#I had to crop this down so much to get it to go >>

[em1i2a3]

Glide

Pairing: College AU! Frat Boy!Bob Floyd x Fem!Reader!

Summary: When your friends drag you to a frat house party during spring break you weren’t expecting much, but when you go to seek out a moment of silence and end up accidentally stepping into someone’s room, you end up forming an odd connection with one of the fraternity members.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, Some Angst, Mentions of Alcohol and Drug Use, Reader gets a little anxious in the crowd and mentions agoraphobia, Swearing, Reader has beef with one of the fraternity members, Reader is a Chemistry Major, Bobs in Aerospace Engineering

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up), Fingering, Oral Sex (Female and Male Receiving), Handjob, Bob is Inexperienced (but he’s enthusiastic to try everything), Bob talks a lot during sexual acts, Dirty Talk, Praise/Worship Kink, Breast Play, Making Out and Dry Humping, Bob is super sensitive.

Author’s Note: Frat Boy Bob y’all. This was technically a request, but I dashed away with it and truly came to enjoy this so so much. Also just as a side note lol, Frats aren’t really a huge thing where I am, they’re so subdued it’s not even funny, though if you go to party schools you’re definitely going to get an experience and a half (I did not go to a party school so I’m going off of my friends experiences at this point 😂)

Word Count: 17,352

”Tell me again why the hell we’re going to this party?” Your voice cut through the late evening air, low and flat, edged with irritation as you pulled your windbreaker tighter across your chest. The nylon rasped beneath your fingers, a poor excuse for protection against the sharp spring breeze. The smell of your dorm clung to it–laundry detergent, stale coffee, and whatever perfume your roommate had sprayed on in the vicinity of it.

The sidewalk beneath your sneakers was still damp from a passing rain shower. Faint streaks of moisture glimmered on the concerte, catching the fractured yellow light from the street lamps above. You stepped around a crushed beer can and kept your head down, following the clacking of heels and bare legs that were moving a few paces ahead of you.

Jess, Monica, and Sue, your friends by proximity. You had met them during welcome week and never managed to shake them–even though you didn’t really want to. They existed in a different orbit entirely, but they took you in with open arms and tried to crack the shell that you had built around yourself. They were the people that convinced you that college didn’t have to be all about studying and going to class and that it could also be fun too, despite the hefty tuition bill.

The girls had built a three person wall along the sidewalk, pushing against each other as they chatted and laughed about something you hadn’t heard, keeping balance on their heels, skipping cracks in the pavement. They were dressed like the party was going to be a runway show instead of an absolute chaotic mess. Jess wore a short leather skirt and a cropped corset top under a trench coat she wasn’t planning to keep on. Her hair was up, slick and sharp, gold hoops brushing her jaw. Monica had on a silver halter top that sparkled under every porch light you passed, paired with high-waisted jeans and glossy lipstick that matched the cherry polish on her nails. Sue, as always, looked like she’d stepped out of an editorial spread–draped in a backless silk dress and strappy heels that should’ve been impractical, but somehow weren’t.

You, on the other hand, were the outlier–and it was obvious.

Black low-rise jeans hugged your hips, the waistband dipping just enough to expose a sliver of your stomach where your t-shirt stopped. The top was fitted and a plain navy blue, not short enough to be bold, and not long enough to be considered modest–though it was enough to remind you of the cold every time the wind shifted. Your black sneakers were scuffed at the toes, laces uneven, but they were practical for the walk home.

Technically, you were dressed for the weather, but standing next to your friends made you feel underdressed in a different way. Not because you didn’t look good, but because you just didn’t meet the same standard they had set for the group.

Your question had interrupted whatever conversation they were tangled in. Jess glanced over her shoulder first, her earrings catching the light at the turn.

”Well, Jake personally invited us,” She explained, like that was a valid reason, “And you’ve been holed up in your room almost all of spring break studying. You needed to get out. Breathe some fresh air, get social contact apart from us…Maybe drink something that hits a little better than three iced coffees a day.” You groaned immediately at the name Jake, ignoring the rest of the comments she had made about what you had been doing during the break.

”Not that meathead…If I knew that moron invited you guys, I would’ve locked my door and turned off my phone.” Monica sighed.

”C’mon, Y/N, he’s not that bad.” You let out a short laugh–dry and humorless.

”He’s a douchebag. And he thinks I’m a cockblock because I don’t let him get handsy with you guys when you’re half a drink in. I think he’s exactly that bad.” Jess gave a low laugh.

”He’s just a flirt.” You hummed.

”Right, and I’m just a buzzkill.” You muttered. Sue looked over at you now.

”We appreciate the defense. Really. But tonight…We’ve got a bit of a bet going.” You raised an eyebrow.

“What, like who’s gonna bed him first?” There was a pause, and the silence was telling. It caused you to stop walking.

”Oh god.” You rubbed your fingers into the corners of your eyes like you could physically wipe the idea out of your brain. Monica didn’t even flinch.

”He’s hot! How can you not be curious?! I’ve heard a lot of good things…” You dropped your head, staring at her.

”You better make that guy bathe in hand sanitizer before he touches you. God only knows where he’s been.” That got a laugh–sharp, unapologetic. Jess bit back a grin. Sue let out a quiet, breathy chuckle behind her hand, and even Monica smiled.

They didn’t deny it. They didn’t defend him, either.

The four of you continued to walk, your pace catching up to them so you could get involved in their conversation a little more, as your ears caught a hint of bass echoing through the streets.

Campus was surprisingly crowded for a week that should’ve been quiet. Most students hadn’t gone home–not for lack of desire, but practicality. A three-day visit to your hometown wasn’t worth the bus ticket, the packing, and the return. The majority of people who didn’t travel long distances had quietly agreed to stay put, which caused a social pressure cooker of chaos. Parties bled from one house to the next, yards were flooded with empty kegs and pool floats, and of course people were out till all hours of the night taking in the extracurriculars.

You were one of the people who chose to stay, but it was for different reasons.

You had a chemistry midterm that was going to hit you on the Monday right after break, and you needed peace and quiet to get the thirty five page study guide your professor had emailed. You had been hunched over your laptop, dragging a pen across every other line and downing iced coffee like it counted as fuel. Your residence hall had been silent–peaceful in the way only empty buildings could be. No thumping floors. No bathroom chatter. Just the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional door shutting down the hall.

And honestly, you liked it that way.

Which was why walking up this street, with the scent of cheap body spray and beer already creeping into the air, made your skin itch.

Jess, Monica, and Sue weren’t wrong–you had wasted half your break studying. But a frat party was a far cry from the kind of break you would’ve chosen. You would’ve taken a quiet bookstore, a blackout curtained room, maybe a hot bath. Instead, you were heading straight into the epicenter of campus chaos.

The house came into view like a rising tide–inevitable and loud.

Theta Rho Alpha Sigma Heta.

TRASH, for short.

It was a reputation as much as a name. It was burned into every party story, every Camus warning, and every early morning regret that started with “so we went to TRASH last night.” Ten fraternity brothers lived inside, and every square foot off the place bore evidence of that fact. It was a massive, century-old house–once regal, now abused. Three floors, five bedrooms, two makeshift attic spaces, a finished basement that doubled as a moldy second living room. The paint on the siding had faded into a blotchy, sun-peeled gray, warped by years of weather and neglect. The porch sagged under the weight of too many bodies. One of the support beams had been duct-taped after someone fell through it last fall.

The front steps were uneven, patched with mismatched bricks and sagging plywood. Two of the railing posts were zip-tied together in a last-ditch effort to pass housing inspection. The fraternity’s letters were bolted crookedly above the door, one hanging loose on a single screw. Half-lit from a porch light that flickered like a dying candle.

Light poured from every window–yellow, blown out, too warm. It cast strange shadows across the lawn, catching in the curls of smoke that drifted from blunts and vapes and burning firewood in the backyard pit. The music pulsed through the siding—more vibration than melody. Heavy bass that flattened everything it touched, beating into your chest like an arrhythmic second heartbeat.

The lawn was packed–shoulder to shoulder, people overflowing onto the sidewalk, the flowerbeds, the hood of someone’s car parked at a bad angle. Plastic cups were everywhere, crushed or half-full or abandoned in the grass. The scent of spilled beer hung in the air, warm and sharp, mixing with sweat, weed, fast food, gasoline from a knocked-over jerry can, and the stale breath of a thousand unwashed Red Solo cups.

Someone was blasting a megaphone from the porch steps–a guy in a backwards cap, red-faced and laughing, trying to shout over the music. You caught pieces of it: something about jello shots, something about the beer pong table being “winner stays,” and something that sounded suspiciously like “naked mile.”

Two guys were wrestling in the grass by the mailbox, one of them missing a shirt, the other holding a can of whipped cream like a weapon. A girl stumbled past them in glitter boots and a bikini top, waving a phone and yelling at someone you couldn’t see. Another was throwing up behind a bush while her friend held her hair and nodded along to the music like it was a shared ritual.

From the second-floor balcony, a makeshift banner drooped crookedly on a frayed bedsheet:

TRASH FEST 2NITE - NO RULES. NO EXCUSES. NO SLEEP.

“Jesus,” Jess muttered under her breath, pausing at the edge of the lawn. “It’s already booming and it’s not even 9:30. We are so late.”

You followed a few paces behind her, stepping carefully around a puddle of cheap beer that had soaked into the grass. “Didn’t know we could be late for a frat party,” You mumbled, eyeing the porch like it might collapse under the weight of the crowd.

But the girls were already in motion, rushing toward the chaos like it was gravity pulling them in. You hung back just slightly, weaving your way around the worst of the lawn–dodging a guy hurling glow sticks into the crowd and stepping over a discarded takeout container that looked like it hadn’t survived the walk from the sidewalk. Your shoes slipped slightly on the wet grass as you moved toward the porch steps, where cigarette butts and crushed cups had collected like driftwood on the edge of a rising tide.

You stepped up, sneakers hitting the warped planets, hand grazing the rickety railing as the music began to rattle your teeth at full force. The door was open, the entryway wide and glowing with overexposed yellow light. You could smell it all before you even crossed the threshold–booze, sweat, pot, deodorant masking body odor, and something burnt that might’ve been food or someone’s hair.

The second your foot crossed the threshold, it hit you all at once–the heat, the crowd, the crush of music and smoke and too many bodies packed into too little space. The entryway smelled like spilled tequila and cheap cologne. Someone’s hoodie brushed your shoulder, sticky with sweat, and you recoiled instinctively, scanning for your friends. Jess’s trench coat disappeared into the living room. Monica’s glitter top flashed once, then vanished into the blur. Sue was already at the bar cart in the corner, snagging plastic cups.

You were still deciding whether to follow–or leave–when he stepped in front of you.

Jake Seresin.

Leaning casually against the wall near the stairs, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

He looked the same as always–clean cut and cocky, like a walking recruitment poster that never had to try too hard. His hair was neatly styled, strawberry blonde in colour, and slightly dampened from either sweat or a shower. You didn’t know and quite frankly you didn’t care.

He wore a snug black t-shirt that clung to the curve of his biceps, jeans slung low on his hips, worn-in boots planted like he owned the floorboards. A silver chain peeked from under his collar, catching the glow from the overhead bulb. The smirk on his face arrived before he spoke.

“Y/N…I see you’ve decided to come out of your cave.” Jake’s voice cut through the heat and noise like he owned the damn place–which, unfortunately, he sort of did, especially because he was the head of the house. His smirk was smug enough to slap off his face, and the way he looked at you–lazy, head tilted just slightly–made your blood itch.

“Didn’t realize you were doing doorman duty tonight. What’s the matter–couldn’t con a freshman into kissing your boots on the way in?”

Jake laughed, low and amused. He shifted his weight, arms crossing, biceps flexing like it was involuntary. “Cute. But if you really wanted to see me, you could’ve just said so. No need to pretend you’re here for the punch.”

“If I wanted to see you, I’d schedule a lobotomy first,” You said, eyes scanning past him to where the party stretched out like a sweaty nightmare, “You’re like athlete’s foot. Persistent. Itchy. Impossible to get rid of.”

That earned you a flash of teeth, the smirk sharpening. “Damn. Must’ve missed that sparkling charm of yours. Thought maybe you’d chilled out since fall semester.”

“Nah,” You replied, smiling without warmth, “You don’t know me well enough to assume something like that.” He hummed.

”You always this feisty, or do you just save it all for me?”

“I save it for pests,” You shot back, “Like you.” And with that, you pushed past him–your shoulder clipping his lightly–just enough to make it clear you were done. You didn’t wait for a comeback. You didn’t care what his smug ass had to said next. The music hit harder in the next room, and the humidity had already begun to creep under your clothes like steam.

Sue caught up to you almost instantly, already grinning like she’d watched the whole exchange from the sidelines.

“Thanks for buttering him up,” she said, patting your arm. Her tone was teasing, but not mocking. “I’m going in for the first interaction of the night.”

You raised your cup-less hand and gave her a small salute.

“Good luck,” You shouted back over the bass, smirking. She gave you a wink before disappearing into the crowd, swaying through the bodies with ease. You peeled off toward the kitchen, dodging a couple making out near the coat rack and stepping over a few abandoned beer cans. The kitchen was a warzone of overturned shot glasses, and a group of architecture students stacking some of the spare red solo cups in a tower. To your left, a half-empty bowl of lime wedges was slowly withering beside an array of crumpled napkins, and then your eyes found the coolers.

There were three of them, stacked neatly along the wall beneath the fogged kitchen window–white Igloo coolers with duct-tape labels stuck to their lids like someone had planned this out. You paused for a second, brow lifting slightly. It was the first thing you’d seen in this entire house that resembled forethought.

POP / ENERGY / SPORTS DRINKS

It was handwritten in black Sharpie, a little smudged from condensation, but legible. Organized.

You flipped the lid, expecting warm cans swimming in brown ice water and maybe the scent of something that had once been fruit punch. Instead, it was ice cold. There were cans lined up in half-hearted rows–soda, sports drinks, a few scattered energy drinks, and even a rogue seltzer tucked in the corner.

You spotted the ginger ale immediately and grabbed it, the can blessedly cold against your hand. You popped the tab with a low crack, the fizz whispering up as you turned around and leaned back against the counter. The metal felt cool through your jeans, a shock of comfort against your overheated skin.

You brought the can to your lips and took a sip–dry, sweet, clean. The carbonation hit your throat gently, but the cold grounded you.

The nausea that had been curling in your gut since you stepped into the house–maybe even since you left the dorm–began to quiet under the fizzy bite. Not completely. But enough.

Your eyes scanned the room as you sipped. People buzzed in and out like bees. Music bled through the drywall. There were beer pong shouts from the living room, someone screaming off-key to a pop remix from the basement, and a girl in the corner of the kitchen trying to convince her friend that no, taking another shot wouldn’t fix the situation.

You took another sip of your ginger ale, but this time it caught in your throat.

You coughed into your arm, quietly at first—then once more, harder, sharp enough to make your eyes water. The fizz didn’t settle your stomach like before. It turned sour, bubbling too fast. Heat rose under your skin, too much of it. The air felt wrong—like it wasn’t going in properly, like the room had subtly tilted without warning and your lungs were working against it.

Maybe it was the noise. The press of people. The humidity clinging to every surface like a second skin. Or maybe it was you.

You blinked slowly, dragging in another breath through your nose, but it didn’t go deep enough. Your chest tightened instead. Like a pressure band had cinched beneath your ribs, subtle at first, then steady, then sharp.

Shit.

You glanced around again, searching for something—a signal, maybe. A reason to leave. A place to bolt to. But everything looked the same: sticky floors, laughing strangers, red cups tipping on every flat surface. Too much noise. Too much movement. You couldn’t catch your footing in it. Couldn’t ground yourself.

You didn’t know if you were going to throw up or have a panic attack, and honestly, it didn’t matter—because either way, you needed out.

You pushed off the counter. The cold had left your jeans, and your hand trembled slightly as you set your can down, half-full and already forgotten. The kitchen was a blur behind you, the music thudding harder now, bass lines vibrating in your teeth.

You moved fast, weaving through the main floor with quick, shallow breaths. Eyes down. Shoulders tight. The living room passed in a smear of sweat and cheap cologne, someone’s laughter bouncing too loud off the crown molding. You didn’t stop to said anything. Didn’t look for your friends. You didn’t want to worry them–not yet. Not until you figured out what the hell was happening.

Going outside wasn’t an option. Not with the yard full of people. If one of your friends saw you slipping out, they’d follow. Or worse–they’d worry. You didn’t want that either.

So you made for the stairs.

The banister was sticky and warm under your palm as you took the steps two at a time. Your breath hitched halfway up, chest clenching like your ribs were welded shut. You swallowed hard and forced yourself to keep going.

The second floor was marginally quieter, but the walls were still too thin. Bass leaked through every inch. Laughter echoed from behind doors, and the smell of weed hung low like a fog.

You moved fast–hand grazing doorknobs, cracking one open only to find two people already tangled on a futon, backlit by LED strips. You didn’t pause. You just kept going.

Next room: a circle of guys smoking out of a gravity bong made from an Arizona bottle. One lifted his hand in greeting, eyes bloodshot and lazy. You shut the door.

Another: a girl crying on the floor while two of her friends huddled around her with shot glasses. You closed that one a little more gently.

The hallway seemed endless. Your chest was still too tight. Like there wasn’t enough air on this floor either.

Then finally the last door on the left creaked open to a well lit, completely empty room. You stepped in, fast, and shoved it shut behind you, the slam loud in the sudden quiet. Your back hit the wood, hard enough to jolt your spine, and you didn’t care. The silence was immediate, muffled and warm and blessedly still.

Your eyes adjusted to the sight in front of you and almost immediately you were absorbing all the details.

The room was bright in contrast to the rest of the house–lit by a desk lamp angled toward a bulletin board cluttered with index cards and printouts. The overhead light was on too, not dim or tinted like the others downstairs, but clean and soft and yellow, illuminating the space in a way that made everything feel more grounded. Less warped. Less unreal.

Your eyes scanned the details, cataloguing without meaning to.

A twin XL bed sat tucked in the corner, sharply made with a green-and-navy plaid duvet pulled taut at every corner. The sheet edges were squared, the pillows firm and aligned. Not a wrinkle in sight. There was a subtle indent on the right side of the mattress—someone had been sitting there recently. Maybe even within the hour. But whoever it was, they weren’t here now.

You stared at the bed like it might steady you. Like if you focused hard enough, the room would stop spinning entirely.

Beside the bed, a heavy oak bookcase ran nearly the full height of the wall. It was packed with titles, every shelf brimming. Not decorative either–thoroughly read. Dog-eared paperbacks leaned into thick hardcover editions, grouped not by color or aesthetic, but by subject. Biographies. Math. Novels. Non-Fiction. Chemistry and Science. A few textbooks on differential equations, stacked beside a worn copy of Dune and a boxed set of The Lord of the Rings. Your fingers twitched, instinctively wanting to trace the spines.

You blinked slowly. Breathed in through your nose. The room smelled faintly like pine and laundry detergent–clean and muted. No sweat, no beer, no weed. Just detergent, and the faint dry scent of paperback pages.

A corkboard hung above the desk, pinned with exam timetables, lab schedules, a few biology notes, and what looked like a printed-out list of citations in 12-point Times New Roman. The chair tucked neatly beneath was ergonomic, not cheap. Beside it sat a large, dented water bottle and a stack of neatly bound notebooks.

Posters lined the wall–nerdy ones. Retro Star Wars prints. A 2001: A Space Odyssey poster framed in black. There was a NASA diagram of the solar system pinned above the desk, annotated in ballpoint pen like whoever lived here used it to actually study, not just decorate.

You took a step forward, the floor creaking under your weight.

“…Geeky,” You muttered to yourself, voice hoarse, quiet. The sound came out more like a breath than a statement. Your knees nearly gave out when you reached the side of the bed. You sat down slowly, hands braced on the plaid comforter, fingers splayed across the dense fabric.

It gave a little under your palms. Still faintly warm.

You let out another breath–long, uneven, but better than before.

Your heart was still pounding, but it was loosening its grip. Slowly. The walls weren’t closing in anymore. Your lungs weren’t seizing.

You tapped your fingers against the mattress and started listing what you could see.

“Desk lamp. Physics textbooks. Star Wars poster. Clean sheets. Plaid pattern.”

Another breath.

“Water bottle. Books on aerospace…Math. Scent’s clean. No body spray. No beer.”

Another breath.

It wasn’t magic. But it helped. saiding it all aloud gave your mind something to anchor to.

You swallowed, eyes fixed on the corner of the room. “Big bookshelf. Index cards on the corkboard. Neatly folded blanket on the chair.” You paused, blinking. “Shit,” you whispered softly, dragging your hand down your face.

It wasn’t that you were weak. You knew what this was. You’d never been diagnosed, but the signs were hard to ignore. The panic. The way crowds made your body feel like it was misfiring from the inside out. How your throat closed up in packed rooms. How every party ended with your head spinning and your jaw locked in quiet dread.

Agoraphobia. You’d read about it. Dismissed it. Then quietly reconsidered it. And then dismissed it again.

But tonight? Tonight your body had decided to remind you it was real.

You leaned forward, elbows to knees, head in your hands. Not crying. Just breathing. For a long moment, you stayed like that–drinking in the quiet, letting the static in your limbs slowly begin to fade.

The sound of the door handle turning ripped through the quiet like a thunderclap.

You jolted upright–spine snapping straight, fingers braced against the mattress, breath catching mid-inhale.

The door creaked open slowly, a rectangle of warm hallway light spilling across the floor, cutting a golden line through the carpet and up your jeans. And then he stepped inside.

You blinked hard.

He froze halfway through the threshold. One foot in, one out, like he hadn’t meant to walk in on anyone–and certainly hadn’t expected to find a stranger perched on his bed.

He looked about your age, maybe slightly older. Tall but not imposing, lean in the kind of way that came from long hours of running or lifting–not bulking. His face was unmistakable even in the soft light: gentle features, tousled light brown hair that curled slightly at the ends from where it had dried naturally, no product. A strong jaw softened by the faintest dusting of stubble. He had a pair of glasses perched on his nose–simple, silver rimmed, they looked similar to aviator glasses, just a little more rounded off in the lenses. They were crooked but he didn’t reach up to fix them.

And those eyes…Wide, bright, and startlingly blue.

Like the ocean under a cold sky. The colour made your stomach turn, and the way they reflected in the light made your head spin.

He wore a navy crew neck sweater with the university crest stitched over the chest, sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms, revealing ink stains and a faint red pressure mark on his wrist where a watch probably used to be. Grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, worn at the knees, soft enough that they must’ve been his go-to. A can of sprite was in his hand, dripping from the ice that had melted over it.

“Oh. Oh god–I’m sorry.” The words rushed out of your mouth quickly, breathless, “I didn’t mean to–I wasn’t…” His brows lifted slightly, but there was no alarm on his face. Just surprise. His voice was low, quiet, and careful.

“It’s okay…I–uh–it’s alright.” He hesitated, eyes flicking across the room, landing briefly on your curled posture, your flushed face, the slight tremble in your hand as you pushed back from the bed. “Are you…Okay?” You blinked. Your heart was still hammering. Not from fear anymore–but embarrassment. Humiliation. He didn’t look like he thought you were stealing. He didn’t even glance toward the desk or the bookshelf. He was looking at you. Really looking. Reading the panic that hadn’t quite drained from your body yet.

You felt your shoulders curl in instinctively, defensive. But there was no judgment in his expression–just a quiet, earnest concern that felt way too soft for someone who’d just found a stranger in his room.

“I–” You swallowed, hand hovering mid-air like you weren’t sure whether to stand or bolt. “I didn’t know anyone was here. I just–I needed out. I was–I had to get out of the kitchen.” He nodded once, like he understood completely. He stepped the rest of the way into the room and closed the door behind him–not all the way, but enough to soften the noise from the hallway. It was strange how quickly the room felt like a bubble again. A barrier. A pause from everything that came before it.

“I figured…” He said quietly, “The parties here get pretty loud and overcrowded, so I don’t blame you for wanting to get some peace for a minute.” You swallowed thickly, your throat still tight with leftover nerves, and exhaled through your nose.

“Yeah,” you murmured, voice quieter now, “I can’t imagine living here, to be honest.” He smiled—not cocky like Jake, not smug or practiced. Just a small, self-deprecating curl of his lips, as if he agreed with you more than he was willing to admit.

“Noise-cancelling headphones really come in handy.” That earned a low breath of amusement from you.

“I guess you’re right with that one…”

He took a sip of his Sprite, the faint crackle of carbonation filling the small silence that followed. It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly–just heavy with all the things neither of you were sure how to said yet. He stayed near the door, not wanting to hover or crowd you in any way. You watched him for a second, and then another, noting the way his shoulders shifted under the weight of the conversation–or maybe just the attention.

Then, softly, like he was testing the waters:

“I’ve seen you around before…In the science building. You’re in Chem 241, right?”

Your brows lifted slightly, caught between surprise and guarded curiosity. “Yeah… it’s my major.” You tilted your head. “How do you know what class I’m in?” He gave a sheepish, quiet laugh, the kind that curled at the corners of his mouth without ever really reaching full confidence. He ran a hand through his hair, the motion making it stick up slightly in the front.

“You’re in the class before mine. You’ve got kind of a familiar face.”

You paused, eyes still on him, your heart starting to settle into something else–less fight-or-flight, more puzzled curiosity. He didn’t look embarrassed exactly, but there was a warmth in his cheeks now, visible even in the soft lighting. A flicker of nervous energy vibrated at the tips of his fingers as he shifted his Sprite to the other hand.

Then, like the thought had only just occurred to him:

“Oh–Jesus, sorry. I’m Bob, by the way. Bob Floyd.” He grimaced slightly at the awkwardness of it, wiping his damp palm against the thigh of his sweatpants before offering it out to you, fingers curled slightly.

You hesitated for only half a second before reaching out and slipping your hand into his. His palm was warm, slightly chilled from the condensation of the can but dry now. The grip was gentle, just enough to be firm without overcompensating.

“Y/N,” You said quietly. Your name sounded softer in this room than it had downstairs-like the sound itself respected the quiet.

He smiled again. “Y/N,” He repeated, a little slower this time, like he was filing it away in some meticulous corner of his brain. “Nice name,” Bob said, quiet and genuine. The words weren’t perfunctory–they landed with a softness that didn’t feel like filler. More like a real compliment, shaped by how he said it. You blinked once, caught off guard by how sincere it sounded.

Before either of you could speak again, a sudden crash reverberated through the floorboards beneath you–so loud and forceful that your feet actually lifted a half inch from the mattress. Something heavy had toppled on the first floor. Maybe furniture. Maybe a person. Followed by a cascade of laughter that barely muffled the groaning bass still pounding through the walls.

You flinched, eyes widening, then looked toward Bob with a raised brow.

