted smiled, glancing at you for approval. When you gave him a small nod, he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before following Tommy to the bar.

Just before he left, you caught Tommy’s eye and silently mouthed thank you. He gave a small nod in return. Once they were finally far enough away, you sat down across from Joel. He still wouldn’t look at you.

You took a slow breath, steadying yourself before speaking. “How have you been?” Your voice was gentle, filled with concern.

Joel pressed his lips together, inhaling deeply. He stayed quiet for a long moment before finally meeting your gaze.

“Fine.” His voice was firm, clipped. “You?”

You knew him too well. Knew that “fine” never really meant fine. You hesitated before answering, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “Fine,” you murmured, nodding slightly.

Joel nodded too. A meaningless, reflexive gesture. His fingers played absently with the empty glass in front of him, the calloused pads of his fingertips tracing invisible patterns against the rim.

Around you, the bar remained loud and full of life. Clinking glasses, muffled conversations, bursts of laughter. But at this table, there was only tension.

After a while, you finally exhaled, breaking the quiet.

“Joel, I didn’t come here to upset you or rub anything in your face.” Joel’s fingers twitched against the glass. His jaw tightened, and for a brief second, he shut his eyes, as if bracing himself.

You swallowed. “I came here—”

“To get married?”

The words were quiet, but there was an edge to them, sharp and bitter, like whiskey left too long on the tongue.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and unreadable beneath his furrowed brows. The grip he had on his glass tightened, but the rest of him was unnervingly still.

Your breath caught in your throat. You had expected this to be difficult, but not like this. Not the way his stare burned into you, not the way your heart twisted painfully at the sight of him like this.

Still, you refused to look away.

Joel clenched his jaw and went back to staring at the table, his fingers still absently tracing the rim of the glass. “Of all places…” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you.

You sighed, rubbing your palms together anxiously. “Joel—”

“Why here?” he cut you off, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. He finally looked back up, his expression unreadable. “Why Jackson?”

You exhaled, your eyes dropping to the table. This was hard. For a moment, you questioned if coming here had been the right choice. Sitting across from the man who had once been your whole world, the man who had been the first to show you what love truly felt like, maybe this was a mistake.

Because now, sitting here in the dim glow of the bar, with the scent of whiskey lingering between you, you could see it. The hurt he was trying to mask behind that hardened expression. Joel wasn’t just mad. He was heartbroken.

But you steadied yourself, refusing to waver.

“I wanted to see how you were holding up.”

You looked up at him, Joel only scoffed, shaking his head. A humorless, bitter laugh escaping his lips. He didn’t believe you. Not for a second.

“Joel, just because we ended things doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you.”

It was the truth, and deep down, he knew it. He could feel it, not just in your voice, but in the way your body shifted when you spoke, the way your eyes softened when you looked at him, the way you hesitated before choosing your words.

Still, he huffed, leaning back in his seat. His fingers drummed against the wood of the table before clenching into a fist.

“Uh huh, sure.”

His arrogance stung. No, more than that, it pissed you off.

Your hands curled into fists beneath the table, your nails pressing into your palms. “You can’t be mad at me for moving on—”

“Six months.” His voice cut through yours, sharp and dripping with irony.

“In six months, you found someone new and got engaged.”

Joel let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head again, his lips curling into something that was neither a smile nor a frown.

“That doesn’t feel a little… sudden to you?”

There it was, that tone. That frustrating, infuriating, arrogant tone he always used whenever you fought. The one that made your blood boil. The one that made you want to slap that damn smirk off his face.

“Ted is a good man.”

Joel let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He leaned back in his chair, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling. He looked like he was asking whatever god might be up there if this was some kind of sick joke.

“He would never hurt me.”

You defended your fiancé, your voice steady, despite the way Joel’s reaction made your stomach twist uncomfortably. Joel let out another laugh, but there was nothing amused about it.

“Never hurt you—did I ever hurt you?”

His voice was low, sharp. He leaned in slightly, his expression unreadable, but his eyes burned with something deep and dark, like you offended him.

“No, but I’m a priority to him.”

The words were out before you could stop them. Joel’s eyes flickered, something shifting in them, something raw. He held your gaze for a moment, his jaw tightening, before he finally looked away.

“You were my priority.”

It was barely more than a whisper, but it hit you like a punch to the gut. For a second, just a second, something in you wavered. But then you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to stay firm, to remind yourself why you were here.

“Joel, it’s too late—”

“I’ve changed.”

His voice broke slightly, his desperation slipping through the cracks of his carefully maintained exterior.

“Whether you believe it or not, I have. I realized things, and—”

“Joel.” You cut him off, your voice quiet, but sharp. A warning.

“It’s too late.”

Joel inhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around his glass before he finally let it go, his shoulders sagging under the weight of your words. He looked exhausted. Not just physically, but in a way that settled deep into his bones.

He regretted it. All of it. And if he could, you knew without a doubt, he’d turn back time. He’d fix everything. He’d do whatever it took to have you back. But it's too late.

“I know, Lemmy.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, rough and deep, like gravel scraping against pavement. It was almost lost in the noise of the bar, the clinking glasses, the distant laughter, the murmur of conversations, but you heard it.

You heard it damn well.

Hearing that name, your name, the one only he used, the one that belonged to a past you tried so hard to leave behind, hit you like a wave. It stirred something deep inside you, something bittersweet and painful all at once.

For a moment, you weren’t sitting in that bar, across from a man who wasn’t yours anymore. For a moment, you were back there.

Back in the warmth of his arms, back in those quiet nights when the world outside didn’t matter, when it was just the two of you, tangled together in whispers and laughter.

And just like that, the steel around your heart softened, just a little. You swallowed, forcing yourself to stay composed. But then you saw it.

A shimmer of unshed tears in Joel’s eyes. They didn’t fall, and maybe they never would, but they were there. Sitting heavy in his gaze, pooling just beneath the surface. Not that you could see them too well. Because he wasn’t looking at you.

His eyes were cast downward, glued to the table, to his hands, to anywhere but you. Like he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze. Like if he did, he might break completely.

You inhaled sharply, as if preparing to say something. Slowly, hesitantly, your hand inched forward, reaching for his. It was instinctive, like muscle memory.

You just wanted to touch him. To feel the roughness of his calloused skin against yours again, to squeeze his hand tightly, just once. Just to remind yourself that he was real. That this was real. But before your fingers could reach his, a voice broke through the thick tension between you.

“Hey, babe—man, I gotta say, the whiskey here is strong.” Ted’s voice was light, laced with laughter, completely oblivious to the storm raging between you and Joel. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was better that he had no possible idea what's going on. You forced a small smile as you turned to look at him.

“I know,” you murmured softly, the warmth in your voice carefully manufactured. Joel didn’t even glance up. Didn’t acknowledge him.

Ted, still blissfully unaware, chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Anyway, I think I’ll grab one more, and then we should go get settled in. Sound good?”

“Yeah… that sounds great,” you agreed, nodding.

He grinned, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before making his way back to the bar, rejoining Tommy.

And just like that, the moment was gone. Your hand, still frozen midair, curled into a loose fist before you let it drop back to your lap.

“So… is he good to you?”

Joel’s voice was steady, but the weight behind the question was anything but casual. His gaze locked onto yours this time, holding it with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

You hesitated for a second, needing a moment to compose yourself before letting out a small laugh. “Yeah… he’s really good to me,” you admitted, a soft smile tugging at your lips as memories of Ted flooded your mind, the little things he did, the way he made you feel.

Joel gave a slow nod, his lips pressing together. “That’s all that matters.” His fingers flexed, curling into a fist.

“What about you?” you asked, tilting your head. “Do you have someone?”

“No.”

It was a simple answer. Too quick. Too flat. You had already known the answer before you asked, but curiosity, or something else, pushed you to hear it from him.

“Don’t worry,” you tried to reassure him, offering a small smile. “You’ll find the right one.” Joel gave another slow nod, but this time, there was something behind it. Something unreadable.

“I think I already did.” The air in the room shifted. Your heart skipped a beat. The way he was looking at you, God help you. It was dangerous.

That small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, the way his eyes darkened ever so slightly, how his brows lifted just a fraction, it was too much.

You felt warmth creeping up your neck, a telltale flush blooming across your cheeks, and that familiar pulse between your legs, one that only Joel could create without even touching you.

You pressed your thighs together, shifting slightly in your seat as you cleared your throat. Everything suddenly felt too tight. The fabric of your clothes clinging to your skin, the air around you thick and heavy. All because of Joel.

“You okay?” His voice was innocent, as if he had no idea what he was doing to you, but that bastard knew.

“Yeah, I just… it’s warm in here.” You forced out a nervous laugh, willing yourself to act normal. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve as you deliberately avoided his eyes, afraid that one more look at him would make it worse.

But it was already getting worse. The heat pooling between your legs was undeniable now, and you hated yourself for it.

Joel noticed. Oh, he fucking noticed.

His lips curled into a smirk, one that made your stomach tighten even more.

“You want some water?”

That damn drawl. That damn voice. Your eyes snapped to his for a second too long, and that was a mistake. His gaze was slow, deliberate, dragging over you like he was peeling away every layer, reaching right into your head and reading every damn sinful thought.

“N-no thanks,” you stammered, crossing your arms over your chest as if that would somehow protect you from whatever the hell this was. But Joel just hummed, leaning back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly against the table.

Joel parted his lips, ready to say something. Something that lingered heavy on his tongue, something you weren’t sure you even wanted to hear. But before he could get a single word out, a loud “Whoops—shit—” cut through the air, and suddenly, you felt a body stumble against your chair.

Ted. Drunk off his ass. You barely caught him before he could topple right onto you, his weight throwing you off balance as you grabbed his arms.

“Jesus, Ted!” you hissed, steadying him as he let out a breathy laugh.

“Sorry, babe, I—whew, I think I had a bit too much.”

No shit.

Joel’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he watched the scene unfold. He exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers twitching as if he had half a mind to yank Ted off you himself. But he didn’t, because he had no right to.

“Alright,” you sighed, helping Ted straighten up. “Time to get you to bed.”

Joel didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Just sat there, watching, his expression unreadable. And you didn’t dare look at him as you guided Ted toward the door.

“Night, Joel,” was all you said before slipping outside, leaving him alone at the table. For a moment, Joel just sat there, his fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Ayyyyy Joel!” Tommy. Just as drunk.

Joel turned his head slightly, watching his brother stumble toward him, a lazy grin plastered across his face.

“You look like shit,” Tommy slurred, plopping down in the seat across from him. Joel exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ.”

The morning light barely crept through the curtains, casting a dull glow over the room. Joel sat at the table, hunched over with his arms crossed, his fingers gripping his biceps so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His jaw was locked, his teeth grinding together as he stared blankly at the scratched wooden surface. He hadn’t slept. Not a damn minute.

His mind had been trapped in an endless loop, replaying last night over and over again. Your voice, your touch, the way your lips curled into that soft smile when you talked. And then, the final insult. Watching his own brother laughing, drinking, bonding with your fiancé like they were lifelong friends.

The frustration simmering inside him turned into full-blown anger the moment he heard the sound of heavy footsteps stumbling down the hall. A loud thud followed, a clear indication that Tommy had managed to walk straight into a wall.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience already worn thin.

Tommy finally appeared, looking like absolute hell. His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and his face pale with exhaustion. He groaned as he braced himself against the wall, rubbing his temples like he was trying to keep his skull from splitting open.

Joel’s eyes darkened as he watched him struggle.

“Isn’t that a little fucked up?” His voice was calm, but the bitterness in his tone was unmistakable.

Tommy blinked at him, still too dazed to fully register the question. “Huh?”

Joel pushed himself away from the table, standing up with slow, deliberate movements. “Last night. You got shitfaced with my ex’s fiancé. That doesn’t sit wrong with you?”

Tommy winced, rubbing his face as if that would somehow help him think clearer. But the weight of Joel’s words sank in quickly.

“Look—” he started, his voice hoarse, but Joel wasn’t in the mood to hear whatever excuse he was about to pull out of his ass.

“What, is he more important to you than I am?”

Tommy let out a long breath through his nose, looking away for a moment. “It’s my job to welcome new people.”

Joel let out a short, humorless laugh. “Welcome? You welcomed him by getting wasted and acting like he’s your new best damn friend?” His voice was rising, his frustration spilling over.

Tommy’s expression shifted. First defensive, then guilty. Joel shook his head, running a hand through his graying hair before muttering, “You know what? Fine. If he’s more important to you than your own brother, then go ahead. Enjoy your new drinking buddy.”

With that, he turned on his heel, already heading for the door.

Tommy scrambled forward, his hangover momentarily forgotten as he grabbed Joel’s arm. “Joel, wait—wait. I’m sorry, alright? I wasn’t thinking.” His voice was earnest now, the regret finally sinking in.

Joel hesitated, his body tense under Tommy’s grip. A long silence stretched between them before he finally exhaled through his nose. “Okay.”

But it didn’t sound like forgiveness. It sounded like Joel was too damn tired to argue anymore.

He pulled his arm free and walked out, leaving Tommy standing there, rubbing his face in frustration.

You had been in Jackson for a second day now. While you were busy enjoying yourself, Joel was completely fucked. And the worst part? You hadn’t even done anything. You just existed—and that was the problem.

Every time Joel saw you, it was like a punch to the gut. Memories crashed into him, relentless and unforgiving. He remembered the quiet nights by the campfire, watching the stars while your body curled up against his. He remembered your naked, warm body, pressed against his after sex. He remembered the way his hands traced the curves of your body, the way your breath hitched when he thrust into you, the way you moaned his name.

Good old days. Good didn’t even cover it. The kind of memories that made Joel’s dick twitch in his jeans.

The bar was alive with music and laughter, people drinking, talking, letting loose after another long day. Joel leaned against the counter, fingers wrapped around a glass he had barely touched. His gaze wasn’t on his drink. It was on you.

You were on the dance floor with Teddy, moving like you didn’t have a single care in the world. Spinning, swaying, jumping, every motion effortless, magnetic. Even in the chaos of the crowd, you stood out. The way your hair swayed with every movement, the way your clothes clung to your body like they were made just for you. The way your lips parted in laughter, the pure joy radiating from you.

Joel clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the glass.

He wanted to run straight to you, grab you, steal you away. To kiss you, hard, possessively, until you melted against him, until you gave in and kissed him back just as desperately. He could already feel the way your body would mold against his, the way your lips would part for him.

Every nerve in his body screamed at him to do it. To take what was his. But his morality was stronger. At least for now.

With a sharp exhale, Joel turned away from the dance floor and knocked back the rest of his drink in one go. The burn of the liquor didn’t even register; his frustration ran hotter. He let out a rough groan as he set the glass down, rubbing his fingers over his eyes, trying to ground himself. For just a moment, he let himself drift. But a moment was all he got.

“Hey!”

Your voice-soft, breathless from dancing-yanked him right back to reality. His body reacted before his brain did, his head turning toward you. And fuck, he couldn’t even stop himself from smiling.

A quiet hey slipped from his lips in return.

You leaned against the bar beside him, still catching your breath. “Water with lemon, please,” you told the bartender before exhaling deeply. Joel huffed a laugh.

“What?” you asked, eyes narrowing in playful confusion.

Joel shook his head, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. “Lemon… just, never mind.”