“What’s a guy like you doing in a frat house, by the way?” You asked, your voice dry but curious, brushing your palms down the front of your jeans. “You seem too…Sane.” Bob took another slow sip of his Sprite, his glasses catching the overhead light as he tilted his head slightly.

“It’s pretty good to have on a résumé,” He said mildly. “Minus the parties, of course.”

You hummed, the sound low in your throat as your eyes flicked toward the ceiling like you were scanning for divine confirmation. “Yeah…I think if any future employer found out the type of parties TRASH throws, I’m pretty sure you’d be hired immediately. Just for surviving them.” That earned an actual laugh from him–low and warm, the kind that started in his chest and curled up into his mouth like it surprised even him. It settled something inside you. Not the panic entirely, but the vulnerability that had followed it. His laugh made the room feel a little more human. Less clinical. More like a moment you weren’t intruding on, but sharing.

“I don’t participate in them, evidently,” He claimed, gesturing lightly toward his desk. “So I’d be lying.”

You followed the motion with your eyes–the papers, the water bottle, a perfectly aligned mechanical pencil, and what looked like a cracked-open packet filled with printed slides and diagrams.

“Evidently,” you echoed softly, tilting your head a little as you looked around again. “What were you doing?” Bob exhaled–half sigh, half breath of frustration–and stepped toward the desk. He reached for the study packet, flipping the top corner up between his fingers to show you the first page. It was already heavily marked–some in black pen, some in red. Diagrams had been annotated, circled, dissected line by line. Across the top margin, written in neat, even letters, was the course title: Space Systems Design – Midterm Review Packet.

“Studying,” He said. “I have the test on Monday, and I’m nowhere near done with this thing.” His tone was tired but not bitter, just resigned in the way that only students deeply familiar with academic despair could be.

You gave a quiet, knowing laugh–one that felt more like release than amusement. “Of course. I guess every professor gets off on torturing science and engineering students,” You muttered, stretching your arms briefly. “Because I’ve got a very similar packet sitting on my desk right now for my Chem Midterm.” He placed the packet back on the desk with a soft tap.

”Misery loves company, I guess.” He offered.

“More like intellectual suffering,” You replied dryly, crossing one ankle over the other where you sat at the edge of his bed. There was a beat of silence, the kind that settled into the warmth between two people who hadn’t yet decided if they were strangers or acquaintances.

Bob leaned slightly against his desk, fingers still resting on the edge of the study packet. He tilted his head just enough for his glasses to slip down his nose for a moment, then asked softly, “So…Who dragged you out of your studying and brought you here?”

You huffed out a breath, half a laugh. “My friends got personally invited by your frat brother Jake,” you said, tone flat and unamused. “I’m assuming you know him well.”

That pulled a low, genuine laugh from Bob–his shoulders lifted slightly, the sound soft and disbelieving. “Well… I guess he’s trying to expand his roster again.”

You smirked, leaning back just a little on your palms. “Guess one of my friends is getting lucky tonight then, if he’s looking to score.”

Bob let out a hum, lips twitching toward a grin. “As long as they have a pulse, they’re fair game.”

You groaned. “Figured that…”

Another crash exploded beneath your feet–some combination of broken glass and furniture legs giving out–followed by a howling cheer from the crowd downstairs. You both winced slightly, shoulders tensing at the same time.

Bob exhaled a sharp breath, then straightened. He looked at you carefully–not with pity, but consideration–and then asked, quiet and steady:

“You wanna maybe…Get out of here?”

You blinked.

He shrugged one shoulder, casual but sincere. “Denny’s is 24 hours. We could sit there for a bit, get something to eat. And I’m sure if we stay long enough, the party’ll start to die down. Then you can get your friends when they’re all done here…” It was such a simple offer. No pressure. No weird edge. Just a safe, open hand held out toward the exit sign.

And god, it was tempting.

“Yeah…” you said almost immediately, your fingers already moving to unlock your phone. “Yeah, that sounds great, actually. I’ll just text them and let them know I’m going.”

Bob smiled–wide this time, soft and relieved. “Great.”

You glanced back up at him, still a little breathless from the past hour, still not sure if this was all a fever dream or the best part of your spring break. But you smiled back.

And maybe, just maybe, your night was finally starting to turn around.

———————————

The walk to Denny’s wasn’t long, but it was everything you needed.

The fresh air hit your lungs like a blessing–not sharp, not cold, just crisp enough to wash the smoke and sweat from your senses. Each breath cleared your head a little more. The bass from TRASH still thudded faintly in the distance, but the further you got from the house, the more it faded into the background noise of a quiet college town on a restless spring break night.

The streets were mostly empty, save for the occasional burst of laughter echoing down from a distant porch or a cluster of bikes propped against a lamppost. The rain from earlier had left the sidewalks glistening, catching the glow from streetlights and shop signs like scattered glass. Bob walked beside you, not too close, not too far–just an easy, steady presence. Every now and then, his shoulder would sway slightly toward yours, like gravity had its own opinion on the distance.

Denny’s sat at the edge of campus like a low-lit promise. The sign flickered faintly overhead, buzzing with the tired hum of fluorescent tubes, casting a pale glow on the nearly empty parking lot. It was a local staple–open all night, slightly grimy, and universally understood to be the unofficial overflow space for students who couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to go home, or just needed somewhere to exist without judgment. You’d studied here before. So had everyone. It smelled like syrup and fry oil and burnt coffee, and for some reason, it always felt safe.

Inside, the place was quieter than usual. A couple of booths were filled–one with a pair of students whispering over open textbooks, another with two guys splitting a plate of mozzarella sticks and arguing over a March Madness bracket. But the energy was muted. Dimmed. Like the whole place had taken a collective breath and decided to chill.

You and Bob slid into a booth by the window, vinyl seats squeaking under your weight. The table was slightly sticky with syrup residue–standard–but the lighting overhead was warm and soft. You could actually hear yourselves talk. You could actually think.

The waitress–a woman with tired eyes and a pen stuck behind her ear–dropped off two mugs and a full pot of coffee without asking. She must’ve pegged you both as regulars, or at least as students. Bob gave her a soft “thank you,” and you echoed it before she disappeared behind the counter.

Bob poured the coffee first, filling your mug before his. The gesture was small, automatic, but it made you pause for just a second.

“I think breakfast is one of the only meals I actually enjoy at any time of day,” he said as he handed you the sugar packet holder.

You hummed softly, stirring a little cream into your cup. “Pancakes, waffles, French toast–all sweet things,” You replied, voice a little lighter now, “But I do agree…Breakfast foods are definitely better than most.”

Bob nodded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he reached for a menu. “Haven’t eaten much today, so I’m probably going to order a lot,” He said, deadpan but with a flicker of a smile. “Just warning you now.”

You laughed, slouching into your seat as you wrapped your hands around the warmth of the mug. “I won’t judge. As long as you don’t judge me for ordering an extra order of bacon. And possibly ham…And maybe another round of home fries.”

He looked up at that, a glint in his eyes beneath the lens glare. “Definitely won’t.”

Then, leaning forward just a little, voice conspiratorial and soft, he added, “But I will probably steal some of those home fries though, so…By all means, order away.”

You grinned, lifting your coffee to your lips. “Fair trade.”

And just like that, the tension that had wrapped itself around your ribs for hours began to unravel–for real this time.

It took a few minutes for both of you to confirm your orders–too many good, greasy options, too little brainpower left to commit. You squinted at the menu through the soft overhead glow, half your focus still caught in the feeling of warm coffee and the unexpected calm of the moment. Bob, meanwhile, flipped his menu once, then again, lips twitching like every option looked equally dangerous.

The waitress returned, pad in hand, looking only marginally more awake than when you walked in.

“I’ll have the fruit-topped pancakes,” You said, “With a side of bacon, ham…And an extra order of home fries…For the table of course…” You offered a small smile, like you were trying to excuse your own hunger, but she didn’t blink.

Bob, on the other hand, cleared his throat like he was preparing to read an oath. “Ultimate omelette, please. A side of pancakes, just the normal ones…And…A side of French toast, with bacon.”

She paused. Just slightly.

Her gaze slid over him like she was doing mental math on how someone built like a straight-laced study boy could possibly demolish what would equate to three breakfasts at once. Her brow lifted–just for a second–but she didn’t say anything. Just jotted it all down with a faint scribble of pen on paper, nodded, and disappeared with both menus in hand.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Bob let out a short, quiet laugh, leaning back in his seat. “I think I freaked her out a bit with all the food.”

You stifled your own laugh behind the rim of your mug. “Yeah, maybe a little. She’s probably wondering how you’re going to eat all of it.”

He shrugged, lifting his coffee. “We’ve got a bit of time. I think I can manage.”

That earned a proper laugh from you, low and genuine. You settled back against the booth as the hum of Denny’s buzzed softly in the background—silverware clinking, someone flipping a page from the next table over, a soft beep from the kitchen.

Bob took another sip of his coffee and set the mug down, fingers tracing the rim absently. “So…” He began, voice still gentle, “what’re you doing on campus during spring break?”

You exhaled slowly, watching the light catch the small glint of moisture still clinging to the window beside you. “My parents’ house is… A little chaotic,” You admitted. “And I really wouldn’t be able to study if I went back. So I just figured I’d stay in my dorm. Easier to focus. Cheaper, too.”

Bob nodded, listening like he really meant to. “Do you work?”

You reached up to scratch the back of your neck, sheepish. “Yeah. I work at Beans To You. Part-time barista. It gives me some extra spending money–enough to keep me caffeinated through exam season, anyway.”

That pulled another smile from him. “Do you like it?”

You lifted your hand and made a so-so motion in the air. “It’s fine. Tips are decent. My manager’s a nightmare, but I like the regulars.”

He nodded like he got it, then said, “I don’t really work…Not officially, anyway. Sometimes I write essays for a few of the frat guys and they pay me.” He gave a small shrug. “So I don’t know if you’d count that as a job or just…An Academic crime.”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your chest like you’d just been personally betrayed. “You? Violating academic integrity? I’m shocked.”

Bob laughed, tipping his head down in mock shame. “Yeah, well…I can’t really keep a normal job while studying. Too much going on up here.” He tapped the side of his temple with a finger. “But I commend you for being able to juggle it.” You can feel your face heat up slightly.

“Thanks…” The silence between you and Bob stretches for a few seconds–comfortable, not strained. Outside the Denny’s window, a streetlight flickers, casting faint gold shadows across the table. The warmth of your coffee mug seeps into your palms, grounding you even as your thoughts turn over the night like a loose coin.

You glance over at him, chin tilted slightly, voice soft. “So why are you still on campus during spring break? Since you asked me…”

Bob’s hand curls around the coffee pot again. The ceramic glugs quietly as he refills his mug, steam rising faintly into the warm air between you. He doesn’t speak right away–just watches the dark liquid settle.

“Same as you, pretty much,” He replied after a beat, setting the pot back down. “But… I also don’t have a lock on my door, and the guys go into my room pretty often to steal things, so…” He shrugs one shoulder, faintly sheepish. “I figured it was better to be there. Y’know–stand guard.”

You smirk and lean forward slightly, grabbing a little plastic creamer cup from the holder and rolling it between your fingers. It clicks softly as it spins. “Interesting that you have a bunch of thieves in your presence.”

That earns a laugh from him–low and rough with amusement. “Well… they’ll always give the stuff back, of course. But only if I remind them.” He lifts his mug, lips quirking slightly as he takes a sip.

You hum, raising a brow. “Still sounds like thievery to me.”

His cheeks tint pink as he glances down into his cup, swirling it once before replying under his breath, “Touché I guess…” The silence slips in again—brief, like a shared breath—and you let your gaze settle on his hands for a moment. They’re long-fingered, a little ink-stained around the knuckles. Gentle, despite the size. His nails are clean but bitten at the edges. Tired hands. Capable ones.

Your voice cuts through the quiet again, this time softer, almost curious: “Your girlfriend must not like the guys coming in and out of your room, though.”

Bob pauses mid-sip. His lips part like he’s going to reply quickly, then he stops. A flicker of surprise crosses his face. He sets the mug down gently.

“No girlfriend,” He confirmed finally. His voice is steady, but there’s a faint guardedness behind it. “Kinda stopped trying with the whole dating thing. It was a bit… much.”

You blink at that. “Too much of a line-up?”

That draws a real laugh from him–quiet, exasperated, a hand lifting to rub at the back of his neck. His glasses slide slightly down his nose again.

“Oh, please…” He chuckles. “No. No line-up for me. I mean—look at me.”

You do, pointedly. “I am.”

He goes redder. You smirk.

“It’s just…” He exhales, shoulders relaxing as his fingers stir the coffee absentmindedly. “It’s complicated, y’know? I’m not very good at the whole–putting yourself out there thing. And I think people expect something when you show up to a date all prepared and polished. It gets weird. You have this whole pressure to perform. To be ‘on.’”

You tilt your head slightly. “Well, you seem to be outgoing. You’re doing pretty good with this conversation. I don’t know how it could be complicated.”

Bob stirs the sugar in his mug, the spoon clinking gently. He looks down at it, not quite meeting your eyes, but not avoiding them either.

“Maybe it’s because you’re pretty easy to talk to,” He explained. “It’s different when there’s no pressure. No expectations. You didn’t show up tonight wanting something from me. We just…Met. You don’t have a picture in your head of who I’m supposed to be.”

That strikes something in you–a truth you hadn’t quite realized was sitting at the edge of your own thoughts. You nod slowly, leaning a little further into the table.

“That makes sense,” You said softly. Your hand brushes the edge of the sugar packet holder again, fingertips tapping faintly. “I also think you walking in on me having a bit of an anxiety attack probably helped. With you staying calm, I mean.”

Bob’s head lifts slightly. His blue eyes catch yours again–bright, steady, warm. “That too,” he said, with a small smile. “It kind of cut through the usual noise. I knew what it was the second I saw you.”

You raise a brow gently. “Do you have experience with that kind of thing?”

He nods once. “I’ve had my moments. I’m…Pretty familiar with what it looks like. What it feels like.”

You feel your chest loosen–just slightly. There’s something in the quiet way he said it that wraps around you like a thread. Honest. Matter-of-fact. Not dramatic. Just shared.

You sip your coffee again, letting the silence settle in a way that feels companionable now, like you’ve both earned it.

Then Bob lifts his head a little more, his glasses catching the light as he looks at you across the table. His voice is lower now. “You’re okay now though, right?” You could feel your heart catch–not in that suffocating, chaotic way from earlier, but in a softer, almost stunned kind of ache. Because here he was: Bob, a stranger only hours ago, asking with quiet sincerity if you were okay. Not out of obligation. Not to get something from you. Just… because he cared. And somehow, that mattered more than you were prepared to admit.

“Yeah,” You replied, your voice light, but genuine. “I’m definitely feeling much better. I think it was just…How cramped the house was, to be honest.” You gave a soft, sheepish smile, pushing your hair behind your ear. “Wasn’t really a fan, I guess.”

Bob nodded, the corners of his mouth curling faintly. “That makes sense,” He murmured. “I think TRASH is like… the physical embodiment of a migraine.”

You snorted, and it broke the last of the lingering tension between you.

Before either of you could respond, the clatter of ceramic and the faint shuffle of sneakers announced the return of your waitress. She placed your food down with the weary grace of someone who’d balanced plates through hundreds of midnight shifts.

“Alright,” She said, eyeing the table, “Round one.”

She set down your fruit-topped pancakes–stacked high, glistening with syrup and dotted with blueberries and strawberries. The bacon was curled and crispy, the ham thick-cut and slightly charred at the edges. A steaming mountain of home fries followed, golden and peppered with bits of caramelized onion.

Bob’s first plate came next: a monstrous omelette, folded tight and stuffed with peppers, ham, cheese, and something else that looked like it might have once been alive and screaming. French toast followed, dusted with powdered sugar and still steaming, then the final plate of classic pancakes–plain, but perfectly browned and stacked like they belonged in a diner commercial.

“Damn,” You muttered as she walked away to grab another pot of coffee. “You weren’t kidding.”

Bob gave a faux-serious nod. “I take breakfast very seriously.”

Conversation flowed easily now, spilling over between bites and swipes of syrup, the low hum of the diner cocooning you in soft sounds: the hiss of the kitchen, the occasional ding of a timer, and the quiet scrape of forks over ceramic.

You talked about everything and nothing. Favorite professors. Weirdest drink orders you’d ever made at work. Other times, he said things you hadn’t expected: like how he wanted to work in aerospace design someday, or how he didn’t sleep well unless there was white noise playing somewhere nearby.

Somewhere between your second helping of home fries and Bob’s last piece of French toast, your phone buzzed. You picked it up mid-chew and glanced at the screen.

Jess: we’re heading back. dorms are too far but jake’s breath is worse. I’m tapping out.

Monica: don’t wait up <3

Sue: text when you’re home safe pls 🫶

You thumbed a quick reply, a warm smile tugging at your lips.

You: i’ll be good. i’ll text when i get back to the residence so you know i got home safe <3

When you set the phone down again, Bob was watching you–not in a weird way, just casually, curiously, like he could tell something in your expression had shifted.

“Friends bailing on you?” He asked, reaching for the last bite of his pancakes.

You nodded. “Yeah. Party must’ve worn them out.”

“Probably for the best,” He started, “It starts getting rowdy at around this time.” You snorted.

”What’s new? It’s like y’all don’t sleep, I’ve heard enough stories that it literally feels like when I don’t go to one of your parties I still attended.”

Bob laughed so hard he almost choked on his coffee.

By the time your plates were mostly empty and the coffee pot had been drained down to lukewarm remnants, you realized just how late it had gotten. The booths had began to thin out even more–there was just one table of students left, dozing over half-finished pancake stacks. The quiet was deeper now, but not uncomfortable.

The waitress returned to your table just as you were lifting your mug for one final sip, now half-cold and slightly bitter. Her pen was already poised, her notepad loose in one hand, her face unreadable behind the faint sheen of a night shift glaze.

“It’ll be one bill,” Bob said before she could even ask, his voice smooth but casual.

Your head jerked slightly in surprise, a protest already rising in your throat. “Wait, no–Bob, come on, you don’t have to–”

He shook his head gently, cutting you off with nothing more than a glance and a small smile. “It’s all good,” He murmured, already pulling out his wallet. “You got me out of the house for the first time this week. I owe you.” Your cheeks warmed, a slow bloom of heat rising into your ears. You blinked down at your mug, then back at him, and that’s when the sky opened.

A sudden roar of rain crashed against the diner’s roof, pounding like a thousand thrown pebbles. The windows misted almost instantly, a sheet of water streaming down the glass and distorting the world outside into a watercolor blur.

Bob flinched slightly, twisting in his seat to look outside. His shoulders hunched on instinct, and a low, resigned sound escaped from his throat. “Well…” he said, squinting past the droplets, “That doesn’t look good.”

You turned your gaze to the window and let out a dry laugh, exhaling softly as you looked down at the windbreaker you had draped over your lap. The nylon was thin and practically useless, more aesthetic than functional, and the idea of stepping into a monsoon in it was laughable at best.

“Guess I’m gonna be taking a second shower tonight,” you muttered.

Bob laughed—a soft, tired huff that carried the warmth of shared annoyance. He reached for the debit machine the waitress had just placed down, brows furrowing slightly at the glowing screen.

“I mean…” he began, eyes still on the numbers as he typed in a 20% tip with practiced ease, “TRASH is closer than your residence, I’m assuming…”

You stilled, your fingers lightly tapping the rim of your coffee cup. You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head toward him, a smirk flickering at the corner of your mouth. “Are you asking me to stay over at the frat house for the night?”

The question hung in the air, playful but open-ended, wrapped in something more vulnerable beneath the teasing. Bob’s fingers hesitated only a second on the keypad. Then he cleared his throat, his jaw flexing faintly as he focused a little too intently on the screen.

A tinge of pink crept into his cheeks, barely visible in the soft overhead glow, “Well,” He started, still looking at the machine, ““I don’t think it’ll be as chaotic as it was when we first left. It’s…”

He pulled his phone out of his hoodie pocket, thumb swiping the screen quickly before glancing at the time. His voice was slightly rough when he spoke again. “1:58…So most of the party crowd’s probably passed out or Ubered home.” You let the moment linger, your gaze resting on him as you traced the edge of your mug with your fingertip. The rain was still coming down hard, a near-constant shushing against the glass. You could feel the chill creeping in from the windowpane behind you, but your fingers were warm.

Your tongue flicked out to dampen your upper lip–an unconscious movement. “Okay,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes as he finally looked up. “You’re right.”

Something flickered behind his glasses–relief, maybe. Or hope.

“So…” He asked, voice gentler now, “Is that a yes?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it for dramatic effect. Then you nodded, slow and sure, your smile small but certain. “Definitely.”

———————————

By the time you reached the frat house again, your windbreaker had clung to your frame like a second skin–useless, soaked through, plastered to your arms and back. Bob hadn’t fared much better; his sweatshirt was darkened with rain, sweatpants sticking to his legs, curls dripping water down the sides of his face. You both half-jogged the final stretch of the walk, laughing breathlessly as puddles splashed beneath your sneakers, your jeans growing heavier with every step.

The porch light still flickered above the sagging steps of TRASH, casting its usual jaundiced glow across the warped wood and the crowd that lingered despite the downpour. The music inside had dulled to a murmur now–more background hum than bassline. A few people still lounged on the porch and by the windows, some wrapped in borrowed blankets or wearing half-soaked hoodies, clearly unwilling to brave the rain to get home.

You and Bob didn’t say anything as you stepped back inside. You didn’t need to.

The shift in temperature was immediate. Warmth hit you like a wall–sticky and musty from the remains of the party, but comforting after the rain. Your wet clothes clung to your skin, and you blinked against the fog that immediately fogged up Bob’s glasses.

He muttered something under his breath and took them off, reaching blindly for the nearest surface. A tissue box sat crookedly on the edge of a table cluttered with empty bottles and a half-eaten slice of pizza. He snagged one with a quiet “thanks,” as if the house had done him a favor, and carefully wiped the raindrops from the lenses.

You stood beside him, dripping gently onto the floorboards, ignoring the damp squish of your socks in your shoes.

“This is your fault,” You murmured dryly, nudging him with your elbow, pointing down at your shoes.

Bob smiled behind the tissue, his glasses still in hand. “Can’t control the way I splashed the puddles, it’s not my fault.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth of the exchange settled between you like steam, softening the cold still clinging to your back.

The climb to the second floor was quieter than before–no bodies spilling down the stairs, no screams from behind doors. The hallway was dim, lit only by the faint blue glow of a nightlight near the bathroom and the soft hum of a TV still playing somewhere behind a closed door. You padded side by side, shoes squelching softly, until you reached the door at the very end.

Bob stopped and looked down at the wet prints you’d both left on the wood floor. “Wait,” He said, hooking a finger into the heel of his sneaker. “Let’s not trash the room on the way in.”

You mimicked him without question, tugging your own shoes off and stepping gingerly onto the dry patch of carpet just outside his door. Your barefeet were cold against the wood, but you followed his lead as he opened the door and ushered you inside.

The warmth of the room embraced you immediately–soft light still glowing from the desk lamp, books undisturbed, bed still neatly made. It looked exactly as you’d left it, like the universe had paused while you were gone. A pocket of calm in the storm.

Bob shut the door behind you with a quiet click, and you both stood there for a second, wet and shivering, taking in the familiar scent of detergent and paper and pine.

You turned to him, wringing out the bottom hem of your shirt slightly. “So…What’s the protocol here?” You asked, gesturing vaguely to your soaked clothes. Bob cleared his throat, the sound soft but a little strained as he shifted in place. His hair was damp and sticking to his forehead from the humidity of the rain and the faint warmth of the room.

“Um… I have some spare clothes you can wear,” He said, gesturing vaguely toward the small closet on the far side of the room. “They might be a little big, but…”

You shook your head immediately, brushing a few wet strands of hair back from your face as water dripped quietly from your sleeves. “I don’t mind,” You murmured. “Not really trying to impress anyone.”

That earned the faintest smirk from him, quick and crooked–just a twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. He turned away and opened his closet, the wooden door creaking faintly on old hinges. Inside, everything was neatly stacked or hung: flannel shirts, hoodies, folded sweats, a few plastic hangers twisting slightly from where they’d been jostled. It wasn’t much, but it was organized–just like the rest of him.

After a second of deliberation, Bob pulled out a pair of flannel pajama bottoms–soft-looking, forest green and navy plaid–and a white t-shirt with faded navy lettering stretched across the front.

You tilted your head, brows lifting slightly. “‘The All-State Mathletes’?”

He sighed. “Yeah…It was a math team I was on in my first year. Don’t ask.”

You grinned and took the bundle from his hands, brushing your thumb across the worn fabric of the shirt. “I’ll take anything at this point.”

“I figured,” He muttered with a low huff of a laugh. Then, with a tilt of his head, “Bathroom’s two doors down. Towels are in the top drawer if you need one.”

“Got it.” You nodded, stepping back into the hallway barefoot, flannel bundle tucked under your arm and your wet clothes slapping faintly against your side with every step.

The bathroom was empty–thank god–and you wasted no time peeling off your drenched clothes. The fabric clung stubbornly, cold and limp against your skin, your jeans making that awful suction sound as you dragged them down your legs. The windbreaker hit the floor with a wet slap, your socks not far behind.

The dry fabric of the borrowed clothes was a godsend.

The pajama pants were big, predictably, and you had to roll the waistband twice just to get them to sit above your hips. The t-shirt hung past your thighs, thin and worn soft with age, the letters cracked and faded from a thousand washes. You caught your reflection in the mirror briefly as you towel-dried your hair–still damp–but a little steadier now.

You bundled your soaked clothes into a loose pile in your arms and padded back down the hall, feet cool against the hardwood. The party had dulled into something sleepy and distant. A door creaked open somewhere behind you, but you ignored it, your focus set entirely on the quiet golden glow spilling from the crack beneath Bob’s door.

When you opened it, your hand halfway full of damp denim, you froze in the doorway.

Bob was halfway through pulling on a clean shirt, the fabric bunched in his hands as it hovered just below his collarbone. His back was to you, bare and still slightly damp, pale under the soft overhead light. And god–he was lean, sure, but he was defined. His shoulders tapered into the strong slope of his spine, the muscles along his back pulling tight with every breath as he raised his arms. His skin was smooth, but the planes of him were lined with quiet strength–faint dips and ridges casting gentle shadows across his shoulder blades and the curve of his waist. You hadn’t expected him to be built like that.

Your throat went dry.

You coughed–a soft, involuntary sound that slipped from your chest before you could stop it.

Bob startled slightly and turned, shirt still bunched in his hands. His glasses were back on, fogged faintly from the warmth of the room. His cheeks went pink almost instantly, like the realization had only just hit him. “Oh Jesus,” he muttered, yanking the shirt over his head in a single, awkward movement. “I didn’t know you’d be back already.”

You took a cautious step in, one hand tightening around the bundle of wet clothes clutched to your chest. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to just walk in–didn’t really expect you to be…Changing.”

Bob shook his head as he adjusted the hem of the shirt, tugging it into place at his hips, smoothing it over the faint damp patches on his new pair of navy sweatpants. “No–it’s fine. Really. Uh…Let me get you a towel for your pillow…And I can throw your clothes in the dryer so they’ll be good by morning.” He moved quickly, brushing past you with careful steps, warm air trailing in his wake. You caught the scent of him as he passed–faint detergent, piney body wash, something subtle and clean that clung to the soft cotton of his shirt.

He opened a small drawer near the dresser, pulling out a thick grey towel and handing it to you without making eye contact. Then he glanced down at the soaked bundle in your arms and gently reached for it.

“I’ll toss these downstairs now,” He offered. “Give me five minutes and they’ll be spinning.”

You nodded, lips parting slightly. “Thanks. Really.”

Bob’s expression softened as he looked up at you–his blue eyes still wide behind the lenses, but a little calmer now. “Do you want a drink or anything?” He asked as he backed toward the door. “I’m probably gonna grab some water before…Sleep.”

You hesitated, then gave a small, grateful smile. “Yeah. Water is fine…Thank you.”

He nodded once and slipped out the door, leaving you alone again in the soft glow of his bedroom. The sound of his footsteps faded down the stairs, and you sat slowly at the edge of the bed again, towel draped across your shoulders, the smell of his room slowly working its way deeper into your skin.

You thumbed open your group chat as you sat at the edge of Bob’s bed, the thick towel still draped over your shoulders like a shield. Your wet clothes were gone–already clunking softly in the dryer downstairs–and the cold had mostly left your skin, replaced by the slow radiating warmth of his room.

The group chat lit up under your fingers:

You: made it back to the frat house safe. staying here tonight—will explain tmrw. love you guys. <3

A second later, Sue reacted with a heart. Jess sent a gif of someone raising an eyebrow dramatically, and Monica just wrote: “knew it 😉”

You rolled your eyes and let out a soft breath of amusement, then set the phone down on Bob’s desk, the screen glowing faintly for another second before fading to black. You turned back toward the bed and let yourself sink into the mattress, exhaling slowly as your shoulders dropped. The towel slipped from your frame, and you folded it carefully, placing it over the pillow before lying back, arms stretched loosely at your sides.

The room hummed around you. Softly. Comfortably. A distant thump of music still pulsed from the floors below–muted now, a sleepy echo of chaos already starting to dissolve into morning fog. Somewhere, a door clicked shut. Pipes murmured in the walls. And the desk lamp bathed the room in a low, golden glow, casting soft shadows against the bookshelves and the edge of the closet.

Then, the door opened again.

Bob entered quietly, closing it behind him with the same practiced care he’d used all night. His hair was slightly less damp, the ends curling gently around his ears. A bottle of water was tucked in each hand, condensation trailing slow rivulets down his fingers.

“Here,” He said, holding one out to you.

You sat up slightly, taking the bottle with a soft “Thanks,” and cracking it open. The cap clicked beneath your fingers, the cool water a sharp contrast against your warm skin. Bob twisted the top off his own and took a quick sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. Then he lowered it and glanced toward the bookshelf with an unreadable expression.

“I’m just going to grab a blanket,” he said casually, “and take the spare room.”

You paused mid-sip, brows lifting. “What?” you said, letting the cap snap gently back in place. “You don’t want to share a bed?”

Bob’s eyes darted to yours, surprised. His lips parted faintly. “You…want to share a bed?”

You shrugged, voice light but steady. “Well…yeah. I don’t really mind. There’s enough room, isn’t there?”

His gaze flicked to the mattress like it needed to be double-checked. “Yeah, there is,” He admitted, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Just thought you wouldn’t want to be sleeping in a bed with a stranger.”

You tilted your head, the edge of a smirk tugging at your lips. “Hey now,” You teased softly, “Come on. We aren’t strangers.”

Bob huffed out a breath–a laugh, almost. “We met less than twelve hours ago and we’re already sleeping in the same bed. Seems fast.”

You stood slowly, the blanket falling back in soft folds behind your legs. “I’m fine with fast if you are,” you said, tone flirtier than before, the words curling at the edge like steam rising from pavement.

Bob looked at you for a long moment. His eyes flicked down your frame briefly–respectfully–but you caught it. Just the faintest breath of a glance at the oversized shirt, the rolled waistband of his pajama pants on your hips. Then he swallowed, the movement subtle but visible.

You climbed under the covers, placing your towel-topped pillow against the headboard and leaning back into it. The sheets were soft–cotton, a little warm from the dryer, carrying the faint scent of his detergent. Your body sank into the mattress like it remembered the panic you’d felt hours ago and wanted to nestle into something still, something safe.

You patted the empty space beside you, eyebrows raised in invitation. “Well?”

Bob didn’t answer right away. He just smiled–shy and a little stunned–and shuffled toward the bed like he didn’t quite believe this was real. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight as he climbed in beside you, his long legs folding under the blanket, which he pulled up to his shoulders like muscle memory.

His shoulder brushed yours–barely–but the heat of it lingered.

You reached across your chest and handed him your water bottle without a word. He blinked once, took it with a murmur of thanks, and leaned over to place it gently on the nightstand beside his own. The lamp clicked off a second later, plunging the room into darkness, save for the faint sliver of moonlight that slipped through the small window of his room. A silver-blue sheen spread softly across the edge of the comforter.

The quiet pressed in, not heavy or stifling, but thick with awareness.

Your bodies didn’t touch, but the heat between them curled like smoke.

You could hear the shift of the covers when Bob adjusted his legs, the soft whisper of fabric against skin as he rolled slightly toward you on instinct–then seemed to catch himself and settle again on his back. The bed creaked faintly beneath the motion, and then stillness returned.

The air smelled like clean cotton, pine body wash, the faintest trace of rainwater clinging to the ends of your hair. You turned your head on the pillow slightly, voice just above a whisper.

“Still awake?”

“…Yeah,” He said quietly. “You?”

You nodded in the dark. “Mm-hm.”

The quiet stillness wrapped around you like a weighted blanket, warm but buzzing with something new. It had shifted—gently, imperceptibly—but it was there now. Not the panic. Not the awkwardness. Something softer. Something waiting.

You turned over slowly, your arm sliding across the blanket as you rolled onto your side, the mattress giving slightly under your weight. The movement made a faint rustle, just enough for him to hear.

Bob shifted too.

His silhouette turned toward you, quiet and careful, until you could make out the soft rise of his chest beneath the covers, the faint slope of his shoulder, and the curve of his jaw in the pale wash of moonlight. His glasses were gone, probably folded on the nightstand with your water bottles, but even in the dim light you could see the glassy reflection of his eyes.

Blue. Gentle. Wide. Fixed on yours.

“Do you maybe want to maybe…Do something?” You asked, voice soft, watching as he swallowed hard.

”…What…What do you have in mind?” You didn’t answer right away. Just let the silence stretch between you like silk. Then your gaze dipped, slow and deliberate, to the shape of his mouth.

Soft, parted slightly. Waiting.

His breath caught–just the faintest hitch–and you saw his eyes flick down to your lips, mirroring you. Like instinct. Like gravity.

You leaned in.

It was tentative at first–your chest barely grazing his, your hand resting lightly on the edge of the pillow as you crossed the final few inches. Bob didn’t move, but his breath deepened, a quiet exhale drifting over your cheek as your nose brushed his. Then you closed the distance.

Your lips met his, soft and feather-light.

He froze for half a second, as if stunned–but then he kissed you back. His lips were warm, slightly chapped, but so gentle it almost made your ribs ache. He moved like he was afraid to shatter you, like this moment was too fragile to claim outright.

His hand came up slowly–hesitant at first, then steady. His palm cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing the curve of your cheekbone. The contact lit a slow-burning warmth across your skin. He let out a breath–long and unsteady against your lips, like the kind you exhale when you’ve been holding it too long.

He pulled back just a little, the tip of his nose brushing yours as he hovered, eyes open now, close enough that you could feel the faint tremble of his breath. You opened your eyes too.

And then you leaned forward again.

This time it wasn’t tentative. Still soft, still slow–but heavier now. More certain. You kissed him with your full mouth, with the weight of everything the night had built. Your lips parted slightly and so did his. The kiss deepened, quiet but lingering, the kind of kiss that said I see you. I feel this too.

Bob responded with a quiet sound in the back of his throat, like the breath had been pulled from him again. His hand shifted from your cheek to the base of your skull, fingers slipping into your damp hair, holding you with a gentleness that made your stomach flutter.

Your other hand found his forearm beneath the blanket, the heat of his skin a slow thrum against your fingertips. He tilted his head slightly to meet your mouth more fully, deepening the kiss just enough that you felt your body lean in instinctively. His lips moved against yours with the kind of reverence that made your breath catch–slow, aching, as if he didn’t want to stop.

When he finally pulled back, it was only by an inch. Just enough for air. Just enough to look at you.

The moonlight caught in his lashes, his irises shining like sea glass. His lips were redder now, parted slightly, the corner of his mouth trembling faintly from restraint or disbelief. His thumb brushed along your jaw as he studied you, breath still coming a little faster than before.

“Is this okay?” He whispered.

Your heart twisted at the softness in his voice. You nodded–barely a motion–but it was enough.

“Yeah,” You whispered back. “It’s perfect.” Bob stared at you for a breath longer, like he couldn’t believe you were real. Like this whole thing might vanish if he blinked too fast.

Then he leaned in again.

The kiss that followed was deeper–hungrier. Less tentative. His hand was still cradling the side of your face, thumb brushing under your eye, but there was a new weight behind the way he kissed you now. A heat that curled up from the pit of your stomach, spreading like honey beneath your skin. His lips parted a little faster, like he was giving in to something he’d been holding back.

You pressed in with him, lips slotting together again and again, and then you moved–your body shifting under the blanket as you brought one leg over his hip, slowly, testing.

Bob froze for half a second–just long enough for you to hesitate–but then his hand moved. The one on your cheek slid down, dragging lightly along your jaw, your neck, the curve of your shoulder, until it found your thigh. His fingers curled around the back of it, firm and warm, and pulled you gently closer.

You moved instinctively, hips settling into the cradle of his body, your leg draped loosely over his, pressing in. The blanket bunched around your waists, forgotten. The worn cotton of his borrowed flannel pants brushed against your skin as you rocked forward, just enough to feel the heat between your bodies catch.

His breath hitched.

The kiss deepened again, your lips parting just slightly, just enough to taste his breath. And then you felt it–his tongue, tentative but sure, slipping past your lips to meet yours. It wasn’t sloppy or rushed. It was slow and searching, like he wanted to memorize the shape of your mouth from the inside out. You responded in kind, your fingers curling lightly into his shirt, gripping the soft cotton as you rolled your hips again–just once.

Bob gasped against your lips.

It wasn’t loud, but it was raw–half breath, half sound, the air from his lungs catching in his throat. You felt the heat of him through the fabric, the slow, aching tension building there. His fingers dug into your thigh just slightly, not enough to hurt–just enough to pull.

You did it again. Slower this time. Your hips moved in a slow, steady circle, the friction sweet and hot even through the layers of borrowed clothes. Bob broke the kiss suddenly, his lips parting with a soft huff of air as his head tilted back against the pillow.

“Fuck–” He breathed, almost inaudible, as though it had been dragged from him by accident.

You pulled back slightly, brushing your nose along his cheek before pressing a slow kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Get on top?” he asked, voice rough, uncertain but yearning.

You nodded, lips still brushing his.

He shifted beneath you, back arching slightly as he rolled onto his back, adjusting the blanket so it slipped lower across his hips. You followed the motion, moving carefully, straddling him with slow, deliberate movements. The oversized shirt you wore fell forward slightly, hanging off your shoulders as you adjusted your weight over him.

His hands settled instinctively on your thighs, fingertips flexing gently as you leaned down to kiss him again–this time firmer, more desperate. It was less polished now, more honest. You kissed like people who hadn’t had something like this in a long time. Like this was a secret you weren’t supposed to be sharing but needed anyway.

You began to move again, hips rocking gently against him in a slow rhythm that made his jaw slacken beneath your mouth.

Bob groaned–quiet, tight–and his hands moved to your waist, holding you just a little more firmly now. His breath was hot against your mouth as he kissed you harder, sloppier now, letting go of some invisible restraint. Your thighs squeezed around his hips, the pressure sending heat curling down your spine. You could feel how hard he was through his sweatpants now, the heat of him pressed up between your legs with every slow drag of your hips.

His moan broke the rhythm.

Soft and helpless. It slipped into your mouth like a secret.

You pulled back, barely, kissing the line of his jaw and the soft, exposed skin of his neck. He tilted his head just enough to give you more space. His throat flexed when you kissed him there–gently, again and again–before murmuring softly:

“Are you okay?”

His fingers tightened just slightly where they rested on your hips. His breath came a little faster now, chest rising against yours in shallow waves. And then, softly, almost embarrassed:

“I…I’m a bit sensitive…”

You paused, still straddling him, your hand smoothing lightly over his chest. The thump of his heart was rapid beneath your palm.

You looked down at him, eyes searching in the dark. “Are you…A virgin?”

He shook his head quickly, cheeks flushed red even in the faint light.

“No��No, not a virgin. But it’s…It’s kind of been a while. And I haven’t… I haven’t had sex with many people.”

Your heart softened at the honesty. The way he said it, not ashamed–just cautious. Like he wanted you to know what you were working with. What you were holding in your hands.

You leaned down, brushing your lips gently against his jaw.

“We can stop if you want,” You murmured. “I don’t mind just doing this. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Bob shook his head immediately, voice quiet but steady. “No…No, we can keep going. I want to. I really want to.”

You smiled, slow and reassuring. A gentle hand slid down to his chest again, your thumb brushing the fabric of his shirt as you spoke.

“If you want to stop, just tell me, okay?”

He nodded, eyes wide and warm. “Okay.” You leaned down again, your lips brushing the corner of his jaw, then trailing lower, slow and coaxing. Bob tilted his head back, just enough to expose his throat to you, and you took the invitation without hesitation–pressing soft, lingering kisses to the curve of his neck, the warm hollow beneath his jaw. You let your tongue flick out lightly, tasting the salt of his skin, the faint tang of piney body wash and rainwater still clinging to him.

His breath hitched again when your lips ghosted over the edge of his collarbone.

You kept moving downward, slow and deliberate, your hips still rocking gently against his as your kisses followed the slope of his body. The heat between your legs pulsed against the firmness beneath his sweatpants with each subtle shift, each teasing grind of pressure. You could feel him trembling slightly under you–barely noticeable, but there.

Then, without a word, he shifted.

He leaned up just enough to grab the hem of his shirt and peel it over his head in one fluid, unhurried motion. His hair stuck up in damp little curls as he tossed the shirt aside, chest rising and falling more quickly now, bare and flushed under the faint light.

You paused.

Your gaze swept over him–up close now. Every inch of him laid out before you. His chest was broad, lined with soft muscle, not overworked but strong. The subtle lines of his ribs shifted with each breath. A faint trail of hair disappeared beneath the waistband of his sweats, and your mouth went dry again.

“Jesus,” You murmured, almost to yourself, your fingers ghosting over his sternum. He shivered under your touch. Your hands traced down slowly–past his chest, over his stomach, feeling the flutter of his abs tensing beneath your palm. You kissed each inch as you moved, warm and open-mouthed, pushing the comforter lower as you went.

He was breathing harder now, lips parted, one hand fisting the sheets beside him as he fought to stay still.

When you reached the waistband of his sweatpants, you looked up.

“Can I take these off?” You asked softly, fingers already hooked into the fabric.

Bob looked down at you, eyes glassy with heat, and nodded. “Yes… Please.”

You pulled them down slowly, dragging them past his hips, down his thighs, then off entirely. Your breath caught as he was finally exposed to you–fully, completely. He was big. Thick and flushed and already twitching under your stare, the head glossy with arousal, a vein pulsing visibly along the underside.

Your eyes widened just a little.

He saw it.

His face went red immediately, arms twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to cover himself or not. “Is…Everything okay?”

You nodded quickly–so quickly it made your hair shift. “Yes. Oh my god…Yes.” You reached up, wrapping your hand around him carefully. His whole body reacted–his hips stuttered and his eyes fluttered shut, a choked gasp leaving his lips. His thighs tensed beneath your knees.

“Still okay?” You asked gently, your hand already stroking him in slow, reverent pulls.

He opened his eyes, dazed and breathless, and nodded. “Yeah. Fuck–yeah.”

You leaned forward then, dragging your mouth along the sensitive skin of his lower abdomen, kissing just above the base of him. His hips jerked slightly under you. And then you took him into your mouth.

The reaction was immediate.

Bob let out a sound–high and broken, something between a moan and a whimper–and his hand flew up, grabbing at the pillow behind his head like he needed something to hold on to. You started slow, letting your lips stretch around him, your tongue tracing every inch you could reach, eyes flicking up to watch the way he unraveled.

It was messy. Your lips were already slick, your breath hot against him as you took him in deeper, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t manage. You let spit slide down your chin, let your tongue swirl at the sensitive underside of the head, and when you pulled back just enough to suck softly–he whimpered again.

“Fuck–Fuck, you’re–” He didn’t finish.

His chest was heaving now, one hand clenching the sheets, the other twitching at his side like he wanted to touch you but didn’t dare. You glanced up again, your eyes meeting his as you took him back into your mouth, deeper this time. His head fell back.

He tried to warn you. “I–I’m gonna–shit–”

You didn’t stop.

You kept going, messy and steady, humming softly around him. That was what pushed him over.

He came hard.

It hit like a jolt–his thighs tensed, a full-body tremble ran through him, and his hips jerked once, deep and involuntary. You swallowed everything, kept your mouth on him, letting him ride everything out with soft, wet pulls until he was gasping, his voice broken and breathless.

“Holy shit…” He whispered, “Holy shit.” You pulled off slowly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, then kissed the inside of his thigh gently. He twitched under the touch, already so sensitive.

You looked up at him.

His hair was wild against the pillow. His chest was still rising and falling fast. He looked wrecked–in the best way. Flushed and dazed and entirely undone.

“…You okay?” You asked softly, your voice a little hoarse. He nods. His chest rose and fell in shallow waves, a light sheen of sweat just beginning to bead at his collarbones. His voice was rough when he finally spoke.

“You’re…” He swallowed, almost like he didn’t believe it himself. “You’re so good at that.”

You smiled–lazy, warm, lips still glistening from where you’d had him in your mouth. “Glad I didn’t disappoint.”

Then you began kissing your way back up, slow and teasing, your mouth trailing over his thigh, the curve of his hip, the faint dip of his navel. His body tensed in small waves under you, his hands twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to grab you or ground himself.

By the time you reached his chest again, your lips hovered above his, your palms pressed flat against his ribcage as you straddled him once more. The moment your mouths met again–softer now, slower–he kissed you like he could still taste himself on your tongue. Like he didn’t care. Like it made him hungrier.

Then, without a word, he shifted beneath you.

His core tightened–subtle but strong–and his hands slid firmly up your sides. And in one smooth, steady motion, he turned you both. Rolled you right onto your back, his body pressing down over yours, careful but deliberate. The mattress dipped beneath the change in weight, the blanket twisting around your waists as he settled on top of you.

You gasped, then laughed, the sound half-breathless. “Oh, okay,” You whispered, grinning up at him in the moonlight. “You’ve got muscles after all.”

Bob smirked–still shy, still pink in the cheeks, but he liked that reaction. You could tell.

His hands skimmed up beneath the oversized shirt, fingers warm and reverent as they rested just below your ribs. His thumbs rubbed slow, uncertain circles into your skin.

“Is this okay?” He murmured, already breathless again, eyes locked on yours like he’d stop the world if you flinched.

You nodded slowly, voice quiet but steady. “Yeah. Let me take it off for you.”

Bob leaned back just enough to let you sit up, his hands sliding down to brace your waist. You grabbed the hem of the shirt and peeled it up and over your head in one swift motion, the cotton catching briefly at your wrists before falling in a heap beside the bed.

The second you were bare to him, Bob’s eyes darkened. Not with anything aggressive–just wonder. Awe.

Then his mouth was on you immediately.

He leaned down, lips brushing the curve of your breast, then the center of it, then closing over your nipple with a gentleness that made your breath stutter. His mouth was hot–wet and reverent–and when he sucked, slow and careful, your back arched instinctively off the bed.

You heard him moan against you.

It was low and quiet, but you felt the vibration hum through your skin, straight down your spine. One of his hands came up to cup the other breast, thumb flicking across the nipple, just barely grazing it–testing your reaction. You gasped, thighs shifting beneath him, and his fingers twitched in response.

He liked that. He really liked that.

Bob switched sides without warning–his lips moving from one breast to the other, leaving a trail of kisses behind. He sucked more firmly this time, tongue circling your nipple before pulling it into the warmth of his mouth. You couldn’t help it–you let out a soft, broken moan, your fingers threading into his hair.

You tugged. Not hard, but enough.

His breath hitched again, and he groaned into your skin.

The sounds he was making were softer than you’d expected–gentle and desperate all at once. As if pleasuring you was more overwhelming than being pleasured himself. He took his time with your chest, letting each kiss linger, letting each flick of his tongue draw another gasp from you. He alternated pressure, learning what made your back arch, what made you squirm, what made your thighs tremble against his hips.

You tightened your fingers in his curls and whispered, “Bob…Fuck.”

He pulled back, lips red and wet, his breath warm against your breast. His eyes flicked up to yours.

“Can I go down on you?”

The question hit low in your stomach–immediate, electric.

Your lips parted before you even thought. “Yes…” A breath. “Yes, please.”

His smile broke through slow and stunned, like it had just dawned on him that he’d get to do this–that this was real. He kissed your sternum once, then lower, reverent as he worked his way down your body. His hands slid beneath the waistband of your pajama pants, fingers brushing your hips gently.

You lifted your hips in silent offering.

The flannel was untied with fumbling fingers–more eager than graceful–and he tugged it down with care, eyes glued to your body like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. You helped him, pushing the fabric past your thighs, letting it fall in a heap somewhere at the end of the bed.

Bob shifted between your legs, hands bracing your thighs as he kissed the inside of one, then the other. His short strands of hair brushed your skin, his breath hot and unsteady against the most sensitive part of you, and when he glanced up–eyes wide, lips parted–you thought you might actually combust.

He settled lower. Breathed deep. And then tasted you.

The sound he made was immediate—a choked, guttural moan that vibrated through your entire pelvis.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, voice wrecked already. “You taste so good…”

Then his mouth was back on you.

Hot, open, eager.

He didn’t know what he was doing at first—at least not perfectly—but he learned fast. Every whimper, every shift of your hips, every breathless moan was something he studied. His tongue flicked, then flattened. Lapped broad and slow, then circled tight and precise, adjusting to your reactions like he was memorizing you.

The warmth of his mouth was overwhelming. It was everywhere. Wet and insistent and so good.

Your back arched and your hips rolled forward on instinct, chasing the pressure, and he groaned into you again—into you—like the weight of your pleasure was his. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, spreading you open for him, holding you steady like he needed to stay here, buried here, like he couldn’t risk missing anything.

“Bob–oh my god–”

You felt him moan at the sound of his name, his tongue dragging slow and deep, lips sucking just enough to make your breath catch and stutter. It was dirty and worshipful all at once. Sloppy and reverent. It had you squirming against his mouth, your legs trembling on either side of his shoulders.

Then he paused.

Pulled back just barely–just enough to catch his breath and speak. His voice was thick and panting, his lips shiny, chin wet.

“I’m gonna…” He swallowed. “Add fingers.”

You let out a breathy, desperate moan, hips twitching up toward him involuntarily.

“Fuck, Bob…Please.”

He dipped his head again, kissing your clit once–soft and wet–before trailing lower with his tongue as his hand slid between your thighs. You felt the first press of his fingertips at your entrance–tentative, reverent–and then one slipped inside, slow and gentle, curling just enough to make you cry out.

“God,” He breathed, kissing your thigh as he moved. “You’re so wet…”

He added the second without warning–easing it in slowly, stretching you around his knuckles, and you swore the breath left your body in a rush. His fingers filled you, thick and warm and so good, and he started moving them–slow and firm, curling upward just right, just right–and then his mouth was back.

This time, he devoured you.

Messy, hungry, moaning against your clit as his fingers worked inside you, finding a rhythm that had your entire body going taut. You were writhing now–hips lifting, thighs clenching, voice catching in your throat as you tried to stay grounded, stay still, but he was relentless. Determined.

Like he’d waited years to do this and he was making up for lost time.

You felt it building–hot and sharp and inevitable–and your hands found his hair, pulling tight, holding on for dear life as your body surged forward.

“I–I’m gonna–fuck, Bob, don’t stop–”

And he didn’t. He just moaned into you, tongue flicking faster, fingers pumping deeper, curling as he groaned in response to your tightening around him.

You shattered.

Your thighs clamped around his head, heels digging into the mattress, your hips twitching against his face as you came with a full-body spasm, mouth open in a silent cry. You heard yourself babble his name, hips bucking helplessly as the orgasm tore through you, hard and fast and blinding.

Bob kept going. Gentle but steady. Lapping you through it, moaning into you like your pleasure was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

You finally collapsed back into the sheets, breathing ragged, hair clinging to your forehead. You laughed–soft and winded–still twitching every time he brushed too close.

He lifted his head slowly, face flushed, lips slick, chin glistening in the low light. His pupils were blown, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon.

“You okay?” He asked, voice hoarse.

You blinked up at him, dazed and completely blissed out.

“You’ve been blessed…” You dragged in a breath. “With such raw talent.”

Bob blinked–then laughed. Hard. Giddy. His smile broke wide across his face, messy and flushed and so proud. “Yeah?”

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Definitely. You were so good… So, so good.”

His cheeks turned red. “Like, uh… Good enough for a second round?” He teased, voice low. Your smile widened, slow and a little wicked, still flushed and catching your breath. “I think…” You murmured, voice soft but laced with heat, “I want to feel you. Actually.”

Bob’s breath caught. His eyebrows rose just slightly, like the words had short-circuited his brain. “Yeah?” he asked, half-disbelieving.

You nodded, lifting your hand to trace a lazy finger along the line of his jaw. “If you want to, of course.”

His eyes softened instantly. “I want to.” His voice was rough again, thick with desire, but gentled by the way he looked at you. With care. With hunger. With awe.

He crawled slowly up your body, his hands braced beside your ribs, his chest brushing softly against yours. His lips found your collarbone first–featherlight and reverent. Then your neck, where he pressed an open-mouthed kiss just below your ear, tongue flicking briefly against your skin.