You knew exactly where he was going with that. The realization made you laugh, lowering your gaze to the countertop.

“Yeah, I still like lemon,” you admitted softly, smiling to yourself.

Joel looked at you then, really looked at you. His eyes, dark and steady, held none of their usual guardedness. There was something raw there, something quiet but intense. Like he was searching for something in you. Like he was remembering.

And God, the way he was looking at you, warm, familiar, dangerous, sent a shiver down your spine. It was the kind of look that made your stomach tighten, the kind that made your chest feel too small for your racing heart.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were standing. Of the space between you. Thin, fragile, easy to cross.

“So, when’s the wedding?”

Joel’s voice cut through the moment like a blade, pulling you back to reality. You blinked, startled, as if waking from a trance. It took you a second to even process the question.

“Oh, um… we don’t really know yet,” you admitted, glancing toward Teddy. He was across the room, slow-dancing with an elderly woman, spinning her carefully with that goofy grin of his. You let out a soft laugh at the sight.

Joel followed your gaze, watching for a beat. But unlike you, he didn’t laugh. He just looked, expression unreadable, something flickering behind his eyes. Then, as if remembering himself, he finally tore his gaze away and turned back to you, forcing a small smile.

“He’s a real character, huh?”

You nodded, still smiling. “Yeah… he is.”

Joel’s eyes traced over your features, studying you like you were some kind of rare art piece he’d never get to touch again. His gaze lingered on the soft dimples that formed when you smiled, the curve of your nose, your long lashes, the smoothness of your cheeks, the swell of your chest, how your dress hugged every right place, fuck.

He tore his gaze away so fast it almost hurt, swallowing thickly. He prayed you hadn’t noticed. If you had, you didn’t show it. But how could he not look? You were impossible to ignore, the kind of woman who turned heads without even trying. It wasn’t just Joel, hell, every guy in the damn bar had stolen a glance at you at some point tonight. They had good reason.

You were a fucking knockout.

Joel exhaled slowly, trying to regain control. “Remember that time we went fishing, and you almost fell in the river?” His voice came out steadier than he felt.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Almost? I did fall in the river. You laughed your ass off instead of helping me.”

Joel chuckled, the memory warming something deep inside him. “In my defense, it was funny as hell.”

“You are so lucky I didn’t drag you in with me.”

He smirked. “You tried. You’re just not strong enough.”

You playfully gasped, feigning offense. “Excuse me? I was so strong.”

Joel raised a brow. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

You rolled your eyes, about to come up with some witty comeback, but the way he was looking at you suddenly changed. His playful smirk faded into something more serious.

“Listen,” he started, his voice dropping just a bit, becoming softer, steadier. His fingers tapped lightly against his glass as he searched for the right words. “I know things didn’t end the way they should’ve. And I know you’ve moved on but-“

Before he could finish, a familiar arm slid around your waist, pulling you in close.

“Hey, babe,” Teddy’s voice was laced with tipsy affection. You barely had time to react before he leaned in, pressing a warm, lingering kiss against your lips. Right in front of Joel.

Joel stiffened, every muscle in his body locking up as he watched. He forced himself to stay still, to not react, to not let his jaw tighten or his fists clench at his sides. But inside, he was burning.

You let out a startled squeal, eyes wide open as Teddy stole your breath away with the sudden kiss. It wasn’t bad, but the surprise had you momentarily stunned. By the time he finally pulled away, you were left breathless, blinking as you tried to process what had just happened.

“Wow…” you exhaled, regaining your composure. But then your gaze flickered to Joel. And oh, he was fuming.

He wasn’t outright glaring, no, but you knew him too well. The sharp clench of his jaw, the way his lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line, and the burning intensity in his dark eyes said it all. Jealousy. Pure, unfiltered jealousy.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen that look on his face. Joel had always been possessive, even when you were together. Any guy who so much as looked at you too long earned that same lethal stare. It didn’t matter if it was a stranger at the market, a coworker making polite conversation, or even the poor bartender who had the audacity to compliment your choice of drink.

And while sometimes it had been frustrating, having to remind him that you were perfectly capable of handling yourself, there was something about it that excited you. It was intoxicating, really.

Because Joel’s jealousy wasn’t just about control. It was about claiming. It was about the way he needed you, the way he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else having you, touching you, making you smile. It was his way of saying she’s mine, without needing to speak the words aloud.

And right now, even though you were no longer his, even though time had passed and you were engaged to someone else, Joel still looked at you like he was ready to drag you away and remind you exactly who you used to belong to.

Heat pooled low in your stomach, the tension between you palpable. You could practically feel him burning holes into you, into Teddy’s arm still draped around your waist.

Teddy, completely oblivious to the brewing storm, just chuckled, swaying slightly from the alcohol in his system. “You okay, babe? Didn’t mean to surprise ya.”

You managed a small laugh, patting his chest. “Yeah, I’m good.” Joel scoffed. Low, barely audible, but enough to make you glance at him again.

And oh, the way his fingers curled against the bar, the way his shoulders tensed as if he was physically restraining himself from doing something reckless, something dangerous. You knew exactly what he was thinking. And God help you, but it thrilled you.

“Oh, hey Joel!” Teddy greeted him, as if he had only just noticed him standing there, as if Joel hadn’t been watching the whole damn time. His tone was casual, almost dismissive, making Joel look like an afterthought. Like he wasn’t even worth acknowledging until now.

Joel’s jaw flexed. His fingers twitched against the bar. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug, drunken grin off Teddy’s face.

But instead, he just nodded, a slow, forced acknowledgment. He refused to let himself look like a sulking idiot. “Teddy,” he replied flatly, voice rough with something unreadable. Then, just as quickly, his eyes were back on you.

And you felt it everywhere. That heat. That undeniable pull. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the way your thighs instinctively pressed together. But it was pointless, because that familiar ache was already blooming inside you, that unbearable pulse between your legs that only he could stir up. And that was the worst part was, that Teddy had never done this to you. Never made your body react with just a look.

Never made your skin prickle, never made your stomach twist with need, never made your breath hitch with anticipation. But Joel did it effortlessly. Whether he meant to or not.

It was as if you were drunk; quickly, scenes with Joel started to pop into your head. Twisted and passionate memories that, whether you liked it or not, you longed to experience again. Not with Teddy, with Joel.

You wanted to feel him inside you again, to feel him stretching you out, to feel his saliva, his lips, his muscular body, the scratch of his beard against your skin. The memories rushed in, vivid and intoxicating, taking over your thoughts like a flood.

Joel was watching you, and he couldn’t help but notice the sudden shift in your behavior. His eyes quickly moved to your legs, specifically your thighs, which were pressed tightly together, trying to calm the pulsing between your legs.

Joel immediately knew what was happening. A devilish grin spread across his face as he locked eyes with you. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes spoke volumes. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. He knew what you were feeling.

“Well, I guess we should head out, huh?” Ted shook you gently, and you were a bit out of it, but nodded and mumbled in response.

You looked at Joel one last time, your face eager and full of desire, before you disappeared into the crowd, and then out of the bar.

Joel was in a trance. Not only did this boost his ego, but also brought pleasure to you, and his own hardness pressing against his pants. Unfortunately, everything had to be taken care of on his own, especially the last part.

He let out a frustrated breath, closing his eyes for a moment so he could still picture you, just for a little while longer, before ordering another drink.

It was late. Joel couldn’t even tell what day it was anymore, or how many had passed since you arrived. All he knew for certain was that tomorrow… tomorrow was your wedding. Some random asshole was about to take you from him. Marry you. Make you his. And Joel? He’d just stand there, watching, powerless. Hell, maybe Ted would even throw him a little smile while doing it.

Sleep had become a distant memory. Joel couldn’t recall the last night, since you came back, when he’d actually rested. Not more than twenty damn minutes. He was lying on his back, fingers laced together, resting on his stomach as he stared up at the ceiling like it held some kind of answer. It didn’t. The only thing up there was silence… and the ticking time bomb in his chest, waiting for tomorrow to detonate.

He kept going back and forth in his head, whether or not to even show up to the wedding. You’d invited him. You wanted him there. God knows why, but you did.

But was it really a good idea? Watching you walk down the aisle in that long, white dress, glowing, beautiful, looking like a dream, only to stand there among the crowd, not at the altar where he should be? Not the one reaching for your hands, not the one kissing you when it’s all said and done?

The thought alone made his stomach turn. It felt like all of his thoughts were eating him alive.

Gnawing, scratching, pulling at every piece of his sanity like starving wolves. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing you. Couldn’t breathe without remembering how it used to feel when you were next to him. The ache in his chest was constant, a heavy pressure that no amount of alcohol or silence could ease.

And then, a knock.

Joel scoffed quietly, shaking his head with a bitter chuckle. Great. Now he was hallucinating. That was the next step, right? After days without sleep and with a heart falling apart. Maybe this was a dream. Or maybe he was finally losing it.

But then came a second knock. Clearer. More real.

He froze, eyes glued to the ceiling. He told himself it wasn’t real. Just a trick of the mind. But then—

“Joel? Are you home?”

His heart stopped. Your voice. He sat up so fast the world spun, legs tangled in the sheets as he scrambled toward the door, barely catching his balance as he slipped on the wooden floor. His breath hitched. No time to think. No time to panic. Just before unlocking it, he took a second to fix his hair and smooth his shirt. He had to look like he’d been asleep, cool, casual, unaffected.

But when he opened the door, the act fell apart.

You were standing there. Bare legs. Thin pajama shorts. An oversized T-shirt clinging to you from the cold, your arms wrapped tightly around your chest as you shivered, teeth chattering hard enough to echo. Outside, the snow fell in soft sheets. It had to be at least negative five.

“Jesus Christ—are you okay?” Joel’s voice cracked with disbelief and panic.

You nodded, barely. “C-c-can I come in?” you managed, breath visible in the frozen air.

“Yeah, shit, of course,” Joel stepped aside immediately, holding the door wide as you stumbled past him on trembling legs. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve frozen out there.”

He placed a hand on your back, gentle but firm, guiding you into the kitchen with urgency. His palm was warm, so warm it made you realize just how cold you were.

“Sit down, sit,” he said, pulling out a chair for you. Within seconds, he returned with a thick blanket, carefully wrapping it around your shoulders, tucking it in around you like he was afraid you’d fall apart if he didn’t.

“Tea with lemon?” he asked softly, though the ghost of a smile was already tugging at his lips.

You gave a quiet laugh, still shivering, your voice just a whisper. “Still my favorite.”

Joel chuckled too, just under his breath, and went to put the kettle on. He didn’t ask why you were there. Not yet. Part of him didn’t want to know, because if you said the wrong thing, if this wasn’t what he hoped it was… he wasn’t sure he’d survive it.

The silence in the room felt heavy, almost suffocating. All that could be heard was the faint hum of the kettle heating the water and the sound of your teeth gritting together in a nervous rhythm.

Joel stood just a few feet away, watching you from behind. His eyes were fixed on the back of your head, his thoughts racing, though he didn’t dare speak. He wanted to know what was going on in your mind, but he wasn’t about to push you. Not now, not in this fragile moment.

Joel’s gaze flickered to the counter, where the kettle was just starting to steam. The sound of the water heating was the only thing breaking the silence. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers twitching at his sides, desperate to do something. But what could he do?

The kettle hissed as it came to a boil, and Joel’s eyes moved to it for a moment, as if distracted by the sound. He didn’t say anything. He just waited, the silence stretching on, knowing that eventually, things would have to be said. But for now, he didn’t know what to say, or if it was even his place to speak.

The room felt frozen in time, the ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance the only indication that the world outside still moved. Joel’s thoughts were racing, but his lips remained sealed, respecting the space between you.

“Here,” Joel said, placing the steaming mug of tea beside you and sitting down across from you. “Be careful, it’s hot,” he warned, watching as you reached for it. You glanced up at him and nodded, your hands slowly falling back into your lap.

You weren’t shaking anymore, looking a bit better, though your nose was still red from the cold. It was cute though, Joel couldn’t help but notice how that little splash of color made you seem even more delicate.

The kicthen was quiet again. The only sound was the soft hiss of the tea cooling, along with the occasional shift of your body as you tried to warm up. Joel watched you in silence, unsure of what to say. Something about your vulnerability made him hesitate.

After a few minutes, when the tea had cooled down and you’d almost finished it, you started to regain some color in your face and stopped shaking. The warmth from the drink seemed to finally be working its magic. Joel, however, had been quietly watching you, his gaze flicking between your shivering body and the empty mug in your hands. He couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“So, are you going to tell me what made you come here at this hour, in this weather, dressed like that?” He raised an eyebrow and gave you a pointed look, his eyes lingering on your pajamas, which definitely weren’t the best choice for a night like this. The cold air outside seemed to have crept in through the walls, but here you were, looking far too exposed in your soft, worn-out clothes.

You let out a long, frustrated sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. It took you a moment before you spoke, as if you were trying to find the right words, or maybe just gathering the courage to say it.

“I had a fight with Ted.” Your voice was small, almost trembling, and Joel’s eyes immediately flickered with a brief flash of joy, relief and hope. But when he saw how utterly crushed you seemed, the spark in his eyes quickly dimmed.

“Look, it’s just the typical pre-wedding stress—” Joel tried to reassure you, though his words were awkward, his attempt at comforting you not quite landing right. But before he could finish, you cut him off.

“No, this wasn't just some typical pre-wedding argument,” you said, locking eyes with Joel.

For a moment, it felt like time has stopped, as if you were peering straight into his soul. There was something raw in your gaze, an intensity that made him feel the weight of your words even more. It wasn’t just about the wedding, it was about something deeper.

“This was… more serious,” you added, your voice trailing off slightly as you lowered your gaze.

Joel’s heart tightened as he watched your expression shift, and without warning, he saw the first of your tears fall. They were slow at first, like they were hesitant to break free, but soon they started streaming down your cheeks.

Joel fought with himself, struggling not to reach out, not to pull you into his arms. It tore him apart to see you like this. His hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. He took a deep breath, trying to hold back. But he couldn’t take it anymore. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t comfort you right now?

He stood up from his seat, moving toward you, and as soon as you felt his presence, your arms instinctively wrapped around him, burying your face deep into his shirt and stomach. Joel didn’t care that your tears left a damp spot on his shirt, it was a small price to pay for being close to you again.

It felt… comforting. To have you so near, to be the one you turned to in this situation.

There was something reassuring about the fact that you came to him when you were at your lowest. He was the first person you thought of, the first person you wanted to see. That thought didn’t just swell his ego, it also gave him a quiet confidence. He still had a place in your heart, he was there, in the background, in some shadowed corner of your soul, but he was still there. And that was all that mattered to him.

Joel’s hand gently stroked the top of your head, his fingers running through your soft, voluminous hair. The motion was comforting, the familiar scent of whiskey and warmth surrounding you. It was everything you needed in this moment, knowing that he wouldn’t judge you, that he was there for you, and that he wouldn’t leave until he was certain you were okay.

You took a deep, shaky breath, pulling away slightly from him, your hands quickly wiping away the tears. Joel knelt down in front of you, bringing his face level with yours. His wolf eyes, stared into yours as his hands cupped your cheeks gently, guiding your gaze to meet his.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispered softly, his thumb brushing across your cheek as he wiped away the last tears. His touch was reassuring, grounding you in the moment, as if his presence alone could erase all your worries.