You could feel him, hard and hot, dragging against your inner thigh as he moved. It made your hips roll on instinct.

“Going down on you really got me going…” He breathed into your skin, voice low and desperate, hips twitching slightly. His body was shaking with restraint.

You giggled–a breathy, warm sound that made him smile as you turned your face toward him. Your mouths met again, lips pressing together, and you tasted yourself on him–your own slickness still clinging faintly to his lips, his tongue. You kissed him deeper, your hand sliding along his spine.

He pulled back just enough to look at you. “You really want to?”

You nodded, brushing your nose against his. “Do I need a condom?”

You watched his pupils dilate at the question, a harsh breath catching in his throat. “I’m on the pill, and I haven’t had sex in a bit but my recent STD test was clean.” You added, voice even softer now.

“Fuck…” He breathed, voice cracking a little. “Okay.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time–urgent but not rushed. Like he needed to feel you everywhere before he could push in. One of his hands slid down between your bodies, finding the heat between your thighs with instinctive precision. He nudged the tip of himself against your folds, dragging it up and down–slick and hot–through your wetness.

You both groaned.

Your hands gripped his arms, fingers curling into his skin as he slowly began to push in. His body trembled above you, the pace careful but steady, like he wanted to feel every second of it. The stretch burned in the best way–deep, hot, slow.

“Jesus Christ,” Bob whispered, his voice completely wrecked. “You feel so good… You’re so fucking warm…”

You gasped when he bottomed out, hips flush against yours, every inch of him buried deep inside. The fullness made your toes curl, your whole body responding with an involuntary tremble.

He didn’t move right away. Just hovered above you, his breath ragged, his eyes searching your face. He kissed you–softly–his mouth trembling slightly as he whispered:

“You’re perfect. You’re so fucking perfect.”

You moaned at that, your thighs tightening around his waist, your hands sliding up his back and digging in just enough to make him gasp. His hips drew back and rolled forward again–deep, grinding, slow. Each thrust pressed his pubic bone against your clit, and the sensation made your breath stutter.

“Oh–fuck–“ You gasped, your voice catching.

Bob stilled immediately, looking down at you through glassy, blown eyes. “You okay?”

You nodded frantically, hand gripping his bicep. “Yeah. Do it again.”

He did.

Again. And again. A slow, sensual grind that hit exactly right every time. Your hips began to twitch under him, your breath breaking in little gasps as you chased the rhythm with your body.

He moaned into your mouth as he kissed you–lips sloppy now, too lost in the moment to care. Every sound he made was raw: gasps, whimpers, soft broken curses whispered against your lips and skin.

“Fuck… You feel so good, so good around me, sweetheart,” He rasped. “You’re squeezing me—God, you’re… You’re perfect…”

The praise was relentless. You could barely breathe from how hot it made you.

You tightened around him, fluttering involuntarily with every thrust. You were close again–dangerously close–and the next roll of his hips sent a bolt of heat straight through you.

Your orgasm hit with a choked moan, your nails digging into his back, your body clenching tight around him as your hips bucked helplessly. Bob groaned as your walls squeezed him, loud and unfiltered.

“Fuck–I’m gonna–” He gasped, hips stuttering.

Then he buried himself deep, letting out a ragged, whimpering moan as he came inside you, face pressed into your neck. You felt his teeth graze your skin, his whole body trembling with the force of it.

For a moment, you both just lay there–panting, gasping, covered in sweat and warmth and each other.

Then he slowly lifted his head, eyes dazed but bright, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-bruised.

“…Do you,” He began, breathless, “Do you want to go out to dinner with me tomorrow?”

You blinked, and then started laughing–a soft, disbelieving, breathless laugh.

“That would be really great,” You murmured, your voice thick with affection.

Bob grinned, wide and flushed, before collapsing gently beside you on the mattress. Your legs tangled. Your breath slowed. The room hummed in the quiet aftermath, soft and safe and one with the both of you.

[norrisainz33]

protect your peace || ls18

summary: you and lance keep your lives pretty private and so it's no surprise when you keep a really big secret from the world!

pairing: lance stroll x wife!latina!reader

fc& warnings: karol g and some hate comments, mentions of pregnancy and poorly translated spanish

requested: yes!! thank you for your patience xoxo

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

view replies

user1: who cares

user2: omg pls let this be true lance and y/n would make sure good parents

user3: respectfully no one cares about y/n and lance

user4: y/n really did disappear hold on.. she hasn't been in the paddock since australia and she hasn't posted a photo dump since winter break

user5: hope its not them i truly don't care about y/nlance

ynstroll has posted to their story

view all story replies

user4: so cutieful but i am noticing the crop here

yourbff: spoilleedddddd

ynstroll: hes always taken good care of me but ever since we found out he's gone above and beyond

yourbff: i mean AS HE SHOULD!!! you are the perfect, beautiful, gorgeous woman carrying his child

ynstroll: can you believe you're going to be an auntie?

yourbff: no! but i cant wait!!!

user1: yeah your husband is rich we get it

lance_stroll: i hope you enjoyed your day my beautiful girl!

ynstroll: i had the best time!! thank you for coordinating and for getting chloe to come with me. you are so incredibly thoughtful even when you're not here

lance_stroll: its been killing me that i can't be there with you

ynstroll: i know but you are busy scoring points for us my love! plus you'll be home for a summer break soon

user2: you've got a glow about you

flavy.barla: prettiest girl in the world

ynstroll: 😭🤍

user6: a rare y/n appearance! that spa must have really hit

lance_stroll has made a post

liked by astonmartinf1, yourbff, chloestroll, estebanocon, ynstroll, scottyjames31, pierregasly, and 875,324 others

lance_stroll: slowing down for a while 💙

view all comments

f1gossip: convenient cropping

chloestroll: sunshine for my sunshines

ynstroll: and it is much needed 🤍

user1: you’re usually pretty slow mate

estebanocon: enjoy mon ami

lance_stroll: 💙

user4: y/n front and center as she should be

ynstroll: always thankful for you and summer break 🤍

lance_stroll: one day summer break will be every day

ynstroll: looking forward to it

user3: will never understand why she chose you

flavy.barla had posted to her private story

view all comments

iamrebeccad: GORGEOUS

flavy.barla: no you

ynstroll: i love youuuuu 😭🤍

flavy.barla: i love you more my wonderful best friend 🤍

lance_stroll: thanks for celebrating with us flavy😘

flavy.barla: i wouldn’t have wanted to celebrate with anyone else!! i love you both so much and can’t wait to see what wonderful parents you two make 😘

estebanocon: 🥹❤️

flavy.barla: 🤍🤍🤍🤍

chloestroll: two of the prettiest girls in the entire world

flavy.barla: merci mon ange 🤍

ynstroll has posted to their private story

[only 3 more days until we meet our baby girl!!]

view all story replies

flavy.barla: it’s actually criminal how beautiful you are

ynstroll: you’re the sweetest. i’m so thankful to have had you here with me through this all

flavy.barla: aww mon ange!! you are my best friend and i sincerely can’t imagine a world in which i wouldn’t be by your side 😭❤️

chloestroll: you’re glowing

ynstroll: i actually feel radiant but also i feel really ready to get ms girl out!!

chloestroll: i totally know the feeling. you’re almost there mama!

yourbff: MILF!!!!!!! wait who said that

ynstroll: must have been the wind!!

lance_stroll: i can’t wait to meet her!! i love her so much already my heart may explode

ynstroll: same!!! i’m so excited. i can’t wait to be her mommy and daddy 🤍

lance_stroll: you’re going to make the best mom in the whole world

ynstroll: i really hope so 😭

lance_stroll: i know so! you are the best mom to our puppy and the most caring and thoughtful person i’ve ever met. our little princess is in the best possible hands

ynstroll: i love you lance

lance_stroll: i love you more my beautiful wife

estebanocon: i’m so excited to be an uncle 🥹🤍

ynstroll: and i’m so excited for you to be an uncle!!!

iamrebeccad: carlos and i have been training for our auntie and uncle duties! house is officially baby proofed

ynstroll: no why am i actually crying my eyes out right now. you and carlos are going to be the best aunt and uncle ever! baby stroll is so so so lucky to have people like you guys in her court 🤍

lance_stroll has posted to his private story

view all story replies

yourbff: i’m screaming i can’t wait i can’t wait i can’t wait!!!! im in the car right now on my way to the hospital!!!

lance_stroll: we just got here and she’s asking for you!! hurry up !!!!

yourbff: oh my god i’ll be there in 2 minutes

chloestroll: AHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! IM OMW!!!!!!

lance_stroll: i’m freaking out please hurry

chloestroll: you’ve got this my sweet baby brother!!! it’ll be ok!! i’m pulling up now.

estebanocon: sending you both all of my love! i can’t wait to see the little princess stroll 🤍

lance_stroll: merci estie 😘

flavy.barla: best news!! praying for a safe delivery for mama and the beautiful little girl 🤍

lance_stroll: thank you flavy! i’ll keep you up to date

iamrebeccad: make sure you take care of our girls 😘

lance_stroll: i will do my best!!!

alexandrasaintmleux: i’ve actually never been more excited for something ever in my life

lance_stroll: SAME

ynstroll has made a post

liked by lance_stroll, flavy.barla, yourbff, astonmartinf1, maxverstappen1, lando, estebanocon, and 876,239 others

ynstroll: the happiest we’ve ever been. welcome to the world little girl! your mommy and daddy love you more than life itself. gracias por elegirnos [thank you for choosing us] 🩷

view all comments

yourbff: brb crying in the club

ynstroll: me too

user1: hid the whole thing that’s wild

ynstroll: it’s called protecting our peace 😘 [liked by lance_stroll, estebanocon, yourbff, astonmartinf1, maxverstappen1, lando, flavy.barla, iamrebeccad, alexandrasaintmleux and more]

lance_stroll: the strength you have shown has been nothing short of inspiring. i am so thankful to be sharing this life with you and now our little girl 🩷

ynstroll: thankful for a husband like you 🩷

user4: getting a little parasocial rn no one look at me!!! i’m so excited for you both

astonmartinf1: welcome to the team princess stroll 💚

ynstroll: gotta get her in some am gear quick

user2: another milf and dilf have entered the villa

iamrebeccad: beautiful mama

ynstroll: beautiful auntie

user12: cutest family on the grid

flavy.barla: the best parents to the best little girl 🤍

ynstroll: love you big time auntie flavy 😘

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading! likes and reblogs are appreciated

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[stonedtaemin]

you stupid girl

❕brat taming, ass slapping, mutual masturbation, lots of name calling (esp. whore, bitch, slut), cum eating | ao3 | wc 3.1k

mc is a brat and caleb decides he has to teach her a lesson *requested ♡

it first started as little joke, a prank, if you will. caleb was just so easy to rile up, so what was the point in not having a wee bit of fun?

fancy dinner with the fleet? her foot was rubbing sensually onto his leg across the table, slipped out of it's heel and toes pressing hard onto his crotch. on a phone call with one of the higher ups? she started mouthing at his cock through his pants.

even when he was cooking, god dammit, she would come up behind him and massage his ass. manhandling him and then snickering off, a knowing smirk playing onto her lips. each time he swore under his breath, shaking his head.

today was no different. caleb had had it up to here with her shannanigans, hands fiddling with the hem of his sweatpants, trying to focus on putting together a new plane model.

"would you stop that? you're gonna make me mess up, pips." he choked out, a tent already trying to form in his pants.

she was laying onto the floor next to him, chin resting on her hand in boredom. she let out a long, disgruntled sigh. her fingers did not move an inch. she wouldn't listen to his pleas.

"but it's so much fun and this is so... not fun."

he snorted, sitting up and stretching his back out. this was his third model of the day, he started as soon as they woke up and now the sun was setting. today had been a lazy sunday, one that was full of nothing but lofi and coffee. his stomach grumbled just at the thought of food.

"for you, maybe. i thought you liked helping me with this stuff..." his eyebrow cocked, eyes focusing back onto the important project at hand.

"i mean, yeah. but you look so handsome when you're focused. and i really wanna sit on your cock."

he choked on his own spit.

"horny fuck." he laughed at her, heart beating fast.

"yeah. what're gonna do about it?" she taunted, eyes squinted at him. he looked at her from the corner of his eyes.

"maybe if you're good and let me finish, i'll reward you." he hummed, eyes sliding back to the model.

she grunted, head falling downwards onto the carpet. she wiggled her legs into the air as if to throw a mini tantrum. she would never get his attention.

"whatever." she got up, knees cracking.

he smirked, not even throwing a glance her way. suits her right, putting him through all of this hell lately.

she padded away from him, closing their bedroom door behind her.

if she wasn't going to get his attention that way, then she had another thing coming for him. she searched far and wide through several drawers, hands looking for purchase.

bingo, she smirked to herself.

not even 5 minutes later she walked out into the living room again, watching as caleb has repositioned himself onto the couch. he's leaning back, considering what step to do next. he still didn’t even bother looking up at her.

she bit her inner cheek, groaning in annoyance. she pressed further, standing right in front of him, clearing her throat. finally, caleb's eyes fell onto her. he immediately regretted it because what he saw was so insane. here she was, dressed in nothing but a tiny red thong and a cropped old t-shirt of his from high school, nipples of her breasts poking out from the distressed seam. she was fucking glorious and he was but a mere man. god. damn.

"so now are you gonna fuck me?"'

"jesus christ." is all he could manage to blurt out. his fingers went up to rub his forehead, eyebrows furrowed.

she pushed his work further away from him, then turning back to straddle down onto his lap. heat rushed and pooled into his cock, growing harder with each time she circled her hips onto him.

"c'mon and fuck me." she whined, bouncing up and down in frustration.

he growled with annoyance. evol wrapping around her whole body. she was frozen in place, eyes widened with slight panic.

"god, you're such a needy slut. like you're in heat, just begging to be fucked all the time. you know that?" his voice wasn't like his normal voice... this was like when he was in his colonel suit. like she was a soldier that had overstepped her duties.

"i—"

his hand snapped up and grabbed her by the chin, yanking her face hard. she immediately shut up.

"been such an impatient little shit lately. i've been real nice about it too. right, baby?" he cooed menacingly, a devious smile spreading onto his lips.

she nodded slowly, a soft moan escaping her lips with anticipation. if she was horny then she was super horny now.

"tell me."

"y-yes..." she whined, struggling against his evol. she so badly wanted to rub against the growing bulge that sat perfectly against her folds. she was sopping wet, his pants getting ruined.

"i don't think you do..." he whispered, pulling her face closer to his. his lips hovered dangerously above hers, breath fanning across her.

she closed her eyes, trying to initiate a kiss. he pulled away.

"i do, i swear. i just wanna make you feel good, caleb." her words were almost convincing.

his fingers roamed down her chin to her neck, pushing her hair aside to expose her neck. he leaned forward, biting hard onto her. she whimpered at the pain, back arching. he pulled and sucked, skin already bruising from the abuse of his mouth. his hands made their way down her torso, cupping her exposed breasts.

he massaged them slowly, grabbing hard and pinching her nipples.

"don't believe you for a second. you're just an impatient whore that needs to be filled with my cock." he spat out, teeth nipping at her sensitive skin.

“yes, need you to fuck me caleb. i’m a whore. your whore. p-please!” she thought she would burst into tears if he didn’t put something inside of her. she ached for his touch. need to feel him against her walls. she was dripping down her thighs and onto the couch.

he stared at her like she was a prize that he needed to take. his tongue rode up the valley between her breasts then lifted up. his hands cupped her sex but didn’t do anything. he just grabbed her, panting at how soaked she was. he was deciding what to do with her.

she cried out, not knowing how much more she could take of the pulsating heat that knocked at her cunt.

"caleb, please... oh god."

he mouthed over the peak of her tits with hunger, hot puffs of breath sweeping over her skin. his hands kept fondling her and pulling and tugging. he couldn't get enough of her against the palm of his hands. couldn't decide which breast he wanted to suck on the most. he wished he had two heads and two mouths.

she threw her head back in ecstasy, feeling caleb's mouth devouring her chest. her fingers hooked through his hair, nails clawing at his scalp.

"gonna fuck you real nice and good so that you can finally shut up.” he groaned, eyes darkening as they locked onto hers.

“ye-yes please…” she sighed, thighs burning from the grinding she was finally able to resume.

his hips rocked up to meet hers, a moan tearing through his lips and spilling onto her bare torso.

his fingers finally found their way down to her folds, again, this time letting his fingers swipe into her slick. her breathe hitched when his touch finally graced her, immediately riding onto his hand as he pumped one, then two fingers in and out of her. the squelches of his fingers stroking her pussy filled the thick air around them. it was sinful. his cock grew bigger by the second just by the delicious noises. a groan resounded from deep within his chest.

“fuck, you drive me crazy. listen to yourself.”

she cried out, caleb biting the shit out of her shoulder as he finger fucked her.

“yes, yes, yes— love your f-fingers, caleb, ah— shit!”

her cries echoed throughout the house.

his lips kissed gently onto her chin, tongue tracing her jaw.

“bad little bitch— take that shit.”

she nodded fast as his thumb circled onto her clit, her moans falling out in a jumble. just as she was about to claim an orgasm his hands stopped, pulling out abruptly and rudely, if you asked her.

she whined with agony, about to say something but his fingers shoved into her mouth, her slick coating her tongue deliciously. he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“be a good girl for once and don’t say anything, ‘kay? gonna give you what you need, baby.” he whispered.

he fingered her mouth just as he had to her pussy, going in and out of her wet mouth. she gladly took it, eyes locked onto him and glistening with lust. her cheeks were blossoming with heat, eyebrows bowed in arousal. she looked absolutely divine and caleb couldn’t stand it. he hummed in approval as her tongue swirled around his meaty fingers.

his fingers retracted with a pop, a trail of saliva falling after.

“get on your hands and knees, on the couch. face the window.” his words were short and straight to the point.

she stood up from his lap, slightly dizzy with how hot she was. he watched her as she backed away. he moved to the opposite side of the couch so she could get into position. she did as she was told, crawling onto the couch and ass perched up. she gripped the arm of the couch to ground herself.

she looked behind her to watch as caleb pulled his pants off, underwear wet with her slick and his own arousal. he threw his shirt to the side, sweat falling down his carved chest. she licked her lips with hunger, eyes never leaving his fit body. he smirked as she did, arms flexing for show. she wiggled in anticipation, letting out a deep groan.

“caleb. please hurry.”

his underwear was finally off, cock swelled up against the front of his abdomen. he was huge as always, veiny and thick. she needed him now.

he got on his knees behind her, hands grabbing onto her hips harshly. nothing would have prepared her for the loud crack and harsh feeling of his hand coming down onto her ass cheek. she bowed forward, a scream emitting from her mouth. her forehead rested onto the arm of the couch, eyes screwed shut.

“i told you to shut up.” his words were heavy. he massaged her cheek afterwards, thumb kneading against the reddened skin.

“mmph— yes sir.” she cried out.

another slap landed onto her, harder than the last. she swore she could cum just from the feeling. he was so rough.

“the more you whine the more it’ll hurt.” he said, fingers trailing and brushing against her slit. it was a ghost of a touch. she stopped herself from grinding them into her.

“yes sir.” she repeated again.

he chuckled deeply, his hand going to his dick to stroke slowly.

“touch yourself.” he commanded.

her fingers went down and between her thighs, pushing her thong aside. she took two fingers and rubbed her clit slowly, parting her legs some more for him to get a good view. she watched behind her as he stroked himself to her masturbation. his lips caught under his front teeth, a hiss slowly coming out as he shook his cock a few times. he couldn’t stand watching her anymore, he had to be inside of her, right now.

she wiggled her ass a little, moaning softly. she was making herself feel so nice and warm. she couldn’t help but circle to her motions, fingers dipping in and out of herself in the process.

“please baby, need you here. so fucking horny for you.” she whined, two fingers taking her lips and opening them wide for him, her ring clenching in desperation.

he didn’t even feel like smacking her again for being impatient, he himself was getting impatient.

“think you can take me in one go, sweetheart?”

she nodded frantically, arching her back even further. she looked like a feline stretching, ready for him to dive in.

he lined his cock up with her pussy, making her bite her lip hard in anticipation. his tip dove down quickly into her folds, cock being sucked in past the threshold of her entrance. she cried out as he thrusted deep into her, tip already grazing her cervix. he was so big and deep, she could feel her insides being absolutely wrecked. she loved it.

“oh— fuck!” she screamed, hands gripping onto the couch fabric for dear life.

she tried moving against him but his evol forced her in place, a whimper escaping her mouth. she rolled her eyes back in annoyance, huffing.

“just sit still and take it like a good slut.” he purred, hand splaying over her back, the other gripping onto the handle of her hip.

and with that, he slammed in and out of her slowly and so fucking good.

her moans sounded every time his cock sank all the way inside of her, skin smacking against hers. her breasts swung back and forth with each time he pounded into her, legs shaking. the small crop top was even beginning to feel hot. she pulled on the collar of it, feeling sweat trickle down her neck and onto her tits.

“fuck yes, feels so good. god caleb— right there, yes!” she squealed.

he huffed out heavy breathes, each time his cock bottomed out a wave of pleasure washed over him. he knew he couldn’t last long.

“you look so beautiful taking me like this, baby. pretty little flower blooming just for me.” his voice came out in a whinier tone than he wanted, but god dammit he was feeling so good.

she took her hands to spread her cheeks more, pink asshole puckering as he fucked her pussy like it was the last thing he would ever do. he moaned at the sight, a slight wail bubbling from his chest. he was definitely going to fill her up if he kept going like this.

“so— fucking— good! need to cum, please caleb, please let me cum. i— i can’t…” her pleas bled together, eyes squinting and welling up with tears as she looked back at him.

his purple iris’ swirled with desire as they bore into hers, hands massaging her hips with a gentle reminder that he loved her so much. she was such a beautiful creature, in his shirt and sexy underwear. being a good little fuck toy for him. he couldn’t get enough.

“yes, baby. cum. let me feel you.” he gave in.

immediately she fell apart, cries spilling out of her. her hands went back behind her, caleb’s hands pinning them together as he rode her orgasm out. he wanted to cum so bad, but he had other plans. she circled her hips slowly onto him as he kept thrusting, soft whines dying out. she was breathing hard, body slumped onto the couch, face buried.

“oh, f-fuck. baby…” she whispered, voice muffled.

caleb chuckled, tapping her ass softly with his palm as he let go of her wrists.

“sit up onto your knees, baby.” his voice came out gentle but she knew to obey.

he pulled out reluctantly, wishing he could keep pumping in and out of her delicious hole.

she hummed, sitting up slowly onto her knees. caleb got up, feet planting onto the ground and standing over her like a skyscraper. his cock was covered in her juices, slick and hot. it stood proud and hard as hell, hovering over her face.

“make me cum, sweet girl.”

her hands went to wrap around his length, twisting languidly and achingly well. she knew the perfect way to do it, an expert in calebology. he threw his head back, eyes staring at the ceiling. she watched as he swallowed thickly, adam’s apple bobbing. she hummed at the sight, thinking about just how gorgeous he was like this. she was in awe. her man.

“you’re so fucking big caleb. love how big you are.” she moaned, breath fanning over his cock.

he smirked, biceps flexing slightly. his hands cupped her cheeks, grazing over her skin softly.

“yeah? look so good next to my dick. pretty girl. mine.” he was so close.

she fluttered her eyelashes, mouth opening and tongue sticking out.

“wanna eat your cum, please, please, please. give it to me, caleb, i need it.” she begged, eyebrows pinning in plea. she begged like it was her own personal prayer.

he cried out in pure bliss, not handling the situation as composed as he wanted to. she was going to be the death of him and he was going to be totally okay with that.

“fuck yeah, you want that? wanna swallow my cum like a greedy little bitch, hm?”

“yes!” she cried out.

“f-fuck!” his fingers gripped onto the back of her head, tugging hard at her hair.

she dragged the tip of his dick onto the center of her tongue, smacking it as thick ropes came out of him.

“fuck yes, you fucking whore.” he seethed, teeth gritting as he watched her lap up his seed. his dick twitched violently into her hand, as if he could see each rope push itself out and into her mouth.

she took his cock deep into her throat, sucking up and down his length. he thrusted into her, gagging the shit out of her. her guttural sounds as she choked onto his cock made his orgasm hit harsher with each time he hit the back of her throat.

“pip-squeak…” he moaned softly, fingers loosening as his orgasm finished.

she slowly pulled off of his length, lips glistening with spit and cum. his slumped with finality as it popped out of her mouth. she licked the bottom of her lip, smiling lazily. his fingers hooked onto her chin, pulling her face up.

“did you swallow like a good girl?”

she opened her mouth, proving that she had consumed every last drop. he leaned down, lips smashing onto hers, tongue licking against her own. he kissed her nice and slow, thumb grazing her cheek softly in praise.

she pulled him down hard, straddling him once more. he huffed out a laugh, lips trailing down to her chin, then her neck.

“was i good for you?” she pondered, voice soft.

he pulled away, planting a kiss to her temple.

“yes, baby. you were so good.” he smiled.

“does this mean you’re not annoyed with me anymore?” she taunted, her head falling onto his shoulder. she poked his neck with her fingers, rubbing her hand onto his hard chest. he was covered in sweat.

“mhmm. for now.” he jabbed her side.

she was sure to be a brat again. how could she not be, when her boyfriend looked like adonis and fucked like a god?

[potatomountain]

Let Me Lick It- KHJ

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x gn!reader

wc: 2.2k

Au: non-idol, university

Genre: smut, crushes to lovers

summary: your newest crush and fun-to-tease underclassman looks a little too good at the "slutty" themed party your friends held. Or maybe it's just the happy trail driving you crazy

Warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption (no one is drunk, and consent is given), bathroom party blowjob, happy trail, gender neutral pov, dom reader, sub HJ, cum eating

AN: Happy late birthday to @yourfatherlucifer and thanks for the idea and mindrotting thoughts! @sanjoongie (i finally finished it)

Banner and dividers made by me. Blank blogs will be blocked

Maybe you had too much to drink, even though you knew you were only halfway through your first glass. However, what other explanation did you have for seeing this? Kim Hongjoong, the adorable underclassmen that got flustered too easily, was here at a slutty themed party and he dressed the part.

Your friends loved coming up with some of the wackiest party themes, with this one being to dress up as something normal but make it slutty. The slutty was mandatory. There were a lot of others in their slutty animal, maid or butler costumes. All unoriginal in your book. But a slutty football fan or player? Yes there were a few but those were just in the pants or baseball uniforms with the jersey open or just off, but he was in a crop top.

Cute stomach exposed, the sport shorts kept it cute but hung low on his hips: low enough there was an unmistakable shadow going from his navel down.