His voice, his face, everything about him was so sincere, so convincing. You simply nodded, your heart swelling. Before you could say anything else, Joel pulled you into a tight embrace. One hand rested at the back of your head, the other wrapped securely around your back.

It wasn’t just an ordinary hug of comfort; there was something much deeper. Joel was telling you without any words, how much you meant to him, how much he misses you, and how he would drop everything just for you. His embrace spoke volumes that words couldn’t quite capture, a silent promise that he was here, fully present, and never truly gone.

“I… can I…” The words were hard to say, not because you were pressed so tightly against his chest, but because you were still questioning yourself, wondering if it was the right thing to do.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?”

Joel’s eyes widened in surprise. He slowly pulled his hands from your body, sliding them down to your shoulders, gently moving you just enough to see your face. He tried to read something in your glassy, red eyes, but it was difficult. Your emotions were tangled up, impossible to decipher at that moment.

“Of course, Lemmy,” he replied softly, offering you a warm, reassuring smile. You smiled back, the gesture comforting, but there was something more lingering in the air, something unspoken between you two.

If things were different, Joel might have leaned in and kissed you deeply. A soothing kiss to tell you that everything will be okay. But he held back, not wanting to cross a line, not wanting to be a fucking asshole, that will destroy your wedding.

“You can sleep upstairs,” Joel said as he got up from his knees and pointed upward. You nodded, standing up, carefully peeling the blanket off and folding it over the chair. Following Joel up the stairs, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. The t-shirt and sweatpants shaping his body perfectly. It was a long time ago since you saw him naked, and fuck, deeply in your head, you wanted to restore the memory.

“Here… you can wear this,” Joel said, as you both reached the room. He pulled out a t-shirt and sweatpants from the drawer, neatly folded in a pile, and handed them to you.

“Thank you,” your voice was soft as you took the clothes, your fingers slightly brushed against his. The spark between your skin was electric, and for a brief moment, everything felt too close.

Joel cleared his throat, trying to break the akward silence, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, um… if you need anything, I’ll be downstairs,” with thosw words, Joel walked around you, ready to leave. But before he could, you quickly grabbed his biceps. His eyes shifted from your hand to your face, his eyebrows raised in confusion and surprise.

“Pleade, stay,” you said, your voice tinged with desperation. You were so hopeless, that you just asked your ex to stay in the same room at night. It was fucking insane, but Joel was even more out of his mind for actually agreeing.

As you began to change, Joel quickly turned his back. It felt strange, he’d seen you naked countless times before, in far more awkward and vulnerable situations. But this time, he couldn’t shake the need to turn away. It wasn’t about modesty; it was the weight of everything that had changed between you.

Still, his male instincts kicked in, and despite his effort to be polite, he couldn’t resist peeking over his shoulder. The sight of you took his breath away.

You looked even more stunning than he remembered. Your skin was glowing, smooth and fresh, and even from a distance, he could smell the faint lemony scent that seemed to cling to you. His throat went dry as he swallowed hard, and he immediately forced his eyes back to the front, as if doing so would somehow erase the image from his mind.

But it didn’t. In fact, all of his blood seemed to rush into his dick, feeling himself hardening against the soft fabric of his sweatpants. Right now, he cursed himself for not wearing underwear.

Joel threw his head back, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply, trying to steady himself. He focused on his breathing, desperately trying to regain control, but his body had other ideas.

His thoughts raced, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop his body from responding. He silently cursed, wishing his mind and his body would sync up, but, unsurprisingly, it didn’t happen.

“Okay,” you said, your voice cutting through the tension, signaling that you were finished changing.

Joel slowly turned around, his gaze drifting down from your feet, slowly taking in the soft curve of your legs, then moving upward, pausing for a moment as he reached your face. His eyes lingered for a moment longer than necessary, before quickly breaking the stare and forcing himself to look away.

“Alright, I’ll go grab the blanket for myself,” Joel said, nodding as he turned away to leave. But just as he took a step, you spoke again, your voice stopping him.

“Why?” you asked, your tone genuinely confused. Joel froze in place, his body tensing. He slowly turned around to face you, unsure of how to interpret your question.

For a moment, he just stared at you, trying to figure out if you were being serious or if it was just some sarcastic remark. His gaze lingered on you, trying to read the expression on your face, but there was no hint of irony or playfulness in your eyes. You seemed genuinely puzzled.

When Joel realized you weren’t joking, he shifted nervously. His hands instinctively moved to cover his growing erection, trying to be as discreet as possible, hoping you wouldn’t notice. He cursed himself for his body’s reaction, but he couldn’t help it.

“You… you’re not going to sleep in bed with me?” The question fell from your lips before either of you could think about it. It was blunt, straightforward, and as soon as the words left your mouth, both of you were caught off guard.

Joel’s body went completely still. It was like time froze for a second. His eyes widened, and his mind scrambled to make sense of your words. He genuinely thought he must be imagining all of this. His thoughts were racing, and the atmosphere in the room suddenly felt thick and charged.

“Do you want me to?” Joel asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise as he genuinely sought your answer.

You hesitated for a moment. He was basically giving you one last chance to back out, to say no and keep things from getting even more complicated. It was like he was offering you an escape, a way to avoid making everything worse. But you chose to push forward, testing fate.

You nodded quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. Joel let out a deep breath, his gaze dropping to the floor. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

It definitely wasn’t the 'right' decision, but it was what you wanted.

You slid into the bed and pulled the covers over yourself, the warmth of the blanket comforting against the tension in your chest. Joel followed, slowly settling behind you.

“Good night,” you whispered, your voice soft, and Joel replied in a deep, quiet tone, his words almost a murmur in the silence. You turned your back to him, but your eyes were open. You couln't sleep, you didn't want to.

For a moment, Joel lay there, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts racing. His mind couldn’t quite catch up with what is happening. Was he really here, in this bed, with you again after everything? The reality of the situation hit him, and he lay there motionless, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling in his chest.

But then he turned, his eyes fixed on you even though your back was facing him. He missed that, the scent of citrus in his bed, a smell he hadn’t realized he longed for until now.

Even with your back to him, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, intense and unrelenting. You didn’t dare to turn around, knowing that if you did, things would never be the same between you. You focused on the idea of sleep instead, trying to block out the thoughts racing in your mind.

Tomorrow was your big day, the one you’d been looking forward to with the best man in the world. And yet, you found yourself lying in your ex’s bed. Great. But you didn’t want to think about that. You just wanted to sleep, hoping you wouldn’t wake up looking like a complete zombie.

You shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. But with each small movement, you found yourself inching closer to Joel, until there was barely any space between you two. It got so close that your ass brushed against his erection.

He closed his eyes, holding his breath, praying that you wouldn’t move again. The air between you two was thick with tension, his mind spinning with a thousand thoughts, none of them good.

But you did move again. You kept adjusting, trying to get comfortable, unaware, or perhaps fully aware, of the effect it had on him. With each movement, you teased him more and more, rubbing against him in a way that only made things worse.

Then you felt it. The unmistakable pressure. The heat of his reaction. It hit you all at once, and everything clicked into place. Your stomach dropped as you realized it.

With a sharp gasp, you turned quickly, putting some space between you. Your heart raced, and the shame burned in your cheeks.

You stared at him, a mix of disgust, surprise, and anger flooding your face. “Joel, what the fuck?!” you hissed under your breath, careful not to wake the neighbors, but making sure your frustration was clear.

He rubbed his face with his hand, as if trying to erase the embarrassment that had suddenly washed over him.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft against his palm, before he lowered it to his side and met your gaze. “I can’t control it, especially not when you’re doing… what you’re doing.

You pursed your lips, offended, your brow furrowing in disbelief. “And what exactly am I doing? I was just trying to get comfortable!”

Joel let out a soft laugh, closing his eyes for a moment, shaking his head in amusement. He looked at you with a teasing grin, almost mocking you. “Sure you were.”

Your anger flared, and with a sharp breath, you turned your back to him again, refusing to look at him any longer. You had your eyes shut tightly, the anger seeping into your blood, sinking deep into your body like an unwelcome weight. How the hell could that asshole even think that-

But then, suddenly, something shifted. Your muscles, tense and wound tight with rage, began to loosen, and the anger, while still there, didn’t grip you as hard. You opened your eyes slowly, the shift in your thoughts catching you off guard.

And then it hit you.

You remembered how Joel used to act in sour presence back in the day, how every small movement you made, every accidental brush of your body, would send him spiraling. He couldn’t help himself. He’d stiffen, his eyes would burn with that intensity, and you’d know, without a word, that he was consumed by desire. You’d seen it countless times: a slight touch, a momentary glance, and there he was, completely undone.

But now, you were with someone else.

You closed your eyes again, the realization bitter in your chest. You were engaged now. You had a fiancé, a man who was calm, steady, neutral. He didn’t react to you like that. He didn’t make your skin burn with that same, reckless intensity. With him, it was different. Safe. Predictable.

But Joel… Joel was still Joel. And even now, every time you were close to him, you could still feel the shift. The way his body reacted at the slightest sign of proximity. The way his eyes darkened, the way he couldn’t help himself, even if he was no longer yours. It was like a reflex.

And that thought, that realization, made everything feel so much more complicated. You were about to marry someone who didn’t make you feel the same rush of emotions, who didn’t make your body ache with tension the way Joel could with just a look. But was that enough? Was that really what you wanted?

“Fuck it.”

Without thinking, without considering the consequences, you spun around quickly, your body moving almost on instinct. In that moment, everything else faded away, the thoughts, the circumstances, the guilt, and you pressed your lips to Joel’s, hard and urgent. The kiss was raw, intense, filled with all the pent-up desire you had been trying to bury since the moment you set foot back in Jackson.

Joel was caught off guard at first. He let out a low, confused growl, clearly unsure of what was happening, but that hesitation didn’t last long. The moment his hands found their way to your body, they pulled you closer with a force that made your breath catch. His large hands gripped your back, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you tightly against him, and you melted into him, feeling the heat of his body against yours.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you kissed him with a desperation you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just passion. It was more. It was a storm of emotions, a whirlwind of regret, longing, and something deeper, something you had been trying so hard to forget, but it was still there.

The way he kissed you was familiar, as if nothing had changed. His lips, his touch, his scent, they were all the same, and yet everything felt so different now.

You knew, deep down, that you’d regret this. You knew that the guilt would hit you in waves as soon as this moment was over. You’d lie awake later, berating yourself, torn between the man you were supposed to marry and the man who still held so much power over you. But yet, you still couldn't stop yourself from creating a total disaster.

You wanted this. You needed this. Even if it meant facing the consequences later.

Your fingers found his hair, messy and thick beneath your touch, and you didn’t hesitate, you gripped it tightly, pulling, scratching at his scalp with a need you didn’t even try to hide.

The low, breathy whimper that escaped Joel’s throat sent a pulse straight through your body. God, that sound, so raw, so desperate, it only made you want more.

Your core throbbed, a slow, aching rhythm between your thighs, growing stronger every time your tongue met his. It was like every brush, every swirl of his tongue against yours, set off another wave of heat that rippled through your whole body. And Joel…Joel was lost in it. Completely, entirely, deliciously lost in you.

He kissed you like he was starving. Like he hadn’t tasted anything real in years and now you were the only thing that existed. Every movement was hungry, almost frantic, but underneath it all was something deeper.

He had dreamed of this. Not just the sex—though, God, yes, the sex—but you. All of you. Your voice, your touch, the way your body pressed into his like you belonged there. Joel had spent countless nights thinking about you. Wishing for you. Wanting you back in ways he never dared say out loud.

And now? Now, it felt like every single one of those wishes had come true.

If you asked him what he wanted under the Christmas tree, it was you. If you asked him what he wished for when he blew out the candles on his birthday cake, it was you. Every damn time. Always you.

And tonight, you gave him that gift. Unwrapped, raw, trembling in his arms. You gave him something he’d longed for in silence for far too long, and he couldn’t have been happier.

You could feel it in the way his hands moved over your body, reverent but greedy, like he still couldn’t quite believe you were real. That you were here. That he got to have this, just once more.

Neither of you knew when or how your clothes had disappeared. It was a blur—hands, lips, breathless gasps—and now you were both completely bare, tangled in each other, your skin pressed against his, warm and electric.

You were straddling him, your thighs resting on either side of his hips, and Joel looked up at you like you were something divine. His rough hands roamed your body as if memorizing every curve all over again, while his lips found the tender skin of your neck. He kissed, nipped, and finally bit, just hard enough to make you gasp.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he groaned against your throat, his voice deep, low, and raw, hungry. That sound alone sent a shiver rolling straight down your spine.

You whimpered softly, overwhelmed, your hands buried in his hair, clinging to him as his fingers curled around your breast, teasing your nipple between calloused fingertips. It was too much. Too much and not enough all at once. His touch had your entire body aching, trembling in anticipation, and yet… you hadn’t even really started.

Joel pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with something wild and unspoken. There was tension there, but also something vulnerable. Like he wasn’t sure if this was real. If you were real.

But looking at your eyes and the way you bit your lips, it was all he needed. This answers all his questions.

His hands gripping your waist tighter, helping your body lowering into his. You hissed, gripping his shoulders as he slowly pushed himself into you.

“Easy Lemmy, easy” his voice made you relax and open up more. Joel always knew what works on you, how to make you wet, and he didn't even need to ask.

When you were finally submerged to the base, Joel gave you a second to catch your breath. He was very accommodating, because if he was in charge, he would have been pumping you head over heels a long time ago.

Then, you started moving. It wasn’t rushed. It was slow, intense, and electric. Every motion was filled with something more than just lust. There was history here. There was pain. There was love, buried deep beneath layers of old wounds. You held on to him like you were afraid the moment might vanish if you let go. And as your bodies moved together, everything else fell away.

You knew you’d regret this. But right now? You didn’t care.

Your bodies moved in sync, slow and heavy, like the world outside that room had stopped spinning. There was nothing but you and him, your breath hitching, his hands guiding, your skin sliding against his as your hips rocked together with increasing urgency.

Joel’s head tilted back against the pillow, jaw clenched, eyes fluttering shut as he gripped your waist harder, grounding himself in the feeling of you. “Jesus…” he muttered, voice hoarse and cracked. “You feel… fuck, you feel like home.”

That word hit you somewhere deep. Home.

You hadn’t felt that in so long. Not really. And now, here you were, drowning in it, in warmth, in memory, in him.

You leaned down, kissing him again, this time slower. Your lips moved lazily over his, but everything underneath was anything but calm. His hands slid up your back, fingers digging in like he didn’t want to lose you again. Like holding you tighter would make time stop.

Your rhythm grew faster, more desperate. The room was filled with breathless gasps, with the sound of skin against skin, with the quiet creaks of the mattress as the tension built between you like a storm.

He looked up at you, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed, hair a mess, and you knew, he was completely undone. But not just by your body. By the feelings he never let himself say out loud. The pain. The want.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered, breath trembling as one hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone like you were something fragile.

“Joel” you whined, your body trembling now too, that familiar tightening beginning to coil deep in your stomach. You buried your face into his neck, whimpering as the pleasure climbed, built, flooded every nerve in your body.

And then, it crashed.

Your whole body arched into him as the wave overtook you, your core tightly clenched around him, every muscle in your body tense, your legs trembling. Soft cries falling from your lips as Joel held you through it, whispering your name like a prayer.

A few moments later, you felt him follow, his body tensing beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening as a groan ripped through his chest, filling you up, bursting everything into you, every last drop. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot and ragged.

And then… stillness.

Just your heartbeats. Your sweat-slick skin pressed together. Your fingers tangled in his hair. The mix of yours and Joel's liquid running from your swollen core, down to his veiny dick.

You didn’t say a word. Neither did he. But in the silence, the weight of what you’d just done settled between you. And somehow… it made everything feel even heavier.

You were both breathless, struggling to steady your breathing. Joel still had his arms wrapped around you tightly, his chest rising and falling against yours. You were so small compared to him, his body practically enveloped yours, his hairy arms covering almost all of your bare back like a shield.

It felt safe. Too safe.

And that’s what made it all feel so fucking wrong.

Once your senses slowly returned and you regained enough strength, you gently peeled yourself away from him. Both of you exhaled, a strange mix of relief and discomfort, as the cool air hit your naked skin. You laid back down next to him, eyes fixed on the wall, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders like it could hide you from the guilt that was already swallowing you whole.

You fucked everything up.

Tomorrow, you were supposed to get married. To Ted. Sweet, steady Ted who would never hurt you. And yet here you were—naked, breathless, and sore in your ex’s bed.

Just a week ago, you’d looked into Ted’s eyes and promised him nothing would happen. That Joel was the past. A closed chapter. That you didn’t feel anything for him anymore.

But then you kissed him. You started it. You wanted it.

This wasn’t Joel’s fault. It was yours. Every goddamn bit of it. It was your idea to get married in Jackson. Your idea to let Joel crash in the same bed with you. Your idea to close that tiny distance and press your lips to his like it meant nothing. You ruined everything over one stupid fight.

Joel could feel the shift in the air. He watched the way your eyes darted back and forth, your silence louder than anything you could have said. The slight shimmer at the corners of your eyes didn’t go unnoticed either, and that was when he knew.

This wasn’t good.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice rough but gentle.

You pressed your lips into a thin, unreadable line and gave a small nod. He didn’t buy it. Not even for a second.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head, too afraid that if you opened your mouth, your voice would crack under the weight of everything crashing inside you. Talking meant facing it. Naming it. And you weren’t ready for that.

Joel felt awful. Helpless. He knew it wasn’t really his fault, but that didn’t stop the guilt from creeping in. He could’ve stopped it. Could’ve said no. Could’ve pulled away. But he didn’t. Because the truth was, the need to feel you again had drowned all logic.

But now? Seeing you like this—silent, curled in on yourself, barely holding it together—it broke him.

He wanted to reach out. Hold you. Kiss your forehead. Say something. But he didn’t dare. He was terrified you’d push him away. And after losing you once already, he didn’t think he could survive it again.

The room was quiet. Only your breathing and the faint, chaotic rhythm of your hearts filled the space between you. And then-

“The wedding—”

“I don’t know, Joel,” you snapped, voice cracking as your hands slammed against your face. “I don’t fucking know. I just ruined everything.”

Silence.

Then a soft breath from Joel and one word, quietly, almost painfully, murmured under his breath.

“…Yeah.”

You both laid there in silence. The kind of silence that weighs heavy on your chest, like the air itself knew what you did.

Guilt clung to your skin like sweat. Wrapped around your limbs like a chain. And yet… neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Neither of you said sorry.

Because the truth was, you didn’t regret it. Neither did he. You should have. God knows you should have. But you didn’t.

Because the want was still there. The need. Because somewhere deep down, in places you tried to bury long ago, you still wanted him, and he still wanted you.

Whether you’d ever face it or not, something between you was still burning.

Quiet. Dangerous. Alive.

And it wasn’t going out anytime soon.

Phew, thank you so much for reading! I know this was hella long again, but honestly, writing something short is a miracle for me😝

Still, I’d love to hear any feedback—whether it’s a comment, a reblog, or anything else!

If you’d like to be tagged in my future fics, don’t hesitate to let me know! Same goes if you have any ideas or would like to see another chapter!

Wishing you a lovely day

Love u!🌸💗

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rafemotherfuckingcameron · 7 months ago

Note

hi can you do another protective rafe x reader, where she wants to escape from abusive boyfriend? 💕

THE CALL

Word Count: 0.8k

Pairing(s): Rafe x Reader x abusive!boyfriend

Warnings: domestic abuse, physical violence, emotional distress

Summary: Rafe saves you from your abusive boyfriend

You sat at the kitchen table, your hands trembling as you tried to keep calm. The tension in the room was suffocating. Your boyfriend’s angry muttering filled the space as he stalked back and forth, his fists clenching and unclenching. You flinched at every sharp movement he made, trying to avoid drawing his attention.

Then, the sound of your phone vibrating on the counter broke the silence. Both of you froze. His eyes darted to the screen just as you did.

Rafe’s name was glowing brightly, the sound of the ringtone cutting through the tense quiet.

“What the hell is this?” your boyfriend spat, grabbing the phone before you could react. “Why is he calling you?”

You didn’t answer. Your heart raced as you saw your chance. While he was distracted, you lunged for the phone, grabbing it with both hands and yanking it out of his grip.

“Rafe!” you screamed, pressing the answer button. “Help—”

You didn’t get to finish. Your boyfriend’s hand slammed down on your wrist, ripping the phone from your grasp. He ended the call in one swift motion before turning on you, his face contorted with rage.

“You’re calling him for help?” he roared, his voice shaking the walls. Before you could say a word, he hurled the phone against the tiled floor with a deafening smash. Pieces of glass and plastic scattered everywhere, and the sight made your chest tighten with fear.

“You’re pathetic,” he snarled. Then, without warning, he shoved you hard.

Your back slammed into the fridge with a sickening thud, the metallic surface rattling from the impact. Pain shot up your spine, and you crumpled to the floor, gasping for air.

“You think you can go behind my back? Call someone else to save you?” he yelled, towering over you as you tried to push yourself up.

Blood trickled from your forehead where a shard of glass from the shattered phone had grazed you, and your vision blurred with tears.

Rafe’s Perspective Rafe frowned as he stared at his phone, the call ending abruptly after he heard your desperate scream for help. “Help—” And then… silence. His stomach dropped, his heart pounding as he grabbed his keys off the counter. Something was wrong—terribly wrong. He didn’t need to think twice before running out the door, his hands shaking with fury and fear as he started the truck. You had told him things weren’t great at home, but you had never sounded so terrified. The image of you hurt or in danger filled his mind, fueling his need to get to you.

Your boyfriend was still yelling, but his words faded into the background. All you could focus on was the throbbing pain in your back and the faint trickle of blood running down your face.

Somehow, despite the fear clawing at your chest, you managed to push yourself to your feet, bracing against the fridge for support.

“You don’t get to treat me like this!” he screamed, stepping closer.

But then, the sound of tires screeching outside made you freeze. You heard the unmistakable slam of a car door, followed by heavy footsteps.

The front door burst open with a force that shook the frame.

“Get the hell away from her!” Rafe’s voice boomed, filled with a fury you’d never heard before.

Your boyfriend spun around, his anger momentarily replaced with surprise, but it didn’t last long. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he sneered, taking a step toward Rafe.

Rafe didn’t wait for an answer. He crossed the room in two long strides and swung, his fist connecting with your boyfriend’s jaw with a sickening crack. The impact sent him stumbling backward, crashing into the table and knocking over a chair.

“Touch her again, and I swear to God, I’ll kill you,” Rafe snarled, his voice low and dangerous.

Your boyfriend scrambled to his feet, blood dripping from his nose, and threw a wild punch. But Rafe easily dodged it, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him into the wall.

“Get out,” Rafe growled, his face inches from the other man’s. “Now.”

Your boyfriend hesitated, his eyes flicking to you, but Rafe tightened his grip, shoving him toward the door. “I said, get out.”

The man didn’t argue this time. He stumbled out of the apartment, clutching his jaw and muttering curses under his breath.

The moment the door slammed shut, Rafe turned to you, his expression softening as he took in your bloodied face and trembling form.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he said, rushing to your side. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Your lip quivered, and you nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks as you finally let yourself collapse into his arms.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, holding you tightly. “I’m here.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed it.

@ilovethekookprince

@anonymouscameron

@rafecameronsgirfriend

🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron concepts #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron blurb #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #obx #outer banks #obx fanfiction #OBX4

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edenesth · 1 year ago

Text

TWTHH Bonus: Star of the Show

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

A/N: In case you haven't already read Honeymoon Avenue (the first bonus chapter), it's probably better to check that out before reading this. Also, please be warned that this contains a slight spoiler to Wooyoung and Hongjoong's spinoffs.

Honeymoon Avenue | Fic Masterlist

"Your wife is with child."

The words echoed in the general's mind long after Yunho had uttered them. You remained unconscious in his room, undergoing a more thorough examination. Seonghwa had been asked to leave while you were attended to. He felt a wave of relief knowing that, according to the physician, your fainting spell was simply your body's way of compensating for the exhaustion caused by the demands of the little one growing inside you.

"Don't worry, everything will be okay."

"I'm counting on you, Yunho," he recalled telling the doctor before exiting his private quarters, his gaze lingering on your still, pale figure nestled under the covers.

"When have I ever let you down, my lord? She'll be fine, the baby will be fine; your family, they'll be just fine."

Realising there was no use lingering outside while the physician and his team of servants were busy examining you—his presence wouldn't change anything—he decided to occupy himself elsewhere while he waited. However, returning to his study seemed impossible; he knew he wouldn't be able to focus on anything else.

As if with a mind of its own, his feet carried him toward the House of Lotus. His heart warmed at the familiar sight of the pavilion facing the lotus pond, your favourite spot, once empty but now furnished with a small table, cosy cushioned seats, and decorative lanterns. It was a testament to the time you two spent together there. He could never tire of being there with you, and the mere thought of spending eternity like that was more than enough to fill his heart with joy.

Soon, it wouldn't just be us two.

Deciding not to sit alone without you, he opted to enter your quarters instead, where every corner held a piece of you. He softened as he opened the door and spotted your embroidery kit at the centre of the room. You had been deeply invested in the craft ever since Hongjoong had taught you a few techniques, dedicating nearly all your time to it when you weren't occupied with anything else. He remembered finding you diligently working on it late into the night and had to gently coax you to bed with him.

Approaching the items, he settled into your usual spot before going through the designs you had created. A chuckle escaped him as he took in some of your earlier, more clumsy works—clearly, these were from when you first began learning from the dressmaker. As he continued, a smile graced his lips at the gradual improvement in quality. It hinted at the possibility that you had discovered a hidden talent; his friend would surely be proud to see your progress.

However, his movements faltered as he reached the bottom of the pile and discovered what appeared to be a... baby shirt. Realisation dawned on him: had this been your secret project all along? Were you aware of your pregnancy all this time?

Questions flooded his mind, each one more pressing than the last. Why hadn't you told him? Why had you lied and pretended everything was fine when you must have been feeling so sick? Did you not trust him enough to confide in him?

His heart ached with the thought that you might have felt the need to hide something so important from him. It left him feeling a mix of confusion, hurt, and a tinge of betrayal. Had he not made it clear that he was there for you, no matter what?

As he sat there, staring at the tiny garment in his hands, he couldn't help but wonder what reasons you could have had for keeping this from him. His mind raced with possibilities, each one more heartbreaking than the last. He thought back to all the times you had been showing symptoms of pregnancy, and it hurt him to know you didn't feel safe enough to tell him the truth. Was it because you didn't think he would be a good father? What if, deep down, there was a part of you that was still afraid of him? What if—

Before his thoughts could further linger, a knock on the door snapped him out of his train of thought. Turning to see who it was, he allowed entry and found Eunsook standing there with a smile on her face, "The mistress is awake, master," she announced. With that, all his previous worries were momentarily swept from his mind. Only you mattered as he quickly rose from his seat and dashed towards his room to see you.

Rushing into the room, Seonghwa's heart raced as he laid eyes on you, sitting up on his bed with Yunho standing beside you. Relief flooded him as he saw you speaking softly with the physician, a gentle hand pressed against your stomach.

Oh thank god, she's alright... they're alright.

Moving closer, he couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for you. Despite the recent scare, you looked calm and serene, your presence soothing his worried mind. He approached quietly, not wanting to interrupt your conversation with Yunho but eager to be by your side.

As soon as your eyes met, he noticed the hint of moisture gathering in your gaze as you uttered his name, "Hwa..." His heart ached at the vulnerability in your voice, and he quickly moved forward, settling beside you on the bed. Gently, he grasped your hand, brushing strands of hair away from your face and stroking your cheek, "What's wrong, my love? Are you feeling alright?"

You nodded, leaning into his touch and motioning for Yunho to speak on your behalf. Taking a deep breath, the physician began, "Her condition is currently stable, my lord."

Seonghwa furrowed his brow in dread, "I'm sensing a 'but' there."

"But..." the doctor continued, "Due to years of severe malnutrition throughout the lady's childhood, her body lacks many essential nutrients necessary for both her and the baby. This explains her weakness. But fear not, I will do everything in my power to ensure her full recovery. Once we pass the three-month mark safely, the remainder of the pregnancy should proceed smoothly."

"I... I understand. Thank you again, Yunho, for your hard work. It seems we'll need your frequent visits for the next few months," the general acknowledged, offering a grateful nod to his friend.

"No problem, my lord and lady. I'll ensure Eunsook receives all the necessary information for the mistress' care. Please excuse me, I should get started on the preparations immediately."

Once Yunho had left and you were alone together, your husband turned his attention back to you. Squeezing your hand gently, he couldn't shake the image of the baby shirt from his mind. He knew he had to address it. Leaning closer, he pressed a kiss on your forehead before delicately broaching the subject, "I... I have a question."

You responded in a soft voice, returning the squeeze of his hand, "What is it, Hwa?"

"My love, have you been aware that you were pregnant all along?"

As your gaze met his, he rested his forehead against yours, seeking to reassure you, "It's just... I was going through your embroideries earlier and I saw it—the baby shirt."

You let out a soft sigh, nodding, "Yes, I... I had a feeling, and I've been preparing myself to tell you about it, Hwa. But I just didn't know how to say it. I was scared of your reaction." When he attempted to pull away, you reached out, cupping his face to keep him close, "Listen to me, I'm not afraid of you. I... I know you've never had a proper family growing up—both of us, actually—and... I can't help but wonder if you might hate the idea of starting one."

His heart swelled with understanding, realising he had momentarily let his earlier insecurities get the best of him. Of course, you were simply concerned about him. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss against your lips before murmuring tenderly, "With another person, I would hate the idea. But with you, my love, I want it all."

Feeling touched by his words, you realised you had never needed to overthink the situation. You should have known that his love and acceptance were unwavering.

Perhaps you had just been overwhelmed by the idea of a tiny life growing inside you—a product of your love with Seonghwa. The thought of having a baby, your baby, filled you with joy and apprehension. Neither of you had experienced a conventional family upbringing, and you feared whether you could provide the love and care this child deserved. Since the first moment you felt sick and figured you might be pregnant, endless questions floated around your mind.