“Earth to the slut. Hello!” brought back to reality by a hand in front of your face, you tore your eyes off of the cute underclassmen to glare at your friend dressed as a slutty nun. “What are you drooling about?” Her gaze followed your line of sight when you glanced back, taking note of Hongjoong with his group of friends, several who were also in crop tops. “Oh, I see. You do like the pretty. Which one?”

With a wave of your hand you downed the rest of your drink. “Orange jersey. He's normally a shy one.”

“Just your type then.”

“Mhmm. We aren't that close but he's friends with Wooyoung and Mingi.”

“Ah because being friends with your ex boyfriend and fuck buddy makes him a target?” She mused sarcastically, spotting the two in question as two with a crop top. Of the eight, there were five showing off their stomachs, one was completely shirtless, and two were… lacking in the slutty department but still hot. Yunho in a tight Spiderman suit where you could see the definition of every muscle? That could pass. 

With a sigh you poured yourself a shot. “Wooyoung and I are still friends. We're better that way. Besides he's with mister shoulder's now. Mingi and I were okay just fucking around, he also got himself someone now too.” You explained, taking the shot quickly, nearly gagging as it burned down your throat. The first shot always did. “Anyways, we still hang out a lot, game nights and getting drunk. And that means with Hongjoong occasionally around. He's fun to tease.”

What you didn't mention was how you would purposely tease him because you knew he would get hard. Wooyoung had messaged you the first time it happened, that the cute man was beating his meat moments after you left their small dorm. Now he lets you know every time he does.

It was fun to tease, but you had no intention of being the first to make a move. You liked being chased after, and preferred the other to make the first move. Wooyoung and Mingi were more of the outgoing ones you've had, but they were still just what you liked. Dorks. Big, adorable, hot dorks.

But now? Now you didn't want to wait.

The party continued and you nursed your drinks, enough to give you a buzz but stay sober enough to hopefully take someone home. And by someone you meant Kim Hongjoong and by home you meant the bathroom or upstairs where people were already getting fucked.

Every so often your eyes sought out Hongjoong, even made conversation when you had gone over and scolded Jongho for the lack of slutty since he was in a full suit. He took the jacket off and pushed the sleeves up and said that was slutty enough. The fact it had your friend swooning lost you the argument. You still stayed and chatted with everyone.

And danced. Sandwiched between your ex and his boyfriend at one point. Then Mingi and his, even with Seonghwa: the pretty one of the group. But every time you tried to dance with Hongjoong, he declined. Leaning against the wall, drink in hand, slutty waist on display driving you crazy.

You were more obsessed with it than Mingi's and that man had such a pretty waist, happy trail obvious, and even if he hadn't had a boyfriend you probably wouldn't be drooling over him as you were this man.

The same man who blushed every time he caught you staring. The same man who stayed near you, or well his friends, ignoring the others who were clearly flirting with him.

Nothing hit harder than when the majority of them danced together, dragging Hongjoong into a line, arm in arm, putting on a slutty show of moving their hips and some odd, but very hot, version of a salsa. 

A twist and thrust of his hips here, a body roll, then the lights bathing his stomach just right.

You took another shot, waiting until they parted before you had enough. Swooping in, you grabbed his hand, not even giving him the option of telling you no. Not out here. Not until he knew exactly what you wanted to do to him.

He called out your name repeatedly, but you didn't stop until you were pulling him into the upstairs bathroom and locking the door behind you.

Another call of your name; nervous, cautious. “Whats going on?”

You turned quickly, startling him back against the wall. “What's going on? You're driving me crazy you cute fucking dork.” With a few steps your hand was slammed against the wall just above his shoulder. “This?” You ran a finger through the light hairs that were unmistakably below his navel. “Is driving me crazy.”

He had the audacity to look shy, staging at you with innocent doe eyes even as his hips pushed forward when two fingers hooked into the waist band of his shorts. “It is?”

The way his tongue swiped out to moisten his lips had your full attention for a brief moment, but was also responsible for the last bit of control that you had dispersing. “It is and I am going to kiss you- right on the lips and everywhere else I please. You’re going to take it, aren’t you? Like the good boy you want to be for me?”

A nod and a soft sound in the back of his throat- that was all the invitation you needed.

A shame your mouth wasn’t lower already. Though you quickly changed that.

Mouth on his you swallowed up the cute whimper he let out. It was cute how responsive he was. How his lips chased yours. How he grabbed onto your top like a life line, pulling you closer.

Chest to chest, tongues mingling together in a sloppy mess that had drool wetting your chin. One of you tasted like lemons, and briefly you thought it was a shame you didn’t think about doing a body shot off his cute waist earlier.

The whine that fell from his pretty lips when you pulled yours away sent shivers down to your core. “Fuck baby boy, you sound so pretty. Is that how you sound every time you jack off thinking about me?”

His cheeks burned as bright as his shirt while his eyes followed your descent down onto your knees. “I-I don’t jerk off like th-”

“Mhmm, sure you don’t. Why do you always run to the bathroom after I leave? Making such sweet noises a little birdie has to tell me all about it huh?” You murmured out against his stomach, running your tongue over the soft flesh before dipping to the small hairs that had been driving you wild. You kept your gaze on his face, letting out a pleased chuckle from the way his features twisted with embarrassment and shame for being called out. “Don’t get me wrong, Joongie, I was no better.”

That caught his attention, shyly reaching out to grab onto your shoulders. “W-what do you mean? Did you… touch yourself too?”

Your tongue circled his navel, well aware of the tent in his shorts just under your chin. “Every. Damn. Time.” You punctuated each word with a nibble on his soft flesh, hands moving down his hips to push his shorts down. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to see how you look, fucking your hand to the thought of me.”

His eyes were clouded over with more desire and less shame now, emboldening him to roll his hips forward once his cock was free of restraints. “I could show you sometime?” He offered, still a bit bashful and it was cute.

Letting out a laugh against the small hairs you discovered under the shorts, you nodded. “You will. For now… show me the pretty sounds you make.”

You kissed all around his pelvis, purposely avoiding his hardened member, yet letting your breath fan over the skin. He was getting more desperate. More whiney. A hand sliding into your hair but still reluctant to put force behind it. Not until your tongue pressed to the bottom of his base and ran it up, still maintaining eye contact.

He didn’t shy from your gaze at all, you were almost certain he liked it. Maybe he wasn’t so shy after all? Just needed a bit of… motivation.

Or testing his patience enough. Kitten licks to the tip, moaning at the taste of precum on your tongue, sucking on his balls, all while your thumbs rubbed at his hips, holding him still.

Finally, when you pressed your tongue to the underside of his tip, mouth opened almost as an invitation. One he took. 

With a bit too much force, half his length was inside, just for him to pull it out. “S-sorry I- ah fuck.”

You didn’t let him finish his apology, pushing your mouth down on his length, as far down as you could take him, and just held him there. Tongue pressed up, cheeks hollowed, eyes on his face as his eyes rolled back and he panted out sweet whimpers and moans in his attempts to find words. To say your name. Though it only came out jumbled and definitely not right.

Pride swelled in your chest at the sight of him like this. Knowing you did this to him. That this was just the tip of the iceberg you were going to do to him.

Going from teasing and tasting him, your new mission was to see how loud you could make him. How fast you could make him come undone. His fingers tightening in your hair as you bobbed your head at a rhythm he seemed to like. Taking him more and more until your nose brushed against the small hairs that had been taunting you all night.

“Ah- Shit- ngh please- fu- I-” He sounded beautiful and breathless, his hips beginning to meet your lips as best as your grip would allow. 

You could tell he was close when his whines grew in pitch, when they sounded like the sweetest cries and when his hips stuttered and his cock felt heavier in  your mouth.

The way he tried to get the words out, stumbling over them so prettily, was your favorite. “G-gonna- ah close- com- ah!” He held onto your head with both hands, nearly doubling over as you sucked, demanding his seed in your mouth.

And you got your wish. The thick white substance coated your mouth and tongue while his body trembled and jerked above you, drool falling from his pretty lips and hitting your back. It was hot, nearly having you come on the spot if only you had bothered to touch yourself.

You kept your mouth around his member until he pushed you off from the sensitivity. He fell back against the door, chest heaving and a delicious fucked out expression on his flushed features. When he glanced down, you happily showed off the cum still in your mouth and on your tongue, making a show of swallowing it for him.

“Mmm, I could get used to the taste.” You practically purred out, leaning forward and beginning to lick up the remaining drops of cum still on him. He whined, shrinking away. “Let me lick it clean at least. I would hate to have it all dried up by the time we get to the car and I can ride you.”

Laughter fell from your lips at his shock, once more stumbling over his tongue. “I-in the car?”

“Well…” Your tongue slid up his happy trail one more time. “Preferably right now, but I think you need a second and there are no doubt people needing the bathroom. Maybe they have to suck someone else off. Or throw up their guts. Who am I to get in their way?” Slowly you fixed his shorts and stood back up, capturing his swollen lips in a chaste kiss. “Don’t you want to know the noises I make?”

Like an eager puppy, he was the one pulling you out of the bathroom. Car it is. Then your bed. And many more places after that.

Taglist (Form): i havent done the form in awhile but also let me know if you want to be removed!

@candypop1611 | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames | @starstruckforyou

| @minheeskitten | @sousydive | @alextheweeb7 | @thesafecafe | @euphoricem

| @meepsters-world | @mysticfire0435 | @yejisuu | @apriecotte | @amphiroxx 

| @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630 | @isiloiale | @plutoneu | @venn-ie

| @therealcuppicake | @lavishloving | @pearltinyy | @vampiregirl215

| @heihaneul | @gugggu6gvai | @oddinaryxfever | @smally97 | @pandagirl-016

| @hecateslittlewitchling | @arinyyy | @lovelgirl22 | @stayatinykatsy | @noone356097 |

| @misskarynie | @cookiesandcreammy | @atinycravings | @klllerwaifu | @joongscheese |

| @missweepingwidow | @callmemaysblog | @yunhowooyo | @zzzaaajaaa | @00iheartmingi00 |

| @intowxnderland | @lover-ofallthingspretty | @fanficsruinedmylife | @mooniicore | @shadow-assassin-blix |

[lucydixon]

The Rock Show

This is part Nine of Welcome to Hellfire. You can find part one here.

Summary: Eddie takes you to watch Corroded Coffin play at the hideout for the first time, and having him lock eyes with you while he plays completely ruins you. Warning: a liiitle bit of dry humping, Desperate Eddie, The girls come out to play.

It was finally the night. 

The night you’d anticipated with so much excitement that you were practically bursting with it by the time you were out of bed. 

It was Tuesday. 

Which meant that it was the night that you got to see Eddie play with his band for the first time, at the greasiest dive bar in Hawkins. 

The two of you had woken up, tangled in your sheets somewhere around noon and had lazily made out for a couple of hours, until you realized what day it was and wouldn’t shut up about it. 

He loved how excited you were to watch him play. 

You’d been trying to get him to play you a little something for days, but he kept telling you that he couldn’t spoil the show for you and that you’d just have to wait. 

You’d pouted and whined, and he’d almost caved twice. 

But he’d somehow managed to hold strong. 

“Are you ready to rock, sweetheart?” Eddie asked after convincing you to sit down and eat the gourmet boxed mac and cheese he'd whipped up for dinner. 

“Hell yeah!” You beamed, “What should I wear?” 

“Something that won’t distract me too much.” He nodded pensively, “A shapeless burlap sack, perhaps?” 

You swatted his arm playfully and rolled your eyes before starting to rummage through your closet. 

Your eyes landed on dark faux leather and lit up. 

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to wear this but never found the right occasion!” You gasped excitedly, reaching for a pair of jeans to go along with it.

Eddie stared at your closet doors, waiting for you to finish getting dressed after insisting on your outfit being a surprise.

Now, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Maybe a cute little dress or a frilly skirt. Something sweet and cute. 

His eyes just about bulged out of his head when you stepped out of your closet wearing skin-tight black jeans and a cropped leather tube top. 

His eyes raked over your body, transfixed by all the bare skin and soft curves.

The stretch of skin between the bottom of your top and the top of your jeans was taunting him. 

God, what he wouldn’t give to like a stripe up your bellybutton. 

Eddie slid right off the bed and onto the floor like he was made of jelly, eyes wide and mouth agape.

You had to laugh at the theatrics. 

He crawled a few feet towards you and wrapped himself around your lower half, resting his cheek against your stomach. 

“You’re gonna kill me, you little vixen!” he groaned. “Fuck, how am I supposed to focus on anything when you look like that?” 

“I’ll forget how to play!” he gasped dramatically, slumping into you, “If we can even get there in one piece. I won’t be able to keep my eyes on the road!”  

“Do me a favour and try not to kill us until after I’ve seen you play.” You chuckled, and he felt the rumble of it against his cheek. 

Your hands threaded through his hair and played with it absently. A habit you hadn’t yet noticed you’d taken up. 

But Eddie certainly had. 

The feeling of your nails gently scratching his scalp practically had his eyes rolling back inside his head every time. Still, he felt weird asking you to do it, so he was thrilled that you seemed to default to it whenever the two of you were relaxing.  

He pressed his lips to your skin and smirked softly when he heard the distinct sound of your breath hitching in your throat. 

“It should be illegal to look this good in jeans.” Eddie sat back on his heels and drank you in from below. “I’m might have to haul your ass to jail”  

“If you want to cuff me, you could just ask.” You smirked teasingly when his cheeks immediately warmed. 

Sometimes, he couldn’t believe that you were the same girl who hid your face in his chest while telling him you’d never made out with anyone, just days ago. Yet, here you were, making dirty comments without so much as a flinch. 

You really didn’t shy away from intimacy in the slightest. If anything, it was you initiating most of it, and it was killing him. 

He buried his face in your stomach again and groaned loudly.

It took him a good few minutes to peel himself off of you to get out the door.

As soon as you got to the Hideout, Eddie parked you in what he called, the best seat in the house, which was really just a booth close to the stage with worn leather seats and just enough room for his guitar case to sit next to you so that no drunken creeps could slide in and hit on his girl while he was busy on stage. 

He pecked you on the lips, glanced down at your cleavage for a moment, and shot you a goofy smile before rushing over to the rest of the band, who looked beyond shocked to see you sitting there. 

“You got her to go out with you?” Gareth asked, blatantly staring at you with wide eyes. “Holy shit, no way.” 

“I didn’t just get her to go out with me.” Eddie shot his friends a cocky smirk as he shrugged his guitar strap over his head. 

“That pretty little thing right there?” He nodded in your direction, smugly, “That is my girlfriend, with a capital G.”

“No…” Jeff sounded like he couldn’t decide if he believed him or not, also staring. 

You waved at them, and they were quick to look away with pink cheeks. 

“Seriously?” 

Eddie just shrugged, still looking on top of the world. 

“I know, right?” 

“We are Corroded Coffin!” Eddie shouted into the mic with far too much energy for the sleepy crowd, but you cheered loudly anyway from your seat, looking ecstatic. “And we’re here to make some noise!” 

You knew they’d be good. 

Even if they weren’t, you’d be able to convince yourself that they were, just because Eddie’s eyes were locked on yours through every Metallica and Dio cover song they played on stage. 

But, they were better than good. 

They were fucking great.

Even without the roar of a crowd, the music still felt electric.

Your panties were soaked before they’d wrapped up the first song. 

Seeing Eddie up there, banging his head to the music and shredding that beautiful guitar of his with an obscene amount of skill, was ruining you. 

He looked like a total rockstar. 

And god, you loved it. 

“This last song is for someone special in the crowd tonight.” Eddie stared right at you, but chuckled when you looked around as if he could have meant anyone but you, and pointed to yourself with a playful grin. “This one’s for my sweetheart.” 

The opening notes for Sabbrah Cadara rang through the air, and you just melted.

The way he held your gaze while he sang into the mic was mesmerizing. 

It felt like it was just the two of you in the room. 

Feel so good I feel so fine

Love that little lady always on my mind

She gives me lovin' every night and day

Never gonna leave her

Never going away

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you thought for a half second that you were going to pass out. Even if it was just a song. A cover. Hearing him sing about love made your heart flutter in your chest. 

Someone to love me

You know she makes me feel alright

Someone who needs me

Love me every single night

Feel so happy since I met that girl

When we're making love

It's something out of this world

Feels so good to know that she's all mine

Going to love that woman till the end of time

You were so gonna jump his bones after this. 

You’d thought that dry humping in your living room had been hot, but you’d never in your life wanted anything as bad as you wanted to be in Eddie’s bed, as close as two people could physically get while your clothes lived happilly on his bedroom floor. 

Someone to live for

Love me till the end of time

Makes me feel happy

Good to know that she's all mine

And you were.

Eddie had you. Hook, line, and sinker. 

You were so far gone for Eddie Munson that you’d run away with him in a heartbeat and get married in a Vegas chapel that instant if he asked you to. 

You’d do anything if he asked you to. 

Lovely lady make love all night long

Lovely lady never do me no wrong

I don't wanna leave ya

I never wanna leave ya

Anymore no more

You were already questioning whether or not you could make it all the way home without tearing your clothes off. 

Probably not. 

You wondered if he’d fuck you in the back of his van, right out in front of the bar, if you asked him nicely.  

Lovely lady

Mystifying eyes

Lovely lady

She don't tell me no lies

I know I'll never leave ya

I'm never gonna leave ya

Anymore no more

And there it was. 

The closing note and the glimmer in his eyes as he breathed heavily, beaming at you from the stage, sealed the deal. 

You weren’t just dying to fuck him. 

You were in love. 

Completely and utterly down bad and smitten for the man theatrically bowing as if it wasn’t just you cheering up a storm from your lonely booth. 

And god damn, it terrified you. But, at the same time, you’d never felt such an unbridled rush of joy and peace wash over you. 

The second he stepped off the stage, you threw yourself at him, rambling excited praise in his ear as he scooped you up and spun you around, laughing. 

“Holy shit, Eds.” You squeezed him tightly “That was so fucking good!” 

“Don’t sound so surprised, Sweetheart.” He teased. 

“I’m not!” You swatted his chest playfully and pulled back to look into his eyes. 

Something in the air shifted when he clocked the hunger in your gaze. 

“Do you even know how fucking hot that was?” You asked him lowly, “Killin’ me here, baby.” 

“That’s my line,” he joked breathily, eyes darting down to your lips. “You mean that?” 

You made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh before crashing your lips to his. 

There was nothing slow or sweet about the way you were kissing him. 

No build-up or easing into things, just you, slipping your tongue into his mouth while he clutched you to his chest, pressing his quickly hardening bulge into your hip. 

Your tongues tangled as his hands cupped your ass and pulled you flush up against him. 

You moaned into his mouth, and Eddie thought he might just cum then and there. 

“Uh, guys?” Jeff's voice caught both of your attention, and you pulled apart begrudgingly to look at him. 

“What?” Eddie hissed, hands still resting on your ass, twitching to grab and squeeze at it. 

“Maybe get a room?” Gareth proposed awkwardly. 

Your cheeks warmed slightly, but you were too wound up to be more than the tiniest bit embarrassed. 

“That’s an excellent idea, Gareth the great.” You told him, nodding seriously before tugging on Eddie’s jacket and nodding not so discreetly towards the door. 

He wasted no time rushing to pack up his guitar, still as careful as always with her. 

“Great show, you guys.” You smiled warmly as if you hadn’t just had their frontman’s tongue down your throat. “Really nice to see you again.” 

Eddie circled back around and grabbed you by the hand, dragging you towards the door, speed walking. 

He didn’t say a word. 

Just opened the back doors, gently slid his guitar case into the back of the van, and shut the doors before slamming you up against them, swallowing your startled gasp. 

Your hands found their way to his hair and tugged gently at the roots. Despite the adrenaline rushing through him after being on stage and the confidence boost he’d gotten when you’d thrown yourself at him immediately after he’d stepped off of it, Eddie still let out a broken, pathetic moan at the feeling. 

He was grateful you didn’t stop kissing him to make fun, because he wasn’t sure he’d survive a full minute without your lips slotted against his. 

Instead, you pulled him closer and arched your back against the rusted metal of his van, pressing your chest into his and moaning right into his mouth, chasing it with your tongue, swiping along his bottom lip. 

God, you were so fucking good at kissing. 

It was killing him. 

He was so hard that it hurt, straining against his tight jeans and desperate for relief. 

Without having to think, he grabbed you by the back of your thighs and hoisted you into his arms, pinning you against the van without breaking the kiss. 

Your legs wrapped around his hips tightly, and you both gasped at the feeling of his bulge grinding into your clothed heat. 

Your head tilted back and his mouth latched onto your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck until he reached that sweet spot at the juncture of your throat and the edge of your collarbone. 

You jolted and moaned loudly. 

Far too loud for a bar parking lot. 

Both of you seemed to realize this at the same time. 

“We should- shit-” He hissed when you tightened your legs around him. 

“Get in the back of the van?” You proposed breathily, “Great idea, babe!” 

“Not here.” He groaned, trying to think. “Uh-” 

It was hard with you pressed up against him the way you were. 

“Eddie,” you whined, desperate for friction “If you’re not gonna throw me in there and tear my clothes off, then you better take me back to your place real fucking quick or I’m gonna die.” 

“Fuuuuck-” he breathed shakily, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to regain his composure, but he quickly realized that he couldn’t do that unless he put you down. 

He dropped you as carefully as he could and kissed you hard before pulling back, grabbing your hand, and dragging you towards the passenger side of the van. Despite his flustered state, he still held your door open for you and helped you into the seat, groaning when you pulled him in for a sloppy kiss before he shut you inside. 

He jogged over to his side and threw himself into the seat, turning the engine over before he’d even gotten the door closed, breathing raggedly. 

“I’m gonna need you to stay right there so I don’t kill us both in a fiery car crash.” he turned to jab a shaky, but stern finger at you as he slammed the van into gear and sped onto the main road “I’m not dying before I see your tits, so help me god.” 

“What, these?” You asked, anything but innocent, as you rolled your top down. 

The van screeched to a stop just outside the edge of town, and Eddie’s head whipped over so fast to look that his neck ached for a second. 

The second he laid eyes on your bare chest, he slammed the van into park and was scrambling to get his seatbelt off to slide into the middle of the bench seat. 

“Get over here,” he all but growled, undoing your seatbelt and pulling you into his lap. 

You straddled him, and before you could even let out a flustered giggle, his mouth was on you, and it came out as a low moan. 

Your tits were right in his face and Eddie was taking full advantage. 

He cupped one in his hand, too worked up to be hesitant about it, while his lips trailed down your chest until your nipple was in his mouth and you were rocking your hips into his desperately. 

All that could be heard over the rumble of the idling engine was the breathy moans falling from your lips and the sounds of Eddie sloppily making out with your chest. 

Just as you were really starting to get worked up, he yanked your top back up and gently tossed you back into your seat. His hands fumbled with your seatbelt for a moment before dragging him back towards the steering wheel, where he rested his forehead for a moment, trying to catch his breath. 

“Sweetheart, I’m really gonna need you to behave for me.” he told you, trying to sound stern, but really it came out as more of a plea. “Five minutes. Just give me five minutes to get us home. Please.” 

You nodded, unsure if you could even form words. Your eyes were still a little wide from the thrill of it all. 

“Thank you.” He sighed in relief, taking another second before shrugging off his jacket and throwing it at you. “You’re gonna need to hide the girls or I’m gonna go crazy.” 

You laughed breathily and wrapped it around you while he shifted back into gear and tore down the road.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics MDNI Banner by @cafekitsune GIF by @nicostiel Masterlist Tag list: @walleloveseve @farrowroyale @givemiacookie @jeangeniex @cheesesandwichsanto @klutzylaena @mdurdenpitt @3sriracha @shokihomin @awkward00noodle @underatedgentlemencollector-blog @gxpsywitch19 @lexr86 @tanyaherondale @g3n3zshack @jjmaybankswifes-blog @be-gentle-with-my-potatos

[chirpycreations]

"How Could You Have Ever Loved Anyone More Than Yourself?"

I wanted a break from school work and decided to indulge myself by practicing human anatomy and rendering with a redraw of that super cute panel from this week's comic pages.

These two are so cute when they're not being toxic and bad for each other's health :P

Speedpaint & Still versions below.

(I forgot to start recording till I got to shading, so you've got a more slowed down version of how I shade/light & effects ^^; )

[bonestrouslingbones]

i finally got an idea to make fluff's outfit just a little more "papyrus" (aka just a bit more faggy) but i haven't even tried to draw it out yet because i cannot for the life of me figure out how to represent low-rise pants with fishnets underneath on a fucking skeleton

[redmagicflower]

excellent name

[classyrbf]

thinking about trucker!toji who picks you up on the side of the road while you’re hitchhiking. You’re standing there all pretty in your shorts and crop top, backpack slung over your shoulder holding your thumb up. Of course he had to stop and give you a ride. “Where you headed?” He glances you as you get comfortable in your seat next to him.

“North. I’m guessing you’re headed that way too?” You laugh, flashing a smile at him. He’s older, but he’s cute. A little muscle on his arms, trucker hat worn backwards, and hazel green eyes.

“You’d be correct.” He nodded.

“Well, thank you for picking me up. Some asshole dropped me off and I was standing there for like an hour.” You roll your eyes in annoyance. “And my phones dead. Lucky me, right?”

“I gotta charger for you in the glovebox, darling. Go ahead and use it.” He points at it.

“Ugh, thank you!” You squeal, opening the glovebox and grabbing the wire, plugging it into your phone and see the low battery icon on your screen. “It’s working! Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. A pretty girl like yourself shouldn’t be left stranded. Anyone know you’re on your way to wherever you’re going?” He questioned, his fingers tapping against the wheel.

“Nah.” You shook your head. “Left by myself.” He let out a scoff, shaking his head at you. “Aye, Mister, don’t judge.”

A laugh erupted from his chest, throwing his hands up in defense. “Not judging, just admiring you for your bravery.” He looks over at you, winking.

“Mmph, whatever,” you huff. There’s a few seconds of silence before you turn to him, your eyes catching how tight his jeans are around his thighs, highlighting the bulge in his pants. “Can I suck your cock?”

“Excuse me?” He chuckles, completely caught off guard by your question, looking over at you.

“Can…I…suck…your…cock?” You sound out each word for him, inching closer and closer. “Just payback for being so nice and not leaving me out in the blazing heat, you know?” You smile at him, eager to undo his jeans.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” He smirks, licking his lips.

“So is that a yes?” You raise a brow.

Glug, glug, glug.

“Ughhh, fuckk, baby,” Toji moans, hand resting on your head as you take him down your throat. You’re able to take his cock fully down your throat, tears pricking your eyes before you gag and come up for air.

You smile up at him, spit messily coating your lips, while you jerk him off, squeezing your palm around his shaft the closer you get to his swollen head. “Pay attention to the road, Mister.” You kiss his tip, giving it small kitten licks that make his hips jolt. You wrap your lips around his tip, tongue circling around it while lightly sucking.