Were you ready?

Was he ready?

What if he didn't want children?

But now, those fears seemed unfounded. As tears welled in your eyes, you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and buried your face against his shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace. He held you close, peppering kisses all over your head, his love and warmth enveloping you. Through your tears, you whispered, "I love you, Hwa."

You could feel his smile against your skin as he leaned his head against yours, his voice soft and reassuring, "I love you more, my wife, and that'll never change."

In the days that followed, you found yourself hardly ever alone. Your husband seemed determined to stay by your side every moment, as if he hadn't already been doing so since he dismissed all his friends. Now, he was even more attentive and vigilant, always ensuring he was nearby to keep watch over you. And whenever he needed to retreat to his study for brief meetings with Jongho, Eunsook remained faithfully by your side.

Today was another one of those days when he had no choice but to attend to some work. He hadn't been attending the daily assemblies for a while, so the least he could do was go through some reports to stay updated on the latest happenings in court.

Meanwhile, the head maid remained by your side in your room. You sat with a cookbook in your hand, diligently trying to learn new recipes. As the saying goes, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and although you already had a hold on Seonghwa's heart, you were determined to work even harder to keep it safe with you.

"You've been quite busy lately, mistress, with cooking and embroidering. I think the master might be getting a bit jealous that you're not as focused on him as you are on these tasks," she joked, gently brushing your hair as she observed your focused expression.

With a playful giggle, you shot her a glance, "Is he really? Well, everything I do, I do it to be a better wife for him and a better mother to this little one," you said, smiling down at your growing bump.

Eunsook's expression softened, "I'm just kidding. I'm sure the master knows that," she reassured before pausing, "Mistress, have you both thought about baby names yet?"

At that, your eyes widened, and you set down the book in your hands, "Oh dear, we haven't. I've been so invested in everything else, it seems I might have overlooked the most important thing."

She chuckled, rubbing your back soothingly, "Don't worry, you still have plenty of time until the little one is born. Perhaps you and the master could start thinking about it now."

Later that night, as you lay in bed next to your husband, the words of the head maid lingered in your mind like a persistent whisper. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on your eyelids, you found yourself unable to sleep as your thoughts drifted towards potential names for the future baby Park. Each name you considered brought with it a flood of emotions and images of what your child might look like, how they would grow, and the kind of person they would become.

Sensing your slight movements, Seonghwa kissed your head softly, his voice gentle, "Are you still awake, my love?"

You grinned sheepishly, patting his chest, "I'm fine, Hwa. You go ahead and sleep. You must be tired."

But he sighed, gently sitting up with you still in his arms, ensuring the comforter covered you, "Not as tired as you. You're carrying a little person. Now, do you want to tell me why you're still not sleeping?"

Smiling shyly, you met his gaze, "I was talking to Eunsook earlier and realised... we haven't thought of any baby names."

His mouth formed an 'O' in realisation, mirroring your surprise. It seemed he, too, had not given it much thought. Nodding slowly, he whispered, "That's right, we haven't," pulling you closer to him, he relished the way your head fits perfectly in the crook of his neck, "So, what do you have in mind then? Have you managed to come up with anything with all that thinking, hm?"

You replied, nervously nibbling on your lip, "Actually, I have thought of a name. If it's a girl, Yeonjoo feels right."

He hummed, considering deeply, "Yeonjoo... like a lotus princess?"

You beamed, "Exactly. She'd be our little princess, growing up in the House of Lotus."

His heart swelled; your choice held significance. It wasn't just a random pretty name; it carried depth. Planting a kiss on your cheek, he smiled, "It's perfect. So, if it's a girl, Yeonjoo it is."

You cheered, "Okay, any ideas for a boy?"

He hesitated, then brightened, "You know what? I do have one in mind, though it might not be as thoughtful as yours. How about Jiyeong? It means a wise and brave hero, and it could also symbolise a flower petal, like the lotus. It'd be wonderful if he grew up to be intelligent and brave enough to protect his eomma," he murmured, gently placing his hand on your bump and stroking it.

"I think Jiyeong is a wonderful choice, Hwa, if it's a boy," you whispered, a sense of relief washing over you now that you finally had names for your child.

Covering his hand on your stomach with yours, you looked up at him with slightly wet eyes, "Gosh, can you believe we're going to be parents in a few months?"

"It's surreal sometimes, my love. And I'll admit, I am a little scared. But I know we'll manage. It won't be easy, but as long as we face it together, we'll be fine."

Yes, I know we will.

The first three months seemed to pass in a whirlwind, with Yunho's weekly visits becoming a familiar routine. Each time, he checked on your condition and brought herbs to boost your health and stabilise the pregnancy, ensuring everything progressed smoothly. Amidst this, life outside your little family continued to unfold.

You recall a particular evening when Wooyoung rushed in, desperate for your husband's aid to rescue a certain Miss Han. In a matter of weeks, she became a temporary resident in your household while still courting the private investigator. Her presence was delightful as she eagerly assisted you in cooking and embroidering, all while awaiting Wooyoung's eventual proposal that would take her away.

And through him, you learned of Hongjoong's latest job, assisting the youngest miss of the Baek family. It appeared to affect the dressmaker unexpectedly, stirring emotions no one had anticipated, especially him, even requiring a little nudge from both Seonghwa and Wooyoung to realise his feelings.

Before you knew it, you found yourself seated in the dining hall, surrounded by your husband's friends. Giving your hand a squeeze, Seonghwa cleared his throat to grab their attention, "Guys," he began, "we've gathered you all here today because we have an announcement to make."

Hongjoong, arms crossed, chimed in, "Pssh, I had a feeling. I knew you wouldn't be treating us to a meal for no reason."

Yunho's knowing grin widened, excited to see the dressmaker's reaction while Wooyoung leaned forward excitedly in his seat, nudging San beside him, who smiled back but inwardly wished the investigator would leave him alone. Mingi promptly set down his wine glass, eager to hear what was to come.

"I hope you're all excited because you're going to be uncles soon," the general announced, prompting cheers from everyone at the table.

The lovely Miss Han, seated beside you, wasted no time in giving you a side hug, though she had already been privy to your little secret. She had even been considerate enough to keep her man in the dark about it.

Wooyoung joined in the celebration, clapping enthusiastically, oblivious that his other half had been aware the whole time, "I knew it! I could tell she was pregnant from my first visit all those months ago. You've been so oddly careful with her ever since!"

At that, Hongjoong's expression darkened, "What do you mean, all those months ago? How far along are you, my lady?"

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly, "Three months."

The dressmaker's jaw dropped in disbelief, "You didn't think to tell us until now? Park Seonghwa, what kind of friend are you?"

Yunho scoffed and rolled his eyes, "See, that's why you're an idiot. What does Miss Baek even see in you, I'll never know. Obviously, they wanted to wait until her condition was stable before telling everyone. Why do you think I've been so busy for the past few months?"

Hongjoong shot him a glare, "Oh, I don't know? Maybe because you've been trying to spend all your time with a certain Miss Ryu?"

The physician sputtered in shock, but before the argument could escalate, Jongho appeared behind them, smacking both on the back, "That's enough, you two. Please continue this another time."

Your husband interjected, shooting the assistant a grateful smile, "That's right. As Yunho mentioned, we just wanted to wait until it was safe before telling you guys."

San and Mingi softened, offering heartfelt congratulations to you and Seonghwa, prompting the rest of the guys to do the same. However, the peace was short-lived. Wooyoung eagerly raised his hand, "Ooh, can I please be the godfather?"

The dressmaker was quick to object, "Excuse me? If anyone here is to be the godfather, it's obviously me! Know your place, you fool."

"Oh, dear god, here we go again," your husband muttered beside you.

You couldn't help but grin at their endless shenanigans, glancing down at your stomach and rubbing it affectionately. You already knew this baby would be spoiled rotten even before entering the world. It seemed this little one was already the star of the show.

I contemplated how much of the pregnancy I should cover, but I think I'll only do this much for now! Because any further than this, and that might spoil some of the other members' spinoffs. I shall focus on finishing up all the rest of the stories after this, and who knows? There could be more bonus chapters in the future, we'll see~

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/6): Tumblr is a bitch and won't let me mention more than 5 users in a single sentence, so now my tag list looks like a complete joke🤡

@huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo |

@sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @skzline |

@itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @xoxkii @avantalem @famishalll |

@soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol |

@atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii |

@ddaeing @sansaurora9904 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo |

@puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks |

@aliona124754 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @1117promises @deltamoon666 |

@st4rhwa @hikarii02 @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @thunderous-wolf |

@minkiflwr @starssongs98 @kawaiikels @en-happiness @cheolliehugs |

@persnyako @startinystay @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina |

@kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @laurenwidjaja |

@idkwgoh @loveateez @linosllvr @idfkeddieishot @yuyubun

#edenesth #the way to his heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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invidiia · 2 years ago

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⋆⭒˚｡⋆ "you're obsessed.." 𖤐 various bsd yanderes // reader.

bsd yanderes ada, pm, doa, hd + the jealousy scale.

[ a/n; hi i was bored and gotta feed the people bc my next big post is takin a bit 🏃‍♂️]

[ warning; jealous yanderes lolol ]

atsushi is a 6 of 10. definitely hides any jealous thoughts, at least until you're both home, but is absolutely bitter about it after

dazai is a fair 7 of 10. i don't have a lot to say about him, but he most definitely gets jealous easily

kunikida is a 5 of 10. when he's with you and you get hit spoken to by someone else, he just takes control of the situation and leaves with you. obviously against your choices, but he doesn't trust you.

ranpo is a 6 of 10. doesn't get too worried about other guys because he knows you wouldn't go for anyone else other than the greatest detective ever, but when another guy flirts with you, he just feels the need to.. step in.

yosano is a 7 of 10. she doesn't mind when others speak to you, as long as they aren't flirting with you, and that's a loose term with her. asking for directions in a large mall could get someone's fingers chopped off if she was in a particularly annoyed mood.

fukuzawa is a 4 of 10. he doesn't care if people talk to you either, but flirting is off the table with him. even so, he'll just leave the area and take you with him, he can't just let some other guy talk to you, are you crazy?

akutagawa is a 8 of 10. if someone's making small talk or something he doesn't care, but even speaking to you or looking at you for too long is just like asking for him to beat them senselessly.

chuuya is a 8 of 10. like akutagawa, small talk doesn't matter to him. you're socializing, who cares? but he's absolutely jealous of your friends, especially your close ones. strangers, he can beat the shit out of those, but your friends? he can't do anything there, so he just sits in silence.

higuchi is an 9 of 10. she hates when anyone else talks to you, she just can't stand it. she'll openly tell you how much she hates it when other people beside her 'flirt' with you, and makes you promise not to hurt her like that again.

gin is a 3 of 10. she does get jealous of other people like your closer friends, but doesn't act on anything, just sits in silence. maybe she'll express to you she was jealous, but she won't hurt anyone unless they make advances on you

tachihara is a 6 of 10. he does get jealous of your friends, but doesn't hate them. he just wants to be in their place. who says you should spend all your time with them? leave some room for him, won't you?

sigma is a 7 of 10. he won't make direct moves if he's jealous, he'll only tell you he's jealous afterward, or work behind scenes to get rid of the certain person he thinks talks to you a little too much for his liking.

fyodor is a 9 of 10. he doesn't think you'll talk to anyone else, it's about others talking to you. he just can't have you talking to anyone but him. why would you need to anyway?

nikolai is a 8 of 10. i don't have a whole lot to say about him either, but he's not afraid to be... himself,, if someone talks to you a little too much.

jouno is a 9 of 10. he knows you won't actually speak to other guys.. but still. he isn't chill when other guys talk to you, and gets worse when they eye you the wrong way,

tecchou is a 4 of 10. this man sees no reason to be jealous of your friends, or anyone who says they don't want you. why would they lie to him anyway? look at him, he's strong as hell. would you lie to him? didn't think so

[ a/n; sobs im so tired can you telllll ?? i only wrote doa trio bc.. fukuchi is strange, bram is just.. bram, plus i kinda only see him as platonic yandere loll, didnt do teruko cuz idk her actual age.. sorry this is so rushed lol its 2am i gotta go to beddd, but next post is dazai fr!!!!! ]

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dilf-luvr-4evr · 6 months ago

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Husband! & Dad!Arthur Morgan headcanons!! idk about this but some people seemed to love the one where reader is pregnant so 👉🏼👈🏼 thank you!!! <3

no warnings, just fluff, mentions of Christianity, f!Reader

from the way he talked to the bath girls, it seems like he’s someone who’d talk to you about how hard his day has been :( he secretly likes to be babied fr!!!

might not be used to having someone listen to him yap at first with his “alright, I’ll shut up now.” But you INSIST on hearing his crazy stories and he smiles, tries to keep going even though he feels bad.

that was the beginning of the relationship. Now he goes straight home to you all, “honey, you would never believe-” and you could tell the gossip is gonna be juicy.

Arthur “loyal” Morgan getting blackout drunk and rejecting you because he’s married. I need him desperately.

“You must have a feller,” he smirks, eyes half lidded and his ‘r’s all slurred.

“Mhm, I do. A very handsome one too,” you played along.

“I got a beautiful wife m’self,” he smiles wide, leaning forward and almost falling. “I’d marry you if I didn’t.”

though you aren’t religious, you tell Arthur that you end up quite lucky in life because you were christened as a baby. You asked him if your baby could go through christening as well, wanting them to have a good start in life with protection from God.

he was still paying off his bounties at the time. Seeing his fate in the past, he decided to agree.

“What the hell, why not,” he said, surprising you. “As long as it ain’t done by Swanson.” He needs all the luck he could get.

HIM AS A GIRL DAD OUGHHHH

I feel like he gets these spontaneous outbursts sometimes? He can be a lil grumpy but his baby daughter would definitely soften that.

imagine him suddenly getting angry at something she did and she starts crying :( it would ABSOLUTELY break his heart and he’d panic every time :(((

“I’m sorry alright? I’m sorry baby girl..” “y’know I didn’t mean that right?” “Please stop crying darlin’ :(”

might also make her cry from his awful, terrible teasing and his stupid “oh c’mon, I’m just messin’ with ya!” He’s so mean sometimes booo

speaking of mean, I just know he’d be the sassiest, judgiest, snarkiest man when his daughter brings home a partner. Imagine the Kieran treatment…………

maybe not if it’s a girlfriend. If it’s a boyfriend? Poor guy will have to prove himself good enough for Arthur’s baby!!!

don’t worry, he’ll soften up when he remembers how he used to be treated by Mary’s dad HAHA

the Morgan house probably has lots of pets! I don’t think he would mind the strays that you and the kids just randomly bring home.

he’d just call them “girl” or “boy” (boah!) and you’d have to fix him or all of them comes over at the same time.

he probably draws his family a lot or takes pictures!!! All of his family’s photos on the walls, by his bedside table, in his journal for when he travels :(((((((

he would only travel when he needs to! Gets very anxious and worried and tries to go home as quick as possible even if it means not sleeping :(

he can sleep later in your arms for as long as you’d let him anyway!!! (Secretly a small spoon sometimes, deal with it)

the biggest sigh of relief when he hears his family welcoming him, when he sees them running to him, when he feels them hugging him (I’m sobbing)

from how the girls at camp make him take them somewhere or get them things, you can tell he’s probably gonna be such a pushover for his little family omg

you can ask him to do the craziest things you could think of (he’s done much worse anyway!!!) but this time his payment is just one “please?” And he would do just about anything for his family :(

he’d never admit it — not even to himself — but your smiles are more rewarding than any money he’s ever received <3

my masterlist

thank you for reading!! 🫶🏼

#can you tell I fantasize about marrying him a lot #HE DESERVES THIS GUYS :(#arthur morgan lives happily ever after in my mind #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #rdr2 community #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption arthur #red dead fandom #red dead redemption two

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captainpriceslilwife · 24 days ago

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just quick moments of our lovely boys (tf141) with a camera-phobic girlfriend (based on this poll) AN pt. 1: ok so John and Kyle are fun and casual and then i took a turn with Simon and Johnny. You can see the exact moment my writers block went away, but i didn't feel like redoing kyle's and john's bc i actually liked them, so...sorry for the switch up :/ AN pt. 2: Also, sorry this took so long to get up. volunteering literally killed me (im weak as hell and didn't eat before i went and it was literally 100 degrees outside and they had me carrying heavy ass tables and chairs????? hell no!!!!) im the only one that stayed to the end to help clean up :( my iron deficient ass was about to faint fr....

John:

You had finally worked up the courage to try and get a picture of yourself while you were on a date with John. Your hair was done, your makeup looked good, and you had a pretty dress on, so why not? Everyone was always saying they wished they had a picture of you to show people, and now is as good a time as any.

Except you aren't a big fan of being in front of a camera, so both you and John just sit in awkward silence as you smile stiffly in the seat across from him, waiting to hear that daunting click to tell you that he's taken the picture of you.

But you've been holding this pose long enough for your cheeks to hurt, and he seems to be tapping on the screen cluelessly with furrowed brows as you pinch your dress anxiously between your fingers.

"Did you take it?" You murmur through your clenched teeth, only finally relaxing once he grunts in satisfaction and hands you your phone with that signature quokka smile of his.

"Think so." He seems pleased with himself, so you let out a little breath of relief as you take the phone from him and open up the photos app. See, it wasn't so hard was it? Nothing too scary or-

You open the app, but there's only one new addition to the sparse collection of photos you have. Just one? Oh, well, ok...maybe he got a good one on the first try?

And then you click on it.

"John, honey...this is a video." A very awkward one at that. The camera shakes slightly every time John taps on the screen (to do what, you're not sure) and you and your posed smile are hardly even in the frame. "I'm not even-"

"Were you thinking dessert, darling?" But it seems he's moved on already, and he just meets your helpless expression with another unbothered smile. "We can split, if you want."

"I-" You take one more glance down at your phone, trying to decide how dedicated you are to capturing a nice moment - only to place it back down on the table with an awkward smile. "Um, sure."

"My gorgeous model deserves a little something, aye?"

"...Right."

Gaz:

"Kyle!" Your arms flop down beside you as you whine helplessly and turn your head away from him. "I can't do this."

"Love, you asked me to take pictures of you!" He laughs incredulously as he lowers the camera to give you a playfully exasperated look. "You've been begging me for this all week."

It's true. You had spent the past couple of weeks hoarding all kinds of videos showing you all the tips and tricks you would need to look like all of those girls you see online. But apparently it wasn't as easy as the supermodel in the video made it look.

"Well, I don't want to anymore!" You feel a pang of guilt when he lets out a sigh of disappointment and turns off the camera, and you speak up again defensively as you fidget with your purse (the prop you couldn't quite figure out how to hold casually like the girl had said to do). "I just didn't realize it would be so hard."

"There's nothing hard about it, my love." As if to prove his point and put you at ease, he turns the camera back on and flips it around to aim at himself. A flash of light and a shutterclick later, he's showing you the screen only for you to be faced with the most beautiful, modelesque picture you've ever seen in your life. "See?"

You've been standing here for nearly an hour, forcing him to keep taking mediocre picture after mediocre picture - you were sweating all of your makeup off at this point and your hair was a complete mess - and he just....takes a picture of himself. And he looks like that.

And of course he looks like a lost puppy when you let out a huff and snatch up your, now watery, iced coffee and begin to storm away from him to go back to the car.

"Love? We done taking pictures now?" He calls after you, still standing like an idiot with the camera hanging by a strap around his neck as you whip around to glare at him. "Right, right, right...ok, love. I'm coming."

Simon:

You and Simon were curled up on the couch - donned in hoodies and sweatpants as the two of you talked about anything and everything. Well, you always did most of the talking, but Simon says it helps him relax to hear your voice, so you didn't feel too guilty about yapping his ear off.

And now you're caught up talking about how you wish you could have pictures of yourself - some kind of tangible memory you could look back on or share with other people - but you were too caught up in your insecurities to get over your fear of cameras.

"I just hate taking pictures, you know? I look so bad in them every time." You murmur quietly into his chest as you toy with the string of his hoodie, twirling it around your finger over and over again until his hand comes up to curl around yours to halt your movements.

"No you don't." His gruff tone echoes through his chest, making you soften further into him as the vibrations of his voice soothe you.

"How would you know? We never take pictures." You giggle softly as you intertwine your fingers with his. "I don't think you've ever even seen a picture of me-"

"I've got pictures of you." He says it so casually, like it's normal, but you can feel him tense up slightly beneath his nonchalant exterior. The same way he does whenever he's nervous about something.

A beat of silence. Then, you're sitting up straight so you can turn to face him fully with a guarded look.

"What are you talking about?"

His heart begins to race in his chest at the look of trepidation gracing your face, because he finally gets to show you all the pictures he's taken of you that he loves so much. He finally gets to show you how he sees you - stunning in every moment. He swears he can feel his hand beginning to shake with some boyish nervousness as he clicks through his phone, excited to show off the very thing that keeps him going during all those hard missions.

"See?" He says quietly, tilting his phone screen towards you to reveal his hoarde of secret pictures - you asleep in bed, you brushing your teeth while half-awake, you mid-sentence as you excitedly point at the monkey on your one trip to the zoo (he hasn't taken you back since because you cried the whole week about how you felt bad for the animals being so far from their real home) - every opportunity where he could capture you without you noticing, he took it.

And he feels his heart sink in his chest when he watches your features contort in horrified embarrassment as you push his phone away while covering your eyes. "Oh my god, Simon, get rid of those!"

"Why?" He tilts the screen back to himself with a confused frown. Was he missing something? Did he capture you in a vulnerable moment without realizing? His eyes trail over the pictures quickly, trying to assess what the problem is when your voice breaks through with a whine.

"Simon! I look horrible!"

Horrible? Now his eyebrows furrow to join his other confused features, furrowing slightly as he tries to pull your hands away from your face. "No you don't. Just look at them, love."

He can see how red your cheeks are when you reluctantly drop your hands to glance over at the screen, and your face morphs like you're in pain when he scrolls through them.

"Why did you even take those?"

He can't figure out why you seem so disgusted to look at yourself in the pictures, and he also doesn't understand why he feels like he's in pain from seeing your reaction. His expression looks guilty as he shrugs his shoulders, keeping his gaze cast down on your face on the tiny screen of his phone. "Jus' thought you looked pretty, love. Wanted to save it."

If you weren't so caught up in your embarrassment, you'd be able to see how hurt he looks from your reaction. But you're still feeling defensive, so when you stand up from the couch and mutter a quiet, "Yeah, well...the camera doesn't exactly pick up the 'pretty' you see, does it?", you don't notice how his eyes trail after you sadly as you walk away.

And when you hole yourself up in the bathroom, shutting the door behind you to try to block out the embarrassment you're feeling, you miss the way he looks back down at his phone with soft eyes. His gaze trails over one of his favorite pictures of you - you sprawled out on the grass with your eyes closed and the sun beating down on you. It was a bit blurry, and Simon had taken it from inside through the window, like a stalker, but the peaceful look on your face always calmed him down whenever he snuck a peek at it during his missions.

"...I think it does..."

Johnny (our winner!!):

You were in that sweet state of limbo, falling in and out of sleep in your favorite armchair as Johnny sat on the couch across from you. You could hear his pencil scratching against the paper of his journal as he drew quietly. It lulled you further and further down into the thick haze of sleep that threatened to pull you under. Down, down, down, until-

click.

Your eyes snap open, a pang of anxiety rushing through you as you look over at Johnny. You barely see it, but you swear he jerks the phone down when he realizes his sound was on.

"Did you just take a picture of me?" Your sleepy voice is riddled with tension as you watch him fiddle with the buttons on the side of his phone to turn his sound off, but once he's done with that he just plops his phone back down on the couch and picks up his journal again.

"Hm?" He hums as he tilts his gaze up, a picture of nonchalance as he shakes his head slightly. "Mm-mmm. Just screenshottin' somethin', lass."

"Oh." You can feel the blood rush to your face to heat your cheeks as you sink back down against the armrest. You're just being paranoid. God, you'd think you were being held at gunpoint with the way your body panics at the thought of taking a picture. "Sorry. It's just...you know...."

But he just cracks a light, easy smile as he begins drawing again, even chuckling softly when he sees the way you relax once you realize you're 'safe'. "Nah, dinnae worry, bonnie. Ah ken ye don' like pictures."

"Okay..." You yawn quietly, curling your fist around the corner of your blanket to tuck it up closer to your chest. You can feel the weight of his stare as you begin to fall asleep once more, but it comforts you more than anything.

Once you're finally asleep, Johnny picks up his phone again to pull up the picture that he did, in fact, take of you.

Soft afternoon light filtering through the curtains to shine on you in your tuft little armchair. You look like an angel all curled up with your fuzzy blanket and your hair splayed around your head like a halo. Johnny nearly feels his heart skip a beat as he admires the picture, silently wishing he was good with color just so he could capture the warm, yellow light enveloping you.

But he settles with his pencil and his journal, propping his phone up in his view of you so he can take in the real thing while he copies what he's captured with his camera - erasing and redrawing until everything is perfect and his hands are coated with graphite.

Of course, he'd never tell you that he had an entire secret folder in his phone dedicated solely to the sneaky pictures he takes of you. He knows you'd have a heart attack if you ever found out, but he can't help himself. He always thinks you look beautiful, but when the light is hitting you just right and the angles are perfect, how can you blame him for wanting to keep that vision forever?

Oddly enough, you don't seem to mind when he draws you. He can see the way your cheeks still heat up in mild embarrassment whenever he shows you, but he can also see a little glimmer of something in your eyes that he doesn't get to see very often - a sort of self-admiration that you always pass off as you admiring his ability to draw.

Cue the conversation he has with you when you finally wake up from your little catnap. You shuffle your way over to him on the couch, curling your warm body and blanket around his back as you glance over his shoulder to see what he's working on.

"I think I look prettier in your head." You mumble sleepily against his shoulder, making him tilt his head to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Dinnae ken what yer on about, lass. Ye always look pretty." He murmurs softly in return as he bows his head back down, thumbing at the drawing to smudge the shadows beneath you.

"It's just...you're very lenient when you draw me, you know? Your drawings are a lot kinder than a camera." He feels your lips press against his cheek in a show of gratitude, and his face warms even as his stomach sinks from your words. "You always make me look pretty."

He almost wished he could whip out his photo collection just to show you that it's not the drawings that are beautiful - it's you. He had drawn you just the way you looked, not moving a hair on your head, and yet you thought all your potential lied in his hands.

But he would never reveal his secret. He knows you'd never fully relax around him again, and he'd probably never be able to get another picture of you, even if he tried. So, he settles for what he's got now, even though it kills him a little inside everytime you put yourself down about how you look.

"'S not hard to do, bonnie. Yer my favorite model."

#dawg i cant give simon an easy time in these hc i write #he's just ripe for sad things im sorry #playing pretend is cute and funny until i get ahold of my simon doll #its like when i was little and my friends hated playing barbie with me bc i made barbie argue with ken and then get into a car accident #oh also ken was cheating on barbie #thats why they argued #anyways #cod headcanons #call of duty headcanons #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #johnny mctavish x reader

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chxrrydrxp · 1 year ago

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ok so i'm so in with your theme rn and i loved your after car with jason drabble but what i really came here to say imagine poor jason todd realizes he's in love in dick's girlfriend. he doesn't say anything but he knows he can treat you better and be better for you. he knows dick cares about you but he's bad for you because he'll never fully love you but believes he can. so he watches you from afar, trying to sweet in small ways like helping fixing your car and stuff. he watches you and dick fight, break up and of course make up till the point he's fed up of watching dick play you because he's knows dicks cheating and he knows dick isn't trying to hurt you but its not fair. poor jason he doesn't want to be a rebound he just wants to give you the love you deserve.

I'm really about to break jasons pretty heart and staple it back together with this fic. apologies for the wait! I got too excited and decided to write a series about it 🥹

I'll release it chapter by chapter 🤭 and you're a genius I love ur brain 🧠

and fr dick damn near slept with every dc character that man is a whore. I'm still tryna figure out what excuse imma give him for why he is a serial man whore

all jokes aside, I'm gonna have some much fun with this.

𝒻ℴ𝓇𝒷𝒾𝒹𝒹ℯ𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝓊𝒾𝓉

Jason Todd x (Dick's Ex! Fem!) Reader:

chapter 1

chapter 2

warnings: this series will get heated eventually, and I'll just put a warning on those specified chapters.

this might be a long series, depends how much yall want it 🤭

Loud rain poured against Jason's window. He laid against his dark wood bed frame while reading a book. As he flicked through thin pages, the sound of you and Dick arguing could be heard from across the hall.

He wasn't exactly trying to eavesdrop, but he could make out certain sentences like “why's her name still..’. He sighed, growing more and more tired of the constant back and forth between you two. The conversation slowly moved from the room into the hall, and the argument could almost be heard throughout the whole manor.

“Dick, I cannot do this anymore. I'm tired. I'm tired of being confused about your feelings for me!” He could then hear Dick's annoyingly condescending voice. Another tired sigh escaped Jason's lips as he ran his fingers tiredly through his dark strands. He rolled off the bed, put on a loose white tee, and slipped on black house shoes.

Pulling the door back, he wasn't even noticed by the two of you until his deep voice rumbled through the hall. Even as a quiet, “The hells’ all the commotion, I'm tryna read damn it”, his voice caught your attention. You felt slightly embarrassed. But the anger just wouldn't let up. “Sorry Jason, just go back to your room,” Dick pleaded, leaning against the wall with a frown. Jason rolled his eyes at Dick's continuous attempts to sound like an older brother, and his eyes flickered to yours.

Noticing your red eyes and a tear of anger falling down your cheeks, his jaw relaxed and he almost looked concerned. “You alright?” His soft voice coaxed you out of your bubbling fit of anger. “Yeah...I'm okay…I'm just gonna go home..” Your eyes stuck back to the floor and then you walked away, leaving the two brothers alone. Dick began to walk away, only stopping in his tracks at the mention of his name.

“Dick…you can't keep doin' this man-” Dick spun around shooting a cold glare at him. “Doing what? You think I want to hurt her?” Jason's eyebrows furrowed. “You're not doing a good job of proving me wrong.” Dick walked away.