“Shittt, your mouth feels so fucking good,” his eyes roll back for a quick second before having to focus on the road again, moans falling past his lips so easily. You’re slurping on his cock like a popsicle, moaning and bobbing your head up and down. “Good little cocksucker, aren’t you, darling?” He breathily chuckles, glancing down at you.

Pop!

“Mhmmm,” you respond, blinking up at with thick lashes, slapping his cock on your wet tongue. “I guess it’s both our lucky day,” you say before licking a long strip from his base all the way to his tip, spitting all on it. He shivers at the sensation, your lips pressing kisses all the way up his shaft until you take him down your throat again, eyes clenching shut when you feel your nose press against his pelvis.

You cough on his cock, gagging before quickly coming up for more air, sucking in a breath. “You’re gonna make me crash this truck if you don’t slow down,” he moans, biting down on his bottom lip. Both of your hands wrap around his dick, jerking him off with a wicked smile on your face. He can tell you’re enjoying this way too much, probably more than him, but seeing you so eager to make him cum only turns him on more.

“We can always pull over,” you suggest, pulling the hem of your crop top up to reveal your tits, no bra of course. You massage them right in front of his face, pulling at your hard nipples and whimpering in his ear. Toji can’t help but look over every few seconds.

“Oh, darling, you’re fucking evil,” he whines, so very desperate to latch his mouth on those nipples of yours and suck them. You giggle, jerking his cock faster and harder. “You got such pretty tits…keep playing with them…it’s gonna make me fucking cum.”

You’re groping and squeezing them, letting your spit drool all over your skin, rubbing it in. His cock twitches in your hand, a sign that he’s close. “You sure you don’t wanna pull over, Mister?” You smirk. “As a reward I’ll let you cum in my pussy?” You moan out, your teeth catching your lower lip. Within seconds, warm cum spurts out of his cock, landing over your hand, his shirt and the steering wheel.

“Ohhhh, fuckkkkk,” he groans, hips bucking up into your hand as he rides out his orgasm. It’s so hard for him to keep his eyes from rolling back, from crashing this damn truck. His head is swirling all while you’re laughing in his ear and licking his cum off your fingers. “Holy shit, darling,” he breathes out. He pulls over on the side of the road, feeling like he’s gonna pass out if he doesn’t slow down.

“Something wrong?” You question, pulling your shirt down, and looking ahead at the highway before looking at him again. His eyes are hazy, and his soft cock is still out of his jeans.

“You said you don’t have anywhere to go, right?” He asks. You confusingly, shake your head. “How bout you come ride along with me, huh?” He offers, pulling you closer to him.

“Really?!” You excitedly replied.

“Uh huh.” He nods. “Sit right here looking pretty and keep me satisfied,” he explains. “Of course I’ll also keep you satisfied too. You deserve it.”

“Mmmm, I’ll do it, but what’s your name?” You squint your eyes at him.

“What’s yours?” He playfully asks.

“Y/n, but I actually like when you call me darling instead,” you admit.

“Oh, yeah? I’ll keep to it then. I’m Toji,” he says, caressing his hand over your thigh. “It’s nice of you to join me on my trip, darling.”

“Nice of you to invite me.”

feel free to support me <3

[yoiisa]

wbk reacting to you getting beaten up by a rival gang .𖥔 ݁ ˖

w/ SUO HAYATO, KIRYU MITSUKI, AND KAJI REN

part 2 with Sakura, Togame, and Uryu is here!

Tags: Descriptions of wounds (nothing too graphic, just mentions of blood and bruises), angst, hurt/comfort!

SUO HAYATO ⋆˙⟡

He should’ve seen this coming.

He’s carrying you on his back, his heart battering against his ribcage as you lie slumped over his back.

He’d been at home, completely ready for bed. Just before he tucked himself in though, he got a panicked phone call from Nirei, the blonde boy’s voice high pitched and frantic.

“Suo, come quick! [name] . . . she’s hurt really bad!”

He’d rushed out of his house, not even bothering to change or put on shoes. When he’d gotten to the location Nirei sent him, he found you hunched over on yourself, sitting on a bench. Nirei was sitting next to you, his jacket on your shoulders. Sakura knelt in front of you, checking your injuries.

You looked up, and Suo’s heart shattered like porcelain. A stream of blood leaked from your nostrils, a bruise bloomed across your throat, and your left eye was swelling. Sakura stood up and Suo quickly took his place. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as you tremble.

“What happened lovely?” he asked, his eyes wide and concerned.

You were silent for a brief moment before you slipped off the bench and into Suo’s arms. You sobbed, “I don’t even know . . . Hayato . . .”

He pulled you into his chest, stroking your hair and kissing your hairline. “Shhh, shh, take your time, it’s okay.”

You wiped your tears and whimpered. “I think someone recognized me . . . they saw me walking with you one day . . . they . . . they had a white jacket on . . . ?”

Sakura and Nirei shot each other sharp looks behind you, before eyeing Suo, who remained stone faced. You continued softly, “I think they wanted to get to you through me?”

Suo went rigid, his breath hitching. Of course. Of course. No one knows anything about him, any of his other weaknesses. Of course they’d go through the first option they’re given. He was an idiot. He was so fucking stupid.

He kissed your forehead and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“. . . ” he removed Nirei’s jacket from your shoulders and replaced it with his. Then, with the help of Sakura and Nirei, he got you situated on his back as he walked you home, to his apartment.

“Hayato,” you whisper, your soft voice snapping him out of his recollection of the past half hour.

“Yes lovely?” he asks, turning his head slightly towards you. You gently play with a tassel, and he smiles.

“Thank you for coming. It was by complete accident that Sakura and Nirei found me, but I'm thankful they did. I was so scared, but when I heard Nirei calling you . . . I was so relieved. I love you,” and then your head droops, sleep overtaking you as you breathe in and out deeply.

Suo almost trips over his own feet. His eyes go wide and he sighs. His heart swells and he kisses your cheek.

“I love you too,” he whispers, “so much lovely.”

KIRYU MITSUKI ⋆˙⟡

Kiryu has an inkling that something was wrong since the morning. It was currently noon, the sun blaring down on the two of you. He was very close to sweating but for some reason, you were in a sweater. The two of you were walking in a strip mall, hand in hand, window shopping.

He studied you, analyzing your appearance. He’d known that you had a crop top at home that you were excited to wear once the weather got warmer, so then why . . .?

“Mitsuki?” You ask, fanning yourself with your hand. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” He asks softly. His voice is gentle as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Why’re you sweating like this sweetie? You should take your sweater off.”

You stiffen marginally, but relax just as fast. It doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend though, who pouts and furrows his brow.

“I just bought this sweater,” you explain softly. “It’d be a waste to not wear it, right?”

“Then what about the tank tops you bought two weeks ago?” He presses. “That blue looked really cute on you.”

You hum and nod. “Hmmm yeah, maybe.”

“ . . . Cut it out,” he says pulling you closer. “Why’re you lying? Are you okay? Did something happen?” He hugs you and nuzzles his face into your neck. “I’m worried [name]-ie.”

You sigh after a moment, your hand coming up to pat his head. “It’s okay, I’m okay.”

“You’re gonna die of heatstroke!” he exclaims.

You sigh and shake your head, lifting a hand up to fan your face. “Mitsuki-” you begin, but suddenly your sleeve slides down your arm, and the edge of the bruise starts to peak out from behind the cuff.

Kiryu’s eyes narrow in on it and he instantly jumps. His hand wraps around your wrist and he pulls the sleeve down slowly, revealing a nasty bruise in the shape of a hand.

“ . . . Mitsuki-”

“What happened to you?” He asks, his voice hardened by shock. “Where did you get this from?”

“. . . it’s nothing,” you sigh. “I don’t know. Some guys just kinda cornered me the other day and were being asshats,” you mutter angrily. “They . . . beat me up.”

“What?” Kiryu asks. For a second he thinks he misheard you but the more uncomfortable you look by his silence, the more he knows that’s not true.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before Kiryu drags you into the nearest department store. He leads you to the back of the store and pulls you into the first open stall.

“Mitsuki you can’t do thi-”

“I wanna see what they did. Take the sweater off.”

You stare at him indignantly for a few minutes before finally pulling the sweater up over your head. Bruises cover your torso, your stomach displaying an array of nasty purple splotches.

Kiryu stares at you, his face falling. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” he asks quietly after a moment.

“Because they wanted a rise out of you and I didn’t want to give them that.”

“You should’ve told me,” he grabs your arms and yanks you into a hug, squeezing you tight against him.

“I’ll heal.”

“That’s not the point,” he whispers against your neck. He pulls himself back and stares deeply into your eyes, his own a whirlwind storm of different emotions. “You always take care of me whenever I’m injured,” he whispers, lifting your wrist up to give the inside of it a kiss. “I wanted to do the same for you.”

You don’t know how long the two of you stand there in the fitting room hugging, but eventually, you’re back at his place, in his shirt, on his bed, in his arms, and you’ve never felt safer in your life.

KAJI REN ⋆˙⟡

Kaji’s sun bathing on the roof, the heat soft against his skin. Music was blaring in his ears, a tiny smile graced his face as he pictures the date the two of you are about to go on later today: go to Pothos . . . get some food . . . hold hands . . .

His smile widens as he pictures it. He can’t wait.

But he won’t have to, cuz you come to him. Or more like someone drags you to him.

“Kaji!” Enomoto shouts, yanking his headphones off.

“Ah! What the hell-”

“Look!” Enomoto shouts, pointing somewhere beyond Kaji.

Kaji sits up and looks through the chain link fence blocking the edge of the roof. At first he doesn’t see what Enomoto is pointing at, but then . . . he sees it.

Kusumi is already hurrying to your side, and scoops your limp body into his arms as he checks your injuries. More second years also rush to your body to look over you. They all know you through your relationship with Kaji, and they all see you as a sister of sorts.

Kaji is bursting through doors and racing through hallways, desperate to get to you. When he finally gets out to the courtyard, his heart is thrumming in his chest as his peers part to let him approach.

Kusumi sets you gently in Kaji’s arms, and Kaji tucks you under his chin. He looks up at Kusumi and Enomoto, who kneels by your side to assess your damage.

Kaji’s fingers dig into your arm as he growls, “What the fuck is this?”

You cough hoarsely as Kusumi says, “I got a text of a photo from an unknown number. Here,” Kusumi shows a photo of a broken you, your body in a fetal position to try and deflect the beating. You face has cuts all over it and bruises mar whatever skin is visible in the picture.

“It was probably a few stragglers from Keel who wanted revenge,” another second year theorizes.

Kaji grits his teeth and pulls you tighter against him. The fact that those lowlife scum would go after you . . . he’ll kill them all. The white hot rage that he knows all too well floods his system and short circuits his senses. He can feel it taking control of his brain. It threatens to take complete hold over him, turning his vision red.

“Ren…?” You whisper against his jaw.

And just like that, he snaps out of it. The other boys freeze as you speak. Kaji gently pulls you back so he can better see into your eyes. Your poor sweet eyes, which are teary and scared. He hates seeing you like this. Hates knowing how scared you must’ve been when you were being assaulted.

"C'mon, let's get you patched up," he mutters. He lifts you in his arms and carries you inside the school, calling for someone to prepare the nurse's office.

“Ren,” you whisper into his neck. Enomoto shouts for some food and water as you continue, “I was so scared.”

Kaji can only give a tight nod. He doesn’t know what else to do. He feels horrible, like this is all his fault. In a way, he supposes it is. When he feels you nuzzle against him, soaking in his scent, he wants to throw you far away from him, that way he can never accidentally cause you pain like this again.

Nevertheless, he carries you back into the school and into the nurse’s office, where a first aid kit is being organized, and some dorayaki and milk is brought forward to you. Some of the boys fuss over you, bandaging your cuts and pouring water into your mouth. You thank them graciously. Kaji stands off to the side, watching the ordeal unfold.

Once they’re done, everyone leaves you and Kaji alone. He holds your hand and you rub your thumb along his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks after he watches you silently for a moment. Anguish is written in his eyes.

“. . . Just hold my hand,” you whimper. "That always makes it better, right?" What choice does Kaji have but to comply?

He gives your hand a firm squeeze and you lean against him. He kisses your hair and you fall asleep, your body exhausted, but protected at last.

A/N: I wanted to do so many other characters for this, so lemme know if you want a part two!

[bloomseishiro]

Hi! Can I request some BLLK drabbles (with whichever BLLK characters you like) where the boys see the reader in tight clothes for the first time? Like, the reader usually wears baggy clothing or stuff that hides their curves/body figure, so it’s a total surprise! It doesn’t have to be a dress—tight shorts and crop tops work too!

Anyways, I love you and your fics! You’re doing amazing, hunny! 💕 Keep doing what you’re doing—your stories make me smile and feel the thrill!! 💓🩷💗

what a surprise — he sees you in tight clothes for the first time

౨ৎ ft. nagi seishiro, itoshi sae, itoshi rin

a/n. THANK YOU SWEET ANON FOR THE REQUEST!! i had sm fun writing this and ur kind words def made my day ^-^ i chose the three characters i’m most comfy with heh one day i will expand!! >.>

contents. fluff, pre-relationship, timeskip/pro soccer player bllk boys, reader wears a tight dress for rin and nagi’s + crop top/short shorts for sae’s, these are suggestive so rated 16+ pls ! 

NAGI SEISHIRO

Nagi isn’t one to go to parties often. But this one was for Reo’s birthday and you were begging him to go. 

He thought it would be less of a hassle to simply agree with you and make an appearance. Besides, he could always bring his phone and hide in the corner of the room, if needed. 

But when Nagi sees the dress you’re wearing to the party, he decides maybe agreeing to come wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

“Does this dress make my butt look big?” you ask from his room, popping your head out of the doorframe. 

The two of you are getting ready at Nagi’s apartment, mainly so he can’t flake at the last minute, and he had stepped out earlier to give you privacy while changing. 

At your question, Nagi looks around lazily before his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you. The dress on your body is short and tight, leaving nothing to the imagination when it comes to the shape of your waist and hips. 

Nagi swallows with uncertainty. It’s different from your usual attire, that much even he could recognize. 

“Yes,” he manages to answer your question honestly. 

You beam as if that's just the response you’re looking for. “Great! I was going to wear my usual clothes, but Reo said we should dress nice since his family invited some celebrities.”

Nagi nods in acknowledgment. “Your dress is nice. But your usual clothes are nice, too.”

Hiding a giggle, you tug the dress down so it covers more of your thighs. Nagi can’t help but notice how shiny and supple your skin looks there. 

“Do you like one more than the other?” you ask playfully. 

He shakes his head hesitantly and he feels heat rise to his cheeks. “I like…both.”

“I’ll make sure to mix it up sometimes, then.”

ITOSHI SAE

Sae isn’t a saint. He’s never claimed nor pretended to be. While his focus has always been on soccer, he wasn’t one to turn down one night stands so long as they were conveniently timed for him. 

All that to say, he’s seen plenty of minimally-clad bodies before. But he’s never felt the dryness in his throat that he does now. All from seeing you in those denim booty shorts and cropped baby tee. 

Of course, the ridiculous shirt has, “Make Men Cry” written across your chest, only accentuating the curves you normally kept hidden even more. You may very well be able to reach that goal if you keep walking around like that. 

His face is neutral; only Sae himself feels the slight clench of his jaw as his eyes trail across your figure. 

“Do I look bad?” you blurt hesitantly, tugging at the hem of your shirt that landed just above your belly-button. Your fidgeting only serves to draw more attention to the exposed, soft skin on your stomach. 

Sae blinks slowly. “No. Who said that?”

“No one, but you just keep staring at me…” 

“Not because you look bad,” he corrects. “It’s because you look hot.”

“You think?” you ask shyly, peering up at him through your lashes. “My friend and I went on a shopping spree and I wanted to change up my wardrobe. Just sometimes, at least.”

Sae makes a mental note to thank your friend. “Well, if you need more clothes, you can use my card.”

“I’ll make sure to get more of these cropped tops. Since you seem to like it so much,” you tease.

“For whatever reason, only on you.”

ITOSHI RIN

Awestruck doesn’t begin to describe how Rin feels when he sees you in a silk dress that gracefully falls against all your curves. 

Galas are a pain, a stupid event he would skip if not for his PR team’s incessant prodding, but at least he managed to drag you along with him for this one. 

He didn’t, however, actually expect you to dress the part. He would’ve been fine if you had shown up in the oversized shirts and baggy pants you typically wore, but he was completely caught off guard at the sight of you now.

“Can you help me tighten the back?” you ask bashfully, turning around to reveal the almost-backless dress that held itself together by a few measly strings. “I don’t want it to fall off at the gala…”

Rin’s ears heat up and he mentally slaps himself for picturing that. “Yeah. C’mere.”

You aren’t one to wear revealing clothes often, and this is the most skin he’s seen since he ever met you. His fingers ghost the back of your spine as he fastens the strings into a little bow. His fingers jerk as he skims the softness of your skin and he clears his throat to distract himself. 

“Is this good?” he asks hoarsely. 

You tug at the straps to make sure it’s secure and nod brightly. “Yep! Thanks, Rin. Do you need help with anything? I can tie your tie in return!”

Panicked, he shakes his head and quickly fastens his tie himself. It’s the fastest Rin has ever gotten it done. Once finished, he catches you staring at him with a funny look. 

“You’re acting silly,” you say, sticking your tongue out.

“Sorry. I know. I’m just not used to you looking like that.”

Your gaze meets the floor as you shuffle your weight from foot to foot. “Is it weird?”

“It’s unfamiliar. But you look…” he trails off, cheeks a bright pink. “You look really pretty.”

You blink in surprise and an equally embarrassed look graces your features. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he coughs. “Not that you’re not always pretty. Just…it’s different.”

“Yeah,” you repeat, giggling through the shyness. “Well, if you want to see me like this more often, I guess you have to invite me as your plus one to more of these events.”

“Do you want to attend more of these with me?” asks Rin in surprise. 

“Not particularly,” you admit and Rin scoffs. “But maybe it’s worth it to see your cute reactions.”

His face heats up once more. “Shut up.” 

You laugh at him, placing your hand on your hips and only drawing more attention to your curves. Maybe Rin doesn’t hate galas, after all.

[pedge-page]

joel chanting "take it take it take it" while trying to breed you AAAAAAAA

Joel x F!reader

A Father’s love

Warnings: Age gap (20s reader x 60s Joel), Jackson era, adopt-cest (?). Reader is adult when Joel takes you in. Pregnancy, cum eating. Unprotected sex. Face riding. Daddy kink.

18+ only

- - - -

Joel Miller shot and killed your father. Whether by guilt or attraction, he felt the overbearing responsibility to step into your life. It’s almost a bit of an addiction for him: adopting stray young women into his home.

Of course, unlike the younger ones that settled into his life before you, you were much more receptive to his charm, his kindness. His protection.

And eventually his cock.

Everyone thought it was really sweet oh him to take you in like that. Give you a home with him. Fill the gap he unintentionally created. Provided shelter and guidance. He was already a really good dad; everyone knew that. 

You very quickly saw it too. In every way possible.

“Take it take it take it, fucking take it,” he snarls, smothering your face deeper into the drool-spotted pillow beneath you.

You didn’t have much choice to do anything else at that moment but to take his raging viagra-fueled boner. The man was pushing 60, but that wasn’t going to stop him driving his hips down, crashing into your ass, pinning your body flush against the plush mattress. His worn but veiny hands grip your lower back, arching it so that your butt bounced off his pelvis with each thrust, leaving you trapped under him. He dug in deep, too, making sure his tip kissed your cervix. It left you cross eyed, teeth sunken into the pillowcase, mumbling gibberish as a euphoric tear dripped from your cheeks. 

With another rut, his cock plunged deeper, splashing your juices out.

“F-fuck Daddy!” You cry hoarse. Your voice was rough. He’d been on you since you got home with lunch for him, unbeknownst to you he had taken the blue pill to fuel his desires. You tempted him a little too hard with those skimpy shorts he told you to trade out with something modest. 

You had come home with a new cropped bralette instead. 

“You never listen to Daddy,” he groan, slowing his thrusts into harsh grinding. He let out a pant each sway of his hips against yours. His member now buried deep, your walls struggling to accomodate his girth even after these few months together. “Everyone knows how good I am to ya, n’ you don’t respect me still? Now I gotta show everyone how I trained ya properly.” 

You nod into pillow. It was hard to focus on anything he’d tell you in this state. Just nodding seemed to make him pleased enough to keep fucking you. God, that’s all you wanted. Just Joel Miller fucking you deep and raw, like he was always meant to. 

"You gonna take it, babygirl? Take it like ya been doin' so good all this time--fuck yeah right there--right there baby--gonna make sure everyone knows...everyone sees what I done to ya--"

He doesn’t ask to cum inside anymore. That formality was long gone. Instead, he rasped shakily, steadying your hips against his as he pulsed thickly inside you. Ribbon after ribbon stubbing you full until it was leaking out onto the sheets under you.

“My good girl,” he hummed against your temple with a kiss. He closes his eyes, too blissed in the moment to really pull out or get up or even think. He lays on top of you, kissing you sweetly, all that tension dissolving into his love.

You loved your new life here. The resentment you felt towards him was bitter and surprisingly short, and it didn’t take long before you were suckling up his limp dick into your mouth like warm pacifier to sooth the pain in your mind, the absence he had created, replacing it with—

“S’junior okay?”

You were flipped onto your back. Joel had lapped your up his creamy spent from between your thighs, his lips now trailing up to the small bump now visible in your lower tummy.

His calloused hand was massive, covering it entirely now, but he could still feel that hardened little bump he’d planted there, growing by the minute. Brown puppy eyes gazed up to you expectedly, his dry lips brushing gently across the expanse of your belly.

“Junior is fine,” you reassure him. God, he asked about the baby every day. “But you’re really going to have to be gentler.”

“I know I know, can’t help it.” He presses a kiss at your naval, holding himself there for a pregnant moment before releasing. The peppered, now almost entirely salted, hairs of his chin tickled you. “You’re already such a good momma. Lookin out for my baby already.”

"I told you I'd take care of ya." He kisses your belly button again.

"Yeah, " you muse. He really has. He takes care of everyone to be honest. And maybe you a little more so. It took less than a month in the generosity of his home before he had knocked you up, and here you were only a couple months later. His baby nestled safely in your womb.

You wanted to show him your love over and over again.

"Get on your back," you command softly, already sitting up.

He rolls over, caressing your bare thighs up to your hip. Even now as you straddled over him, he can't take his eyes off the obviously little swell drooping over, the way your tits look a little heavier. Jesus, it was really happening. It had been a long time since he last had a pregnant gal on his lap. In fact. He was probably still your age when it last happened. Long time indeed...

Everyone loved joel. He's such a good man. ard working. Generous. Funny. Everyone loved--

"Fuck daddy, I love you," You gasp as you sink down on him.

He groans when you finally bottom out. "This is how all girls should treat their daddies."

You already are starting a gentle rocking back and forth, your hands flat on his chest. "What, fuck them??" You asked incredulously.

"No. But loving them. Respecting em. Doin what they're told." He swats your ass "N' being greatful about it"

You smile, grinding down deeper. You lower yourself so that his lips align with yours, fingers cradling his head as the two of you lazily fuck.

"You're so good at that," he praises before sucking your tongue into his lips.

He even tasted like old man. You don't know how. But this time it's intoxicating, filling your senses like he's suffocating you inside him.

You cum twice more on his dick before his balls tense, snug to you ass as he releases again inside you. "Ats it. All I got," he pants, still coming down from his high.

You sigh. Your cunt still throbs around him.

"You think of any names yet?" He asks, lifting you off his member. The thick splat of his and your combined juices on his stomach has you itching for another orgasm.

"No, Jesus we only found out when I started showing a week or so ago. Don't even know if it's a he."

"Its a he." Hes so certain of it.

Whatever. If that's what makes him eat his cum out of you right now, then so be it.

"Let me kiss these lips. Let him know daddy is here waitin' for him."

You straddle his face as he lazily makes out with your pussy. Maybe your back hurts a little, but Joels got both hands holding your waist up. You try not to get to lost in bliss. Cupping that little bump in your lower stomach, you think "Joels such a good dad to me. I have no doubt he's gonna be a great daddy for you too, Junior. "

- - - -

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld @urlivingdeadgirl @yourmommycallsmemommy @kellielovesmovies @whoaitspascal87

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

all the times we used to have

best friend!rafe cameron x innocent!virgin!fem!reader

cw — fingering, very innocent and slightly oblivious reader, mentions of fighting

summary — rafe loves his best friend.

authors note — new au!!! please request

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

best friend!rafe who absolutely worships the ground that his best friend walks on. hes the type to rip off his jacket and place it over a puddle just so you can avoid dirtying your pretty shoes that you love so much.

best friend!rafe who would’ve normally never gotten so close with someone so completely opposite of him but is so extremely thankful he did. he wouldn’t know what to do without you.

best friend!rafe who is careful what he talks about around his best friend to avoid ruining her strictly positive perception of the world.

best friend!rafe who protects his best friend with his life. he once beat a guy within an inch of life at one of toppers party for giving you a dirty look. no one was ever allowed to disrespect you.

best friend!rafe who sometimes had to excuse himself to the bathroom when you’d come over in those pretty crop tops and extremely tiny shorts. when you bent over just enough, he was able to catch a glimpse of your lacy underwear that had his biting down to surprise a groan.

best friend!rafe who was overly touchy with you but said it was normal for a friendship. its how things worked.

best friend!rafe who has driven and paid for everything during the duration of your friendship. you see something you want? done. bought instantly. you want to go somewhere? he’s already outside waiting on you with his truck.

best friend!rafe who lets you decorate the passenger side of the car and no longer lets anyone else sit there. if he picks up his boys? they sit in the back or he takes another car.

best friend!rafe who exchanges “i love you”s with you because he convinced you its what friends do. you loved each other so it was normal.

best friend!rafe who stayed up late at night wondering if things would ever be different between the two of you. especially when you slept over at each others houses and woke up in bed together all cuddled up.

best friend!rafe who convinced you that kissing was something all best friends did. it was a way to show they care about each other.

best friend!rafe who somehow managed to get you in his lap, grinding against him all needy as you shared a sloppy makeout session. when you asked what was rubbing up against you and why it was making you tingle down there, he told you it was nothing and it just happened when two people really care about each other.

best friend!rafe who was the first to ever finger you and work you through your first orgasm because you were on your period and it hurt so bad. your back pressed to his chest with a towel beneath you as his fingers plunged deep inside of you at such a soft and slow pace. and when a mix of cum and blood seeped onto his hand and you hid your face out of embarrassment, he comforted you and said it wasn’t a big deal. its what best friends are for.