You dropped your keys on your marble console table, falling onto the couch with a sigh. You knew he wasn't right for you. This cycle of toxicity would go on and on forever unless you stuck your foot in the ground. The repeating doubts about your relationship circled your mind almost daily. You and Dick had been together since late middle school days. You went everywhere with each other and attended every dance together. You were both practically attached at the hip. You had everything in common and could get lost in various topics for hours.

But, that connection had seemed so far away. So long ago. Like a distant memory. The romance in the relationship felt like it was fading, but neither of you was ready to let it go. And it puts a strain on your relationship, even without romance.

You curled up on the soft sofa, bringing your knees to your chest and feeling stinging tears well in your eyes. You knew it was bad for you. God that's all you ever thought about. But it hurt too much to even consider ending things. He was so familiar.

You don't know how much time has passed by of you being stuck in a constant loop of repetitive thoughts, but a knock on your door shook you out of your trance.

“y/n? It's Jason, can I come in?” You quickly wiped your eyes with your shirt and straightened yourself out. “Be right there!” You cringed at that obvious wavering of your voice. You reached the door, opening it slightly so he could only see your upper half. Your head was leaned downward as a half-assed attempt to hide your tear-stained face. “Hey,” was all he said, with a faint sheepish smile. You lazily nodded at him. “Need something?” You'd hoped you didn't sound angry at him. “Well, I came here to ask you the same thing.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, a familiar habit of his. “Come in.”

(yall I cannot think of a title omg)

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #ceri drabbles #jason todd smut #jason todd x fem!reader #dick grayson x reader smut #ceris asks #red hood x reader #pining prompts #dc red hood #pining #Jason todd series

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mattsobvimyfav · 7 months ago

Text

roommate (matthew sturniolo)

pt 9

The party felt like a blur, the music pounding in my ears as I tried, for what felt like the hundredth time tonight, to get Matt to look at me. But he didn’t. He just stood across the room, laughing with his friends, acting like I wasn’t even there.

Chris noticed. Of course, he did.

“Still nothing?” he asked, leaning closer so I could hear him over the noise.

“Still nothing,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

Chris frowned, then gestured toward the door. “Come outside with me. You’re wasting your time here.”

“Fine,” I said, desperate for any escape from the weight of Matt’s indifference.

Outside, the cool air was a relief. A small group had gathered, smoking and talking in low voices. Chris handed me a cigarette, which I took without thinking, and glanced around.

“No chairs left,” he said, then smirked. “Guess you’ll have to sit with me.”

“Chris—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, patting his lap. “It’s just a seat. I don’t bite.”

I rolled my eyes but, honestly, didn’t feel like arguing. Carefully, I perched on his lap, trying to ignore how casual he seemed about it all. His hands rested lightly on my waist as if to keep me steady.

“See?” he said with a grin. “Not so bad.”

Before I could respond, the door to the patio slammed open. Matt stormed out, his eyes immediately locking onto us. His jaw clenched, and in a few long strides, he was pulling me off Chris without so much as a word.

“Matt, what the hell—”

“Upstairs. Now,” he snapped, dragging me back into the house.

I tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. He didn’t stop until we were in an empty bedroom, slamming the door behind us.

“What the hell is your problem?” I demanded, yanking my arm free.

“My problem?” he shot back, his voice sharp. “My problem is you throwing yourself all over Chris like you don’t have a damn ounce of self-respect.”

My mouth fell open. “Excuse me? I wasn’t—”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N,” he interrupted, his eyes blazing. “You think it’s cute? Sitting in his lap? Flirting with him all night?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that not allowed?” I snapped. “Because you’ve been ignoring me all week, Matt! So excuse me for thinking you actually gave a fuck!”

“Maybe I wouldn’t ignore you if you weren’t busy crawling all over my brother!”

I stared at him, stunned by his audacity. “You’ve been acting like I don’t exist, and now you want to tell me what I can and can’t do? You’re unbelievable. Pick one or the other, Matt. You can’t have both.”

“What’s unbelievable is how desperate you are for attention,” he shot back. “First me, now Chris? What’s next, our other brother who’s gay? I’m sure that wouldn’t have stopped you.”

My blood boiled. “Stop it, Matt. You don’t get to do this,” I said through clenched teeth. “You don’t like me- at all- you’ve made that perfectly clear. So why the hell does it matter to you what I do or who I’m with?”

“It matters because it’s my brother!” he barked.

“That’s not a reason,” I said, glaring at him.

“It’s the only one you’re getting,” he said coldly. “So stay the hell away from him.”

I shook my head, my hands trembling with frustration. “No. Fuck you. You’re such an asshole,” I muttered, turning for the door.

“Yeah, well, you’re not much better,” he called after me.

I didn’t stop. He wasn’t worth it.

I stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me. My hands were shaking, my chest tight with frustration and anger. Matt’s words echoed in my head, each one cutting deeper than I wanted to admit.

I needed air.

I made my way back downstairs, scanning the crowd until I spotted Chris still outside on the patio. He hadn’t moved from his seat, looking at his phone, but his eyes lifted as I stepped out.

“There you are,” he said with a grin. “What happened?”

I didn’t answer him. I just walked over, grabbed my drink from where I’d left it on the table, and sank back onto his lap without a word.

“Okay, guess we’re skipping the details,” he said lightly, his hands resting on my waist again.

I ignored him, taking the joint from his hands and taking a long drag. I quickly downed the rest of my drink after. The alcohol burned, but it wasn’t enough to dull the sting of Matt’s voice in my head. So I grabbed another drink. Then another.

Chris didn’t push me. He just sat there, occasionally offering a comment or a joke, which I mostly ignored. I kept drinking, letting the alcohol drown out everything else until my head was spinning and my body felt light.

At some point, Chris said, “You okay, Y/N?”

I turned to look at him, my vision slightly blurry. “Nope,” I said with a bitter laugh.

He frowned. “You’ve had enough. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

I nodded, too drunk to argue. Chris helped me up, steadying me as we walked out of the party. The next thing I knew, we were in my bedroom.

I dropped onto my bed, the room spinning around me. Chris sat down beside me, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked softly.

“Shut up,” I muttered, leaning forward and pressing my lips to his.

For a second, he froze, but then his hands were on my hips, pulling me closer as he kissed me back. My mind was hazy, my body moving on autopilot as I straddled him, our kisses growing deeper and more heated.

The door slammed open.

“What the fuck?” Matt’s voice roared through the room.

I jerked back, my head snapping toward the door. Matt stood there, his face twisted in rage.

“Get off her,” he barked at Chris.

Chris raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, kid—”

“Get. Out,” Matt growled, stepping forward and grabbing Chris by the back of his shirt.

“Alright, alright! I’m going,” Chris laughed like it was no big deal, holding up his hands as Matt shoved him toward the door.

Once Chris was gone, Matt turned on me, slamming the door shut behind him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted, his voice shaking with fury.

“Why do you care?” I snapped, swaying slightly as I tried to stand.

“You’re drunk off your ass, making out with Chris—in our dorm!” he yelled, his hands clenched into fists. “Do you have any idea how stupid that is?”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I slurred, pointing a shaky finger at him.

“Oh, I do now, because clearly, you don’t have a damn clue how to handle yourself!” he shot back, staring at me for a moment longer before storming out and slamming the door behind him.

I couldn’t stay in the dorm after that. Matt’s stupid yelling, his stupid rules, his stupid double standards—it was suffocating. So, I grabbed my jacket, slipped on my sneakers, and stumbled back to the party. My head was still spinning, and my vision blurred around the edges, but I didn’t care.

Somehow by some miracle I made it to the party unscathed.

The music hit me like a wave as I pushed my way inside. The party hadn’t slowed down at all; if anything, it was louder and rowdier. I scanned the room, and then I saw him.

Matt.

He was sitting on the couch, some girl draped across his lap, her arms around his neck. She was laughing, leaning close to whisper something in his ear, and he was smirking like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Rage boiled up inside me, burning through the haze of alcohol. I stormed across the room, shoving past people until I was standing right in front of them.

“Seriously, Matt?” I snapped, my voice louder than I intended.

He looked up, his smirk vanishing. “Y/N, what the hell are you doing back here?”

“You don’t get to sit here with some random girl all over you,” I spat, glaring at him, “while you’re acting like I’m the problem for getting with your brother! You don’t get to have it both ways!”

The girl turned to me, her eyes narrowing. “Who the hell are you, and why are you yelling at him?”

“Stay out of this,” I said, my voice icy.

She rolled her eyes and leaned back against Matt. “Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

“Jealous?” I laughed bitterly. “Of you? Please.”

“You should be,” she shot back, her tone dripping with condescension.

Without thinking, I raised my hand and shoved it in her ugly ass face, pushing her back. “Shut up, cunt. Go whore around elsewhere.”

The room went silent for a second as the girl gasped, her face twisted in shock and outrage. Before she could react, Matt pushed her off his lap without as much as a second glance. He was already on his feet, his arms scooping me up and throwing over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you” he hissed, carrying me out of the room over his shoulder as everyone stared.

“Put me down!” I yelled, kicking my legs and punching his back but he didn’t budge.

“No. You’re done,” he snapped, pushing open the door and stepping into the cold night air.

The walk back to the dorm was a blur of me yelling and him ignoring me. His grip was firm, his face set in a hard, furious expression.

When we finally got inside, he kicked the door shut behind us and set me down, but his hands stayed on my shoulders, forcing me to stay still.

“Do you have any idea how stupid that was?” he shouted, his voice echoing in the small space. “Walking back there drunk, alone? Picking fights with random girls? Are you trying to get yourself hurt?”

“I’m not the one who’s hurt,” I slurred, glaring up at him. “You don’t get to do whatever you want and then tell me I can’t.”

“This isn’t about me!” he roared, his grip tightening. “It’s about you acting reckless and not thinking for two damn seconds about your safety!”

“Why do you care?” I shot back, my voice breaking. “You’ve made it clear I don’t matter to you!”

He stared at me, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling like he was trying to control his breathing. “Go to bed, Y/N,” he said finally, his voice cold and flat.

“Go to hell,” I muttered, shoving his hands off me and stumbling toward my bed.

“Already there,” he said under his breath as he walked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

The blaring sound of my alarm jolted me awake, my head pounding from the aftermath of last night’s chaos. I groaned, rubbing my temples, before glancing at the time. Matt and Chris’s hockey game was in an hour.

Dragging myself out of bed, I threw on some leggings, an oversized hoodie, and my warmest coat. After scarfing down some Advil and water, I made my way to the rink, hoping the cold air would snap me out of the lingering haze.

The arena was buzzing with energy when I arrived. The sound of skates cutting into the ice and the slap of sticks echoed as the teams warmed up. I found a seat in the stands, folding my arms as I scanned the ice. Chris was easy to spot—his dark hair sticking out slightly under his helmet, his number bold on the back of his jersey. Matt wasn’t far from him, warming up by himself.

The game started fast, with both teams going all out. Chris scored early, and the crowd erupted. Matt played aggressively, checking anyone who got in his way, his presence on the ice impossible to ignore.

It was halfway through the second period when it happened. Matt had the puck, weaving through the other team’s defense, when one of their players came up behind him and jabbed his stick hard into Matt’s stomach.

The arena gasped as Matt doubled over for a second, clutching his stomach. But before anyone could react, he straightened up, threw down his stick and gloves, and lunged at the guy.

The two collided in a flurry of punches, the other player grabbing Matt’s jersey and swinging wildly. But Matt was faster, his fists connecting with the guy’s jaw and cheek. They wrestled for control, slipping slightly on the ice as the refs tried to intervene.

The crowd was on their feet, shouting and cheering as Matt landed a brutal right hook to the guy’s face, splitting his lip. The other guy managed to get a shot in, hitting Matt just above the eye and opening a cut that started bleeding immediately.

Matt didn’t stop. He grabbed the guy by the collar and landed another punch, this one sending him sprawling onto the ice. The refs finally stopped it, pulling Matt back as he shrugged them off, blood dripping down his face and knuckles.

The crowd roared as Matt skated off the ice and towards the locker room, wiping his face with the back of his hand like it was nothing.

Without thinking, I immediately made a beeline for the locker room, ignoring the signs that said “Players Only.”

The smell of sweat and ice hit me as I pushed open the door, finding Matt sitting on the bench, swearing under his breath and peeling off his gear. His eye was swollen and red, a nasty gash cutting through his eyebrow. His knuckles were raw and bloody.

“Are you kidding me?” I snapped, my voice echoing in the small space.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing here?”

“Yelling at you, apparently,” I shot back, grabbing the first aid kit from the wall. “What the hell were you thinking? Fighting? Now you’re benched for the rest of the game and your team is a player down!”

He didn’t respond, just watched silently as I grabbed some antiseptic and gauze.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, kneeling in front of him. “You fucked up the chances of winning for your team and you could’ve gotten seriously hurt, Matt. Do you ever think about the consequences of your actions, or do you just go around telling people to be careful of their own?”

“Are you done?” he asked flatly, but there was something in his tone that made me pause.

“No, I’m not done,” I snapped, grabbing his hand and dabbing at his knuckles. He winced slightly but didn’t pull away. “You’re reckless and hypocritical, and it’s going to get you hurt one day. Or worse.”

I stood up and leaned on real close. I moved to his eye, carefully cleaning the cut as he sat there, silent and still.

“You’re not invincible, Matt,” I said, my voice softer now. “You can’t just go around picking fights and think nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“I wasn’t going to let him get away with that,” he said finally, his tone defensive.

I sighed, shaking my head. “And what did that prove? That you’re tough? That you can take a hit? Grow up.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything else as I finished patching him up. When I was done, I stood up and crossed my arms, glaring down at him.

“You’re an idiot,” I said, turning to leave.

“Thanks for the medical attention,” he called after me, his tone sarcastic.

I didn’t look back. He wasn’t worth the argument.

tags -

@ch0llies @namelesssav @simply-a-simper @sturnioloshottiekay @emma-sturniolo @hanta-seros-wifey @2muchofaslvt @christmastreecake @rockstarchr1s @sturnrc @larnieboox88

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #roommates

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binniesbooks · 11 months ago

Note

hi my fayebae, i just read ‘you don’t want him to know, do you’ and i’m🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️absolutely in love with it ahhh, feeding my brain and oh god i sudd had a thought…

his fingers… please

soobin x reader??? let’s just say that in this reality, soobin is able to play the piano beautifully. With his long fingers giving him the advantage of reaching the many keys he needs to, sometimes your mind wonders of how those long fingers would feel inside you…

the way he would play with your cunt… the way he would make sure youre stretched out and then finger fucks you…purposely bringing out his fingers from you. Sucking of your cum from his fingers, making you imagine how his tongue would feel against your clit.which of course then leads to freaky freaky heheh

ahhh i fr had this thought i hope u like it🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

• MELODIES OF TEMPTATION

SB 000 .F23 2024

wc 3.4k

pairings musictutor!Soobin x fem!reader

warnings oral sex, fingering, making out, nipple pinching (dream)

faye's note TMI: I was summoned to hell for the goddamn thesis, that's why I uploaded this late. Wth. Fuck school.

Hope you still enjoy this tho hehe, especially to my Beomgyu's kitten, I'm sorry for uploading so late, omg I hate myself 😭 anyway, I love your asks, really. Kith kith 💋

The soft clinks of the keys of the piano resonated inside the confinement of an empty room, long slender fingers dancing gracefully across the keys. Soft hums come from a comforting voice. The cold windy breeze blows at the open windows flowing through the guy's long fringe as his eyes flutter close feeling the notes hit his ears quietly. His movements came to a halt, head snapping towards the door --soft knocks waking him from his wandering thoughts.

'Hi, are you, perhaps, Choi Soobin?" You quietly asked, clutching on the straps of your crossbody bag.

"Uh, yeah?" he hesitated out of confusion, "May I help you?" -- "Oh, where are my manners, come in." he stood up from the piano as he walked toward the small table on the corner.

You walked slowly, observing the naked room, almost doubting if you really did come to the right place. "Please take a seat," Soobin said as he offered you a glass of water.

"So uh, my mother, found out about these some piano class thing? And, forced me to take it?"

"Is that so? Well, I have no students this session. it's been a while actually, so I'm afraid I can't make classes as of now." He answered.

You wiped your palms on your jeans, "Uhm, is there, like, nothing we can do about it then?"

"The whole lesson fee is actually divided over students. It's just that I can't let you pay the whole price. It's too expensive, given that... you still look like a student." He explained observing your overall figure that totally gives off a student vibe.

"I can pay for the whole price. Just... just let me take the lesson," you pleaded, hands clasped in front of you, "I just can't do anything about it. My mother is expecting me to play the piano in 3 months. I'm supposed to play at my brother's wedding." You rolled your eyes at the request your mother asked you. It just didn't make sense. Why ask you to learn the piano when they could just hire a whole band if they wanted to?

"I see." he meekly answered, nodding slowly. "Then I think we can do something about it." He stood up and walked towards the small cabinet just near the table.

"You can fill up this form, for legal purposes. And we can proceed on talking about your schedule." He handed you a folder. "Do you want to pay it whole or do you want to pay it every session?" He asked as he watched you fill up the form. "I'll pay during every session." You smiled at him and continued answering the necessary form.

You slide back the form towards him, "Y/n Y/s/n, 22." he muttered under his breath before closing the folder. "When are you free?" He asked as he pulled out his phone. "I am free on weekdays afternoon, and weekends the whole day."

"Should we do it on weekends?" he asked, checking his calendar. "We will have 24 sessions in total," he added.

"I'll take it. Weekends, I mean." You agreed.

"Is 5-8 in the evening okay with you?" His head tilted to the side, and you simply nodded.

Soobin stood up, "Okay then, come back this Saturday. we'll start at five." You stoop up after him taking his hand to shake it. As you were about to leave, you turned around once again, "I don't have to pay any deposit?" He chuckled as he answered with a dimpled smile, "No deposits."

...

You gasped as you looked at your wristwatch, what were you doing all this time? It was already four in the afternoon. You fumbled to fix your things as you quickly got up.

"Something wrong?" One of your friends asked, "We still have a movie to watch." "Go ahead, I have an appointment this afternoon, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you guys on Monday!" You scurried out of the cafe only to go back again to order drinks.

"Two iced americanos, to go."

You knocked at the door twice before pushing it open. He was playing the piano again. he has a huge frame, you thought to yourself. His broad shoulders complement his tall figure, despite the fact that he has a big body build, Soobin has a small waist, emphasized with how his white shirt was tucked in his pants.

You walk towards the small couch and place the drinks on the table. You close your eyes as you listen to his soothing voice. He quietly sings with the melody he is playing. When he was done, you cleared your throat to let him know you were already there.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I did not notice you." he shyly walks over to the couch to talk to you. You offered him the drink as he expressed a small "thank you."

"You have a great voice." You complimented him. A flush crept up on his face, to be honest, he's not used to being complimented.

"Shall we get started? I'm glad to walk you through your music journey." His dimples showed up nicely. They're cute, it makes you want to poke them but it doesn't make you seem professional.

The session ended up well. Besides, Soobin did not have to start from the very beginning, since you already know some of the basics.

The following sessions wrapped up well too. According to Soobin, you are a fast learner. You pick up everything he says quickly. Well, aside from Soobin having longer fingers, it was difficult for you to press keys that were far apart. Other than that you didn't have any problem.

"Can I just cut my fingers and have yours instead?" You were growing frustrated, you were not able to press the right key, making a disturbing sound instead of a good melody. You always end up twisting and wrenching your hand when trying to hit the notes.

"I quit!" You exclaimed only for Soobin to chuckle at your complaints. "You can do it, you are a fast learner," Soobin commented, his arms crossed on his chest. "I am, but the keys make me want to kill myself." You blurted. "It's easy, look." Soobin gently placed his finger on the keys, easily pressing down each note. "You have long fingers, I don't." You pouted. "Not my fault I have longer fingers than you." He answered while laughing only to make you pout again.

"Let's end here, come back tomorrow, you should rest for now, it's getting late." Soobin closed the windows of the room.

"Where do you live? Shall we go out together?" You asked.

"Call," he replied with a dimply smile.

You two ended up dropping by at a convenience store to grab a snack. You found out that you go back by the same way, so you thought might as well take the same bus later.

"I thought you were much older than me." You chimed when you found out he's just one year older than you. "Shall we talk casually, then?" He asks as he sips on the hot chocolate he bought. "If you don't mind." You nodded giddily.

Soobin saw how you shivered at the chilly breeze. "Wear my jacket, you've been shivering since earlier." He offered, taking off his jacket to hand it to you. "I forgot mine." You sheepishly answered as you wrapped his jacket around your body.

"Let's go. You might freeze to death if we stay here any longer." Soobin laughed quietly, picking up the trash on the table as he chucked it into the nearest trash can.

You took the same bus that night. He even bid you goodbye and breathed a soft "Take care, see you next week" before you got off.

Soobin is a shy guy. But he's gentle and caring. He's also talented, not to mention his face card did not decline.

That same night when you got home, you did not know what had gotten into you. You did not know the reason why you let your senses engulf the perfume on his jacket, nor when you tried to close your eyes only to vividly imagine how your night went on. You even quietly prayed and hoped each day that week came fast. Your heart raced at the thought of seeing him again. You grew nervous each day, the anticipation made you bounce your legs in class. It got you checking and re-checking the date.

Maybe the heavens above heard your silent pleas. Because the weekend arrived so quickly. You were so used to wearing just pants and shirts whenever you went to the music tutoring. However, this time, you find yourself fumbling through your dresses as you look for clothes you can wear that gaev off the "I dressed up well for you but I'm not gonna make it obvious" vibe.

You stood in front of the mirror, wearing a skirt and a knitted long sleeve. You look silly, but your heart is about to burst out from the giddiness you were feeling. It's not that you were gonna meet up with a date or something, but, maybe, you like him. Maybe you like Soobin a little bit. Your sessions were more than halfway done, with just 10 sessions remaining.

However, when you stepped inside, there was no Soobin to be found. Nor his things to be seen. The windows were open, though.

You were clutching onto his jacket he had lent you as you scan the room once again, still not used to the naked ass room he's holding the lesson in. However, a bigger couch caught your attention, it looks new. You sat on the couch and watched the clock ticking slowly. You placed his jacket on the couch, as you tried to make it puffy to serve as a makeshift pillow. It's still early anyway, taking a nap won't hurt, besides, he's still not here.

Soobin stepped inside the room, his hair a bit messy as if he just got up from a nap, or a fight, or whatever it was. His words are slurred. Was he drunk? "Hey, are you alright?" You asked as you stood up and walked closer to his tall frame still standing at the door. He grabbed your face and crashed his lips onto yours. His hands fumbled over your body as he pressed your back against the wall.

"H-hey.. S-soobin.. ah.." You tried to push him away but to no avail, he's much larger and stronger than you. His tongue grazed your neck as he sucked lightly as if he wanted to leave a mark. His slender fingers danced across your waist, slipping underneath your long sleeve. He lightly pinched your nipples, eliciting a soft moan from you. His hand travels back to your waist down to your thighs as he lifts your skirt. Your blood ran south, heat pooling on your slit. You can't help but whimper at his touch, his fingers gently rubbing your clothed pussy. He pushed your underwear to the side to slide his fingers in--

"Hey, hey y/n, are you okay?" His face was painted with worry as he tapped your shoulder to wake you up. Your eyes snapped open. "You were whining in your sleep, is everything fine?" He asked grabbing a glass of water. Your face turned red. You can't believe you were dreaming about him, and a sexual dream at that. You chugged down the whole glass of water, you couldn't look him in the eyes, what was that dream all about? Oh god.

"I'm sorry, I was late, something came up and I needed to take care of it, that's why I uh, wasn't here." He apologized, his face still painted with worry.

"N-no it's fine. I mean, I early.. I'm got.. I was... I got here earlier t-than our scheduled time." You cannot even form your words straight. He let out a laugh, as he look at you once again. "You got me worried from all that whining." He sighed, "I thought you were having a bad dream." You scratch the back of your nape as you play with the glass in your hand, you can't tell him about your weird dream, it's not something to spill.

"Shall we start? I'll play a song first, then you'll play once I'm done and apply what you have learnt." He instructed as he strides towards the piano.

Your eyes were fixated on how his fingers danced gracefully on the keys. His beautiful fingers were able to reach the notes you were unable to do. Choi Soobin was actually known for his exceptional piano skills even when he was still at a young age. To most, him playing melodies effortlessly could enrapture the audience, but to you, his fingers stirred thoughts that went far beyond music. You had always thought how his fingers were so pretty although he was a man. It was as though he gave them extra care. The thought even caused you to dream about him. Not to mention you were dreaming about him inside his tutor room.

He had finished playing long ago, but you were still staring at his fingers, still in a daze. His body was already turned to you, examining your eyes and what they were staring at. An enigmatic smile played on his lips, "Care to tell what you are thinking about?" He asked, voice low and inviting. "W-what?" Your eyes snapped back at him. "What's on your mind, y/n." He chuckled when you avoided his gaze, he stood up, "Care to tell?" His head was tilted to the side once again. "Nothing... I.. I just think you're really good at playing the piano.. and that your fingers are p-pretty," you stuttered.

Soobin walks back to the couch where you were sitting, he draws his face near to yours as you back down, leaning your head on the backrest of the couch. "Is that all you're thinking about?" You felt your heart thump faster and harder as you nodded frantically, your palms sweaty. "I don't think so," he leans closer, one wrong move and you'll get your lips crashed with his, "I heard you call my name in your sleep -- let me correct myself, you were actually moaning my name." His arms were on both sides of your head, you're trapped on the couch.

"I'm not the type to let myself go in this kind of situation, but," he stopped as he twirled the end of your hair on his fingers, "You excite me. I'm actually surprised." He chuckled. "S-soobin, I... I didn't mean t--" "Mhm, you didn't baby, you didn't." He nods as he presses his thumb on your glossy lips. You gripped his jacket on your lap with nowhere to ground yourself. Your eyes flutter close at the skin contact. "See? You really didn't." He whispered before closing the gap between the two of you.

You did not know what happened, or what had gotten unto him, but there's one thing you were sure of. Your music tutor is making out with you.

"My, my... You were thinking about what else my fingers can do, am I right?" He remarked as he pulled away a bit. You bit your lips as you nodded lightly. "Naughty girl." He smirked.

His fingers danced across your face, touching your cheeks as he kissed you. You can't help but hold onto his arms.

"Stand up," he commanded as he pulled away. He gently drags you and makes you sit on the soft cushion chair in front of the piano. "Show me what you have learned." He ordered as he kneeled in front of you. "You look pretty by the way," he added.

You slowly pressed on the keys of the piano with an unstable rhythm and a pounding heart. "Spread your legs, I'll show you something," he chuckled at the thought. You clenched your hand as you slowly spread your legs in front of him. "Don't stop playing until I say so," he instructed as he pushed your underwear to the side.

You continued playing on the piano with a more uneven tone and rhythm as you trembled under his touch. His fingers danced gracefully on your pussy, slightly grazing your clit, making you shiver.

He bunches up your skirt to your waist and pulls your underwear all the way for easier access. "Tell me once again that you didn't mean what you were doing earlier," a playful smirk was plastered on his face as he looked up at you. "I... I didn't m-mean to m-moan your n-name..." You whispered with a shaky voice. "Is that right?" He asked, his finger nudging your clit. You nodded as you felt your body shrink at his melting gaze.

"Your body says otherwise, lovely." He chimed as his middle finger slides easily inside you making you gasp. "Continue playing, I'm grading you." He reminded.

You don't even know if the notes you're playing were making sense or if it's the right key, you just kept on pressing the keys with trembling hands as you felt Soobin's finger scissoring your pussy. "You're so wet that all I can hear is the squelching sound, your notes are being drowned," he commented, pressing on your sweet spots.

"S-soobin, I can't a-anymore..." Your fingers stopped, as you shook your head. "I'm grading you y/n. It's either you pass, or I'm going to refer you to another tutor." He warned. "B-but--" "No buts, pretty. Continue."

You did not know where your mind flew to. All you can think about is how his pretty fingers are stretching you out and reaching the spots your own fingers weren't able to reach. "I'm g-gonna cum..." Your voice all trembling and shaking as much as your legs do.

"So soon?" Soobin started to move a bit faster, the sound your pussy was making was so lewd and dirty. You're toes curled, your hand gripped on his shoulder as you try to stop yourself from cumming. Soobin smirked, you're so lovely to look at. "Hmm, pretty." He chuckled as he stared at you.

"P-please Soobin, I'm gonna cum..." You pleaded. He twisted his fingers, scissored and pushed it more inside your gummy walls, you're too weak to hold back. You came on his fingers as you shuddered with his finger still fucking inside you. You were whining and squirming, but he's too strong for your weakened body.

He pulled his fingers out. He stares at his sticky and slicked-covered fingers and looks at you. He saw how the flush crept over your cheeks. "We will continue our sessions, you still have a lot to learn." His gaze at you is unwavering, waiting for you to look back at him. And when you did, his fingers disappeared in his own mouth.

"Fuck, you taste so sweet." He moaned, cleaning his own fingers covered with your cum. His low voice gives you a shiver down your spine. He continued on licking his fingers, eyes locked on yours. You lean down to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. He pulled away. "I'm still not done, hold your skirt up." As a good student, you gladly obliged, clutching on your skirt.

He placed one of your thighs on his shoulder as he dives into your pussy. Lapping every essence dripping down. You squirmed and gripped on his hair. His tongue poking on your cunt. "S-soobin ahh, shit." You've lost it. Your tutor is eating you out, the guy you have a little crush on.

He keeps on humming in your pussy, the vibration adds to the tingly sensation you are feeling. You were in ecstasy.

"N-no more... Hng.." he did not stop. No way he's gonna stop. Not when Soobin is already hard and on the verge of cumming just by eating you out. But he holds back. "Shit!" Soobin felt you clench on his tongue, riding your other high. Your legs spasmed while he was cleaning you with his tongue, scraping every drop of your cum. It's something he can't waste.

He looks up at you, wiping his glistening mouth and nose with the back of his hand.

"Lay on the couch." He bosses, as he proceeded to lock the door. "Maybe buying this bigger couch has a purpose. Too bad it'll get soiled today, I just bought it yesterday." He smiled as he unzipped his pants, "Bend over. You're the one to grade me this time. Which is the best? My finger, my tongue, or my cock."

@binniesbooks 2024

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