[buckyalpine]

Imagine feeling needy and sad when Bucky pays more attention to your very round, pregnant tummy instead of you. I mean he doesn't actually. You're his entire world and you come first no matter what but currently, you feel like the little super soldier you're carrying is getting much more love than you.

"How's my little plum" Bucky cooed, peppering kisses all over your tummy, snuggling against your skin after coming back from a mission. 2 weeks had never felt longer and you were craving your husband more than ever. As soon as you heard the rumble of the jet, you waddled from your room as best as you could, panting out of breath by the time you reached the living room.

You couldn't wait to have your Bucky safe in your arms again, giggling at the way he tossed his bag and jacket to the side haphazardly, running straight to you. You braced yourself for an attack and flurry of hugs and kisses he always greeted you with but it never came.

You squeaked as he picked you up and set you on the couch, lifting your shirt up to curl up with your belly, sighing contently as his scruffy cheek pressed against your warm skin. You brought your hand down to play with his soft cropped hair, longing to feel his arms hold you, his warm lips all over your face, his sweet words of how much he missed you and how happy he was to be back home with you again. Instead, the tiny soldier in your belly was hogging up all the time with his daddy.

Of course it was ridiculous. You knew Bucky loved you more than anything else in the world; he doted on you all the time, you were the most precious thing in this life. He adored you more than ever, worshipping your every being and ever since you'd told him he was going to be a father, he'd fallen in love with you more. You were giving him the family he dreamed of with his dream girl, you trusted him, you were carrying his little baby.

You will always be everything to him.

Yet you couldn't help but feel a little left out of the welcome party, your throat feeling tight, eyes starting to fill with tears. You missed him soo much and he was still busy nuzzling into your tummy, but not busy enough to miss the whimper that slipped past your lips.

"Baby?" Bucky's head shot up as soon as he heard what sounded like a cry but it couldn't be. His eyes filled with worry when he saw your sweet fallen face, indeed crying and poorly hiding it. "Why are you crying angel, what happened, is everything okay?"

His mind started to run a hundred miles a minute, ready to swoop you away to the med wing when shook your head, another wave of tears pooling when he reached out to wipe your cheeks.

"It's silly" You shrug with a sniffle but Bucky isn't having it.

"Tell me what's wrong baby" his baby blues pled with you, waiting to fix what was wrong because why was his perfect angel sad.

"I didn't get a hello kiss" You say with a pout and Bucky found himself stuck between wanting to cry and loving you more.

"I'm sorry, mama" Bucky coos, scooping you right up into his arms, cupping your cheek and placing a kiss onto your nose. Then your forehead. "M'sorry" He places a gently kiss to your still pouted lips, repeatedly peppering kisses till he hears you giggle. "You deserve all the hello kisses angel"

"I thought you didn't miss me" You whisper with your face pressed against his neck, breathing in his scent, all the anxiety you felt with him gone washing away in an instant.

"I missed you more than you know, baby" His lips move against your hair, "How could I not miss the pretty girl I fell so in love with, you're it for me"

He kept you in his arms, his hand slipping up your shirt to rub your back, the simple action nearly lulling you to sleep. He picks you up with ease, deciding to run a bath because he doesn't want to be away from your side for another minute and he keeps himself glued to you the entire time. Your back is against his chest, his hands coming up to massage your tense shoulders, kissing down your neck. He doesn't let go when it's time to rinse off, standing with both hands over your tummy as the hot water cascades over you both. He gets you dried off with a nice fluff towel before taking you to bed to sleep, frowning when you shuffled around in discomfort.

"I think your little plum misses you" You giggled between a squeak as baby Bucky kicked in your tummy, refusing to sleep until he heard his daddy's voice say goodnight. You gave him a pointed look as Bucky grinned, shimmying down the bed to rest between your legs at eyelevel with your belly. "Come talk to your son please"

"Quit kicking your ma" Bucky whispered, his metal hand patting the area where his baby boys tiny feet caused a ruckus, "time to let mommy rest, plum"

"Unbelievable" you huffed as the kicking stopped immediately, your little one settling contently while you also got comfortable against Bucky's chest. "So in love with his daddy"

"He gets it from you" Bucky smiled down at your content form, already half asleep, snug in his arms, "Pretty angel"

[em1i2a3]

Good Grief

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Enhanced!Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader!

Summary: Bob is spellbound when he watches you train. It’s his favourite part of the day, and it’s his way of getting to know you. This is how the two of you grow a bond that is practically inseparable, and extremely protective.

Warnings: Hints of Angst and Fluff, Mentions of Violence (because of the training), Reader purposely puts themself in danger to coax out Sentry (this is to test a theory), Accidental Training ‘Injury’, Reader is Enhanced (super strength pretty much)

Author’s Note: I liked this request and the idea, and I kind of ran with it a bit and spiced it up at the end! So I’m glad I could write a nice little blurb for it! Thank you for the request! :)

P.S. I may or may not miss a day this week to upload something for a different Lewis Character….I won’t say who…But some people might know who it is for lol 🤓, or we might get a double update day! Who knows. Just thought I’d put that out there though.

Word Count: 6,163

The training bay was silent except for the soft slap of bare feet on mat and the distant hum of ventilation through the compound walls. Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting long shadows that pooled at the edges of the room. The space smelled faintly of sweat and vinyl, clean but lived-in, the kind of place where discipline lived in every corner.

Half a dozen padded dummies stood propped in a wide arc across the center of the mat. Each one anchored with care, their placement intentional–neither random nor symmetrical. You’d paced the bay in slow circles earlier that morning, nodding to yourself before gesturing for Bob to help shift one a few inches to the left, another slightly forward. He followed your directions without question, even if he didn’t quite understand the pattern you saw.

He stood beside you, palms resting awkwardly against the top of the shoulders of one dummy, eyes flicking between them.

“Yo-You sure you don’t want to go one at a ti-time?” He asked, his voice soft but edged with concern.

He didn’t mean to doubt you–he never did–but this setup was different. Not just reps. Not just sparring. It looked like a battlefield mapped from memory, and you were the only one who knew how to walk it.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze with a knowing smile. “Trust me.”

And he did.

You stepped away from him, shedding the lightweight black zip-up that clung damply to your arms from your warmup. Underneath, you wore a ribbed charcoal-grey sports bra, cropped snug against your chest, the hem riding high enough to show every breath you took. Your training shorts were low on your hips–matte black, skin-tight, with thick waistband support and slits up the sides for flexibility. Scuffed tape wrapped around your knuckles and a faint sheen of sweat already coated your skin, catching on your collarbone, and the dip of your stomach.

Bob was doomed from the start.

He took his usual place–cross-legged at the edge of the mat, your water bottle already in his hands–and watched.

And then you began.

A sharp inhale, a roll of your shoulder, and the first strike landed–clean and fast, a side kick directly to the gut of the closest dummy. You barely touched down before twisting, rolling into a shoulder drop and springing up again in a tight coil of movement. Your limbs snapped into each new angle like memories were guiding you. Like your body had done this a thousand times in another life.

Bob’s grip tightened on your water bottle.

You had told him once–over take out cartons on the roof of the Watchtower–that you were a gymnast before any of this. Before the field ops program. Before the blacksite conditioning and chemical rewrites. Before they molded your hands into weapons and trained you to end lives instead of chasing crappy medals that meant nothing.

That past still lived inside you though, and every single movement was proof of that.

The way you twisted midair and landed softly on the ball of your feet. The perfect, calculated bend of your back as you rebounded into a cartwheel, launching into a split aerial that folded into a kick. It was impossibly smooth–violent and beautiful all at once.

Bob could feel Sentry stirring the way a storm stirs just beyond the clouds. A pressure in the center of his chest. A weight behind his eyes.

“God she is beautiful…” Sentry whispered.

Bob exhaled shakily.

He had never seen anyone move like you before, and he was obsessed with it. He wished that he was able to see you on the field, to watch you take down actual threats, but ever since he voided the majority of New York's population, they had him sitting out until he could fully control himself. So this–this was all he had. And still, he couldn’t imagine anything more intoxicating than what he was watching now.

Your punches echoed through the room like cracks of thunder. Each one landing with calculated force, a precise explosion of movement that rolled through your shoulders, down your spine, and out through your fists. Bob could feel the vibrations in the air.

He sat perfectly still, barely breathing, with your water bottle gripped between his palms, the plastic creaking faintly under his thumbs. Steam hadn’t started yet, but it would, and he could feel it building under his skin.

You didn’t look tired, but there was a sheen of sweat forming now–glowing against the line of your throat, collecting at your lower back, glistening on your collarbones with every twist–but you didn’t breathe heavily, and your pace didn’t falter. If anything you moved faster, like the rhythm inside you had finally caught up to the shape of the room.

Bob’s eyes followed you like a man possessed.

You twisted, and ducked, and rolled seamlessly into a sweeping leg kick that took one dummy down with a harsh crack. But you didn’t stop. You didn’t hesitate. You flipped up onto your hands and spun into a tight, two-point kick, knocking a second dummy halfway backward before landing clean, knees bent, palms open.

It wasn’t training anymore. It was a ritual. It was instinct. A muscle-deep, cellular kind of memory, more ancient than tactics and more intimate than breath.

Bob could feel his throat tighten.

Your fists snapped with brutal precision, thighs flexing with each powerful step. And your eyes–glistening with anticipation–were locked on the next target with such focus that it felt like gravity bent towards you.

You landed on one hand, and kicked upward with explosive strength, sending a dummy rocking on its base.

Then–you pivoted low, gathered your weight and launched.

A scream of momentum–nothing verbal, just kinetic energy in its purest form.

Your shoulder slammed forward, with one final strike, and the last dummy flew.

Launching across the room, skidding off the mat with a plastic-laced screech before it smashed into the far wall–loud enough to echo with a thunderous boom.

Silence followed.

Thick. Charged. Unmoving.

You straightened slowly in the center of the mat, chest still rising in a quiet rhythm, arms loose at your sides. A fine mist of sweat clung to your stomach and thighs. You tilted your head just slightly, watching the dummy slump on the other side of the bay with a smirk on your face.

Bob stared at it as well, not blinking, nor breathing.

“Oh to be a dummy…I’d let her launch me across a room.” Sentry whispered, “I’d kneel at her feet, just to feel her shadow pass over me.”

The water bottle in Bob’s hands began to hiss.

Not audibly, it was just a faint pressure, a heat coiling inward, steam threatening to rise. The plastic beneath his fingers had begun to soften, warping faintly where the heat of his palms pushed in. But he didn’t even notice, because his senses weren’t registering anything except you.

You were still on the mat, framed in the center of his vision like some living storm–shoulders rising and falling in slow rhythm, now a towel slung lazily around your neck, with its ends brushing the curve of your chest as you dragged it across the glistening lines of your collarbone.

You looked like power incarnate. Like something divine caught in a human frame. And Bob? Bob was drowning in you.

You ran the towel down your stomach, catching the sweat that shimmered on your skin like dew on glass. You weren’t even looking at him yet, but he still flinched when you finally turned and strode toward him with that same slow, dangerous confidence you carried on the mat.

“How was that?” You asked casually, voice still slightly breathless. “Good form?”

Bob blinked.

Then blinked again.

And the world snapped back into sound with a pop.

Literally.

The lid of the water bottle burst off with a sharp crack, steam hissing faintly from the top as the pressure released, shooting the cap somewhere behind him. It clattered to the floor and rolled in a lazy half circle before spinning to a stop.

“Oh…Oh Je-Jesus.” He breathed, glaring down at the now-lidless bottle in his hand. You laughed–a puff of amusement–as you stepped towards him, holding out your hand.

“I’ll take that from you now,” You said. Bob’s eyes widened still fixated on the warped bottle in his hands.

”I-I could get you a new one…Th-This one is basically boiled.” You shrugged, stepping even closer, your shadow now brushing over his lap like a tide coming in.

“Water is water,” You commented with a lazy smile, “I don’t mind.” He swallowed hard, the sound thick in his throat. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to not hand you this half-melted, Sentry-steamed, probably-dangerous bottle of lava–but your fingers brushed his anyway, curling lightly around the neck of it.

Bob relented, blushing furiously as he let go.

You brought it to your lips without hesitation. The plastic crinkled under your grip as you tilted it back and drank–really drank–head tipped slightly, throat working, the rise and fall of your chest steady despite the heat. The soft sound of water hitting your mouth was too much, and Bob had to look away–eyes darting to the dummy you launched, to the vent above the door, anywhere but at the way your lips wrapped around the bottle’s edge.

You drained it in a few long gulps.

Then–with a snap of finality–you crushed the softened plastic in one hand and passed it back to him, like it was a token from a battle won.

A droplet clung to your bottom lip, and you licked it off slowly. Like it meant nothing. Like you had no idea what you were doing to him.

“Tell Sentry thanks for the impromptu tea,” You murmured, voice all syrup and smoke. Then you slung the towel back around your neck and turned away, already walking toward the locker room. “I’m gonna go shower off. Meet you on the roof?” Bob couldn’t look at you.

Not when his entire face felt like it was glowing. Not when Sentry was humming in his veins like molten sunlight.

He nodded, eyes on the mat. “Y-Yeah. I’ll–I’ll be there.”

—————————

The roof was quiet except for the soft rustle of wind and the distant city stirring far below.

Bob stood near the ledge, forearms braced loosely against the cool concrete, the weight of his body leaned into it like he needed the grounding. His hair was still damp from a quick rinse, curls pushed back by a hand that kept running through them nervously. The sun hadn’t fully crested the skyline yet, but the horizon was blooming in soft bands of color–mauve to gold to the faintest hint of fire. The sky looked half-awake, as if the day hadn’t decided yet whether to stretch or sleep in.

Behind him, the rooftop door gave a soft clunk as it opened.

You stepped out into the cool air wearing a hoodie that hung a little too long at the sleeves and a pair of loose sweatpants rolled once at the waist. Your socked feet were shoved into slip-ons, and your hair–still damp from your shower was clipped back, the ends brushing against your collar.

You were a completely different version of the woman who had just launched a dummy across the mat, and somehow, to Bob, you were even more dangerous this way.

He heard your footsteps before he saw you. You weren’t trying to be quiet–you never did up here–but there was something about the way you moved that always gave him pause. Even when you weren’t fighting, even when you were soft and warm and dressed in clothes he’d seen you nap in, you moved like a threat. Like someone who could shatter him without ever raising a hand.

He turned when you stopped beside him.

You held out one of the two containers tucked under your arm–clear plastic, condensation fogging the inside, layers of oats, berries, protein powder, almond butter, and a mess of chia seeds and yogurt.

“Added extra almond butter for you,” You said casually, like you hadn’t just left him speechless fifteen minutes ago in the training bay, “I’ve seen you eating it by the spoonful.” Bob smirked, and took the bowl from you with a soft, stuttered thanks, fingers brushing yours for the briefest second.

You leaned against the ledge beside him, shoulder nearly brushing his as you opened your own container and sat it down on the concrete ledge. For a few seconds, neither of you spoke. The wind tugged at the strings of your hoodie, and your eyes stayed on the skyline.

It had started as a fluke, months ago. You had finished training early, Bob had offered to bring you a smoothie he’d prepped the night before, and you both ended up watching the sun rise in silence, chewing half-thawed berries in tired satisfaction. But the ritual had stuck. And now…This was just what you did.

Watch the city wake up. Together. Every time you trained early.

Bob peeled the lid off his breakfast bowl and picked up the spoon you’d shoved into the side.

“Th-this is my favorite one,” He said softly, glancing sideways at you, attempting to break the silence. You didn’t look away from the skyline when you responded.

”I know…You’ve told me.” That made his cheeks pink again. But he didn’t look away this time.

You were quiet for a moment. Chewing. Thinking.

Then, just barely loud enough to hear:

”I got a���Curious question for you.” Bob gulped softly, the sound nearly lost to the wind curling off the rooftop. His spoon paused midair, a dollop of almond butter sliding off into the bowl. He glanced at you, cautious but attentive, like someone approaching a line they didn’t know they were ready to cross.

“A-Alright…” He said carefully, the word sticking to the back of his throat.

You didn’t meet his eyes.

Instead, you scooped a spoonful of frozen berries from your container, crunching down slowly as the chill settled into your jaw. Your lips pressed together in quiet concentration, almost like you were tasting your words before saying them out loud.

“If Sentry is in there…” You said around the fruit, eyes still on the horizon, “Why haven’t I met him?” Bob’s eyebrows rose, and he blinked at you like you’d reached across the space between your shoulders and tapped directly on his soul.

”I do-don’t know,” He replied quietly, “Why do you ask?” You finally looked at him.

Not with challenge, not with anything harsh–just honest curiosity, softened by morning light and the glint of something deeper.

“I kind of want to see him, that’s all,” You said with a shrug. “Sometimes I can feel that he’s there, behind your eyes…” You gestured loosely to the general space around his face, your hand lifting just enough to draw a vague halo around his features. “But I just haven’t seen him. And I’m curious. That’s all.” You looked down into your bowl for a second, then added, “Yelena mentioned he talks differently too, so I want to see what all the fuss is about.”

Bob choked on a breath.

Not dramatically, not loud–but just enough for his shoulders to twitch and the tips of his ears to go scarlet.

“Y-Yeah, well…He–He kind of only comes out in ex-extreme cases…” Bob glanced away again, fidgeting with the edge of the plastic lid. “I’ve been able to get a little bit of co-control over him these past few months but…I-It’s not like switching a light on…Not yet at least.”

“Extreme cases?” You echoed, your tone gentle but laced with curiosity. You swirled your spoon around the half-melted oats in your bowl, watching the almond butter spiral through the yogurt like a lazy storm. “What do you mean by that?” Bob cleared his throat. He adjusted his stance slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“I–uh–I-if anyone I care ab-about is in danger…” He explained, voice tight, eyes fixed somewhere just past the edge of the roof. “Th-that typically triggers him.”

You turned your head slowly to look at him.

Anyone I care about.

The air seemed to pause for a moment. Not in a dramatic, thunderstruck way—but in that quiet, split-second beat where something subtle shifts. Where the wind changes direction.

“Really?” You said, just barely above a whisper. Bob nodded, slow and honest.

You bit your bottom lip.

Then you looked away–at the skyline, at the bowl in your hand–and cleared your throat softly. “Huh.”

Bob glanced over, unsure what that huh meant. He opened his mouth to ask, but before he could speak, you placed your container down on the ledge beside you with a faint plastic clack, and then–you pushed yourself up onto the ledge.

Bob froze.

His breath caught like you’d pulled a pin from a grenade.

You didn’t do anything wild–not yet–you just perched there, casual as ever, one leg dangling off the edge of the rooftop and the other folded beneath you. The city stretched wide below your feet, vast and golden and humming with distant morning traffic. But Bob only saw you.

And your eyes–when they turned to meet his–were gleaming with something dangerous.

Playful. Calculating.

“I wonder,” You said slowly, tilting your head, “How close to the edge I’d have to lean before he decided to show.”

Bob’s eyes widened. “Wh–what? N-no, no, don’t–don’t you dare–”

You grinned.

“You just said it yourself…Extreme cases of danger.” Bob stepped closer immediately, alarm blooming in his chest, his breakfast long forgotten.

“P-please get down. Th-that’s not funny.” But you just arched an eyebrow, the wind tugging at the hem of your hoodie.

“I’m not gonna fall. I’ve done this a hundred times.” Bob’s pulse was a living thing in his throat.

He watched–helpless, breath caught, fingers twitching–as you stood.

One slow, deliberate motion. A shift in your hips, a plant of your foot. Then the other followed. Smooth. Balanced. Effortless.

You rose from the ledge like it was solid ground, and there wasn’t a ninety-story drop waiting just inches behind your heels. His entire body went tight.

“Oh Jesus Christ.”

“P-Please,” Bob choked, one foot already shifting forward as if sheer will might anchor you back. “Please don’t–just–get down, okay? I–I’m serious–”

But you weren’t listening. Or maybe you were–and that was worse. Because your gaze was steady. Calm. Amused. The wind tugged strands of hair into your face, and you didn’t even blink.

“Bob…I used to be a gymnast. I’m fine.”

Your foot shifted ever so slightly on the ledge—only an inch, maybe less—but the wind caught just right, and your body flinched. Just a twitch. A minor, involuntary jerk of balance.

And that was all it took.

One blink.

And then–

He was there.

A rush of gold.

A flash of heat.

Your breath hadn’t even finished catching before arms like tempered steel wrapped around your middle, yanking you from the ledge so fast your feet barely had time to register air. The skyline spun, the wind cracked, and then–you were grounded again.

Back pressed to a broad, heaving chest. Hands banded across your ribcage, fingers splayed like molten iron beneath your hoodie. You burst into laughter–a sharp, bubbling giggle that sounded almost wrong in contrast to the divine tension crackling through the air now.

The grip on your waist didn’t ease.

It tightened.

And when you tilted your chin back to look behind you–just slightly, just enough–you saw them.

Gold….His eyes that burned like sunlight through glass, pupils sharp as stars. Sentry.

“Hi,” You said cheerfully, still grinning, breathless from your own stunt.

”No,” Sentry replied, voice rich and low, echoing like thunder rippling through marble, “No ‘hi’…You almost fell off the roof.” It wasn’t a reprimand exactly…But he took the kind of tone that was reserved for things that were precious, vulnerable, and untouchable. His voice vibrated against your spine like something too old and too vast to be fully human.

You glanced down at the way his arms were locked around you–solid and certain, pressed against the soft fabric of your hoodie, heat blooming where his skin met yours.

“I won’t climb back up…I just did that to bring you out, you can let go.” His grip didn’t ease right away. You could feel the tension humming in his limbs. Like holding you was the only thing anchoring the storm.

“Can’t believe you did this deliberately.” He stated, words molten. You smirked at his comment.

”I knew you cared about me.” You teased, then there was a beat of silence. Not empty, not cold–but charged. Like lightning was being held back by sheer force of will.

And then Sentry groaned softly, tipping his head forward, forehead nearly brushing your shoulder

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” He murmured, his breath warm against your neck. You swore you felt the heat of a small sun in that exhale.

“I think my plan worked perfectly actually,” You replied, twisting in his grip slowly until you were facing him. He let you go gradually–arms loosening, like letting go was something he didn’t quite want to do. You stood in front of him now, keeping your eyes locked on his.

“You’ve been watching me,” You added, softer now. ���So I thought I’d introduce myself.”

Sentry stared at you, golden gaze intense, unreadable.

“And how do you know I’ve been watching you?” You shrugged.

”The room kind of gets super hot whenever I’m around you,” You trailed off, playfully, and then added, “And the boiled and semi-melted water bottle during my training this morning really confirmed my suspicions.” Sentry’s gaze lingered on you for a long moment–longer than most people could withstand without blinking, without looking away, without shrinking under the weight of something celestial sizing them up.

But you didn’t shrink.

You just stared right back, lit by the bleeding edge of sunrise, hoodie sleeves bunching slightly as your arms crossed beneath your chest

He inhaled deeply through his nose.

The kind of breath that stirred the wind around you. Like he was tasting the moment.

Then–

“Well…” He exhaled slowly, gold eyes narrowing faintly, heat rolling off his skin like he hadn’t quite put the sun back in its cage, “We like watching you train, so…” A slight smirk, nearly imperceptible, “Sue me for melting the water bottle.”

You laughed, head tilting, teeth catching your bottom lip for a second before you let it go. “Oh, you do?” You echoed, all exaggerated with mock surprise. “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

He said nothing.

So you stepped a bit closer, toe to toe now, looking at him, chasing eye contact.

“Anything else you want to tell me?”

The question hung in the air between you like a dare. A thread. A fuse.

Sentry’s jaw tensed.

Then slowly–very slowly–he bit the inside of his cheek and glanced away, gaze drifting out toward the edge of the city as though it might offer him a safer answer than the truth.

“Not that I know of.”

Smooth. Measured. Deceptively calm.

And a lie.

You could feel it ripple through him like static.

Your eyes narrowed just slightly, catching the minute shift in his expression. The way his mouth twitched like there was something sitting right behind his teeth that he didn’t trust himself to say.

But he wouldn’t betray Bob. Not even a little. Not even now, not when his hands still remembered the shape of your waist and the weight of your pulse thudding wildly against his palms.

You let the silence stretch, the smirk pulling at your lips again.

“Liar,” You muttered, voice low. Not accusing. Not even disappointed. Just certain.

His eyes flicked back to yours–sharper now, searching.

And for one breathless second, you swore the skyline bent around the shape of his frame. Like the sun tilted its arc to catch the side of his face, painting him in a soft gleam of fire and gold.

“Maybe,” He murmured finally, voice like molten glass. “But I’m not the one you want to hear it from.”

Your stomach fluttered.

Not because you didn’t know what he meant.

But because you did.

And for once…You didn’t push.

Instead, you stepped back, just enough to give him space. Just enough to keep the tension intact.

————————

You stood at the center of the mat again, barefoot, hands wrapped, shoulder blades flexing beneath a sleeveless compression top. You were rolling your neck in lazy circles as you waited for your new sparring partners to get their shit together.

“Jesus, how many wraps does it take you to tie your boots, Walker?”

John scoffed without looking up, still crouched in the corner tightening the laces on his combat shoes. “Some of us don’t train barefoot like monks on a mountaintop.”

“That’s because you’d trip over your own ego,” You muttered under your breath.

“C’mon now,” Bucky called from across the mat, stretching his arms behind his back, black long-sleeve rolled to his elbows. “Play nice, kids. I’m not pulling any punches today.”

From his spot on the edge of the mat, Bob looked up quickly at that–eyes flicking between the three of you, concern flickering across his face like a warning light. He was already perched where he’d always sat during your solo drills, long legs folded under him, with your water bottle in hand–now reusable and stainless steel–watching quietly like you were the only thing in the world that moved in color.

Walker clocked it immediately.

His head turned toward Bob with a crooked grin, already half-laced boots squeaking faintly as he stood. “Does he always sit there like that?” He asked, nodding toward Bob. “Watching you like it’s a one-woman stage play?”

You didn’t even blink.

“He always does,” you replied smoothly, turning your wrist in a light circle to loosen your shoulder. “Is this a new thing you’re just realizing?”

Bob flushed–brilliant red blooming beneath the collar of his navy crew neck–but said nothing, just curled his fingers more tightly around the water bottle.

Walker smirked. “What–you need an emotional support human to pummel some dummies?”

You turned toward him fully then, one brow raised, lips already twitching. “I’m glad you’re calling yourself a dummy so I don’t have to.” Bucky let out a laugh from his spot near the wall, shaking his head.

“Alright, alright–enough with the bickering. Let’s go for another round, huh?” He rolled his shoulder and stepped toward you, that slow, loose gait of someone who’d seen more fights than birthdays. You nodded once, tightening the wraps on your wrists.

“Let’s.” You muttered.

Bob settled deeper into his spot at the edge of the mat, posture stiff but eyes locked on you. Sentry stirred beneath his skin again–he could feel it like pressure in his spine, heat behind his ribs. Watching you get ready, watching you glow with motion and discipline, was like watching a match hovering over gasoline.

And then you moved.

You and Bucky danced the way soldiers did–tight and calculated, strike and recover, quick feints that turned into fast contact. He wasn’t going easy on you, and you wouldn’t have let him if he tried. Walker hung back at first, arms crossed, smirking, tossing in the occasional jibe about your stance or form.

Until you spun low and landed a solid elbow to Bucky’s ribs. He let out a grunt, rubbing the area with the flat of his hand.

“Had my guard down,” he muttered, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth said otherwise.

You cocked your head. “You always do.”

Walker snorted. “Alright, let me get in on this now.”

You cleared your throat, barely disguising your amusement. “Don’t be shocked when you get humiliated.”

“Big words for someone who’s at a one man disadvantage.” He said, cracking his neck as he stepped forward onto the mat.

You rolled your shoulders. “Yeah? Let’s see what you’ll be saying when you’re on your ass.” From the sidelines, Bob’s grip on the water bottle tightened.

It started slow–Walker lunged, you ducked, Bucky feinted–and then all at once, it shifted.

The three of you moved like an orbit, tight and reactive. A storm of limbs and instinct.

Walker threw strength. Bucky threw precision. You threw heat.

And Bob? He watched like he was studying scripture.

Your body was in constant motion–every movement timed perfectly, every dodge low and tight, using Bucky’s stance to redirect Walker’s force, using Walker’s height against him to launch yourself higher. You pivoted with a fluid snap, stepping off Bucky’s knee to catch Walker’s shoulder with your heel, spinning out of reach before either of them could tag you.

You were alive in a way that made the room bend around you.

Bob had stopped blinking. His heart beat like a war drum behind his ribs, the kind of rhythm that only came when Sentry hovered near the surface, watching through his eyes like a god hungry for movement.

You slid under a punch, twisted Walker’s momentum to force a stumble, and kicked Bucky’s thigh hard enough to send him back a pace. The two men glanced at each other then—silent communication—and came at you together.

You grinned like you were being handed a gift.

Your foot landed on Bucky’s shoulder and you pushed off, flipping neatly in the air, body tightening mid-rotation. Your leg caught Walker’s bicep and you twisted, but his center of gravity adjusted quick–too quick–and suddenly–

Your body slammed into the mat.

Hard.

The noise cracked through the air.

Bob surged to his feet.

You wheezed–chest collapsing, eyes wide, lips parted but no air catching–and for one sickening second, you didn’t move.

And that was all it took.

The heat slammed into the room like a detonated sun.

Sentry burst through Bob like goldfire ripping seams in his skin. One moment it was Bob’s widened eyes and open mouth–

And the next?

The mat shook under the force of Sentry’s arrival.

He was halfway across the floor before anyone could react, a golden blur slicing through the fluorescent haze. The floor steamed faintly beneath his bare feet. His fists were already clenched, molten lines of fury pulsing under his skin like veins lit with solar flares.

He didn’t think. He moved.

Straight toward Walker.

“Hey!” Walker shouted, palms already lifted as he stumbled back a step. “Jesus Christ–It’s not like I meant to do it!”

Sentry was drowned in the roar of protection and wrath, his eyes wild, glowing like twin cores of a star gone supernova. His mouth opened, teeth bared like something celestial barely contained in a human shape.

“You hurt her.” The voice wasn’t loud–it was deep. Like stone cracking under pressure. Like a threat too old to need volume.

Bucky stepped in without hesitation.

“Whoa–hey! Hey, easy! Stand down!” His voice was sharp but not panicked, hands up in a calm brace, body angled between Walker and the god.

Sentry didn’t listen.

Didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Just stood there, vibrating with heat, jaw locked, eyes fixed on Walker like he was calculating exactly how many bones to break.

On the floor behind them, you coughed–one harsh, painful breath, then another. You rolled onto your side slowly, eyes blinking hard against the light, one hand braced on the mat as you forced yourself upright.

“Sentry–” You wheezed, chest still hitching, still attempting to catch your breath.

His head snapped toward you. Immediately.

“I’m fine.” You said, firmer this time. You winced as you sat up straighter, hand pressed against your ribs. “Don’t…Don’t worry. I’ve had worse happen. Calm down.” Sentry’s eyes flicked from you…To Walker…Then back to you.

His chest rose and fell once. Sharp. Controlled.

And then–like a pressure valve easing open–he exhaled. The heat softened just enough that Bucky didn’t feel like he was standing in front of a furnace. His fists slowly loosened at his sides, muscles still taut, but held.

Sentry turned fully toward you, and for the first time since appearing, his voice shifted–just barely.

Lower. Softer. Still fire-wrapped, but laced with something else.

“He slammed you.”

You gave a weak smile through your breath, “We’re…We’re sparring, accidents happen, you don’t have to…Scare the crap out of Walker.” Sentry’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t answer.

“Yeah, no need to scare the crap outta me,” Walker echoed, huffing a laugh like he was trying to keep things casual even though his heartbeat was still visibly pounding in his neck. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes flicking between the three of you. “And also–when the fuck did Sentry suddenly come back?” He asked, motioning to him.

“He’s been coming back for a while.” You blinked at Walker, still cradling your ribs lightly, and shrugged.

“You’re the one that triggered him by hurting me, moron.” Walker’s mouth opened in disbelief.

“Me?!”

“You slammed me,” You clarified, not unkindly, but with a smirk twitching at the edge of your lips. “Like…full-body slammed me.”

“You jumped on me!”

“You adjusted your center too fast–”

“Guys,” Bucky said mildly, hands raised, “No more arguing please.” Walker, still shaken, jabbed a finger toward Sentry, who was still standing like a stone beside you, radiating enough heat to keep the entire bay at a slow simmer. His golden gaze hadn’t left you once.

“I’m just saying,” Walker said, eyes narrowed, “You make it sound like we should’ve known. Like this was a thing. I’m still caught up in the fact that we haven’t seen him appear in almost a year, and now suddenly he’s back up and running—no warning, no update, just–” He gestured to Sentry’s still-glowing hands. “–bam, golden demigod about to fry my ass.”

“That’s not fair,” Bucky said, his voice quiet, but laced with warning.

Walker rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying it’s bad, I’m saying it’s insane.”

You leaned your head back, letting out a slow breath. Sentry’s hand moved–just barely–hovering again near your spine like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to touch you. You shifted to sit up straighter, letting your shoulder brush his forearm gently.

“It’s not like Bob can snap his fingers and summon him,” You said, keeping your tone level. “Sentry shows up when he wants to. Or when Bob needs him.”

“Which is usually when someone’s in danger,” Bucky added, folding his arms and glancing at Walker meaningfully. “Someone Bob—or Sentry—cares about.”

Walker stared at that. Then looked at you. Then back at Sentry.

The dots were not subtle.

Sentry still hadn’t said anything. He didn’t need to. His silence was heavy. Watchful. The sun pressed into a man’s body.

You reached out and gave his wrist a light touch, enough to feel the heat still thrumming beneath his skin. “It’s alright,” you murmured, barely loud enough for anyone else to hear. “I can breathe now.”

Sentry blinked slowly. Then–almost imperceptibly–nodded.

The heat around him dropped by a few degrees.

Not gone.

Just…Tempered.

Walker, still trying to reconcile what had just happened, ran a hand over his face. “Look, I didn’t mean to–if I’d known he was even still awake in there, I wouldn’t’ve–”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” You interrupted, waving him off, wincing a little at the motion. “You’re just an idiot. But that’s not new.”

That earned the tiniest snort from Bucky.

Sentry, finally, tilted his head just slightly. “You’re in pain.”

You turned to look at him.

The golden light in his eyes had softened–just a touch. It was still otherworldly. Still ancient. But there was concern there. Sharp and clear.

“I’m sore,” You corrected. “Not dying.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Come on,” Bucky said, stepping forward, placing a steady hand on Walker’s shoulder as he glanced between the rest of you. “Training’s over. Let’s all cool off before someone actually does get launched through a wall.”

Walker muttered something under his breath and turned toward the exit.

Bucky lingered a moment longer, looking at you. “You alright?”

You nodded. “Just bruised, but I should be fine.” Bucky’s gaze slid over to Sentry.

”Should I be worried he’s gonna explode if you ever truly get hurt?” You smirked faintly.

”Let’s hope we never have to find out the answer to that question…”

[sturnlsstuff]

MISSED YOU | chris sturniolo

| ".... god, i hate that i missed you so much"

pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader

summary: your dealer has been out of town for almost two weeks and after he's finally back, he texts you needing to see you.

warnings; smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, p in v, pet names, praising, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hair pulling, rough sex, car sex, crying, public¿ sex, cursing, mdni

a/n: literally my first fanfic after a looong time so please bear with me, if its bad... you know why. english isnt my first language so sorry for any mistakes! also its a little long 😭 part two here !!

~~~

she laughed at some joke her friend made and took another bite of her pizza. it was late friday afternoon, she and her bestfriends were hanging out, since there was nothing else to do. everything was great, until her phone buzzed. she looks at her screen, immediately smiling when she sees his name. she wasn't even aware that her lips had curved into a smile.

her friends were too busy with their own conversation, so she uses her moment and grabs her phone, reading the message from chris. she hasn't heard from him in over two weeks, she had no clue what he was doing, or where he was. she also didn't want to ask, hating the feeling of being too desperate. and it's not like he owns her any explanation either.

chris: u busy?

she bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile again as she replies back.

y/n: hi to you too

y/n: yeah im out with friends, whats up

chris: having fun?

chris: when u gonna be home ma?

y/n: like in an hour or so

chris: can u hurry up? c'mon kid i miss ya

y/n: you do???

she can't help but genuinely grins this time, her eyes widen a little. did he miss her? or was he just saying that to make her give in? he always knew how to talk to her, to make her going feral over him. but she wanted to believe he means it this time.

chris: hell yeah i do

chris: get ur ass out here

she looks at her friends, that were still yapping about something, that she couldn't care less about right now. she needed to see him. he never said he missed her before.

y/n: then come pick me up, im sending u the address

chris: omw gorgeous

chris is already in his car, when she sends him the address. not being able to see her for over two weeks, made him think. A lot. he has been her drug dealer for over a year now, there was tension between them since the beginning, so it didnt take them long to finally fuck at some party a few months ago. and since then, it's happening every now and then, usually they meet to smoke together, then they end up all over each other.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in front of the pizzeria, finally seeing her. she made a stupid excuse for her friends to leave, not being able to hide her excitement, so they just could assume what was going on.

chris gets out of the car, looking her up and down, licking his lips as she was only wearing a black crop top and baggy camo pants. he personally loved those, especially on her.

he opens the door for her, a smirk playing on his lips. "get in."

she tried her hardest to act casual, but just seeing him after a while, in all black outfit, was enough to make her dizzy. and she could swear he got a haircut. his hair was so much shorter, and she loved it.

she smiles, keeping the eye contact while getting inside the car. he closes the door, his eyes roaming all over her body as she walked towards him. he snaps back to reality, getting to the other side and climbing back into the drivers seat. he was feeling so many things that he couldn't express.

"missed me so bad, you couldn't wait an hour, huh?" she speaks up, putting on the seatbelt and looking over at him, while he starts the car.

she notices the way he looks her up and down, his eyes stopping at her exposed skin a little too long.

"i've missed my favorite customer." he smirks, going back to the eye contact.

"yeah, your favorite customer... right." she says sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep her cool and not to blush under his stare.

he grins before replying, focused on keeping his hands on the wheel instead of her body. it was getting harder with every second. "yeah, the one i always gotta give free stuff to."

"oh, dont act like i force you to do this..." she scoffs, still looking at him. "you know i always want to pay you."

"i know y'do... doesn't mean i will stop givin' it to you for free though."

"see, and that's crazy."

chris rolls his eyes, loving and hating at the same time, how she always had to talk back to him. he's driving, planning to go to her house, but the way she's looking right now, and especially her attitude, is making him crazy. he feels his dick getting harder with every second.

"whatever, ma. i know you secretly like it."

"yeah, sure." she mumbles with sarcastic tone, her eyes still watching him. seeing him driving was one of her favorite things in the world, he always looked so good. she appreciates, that he gives her stuff for free or cuts down her prices, but dealing was his job, he was making money out of it, so she always felt bad when he didnt want her cash. "what made you busy for so long? thought the cops caught or some shit"

chris bites his lip, his eyes glancing over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. he never felt so desperate like right now, just having her in his car like that...

once he hears her question, he snaps back to reality and smiles. "the cops? please, sweetheart, they can suck my dick."

chris changes his direction, spotting an empty parking lot and he drives there. "i was out of town, had to deal with some business... nothin' to worry about now." he explains, parking and turning off his car, and his stare travels to her, scanning her face and body. "you're so curious...."

she nods, now understanding why he wasn't texting her these past two weeks, she was a bit ashamed 'cause she honestly thought maybe he got bored of her, so she didn't text him either. she still got some weed until yesterday, so she also had no reason to.

"why would you stop here?" she asks, looking at him with a little frown, but once she sees his smirk, the realization hits her. the excitement filling her body, the tension between them so noticeable, it makes her shiver.

he stares at her for a moment, adjusting his pants and then suddenly he unbuckles his seatbelt, sitting back in his seat so there was more space now.

"c'mere."

her eyes travels down on his lap, seeing the noticeable big bulge even through his jeans. she blushes slightly, looking back at him, the smirk still playing on his lips and it makes her weak in her knees.

"chris..." he cuts her off by reaching over and grabbing her chin, tilting her face closer to his.

"y'gonna do what i said, or keep talking back?"

she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt, moving over the center console and she gets into his lap, straddling him. she wasn't gonna act like she didn't miss him too, because, goddamn, she did. she presses herself onto his hard dick, watching him closely, and seeing how desperate and frustrated he was right now. It made her feel a little bit of a power, that she decided to take advantage of.

"now, was that so hard, ma?" he smirks even more, trying to hide his growing need for her, but his hands moves to grip onto her thighs. he felt the urge to touch her all over.

"you know, fifteen more minutes and we would be at my place-"

"you really think, i would wait fifteen fucking minutes, when i havent seen you for two weeks, and you look like that?" he loves the way she looks at him, with such admiration. she was so pretty in his eyes, he never felt this type of desperation for anyone ever before.

"and who's fault is that?" his hands grips her tighter and puts her closer in on his lap, making a little bit of friction, that he so desperately needs. his fingers digging into her skin, while he stares into her eyes.

"shut up for once, yeah?"

"make me." she smirks, challenging him. he doesn't have to hear it twice, loving the attitude she's giving him right now. his hand moves up from her thigh to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer and he kisses her roughly, grabbing her ass with his other hand as he does.

she smiles against his lips, immediately kissing him back with the same intensity, and she grinds down against his clothed dick, feeling her own need growing with every second. she missed the way he kissed her, she missed his lips, his hands all over her, his body against hers. she missed him and she hated to admit that.

she slides her tongue into his mouth, he bites her lip in response and lets her lead the kiss. moving up his hips to feel her more and not being able to hold back, he groans against her lips. he never felt so needy before. he pulls away for a moment to speak, and starts trailing kisses down her neck, squeezing her ass, before his hand moves up, caressing the skin on her exposed stomach.

"god, i hate that i missed you so much."

it slips from his mouth, he doesn't think much about it as he sucks on her skin, but for her it meant everything. she tilts back her head, giving him more space and she grinds against his lap some more, running her hand through his brown hair. he lets out a growl as she grinds down on him, making him even harder and he bucks his hips up again. lifting up his head from her neck his stare finds hers, the noticeable lust in his eyes made her bite her lip to hold back a moan. the smirk coming back to his face once he notices her flushed cheeks.

"what 'bout you, huh, ma? missed me too?"

she closes her eyes, their face so close to each other, it makes their lips brush when she replies him back.

"yeah... i did"

he grins, his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. that's all he needed to know, that she missed him as much as he missed her. even though they both were aware, they should'nt.

"how much, hm?" he unzips her pants, she lifts herself up, gripping his shoulders to balance herself and helps him take them off. then she straddles him again, trying to hold back her smile, but not being able to.

"want me to show you?"

he groans after her words, feeling her wet panties pressing against his hard dick and he bucks up his hips again, being so desperate, that he was ready to beg her. he starts marking her neck again, his hand traveling between her legs, massaging her clit through her underwear. her breath hitches in her throat, she lets out a little whine and grips his hair slightly.

"so wet already... shiiiitttt... all this f'me, huh?" he says against her skin, bitting on it slightly and making her moan. he adds more pressure, circling over her clit. "lift this shit up."

his tone demanding, he wasn't asking. she lifts up her top, revealing her breasts. he looks at her now, his eyes going back and forth between her tits, and her face. "fuck... not wearing a bra? fuckin' slut..."

he licks her hard nipple, then starting sucking on it. her hand tightens in his hair, tilting her head back and she lets out more whimpers. she was supposed to be the one in control this time, she craved it and saw how needy he is, but the way he's touching her, makes her losing her mind. he then pulls her panties to the side, running his fingers through her wet folds and suddenly putting one inside her. not even giving her any time, he just starts pumping in and out, adding another finger after a moment, now stretching her out. he pulls away from her nipple, looking at her face.

"c-chris..." she moans quietly, trying her hardest to keep the eye contact, but struggles to do so. her hands now traveling down his chest and unbuckling his belt.

"yeah, ma? y'like that?" he tries to keep his cool, still working his fingers inside her dripping pussy, curling them and making her whine in response. "look at you... so, fuckin' desperate on my lap. missed my fingers, huh? want some more?"

she desperately nods, squeezing around his fingers, but once he feels that, he pulls them out immediately putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. she whines, pouting her lips when he stops.

"show me how much you missed this dick then."

she bites her lip, unzipping his pants and with his help, she pulls them down to his knees, his boxers following after a second. chris leans his head back against the seat, gripping her hips as she gives him a few strokes before pulling her underwear to the side. she runs her thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it all over his cock, using it as a lubricant and then she lowers herself slowly on his cock, the movement making them both moan out loud with pleasure. she stays like this for a moment, needing to adjust after these past two weeks without him.

"fuckk...so tight...your pussy was made f'me.." he groans, tightening his grip on her hips and he watches her closely, as she finally starts moving on him. he’s holding himself back from moving up his hips and taking over, trying so hard not to thrust into her. he loves the feeling of her body against his and he’s missed it so much. he needed it, he needed her and he hated that. the feeling just kept growing, making the space in the car feel even smaller.

he pulls her back down into another kiss, this time more sloppy, continuing to move his tongue against hers, tasting her. she kisses him back, starting speeding up her pace and now bouncing on him harder. his dick hitting just all the right spots, making her moan loudly while chris tries to focus on the kiss and not to lose his composure. he wanted to take over, he always did, but the feeling of her riding him like that, has him gripping the seat. he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together and he knows his patience wont last long. he looks up at her again, his eyes glued to her face.

"fuckkkk, ma.... takin' all of me so well... shit..." he hisses, when she speeds up even more. "so good.... s-so good f'me...."

she grips into his shoulders more, moaning loudly at his praises and she continues moving. chris is in complete ecstasy as she picks the pace up, a feeling like he hasn’t experienced before. there's just something about her on top and taking what she wants, that's got him feeling so many things at once.

“fuck.. just like that” one of his hands grab her ass, giving it a squeeze and then slapping it. "fuckin' slut... you like it? fucking in my car? takin' it just like a little bitch.... yeah? shitttt..."

he moans now not being able to hold back, and he starts thrusting into her. she gasps for air, her eyes closing shut as she tightens around him. "oh, wanna cum, huh? not yet darlin'...." he grips her hips more, his tip hitting her g-spot with every move.

"chris i-"

she cuts herself off with another moan, not being able to think straight. she digs her nails into the back of his neck, her head falling down on his shoulder and he immediately stops. her eyes snap open, she lifts up her head to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"you better don't look away f'me, ma.... wanna see your pretty face y'know? and keep makin' those sexy little sounds...got it?"

she nods, but it's not enough from him as he speaks up again. "use your words baby, c'mon... you aint that fucked out of your mind yet, hm?"

"i got it, just... please..." she whines, moving her hips, wanting to bounce on him again, but he stops her. she pouts. "chrissss......"

"get to the backseat." he demands, after scanning her face for a while. he wanted to give her all the pleasure she deserves. he wasn't even thinking about himself, he couldn't care less about his release. he just needed to make her feel good, making sure no one else can do what he can.

she pulls away from him, now moving over the center console again, struggling a bit but she gets into the backseat. chris obviously smacks her ass as she does, what makes her squeak.

"chris!"

but he just smirks, pulling off his pants and boxers all the way down and throwing it on the passenger seat, so it wasn't in the way. he gets on the back himself, there was little space, but enough to get into his favorite position. chris puts his hand on her back, forcing her to get on her knees and hands on the seat, as he positions himself behind her. chris loves the way he can get her all desperate and begging, so he teases her now. he moves his tip along her folds, making her whine. then he slowly puts it in, but after a few seconds he pulls back again.

"chris...." she whines, knowing he's playing with her now.

"yeah, baby?"

she bites her lip, her face pressing into the seat and she lifts up her hips more. "stop teasing me, please...."

he grins even more, slapping her pussy with his dick and then he suddenly pulls his cock all the way in, making her gasp and scream out of pleasure. the new angle let him hit all of her sweet spots.

"whatever you want, princess." he starts thrusting into her with a very intense and fast pace, going as deep as he could. the car now filled up with her moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. he grips her hips tight, keeping her in place. he can feel her squeezing around his cock again, and he lets out a growl. "c'mon.... cum all over me...wanna see you while y'do..."

chris moves one of his hands, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, having a good view on her face. her mouth wide open, letting out loud moans, her eyes rolling back.

"oh my god!" she cries out, gripping the edge of the seat like her life depended on it and she releases, the wet, squelching sound coming from her now louder. he groans, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear.

"you feel so good... cummin' like that f'me... such a good girl.."

she moans, squeezing around him again, the overstimulation now making her shiver as he keeps going with the crazy pace, not slowing down at all. he lets go of her hair, her head immediately falling onto the seat and he grips by her hips again, making sure she feels him as deep as he wants her to. he growls, being on the edge himself.

"i'm... close.." he mutters, throwing his head back. "gonna fill you up, yeah?"

she whines nodding desperately, but then he smacks her ass giving her a sign to answer verbally.

"shit! yes, fuck, yes chris, please!" she feels tears filling up her eyes from the pleasure, a few of them coming down her cheeks moment later. chris bites his lip, feeling her tightening around him. he moves one of his hands between her legs, now rubbing her clit, while still thrusting hard into her, but his movements getting sloppier. she cries out, her legs trembling and his dick twitches, finally cumming inside her, his warm sticky release filling her up and dripping out of her. he curses under his breath, digging his fingers into her skin, leaving bruises as he does. she feels him cumming, and the overstimulation from him lazily massaging her clit and still hitting her g-spot, makes her finish again. the pressure in her stomach now becoming too much, unable to hold back, she feels the liquid squirts out of her in waves.

his eyes snap open, looking down at her and he growls. he slows down until he eventually stops, after they both ride out their highs, this time not wanting to overstimulate her. looking at the mess she made, he can't help but feel a bit cocky about it.

"shit, ma.... squirtin' all over me, huh? is it how it is now?" he smirks, a little surprised that he made her do that but he couldn't be more proud. he pulls out of her, letting go of her hips and her body immediately falls onto the seat. she's breathing heavily, not being able to reply yet. "that's my fuckin' girl.."

he runs his fingers along her inner thigh, collecting her and his cum and he leans in a bit, covering over her. he looks at her fucked out expression and the smudged mascara on her cheeks. "look at me."

she opens her eyes, her mind blank, body shaking. he puts his fingers into her mouth, she immediately cleans them up, tasting both his and her release on her tongue, making sure she keeps the eye contact with him while she does that.

"you're so hot." he says now kissing the tears on her cheeks away. "took me so well..."

she smiles, seeing his flushed cheeks and messy hair sticking to his forehead. it was her favorite view.

"y'good, kid? don't go all mute on me now.."

"don't call me that...." she mumbles, trying to get her sarcastic attitude back, but she was absolutely spent right now. "i'm fine."

he just grins, gently patting her cheek before he pulls away. she slowly lifts herself up, trying to fight her trembling legs and she sits up now, facing him. not being able to do anything more yet, her glare moving to her legs and the seat she made mess on. she feels her cheeks growing hotter, now suddenly embarrassed and trying to ignore his stare. this never happened to her with him before and she didn't know what he thought about it.

"sorry about... the seats" she mumbles, grimacing.

he raises his eyebrows, now seeing her embarrassment and he doesn't understand why. it was a little surprising but he felt so proud. he already wanted to make her do it all over again. "you f'real? don't even say sorry, ever again."

she's still not so sure, blushing even more as he wipes her cheeks from the smudged mascara and then runs his hand through her hair, trying to fix it a little bit. he smiles softly. "gonna clean this up later, don't you worry 'bout that, okay?"

chris then reaches into the center console for the tissues, grabbing them and spreading her legs with his hands. she watches him closely seeing how he starts just gently cleaning her up. this simple movement makes her feel the heat rising from her cheeks down to her neck, so she just covers her face with her hands shyly. not really being able to understand why is she so embarrassed this time, he grabs her wrists, forcing her hands to move away from her face.

"y'gotta be kiddin' me. don't hide from me, ma." chris mutters. "not when you made such pretty mess in my car."

with a quiet sigh, she lets him take her hands off of her face. she chews on her bottom lip nervously while he goes back to cleaning her up, touching her slightly as she was made from some kind of glass. it was even cute, how he just made sure she was fine. it's not their first rough sex, but this one was definitely more intense and for some reason felt so... different. she had this strange feeling in her chest, just seeing him focused on wiping her legs and how he didn't seem to care about his covered in her release seats. once he's done, he sits beside her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and pulling her close. she doesn't like the silence, even if before it was never awkward, this one was bothering her as she couldn't stop feeling unfamiliar emotions.

"i ran out, by the way." she suddenly blurts out, making him laugh. there was no way in hell this girl was real.

"yeah? good to know. gonna give y'some more later."

"im paying this time."

"oh, you've paid enough already." she immediately looks up at him, smacking his shoulder and he chuckles in response, pretending to be in pain. "woaaahh, bein' a little brat again, hm?"

"that's not funny, im giving you money." her tone shows no objection, he smirks and nods, knowing he won't take anything from her anyway. they sit like that for a moment, before he speaks up, knowing he will get another hit after that.

"soooo... round two?"

"christopher, i swear to god."

_____________________________

a/n: oh my god this seems sooo long 😭 tell me what yall think, i feel like i kinda fucked up with the whole dealer vibe but lmk please! i honestly enjoyed writing that so who knows..